Peace-building, An Exercise

As many of my readers may know, I work at a peace-building organization. My colleagues and I have been trained in conflict resolution, mediation techniques, and self-meditation practices. We're sort of like professional hippies out to fight the battles for peace with dialogue and understanding. Due to all of this training, we are all relatively calm individuals who can control our passions and express ourselves (mostly) via rational means even when discussing our passions.

But, there was "never a calamity ever so great" as to what happened in the office fridge "by mistake" (Yes, this culminates quotes from Tim Burton's opening of The Nightmare Before Christmas).

Last weekend, my colleagues and I hosted a two day training seminar for one of our regions of focus. We had an elaborate spread of food on the first day that left us with the most scrumptious looking leftovers; two gallons of salad, a gallon and a half of humus, a proportionate amount of pita bread, two sandwiches, and a packed box of baklava. Being that my colleagues and I are very busy in the office, it was exciting to think that we would not lose time (or money) on food that upcoming week because we had enough food for all of us for several days.

Monday rolled around and we were hosting a delegation from Burma/Myanmar - it was an all day and very important event. There was a lunch with the faculty at Columbia where I was the photographer. While I was really hungry, I didn't eat because it would have been horribly awkward for me to be filling my plate in the background while a long table full of diplomats, professors, and directors of major programs were having an intellectual discussion of how to assist ground efforts for peace and stability in Burma/Myanmar. There was all of that food in the office anyway.

After the lunch, there was a public lecture to which over 150 people attended, where our special guest was able to answer questions from the audience, a good number of which were from his country. All the while, I'm jumping around the enormous room, snapping away photos and ignoring the grumbling in my tummy. The lecture ended, the hands were shaken, the business cards exchanged and the time at last had come for me to sneak away and celebrate with pita, hummus, and baklava.

I excused myself from a potential informal post-event meeting and skipped off to the office. My head was feeling light, so I knew not to fool around, but to eat right away...this of course means that as opposed to working for an hour before eating, I only sent out approximately fifteen minutes worth of emails. Sent buttons pressed, I armed myself with a plastic spoon and plate, readying myself for the feast.

The fridge for our department is in the office two doors down and it happened to be unoccupied at the moment, so I grabbed the key from our office and went to the fridge. With all of this excitement built up, imagine my horror when all that stared back at me from the fridge was a liter of soy milk.

My heart dropped.

The food was gone.

It was one of those moments where I could not process the image of a clean, empty fridge before me. "It was there last night!" I thought to myself, "We stacked the remainders from yesterday around Saturday's food! I know we did this!"

But then it hit me and I knew exactly what happened without any fingerprinting kit or evidence necessary.

I closed the fridge. I locked the office door. I crossed the short hall to the trashcan across the way (still holding my spoon and plate, by the way). And there it was. In a tall, grey trash-bin, all of our food lay. It was a sad image - the trays of food were put to rest without having been given the chance to fulfill their purpose.

That was it. I charged back to the office and sent the following three texts to my colleague:

"The food is all gone"

"Only soy milk remains."

"I'm going home."

So I did. We work in peace-building in regions where people starving to death is normal and here in the first world, we throw away food if it takes up too much space or if it is starting to look bad. I was furious. Furious on three levels: one, I knew who did it - and this colleague did not ask us or anyone whose food was in the fridge and if it was okay if he threw it out; two, that food would have fed three people for a week; and, three, nothing was put in the fridge to take up the space made. The soy milk had already been in there - there was no point to taking out the food. I knew for a fact that as of the night before the food was in perfect condition.

One bus ride later, I felt like I was being ridiculous about the food, so I called my colleague to be talked down, but the complete opposite happened. She was equally as upset; her hopes for dinner had been smashed. She also knew instantly who it was that threw away all the food. We grumbled together about how we had to now purchase food and what our next steps should be, if any. My colleague decided to compose a professionally written email, asking if this colleague felt obliged to empty the fridge in the future, to ask around first. The email was diplomatically composed and should have settled everything.

(I did not lose sleep over this, just so that you know).

The next day, mid-morning came and the person in question responded to my colleague's email with a less than believable excuse:

"The food had fermented.  It was quite literally a health hazard." And that was all this colleague wrote.

