(I just realized that Jesus was a zombie; I also realized that, in spite of the fact that I attended Catholic church every Sunday growing up and went weekly to CCD, I cannot for the life of me recall what Jesus did after he rose from the dead—I'm assuming he didn't eat anyone's brains [I'd definitely remember that]; MAYBE HE ATE KOULOURIA?!?)
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Monday, April 18, 2011
a sign of spring
Or at least a sign that the anniversary of Our Lord Jesus Christ's resurrection from the dead is just around the corner: my Greek stepmother's koulouria, delicious little biscuit-like cookies that have something, I have no idea what, to do with Easter.

(I just realized that Jesus was a zombie; I also realized that, in spite of the fact that I attended Catholic church every Sunday growing up and went weekly to CCD, I cannot for the life of me recall what Jesus did after he rose from the dead—I'm assuming he didn't eat anyone's brains [I'd definitely remember that]; MAYBE HE ATE KOULOURIA?!?)
(I just realized that Jesus was a zombie; I also realized that, in spite of the fact that I attended Catholic church every Sunday growing up and went weekly to CCD, I cannot for the life of me recall what Jesus did after he rose from the dead—I'm assuming he didn't eat anyone's brains [I'd definitely remember that]; MAYBE HE ATE KOULOURIA?!?)
Friday, July 9, 2010
dog days
It’s still hot. And I’m still not complaining. But I am moving very, very slowly. On Tuesday afternoon I walked a mile and a half to the auto mechanic’s to pick up our car. It was 100 degrees and the heat was viscous. Walking was like wading. After fifteen minutes I’d traveled only a few yards.
Hours later and a third of the way there I stopped at a corner store to cool off and buy a drink, but the store wasn’t air conditioned and there was a $5 minimum for debit card purchases, so I left my 99 cent bottle of water sweating on the counter. Back outside I contemplated hitchhiking, but the mere thought of extending my arm, let alone sticking up my thumb, was exhausting, so I carried on. Left foot. Right foot. L e f t . R i . . .
My brain, swollen with heat, throbbed against my skull. Sweat pooled at the front of my bra and tickled as it rolled down my back. There was a sharp little pain at my hip.
Zipper? Rough seam?
Bug! Caught in my waistband. Biting me. I pinched it dead through the fabric of my skirt, its carapace crunching between my fingertips. I considered crying. Too hot.
The last quarter mile before the garage was on a busy, shadeless road. Sun everywhere. The roar and exhaust of a passing bus sent me seeking refuge at the nearest business, a Christian bookstore. The interior was deliciously cool. I darted past the clerk and feigned browsing while the sweat turned to salt on my skin. 199 Promises of God; Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God; Eat the Cookie, Buy the Shoes: Giving Yourself Permission to Lighten Up; What Does God Expect of Us?
What does God expect of us? The clerk sidled up next to me and started asking questions of his own. Could he help me find something? Was I looking for anything in particular? Did I know the store took special orders? I was weak, vulnerable. No matter that his intentions were clearly to sell, not convert: One glass of ice water and I’d belong to Jesus.
Outside again, it was like I never left. The heat enveloped me, settling across my skin, filling every pore. I didn't have the will to go on, but I didn't have the will not to go on, either. WWJD?
On the corner of my mechanic’s lot is a tree, and I stopped in its shade to dig my keys from my purse. Opening the car door was like opening a preheated oven, a blast of burning air spilling forth. I drove with the windows down, nearly to my destination before the air blowing from the vents was no longer a searing desert wind. By the time I arrived at my friend Amy’s, my skin was slick and prickly, hair damp, skirt plastered to the backs of my legs. Inside her house I bogarted the chair in front of the fan and tilted my head forward to let the air oscillate across my neck. “I made cold foods,” Amy called from the kitchen. Chilled Thai Squash Soup. It was so good I gave myself to Jesus.

