Culinary Concoctions Week Two: Starting From Scratch

So...I couldn't find black radishes at the farmer's market on Sunday.

I know, I know. SUCH a disappointment.

In all reality, I do think they were there; I just arrived too late. The vendor, from Ayers Creek Farm, who was supposed to have it really had sold most of his products by the time we arrived. Luckily, we managed to gather kohlrabi as well as one of the gnarliest vegetables I've ever seen: celeriac.

Celeriac, which has been dubbed as the vegetable octopus though is also known as celery root, turnip-rooted celery and knob celery is native to the Mediterranean region. The first evidence of its cultivation has been linked to Egyptian graves circa 1100 BC. The Greeks called it selinon and it's mentioned in Homer's Odyssey. 


Speaking of The Odyssey, I recently submitted a poem dubbed Odysseus to a literary journal called Line Zero. It was chosen for publication. That's right. I'm being published! As a poet.

Okay, self plugging promotion and unbelievable random tangent aside...

Celeriac can be eaten raw or cooked. It's tough, furrowed outer surface usually needs to be sliced off, as opposed to peeled (I can only assume by how gnarly and nobby this thing is that my $2 peeler from IKEA won't last), though, I have a hunch that celeriac could be roasted, just like bell pepper, with it's skin on to produce a creamy, rich delicious starch.

After all, celeriac acts very similar to potatoes and can be served in the same fashion; mashed, pureed, fried, baked or roasted. I imagine it'll make killer soup too.

I think I'll be using the celeriac tomorrow night in a roasted vegetable medley. I've yet to decide. After all, I did arm myself with two purple and two green kohlrabi. Also known as the German turnip, kohlrabi can be eaten raw or cooked. When cooked, the texture is similar to broccoli stalks or cabbage heart and a young kohlrabi stem can be as crisp and juicy as an apple.

While I couldn't find black radishes, I did pick up a fresh bunch of red radishes which will find their way into this week's dinner menu too. For now, I'm going to keep noshing on the fresh lox and cured meat while staring longingly at the goat milk cheese we picked.

Recipes to follow tomorrow!

PS: Read this sweet article from NPR if you want to geek out more on celeriac.

The Fart Impact Movie

Today I wrote a script about farts.

Well, sorta.

Today at work I wrote a script about a pair of panties that stifles the stench of those smelly SBDs.

Okay, fine. It wasn't for a real client. Rather, it was for our monthly lunch time competitions that commences amongst the sales, production and operations teams (As a scriptwriter/soon-to-be-messaging-director, I'm part of the production team). I guess you could call it a company-building exercise, not to mention a reason to begin Friday drinking two hours earlier.

Here's the e-mail we got from our president:

"Hey All,

Ok...Here we go. Today's department competition will require agility, speed, focus and luck. Here are your instructions:

1. Please take a quick look at this website. http://www.gasbgon.com
2. Pay attention ONLY to the "Undergarments" product. Imagine that this is all the company sells.

Your group assignment is as follows:

1. You will need to come up with a new name for the "undergarments product/company"
2. You will need to come up with a quick "tag line" or "slogan"
3. You will need to come up with a 30 second RADIO commercial
4. You can have a solo narrator for the commercial or have several narrators.

12:00 pm -- Lunch starts
1:15 pm -- You will be presenting your new name, slogan and 30 second radio commercial to the rest of the groups.

Points will be award for making us laugh and for coming up with a name, slogan and commercial that sells.

The trophy will be award to the winning department.

Good luck, work as a team and...may the right department win!

And don't forget this fact...the average person passes gas 14 times per day. That stinks!"

Well, here's what the production team came up with:

Under-Wraps 30 Second Spot


[Male Narrator] Excuses. They're like farts. Everyone has them...and they all STINK. But when you're around others, there's NO EXCUSE for making a stink.

[Whoopee Cushion Noise]
[Female] Ewwwwwww!
[Male] It must have been the ferret!

[Whoopee Cushion Noise]
[Male] Duuuuuuuude.
[Male] Barking spider, man.

[Whooppee Cushion Noise]
[Female] Honey! Not under the sheets!
[Male] You wanted Mexican food!

[Male Narrator] Introducing Under-Wraps: Made with carbon-filtered, odor-masking technology that filters AND eliminates that UNSAVORY STENCH.

Stop making excuses. Keep [Whoopee Cushion Noise] under wraps.

To avoid those boomers in your bloomers look for Under-Wraps at fine retail stores everywhere.

Obviously, my team won. And rightfully so; I mean, we ARE the sensitive artists after all.

More creativity

I've got a lot of extra time these days...okay...that's a lie; my 70-hour work weeks are not giving me a lot of free time these days (A little distraction goes a long ways)...but nevertheless, I'm finding that I'm gravitating toward more creative writing. I'm not sure where it's coming from or why, now, all of a sudden I think that I might, maybe, perchance be a creative but for some reason, my mind is thinking more lyrically these days.

That said, here's something I wrote over the weekend.

Yes. Judge away.

