Tag Archives: food

on the express train to slackertown

10 Sep

Dear blog,

I’m sorry, but all I can offer is this photo of donuts. DONUTS!

I am monumentally failing at blogging this month/summer in general, but whatever. I’m busy. And currently procrastinating when I’m supposed to be writing about donuts for the Weekly. While I’m stoked to be getting freelance work, it’s bizarre to have to sit down and be like NOW I’M WRITING! It’s like I’m in college! And let’s be real, that was TWO WHOLE YEARS AGO and now I’ve forgotten everything I knew about structure, timelines, and the the vast majority of my math and science classes. Luckily I haven’t encountered a moment in my post-collegiate life when I’ve actually needed the latter two. Score! But for now, I’ll pour a whiskey coke, strap on my headphones and bust this article out because I NEED MONEY. Oh, and legit portfolio (and to become fabulously wealthy off my wit– HA.) Working on that…now.

First food memoir down!

17 Apr

Wow, when I wrote that title I was like, that should really be in reference to MY food memoir and not someone else’s, but then again I really don’t have that much to say, so I’ll stick to my blog and reading other people’s accounts of their accomplishments. Anyhow, I finished up The Sharper Your Knife the Less You Cry by Kathleen Flinn this morning.

Overall it was a really easy read- I kind of felt like I was watching TV but without the guilt… it was conversational and mindless, but still entertaining. I had a hard time with Flinn’s self-congratulatory attitude, but it well worth it for the firsthand account of her cooking experience in all of Le Cordon Bleu’s three cooking classes (Basic, Intermediate, and Superior). The descriptions of the cooking techniques were really fun to read about, and I learned one major lesson from those 274 pages: EVERYTHING SOUNDS BETTER IN FRENCH. She’ll write a recipe for roasted chicken, but you don’t realize it’s JUST FUCKING CHICKEN until you go back and read the translation, because it sounded thick with unicorn magic and wizard spells (as all things read in French typically do).

Take for instance the dinner that C made me last night-

Balsamic glazed pork loin, broccoli with garlic, and butter-thyme rice, served with a balsamic reduction, cherry tomatoes, and mushroom. Granted… that sounds pretty majestic already, but now read THIS:

Balsamique vitrée filet de porc, le brocoli à l’ail et le riz au beurre de thym, servi avec une réduction de vinaigre balsamique, tomates cerises,et les champignons.

Also, everything in French was italicized (typical editing, I know), but COME ON. French is already like, the most romantic language on earth, and then you italicize it!? EVERYONE KNOWS THAT WHATEVER’S IN ITALICS IS ESPECIALLY SPECIAL. See? I just all-capsed AND italicized that and it was really super special. Obviously. SO, lesson learned. Apparently if I want people to think I am absurdly smart and/or possess genie powers, all I have to do it write more in French. Since I can’t speak French, I’ll leave it to google translate, which is probably butchering a million highschooler’s foreign language homework every day, but since I’m no longer in the educational system I feel okay with assuming I’m wrong most of the time. My, how the standards dwindle…
Alright. Tomorrow I’ll be starting Two For The Road  by Jane and Michael Stern (in order to allow my reservoir of imaginary dream jobs explode into a tragic pit of hopelessness EVEN MORE! Great!). Also coming up… a tour of really, really bad food photography.
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