It's all about Romance.

I think I'm too much of a romantic. And I don't mean the common usage of romantic. I'm not really someone who believes in all that lovey dovey stuff.

But I mean romantic in the sense that I'm too optimistic and contain too many high expectations. It is such a curse. Possibly because when my dreams crash and die, it's the most depressing thing in the whole world and also possibly because my vision of my life is immersed in 1,000 gallons of glitter. It's everywhere and it follows incessantly. 

In a sense, I am trapped in this perfume of romance. How can I go out and see the world for what it actually is?

Life After Snowfall.

Bonjour! I'm well-rested and restored and back in black.

Last night was so frustrating in the sense that my electricity went out for more than 12 hours, thus no heating system, no microwaves, no television or internet. Of course I was irritated at first; I couldn't even study in the candlelight.

But there is this serene silence that prances in the air once all technological distractions fade away. I think this experience was a precedent. Here I was, candlesticks set on the wooden living room table (which was a little scary, I have to admit), with no concept of time. I simply dived into the introduction of the Grapes of Wrath, which was 40-something pages long. I didn't think it would take such a long time to read, but amidst the hysteria, namely my parents and the rich text, night faded into twilight.

It is here that the struggles of Steinbeck were revealed to the readers. It is here where I understood the complexity and dimensions of the novel. The introduction dissects the work into several layers, working through the author-novel connection (in which Steinbeck wanted to keep at a minimum), the plight of the migrant workers, the incredibly realistic, poetic, metaphoric writing that blends both the hardships of one family and short anecdotes.

Steinbeck zooms in on one family, yet they are a representation of the hundreds and thousands of Dust Bowl migrants, and also a symbol of exodus throughout history. Our daily concerns and worries seem so trivial compared to the trials and tribulations of such people, and really, the struggles of peoples around the world throughout history.

It is great fiction that makes us question the dimensions of fiction and urges us to apply its concerns to our own environment. Like many great novels, The Grapes of Wrath does not contain only a solution, but a lingering question that will never settle or sink or disappear unless we choose to put an end to the chaos that exists within. 

The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

I'm bored out of my mind. No, seriously, I'm so tired of staring into thin air. This snow storm took me completely by surprise. I can't believe there is no school tomorrow (I'm trapped in my house as we are speaking). Normally, I'd prefer relaxation and breathing, but the snow days are really starting to get on my nerves. I'm beginning to despise snow, and here's why:

1. Not only can I not venture outside and actually enjoy nature, I'm prevented from even leaving my house to go places (movie theater, mall, restaurants, etc.).
2. The snow days only bring about more stress. It just so happens that it falls on the LAST WEEK OF THE FIRST SEMESTER, the most important week of a senior's life. I will have a bajillion (two) tests on the same day, if there is school on Friday.
3. I can't even go to the fucking library. I'm stuck at home, pondering the ever important question: To study, or not to study.
4. I think my parents might use me as a slave and force me to shovel the driveway. fuck.

Whoever is doing the snow dance better stop now.

The Making of...Georgetown Cupcakes

Picture this: It's Friday and I'm scrolling through 17andbaking during school. This week has been so repetitive, and with second seminar rolling by, senioritis is really starting to kick in. I find myself nodding off in class for the first time in a long time, bobbing off to the rhythm of the teacher's voice. How am I ever going to make it through these last five months?

Surprisingly, I discovered the Georgetown Cupcakes recipe for chocolate ganache cupcakes during 6th period. You can imagine the excitement that ensued. After school, I stopped by Wegman's: food emporium for suburbia.

So, I have a little confession to make. I'm a major foodie. I love making food, I love awing over food, and I love savoring food (probably why I'm the slowest eater on the planet). The very idea of a soufflé excites me; I dream of the day when I can finally visit Noma. And, as any girl who has been acquainted with the idea of sweets, I love dessert.

