Recipe no°17: The Revelation

After a very brief search for a cocktail relating to my title theme of "Revelation", I stumbled across this very interesting recipe on Wikipedia. I like to think that after several years of working as a waitress and bartender, that I have a fairly extensive knowledge of wine and spirits. I have no idea what half of these ingredients are.

The Revelation appears in William "Cocktail" Boothby's 1908 work The World's Drinks And How To Mix Them^[1]as "A swell after-dinner drink."

Into a small mixing-glass place a little cracked ice, two-thirds of a pony of Bénédictine, one-third of a pony of Kümmel and seven drops (no more) of Crème de menthe. Twist and throw in a piece of lemon peel (a la cocktail). Stir thoroughly until cold and serve in a pony-glass.

This is a most seductive after-dinner beverage, and was originated by Mr. Dennis O'Sullivan, the well-known mixologist, several years ago, and is still very popular with many connoisseurs and clubmen."

Enjoy.

Here's a picture that I feel captures me in one of my perfect moments; sitting on my favorite leopard-print chair, mulling over a French project in my sunny yellow kitchen. I like to contemplate this picture when I feel homesick or worry about my future, feeling I don't know who I am or what I should do with my life.

**Warning: This post is a bit self-centered and ruminative, but then again, what are blogs for but a literal tooting of one's own horn?

Well the other day, while sitting miserably at work nursing a headache and trying not to drip too much snot onto my keyboard, I was casually surfing the net. After perusing the Opinion section of the New York Times and happening upon a review of Rome's various trattorias and the wonderfully delectable things you can consume in them, I felt an urge to explore the possibility of becoming a food critic. One google later, and I stumble across the blog of a man who has a similar educational background to my own (he has a PhD in Spanish Baroque theater, I may someday have one in 18th century French literature) and who now works as a restaurant critic in New Orleans.

I am now utterly convinced that my résumé is ideal for this kind of work, and that it is my true calling.

My idea is more of a travel/food writer, and I feel this kind of work is something people consider to be a swanky, cushy job but there must be some demand...I mean I can name at least 10 brands of travel guides and they have to be constantly updated.

Also, you'd be hard-pressed to come up with many people possessing the perfect combination of skills for this kind of work, which of course I have...

Here are my impeccable credentials:

1) I've spent almost every year of my life since senior year of high school working in the restaurant industry. Tasting, talking about food, learning about wine, becoming a basic food snob and often showing up my fellow cooks in their culinary knowledge (I'm talking about the terms and meanings, not the actual cooking). I.e. "No, Jason, you can't make 'baked ziti' with rigatoni because then it would just be 'baked rigatoni' ". Jeez.

2) I am now pursuing a PhD in French Literature, which not only forces me to hone my writing skills, but also involves intense study of the French language, obviously a useful language when it comes to food snobbery. Now I'll really know what it means when I say, "Garçon, hurry up with those hors d'oeuvres. Oh, merde, you have spilled the crudités, how gauche."*

*having been a garçonne myself, I would obviously never talk to one that way.

3) I have lived in Spain and France for extended periods of time, and both travel and waitressing has made me an expert and talking to strangers. Just give me a real reason and there's no stopping me! Plus I have excellent spelling and grammar.

4), and most importantly: travelling and going out to eat are like, my favorite things EVER. Do what you love, they say.

Actual proof that I travel and eat in restaurants.

I've always wanted to be a writer but not really the fictiony or history kind. And so I toyed with the idea of being a translator of literature but it turns out you have to be a famous recognized professor and then people ask you to translate their books...you don't sign up on craigslist. Dammit. So this seems like the perfect option; I get to write, entertain and be original but by waxing poetic on the wax beans I just consumed. I love it.

Here's a little practice blurb...tell me if you think I have what it takes. I'll review the dinner I ate with my host family this evening.

We started off the meal with a comforting if predictable watercress and carrot purée. The soup was pleasantly acidic, its tartness countered by a splash of milk; a slightly higher serving tempurature would have been ideal. A chilled cake of aubergines and egg, topped with tomato sauce, comprised the main course of the evening. The cake, reminiscent of raw tofu, was a bit bland but refreshing, and the sauce, if it had been homemade, could have been its saving grace (the hostess apologizes--she's had a busy day). A light salad of romaine hearts and balsamic vinaigrette was a welcome accompaniment to this springtime fare, and any lingering hunger was quelled by the cheese course (camembert, beaufort and chèvre). A simple dessert of fresh fruit and hazelnut-studded chocolate, healthy and unassuming, brought the meal to a close.

Ok, I know I have some work to do. I just couldn't wait to get started.

Recipe no°16: Eau de l'école

To create this lovely, nostalgia-inducing perfume, you need only mix these elements:

Several glue-sticks (Elmer's in America)

Various crayons and pencils, with their shavings

Floor cleaner

Chalk dust (or for a more modern aroma, whiteboard markers)

And last but not least, the secret essential ingredient: orange peels.

*****

More adventures from the land of the small people...

Yesterday a small boy and I carried on this exchange (again, entirely in French):

Boy: But why can't you speak French?

Me: Well, I can. I'm speaking to you right now in French! Don't you understand me?

Boy: (looks at me with wide eyes, shakes head slowly)

Me: Do you understand the words I'm saying to you, right now?

Boy: (slowly shakes head no)

So I rattle off something in English, and then say to him in his language: "See, that's what it would sound like if I was speaking English. You really wouldn't understand!" He looked even more confused. Bon, laisse tomber. It was getting a little too metaphysical for both of us there.

It's funny to see how many of the children, even the older ones, seem to think that  because I'm the English teacher, that I'm speaking to them in English, even though I only do about 8% of the time. I'm also realizing that I am fairly clueless when it comes to English grammar.

