Rynn: Melon Vingette
It was the maniacal giggling emanating from behind a mound of bananas that captured my attention. The source of the laughter came in to view as I rounded the banana cart.
Crouched in front of a shelf cut into the side of the banana cart was my boyfriend. On the shelf before him were a variety of melons that could easily have been the brainchild of Dr. Seuss himself. Both of Boyfriend’s hands rested on a melon. I watched as he squeezed each melon with an alternating rhythm, his vaudevillian giggling increasing with each squeeze.
“They’re like Nerf melons,” said Boyfriend. “Very squeezable. Squeezy. Squeeeeeeezy.”
It was then that someone’s blue-haired granny turned into our grocery aisle and took in the scene before her. I watched her face darken in an obviously disapproving scowl.
Both the moment and old blue haired begged for a sarcastic comment- the gods nearly had nearly decreed it so.
“Stop molesting the melons. You’re making my breasts jealous,” I quipped.
Out of my peripheral vision I saw granny’s mouth drop and her face turn ashy with shock. She gripped the shopping cart handle till her knuckles whitened. With a huff and a push to her cart, she fled the scene.
“That wasn’t nice,” exclaimed Boyfriend, still crouching, his head turning to watch granny’s escape.
“You’re the one groping the produce,” I retorted.
“Yeah,” he said with a slow pause. “I am.”
I watched Boyfriend bring one hand to his knee. With his other hand he gripped a yellow and green stripped “Nerf” melon tighter. He pushed himself up and with a graceful swoop of his arm, brought the melon to rest directly in front of my face.
“We’re getting a Nerf melon.”
“What kind of melon is it?” I inquired.
Boyfriend turned the melon round in his hands till he found the label.
“It says Casaba.”
“And what are you going to do with the Nerf melon?”
Boyfriend wrinkled his nose. An expression I’ve come to know as “what an asinine question” graced his face.
“Eat it,” he replied then stalked off towards the cashier.
Thirty minutes later we were positioned side by side, laptops open, scouring the web for Casaba melon recipes.
“Watermelon salad, cantaloupe salad, honeydew salad. You know, I just don’t like salad that much.”
Boyfriend laughed. “Yes you do you just don’t like melon that much.”
“Touché,” I replied with a tilt of the head.
Boyfriend reached out and grabbed the melon. He twirled the melon in his hands and began tossing it in the air like it was a football.
“Barbequed casaba?” he asked.
Now my own faced darkened with the ‘what an asinine question’ look. It was a question only a desperate foodie with a shot memory would’ve asked.
“We’re out of propane,” I replied.
“What about the prosciutto?”
“The last of it went on our pizzas last night.” I turned from my laptop to face him. “It’s a hundred and eight degrees outside.* Are you really thinking of cooking?”
Ignoring my comment he stood, melon in hand and walked to the fridge.
“Forget the fridge,” I said. “Get the rum. And not the Bacardi. Get the Leblon”
Grinning, he grabbed the bottle of Leblon rum from the liquor cabinet. He soon made short work of the melon and quickly deposited it’s pale lime-colored flesh in a blender with ice and a fair amount of rum. He sugar rimmed two highball glasses. The frozen rum and Casaba made sloping noises as it filled each glass.
“Dinner is served,” he proclaimed. I noticed his glass was already half drained as he set my own high ball in front of me.
“Kudos to the chef, in all his melon molesting glory,” I said as I raised my glass and put the glass to my lips.
A self-satisfied look and wicked smile came to his face. “Not as good as your melons. But satisfying nonetheless,” said Boyfriend.
I sputtered, showering the table with frozen rum and melon.
“I see you agree,” said Boyfriend.
And to that, I have no comment.
*Yes, it was 108 degrees farenheit outside. I was visiting Boyfriend who currently lives in a place Buck Owens once called home and is in So. Cal.
Rynn: My friend’s trip to Cambodia…
Hola blogosphere. Got this from my best bud Stef and thought the world should read it. Not nosh or posh in any way except to highlight that everyone deserves to nosh posh- and by that I mean live well as opposed to surviving and eat well as opposed to begging and scraping by. Rynn
Stef writes::
Sawasee khaa, everyone! Gin kow reu yang?
