Moist? Ewww!

The word "moist" is one of the few words that most people have an averse reaction to. It elicits feelings of ickiness, and I find no need to mention it here, but we all know what image "moist" brings about. Don't quote me on this, but I think it actually makes the list of most hated words. (Who is compiling these lists, anyway?) Personally, I also feel bothered by "moistness", but oddly enough, its the lack of moistness that bothers me. Gross, right?

Not really, because if you know me at all personally, you'd know that this probably will end up having to do with food. I believe the only usage of the word "moist" that doesn't gross people out is when its referring to the "moistness" of a dessert, say, of cake. In that case, a moistness is an absolute must.

Turns out that for much of cuisine other than dessert and pastry, dryness, or the lack of moisture (to not gross you out too much with overuse of the word), is a big issue. How often have you had a mac and cheese that is actually, well, exactly that--macaroni and cheese--practically separate entities. Ideally, one would want something like that made at Beechers Cheese Shop in Seattle. (Refer to image) If I need to explain to you why that mac and cheese is preferable to a drier sort, then you're probably reading the wrong blog, and you probably aren't my friend.

I feel like much of my baking and culinary adventures are stemmed from the desire to find recipes that don't have this problem of dryness. So, if you catch me obsessing about the moistness of a cake, just remember, I'm one of the rare people who actually like the word "moist".

Images: Jamie, mybakingaddiction.com
macandcheesechick.com

Carrot Cake Cookies

I love carrot cake, mostly because of the cream cheese frosting, but lately, I've been less excited about cupcakes so I decided to try these Carrot Cake Cookies. They're meant to be carrot cake cookie sandwiches with the CC frosting in the middle but when I made, them, the sandwich seemed a little heavy for the midmorning snack that I served them as at the UW Astronomy department. So I served them as cookies with frosting, as shown in the picture.

The recipe is as follows:

1 cup + 2 tbsp all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, softened

1/3 cup plus 2 tbsp packed light brown sugar

1/3 cup plus 2 tbsp granulated sugar

1 large egg

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup coarsely grated carrots (2 medium)

1 scant cup walnuts (3 oz), chopped

1/2 cup raisins (optional)

Butter a cookie sheet and preheat oven to 375 degrees. Mix the flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt in a small mixing bowl. Mix the butter and sugar with an electric mixer until fluffy. Add the egg and vanilla and continue to mix until fluffy. Add the carrots, walnuts, and raisins and mix slowly, using a spatula. Add the half the flour mixture, and fold into batter. Add the rest of the flour mixture and fold until just combined. Place small rounds of the batter onto the baking sheet and bake for 12-18 minutes (depending on your oven). More than minutes though it's better to gauge the cookies by them being spongy to the touch. They should bounce back to their original shape when lightly touched. Cool on the pan for 1 minute and then transfer to a rack to cool completely. Serve with cream cheese frosting.

The 7 Year Itch

I've had this thought recently ... about how the few foods that I used to say I didn't like, I've recently started liking. My list used to consist of: bell pepper, black pepper, honey, and dill. Yes, that is probably the only things I didn't used to like when it comes to food. Recently, (well, in the past 3 years), I've grown to like bell pepper, black pepper and honey too (as long as it's high quality). My dad always says that what you don't hate, you'll grow to love, especially when it comes to food. That's why as kids, they always forced us to try foods that we really didn't like, just to introduce us to the taste so that later in life, we'll miss those tastes. This really is true because I used to hate baingan (eggplant) bharta and it's one of my favorite dishes now.

They also say that food tastes change every 7 years ... well, seeing as though they also say that if you get past year 7 of your marriage, chances are it'll last, maybe all our tastes change every 7 years ;-). I don't really know if my food tastes will continue to change because I really wonder, "I like everything now, does that mean I'll stop liking certain things?" Oh right ... I hate dill, let's see if that ever changes.

As Judgement Day Approaches ...

If only I had more to write about so that my posts weren't every couple months....but hey, the grad school life isn't the most happening.

I've been studying for my qualifying exam for about 3 months now ... it's been such a weird experience really. Last year, I had heard horrifying stories about the studying process and was upset at the prospect of becoming the worst person I could ever be due to the stress. I don't think I ever wanna see how horrible of a person I can get. Luckily, I'd like to believe that didn't happen (for a more honest assessment of this, see Rachana), but it's definitely had it's affect on me. I studied last year, which I realize now to be a decent amount of studying, but enjoyed the process because it was my choice to do it. This time around, the fear of failing the exam has added a level of stress that has made the process not as enjoyable. It's made me realize that I don't like to do things when I'm told to do them, and want to do them on my own accord.

I almost had a panic attack the other day, and then the prospect of having a panic attack also freaked me out ... because I thought, "Vaishali, you don't stress out...what's going on!?!" It happened right before a final exam and made me realize how important it is to be confident going into an exam. As I sat there with the exam, somehow every question made no sense at all, all of a sudden. Only after I forced myself to calm down and sit back did everything start making sense. Realization from that experience -- I better be calm and composed on the day of the qual.

