I remember the summer of my application period. Secondaries complete, windows down, driving the streets of my youth, this song blaring through the speakers, finding myself in used bookstores. It was freedom.
492020
Song of the Week 8/5/19
Book Review- Rules of Civility
Rules of Civility is one of those books where you rate it 5-stars and are then tempted to reconsider all the other ratings you have given out because surely the other fives were not this sort of five.
In the last 2-3 years, I have not read a book nearly as absorbing or as beautiful as this one. What Towles does with his prose is poetic and meaningful.
In the end, this is a book that forced me to sit back and think of all the “people of great color and character that have held welcome sway over” my own life. For that alone, I am grateful.
“You can have your cake and eat it too!”
It was just a few days before Easter and by God it was a real gift knowing that, for at least a few more weeks, my life would be MCAT-less. I finally made that Parsnip cake I’d been wanting, and in doing so surprised even myself. Then, I resolved to bake for people other than myself, because honestly, that’s why I wake up in the morning. I love being able to give to other people. Cookies weren’t an option because with the medical school application over my head, I couldn’t dedicate the at minimum, 5 days it would take to make all those cookies. Instead, I turned to the only cake I knew like the back of my hand, the almond cake. Initially, I resolved to make my professor a cake, then my Aunt, then my two close friends, and then suddenly, the list magnanimously grew until I counted 17 total cakes. Starting at 9 AM I weighed and pulsed and timed 48 minutes until I hit cake 17 at 2:45 in the morning. I hit 17 only to realize that I never put my family on my cake-making list, and so the list grew to 18.
I delivered the cakes and was surprised by what I received in return, multiple requests for the recipe. I can’t begin to explain what that meant to me. One of my greatest joys is being asked for one of my recipes. In some part, it’s because I realize that without the kindness of strangers, cooking may have never taken a foothold in my life. Sharing recipes is a way for me to give back what others once gave to me. Perhaps a larger part though, is knowing that when I give the recipe away, that person gets a little piece of me. I can smile knowing, that when they use that recipe and hopefully bring joy to someone else, I had a small part in that.
With that, see the recipe below. But before you do, note 3 things.
First, this is a radical cake. It has won over non-sweet eaters. When I delivered my last cake, my friend was grateful but he felt kind of bad. Neither he nor anyone in his family likes sweets. He thought he would either have to accept the cake and waste it, or reject the cake and make me feel bad. I actually fall in line with his sweet-adverse view, so I was extremely adamant that he try the cake before making a decision. His response was “this is crazy, but its the perfect amount of sweet… I have never had a cake like this”. So, BEWARE, its a paradigm shifter. Hence the post title.
Second, this cake is a strange bird. It does NOT get stale with time, it gets better. You can keep it around for up to 2 weeks. If you can manage to do that, it will only get better as it ages. That, along with the fact that it bakes up like a cratered moon, makes it the perfect cake for shipping to loved ones living in faraway places.
Last and most important, my cake has a secret. The recipe for this cake is readily available through either the NYT recipe archive or the Genius Desserts cookbook. However, if you follow their recipe, your cake won’t be spectacular. It is very difficult to get your hands on quality almond paste, and unfortunately, much of this cake revolves around that one ingredient. Almond pastes are typically saccharine, preservative-laden, and expensive tubes of goop. When I decided to make this cake, I knew I had to figure out how to make my own almond paste, and I did. I’d like to pretend that I mastered rocket science or did something super incredible, but honestly, the recipe for the almond paste can’t get any easier. Additionally, you don’t end up dirtying extra dishes because the almond paste is made in the same container as the cake (the food processor bowl) and you don’t have to wash the bowl out after making the paste! So please, make the almond paste.
Almond Cake (and Paste) Recipe
•Please note that the cake relies upon buying a good extract. The great thing is that given the amount of extract you use, the pure stuff won’t cost you your left lung or even the tip of your left pinky. Nielsen Massey is an excellent brand, but when I ran out, I found the “Simply Organic” brand on sale at Whole Foods and my cake tasted amazing. Please do not buy imitation almond extract. If you can’t find the good stuff in a store near you, Amazon now sells one of the brands I like. •Do see the note I put with the salt. There is a very real difference between Diamond Crystal and Morton Kosher Salt. See this article. I am not saying that you have to rush out and buy one simply because I think it is best, but I am saying that you should try and account for whichever one you choose to use. •Lastly, I will always and forever recommend that you purchase an oven thermometer. It’s a small measure that makes the biggest difference.
