One thing that has taken the most getting used to this year
is the amount of free time that I have. (I live a charmed life, I know.) Coming
from the busiest year of my life straight into this makes me do odd things like
taking hours to make sculptures out of drumsticks. (I just knew my bachelors in
art would help me out somehow!)
You know the saying, time is money? Well I’ve found it
certainly can help save it. Normally I use this free time by walking everywhere
as I’m disgusted that a train costs $6 each way. However it doesn’t always
actually work. Last week I decided to walk into Melbourne . However, upon
finishing my multi-hour (and less than scenic) walk I promptly got back on a
train and took it home as I was quite tired (so much for saving money.) The
good news was that I found a walk of public art all done by high school students.
The bad news was that I found that my boots were not made for walking as I
split the zipper about an hour away from home. Given that my boots cost just a
bit more than $6 it was probably not a particularly smart trade off, but I won’t
cry over the sunk cost. Luckily with a pair of pliers and a safety pin they’re
back in working order for a bit. Given my aversion to spending money on this
trip I found I was a bit weirdly excited while I came across a mall the other
day. I took a bit too much joy in being disgusted by the prices of clothing in
this country. I have no idea how anybody can afford to clothe themselves. It
reminded me a bit of this video:
Yesterday (or today in parts of US) was my 23rd
birthday. My first ever winter birthday. Being that I’ll probably be somewhere
in India for “real” thanksgiving I decided to make a full thanksgiving feast—ambitious?
Yes. Delicious? Also yes. Patrice and I went to the market on Sunday to get all
of my supplies but we struck out with the turkey. There was not a turkey to be
found. So instead I got the biggest chicken I have ever seen, my turicken. At least it still had drumsticks. Knowing
that I wouldn’t want to walk up early on Tuesday I starting cooking at around
noon on Monday. I figured I’d finish up my cake and then have plenty of time
for other things... little did I know I was about to embark on the longest cake
making ever. The first thing I noticed was that I needed to blanch my
hazelnuts. Unfortunately the easiest way to do this is by using baking soda, something
that I could only get with a 2 hour round trip walk. Instead I spent those two
hours individually peeling hazelnuts after boiling them. The skins still haunt
me, two days later I found some in my hair. The cake then called for each layer
to be baked separately. While the crust of skinless hazelnuts, sweat, tears and
butter was baking I found that someone had eaten an incredibly alarming number
of eggs the night before. It was at that moment I realized I had been talking
as if I was on a cooking show for the last few hours. I’m sure my fans were
riveted for the two hours of peeling (just as you probably are now with my
detailed description of torte making.) Luckily I can report that my hazelnut
salted caramel chocolate torte was one of the best desserts I have ever had...
I’ve becoming incredibly modest in my old age.
At about midnight I was still working. While stirring I
started singing myself happy birthday during which Phil walked out and politely
pretended he hadn’t heard. I woke up the next day and cooked to finish just in
time. In addition to my host family, I had my host father’s mother, brother and
sister come as well. It was a bit weird at times like when I brought out my
cake and sort of felt like I was saying, “here, eat dessert in honor of my
birth!” It was also uncomfortable when I asked everyone to make a wish (as we do in my family) and the grandmother politely but firmly told me no because she "doesn't go for those sort of things." I've never had anyone deny the chance to make a wish, but that's okay.
I wish for all of you to be doing well!
