Pasta and Why It's Super Delicious

I am not a real food person.  I'd like to think I know how to make real food and that in this sense I am more capable than most regular college kids, but truth is I incorrectly boiled potatoes the other day for mashed potatoes with dinner.  However, I have mastered the easy craft of making pasta, which is so very dissimilar from boiling potatoes.  As a baker, I also happen to love carbs like bread, cereal, pastries, oatmeal like things, and PASTA.  I'm italian, I can't help it.

As a kid, I could often be found knocking on my neighbor friend's door munching on a bag of cooked, cold pasta.  Don't ask why, I don't know.  It was delicious.  I don't need to explain.

Pasta is also a prefect medium for other flavors.  Pasta Primavera can have super-delicious fresh flavors like red pepper, asparagus, and olives while still being simple with a drizzle of olive oil and nothing else.  Whole wheat pasta works really well in a primavera.  Marinara sauce, though cliche and over-rated, is a classic flavor with meatballs and spaghetti.  Alfredo sauce is so super rich and fatty and carby that it can'r help but be super delicious.  Penne Alla Vodka is the perfect blend of creamy red sauce and little meat chunks and very subtle vodka undertones.  Pesto, especially with cheese tortellini, is so cheesy fresh and basilly.  And then that gets us into the whole stuffed pastas like Butternut squash raviolis in a brown butter and sage sauce or stuffed shells oozing ricotta and mozzarella.  It's all perfectly delicious.

You'd think with my only on-campus food option being a pasta place, I'd be happy.  Alas, I am not.  They tend to serve only random pasta options rather than the classics everyone know and love.  Also, they do things wrong.  I'm not claiming to be a super italian genius, but it's not real italian food, although the cannolis are good.  While I'm on the subject, Olive Garden and The Chateau are not real italian food either.

Anyway, I was lucky enough to steal some Annie's mac'n cheese when I was last home and have since learned how to make it in the microwave.  It's not as good, but it's still better than anything on my meal plan.

Raw String Beans

Eating with a meal plan, it is increasingly difficult to incorporate vegetables and fruits into your foods.  Though I have never been known for my healthy food choices or particular love of vegetables, there has been one fresh, crunchy, pre-dinner snack that I've always enjoyed: Raw String Beans.

Ever since I can remember, my sister and I have been helping prepare dinner with my parents, and whenever we were having a side of string beans, the job of cutting off the ends and washing them was delegated to one of us.  I have so many memories, memories that merge into one feeling, one moment of getting dinner ready.  I'm standing over the sink, my hands numb with cold water, feeling the firmness and freshness of the beans as I bend the ends until they finally snap.  There is a residual taste of green in my mouth, because that's how they taste, green.  There is no other way of describing it.  Well, I guess there is, but this works well enough for me.  I have been known to eat half the available string beans before they have even been cooked for dinner, to set aside an especially large helping to not be cooked for me to eat at dinner, and to even request them on summer morning supermarket runs to snack on throughout the day.

Being in college, I am deprived of this luxury.  The first time my parents visited me, they brought me enough string beans to reasonably last me a week.  They lasted two days.  I was in heaven.  I was raving about how awesome they were to a CSF friend I have weekly dinner dates with to discuss a book we are reading.  The next week when we met, she plopped a plastic bag in front of me.  MORE STRING BEANS!  It was wonderful, but it also didn't last.  Hopefully, you can learn from my stupidity.  String beans and ginger ale should not be ingested at the same time.  You'd think two things that taste good by themselves would taste good together.  You'd be wrong.  It is gross.  Trust me.

Editing

Hey guys,
sorry about the reposting
I'm re-reading some of my older blog posts and editing and it is resulting in unexpected reposts because I apparently do not know how to work the internet.
Hopefully, it won't happen again, but I don't know for sure.
New post tomorrow.

Snickerdoodles

This was a writing prompt given to my AP class by our super, mega-awesome English teacher.  We were supposed to write an essay starting with the phrase "I believe in...," and this is what I came up with.

            I believe in half a week old snickerdoodles (recipe to follow, unabridged of course).  First you must lug your crusty, unclean mixer from the moth bitten pantry to the kitchen in such a way that it digs into your belly, and you have to use a slight backward swing to get it over the peacock, granite countertops that have always been a little too high for your liking.  Next, you must sit on the oak stool for twenty-three minutes while you wait for an entire stick of butter to soften because you forgot to take it out earlier (even though you knew well in advance of your edible experimentation).  However, you could stick it in the soup-stained microwave, get radioactive waves drenching you while you stare, and inevitably pull out a puddle on a sidewalk of wax paper.  You plop it into the mixer and put on the rickety speed of four for “three minutes until it becomes light and fluffy” though you don’t actually know what that means because it has never happened.  Then, you pull out the measuring cups, making sure to not have a firm grip on them so that they slip out of your butter fingers and fall the foot from their shelf to the counter making an oh so satisfying clack as they bounce from the impact.  You skip back to the pantry and manage to wrestle both the giant sugar Tupperware and the colossal flour one into your somewhat short arms.  You hazardously waddle back to the kitchen and measure out two half cups of sugar (both whole cup measures are dirty) and two half cups of flour.  WAIT! you only pour half of the second cup of flour in so as to complete the imperative practice of saving half the flour until the rest of the ingredients have been thoroughly mixed in.  After that you must take on the Herculean task of pulling the sticky, brown stained vanilla extract bottle from where it is stuck in your pantry; again, with the height issue it is impossible to get proper leverage.  Once that is extracted (no pun intended though you laugh as you pull out the magnetic teaspoons), you must pry open the lid, often with a butter knife.  You measure out quarter teaspoon each of some mysterious white powders that could be crack for all you know, though the labels read baking soda and cream of tartar.  You begin quoting Spongebob in your head while measuring out half a teaspoon of vanilla, using the quarter teaspoon twice to conserve dishes, a habit you quickly picked up once your parents refused to clean your baking dishes anymore.  You put on the mixer, crack a cold egg in, drop some shell in, panic, and spend five minutes attempting to fish out the little shards so your friends don’t get accidentally stabbed in the mouth.  Then you put in the half half cup of flour and another full half cup mix that and take the bowl out of its metal lock and away from the violent, erratic paddle.  You dump some pungent cinnamon into a bowl and add sugar until the cinnamon no longer sinks to the bottom, which will take much more spoonfuls than at first anticipated thanks to the cinnamon dumping.  At least you know what’s for breakfast tomorrow: toast with butter and cinnamon sugar, classic.  You proceed to make ten thousand one inch balls of dough, roll them each in the sugar (usually five at a time to save some extra minutes), and lay them on a baking sheet.  You gingerly place them in the (hopefully preheated unless you forgot) 375º oven that has looked like the mouth of hell to you ever since you were seven.  Wait eleven minutes even though the heavenly smell will begin circulating though the entire floor of your house as soon as the timer hits six minutes left.  Here’s where you have to be strong, though it is like telling a woman in labor to wait to have her baby so she can be born on Valentine’s Day, you MUST WAIT AT LEAST TWO DAYS BEFORE EATING THEM.  If you are lucky enough to accidentally smoosh one with the oven mit as you pull them from the oven, you may eat that deformed one.  However be warned, they are extremely addictive (probably from the crack you put in them) and eating one will ALWAYS lead to eating another.  Your will power is not as strong as you think.  In the end it is worth it though; the flavors of a half week older snickerdoodles greatly out shine those of the warm oven fresh cookies that have been known to be devoured in a matter of minutes at your house.  Next time, you will hide some in your hollow book to be ravenously devoured half a week later.

