1
a bell will burn a marshmallow
then offer it to you as a prize
for standing next to the person
who burnt the thing they won't eat
because bells are vegetarians, mostly.
this has happened to me once
and once i was there to witness
the act of marshmallow cremation
and the following act of kindness
smeared by an underlying desire
to convert to a less noble cause.
2
more frequent bell nobility manifests
in myriad miracles and abundant abandon
for alliteration and the offering
of four-leaved clovers as talismans
tainted over time with wilting.
such was the case before a game
of harmless sport, when one bell ran
off to a secret patch of clovers
she covets for collecting luck
to distribute to members of the opposing team.
3
in summer or winter a bell will lie down
in a field of snow or sun-chard grass
with arms spread wide in exhaustion
of all the memories associated with the season
and the flavors of pot luck dinners with friends.
memories of family trips across country
and fig trees in neighbors' backyards
that they used to pick from and eat at will
before discovering that their cat who they thought was lost
was stolen by the lady in the big white house next door.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
midsummer blueprint
for jenni
pete and jing built a clipper ship
out of a big green canoe
and some old floral-print sheets
they found in the shed in pete's backyard.
copying the design from a page
of an illustrated copy of Moby Dick
they cut the sails with sheers
used by jing's dad to trim shrubs.
the masts were made of jointed tent poles
and the captain's wheel
resembled a snow sled with handles
made of empty beer bottles.
they staffed their ship with g.i. joes
and jing's pet turtle acted as lookout
from a plastic flower pot
tied to a snow shovel at the back of the ship.
the only problem they faced
in sailing their majestic ship
was the lack of open seas in north idaho
and the hole in the bottom of the canoe.
pete and jing built a clipper ship
out of a big green canoe
and some old floral-print sheets
they found in the shed in pete's backyard.
copying the design from a page
of an illustrated copy of Moby Dick
they cut the sails with sheers
used by jing's dad to trim shrubs.
the masts were made of jointed tent poles
and the captain's wheel
resembled a snow sled with handles
made of empty beer bottles.
they staffed their ship with g.i. joes
and jing's pet turtle acted as lookout
from a plastic flower pot
tied to a snow shovel at the back of the ship.
the only problem they faced
in sailing their majestic ship
was the lack of open seas in north idaho
and the hole in the bottom of the canoe.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
i spoke to dina today
i spoke to dina today
about macarons and mates
and the best years of a woman's life
to reproduce.
i miss dina.
about macarons and mates
and the best years of a woman's life
to reproduce.
i miss dina.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
roll over
i'm in a half sleep
when i hear you speak
my name so gentle
in the way you ask it
only loud enough
to still my waking attention
rolling over and half smiling
you smile back barely replying
my words are numb
not mattering beyond acknowledgement
you are here like a dream
reaffirming the dream
you say the sort of thing
i would say to you if you asked
am i dreaming or are you real
and if you're real why am i asleep?
and when i wake there's a letter
in an envelope with my name
scribbled in my native alphabet
that you copied from a free online translator
when i hear you speak
my name so gentle
in the way you ask it
only loud enough
to still my waking attention
rolling over and half smiling
you smile back barely replying
my words are numb
not mattering beyond acknowledgement
you are here like a dream
reaffirming the dream
you say the sort of thing
i would say to you if you asked
am i dreaming or are you real
and if you're real why am i asleep?
and when i wake there's a letter
in an envelope with my name
scribbled in my native alphabet
that you copied from a free online translator
Monday, June 21, 2010
stewart became a brigadier
he was never one to be lied to
too keen for missing information
broken patters and rounded figures
so when we spent that night together
in his pilot's cabin observing venus
i had to tell him everything
thirty years later he's older and rounder
the brigadier of the same old boat
orbiting planets close to the sun
still replaying the night in his mind
memories saturated in deviant desire
for the boy he could have loved for life
too keen for missing information
broken patters and rounded figures
so when we spent that night together
in his pilot's cabin observing venus
i had to tell him everything
thirty years later he's older and rounder
the brigadier of the same old boat
orbiting planets close to the sun
still replaying the night in his mind
memories saturated in deviant desire
for the boy he could have loved for life
Sunday, June 20, 2010
it's a warm sunday morning
and i'm up too early. i got out of bed around 7:30, where usually i sleep until past 10 on a weekend. easily.
since getting up i've taken some allergy medicine and two cups of tea to open my nasel and throat passages. my ears are still swollen with sinus pain.
not all is lost. i took the time to work out that, if using vanilla bean, one batch of macaron shells coasts me $6.30 to make (not including labor of course). that's not bad considering one cookie (two shells and some filling) go for between 1 and 2 dollars in most places and one of my batches makes 30 or so cookies. that's a pretty decent overhead.
i'm not thinking about going into business just yet. though, i am hopefully going to start selling big macaron shells to the Polar Cave for them to include on sundeas. i don't know if Papa Bear really knows what he's getting into though.
i guess we'll just have to wait and see how it pans out. in the meantime, i'm writing him a brief history of the macaron. this blog post by cathy x at adicionado has a fantastic little history lesson included at the top, though i don't subscribe to her method of making. i am still very much in the school of notsohumble.
macarons are too hard to get just right to call them easy or to call any one batch perfect. maybe some day. until then, another cup of tea.
since getting up i've taken some allergy medicine and two cups of tea to open my nasel and throat passages. my ears are still swollen with sinus pain.
not all is lost. i took the time to work out that, if using vanilla bean, one batch of macaron shells coasts me $6.30 to make (not including labor of course). that's not bad considering one cookie (two shells and some filling) go for between 1 and 2 dollars in most places and one of my batches makes 30 or so cookies. that's a pretty decent overhead.
