So Britt called me as I was in the midst of a curry non-thickening panic. The conversation went something like this:
B: Try putting in a spoonful of flour.
V: [wailing] I don't have flour!
B: Okay, how about the Bisquick that you sometimes use?
V: [wailing] I don't have Bisquick!
B: [getting exasperated] Corn starch! Just mix a little bit of corn starch with cold water and--
V: [more whining now, less wailing] I don't have corn starch!
B: WELL, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!!? WHY DOES YOUR KITCHEN SUCK?!?!?!?
No, she didn't really say that last line, but I'm sure that's what she was thinking. As a matter of fact, that is what I am currently thinking. Why doesn't my kitchen have these basic staples? It is absurd. (But also strangely representative of my lifestyle...)
So dinner wasn't curry and rice after all. I roasted some potatoes and mashed them, and brought it up to my friend's for the little potluck thing she was having. Dinner was a delicious salmon + greens salad, and my impromptu mashed potatoes.
I was full and happy, but still determined to fix the curry. I threw in 2 handfuls of rice (surprise! I did have some rice), and after 15 minutes, the sauce thickened right up and it's full of rice, to boot. Of course, I'm not hungry anymore, and Tyler is doing his best to get out of eating a 2nd dinner a mere 30 minutes after his 1st dinner. But I guess this means I won't have to worry about tomorrow's dinner! So that's good.
To make myself feel better from an afternoon of curry-making fiasco, I decided to test out my new Revlon Raspberry Bite lipstick. It's like a fuschia explosion on my face, which I strangely kind of like, especially paired with apple green sweatpants and my Hack&Slash pirate shirt. That's right, people: I'm wearing lipstick and sweatpants, like a crazy desperate housewife. Good start to the week.
Monday, September 28, 2009
curry fail
Today was a class-free Monday, mostly by virtue of the fact that my photography instructor is currently in Oregon. Chicago is very windy and blustery today--I guess it's already that time of year.
I took advantage of today's classlessness to work on some cover letters for potential internships, as well as make foods to last me through this week. Since today was kind of grey and blah, I figured what better way to make today better than making a big pot curry? Just think: deep golden yellow, punctuated by rounds of orange carrot and wedges of potato. Yes. Perfect.
I started off by sauteeing some onions and carrots together, and putting them in a pot of water. Added chunks of chicken and curry powder (forgot the potatoes). But even after an hour of dutiful simmering, all I've managed to produce is a sandy-colored broth with pieces of vegetable and chicken floating about in it.
Emergency curry conference with my mother, who, as it turns out, was also making curry. "Yes, mine's almost done, and it looks great!" she chirped.
"That's nice," I grumbled, glaring at my pot of curry soup. She pointed out that I had forgotten to add the potatoes--the starchiness should help thicken it. She also said that I could add another square of curry powder, since it seems like maybe I started off with too much water.
It's been about an hour now, since I've added the potatoes and extra curry, and the mixture is still stubbornly refusing to thicken. It's boiled over once (caught it just in time), but for the most part is just bubbling away, oblivious to the fact that some crucial reaction is supposed to take place so it will thicken to a yummy gravy-texture, rather than a watery blah.
I know you're all super concerned about the state of my curry, so I'll be sure to update later with how it all turns out.
I took advantage of today's classlessness to work on some cover letters for potential internships, as well as make foods to last me through this week. Since today was kind of grey and blah, I figured what better way to make today better than making a big pot curry? Just think: deep golden yellow, punctuated by rounds of orange carrot and wedges of potato. Yes. Perfect.
I started off by sauteeing some onions and carrots together, and putting them in a pot of water. Added chunks of chicken and curry powder (forgot the potatoes). But even after an hour of dutiful simmering, all I've managed to produce is a sandy-colored broth with pieces of vegetable and chicken floating about in it.
Emergency curry conference with my mother, who, as it turns out, was also making curry. "Yes, mine's almost done, and it looks great!" she chirped.
"That's nice," I grumbled, glaring at my pot of curry soup. She pointed out that I had forgotten to add the potatoes--the starchiness should help thicken it. She also said that I could add another square of curry powder, since it seems like maybe I started off with too much water.
It's been about an hour now, since I've added the potatoes and extra curry, and the mixture is still stubbornly refusing to thicken. It's boiled over once (caught it just in time), but for the most part is just bubbling away, oblivious to the fact that some crucial reaction is supposed to take place so it will thicken to a yummy gravy-texture, rather than a watery blah.
I know you're all super concerned about the state of my curry, so I'll be sure to update later with how it all turns out.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
sunday power couples
So two of my favorite people at Medill have finally managed to hook up. It all happened in a very interesting way in that when I found out about it I was kind of annoyed out of my mind about some other things, so wasn't able to properly be excited for them. Incidentally, that really must be one of the most horrible things to do to someone--to not be properly excited for two people who are bursting to tell you some good news. But that's neither here nor there, since everything is settled and well again.
