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Posts from the ‘Tart’ Category

My Bloody Valentine

Alright it’s Valentine ’s Day and the inevitable talk about relationships, being single etc etc has come round.  Sure enough I have a number of people who have asked me about my “dating life” as the holiday approached and to all of them I say “nope, not dating and I’m good with that.”  As usual some people don’t believe me.  Some people try to convince me I’m wrong.  Some people warn me that time is a ticking away.  Some people tell me I’m being silly when I say I don’t have the time for a relationship.  Some people think I’m in some lonely girl denial when I say I’m happy on my own.

But the truth of it is: I AM sincerely happy on my own.  I AM too busy for dating.  I AM too involved in my own plans, thoughts, needs, dreams, desires to be able to expend energy on someone else’s plans, thoughts, needs, dreams and desires.   There is no case of “doth protest too much” when I say these things.  I am however getting really damn sick and tired of saying them.  I am getting really annoyed by the shocked “you aren’t dating someone?” when my response to the inquiry about my Valentine ’s Day plans is that I’m spending them with my mom.  Especially since even if I were dating I’d be spending the day with my mom.  Valentine’s Day has always kind of been more about mommy/daughter time over the years and when I think of the holiday that is what I associate with it.

I’m not going to rant about it being a Hallmark card holiday like some bitter old cat lady.  True it’s kind of frivolous and silly but a day about celebrating love—no I’m not going to object to that like some sour cherry on the fruit stand.  I think it’s a perfectly wonderful excuse to celebrate if you happen to be with a special someone and regardless of the origins of the holiday, the point is that it’s a day set aside each year to make you slow down and reconnect with your lover.  The restaurants might have crazy markups and the expectation that you shower the object of your affection with gifts—those aren’t things I’m crazy about.  However that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to have one day a year that serves as a placeholder where you push aside work, stress, trivialities and try to remember to spend time with a cherished loved one.

Okay so has that demonstrated that I’m not just a bag of mostly-water with a dusty vagina?  Can I rant now about how ANNOYING it is to be confronted by people who think it’s absurd that I’m happy in a single state?  It ain’t that strange folks.  I was in a relationship at this time a year ago and looking back on it, I’m in a much happier and balanced place now than I was then.  Coupledom does not automatically confer upon its participants a golden ticket to the chocolate factory.

Admittedly part of this is that I burnt out on my last relationship.  I gave a lot of myself and got very little in return.  I was trying to remember what I did for Valentine’s Day last year and to be honest…I can’t remember.  I remember what I baked and I remember that because of the distance and my job I wasn’t able to spend the actual day with the ex-boyfriend anyway.  I remember secretly hoping he’d have the kind of initiative to send me something at work or at home, because like all women what I really wanted was some sign that he went out of his way to let me know I mattered even if it was something as simple as a postcard in the mail with the words “I love you.”  I let it go since we were going to celebrate the following weekend but if I’m remembering correctly, and I may have blocked some of this out or be mis-remembering because to be honest I still don’t want to think about the unbalanced energy I spent on my last relationship, but if I’m remembering correctly I got mostly misplaced for a Magic the Gathering tournament that weekend.  But I don’t blame my ex for any sort of burn out I have experienced.  The truth is that I knew almost the entire time I was in that relationship that I gave more than I got, and I kept doing it the whole time knowing better.  “I give myself such very good advice…but I very seldom follow it.

It’s kind of a relief for me right now to be able to be completely selfish and focus on what I want.  Like completing a 30 day yoga challenge (which I’ve almost made it through!!) or to work late and not have to worry that I’m short-changing a boyfriend when I do so.  I’m going to be taking some classes again soon, training for my first 10k as well, and so to be honest, the idea of having someone to care about is just exhausting.  The mere thought of it makes me tired.  When I do, or rather if I do, because I’m still not sure I’ll ever get sick of this bachelorette lifestyle, start dating again I have decided I will settle for nothing less than perfect.  Now if cupid wants to plop Joseph Gordon Levitt on my doorstep today, I’ll eat my words here today, but since I don’t see that happening anytime soon I’ll eat this tangy blood orange tart instead.

 

Blood Orange Tart

Modified from Dorie Greenspan’s Orange Tart recipe in “Baking from my home to yours” Read more

A berry frightening cake-walk

CranberryUpsideDowner (9)I’m pretty sure I almost just got mugged.  My hands are still shaking from the adrenaline that got pumping as I walked away hoping desperately that I wasn’t going to be followed.  Never more have I wished for Slayer strength.