PLEASE NOTE: The paste recipe makes 12 oz. You ONLY need 7 oz for the cake recipe. You will have to weigh out or approximate the amount of paste you will need. I tried cutting the recipe down, but any amount smaller than 12 oz is tedious, because then you’d have to split egg whites in half. Ideas for leftover paste: My pinched almond macaroons (to be posted at later date) The recipe for the cake and paste is written below. However, I also put the recipe into pdf form so that they can be easily downloaded and printed.
The Paste
The Paste
1. Pulse almond flour and powdered sugar in your food processor. Break up any lumps. 2. Add rose water and almond extract. Pulse to mix. 3. Add egg white. Process till comes together in a firm mass/ ball. 4. Turn out dough onto work surface. Knead a few times. (Might be a tad sticky… thats okay) 5. Wrap in plastic wrap and put into a closed container.
The Cake
The Cake
- Prep •Heat oven to 350 F. If you own one, put thermometer in oven. •Butter a 9-inch springform pan •Line bottom of pan with a circle of parchment paper. •Butter the parchment paper circle.
- Sour Cream Mixture •Stir together sour cream and baking soda. Make sure to use a large enough bowl to allow sour cream to expand.
- Flour Mixture • If you care to take the step, sift flour. I have done it both ways, and I don’t see much of a difference. •Whisk together flour and salt in bowl.
- Food Processor Mixture •In a food processor, cream the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy. ~ 3-5 minutes. •Pull pieces off ball of almond paste and add a few pieces at a time, pulsing until mixture is smooth. •Add egg yolks, one at a time, pulsing after each until fully incorporated. •Add sour cream mixture. •Add almond extract. •Pulse to combine.
- Mixing •With rubber spatula, scrape batter into large bowl. •FOLD in flour mixture just until batter is smooth and no streaks of flour remain. •Scrape batter into pan, and smooth top.
- Baking •Set pan on rimmed bake sheet ie a cookie sheet/ jelly roll pan. You do this in case the springform leaks… this way you won’t have to clean the floor of your oven. •Bake until cake shrinks from the sides of the pan and the top is golden, springing back lightly when pressed. •Can take anywhere from 50-60 minutes. However, in Chicago, with my oven temp verified with the thermometer, it takes me 48 minutes. •Let cake cool completely IN THE PAN on a rack.
- Serving & Storing •When ready to serve, remove sides of pan. Peel parchment off bottom. Sift confectioner’s sugar over top. •Store airtight in a container. •Can be put in fridge, or left out on counter. •Will last 2 weeks and will only get better with age.
Song of the Week 5/27/19
It’s 1985.
Ignore the voice.
Listen to that drummer.
Dave Grohl.
That’s what 16 sounds like.
TMJ Throwback 11/7/14
Nearly a decade ago, as a senior in high school, I’d been talking to a guy. Graham introduced me to new music, the likes of which I wouldn’t have found on my own. As grand as that was, I am just as grateful that he familiarized me with my parents’ music. His favorites, Aerosmith, Clapton, Black Crowes, were already lying around my house. I’d heard a small bit of Clapton and Aerosmith, but never the Crowes. I suppose that’s why I still associate Chris Robinson et al. with Graham. Among his recommended songs was this one, She Talks to Angels. I’ve always loved the track, as evidenced by its TMJ selection, and I still do.
As a side note:
Frequently with songs, I pull up the music files from my own collection and post them to the blog. However, this song file is on my old computer, so I pulled up the youtube link. Every now and again with Youtube, I can’t help but read some of the comments. I never personally struggled with addiction, so I can’t begin to imagine the suffering induced by it. However, I know enough that while reading through the comments, I became immensely proud of and for the YouTubers who have battled back. May they keep fighting.
Song of the Week 5/13/19
On several occasions, I know I’ve mentally written Song of the Week posts and noted that songs make me want to dance. To some extent this is one of those songs, but better. It doesn’t just make me want to dance, it actually makes me dance. I genuinely can’t imagine hearing this song and not feeling the urge to move. The song just makes me happy, and I express my joy by dancing. The second this song comes on, my head bops, my hands wave, my foot taps to the beat.
