Tonight was another knitting-and-a-movie night for me; I'm trying to get my (totally awesome) scarf done by the time I leave for Europe, but time is running out! Since it's almost 3 AM right now, I technically leave in like, 11 days. Ah! But it's the first thing I've ever knit so I'm not very fast.
Anyway, it was a somber night. I watched Bleu of the Trois Couleurs trilogy by Kryzysztof Kieslowski, which was absolutely gorgeous to look at and only a little sparse dialogue--qualities I appreciate in a movie I'm watching alone and for the purpose of brushing up on French. The film itself was really intense though, and it's definitely time for bed.
In other unimportant news, while I was at my parents' house recently I dug up the crazy little Konica Minolta digital camera I blew an obscene amount of money on when I was 16 and have barely used since. It gives images a kind of yellowy tone which I hated then but am kind of charmed by now. And just in time, considering I can't seem to find my SLR anywhere and have no money for film anyway. Cool!
The misspelling of Hemingway. The fact that there are 27 pages of Delacroix images on Artstor, but only 4 pictures total by Vieira da Silva. College dudes who are full of themselves. The fact that I do not have 3 cats. The stomach ache the Seward Cafe gave me today. Insufficient sleep.
I love Thursdays--they're my one day where I really get to be lazy and the only day I get to sleep in. Last night I stayed up until three AM knitting and watched half of In the Mood for Love, and when I got up today I was so sad that I only had one scone left that I just made a whole new batch. These babies are packed with walnuts and assorted dried fruits (cherries, blueberries, golden raisins, cranberries) with almond icing drizzled on top.
I am seriously not a fan of when supposed feminists make really awkward and generally shitty comments about race and class. Stuff to the tune of "maybe our country is kind of racist sometimes but not NEARLY as much as it is sexist."
Playing the oppression Olympics is never a good choice--it is insensitive, it is ignorant, and it is all too easy of a cop-out. Don't do it.
I'll probably pursue feminist topics on here in more depth in the future. Tonight's not the night though.
Tonight I made perfect scones. PERFECT. I have severely messed up the last few batches...I mean, they've been okay, but a little burnt sometimes, a little too cakey other times, that kind of thing. But all that is behind me now, because this very evening I concocted vegan scones with dried orange-scented cranberries, orange zest, and dark chocolate chips. The outside is fabulous and slightly crisp, with a little give when I squeeze them that hints at the flaky, moist interior. Not too much orange, just the right amount, and all the flavors melt together on my tongue in exactly the right proportions. I am SO excited about this! By the time I got around to taking a picture, the room mates and myself had eaten all but one...so the only picture of The Scones I got is of me, about to devour one.
Even as my upcoming trip to visit Joe draws nearer, I find myself craving new travels. I desperately miss my Great American West, the Southwest specifically; the idea of taking a cross-continent road trip through the states (Badlands, buttes, gulches, canyons, desert, mountains, petrified forests, sage) and up towards Alaska is my primary motivation in my half-hearted pursuit of a driver's license.
I remember driving along a cliff in the middle of the night, perilously close to the edge and with the moon providing the only light along the narrow road through Wyoming. My dad was behind the wheel, my mom and my little brother were sleeping, contorted, in their seats, and I was wide awake, my nose pressed up against the cool glass as I watched the world move underneath me. That same night we drove past as Ten Sleep, WY--population 211. The population signs killed me when I was 11 and they still kill me now, probably for the same reasons (though I'm still not entirely sure what those reasons are).
I almost cry every time I think of Utah now. I feel panicked, like if I don't leave right this moment with a tent strapped to my back that I'll never make it out there again. My last trip was...when? The summer before six grade? The summer after? I have so many sharp, sensual memories from that trip that they make me ache to recall them--I can't seem to decide if I would rather reminisce about it every day until I return or if I should just forget about it altogether so it doesn't feel so terrible to be here, 4 feet deep in snow even on a 40 degree day, surrounded by the same flat landscape and broad, ugly Midwestern city streets.
And yet my next adventure is taking me in the absolute opposite direction. In exactly four weeks I will be navigating slender, meandering streets through Oxford, London and Paris, and they'll be beautiful, but for tonight I feel like I don't want streets at all.
I have been reading/re-reading/analyzing/loving this poem for class recently.
Even as you appeared to Moses, because I need you, you appear to me, not often, however. I live essentially in darkness. You are perhaps training me to be responsive to the slightest brightening. Or, like the poets, are you stimulated by despair, does grief move you to reveal your nature? This afternoon, in the physical world to which you commonly contribute your silence, I climbed the small hill above the wild blueberries, metaphysically descending, as on all my walks: did I go deep enough for you to pity me, as you have sometimes pitied others who suffer, favoring those with theological gifts? As you anticipated, I did not look up. So you came down to me: at my feet, not the wax leaves of the wild blueberry but your fiery self, a whole pasture of fire, and beyond, the red sun neither falling nor rising-- I was not a child; I could take advantage of illusions.
Tonight I made seitan marinara sandwiches for dinner! A new and delicious invention. Part of the reason I've been making so much seitan lately is because I think it's a vegan staple I've really overlooked until now, so I'm trying to find all kinds of new and tasty ways to use it up. Same thing goes for sandwiches--something I know is awesome, but hardly ever eat. So tonight's invention was practical and yummy. All these measurements are really iffy because I never measure anything, but I'll do my best.
Sauce: olive oil 1/2 medium yellow onion, finely chopped 2-4 cloves garlic, depending on how big the cloves are, minced dried basil dried oregano salt fresh ground pepper 2 tbsp tomato paste 1 cup crushed tomatoes 1/4 cup red wine
Start the sauce before the seitan so it can simmer while you prep the rest of the food. Saute the onions in olive oil until they begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and herbs, saute for about another 5 minutes. Add the tomato paste and mix in thoroughly. Add the tomatoes and wine, simmer for about 15 minutes or until the seitan is done. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Seitan: about 1 lb. of seitan, cut in strips 2/3 cup flour 1/2 salt 1 tsp garlic powder 1 tsp paprika 1/3 cup soy milk olive oil for frying
Mix the flour and seasonings together in a small, shallow bowl. Pour the soy milk in a separate bowl. My seitan came right out of its broth so I dredged it in the flour mixture right away, dipped it in the soy milk, and dredged it in the flour again. Heat the olive oil at medium high heat, and carefully add seitan strips to the pan. Fry on either side for about 3-5 minutes, until browned and crispy. Remove from pan immediately, and set on a plate covered with paper towels to drain the excess oil.
This would be good with any hearty loaf of French or Italian bread. I personally went the much less classy route and picked up some Jimmy John's bread on my way home from school, a habit I think I'll keep up because it's so cheap and never out of the way.
Slice bread in half, spread a little Vegenaise on one side, and load up with seitan strips and sauce, and dig in!