Which gets me to the dilemma -- how do you walk into a test like that, confident? I'd like to walk in thinking, "I know everything. I'm gonna rock this." We've been told that the amount we know right now is the most we'll ever know about astronomy as a whole (later, we'll be smarter in our own particular fields). Too bad none of us feel that smart. Personally, I'm not afraid of failing really (this will be a funny post to read later if I do fail), but I want to do really well on the exam because it's the last exam I'll ever take. Looking back, I feel that in my life whenever I have had a big exam that is really important for my future, I never put enough time and energy into it. I feel like this is the last time to prove to myself that I can study really hard and kick ass on an exam.

Anyway, we'll see how it goes. And as I have learned....when in doubt, conserve energy!! (I'd love to know which one of you all caught that reference.)

A year...A Recap

It's surprising that in a whole year of grad school, I only managed to write 2 entries. Shame on me. But I guess I shouldn't force entries because then they'll just be boring.

Anyway, the summer after my first year of grad school is coming to a close and I realize how much I've grown in the past year. I'm writing a personal essay for the National Science Foundation (NSF) Fellowship and am to write about what personal and academic reasons have led me to pursue astronomy. I applied for this fellowship my senior year and remember not having any idea about why I liked astronomy and how to even begin writing this essay. This time around, this task is much easier due to a combination of my experience in grad school and this past summer, working in Berkeley and New Mexico.

When I entered grad school, just like every other astronomy student, I wanted to do extragalactic astronomy (studying galaxies outside of our own). I thought that this was a big decision, and that I was ahead of the game--I knew I didn't like planetary or stellar astronomy. Little did I know that...well...little did I know. Being thrown in an environment where I attended classes, talks, and read numerous papers on various subjects, I realized how much there was within not only astronomy, but within extragalactic astronomy. Saying that I wanted to study extragalactic astronomy all of a sudden became so vague. There were so many directions I could take to study other galaxies. It all has been so interesting to me that I've started worrying that my thesis topic is to be decided by next year. My dad says that "this is a nice problem to have" in that many people can't find anything interesting and I'm finding too many things interesting. I agree. It also gives me hope that whatever decision I do make, will not be a wrong one.

If anyone has ever talked to me, they know that I have this irrational fondness (for lack of better words) for my first boss from Berkeley -- David Schlegel. So, when he asked me if I wanted to work for him this summer, I, of course, said yes. I had no idea what I'd be working on but it didn't matter because I knew it would be a great experience and David was the type of boss to expect a lot out of you but also make you feel great about your small accomplishments. Without too much gory detail, I've been working on getting a telescope up and running. Because of the time constrains, I've been forced to work in a lot of different fields, learning so much on the way. But if there's something I can take back from this summer other than science, it's a new level of confidence. I started the summer begging David not to force me to send one of my figures to the mailing list because I was scared I would sound dumb or that my figure would be wrong somehow. 2 months later, I'm not only sending emails out to the mailing list without thinking twice, but I'm delegating work to other people! Fine, probably most of you who are reading this are like, 'um, that's what it is to have a job', but I've always been really intimidated by astronomers. But I guess telling a badass astronomer that he looks like Austin Powers and getting him to say "Yeah baby, yeah" may have changed my perspective :-).

Kickstarting the Blog

I find it fitting that I decided to have my next post be today, when I'm again, teaching gravity to a new group of students. Needless to say, the teaching process has become a lot easier, although I'm pretty sick of students trying to push their luck with turning in assignments late or making excuses that they were sick and thus, were unable to make it to class.

It's very interesting being on this side of the academic process. I think back to when I was an undergraduate taking classes for requirement and I actually do sympathize with slacking off. Personally, I was guilty of putting in zero effort in requirement classes, while working extremely hard in those that I needed for my major. The difference though, between me and these students, is that I never expected the TA or professor to cut me some slack because I decided to skip my 8:30 a.m. section. I believe that by that age, we are not in school because we have to be, like in high school, but are there by choice. Thus, if I made the choice to party the night before and not make it to a quiz section, I don't expect the TA to allow me to retake the quiz.

Antara has convinced me that I should restart my blog and I thought that I probably had nothing to say, but let's not kid ourselves, it's me ... I always have something to say.

A fresh start...

To a certain extent, it hasn't hit me that I'm in grad school yet, or what exactly that implies. I had about a 2 minute window in which it hit me that I'd be living in Seattle for 6 years and it was a bit panicking. And now again, I still don't really believe that this will be my home for the majority of my twenties.

Day 1 was near and it seemed like the Astro dept really wanted to throw me head first into the world of grad school. My first commitment as a student was to be teacher's assistant (TA) for a class on planets. Being a TA entails heading up a quiz section twice a week, assigning homework, leading lab exercises, and that sort of thing. It really isn't just a review of what the professor has taught, but includes teaching new material. The first day was meant to be just an introduction in which I went over the syllabus I created for my section and tried to claim my authority over my students by saying things like, "I don't accept late work." The fear of this first section was not about teaching itself, but of standing in front of 25 students as an authoritative figure. Although my first section had to have known I was really nervous, by the second section (I teach two sections every Monday and Wednesday morning), I was a lot more confident and comfortable. On the other hand, in terms of showing them I was knowledgeable and deserving of the TA title, things didn't run as smoothly.

