Canoe-dling

Today marks one of the most depressing days of the year: the last day of summer vacation before school starts. Well I'm not starting school tomorrow, but my younger brother is, and I feel his pain. I used to dread this day every year. I'd lie awake at night, trying to hold onto the last minutes of summer. I even used to cry on the last night of Christmas break, because I didn't want to go back to school. But I don't think it was school that I was actually dreading. I secretly liked doing homework and seeing my friends everyday. I hated the end of summer and winter break because it marked the end of freedom. No schedules, no to-do lists. Each day of summer lead by whatever my heart desired. This, of course, was not true. I always had something going on, whether it was sports practice, voice lessons, or summer reading; but I at least felt most like a free spirit during the summer. So on this last day of summer vacation, my brother and I soaked up the last moments of freedom and sunshine by canoeing.

It was the perfect day to canoe. The air was calm, the sun was shining, and the lake was quite peaceful now that all the summer camps have ended. We rowed out to one of the islands where we ate a picnic lunch of peanut butter and jelly (me) and peanut butter and fluff (Michael) sandwiches. After canoeing some more and working up a sweat, we took a dip in the cool, refreshing water.

Between the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and playfully splashing in the water, it was the most quintessential summer afternoon. I felt like I was back in high school, trying to hold onto every last second of summer freedom. As I sat on the rocky beach I said to Michael, "It was eight years ago that I started high school". Eight years??!! That sounds like such a long time when you say it out loud.

I still remember my first day of high school clear as day. I remember what I wore and what I ate for lunch. And I remember feeling so completely lost in what seemed like a massive school.

It's funny how your perspective of space and time changes over the years. Compared to NYU and BC, my high school is just a little fish bowl. During my senior year of high school, I could not wait to get out my town and move to the big city. Time could not move fast enough. Now I look back and can't believe I was in college for four years. Or how the quizzes and tests in high school seemed to be the determining factor for the rest of my future. And by now I've completely forgotten what these tests were about and probably anything I learned for them.

But no matter what our age or perspective, where we come from, or where we're going, the feeling of summer freedom is ageless and timeless. With all our preoccupations, anxieties, and busy schedules, we could all benefit from taking an afternoon to dig our toes into the sand, soak up the sun, and hold onto summer like we're in high school.

Copy Cat

There is nothing more disappointing to me than having a meal that I'm not satisfied with, especially when it is something I made. I look forward to each meal as an opportunity to feel fulfilled, content, and try something new. So when I eat something that does not meet these expectations it is quite a letdown.

Tonight I attempted to make Ga-ga's (the name I gave to my grandma when I was a baby) veal cutlets. These cutlets have quite the reputation in my family, so I was apprehensive to take on a dish with such long held expectations. When I was younger, my mom and I actually used to fight over who would eat the last veal cutlet. Whenever we have a visit planned to Ga-ga's house and she plans to make veal cutlets, we look forward to her juicy, savory delights all week long.

I have such vivid memories of cooking veal cutlets with Ga-ga in her kitchen. I always dredged the meat in egg and breadcrumbs, while she stood over the hot stove frying them up. Oil splattered all over her house dress, and me in egg up to my elbows, I always snuck a cutlet while they were still steaming hot and extra crispy. (I'm sure this also contributed to my pudgy frame as a child).

In typical Ga-ga fashion, she froze a bunch of extra veal cutlets the last time we visited. (Like many other thrifty, Depression-era grandparents, Ga-ga freezes EVERYTHING--from milk to one scoop of cool whip.) As I planned this week's dinners, my mom reminded me that we had the frozen veal from Ga-ga. And so began my attempt at Ga-ga's veal cutlets...

I looked through several recipes online, and they all seemed very simple and similar: just dredge the cutlets in flour, egg, and breadcrumbs, then fry them in the pan. Easy, right?

Well the process itself was a no-brainer. I've breaded and fried all sorts of things before. But in the end, they just did not taste the same!

First of all, the coating did not stick to the meat once it was cooked. Everything sort of fell apart as I tried to cut it with my fork and knife. I think this was due to the fact that the veal had been frozen and then defrosted. Even though I patted the cutlets dry before the dredging process, it's possible there was still extra moisture on the veal from defrosting, which would have caused the breading not to stick.

Second, the cutlets did not have that crispy texture like Ga-ga's. Mine were a little too dense--possibly from too much egg and breadcrumbs?--which then lead the coating to soak up more oil and become heavy, rather than light and crispy.

And finally, the flavor. It just wasn't there! A major mistake on my part was using plain breadcrumbs instead of seasoned, which is what Ga-ga uses. The veal itself was tasty, but the coating definitely needed some more flavor. Next time, I will have to add in some fresh herbs to the breadcrumbs, such as thyme or rosemary, or some parmesan cheese.

Making mistakes and trying new things is all part of the cooking process. That is how you learn and develop better recipes for the future. But recreating a dish that comes with such strong memories definitely presents a greater challenge. You may be able to recreate the flavor, but recreating the memory is nearly impossible to do. So while I may never be able to cook veal cutlets the way Ga-ga does, someday I will hopefully have my own dish that will create memories for my own family.

Family Matters

This morning, I awoke from the world's longest food coma. Last night I had one of the most filling, satisfying, and fun meals I've ever had. It wasn't at a restaurant, and it wasn't something I cooked at home. This time, my WHOLE family contributed to the meal in our very own cooking class!

