Yes, there was no post last night, but that all depends on your definition of "last night," "post," and "Yes." As the post from last night that may or may not have happened would state, I was working on the post at The Lady's apartment last night, and the internet went down. As you might imagine, that puts a bit of a damper on any blog posting. However, the post is written, and it's saved on my laptop and will be posted once I bother to boot up my laptop and get everything handled.
Oh, and for those of you who were wondering- The Lady's internet is fixed.
For those of you who don't know (because I guess I don't excite you quite enough to get you to go all the way back to the blog's inception), this blog started while I was in France teaching English for a year. Well, teaching English is a strong word for it- I'm sure that my students learned how to say "a cat red" really well, because, boy, did they say that every day that I was teaching. You think I'm exaggerating. I'm not. Every. Freaking. Day. That's what happens when you only have to work 12 hours a week (which I've been known to exceed in a single day in lab, hashtag grad school hashtag amurrica hashtag I really don't understand how to do hashtags, and I think that they tend to be overused despite their obvious utility as keywords in a social media setting to identify what is trending or is related to any given sort of event hashtag that last hashtag was greater than 140 characters so it really defeats the original purpose of a hashtag as defined by Twitter, doesn't it? hashtag the previous hashtag was only 139 characters hashtag winning). I had time to travel, I had time to see Paris (and go to museums where I'd crash and burn while talking to cute art students about Rothko, which I guess is a pretty sweet way to crash and burn when you think about it), and I had time to blog. More pertinently, I had time to cook. And, trust me, on less than 800 euros a month, I had to learn to cook (which my mom had already taught me to a pretty substantial extent with the Family Life merit badge and Webelos pin, to say nothing of the summer of research and trying to woo ladies without the help of Rothko).
This led to what was frankly a pretty great New Year's resolution and probably the only one that I managed to keep for any significant time. Whilst in... probably Barcelona? Might have been Munich and/or Passau (to the sister, if you're reading this, thanks again for hooking me up with the Aussie contingent- it was a pretty solid New Year's celebration, despite the vegemite and my nonexistent German)? Anyway. At some point, I decided that I was going to bake something different once every two weeks. I wanted to bake because I had a decent grasp of pasta and some soups (and I needed to do those sorts of things anyway to keep from starving and going broke), and I figured that learning some new and snazzy desserts would be impressive with the ladies.
You may be noticing a theme on Rob and his reasons for cooking. Yep. It's entirely self-serving (HA HA unintentional pun).
I figured that I'd do something new (because I needed one heck of a repertoire for some reason) every two weeks, because that's about how long it would take me to finish everything and it's enough space to keep me from burning out on it (unlike how some of the desserts turned out HIYO) and going broke (again, something of a theme of Rob's time in France).
And, hey, it worked out pretty well. If memory serves, I managed to make:
-The Apple Bav Torte (An Apple Bavarian Torte topped with sliced almond streusel and a layer of what was functionally cheesecake beneath the apples. Yes, I know that I screwed up my modifiers there. I'm on a bit of a time crunch to get as much done as possible before trivia. Bear with me here, guys.)
-The Nanners Incident (A sort of banana cake to which I added way too much cocoa powder, resulting in a surprisingly complex flavor profile that evolved quite nicely on the tongue, all topped with cream cheese frosting. Here I should probably note that the French don't really have what we consider to be cream cheese, but there are similar enough substitutes. For those of you who are in the know, I was usually using Petit Suisse.)
-Toll House cookies. No, they weren't new. No, the landlady did not like them (insisting that they had a strange flavor that she attributed to the baking soda. She also called them cakes rather than cookies. Oh, Bev.). Yes, they were still delicious. This was also notable, as it was the one time that I did not substantially change the recipe. If memory serves, this is the one that I brought with me to the school, and the principal took me aside and told me that if I keep making things like this, I'm going to be "rolling in honeys" (Warning: not an actual quote, but it was the gist of it. Also, sorry for using the term "honeys." The part of Rob's brain that though that was a good idea has been sacked.)
-The C'thulhu Cheesecake, which haunts my dreams and reminds me that one day the Old Ones will return from the abyss beyond time and space and lay waste to our pitiful existence.
