I'VE LOST MY MARBLES

Or WHY WE ARE GOING TO FLORIDA TOMORROW.

See this dirty pile of snow. It has snow in it from December, December 19 to be exact. And since then it has been nothing but months of snowstorms and ice-storms and misery. In fact, so much snow piled up that I came home one afternoon to see the snow being removed by an earth mover and a dump truck. Then, the middle of this month brought the first day above 30 degrees in a long time and it was glorious, for about a minute, only to be followed by more ice and more snow and more cold. Since my schedule has been to leave the house before 5:00 a.m. most days, I am privy to unplowed, unsalted roads, car doors frozen shut, and the delightful thud as my tailbone connects with the asphalt having slipped once again on the ice.

Between my crazy school schedule and the weather, I am cranky (and also loony, but more about that later). Brian, being the super duper husband that he is, suggested a weekend getaway. He mentioned sunshine. He mentioned warmth. Bring it on!

So last week, he purchased two airplane tickets to Florida. Depart tomorrow. Return Monday. It's all I can squeeze in with my schedule, but it will do just fine. Keep in mind, that when we first moved to New York in 2006, we made fun of all the people who hightailed it to Florida in the winter. We thought they were meek to flee winter. This Colorado girl was not going to Florida, land of theme parks and strip malls.

I've changed my mind. I am ready for Florida now. I am sorry I made fun of you for fleeing the state. I get it. Let's go! Winters here are trying, and what is with all the ice!

So Brian and I are off to earn our New York street cred, if only for a weekend. And it turns out I need this getaway more than I thought I did. I am so sleep-deprived that not once, but twice this week on Sunday and Tuesday, I did the same stupid thing. I went to the grocery store. I had the list. I grabbed the cart. I perused the shelves. I filled the cart. I emptied the cart onto the belt at the cashier's station. I watched her ring up every single item. And when she finished, only then did I realize my wallet was in the car. Doing it once was bad enough, but I did it twice within 48 hours.

Wednesday, I vowed not to repeat my mistake. I drove to the store. I put my wallet in my coat pocket and zipped the pocket so it would not fall out. This is hard to admit, and a bit sad as well, I swelled with pride at my preparation. Then I sat there in the car a bit longer than necessary, and do you know why? I could not remember why I was at the grocery store. I had no list on me. I could not even remember if there was stuff on the list posted on the fridge. I was forced to call Brian, "Sweetie, just remember when you purchased me all sales were final. You cannot take me back to the store, trade me in, or return me for a full refund." And that is when I asked him why I was at the store.

My failings at the grocery store this week only reinforce why we need this trip. It's icing on the cake that while we are away, it is supposed to snow!!!

I would like to leave you with this little "only in New York" nugget I overheard the other day, "Oh, yeah, I know the guys here wear way too much jewelry. My dad only wears his pinky rings on special occasions."

SURREALISM AND BROWN RICE

I slept in until 4:21 a.m. today. Yes, you read that right. Now’s it 4:53 a.m., and I am enjoying my coffee and my current breakfast of choice: maple-flavored Brown Cow yogurt (low-fat) with Grape Nuts mixed in.

Yesterday, as we were finishing Breads class, my partner turned to me and said, “You know the last three weeks have been surreal, and I don’t mean in a good way.” I love breads, but I do understand what she means about surreal. It is one of the earliest classes in the baking program. Your start time fluctuates between 5:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m., which would not be so bad, but that’s not when you actually start. Back up 15 minutes from those times, and you have the time you should arrive, put on your toque, your apron, your side towel, wash your hands, grab scaled ingredients, and basically hit the ground running. 5:00 a.m. or 6:00 a.m. is actually when your dough has to be on the mixer. But first, before you can even arrive at the bakeshop 15 minutes before scheduled, you need to meet with your group, go over your game plan for the day, your recipes, your survival strategy. Most days this group meeting took place at 4:30 a.m. I have a 20 minute drive to school so this means leaving the house at 4:10 a.m. Oh wait, no, it’s winter, and we’re on an ice- and snowstorm every three days schedule, so I need to be out at the car around 3:50 a.m. because too many mornings I discovered the roads are not plowed at 4:00 a.m. Allowing time to make myself hygienically presentable and partake in the yogurt and coffee breakfast has meant I have been awake at 3:00 a.m. most mornings these past three weeks.

Things have been wacky. One morning, I undressed in the bathroom, not to take a shower, no just to brush my teeth. What made it so odd is that I already was completely dressed for school, down to my chef’s jacket so it was a lot of clothes to take off just to brush my teeth.

Another morning, I walked into the campus dining hall only to unzip my winter coat and realize I was wearing only an undershirt and a neckerchief. Now, take note, my winter coat is made by a company called Betty Rides, which makes snowboarding gear for women. It was 6 degrees outside when I drove to school, and yet in just my undershirt, my torso never got cold. Perhaps if it had I would have realized I was missing my chef’s jacket. My mother will tell you school is really a military institution, and she’s right to a point. The chef’s jacket is our uniform, and you can’t just borrow one because our names our embroidered on our jackets. At 5:24 a.m. that day, I had no choice but to turn a 40-minute roundtrip drive to claim my jacket into something much shorter so I could be in the bakeshop by 6:00 a.m. As I was racing around on icy back country roads, hoping no deer would enter my path, I realized that I fear more a chef yelling at me for dress code violations than I fear a car accident. School messes with your head like that.