I took them on a "Planet Walk" where I show relative sizes and distances of the planets in the solar system. As I was going to the next planet after Venus (starting at the Sun), I stated, "Next, we will go to Mars." One of the students then responded with, "Isn't the next planet Earth? You know, the third rock from the sun." I don't even know the order of the planets. Great.

After this shaky start, the next hurdle to overcome was my first attempt to teach concepts clearly. The first lesson was on gravity, using an equation to figure out how the gravity on a planet or moon would change if you changed the mass or radius of the object. I lectured on the topic for about 10 minutes, and at the end asked, "Makes sense, right?" Everyone stared at me, dumbfounded, wondering what I had just blabbed about. To my credit, these students don't know how to divide fractions, so it may not be entirely my fault.

They say the first two weeks of grad school are the worst time in your life. For me, that hasn't been the case at all. Living with a friend who knows me from before is a huge factor in this but also, I think the decision to come to UW was the right decision. I feel a sense of belonging and comfort with the people in the department already, within a month of school starting. Usually the first couple months are the hardest when you move to a new place, but I've been here just over a month and am loving it!!

Better Safe Than Sorry

I keep wondering why I'm not writing these days, and wonder if it's because there's nothing to talk about. To a certain extent that's true because nothing particularly epic has occurred, but I am having a lot of fun. It's less than one month until I come back to America so I'm just enjoying the free time I have and the time I have left with the Mertners.

Then there's also the stress of the imminent final. I don't know if I wrote about it, so I'll tell you what it consists of.

It's a 6 hour final in which we have to make 5 different things. 1) Sable Biscuits 2) Brioche 3) Sugar Sculpture 4) Chocolate truffles and 5) 2 Identical plated desserts. Basically, 6 hours is not enough for all that, which is bad because I'm slower than the average student. But, let's talk about number 5. Plated desserts mean you have an individual portion of some dessert that is decorated with sauces and either sugar or chocolate decoration so that it is something that would be served at a really nice restaurant. We aren't given a recipe for it, but have to come up with combination ourselves. We are, however, given a list of ingredients we can use but the rest is up to us. It must look good, taste good, have a good balance of flavors and textures, and the two plates must look identical. I've decided to do a chocolate tart base with a layer of raspberries and a chocolate mousse on top, plated with a raspberry coulis and creme anglaise, decorated with chocolate curls. Now this might sound yummy to you, and it probably will be, but this is so basic that I really hope it'll get me a passing grade. Everyone I know is doing something a lot more complex, so I'm not sure how this will work out. But in general in pastry school, I've always opted to go for the simpler way. For example, when decorating a plate, I will have a simple design that looks nice but not mindblowing versus a complex design that would probably just come out looking like a mess. If they're grading on the marrying of flavors and textures, and presentation, my plan should work. Anyhow, I'd rather be safe than sorry.

Reactor Malfunction

I've always been the weird one when it comes to music I like and thus, have always wanted to go to a Juno Reactor concert. Clearly, no one knows who that is so I'll just explain them by saying that they did the Matrix trilogy soundtracks. Last time I tried to go to their concert in the US, it got cancelled because no one knows them there and they have no fan following. So I was ridiculously excited about the fact that they were playing here in London while I was here.

I had convinced Mamta didi to come with me cuz she's into the same music and was figuring out how to meet up for the concert since I had class late that night. I looked it up finally and realized that the "concert" started at 10 p.m. and ended at...... 7 a.m.!! I would be ready to be there until 2 a.m. but obviously, Juno Reactor wouldn't come on stage until at leastttt 1 a.m., probably later. Then there's the fact that even if it was a normally timed concert, only weird druggy people like this type of music. So the fact was, that if I went to this concert, it would just be a lot of drugged out people and I would wait and wait until Juno Reactor came out.

What's weird is that I decided that I didn't want to go at all. I don't think I could handle druggies and wouldn't appreciate the music when I was surrounded by people I didn't feel comfortable around. But what makes me feel like crap is I really love their music and I realize that I'll never be able to see them live, by my OWN decision. I don't know why I find this to be a big deal but somehow I do. Mamta didi just finds it hilarious that we both are such losers and can't handle late nights. Makes sense for her since she's almost 20 years older than me, but what is wrong with me?!?

Why I will never be a pastry chef...

Let's talk about my worst day since I've come to study at Cordon Bleu.

It all started when I was assigned to be the assistant who transports all the needed ingredients for the day from the pantry to our kitchen. Because I spent so much time setting up, I got off to a late start. I was hurrying to keep up as I was the last one to get each part of the cake done, of which there were 5. First, a sponge cake which we would make a 60 x 40 cm sheet of, yet only use
a thin strip of 60 x 3 cm. Then there was another crunchier coconut sponge cake. Then two mousses -- passion fruit & raspberry. Then the raspberry glaze to top it off.