I was walking home from the BART station later than usual because I have a few doctors’ visits I need to catch up on.  I’ll spare you some of the gory details of dental exams or toe surgeries but suffice to say I was coming home in the dark.  It’s only a few paltry blocks to my apartment, cake walk even late, and I’m not in a particularly dangerous part of town.  Regardless I remain aware that Oakland is a city and cities mean higher rates of crime.  Pretty much every city dweller I know, regardless of what part of town they live in, has been mugged eventually.  I know it’s very likely going to happen to me at some point.  Last night I really thought it was the time.CranberryUpsideDowner (17)

As I approached my building, literally just across the street, I came to a stop at the corner of a bar full of happy hour patrons to wait for the light to change.  I noticed that coming up to my left was a somewhat imposing looking man, walking quite slow and staring at me rather hard.  A quick scan down and I saw that in his hand was a switchblade which he was toying with.  As I made eye contact, for only a moment, I became aware of movement and saw that he was slowly opening and closing the knife.  I pulled my bag closer and began to pull away from the light.  It was still green in the opposing direction and I figured I’d be safer moving toward the bar.  If the light wasn’t going to change soon I was ready to jump into the bar and order myself a cuppa.

CranberryUpsideDowner (14)The would-be-mugger slowed down even more and the blade flicked open again, and then closed.  Funny how something that probably took only a second could seem to drag on so long.

The light turned yellow and I took a chance.  I jumped into the street, left turning cars be damned, and keeping my eye over my shoulder, hurried across the street.  In my mind I kept the mantras of Arya playing “quick as a deer, calm as still water, fear cuts deeper” Halfway across the light turned and my little walking man appeared.  I glanced back again and the criminal in question was simply standing at the walk, staring across but not moving to walk.  His knife was still in his hand and he was simply standing, not looking to cross in either direction.  Once I made it across the street I felt my heart beating faster as I hurried to the end of the building to get inside.  All I could think was that in my puffy marshmallow coat, my Russian flap hat and fingerless gloves, I appeared to be little worth the time or effort.  Not when a more well put together bar patron may approach that corner with cash in hand. Never have I been so glad I didn’t wash my hair or put on makeup that day.  Once inside, behind my locked and card entry only door, I let myself feel the fear that I was suppressing.

I may well be over-reacting.  I know many men who play with their knives as an idle exercise.  I have even done it with mine when I’m walking home alone at night.  I can only tell you that he didn’t **look** quite right and I am far more Klingon than Vulcan when it comes to trusting my gut in situations like these.   He also may have just been crazy.  The sad thing about city life is that you see those individuals who have truly managed to slip through the cracks.  I have no sympathy for 20somethings with dreadlocks, guitars and hands held open on nights that aren’t cold but I do feel so sadly when I see the genuinely mentally ill wandering about in the evening.  They generally aren’t asking for handouts either—rather they are likely to smack you in the stomach (which happened to me my first week in town) or rave at the sky.  THOSE are the people who need help.  I’m actually going to look into some sort of volunteer or outreach program to get involved with in the next month.  I’ve been wanting to do some sort of volunteer/community work lately.  Grief replace with pity for a city barely copin’….

CranberryUpsideDowner (13)

Having survived my possible robbery, I went up to my top floor apartment and did the two things those who know me well might expect: I called my stepdad and got to baking.  I guess I am just a girl at the end of the day.  All I wanted after a scare like that was the calming influence of a father’s voice and the comforting smell of something in the oven.  Baking always gives me a sense of peace…at least it does when it goes correctly.  Which is why on nights like this I’m happy to have recipes I can turn to that always go right.  Cheesecake is one thing I can do in my sleep so I threw one together for a coworker’s birthday.  Then I turned to this recipe from Dorie for a Cranberry Upside Down Cake.  It always comes together beautifully and it always tastes like home.  Probably because of the holiday association with cranberries but this really is a great cake to make year round.  I always have cranberries in the freezer.  It also works really well with other fruits.  I made it a few summers ago with some spice tweaks and peaches instead.  Delicious!

Upside Down Cranberry Cake

from Dorie Greenspan’s “Baking from my home to yours” Read more

Are you gourd with pumpkin pie yet?

