Seitan / Korean Seitan Tacos

Up until last week my experiences with Seitan had been limited. I ate it in January at Teaism in Washington, D.C. and thought it was tasty, but nothing to write home about. This all changed in recent days.

Just to clarify, seitan is a meat replacement made from gluten protein extracted from wheat. It has been used for centuries in Asia and is sometimes referred to as "mock-duck" or "wheat meat." However, both of these names disgust me, so I will continue to use "seitan."

It all started when I went to Local 44 for a beer last week. I got the Allagash tripel and it was delicious, but in the spirit of tripels it had a high alcohol content and I realized that it would be best if I ordered dinner immediately. So, I ordered the seitan reuben and IT WAS DELICIOUS.

My mind had been blown by that sandwich, and I knew that seitan needed to become a staple in my diet. Then, the next day on the local morning news show two chefs from the Horizons vegan restaurant were demonstrating how to make Vegan Korean Seitan Tacos. I knew that these tacos were part of my destiny. So after going to four grocery stores, making seitan from scratch, and toiling over the stove, this is what I came up with:
It was actually the most delicious thing that I have ever made. This is one time you will hear me say, Hail Seitan!

Philly!

I moved to Philadelphia on August 9th and since then basically everything I have encountered has been amazing. Therefore, I am going to start blogging again. Also, I need to get my writing chops back up since school is about to start...

Finding myself in pictures posted by artists

Admiral T posted this picture of his Stade de France concert to promote a concert in Guadeloupe. I thought that I would look for myself since I was so close to the stage. I was fairly easy to find, but I circled my head to help in locating me.

Summer Reading! (For funsies)

Summer comes with a lot of baggage; if you are a graduate student on some sort of fellowship during the year, summertime means broke time. Living an unwantedly penurious lifestyle, along with the heat and humidity, can really get you down.

However, there are also many things to be happy about in summer! No classes! No Snow! The widely increased consumption of soft serve icecream! And of course, summer reading.

When I say summer reading I am not referring to books that are assigned during the summer; summer reading for me denotes all of the silly books I can allow myself to read for fun (even though I should probably be reading ethnographies and other scholarly texts).

The first book that I indulged in this summer was the #1 New York Times bestseller, Game Change.


The book gives an extremely candid and indepth look at the "behind the scenes action" of the 2008 presidential campaign. The authors, John Heilemann and Mark Halperin, interviewed EVERYONE for this book, and the result is a cohesive story of the Obama, Clinton, Edwards, and McCain campaigns. Although this is a book about an election, it possesses a juiciness that makes you feel like you are reading a tabloid. The most disturbing chapters are those on Edwards and how McCain made his historic VP decision (they only vetted her for TWO days?!).

Things you see at the dermatologist...

When I was waiting at the dermatologist yesterday, I had a major deja vu moment when I looked at the TV, and saw the Backstreet Boys performing the song "Everybody."

While this was going on, I kept looking at the TV in disbelief, and then to the people sitting around me. Was this real? Could this be happening? Was Backstreet back?

Upon further investigation, I learned that BSB performed on the Bonnie Hunt show in October. We can only assume, not having heard from them since, that Backstreet is NOT back, alright?

My lil' Schwinn

I have recently acquired a vintage Schwinn bicycle, and it sure is adorable (in bike terms).

Note: This is not an actual picture of my bike, but it is a similar model. My bike is orange with a black seat and black handlebars.

It has mysterious origins: it has been in a friend's basement since before he or his roommate lived there, and I don't think it belonged to either of the people who lived there before them. I took it to the msu bike shop today, which I didn't know existed until yesterday after being at this school for six years, and the workers were fawning over how adorable it is.

Apparently it was made in the 50s, and its tires were from the 70s, so they needed to be replaced. The people at the bike shop wheeled it away before the worker wrote down the model in the computer so she put "Schwinn vintage awesomeness." Hurray for silly (and free) bikes!

Avian surprises?

This morning I was going to the basement to do laundry, when something caught my eye in the parking lot: a giant white splatter of bird poop on my windshield (and continuing onto the hood of my car).



I would just like to point out that I was not parked under, or even near, a tree (the closest one is the one in the background).

Yale Alumni and their reaction to "That's why I chose Yale."

You may or may not be familiar with the new Yale admissions video, an unorthodox high school musical-esque take on the normally bland collegiate information that comes with applying to school. Regardless of whether you have seen it or not, some stodgy Yale alumni have, and they don't like it!

Highlights:

"It's the God-Damnedest thing I've ever seen."

"My God, if you're a hockey player, you think, I'll go to Princeton."

