Monthly Archives: November 2010

Looking Up I Noticed I Was

Posted by Tata on

Possibly the last thing pried out of my cold, dead but awesomely manicured hands.

Sometimes change comes whether you’re ready for it or not, but when you’re really ready, change is the only thing you can live with. Today, I sat in his chair and told my cousin and hairdresser Carmello, “I’ve firmed up, lost weight and taken on a very exciting new project at work.” Carmello brightened.

Carmello: What are you doing?
Tata: I remembered I can handle big projects with large staffs and multiple moving parts and someone offered me the project I wanted. Also: I’m ready for fresh hair.
Carmello: Fresh hair cuts off the old energy, too.
Tata: Exactly. Can you give me a haircut that says I kick ass?
Carmello: How did you lose weight?
Tata: I quit drinking.
Carmello: GET OUT!
Tata: It’s just temporary. Once I’ve lost a couple of Schnauzers, I might start drinking martinis again.
Carmello: Most people would eat a Beagle if they lost a Chihuahua.
Tata: I also started wearing makeup to work whenever I felt like it.
Carmello: Why would you quit wearing makeup?
Tata: Air gets gritty in my eyes and there’s nothing like rubbing inflamed eyes and smearing makeup across the bridge of the red nose, but I’ve decided not to have that problem anymore.
Carmello: Does that incantation work on in-laws?
Tata: Not without nail clippings. I love the cut, Carmello. I’ll make an appointment in December, and another in February, and by springtime, I’ll be a vision of capable loveliness.
Carmello: Right. How was Pee Wee Herman?

Obviously, change is in the air.

A Pool Hall Where They All Hang

Posted by Tata on

I don’t know what you’re scared of, but I’m a-scared of pie crust. Pie crust is my Achilles Heel, my bete noir, the monster under my bed. Who knows how these things get started? When I was a teenager, I baked apples in glittering, sugary crusts and skipped on my merry way, but somewhere along the line, I tripped over my own feet and fell face first into a twenty-year pie crust phobia. Let me tell you two somethings about that:

1. That is a real shame: just about any half-assed breakfast, lunch or dinner becomes 100% less half-assed when baked into a decent tender, flaky crust and that includes sushi;
2. Oh. My. God. What could be more uncool than a PIE CRUST PHOBIA?

Buy in bulk. Bake bigger pies.

I don’t eat much in the way of white flour. Pete doesn’t use it when he bakes bread. I looked around for whole wheat pie crust recipes before stumbling in the health food store on organic whole wheat pastry flour. Oh yes. I went there. Pie crust is frightening, but bags are not. Turns out if you hand the right person a small but silly amount of money you too can take home a monster.

Yesterday, I measured out some pastry flour, cut in butter and hydrated the whole mess with cold water, but because I can’t follow a recipe to save my life I also added lemon peel and ground ginger. The dough rested in my fridge for half an hour, then I made a tart out of fruit we’d jarred. After baking, I glazed the tart with lemon squash jam. Pete and I sampled slices of the tart dressed with homemade yogurt mixed with cinnamon and brown sugar. It was okay, but I don’t like tarts.

Sweet potato pies disguised as pie-shaped things.

Tonight, I rolled the second ball of dough, cut it into six pieces, rolled and cut circles. I stuffed them with leftover sweet potatoes mixed with egg, cinnamon, ginger and fresh nutmeg, buttered the outside and sprinkled chunky sugar crystals over top. While I have at least temporarily conquered my fear of pie crust and banished nightmares of broken pie crusts past, I have – alas – not become a better photographer. This picture sucks. The little pie things are both humble and pretty, but in this image they appear to be having their own personal earthquakes – or I am.

Many actions have unintended consequences. I want to make things in pie crusts, even things I don’t actually want to eat. But I could and then what? And after that?