Remember when I visited Georgetown Cupcakes for the first time on my last birthday? Well, the gleaming white counter tops and the sugar sweet scent of those freshly baked gems still vividly exist in my memory. I found myself increasingly jealous of the lofts resting above the shop- if only I could wake up on Saturday morning with the comfort of knowing breakfast was right underneath my doorstep!  But thank goodness I'm not going to college anywhere near DC for I'd probably gain more than a freshman 15.

However, today, I decided to be a little bit bad. I know, how badass am I? Baking on a Friday afternoon should be illegal. Nevertheless, I took my chances. Here goes.

I believe that cooking should be an activity, a hobby, not a duty. What better day than today to light some candles and tune in to the classical music channel?

Starting by mixing the dry ingredients: 1 1/4 cups of all-purpose flour, 1/2 teaspoon of baking soda, one pinch, or 1/4 teaspoon of salt, 1 1/4 cups of sugar, 1/2 cup of unsweetened cocoa powder.

 In a separate bowl, mix the wet ingredients together. Add 8 tablespoons (or one stick) of unsalted butter, 2 large eggs, 1 1/4 teaspoons of vanilla extract (I used the Madagascar bourbon), 1 cup of whole or skim milk. Unfortunately,  the white blobs are not curdled eggs, but the butter. Next time, I will be sure to microwave the butter before adding it in.

Combine the wet and dry ingredients. This is my favorite part, I love how deeply brown the batter turns!

Line your cupcake pan. I chose a very pretty sea-foam green lining, though you probably couldn't tell from the picture.

Scoop the batter into the individual cups. I used an ice cream scoop because I find it is just perfectly 2/3 of the way full.You could also use two spoons to scrape the batter in.

Gently cradle the pan into the oven. I already preheated the oven to a toasty 350 degrees. Bake for precisely 20 minutes. Insert a toothpick into the center of the cupcake. If it comes out clean, then the cupcakes are done!

Place a heat-proof glass bowl over a pot of boiling water. This creates a double boiler and ensures that the chocolate used in the ganache will not burn. Add 1/2 of heavy whipping cream and 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips. I stirred the mixture until it was perfectly smooth and had the consistency of chocolate syrup.

Allow the cupcakes to cool for 5 minutes before dipping in the ganache.

I lined a chopping board with wax paper, in the event that any ganache were to drip in the dipping process.

Dip the cupcake in the ganache face down and swirl to ensure frosting evenness. 

See the difference a little ganache makes? I was out of sprinkling sugar so I compensated with a few of the semi-sweet chocolate chips used in the ganache

The recipe calls for 18 cupcakes, but being the closet batter-eater I am, I only churned out 16.

Je suis fini. Now, I have about a dozen cupcakes stowed in the fridge. I can't wait for tomorrow morning; I'll sift through the paper and imagine myself twenty miles away, amidst the busy streets of Georgetown, minus the crowds and traffic.

...

If you ever have an opportunity to visit Wegman's, do! They have the most amazing dessert bar. I bought a three-tiered mousse cake and creme brulee, both of which I sampled on while the cupcakes were in the oven.

Howards End.

I finished reading Howards End, which is such an amazing novel, in my opinion. I feel as if when I was little I'd wish to grow up to be like E.M. Forster...expect be a woman, but the attractiveness towards the male sex  is there, nonetheless...

I'd like to share some quotes:

“London was beginning to illuminate herself against the night. Electric lights sizzled and jagged in the main thoroughfares, gas-lamps in the side streets glimmered a canary gold or green…and the clouds down Oxford Street were a delicately painted ceiling…”(114).

“Their house was in Wickham Place, and fairly quiet, for a lofty promontory of buildings separated it from the main thoroughfare. One had the sense of a backwater, or rather of an estuary, whose waters flowed in from the invisible sea, and ebbed into a profound silence while the waves without were still beating”(8). 

“Whether you are like Mrs. Munt, and tap surreptitiously when the tune come- of course, not so as to disturb the others, or like Helen, who can see heroes and shipwrecks in the music’s flood…or like their cousin, Fraulein Mosebach, who remembers all the time that Beethoven is “echt Deutsch”, or like Fraulein Mosebach’s young man, who can remember nothing but Fraulein Mosebach…you are bound to admit that such a noise is cheap at two shillings”(30). 

