Monday, March 15, 2010

I wish they were cookers and not cooks

I wish they were cookers and not cooks. I wish men could be turned on and off like a rice cooker. Actually certain rice cookers are more primitive and you just pull the plug when you're rice is ready; there is no button. I've been dealing with what I call, a series of flakey men. Men who can't commit, men who change moods every other time we are together.  I don't understand it. I've been asked on one occasion by subject A to send him an email.  It's been a month and no response. Hmm this is not an infrequent thing here...I'm trying to discuss why men are flakey?

When you first met a guy at a bar, in class, at a concert, well you exchange information. The beginning is not nerve wrecking at all. It's very simple. He likes you, he will contact you.
When he contacts you, maybe at best you both come up with the idea to meet up next week. He is busy and you are busy but lets make some time to get to know each other.
You and him become facebook friends....and this is where I see the problem with facebook and you  begin to learn his schedule. He is online between 8 -12 and returns to facebook after 10pm.  He doesn't chat with you yet. That's fine. I mean what is there to say at this point? We will meet up next week.
Next week comes and no email, no phone call. I don't need to overthink this situation. There is no situation. He has moved on. And he is a flake.

Why are men flakey? Because men have so many options of attractive woman who are nice. Woman who respond to men picking them up. Exchange info and believe me that men pick up more than one woman that night.
Of course not all men are flakey. There are men who become some woman's boyfriend. But you gotta pull the plug once the rice is done. When he stops caring you end it.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Masa Bomba

La masa bomba es un clasico de la gastronomia francesa, tambien conocida como eclais y profiteroles. Es bastante basico. Mezclas manteca y leche a hervor y luego aniadis harina mesclando rapidamente hasta que la harina y la manteca forman una masa. La masa se tiene que despegar del bowl mientras batis, de esta manera sabemos que la preparacion esta lista. Mientras se enfria en un bowl aparte, aniadis huevos batidos uno a la vez hasta que la preparacion puede ser separada con una cuchara de Madera y se une lentamente.

El professor, objeto de cuestion, es una preparacion y no tiene idea de a donde va. Ense;a pasteleria basica, es un hombre significativamente mayor, ademas se mantiene en forma y es estilisado… llamemoslo Sam.
Soy una estudiante de gastronomia francesa en latinoamerica. Imaginense. No planeo estas cosas y parece que encuentro inspiracion de algun lugar. Entrando my ultimo semester del primer anio y finalmente cursando las muy temidas clases de pasteleria. Como una aspirante a cocinera, pasteleria es nuestra enemiga. Se vuelve muy tecnico y enganioso con estas materias. Curse panaderia el semester pasado y lo encontre extremadamente desafiante al menos al comienzo. Luego logre manejarlo.. al menos en la panaderia francesa la masa debe ser amasada hasta que este suave, dejar fermentar y luego formar la baguette.
La segunda clase de pasteleria basica tuve la oportunidad de hablar con Sam. Presentarme como una muchacha extranjera que tal vez podria considerarla durante el curso ya que despues de todo el espaniol no es mi idioma nativo.
A sam no le intereso mucho. El se encoge sus hombros. Es el tipo sarcastico pero yo ni le doy bola en que trabajo 11 horas por dia, 6 dias por semana y la mitad del sueldo va a pagar por la escuela culinaria. 
Entre las proximas semanas hasta nuestro exam final, Sam empieza a ser mas amable conmigo. No se por que? Estoy mas gorda, paresco peor, estoy mas flaca, paresco terible. Ando en vueltas con la consistencia de yo misma. El laburo me pesa en el restaurantes. Ya llego a un periodo deprimiente...nunguin puta madre q' le pa dios quieren postres y yo soy la unica pasteleria alla!
Sam me habla durante taller. Me magino que el tambien se entretiene con nuestras conversationes de Spanglish; el esta aburriendo con nuestra clase. Tienes que entendir que el es un maestro enseniado pasterleria elementario a un gruop de adolescentes lleno con granos y largando olores espantosos y amas de casas. 
Hay unos encuentros intimos...un saludo a la bouche-a-bouche
o lala

Me atrayo. Eramos iguals. En un sentido estuvimos caminado esa misa camino a ninguin lugar...he tendria estar enseniando en el Cordon Bleu y yo...bueno quiero dejar de trabajar y mentirme en unos varios proyectos independiente como literatura gastronomica. 
Me encanche...tenia fantasias sexuals en que nostros dos estaramos juntos en una cocina re simpatica con estuches llenas de chocolate, vanillia, y bonitas ceramicas besandonos y comiendole. 
Queria saber como el sera conmigo? Yo, una piba de 20 anios y el un hombre grande de 40 tan cliche? y resultara mal en el fin antes que empiesara?
No hay dos personas mas distintas que noche y dia a estar juntos porque la vida es un gran decepcion o por el otro's deseo sexual por el otro. 