 I know I know, Halloween is over, Thanksgiving is over, there are leftovers in the fridge and you’ve probably gorged on enough pumpkin pie that even a Starbucks Pumpkin Pie Latte sounds awful.  But see with all the nonsense around buying a car and getting back into work, I didn’t think the timing lined up for yet another pumpkin pie/tart recipe.  Still we haven’t had a chance to discuss Thanksgiving yet reader and I have such a story to share.

 I set the oven on fire this Thanksgiving.

Now admittedly it wasn’t my fault and the long version of the story makes it pretty clear it was an unavoidable flare up but the fact remains: I woke up my family with an oven fire on Thanksgiving Day.  So much for my reputation as a kitchen guru huh?  The damn oven was smoking up a storm and for whatever reason the fire alarm refused to turn off even with the usual vigorous towel waving and window opening.  Gee could that be because there was an actual fire Olivia?  SHUSH YOU!

Okay long story: so Thanksgiving morning was all about getting the pie in the oven first.  I almost always make dessert first.  It gets pushed off otherwise so I always start the day with pies and things, then put the Turkey in the oven for a long, low and slow cook.  In fact I usually have a detailed plan mapping out precisely what temperature things are cooking at so I can coordinate oven space accurately.  I take this holiday seriously.  Well a kitchen fire kind of throws off my clockwork precision and that whole plan fell apart leading to a very, very delayed dinner.

Let’s set the scene: the pie crust had been pre-baked, cooled and filled with my new pumpkin pie recipe I was playing with.  As I walked to the open oven, carefully keeping the filling from sloshing over the sides, a small dog dashed under my feet.  We have 5 dogs in the house, in case I never mentioned that.  This particular canine happens to be my mother’s lapdog that I often refer to as Salacious B. Crumb because he rather reminds me of the court jester  ****TRIVIA TIME: Who is Salacious B. Crumb?  Be the first to answer and win a treat from me!  Previous winner of the most recent contest is ineligible to win.**** 

Salacious comes dashing in under my feet, I trip and the pie goes flying.  Thankfully my expensive, French pie dish remained intact but uncooked pumpkin pie innards were dripping down the insides of my oven looking like The Great Chunkin Pumpkin Charlie Brown—dotted with smashed up bits of pie crust.  I damn near burst into tears.  I was going to have to start ALL OVER and now I had to clean the oven on top of it.  Thankfully Mom swooped into action and cleaned the oven for me while I pulled one of my spare pie crusts out of the freezer to defrost.  Yes I have spare pie crusts in my freezer.  It’s so much easier to make triple batches and freeze some whenever you make dough. 

The problem was that not all the pumpkin pie filling got cleaned up in the oven.  Not Mom’s fault and she was a superhero for helping me out with the mess…though it was HER dog that caused the problem :-P

Well what happens when a gas oven has organic combustible material present near the bottom flame?  Yeah.  Fire.

When I went to turn the oven on to re-bake a crust and put the Turkey in, SWOOSH went the flames and “WAAAAAAH” went the Olivia.  That time I did cry a little out of frustration over the delay.  I was handicapped.  Nothing I was going to do on the stovetop could be done until an hour or so before dinner—the turkey being removed from the oven was the stovetop trigger.  All the “do ahead” stuff had already been done ahead.  I literally had to just stop, sit and watch the pretty red flames dance away waiting for it to all finally burn off so I could use the oven again.  Dinner was supposed to be done at 5PM.  We ate at 8PM instead.  I felt like such an utter failure.  A very kind bottle of red wine unstoppered by to keep me company during this waiting time so it wasn’t too bad; somehow I managed not to repeat the performance.

Thankfully the spread didn’t suffer and I was able to make my entire menu after all.  As for that original pumpkin pie?  I had about a cup and half of filling left and decided to save that for something else and just rework the whole recipe from scratch.  I was using egg whites for lift and by the time the next pie was ready the whites would have lost their integrity in that first mix.  Instead I saved it and poured it into a small tartlet the next day with a fun twist on traditional flavors.  The result of my kitchen pyrotechnics was a delicious tart recipe with a very rummy pumpkin filling and walnut cardamom tart dough.

So there you have it: the story of Thanksgiving 2012 when Olivia set the kitchen on fire and a delicious pumpkin rummy tart to commemorate the event.

Rummy Pumpkin Tarts

an Olivia Original Read more

My one breakup rule of plum

**Disclaimer: this has nothing to do with any specific person or current events going on in my life.  Just something I’ve been thinking about for a while. 