There is no way that the food had fermented in a very cold refrigerator over the span of one night. If anything, I would believe the salad with vinegar dressing had turned sour, but everything else? In the words of any life long New Yorker, "C'maawn!"

(Translation for non-New Yorkers: "Come-on!")

 It brought us a couple of laughs, regardless of our fury, but it was an exercise in our ability to remain calm. We did not have any confrontations and nor did we put the soy milk in a bowl of jello as retribution.

The great retribution, the thing that made it funny in the end: two days after all of the drama, my two colleagues and I were working away in the office, when completely out of the blue, the boss-man said, "Baklava doesn't go bad for like two weeks!"

And after a laugh, that was it (mostly).

Moral of the story: don't throw away other people's food (unless it is blatantly moldy) and don't let the actions of others distract you to the point of wanting to commit retribution. Retribution is like throwing gasoline on a fire - it only aggrandizes the situation. So readers, remember to take deep breaths and to find humor in any situation. There's always a sliver of hope for it.

PS -

It turns out that Bella Tuna is like her mom - she has a fondness for spicy foods. While I was chatting with a roommate, Bella leapt up onto the table, grabbed a chicken bone smothered in spicy sauce, and ran away with the bone to her secret lair - the dark underworld beneath my bed. I couldn't get her out from under the bed, but she emerged eventually to play in her litter box. After arming myself with a flashlight and several minutes of deep investigative searching, there was no chicken bone to be found. Knowing full well that she did not consume the entire chicken bone, I grabbed one of my other roommates as she was passing through the hall.

"Jess," I started, knowing from the get-go that this was going to be an odd request. "I need your help. Bella stole a chicken bone."

Jess shook her head at Bella and called her naughty.

"She took it under the bed," I continued with the same dry, cautious tone. "I can't find it." Jess and I both laughed. "So, I know that this is an odd request, but could I ask you to lift the bed while I dive under to find the chicken bone?"

Jess happily offered her services of helping to lift my bed. Sure enough, smack in the middle, there it was.

With the object in question detained, the cat-burglar still on the loose, life was able to proceed to normalcy....the suspect is looming over the other chicken bones now, waiting, stalking, praying, for her next opportunity at thievery. What has my cat-child become?

This Week in a Photo

Operation Spring Cleaning Part 1

As you can see, this is operation Spring Cleaning Part 1 - part 2 will be posted next week (this way I'll be held accountable if nothing comes of this idea). This will take some planning, which I will do tonight and tomorrow I will head out to my local arts store or container store on Saturday to get the goods.

The mission: optimize closet space & give the room a face-lift.

The projects:
-Making the closet manageable

-providing potential extra safe play space for Bella Tuna

-Make shoe holder

-Find a better way to store purses/bags

The reason for why all of this has arisen: si, we have entered the era of spring, which thus means that it is time to clean. And for me, this means maximizing the organization of my living space. Also, last night Bella Tuna discovered her meow, so I'm hoping to make the room interesting to her so that she does not wake me in the pre-dawn hours to convey her feelings of boredom. 

I am strapped by certain constraints - the common area in my apartment is off limits for personal goods, so I may not simply move my things elsewhere and consider the new empty space as "organized." The apartment is not mine - so no holes in the walls. I live in a 15' by 8' space and the closet is disproportionately small. I intend to spend no more than $20 on this project and I do not want to purchase traditional shelves (although they would help) because moving them out from my apartment someday could turn into more of a pain than worth.

As a child, when I wasn't watching the History Channel (back when it had shows about history) or Nickelodeon I was watching home renovating & interior decorating programs. I know off-hand a number of tips to make a small, dull space look livable and welcoming. For example, back in the dorming days, I bought bright sheets (pink and green) to add "happy" colors to what otherwise was a very droll living space. Likewise, I bought a standing lamp with multiple colored shades to also add color. Using vibrant colors in small spaces as accents really helps to bring light into the room. Today, I have cream-yellow colored walls, so I bought a red-wine colored coverlet to make the color of the walls pop. It looks really good  and it helps to highlight the other reds in my room, such as those in my rug and that of my Chat Noir poster. 