Officially Signed Up for Food Labs

Hello one and all,
I know I've been a horrible blog owner of recently.  To justify but not excuse my behavior, our first trimester is coming to a close resulting in much mayhem and increasingly approaching deadlines.  On a positive note of the trimester coming to a close, I have signed up for my next trimester of classes aka food labs!

I am signed up for five food labs, all of which are from 7am to 1pm, Monday through Thursday: How Baking Works, Intro to Cakes, Principles of Artisan Bread Baking, Viennoiserie, and Chocolates & Confections.  Viennoiserie is a course on making baked goods using puff pastry, such as croissants and turnovers.  As for how to pronounce it, I have absolutely no clue.  Silly french people.  Though I am extremely excited about all of the classes, and probably would be about any food class they put me, I'm most excited for chocolates and confections.  It's very easy to experiment at home with cakes and other such baked goods, but trying to learn chocolates without the proper instruction or equipment, though I have tried, is extremely difficult.  I also have high expectations for artisan breads, though it will be less fun to eat.  Seriously though, kneading bread is one of the most relaxedly focused activities, at least for me.  It is something that puts me at peace.

I'm so ready for all of the classes where I can actually start learning how to express my passion for baking and (hopefully, if I'm good) share it with you.  I only have two more weeks of academics, one of which is finals week, then Thanksgiving break (good noms to talk about), and then I will be back and will hopefully start blogging about labs!  Just so you know, in case you didn't, each of my five labs is nine days long, so I will have about two weeks in each lab.  So, stick with me, because good things are coming.

Sorry

In a bit of a slump.

I'll try to have a post ready for Saturday.
Thank you for your patience.

Casual Dinner at a Professional Chef's House

Being at a non-religious school after so many years of Catholic school, I have glued myself to a club at my school called the Christian Student Fellowship.  I've gone to every meeting I can get to and have frequently hung out with most of the members outside of meetings and bible studies.  They've become my friends, and through them I am becoming stronger in my faith; I thank God for them.  I can't imagine what college life would be like without their friendship and ready acceptance.

How does this relate to food?

Well, one of the chefs at our school is a strong believing christian who has initiated a monthly bible study at his house to promote faith in the culinary field.  The reasoning is that culinary is a tough field and does not always have the most spiritual group of people in it.  Faith is something that this chef believes people need in order to make it through such a challenging career.  This past friday all interested culinary CSF members went to his house for a casual dinner to discuss what the bible study will be about and how we will go about organizing it.

His house was beautiful, a real homey home.  It was comfortable and welcoming and smelled deliciously of cooked chicken and hot apple cider.  The chef only cooked a protein; so, older CSF members who live in apartments with kitchens and fridges brought side dishes.  There was sweet potato casserole, fresh veggies and dip, thick slices of bread with garlic butter spread, and german potato salad.  Everything was amazing.  It felt like thanksgiving.  It was the first home cooked dinner I have had since I moved in (unless you count the chicken pot pie leftovers my parents brought me when they visited).  The two rooms we had settled into to eat were filled with chatter and laughter and what CSF likes to over refer to as "fellowship."  It was wonderful.

After dinner, everyone helped to clear the tables and then squashed into the living room with coffee, tea, more apple cider, cake bars, and six layer bars (not seven because there were no butterscotch chips).  We sat in a circle and just talked.  We got to know each other better, especially the chef who very few of us were acquainted with.  We talked about everything from why I wear miss-matched socks to how the strangest thing our club leader had ever eaten was a giant worm in africa to discussing what the Bible says about marriage and being single.  The whole time it was raining and thundering outside, making the room that much cozier and the feelings of security and friendship that much stronger.

At the end of the night, we all said thank you to the chef, tromped on our shoes, huddled under umbrellas, and piled back into the school van we had rented to head back to school.  It was a wonderful night, a night that I hope to enjoy again next month.

Chocolate Covered Cacao Nibs

Without a doubt, there is nothing more delicious in the entire world than chocolate.  It is rich and homey and melt-in-your-mouth delicious.  It is a perfect medium for art and experimentation.  It goes well with most any flavor.  I am a proud, self-admitted chocoholic.  In response to my chocolate passion and chocolate-laced career choice, my parents signed all of us up for a chocolate tour of Taza chocolate.  The tour was as wonderful as all the chocolate smelled.  One of Taza's main goals is to provide chocolates that are minimally processed chocolates in which the beans have been traditionally stone ground.  Everything was delicious and naturally textured.

They showed us the origin of the cocoa beans, a cacao pod (one of which I have sitting in my room, a souvenir from the tour).  They also explained how the coco beans are broken up into cacao nibs, which they allowed us to taste.  It was mildly like having my first cup of black coffee after being used to iced coffee with cream and sugar.  I've always been a fan of darker chocolates but I was not prepared for the bitterness, the richness, the deliciousness of pure cacao.

As epiphanating as the consumption was, in itself the pure cacao nib was TOO bitter.  Much like black coffee, you almost have to be in the right mood for it.  Luckily, Taza also makes chocolate covered cacao nibs.  They are the perfect mix of crunchy, sweet, bitter, and chocolate.  They can brighten any mood and initiate any friendship.  I have a half empty can in my room and between my roommates it has become the equivalent of placing a box of tissues on their bed whenever anyone is in a bad mood.  They are small and poppable and addictive.  They taste really awesome mixed into vanilla ice cream, which perfectly, sweetly, and simply complements the complex, dark flavors of the nibs.  They're truly amazing, especially for those who like dark, bitter chocolate or those who just want to experience a purer flavor of chocolate than the overly processed "European" chocolate that most of us are used to.  I strongly encourage everyone to pick up at least one of the little packets Taza sells though it's easy to eat a whole can.  Trust me, I know.

my attempt at green screening

Cucumbers

Can I just say, in a totally non-suggestive way, that I just bit into a whole cucumber and it was awesome!  After my parent's recent visit and unloading of a bunch of delicious foods, I have been left with more food in my room than I can reasonably eat before it goes bad.  One of the foods I requested, having been deprived of quite a lot of fruit and vegetables, was cucumber.  I love cucumbers!  Larry the cucumber was probably my first real love in life.  Anyway, my parents came with a whole cucumber that I have neglected to eat until now.  I walked into my room and proudly announced to my one present roommate that I was having a cucumber for dinner.  I sat with it on my desk for a while and then had my first experience biting a whole cucumber.  I felt like Satsuki in that one scene of My Neighbor Totoro were they all eat fresh whole cucumbers.  It was a truly magical experience.  Second bite, the skin is an interesting obstacle, waxy and mildly leaving a film on my tongue.  I don't know that this cucumber has been cleaned.  And now my cucumber is no more, but it was delicious.

