In the eye of the beholder

Dave and I have been watching coverage of the recent earthquakes in Haiti and Chile. One of the topics that usually comes up during disaster coverage is whether or not there will be looting or violence. What's looting when you don't have a house, food, or much of anything? Rampant disorder is one thing, but looking at images of people milling around the entrance of a grocery store, or walking away with a bag of food, we wondered if that's more like "surviving".

When we lived in Florida, Hurricane Wilma left us without water or power for a week. We had about 3 days' worth of food, so by day 5 or so we decided to venture out and see if any supermarkets were open. We finally found a Publix that had no power, but the employees were still able to ring up sales. We battled with about two hundred other people over boxes of trail mix and saltines.

During the last few days we'd heard of fistfights happening in gas station lines or among people waiting for local government agencies to hand out ice (yes, ice was that much of a precious commodity), so I tried not to piss anyone off. If that lady wants the box of crackers I was reaching for, then let her have it. No problem.

Later that day, on our way home, we passed one of those long gas station lines and saw two guys leap out of their respective cars and beat each other silly.

So when I see people jostling somewhere in Port au Prince to grab a loaf of bread from a semi-destroyed market, my instinct is to not call it looting. Because you know what? I have seen Americans go apeshit over 5 days of not being able to fill up their gas tank.

Mmm pie

Ever since...ever, I've had a strong predilection for bread and sweets. I've also leaned heavily towards gaining weight easily, so that has not worked in my favor. I can look at a slice of cake and gain five pounds, but if I look at a treadmill I just get tired.

About a couple of years ago I decided that I needed a new hobby. I came up with baking. Of course, of all the things I could have picked -- rock climbing, marathon running, kickball -- I ended up filling my house with things that can squeeze me out of my jeans by sight alone. I did it because I had a feeling that I could be good at it, and I needed that kind of boost. Baking involves following instructions exactly and being precise, and I'm the kind of person who has fun putting together furniture.

I found that I actually am pretty decent at it, which has been pretty cool. What I didn't expect, though, was just how intensely frustrating a process baking can be. Even a couple of years later, I can look at a recipe and go, "No sweat! I'll push out these cookies easy", then 2 hours later find myself telling cookie dough to &^$^ its &*$% with a @#^.

So this weekend I decided that I'd up the ante from making cookies and bread. I would make a pie - only the second one I have ever attempted to make. The first one was an apple pie, this one would be cherry. I admit that while the first one was 100% homemade, for this one I used pre-made filling. But it was really good! And to be honest, it's not the filling that gives me pause -- it's the crust. Flaky and golden, with a sprinkling of sugar just before baking. That, in fact, is what I think is the hard part.

Much like with making bread dough, pie crust is an exercise in patience. You can follow the recipe but external factors can be game-changers. If the weather is cold and dry that day, your dough will reflect that. You'll then have to adjust on the fly until you feel the dough become what you want it to be. But a novice like me doesn't always know what she wants out of dough, and an inpatient one (ahem) doesn't want to accept that some attempts may yield bad results. I mean, that stuff takes time and energy!

This time my pie dough did suffer from being too dry. As I tried to roll it, it would stick to the rolling pin and get all cracked and crumbly. I didn't yell at it but I did give it what-for. Eventually I decided that it had become too warm to work with, not to mention abused by my rolling attempts, so I put it back in the fridge to re-chill.

I brought it back, added a bit more ice water, and started again. This time, yes. This time, the dough gave itself up easily. Like Romeo to Juliet, like Bacall to Bogart. Like Madonna to any number of people. I rolled it out into to almost-circular crusts (don't judge me, I'm still not good at that) and gently draped the first one on the pie plate. The chunks of butter that would melt during baking and help create those beautiful flaky layers were still there; I was afraid all my rolling killed them.

I assembled the rest, brushed it with egg white, sprinkled some sugar on the top crust, and into the oven.

My technique still needs some work, but this was a really good second attempt. That bald spot in the lower right of the pie is from a chunk of crust sticking to the foil I wrapped around the edges to keep them from burning. It is not, I must state emphatically, because I chomped away at it. That would be crass.

Even though they are different, there's something about bread and pie doughs that is really satisfying (once they come together). Kneading dough at first can make me a bit panicky, because it can be a little sticky. I immediately convince myself that I have botched it, that it will not come together and that it hates my guts. But if I stick with it, I can feel it start to change in my hands. It starts to give way and doesn't stick to my hands or the work surface. Then after a few minutes of gentle compliance, that thing comes alive. It expands a bit, gets firm and pliable. It is so satisfying not just to know that I made it happen, but that my hands felt it happen every step of the way. With pie dough, the real metamorphosis happens under the rolling pin, but after battling with it and begging it to comply, bringing it treats like ice water or flour in order to coax it out, and watching it relax under steady, confident rolling is pretty cool. I mean, panic and Spanish obscenities were also involved but they either didn't hurt, or they actually helped. I'm not sure yet.

But, really, as great as that all is, eating that pie is even better. Let's not fool ourselves.

Um, hi

So it's been over a year since I wrote, here, huh?

I've had a muse-killing year. Details aside, I've kind of been like a deer stuck in the headlights for exactly the last 12 months. Just last week marked on year since our car got totaled after 2 aholes got into an accident right on front of our house and crashed into our poor, unassuming, paid-off car. It's been mostly all downhill from there.

I've often felt the need to write, but haven't had anything to say. So I just sit around saying, "Man, I really should write something. Oh hey, TV's on." The grey days of winter certainly don't help. I promised myself that this year would be different, but, man, laziness is hard to shake. Also, I have carrots to grow on Farmville. Which is pretty lame.

Alright! No more vegetating! From now on I will scour my brain for stuff to write about. In the meantime, here are some pictures from my last trip to PR. They represent exactly what I want right now:

An amazing beach:


And delicious fried food:


Don't even tell me that doesn't sound good.