Feminism takes a blow.

So, I have about three posts sitting in the "Draft" section of the blog, and decided to give up and just ramble a little when the last one discussed the process of exploding pigeons and the theological musings on the Devil and the Virginia Tech shootings in the same paragraph. I'm just kidding (maybe).

The truth is that nothing really happened in my life this past week, and I don't have anything deep or profound to share with you about the tragedy in Virginia that hasn't been hashed out in ten thousand other places. I studied, job hunted, hung out with friends, and enjoyed the weather, all very good and all, but in reality nothing fascinating or funny enough to justify using internet space on it. Not that that has ever stopped anyone from sharing the mundanity of life over the internet, but I digress.

Yesterday, though, I did have an interesting experience in two parts.

Part A: The setting? Our house. The players? My mother, myself, and some family friends/neighbors who dropped by.

The Background: I have a dress that I intended to wear at Christmas but didn't finish in time. Then I intended to wear it at Easter, ditto. (truthfully, it just needs to be hemmed; it's the jacket that goes along with it that is giving me problems.) So Neighbor Lady admires the dress, it's got pretty colors on it, and knowing my mother's prowess with the sewing machine, asks if she made it. To which my mother replied that I did. And, being motherly and not beyond a little bragging, also informed the Neighbor Lady of my fondness for cooking and baking. I'm not sure if she mentioned that I was decent at housekeeping, because, um, that might have been a little white lie if she did. (I *can* clean...when I see the mess...I think I have selective blindness in this area. Dust? What dust? And places I've cleaned just can't *stay* cleaned (mostly my fault) which feels like it puts the whole thing on the level of futile. But again I digress)

The EVENT: Anyway, this prompted further admiration from the Neighbor Lady, which included a comment that I would, "make a lovely wife for someone someday".

. . .

. . . um, what?

me outside: polite blank face

me inside: excuse me? Excuse me? Did I blink? Were we suddenly transported back to the fifties? Did you really just say that? Do you seriously think that whether or not I enjoy making messes in the kitchen has anything to do with being an emotional stable person to live in the same house with? Would I be unfit for the state of matrimony if I were to order out food every night? Am I fit for the state of matrimony if I was a wreck, as long as I can cook and clean? What does my interest in whether bread will rise better if you use this fermentation method vs. that have to do with anything? And who gave you the right comment on it??


Part B: The setting? Borders The players? Me and The Improvisational Cook

The Background: The thing is for me, I'm finding cooking to be fascinating not just as a way of expressing affection and controlling what I get to eat (Mom's--or in this household, Dad's--maxim of "If you don't like it, you make dinner next time" comes home), but for the simple applied chemistry of it. Why does this plus that equal unfortunately big explosions?! Why does certain things, like juice appearing in the pan, happen when you add heat to certain things like bacon? Would this happen with anything bacon-related? I feel tied to following a recipe because I don't understand the science that it's based on. So I'm excited because in the spirit of The Bread Baker's Apprentice, which goes on for pages in a completely excited, breathless tone about enzymes, sugars, and yeastie beasties, I now have a cookbook that isn't just a collection of instructions...it's a collection of explanations followed by instructions. So for instance, from the bread book, I know that some breads have sugar in it as a food for the yeast. And although I haven't gotten around to doing this sort of thing yet, if I felt like it, I wouldn't be scared to substitute something interesting like a raspberry syrup for honey or molasses or maybe even plain sugar...because I know that syrups have lots of sugar in them that will serve the purpose as well. And I know how to calculate the percentages to figure out how much to add, as well. bwahaahaha RECIPE POWER! I will now have RECIPE POWER over things like SEASONINGS and MEAT COOKING METHODS and so and such forth. BWAHAHAHAHA


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Ouch, that revealed a little inadvertently the fact that I'm a closet kitchen tyrant. Although I haven't yet grown so bold in my power as to serve the family something I know they won't like but I do (as in, any vegetable more exotic than potatoes, peas, and broccoli) (just kidding, I was just thinking of eggplant, which is unpopular here).

The EVENT: I got really excited over this one. I was a happy bunny all the way home from the bookstore. I bought a cookbook! I *bought* a cookbook! It was cookbook intoxication.


The Conclusions: So I had a pretty distinct double standard of behavior yesterday, and I wonder if most every modern American woman doesn't do things along these lines. At four o clock it's "Don't even praise me on anything that smacks of 'housewife'...I'm modern and free from the bondage of the kitchen apron!" and by six o clock it's "Oh look a new COOKBOOK! I'm so excited! I can't wait to make dinner tomorrow! Oh, and by the way, isn't that an adorable baby over there?! *cooing noises*" I don't have an answer to this, except that I know that I will continue to do this. I think it's basically a rebellion against being dictated to, however gently, about how domestic or career oriented I should or should not be. Then I turn around and embrace either option to the full extent of what I feel like. And that, my friends, is the American dream.