Note to Readers: Eat cucumbers they're awesome

On a side note:  As strange as it may sound, cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches are DELICIOUS! They are the perfect blend of rich and fresh and carby, because who can resist carby foods??  They work for every meal and snack and fill your mouth with oozy yummy homey freshness! Be brave and try it.

How to make an apple unhealthy

At some point or another, you will crave the warm, homey flavors of apple pie.  It’s inevitable.  From there you can have a few reactions:  You can ignore it, which will not work for at least a few days.  You can go out and buy a really gross plasticy commercial-tasting pie from a store.  You can go through the slaving effort of making a whole pie that you only want one piece of.  Or you can take a regular apple and make a small, simple, microwave version of an apple pie.  The great thing about this self-invented recipe is it is never the same and can be changed according to whatever your exact cravings are.

First, take an apple, softer apples are better but whatever works for you is good.  Peel it and core it.  Put it in a bowl and do your best to shove alternate pads of butter and brown sugar into the center, and sometimes it helps to put some butter and sugar outside around the apple.  You shouldn't use more than two tablespoons of butter or you'll clog an artery.  Here's where you can get creative.  I often sprinkle cinnamon in the center and then around the top.  However, it is also possible to add walnuts or pecans or even graham cracker chunks.  A dash of nutmeg may make for an interesting twist or perhaps some ginger.  Anything to satisfy whatever your current apple craving is.

Once, your apple has all it trimmin's, simply put it in the microwave until it gets soft (that means you get to stab it with a fork).  It usually works best if you put it in for 30 seconds at a time.  Once it is soft, it is probably pretty hot, so some vanilla ice cream is always a perfect way of cooling it off and complementing the spicy, complex flavors with such a simple perfect topping.  Whipped cream can also work well for this, but sometimes its best to just let the mini apple pie alone and have it with a cup of tea.  However you make this very vague recipe yours, it's sure to fulfill that apple pie craving anytime.

Dorm Life and Food

So, I've been in school about two and a half weeks.  Everything's going great: still trying to find a group of friends and adjust to the very different schedule of being a college student.  One of the downsides, I have found, is the food.  I must go out, rain or shine, in order to eat or I must eat whatever I can stash in my tiny fridge that also holds my three other roommates hordes of food.  Our campuses are split up and a ten minute bus ride away from each other.  The only "caf" on this campus (other than the starbucks we all go to for breakfast) is solely italian food.  It's good food mind you, but you can only eat penne in alfredo sauce so many days in a row.  I have also been stuffing our fridge with whatever I can get from the convenience store with whatever meal plan swipes I have left at the end of the week.  Currently, our fridge mostly has drinks: apple juice, milk, fresca, water, starbuck's coffees, and red bull (not mine).  Another issue I have is the lack of fruit, vegetables, and cheese, technically you can get apples and bananas from the convenience store, but I have been craving blueberries and raw string beans for a whole week now.  Also, today, thanks to m y nutrition class, I really want oatmeal and bran flakes in my room.

Anyway, I was going to the convenience store because I am going away this weekend and must use three swipes a day to use them all up for this week.  I started to get stuff like milk and apple juice and red bull for my roommates.  There's only so much you can swipe for.  I was looking at the meal plan snacks and microwave burritos, which I don't normally look at but I noticed they had this snack pack.  Apple slices, grapes, honey wheat pretzels, and cheddar cheese!  Obviously, I got it and have eaten it almost instantly.  I'm munching as I type.  I am in homey snack heaven.

Just Call Me “Cupcake”

This is an essay I submitted to my school to be eligible for scholarships.  If you have no understanding of steaming, egocentric sarcasm, please do not read this post.

      I should be totally, exclusively even, considered for this scholarship because, unlike most applicants and potential recipients who think of this $cholar$hip as a semester worth of books and lab fees, I think of this $cholar$hip as a pair of checkered pants, a set of knives, a blowtorch, a chainsaw.  You may be wondering, “Is she running away to become a sadistic clown?”  The answer: Of course not, though my superior balloon sculpting abilities, desire to learn how to ride a unicycle, and the afro-like curls I flaunt might imply otherwise.  But no, in all honestly, I am going out to live my dream, to fulfill my destiny, and to contribute to the growing obesity rate in our consumering country.  Yes, I am going to be a pastry chef, graduating from Johnson and Wales University after four sugar coated years of fruit chopping, sugar caramelizing, and ice sculpting.  They don’t call my soon to be and much anticipated major Baking and Pastry Arts for nothing; for me, food is another medium to be crafted, sculpted, presented and then enjoyed by everyone, to be beauty in the eye and mouth of the beholder.

      But more to the point.  It is needless to say that my 4.067606706706706706709 GPA is above average exceptionality.  I have done nothing but pass, if not epically succeed at, all of my courses taken at AC but have often chosen the path of self-interest and self-fulfillment over transcript padding and “looking good” for colleges.  I have taken four electives, sacrificing my little loved Honors World History II and third year of Spanish to write poems about yoyo’s and egg-beaters, jump on a trampoline while reciting Shakespeare, sketch Troll, my sock monkey, in a mixer full of packing peanuts in candle light, and impersonate a close-talker at a Christmas party.  However, I have still managed to take a total of five AP courses and am miraculously able to control my doodling to only half the class period or to “on-topic” doodles.  My procrastination and horrible study skills have never managed to pay off, often resulting in better than anticipated grades.

      Outside the classrooms, I spend the majority of my time in the beautiful, spacious, well-lit Regent Theater.  “The show must go on” is a phrase I invented when I single-handedly saved an entire performance while stage-managing the musical.  Also, my melodious, euphonic voice has furthered my career in both the drama musical review in the fall and the liturgical choir, which I grace with my voice every Wednesday.  However, such is my humility and modesty, that I often grant others the majority of the solos, and I choose to be backstage for the musical, lest my beauty distract the audience from the actual show.  When I am not rescuing drama queens or being perfectly on pitch in choir, I run a sort of shelter for the less fortunate.  I lead a band of crazed, abnormal individuals into love and acceptance and a means of tolerating Mondays.  I direct the Other Club, providing hope, scavenger hunts, and improv games for the less normal at AC.  Also, I am in charge of the future, the souls of dozens of children are put in my care on a weekly basis as I teach them such values as love, compassion, and how to properly use a sock puppet.  I teach second grade religious education to members of my parish who have reached the age of reason and are ready to receive both First Reconciliation and First Communion.  Obviously, second grade is a very, very important year, and I am honored but not surprised that their fragile understanding is put in my tender care.  Oh yeah, one more thing.  I’ve baked over twenty dozen cupcakes for friends and beggars birthdays.  I still have to bake at least another six dozen this year.  Some of you reading this have benefited.

      So, there.  Just call me “Cupcake.”