-Some sort of strawberry coffee cake, which was pretty good, actually. I'm sure I had an amazing name for it, but it has been lost to the ages. I can't give you gold every time.
-Chocolate Banana Raffle, which was a chocolate pie crust with banana slices covered in a layer of chocolate. There's a picture of it somewhere, and maybe I'll find it and put it up at some point.
-Bus Ride Chocolate Cookies, which held up surprisingly well for days on end without going stale. Then, when they were gone, I resorted to a chocolate bar that I thought was the equivalent of a Crunch bar. It was filled with Pop Rocks. Combine that with a moldy carrot, and you have a terrible van ride to Croatia.
-Scratchy Brownies, which were made from scratch and therefore were grainy and hard as all get out, but they tasted good enough.
-An Apple Tarte for Bev that she was supposed to eat for her birthday but then she kept waiting until I'd join her for a piece, which led to an awkward lunch, as is oft the case with Bev and lunch. Oh, Bev.
Oh, and for those of you who were wondering- The Lady's internet is fixed.
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| That'll do, unplugging and resetting the modem. That'll do. |
For those of you who don't know (because I guess I don't excite you quite enough to get you to go all the way back to the blog's inception), this blog started while I was in France teaching English for a year. Well, teaching English is a strong word for it- I'm sure that my students learned how to say "a cat red" really well, because, boy, did they say that every day that I was teaching. You think I'm exaggerating. I'm not. Every. Freaking. Day. That's what happens when you only have to work 12 hours a week (which I've been known to exceed in a single day in lab, hashtag grad school hashtag amurrica hashtag I really don't understand how to do hashtags, and I think that they tend to be overused despite their obvious utility as keywords in a social media setting to identify what is trending or is related to any given sort of event hashtag that last hashtag was greater than 140 characters so it really defeats the original purpose of a hashtag as defined by Twitter, doesn't it? hashtag the previous hashtag was only 139 characters hashtag winning). I had time to travel, I had time to see Paris (and go to museums where I'd crash and burn while talking to cute art students about Rothko, which I guess is a pretty sweet way to crash and burn when you think about it), and I had time to blog. More pertinently, I had time to cook. And, trust me, on less than 800 euros a month, I had to learn to cook (which my mom had already taught me to a pretty substantial extent with the Family Life merit badge and Webelos pin, to say nothing of the summer of research and trying to woo ladies without the help of Rothko).
 |
| Worst wingman ever. |
You may be noticing a theme on Rob and his reasons for cooking. Yep. It's entirely self-serving (HA HA unintentional pun).
 |
| Bo Burnham is funny people, especially when he brings an erection to Dunsinane. That's right. They're coming fast and loose tonight. |
I figured that I'd do something new (because I needed one heck of a repertoire for some reason) every two weeks, because that's about how long it would take me to finish everything and it's enough space to keep me from burning out on it (unlike how some of the desserts turned out HIYO) and going broke (again, something of a theme of Rob's time in France).
And, hey, it worked out pretty well. If memory serves, I managed to make:
-The Apple Bav Torte (An Apple Bavarian Torte topped with sliced almond streusel and a layer of what was functionally cheesecake beneath the apples. Yes, I know that I screwed up my modifiers there. I'm on a bit of a time crunch to get as much done as possible before trivia. Bear with me here, guys.)
-The Nanners Incident (A sort of banana cake to which I added way too much cocoa powder, resulting in a surprisingly complex flavor profile that evolved quite nicely on the tongue, all topped with cream cheese frosting. Here I should probably note that the French don't really have what we consider to be cream cheese, but there are similar enough substitutes. For those of you who are in the know, I was usually using Petit Suisse.)
-Toll House cookies. No, they weren't new. No, the landlady did not like them (insisting that they had a strange flavor that she attributed to the baking soda. She also called them cakes rather than cookies. Oh, Bev.). Yes, they were still delicious. This was also notable, as it was the one time that I did not substantially change the recipe. If memory serves, this is the one that I brought with me to the school, and the principal took me aside and told me that if I keep making things like this, I'm going to be "rolling in honeys" (Warning: not an actual quote, but it was the gist of it. Also, sorry for using the term "honeys." The part of Rob's brain that though that was a good idea has been sacked.)