Later that night...

When I made it back home after work, Bella greeted me with much more cuddle-status than usual. At first I thought, "Awww, how cute! She's finally become a cuddle-bug!"

Nope, as it turns out, she's in heat. Awesome. So after being stressed out about what that actually means (having no experience with a cat in heat), a cat that will not stop meowing or begging for attention, and being so distracted that I didn't get a chance to go to the grocery store to pick up muffin-baking supplies, I ended up organizing my closet and room with the available supplies. It turns out that while it is not nearly as colorful as I would have liked, I'm really happy with the closet. The purses fit perfectly in a drawer emptied of its winter sweaters, which are now in the top of the closet. And Bella has a soft box and a DSW bag to play in, both of which are under an end table of my room. It's already turning into one of her favorite spots.

Now, to figure out what to write for next week...

Ten Years

Ten year anniversaries are pretty serious business, especially when you've only two decades of living under your belt. Ten years ago, we embarked on the war in Iraq. Ten years ago, the world had the SARS scare. Ten years ago, Finding Nemo, Pirates of the Caribbean (the original)  and Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King were released. (How 'bout them apples?) But, there was one more earth rattling event that happened in 2003, one that was missed by the major news networks (actually, by all news networks) and it was: the eighth grade field trip upon which Victoria and I became best friends. (There's no way you were expecting that.)

Yes, this month marks the tenth anniversary of my best friend and me, and I cannot honor it enough - we've been through thick, thin, and so many inside jokes that we can't even keep track of them all. 

The Way We Became Best Friends

The tale of Miss Victoria and I goes back beyond our decade of being best friends. Waaaaay back in 1998, we met in the sunshine of the playground of our elementary school. The circles that we traveled in were composed of different packs, so we did not really get to know each other too well (it wasn't a large school by any means). We did have a short time together in a group on the corner of the streets holding enormous "STOP" signs to direct cars, when 9-10 year old crossing guards was not considered a horrible idea. I remember that we were not in the same classes together, until fifth grade. We started to talk around about this time, but nothing too serious. We attended weekend classes together, and our distaste for the curriculum began to draw us together.

Come middle school, our groups began to gather in the same spot in the morning, by the old brick wall on the west side of campus - this was the cool spot. There is a distinct memory that comes to mind of Victoria walking up the hill in her bright red Elmo shirt and one of our friends, who used to hide behind a wall of shrubs leaping out onto Victoria's backpack. While funny at the time, probably wasn't the best thing for Victoria, but a morning without Courtney jumping on her was like a day without bread. The goblin awaiting her in the shrubs thing eventually stopped and all was well.

It was during seventh grade that Victoria and I sat next to each other in History Class. Victoria would probably insert here, "You mean, when there wasn't a day when you wouldn't drop your pencil." Fact. Every time that class met, my pencil would fall off the desk at some point and because they were those awkward tablet desks, I could never reach the pencil, so Victoria would have to grab it - the bond between us grew.

It was around this time that Victoria and I started to hang out beyond the confines of school. On the night of our Elementary School's annual Halloween Carnival (the best in the nation, if you ask me), Victoria told me that she was going to win the cake walk - of course I doubted her resolve. Of course, she won. So we presented to my grandma a lovely black cake and Victoria spent the night - it was the first sleep over and we spent it sprawled out in grandma's living room. At 5 in the morning the door bell rang: it was my Uncle Buzz, telling us that the glow on the horizon was not the sun rising - it was the entire east county on fire - where his and my Aunt Deb's house was at the time.This was one of the biggest fires to hit Southern CA, and it was a doozy. I'll never forget that morning.

Different costume, different year, different cake,same concept

In the next year, Victoria and I became hyper-competitive. We used to race EVERY DAY from our home rooms to a pole that was between the classes. We used to race during warm ups in P.E. We even used to race to Math class. I wouldn't have made it through math class without Victoria.

We both signed up to do the eighth grade field trip, which was to fly us across the US to tour historical sites in Virginia, D.C., Pennsylvania, and New York. When we landed in Dulles, there were two buses and Victoria was supposed to be on a different one than me; I can't remember why, but she ended up on the bus with me. We didn't sit together at first, but after dinner at a buffet, in which ice cream was spilled and Virginians welcomed us into their culture, we sat together as we did for the rest of the trip.

