Yesterday, my Friday started out like a dreadful Monday in disguise. It was pouring, I was running late for work and I had a flat tire. In retrospect, this wasn’t too bad. I called in late, pulled up my sleeves and youtubed: how to change a tire. I was mildly amused by the number of videos there were for this topic. After watching a few I thought I was fully-trained, if not an expert, on how to put on those silly-looking donut wheels. To make a long, miserable story short – my spare also turned out to be flat, the tow truck took 3 hours to pick me up, and it took 2 hours to get my wheel changed – never in my life had I felt so much relief in returning home and closing the door behind me.
I don’t know what else I’m supposed to call it, but inspired by inspiration seemed appropriate. This month for A Taste of the Mediterranean we’re exploring tarts. Seeing as I’m asking bloggers to submit their own variations of this French classic, I thought I’d make some myself.
“Tony, you just ate 1200 calories worth of bread.”
I rediscovered Jim Lahey’s no-knead bread recipe a couple weeks ago. It was Wednesday evening and there it was, idly sitting in my RSS feed, waiting to be double-clicked: Faster No-Knead Bread. Mark Bittman had just blogged about a quicker variation of the original recipe he featured in the NYT in 2006. I never got around to making this bread when it first came out. Originally, I sided with the skeptical foodies who wanted no part in this trendy no-knead fad. For me, the foundation of bread was all in the traditional kneading techniques and no post in the NYT was going to change that. But, many successful minimalist recipes later, Mark had made a believer out of me. I took Mark’s recent post as a sign of divine culinary intervention and decided to give this no-knead method a try.
Post-graduation life is just not the same. No more midday naps nor staying up all night with friends. These days I’m glad if I make it to happy hour and back in time for a good night’s sleep. I used to make fun of a recently-graduated friend of mine by calling him abuelito (grandpa in Spanish) because he would go to bed at a reasonable hour. I’m sure this is karma’s way of poking fun at me.
One thing I don’t skimp on though, despite my lack of time, is the food I eat during the week. Instead of procrastinating on the blog some more, I thought I would write about a typical workweek meal and throw in some of my cooking mantras, too.