Room

My time here at Yale has had its ups and downs. It has also had its neither-ups-nor-downs. Its many strings of slow dull moments. Those hours in between meals and after assignments have been turned in. Long afternoon walks alone. 1am sitting indian-style on the floor of Woolsey Rotunda, staring up counting light bulbs and listening to a lone organist practice through locked concert hall doors.

I've spent many of those spans of uncomplicated contentedness in my room. Reading. Listening. Watching. Strumming. Cleaning by shoving things into places I can't see. Dancing in front of the $5 Ikea wall mirror. Falling asleep on the couch instead of the bed for no good reason. I've organized and arranged and acquired this room. I like it in here. I think I've grown to love it a little.

Most underclassmen left campus a few days ago. During move-out, I caught glimpses of empty rooms hastily swept out of all the things which made them one person's and not another's. It's sad to think I'll be doing that same sweeping in a few days. My sacred little space will revert to four clean cream walls, a closet door, an empty bookshelf, and a cold-to-the-touch floor. Any indication that I ever ate or sang or slept or wrote here will be oversights -- careless residue leftovers where I neglected to scrub myself out of the whitewashed woodwork sufficiently. A cleaning crew will come in over the summer and wipe any old receipts or strands of hair I forgot to take with me into the irrecoverable black yawn of a plastic trash bag.

No, I don't want to stay in this one-room kitchenless fourth-floor walk-up with a bathroom shared by too many boys forever. Even I'm more ambitious than that (and also the university won't allow me to live in the college after I've graduated).  But I've appreciated all the space I've found in this minute number of square-feet. Next semester, another student will turn a key in the lock of A41. They'll see how awkwardly the unsentimental desk, chair, chest of drawers, and bed-frame sit in its center, a big mess of blonde wood elbows. I hope they're able to find room for themselves within these clean cream walls. I hope they're able to find home for a little while.

Because, why not?

It's not often that I have a fleet of professional photographers following me around and taking my picture. That said, it does happen occasionally...

These are photos snapped at my company's big conference this year, and while there was no Bill Gates this time around, I did get to hang with Ben Bernanke, Secretary of Energy Ernest Moniz, and Colorado Governor (not to mention my numero uno political crush) John Hickenlooper.

I desperately hope I didn't come off as this cloying in person

I have no words for the awkwardness I'm exhibiting in this photo

Ahh! Much better!

The easy, sexy cousin

No, I'm not dissing on one on my relatives, though that would be interesting.

I'm talking about sticky mango rice. The easy, sexy cousin of rice pudding. If you're worried it tastes weird, that's silly. It's delicious -- thick and creamy with a salty sweet yum thing going on. It's made with coconut milk, but it tastes entirely different from the sticky-sweet coconut concoctions we're used to in the US.

 A friend of mine convinced me it was "the easiest thing ever" telling me that she made it "all of the time." Since she wasn't Thai, I didn't believe her -- on either count -- until yesterday. I bought a box of about 20 champagne mangoes from one of my favorite stores pretty much ever. I was buying my favorite noodles when the sweet rice across the isle caught my eye. It was a fat, short grain rice and I wondered if this was the holy grail of rice -- if this was the rice used to make what is perhaps, my favorite dessert ever. I whipped out my smart phone and looked up recipes for Mango Sticky Rice and sure enough, this was it. In my euphoria, I decided I had to improve on this practically perfect dessert. I opted for the short grain brown rice over the white stuff. Most recipes called for 6 ingredients: Water, salt, coconut cream, rice, mangoes and sugar. So I loaded up on the coconut cream. The results were delectable. While coconut cream is a high fat food, I don't see why this is much different from having oatmeal for breakfast. It also makes a super impressive dessert.  I added some ginger to mine, just because I love ginger and opted for brown instead of white sugar to match my brown instead of white rice.

Choni's Gingered Mango Brown Sugar Sticky Rice

I used a few recipes for this recipe. You can find them here, here and here. If mine doesn't fit your liking, try augmenting it with recommendations from the other recipes! Some call for more or less liquid. It depends on how sticky versus how porridge-y you want it to be. The less liquid you use, the less long it will keep. I suggest reducing liquid for dessert and adding more if you plan to eat this treat for breakfast.

