Recently I’ve become very mindful of how extensively my life plays out like a comedy of errors. Caught up in such an awakening, I failed somehow to notice how long exactly it had been since I last posted. That is, until I went to the clatter page and saw in big bold letters: FEBRUARY 1, 2011. Oh how time gets away from us. Perhaps you wondered if I had hid under a rock until Valentine's Day came and went (not true) or if I was too busy stress-eating bags of conversation hearts from the woes of lawyering to notice (might be true). What I find to be most annoying about all this is that even when I think of interesting things to write, oftentimes before I'm able to get it down on the page, the ideas are gone as quickly as they've arrived. Oh how fleeting bright ideas are. Until I come up with my next one, let's rely on someone else's…
Book: Middlesex
Author: Jeffrey Eugenides
Year: 2002
clatter’s nutshell summary and review: It won the Pulitzer Prize. Need I say more? Of course I do. Do I take issue with the fact that the sticker for "Oprah's Book Club" is bigger than the line below the title which reads "winner of the Pulitzer Prize"? You bet your bippy, as my driver's ed teacher loved to say. Look, I completely get the underpinning of the book club sticker – it acts as an incredibly useful marketing tool to sell more books. It saddens me is all. Don't get me wrong, I'm an Oprah fan. And I would kill for an endorsement from her for just about anything. I only wish that incredible writing would be recognized and purchased by the masses for reasons other than a celebrity telling them they should read it. Is that too much to ask? Ok, I am now stepping off my soap box. Let’s move on, shall we?
Truth be told, I had absolutely no idea this book centered around the life and times of a hermaphrodite until I started reading (sorry if I just ruined the surprise for you). I bought my copy years ago at a used book sale, but apparently I never bothered to read the synopsis on the back (that’ll teach me!). Even with its unusual premise, Eugenides’ way with words gives new meaning to the first person narration. He brings such life and raw truth to Callie/Cal’s story, you may begin to wonder, as I did, how exactly a writer can reach so far into a fictional character’s psyche. It took me at least 150 pages to really get into it (I got a little bored with some of the Greek family history), but once I began to understand where Callie/Cal came from, who she/he was becoming and the struggles she/he endured, I couldn’t put it down. I’ll admit that at times when I was reading, I felt uncomfortable, squeamish even, but those were precisely the times I became convinced Eugenides is one heck of a powerful storyteller.
clatter’s favorite passage: With such lyrical writing, it’s tough to choose just one. But I particularly enjoyed the following exchange:
“But Milton persisted, ‘I’d say where thinking ends, stupidity begins.’
‘That’s how people live, Milt.’ – Michael Antonious again, still kindly, gently – ‘by telling stories. What’s the first thing a kid says when he learns to talk? ‘Tell me a story.’ That’s how we understand who we are, where we come from. Stories are everything. And what story does the Church have to tell? That’s easy. It’s the greatest story ever told.’
My mother, listening to this debate, couldn’t fail to notice the stark contrasts between her two suitors. On one side, faith; on the other, skepticism. On one side, kindness; on the other, hostility.”
clatter’s favorite food moment: Uhhh... I'm at a loss. This is why I should 1) take notes in the margins 2) not wait over two weeks after I finish a book to write a review, and 3) read shorter books. But I'll tell you what: I was craving feta cheese and Kalamata olives for all 529 pages of it.
Recipe: Chocolate Dump-It Cake
Date: May 12, 2002
NY Times: “Food Diary: Personal Best,” by Amanda Hesser. Recipe adapted from Judith Hesser.
clatter's thoughts: I first came across this recipe when I read Amanda’s Cooking for Mr. Latte a few months ago and have been curious about this alleged super easy, uber delicious chocolate cake ever since. The beauty of this recipe lies in the fact that you add all the ingredients into a single saucepan on the stovetop, whisk away, and then bake it in a tube pan. Everyone see now why it’s been named a “dump-it” cake? For me, however, the title has an even deeper meaning. After I made the cake last night (which really was as super easy as Amanda claimed it would be), I took an official taste-testing bite of my official taste-testing slice just in time to watch (warning: spoiler alert ahead!) Brad dump Shawntel on The Bachelor. Dump-it or dump-her cake? This got me thinking: not only is this cake an excellent dessert to eat while you sit through two hours of awkwardness on The Bachelor (why do I still watch this show?), this cake would also serve as the perfect accompaniment to “he dumped me” wallowing, “my boss dumped a bunch of work on me” whining, or a more general “down in the dumps” sort of disposition. With all these ideas in mind, I decided to take preemptive measures by preparing my very own emergency dump kit (I wrapped up half the cake and stored it in the freezer). What happened to the rest of the cake, you might ask? Well, I shipped it FedEx overnight to Shawntel - I think she needs it more than I do right now.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
It's Always Snowy in Morocco
**I may be word-playing on the hit television show, It’s Always Sunny in Philadephia, but truth be told, I’ve never watched a single episode.**
Three posts in one week?! I hope you’re not sick of me, but I also hope you don’t get used to this frequency either, because I’m not likely to make a habit of it. It’s just that I wanted to get my second clatter book review out there sooner rather than later since the third one is already in progress. I figured you wouldn’t mind.