The chef that was overseeing us had only worked with us in one other practical, in which I had a minor mishap and so he already thought of me as the straggler of the group. So seeing me struggle to get everything done no doubt solidified his notion. Just as I was catching up to everyone, I went to put the almost finished cake (just the glaze needed to be poured on), in the freezer to allow the mousse to set. As I bent down to put my cake and a fellow student's cake in the freezer, the tray tilted and a cake slipped off the edge and fell to the ground. At first thought, I was somewhat relieved that it was my cake, but then realized that I had dropped another student's cake! In my sudden panic at how I would tell the girl that I dropped her cake, tears weld up in my eyes. I told her the news and after seeing how I looked, visibly upset about it, she was really nice and said "Don't worry. Things like this happen." As I cleaned the cake off the floor, I shed a couple tears and then got it together to help her redo the cake.

The chef was not present when I dropped the cake and a student went to inform him what had occurred. They were all the way across the room, but I heard the student answer when asked who did it, "Vaishali." I turned around when I heard my name and saw the look on the chef's face. It was an "oh...figures" type of look. I just wanted to run out of the room at that point.

After the initial panic, all I really could say to myself was, "Thank god I plan to be an astrophysicist and not a pastry chef."

Daft Punk -- the only worthwhile contribution.

The first time I realized that I liked London better than Paris was when I was on the Tube in London for the first time since I'd moved to Paris. I hadn't talked to anyone since I landed in London, so it wasn't the simplicity of using English to communicate, but something else that made me feel more comfortable in London. I realized much later that the reason I had this thought in the Tube was because my experiences in the Paris Metro are a good telling of my experiences in Paris as a whole.

I had always noticed that people looked at me in the Metro, but it never really bothered me. This was probably because I was initially looking at people too, being in a new city with new fashions to digest :-). But after a while, it's just odd that everyone is staring at me. Today, I was sitting in the train and a girl was staring at me throughout all 8 stops we were on the train together. Every time I looked in her direction, I'd catch her looking at me. And when I did, she wouldn't even smile to acknowledge my presence. Which brings me to point number 2. Oh before I get to that, Parisians don't like their gym clothes. They also don't like working out. I get stared at even more (if that was even possible) in the Metro in my gym clothes. Even when jogging on the street in them, people stop to see the girl running in Paris. Apparently, skinny French girls don't go running to keep their figures.

Although I sit here complaining about people staring at me, I've done a decent amount of people watching myself. Other than the fact that every French girl is skinny, they also never smile. As in, I really don't think I've ever seen a French girl smile. Maybe it's justified to not smile alone in the train (although I definitely do smile to myself), but even when they're with their significant other, being unnecessarily romantic, I still haven't caught them smiling!

I think this bit about not smiling somewhat explains the overall feeling I've been having about Paris. Although the city is gorgeous without a doubt, and I've never had anyone be blatantly rude to me (something many people have told me they've experienced in Paris), I don't feel any warmth from the people. It's really hard to explain but it's the overall feel of the city that makes me realize that I cannot assimilate into this society not because of my decision, but out of their decision.

I'm starting to think that Paris' only worthwhile contribution to my life is Daft Punk. Actually, Paris' only contribution to the world -- Daft Punk.

Yes, chef. Oui, chef.

Disclaimer: The cake in the picture is made by my chef, not me. Although mine did look remarkably similar to that one, except it was circular.




There are a couple things that have made this term different than my last one--some more obvious than others. In terms of the dishes we've been making, this term I actually like them. This can be viewed in a positive and negative light. Negative obviously being that I have no control over eating the cake or whatever it may be when I bring it home. But the positive is not only that I get to enjoy it. I've realized that when it's a dish that I am really excited about, I really put in a lot of effort to get it right. For example, the other day we made a triple chocolate mousse cake. It was basically a sponge cake base, with a layer of dark chocolate mousse, then a layer of milk chocolate mousse, and then white chocolate. You then top it off with a shiny layer of dark chocolate glaze, and use white chocolate to pipe a nice design on it. (I can just hear some of you salivating...oh right, it's just me.) Anyway, everything was going fine, the mousse was pouring in smoothly, until the glaze. It's important to have the glaze at the right consistency and temperature so that it pours on in a smooth, thin layer. I asked the chef if the consistency was right, and he said yes, but as I poured it with him watching, it was evident that the layer was a little thick and clumpy. Apparently my consistency was fine, but the temperature was too cold. I was so mad about it! But then when the cake was taken out of the ring, turned out my layers of mousse were perfect! Each layer was the same thickness all around. To me, it seemed obvious that you would get your mousse to the right temperature so it pours in and levels itself off, but some people had their mousse too thick so they actually had to spread it in the pan, meaning some sides were higher than others. To rectify the uneven glaze, I used my piping to make the top busy looking to detract from the unevenness of the layer.