3 champagne mangoes

2 cups brown sweet rice

2 cans coconut milk

1 cup dark brown sugar

1 tsp salt

1 tbsp grated ginger*

Water (about 3 cups)

Place rice in pot and cover with water. Let sit in water. I let it go for 4 hours and that is the general consensus so I would do it. People say it's fine if you let it sit for and hour or even 30 minutes.

DO NOT DRAIN! Add a can of coconut cream and 1 and 1/2 teaspoons salt and turn heat to medium high until water and cream come to a boil. Cover and simmer for 20 to 30 minutes or until rice absorbs all liquid.

Meanwhile, on stove stop, mix 1/2 teaspoon salt, second can of coconut cream brown sugar. Boil together making a coconut syrup. Once rice has absorbed all liquid, add half of the syrup and mix. Slice mangoes (a good tutorial here). Serve sticky rice along side mango and topped with the syrup.

*optional

Remember?

Remember that time we went to an magic island in Canada and all of the people were polite and the food was delicious and it was generally pretty sweet? No? I don't blame you, because we never put up any pictures of it, even though I have literally thousands of them. Here. These are for you:

Remember how we were all upset that morning but not with each other so it was actually alright? Remember deciding to have an absolutely perfect day just out of spite? Remember how much better that made everything?

Remember when we saw lettuces and tiny baby radishes still in the ground and met the future King and Queen of England and then Prince William was all like -- "get your hand off of my wife's boob" and we were all like "no because actually you're a cardboard cutout and can't talk to us or tell us what to do" and his expression didn't even change even though that was a super rude thing for us to say?

Remember how we sat in all those places next to each other because we were wearing coordinating clothes and wanted everyone to see how cute we looked together but we never actually got a good picture of all five of us and I tried to hang my camera on a tree to use the self-timer but instead it fell off and almost broke? Remember how everybody's name was Will?

Remember when we drove into town and Charity asked to street-preform with that boy who was handsome but only because he could play the piano so well and wore plaid and was polite. Remember when he said yes because it would have been rude not to and was so happy and surprised when Charity actually opened her mouth and sang like she does? Remember when we all sang along?

Remember when we ordered oysters on the half-shell and I ate one even though I usually don't and you told me it would taste like a salty kiss from the sea? Remember when I told you you were right about the oyster, but I still didn't like it?

Remember when we found the hat with red braids and we all pretended to be Anne of Green Gables? Remember how Momo bought Hettie one and whenever she wore it she'd become courteous and kind but also a little fiery and only answered to the name Anne? Remember the deep-sea diving shack that also sold the best lobster rolls you've ever tasted and pretty excellent salads too? Remember getting annoyed at all sorts of things that may or may not have mattered but still having a beautiful time?

Remember saying we wanted to walk back to the house but only because we didn't want to go in the car and didn't understand how far it was? Remember trying not to squash the tiny frogs as they hopped across the sidewalk? Remember being scared when we heard sounds coming from the forest and it getting so dark none of us could see and using Liberty's phone as a flashlight and all thinking to ourselves

if a kidnapper or a rapist or a wild animal came out from the trees I'd stay and fight it so the rest of you could run away and get help and be safe

?

Remember getting back just fine and seeing them read to the babies in the main room? Remember knocking on the window and then hiding just to scare them and then almost deciding to go skinny-dipping? Remember all the stars?

Cake > Sex

Look! I made a cake! 

Here are a few things you should know about me and this cake, and also cakes in general. 

1. I'm not a huge fan of cake--I'll typically go for something chewier and/or fattier if given the choice.
2. I'm not very good at making cake--they tend to turn into "trifles."
3. This cake was crazy delicious, it was not hideous, and I ate it instead of ice cream for several meals (mostly breakfast, but also lunch...also dessert). 

Typically, the only reason I'll bake a cake is to celebrate the birth of someone I adore. This often results in my humiliation as friends and friends-of-friends offer well-meaning compliments and comments. "It really does taste good though!" "That was such a sweet idea!" "YOU are very, very thoughtful!"

This cake however, was not a token of love and celebration, but rather the debit of a lost wager. The scene was something like this:

 (Liberty's legs can be seen protruding from beneath the couples' bed as Premal quietly reads atop it.)