A while ago, I saw a little blurb in the paper for The Culinary Underground--a local cooking school for recreational and home cooks. I looked into taking a class during my ample amounts of free time this summer, but most of the classes available were for kids. So I gave the school a call to find out about any adult cooking classes. Starting next month, The Culinary Underground will offer several interesting classes, from vegan cupcakes to autumn soups. They also offer custom classes for small groups. I was intrigued. I spoke to Lori, the owner, and she said she would put together an entire menu based on my family's tastes, and the rest was up to us.

I was a little anxious going into the class. Would my family even enjoy doing something like this? No one else in my family truly enjoys cooking the way I do. And what if they don't like the recipes Lori put together? Like I've said before, we have some picky eaters in our family.

The Culinary Underground is in Lori's own home--a modern house set into a hill with huge windows. The kitchen was wonderful: beautiful granite

countertops, so much space, and neatly organized--quite unlike our crowded, cluttered kitchen.

Lori and our intstructor, Chef Fred Rubin, presented the evening's menu to us. They explained we could all divvy up the recipes and work together along the way. It was somewhat awkward at first; everyone was too timid to claim responsibility for an entire recipe. But finally we figured it out...My dad would prepare the roasted pepper crostini, my mom and brother would make the gnocchi with caponata, I would cook the pork with fig demi-glace and zucchini with garlic, and my sister would bake the pistachio cake. Off we went!

As much as I loved preparing the food, my favorite part of the evening was seeing everyone else in my family participate too. Watching my mom and brother dice

up all the ingredients for the caponata was a sight to be seen! Not that they didn't do a great job, because they did, but my mom rarely lets my brother use a sharp knife at home, and she does not enjoy spending so much time chopping things into precise cuts.

Overall, we all enjoyed our evening of cooking and eating. We may not all like to cook, and some may be pickier than others, but spending time together and collaborating in such a delicious meal really was a bonding experience. As much as I love to eat and try new foods and recipes, the reason I came to love cooking and food so much was for this reason: its ability to bring people together. Food has a way of erasing our differences, helping us forget our troubles, and uniting us in a shared experience.

A Midsummer Night's Italian Menu

Crostini Peperoni Arrostiti

(Toasted Bread with Roasted Pepper Salad)

Strozzapreti con Caponata e Ricotta Salata

("Priest Strangler" Gnocchi with Eggplant Relish and Ricotta Salata Cheese)

Porco con i Fichi

(Pork with Fig Demi-glace and Fresh Figs)

Zucchini con aglio

(Zucchini with Garlic)

Torta del Pistacchio con Limoncello Glasse

(Pistachio Cake with Limoncello Glaze)

Click here for more info on the Culinary Underground and the classes they offer!

Sweet Obsession

The rainy weather continues, and so does my craving for comfort food. Although today's comfort food came in much sweeter form than last night's pasta: Cupcakes.

I have yet to discuss my cupcake obsession on this blog. Probably because I value the cupcake as such a sacred object that I'm not sure words could do it justice. But here goes...

My love of cupcakes began my freshman year at NYU. This was right around the time when cupcakes started to become the new dessert trend. Carrie served cupcakes to of all her guests at her book launch in an episode of "Sex and the City" a couple years ago, so it was about time the cupcake fad hit New York.

My first real cupcake experience was at Magnolia Bakery on Bleeker Street. A buzz was brewing among students about Magnolia's "amazing" cupcakes, so my friend and I took a walk down Bleeker to see what the fuss was about. We showed up around 8PM at night, and the line was out the door and around the block! I did not understand what could be so good about a cupcake that people were willing to wait outside on this cold night. But my friend and I waited in line anyways, and thank God we did! Never had I tasted a cupcake so light and buttery. It looked just like a cupcake you might see in an American Girl Doll play set. I was in love instantly, and this was only the beginning...

Second semester of freshman year, Crumbs was the new thing. A new shop opened up on 8th street near our dorm, so my friend and I knew it was fate. These cupcakes were calling our names. It was a Thursday night, and rather than pregaming to go out, we ran to Crumbs to get cupcakes to eat while watching Grey's Anatomy. I still remember the massive devil's food and cookie dough cupcakes that we both shared. We devoured the cupcakes like little kids, then passed out in food comas as if we were 8 years old.

My next most notable cupcake memory was not until fall of sophomore year. Sugar Sweet Sunshine Bakery. This discovery marked the turning point in my cupcake career: from occasional cupcake eater to devoted cupcake fiend. Dangerously close to my downtown NYU dorm, my roommates and I made regular stops here at least once or twice a week. Sugar Sweet Sunshine's cupcakes are no doubt my favorite to this day. I have yet to find a more perfect balance of sweet, moist, buttery cake and fluffy, velvety, melt-in-your mouth frosting. I was so in love with this place that my roommates even bought me a thong from the bakery with a picture of a little cupcake on it that says "Eat Me!". (Don't worry Mom, I've never worn it).

Last summer also marked some serious cupcake discovery and experimentation. My friend and I made a list of every cupcake bakery we hoped to visit, and strategically planned when we would visit each. This was serious research. Here are some of the places we tried and my thoughts on them:

1. Billy's Bakery--I don't remember any specifics about these cupcakes except that I enjoyed them quite a lot.

2. Amy's Bread--probably my least favorite on this list. I remember the cupcake being somewhat dry, although we did arrive just before closing, so they were not fresh. Everything else here looked divine.

3. Sweet Revenge--So indulgent and such rich-tasting flavors. The cupcakes themselves look very sophisticated and sexy. They also offer a cupcake and sangria happy hour, which I of course loved!