Berry                              Kiss

A taste like                    Once...
Never...before.                I came across a
Perfectly                         Sweet kiss.
Ripe with life.               I popped it in my mouth --
Beautiful,                      Juicy,
And then --                     Tart and
Almost                             Puckery --
With a pop,                     Like a berry,
It stained my                 Ripe
Red lips.                          With passion.


So yes. There it is. Gah.

Creativity

Remember last week when I was all...hey...look I'm way too much of a pansy to really prove how creative I am?

Well I'm taking a leap today. I'm going to share part of my real work. The writing I keep totally hidden from outside eyes, away from the world that can criticize, rip apart and comment on how totally sucky and utterly worthless of a writer I am.

Fuck all that. Here it goes:

The Beat

And now for my solo.

Left right, left right.
I march to that beat of the different drum.
Left right or right left?
I don't even know anymore.

For here I walk in measured steps
One foot in front of another foot.
A measure in time, a measure of mine
That I cannot take back.

Tick tock, a tocking tick--
The clock on the wall commands my life
Recalls the days of the duet
That shook this home alive.

Silence.

Cue spotlight.

Our measured steps are stopped.

But my solo still walks on.

Please take me with
Don't leave me behind
In rhyme without reason
All cast aside.

I need you, need me
To still be alive.
Not us. But me. No longer we.
For we's but a wisp
Of a measure in time.

Short. Staccato. Bravado. Encore.
Rinse and repeat
I've done it before.

Once more here I go
This time alone
Left right, Right left
I think that I know.

I can do this --
Can live
In a world all alone,
In a measured out world
With mermaids and muses who will sing to me.

The coffee, it's measured.
Just like my life
In spoons with reflections
Of upside down strife.

Right left? No it isn't.
Left right?

Yes I am.


Go ahead. Judge away. [Cringes].

PS...that Go ahead, Judge away thing...not part of "The Beat." Just wanted to clear that up. I mean, who in their right mind (Ha, I first wrote write mind...witty? perhaps...error in typing...for sure) actually puts brackets in their creative pieces?

Fin.

(Non) Creativity?

In the office I share with the other writer at my job I face a haphazardly hung white board. We use the white board for...well...whatever writers and other creatives use white boards for: jokes, drawings and quotations. In the upper right corner is one of a dozen or so condoms that were left in my desk drawer when we moved offices four weeks ago. The wrapper is a girly bubble gum pink and, with enough tape, stuck nicely to the board. Underneath, in matching girly bubble gum pink white board marker, I've written (in girly bubble gum-ish) cursive, "For inspiration."

But this post isn't about the condom or the whiteboard.

I brought it up in the first place because it holds another quotation from last week. During an initial interview, one of our clients told our messaging director that he's counting on him for creativity because -- and I directly-ish quote the client -- "You could say that [he's] mentally handicapped when it comes to creativity."

We couldn't help but laugh because the man was just so frank about it and, by our profession we're labeled as creatives, the other writer and I posted in on our board, lapping up its irony.

I'm not lapping anymore because apparently, according to a survey we got back from a client today, I totally and completely lack creativity.  That's a paraphrase of course. The real comments included winning phrases like, "not very creative," "not slick or cool," "lacking uniqueness," and -- my personal favorite -- "clearly not what we wanted."

You see, after a client gives us the "Heck ya! Okay!" on a script, we -- the writers and messaging director -- don't have to deal with it anymore (Which is usually worth celebrating), enabling the client to fill out a survey about the writing/scripting process. Pretty much we ask how they felt their initial interview went (Which...sidebar...I get to host my first one tomorrow!!!), how we can improve our process and what, if any, concerns they might have going into the development process.

This client wrote a fucking novel. Perhaps it's because I wrote them a novel...giving them 14 different drafts. Fourteen different messages, all selling the same blase product. And apparently, it wasn't until we gave them a final ultimatum that they actual decided to choose to accept the final script which, unfortunately for them, wasn't anywhere near my best work.

Creative? Sure. But only to the extent of "I guess this will have to do and I've been working on this for four months and lose the ability to care just a little bit everyday."

I shouldn't complain, really.

But come on...I KNOW I'm creative. I don't flaunt it necessarily (Come on, like any sensitive artist I'm far too much of a pansy to let everyone read everything. This blog works well enough for now...it's an outlet where I don't really have to put my REAL work in front of whoever you all reading this may be), but I know I've got it: Whenever I hear music I'm either directing its music video or choreographing a dance to it in my head. Whenever I watch a thrilling, suspenseful or scary movie I'm always expecting THAT MOMENT (You know...the one that makes you pee your pants just a little...not too much...just enough that you can blame it on the condensation of your $4.25 soda) to be WAAAAY WORSE than it ever turns out to be (One exception is The Departed. Sure I thought that Leo might get shot point blank but come on Scorcese...could he have AT LEAST stepped out of the elevator first? Damn. So good. [Which makes Shutter Island such a shame...]. But I digress...). I imagine different scenarios in my life which I know everyone does...that's just called hope and futuristic wishful thinking but do you think about leaving everything to start an 80's tribute band called 80s Limbo Montage?