Second thing that's different is that I'm a lot more comfortable in the kitchen now than I was last term. I remember that in London, a 3 hour class would barely be enough time to finish whatever it is we were assigned. In Paris, I've usually been relaxedly getting the job done, without feeling like an absolute wreck. It's hard to believe for me, but I guess it's just that I've learned so much that I'm finally comfortable in the kitchen.

Then clearly, there's the obvious difference of language. Instead of saying, "Yes, chef!", we say "Oui, chef!" Speaking of which, my last post about Gordon Ramsay got me thinking of why people found him to be a complete jerk. Other than the obvious rudeness, I think it really bothers people that he makes everyone respond to him by saying, "Yes, chef!" It makes people wonder, "Who the hell does he think he is?" that everyone has to defer to him and blindly yell "Yes, chef!" to whatever his ridiculous orders are. But us students do it all the time in school. When the chef gives directions, in unison we yell, "Oui, chef!" If we don't respond, he'll say it himself, "Oui, chef?", to remind us to say it. It's just a sign of respect that has become not only a tradition but imperative in designating hierarchy and a chef's importance and position in a kitchen. My respect and awe of chefs has really made me come to appreciate this military-like chain of command.

A new love, in Hell's Kitchen

Things have been going well here in Paris. After the first day of class, when I didn't understand a word of what the chef was saying, I think I've really improved in my comprehension and my speaking. At the demonstrations, where the chef is lecturing at us, I pick up about half of what he's saying. Granted it helps that there's a bit of help from contextual clues, but I can see it getting better and better. One of the chefs in practical spoke to me the whole time in French and even when giving me feedback on my dish, told it all to me in French, and I understood!

Also, I have finally figured out which milk is low-fat and which isn't....the hard way. I had been drinking whole milk because I didn't know what the word "entier" meant. One day, in class, I looked at a recipe and it said, "amandes, entier" translated to "almonds, whole." I thought to myself, "where have I read that word?" and then realized, "oh great, I've been drinking full fat milk this whole time."

A couple times I've been stopped on the street and asked for directions. I mostly assume that they're asking for directions because I don't understand a word of what they're asking, so I just say "Sorry, I don't know." (in french) The other day, I was running over to the Eiffel tower and a woman stopped me to ask me for directions. I was about to answer my usual "I don't know." but realized at the last second that I understood where she was asking directions to and that I actually knew how to get there. Luckily for me the directions were able to be pointed out, so I gestured to it, instead of trying to actually get the correct words out.

So, I have a new love. An unlikely candidate to grab my attention since he's known to be a complete jerk. Oh wait, maybe that's exactly why he's grabbed my attention. Anyway, the new love -- Gordon Ramsay. I started watching "Hell's Kitchen" which is a "Top Chef" kind of show except it's more Gordon-centric. Premise of the show is to get a group of 12 contestants to work together in two teams to run the kitchen of his restaurant, Hell's Kitchen. During this, Gordon doesn't hesitate to tear apart the contestants by swearing at them and not only identifying their incompetency, but ranting loudly in the open kitchen so even guests can hear this.

In the first episode he tells each contestant to make him their 'signature dish'. He then proceeds to spit out many of them and say things like "This is dog shit." (pardon my French, lol.) Anyway, now you'd wonder why I like this guy, right? Well, I admire him for his perfection, and he has a mentality that if you push people to the utmost, you'll make them the best they will ever be. And he's not all criticism, every now and then he'll say something like, "this risotto is spot-on" and a small compliment like that will mean the world to you. Also, at his restaurants, if one dish has to be remade (before it's sent out, by the way), he has all the dishes for that table remade. It's the perfection that he demands and strives to bring out of these contestants that is so awe-inspiring to me.

Cinnamon Shots

With my recently renewed antisocialness, I ended up feeling bad that all I do is read and walk around Paris. My first practical made me realize how badly I needed to learn French. The chef would give us instructions on what to do or how to do something, and I'd always have to whisper to a fellow student, "What'd he say?" Plus, the chef was a really friendly guy and had I know the language, I coulda befriended him as well. So I asked some of the students what they did to learn and they all just said that I should talk to anyone and everyone. Thus, my realization that being a loner may not be the best way to capitalize on my time here.

So I set off to an area I had read about, a little market area about a 15 minute walk from my place and right next to the Eiffel Tower. I sat down at a small cafe that specialized in crepes and struck up conversation with the family that owned the place. They were really friendly and it turned out really great! (The lady forced me to have a dessert crepe after my savory one, and by forced means that she gave it to me for free!) We struggled to get our points across but we talked about percentages of cocoa in chocolate, so I'm sure something I said must have been getting across. I figure, if I keep up with this, 3 months later I may not be absolutely horrendous at French. I'm even trying to use different tenses!!

On Saturday, a friend from school (Merrie) and I decided to go to a farmer's market that is only open on Wednesdays and Saturdays. We really were there just to look at it so we were chatting away, walking past the booths. All of a sudden, I stopped listening to her and started staring at this basket of little, dark brown, mound-like objects. Truffles!! We were both so shocked because we had never seen a truffle before. So we decided to buy it and decided to make dinner out of it and had a little dinner party. Since Merrie and I are both pastry students, we had our cuisine friend come over and handle dinner.