Naw. But I did have seconds, and made a batch of my own the next day. This is the perfect food for a hot summer evening: cool but a little spicy, deeply flavorful without being the least bit heavy. Slurpable. Refreshing. Delicious.
A few notes:
1. When I first tasted it I assumed the squash in the soup’s name was something autumnal, acorn or butternut maybe, but it’s made with “yellow crookneck squash.” Which is just your basic summer squash, the one that starts appearing this time of year, piled precariously next to its green doppelganger, zucchini.

2. The recipe here is more or less as it was published in Bon Appétit. Amy added sugar, so I added some, too, a scant teaspoon after the squash, and a little more to taste after I’d pureed the soup—the sugar isn't meant to sweeten, it should deepen. You'll need salt, too, though the amount will depend on your stock, your curry power, your taste buds, and whether you're trying to replace all the salt sweated from your body on that long-ass walk.
3. I’ve now eaten this with both nonfat yogurt and non-nonfat crème fraîche, both of which were scrumptious, and the cilantro shouldn’t be skipped, either.
Chilled Thai Squash Soup
From Bon Appétit
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 cups chopped onions
2 large garlic cloves, chopped
1 teaspoon Thai red curry paste
1 teaspoon curry powder

1 pound yellow crookneck squash, trimmed, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 cups (or more) broth
1 cup canned unsweetened coconut milk
Sugar, salt, & pepper to taste
Plain nonfat yogurt
Chopped fresh cilantro
1. Heat oil in heavy large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onions and sauté until soft and golden, about 5 minutes. Add garlic; stir 1 minute. Add curry paste and curry powder; stir 20 seconds. Add squash and sauté 1 minute. Stir in 2 cups broth and coconut milk and bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium and add teaspoon of sugar. Boil gently until squash is soft, 10 to 12 minutes. Cool slightly.
2. Working in batches, puree soup in blender until smooth. Season with salt and pepper and more sugar to taste. Transfer soup to a bowl and chill until cold, at least 2 hours. Thin with more broth, if desired.
3. Ladle soup into bowls. Spoon dollop of yogurt into center of soup in each bowl. Sprinkle with chopped cilantro and serve.
Hours later and a third of the way there I stopped at a corner store to cool off and buy a drink, but the store wasn’t air conditioned and there was a $5 minimum for debit card purchases, so I left my 99 cent bottle of water sweating on the counter. Back outside I contemplated hitchhiking, but the mere thought of extending my arm, let alone sticking up my thumb, was exhausting, so I carried on. Left foot. Right foot. L e f t . R i . . .
My brain, swollen with heat, throbbed against my skull. Sweat pooled at the front of my bra and tickled as it rolled down my back. There was a sharp little pain at my hip.
Zipper? Rough seam?
Bug! Caught in my waistband. Biting me. I pinched it dead through the fabric of my skirt, its carapace crunching between my fingertips. I considered crying. Too hot.
The last quarter mile before the garage was on a busy, shadeless road. Sun everywhere. The roar and exhaust of a passing bus sent me seeking refuge at the nearest business, a Christian bookstore. The interior was deliciously cool. I darted past the clerk and feigned browsing while the sweat turned to salt on my skin. 199 Promises of God; Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God; Eat the Cookie, Buy the Shoes: Giving Yourself Permission to Lighten Up; What Does God Expect of Us?
What does God expect of us? The clerk sidled up next to me and started asking questions of his own. Could he help me find something? Was I looking for anything in particular? Did I know the store took special orders? I was weak, vulnerable. No matter that his intentions were clearly to sell, not convert: One glass of ice water and I’d belong to Jesus.
Outside again, it was like I never left. The heat enveloped me, settling across my skin, filling every pore. I didn't have the will to go on, but I didn't have the will not to go on, either. WWJD?