Liquid Apple Pie

So, I've made friends with one of the RA's in my building.  He's not my RA, but he's my favorite.  He was the first person I persuaded to play DDR with me in the Rec Room.  Anyway, whenever he's manning the front desk, I always stop to chat.  So, I was coming back from emptying out the convenience store with my end of the week leftover food swipes, and who was at the desk, but my favorite RA.  I offered him some of the swag I got, Starbucks frappuccino bottles, chocolate pudding, apple juice... And he got really excited about the apple juice.  How can you not get excited about apple juice?  It's delicious and awesome, like childhood.  Anyway again, I gave him a bottle, and we began discussing the wonderfulness known as apple juice.  All of a sudden he became really excited again.  He told me I must go to Starbucks (everyone lives off of the Starbucks on our campus) and order "apple juice with dolce something," which apparently translates to cinnamon dolce syrup to the starbucks employees.  So sunday morning I head in, get coffee cake and order it, getting corrected by the cashier who skillfully interpreted the meaning from my incoherent stutters.  I got it, it was no great beauty as some Starbuck's drinks are.  It looked like apple juice in a Starbucks cup and nothing more.  Then, I took the first sip.  The first sip was like... super mega amazing, autumn captured in a cup, liquid apple pie and really delicious.  Unfortunately, subsequent sips were really intolerably sweet and gross, but it has not tainted the memory of that first perfect sip of fall.

Just Wanted to Let You All Know

Right at this very moment, I am sitting in the laundry room, reading my nutrition book which is saying all sorts of things like what americans need to eat more of and less of to not be obese, while eating microwave kettle corn and listening to Queen's "Fat-Bottomed Girls."

It's mildly ironic.

Move-In

I have officially survived and thrived at my first week of college.  Adjusting to such a huge life change can be difficult and stressful.  I find I have much more time on my hands as well as not enough time to everything.  As such, I hope you can forgive me for skipping my blog post on Wednesday, especially when I specifically said I would post.  To make it up, this post will be rather long to include what my classes and professors are like.

So, Move-in was crazy, hectic, tiring, stressful, exciting.  I had mountains of packed stuff sitting in my front hall for weeks.  The morning of move-in, when we had to pack up the car and shove all my belongings into our spacious but small CRV, my parents informed me that I was packing too much.  Between all my desk knick-knacks, my DVD collection, and my sister's graduation present to me, a beautifully majestic 5 foot giraffe stuffed animal who I named Claire.  We took it all anyway, and I was to repack some of the winter clothes I needlessly brought and pick only a select few DVDs to hang onto.

We got there in one short hour at about 9:15.  For one long hour, we had to snake our car through a million parking lots and streets behind a billion other packed-for-college cars.  We watched old SNL videos on my dad's phone while we inched toward whatever we were all waiting to get to.  We finally made it to the front of the line in front of one of the dorm buildings.  You unload everything on the curb and people come and take it to your room, 'cause you put stickers on it saying what room it is.  So, I was unpacking my stuff from the car.  Claire was sitting on the sidewalk, and I had it in mind that I would be the one to carry her up, because I don't really trust random people, especially with my semi-fragile very precious and very pretty, new-looking giraffe.  So, some random guy who was helping out came over really excitedly, shoved her under his arm and asked where he was taking her.  It was mildly unsettling, but I told him the room and people started yelling at him in a friendly joking way, clearly his friends.  He started to semi sprint off with her in a way too excited but innocent sort of way, like he was definitely taking her to my room, but living it up that he was carrying a giant giraffe stuffed animal.

I quickly grabbed stuff and caught up and said I was going to follow him to find where my room was.   He kept jogging, and he'd raise Claire over his head like she was a trophy.  And then, all down the hall to my room he was brushing her mane and introducing her to random people because I had told him her name.  Looking back on it, it was pretty funny, actually.  A little obnoxious, but funny.

I knew that two of my three roommates were moving in at 8:30.  Getting there at 10:30, I assumed it would be a fairly easy, crowdless move-in.  Nothing could have prepared me for what I walked into.  Our surprisingly large dorm room was stuffed like a sardine can, a total of 14 people and three sets of everything from bed sheets and towels to giant printer boxes and trash bags full of clothes, this is not including myself, my two parents, and obviously all of my stuff.  My dad pretty much stayed out of the way and once one of my roommates and her "entourage," as we came to call the six other people she brought with her, left for lunch, it was a pretty simple move-in.  We had more room than I thought we would, so I was able to keep all my DVD's, but I did send back some winter clothes.  I really don't need them.

My roommates are definitely on a different sleeping schedule than me; they stay up late, and sleep in as much as possible.  I'm trying to get into the habit of waking up at 6 every morning.  It's supposedly healthier to be on a regular sleeping patter, and I like having the whole day to do stuff with.  Only after the third night did I find out my roommate was falling asleep with the TV on on purpose.  She can apparently be paranoid and falling asleep with it on helps her.  It was difficult to get used to, but I'm good now.We all get along pretty well.  We don't have all the same interests, but we're all good about being considerate and polite and sharing our food and taking care of each other.  They were all pretty homesick for a while, but they seem to be adjusting.  There was also some major drama with boyfriends two of them left behind, but that seems to have blown over as well.

I was able to make at least one close friend, Fedora Man.  I've also joined my schools CSF (Christian Student Fellowship).  They all seem very nice and welcoming.  I was able to go to a "coffee and scripture" meeting at starbucks which was awesome and also a movie party they hosted.  It was super fun.  As far as classes go, I have four twice a week, one on Monday/Wednesday and three on Tuesday/Thursday (we don't have class on Fridays).  Three of those classes are sophomore classes because of the way my AP scores factored in and the fact that this school is known for teaching cooking, not arts and science.

Two of my classes are with a German teacher who reminds me of a combination of some teachers from high school.  She's really nice and has an Accent!  It's super awesome. She teaches public speaking and English Comp, which will be my favorite subjects.  We're going to be friends, in a jedi/padawan way.  Yes, I just made that reference.  To justify that, I was just hanging out with my star wars geek friend from high school who goes to college nearby.  Anyway,  I'm also in a Food Service Management class with a chubby little professor who likes to talk about frying whole turkeys and chickens and pretty much any food.  So far, the work we've done for that class is essentially ratios and percentages, which, coming from eat my brains out AP Calculus, is both relieving and boring.  My last class is Nutrition.  The teacher is nice and fairly bubbly.  At some point we catalogue everything we eat in four days and interpret if we're eating right for our body type or something like that.  I'm dreading that.  I know I don't eat right, but life tastes better that way.

As far as campus living goes, it has it's pros and cons.  It's been either really hot and sticky in our room or really rainy and wet outside, and sometimes both.  Co-Ed floors and community showers that are as far away from our dorm as possible are not a good combination.  I've walked through at least a dozen clouds of noxious cigarette smoke.  I've tried to use all of my extra food swipes on apple juice and chocolate pudding, thus crowding our small fridge.  I've been able to make friends with one of the RA's and convinced him to play DDR with me.  I have played DDR a total of three times in the rec room.  I've socially watched a total of 5 movies.  I've found a catholic church for me to go to for at least this Sunday.  Claire has met everyone in my building.  I've explored the city with Fedora Man and Star Wars Geek.  I was able to get really cheap new (to me) games for my PS2.  I just put a letter in the mail to my best friend.  It has a doodle war in it.  Everything is going fairly well.  I do really like this school.