I hope this finds you all well. I’m back in BKK after a week in Cambodia , and whew, am I glad to be “home”! Cambodia is a trip of a lifetime and everyone should probably visit once before they die. That being said, I was glad to leave it. If Thailand is the beautiful woman with an ironic smile that stole my breath away, Burma a hunched grandmother with broken teeth and tired eyes, and Loas a wild child with dirty knees and crooked grin, then Cambodia is a broken man with upturned hands and down cast eyes whose very existence shamed me. It is truly a third world country full of scarred people and an economy going nowhere fast. If Laos was poor, Cambodia was poorer. I went wearing all my best emotional armor and still felt stabbed in the gut. I thought bearing witness to the Tuol Sleng genocide museum and paying respects at the killings fields would be the worst (and most important) part of my trip, but the poverty and desperation in the capitol city, Phnom Phen was worse. The govt is the worst in the region next to that of the Myannmar junt with many of the officials rumored to have ties to the former Khmer Rouge govt. whose former soldiers by the way are still alive and well in the country, often living side by side with the family members of those they killed and getting veterans retirement kickbacks to shut up and stay out of trouble. The govt seems to care little for the people and there are not enough social programs to provide for the poor. Make no mistake about this, the killing fields are not gone, the Cambodian people are still dying because of their government, but the deaths are slower and more indirect. They have no dignity in the system and no other options available. All the money in the country’s economy is focused in Siem Reap/ Angkor Wat and in Phnom Phen where virtual palaces (for corrupt govt officials and tourists) are being built up next to tent cities housing the people upon whose backs the country rests. The govt has forcibly evicted people from the shacks they owned into slums outside the city to build on their land because it is so valuable. Yet for a city in the midst of institutionalized “beautification” it is the dirtiest and ugliest I’ve ever seen. Uncollected trash piles up on the same sidewalks where street children sleep and workers eat from food stalls lined up on the opposite side of filthy streets. There is no public health system to speak of, education is hit and miss, and begging is so common place that you learn to ignore the one-legged men and crying children. Scamming and theft is common there, and was by far the place I have felt the most threatened in SE Asia . Comparitively, BKK feels as safe as SLO. It was a relief to get on a 6 hour bus ride to Siem Reap, a synthetic town based on tourism near the Ankor Wat heritage site. Because of tourist police, the worst that will happen to you there is being hassled at every corner by Tuk Tuk and moto taxi drivers trying to make a living. Angkor wat is the seat of national pride, gracing every bill of money and every sign, brochure, and company slogan. It is perhaps the only thing that the country has to be proud of right now. It costs a whopping $20/day to visit (And it is very heavily toured by visitors from all over the world) but the amount of work being done to preserve it is minimal (my what could the govt be doing with the money?) and if it is not better protected soon, there might be one less wonder of the world to visit because the wats are fading fast. The murals are decaying and already all of the Buddhas have been stolen or had their heads removed by looters. My advice to you all, see it soon if you are going to. That being said, the grounds are gorgeous and the temples are awe-inspiring. There is no shortage of wonder to be found at every turn and the history of it is truly impressive. It IS worth it, and I am glad I went.
After 5 days in Cambodia I made the treacherous 10 hr trip by land back to BKK. Mind you the only reason the roads are as bad as they are is because the govt has neglected to have them paved due to pressure from certain airlines who would like tourists to continue flying out of Phnom Phen at inflated prices and with a $25 exit fee for leaving the country. My friend paid $150 to leave Cambodia by plane. I paid $12 but suffered for it. I’m glad I did, Damn the Man!
All in all it was the trip of a lifetime and I will probably never return in this life.
Now, back in BKK, I’ve settled down into an apartment where I’ll stay for the next month or so to work on a Burmese community education project doing secondary research and compiling data for an NGO newsletter. I will be getting summer school credit for it and working on my senior project at the same time so I’m basically still in school here even though my classes finished 2 weeks ago. My travels are winding down and the work is starting so I beg you to forgive me if emails become infrequent. I will of course keep people updated if anything exciting occurs and pics will be made available for those who want them.