i'm not thinking about going into business just yet. though, i am hopefully going to start selling big macaron shells to the Polar Cave for them to include on sundeas. i don't know if Papa Bear really knows what he's getting into though.
i guess we'll just have to wait and see how it pans out. in the meantime, i'm writing him a brief history of the macaron. this blog post by cathy x at adicionado has a fantastic little history lesson included at the top, though i don't subscribe to her method of making. i am still very much in the school of notsohumble.
macarons are too hard to get just right to call them easy or to call any one batch perfect. maybe some day. until then, another cup of tea.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
voyage a la chez de madame tata avec jenni
jenni and i carried a miniture armoire
to the top floor of a brick house
on the corner of two famous boulevards
at le chez de madame tata
conspicuously named "la chateau de crackle"
unsuspectingly petite on the inside
despite the grandiose fixtures
rattled by the high pitched voices of garcons
imprisoned post trou de loup
we watched our step up the central staircase
to the tip top of la chateau
where we stumbled upon madame tata
affublee un bonnet and apron
over a gown, victorian vogue
shouting around the sound of past servants
directing the armoire placement
and correcting our pronunciation
of simple french phrases
as she cleaned paint brushes
and detailed the careful steps needed
to crackle a mirror frame
or the heart of a healthy man
to the top floor of a brick house
on the corner of two famous boulevards
at le chez de madame tata
conspicuously named "la chateau de crackle"
unsuspectingly petite on the inside
despite the grandiose fixtures
rattled by the high pitched voices of garcons
imprisoned post trou de loup
we watched our step up the central staircase
to the tip top of la chateau
where we stumbled upon madame tata
affublee un bonnet and apron
over a gown, victorian vogue
shouting around the sound of past servants
directing the armoire placement
and correcting our pronunciation
of simple french phrases
as she cleaned paint brushes
and detailed the careful steps needed
to crackle a mirror frame
or the heart of a healthy man
Monday, June 14, 2010
in december (ist)
my mother was a chinese trapeze artist
your uncle was a crooked french canadian
smuggling bombs for the underground
gun-shot running gin
and i still roam these catacombs
cursing the name of the girl who died with me
*****
have been listening to the Decemerists lots.
your uncle was a crooked french canadian
smuggling bombs for the underground
gun-shot running gin
and i still roam these catacombs
cursing the name of the girl who died with me
*****
have been listening to the Decemerists lots.
Friday, June 11, 2010
you may suffer from some discomfort
while i redesign my blog.
take two Advil, have a cup of tea and relax. this will be over before you know it.
take two Advil, have a cup of tea and relax. this will be over before you know it.
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
21 friends in common
we're staged and ready
for lip service per capita
the university
of our dreams and captains
in strapping animal-skinned shoes
and this is a segment
for lip service per capita
the university
of our dreams and captains
in strapping animal-skinned shoes
and this is a segment
pawtucket, braga and bourne
it's late
and the journey home
is rubble ridden
is stumbling over
flakes of green
paint left drying
since 1935 or yesterday
built from molds
and carried
through forests
of orange plastic
and reflective yellow paint
scanning the horizon
for passing foul
across state lines
on rt 195
where i bear the right
to rusting breaks
and a loud exhaust pipe
over the lattice
of ground road
under my wheels
the thump thump
of the street and lady gaga
today we passed two cars
still stuck together
by the force
of motion on motion
of hot metal
against hot metal
on a brilliant bright
tuesday evening
on our way over these
three bridges
the pawtucket
the braga
and the bourne
and the journey home
is rubble ridden
is stumbling over
flakes of green
paint left drying
since 1935 or yesterday
built from molds
and carried
through forests
of orange plastic
and reflective yellow paint
scanning the horizon
for passing foul
across state lines
on rt 195
where i bear the right
to rusting breaks
and a loud exhaust pipe
over the lattice
of ground road
under my wheels
the thump thump
of the street and lady gaga
today we passed two cars
still stuck together
by the force
of motion on motion
of hot metal
against hot metal
on a brilliant bright
tuesday evening
on our way over these
three bridges
the pawtucket
the braga
and the bourne
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Friday, June 04, 2010
best friends
i'll make you presents
if we could be best friends
fly away on a ship powered
by balloons inflated
with the air from our lungs
and tied together with bows
drink strawberry milk
with our nutella and toast
pick flowers in bunches
to give to the neighbors
we'll make best friends
if you learn to speak english
and i learn to dig holes
big enough for both of us to slide down
watch clouds waft by in shapes
like animals and sail boats
riding through the morning sky
singing lullabies and telling jokes
Simply Hue = Pretty.
Simple Hue - Artist: Naoko from Naokos Stoop = Specificly Pretty.
if we could be best friends
fly away on a ship powered
by balloons inflated
with the air from our lungs
and tied together with bows
drink strawberry milk
with our nutella and toast
pick flowers in bunches
to give to the neighbors
we'll make best friends
if you learn to speak english
and i learn to dig holes
big enough for both of us to slide down
watch clouds waft by in shapes
like animals and sail boats
riding through the morning sky
singing lullabies and telling jokes
Simply Hue = Pretty.
Simple Hue - Artist: Naoko from Naokos Stoop = Specificly Pretty.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
the time is coming
i'm afraid to change my blog layout, to update all the links and modernize (as it were).
but that time is approaching rapidly. my blog is old. my blog is very old. my blog needs a makeover!
but that time is approaching rapidly. my blog is old. my blog is very old. my blog needs a makeover!