4. Buttercup Bake Shop--this is my runner-up to Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Best frosting!

5. Baked By Melissa--mini cupcakes that pack a lot of flavor in such a little bite! I could eat these like popcorn!

The cupcake scene is just beginning to bud in Boston. The only two places I've tried in Boston are Sweet Cupcakes and Flour Bakery. The cupcake from Flour was delicious; but even better from Flour was the fudgiest, most chocolately brownie I've ever tasted! Not bad for Beantown!

Now that I am moving to NY in a couple weeks to start an internship, I must resume my cupcake quest. But in the meantime, some homemade cupcakes will have to hold over my cupcake craving.

My sister and I spent the afternoon baking red velvet

cupcakes with cream cheese frosting from Martha Stewart's "Cupcakes" cookbook. The cake had that perfect subtle chocolate flavor, and was so light and moist. Cream cheese frosting is not my favorite (I prefer buttercream), but this turned out to have the perfect balance of sweetness and tanginess.

Not so sweet that you feel like you're eating pure sugar, and not too tangy that it tastes like a bagel with cream cheese. Delectable!

There is no better way to cheer up a rainy day (or any day really) than with a cupcake!

Recipe Rut Be Gone!

It's been a while since I tried a new recipe. Between traveling, eating out, and not wanting to spend hours cooking in the kitchen during the hot summer, I haven't had the desire to delve into something new and challenging. I've been in a recipe rut. Sticking to meals I've made several times before, or dishes with few ingredients that require little prep time (i.e. asian stir-fry, pan fried tilapia, grilled chicken). The kugel that I made last week was one of the newest things I've tried in a while, but that was extremely simple--just a matter of cooking the pasta, mixing the ingredients, and baking it all in the oven. (By the way, the kugel was a success! Very easy to make, and my whole family loved it. It was almost a little too sweet for a dinner entrée, but with all the sweet tooths in my family, no one was complaining).

On this dreary, rainy Sunday with nothing to do, I figured this was no better time to bust out of my recipe rut. Lazy, dark days always make me crave hearty, comfort food, which in my family always means Italian. So to my Giada cookbooks I went! This already posed a problem, because I've cooked so many of Giada's recipes, I really had to comb through to look for something new. Finally, I found the perfect recipe: Bucantini all'Amatriciana with spicy smoked mozzarella meatballs.

A while ago, I saw the episode in which Giada cooked this dish with her Aunt Raffy. I remember thinking it looked like such a hearty family meal. A friend of mine also tried this recipe earlier this summer and said it was delicious, so I knew this had to be it.

The recipe calls for bucatini pasta, which is a thick, spaghetti-like pasta with a hole running through the center. Unfortunately, our grocery store does not carry bucatini, so I resorted to one of my favorites: linguini. I also decided to leave out the pancetta in the sauce. Pancetta is one of the crucial ingredients that makes an amatriciana sauce amatriciana, but knowing the picky eaters in my house, I decided I could do without it. I also used ground turkey instead of ground beef and ground veal as in the original recipe. This was another decision made based on the somewhat limited

palates I was serving, and also to lighten up the already hearty meal a little bit. So after I completely changed the recipe, it was time to get started!

The sauce was very easy. Just sauté some onion, garlic, and crushed red pepper flakes, add crushed tomatoes, salt and pepper, and some Pecorino Romano, and voila!

The meatballs were also fairly simple, just a little more time consuming. I had to grate an onion, which I've never done before. It was a little tricky, especially when I got to the end of the onion and struggled to grate it without getting my fingers as well. But luckily, I managed the grate the onion, with all my fingers still intact.

One of my favorite things about making meatballs is mixing together all the ingredients with your hands, and then rolling out the little balls. Cooking is always more fun when you can get a little messy! The best part about the meatballs was the smoked mozzarella inside. With my finger, I made a little depression in each ball and stuck a little cube of smoked mozzarella inside. As the meatballs baked in the oven, bits of cheese popped out like a little surprise!

In the end, it was a delicious meal. My whole family loved it, and I welcomed their praise. No need to be humble when a dish is undeniably good! I was worried that the meatballs might be a little dry because of my decision to use ground turkey, but they were surprising moist and had so much flavor from the smoked mozzarella, fresh parsley, and red pepper flakes! And even though it might not have been a traditional amatriciana sauce, the pancetta was not missed at all. The sauce was so rich and thick from the romano cheese, and had a subtle kick from the red pepper flakes.

Bucatini (er, linguine) all'amatriciana with spicy smoked mozzarella meatballs fulfilled both of my goals for today: 1. To serve a hearty, comforting dish to my family on such a miserable day; 2. Get out of a recipe rut!

Here is the link to Giada's original recipe:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/bucatini-allamatriciana-with-spicy-smoked-mozzarella-meatballs-recipe/index.html

Disney Dilemma

With nothing better to do tonight, I decided to watch one of my all-time favorite movies: Clueless. I have seen this movie so many times that I can pretty much recite the lines even though it's been at least a year or so since I last saw it.

My obsession with Clueless began in 4th grade. My best friend and I admired the pretty actresses and their "like totally stellar" clothes. I dreamed of owning a revolving closet with a computer system that would put together outfits, just like Cher. We laughed at the jokes, even though we didn't understand half of them. I certainly did not know that the movie is based off of Jane Austen's "Emma". At age 10, "Clueless" was nothing more than pure entertainment and fantasy: picturing myself as a matured 16 year-old, driving an awesome car, wearing stylish clothes, and kissing boys. But what may seem like pure entertainment, can actually become quite toxic, especially for girls so young and impressionable.

During my last semester at BC I took a class called "Disney and the Wondertale". We watched several of the classic Disney animated movies then analyzed them for sexist/racist/prejudiced/etc. themes. Sounds pretty tough, right? The class was by no means challenging, but we did discuss some interesting topics that caused me to reflect on how such movies may have influenced my own self image as a child.