“We are not concerned with the very poor. They are unthinkable, and only to be approached by the statistician or the poet. This story deals with gentlefolk, or with those who are obliged to pretend that they are gentlefolk”(43).

I should very much like to be like E.M. Forster. Do you think changing my last name to match the author's is a plausible route for me to be inspired? I'm very serious, of course. 

Back from Hibernation.

It's been such a long time since I've written a decent post..I miss writing. I'd like to share some details about my weekend, if you'd like to hear.

I woke up at noon yesterday morning, too late to catch any of my usual Saturday morning infomercials about MagicBullet and the like. Instead, I spent the day lounging around, eating yogurt and granola. At night, my parents and I went to this (new, for us) sushi place called Tachibana. The wait was 30 minutes long, but it was worth it once the appetizer came around. I ordered the monkfish pate, which, coincidentally, had the slightest taste of albacore tuna, but just enough as to not initiate my gag reflex. The texture, on the other hand, was a dream, as creamy as any caramel candy. It's going to become one of our favorites.

I tasted raw sea urchin for the first time yesterday. It had a certain bitter component, kind of like Chinese medicine. The only way to describe it is...sterile. But, I am very glad I tried it.

Tachibana can be described as a little hole in the wall. But upon entering, a collection of awards and plaques greet the visitor. It is a local favorite of the politicians who navigate through Capitol Hill because of its freshness (they import fish straight from Japan). My favorite item is the clam. It tastes so much like the sea, embedded in it the slightest hint of salt water; no vacation required.

The sushi is extremely fresh also. It reminds me of the sushi I had in Tokyo a couple of years back when I visited the dinner buffet downstairs from my then hotel, the Grand Palace, I believe. Of course, this was half the price of the food there. I'm getting into the habit of excluding the soy sauce. I think it takes away from the freshness of the fish.

Today, I visited Crate&Barrel and it revived my dream of living in the french countryside with a large, organic vegetable garden, chicken coup in tow. Entering the store was like entering the Willy Wonka factory. Rows of pristine silverware, kitchen utensils, napkins, glasses... It was amazing. Of course, leaving the store empty-handed is a sin.Tonight, I'm testing my new potato masher, and lighting tea candles in my new vase. If only I could live there...I'd brew fresh espresso every morning for the employees and set the display tables perfectly, just so none of the spoons touch each other. I'd paint the world colorful with my cheese platter and kitchenaid.

My parents and I also visited our favorite cafe, which ironically, lies in the scarier part of town. My mother sipped on a hot chocolate with mountains of whipped cream, and my father and I nibbled on delicious tea cakes. The conversation there dived deeper than any we've had for a long time.

It's in the Parent Job Description to tell us how amazing we are or, how far we'll travel. Hearing those words, though, I have to admit, made me tear up a bit. Not because it's the first time I've realized that they believe it, but that it's difficult for me to believe it. Amidst my family friend circle, many many many children achieve things so much greater than I do. They go to Harvard and Princeton and Yale and never forget to come home for Christmas. How can I compete? I didn't even get an early decision acceptance. Being deferred affected me deeply, it so penetrated that after two months, I'll still in a haze. It's difficult to consider it anything else than a rejection of who I am as a person. Am I good, but not that good?

I recognize this to be an incongruous comparison, but this is my first rejection. The door is shut for now. Perhaps I should learn to celebrate myself some more. It's just so hard to that in January.

It's a little explicit, but it's hilarious

Revelations

I think senioritis is finally hitting me...
So this is my daily schedule:

630 Wake up, Die, Wake up Again
720-205 School
300 Make it Home, Find Justin Bieber on the cover of Vanity Fair (WTF?!). This makes me want to rip the front cover off and write a nasty letter to the editor
300-727 Sleeep/ Procrastinate, preferably at the same time
Now Finishing my essay.
Grr.

I'm enrolling now!

Today, I took a 4-hour nap.

It was so incredibly refreshing and I won't get any sleep tonight. Which, surprisingly, I'm okay with.