Yet another morning, I was in the bakeshop readying for the day, and searching for my cell phone. I always turn it off when class starts. I couldn’t find it, but I remembered putting it in my bag. So from 6:00 a.m. on, my lingering thought wasn’t I hope I scaled the water correctly for our sourdough or what ratios do I need for my grain soaker, no it was wondering where my cell phone was. When class ended, out to the parking lot went I in search of the phone in the car. No phone. Also, no water bottle. Shoot, I left it in class. Walked back down the length of the parking lot to the Baking building to claim my water bottle. As I was returning to the car, I put my hands in my pants pockets as it was darn cold outside. Sitting in my left pocket was my cell phone. Eeessh!

So this kind of schedule messes with your head and it messes with your biorhythms. I eat breakfast at 3:30 a.m., lunch at 9:15 a.m., and dinner around 4:30 p.m. Lunch is a gluten festival because really it’s the breads available for sampling in the bakeshop. My diet has been nothing but gluten, gluten, gluten with little protein or vegetable matter. I miss meals with Brian as by the time he arrives home in the evening I am ready for bed. We’ve taken to leaving each other Post-It notes and emailing, knowing that graduation is 12 weeks away and this crazy schedule cannot last indefinitely.

Last night, though, I was motivated. I could finally have dinner with my husband. I could have a balanced meal, something warm and comforting as it has been one cold, trying winter (did I mention all the snow and ice?). I prepared fish with a simple mustard sauce, a salad of lettuce and tomatoes, and brown rice. Brown rice is a staple for us and we’ve experimented with different ways to make it, but here is our favorite way.

Molly’s Brown Rice
1 cup short-grained brown rice
2 ½ cups chicken broth (we prefer low sodium)
1 T olive oil

Equipment: 2-quart saucepan with lid, large wooden spoon for stirring.

Measure each item and have it ready to go at the stove. You can measure the oil right into the saucepan.

Heat the olive oil in a 2-quart saucepan over medium heat. Do not get it smoking as it will impart off flavors. Just heat it until it slides around very easily. Add the rice and start stirring. You do not want to stop stirring or you will burn the rice and then you’ll have to throw it out which is a bummer. Stir the rice to toast it and really notice how the kernels get a nice caramel-colored edge. You should hear a slight sizzle sound throughout this process. Now, you only need to toast it about 2 minutes, just long enough to coat all the grains with the oil and get them toasted.


Next, add the broth, stir for even distribution of rice in the broth and cover with a lid. Bring to a boil, and then reduce the heat to low and simmer for 40-45 minutes. The rice, when finished, should still have body to it and yet be creamy. If the rice is finished, but there is still broth, take the lid off, increase the heat a little and boil off the extra broth.



We do not normally season the rice until we are at the table. Sometimes, like when we roast chicken thighs, the rice stands on its own and needs some salt and pepper. Other times, though, it will be mopping up sauce and does not need any seasoning. Either way, it’s up to you.
Enjoy!

Sundays

Last week I would have told you that I had three weeks worth of Sunday New York Times to catch up on. The first Sunday, January 11, I had class. The second Sunday, January 18, I was drafting my paper for Chocolates class and studying for the final exam. Last weekend, well, I had math homework for Breads class, brunch with friends, and we went to open houses. Include today, and now I have four editions to read.

Reading the newspaper is Sunday to me. I hit the Travel section first because it allows me to daydream of the great traveling future Brian and I have the potential to create. Then, I peruse the Real Estate section. I have always done this, but now that we are house-hunting, the stories are more real and I pay attention to mortgage rates and things I find quirky about rural New York living, including oil heat, septic systems, and well water.

As an aside, we were driving around south Poughkeepsie yesterday as part of a house-hunting reconnaissance mission. Poughkeepsie is our most urban environment here in the mid-Hudson Valley, and we became excited by the thought of a backyard garden, a place to nurture Brian’s beloved tomato habit. I commented that at least in the city we won’t have to worry about deer eating our garden, when, at that moment, we saw a deer. This is a bad photo of the deer running away.

The deer sighting slightly deflated my idea of home gardening, but I chalked it up to a random event. That is, until we turned the corner one block later to see a deer crossing sign, in the middle of the city!

After that, I read the Business section. There is usually a great piece written in the first person about a real-life situation. One week, the author was a woman who went from having a successful corporate career to being laid-off and becoming a dog walker. Another week, the author was a female manager discussing the workplace phenomenon of women breaking each other down rather than helping set each other up for success. I see this in the kitchen classrooms all the time since the majority of baking majors are women. One Friday, for example, when my group needed help, and I sought it from a group of girls who were in the middle of a fierce game of Paddycake, they stopped, but rather than helping me, they dispersed.

Today, I hope to dispense with the leftover sections from previous weekends as well as the current edition. Brian is off skiing, I will attend a yoga workshop later today, and we’ll reconvene at dinner over lasagna. We have an open floor plan so we look at our living room while sitting at the dining table. Hopefully, our view this evening will not be of random sections of the newspaper piled atop all available surfaces from the coffee table to the couch.

Happy Sunday and Happy February to one and all.