Here is a picture of Claire with part of my desk and bed in the background.  Isn't she pretty!?  Also, the white on my comforter, it glows in the dark!  Not with the tv on, it's too bright, but still.  It's fun!

P.S.  It's kinda scary here.  All the people are like, public school people, not that that's a bad thing.  It's just I've been in a catholic school for the past twelve years and the last four years I've been specifically with honors students.  The people here go out and party.  A lot of them smoke.  They draw inappropriate things on our white board, and scream down the halls in the middle of the night.  I'm not used to this crowd of people as much, but I'm adjusting pretty well.

Move-In to be posted on Wednesday

Heyo!
So, because move-in was crazy, hectic, soul-crushing, organizing, crowded, blarginess (and I have only had down time now at 9:40, and am exhausted), the blog post for move-in will be posted on wednesday as well as how my classes have been going since I start classes TUESDAY!! super-exciting!

I'm Sorry Phish Food, but . . .

I have a new favorite flavor of ice cream.  As mildly mentioned in one of my earliest posts about orientation, Phish Food is ... was.. my favorite flavor of ice cream.  Needless to say, Ben and Jerry have and will always remain in my heart.  They are true geniuses of flavor combination.  The way they mix chocolate ice cream with marshmallow and caramel swirl and fudgy fish bites to represent the band I knew nothing about until this ice cream, and my current knowledge of them only holds that the ice cream gods have made a flavor after them, so they must be pretty awesome.  That is why it is my pleasure to tell you the replacement and far superior new favorite flavor of ice cream is still a member of the Ben & Jerry's family pint.

It's called Bonnaro Buzz and is described as "Coffee & Malt Ice Creams with Toffee Chunks & a Whiskey Caramel Swirl."  As also mildly mentioned, butter crunch, the nutty cousin of toffee, is my favorite candy.  I've been in love with the dark, sultry flavor of coffee ever since I joined drama club my freshman year of high school.  The the ice cream in itself tasted like tiramisu made the right way, my grandma's way, the way that all other tiramisu will be compared to only to fall short.  Add the giant chunks of toffee and the entire spoonful crunches and melts and smoothes itself over your tongue in a divine flavor that can only be described as all the best of New Year's Eve dessert at my house and so much more.  Get yourself to a supermarket and pick yourself up a pint and experience this new Ben & Jerry's flavor for yourself.

Two Ingredient Biscuits

http://allrecipes.com/recipe/quick-biscuits/detail.aspx
First off, allrecipes.com is amazing.  They have submitted, rated, and perfectly categorized recipes to find just what your looking for with all the feedback you need.  So, I've been trying to get rid of some dairy that is close to it's expiration date, including some heavy cream.  So I used the fancy, convenient ingredient search and came across the above recipe for two ingredient biscuits.  It is so fast and simple I was able to make it during only two commercial breaks of What Not to Wear.  I followed some of the reviews and did not knead or roll it, but dropped it by spoonful onto a greased baking sheet.  I also added a pinch of sugar and more heavy cream than it called for.
The result was a heavenly biscuit that softly crumbles into large chunks when you try to eat it and begs to be covered in honey, butter, or jam.  I was able to put my accidental butter on it and it was awesome.  The biscuits by themselves are homey and delicious, but perhaps a little dry until you get to the middle.  They seem perfect for breakfast, dinner, or an afternoon tea.  I've had them sitting on my counter for a day and already at least 8 are missing.

My Childhood

Saturday morning, vegging on food network.  Aarti pinched the meat between her chapati protected fingers.  Why is it so hard for chefs who have their own TV show to not be really annoying.  She pushed the bite into her mouth and pleasurably whined, "You guys!.....I'm seven years old all over again."

And, suddenly, so I am.

I'm sitting on the couch eating honey nut cheerios, sweet and crunchy, from my dad's star trek mug while watching the King and I.  I'm watching my church's pastor give the family mass homily as I eat unconsecrated eucharistic bread my mom had made extra of for me, the honey, whole wheat flat bread sticking to the roof of my mouth.  My hands are freezing as I rub the flakey ice off the outside of a plastic popsicle tube, melting the blue sugary liquid, the slurps looking like veins as they travel up the plastic.  I'm chewing waffles that I helped make, wincing with each fluffy bite in anticipation of egg shells, looking across the table to see my sister has swallowed her loose tooth.  There's a steaming baked potato in front of me, topped with steamed broccoli and melting cheddar cheese, dinner in one complete little combination.  I'm eating purple salty hard boiled eggs (no yolks, they taste like side walk chalk, believe me, I know) because the easter food coloring leaked through the cracks.  I feel sick to my stomach as I eat a tenth super-delicious, super-rich piece of my grandma's seven layer cookies.  My mouth fills with joy as I place the flakey pie crust filled with thick chocolate pudding into it.

Making Accidental Butter

The other day I was making a refrigerator cake, the easiest,  most delicious edible summer arts and crafts project of all time.  To make, you simply whip some heavy cream with a little vanilla and sugar.  You then take store bought chocolate wafer cookies and make stacks of sandwiched whipped cream and cookies.  You then lay all of the stacks next to each other and mortar them together into a large brick of whipped cream.  Wrap it up and put it in the fridge, and this blob of smothered cookies will magically become a cake in a few hours.

This perfect summer dessert is light and fresh and does not require you to turn on the oven, thus lighting your house on fire from the inescapable heat.  Turning your oven on in summer is a horrible, painful self-destructive thing to do.  Baking anytime during the day, while the sun is still out and hot, is suicide.  You can try to bake in the morning and catch the world before it warms up and leave your kitchen a sauna for the rest of the day.  You could attempt to bake at night, but by the time your house has cooled off enough for it to seem healthfully acceptable to heat it back up again, you will barely be able to stay awake through the clanking of the mixer, and it is highly unlikely that the timer will be able to penetrate your slumbering.  I'm mildly disappointed that my house does not have air conditioning thus making it okay to bake in summer, can you tell?

Anyway, the cookies become soggy and mesh with the whipped cream, creating a perfect striped slice of chocolatey sweetness.  So, once upon a few days ago I decided to make one.  It was a sloppy mess, trying to stack them.  Very finger-licking fun.  However, my whipped cream was behaving a little funny, it was a little runny and strange.  Before I frosted the outside of the stacks into a log, I decided to rewhip the whipped cream.  It was then that I realized what was wrong; It was over-whipped, not under whipped.  It began to clump and cling to the paddle of the mixer while the other half of it became a milky puddle in the bottom of the bowl.  I had to leave my refrigerator cake naked, but in return I got butter.  It was a fun surprise.  I put the cake in the fridge confident and right in knowing that it would still taste just as fantastic.