Staying friends with your ex: good idea or bad idea?  I’ve had this discussion a lot recently with some women I know and the overall conclusion is that it is very situation specific.  There are some situations where exes have managed to remain friends, good friends, and this is definitely something to strive for if children ever entered the picture during your relationship.  On the other hand…some ex-boyfriends (or girlfriends) are just bad news and you should never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever speak with them again.  Somehow these usually wind up being the ones that insist upon popping back up in your life every now and again in an effort to “reconnect.”  This usually means your ex desires one of two things: booty call or a histrionic/sociopathic need for drama.  Occasionally it’s both.

I’m not going to dictate whether or not you should be friends with your ex.  I have some I’m on good terms with (ironically the ones who usually hurt me most) and some I haven’t spoken to since that moment of crossing the event horizon known as getting dumped.  I also don’t have any rules surrounding the healing process of a breakup; no “half the length of the relationship” or 1 day “for every week together” nonsense that indicates if you are moping too much or too little.  It really is just too specific to the situation and the parties involved for any of those rules to apply to a grieving process.  I only have this one rule of thumb with breakups: I cannot be friends with my ex until he is on significant lover #2 post-breakup.  That is, I can’t retain a friendship while he is dating the girl (or a boy) that immediately follows me.

Why?  It all comes down to my intensely competitive nature.  It doesn’t matter if I am incredibly happy that my ex and I are no longer together, I will never be able to not feel insecure about the person who comes next.  I know it’s crazy and I’m nuts for doing it but I can’t help but wonder how that new person compares to me…and even if I don’t want my ex back, I have to admit a small part of me hates the idea of anyone else ever being seen as better.  I know how petty that is and I don’t want to let those feelings run my life.  The only way to do that is cut out the ex-boyfriend until he’s moved on to post-Olivia person number 2.  Why does this make a difference?  I guess I figure by that time the memories of me have faded a bit and I’m not so worried about whether or not I come out on top.  I can think that any comparisons being drawn at that point are somewhat corrupted by the inclusion of new memories from a buffer significant other.

What is it that I’m so worried about?  I’m not sure but it basically comes down to three departments: the kitchen, the brain and the boudoir…in that order.  Chalk it up to vanity I guess.  I know.  I’m crazy.  It shouldn’t matter—especially when I’m so totally not ever getting back with that guy, uh uh, no way, no how, he’s bad news etc etc etc.  I just can’t seem to quell that need to be the best, always, even in the eyes of someone I might currently despise.  Hell, especially in the eyes of someone I might currently despise.

Anyway that’s my one rule of plum: I just can’t be friends with someone until they have moved on a bit down the way.  Why plum?  I have this recipe here that makes a delicious plum tart.  I think the key rests entirely on loving hazelnut and the quality of the jam used.  One thing is for sure…serve this up and no one is bound to forget you anytime soon.  The flavor is just perfection but it will rely on using a good quality jam and NOT jelly.  I had a bottle of homemade stuff and used that up.  Of course since then I’ve gotten another round of plums from my CSA (seriously what is going on with those trees??) and will need to find yet another use for them so you can expect more plum puns in the weeks to come.

Frangelico Plum Tart

From “The Boozy Baker”

Read more

Fantasy Friday: Apple Tart, hold the poison

Today I review Assassin’s Apprentice” and share a recipe, utilizing 5 or fewer ingredients, for a simple (posion-free) Apple Tart.

I’ve managed to pick up such a good pace with my reading again that I endeavored to find additional ways to maintain it. Since I’m a big fan of Geek and Sundry on youtube (least I’m a fan of some shows) I thought what better way to support Felicia Day and my rediscovered bibliovore appetite than by reading along with the Sword and Laser book club. Do you have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about? Let me explain; no there is too much, let me sum up.

Geek & Sundry is a channel on youtube started by Felicia Day that hosts an assortment of shows delivering original content for free to the internet. My favorite show thus far has been Tabletop, a show hosted by Will Wheaton where a gaggle of geeky guests play table top games like Munchkin or Settlers of Catan, is probably my favorite. Sword and Laser is a scifi & fantasy focused book club show that features both author interviews and discussions about their book club choice for the month. I found this show difficult to watch initially because I hadn’t read the books…it just made it hard to keep my interest. Serendipity struck though when in July, the book choice was “Leviathan Wakeswhich as you may recall, lined up rather well with my Hugo Award challenge. This was the perfect jump start to “joining” the book club.