****EASTER BUNNY UPDATE****

So, for anyone who cared about my problems with the Easter Bunny, in the end Greek Easter got postponed a week. So my angst over the bunnies (see below) was moot ANYWAY because bread doesn't keep a whole week, and I had to make them all over. By this time I was so sick of fighting with the recipe that I went ahead and messed with it and it came out beautifully. I will restrain myself from pontificating on the subject of what I did and why with difficulty because I know I can be a Bread Bore and I've pontificated enough today. Let's just say I was extremely pleased with myself.

The Road to Hell

Today was a day of good intentions, which is to say, my walk down the path to hell is probably well started. I intended to get up at a reasonable hour, study for a bit, and clean the kitchen (in a state of dismal disarray from two straight days of non-stop cooking) before heading down to have lunch with a friend at Temple.

But, after getting up a good hour after my alarm clock went off and eating breakfast, I had the brilliant idea to check my email. Ye-es. An hour later, I realized that I still hadn't taken a shower and therefore there was no way any studying was getting done this morning and if I were to accomplish anything chore-wise I'd better get myself in gear right NOW. And I still didn't have time to do as proper a job as I had intended.

Although it wasn't entirely my fault, I was also later than intended to go to le best friend's to admire pre-prom prettiness. Random aside: Which was extremely pretty! Her dress was an absolutely gorgeous bronze, a perfect color for her...plus, and I love this, bought a year or two ago new at a thrift store for thirty two dollars! Aaah...this would be one area where I totally fit the girl stereotype...I love pretty dresses and hairdos and makeup! Maybe perhaps not for me to wear anymore than, say, a few times a year, but I can appreciate a good dress anytime.

But going back to the point of this post, which is to list my failures of the day (because everyone is interested in my failures), I also intended to come home, make up for the studying I shirked in the morning (seriously, my Japanese teacher gave me a list of characters to memorize for Tuesday that is frightening in it's volume) and go to bed early, because I am tired. It is now close to one o clock in the morning, and no studying has been accomplished. Although I did read a comic in Japanese as a sop to this...it's studying, right? It's language acquistion through immersion! Sanely speaking, it is good for my Japanese, but does nothing for my homework, which is the issue at hand. But we won't go any further with that because sanity is bo-o-o-oring

I also intended to eat something healthy for dinner. Ahem. In a mocking nod to this, I did have yogurt, but the main dish of my meal was a bagel with cream cheese and a large hunk of Easter Chocolate.

Just as worrying as all this is my complete and utter lack of remorse. I had a good time today. Tomorrow I'll try again with the whole good intentions thing. I'll let you know how that goes.


EASTER BUNNY UPDATE:
Hm. Yeah. I wasn't brave enough to go through with messing with the recipe come round two, and it was one of those days where the dough simply refused to rise. And then I burned half of my bunnies. Again. Without sufficient reserves of mahelpi or energy for a round three. Luckily, there were enough left that I'm only short two, and a have a small loaf that the unluckies will partake from. My mother has kindly volunteered for this position, and I will have the other as the hapless cook. Siiigh.

I burned the bunnies!

Although Orthodox Easter and regular Easter fell on the same Sunday this year, we are celebrating Greek Easter this Sunday, and I have agreed to make the traditional bread buns shaped as bunnies. I intended to make them today, but things did not quite turn out as I would have hoped.

One of the things that makes Greek Easter Bread distinctive is an essential spice called mahlepi, or mahleb. It's just not Greek Easter Bread without mahlepi, but the only place around here that carries it is The Armenian Delight in Broomall. This store is great but open at very inconvenient hours, as in not past five o clock. When one's only reliable means of transportation doesn't get home until after five, this presents a problem (major thanks to Debbie Watson who went out today on our behalf and bought me some! You have my undying gratitude and (Lord willing) a small loaf of your own). Last night my father and I, in an ultimately futile but eternally hopeful journey, spent about two fruitless hours searching three different grocery stores for it. Not even the Head Nut carries it (although I did replenish my stores of rye flour, so that particular trip wasn't entirely wasted).

Because I had invited my tutoring student to come over today and help me make the bunnies, I went ahead and made some even without mahlepi. However, I was repaid for my flagrant disrespect of tradition and the Gods of Greek Easter Bread...when some five hours after beginning the baking process we pulled the blackened corpses of the innocent, and now sacrificial, bunnies from the oven. Their blistered raisin eyes shall haunt my dreams tonight...

To top it all off, the recipe I use is an old one from my grandmother, and it's not perfect. That is, the bread is always wonderfully flavored, but it uses the traditional proofing method for the yeast, and I have to say that about half the time, the bread will mysteriously refuse to rise. I am pretty confident about my ability to tweak the recipe into a more reliable method of fermentation. I really want to do so, but am extremely nervous about messing with tradition. Especially considering what happened when I dared flaunt it today. I'm still not sure how I'm going to tackle the issue, but I'll have to decide by tomorrow morning.

Wish me luck.