Take a look at all of the Disney princesses. As far as we know, none of them are meant to be any older than 16, yet all of them have the body of a 25 year-old Victoria's Secret model. Huge breasts, impossible waist, perfect hips, luscious locks, and big, round eyes. If you put any one of them in a bikini, they would fit right on the cover of Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Is this what we want young girls (and young boys) to think is normal?

Growing up, almost all of my friends were a Disney princess for at least one Halloween. I, myself, was Jasmine. I, of course, looked nothing like her, with my frizzy hair popping out of a ponytail, and my chubby potbelly poking out from the teal bikini top and pants. (I was also wearing a nude-colored leotard underneath. It would have been quite inappropriate, and unsightly, to see a robust kindergartner trick-or-treating in a two piece). Not only is it extremely culturally inaccurate to think that a woman in the Middle East would be able to prance around with her breasts and stomach hanging out, but also quite a risque role model to set for young children. Although at the time I wasn't even aware of what breasts or hips were, seeing these images repeated over and over throughout each movie certainly creates a lasting image of what beautiful and feminine should look like.

This image is not just in Disney, it's everywhere from Barbie dolls, to "Clueless", to newscasters on TV. And unfortunately I don't think this will ever change. As media and technology become even more inescapable in our everyday lives, standard images of "sexy, beautiful" women will imprint in the minds of children and adults.

In our final class the professor asked us, "So are you all going to forbid your kids from watching Disney movies one day?" The majority of the class, including myself, admitted "No". The gendered and racial stereotypes portrayed in such movies are quite disgusting, but c'mon, it's DISNEY!! A childhood without Disney is not a childhood at all! So while I do think it is important to build an awareness of such stereotypes and prejudices in children at an early age, children should also be able to just be kids and enjoy Disney for the pure magic and fun that it is.

I'm sure "Clueless" may have skewed my own body image in some way, but am I going to boycott a great movie just to prove a point? As if!

Eat Eat Eat

After much anticipation, I finally saw "Eat Pray Love". I read the book en route to Florence this summer, and have been waiting ever since to see the movie.

Overall, the film lived up to my expectations. Julia Roberts was all that you would hope to be: charming, emotional, and captivating. I actually enjoyed the character of Liz more in the movie than Elizabeth Gilbert in her book. The book Liz annoyed me at times. She could be overly dramatic, always crying whether she was happy or sad, and kissing a tree? It was a little too much for me to handle at times. But Julia eluded a much better and more likable balance of vulnerability and passion in the movie character.

I don't think any woman would complain about the casting of Javier Bardem as her Brazilian lover Felipe. Bardem captured all the sensuality and yumminess that I could have hoped for. However, I do feel pretty bad for Gilbert's ex-husband, wherever he is. The movie portrayed him as a complete weirdo-loser. The scene where he starts screaming and breaking out into song with the divorce lawyer was quite odd.

The scenery in all four locations--New York, Italy, India, and Bali--was beautiful and breathtaking. My least favorite part of the book, the "Pray" section set at the Ashram in India, was made much more relatable and enjoyable in the movie. The characters of Richard and Tulsi really brought this part to life, rather than reading about her meditating for hours and making out with trees.

But of course, my favorite part in both the movie and the book was "Eat", set in no other place but Rome. It is hard not to fall in love with the city, the people, and the food she encounters in this section. Everything is just so sensual and lovable, from her adorable tutor friend Giovanni, to the laundry hanging in the streets of Naples. And don't even get me started on the food! The simple plate of spaghetti in a perfect little round, topped with the greenest leaf of basil had me hypnotized instantaneously. I loved the arty juxtaposition between Liz's meal with friends and the tender preparation shown in the grilled artichokes and linguine with clams. Not only was the food beautiful to look at, but also symbolized how good, loved food unites people from different countries and languages.

Besides salivating at the food, what I loved most about Liz's time in Italy (in the book and the movie) was the Italian way of life. Living for pleasure and enjoying each pleasure like its the best thing you've ever tasted/seen/experienced. One of my favorite quotes comes from her friend Giovanni: "Il bel far niente"--the pleasure of doing nothing. This is a concept that is so foreign and unknown to Americans. What does doing nothing even mean? We are constantly wired to phones, computers, TV. A type-A person myself, I struggle to empty my mind and savor a simple moment of nothingness. I think we could all learn a lesson or two from those Italians.

While most of us can't afford to give up a year of our lives to travel the world and find ourselves, a trip to see "Eat Pray Love" can get us around the world for about 1o bucks in only 2 hours. I wouldn't say the movie or the book moved me to find my inner peace and happiness, but both helped me to savor "il bel far niente" just for a few moments. Ciao!

Farm to Table

It's Restaurant Week in Boston...time to dine! Although the restaurant scene in Boston pales in comparison to other cities like New York, Restaurant Week is a great way to sample the few hidden gems here. Thanks to the affordable menu, I've been able to try the Elephant Walk (French Cambodian food--excellent), Vox Populi (trendy vibe, disappointing food), and Locke Ober (traditional American/French--exquisite), just to name a few.

Tonight, my whole family went to Henrietta's Table in Cambridge. A friend recommended it to me a while ago for its fresh, local ingredients and ever-changing menu. When I received an email from Opentable that Boston Restaurant Week was starting, Henrietta's was at the top of my list!

The restaurant itself is quite charming. Set off the entrance to the Charles Hotel, you instantly go from classy to homey. Large chalkboards reveal the daily menu and cute sayings such as, "Things turn out best for those who make the best of the way things turn out". An iron sculpture of Henrietta the pig dons the sunny, kitchen-like atmosphere, along with tons of other stuffed pig animals, which you can purchase to bring home your own Henrietta!