It's very interesting to see them together now, and hear one talk about the other, b/c just a few weeks before we were all just good friends. And now we're all couples! It's kind of weird, actually.
A lot of times I don't consciously think of myself as being part of a couple, maybe because most of the people around me are single. But now, it's almost as though their couple-ness (compounded by the fact that it's new and exciting and they're still really into each other and the newness of everything) reminds me that, oh yeah, I guess I'm also part of a couple. In some small way, the newness of their relationship is rubbing off on me and how I feel about Tyler (yes, total ick moment, I know, and I'm sorry), so I thought I'd let it all out with these song lyrics:
My baby has a one track-mind
with Sunday football games
he knows every player by name
My baby has a one-track mind
and he's so fine (yes, he's so fine)
(loosely adapted from a Mayer Hawthorne song, which was actually about a girl who loves shopping for expensive things)
And we will end on a non-sappy note, with a quote from Mr. Blue:
[after witnessing complicated weekend drama]
"This is why women can't be in charge of the world. If someone goes and forgets to send a Thank You note, that'll be the start of World War III."
It's very interesting to see them together now, and hear one talk about the other, b/c just a few weeks before we were all just good friends. And now we're all couples! It's kind of weird, actually.
A lot of times I don't consciously think of myself as being part of a couple, maybe because most of the people around me are single. But now, it's almost as though their couple-ness (compounded by the fact that it's new and exciting and they're still really into each other and the newness of everything) reminds me that, oh yeah, I guess I'm also part of a couple. In some small way, the newness of their relationship is rubbing off on me and how I feel about Tyler (yes, total ick moment, I know, and I'm sorry), so I thought I'd let it all out with these song lyrics:
My baby has a one track-mind
with Sunday football games
he knows every player by name
My baby has a one-track mind
and he's so fine (yes, he's so fine)
(loosely adapted from a Mayer Hawthorne song, which was actually about a girl who loves shopping for expensive things)
And we will end on a non-sappy note, with a quote from Mr. Blue:
[after witnessing complicated weekend drama]
"This is why women can't be in charge of the world. If someone goes and forgets to send a Thank You note, that'll be the start of World War III."
Sunday, September 13, 2009
luggage regulation
Luggages never know when they're supposed to get lost.
At the behest of my mother, I originally went home with one suitcase zipped inside the other like Russian nesting dolls. "Bring an empty suitcase in case you have lots of things to take back," she said, advising me like I was some sort of tourist. But because I loved her (and because she is usually right), I did as she said.
Good thing, too. In two weeks' time, the few shirts and two pairs of jeans that I brought home had somehow evolved into a smorgasbord of old dresses, a smattering of DVDs (must admit, stole them from my brother), packets of milk tea and sweet Chinese sausage. Unwrapping a big greenish fitted sheet revealed a cheery orange ricecooker housing a jar of chocolate spread and a little pot of BBQ sauce, like a very squat Mother Ginger. I'm still not all the way unpacked yet, but I'm sure other random items are going to pop up.
Now, I had gotten to the airport via bus, and I had planned to get back to my apartment the same way. Having two monstrous pieces of luggage put a damper on that plan somewhat, as I had trouble even dragging them, much less hauling them onto a bus and then walking the 1/2 mile or so home.
"Do not accept rides from strangers at the airport," my mother said firmly. She added a glare for good measure. (How did she know about my riding-in-car-with-stranger episode? She can't possibly read this blog, she barely speaks/reads English. Or does she know more English than she's letting on? Or...EDDIE YUE, ARE YOU READING THIS RIGHT NOW AND TELLING MOMMY THINGS?!?!)
"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "I will take the bus."
"Are you out of your mind?" she countered swiftly. "Do you really expect to lift those things on the bus? And then walk home? Who do you think you are? Just take a taxi."
"But taking a taxi would be like, $40," I said, mentally visiting my bank account. "And taking the bus is only $2."
My mother reconsidered. "$2, that's a lot cheaper," she said.
"Well, my luggage got lost that first time that I went to Chicago. Maybe it'll get lost again," I said hopefully. "Then I can just take the bus, and it'll be delivered to me in the morning."
While this seemed to be a decent plan to me, my mother was doubtful. Nevertheless, we made sure that all the perishable stuff was put in my backpack, which I was bringing on the plane with me. The two suitcases were duly checked in at the airport, and before I left, my dad asked me if I had enough money for the taxi ride. I assumed that I could use my credit card to pay for it, so I just told him yes, and didn't stop by the bank before going to the airport. Besides, I was still hoping that the luggage would get lost and I wouldn't have to worry about getting a taxi.