I hope you are all well and happy and I’m keeping my circle of family and friends in my prayers consistently. Please drop ME an email if you get a chance to let me know how you are and keep me abreast of the gossip in the Central Coast .
Lah Gorn khaa,
Stef::
::end Stef
God I love her! 
Rynn: Business Dinners Part Deux
Focus…FOCUS on the kenafeh….don’t notice the office manager adding $350 to the tip because she thinks the waiter is cute and another office team is picking up the tab. Don’t notice the head of sales speaking about his bout in the hospital from salmonella and what it did to his…FOCUS ON THE KENAFEH! Yes, tasty, yummy lightly sweetened cheese covered in shredded filo soaked in rose water and topped with pistachio crumbles. All pink and green and white pastel goodness. Now bribe the wait staff to package the leftovers so you can breakfast on pastel loveliness. Yum!
Rynn: King’s Cake Recipe
I have no idea why it’s called a King’s Cake. Well, I know why it has King in the name but the cake part is totally a misnomer. Like Rhode Island. Rhode Island isn’t an island any more that a King’s Cake is a cake. Still, this weekend is both the weekend preceding Mardi Gras…and Super Bowl. For real Catholics (like my boyfriend), this is a double-whopper of a weekend to celebrate before Lent. For us recovering Catholics (that would be me), Lent means nothing but Mardi Gras and Superbowl still retain their status. Hence, I made my first King’s Cake (pictures will be uploaded once my boyfriend sends them too me). But as if that wasn’t enough, I also made tamales. I know, I know: I’m getting my holiday food traditions mixed up. But what the hell, life is for living and a part of living is eating well. Hence here are the smash up & altered recipes I mixed together to make my version of a King’s Cake. Thanks to Danno at Nola Cuisine (http://www.nolacuisine.com/2007/01/06/king-cake-recipe/) and Monica Glass at the Gilded Fork (http://www.gildedfork.com/recipes/mardi-gras-king-cake.html) for providing the inspirational recipes. I will say that I used Danno’s brioche recipe verbatim and altered Monica’s a bit.
I will say, I was a bit worried that my experimental filling would be a culinary Frankenstein’s monster, but when my friend’s 92-year-old grandmother (who’s a notoriously picky eater) proclaimed it, “excellent”, I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Even better when people asked for the recipes!
King Cake Recipe
For the Brioche:
1 Envelope Active Dry Yeast
2 Tbsp Warm Water (115 degree F)
1 tsp Iodized Salt
2 Tbsp Granulated Sugar
1/4 Cup Milk
2 tsp Orange Zest, minced
2 Cups All Purpose Flour, sifted
1 tsp Cinnamon
2 Eggs, beaten
1 1/4 sticks cold Unslated Butter, cut into very small dice
1 Egg beaten and 2 Tbsp water, for the eggwash
1 plastic baby trinket
Dissolve the yeast in the workbowl of a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook attachment, let stand until frothy.
Dissolve the salt, sugar, orange zest and milk in a small bowl. When dissolved combine the milk mixture with the yeast mixture. Mix the cinnamon with the flour.
With the mixer on low speed, add the eggs, then gradually add the flour, until all is incorporated. Knead on low speed for 10 minutes, or until a smooth elastic dough is formed. A little more flour may be necessary. With the motor running, incorporate the butter into the dough, a little at a time but rather quickly so that it doesn’t heat up and melt.
Turn the dough into an oiled bowl, loosely cover with plastic wrap and let rise for 1 hour in a warm spot.
When the dough has doubled in bulk punch it down, cover and place in the refrigerator overnight.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Roll the dough out to a 6 x 18 inch rectangle. Spread the filling (recipe below) out in the middle of the rectangle along the whole length, leaving about 1 1/2 inch on each side. Place the baby trinket somewhere with the filling. Fold the length of the dough over the filling and roll up tightly, leaving the seam side down. Turn the roll into a circle, seam side down and put one end inside of the other to hide the seam, and seal the circle. Place the cake on a baking sheet and let rise, loosely covered with plastic wrap, for 45 minutes or until doubled in bulk.