Monday, May 31, 2010
on the last day
ryan and i just rounded out a long weekend with a few episodes of the Ricky Gervais Show (as shown in HBO, and pictured below)
ricky, steve and karl were talking about death as they often do. ricky brought up the idea that life would be different if everyone was guaranteed that they would die peacefully in their sleep.
not to be morbid, but i was then lead to think about what i would do given only one full day left to live. if i knew that i would die in my sleep the next night. i have two answers to this situation, one is an idealized version of the last day, the other is how i think i would actually, really react if told i would die that night.
the ideal version of how i would react would be calm. if told i would die in my sleep that night, i would probably want to spend my last day at home with ryan and the cats. maybe have pancakes for breakfast and go for a walk along one of the trails behind our house. i would want everything to be normal. maybe i'd change the litter boxes just to fool myself into a cool state of normalcy. ryan and i would probably watch some old doctor who, or a few episodes of Ashes to Ashes or TUF. Then to round it out, I'd probably want to go out to dinner somewhere. seafood maybe, or thai food? and i'd want to spend my last waking moments in the arms of my best friend and lover, my ryan.
that sounds like a lovely day.
what i think would really happen though... the day might end up the way i described above, but not before greedily gorging on junk food until i felt ill. then in a fit of guilt and self pity i'd probably run off somewhere solemn. i think i'd reach out to the ocean actually. i would cry for myself and feel dissatisfied.
i think this is where i would end up if i were alone. this is my deep dark side. my self pitying side. my ugly side.
and in my scenario of what i would do on the last day, it's ryan who saves me. he rescues me from my tears, reminds me of the good i've done, reminds me what i mean to him, and then takes me home where we spend my final day together in each other's arms.
so all this is going through my head as we're watching the ricky gervais show and it occurs to me as if for the first time, i love ryan.
of course i love him, we've been happily married for over six years. but it still surprises me whenever that thought--pure and whole--pops into my head unexpectedly.
ryan always saves me. in any state of mind or matter, ryan always saves me.
not to be morbid, but i was then lead to think about what i would do given only one full day left to live. if i knew that i would die in my sleep the next night. i have two answers to this situation, one is an idealized version of the last day, the other is how i think i would actually, really react if told i would die that night.
the ideal version of how i would react would be calm. if told i would die in my sleep that night, i would probably want to spend my last day at home with ryan and the cats. maybe have pancakes for breakfast and go for a walk along one of the trails behind our house. i would want everything to be normal. maybe i'd change the litter boxes just to fool myself into a cool state of normalcy. ryan and i would probably watch some old doctor who, or a few episodes of Ashes to Ashes or TUF. Then to round it out, I'd probably want to go out to dinner somewhere. seafood maybe, or thai food? and i'd want to spend my last waking moments in the arms of my best friend and lover, my ryan.
that sounds like a lovely day.
what i think would really happen though... the day might end up the way i described above, but not before greedily gorging on junk food until i felt ill. then in a fit of guilt and self pity i'd probably run off somewhere solemn. i think i'd reach out to the ocean actually. i would cry for myself and feel dissatisfied.
i think this is where i would end up if i were alone. this is my deep dark side. my self pitying side. my ugly side.
and in my scenario of what i would do on the last day, it's ryan who saves me. he rescues me from my tears, reminds me of the good i've done, reminds me what i mean to him, and then takes me home where we spend my final day together in each other's arms.
so all this is going through my head as we're watching the ricky gervais show and it occurs to me as if for the first time, i love ryan.
of course i love him, we've been happily married for over six years. but it still surprises me whenever that thought--pure and whole--pops into my head unexpectedly.
ryan always saves me. in any state of mind or matter, ryan always saves me.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
my fifth go on the macaron-a-coaster
the wondrous Michelle purchases me a big ol' box of blanched almond flour in order for me to produce a large sum of macarons for her sister's birfday.
so, tonight i did a test batch to make sure nothing unforeseen goes down when i attempt four batches in two days (that's a lot of macaronage, folks).
good news, the test came back tasty and pretty ^____^ below are a few photos of the one i sunk my teeth into. it was a very thorough test, let's say.
so, tonight i did a test batch to make sure nothing unforeseen goes down when i attempt four batches in two days (that's a lot of macaronage, folks).
good news, the test came back tasty and pretty ^____^ below are a few photos of the one i sunk my teeth into. it was a very thorough test, let's say.
more than a photo blog
the space in between: the art of losing love pt 2
Michelle fell into the lap of this lovely blog. I have only read this single post linked here to date. It's moving and lovely and heavy and universal. It deserves some meditation on my part still, after which I'll explore more posts by this blogger.
Michelle fell into the lap of this lovely blog. I have only read this single post linked here to date. It's moving and lovely and heavy and universal. It deserves some meditation on my part still, after which I'll explore more posts by this blogger.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
another sunday
the house should smell of butter -
i made madeleines for breakfast -
but he's trying to fix the fan
in the bedroom with canned oil
and the fresh laundry on the line
in the back yard can only be felt
from a window ledge - all of which
are occupied by cats with bellies
full of freshly whipped cream -
i made madeleines for breakfast -
but he's trying to fix the fan
in the bedroom with canned oil
and the fresh laundry on the line
in the back yard can only be felt
from a window ledge - all of which
are occupied by cats with bellies
full of freshly whipped cream -
Saturday, May 15, 2010
hello
a little poem for Sarah
the daffodils have started to wilt
early May heat, prickling at their stalks
petals turned upwards
towards that great fiery ball in the sky
eyes closed tight against the light
yielding bright colored shapes
moving and morphing and playing tricks
under the soft skin on a child's lids
a neighborhood summer game
performed to the sound of orange cats
on the window sills of house number 10
and geese squawking at passing ducks
the daffodils have started to wilt
early May heat, prickling at their stalks
petals turned upwards
towards that great fiery ball in the sky
eyes closed tight against the light
yielding bright colored shapes
moving and morphing and playing tricks
under the soft skin on a child's lids
a neighborhood summer game
performed to the sound of orange cats
on the window sills of house number 10
and geese squawking at passing ducks
c is for cake, ain't that right
i found the art room plant on tumblr. from there i found sarah ahearn's paper crown which featured this lovely craft work... (among many other beautiful pieces, which you should check out, you).