I was given this fantastic accidental butter, but it was not enough.  I added some sea salt and honey and then pulled out my secret weapon.  I have of late, but wherefore I know not, acquired some lavender sugar.  For the past year I have been trying to experiment with it in recipes, but with little success.  From lemonade to profiteroles, nothing has quite given this new and exciting ingredient any chance to highlight it's unique flavor, until now.

Honey lavender butter.  It is delicious.  A milder butter flavor than anything you could buy in the store, but the salt, lavender, and honey give it a perfect balance of flavors that are delicious on bread and toast (which are different?).  It has gone on top of so many biscuits, cookies, and banana bread that I'm becoming mildly distressed as my store of it is rapidly depleting from my fridge.

Move-In Soon

Today is officially the two week mark until move in.  I have a "preparing to survive the apocalypse" worthy stock pile of things to take.  Towels, bed sheets, trash cans, lamps, shower caddies, coat hangers, extension cords, and a bunch of other stuff I can't remember.   And that is only the stuff I've needed to acquire for college.  I have yet to pack any of my clothes, shower stuff, pens and pencils, and random desk knick-knacks.

I've received far too many sad looks from my parent's of recently, but it's been fun getting to point out to them that they'll soon be empty nesters (with me being the youngest).  I've been chatting a lot with one of my three roommates and it seems as though we have all of our group stuff, but there's also a bunch of things that you just to have to say "we'll see when we get there" because having four people in one normal sized dorm room makes it difficult to know how much space we'll have for things like drawers.

All of this has been very surreal.  It's a major life change for me, and as it gets closer and closer it seems like less and less of a reality.  I'm very excited and a pinch nervous, but for now all I can do is gather my stuff together.

Strawberry Heaven

I've had two giant things of strawberries sitting in my fridge ever since I had a barbecue/breakfast get together with some of my friends.  The two trays were at least two pounds, probably more, I don't remember and filled with average, perhaps a little overripe strawberries.  They had pock marks and some were smooshed up against the plastic in a goopy mess.  The bottoms were puckered with multiple seeds and were pale.  I finished off the last of them a day ago, blending them into a smoothie to hide the mushiness.

Given that, you can imagine my excitement when I came home yesterday to discover a gift from the strawberry gods sitting in my fridge.  It is a small pound of the most beautiful strawberries I have ever seen.  Each one is flawless and the most sumptuous shade of cardinal red.  They are not ginormously oversized, but petite and perfect for popping in your mouth.  They're shiny and begging to be photographed for a food magazine.  As Old Joe said in the movie Waitress they're "the way strawberry was always supposed to taste, but never knew how."  They're so fresh and ripe and sweet but tangy.  Absolutely heavenly.  Without a doubt, they will be gone by tomorrow, if not today.

Pudding

Pudding is awesome.  By far one of the most awesome foods of all time.  The cold ooziness is the perfect consistency for eating, slurping, fake chewing, and attempting to make a mushy, chocolatey film to stretch from lip to lip.

I have recently discovered that I do not get bouts of pudding cravings, as is the case with most foods and most people I assume.  But rather, I am in a constant state of pudding craving that I am simply more aware of in times of weakness or boredom.  As such, I often realize my craving at prime munchie time, half an hour before I want to go to bed.  I always find making pudding very therapeutic.  The constant stirring and thickness.  The lazy, boiling chocolate bubbles that are begging me to turn into a tiny dinosaur so I can stick, sink, and drown in their gooey goodness.

There is a minor flaw at starting to make pudding half an hour before you want to go to bed.  Pudding takes longer to make than you would originally suspect.  AND eating chocolate pudding warm is not entirely appealing, so you must wait for the pudding to set first.  Unfortunately, as your spooning the pudding into whatever container you will refrigerate it in, it will be impossible to resist and you will end up licking every ooze of the burning hot, tar-like (but much better tasting) substance.  Though it might burn your tongue, there is nothing like the hot fresh made pudding.  Still, it is impossible to beat the cold, skinned, properly set pudding.

So, anyway.  If you have no shame, no inhibitions, and no sense of what the word "normal" means, I strongly recommend attempting to eat pudding through a straw. It is a ridiculous amount of fun, super-suction power, and funny noises.  There should be a contest to see who can eat a portion of pudding through a straw fastest.  It would be about a two hour competition.  It's so amusing.

The Beat of the Eggs

This is a poem I wrote sophomore year in a creative writing class I took with the same super awesome English teacher as the AP  English classes I took in my last two years of high school.  We're buds. Anyway, the assignment was to pace the poem with it's context.  Hopefully, you'll get that just from reading it.  This poem was graded as "a super-duper A" and is still one of the creative writing works I am most proud of.

Cold

Fridge door

Cold

Awkward sphere

Carefully,

Carefully,

Tapping it on the counter.

Impatience

Banging it on the counter with a force that could have smashed it to pieces

Tugging to get two separate halves

No shell bits yet

Separate the sun from it's watery horizon

Dripping, 

Slowly,

Oozing,

Shifting the yoke from shell to shell

Then,

Waiting,

Waiting for the drip,

Find the mixer

Feel the power in your hand

A momentary thought of it's true potential

Rushed through my head

Plug it in

Set to four speed

Patience,

Patience.

Rotating the blue bowl,

Cautiously moving the mixer to get all the whites,

As the mixer beats

Whips

Whirls

Fluffs the whites into a cloud

Bumble, Buzz, and Bee Inspired

This was, or I guess still is, my college essay.  Enjoy!

            It was the first official Wednesday of fall, and it felt it.  Bundled up in a gray drama sweatshirt reading “Act Justly,” I closed the red door behind me and shuffled down the eroding brick stairs covered in mutilated acorn husks from the hungry squirrels’ gluttonous debauchery.  I paused halfway down to admire the handiwork of one of my favorite natural artists, an elegant spider displaying her expansive, dewy  web polka dotted and heavy with gutless mummified corpses, twenty-seven unfortunate victims in all.  Preparing to continue my descent, I was stopped again by a peculiar sound, the buzzing vibration of two candy wrapper wings fluttering against each other.  Turning, I encountered a fat and juicy, humming bumblebee, his thighs thick with yellow pollen like a very unflattering pair of leggings from our miraculously reblooming azalea bush.  I watched along, fascinated, as he bumbled on his way, hovering over each flower to find one untouched and going in for the landing, flailing his wings to steady himself as he scraped out the amber staple and unwillingly made the silence-shattering buzz.   He left the bush, hovered in front of my face, traced a doughnut around my curly head, and flew off to pay his golden taxes to his tyrannical queen; only after his departure did I notice the few other bees busily and noiselessly at work.