The tables and chairs were simple yet elegant: made of wood and large enough to feel as though Henrietta's kitchen is giving you a warm hug. The open view of the kitchen and its shiny, brass pots and pans reminded me of Ina Garten's kitchen on the Barefoot Contessa. Inviting, comfortable, and smelling of heaven.

But would the food live up to the hearty, cozy ambience?

We were first given a basket of assorted breads--all of which looked crusty, fresh, and delicious. I tried the cranberry-nut bread and a somewhat sweet bread (I'm still trying to figure out what gave it the subtle sweet, nutty flavor--honey or maple perhaps?). Both were robust and tasted like they just came from the corner bakery.

I then ordered the Blueberry Tom Collins to drink. It had a beautiful lilac hue from the fresh, crushed blueberries, and tasted even better. The perfect combination of sweet, tart, and refreshment.

For the first course, I had a salad with sweet pea greens, roasted beets, pickled shallots, and mild "hannahbell" cheese shaped like thimbles. The menu even listed from which farmers the ingredients came: Shy Brothers Farm (how much more adorable can you get?!). Read more about hannahbells here: http://shybrothersfarm.com/

My main course was seared King Salmon with a spring chive butter sauce and a side of sautéed summer squash and zucchini. The salmon was so perfectly moist and light that it melted like butter in my mouth. I tried my mom's pot roast, which brought me back to chilly Sunday afternoons when a pot roast cooked in the oven until it fell apart at the touch of the fork. My dad's maple smoked duck might have been the best duck I've ever tasted (he said the same)--so much flavor, and so smooth, not gamey like other duck I've tried.

And of course, let's not forget dessert! Being the chocoholics that we are, my entire family (besides my dad--he ordered the peach-berry pie) had the chocolate pecan mud pie with vanilla bean ice cream. Mhmm! Gourmet and elegant, but at the same time it felt, tasted, and looked like something your mom would have made.

Overall I was extremely impressed with the food and the atmosphere at Henrietta's Table. The restaurant truly carried out its culinary vision of "honest to goodness New England cooking", from the kitchen-like decor, to the little stories about the farmers who harvested our food. I may be partial to New York, but this restaurant is definitely a Beantown gem.

What's in a Name?

One of my favorite Saturday evening/Sunday morning activities is sifting through my cookbooks to select the recipes I will cook for dinner the coming week. It's almost like a puzzle: piecing together a menu; balancing chicken/beef/pasta dishes throughout the week; making sure each meal suits my family's picky tastes.

Cooking for my family can be quite a challenge (no offense, guys!). I am very adventurous when it comes to trying new flavors and ingredients, but most of my family is pretty cautious when it comes to food experimentation. So how do I satisfy both of our palates, trying new dishes and using familiar flavors? This is a balance I've come to discover over time. I'll take a classic, beloved dish and add a few new ingredients to give it an interesting twist and depth of flavor.

I've also learned to keep my mouth shut. When they ask me "What's for dinner?", I try to keep my answer as general as possible: "chicken and vegetables" or "stir-fry". Words such as "Indian", "Thai", or "fish" would definitely scare them away. I've cooked several meals with Indian or Thai flavors that my family enjoyed. If they had known the regional inspiration behind these dishes, I'm not so sure they would have had the same response. So ignorance is bliss, especially when it comes to trying new foods. (Although now that my secret is out, I don't know that I'll be able to get away with my food trickery anymore...)

So as I pieced together this week's meal plan, my first inspiration was mac and cheese. My mom hates to cook, but one of her best meals is her homemade mac and cheese. It's cheesy and gooey on the inside, and crusty and bubbly on the top. Mhmm! This is hearty, all-American, mom's home-cooking to a tee.

I just recently saw an episode of the Barefoot Contessa in which she made one of her own mother's dishes: noodle kugel. Similar to my mom's mac and cheese, this noodle kugel evoked memories of childhood and comfort for Ina. Also similar in their warm, hearty, creamy goodness, I decided noodle kugel would be a fun alternative to my mom's classic meal.

All of the ingredients are perfectly safe for my family: egg noodles, brown sugar, cinnamon, ricotta cheese, and raisins. These are all things that my family enjoys and consumes all the time. But I am a little nervous that my family will be skeptical once they hear the word "kugel". Like I said, they are not keen on trying new things.

I tried my first kugel last summer from my friend's grandmother, and I loved it! It reminded me of a sweeter version of my grandma's lasagna, minus the tomato sauce. (A Jewish take on Italian lasgna?) I have to admit, I was skeptical at first too. I had never heard of kugel before, and the word itself isn't the most appealing name for a food. But names aside, the kugel was divine, and I've been dying to eat some more ever since.

So does it really matter if a meal is Jewish, Indian, or Thai? Are our palates prejudiced? If someone loves Italian food, will she automatically think a plate of spaghetti tastes great just because it's "Italian", even if it was just made with jarred marinara? Or if someone claims to hate Indian food because it's too spicy and smelly, would they still dislike an Indian meal just because it's called "Indian", even if it was cooked with the finest ingredients by a world class chef? I think not. Taste buds don't lie. If something tastes good, it's good because of what is in it, not because of the label on it. Our tongues are blind to these words; it's our minds that affect preconceived notions of what a certain cuisine will taste like.

So will the kugel be a hit for my family? If they go into the meal with an open mind (or just not knowing what's in front of them), I don't see how it couldn't be!