So what chef students do for fun at a dinner party? Well...apparently it's "impossible" to swallow a teaspoon full of cinnamon powder. Everyone was thinking, "how can something like that be impossible?" We got three of the kids to do these "cinnamon shots" of which 2 ran to the sink to spit it out and came back saying, "Oh my god, it really is impossible. Your mouth is immediately dry right when you put it in your mouth." One kid actually swallowed the whole thing after struggling, but can't really stand the sight or smell of cinnamon anymore. Traumatizing, to say the least. Try it sometime. Maybe as an icebreaker at a party?

The Meat Scare....Revisited.

I had my first day of classes today. Man, the Cordon Bleu Paris is so much nicer than the one in London. There are altogether 12 chefs, and the facility is really cute. There's a nice little area in the center with a skylight, where they've put little tables and chairs for you to go sit and eat lunch or mingle, or whatever. Anyway, if you've seen the London version, this is luxury.

So we had a demo, in which the chef spoke French the whole time, and this lady translated everything, including his JOKES. Clearly, some of the jokes lost their punch by the time they were translated. The problem is this though, although there's a translator in the demonstrations, there isn't one in the practical. Meaning, if he gives directions, he gives them in French, and if you ask a question, you should be asking in French and he will respond....in French.

But what's inspiring is that a lot of the kids, who had done the last course in Paris as well, have started understanding French just through the class. My problem is mostly that I can speak to get by, but when someone responds to my question, I have no idea what they said.

But you know, you'd be surprised how much you understand when someone is upset and ranting at you. The chef had been constantly complaining about the heat in the room for about the first hour of the class. Halfway through, some genius kid asks "can we turn off the A/C, we're all cold over here." The chef stops what he's doing and goes off about how he will turn it off today, but next time the students who are cold should come wearing their coats, scarves, hats, gloves, whatever. He then proceeded to tell the students that maybe they should come down to where he is and warm up, since he clearly was sweating under his chef's hat. Anyway, I caught all that by myself, because when the translator went at it, she definitely toned down his sarcasm and anger.

So, some of you avid readers of my blog may remember the first day of Cordon Bleu London, where I read the list of things we'll make and thought I was to make chicken. Clearly, it turned out I was and idiot and it was just a fake chicken made from marzipan. Well, this time around, I started flipping through the list of things to make and got to "Chorizo Puff Pastry" (or something of the sort). So my meat knowledge may be less than the average but that seems like sausage to me. So I turned to the recipe page to look at the ingredients, and turns out, that day is when we learn to make the "Petit Fours Sale", basically meaning a selection of salty "treats." (What is that saying, "one man's trash is another man's treasure"?) Anyway, turns out we DO have to make meat. I'm still trying to figure out how to work with that one. Maybe I'll save that for my sick day?

Long time no blog

The blog went on a standstill while Antara and Rachana visited and then all through Christmas. In a nutshell, Prague, Dubai, loads of mall trips to do Christmas shopping, and a couple dessert making adventures at home.

But now, I'm in Paris! Happy New Year by the way. I'm actually really excited about this year cuz towards the end I'm gonna be in Seattle, starting a new phase in my life. It's so cliche sounding, but it really is true.

So first day in Paris. I woke up really early because of jetlag and decided I'd walk to the Eiffel tower since it's only 2.5 km away. I kinda got a bit lost and kept hoping the tower would show up and then boom, it was right in front of me! It totally sneaks up on you and then as I kept walking, it disappeared again. Then when I saw it again, I was almost underneath it. Some people say that it's overrated but I don't think so at all. So I just walked around for 4-5 hours, took the metro, got some groceries and made myself food. This sounds nice and boring I'm sure but it's kinda nice doing this all in a new city.

Anyway, the plan is to go jogging to the Eiffel tower a couple times a week or as much as I can.
I mean, if I'm not gonna go running to the Eiffel tower, when in my life am I ever gonna go running?

Then my stupid eye, the pink eye, has spread to the right eye as well. It's really annoying because if I sleep for even 10 minutes, my eye is glued shut. It causes me to sleep longer, so I don't have to deal with the waking up process of soaking my eye to unstick it.

Well clearly, day 1 hasn't been too eventful, but I'm excited for the next couple months. I've been trying to speak in French which is pretty fun, even though I could get away with speaking in English.

I. Mertner

As the time for my departure from London grows near, I feel like I'm realizing what I'm going to miss most...Iain. I've never been good with kids, and I know Mamta knows that, as whenever Iain says "lets play this!", I'll usually make up some excuse for why I can't play with him and not appease him. He's an amazing kid in that, he usually doesn't expect attention 24/7 and doesn't need someone to play with him all the time. And when you say no, he pouts for about 20 seconds, and then is back doing his own thing, independent as ever. I see my friends coming over and being so patient and friendly with Iain and it makes me feel a bit guilty. I know I have a low patience threshold for people, but I don't want to be so selfish that I can't even cater to kids!