August’s selection is a fantasy novel. I find that I’m pickier about them since they require a little more imagination from the reader and a little less effort from the author. Magic as a driving force for plot requires a little less thought to establish because hey, why does it work? Magic! See pretty easy. Thus I think I’m probably a bit pickier. I think I prefer my fantasy worlds these days to be either really fantastical (Harry Potter) or gritty (Game of Thrones). Some will object to my elevation of Harry Potter but the thing I always appreciated about those books was the level of research into pre-existing magical lore that Rowling incorporated. Yet I digress, that’s a topic for another day. I’m already almost a page in and I haven’t even reviewed Assassin’s Apprentice yet.

This is supposed to be the coming of age story of a bastard boy who comes to court after his disgraced father has abandoned his claim to the throne. I know I’m supposed to care about the kid, known as Fitz, but the initial 100 pages or so don’t leave me establishing much of a connection to him. Aside from an innate ability to enter the minds of animals, an ability he is then forbidden to use, there’s little that draws me to his character. Fitz just doesn’t seem to have much of an interest in anything. Even when he accepts an offer to train as the King’s (his grandfather) assassin it kind of just feels like something he decides to do because…well because what else is he going to do with his life?

The first glimmer of compelling plot starts when the story tells of raiders attacking villages and holding townsfolk ransom. Here’s the twist: the ransom doesn’t buy their return but rather their deaths. If the ransom isn’t paid, the raiders return the hostages but they return them changed. The people have been “forged” and made into basically a band of wild, animal like sociopaths with no hope of cure. Reavers? Maybe because this is a young adult novel the concept isn’t full explored. The depictions of the forged folk seem extremely muted and so I don’t ever get a sense of horror from it nor do we really get a reason to be invested in these townspeople. Maybe if a character we had grown to love wound up forged it would make the threat seem greater. I kept hoping for a chance to jump off the precipice into an exciting story at this point but it never happened.

The problem with the forging storyline also stems from the fact that it’s only mentioned sporadically. We get reports of towns being forged in between accounts of Fitz’s training at the Castle and some political intrigue that’s too vague to be compelling to read. The forgings are eventually completely forgotten for a time while Fitz attempts to learn how to use “The Skill” which is some other totally unrelated talent to his assassin apprenticeship–the assassin trainings are “suspended” during the Skilling chapters.

Finally we get to the last few chapters where Fitz actually is engaging in assassin duties in a story arc that’s sort of related back to the forging but still pretty detached from it. My time reading felt like I was skimming the surface of what could be a better story if something was just allowed to develop a little. I don’t know, maybe the problem is that I’m simultaneously working my way through A Song of Ice and Fire which as adult fantasy has a lot more to chew on. Assassin’s Apprentice is the first book in a trilogy but I’m just not sure I’ll be picking up the next one. I want to know more about the Forgings but not enough to read through another two books if they continue on like this one. I felt like I had to force myself to get through the bulk of this book and a few minutes on Wikipedia for the story resolution seems like a much more appealing way of getting the basic plot points.

There was a minor scene in Apprentice where an apple tart is divided into thirds and eaten randomly by those dining to demonstrate that the treat was baked without a deadly ingredient. Apples and poison seem to go together really well, or not well as the case may be, in fantasy stories. This recipe is so simple, lacking complexity like the book, but simple can still be tasty. It’s a great looking dessert that even the most kitchen-handicapped can put out and impress friends with at a dinner party. Just don’t bake it with apples from anyone named Regina…I’ve heard there’s something insidious about her baked goods. If you keep a box of puff pastry in the freezer and have apples, or really any fruit, lying around the house then you will always have a quick dessert when unexpected company arrives.

Parisian Apple Tartlet
Modified From “Baking From My Home to Yours” by Dorie Greenspan Read more

Straw Berry: The Next Generation

A generation of wimps?

I just heard the phrase “Strawberry Generation” thrown around recently.  Apparently this is a term coined by the Chinese to refer specifically to Taiwanese children born between 1981 and 1995, though it’s being applied still to youths born through the end of the 90’s.  Sounds nice doesn’t it?  Strawberries are delicious!  Wrong.  The actual meaning refers to the fragility of the strawberry; prone to easily bruising and rotting away and raised gingerly in “greenhouses” rather than wild.