Save for Tony, I didn't think so.

I'm trying not to take the survey remarks seriously or to heart but it's a bit of a struggle. I want to do a good job. Fuck, I want to do a DAMN GOOD SUPER AWESOME job.

Shoo (Hey Kurtis...that one was for you)...I KNOW I do.

Damn Canucks. They should know that too.

Walking

This is why I love walking; it's slow, comfortable, open for conversation and observation with a loved one and I can take pictures of the things I like the most, like daffodils which remind me of cartoon lions.

Lost: Attention Span

If I were able to focus for long enough I'd like to make a poster:

LOST!
Have you seen my attention span? I can't seem to find it anywhere and am fairly certain that it was either stolen or, sadly, it ran away from me.

Last seen: Oh, weeks ago, probably prior to my first day off from work either in Northwest or Southwest Portland.

Reward: My sanity.

But making a poster takes so much work; I'd have to pull out markers and paper and scissors and be all creative and stuff.

Yeah, stuff.

Then I'd have to walk around, in the rain, carrying dozens of copies of my poster and a staple gun (Which I'd have to get from somewhere; a girl just doesn't own one of these) without simultaneously getting distracted by the blooming daffodils or friendly construction workers or lurking transients and avoiding eye contact with babies and old men who think I'm 'cute and artsy' with my short hair and big, billowy scarves.

Which reminds me, I think I need a haircut again.

But if I get a haircut I'll want to get it dyed. Like red or, if I'm feeling really ballsy (yeah, I went there), platinum blonde.

I don't know if I could go blonde though.

I used to want to go super red, like cherry red.

I was once magenta which was pretty great, though not as great as when I dyed my high school track coach's gray mullet purple.

Hey--he said I could.

Wait, where was I? Yes; my attention span.

It's weird; I've always been someone who can sit down and focus and for some reason, over the past month, I've been unable to really just

sit. down. and. focus.

I surf websites like a Vegas dealer hands out cards; shuffling back and forth between news sites, shopping sites and that damned Facebook. I flip amongst the eight tv channels I have like I'm an aging salt-and-pepper haired and moustached man (Yes Dad I am alluding to you here). I can't make up my mind, mainly because my mind is running on all eight cylinders even though it's really not going anywhere.

Maybe I'm just in a funk. Maybe I'm burnt out.

Maybe my brain is just so full of ideas and thoughts that my mind constantly bounces from one to the next by sheer involuntary accident, being unable to move without tilting in between stored memories. It's time that I expunge my brain of these ideas, onto virtual paper (ahem, my much neglected blog) so that I can, perhaps, find my lost attention span.

The Next David Sedaris?

I did a really, really, really bad thing yesterday.

Well, perhaps bad isn't the correct word. Shameful or pitiful might be more accurate describers of the act that I pulled off after walking home after a seven hour shift at Pottery Barn last night. You see, during my lunch break, I checked my email at my favorite local coffee shop, Fat Straw, only to find out that the great personal assistant job that I landed just three weeks ago had been taken away from me, thanks to an MBA-wielding smarty pants who can apparently do his and my job with ease. Needless to say, I wasn't feeling all that great about myself after my break and spent the final three hours of my shift indulging in major self-loathing and moping (Not even my manager's attempts at playing cupid were helping lift my spirits). The self-loathing continued as I passed by the Plaid Pantry, picked up a six pack of Full Sail IPA ($5.98 for a six pack = the city's cheapest prices), a box of Mike and Ikes and headed home to peruse Craigslist, yet again.

And this is when the really, really, really bad/shameful thing happened. Even though I have a degree and have a lot to offer the world outside of retail, I still found myself scrolling down the pages of open retail positions. One caught my eye in an almost ironically sardonic fashion:

Macy's Santaland in Downtown Portland is hiring!

Full and Part Time Seasonal positions available immediately!

Greeter, Photographer, Cashier and PC Computer Operator positions for seasonal Christmas employment. Santaland work hours begin during the week of Nov 16 thru Dec 24. Must have a neat appearance, pleasant personality and enjoy working with the public. No prior experience necessary...we will train all staff. However, being handy on a PC computer is extremely handy!

We offer flexible scheduling, full and part time hours and a wage/bonus of $9.50 DOE. Must be able to pass a background test and drug test prior to employment.

Please reply with the email above or at MacysSantaland.com Please list the position of interest, resume/prior experience, and availability during the season.

We have lots of fun!

While downing the last ounces of my IPA, the nasally voice of David Sedaris, one of my favorite authors, entered my head. The author became famous after writing and reading on This American Life, Santaland Diaries, essays about his experience as a Macy's Christmas elf. Maybe I could do the same?

Cracking open my second beer and washing away almost all self-respect, I totally applied. For nearly 500 words I gushed about how much I adore little kids, how much I love the holiday season and how I am more than capable -- excellent, actually -- at keeping my cool during crazy and hectic situations (Can you figure out the one truth in that list?). I've been promised to be contacted in two business days. Expect an update soon.