Years from now I’ll be in a new place, but I’ll carry my wave and my CD with me, and I’ll still be able to close my eyes and remember standing in front of my childhood mirror, bouncing around, looking myself right in the eye, smiling at my reflection.
My table and my chair
Over the summers, my dad and I frequented art fairs.
Usually we went to surround ourselves with the work of the artists.
It was as if by surrounding ourselves within that environment, we could somehow absorb their talent and creativity.
Osmosis.
I scour the fairs for ceramics, especially bowls.
My dad, however, is inevitably drawn to salvaged junk.
Over the course of our trips, he has accumulated 4 pieces, all of which get left outside to rust away. Literally.
As someone who (borderline neurotically) takes care of everything, that artistic concept was a tough one to grasp.
My lack of comprehension was on full display with the first purchase.
My dad and I are standing in this tent where an artist was hawking sculptures made out of things like old bike chains.
Dad picks out a dragon statue for our tomato garden. I give it a once-over and then directed inquiries of legitimate concern at the artist. “This is very nice, but seeing as we will be keeping it outside, won’t I have to coat it in some sort of chemical to keep the rust away? Where do you suggest I buy the protectant? How do I apply it?”
The artist looked at me, speechless, borderline offended, and like I was some alien speaking Greek.
My dad looked at me with a mixture of amusement and a slight smidge of embarrassment.
Apparently the whole point is for it to rust.
Planned deterioration.
I will never understand leaving something out to deteriorate, but I can at least admire the sentiment of finding beauty where most others see none.
Later and gratefully, I learned that not all salvaged art calls for self-destruction.
This brings me to present day.
Last night, as I sat awake till 4 am, I became reacquainted with my old friend, the “estate liquidator”, Everything But The House.
I’ve long enjoyed browsing the EBTH site, and have found some real treasures, but that day I wasn’t browsing to find anything. Rather, I was looking to fritter away time, to keep myself awake, and no, studying wasn’t an option. At 3 am my brain was fried, and honestly I just wanted the sheets to hurry up and dry. I was quite tired.
Then, as I was browsing through the local Chicago sales I found a beautiful piece of art, and if I wasn’t a son of a gun, it was salvaged art.
Something was so captivating about the color scheme, scrap metal and all.
I knew the bench and table were must-haves.
At some point in my life (hopefully soon) I will need a table and chair to call my own.
A place to sit, to decompress, to remember what it feels like to relax.
As I sat admiring (before the reality, of needing to find a way to move it from the warehouse to my own house, sunk in) my purchase, it struck me that the colors attracted me to the piece, but that something else inevitably kept pulling me to the piece. It finally hit me that the accents under the bench reminded me of the that first piece of salvaged art I laid eyes upon. It reminded me of the tail of the dragon, and more importantly, of the dragon’s current owner.
I realized then what I’d long since (perhaps unconsciously) known. Knowledge dating over a decade back to my request for my own grandmother’s kitchen table.
Tables and chairs are not just objects, not just places to relax, to sink into, to idle.
Perhaps tables and chairs are really a wrinkle in time, in which we can sit down and truly be present with others. Functioning, to foster a connection so that later, when time long makes itself felt, we can simply sit, remember moments, and remember people.
Because present and future is nothing without the beginning of the story:
Song of the Week 3/25/19
How did I cross paths with this song?
No idea.
I emailed myself “for running”.
It sure is.
I think I should’ve included the word “PERIOD” after running.
Not sure when or if I’d ever listen to this again.
Whatever.
Blame it on the MCAT.
I knew I was going crazy, here’s proof.
4132020
Song of the Week 3/18/19
Rivers
As I have previously professed, I love this Josh Groban song. It evidently isn’t a favorite among the Apple Music crowd though. 10 songs deep down the list, as I was scrolling to it, I accidentally selected the song below it, this one.
Happy accidents.
River by Ibeyi
4102020
Song of the Week 3/11/19
This is another blog post written before the inaugural “It turned out perfectly.” This was written on March 10, 2017.
When I was a child, my dad owned this red and silver Chevrolet Suburban. Haley and I loved it. As kids, we were excited to ride along on the bench seat because it was so different than other cars. We were equal with the driver, seeing what he saw out that front windshield. Perhaps too, it was that the bench seat lent a sense of togetherness.
