My housemate Kelly suggested we stop at Flower Flour this morning for a pastry and a cuppa java.
Who am I to argue? I am a total sucker for pastries. Yummm, bread ... what can I say ... I'm German ... the love of bread is in my genetic makeup ... and I am trying to picture right now what genetic makeup looks like ... lipstick for your chromosomes ... hey, great name for a punk band ... but i digress ...
Anyway, so we stop at Flower Flour, and I spot a bucketful of Provence lavender that smells just deeeelish. (One of my favorite smells. Right up there with basil.) So I buy a bunch, and while Mimi the flower lady is wrapping it up for me, the guy in the chef's coat behind the counter makes a remark about it. I tell him it's the most wonderful smell in the world, and hold it towards him so he can smell it. He agrees it's not so bad.
I tell him he should make pastries with lavender in it. (I had a lavender crème brulée once that I still dream about.) He is not convinced. He changes the subject and asks if I am Polish.
I tell him no, I'm German, and he says, "Du bist schön. Ich liebe dich." (Which means, "You are beautiful. I love you.")
I laugh and tell him that'll get him through Germany just fine.
He proceeds to ask Kelly if we're sisters. Nope, she says, just housemates. Then he asks her if she's Irish, and while she already shakes her head no, he says something half-intelligible that he claims is "You're beautiful" in Gaelic.
Kelly says she's from Virginia, and I ask him isn't he going to tell her she's beautiful in Virginian? Kelly doesn't miss a beat and says "Aww, yer so purdy."
I pipe up again and ask him when we're getting married. Now that he's told me he loves me, aren't we gonna get married? (I'm kinda old-fashioned that way.)
Yeah, he says, and he could make a lavender wedding cake. So I'm all for that. :^)
But it occurs to me we haven't set a date. I better go back there and ask him for his hand properly. (Which would be my downfall. I could never be married to a pastry chef.)
You're all invited to the wedding, of course. Stay tuned ...
Talking about Shakespeare always brings up this sonnet - the first bit of Bard I ever learned by heart.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
That alters when it alteration finds
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O, no! It is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken,
It is the star to every wandering bark
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
When trying to recite it, I usually stumble over the "worth unknown" and "height be taken" line, and I can never remember the rosy lips and cheeks. I guess I don't truly madly deeply love this poem after all. :^)
Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 bushwhacked the box office over the weekend, astounding analysts and even the filmmaker himself by taking in an estimated $21.6 million despite playing in only 848 theaters, many of them small-capacity art houses. By contrast, the No. 2 film ($19.6 million), White Chicks, played at 2,726 theaters, while the No. 3 film ($18.5 million), Dodgeball, played at 3,020. "We sold out in Fayetteville [NC], home of Fort Bragg," Moore told the New York Times Sunday. "We sold out in Army-base towns. We set house records in some of these places. ... Republican states are embracing the movie, and it's sold out in Republican strongholds all over the country." He predicted that the film will be cleared in twice as many theaters by next weekend ...
I find it heartening that this film is doing so well. Makes me believe that most Americans are interested in finding out what's really going on, that the sheep look up. I haven't seen it yet, but it's at the top of my list.
I peeked at Online Conversions to convert the grams from my German recipe into cups and ounces.
Ingredients: 1 cup flour; salt; 1 stick of cold butter; butter or oil for greasing the form; 1 shallot; 1 clove of garlic; 1/2 a bunch of fresh marjoram, or a sprig of sage; 1 tbsp olive oil; 100 g Swiss cheese (Emmentaler or Gruyère); 2-3 large potatoes (ca. 10 oz); 2 tart apples (I used Braeburns); salt; freshly ground white pepper; 1/2 tsp lemon zest; 1/2 cup of heavy whipping cream; 1 egg
1. For the crust: Knead flour, butter, salt, and a couple of table spoons of cold water into a smooth dough. Grease a spring form pan, distribute the dough evenly, and build up the sides about 1 1/2 inches. Put the form into the fridge for about an hour.
2. For the filling: Peel the shallot and garlic. Wash, dry and pick the marjoram or sage. Chop everything into small bits, sauté in olive oil on small heat until the shallots and garlic turn glassy.
3. Pre-heat the oven to 400F and bake the quiche crust for about 15 minutes.
4. Grate the cheese. Peel and wash the potatoes, peel and quarter the apples. Cut both into thin slices, season with salt, pepper, and lemon zest, and distribute the mixture evenly onto the crust. Add the shallot mixture on top. Mix the whipping cream with the egg, pour onto the quiche, then top it with the cheese.
Bake at 400F for about 45-50 minutes until the potatoes are soft and the cheese is golden brown.
And can you believe I forgot to take pictures? Jeez ... but I'll tell you, it sure tasted good! Almost all gone, too - I gave some to Holly for loaning me the spring form pan, and some to my man who was working a 12 hour day. You know what they say about the way to a man's heart ...
Almost time to pull the potato apple quiche out of the oven. Sure smells awfully good. Yes, I'll take a picture or two. And I'll post the recipe soon as I have converted the ingredients. (It's a German recipe, so it's all in metrics. Oh, the pain of leading a double life!)
Housecleaning today - both in the house in Willow Glen and here in my bloggish online home.
In the physical world (notice I don't say "real world" because the online world is very real too), I've done laundry, vacuumed up about twelve pounds of cat hair (half of that in tumbleweeds under my bed), swiffered the bathroom and kitchen, and just the sinks and tub remain to be cleaned. Oh yeah, and I should soak the orchid too.
Here at elkit.blogs.com, I have deleted a herd of pornish spam comments, and closed the comment function on the affected entries. (I am very very grateful for the email notification I get whenever someone leaves a comments on any of my blogs, so I see them fairly quickly - most of the comment spammers pick old entries, because they figure I won't notice anything so far back.)
I really detest these spam comments. Email spam I don't mind so much. I'm not easily offended, and my spam filter works fairly well. But for some bleed'n eejits to leave harmless-sounding comments in old entries, exclaiming "Your site is awsome" [sic] and linking to URLs I refuse to repeat here, that really pisses me off, because I really don't want my visitors to click on some commenter's name and be taken to a site with - judging from the URLs - rather explicit images.
This is my home. It has my name on it. When you come here, be nice to my readers. I don't want your porn spam, so fuck off with it, alright? And stay out!
I called my mom last weekend, to hear about her trip to Berlin - she and two of my sisters and one of her best friends went to see the MoMA in Berlin art exhibit, which she said was great.
I apologized for not calling her the weekend before - I'd intended to, because I knew she was already back home, but I was so busy - and I told her all about work and the iTunesMusicStore and what a great time I am having, even though I'd worked late every night and all through the weekend.
I also told her about CC, the guy I've been going out with. That I really like him, but that it's not serious. That he's not mine to keep, where he's from, how old he is, what he does, and where I met him. And she wasn't nearly as shocked as I thought she might be. She wished me well, and she meant it, it wasn't a cynical remark. I really picked a good mom when I showed up for this round in life.
In the evening, CC called. (He calls me almost every evening, which I think is just so sweet.) Asked me about my day, I told him that I talked to my mom, told him about her trip to Berlin - and that I told her about him. And he was just mortified.
Didn't really sit well with him, so I will be careful about what I say about him here. And Greg, my friend: that is why I will be very very careful what I say to you about him. Partly because I don't think he would appreciate it, and partly because I didn't really appreciate getting ribbed about Colorado for months, and I really really don't want you to heckle me about CC. He's off limits to ya'll, just so you know.