Initially I thought what a bunch of hooey, this must be another element of the cultural divide between the eastern and western worlds.  Surely no one could claim my generation has it easy.  I know far too many young people working their butts off to find jobs that don’t exist, or only finding contract positions with no real stability, and basically missing out on the promise of the American Dream.  Work hard and get rewarded?  More like work hard and then work harder.  I certainly know it feels that way for me by the end of the week.  I’m exhausted and burnt out and not feeling any closer to the kind of job potential or security I thought I would have by the age of 24.   Of course then I turned on the television set and saw yet another hour of television on channel after channel about spoiled, self-indulgent socialites and wanna-be-celebutards.  Then I thought about the myriad of people my age whose viewership has helped proliferate these shows, who aspire to be these people.  Then I saw my teenage brother once again moan about how hard his life is because he has to wash a handful of dishes 3 days a week.

Wow.  Maybe there was something to this concept after all.  I can’t imagine my grandfather’s generation whining about a 15 minute chore he is expected to do every other day.    Why, why are so many kids like this today?  Why do I want to slap them so hard when I hear it?  #firstworldproblems right?  I found a great article from a few years ago in Psychology Today on the very concept of our “wimpy generation”

No one doubts that there are significant economic forces pushing parents to invest so heavily in their children’s outcome from an early age. But taking all the discomfort, disappointment and even the play out of development, especially while increasing pressure for success, turns out to be misguided by just about 180 degrees. With few challenges all their own, kids are unable to forge their creative adaptations to the normal vicissitudes of life. That not only makes them risk-averse, it makes them psychologically fragile, riddled with anxiety. In the process they’re robbed of identity, meaning and a sense of accomplishment, to say nothing of a shot at real happiness. Forget, too, about perseverance, not simply a moral virtue but a necessary life skill. These turn out to be the spreading psychic fault lines of 21st-century youth. Whether we want to or not, we’re on our way to creating a nation of wimps.

The phenomenon of over parenting isn’t new.  It’s been discussed widely how parents are doing too much for their children, sheltering them and not letting the Ms. Frizzle philosophy take hold.  You know “Take chances, make mistakes and get messy!”  These were words I lived by as a child.  So few do these days.  I’ve written before about how I suffer(ed) from anxiety and depression and how a simple to do list can help me combat that. This paragraph really struck me:

Herein lies another possible pathway to depression. The ability to plan resides in the prefrontal cortex (PFC), the executive branch of the brain. The PFC is a critical part of the self-regulation system, and it’s deeply implicated in depression, a disorder increasingly seen as caused or maintained by unregulated thought patterns—lack of intellectual rigor, if you will. Cognitive therapy owes its very effectiveness to the systematic application of critical thinking to emotional reactions. Further, it’s in the setting of goals and progress in working toward them, however mundane they are, that positive feelings are generated. From such everyday activity, resistance to depression is born.

I have so often prescribed the act of setting goals and accomplishing them, even if it’s a series of physical labors, as a great cure to depression.  Guess I was on to something backed by Science! after all.  Sweet.  It’s why I try to encourage my rather lethargic brother to sit down, set goals and start moving toward them.  I get disgusted and so frustrated when he sits on the couch talking about what he wants in life but making no move to achieve it…or worse, he blames my mother.  As an example I asked why he hasn’t gotten his driving permit yet as he is 17.  When I was his age I was begging to get mine, you need a parent to sign off, and being shot down.  My mom was afraid of letting her eldest out onto the road and so I was in his same shoes (stranded and unable to drive myself anywhere) but it was not for a lack of desire.  As is typical with parents by the time the eldest has broken through those initial barriers, the world seems a little less scary.  Our mom is more than happy to sign off and let my brother get his permit.  So I ask, frustrated that he is wasting the opportunity I wanted so badly at his age, why he hasn’t gotten it yet.  “Well I don’t know how, Mom hasn’t told me what to do.”

What?!  This is a boy who, given the motivation, can locate obscure videos of a Ukranian albino doing a tap dance on the internet.  He knows how to use a computer and do it well.  It’s simply a matter of logging onto the DMV website and finding the instructions.  Yet he expects it to be handed to him.  This isn’t anything new.  I see it constantly among people my own age and the younger crowd of the late 90’s.  They have become so reliant upon parents and what’s more, the plethora of psychological excuses parents are providing to explain why Johnny needs special attention.