The New Yorker points out:

"Few institutions seem to subject themselves to there-goes-the-neighborhood style lamentations quite as regularly as Yale, with its legions of Old Blue curmudgeons, post-structuralist radicals, and earnest young strivers."

The New Yorker just called yale alumni curmudgeons! That made my day!

All information from this post came from a note in The New Yorker in the "Boolaa" section entitled, "Irony 101."

Free Angelique Kidjo from Starbucks!

So when I was in Starbucks on Monday I happened to see a set of cards next to the register. They were for the Starbucks/iTunes "Pick of the Week." Starbucks apparently has a deal with iTunes where they offer one free song download a week. This week, in honor of Black History Month, the download happens to be a song by Angelique Kidjo, "Cold Sweat."


I just downloaded it, and I must say that I really love Angelique Kidjo. She doesn't take shit from ANYONE. Here are some quotes of hers to illustrate this:

"I won't do my music different to please some people who want to see something very traditional. The music I write is me. It's how I feel. If you want to see traditional music and exoticism, take a plane to Africa. They play that music on the streets. I'm not going to play traditional drums and dress like bush people. I'm not going to show my ass for any fucking white man. If they want to see it, they can go outside. I'm not here for that, I don't ask Americans to play country music."

and

"If they want to see exotic African women, they have to fly to africa. and if they're not careful when they arrive, they'll get their faces punched in."

Basically, she's awesome, and this song is awesome too! It is an interesting blend of Afro-pop, funk, and soul mixed with a certain freshness that I haven't heard in awhile.

Catching up with completely ridiculous people on Facebook

Yesterday I communicated with a cohort from Governor's School and NCSA for the first time in many years. Here are some of the highlights:
"Congrats on Penn, yo!" (From him)
"Since we last spoke I got smart and learned a bunch of languages and am studying French Caribbean music." (From me)
"Congratulations on being married for so long!" (From him, in reference to my long-time facebook relationship status with BFF Lexi).

I just want to point out that this is someone who went through a phase in which he spoke almost entirely in quotes from Miles: The autobiography.

Oh the hilarious characters you meet in the arts world.

Reading articles with funny titles

I just read an article in The New Yorker entitled: "The Strange Case of Who Dat." Although the article wasn't really that thrilling or fun, the title made it worth it.

Also:
The Sociology Of Drinking

Was an awesome read.

Comedic Moments with Gospel Music

I enjoy the fact that I live a life where things like this happen to me regularly and it isn't out of the ordinary:

Today (Monday) I had a meeting with my advisor at 11 am. His office happens to be directly across the hall from mine (which I share with several other TAs). After turning the corner on the hallway where our offices are located, I heard the distinct sound of gospel music blasting from a large set of speakers. At first I couldn't tell if it was coming out of my office or his, but upon further investigation it was clear that an anonymous person was testing out the seldom-used sound system in the TA office (which I hear is REALLY nice- the sound system, not the office).
Unclear as to why the unoccupied office's speakers were blasting praise music at volumes appropriate for a large Sunday congregation, I decided to turn the amplification down. Upon doing this, I saw my advisor spring up from his chair in his office where he was meeting with another student and quickly shuffle across the hallway. He asked me if I could press stop on the tape players when the current song finished. I agreed and he resumed his meeting across the hallway.

This seemed like a simple-enough task: how difficult could it be to press stop on a tape when a song ended? The answer is: more difficult than one would initially anticipate.

After listening to the song for awhile, the band started vamping in a way that is characteristic for the end of a song. I eagerly hopped up and made my way over to the sound system, ready to turn off the recording at exactly the right time. At this point my adviser leaned out from behind his door and said, "It's not over yet, you think it's going to be over, but it's not. You might as well just sit down."

I sat down, newly aware of the deceptive nature of the song. The next few minutes involved me springing to my feet several times, thinking that the song was finally coming to a close, only to be sorely mistaken by another enthusiastic verse praising the lord. While this was all happening, I couldn't help but be aware of how incredibly silly this whole situation looked. That shit had more false endings than the last LOTR movie.

Compote (Fruit/Applesauce)

When I was in France one of my favorite snacks were little individually-sized resealable bags of pureed fruit. The French called it compote, but it was essentially applesauce. They were great to have in my bag when I was wandering the streets so that I wouldn't have to eat out. I was very sad to leave them behind when I returned to the states.

But, when I was in Starbucks on Saturday, I noticed that they had a display up with these:

Delicious, individually-sized resealable pureed fruit bags. I was extatic and

Just when you thought I couldn't get any more snobbish...

