“Twilight” lives up to it’s conflicted “Trueblood” love triangle where Bella still . . . yes still, is holding out on earning her batwings & poor wolfboy is sitting on the roadside licking up Bella’s leftover leche. . . I simply can’t be the only one annoyed with her selfishness; but then again, as a recent convert to the church of “true love”, I shunt be encumbered with local rationalization vs woman’s hormonal emotions. (no offense ladies: after all, I openly admit that I voluntarily purchased my ticket by myself, teared a bit during the Edward’s wedding speech “let’s start with forever” and immediately following my exit - checked my i-phone for any incoming Aussie messages
December 6th, 2011
Speaking of woman’s hormones, My endearing mother asked me yesterday if I “was ready to stop believing so much in people” in reference to recent events in my life revolving around my never-ending lawsuit over my businesses in San Diego. To that – I fluently responded, “it’s who I am Ma, it’s an integral part of who I am . . . I know that I should stop, shield my heart, or be more careful at exposing myself to disappointment, to judgement, to manipulation; but I like who I am!” Therefore, I cannot garner the will to alter my “god-given gift” (& then I pointed out that perhaps the Nun’s were right – I should have been a priest or a monk . . . lol – can you imagine? The Church service would entail Maxwell/Hip-hop grooves, sips of 98 pt. wine spectator approved decadence, prayers of Nam Myoho Renge Kyo and an afterparty with Grandma busting out her Spin moves as Grandpa approvingly noshes on a tapas bar of nouveau fusion foods.)
A blessing or a curse to know oneself? In moments of doubt, I find myself jealous of those that live only to please themselves, those who would be considered ignorant to the failings of homo–sapiens, those that look at the world from what it can do for them . . . not what they might contribute to the world! Best to go with the positive, agreed?
And in knowing oneself, I’ve also been crowned with a very early knowledge of this so called Scotty destiny to make a difference in the world. More specifically, defending Mother Earth in some capacity which to my own fault – I‘ve seemingly neglected, giving way to personal trials of temptation. Striking out one inning after another, but still in the game I am. I’ve got a new set of bats that I’ve pumped & primed to launch the next pitch right out of the stadium . . . just waiting for the right moment of realization to present itself! Unless, of course it’s already occurred, passed & gone . . in which case, I might be sitting at “home plate” for quite some time - “the beginning & the ending” forever eluding my conscious awareness. As a find baseball sequentially boring beyond a debate of algorithmic Algebra, let’s hope that pitch hasn’t already passed. (let it be known: if this metaphor had taken place at Lambeau Field with a six-pack of Leinenkugels in reach, I just might have been tempted to sit-through the undefeated season in anticipation of collecting my 2011 Superbowl Champ Ring)
So, back to food . . yes, I am fully aware that my Midas Touch to cuisine has not exactly been the focal point of recent entries. With a diet of peppermint imposter Oreo’s, bushels of coffee elixirs, a 6” sub-on-the-way & dare I admit . . . that Velveeta nacho concoction at the Movies last night washed down with a gallon of corn-syrup induced Root Beer . . . Can you blame my epicurean neglect? Really, you are welcome to launch darts of accountability at this hypocritical chef, but while your lining up that bullseye with my bullshit of a mouth . . . here’s a recipe to consider:
The Pavlova, named after a famous ballerina & somewhat of an ongoing controversy between New Zealand & Australia, is a dessert that is both light & airy. Traditionally topped with fresh whipped cream & mixed berries, I implore you to abide the recipe for fear of a gummy outcome . . . fitting to my mood for food . . . maybe I’ll make a morello cherry crepe for breakfast
Pavlova Recipe w/culinary blessings by Chef Scotty
Ingredients
Meringue:
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar OR 2 teaspoons white wine vinegar
1 1/2 Tbsp cornstarch
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
3/4 cup (6 ounces, about 6) large egg whites, preferably room temperature
Pinch salt
Method
1 Place rack in the middle of the oven and preheat the oven to 275°. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper. Pour the vanilla and vinegar (if using) into a small cup. Stir the cornstarch into the sugar in a small bowl.
2 In a large bowl of a heavy-duty mixer, fitted with whisk attachment, whip egg whites, cream of tartar (if using) and salt, starting on low, increasing incrementally to medium speed until soft peaks/trails start to become visible, and the egg white bubbles are very small and uniform, approximately 2 to 3 minutes.
3 Increase speed to medium-high, slowly and gradually sprinkling in the sugar-cornstarch mixture. A few minutes after these dry ingredients are added, slowly pour in the vanilla and vinegar (if you didn't use cream of tartar.) Increase speed a bit and whip until meringue is glossy, and stiff peaks form when the whisk is lifted, 4 to 5 minutes.
4 Pipe or spoon the meringue into 8-10 large round mounds that are 3 inches wide on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or a silicon liner. With the back of a spoon, create an indentation in the middle of the mound for holding the filling once meringue is baked.
5 Place baking sheet in the oven. Reduce oven temperature to 250°F. Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until the meringues are crisp, dry to the touch on the outside, and white -- not tan-colored or cracked. The interiors should have a marshmallow-like consistency. Check on meringues at least once during the baking time. If they appear to be taking on color or cracking, reduce temperature 25 degrees, and turn pan around.
6 Gently lift from the baking sheet and cool on a wire rack. Will keep in a tightly sealed container at room temperature, or individually wrapped, for up to a week if your house is not humid.
Makes 8-10 pavlovas.
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