Book: Snow Falling on Cedars
Author: David Guterson
Year: 1995
clatter’s nutshell summary and review: It’s got the elements of a good John Grisham courtroom thriller, but Guterson provides illustrative, poignant writing that makes it anything but. While the book centers around the trial of a Japanese American fisherman accused of murder set during an unprecedented snow storm in the San Juan Islands, Washington, there is a lot more that fills the pages than that: a war veteran journalist dwells on a lost love, a wife stays loyal to her husband during an unbearable time, and a fishing community remains plagued with memories of war, Japanese internment camps, and deeply-rooted discrimination. Snow Falling on Cedars keeps you guessing until the end and you may find yourself hoping, like many characters in the book, that justice will rightfully be served. Cedar tree and strawberry field motifs woven throughout the novel, I could have some fun if I was writing a paper on this one! Despite the fact that as an attorney, I thought that both the prosecution and defense should have made more objections during the trial proceedings, I found this to be a lovely told story of redemption and justice.
clatter’s favorite passage: Ned Gudmundsson’s closing argument. It may not be quite that of Atticus Finch’s, but this is one that any criminal defense attorney could only dream of delivering. “What I see is again and again is the same sad human frailty. We hate one another; we are the victims of irrational fears. And there is nothing in the stream of human history to suggest we are going to change this. . . I merely wish to point out that in the face of such a world you have only yourselves to rely on. You have only the decision you must make, each of you, alone. And will you contribute to the indifferent forces that ceaselessly conspire toward injustice? Or will you stand up against this endless tide and in the face of it be truly human?”
clatter’s (and only) food moment: Ishmael Chambers, the unhappy journalist, checks on his mother during the snow storm. She gives him motherly words of wisdom over a bowl of soup – five kinds of beans, onions and celery, a ham shank, two small turnips. Sounds like a perfect meal to warm the insides during a blustery snow storm and frigid temperatures. Well played, Mrs. Chambers.
Recipe: Moroccan Carrot Salad
Date: January 8, 1995
NY Times: “Food: For Root Vegetables, Add Imagination,” by Florence Fabricant.
clatter's thoughts: Year 1995 gave me so many more options than 1932, but I’ll admit that I probably picked the easiest, least adventurous recipe of them all. That’s a lame, unclatter-like approach to the challenge I know, but I was lazy and found something I could make without having to make a trip to the grocery store. Laziness prevailed over lobster! Amanda (we’re on a first name basis now) notes that Fabricant pointed out when the recipe was published that this salad would work equally as well with grated raw instead of slightly cooked carrots, which is exactly what I did. I'm no proponent of the raw food diet, but I do believe that some vegetables really are best when raw - carrots and broccoli are two of them. So I charged on, albeit a little wary. Some of you might know that I have some issues with the grater (i.e.. I’ve shed blood in the name of cheese…more than once). However, after peeling and cutting the ends of the carrots to prep this salad, I grasped the first one in my fist, determined to make peace with the one kitchen tool that still scared me. With each passing carrot that I vigorously grated, my kitchen suddenly transformed into a place of Zen and I let my thoughts take me far away…to childhood memories of homegrown carrots in my mom's garden….to wishing that I was making a carrot cake instead of a carrot salad.... to the story a guy I dated told me about how he once drank pounds and pounds worth of carrots in a week as part of some fad diet until his skin literally turned orange....to how I consider myself to be fairly open-minded and non-discriminatory when it comes to dating, but that even I have my limits and orange skin = dealbreaker.....
I became so engulfed in these carrot-centralized thoughts that once I brought my focus back to the kitchen and my task at hand, I found my index fingernail on the verge of utter destruction by the grater. Thankfully I was able to stop the grating motion just in time to save a limb, but my sacrificial manicure may have still allowed some purple speckles through the cracks (polish isn’t toxic, right?). I tossed the grated carrots (and some broccoli florets just because) with the simple vinaigrette, which includes ground coriander, cumin, and lemon juice, and let it marinate overnight. Tonight for dinner I took a big spoon and ate a large helping straight out of the container I made it in. Fresh, healthy, and delicious. If I wasn't already aware (and sore afraid) of the colorful consequences of carrot overdose, I probably would have eaten more.