With our peers, Victoria and I walked the grounds of Gettysburg, toured Monticello and Mount Vernon; we ate the best fried chicken ever in Amish Land and sipped lemonade that was so good, wasting a drop would have been extremely embarrassing. We walked the crazy, mad wild streets of NYC - seeing Ellis Island, the Empire State Building, the Lion King, and Central Park. 

Off to see The Lion King

I think that it is safe to say that we have shared over a thousand adventures together. I'm grateful for every popping Jalapeno popper, trip to IN-N-OUT (mmmm, animal fries), adventures at the Del, spontaneous sleep-overs, and backyard bonfires. (I've been at Victoria's house and hung out with her family more times than I can remember. My memories of Sea Port Village, the Del, and the Market Place would not nearly be as rich without them.) We've added an inch or two to our heights since 8th grade and our hair styles have changed, but our endless laughing when we are together has always stayed the same.

Ninth Grade at the SD Zoo

Junior Year ~ October Breast Cancer Walk

18 ~ Seniors

Easter Recess, 2012

Victoria, long live the CHI, "churn my butter-scotch"! And of course, happy anniversary!

Your humble writer,

S. Faxon

PS -

Cupcakes, Bridges, and Trolls

Having to lean this way and that to write as Bella Tuna has decided to wage war on my computer screen in pursuit of the unattainable enemy; the cursor.

Last weekend, I guided my class of students on a tour of the old Five Points, Tenement land, and South Street Seaport. This was my first time going to the Seaport since the super-storm and it was a shock. Walking among those empty, cobble stone streets, where the Titanic Memorial Lighthouse stands was comparable to walking through a graveyard of  dearly beloved and dearly missed businesses. But not everything is gone and I strongly encourage anyone who is around the Seaport to go and support the businesses still standing, as they need your/our support.

While wandering around the Seaport, my mind fluttered through a hundred memories of laughter, training, evening strolls, freezing evenings and blazing hot summer days. This was where my parents took two of my really good friends, and their families and me to celebrate our graduation. This was where my friends and I spent several nights laughing, dining and enjoying life. This was where I would go to feel closest to my own Seaport back home.

College life was nuts. No, not like in the movies (or maybe more normal college experiences); there were no kegs, togas, frat or sorority parties involved in my college experience, but that does not mean that it was any less insane. One memory in particular comes to mind, rather, one adventure.

In my junior year of college, I was the Chair for my campus' Breast Cancer Awareness group, which was a part of an umbrella organization called Bridge the Gap. My colleagues and friends in the group, Julia, and Victoria had created this absolutely fantastic idea for fundraising and student engagement; a scavenger hunt. But not just any scavenger hunt, one that would cover a good portion of the Financial District and would lead to the Campus on Staten Island. It was a well planned, well advertised event. On the night before, we spent the evening baking cupcakes and decorating them in their pretty pink. We also made a ton of sandwiches for the participants, anticipating providing lunch for them. We did it all on an incredibly low budget (hoping to not spend a dime that would not be doubled in return) and we did it with a lot of laughter. We had a number of confirmations of people wanting to attend, all was looking good and then came the rain.

April's showers do not just bring May flowers - they also diminish eagerness to participate in outdoor activities. But I am not one to give up so easily.

"What are we going to do with all of this food?" Julia asked, her disappointment and frustration from all of the effort made and lost screaming through her softly spoken words.

"We're going to give it away," I said, my own frustrations and disappointments empowering me to do a bit of good.

"Give it away? To who?" Victoria asked, holding up the remaining tray of cupcakes. We had spent the morning at a table in the cafeteria, hoping to sell cupcakes to salvage at least some part of our fundraiser (and our prides). All that we ended up gaining was criticism for not selling coffee and a recipe for pasta from very enthusiastic conference participant that had nothing to do with us...I'm pretty sure he did not even buy a cupcake.

"This is New York," I declared, my sense of hope and determination ringing through, "There's bound to be someone hungry on the streets. Let's go find them and give them the sandwiches. They'll appreciate it. We'll still be able to do some good."