C is for Cake
sweet fatty delight
another saturday
a little poem for Alli
on any given sofa a cat
she is purring
with her eyes half closed
half open
spying on the sounds
surrounding her saturday morning
on any given sofa a cat
she is purring
with her eyes half closed
half open
spying on the sounds
surrounding her saturday morning
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
three weeks in england
we scheduled a two week holiday and got three. thanks to "the volcano" all British airspace was closed for flights. the flight ban ran through until the Tuesday after we were meant to fly. perhaps more on this later.
in those three weeks, i took nearly 2,000 pictures. here's one of them. i hope you like it ^______^
in those three weeks, i took nearly 2,000 pictures. here's one of them. i hope you like it ^______^
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
gone to england
okay, we're leaving on friday afternoon. but i don't know that i'll have much time to comment here before we go (especially considering our internet router thingy is ba ba ba busssted).
tomorrow is all about packing. friday morning is all about making sure the kitties are sorted and the car is full of fuel for the ride to boston.
^___________^
maybe i'll update from england with a few british easter pictures.
tomorrow is all about packing. friday morning is all about making sure the kitties are sorted and the car is full of fuel for the ride to boston.
^___________^
maybe i'll update from england with a few british easter pictures.
p.s. DOOOOOOOCTOR WHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Friday, March 26, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
More Macarons!
i had another go at macarons tonight, and i think they look wonderful!
i used the recommended portions of confectioner's sugar (160g) and almond meal (120g) this time.
also, my egg whites were properly aged (in the fridge 5 days before baking and left out on the counter for two days before baking).
finally, i mixed the batter a bit more. i think i have the consitancy down now.
these ones are lemon flavored for ryan's birthday.
to bake, i set the oven to 310 degrees F, turned it down to 300 and put the macarons in for 10 minutes. the bottoms are a little sticky. there's a batch in the oven right now that i am going to try leaving in a little longer (maybe 12 minutes) to see what difference that makes with stickyness.
there are huge air pockets in them, but that's not my biggest concern yet.
i'm so pleased these ones look more like macarons on the outside, and less like... weird pink cat vomit. tasty cat vomit. okay.
i used the recommended portions of confectioner's sugar (160g) and almond meal (120g) this time.
also, my egg whites were properly aged (in the fridge 5 days before baking and left out on the counter for two days before baking).
finally, i mixed the batter a bit more. i think i have the consitancy down now.
these ones are lemon flavored for ryan's birthday.
to bake, i set the oven to 310 degrees F, turned it down to 300 and put the macarons in for 10 minutes. the bottoms are a little sticky. there's a batch in the oven right now that i am going to try leaving in a little longer (maybe 12 minutes) to see what difference that makes with stickyness.
there are huge air pockets in them, but that's not my biggest concern yet.
i'm so pleased these ones look more like macarons on the outside, and less like... weird pink cat vomit. tasty cat vomit. okay.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Katy Makes Macarons: Part 6
while these little delights don't LOOK like the macarons i was aiming for, they taste pretty stellar.
next time i'll use the original ratio of almond meal to sugar and see what differnce that makes in the shells. and i can afford to mix the batter a bit more than i did too. i was very very concerned with not overing mixing it.
overall though, i'm really proud of my efforts and looking forward to trying again.
Katy Makes Macarons: Part 5
the macs i baked at 330 degrees F for 10 minutes came out really nice... with one HUGE excepton:
those cannot be called feet. they're more like flippers.
i'm letting the oven cool down before i try a batch at a lower temperature. i think 300 degrees for 15 minutes. they might also come out all wonky, but so goes trial and error.
Katy Makes Macarons: Part 4
so far, so good. well, aside from the fact that i'm a moody grumbleoid today and had a little bit of a strop earlier x____x
here are a few pictures of the macarons in progress...
almond meal and sugar in the food processor
here are a few pictures of the macarons in progress...
almond meal and sugar in the food processor
I'm making my shells rose flavored
and pink ^___^
i think i did a pretty good job NOT over mixing my batter, but i may have under mixed it... dunno.
and this is one of the best pipped shells so far. i made a few weird looking ones because i started off with too fine a pipping tip.
as of right now, the tray of macarons are settling on the counter. i'll put them in the oven in half an hour or so.
and the kitchen smells of roses! ♥
Katy Makes Macarons: Part 3
having done quite a lot of reading on these little cookies, i've discovered some variations. because i don't want to go into the kitchen confused and disorganized, it's best to make some decisions ahead of time.