Somehow, he's decided to like me, and I've realized it more recently, as more people have starting living at the Mertner residence. Antara and Rachana are around, and are definitely more receptive to his random calls for attention and his need for someone to play with him. Except somehow, whenever it's time to go to sleep, he wants me to put him to bed. Maybe I'm taking it to be more of a sign than it really is, but I think he likes me!

So the reason why this is weird is, apparently I've never told Mamta that I miss California, even though I complain to her about anything and everything. I have enjoyed my time here in London but have no qualms about leaving soon. I guess that means that I'm not very attached to any place, or thing, in particular. Right? Except for the first time, I'm feeling this dread about leaving London, solely because of Iain!

A couple things have really done it for me in the past couple weeks. So when you put Iain to sleep, you have to read him a story and then sing him a song. When I came in July, I sang him "Tere Bina" from Guru cuz it was my favorite song, and it seemed melodious enough to put someone to sleep. So I kept singing the same song over and over, because I heard from the rest of the Mertners, that they all sing him the same song. After singing him the song at least 20 times, one day, he says "I like this part", at a certain point in the song. After that day, every time that same part comes, he dances along to it. Not only that, he sings along to the song when I try to put him to sleep!

Speaking of putting Iain to sleep, the other day, after eating a MASSIVE amount of chocolate, which he justified by saying in his adorable British accent, "But I just can't help myself, it tastes so good!", I took him to brush his teeth and go "wee-wee". He was being so difficult and just playing around and not wanting to do any of it. So after struggling for about 5 minutes, trying to convince him to actually go to the bathroom, I said "Iain, I will count to 10, if you don't go wee-wee..." Immediately, before I even reached "2", he was on the toilet going to the bathroom. It was so natural for me to pull such a mom-type tactic....it was so shocking!

Anyway, I guess what I've learned in the past couple weeks is not only that I'm gonna miss Iain like anything, but also, maybe having kids isn't the most scary thing in the world? They seem wonderful...as long as they're as well-behaved as Iain is. Let's hope I can actually do as great a job of bringing up a kid as the Mr. & Mrs. Mertner have.

Roses are Not Always Red

We've finally started making things I actually like, which is probably not a good thing for my escalating weight. In three days, we made three different cakes--chocolate with hazelnuts and a chocolate ganache and glaze, sponge cake with a raspberry jam and vanilla buttercream, and a black forest cake. This cake segment of the class has given me more confidence, because I'm not always the last one finished and I'm decently good at some of the techniques. We had an "assessment" on the day of the sponge cake. We had to finish the whole cake in 2 hours, instead of the usual 3! I realized through that experience, that pressure is what gets me to get the job done. We all weren't talking and just moving quickly while focusing, and I was the first one finished!

Also, I've decided who my favorite chef is in school. He's another French guy (surprise, surprise), who does both pastry and cuisine. The first time we had him as our chef during a practical was about 4 weeks in, and he was great because he was interested in knowing about all of us. On Thursday, a bunch of kids from school went to the closest pub from school (literally 50 feet away), and Chef Loic also joined us for some pints. He asked me if I wanted to be a chef, which is really an awkward question when coming from a teacher, because I don't want them to think I'm not serious about the course. I ended up telling him that I'm getting my Ph.D. in astrophysics and was hesitant to see his reaction but he was very supportive! He said he really thinks I should get my Ph.D. because I can always be a pastry chef later in life, but obviously, the time to get my Ph.D. is now. It was just nice for him to have been supportive and non-judgemental about my decision to not become a pastry chef when the course is finished.

On another note, I've become really antisocial and lazy lately. I have no motivation to leave the house or hang out with other students. Partly, it's because it's been raining, but for example, this Saturday I was asked to party with two different groups of people, but couldn't get myself to go for the life of me. Eh, I guess it's just a phase, but part of me thinks I should be taking advantage of being in London and hanging out with the new people. Then part of me also thinks I'm only going to be in London for a month longer, and it's been so nice spending this time with the Mertners, let me just keep doing that.

Oh and...I made a rose from marzipan, and it actually looked like a rose!

Quality vs. Quantity

There seems to be some sort of 4 year cycle that occurs in my life. So it has only occurred twice, but it's still worth noting. I've always been one to accept that people come in your life for some time and leave without reason.

I guess I can give the example of high school, since I still am in the process of going through that second cycle. I definitely did things differently back then. I had lots of people around me at all times, and not too many of them really close to me. As we all became distant, physically and mentally (some of us decided to mature, some didn't), what was left for me was less than a handful of close friends. As I'm good at repressing unwanted memories, I'm sure it was difficult letting go at the time, but now I'm more than happy with the couple people I'm still close to from high school.

This time around, in college, I decided to get to know fewer people and build stronger friendships with them. I assumed to a certain extent that since I didn't keep around many acquaintances, it was assumed that these friendships were to last.
Yet again, distance is always a test, and even this time around I'm experiencing the realization that some people are in your life only for a limited amount of time, however close you thought you were to them.