Parental hovering is why so many teenagers are so ironic, he notes. It’s a kind of detachment, “a way of hiding in plain sight. They just don’t want to be exposed to any more scrutiny.”

Parents are always so concerned about children having high self-esteem, he adds. “But when you cheat on their behalf to get them ahead of other children”—by pursuing accommodations and recommendations—you just completely corrode their sense of self. They feel ‘I couldn’t do this on my own.’ It robs them of their own sense of efficacy.”

I’ve noticed that when confronted with something that seems insurmountable, my brother who is a qualified, legitimate genius, will shut down.  There is an overwhelming anxiety surrounding the impossibility of the task at hand.  Without a clue how to tackle it, he just stops dead in his tracks and refuses to move forward at all.  It’s been like this since he was young.  The problem of a messy bedroom springs to mind.  Initially I think it was a convenient excuse.  You know “it’s so messy I don’t even know where to start so I’m not going to bother” but giving in to that excuse, that mindset, morphs so easily into actual psychological conditioning.  My brother, and many others like him, became so convinced that they couldn’t do it on their own, without help or guidance, that now they literally can’t.

I love my family, don’t get me wrong, and I’m not sharing this exchange to bad mouth anyone.  I just wanted to remark on this trend of “do it for me” and “it’s too hard” that drives me up the wall.  Claiming to not know where to start, letting it shut you down, it angers me to see someone who I know should be, could be, hell IS capable, do that.  Probably because I did it myself for a while.  These angers and frustrations are rooted in my own disappointment with the times I frittered away and let some bruises life gave me turn to rot.

So here’s how you solve the problem: you don’t worry about where you start.  You just start.  It doesn’t matter where.  Whether it’s a messy room or a messy life, you just pick a corner and start picking things up.  It’s not always the most efficient way to do it but learning how to get faster and better comes later.  It comes from learning from doing and that doing isn’t always right.  You’re going to make mistakes and get messy, but you’ve got to take the chance in order to get wherever it is you are trying to go.  When I look back on times where I’ve felt lost, depressed and riddled with anxiety, I always describe making it through the same way.  I felt like life was this thick fog and I didn’t know where I was going.  It was oppressive and at times made me want to sit down and be crushed by the weight of it in my chest.  Instead I kept my feet moving.  I didn’t know where I was going, I might be going off a cliff, in circles or right back to the beginning, but I had to keep my feet moving.  Every time I discover the fog lifts eventually and I find my way out…bruised?  Sure.  But even bruised fruit can turn into something sweet.

We had a container of strawberries in the fridge recently.  Purchased for my brother who will of course, refuse to eat a lot of what we buy, insists on certain items and then as often as not, they go to waste.  Well I wasn’t going to let that happen to such beautiful strawberries the other evening so I pulled out Dorie and made this simple tart.  It isn’t over the top, it isn’t complicated.  In fact if you don’t count the tart shell it used 5 ingredients.  Two pints of strawberries may have rotted away in a fridge because no one was eating them as there were just too many to deal with…instead I transformed them into a dessert that was quickly devoured.  This is what too many of my generation and the next aren’t learning how to do.  Times are rough and they are only getting worse despite a bounty of progress around us.  We have to keep on moving or we’re going to waste away so much potential and there is SO MUCH open to us.

La Palette’s French Strawberry Tart and Spiced Tart Dough
both recipes from Dorie Greenspan’s “Baking from my home to yours” Read more

Lemonships ala Tart

You will never have a healthy relationship with another human being so long as you don’t have one with yourself.  I’ve told this to countless friends, and myself, time and time again.  Being in love doesn’t mean finding someone who completes you, it means finding someone who co-pilots with you.  *Cue the Wash is my co-pilot cry* So many friends over my lifetime, yes mostly ladies, make this mistake.  They want to find someone who makes them feel whole when they haven’t finished growing into the person they should be yet.  Hell I’m guilty of it too.  I mean the first relationship any of us ever has in life is going to be an example of this mistake.  Not only because typically we’re stupid teenagers, but because you can’t learn about who you are until you’ve been through at least one relationship and breakup…probably two.