The Ratios
the sites that i'm relying on to guide me through this macaron adventure offer a few different ratios of ingredients. i'm sure there are differences in the final cookie, but i'm not sure what they are.
since i genuinely have no idea what i'm doing, i've decided on the most scientific recipe, and the one least specialized to a single baker's preferences.
this base recipe is that offered by syrup and tang.
i'll be mixing 100g of egg white (aged) with 80g of castor sugar with a dash of cream of tarter (because i have some).
my bright pink gel food coloring and rose water extract will go in this mixture of egg whites and sugar.
then syrup and tang recommend a well mixed 160g of confectioner's sugar and 120g of almond meal. i don't want my cookies too sweet though (oh, here i go, making changes already), so i'm going to do equal parts sugar and almond, which means 140g confectioner's sugar and 140g almond meal and add that blend to my meringue.
The Method
like ratios, there are also different methods of making these tasty treats.
one method requires using syrup (sugar boiled in a water solution to 150 degrees F). this technique is the italian meringue method. from what i gather, this method yields more consistent results; however, i don't have a standing mixer to let run while i boil the sugar. i am not in the mood to burn myself on boiling sugar. and finally, i've tried making homemade chocolate fudge from scratch and every time i over or under boiled the candy for over-all terrible results.
seeing as how i have a bad history with boiling sugar, i'm going with the french method. you simply whip up some egg whites, add your sugar, whip some more, and viola!
so while the french method might be a little more risky for the cookies, my comfort level with this second method is higher and i'm less likely to royally screw up in the kitchen.
i'm hoping that the meringue doesn't make so much of a difference and that allowing the shells to rest before baking, baking for the right time in the right temperature, and then allowing the shells to cool all make the difference in the shape and texture of the cookies.
that being said, it might take a few tries to figure out the best temperature and time in my own oven. for now, i'll be backing with the convection setting at 330 defrees F for 7 minutes. i don't know if i have to leave the oven door open or not... i think i'll leave it closed for now. i'd rather watch the shells and take them out sooner if need be. the fortunate thing is, i can bake several differnt trays full with my one batch of batter, so i can adjust the temp and time between batches to start figuring my oven out.
wish me luck!
The Ratios
the sites that i'm relying on to guide me through this macaron adventure offer a few different ratios of ingredients. i'm sure there are differences in the final cookie, but i'm not sure what they are.
since i genuinely have no idea what i'm doing, i've decided on the most scientific recipe, and the one least specialized to a single baker's preferences.
this base recipe is that offered by syrup and tang.
i'll be mixing 100g of egg white (aged) with 80g of castor sugar with a dash of cream of tarter (because i have some).
my bright pink gel food coloring and rose water extract will go in this mixture of egg whites and sugar.
then syrup and tang recommend a well mixed 160g of confectioner's sugar and 120g of almond meal. i don't want my cookies too sweet though (oh, here i go, making changes already), so i'm going to do equal parts sugar and almond, which means 140g confectioner's sugar and 140g almond meal and add that blend to my meringue.
The Method
like ratios, there are also different methods of making these tasty treats.
one method requires using syrup (sugar boiled in a water solution to 150 degrees F). this technique is the italian meringue method. from what i gather, this method yields more consistent results; however, i don't have a standing mixer to let run while i boil the sugar. i am not in the mood to burn myself on boiling sugar. and finally, i've tried making homemade chocolate fudge from scratch and every time i over or under boiled the candy for over-all terrible results.
seeing as how i have a bad history with boiling sugar, i'm going with the french method. you simply whip up some egg whites, add your sugar, whip some more, and viola!
so while the french method might be a little more risky for the cookies, my comfort level with this second method is higher and i'm less likely to royally screw up in the kitchen.
i'm hoping that the meringue doesn't make so much of a difference and that allowing the shells to rest before baking, baking for the right time in the right temperature, and then allowing the shells to cool all make the difference in the shape and texture of the cookies.
that being said, it might take a few tries to figure out the best temperature and time in my own oven. for now, i'll be backing with the convection setting at 330 defrees F for 7 minutes. i don't know if i have to leave the oven door open or not... i think i'll leave it closed for now. i'd rather watch the shells and take them out sooner if need be. the fortunate thing is, i can bake several differnt trays full with my one batch of batter, so i can adjust the temp and time between batches to start figuring my oven out.
wish me luck!
Katy Makes Macarons: Part 2
furthering my research on making macs (that's the industry slang for macarons, see) i've been watching a few videos.
this one was particularly helpful:
i'll be baking this evening so expect pictures tonight. i'm nervous, but excited.
this one was particularly helpful:
i'll be baking this evening so expect pictures tonight. i'm nervous, but excited.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Katy Makes Macarons: Part 1
i've been thinking about Macarons a lot lately. i found a few places online where i can buy them in large quantities. on our last jaunt to Philly we went to a little place called Miel Patisserie and i purchased a whole box of cookies!
i've not just been thinking about eating them though. i've been thinking of *dun dun dun* making them!
macarons are a sort of bench mark baked good. once you've made macarons (good ones), you've MADE IT in the baking world. (okay, so at least in my little ol' opinion anyway, and that of some fellow foodie type bloggers out there).
i'm nervous about making these little cookies as i've not even attempted straight meringues yet. but saturday is Jour De Macaron, and what better day to attempt making my first batch of macarons that Macaron Day!?
no better day, i say. so saturday i will be attempting my first batch of macarons.
the first step to making macarons is RESEARCH. and so, i've been reading up on the delicious little delights. below are the three sights that have detailed guides; all of which can become a bit overwhelming, but at least i'll know where to look when my cookies come out all wonky or sticky and figure out exactly what i did wrong.