Flashing back, thinking about that suburban reminds me of diet coke and cassettes. I loved the car’s cassette player. My dad had this one Cajun tape (that he’d made) and I adored the song “See You Later Alligator.” That cassette was played and rewound so often that if I had the tape today, I’d be astonished if it could still play.
Surprisingly, that wasn’t the only song I listened to. Often, songs I’d never heard before would come on the radio, and my dad would play a game with me. He’d turn down the radio for an imperceptible second and ask me, “What do you hear?” or “Listen, did you catch the violin?”. He encouraged me to truly listen to the music, to appreciate the parts that make up the whole.
Driving home from class, I heard this song and immediately picked up on the banjo. It reminded me of how I was taught to listen closer and listen harder.
Strawberry Champagne
Heather:
Carter, what’s your favorite song?Carter:
[Thinks for a moment] “Strawberry Champagne”Heather:
“Hmmm, don’t know that I’ve heard that one.”
Inner thought: Wow, I’m getting old, and out of touch with all that’s new and popular.
Goes home, and looks up that song….
Gold jewelry shining so bright
Strawberry champagne on ice
Lucky for you, that’s what I like, that’s what I like
Puts hands in the air and starts dancing around, Oh I know this one, Go Bruno!
Childhood is beautiful. I never did get the song names correct back then, and I still don’t. I’m lucky now if I get the lyrics right. Record Store anyone?
Song of the Week 3/4/19
Recurring regret for not having gone to that concert.
Thanks Sergio.
Ithaca
It is strange how some things (like doors and poems) find you right when you need them.
This morning I woke up having what I’ll call a moment. I sat down at my desk to study and felt crushed by the sheer amount of content remaining with only 30 days till the exam day. By my own standards, I was agitated, something that rarely ever happens. I was frozen in a state of “how do I know where to begin?” and “what have I been doing this whole time!?”. As a kid, when I fell behind, I would often continue to fall further and further back. Usually, but not always, it took me becoming incredibly stressed and frantic for me to find a way to the finish. Sure, I finished, but with a mere breath left in me. What I couldn’t afford was falling prey to that cycle as an adult.
What it took was my door.
A year ago, with a spring cleaning bug, I found a quote I’d (years previous) ferreted away. As a post-bac, pre-med I saw so much (more) worth in it, that I immediately posted it to my door. Now, easily visible both day and night, when I wake and when I lay down to sleep, the words “Just Get Started” stare at me. Three simple words that carry so much freedom and power in them that if they were human, they’d rip my door right off its hinges. On the infrequent occasion when I lose sight of my goals when the light at the end of the tunnel begins to flicker like a bulb on its last leg, I see that quote, and I know just what to do. I start “stringing together the singles.” As if it’s a 10-0 blow-out baseball game, I stop swinging for the home run, risking the strikeout, I just get started and put enough singles together to hopefully win, but at the very least finish with dignity.
Today, moping around, I spotted those words. So I did that, I got started. I chipped away a little so that I could start the next day afresh and hopefully less stressed. That night as I laid down to sleep, I pulled out a poetry volume and happened on Ithaca. I started reading it, liked the first line, and started reading out loud. By the third line, I felt like I was ready to cry, and by the eighth line, I was choking up.
The poem meant so much to me because it put this whole process in perspective. I have spent the better part (nearly the entire part) of the last 3 years (or is it all of my adolescent and adult life) working towards my goals, putting off so much to one day find the greatest reward, the fulfillment of what I believe I can do. I realized that no matter what happens, this has been a beautiful journey, and I have learned so much about myself. I have also learned that it will happen. I will reach my goal, perhaps not in the perfect way I have planned, but in a way no less inspiring and thrilling.
Ithaca taught me to let my mind rest, knowing that life will happen and that looking so far ahead, adding so much pressure on myself, is the “cyclops” on my road. It taught me that the cyclops won’t be there unless I give him an invite. This journey will be everything that I make of it, and I won’t make it awful.
The Sean Connery Recitation
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1n3n2Ox4Yfk
Song of the Week 2/24/19
You know how they talk about love at first sight?
Not sure i believe in that.
But what’s the equivalent for music? For when you hear a song and you just know deep down in your heart that that song was meant to exist? Meant to come into this world to bring you joy?
Whatever the equivalent is, this is it.