"But it's raining," Julia reminded.

"We have umbrellas," I insisted.

"But where are we going to find them?" Victoria asked.

Scooping up bags and bags of sandwiches and putting them into our rucksacks, I led the way out from the kitchen and to the hall toward the elevator. "We'll find them. We're do-gooders and we have a cause. We're going out. We're distributing sandwiches. Let's roll."

Sighing, but following, Julia said dryly, "Damn you and your California sunshine."

Thus began the journey. We decided to follow the trail of the scavenger hunt so that the clues that we had labored to produce would not go to waste. We cut out the sections where we thought the likelihood of us finding homeless people would be less. Weaving through the streets of Manhattan, on a cold, wet April day, loaded with sandwiches hoping to be given away, turned out to be a load of laughs. For one thing, it was a nuts adventure in general, for a second thing we could not find homeless people. None. Not one.

"Maybe under the bridge?" I said, thinking that the elevated FDR, the expressway on the East River, would be a reasonable place for people to seek refuge from the rain.

"What?" Victoria laughed, "Homeless people don't live under bridges. Trolls live under bridges!"

After the morning that we'd endured, I would have been more than happy to share sandwiches with trolls.

Indeed, she was right - we could not find anyone hungry or homeless under the bridge, there weren't even trolls. So we proceeded to the Sea Port. On the second floor of the Mall on the Pier, we sat at a round table that overlooked the river and the Brooklyn Bridge. We were hungry - and, conveniently enough, we had a feast in our satchels. While eating the peanut butter and jelly, and the ham & turkey sandwiches, I started to laugh uncontrollably about how we had not only set out to do one good deed and failed, but two. Our hearts were in the right place, but fate was just not having it that day. In retrospect, I realize now that it was a good lesson; even the best made plans are subject to the inevitability of unpredictability and fate. Adapting our plans that day, did in fact lead to one of the most beautiful adventures that year. We eventually found one homeless person and we gave to him a sandwich. We saw another, but by the time that we got out the sandwich, he disappeared  So our journey continued.

We marched down to South Ferry and saw the toil of our ancestors.

We discovered Ireland.

We conquered a mountain.

I guess, looking back, we conquered a couple that day. In the end, here was our grand total:

Total of Cupcakes: two-dozen (most of which, we ended up eating)
Total of Sandwiches: thirty (at least half a dozen of which, we ended up eating)
Total number of people helped: 1
Grand total of participants: 0
Total time spent laughing: not calculable.

We helped at least one person to be fed that day, who otherwise may have gone without food. And that was  indeed something to be proud of.

I sent out an email to the people who had donated or who had helped us to spread the word, telling, essentially the story of this blog. The best response was:

"Well, look at it this way; at least you got to enjoy a couple of cupcakes, no?" -Fred C.

I'm a big champion for the little things, and I could not agree more with that perspective.

The friendships I made that year were very inspiring, not just for this blog and life's reflections, but for one of my books. A couple of weeks ago I wrote a blog about "Golden Spiders;" several of the supporting characters within that book are based on the friends I made my junior year in college. On one evening, I read a scene of the book to this group of friends and they laughed uncontrollably because of how accurately their traits and habits had been captured on the page. The book was one of my favorites to write and it is one to which I look back  frequently. Hopefully, when someday it is published, it will provide for you the same sort of warmth and humor as it did for my friends and me.

For those of you who celebrate it, Happy Easter!
For those of you who do not, may your weekend be just as joyous!

Your humble writer,
S. Faxon

A journey through a compilation of songs

{Not exactly sure why all of the blog is highlighted in white. Please excuse this weird technological mishap and keep in mind that I draft everything in pen. I may be young, but computers confuse me.}

"Go ahead, what's your favorite song? In your best singing voice, go!"