Not So Humble Pie: Mararon 101
Sytup and Tang: La Macaronicité
and La Cuisine De Mercotte
i don't have all the tools i really should. i don't have silicon mats for my cookie sheets. i don't have a stainless steal mixing bowl. i don't have an oven thermometer. but i do have a great oven, a nice scale (thanks mum!), and patience enough not to be put off if my first batch comes out terrible.
so far i've seperated some eggs (which, erm, i made a huge mess while doing) i'll measure out two 50g portions of whites saturday before baking (this could be a really bad idea, don't know. i've never aged egg whites before).
i've got almond meal (which i intend on drying out tomorrow night) and i'll probably whip up the buttercream tomorrow night too.
updates as they come ^__^ and yeah, there'll be pictures!
i've not just been thinking about eating them though. i've been thinking of *dun dun dun* making them!
macarons are a sort of bench mark baked good. once you've made macarons (good ones), you've MADE IT in the baking world. (okay, so at least in my little ol' opinion anyway, and that of some fellow foodie type bloggers out there).
i'm nervous about making these little cookies as i've not even attempted straight meringues yet. but saturday is Jour De Macaron, and what better day to attempt making my first batch of macarons that Macaron Day!?
no better day, i say. so saturday i will be attempting my first batch of macarons.
the first step to making macarons is RESEARCH. and so, i've been reading up on the delicious little delights. below are the three sights that have detailed guides; all of which can become a bit overwhelming, but at least i'll know where to look when my cookies come out all wonky or sticky and figure out exactly what i did wrong.
Not So Humble Pie: Mararon 101
Sytup and Tang: La Macaronicité
and La Cuisine De Mercotte
i don't have all the tools i really should. i don't have silicon mats for my cookie sheets. i don't have a stainless steal mixing bowl. i don't have an oven thermometer. but i do have a great oven, a nice scale (thanks mum!), and patience enough not to be put off if my first batch comes out terrible.
so far i've seperated some eggs (which, erm, i made a huge mess while doing) i'll measure out two 50g portions of whites saturday before baking (this could be a really bad idea, don't know. i've never aged egg whites before).
i've got almond meal (which i intend on drying out tomorrow night) and i'll probably whip up the buttercream tomorrow night too.
updates as they come ^__^ and yeah, there'll be pictures!
Monday, March 15, 2010
home improvements big and small
a new bundle of tea towels
new kitteh-food bowl and mat
and this... she's called Cherry Cherry Boom Boom
♥♥♥
new kitteh-food bowl and mat
and this... she's called Cherry Cherry Boom Boom
♥♥♥
Sunday, March 14, 2010
project 365 fail
i am so behind on the picture-a-day project that it feels futile to try to catch up. i have been taking a lot of pictures, but not one each day.
i will continue to post photos, but i think it's time i start refocusing my blog into the realm of poetics.
the pictures won't stop. in fact, later i plan on taking some pictures of my brand new washing machine (♥) and posting them here. i also have a few pictures from our weekend in philly to share.
i will continue to post photos, but i think it's time i start refocusing my blog into the realm of poetics.
the pictures won't stop. in fact, later i plan on taking some pictures of my brand new washing machine (♥) and posting them here. i also have a few pictures from our weekend in philly to share.
Friday, March 05, 2010
Thursday, March 04, 2010
the tragedy i've heard
are you the tragedy i've heard so much about?
you're the one with all the opportunities
but too strong of an adverse response to commitment
you're the one that comes in for a chat
and leaves just as we're getting to talk about me
you're the one that... well, we'll never know.
you're the one with all the opportunities
but too strong of an adverse response to commitment
you're the one that comes in for a chat
and leaves just as we're getting to talk about me
you're the one that... well, we'll never know.
Monday, March 01, 2010
St Catherine and the Ruby
The face looking down at her was upside down and only mildly attractive. His face was upside down because he was standing over her. He was standing over her because she was lying down in a pew with her head towards the center aisle of the Hidden Gem.
“What, um, what are you doing?” he asked mildly; somewhat concerned, but not the least bit worried.
Catherine blinked with nonchalance. She blinked like a young woman who had just been woken from a pleasant, yet predictable dream. She blinked and answered, “Have you ever tried it? Lying in a church pew, I mean…”
“No.” His answer was immediate and defensive. It was as if he thought such a practice was odd. It was odd; she would have to admit. But instead of admitting anything to him, she closed her eyes again, slowly and deliberately.
In her dream she meets a handsome man with broad shoulders and clean fingernails. He is well dressed and quiet. The man is handsome, but simple. She understands him all too well, too easily. She is unchallenged by his offer of wine and bread and ballroom dancing. In her dream, she considers herself happy. The background is blue and green and pink. The man in her dream tries as he might to surprise her, but she always knows precisely what he’ll do. The puppy was not a surprise. The picnic in the field of wild flowers. The proposal. The ring. The dress. The shoes. The children. The laundry. The bouquet on valentine’s day. The mistress. The fights. The slamming door. The tears. The debt. Nothing he did could thrill her. He was, after all, a creation of her own mind.
Back in the church her arms were folded over her waist. Her legs were closed politely together all the way down to the tips of her shiny black pumps. Her purse was somewhat carelessly placed on the floor between where she slept and where the only mildly attractive man with soft curls of hair was now sitting. His arms rested alongside the back of her pew.
Rupert looked down at the sleeping woman. Her hair was properly curled. It looked like she’d spent a long time fixing it. He didn’t understand why she should spend so much time on her hair only to lie down in a church pew. He didn’t understand why she should lie down in a church pew at all.