L: HELP! HELPhelp! Premal! I'm stuck, I can't breath!

(

Premal extracts his wife)

P: What were you doing?

L: Trying to plug in our new lamps. 

P: I can do that.

L: You are much bigger and fatter than I am, and it is therefore impossible for you to succeed in this effort where I have failed. 

P: Wanna bet?

L: Yes, I do.

P: Okay, but if I win I want something awesome.

L: Okay. 

P: Not something dumb, like sex. 

L: Okay.

P: I want cake. A carrot cake. With frosting. 

L: Deal.

(Premal reaches the cord behind the mattress, thereby completing the task and winning the wager in mere seconds. --Scene--)

Pineapple Carrot Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting

note: Obviously walnuts and raisins are optional, except when they're not. Which happens to be the case with this cake. Which is to say, I refuse to endorse the results of the recipe below should you choose to omit these items. xoxo

Cake

:

2 c. sugar

1 1/3 c. vegetable oil

3 eggs

1 t. vanilla

2 1/2 c. flour

2 t. cinnamon  

2 t. baking soda

1 1/2 t. salt

1 c. raisins

1 c. walnuts

1 lb. finely grated carrots

1/2 c. fresh pineapple, cubed

1 in. finely grated fresh ginger

Preheat oven to 350 f

Prepare 3 8-inch rounds with parchment, then butter and flour. 

Beat sugar, oil and eggs with mixer fitted with a paddle for 4 minutes. Add vanilla. Sift together flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt--add to wet ingredients. Toss raisins and nuts with a little flour, then fold into batter (it will be quite stiff at this point). Fold in carrots and pineapple. Divide among the pans and bake 50 min. 

Frosting

:

2 blocks cream cheese

1 stick butter

2 c. powdered sugar (sifted, please.)

1/4 c. maple syrup

1 pinch salt

Place all ingredients in a mixer. Beat the bejeezus out of it. Wait 'til your cake is

actually

cool before frosting. 

Perverbs

Some would call Harry Matthews a writer. I prefer to think of him as a lyrical Dr. Frankenstein -- except instead of sewing together old body parts, he sews together old truisms. Yes, Mr. Matthews has pioneered a new and exciting form of prose: The Perverb. No, a perverb is not a pervy proverb (i.e. lace curtains never stopped any Peeping Tom with character). Rather, it's the creative combination of two or so tired old phrases into one exciting new phrase (i.e. stop and smell the death and taxes). It's a lovely way to forge new bits of wisdom out of old ones which have lost their oomph to overuse.

I had to write a list of 15 these for a class, but I get the feeling I missed a bunch of really good ones. So I'm crowdsourcing to all y'all clever people to find the best perverbs capable of existence (for entertainment value only -- I already turned in the assignment). I'M DOING THIS BECAUSE I BELIEVE IN YOOOOOOOU!

Below, I've included a few more of my perverbs, accompanied by pictures of weirdly beautiful hybrid taxidermy jobs by the artist Enrique Gomez de Molina (because this is likely the only blogpost I'll ever write where those will be even tangentially relevant).

Honesty hurts

The Devil is in an apple a day.

Big brother has more fun

A little knowledge makes Jack a dull boy

A rolling stone turneth away anger

The road to hell is paved with pennies saved

Business by any other name wouldn’t smell as sweet

Diamonds are next to Godliness

Dead horses tell no tales

Damn! The torpedoes killed the cat!

So what's your best perverb? Share a couple in the comments so we can all chortle at them together alone at our personal computers!

Comfy

I'm a creature of habit.  As we drove Premal had me rank places I'd most like to live, and Baltimore was in my top three (following DC and Denver--obvi). He went over the locations I deemed "less than ideal:" San Francisco, New York, Portland, Chicago...? 

*blink   blink   blink*

At that, he looked down and laughed out loud. "It's like this shirt," he said.

"I like that shirt."

"I know! Which is why I'm photographed wearing it in roughly 10% of our travel pictures!" (I'm the one who usually ends up packing...)

Meanwhile, I was busy contemplating the white sweater I had on.

The same one

I've worn 3-times a week since I bought it in November. 

Which is to say, he has a point. But then again, so do I.