Game Time=Food Time

I am probably one of the worst sports fans. The only teams I know are those from Boston/New England, and the few athletes I know are either the star players or those who are dating someone else famous (i.e. Reggie Bush and Kim Kardashian). Last night at my first Patriots game I asked my dad a question about Teddy Bruschi, and was informed that he retired...oops!

Even at BC football games, I preferred to either watch inside, or would usually leave by halftime, because I was too cold and tired of standing up the whole time.

And in high school, I failed to keep up with my athletic friends on sports teams. I always sat on the sidelines, cheering on my friends, and probably eating all the snacks. I DREADED the timed mile or running sprints in practice. My favorite part of field hockey and lacrosse were the away games, because we got subs for dinner on the ride home. Score! So yes, sports have never been my thing and never will be.

BUT, the one thing I certainly do enjoy about sports is the culture and rituals surrounding the games; and more specifically, those rituals that involve food. As my dad and I drove into the parking lot last night, we rolled down the windows just so we could smell all the yummy goodness grilling at everyone's tailgate. Once we found our seats inside the stadium, our first priority was FOOD! When I’m at a sports game, I always go big or go home. So last night, I indulged in an Italian sausage, popcorn, ice cream, and of course, beer. I never really know what’s going on in sports, especially football, so food is the perfect distraction for me.

But greasy stadium food aside, I had a great time at my first Patriots game with my dad, pretending like I was a real fan.

I may not be an athlete, but I sure am a champion when it comes to eating!

Too Hot To Handle

I've sweat a lot in the past two days. First from walking around the hot, sticky streets and subways of Manhattan. Second, from the heat yoga class I tried tonight. After feeling like I lived in a sauna for two days, I've come to realize that there is a strong distinction between a good sweat and a very bad sweat.

The sweat I experience in the heat of New York is definitely the bad sweat. The second I step off the Metro-North train, I can feel the heat prickling at my skin with the blast of hot, stale air from the train tracks. This thin film of moisture grows exponentially as I enter the subway. The air is thick with body odor, trash, and God knows what else. People are everywhere, turning left and right, bumping into you as you wait for the train. By the time the subway arrives, it's hard to tell how much sweat is your own and how much is sweat rubbed off from other people. Ew. You would think the AC in the subway car brings a wave of relief, but it only causes me more anxiety. With the sudden change in temperature, I realize how sweaty I actually am. I feel the growing sweat stain on my back and my thighs stick to the plastic seat. The more I think about how disgusting I feel, the more I continue to sweat. Finally, the subway arrives at my destination and I rush to get some "fresh" city air (what an oxymoron). By the time I have escaped the oppressive hell that is the subway, I am now sweating even MORE from hustling as fast as I can and carrying all my belongings. The air outside does feel much better and breathable, but not for long. As I walk along the sidewalks I feel an occasional drip of dirty water from an air-conditioner above. Or a heavy, dirty blow of air from a passing truck. Or a sudden gust of hot air rushes up my skirt from the passing subway below--this is no doubt the WORST sensation. By the time I've reached my destination, whether it be meeting a friend or yet another "informational interview", I feel so awful and defeated that I just want to strip naked and stand under a cold shower forever. Like I said: bad sweat.

Now for the good sweat. I do enjoy sweat when it is appropriate. There is something so empowering and detoxifying about a good sweat. I love wiping the perspiration off my face after a good workout. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and self-worth. The sweat is a sign that I have done something good for my body. I am able to appreciate the biological purpose of sweat: to cool our bodies. (It is very hard to appreciate this process when heading into an interview, your thighs are sticking together, sweat is still sticking to your hairline, and all you want to do is strip naked and jump in a pool).

My shot at heat yoga tonight is a perfect example of a good sweat. I've been looking to switch up my exercise routine for a while now, so my mom and I started taking some pilates/yoga classes at a studio recommended by her yogi friend. So what a better way to switch it up than try heat yoga! The room was heated to about 95 degrees. Today it was extra "juicy", as the teacher described, due to the heat outside. But even in the heated room, I never once felt suffocated or oppressed. In fact, the heat felt quite liberating--both mentally and physically. I was able to stretch beyond my normal limits and hold positions that I've never done before. With each bead of sweat that dripped off my body and onto my yoga mat, I felt the weight of my endless job search drip out as well. With each breath and posture, I was able to take another worry or thought out of my head and put it in a box for later. I realized there was nothing I could do about finding a job or making money at that exact moment. The only thing I could do right then is breathe and focus on the movements. Of course a couple hours later, I am back to browsing jobs online, but for those 75 minutes I was able to truly appreciate this emptying sensation and the present moment.

But no matter how you slice it, good sweat or bad sweat, it still feels so good to shower in the end.

Dancin' With Myself

Last night's Ke$ha and Rihanna concert was UnReAl!! Rihanna put on quite the show--6 different outfits, several set changes, great backup dancers, and too many songs to count! But beyond the great spectacle of it all, Rihanna's talent undoubtedly shined through. She can still belt it and bust a move, even in the sweltering heat of the lights (our seats were so close that we could see the sweat on her face!). She has such a unique edge to her voice and her entire style. No one else can quite pull off the flashy red bowl cut, long silver nails, funky unitards, and MASSIVE bejeweled boots like Rihanna. Over the years, she has developed a style that is truly her own. Just like the "Rachel" from the early 90's, the "Rihanna" is now a hairstyle we've all come to know and love.