When he was a child he found pews itchy and uncomfortable. He still found them uncomfortable. They reminded him of his mother and he had always found her itchy and uncomfortable too. He thought instantly, that’s a terrible way to think about one’s own mother. Nevertheless, he felt it.
He felt something different towards the odd young woman though. He couldn’t figure out exactly what it was though.
“You should try it” she whispered out between dreams.
“No thank you” he spoke in reply, quickly, but still mildly, still thinking about his mother and her over-compensating hats.
Catherine opened one eye, her lips curled into a cheeky half grin. “Well then…” she sat up so that their faces aligned with only half a foot between them and her hands still together, now resting on her lap, “would you like to try something else?”
He very purposefully stopped thinking about his mother.
She smirked. She liked him. At least, she thought she did. She could see the gears churning in his mind. She could imagine he was a clockwork robot calculated to respond to others with the reserve of a well-bred British gentleman. She wanted to open up the casing, to see the metal at work.
“What sort of something else did you have in mind?”
“What do you mean what sort of something?” She knew full well she was provoking his sensibilities. She wanted to test him, see how far he’d go with her.
“I mean… um…”
As he floundered for a response Catherine couldn’t help but laugh despite her good sense, “what would you like to try?”
“I’m sorry” he put his head down and lifted himself up from the pew. He couldn’t stop thinking about his mother. His shoulders tucked in to his chest as he shuffled out of the pew. A beautiful girl and he still couldn’t get past those hats. He couldn’t get over the hatred he felt for them even after his mother’s death. “Timely death” was the phrase he harbored. Damn it Rupert you ruddy fool, there’s a pretty young woman taunting you and all you can think about are hats.
She rose swiftly and urgently, surprisingly. “Don’t leave, please.”
They stood in front of one another for a very long time. Again, she sensed his mind turning. For an instant she thought she could hear the churning of the gears as they ground against one another. She liked him. She definitely liked him and wanted nothing more than to antagonize him further for the benefit of them both. “What I mean is, is there something you have always wanted to try, but never thought you could?”
She stood in front of him beaming with life and stern, powerful beauty that he hadn’t recognized before. He heard her question and the bold vowels in her accent, but did not process the meaning of her words. “I’m… sorry, I’m…” He caught up with himself, forgot all about hats and reverted to manners. “Hello.”
Catherine laughed out loud; too loud for a church. She covered her mouth to calm herself then responded with an equal “hello.” “Let us start with a simpler question. My name is Catherine, what’s yours?”
“Rupert.” He stood still in front of her, lost in some other realm of interaction. He didn’t even notice her hand held out in front of him until she waved it in his face, still giggling.
“Oh, ah, nice to meet you Catherine.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Ruby.”
“Ah, no, sorry, it’s ah, Rupert.”
She smiled, “that’s what I said, Ruby.” She spun around on the back of her pumps and pulled him towards the entrance of the church by his hand. His eyes were transfixed on the seams of her leggings when she asked again, “so what would you like to try?”
Right Hook Problem Solver
Cormac was enjoying dinner with his family when the front door bell rang. His sister Amy stood on the front porch shivering in the 52 degree summer night air. “Good God, Amy, what happened to you?” Her hair was in a pulled apart, messy pony tail and her up-town girl make-up was smeared across her face in every which way.
“Corny, I’m sorry to come around here like this with the kids here and… well, I didn’t know where else to go.” She looked down to avoid the gaze of her got-his-shit-together older brother and his disapproving glare.
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the house. As much as he disapproved of her lifestyle, he wasn’t going to leave his sister out in the cold. His wife fixed Amy a hot bath and a dinner plate while he and the kids put fresh sheets on the pull-out sofa bed in the living room. “Daddy, how comes you can haves a sleep over if you says I cannot?”
He patted his son on the head. “It’s not a sleep over, Corn-on-the-cob, she’s my sister. And your sister can sleep over any time she wants.”
There was another ring at the door. This time a tall, pale young man stood with his hands in his pockets pacing back and forth in front of the door. “Hiya, sorry, is Amy here?” he asked politely in an old Irish accent. “I, ah, I was trying to apologize to her when she ran off… I think she might be a little drunk. That could be my fault actually.”
Cormac stared at the stranger, trying to hold back his anger in front of the kids. He could feel his temperature and heart rate rise. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing… oh Nothing!” he took his hands out of his pockets and put them up in defense. “There was a friend of hers that I, well, I was trying to apologize for it all. I’m… I’m sorry. I can’t always control…”
Before the guy on his porch could finish, Cormac stepped out onto the porch and shut the door firmly behind him. He didn’t even feel himself wind the punch. The fist to face feeling was instantly satisfying. He closed the door before the tall Irish guy could pick himself up off the bottom step of the porch.
He Came to Say he was Sorry…
Tiki’s dad had been missing for two days when the looming, dark stranger rang their front door bell with a big bunch of slightly wilting roses in his hand. He spoke with an old Irish accent, “Hello, may I come in?” he asked gentlemanly enough.
Tiki shut the door “hold on, I gotta ask my mom” and rushed up the stairs to her mom who was on the phone with some relative or another. Her mom started to run out of worry. Tiki heard her say something about dad running away. Tiki didn’t think her dad would ever run away, and held on hope that he was lost or that someone was holding him captive for information they thought he had. She imaged whatever it was, her dad was tough enough to survive it and come home a great hero. Tiki always thought of big guys like her dad as heroes.
“Please come in, sit down. Can I get you some coffee or something?” Tiki’s mom, Leah, was polite to the stranger. Tiki didn’t like him.
