State of Deterioration

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This is is my friend AC’s fridge: symbolic of the state of our souls.

It’s the last week of school– the last week of my undergraduate degree and there is a good chance I’ve lost my mind. I just checked my mark for my Titus Andronicus paper and managed to wrangle an A-.

Despite this vague mark of intelligence, however, I’ve been a wreck. For example, I’m trying to read Cymbeline right now for my test tomorrow. There was a line: “My lord, your son drew on my master.”

It took me forever to figure out what that meant. I thought to myself, “His son drew on his master? Like, a drawing? Metaphorical drawing?” I finally figured out the line was, obviously, referring to swords and not crayons.

What the hell is going on with me?

This has been going on for about a month now. For example, I was going to go to Starbucks and, in my confusion over which one to go to, ended up looping the entire Southern portion of the Yonge subway line, only to end up at the Bay and Bloor Indigo Starbucks.

I’ve been trying to pump myself up in this last week by blasting High School Musical 3′s “Now or Never.” Zac Efron, move me.

Demon Days

Long time, no blog entry. Exams, etc. You know the drill. For those of you who tease me about loving Starbucks, there is actually a Starbucks complaint today, so get excited!

This entry today is basically a melodramatic “Why is the world the way it is?” breakdown. It was probably sparked by the constant, gnawing graduation stress that has been eating my soul. Nothing extreme happened today, but the fact that everything was so mundane is probably what made it that much worse (i.e. foreshadowing the rest of your life).

My day started off pretty well, actually. I woke up tired, but had a good coffee and panini with my friend CT. I finally tried the Chicken Santa Fe sandwich from Starbucks (delicious) and I love the feeling that I get when coffee perks me up. Afterwards, CT and I were walking to class, and he made some joke. I didn’t laugh at first, but then I randomly started to giggle.

He said, “See? At first you think it’s lame, but then you think about it and it’s hilarious.”

I tried to suppress my laughter, and put on a cool smile and lowered my eyes in a casual, flippant manner. My hair was probably fluffed in the process.

“Whatever,” I drawled, lifting my cup of coffee to my cold face. It’s something I do quite often– it feels nice when it’s chilly outside. But as I shot CT a nonchalant, aren’t-you-silly look, a volcano of coffee spewed out of the mouth of the lid and covered the left side of my face.

CT nearly fell onto the road, his face alternating between laughter and amazement, and I started to laugh at my uncontrollably awkward reaction. Then I went to class, and I aced an in-class essay I had been worried about. Things were pretty great so far, even despite the weather.

But then my professor decided to make us watch “L’amant”, based off of Marguerite Duras’ novel. Normally when I watch a traumatizing movie, I’ve been forewarned so that I might brace myself. I had no such preparation for this film, and after witnessing most social taboos in heightened detail for two hours straight, I left feeling disturbed and isolated. It was a good movie, but I was absolutely not in the mood for it.

A few things went downhill from there, and things probably would have been different if the sun had been out. My feet were cold and wet, my body hurt from carrying around my laptop all day, and I was so tired.

I met up with my friend AC for dinner at Whole Foods, and had a laugh here and there. I was essentially trying to power through the day. Some time passed, and I decided to go to my beloved Bay Bloor Indigo Starbucks for another americano. They were handling something behind the bar, and one of the baristas jumped and let something go. It was some sort of item covered in small ants. She looked at me, and instead of freaking out about how that must be some sort of health violation, I smiled sympathetically.

They disposed of whatever the hell it was, and she made my drink.

I asked for soy milk on the bar, and she handed it to me. Hmm, it was brand new and unopened. Usually when that happens, the baristas are super nice, and shake it for me, and warn me that it’s full and that it’s probably going to spill all over the place. Well, no matter. I knew to be careful anyways. I poured it in, and tasted my drink.

It was really weak.

I’m really no coffee expert. Everyone’s always saying how this and that place has great coffee, but honestly, I’m pretty flexible and even I thought that this was bad. After hesitating for a moment, I asked that barista if she could re-make my drink. She paused, and said “Okay” neutrally. I thought to myself, At least she didn’t sound annoyed…

“Sorry,” I offered, and she avoided my eyes and shrugged.

I saw her pour the shot of espresso in, and then she began to fill it up with hot water. To my surprise, she stopped half way and plonked the drink onto the bar.

“Uh…”

I glanced at AC, wondering why on earth she left so much space.

“Should I…?” I looked at AC. AC nodded. “Um, excuse me, could you top it off a little bit?” She stared at me. “Could you add a bit more hot water? It’s…”

She nodded, grabbed my drink, added a second’s worth of hot water before shoving it back at me.

Hey, I’m sure dealing with those bugs was traumatizing, but really? What are you doing? I haven’t had a bad experience at Starbucks in a while, so this was really disappointing.

I’m trying to stay positive anyways. I’ll stop procrastinating now and get back to my essay. It’s always something small and random that lifts me out of crappy times like this.

AC just now: “Ingrid, my brain hurts. It’s telling me to stop putting things in. …That’s what she said.”

I totally lol’ed.

As you can see by now, this entry had nothing to do with the Gorillaz album – I just thought Demon Days sounded cooler than Bad Days. IY out.

Making Food Pretty

The Winter Olympics had me reminiscing about my days in Whistler, so I pulled out my old pictures from last summer. It was then that I stumbled upon this heavenly steak tartare that I once had the pleasure of tasting. Embarrassing part: I can’t remember the restaurant’s name. Horrible of me, I know. But ______’s version of steak tartare is in the Top 5 of the Best Things I’ve Ever Eaten list. They served the dish with these hot, crispy edged starchy cakes made out of deep fried rice, and the contrasting textures and flavors still makes me weep inside a little bit. I’d go as far as to say that’s one of the main reasons I miss Whistler in the first place.

If I’m forced to move aside from the subject of flavor, though, I really liked the plating. In general, I’m very interested in dining, decor, and food styling. We can approach things at random, strictly out of utility, or we can approach things with thoughtful care and passion. I believe that food is so much more than just a necessity. My mother taught me this. Most of my interest, and what I’ve learned, in terms of food was due to her influence. My mom never took any courses on design or cooking. She manages the statistical team at a major pharmaceutical company, so she’s not obviously artistically inclined. But despite her technical and analytical background, she raised me with the belief that everyone can bring a little art into their life. Here are a few of her food styling basics I’d like to share.

Snickerdoodles

I first heard about snickerdoodles a few years ago from the TV show “Veronica Mars”. Veronica always made Wallace snickerdoodles, and I had no idea what they tasted like. Let’s get this out of the way: snickerdoodles have nothing to do with Snickers bars. They’re basically cinnamon sugar cookies, but then again, I feel criminal underselling them like that. They’re so much better.

The cookies themselves are soft and chewy; something that your teeth can sink wonderfully into. They have a comforting mildness and lack that sophisticated intensity, the kind you might get with a flourless dark chocolate cake. It’s all fine and well to have a decadent treat like that on occasion, decorated with a gooseberry and drizzled with some organic raspberry puree, but sometimes you want something nostalgic and uncomplicated for those rainy days.