            Noticing their lack of buzz, I observed them closely and realized they also lacked bumble: they would land, gracefully and perfectly, on each flower, fold their wings behind their backs, and crawl across the petals, extracting the pollen carefully.  My attention was recaptured by a familiar hum, and I quickly sought out the flower my fuzzy friend had restarted his pollen picking on.  This time I studied him vigilantly for what seemed like an hour, though it couldn’t have been more than half a minute.  Having found a suitable source, he landed on the delicate wiry stamen and began beating his glossy wings furiously, fumbling to gather the pollen.  Once, twice, three times he fell out of the pinkish purple flowers, and three times he fell half a foot, making me flinch and gasp, before he painstakingly restarted his flying and returned to his post.  As he clung to the petal to rest his weary wings, I noticed a chunk of gossamer missing from his left wing.
            I was shamed by that bumblebee.  He worked hard, despite his shortcomings, to meet the standards of his fellow workers.  I have the potential to excel in all I do, and yet I often merely get by, procrastinating and slacking in any dull or difficult subjects.  I have challenged myself in classes I enjoy and subjects that come easily to me, but I usually brush off topics I find uninteresting as unimportant.  Yet here was this maimed bumblebee, scrounging for food for his family as best he could, which was still mediocre.
            And suddenly, a new layer of insight and understanding was revealed.  I was no longer a squished moth on the windshield of this bee’s life, but a passenger beside him.    This humble bee and I shared a love of creating and living food.  My academic successes no longer mattered, for I know how to cook, an art that seems to be dying out in this age of microwavable delectables.  What will knowing the laws of sine and cosine, the phases of mitosis, and the different mounds of the Mound Builders do for me if I am unable to feed myself?  How can a doctor measure her worth if she goes home to feed her children Chef Boyardee every night?  Isn’t it soul-crushing when people know of nothing better than Poptarts, Campbells canned soup, and Betty Crocker brownies from a box?  Is quality and flavor so far gone that we must stoop to these minimal levels of taste bud stimulation?  When will the future come, when we eat little vitamin-like tablets for nutrition and get on with our lives?  Or does the future hold in store beauty, art, and flavors unexplored and unimagined, waiting in some obscure cave in the recesses of genius?
            Mine does.

Super Purple Milk

Breakfast today turned into a mad scientist's experiment.  I tried to stay simple: cereal.  Special K is sadly the most exciting cereal residing in my pantry.  Though it is tasty and usually enjoyable, it can be boring and disheartening to eat.  Now, the easiest way to spice up cereal a little is by adding fruit.  It's cliché but it works.  Now, I love blueberries.  They're perfect for most anything, snacking, topping off ice cream, or putting in cereal.  I have an excellent relationship with blueberries.  Blueberries and I work well together.    However, I have an aversion to fruit, any fruit, that is old and mushy.  It makes me gag, and, unfortunately for the blueberries, they were old.  Old fruit is okay in smoothies or pies, but anytime eaten alone, we're not friends, old fruit and me.

So, I had a dilemma, eating bland cereal or gagging on one of my favorite fruits.  Neither was an acceptable choice in my eyes so I thought of the only other way to fix my cereal.  If I can't fix the cereal itself and I can't add something to the cereal to make it better, why not add something to the milk.  Having made coco krispies from regular rice krispies and chocolate milk before, the idea of making blueberry milk for my cereal was enthralling.  I put nearly an entire package of blueberries in a small pot on the stove with a tiny bit of water.  I waited for them to get shiny and redish and then smooshed them, much to my easily amusedness, with the back of a wooden spoon.  I added a little honey and then strained the liquid from my pulpy mixture, saving the pulp to mix into vanilla yogurt later, another perfect use for blueberries.  Then, I began to prepare to make a normal bowl of cereal but pouring the milk in first.  I poured a dab of my purpley syrup in and sipped.  Not quite flavored enough.  I dolloped a few spoonfuls in.  Getting better but still not quite there.  I poured every drop of the blueberry concoction into my milk and wound up with this:

Needless to say I was ecstatic.  My mouth loved the flavor, though my mind couldn't quite comprehend what I was eating.  It didn't know what to do with the bizarre "food" it saw in front of it but my taste buds knew it was colorfully delicious!

What's in Store for this Blog

So Readers, as previously stated I have unfortunately been assigned to serve my academic trimester before I get to go galavanting off, swirling chocolates and whipping cream, wapish.  That was a whip noise.  Kind of.  Anyway, you may be asking "But how can this blog be about learning to be a chef for the next four months if you're not taking any culinary classes?"  Truth is, it can't, but it can still be about food.  So, until my second trimester when I get to start my classes to complete my Baking and Pastry Arts major I will be blogging about my experiences with food, possibly some of my previously written creative writing pieces about food, and my humble opinions on some of the Food Network shows that I watch.

I can't wait to start really blogging about my actual culinary classes and the experiences of learning to become a chef, but until then, Enjoy.

Orientation: Day Two

So, we needed to be ready to start the day at 6:45, which is ridiculous enough as a teenager, but as someone who is sick and needs sleep, it was downright awful.  Seeing as how I was still unable to fall back asleep at 5:30 and my alarm was set for 6, I took a shower then and was able to enjoy a long, hot, quiet shower without having to worry about my roommates morning routines.  I went to the caf and ate average tasting fruit salad and strange tasting apple juice.  Perhaps the repeated taking of gross tasting cough medicine and cough drops had permanently damaged my taste buds.  That would be awful!

It was a long, tired day of being talked at and needlessly swimming through the humidity from assembly room to assembly room.  We got to choose workshops to sit through giving  information about sports or clubs or service opportunities etc.  It was in the seminar on how to use the university's website that I found out that, as an honors student, my first trimester would be academic, not culinary classes.  So, any real culinary blogging will be postponed even further.

Anyway, we then had a closing speech from some person and they showed "a secret surprise" that was made of the "secret pictures" and "secret video" they had taken of us during our orientation.  If we had actually had more time to have fun and bond with the people, it could have been really nice.  Instead, it was just mildly weird and rather awkward.  Then, there was a cookout.  For a culinary school, the food was only okay.  We took dessert in the car and headed out.

So, yeah.  It was good not great.  A way to know people and make friends before move in and get the awkwardness of first introductions out of the way, but that's about it.

Orientation: Day One

So, orientation was good not great.  It was awkward and full of strangers and a bagillion degrees of stifling hotness, and even though I met quite a lot of people, I wasn't really able to find a crowd to stick with for the whole thing, at least not in my group of purple people. I never realized until now how much danger we were in from the one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater.  Well anyway, everyone in my group survived.

I got there with a small suitcase and snoopy pillow filled with sudoku books, sock monkeys, and my laptop. It was a sea of check-in lines, excited parents, and exhausted teenagers, most of which, myself included, were honors students.  We had our pictures taken and our student ID's were made which was pretty awesome because our ID's are our ticket to our entire college.  They are how you get in and out of buildings, how you buy food, and how you have guests over to your dorm.  It was an enthralling moment ruined by underwhelmed reactions from the other orienteers.

From there we were crowded into buses and sent from the harborside campus, where the culinary students live and learn, down to the downcity campus, where the business students do their business, which is where we were all going to sleep.  On the bus we were filling out a survey, and stupid girls were like "Am I going to drink at college?  Heck yes, who would put no to that."  I answered No.  And then I made a mental mugshot of them both. If you didn't know already, I am not a partier.  So, don't be reading this blog thinking its all about partying just because I'm now a college student.  This blog's main topic should be, will be, is? Food.  Also, my college is a dry campus, but that doesn't really mean anything to stupid people who don't understand what that means.