But when I got off at O'Hare, the smaller of my two grey suitcases was already bobbing around the baggage claim like an ex that just won't go away--you know, the kind that leaves you Facebook messages like "So you're back in Chicago, huh? Me too! We should get a taxi together and go back to your place!" The second suitcase surfaced soon after, and I resigned myself to spending a week's worth of grocery money to get back to Engelhart.
So I hailed a cab. I asked if I could pay with credit. The driver said yep, and went back to talking on his Bluetooth or whatever. I texted Eddie and Tyler to let them know I was alive. I probably should've started feeling uneasy when the driver didn't know how to get to Maple Ave and I had to give him directions (directions not being my strongpoint, as some may know). When we got to my apartment, it turned out that his credit card machine was broken and I didn't have much cash on me. Blargh. Not the best situation. After some panicking, he said that he'd just take the money and that would be fine, which was really nice of him. So now there's a very nice taxi driver out there who is short $10 b/c I was counting on the incompetence of airlines to save me from having to take said taxi. He drove cab number 3673, so if anyone somehow finds themselves in his cab, please give him an extra $10 and I will pay you back.
Anyway, my point is that this would not have happened if my luggage had had the good sense to get themselves sent out to Pennsylvania or something. Sigh. Silly luggages.
At the behest of my mother, I originally went home with one suitcase zipped inside the other like Russian nesting dolls. "Bring an empty suitcase in case you have lots of things to take back," she said, advising me like I was some sort of tourist. But because I loved her (and because she is usually right), I did as she said.
Good thing, too. In two weeks' time, the few shirts and two pairs of jeans that I brought home had somehow evolved into a smorgasbord of old dresses, a smattering of DVDs (must admit, stole them from my brother), packets of milk tea and sweet Chinese sausage. Unwrapping a big greenish fitted sheet revealed a cheery orange ricecooker housing a jar of chocolate spread and a little pot of BBQ sauce, like a very squat Mother Ginger. I'm still not all the way unpacked yet, but I'm sure other random items are going to pop up.
Now, I had gotten to the airport via bus, and I had planned to get back to my apartment the same way. Having two monstrous pieces of luggage put a damper on that plan somewhat, as I had trouble even dragging them, much less hauling them onto a bus and then walking the 1/2 mile or so home.
"Do not accept rides from strangers at the airport," my mother said firmly. She added a glare for good measure. (How did she know about my riding-in-car-with-stranger episode? She can't possibly read this blog, she barely speaks/reads English. Or does she know more English than she's letting on? Or...EDDIE YUE, ARE YOU READING THIS RIGHT NOW AND TELLING MOMMY THINGS?!?!)
"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "I will take the bus."
"Are you out of your mind?" she countered swiftly. "Do you really expect to lift those things on the bus? And then walk home? Who do you think you are? Just take a taxi."
"But taking a taxi would be like, $40," I said, mentally visiting my bank account. "And taking the bus is only $2."
My mother reconsidered. "$2, that's a lot cheaper," she said.
"Well, my luggage got lost that first time that I went to Chicago. Maybe it'll get lost again," I said hopefully. "Then I can just take the bus, and it'll be delivered to me in the morning."
While this seemed to be a decent plan to me, my mother was doubtful. Nevertheless, we made sure that all the perishable stuff was put in my backpack, which I was bringing on the plane with me. The two suitcases were duly checked in at the airport, and before I left, my dad asked me if I had enough money for the taxi ride. I assumed that I could use my credit card to pay for it, so I just told him yes, and didn't stop by the bank before going to the airport. Besides, I was still hoping that the luggage would get lost and I wouldn't have to worry about getting a taxi.
But when I got off at O'Hare, the smaller of my two grey suitcases was already bobbing around the baggage claim like an ex that just won't go away--you know, the kind that leaves you Facebook messages like "So you're back in Chicago, huh? Me too! We should get a taxi together and go back to your place!" The second suitcase surfaced soon after, and I resigned myself to spending a week's worth of grocery money to get back to Engelhart.
So I hailed a cab. I asked if I could pay with credit. The driver said yep, and went back to talking on his Bluetooth or whatever. I texted Eddie and Tyler to let them know I was alive. I probably should've started feeling uneasy when the driver didn't know how to get to Maple Ave and I had to give him directions (directions not being my strongpoint, as some may know). When we got to my apartment, it turned out that his credit card machine was broken and I didn't have much cash on me. Blargh. Not the best situation. After some panicking, he said that he'd just take the money and that would be fine, which was really nice of him. So now there's a very nice taxi driver out there who is short $10 b/c I was counting on the incompetence of airlines to save me from having to take said taxi. He drove cab number 3673, so if anyone somehow finds themselves in his cab, please give him an extra $10 and I will pay you back.
Anyway, my point is that this would not have happened if my luggage had had the good sense to get themselves sent out to Pennsylvania or something. Sigh. Silly luggages.
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