And wow, he makes even this nearly-certifiably-crazy ballerina (whose name has not been mentioned here for purposes of not wanting to be tracked by other governments) come across as attractive.
04102020
Song of the Week 2/25/19
I love it when I run across a song and have to ask myself “How do I find this stuff?!”. I relish unearthing the little gems, but it’s even more compelling to rediscover them.
Originally a B-side to an equally impressive track “I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself”, this ended up on the Japanese import of the White Stripes’ Elephant .
What fantastic lyrics throughout, but
Who’s to say that I’m unhappy ’cause I rarely smile?
Sittin’, hopin’, dreamin’, waitin’ for my ship to sail
Who’s to say this time I’ve wasted someday won’t get used? Maybe if you come around I’ll start to get enthused
Who’s to say?
Who’s to say?
Thank you Jack.
Rock on.
I still don’t like you though.
Featured Image from Chad’s Stash, what a cool project!
492020
Song of the Week 2/18/19
Gale Song
The Lumineers
This song makes me emotional.
it makes me think of my dreams, my aspirations, my goals,
it spurs me to visualize meeting those goals,
and it nearly brings me to tears.
Because I know those accomplishments won’t remain locked in my mind’s eye for long,
they will see day.
And they will see that day soon.
TMJ Throwback 9/25/15
I started going through my This is My Jam (TMJ) Archive and realized how badly I’d love to share those posts in this space. From July 15, 2013, to September 25, 2015 (the day TMJ closed) I posted 54 jams. Documenting, what was, in essence, my undergraduate experience. Over the next year (or few), I will pull posts and share them here. I was initially going to post-date the throwbacks, but I don’t ever want to confuse them with my first post ever made 😉 As such, they will be dated up top, in the title.
The inaugural TMJ throwback will have to be the one that prompted these entries. When TMJ announced their decision to close, I rushed and began posting as often as I could. At that point, my desk was piled high with scrap pieces of paper depicting scribblings of titles, authors, sentiments, and dates. It was a messy, backlog of the songs I wanted to post. The following is one of those backlogged songs. It’s a reasonably familiar song, but it was new to me.
Before leaving for college, I made a bunch of “random CDs.” In iTunes, you can generate music genius playlists from a single song. Since my entire family shared iTunes, I ended up with 32 CDs (labeled solely with a number, no track-lists) featuring a collection of varied and new-to-me songs. I still love saying, “let’s try #16 today”, finding everything from Celine Dion to Cat Stevens, and having to Shazam at red lights.
This TMJ entry holds notable value for me because of the description I attached to it.
“I feel as if a part of me will always associate this song with Gaming Innovation. I swear I’ve heard the song going both to and from that class… on both the sunny, warm, rushed, wonderful drive there and on the way back, in the dark and silence*.”
What I especially love about this entry is that my description takes me right back to that moment in time. On my undergraduate drives to that class, I often pulled out those CDs. The honest truth is that somehow, whenever it came time to get to Gaming Innovation class, random CD (#-since-forgotten) always started up on this song. I have no idea how that was possible, but it happened. I also love that this highlights the incredibly exciting aspect of my undergraduate experience; reminding me to be grateful for the opportunity I had there. How many undergrads get to take a class on inventing a casino game for patent?
* When I first read this entry after 3.5 years, I latched onto the words describing my car ride. Both there and back were accurately depicted, but I sort of smirked at the contradiction of the “dark and silence” description. I cannot emphasize how faithful to that drive those words are. The strange part though is that it was not silent, the song was playing, and it was not dark, because the Vegas lights never go out. That said, it really was dark and stilled, not in a physical way, but in the way it felt. It was a strange but beautiful serenity.
The sound quality of the video is iffy, but it’s a bit entertaining to flashback to your parent’s era and think my God, did they style like that too? The mullet… wow.
Song of the Week 2/4/19
What do you call the genre that includes Belinda Carlisle, Your Love, Jessie’s Girl, and others like this Song of the Week? Much like Paul Westerberg’s Waiting For Somebody, they’re songs I bounce around to. I hear them and I can almost picture myself sliding in my socks down the hall, bellowing into my hairbrush. Except that I don’t have a hairbrush, and I hate socks without slippers. Really though, songs like this energize me in the most positive way, and I have no idea what to call them.
4132020