Gothic Granola

Happy Boxing Day! Because Audrey, Jr demanded sacrifice, the sourdough starter ended up in the traditional Christmas morning breakfast: Mile-High Cinnamon Roll Bread. Coincidentally, my friend from Colorado enjoys the Mile High Cinnamon Roll bread immensely (the capital Denver is the Mile-High city). He chooses to violate it with cream cheese while I like it with Earth Balance. Whatever floats your boat, man. I like my green juice from a pilsner glass; some people prefer mason jars. All together, now...

I am American: my heritage is 5/8 Italian, 2/8 Finnish, and 1/8 Armenian.  One year, when visiting my dad’s side of the family as we do every New Year’s, we were introduced to dolmades at a Mediterranean restaurant called The Black Olive  (since closed) in Tewksbury, MA.  Dolmades consist of blanched grape leaves filled with rice and sometimes meat or nuts and raisins (trail mix?) which are then steamed to tenderness.  Last year, I made sushi for Christmas. This year, I made dolmades with the help of my mom and grandmother.  My grandfather took all the photographs of the assembly.

For the last two years, I've ended Christmas with a pile and a half of cookies in January of which I'm bored by Marilyn Manson's birthday (5 January).   There are, of course, worse problems to have. I read this op-ed today in the New York Times where a Catholic priest gives his view of the world. "One true thing is this: Faith is lived in family and community, and God is experienced in family and community," Father Kevin O'Neil writes. We live in this earthly plane.  We regularly experience reality as earthly beings.  "I really do believe God enters the world through us," Father O'Neil said, and "[w]e need one another to be God's presence." How do we show love to one another?  How do we show kindness to ourselves, our loved ones, our friends, our enemies, and our environment? There is no one right answer to this question.  It's up to you to ask yourself and listen hard to the still voice in your heart.  That voi...

For the last two years, I've ended Christmas with a pile and a half of cookies in January of which I'm bored by Marilyn Manson's birthday (5 January).   There are, of course, worse problems to have. I read  this  op-ed today in the New York Times where a Catholic priest gives his view of the world. "One true thing is this: Faith is lived in family and community, and God is experienced in family and community," Father Kevin O'Neil writes. We live in this earthly plane.  We regularly experience reality as earthly beings.  "I really do believe God enters the world through us," Father O'Neil said, and "[w]e need one another to be God's presence." How do we show love to one another?  How do we show kindness to ourselves, our loved ones, our friends, our enemies, and our environment? There is no one right answer to this question.  It's up to you to ask yourself and listen hard to the still voice in your heart.  That voice has the...

A cool, dark, yin-tastic mint cookie complements a cup of ginger tea while surviving the Virginia DMV and driving late on Solstice.  Interstate 70 East makes for a lovely late night drive because of its relative emptiness, with the lights of Baltimore polluting the sky to the east.  Spending Solstice with friends--and making new friends--truly welcomes the light to the world and helps me commit to allowing more light into my life.  Light, grace, positive energy--whatever you call it--is always available to us.  We work on letting go of all that we do and think that blocks its presence in our lives. I modified the melty mints to make them a more balanced, stable cookie with dates and coconut sugar. Sure, they could probably replace a cup of coffee with the caffeine from the cocoa and chocolate, but they're rich enough to satisfy with just one cookie.

On Friday, when I left the house, I had Dropkick Murphys "Rose Tattoo" stuck in my head, and I considered, would I get memorial tattoos when my close family members die? I'd keep them skin deep. No, I laughed in the pale blue dawn as I walked to the Metro, I'd keep them six layers of skin deep, deep six them, keep them six feet under. The ridiculous number of views on the aforementioned music video? I'm partly responsible; I've been looping it as a playlist of one for most of yesterday and today. Last night, I called my grandparents to chat, and my grandmother informed me that my Great-Aunt Mary Crea died on Wednesday at age 87.

Skulls and tombstones.   Would you really expect anything else from a taphophile? Thanks to my aunt and uncle, I now bake in true undead style with the Lilli Vanilli in ‘A Zombie Ate my Cupcake!’ book and cake decorating kit.

Chocolate pizzelles have been on my list of “things to make” for months.  I made a batch in 45 minutes to give to a friend for her birthday.

Got that Rob Zombie song stuck in my head, alternating with American Head Charge’s “Song for the Suspect.”  

O hai! It’s Caturday, and I remembered I needed to make a blog post for this week in order to keep up my minimum.  It’s been a transition week as I’m living in Alexandria and volunteering in D.C. for the month of January.  My health is in transition too; I picked up a cold as I adjusted to the early hours I keep while volunteering in the city.

After a long search for a vegan pizzelle recipe last year, and a pile of fail at de-glutenizing them this spring, I present to you a recipe that passes muster.

Remember that old New Jersey tourism slogan, “New Jersey and You: Perfect Together”?  Can you be a tourist this holiday, observing but not being of them?  Granted, there’s also the tourist philosophy of, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”  My family’s not from Rome (Naples and Sicily, thank you very much).

Hey y’all.  When I first saw this recipe, I ran to my aunt and said, “I can make that.”  So I made it for Thanksgiving.

My mom used to make these pasta nests for Christmas Eve dinner.  I made a tahini soup without garlic and onion earlier this summer, and its lemony flavour reminded me of pasta nests.  Seeing as how the original pasta nest recipe was glutinous, cheesy, and eggy, I took a stab at making it fit my nutritional and ethical specifications.  Since the lemon juice curdles the tofu, the cheezy sauce has an eggy texture.  I think my updated version tastes similar, if not better, than the original. Fighting words, I know.