through the anthroscope

do you yelp?

chronically check-in online everywhere you go?

are you the virtual mayor of a building you drove by?

 

this might be (for) you:

there's been a lot of humor clips like these going around recently.

i've lost count of how often this clip has shown up on my fb news feed:

while the overt intent of these videos is to amuse and entertain, there's a greater underlying message being conveyed.

as our virtual interactions have grown, so, too, have our perceptions of real world experiences and the ways in which we express and comment on these encounters.

these videos are a commentary on the conflicting transient and enduring aspects of online reviews: reviews are snapshots of a singular experience. often they are written and then forgotten. and yet, these stories remain available to the public and can influence future decisions.

food lends itself well to this commentary because food, in its own nature, is both lasting and ephemeral. 

we remember past meals, dishes loved and dishes detested. 

many life events can be recalled or related to what was consumed. (or, alternatively, what was not consumed.)

conversely, eating is an impermanent action: the actual action itself is short-lived and though basic bodily needs require regular consumption, the meals themselves are not necessarily remembered. 

from this, it seems possible to consider that the above clips (and the one below - you've kept reading so far, it only seems fair to give you another) are not just observations of the digital food dialogue, but they are also commentaries on food and remembrance.  

why do we remember certain food experiences and not others?

what inspires us to try (or not) new food experiences?

and, importantly, what compels us to share these experiences with others?

all of this is just me hypothesizing, though.

after all, i don't have a yelp or a chowhound or whatnot account (and i'm too lazy to get one), so all i can give you is an outsider's perspective.

oh, and there's still coffee in my cup.

and now, for listening to me ramble:

that's not really a reward, is it?

i'm sorry.

cooking breakfast pasta with the second lieutenant

if you've already read today's books blog post, then you'll know i'm waiting for my building maintenance to come around to fix stuff and be all maintenance-y. (that's a technical term there.)

while i'm waiting, i've inserted my intravenous coffee drip and am seeing what work i can get done that isn't too involved. (though, if maintenance doesn't hurry up, i'm going to have to say screw it and go back to researching the dutch south african spice trade.)

so, anyway, i've been going through all my files, straightening up and what not, lo and behold, i found something. 

something i should have posted a long time ago. 

something that is totally going to make kb's day.

you see, before i moved to boston for grad school, kb and i got together one night and made dinner. 

it was an "or whatever" breakfast pasta dinner. 

nothing special.

just our regular ridiculous food and anthropology humor, wine, and general nonsense. 

hijinks.

well, those hijinks include a pictoral recipe, featuring the cactus garden's unofficial mascot chef: the second lieutenant. 

i know, i know.

i'm a horrible person and all that for not sharing this with all of you sooner. 

apologies and here, at long last, is the infamous breakfast pasta:

normally breakfast pasta is just pasta with a simple tomato sauce and a fried egg. 

when we made this that night, though, we decided to sauté up some onion and peppers to go with.

it was a bold and daring move. 

also, if you can't tell from those photos, kb doesn't have butter. 

she has some weird solid vegetable oil.

yeah, i don't get it, either.

pasta water.

i don't know why i'm bothering to explain these photos, actually.

pasta is pasta.

it doesn't need instructions.

we're all just looking at the pictures to see the second lieutenant, anyway.

there you go. 

pasta sauce cooking.

whatever.

here's where things got ridiculous, though. 

remember kb's makin' bacon salt and pepper shakers?

yeah, so this awkwardness happened:

don't ask. 

it was late.

we were tired and hungry.

and we were sad that i was leaving.

whatever.

i guess the cactus garden might have just lost it's pg rating.

maybe? maybe not

eh, it's whatever.

anyway, back to the food.

this was a very "chicken and the egg" moment.

c'est finis. 

p.s. here's a behind the scenes look at the photoshoot:

some people use cranes or stepladders or boxes to get their actors in the frame.

we use tape and popsicle sticks. 

grad school outtakes

i have a confession to make.

my professors will never be allowed to read the firsts drafts of my papers (unless, i guess, if they read this post. whatever. you know what i meant).

the first drafts of my paper are never exactly... appropriate. 

don't believe me?

no lie, last semester i started a paper with "once upon a time there was a country named bolivia."