I've always admired Rihanna for her amazing style and trendsetting abilities. But what hooked me from the beginning is her catchy, fun, empowering music. I loved singing and dancing along to "Pon de Replay" whenever I heard it on the radio in the car. By the time "S.O.S" came out, I was much more aware of Rihanna as an artist. By the release of her album "Good Girl Gone Bad" I was a self-proclaimed fan. "Umbrella", "Don't Stop the Music", and "Shut Up and Drive"

all played on repeat while working out at the gym, getting ready to party, or even walking to class. I still get excited whenever I hear "Disturbia".

The songs off her more recent album "Rated R" are definitely edgier, less poppy, more rockish, and a lot more raunch. Although I'm definitely still a fan, nothing quite gets me moving like "Disturbia" and some of her earlier songs. There is something so infectious about her music that you really can't help but shimmy along.

This is how I come to find my favorite artists: those whose music I never get sick of, can always dance to, and pick me up no matter what mood I'm in. (Other such artists/performers are Britney Spears and all songs from "Glee"). I will never be able to pull off Rihanna's hair, bejeweled boots, or metallic fake nails; but at least her music makes me feel like I can dance like a rockstar.

Says Who?

Our lives are governed by laws and rules. From speed limits to laws against gay marriage, there are rules that determine what is good/moral/acceptable and what is wrong/immoral/unacceptable. But even more intricate and complex than these written laws are the unwritten ones: the social norms and codes that shape our behaviors and beliefs, which ultimately manifest in these laws and rule books.

Earlier on a walk today, my brother and I got to talking about social rules. Where they come from; why they stay in place; and why they are so hard to break. For example, when you are walking down a quiet street and someone else walking his dog passes by, it is polite to acknowledge him and say hello. To keep your head forward and pretend to ignore him would be rude and awkward. But if you are walking down an aisle in the supermarket or pass someone in the mall, it would be strange to say hello. What's the big deal? Why would saying hello to a perfect stranger in the mall be seen as weird or deviant? It's perfectly friendly.

Or if you are in an elevator and someone else gets on, you do not stand in the same place, but move over to create enough space between you and the other individual. You both stare at the ground, flip through your phone, or stare at the number of floors until you depart. It would be extremely uncomfortable and awkward if you were to stand close to the other person in an empty elevator, or God forbid, look at him and start a conversation.

But who says? What is so wrong with being close to strangers saying hello? I could go into a whole rant about how American capitalism and our "rugged individualism" has destroyed genuine social bonds in society. How people only form relationships and invest in them when it personally benefits them. BUT, I will spare you that sociological debate for another time...

I just find it so interesting to take a step back and reflect on all the tiny social rules we so adamantly follow on a daily basis. Unwritten social rules define normality and conformity; any stray from the norm is viewed as deviant. These social rules prevent us from acting on impulse: from not breaking out into song in the middle of the street, to not burping out loud in the line at Starbucks. They stop us from acting on our true desires and feelings. What would the world be like if we told everyone what we actually were thinking? (Has anyone seen The Invention of Lying? A very clever and witty movie, but I'm not sure society would really be able to function if everyone always told the truth).

The only place where most social rules are void is New York City. You never know what you will see here. Hearing someone singing in the street or burping in line is totally normal. This is another interesting thought: different social rules for different places?...

Laws help us determine innocence and justice; but social rules are what truly create order in our everyday lives.

Cheater, Cheater, Brownie Eater

Sitting around on this dark, stormy afternoon I felt a craving coming on...Chocolate, of course! Now how to satisfy this craving?...Brownies, duh! What a better way to entertain yourself on a gross day than staying dry inside and baking. Only problem...I'm not the world's best baker. It takes too much precision, detail, and planning. I like to experiment, play with ingredients, and ratios. I'm much more free form in the kitchen. But I made up my mind. Brownies, it was. And I would find a way to make them!

I saw an episode of Barefoot Contessa recently when she made these ENORMOUS peanut butter swirl brownies. They looked absolutely divine and worth about 10 pounds--the recipe calls for 4 sticks of butter (hello, heart attack!!). I looked up the recipe on foodnetwork.com, and not only do I not have half the ingredients, but it also has SOO many steps! I just want a brownie, I don't need a Michelangelo!

So I found a recipe from Giada for espresso brownies. The best part is, it uses instant brownie mix from the box! I know it's cheating, especially for someone who claims to love cooking, but if Giada does it, it must be okay, right?? In a matter of minutes I had the batter and espresso glaze made. Rather than slaving over the kitchen counter, melting chocolate and sifting ingredients, I can sit here, relax, write, and breathe in the wonderful smell of my half-ready-made espresso brownies. I am a little nervous to taste them, considering they were only from the box; but you really can't go wrong with chocolate, can you?

You can sit there and judge me for being too lazy to bake real brownies. But while you're judging, I'll be enjoying my gooey chocolate treats. Sometimes taking the shortcut is the best way to go. And when that shortcut involves eating, I don't mind a little cheating!

Spooked!

Well, not really. More like briefly entertained. My mom and I just finished watching "The Crazies". It is new to On Demand, and if you have not yet heard of it that is probably because it has been out on DVD longer than it was in theaters. Long story short, it was not good. The whole premise is a biological weapon that the US "accidentally" dumped in a small town in Iowa. The weapon spreads a virus that causes people to go crazy and kill each other. It was similar to "The Happening", which came out a few years ago and also was not very good. The movie was definitely entertaining though--my mom and I had a few good laughs at its ridiculousness, and we covered our eyes several times from all the blood and guts. But was it actually scary? No.