On the corner of my mechanic’s lot is a tree, and I stopped in its shade to dig my keys from my purse. Opening the car door was like opening a preheated oven, a blast of burning air spilling forth. I drove with the windows down, nearly to my destination before the air blowing from the vents was no longer a searing desert wind. By the time I arrived at my friend Amy’s, my skin was slick and prickly, hair damp, skirt plastered to the backs of my legs. Inside her house I bogarted the chair in front of the fan and tilted my head forward to let the air oscillate across my neck. “I made cold foods,” Amy called from the kitchen. Chilled Thai Squash Soup. It was so good I gave myself to Jesus.
Naw. But I did have seconds, and made a batch of my own the next day. This is the perfect food for a hot summer evening: cool but a little spicy, deeply flavorful without being the least bit heavy. Slurpable. Refreshing. Delicious.
A few notes:
1. When I first tasted it I assumed the squash in the soup’s name was something autumnal, acorn or butternut maybe, but it’s made with “yellow crookneck squash.” Which is just your basic summer squash, the one that starts appearing this time of year, piled precariously next to its green doppelganger, zucchini.
2. The recipe here is more or less as it was published in Bon Appétit. Amy added sugar, so I added some, too, a scant teaspoon after the squash, and a little more to taste after I’d pureed the soup—the sugar isn't meant to sweeten, it should deepen. You'll need salt, too, though the amount will depend on your stock, your curry power, your taste buds, and whether you're trying to replace all the salt sweated from your body on that long-ass walk.
3. I’ve now eaten this with both nonfat yogurt and non-nonfat crème fraîche, both of which were scrumptious, and the cilantro shouldn’t be skipped, either.
Chilled Thai Squash Soup
From Bon Appétit
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 cups chopped onions
2 large garlic cloves, chopped
1 teaspoon Thai red curry paste
1 teaspoon curry powder
1 pound yellow crookneck squash, trimmed, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 cups (or more) broth
1 cup canned unsweetened coconut milk
Sugar, salt, & pepper to taste
Plain nonfat yogurt
Chopped fresh cilantro
1. Heat oil in heavy large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onions and sauté until soft and golden, about 5 minutes. Add garlic; stir 1 minute. Add curry paste and curry powder; stir 20 seconds. Add squash and sauté 1 minute. Stir in 2 cups broth and coconut milk and bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium and add teaspoon of sugar. Boil gently until squash is soft, 10 to 12 minutes. Cool slightly.
2. Working in batches, puree soup in blender until smooth. Season with salt and pepper and more sugar to taste. Transfer soup to a bowl and chill until cold, at least 2 hours. Thin with more broth, if desired.
3. Ladle soup into bowls. Spoon dollop of yogurt into center of soup in each bowl. Sprinkle with chopped cilantro and serve.
Monday, December 21, 2009
holiday dessert wishlist item #3: the parade of peppermint and chocolate marches on
Did you know I have folders full of pages pulled from Martha Stewart Living, tasteful crafts I will never do and recipes I will never make? Does this confirm your suspicion that I'm a hoarder? Because I think of myself as an archivist. An archivist with a sore, throbbing finger from holding a pen while proofreading: 11 hours today, 9 yesterday, 10.5 on Saturday ... shall I go on? Frankly, I'm not sure I have the strength.

Perhaps one of these Chocolate-Peppermint Cookies, from the December 2008 issue of MS Living, would revive me. Or perhaps not. On the one hand, I don't really like white chocolate; on the other, they're so pretty! And they feature what is apparently one of my very favorite flavor combinations (right up there with chocolate and peanut butter, two great tastes that taste great together).
But this is a dessert wishlist, so I don't have to be practical (see four-layer collapsing cake, below) or worry that I don't like one of the main ingredients. I'm never going to make these cookies—they look nearly impossible, and I can barely type with this gimpy finger, let alone make cookie dough, roll it out, cut it, bake it, melt the chocolate, dip the cookies in the chocolate, and sprinkle the whole mess with candy bits.
My only hope is that they will appear on my countertop like Jesus was born to Mary in the manger, a sort of virgin baking event wherein I sit chastely in my kitchen doing nothing but end up with a plate of cookies. A real Christmas miracle.