But nothing came to mind. Of course, it was very early in the morning and I had not yet finished my first cup of coffee - the brain was having a hard time kick starting into musical melodies. What would I have sung into that make-believe microphone that one of the two of my favorite twins held up to my face? There are so many great, nay, FANTASTIC tunes out there. Ones that move you, ones that make you sing, ones that simply rock. And ones that I can sing? Tough to put together, true, occasionally I can carry a tune, but I imagine that I should have put a compilation together, like this:

"Give me a second I, I need to get my story straight," (FUN)
"To try this one or try them all? It's such a long, long way to fall," (Alice in Wonderland, Danny Elfman)
"There's no where to run, so let's just get it over," (Evanescence)
"I need you to trust me, go easy don't rush me," (Maroon 5)

"Listen to my song, it isn't very long," (Buffalo Springfield)
"Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men, it is the music of a people who will not be slaves again, when the beating of your heart, echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes," (Les Miserables)
"There's a whole lot of singing, that's never going to be heard, disappear in every day without so much as a word," (Dixie Chicks)

"So tell me what you want to hear, something that will light those ears," (OneRepublic)
"That's when she said, 'I don't hate you, I just want to save you, while there's still something left to save," (Rise Against)
"Now it's poor me, why me, oh me, boring the same old warn out blah, blah story, there's no good explanation for it at all," (Sugarland)
"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, 'let it be.'" (Beatles)
"May it be the shadow's call will fly away, may it be you journey on to light the day, when the night is overcome, you may rise to find the sun," ("May it be", Celtic Women)
"Now that your rose in bloom a light hits the gloom on a grave," (Seal)

"I see me through your eyes, breathing new life flying high, your love shines a way into paradise, so I offer my life as a sacrifice," (Leona Lewis)
"Love, will not betray you, enslave or dismay you, it will set you free," (Mumford & Sons)
"Say it once, say it twice, take a chance and roll the dice, ride with the moon in the dead of night," (Danny Elfman)
"And nothing is quite what it seems, you're dreaming, oh, you're dreaming," (Alice in Wonderland, Danny Elfman)
"And now you're just somebody that I used to know," (Gotye)
"Raise my hands, paint my spirit gold, bow my head, keep my heart slow, 'cause I will wait, I will wait for you," (Mumford & Sons)

"There can be no better way of knowing, in a world beyond controlling," (Disturbed)
"Just one day and then, I swear I'll be content, with my share, won't resent, won't despair, old and bent, I won't care," (Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame).
"For I have grown too strong," (Christina Perrie)
"And no, I'm no one's wife, but oh, I love my life," (Chicago)
"So let's set the world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun.
Tonight, we are young." (F.U.N.)

Can you tell that I reintroduced myself to my dear friend, my iPod, who has been growing dusty as of late? Would not have sung that compilation at breakfast time, but it sure was fun putting together a few of "my favorite things" (Rodgers & Hammerstein). And some how I managed to weave in something like a story. 

Finding Zen in the Kitchen Again

Last weekend, I took the time to perfect making Bosnian coffee and I think I've finally mastered it. It was a fun exercise as I'm the coffee shop type, used to using coffee makers and espresso machines of all different sizes and sorts. This was one of my new methods of taking time out to re-learn things that are within my routine. It's an attempt to help me with discovering ways to find zen. Last Monday, I intended to practice doing a handstand, something that a very good friend of mine does whenever her balance tends to be off. Being that I've been experiencing  pressure/discomfort in my lower back, inverting myself sounded like a much needed trick. However, I have not done a handstand since my days of running barefoot around Mission Bay when my age was in the single digit level, so it should be interesting. (Did the handstand - made me laugh, which made me feel loads better along with the feeling of all the pressure leaving my back - but if you try this, please do so with caution).

Paint brush, walking shoes, sewing needle - these have been my tools in recent weeks to finding peace. But now that the first vegetables of the year's harvest (no joke, I'm saying this) are coming around, cooking will be my favorite go-to for finding peace. Usually, as you may know if you follow these, I'm a a baker. However, I've always enjoyed cooking and after reading (last summer), my favorite author's journey through a year of growing her own sustainable garden, I've been following the regiment of eating what is in season to the best of my abilities. Now, that doesn't mean that I've been snobbing greens - in fact yesterday I had an enormous Cobb salad at a restaurant, but what it does mean is that when grocery shopping, I have been turning away from Asparagus grown in Peru, bananas from Brazil, and avocados from Guatamala. I have absolutely NO prejudice against these countries, but I do not care to have vegetables and fruits shipped to me before they are ripe, travelling hundreds of miles and burning tons of fuel to be on my table in winter. Fair trade vegetables and locally grown are the way I've been trying to go. Vegetables grown locally tend to be a little cheaper because they did not need first class travel amenities to pass through tariffs and trade regulations. And, let's not kid ourselves, locally grown vegetables taste AMAZING. If you're not eating vegetables in season or locally grown (usually these go hand-in-hand), then you've been missing out on one of the simplest culinary pleasures out there. Biting into a juicy multicolored heirloom tomato was one of the greatest flavors to ever have exploded on my taste-buds. Go on, go find your local farmer's market and try to tell me otherwise if you don't believe me.