There is another side of this too of course that I’m not touching on.  In my tarty opinion, a successful human being never stops growing or changing.  This is the cause of so many long relationships that fall apart.  You have to be able to grow together in the same direction and at a relatively similar pace in order to preserve a relationship.  If one person grows too fast, they’ll block the sun from the other.  If one person grows and other doesn’t that will cause a problem too.  That’s why I like the idea of the person being a co-pilot.  Oh god this is corny: you are driving a relation-ship.  First you need the training to fly it and then you need to find someone who wants to head in the same direction you do.  The ship houses both of you, but you have to agree on where to point it and continue to agree.  Damn I’m lame.  Okay let’s try another relationship analogy.  A food one this time!

Buffy: I’m cookie dough….I’m not done baking yet. I’m not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I’m gonna turn out to be. I’ve been looking for someone to make me feel whole, and maybe I just need to be whole. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next… maybe one day I turn around and realize I’m ready. I’m cookies. And then if I want someone to eat m — or, to enjoy warm delicious cookie-me, then that’s fine. That’ll be then. When I’m done.

Perhaps one of the better known quotes on Buffy relationships and while not Shakespeare, it definitely has a certain Shel Silverstenian quality to it.  It’s also delicious and while I’m not knocking Joss’ writing here, not the best food analogy for relationships…because cookie dough is frakking delicious.  I mean really who wants to wait for the cookies to bake?  Okay I get how that could work, we’re impatient and we eat up the cookie dough before the cookies come out but we eat up the dough because it’s BETTER than the cookies.  Seriously does anyone out there not prefer a giant tub of dough to the cookies?  Hell it’s why we have that diabolical creation known as cookie dough ice cream.  In fact hold on real quick, I’mma be right back.

*five pounds later*

Okay that’s better.  Where was I?  Right – food as a relationship analogy.   If you don’t mind my getting all food science-y on you here, I think a better food for this line of thinking would be something in the citrus family.  For the sake of my recipe I’m going to run with a lemon though an orange would probably be better since we tend not to eat lemons.  Whatever just go with it.

Lemons are very tart and inedible in their young stages of growth.  The aroma and flavor we love forms in oils in the skin – the attractive qualities of the surface layer.  Below that is the bitter pith which thins out over ripening and is meant to protect the fruit inside.

Finally we come to the meat of the fruit.  In lemons it is known for a high level of tartness that is unpleasant to eat.  Did you know though that lemons are often picked far too soon?  A properly ripened lemon, especially Meyer lemons like the ones I use for my tart here, are much sweeter and pleasant to the tongue if left to properly vine ripen.  This is because citrus, unlike say bananas, are non-climacteric fruits.  That means they don’t ripen once plucked.

Lemons don’t contain starches and so they can’t continue to break down into sugar off the vine.  If you take a lemon when it’s still somewhat green or unripe, it will remain that way.  It has to stay growing on that tree until the very moment it has developed fully in order to capture all the sugars it can hold.  A starchy fruit will get sweet off the vine because those starches break down into sugar.  That’s why green bananas are fine to sit on a counter and ripen whereas a green lemon is essentially useless.

Thus if you pick a lemon too soon, it will be tart and unpleasant.  A properly ripened meyer lemon?  That’s something you can actually enjoy and suck on.  If you are lucky enough to have a tree on your lot, a fully ripe lemon can be delicious when thinly sliced and added to salads or fish.  I especially love a sushi roll at a local joint that tops tuna with thin, sliced and ripe lemons.  I’ll eat those slices with the fish—peel and all.  It’s like biting into sunshine.

That’s how it should go with a relationship; you have to give yourself a chance to fully ripen.  In my first relationship or two, I’m certain I wasn’t fully sweetened yet.  These days?  I think I know who I am, where I stand and what I need in life.  I am happy on my own and that’s a big test of whether you are ready to be involved with someone else.  Still if I learned anything the last month or so, it’s that even if I as a person am ready, my situation also needs to be.  Right now I’m not happy where I am.  I don’t feel like I have real job stability/future and while I know the path I want to be on, I still need to fully align to it.  That’s going to take a lot of effort and time on my part.  If I’m lucky I’ll find someone who can fly that ship with me but trying to fly it with someone who wants to dock in a different port?  Well that’s going to lead to failure.

Damn it.  I switched back from the lemon to the ship again.  LEMONSHIP.  I mean it’s lemons and the tart is round and kind of flying saucer looking so…let’s combine the analogies into a lemonship!  That works…right?  Whatever.  This is delicious and with just the right balance of tartness and insanely delicious sweetness.

Dreamiest, Creamiest Lemon Tart

from Dorie Greenspan “Baking from my home to yours” Read more

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