“Ah, no that’s really okay. I can’t stay long.” He handed Tiki’s mom the flowers and asked her to please sit, “I have something very important to tell you.” He looked over at Tiki. He stared at her. She got the chills and left the room.
“I’m gonna go play on the xbox, k mom?”
“Sure thing, honey.”
The next thing Tiki heard would change her forever. It would alter her view of a universe otherwise normal and electronic.
“WhAT!? You’re a sick freak, get out of here NOW!” Tiki heard her mom shouting at the stranger. “What kind of vampire APOLOGIZES!? Jesus fucking Christ all mighty.” Leah slammed the door shut on the stranger then fell with her back against the door weeping and sobbing and cursing.
Tiki went to consol her mom until she saw her dad’s wallet and wedding ring in her mom’s hands….
Tiki shut the door “hold on, I gotta ask my mom” and rushed up the stairs to her mom who was on the phone with some relative or another. Her mom started to run out of worry. Tiki heard her say something about dad running away. Tiki didn’t think her dad would ever run away, and held on hope that he was lost or that someone was holding him captive for information they thought he had. She imaged whatever it was, her dad was tough enough to survive it and come home a great hero. Tiki always thought of big guys like her dad as heroes.
“Please come in, sit down. Can I get you some coffee or something?” Tiki’s mom, Leah, was polite to the stranger. Tiki didn’t like him.
“Ah, no that’s really okay. I can’t stay long.” He handed Tiki’s mom the flowers and asked her to please sit, “I have something very important to tell you.” He looked over at Tiki. He stared at her. She got the chills and left the room.
“I’m gonna go play on the xbox, k mom?”
“Sure thing, honey.”
The next thing Tiki heard would change her forever. It would alter her view of a universe otherwise normal and electronic.
“WhAT!? You’re a sick freak, get out of here NOW!” Tiki heard her mom shouting at the stranger. “What kind of vampire APOLOGIZES!? Jesus fucking Christ all mighty.” Leah slammed the door shut on the stranger then fell with her back against the door weeping and sobbing and cursing.
Tiki went to consol her mom until she saw her dad’s wallet and wedding ring in her mom’s hands….
Sunday, February 28, 2010
day 102 - mike turned 19 or something
so i made him a peanut butter and jelly cake... which looks sorta sloppy, but tasted like peanut butter and jelly, which is a good thing ^__^
Thursday, February 25, 2010
meetings
we have lunch in unusual places
in the apple grove
or the high school wood shop,
by the sea on a white painted table
or at the library - very quietly of course
in the apple grove
or the high school wood shop,
by the sea on a white painted table
or at the library - very quietly of course
tea party on the beach
imagine us, your best friends,
scattered along the coast
dressed is soft yellows, baby blues
and ballet-slipper pink dresses
hands clasping antique cups
overflowing with sweet tea
milk pitchers shaped like cows
and fancy silver spoons
tucked into the white crystals
of an over sized sugar bowl
scattered, like we are, across a table
as if it too were an ocean
fishing for boys in loose bow ties
and snacking on petit fours
with curly haired irish lads
and dames in elegant dresses
scattered along the coast
dressed is soft yellows, baby blues
and ballet-slipper pink dresses
hands clasping antique cups
overflowing with sweet tea
milk pitchers shaped like cows
and fancy silver spoons
tucked into the white crystals
of an over sized sugar bowl
scattered, like we are, across a table
as if it too were an ocean
fishing for boys in loose bow ties
and snacking on petit fours
with curly haired irish lads
and dames in elegant dresses
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
chain singer
we woke up in the milder woods
of a new england province
pink roses in full bloom
tucked in colorful glass bottles
nestled between the leaves
all around our blankets and sheets
lost in a familiar neighborhood
we bought 10 cent ice creams
and put circles of pebbles
in people's driveways
of a new england province
pink roses in full bloom
tucked in colorful glass bottles
nestled between the leaves
all around our blankets and sheets
lost in a familiar neighborhood
we bought 10 cent ice creams
and put circles of pebbles
in people's driveways
lockettier
six winged angels in fuax leather jackets
and foreign textbook boots
spread the chaos of an uncertain afterlife
to the men and women of battle fields
and the fortress walls of Cahokia Fort
when angels are found sleeping like children
dreaming of kitten paws and fresh figs
on the beaches and river banks
in homemade four-point beds
with irish lace linens and downy pillows
should you disrupt them let it be
with fresh milk in glass bottles
a song and a strong british blend
in fine white china tea cups on saucers
hand painted with flowers and seasonal berries
locked not to the task at hand
because angels of all creatures
are playful and hungry
don't rush them towards terror
or your next cuppa will be cold
and foreign textbook boots
spread the chaos of an uncertain afterlife
to the men and women of battle fields
and the fortress walls of Cahokia Fort
when angels are found sleeping like children
dreaming of kitten paws and fresh figs
on the beaches and river banks
in homemade four-point beds
with irish lace linens and downy pillows
should you disrupt them let it be
with fresh milk in glass bottles
a song and a strong british blend
in fine white china tea cups on saucers
hand painted with flowers and seasonal berries
locked not to the task at hand
because angels of all creatures
are playful and hungry
don't rush them towards terror
or your next cuppa will be cold
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
day 97, 98, 99
kitties love...
saturday night I made these motz, feta and pesto muffins. they were a hit ^___^
yesterday, what can i say, my hair was out of control... or the only one in control. >____<
saturday night I made these motz, feta and pesto muffins. they were a hit ^___^
yesterday, what can i say, my hair was out of control... or the only one in control. >____<
Saturday, February 20, 2010
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