... this NPR-listening, PBS-watching, Volvo-driving, field-language speaking, future Ivy League PhD-holding gal bought an online subscription to the New Yorker.

Hanging out with Lexi and Bob Costas

... and by that I mean watching live feeds of the Winter Olympics while gchatting with Lexi in an external window that has been strategically placed over the feed's commentary. What did you think I meant?

Bridesmaids Dress Saga

So one of my dearest friends from college is getting married in June and I have been selected for the honor of serving as a bridesmaid for the ceremony. This marks my first wedding party experience, and it is very exciting. Even more exciting is that the bridesmaids dress is from J.Crew Wedding:

Very nice. Since it is a June wedding, our shade of green is slightly brighter. However, the person in charge of sizing at J.Crew wedding should probably reconsider their career choice. After measuring myself (which could have been part of the problem) and looking at the sizing chart I saw that I was exactly a size 4. When I talked to the woman on the phone, she said otherwise. Because the dress runs small she suggested that I get a 6 and that it would fit perfectly. It was falling off. So, I returned it to the J.Crew store and ordered a 4.
Since UPS had been so speedy the first time (taking exactly four days, including a Saturday and Sunday) with delivering my package, I was antsy about the new dresses arrival and after six days had gone by I decided to check out my tracking number. Amazingly, according to UPS my package had been delivered two days earlier, only no one (UPS or my leasing office) had thought it necessary to tell me that the dress was waiting for me to pick it up at the leasing office.
Nevertheless, I was excited to get the smaller dress. Once I put it on, however, my tune changed:


Not too bad, but for a strapless dress, it is simply too loose. These pictures were taken after basically stuffing my upper area as much as possible. I have decided that J.Crew makes dresses for very oddly shaped people.
In the end, I kept the 4 and ordered the 2. I will send back whichever one fits worse.

Depressing

When you stay up late reading for class on a Friday night because you can't sleep, and then even though you were planning on waking up at 8am on Saturday morning, you wake up BEFORE your alarm.

DTR: The Final Frontier

In September I wrote a post, Preview: DTR, that included the text, "Using other peoples' bathrooms can be a pleasant or traumatic experience." This post will serve as an explanation of the previous post by tracing the etymology of "DTR," examining this recurring phenomenon, and closing with a recent anecdote.

DTR is, of course, an acronym for "dick-towel roulette." Although the scenario described as DTR has been around since the invention of indoor plumbing, its etymology can be traced back to the summer of 2009 when the Lorax traveled to the mysterious and primitive land known as "male college-student apartment."(MCSA) After participating in a ritual watching of a film while drinking a native fermented wheat-beverage, the Lorax had to heed the call of nature, and then things got interesting.

In the twisted realm of MCSA, inhabitants urinate in a small bathroom-like chamber. However, in addition to a toilet, sink, towel rack, mirror, and shower, the chamber of the MCSA includes many other objects needed by its inhabitants. These include but are not limited to: a gallon jar filled with change, a stack of assorted magazines, cardboard boxes, clothing (both clean and dirty), bottled water, a refrigerator, lighter fluid, and, of course, a jar of creamy peanut butter. Despite all of these spectacles, the Lorax was most troubled by contents of the towel rack.

The small towel rack in MCSA housed not one, or two, but THREE full-sized bath towels. It was general knowledge amongst researchers that MCS only require one towel on average after showering. So what was the meaning of the two surplus towels? After washing its hands, the Lorax found itself locked down into a particularly suspensful game of DTR, dick-towel roulette.

DTR raises many questions: Why does a MCS have three full-sized bathtowels? Which one of these should I dry my hands with? Which one of these does he use to dry off with after the shower (thus making it a DT) and how do I identify it and avoid using it?

In the end, there are no winners in DTR. Even if you choose correctly, which the Lorax did not that fateful night, the only way of finding out if you are victorious is to ask the owner of the towels, which can easily create an awkward situation.

Last night, I found myself in the middle of another potential DTR scenario. After washing my face at my boyfriends house, I grabbed the hand towel from the towel rack and proceeded to dry my face with it. As I was doing this, my bf said "That is the towel that I use to dry my dick off with." I immediately looked up and cried, "it's like DTR all over again!" He was confused, especially since he was joking. This led me to explain the phenomenon of DTR and how it is not joking matter. So remember folks, DTR is a serious game, a game in which there are no winners.

spending QT with ax

Alex: come on commercial, mama wants a midori mug

Bear Grylls's cray child names

Don't ask why I know this, but according to Wikipedia Bear Grylls has children named Huckleberry and Marmaduke. Assuming that Bear is married to a hot blond woman this means:

+

Hot blond woman

=

&