Although I must say that I am quite picky when it comes to scary movies. Few movies truly frighten me to the core and leave me lying awake with the lights on at night. Especially in recent years horror movies have become less and less scary, and more and more stupid. Over-the-top special effects and futuristic story lines are just too ridiculous to be believable. ("Paranormal Activity"? It was painful to watch; it was THAT bad.) For me, what makes a good scary movie is one that could actually happen; it is realistic. Movies about ghosts and zombies, while maybe thrilling in the moment, do not hang over me after its end. I can leave, take a deep breath, and sleep soundly at night knowing that zombies don't actually roam the streets at night. Movies about mind games and serial killers...now those freak me out. "Silence of the Lambs" and "The Shining"...I'm getting spooked just thinking about them now!

I never understood why some people hate scary movies. I love the thrill and the excitement of it! But I guess my love for scary movies is a bit atypical (why would anyone want to be scared by something that could actually happen?). When I was young, my imaginary friend was Casper, albeit, the Friendly Ghost. As a two year-old my favorite movie was "The Wizard of Oz" (watching it now, I'm surprised I was never frightened by the wicked witch or those creepy-looking monkeys). I loved Are You Afraid of the Dark on Nickelodeon, and I was an avid reader of R.L. Stine's Goosebumps series. I loved to play with the Ouija board at sleepovers, and have been to a psychic several times. Sophomore year of high school I even wrote a research paper about ghosts.

I'm not sure where my interest in the supernatural and the spooky comes from. I am not a risk taker or very adventurous. I generally follow the rules and abide by speed limits. So I guess these scary movies pique my curiosity and allow me to be "adventurous" in the safety of my own home. I may not be willing to take a risk or seek a thrill in the real world, but when it comes to scary movies, I am a world-class skydiver! I love a good spook now and then, as long as I know I can sleep soundly at night.

Simple Little Things

After Giada on the Food Network, Samantha Brown from the Travel Channel has the job I most covet. She gets PAID to travel all over the world, stay in hotels--from the luxurious, to the funky--, and samples all sorts of gourmet and local cuisine.

I’ve always been drawn to her quirky energy and fun narration. Even when I was younger, my sister and I would watch Samantha’s first show, in which she traveled to various hotels in the U.S. There was always something so exciting in picturing ourselves staying in these fancy hotels, even though we were only kids.

This exhilaration stays with me years later, as I watch Brown’s new Asia series. Her bubbly and approachable personality makes you feel like you are getting your hands dirty with the locals—tonight she actually cooked pork on the side of the street with a woman in Hanoi (so cool!) I love to imagine myself walking the street markets, coolly narrating the scene, making friends with the locals, and getting paid for it at the same time!

While it is fun to daydream, I am not sure that I could actually go through some of her adventures. I definitely love to travel, but the biggest risks I am willing to take are with food. I still like to come back to a clean hotel with American TV

channels at night. The overnight train from Prague to Zurich I took on my European trip this summer is about as far as I will go when it comes to roughing it like a true traveler. Call mehigh maintenance, but I just call it having limits.

Studies show that people experience more excitement and pleasure in planning a vacation, than actually experiencing it. This makes some sense—the build up and the anticipation give you something to look forward to everyday. But how depressing! You spend all this time and money planning and traveling, only to not feel as happy or satisfied once you are actually there?

Perhaps this is a fault of our on-the-go American society. Everything is about efficiency, planning for the future, maximizing profits and time. We rarely take the time to soak in the present moment and enjoy the simple pleasures of everyday life—a glass of wine, a crisp breeze, a sunset. These simplicities are often overlooked by deadlines and to-do lists. I am certainly at fault for this. As I anxiously search for jobs and worry about my future, I am unable to enjoy the luxury of doing absolutely nothing everyday (everyone tells me to enjoy it now, because this will never happen again).

Unfortunately I am not Giada or Sam Brown, and very few of us are lucky enough to have a career that allows us to be paid to enjoy life’s pleasures. But maybe--if even for a minute a day--we can all rebel against the American work ethic that is so engrained in our psyche, and savor something so wholly in that moment (a good cup of coffee, an old song on the radio) we can all pretend we’re hosts on our own travel or cooking show.

Ch-Ch- Ch-Changes

August 1st.

The month of August has always brought mixed feelings for me. It's still summer, but the days are numbered until school starts. There's a sense of urgency as each day passes and the countdown begins. The sun already begins to set earlier, and the energetic heat of July evolves into a more relaxed, hazy air.

My younger brother has begun the race to finish his 4 summer reading books before the start of school. My sister has already started back-to-school shopping and collecting new things for her dorm. Today, one of my good friends left for med school, and another good friend left to move into her new apartment and start working in New York.

Things are changing. The weather, the length of days, the places people live, and the things they do. And yet I feel stuck in this vacuum of the unknown. It is very strange and discomforting to see everyone picking up, moving around, and starting new lives. People are preparing to go back to school, and I am preparing for...I have no idea.

I always look forward to the fall as a time for new beginnings, fresh starts, and exciting changes. But now that it's August, I feel that sense of urgency around me, but not within me. People are bracing themselves for a new school year, a new life, but I have no idea where I will be or what I will do in the coming months.

I am not the type of person who does well with the unknown. I like to have a plan. I like to know what I'm doing tomorrow and 2 months from now. But so much is out of my control right now. I am trying as hard as I can to find a job, but I cannot control this economy and the lack of opportunities out there. It drives me CRAZY when I send out 10 emails a day, and hear back from every single person that there are no job openings now.

But maybe my new beginning and my changes for fall won't be in the form of a new apartment or a new job. Maybe my new beginning will be more abstract: a different way of thinking. Coming to accept the unknown, giving up control over every aspect of my life, and being excited by not knowing where I will be tomorrow or 2 months from now. Who knows if I'll actually be able to change my outlook, but it's worth a shot!