I don't think it tells me that I obviously wasn't as close to them as I was to those friends of mine that survived the test of time, it tells me that friendship isn't as selfless as people make it out to be. I believe, to a certain extent, that people are selfish, and I find that there's nothing wrong with that. After all, you first have to make sure you're happy before you can make someone else happy. Which is why I'm so amazed at mothers. I can't imagine ever being so in control of my life that I can give all my attention to another being who is that helpless and solely dependent on me. But I'm digressing. Where I'm going with this is that friendship is two-way. I've come to realize that those friends that don't pass the test of time were probably just there because you needed them to help with a certain aspect of your life and they needed you. As you both change and grow out of that stage, you don't feel the need for each other. It's a rational and detached way of thinking about it, but maybe that just helps me to accept the reality of losing friends.

Lemon Cake and Italians

So it's been a pretty busy last couple days. I had my hardest day at school, followed by a nice Diwali dinner, and then a trip to Milano to visit Vale and then Venice with Shikha.

Let's start with my hardest day as of yet. I knew getting into it that it would be difficult because we had 3 separate dishes to do in 3 hours--almond cake, lemon cake, and madeleines. And yes, I thought of Sapna Didi the whole time as I was making the lemon cake. So I started off quickly moving around and trying to get everything done, but things really slowed down during the lemon cake. I swear, there's some sort of curse with lemon cake, as I'm sure Sapna didi will agree. We had to cream the butter and sugar, which requires the butter to be at room temperature. So if you start with butter at fridge temperature, you have to work it a lot more and every now and then put it over heat so that it just gets warm enough to beat, but not too warm that it starts melting. Anyway, I don't know if anyone cares, but basically when I tried heating it, it would start melting so I just tried to whisk it vigorously until it got softer. I swear I beat it for at least 25 minutes and finally got somewhere. After that, anytime I made the beating motion, my arms were killing me! So we ended up finishing 10 minutes LATE...which is absolutely terrible. Plus, we didn't even get time to decorate our cakes. And in the process, I burned myself twice. Not really my fault but mostly because everyone was rushing, they'd have their hot trays out and during one of my mad dashes to whisk something or add some ingredient, I would touch the hot tray. The lemon cake tasted good in the end. I'm sure the almond cake would have been good except that I didn't like the dense texture of it. The madeleines were also good, except that the pattern from the pans didn't really show up because apparently I didn't butter the pans well enough.

Ok, enough about school. Now...the weekend! Me, Shikha, and the Merners all went to eat Indian food at a local restaurant dressed in our desi clothes. Even Iain wore his cute sherwani! Then I went to Milano to visit Vale...who decided to completely be a failure friend. I had Dick's phone number and Vale had told me to call him when I get in, so he could tell me their address. I don't know why she didn't just give me the address beforehand. Anyway, obviously they had had a ridiculous party the night before from which they got home at 6 a.m. I landed at 10:45 a.m., called Dick around 6 times and homeboy decided not to pick up. I kind of just sat around at the airport wondering what to do for a good while, then found a computer, hoped that Vale was smart enough to send me their address, then remembered she's an idiot. Finally, Dick called and of course I was expecting Vale on the phone but it wasn't her, but was chirpy and friendly Dick saying sorry and that he can't wait to see me. Vale...not so stupid...knew she should get Dick to call or else I'd yell at her. Haha, by the time I saw her, the anger had worn off. Smart Balls.

Mostly, I walked around the city (it was a gorgeous, sunny day) with Vale, got some great pizza, and then went out with her, Dick, and their friends at night. There ended up being around 5 other I-House people at the party we went to. Crazy! Everyone was speaking Italian most of the time and I felt like a little kid who disturbs their mom, mid conversation. The problem was, because I didn't understand the language at all, I wouldn't realize that Vale was having a conversation, and would randomly start talking to her. She'd turn to me and be like 'hold on' and I'd realize how rude I was being.

Anyway, next part of the weekend...Venice. It was pretty cold, but sunny, so it was still beautiful. Eh..there's so much to write about, but a couple interesting things occurred at one of the bars at night. Somehow the Bangladeshi waiter decided to take me back into the kitchen and I chilled w/ the cooks and they fed me French Onion Soup, after giving me the recipe. Then I asked the owner of the bar for a job working as his pastry chef and initally he said yes, but then said no cuz he couldn't afford it. Then next, I started talking to these people next to us because they had IPhones, and they were from Miami. Somehow I started to talk about America and Iraq to one of them, and obviously didn't realize he was a Republican until halfway through the conversation. Nonetheless, it was interesting giving my opinion and hearing his, since I would never bring up that subject if in a normal state of mind ;-).

Then the last day, I spent walking around Venice on my own because Shikha had already left. It was pretty funny getting awkward reactions to "table for one", but I got used to it and started embracing the solitary existence. Of all places, being alone in Venice is definitely...interesting. I mean, it was funny enough that other than Shikha and I, everyone else at a restaurant was coupled off. Venetians were definitely not used to seeing a tourist alone. That's why a lot of times they'd start talking to me in Italian, assuming I was a local who could be caught dead alone.