Three posts in one week?! I hope you’re not sick of me, but I also hope you don’t get used to this frequency either, because I’m not likely to make a habit of it. It’s just that I wanted to get my second clatter book review out there sooner rather than later since the third one is already in progress. I figured you wouldn’t mind.
Book: Snow Falling on Cedars
Author: David Guterson
Year: 1995
clatter’s nutshell summary and review: It’s got the elements of a good John Grisham courtroom thriller, but Guterson provides illustrative, poignant writing that makes it anything but. While the book centers around the trial of a Japanese American fisherman accused of murder set during an unprecedented snow storm in the San Juan Islands, Washington, there is a lot more that fills the pages than that: a war veteran journalist dwells on a lost love, a wife stays loyal to her husband during an unbearable time, and a fishing community remains plagued with memories of war, Japanese internment camps, and deeply-rooted discrimination. Snow Falling on Cedars keeps you guessing until the end and you may find yourself hoping, like many characters in the book, that justice will rightfully be served. Cedar tree and strawberry field motifs woven throughout the novel, I could have some fun if I was writing a paper on this one! Despite the fact that as an attorney, I thought that both the prosecution and defense should have made more objections during the trial proceedings, I found this to be a lovely told story of redemption and justice.
clatter’s favorite passage: Ned Gudmundsson’s closing argument. It may not be quite that of Atticus Finch’s, but this is one that any criminal defense attorney could only dream of delivering. “What I see is again and again is the same sad human frailty. We hate one another; we are the victims of irrational fears. And there is nothing in the stream of human history to suggest we are going to change this. . . I merely wish to point out that in the face of such a world you have only yourselves to rely on. You have only the decision you must make, each of you, alone. And will you contribute to the indifferent forces that ceaselessly conspire toward injustice? Or will you stand up against this endless tide and in the face of it be truly human?”
clatter’s (and only) food moment: Ishmael Chambers, the unhappy journalist, checks on his mother during the snow storm. She gives him motherly words of wisdom over a bowl of soup – five kinds of beans, onions and celery, a ham shank, two small turnips. Sounds like a perfect meal to warm the insides during a blustery snow storm and frigid temperatures. Well played, Mrs. Chambers.
Recipe: Moroccan Carrot Salad
Date: January 8, 1995
NY Times: “Food: For Root Vegetables, Add Imagination,” by Florence Fabricant.
clatter's thoughts: Year 1995 gave me so many more options than 1932, but I’ll admit that I probably picked the easiest, least adventurous recipe of them all. That’s a lame, unclatter-like approach to the challenge I know, but I was lazy and found something I could make without having to make a trip to the grocery store. Laziness prevailed over lobster! Amanda (we’re on a first name basis now) notes that Fabricant pointed out when the recipe was published that this salad would work equally as well with grated raw instead of slightly cooked carrots, which is exactly what I did. I'm no proponent of the raw food diet, but I do believe that some vegetables really are best when raw - carrots and broccoli are two of them. So I charged on, albeit a little wary. Some of you might know that I have some issues with the grater (i.e.. I’ve shed blood in the name of cheese…more than once). However, after peeling and cutting the ends of the carrots to prep this salad, I grasped the first one in my fist, determined to make peace with the one kitchen tool that still scared me. With each passing carrot that I vigorously grated, my kitchen suddenly transformed into a place of Zen and I let my thoughts take me far away…to childhood memories of homegrown carrots in my mom's garden….to wishing that I was making a carrot cake instead of a carrot salad.... to the story a guy I dated told me about how he once drank pounds and pounds worth of carrots in a week as part of some fad diet until his skin literally turned orange....to how I consider myself to be fairly open-minded and non-discriminatory when it comes to dating, but that even I have my limits and orange skin = dealbreaker.....
I became so engulfed in these carrot-centralized thoughts that once I brought my focus back to the kitchen and my task at hand, I found my index fingernail on the verge of utter destruction by the grater. Thankfully I was able to stop the grating motion just in time to save a limb, but my sacrificial manicure may have still allowed some purple speckles through the cracks (polish isn’t toxic, right?). I tossed the grated carrots (and some broccoli florets just because) with the simple vinaigrette, which includes ground coriander, cumin, and lemon juice, and let it marinate overnight. Tonight for dinner I took a big spoon and ate a large helping straight out of the container I made it in. Fresh, healthy, and delicious. If I wasn't already aware (and sore afraid) of the colorful consequences of carrot overdose, I probably would have eaten more.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