Here's an example; can you help me out here?

I ask the students to correct a few sentences, including this one:

I like swim.

One girl figures out the problem, and I explain that it's just like French. We don't say J'aime nage, do we? After a conjugated verb, we use an infinitive.

But later, I'm looking over one of their previous worksheets, where they often use the expression "I can" for learning activities. And lo and behold, we don't say I can to swim, do we? Whyyyy? And this after I've been telling them English is so easy, look, you barely have to do anything to conjugate a verb, blah blah...to the point that several kids asked me, "So if it's so easy, what do English kids study in school?"

Here's another example of the grammar or pronunciation rules I kind of "stumble upon", and then am terrified that I have just made up. This happens to me when I teach French, too, but not as often since not much of French is instinctive for me...

When words end with 'e', it makes the vowel in the middle of the word (usually just before the final consonant) sound long, and I described this as pronounced like we pronounce the letter of the alphabet. Examples: wine, make, complete, more, pure. Now there are tons of weird pronunciation things in English, so have I cursed my students by affirming this to be true?

So much I take for granted...who knows what else I'll discover I already knew, but didn't know I knew.

Recipe no°15: Making Flippy Floppy

1 bottle of nice white wine
some nice snacks of your choice
1 Talking Heads album (also your choice)

I just found out, grace à l'internet, that David Byrne's refrigerator contents (Grapefruit, white wine, cheese, leftovers, tortillas, ice cream, frozen pizza, hummus) are scarily similar to what I often have laying around. So let's crack open that wine, put on that record and rock out. And don't worry about the government.

"Loved ones, loved ones, visit the building, take the highway, park, and come up and see me. I'll be working, working, but if you come visit, I'll put down what I'm doing, my friends are important."

Fun moment today (well it was actually a couple of days ago)--the meeting of two of my very favorite minds in the world: Stephen Colbert and David Byrne. I thought I might explode. They were quite cute together, actually. I got to see David perform in 2004 at the State Theater in Ithaca, NY (highlight: hearing him sing "Life During Wartime" and saying "I got some groceries! Some peanut butter!"); Stephen performed there at some point over a year ago, and I didn't make it. Someday. But if you're interested, David Byrne and Brian Eno just came out with a new album, that you can hear in it's entirety without even clicking on anything, just by going to this website:

www.everythingthathappens.com

Pretty cool, huh?

The Talking Heads have been my favorite band since I was about 5 years old, thanks to my dad who played lots of cool music for me, while my mom played me opera and Raffi. Apparently my dad decided to initiate me into the world of music through his mainstream favorites (he studied computer music in the 1970s, so I'm sure his own projects would have been beyond me), also including The Cars, The Police, and Paul Simon. This music became permanently lodged in my brain, and has forever branded my taste in music. I can quote just about any lyric of the album "Speaking In Tongues", despite the fact that Byrne apparently wrote the songs first, made noises to accompany the music (hence the "speaking in tongues") and only then wrote the words, to whatever the sounds sounded like. That's obviously not totally true, as the lyrics include well-formed sentences, with subjects, verbs, etc. But the entire album is basically a sequence of non-sequiters. From the paragraph that holds together:

I remember when

Sittin' in the tub

I pulled out the plug

The water was runnin' out

To the more literal interpretations of their motto, "Stop Making Sense":

I got a girlfriend, who's better than that

She has the smoke in her eyes

She's movin' up, goin' right through my heart

She's gonna give me surprise

Despite (or maybe because of?) their strangeness, the music of the Talking Heads will be forever near and dear to my heart. I love the bizarre simplicity of their music, so hypnotizing and appealing; this simplicity often pertains to the lyrics as well, despite their non-sensicality (exhibit A: their second album entitled, "More Songs About Buildings and Food". And they are.) If you have the time and/or the inclination some day, I highly suggest listening to the entirety of "Speaking in Tongues" with headphones. It's like listening to a mathematical equation. If you like that, the film "Stop Making Sense" is definitely worth a view; you get a live concert in your living room, and get to see David Byrne shaking around in a giant white suit, as is his wont.

*****

In other news, G. sent me a text asking if he should erase my number from his phone. Boys. I pointed out the ridiculousness of this question, and it seemed to go over well. But I think things are cooled down between us. In fact, I have developed a new interest in a restaurant owner, but have visited the establishment 3 more times only to discover his absence. Gotta keep on tryin'... However I am convinced that he is keenly interested on me based on this iron-clad proof: as I was leaving the party where I first noticed him, I thanked him (very gauche-ly, as if he had personally invited me) and he replied, "Je n'ai pas entendu ton prénom." This seemingly innocent request for my name is clearly indicative of a strong attraction, don't you think? I'll go ahead and obsess about it, thank you very much.

But now I'm worried it's been too long, and he will have long forgotten my prénom and perhaps our initial coup de foudre. Fortunately I remember both, so I can go back eventually and do that awkward thing where I say "Bonsoir, Nicolas," admitting my obsession, and he says he forgot mine, admitting his non-chalance. On verra...I'll let you know how it goes.

That reminds me, why are Americans obsessed with the concept of awkwardness? It's apparently the word all the cool kids are using. I've been repeatedly asked for a French translation over the last few months. In French, however, there are several words to convey the concept, depending on the context; whether it's a physically awkward person, or an uncomfortable situation, etc. I wonder if it has to do with the recent popularity of what I call "awkward humor" (which I love but some cannot stand), genre "The Office" or sometimes "Arrested Development". This kind of humor doesn't really exist in France, to my knowledge. Some graduate student should study the differences between senses of humor in different cultures; it's something that fascinates me.

This post is all over the place. I'm signing off.