We dropped off all of our stuff, I had one roommate who seemed very nice, and then our schedule said we were going to have breakfast.  On the way out we passed a table of muffins and bagels, and I thought, "This is a culinary school, so their real breakfast will be awesome.  I'm gonna wait for that."  However, that was breakfast so I started my day on zero fuel except for some apple juice.  We smooshed back into our air conditioned buses and were sent to be talked at and given placement exams, which were not as bad as they sound except that my throat was HATING us going from hot and humid to dry and cold and decided once everybody started taking their test and being really quiet, THAT was when it should tickle and make me cough super loud.  I did pretty well in both the math and english section, so I was made to write an essay, which I do not mind because I had an awesome english teacher in high school and I really enjoy writing and having opinions and stuff.  Only problem was this essay was graded by a computer.  I don't understand that; my brain can not process how a computer can accurately score such a unique, complex thing.  I scored one less point than needed to move out of an intro english class and I can't help but blame the computer for not being human enough.

We were all stuck in a couple of rooms to wait for a meeting with our academic advisor and get uniform fittings.  As a culinary school we must all wear uniforms, something that I've been doing for the past 13 years of my schooling.  They're pretty strict about it because they want to make sure we know to be respectful, put together, and clean when in the kitchen.  It makes a lot of sense, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.  I was shocked and excited to find I was a small shirt and extra small pants, having thought I was medium in both.  I suppose I am rather short and petite.

Then, we were all late for our fancy honors student / parent luncheon.  So we all had to power walk to buses and then through this really nice hotel into a normal sized elevator, but we were squishing fifteen people into it in order to have less trips for the other students.  It was on the seventeenth floor and all seventeen floors were awkwardly uncomfortable to ride through.  Being late, very few of us actually got to sit with our parents at the student / parent luncheon.  Luckily, I had found a friend, a mousy girl who did crew for her drama club in high school, much like me.  We had turkey sandwiches on croissants, a very tasty tortellini salad in a sort of pesto, and for dessert a chocolate mousse that was so light and fluffy, it could have been chocolate air, and it was bowled in a fancy milk and white chocolate flower.

From there, we were moved and talk at again by the Dean of the culinary school.  He seemed super nice and really funny, and, as my parents pointed out later, he seems like a good person to get to know and become friends with for college.  After that we all went outside and played a few games to pass the time.  One was called bang bang and involved shooting each other by saying "bang bang bang..." until you ran out of breath.  Then we played a game that was surprisingly a lot of fun called catch and release where everyone puts up their left hand like they're holding a platter and then points their right hand into your neighbors left hand.  The person in charge then yells "Go!" and everyone tries to catch their neighbors finger with their left hand while trying not to get caught by their other neighbor.  It was very fun.

Finally, we split into our groups and had some ice breakers:  "I'm Sam and I'm bringing Salad to our picnic.  That's Christina and she's bringing Cupcakes..."  Then, we hung out in our rooms until it was our turn to have dinner, which is when I found out I had another roommate.  We played spit and listened to music.  It was jolly good fun.  Then, it was time for dinner so I went outside to wait for the rest of my group but no other purple people were there.  Not even the orientation leaders.  I feared that they had been devoured by the previously mentioned monster.  So I waited for fifteen  minutes talking with some other orienteers, and then I panicked thinking I would not be able to eat dinner and would starve in my bed tonight.  However, I went over to the dining hall and was let in by some student who was eating and found my mousy friend who was sitting with some other people from her highlighter yellow group, and I was able to eat something.  Afterwards we went outside to sit on the grass and talk, and I flail when I talk and had to explain myself.  I talk with my hands and am very expressive and dramatic, so I may have freaked quite a lot of people out.

Then we went back to the big field we had played games on after talking to the Dean and played more games and a few people from each group shared any special talents they had.  One girl from our group could blow bubbles off of her tongue, very little ones that would float down heavily and pop very fast, but still it was awesome.  I was impressed.  Then, we all went inside to hang out.  You could go into a room with no lights and have your eardrums blown out and possibly end up "dancing" with a total stranger, you could watch some movie with Adam Sandler therefore deeming it a stupid movie, you could play basketball or volleyball in the auditorium which would only highlight my lack of athleticism, or you could play pool and air hockey which was AWESOME!  I love pool.  I played a couple of games with two other girls with us versing three guys.  It was very fun and there was lots of playful teasing and competition.  It was the best part of all of orientation.

I went back to our room on the earlier bus with a pint of Phish Food ice cream and a new friend.  We went back to my room and watch youtube videos and played card games.  Her roommates were the stupid girls from the bus who were planing on having a huge party in their room though she was not a partier.  So I made sure she was welcome in our dorm.  I went to sleep fairly early, leaving my other roommates a note about not worrying about waking me up.  I woke up at around three, coughing and sneezing.  I camped out in the bathroom for a bit, but we had no tissues or toilet paper or trash can, so it was very difficult to blow my nose.  I took more cough syrup and then felt bad for my roommate (our other roommate was still out, she knew people and wound up sleeping in their room) and went outside to play sudoku in the hallway and wake everyone else up on the floor.

Day Two later this week

Pre-Orientation

So, woke up this morning like a dying sea monster, flopping, hacking, and altogether being way too loud for the morning I was not yet fully awake for.  In all honesty, I did not feel better and was able to vocalize this in coughs.  As if things could be more miserable than waking up at 6 am to the sound of my own coughing, my body decided that it was time to yell at me in semi-selfloathing about how I'm perfectly physically capable to have a baby, so why didn't I.  In other words, I got "my friend,"  Mother nature "gave me a gift," or as a friend once phrased in sixth grade note passings "I've got my . "

But I will not let this ruin my day.  With any luck I will be able to convince my parents to stop at Dunkin' Donuts on the way there because I have no idea how to prepare my own coffee, at least not in a way that will let it taste good.  I'm sure today will be lots of fun if very cherry cough drop flavored.  I just hope, for my roommates sake, the coughing doesn't last all day.

First Post Ever: Getting Ready for Orientation!

Hello!

So, this is my blog, I suppose.  It was my dad's idea that I should be like "Hey Food Network, want to stalk me through college and call it the Making of a Food Network Star, and it'll be awesome!"  We'll see.  So yes, I am an almost average 17 year old about to head to college after 11 years of catholic school, but now my adventure takes a turn for the better as I enter culinary school as a Baking and Pastry Arts Major.  My sweet tooth has finally amounted to something.  I know how to make almond buttercrunch, my favorite candy.  With any luck, I will learn much more come September, like how to actually decorate a cake (one of my few self taught culinary skills I am ashamed of).

Anyway, orientation is tomorrow and I'm bursting with excitement and mucus from a week long cold I've had that has left me sounding "like a dying walrus" according to my family.  On the mend though, and hopefully feeling and sounding better by tomorrow.  Now, it is time for bed, so I can be well rested for friend-making tomorrow.