Perhaps one of these Chocolate-Peppermint Cookies, from the December 2008 issue of MS Living, would revive me. Or perhaps not. On the one hand, I don't really like white chocolate; on the other, they're so pretty! And they feature what is apparently one of my very favorite flavor combinations (right up there with chocolate and peanut butter, two great tastes that taste great together).
But this is a dessert wishlist, so I don't have to be practical (see four-layer collapsing cake, below) or worry that I don't like one of the main ingredients. I'm never going to make these cookies—they look nearly impossible, and I can barely type with this gimpy finger, let alone make cookie dough, roll it out, cut it, bake it, melt the chocolate, dip the cookies in the chocolate, and sprinkle the whole mess with candy bits.
My only hope is that they will appear on my countertop like Jesus was born to Mary in the manger, a sort of virgin baking event wherein I sit chastely in my kitchen doing nothing but end up with a plate of cookies. A real Christmas miracle.
Labels:
amen,
good things,
hoarding,
holidays,
Jesus,
the red pen is gettin' me down
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
motorcycle photography: here's the church, here's the steeple
Thursday, May 28, 2009
caught between a rock & a cream puff
I went to the monthly Penny Cluse dinner tonight, where I ate lobster roll, fried calamari, fresh anchovies, clam chowder, baked oysters, stuffed shells, clams, corn on the cob, roasted red potatoes, linguica sausage, braised leeks, rapini, and strawberry rhubarb shortcake.
While I was eating, the yachtsman was flying home from San Francisco bearing thegift of the magi World's Best Cream Puff. It's now 10:30 & I really couldn't be less hungry, but this cream puff, already nine hours old, won't make it through the night. There's definitely no room at the inn, but I'm thinking I can make a place for it in the manger.
While I was eating, the yachtsman was flying home from San Francisco bearing the
Monday, April 20, 2009
oh my god
I've spent the past 24 hours in shock; I knew I was coming to a convent, but I had no idea what that really meant.
There are 25 bedrooms just like this: single bed, dresser, medicine cabinet.
There are seven artists and writers here, and we each have a bedroom to use as a bedroom, and a bedroom to use as a studio (we could all have three or four rooms if we wanted them). I spent most of today setting up my spaces, cleaning, and walking around saying, "Oh my God."
There is religious paraphernalia EVERYWHERE, obviously. Randomly located bottles of holy water (this one is on a shelf in the kitchen),
statuary and crucifixes (this is one of the two in my bedroom),
bad paintings (the pope and Jesus were also muses),
and a full-on chapel with stained-glass windows.
But it's also a little like an abandoned retirement home. This, despite my best efforts, just will not work.
I'm hoping that the shock will wear off by tomorrow so I can get some work done and write a normal bl*g post. In the meantime, I tried to make myself feel at home by eating a burrito for lunch and making gruel a la nuts for dinner. All under the watchful eye of Jesus.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
let them eat cake
The Jehovah bunnies left little Easter pamphlets all over our building yesterday.

Just like Betty Crocker and Aunt Jemima, it looks as though Jesus has been given a modern makeover. And I'm going to be honest with you: I would totally buy a bottle of that wine he's hawking.
But an even better Easter treat would be this chocolate cross, for sale at, of all places, Borders. Because there's nothing like chowing down on a candy replica of a torture/execution device while loitering with a copy of Us Magazine.

For Bastille Day, Borders will be selling guillotines made out of Nerds.

Just like Betty Crocker and Aunt Jemima, it looks as though Jesus has been given a modern makeover. And I'm going to be honest with you: I would totally buy a bottle of that wine he's hawking.
But an even better Easter treat would be this chocolate cross, for sale at, of all places, Borders. Because there's nothing like chowing down on a candy replica of a torture/execution device while loitering with a copy of Us Magazine.
For Bastille Day, Borders will be selling guillotines made out of Nerds.
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