La masa bomba es un clasico de la gastronomia francesa, tambien conocida como eclais y profiteroles. Es bastante basico. Mezclas manteca y leche a hervor y luego aniadis harina mesclando rapidamente hasta que la harina y la manteca forman una masa. La masa se tiene que despegar del bowl mientras batis, de esta manera sabemos que la preparacion esta lista. Mientras se enfria en un bowl aparte, aniadis huevos batidos uno a la vez hasta que la preparacion puede ser separada con una cuchara de Madera y se une lentamente... el profiterole levanta por presion de agua vapor. Sam, es un soltero de mil hijos de puta. Como la masa bomba, el es hecho de 4 partes (leche, manteca, harina y huevos o hombre, sexo, decepcion y aburrimiento) que se reunion y batidos hasta que se separen solamente para identificar el punto de union. Sam es un hombre con gustos sencillos; yo quiero sexo y quien la da mas facil? No tiene que buscar lejos. Estan en sus clases. Alumnos y docentes jovenese. Lamentablemente, yo fui una de sus alumnos.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

I've slept with half the guys in Israel PART 1

One, Two, Three, and then half the guys in Israel. I've slept with half the guys in Israel. This is a problem. This is a big problem. First off I am very tired. I haven't seen my room in nights and I have laundry piling ...I didn't have any clean underwear this morning and I have maybe two hours to wash clothes before running to work. My schedule consists of working, school and the gym. Going out is never planned.
I've let going out to become this causal decision like whether I should walk or take the bus to class. So I am walking home from the office and then I get a text message from Katie...lets meet up for drinks...I mean why shouldn't I go out for a drink on a Monday night. A quick nightcap before heading to bed and facing a long Tuesday day at work.

Last year I was twenty pounds heavier, in this terrible relationship and I needed to escape. I enrolled in a masters program, got an office job and o yeah got rid of the boyfriend. I began working out a lot. I started to go running, monitor my meals; healthy portions and lots of protein. I was thinner and feeling sexier twenty pounds lighter. I've always been nice and flirty. I attract lots of guys at bars.

My first guy in Israel was this nerd. We had wild sex. He bit me all over my body and I had bruises for weeks. We met at this bar. He asked me what my name is. He asked me a bit about myself. We drank some highly concentrated mixed drinks. We end up in bed. The first notch on my bed post.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Choux Dough

Choux dough is a classical french pastry. It is also known as the eclair and profiterole. It's pretty basic. You melt butter and milk together. Heat until it boils and then add flour stirring quickly until the flour and batter form a ball of dough. The ball of dough has to unstick to the pot as you stir. This lets you know the dough is ready. As it cools down in another bowl, you add beaten eggs, one at a time until the dough can be parted with a wooden spoon and also reunite slowly.

The professor, or the object of affection, is a ball of dough and I don't have a clue where this is going? He teaches pastries 101. He is a significantly older man. He also keeps in shape and is lean. Lets call him Sam.
I am studying french culinary in Latin America. Go figure. I don't ever plan these things and I seem to find inspiration to do something from somewhere out of context. I was entering my last semester of the first year   and finally taking the dreaded pastries class. As an aspiring cook, pastries is the enemy. It becomes very technical and tricky with pastries.  I saw bakery and breads the semester before and I found that extremely challenging at least in the beginning. Then I got the hang of it least in French cuisine bread dough is to be kneaded until smooth, left to ferment and then roll it into a baguet.
The second class of pastries 101, I had the chance to chat with Sam. Introduce myself as this foreign girl who maybe could use some sympathy during grading since after all Spanish is not my native language.
Sam doesn't really care much. He shrugs. I guess he is the sarcastic type. I could care less about his attitude since well I work 11 hours a day, 6 days a week and am paying half my salary for culinary school.
Within the following weeks leading to our final exam, Sam begins to warm to me. I don't know why. I am getting fatter, looking worse, then getting thinner, looking horrible. I have a roller coster consistency with self appearance. Work is weighing me down at the restaurant. Its become pretty one is ordering desserts and I am the sole dessert cook there!
Sam chats with me during workshop. I am sure its just as entertaining for him that we chat in English-Spanish. He seems bored with our class. You see he is this pretty renowned pastry maestro teaching elementary pastries to a bunch of pimpled faced recent high school grads or homemakers bored at home.
There have been a few close encounters on the lips...once when he kissed me goodbye bouche-a-bouche
o lala

I was intrigued and attracted. I got to learn more about him. I liked that we were both somewhat on a dead end path...he should be teaching at Cordon Bleu and I wanted to quit working and concentrate on a number of small independent projects such as food writing.
Finally I was hooked. I imagined and fantasized sexual scenes of us being together in a quaint kitchen full of shelves with cooking chocolate, vanilla extra and pretty china. Then I wanted to know what he would be like with me if we were actually together. I am this 20 something year old student dating her 40 something year old professor...isn't this too cliche and wouldn't this be doomed before it began?
Two people more different than day and night come together because life is a big disappointment or of each other's sexual desire?

Choux Dough is a classical french pastry. You melt butter and milk together and bring to a boil. Add flour and stir until it becomes a ball of dough. Leave to cool and then add one beaten egg at a time...a profiterole rises from water vapor pressure. Sam, I learned, is a lonely bastard. We could never be more different. Like the Choux dough, he is also 4 simple components (milk, butter, flour, and eggs or man, sex, disappointment, and bordem) that are brought together and beaten repeatedly until separated only to identify its point of union. Sam is a man of simple taste and simple life rules; i want sex and who can easily give it?
He doesn't search far and wide. They are in his class. Young students and teacher assistants. Unfortunately for me, I was one of his students.