A Safe Space for Moogles

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For truth, justice, and things that go Boom.

June 1st, 2011


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So one of the seven zillion things I had to do last night was make a cabbagey salad thing for the 'cookout' at work today. (In quotes because, due to Heat Factor Whoa Nelly, it was more of a cookin.) I got the recipe from here, and yes that's the foodporn website. So I made that last night, and it tasted pretty good to me, and I was all *proud of myself! ^____^* Then this morning I wake up to a note from the female parental unit. "It tastes really salty to me," she wrote. "You might want to leave a little early and get some coleslaw from the grocery store."

Somebody's had an attack of the Mommies.

But like all budding cooks who have spent a lifetime having their hearts herded about by well-meaning helicopter moms, I was a bit shaken by my mother's judgement. When cookout time rolled around and everyone started to eat, I watched the salad level in the bowl as it dropped slowly, peeked at everyone's faces as they tried my offering. Finally, just as I was about to swear off cooking forever and live off of peanut butter sandwiches, somebody told me, "Moogle, your coleslaw is really good."

"Yeah, it's delicious," said another.

"I'm going to figure out the recipe," announced a third.

"Yay!" quoth I.

So victory tastes like pickled cabbage salad. I can't wait to tell my mother. ^_^

March 31st, 2011

My cooking adventure!

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It started with four underripe pears.

Mom mentioned that her school serves a pear version of apple crisp every so often, and that she wanted to try to make it herself. "Or you could make it," she hinted strongly, always campaigning to get me to cook something that isn't instant yakisoba noodles. So with Mom making meaningful looks at the hard pears in the fruit bowl, and with me with a half day coming up, I said, "Sure, why not."

Mom didn't actually remember that it was called pear crisp. She just said it was a roasted pear with oatmeal stuff on top, so I did a Google search for roasted pear desserts and found that there wasn't much you couldn't do with a roasted pear. I found recipes that called for cinnamon sticks, brandy, and star anise (whatever that is), and ones that just made do with butter and sugar. Ultimately, I settled on this recipe because it seemed simple and homey and yet amazingly special and delicious. (I substituted vanilla extract for the vanilla bean, obv. I am not quite that posh. Instructions on how to do that are in the comments somewhere.

So: I used red pears. (The sticker just said 'red', no variety name like Bartlett or Bosch, unless Red is a variety.) Didn't bother to peel them. Vanilla extract whisked into sugar, and unsalted butter (I had to make an emergency run to the grocery store right before starting 'cause I forgot to check if the butter was salted or not). Half a lemon, squeezed. My IM partners this afternoon were probably a little annoyed with me disappearing every ten minutes to go baste the pears. (Yes, I basted.) I think I overdid it on the lemon, actually. Less lemon and maybe more 'nilla next time. Or maybe not, since I served it with vanilla ice cream. I looked for cinnamon ice cream but the grocery store didn't have any.

Totally worth all the running back and forth and the terror that I was going to wind up with either pear soup or balls of charcoal, though. They. Were. Amazing. Srs nommability, you guys. And my kitchen still smells like vanilla. *swoons the swoon of the happy homemaker*

If this keeps up, I will find myself with a spatula and a manic grin, wearing pearls and an apron. If you find me in this state, please take me out back and shoot me.

(...dammit, just talking about them gets me hungry again.)

March 30th, 2011

I would swear off porn for a piece of the grape focaccia.

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You guys. THIS SITE. It is food porn. Nay, it is food erotica. I discovered it when I was looking for something interesting to do with pears (found something) and now I can't look away. Zomgnomnom.

I'll let you know how the pears come out.

February 2nd, 2009

"So, Brain, what are we going to do tonight?" "The same thing we do every night, Uterus..."

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I'm starting to think my mood is connected to my monthlies. I've been down since last week, and my euphemism just started today. I wonder if there's a birth control pill designed to address that. ...I wonder if any birth control pills don't play well with my happy drugs. o_O

Either way, I know that I should probably get back to seeing a therapist. It's just that, I don't want to start developing a relationship with a shrink only to have to find another one if/when I move. It's almost easier to wait until after my living conditions change. ...Of course, I applied the same logic to making friends in elementary school, and I wound up with social anxiety. I can't win. -_-

Mom made little rice balls for her second-grade class for Chinese New Year (a week late, but whatevs) and now I find myself searching desperately for onigiri recipes. One of Mom's friends in Japan showed us how to make onigiri filling with pork and ginger and bean paste, and it was soooo good but I can't remember the specifics anymore and I can't find a recipe online (and I can't find bean paste, either). Lots of stuff about furikake and flaked fish and pickled plums though. And one recipe with Spam, oddly enough. Apparently it's the invention of Japanese expatriates in Hawaii. Rock on with your bad selves, guys.
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