Experiments With Jelly Beans and Other Firsts
This weekend saw some mad experiments in the kitchen, not all of which were good. I’m really not at that point in my cooking career where I should start improvising. Nope, I should be following recipes with strict obedience. The loose idea of ‘eyeballing’ amounts and measurements should still draw penalty flags and chants of ‘flagrant foul’ from my inner referee. My neighbor came over the other day whilst I was baking some cookies. He took one look at my cuisine laboratory and noticeably grimaced at the turd like droppings that had just come out of the oven. He remarked, “What the hell are those?”
“Cookies”. I said. “chocolate chip to be precise.”
“Man, those are really sorry looking”.
Defeated but realistic, I had to agree. In all honesty they tasted worse then they looked. And I have to imagine that chocolate chip cookies are pretty hard to fuck up. It doesn’t help matters that his wife is a professional baker. I should have never let that snarky unbeliever in my house in the first place.
Whatever. The fight continues. I shall not succumb to the shallow, uncultured tastes of every doubting Thomas. No. I shall press on and make delicate folds in the pie crust of the avant guard. In that spirit, I present to you the fruits of my latest epicurean experiments. Consider – nay, Behold! Jelly Beans and Wine! Really. It’s good. Trust me. To start, get yourself a bag of those exotic flavored Jelly Beans (the new valentine flavors are especially good for this) and a bottle of your favorite dry white wine. Pop individual beans and then chase them down with sips of wine. The different flavored beans bring out all kinds of crazy sweet (and sour) tastes from the wine. Serve as a dessert.
Continuing on the experimental cuisine vibe. This weekend, the misses and I visited the massive Asian market called Uwajimaya for the first time. This place is unbelievable. A whole aisle dedicated to soy sauce. Another for tofu! I came home with bags of exotic vegetables that I have no idea how to prepare. I can’t even remember what some of them are called. I even considered attempting to make my own sushi. But then I stopped. I took a deep breath and pictured my neighbor standing in my kitchen wearing a referee uniform. He was blowing a whistle and making some wild hand gestures before he exclaimed, “Hey SirCooksALot, I think you need to graduate chocolate chip cookie school before making the quantum leap to sushi school.” He’s got a good point. Fucker!
Another in a weekend of firsts for this newly transplanted Portlander, was an inaugural visit to the city dump. Not nearly as tantalizing as the Asian market but equally fragrant. Actually, the dump rules. Where else can adults go and throw things with violent force and break things and stomp on things without anybody batting an eye? Aggression is encouraged at the dump. It’s also very humbling and life affirming to see gigantic mountains of a cities refuse, sprawled out in concrete warehouses, bathed in warm fluorescence. It kinda gives you the chills. Or maybe that’s just the stench.