-The C'thulhu Cheesecake, which haunts my dreams and reminds me that one day the Old Ones will return from the abyss beyond time and space and lay waste to our pitiful existence.
-Some sort of strawberry coffee cake, which was pretty good, actually. I'm sure I had an amazing name for it, but it has been lost to the ages. I can't give you gold every time.
 |
| Herr Frobe finds this unacceptable. |
-Chocolate Banana Raffle, which was a chocolate pie crust with banana slices covered in a layer of chocolate. There's a picture of it somewhere, and maybe I'll find it and put it up at some point.
 |
| Like right now, for instance. Ain't I a stinker? |
-Bus Ride Chocolate Cookies, which held up surprisingly well for days on end without going stale. Then, when they were gone, I resorted to a chocolate bar that I thought was the equivalent of a Crunch bar. It was filled with Pop Rocks. Combine that with a moldy carrot, and you have a terrible van ride to Croatia.
-Scratchy Brownies, which were made from scratch and therefore were grainy and hard as all get out, but they tasted good enough.
-An Apple Tarte for Bev that she was supposed to eat for her birthday but then she kept waiting until I'd join her for a piece, which led to an awkward lunch, as is oft the case with Bev and lunch. Oh, Bev.
Anyway, the point of all that listing and rather blatant padding was that I was a pretty prolific (if not proficient) baker with a bright future ahead of you (because you wanted to switch back to the whole second person thing from the other night, as it was such a rousing success then). Aaaaand then I moved back to the States.
I will say that I had every intent of keeping up with the resolution. I was going to change lives with my baking and prowess the shit out of all things culinary. It'd be like, "Cancer, you say? Well then, have yourself one of my delectable pains au chocolat." Boom. Cured. Don't need no fancy-ass chemotherapy or radiation. Just delicious buttery crust and chocolatey filling. Get the scientists on making that into a pill or injection or suppository (because sometimes you need to take desperate and delicious measures).
Of course, once I got here, I was reminded that, no, you have to work every day for at least eight hours. Oh, and trivia? What? That's a thing? And I'm making some small amount of disposable income, so I can actually go and do such things? Awww shiiiiiiiiittttt.
Plus, hey, I can afford to eat, and how! Restaurants in Charleston? A Mellow Mushroom within walking distance? Affordable beer? All of these things and more are going inside me.
And, hey, what's this little fella coming out to play? This little hairy fella I see when I look down OH GOD LORD IT'S A BEER BELLY. NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE.
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| NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE I HAD ABS ONCE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE THIS ISN'T PADDING AT ALL NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE |
So, yeah. I stopped baking because it was making me fat. I've gone hog wild baking for parties and such (and have often had things go terribly, terribly wrong, because people don't want cheesecake at parties), don't get me wrong, but there's not the same zazz as before. And so the baking slows. I've made some pretty kickass desserts for Christmases and other special occasions (see: triple layer chocolate mousse cake, chocolate crêpe cake, chocolate gingerbread cheesecake).
Still, it's pretty rare that I get home from lab and think, "Hey, you know what I want to do after 10 hours of measuring liquids and dispensing them among containers? Dispense liquids AND SOLIDS among containers for another several hours!" Usually it's more along the lines of, "Ugggh, I'm going to watch Netflix and then pass out," unless it's trivia night, in which case it's more of a, "Uggggh, I'm going to go to trivia and then come home and pass out." But despite baking being replaced by Netflix- and trivia-shaped idols, I still have somehow managed to pick up some pretty serious cred as a baker, particularly among those of the more feminine persuasion. Mission accomplished.
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| Sometimes they look like little bearded men in headdresses, because milk chocolate mousse won't fucking set. |
Still, it's pretty rare that I get home from lab and think, "Hey, you know what I want to do after 10 hours of measuring liquids and dispensing them among containers? Dispense liquids AND SOLIDS among containers for another several hours!" Usually it's more along the lines of, "Ugggh, I'm going to watch Netflix and then pass out," unless it's trivia night, in which case it's more of a, "Uggggh, I'm going to go to trivia and then come home and pass out." But despite baking being replaced by Netflix- and trivia-shaped idols, I still have somehow managed to pick up some pretty serious cred as a baker, particularly among those of the more feminine persuasion. Mission accomplished.
 |
| Honeys love honey buns. |
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