Place the king cake into the oven and bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown.
When the cake cools, brush with some of the glaze (recipe below). This will help the sugars adhere. Decorate the cake with the colored sugars and drizzle some of the thicker glaze onto the cake.
For the bourbon pecan filling:
1 (8-oz) package cream cheese, room temperature
1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar, sifted
1/2 cup light brown sugar
2 tablespoons Sailor Jerry’s rum (traditionally bourbon, I’d have used Maker’s Mark if I’d had it)
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 cup chopped pecans
Prepare the rum pecan filling:
Place the cream cheese, confectioner’s sugar, brown sugar, bourbon, vanilla and cinnamon in a work bowl. Using a spoon, fork, paddle attachment, or whatever you use to mix your ingredients, blend the ingredients until they are thoroughly combined and smooth. Add the pecans and mix. Set aside until ready for use.
For the icing:
2 cups confectioner’s sugar, sifted
1 tablespoons warm milk
1 tablespoon orange juice
1 tablespoon Sailor Jerry’s rum
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon melted butter
Purple, green and gold tinted sugar
Heat the milk until it’s warm. Place the butter in the milk and stir until it dissolves. Add the rum, OJ, vanilla, and cinnamon and combine. Sift the powdered sugar and add it slowly to the liquid (or be lazy like me and just dump it in the bowl). Stir until the frosting is a nice glaze with no weird powdered sugar lumps. I like mine to be a little thinker so I added a bit more sugar, but if you prefer a runnier glaze, go with your preference.
Rynn says: Vampire Goodness
Somethings in life are free….Like so bad it’s good vampire TV *aka Moonlight*….Unfortunately, though I can partake in Moonlight episodes lovingly Tivoed by my friend Ealasaid, our vices (being Round Table Pizza, Wicked Strawberry Blonde Ale) have associated costs. These costs, include $$$ and the uuber-geek glee that permeates is our beer buzz. But oh, the costs are worth the awesome company, fully bellies, bad vampire puns, and flavorful belches.
Jenn: So much more than a grape…
I have found that over the years my interest or dare say “passion” for wine has grown and thus many of the activities I enjoy tend to be centered around the crushed grape. From taking classes, going to tastings, throwing parties and now, co-initiating a wine and food blog, I can even further project the intimate relationship I have with said beverage.
I used to be almost ashamed of my love for wine thinking I could be viewed as an alcoholic…(especially since in my own life I am quite healthy and active.) To be frank, I am actually not a big “drinker”; in fact, I have been termed the “one-drink wonder” as my tolerance for alcohol is almost laughable.
However, it is not just the consumption of wine that has me so entranced, but rather all that comes with being ‘involved’ with vino. From the terrior to the vine; the vine to the grape; the grape to the barrel; the barrel to the bottle; the bottle to the glass…and for that moment in the glass as you swirl and waft the aromas that permeate with each breath of air, that moment, that time, is perfect. There are no hidden agendas, no anxieties, no right or wrong answers…it is a moment wholly unto itself that is meant to be shared with just one…you.
But it is also just not about the solo experience. With wine, comes good food and good friends. For me, wine can make any dinner a special occasion and thread together all elements of a social setting to make it unforgettable. Watching your guests sip on what you have poured, questioning their own palates, seeking out the perfect descriptors for what they had experienced. That is what wine ultimately is for me…an experience.
Finally, the beauty from which wine is grown is enough to inspire one into a place of serenity and peace. Moments in wine country are therapeutic solely for the aesthetics and ambiance that is found in every corner. Each vine helps to create a haven for families, friends, lovers and even inspires the individual soul to reflect and take note of the wonder that surrounds them.
So I can only hope that all you wine enthusiasts and foodies, young and old, new or proficient, can find some joy out of this blog as I have out of the whole wine experience.