Being that I grew up in California where the neighbor's trees provided avocados, maintaining this lifestyle in NY where most of my veg options would come from CA anyway, has been tough this winter. BUT now that asparagus season has begun, look out table, here comes my inner chef. I will not claim to be a Julia Child, but I am following the guiding wisdom of the French Chef. La libre de les trois gourmond est mon prefere pour des diners francais. (Not bad, no? The only word that I had to look up for that last sentence was "dinner", which, in retrospect, is pathetic). Like for many of my friends, the movie Julie/Julia was inspirational to me (I feel kinda extra connected to it because I'm a blogger living on the border of Astoria and Long Island City with a small kitchen, a cat, and a lifestyle that leaves me servantless). While I will not be cooking through Mastering the Art of French Cooking, I intend to take full advantage of every vegetable as it comes into season with the recipes of the three French Chefs. This upcoming weekend, I will be making something with Asparagus, who is the first green to kick off the season. I'll keep you posted.

Last night, on my way back from work, I was half way home and the itch to bake took over me. I knew exactly what I was going to make and I knew that I could be creative enough to do it. So, I got home, fed the cat, dawned the apron and made the following:

Julia Child's Reine de Saba

What was required: butter (big surprise), dark Jamaican rum, dark chocolate, shaved almonds, almond extract, flour, 3 eggs, sugar, and salt.

All in all, a pretty simple recipe. I'd already done this cake for my  mom for her birthday, so I had a general idea of how it should taste, but I knew that I didn't want it to be too rich or too much, especially because of the fact that I would be the only one eating it and that my cupboards were a little dry of these ingredients.

What I had: butter (a miracle, this), oak-barrel Bacardi rum (also a miracle as I am usually a red wine conoseur), eggs, milk chocolate with magademia nuts, and almond flour left over from a paleo cake that I baked for my roommate's birthday last week.

After skimming over the recipe, I nodded and said, "Yeah, I can work with that." So I did. Twenty minutes of beating an egg white to its postmortem phase, melting chocolate & rum, and fighting back the cat, the single serving cake (I only wanted one), was ready to be baked. Into the oven at 350 it went. During its baking time I made pasta with a butter sauce and sat down with Mastering the Art of French Cooking to figure out what would be next. There was a garlic soup that I'm most likely to do next, but the search for a good asparagus recipe is my priority. Probably going to make a white sauce for it, and serve it with salmon. Yum. I'll be sure to take photos.

 The bell for the oven told me that it was time to release the cake from its fiery prison. After ensuring that the toothpick came out clean, said cake was ready to cool. Now, not sure that you know this trick, but if you lightly butter the pan (in this case the muffin pan with only one occupant), and then dust it with flour, it is almost guaranteed that whatever you have baked will slip out easily after you use a sharp knife to help out on the sides. It's a good trick and it never fails to impress me.

The result:

I did not adorn it with frosting, although all it would have taken would be another melted chocolate, rum, and, you may have guessed it, butter. Honestly, the cake did not need it. After my chicken and pasta, I devoured the cake. It was moist and wonderful, just like the one I had made my mom with the real ingredients, but certainly less rich. Only one word for it: yum.

Mission "Find Zen": Complete.

Thanks Julia Child & Julie Powell for the inspirations! (Thanks of course to Amy Adams and the all too amazing Meryl Streep for bringing them to life on screen).

Remember always, Bon Appetit!

Words of wisdom for the week, as told by a character in Last Holiday: "The secret to life is butter."