yeah, that really happened.

and sure, that epic first sentence didn't last to the final draft, but sometimes when you're fighting writer's block, you do what you have to do.

nonsense saves lives. and sometimes grades.

these past few days, though... it got bad. 

really.

it did.

i have a few choice clips to prove it. 

this is why i should not try to write papers about food and religion at 2 am:

judaism even includes a history of the cultivation of the vineyard within the torah. after the flood, noah plants a vineyard and miraculously figures out winemaking. after fermenting the grapes, noah drinks the wine, doesn’t have a wingman, and gets drunk and essentially creates the first (one-man) rave in his tent. when his son walks in on him drunk and naked, noah gets embarrassed and god gets all pissed off. the lesson jews learn from all of this is that while wine is pretty great, don’t get too drunk. or if you do, at least lock the door to your tent.

the passover seder links back to the greek symposiums, in which people would get together, drink, eat lots of food, and shoot the breeze. 

during communion, as worshipers sip the wine, the wine transformers into the blood of jesus. it is interesting to consider this ideology in comparison with islamic and jewish taboos, where the consumption of blood is considered to be unclean. the consumption of the wine in this case is not considered to be a form of vampirism, but a way in which spirituality is confirmed and reestablished. 

hierarchy of foods are present in several of the torah's stories. in the story of cain and abel, the brothers duke it out over agricultural goods. later, jacob and esau throw down some serious shit with some mutton stew – which probably wasn’t much unlike the stuff we made in class, only i bet they let it boil long enough for the fat to actually break down. 

from all of this, though, we can wonder what really makes a food religious or moral or blah. in both judaism and in the ancient greek traditions, the point of the sacrifice was not just for the perceived actions of being religious, but also because the smell of roasting meat pleased the god/gods. sacrifices are weird.

see?

not exactly academic work. 

admit it, though. papers like this would be a lot more fun to read.

through the anthroscope

dancing a dissertation.

Dance your PhD 2011: A study of social interactivity using pigeon courtship from Emma Ware on Vimeo.

awesomeness.

you can see more here.

and now that we've had that quick break, i need to get back work on my annotated bibliography.

which, sadly, does not include marimbas or didjeridoos. 

or whatever bruschetta

seriously seriously, this post has gone through a lot of draft version names. 

names like: "in the cactus garden kitchen."

or: "eh, who needs measurements?"

even: "not m.f.k.f. monday."

the truth is, my cooking/kitchen style is really "or whatever."

don't have an ingredient? whatever.

that pie crust didn't turn out the way you inspected? whatever.

feel like measuring out all of your spices in your hand instead of using measuring spoons? whatever.

it's all fine by me.

cooking in the cactus garden kitchen often uses large doses of "or whatever," which isn't a bad thing. 

it can actually be pretty exciting. and tasty.

so, with that in mind, let's "or whatever" something up. 

yesterday kb's older sister, kb the elder, had an open house/birthday party and we totally or-whatevered-up some bruschetta.

for our or whatever bruschetta, we generally use:

a whole container of grape tomatoes

a lot basil

too much fresh garlic (in a pinch you can use powdered)

some glugs of olive oil

a few splashes of balsamic vinegar (clear or dark or whatever is fine)

to taste sea salt 

slice up the tomatoes however you like slicing them.

we diced ours into fourths here.

slice your basil.

if you roll your basil up before you slice it, you can get nice, even cut.

that slicing technique is called a chiffonade. (did i spell that correctly? eh, whatever.)

anyway, yeah. chiffonade the basil.

if you get bored easily, like me, you can always just mash slice (that's a technical term) the basil up.*

get your garlic out and pick out too many cloves to mince.

if you're having problems getting the peel off of the garlic, you can always smash the clove with the flat of your chef's knife or the bottom of a cup to get it out.

toss the tomatoes, garlic, and basil together in a bowl and your olive oil, vinegar, and salt.

stir it all together, taste, and admire your awesome handiwork. 

serve with something.

like bread.

or toss with chicken and pasta. 

or add to a sandwich. 

or whatever. 

*the second lieutenant, the cactus garden's sous chef, was not harmed during the making of this recipe.

see? proof: