Cooking Attempt #18: Miso soup (된장국)

I haven't written an entry in French for awhile, I know. Isn't it ironic that as soon as I finally learn how to use certain conjugations properly, I can't muster up the energy to do it in real life? Blame it on the French composition homework. That will drain anybody. I like writing, just not for school. Unless I can make up really wild stuff (like a kid named Gerald Purplefork who starts having shortness of breath because his cleaning lady got fired for stealing and his house is now full of dust bunnies, hiYAH!), that is.

Anyhoo, here's the miso soup recipe I've been procrastinating on. I have to put it up, so that I can show my mom that the anchovies and soybean paste she gave me have not been wasted.

This is a Korean recipe, which uses dried anchovies and a special kind of dried seaweed which is thicker than nori (the stuff used to make sushi) to make the broth. You can use anything for the broth. Beef broth, chicken broth, vegetable broth, whatever. You can also add whatever you want in the soup. I'm starting to think that Koreans aren't very particular at all about their recipes. Anyway, here's what I used.

Water - 8 cups
Dried anchovies - 10 (more if you're using teeny ones)
Dried seaweed - a piece maybe 5cmx5cm big
Tofu - 1 package (usually 250g)
Potato - 1, chopped
Onion - 1, chopped
Soybean paste - 3~4 tbsp

This is probably the simplest recipe for miso soup. You can add spinach, long strips of cabbage, seaweed (the still-wet kind), meat, fish, etc etc. I'm thinking of adding kimchi pieces in it next time, to give it an extra kick.

Where was I?

Oh yeah.

So I added the anchovies and seaweed when the water started boiling and let it boil for 15~20 minutes. Then I fished them out, using chopsticks. You CAN leave the anchovies in, but you don't eat them and they start to slowly disintegrate, which is a turn off. The seaweed must be taken out or the soup will smell fishy.

Then you add the onion and potatoes and keep boiling.

When the potatoes are almost done cooking, you add the soybean paste and tofu. My mom likes to get really firm tofu and cut it up before adding it in. I like using softer tofu and let it break up on its own while I'm stirring the soup around. Add the soybean paste slowly so that it dissolves into the soup. But if the water's boiling anyway, it should do that without a problem.

Koreans always have a bowl of rice as their main meal and soup is never eaten on its own. Add portions of rice into the soup, mix it thoroughly and eat! Nyum.



Tomorrow, I make chicken teriyaki with noodles, based on Josh's stir fry recipe!

생각해 보니까 불어로 써본지 오래됐네요. 요즘 불어숙제가 많아서 쓰려고 해도 머리가 아파서 못 하겠어요. 여름에 불어 실력도 좀 더 낳아지면 그때 다시 시작할께요.

된장국은 몇주 전에 만든 건데, 바빠서 오늘 생각난 거에요. 멸치와 다시마로 국물을 냈는데, 다른 걸로도 할 수 있죠? 쇠고기나 닭고기도. 제 친구는 vegan인데, 야채로도 국물을 낼 수 있다고 하네요.

제가 만든 조리법은 아주 간단해요.

물 - 8컵
멸치 - 10개
다시마 - 1조각
두부 - 250g
감자 - 1개
양파 - 1개
된장 - 3~4숫갈

다음에 만들 때는 시금치나 김치를 넣어볼까 해요. 미역도 있으면 좋겠는데 어디서 구해야 할지 모르겠네요.

물이 끓기 시작할 때, 멸치와 다시마를 넣었어요. 15~20분 후에 건져냈어요. 엄마가 다시마는 비린내 난다고 하시네요. 멸치는 그냥 둬도 괜찮은데, 먹을 때 불편하니까 꺼냈어요. 감자와 양파를 넣고 계속 팔팔 끓이다가 거의 다 익었다 싶을때 된장을 천천히 풀었어요. 엄마는 찌개용 두부를 좋아하시는데, 저는 좀 더 말랑말랑한 두부를 썼어요. (세일을 해서... ㅋㅋ)

이틀쯤 계속 먹은 거 같아요. 역시 한국요리처럼 시원한 건 없더라구요.

내일은 치킨 테리야키 국수를 만들어 봅니다!

"Is it...gonorrhea?"

The thing that excited me the most about going into the nursing program was the standardized patients. I'm not gonna lie. You know what a big Seinfeld geek I am and one of my favourite episodes is "The Burning" where Kramer and his friend, Mickey, are standardized patients acting out symptoms for med students to diagnose.
Of course, as a nurse, I can't diagnose anything, but the main thing was to do a physical assessment and get enough information to recommend further action, like a triage nurse.

Anyhoo, I got a tip-off before my turn that I would be doing a cardiovascular assessment. I felt ready. I had all my questions prepped and a mental schedule and everything.

The Plan
0:00 - Introduction of self; ask for client's name and age; questions about chief concern (PQRSTUIA)
0:04 - Past health history (surgeries, hospitalizations, injuries, allergies, meds); Social history; Health maintenance activities (sleep, diet, exercise, stress reduction)
0:06 - vital signs
0:09 - cardio assessment
0:15 - end of session

Now, to be quite honest, I thought that it would be sufficient to get far enough into the assessment by the end of the 15 minutes. After all, it was only practice and if you want to be a nurse who follows the McGill model of health, you want to be holistic, man! That means asking a whole ton of questions that, believe you me, my family doctor has NEVER asked me. I can only assume he has either a magic crystal ball or a private investigator at his disposal.

So there I was, being all professional and interested in what he had to say and good grief, how much he did have to say! It turns out that my standardized patient was actually a cardiologist on his day off who had made up an intricate and compelling background story to his character and was determined to say all of it, damn you and everything else.

It was like that episode of Frasier when they were trying to do the radio play.
Frasier: A gun! A gun is what he's got. When the lights came back
up, a smoking gun lay on the table. The maid lay dead,
unable to name her killer. Nigel Fairservice lay mortally
wounded.
Gil: I'm dying!
Frasier: Poor man was gone.
Gil: Never again to visit the scene of my boyhood in Surrey,
romping with my school chums in the fens and spinneys...
Frasier: Just then the lights went out again. [gun sound] Nigel
Fairservice was shot again.
Gil: Only grazed me. When the twilight bathed the hedgerows like
a lambent...
Frasier: [creates another shot] The final bullet, blew his head clean
off his shoulders. All right people, let's try to keep calm
although it's hard when the killer is among us.
Gil: [walks over and makes the door sound effect] Hi-ho, I'm
Nigel's brother Cedric, who I haven't seen since my boyhood...
Frasier: [creates yet another shot] And so died the last surviving
member of the Fairservice family.

[In Frasier's apartment, Martin and Daphne are still listening in
disbelief.]

Martin: Boy, I sure didn't see that one coming!
Gil: [radio:] Hello, I'm the ice cream man. Years ago I went to
school with Nigel Fairservice. We used to romp in the fens
and spinnies... [gun shot]

Not that I blame the cardiologist. I myself have a tendency to create intricate storylines for trivial roleplaying and lab reports (the journalist who went to Russia for 6 months and caught tuberculosis while dallying with a consumptive hooker, hello?). What if his secret passion was acting and the only way he could let it out was to volunteer himself for these sessions with student nurses and doctors lest he die of never being able to fulfill his dreams? Oh the tragedy!

See what I did there? It's like I can't stop.

I came out of this revery when the voice came over the PA system telling me that I had FIVE minutes left and the standardized patient had JUST finished answering all my questions. So I washed my hands, did the vital signs as quickly as I could and started palpating the precordium (5 landmarks of the chest used for the assessment). The final obstacle, which just made me want to laugh and cry at the same time, was that the man was too muscular. I couldn't feel the intercostal spaces! So I just imagined in my head where they would be and palpated the chest anyway. Like I could feel anything through at least 4cm of pectoral muscles, really.

It was awkward, feeling this man's chest without saying anything, so...

Judy: You're very muscular.
Client: Oh really? I've been reading the Men's Health magazine [indicates one sitting on the table next to him] and I look nothing like those guys.
Judy: Well, they probably spend 4 to 6 hours working out everyday.
Client: The women in it are extremely buff.
PA System: END OF SESSION. BEGIN DEBRIEFING.

The comments I got were that I was very methodical and thorough in my questioning, but that I needed to be more aware of the time. I was very good with taking the vital signs, but that if they were normal, I could reassure the client with the results instead of just moving onto the next procedure.

In brief, I listen a little too well, it seems, which makes me an awesome McGill nurse, but it's not very practical in the real world. Hmm. Do you know what I say to that? If you're going to teach me to be a holistic nurse, give me more than 15 minutes to do an assessment. 5 more minutes would have been a huge help, in my case. Anyway, I learned a lot from my first standardized patient encounter and definitely have some things to work on, but I'm getting more confident day by day.

Oh yeah, I should be getting my scrubs in a few weeks. They're not as ugly as I thought they would be, which is a comfort. I must get back to work on a family interview report that rivals Alexandre Dumas novels in their intricacy and drama!

And now for something completely different

She lounged at her desk, completely uninterested in the pile of papers that inevitably regenerated, hydra-like, from the station offices. Everything felt sluggish, from her aching knees to her head that refused to wake up from the morning stupor. For a moment, she was tempted to give in and make herself a small cup of Blue Mountain coffee with 3 round dollops of her personal stash of fresh vanilla bean gelato. She thought of the white frothy mixture slowly dissolving into the coffee in tight swirls, but had to steel herself. After all, she was on assignment in a few hours and couldn't risk the aftereffects of the caffeine. She threw herself out of her chair and did a few stretches in the middle of her office while waiting for the red light to blink on the telephone, silent but as blaring as an alarm.

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This is a typical start to a Bond-ish novel. It is at this point that the Bond-ish character starts reminiscing about previous assignments and the injuries he got and how he felt about the whole incidence.

He's a character that's very in tune with his body, I think. The way Fleming describes his physical condition, the taste of the food and drink and the sensations he gets from cigarettes is almost pornographic. Bond isn't a cultured man; it would be difficult to be one in the line of work that he does. The only respite he gets from the constant tension is his gluttony in the physical pleasures. I don't mean to say that he overindulges in anything, but the relish he gets from the precise measures of anything he consumes is evident in every page. (Side note: When James Bond describes the texture of eating Alaskan crabs drenched in melted butter with a loaf of crusty toast, I have this overwhelming urge to have some crab myself even though I don't like shellfish!) This is interesting, because when it comes to women, Fleming's writing becomes almost dainty in comparison. Bond does sleep with a lot of women and he is obviously a "breast man", but any description of the physical act itself is carefully behind closed doors. Somehow Bond changes from a cold and brutal man to an almost tender hero of romance novels. He sweeps her up in his arms and it's almost like the camera carefully pans away to the window; the curtains are drawn. It's a polite way of prodding the readers onto the next chapter. I find it a fascinating contrast.

Why am I writing this? Can't you tell from the first segment? I'm procrastinating from studying for my physiology midterm.

Ookie Cookie: Chapter 1 - Section D

Last time, we were introduced to Linda's friend, Judy Tatamumakil. We continue our story with Linda's day.

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It was another mind-numbingly dull day at the Idunnowat Museum of History, a tourist attraction renowned for its hideous exterior, inspired, as the architect liked to proclaim frequently to admirers, by a drooping snowman he had seen on a warm March day. Pretentious folk thought it – or claimed to, anyway – marvellously artistic and avant-garde, but the plain truth of it was that it was just as depressing and forlorn as a melting snowman tends to be. People often shook their heads as they walked by the off-white monstrosity; some even shook their fists, as though their gestures could somehow be transmitted to the critically acclaimed architect, who was at the moment rummaging through a recycling bin in search of more “inspiration”.

Inside, the Museum of History is infinitely easier on one’s eyes. The 20 foot-high ceiling above the entrance is painted in the softest shades of white, brilliant but subdued as a cumulus cloud floating in the summer sky. Spotlights were carefully aimed at precise angles to light up the thin gold lines that criss-crossed the ceiling. The result was a warm glow that mimicked natural daylight, diffusing like dust particles down to the main atrium below where the patrons milled around, pleasantly surprised at the contrast between the bulky exterior and the elegant interior. The walls were finely mosaicked to depict the various landmarks of Idunnowat: the North Forest of Richmondil, the Orange Mountain and the Southern Caves. Linda, quirky as she is, always liked to imagine that she was still outside, walking all over Idunnowat at superhuman speed.

On this day, however, Linda could not be so cheerful and whisked her tour group through the museum with a sullen face with death shooting out her eyes. Figuratively, that is. Needless to say, the comment cards she received that day were the worst in her whole career. Some samples:
"If a grasshopper curls its butt end while you're holding it, it means it's going to poop on you."
"If you give away your stuff, you'll give away your ass!"
"If you grew an extra pair of lungs on your shoulders, would you be able to breathe and sing at the same time?"
The board of directors of the Idunnowat Museum of History are now in their second year of debating on whether or not to clarify to the patrons that the comment cards should be about their experience at the museum.

After her morning tour was over, Linda wandered off to the west wing of the museum to visit her favourite exhibit: The Heroes of Idunnowat. The funny portraits usually cheered her up. For instance, there was a really famous painting of the legendary hero, Muskels, who had once subdued a marauding dragon using nothing but a super sized bottle of baby oil. (It was later discovered that the dragon had been suffering from scale rot, which tends to affect many a reptile in the dry winter months. Having been treated for its skin condition with the soothing effects of aloe vera baby oil, the dragon was tamed and became a pet in South Idunnowat. Even now, there is a giant house in the South Idunnowat town square with the name “Droopy the Dragon” painted over the door.) The painting depicted sunlight shining down on Muskels – triumphantly holding up an empty bottle – with a meek dragon at his feet with unusually shiny scales.

Linda passed by the portrait of Muskels without a glance. Instead, she headed straight for the golden statue of Snippy the Lobster, Saviour of Lotsawata Harbour, which was bathed in golden light from a lone lightbulb. A golden claw held up triumphantly (it is a well-known fact that all images of heroic deeds must portray said hero holding up an object triumphantly, be it a sword, a wand or a giant stapler, as in the case of Jules the Lucky Bastard), Snippy smiled beneficently down at Linda. After looking about to make sure that no one was around, Linda planted her feet firmly and held up her hand just like the heroes around her.

“Linda the Magnificent, who found the long lost Ookie Cookie of the legends!”, she whispered. Then she noticed the reflection of herself on the gold lobster tail of Snippy and felt…well, silly, and not in the best way. It is the sort of embarrassment one feels when caught doing something goofy that is by no means morally reprehensible (an example may be one’s mother opening the bedroom door unexpectedly when one is dancing and singing in one’s underwear). In this case, Linda had caught herself, and although it was less embarrassing than being locked outside in one’s pyjamas, she still blushed. What if someone had seen?

**************************************************

Some notes:

The description of the Museum of History was written around the time I found out about the crystal renovation at the ROM. I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea, as you can probably tell. I wrote the second paragrah this week, because I felt that the museum needed more description and wanted to protest the white drywall that Josh reported in his blog post about the new ROM. White drywall? You mean the kind that's in my room? How can a museum be so bland?

The sample comments are taken from old Crazy E-mails. The first comment is me describing something that happened in my biology lab at U of T. The second comment is a Silly Saying (an ongoing segment in the latter years at Westmount) from Mrs. Crawford. The third is a Silly Saying from Matt after jazz choir.

Muskels is "muscles" as pronounced by Jenn when she is being goofy. She doesn't do that anymore, I've noticed.

I was using aloe vera baby oil at the time to moisturize my skin during a shower. I was very obsessed with lotions and moisturizers. I still am, but don't show it as often as before.

I've never been caught dancing and singing in my underwear by my mother. It doesn't mean I don't do it, though.

Ookie Cookie: Chapter 1 - Section C

Last time, we learned about the supposed origins of the mythical Ookie Cookie.

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“I’m telling you, it’s taunting me!” complained Linda to her best friend over chocolate pancakes one morning.

“It’s a cookie, Linda,” said Judy Tatamumakil. Judy was as sensible as one could get in the Land of Idunnowat without being tossed onto a catapult by the Silliness Enforcers. This was probably due to the fact that she was an Enforcer herself, who regularly warned people showing signs of seriousness by shoving bananas up their noses. “What’s in this biscotti? It’s hard as a rock!” To emphasize her point, Judy banged the edge of the breakfast table with the unnaturally solid treat.

“Don’t change the subject,” said Linda, grabbing the mistreated munchie away from her friend. “I’m going to find it, Judes. I’m going to find the Ookie Cookie.” Linda’s eyes shone. Her lips trembled. Her hands formed into determined fists. Her toes wiggled inside her favourite fuzzy purple slippers.

Judy smiled invisibly. It is the sort of smile one gives when one is amused by the sincerity of another person’s nutty antics. This isn’t to say that Judy did not have some peculiar quirks of her own. After all, the Silliness Enforcement Agency demanded that all its employees have at least 23 unique obsessions, compulsions, tics and phobias. She waited silently, sipping her morning tea, for Linda to continue her train of thought uninterrupted.

Coming out of her reverie, Linda poked at her stack of pancakes with her fork and muttered, “It’s not just a cookie. It is…my destiny.” She gazed off into the distance with another brave look and trembling lips when Judy interrupted with, “We should get going, Linda. There’s an early meeting at the Agency and you don’t want to be late for the museum.” Judy stood up from the table, tying on her Enforcer sash – a lovely sky blue with tiny golden bananas embroidered along the edges – and finished her tea. Linda started, looked sadly into her cup of hot chocolate and sighed.

**************************************************

Some notes:

Judy Tatamumakil is a name from a Tambou Koala sketch that I did with Brenda and Robert after a period of all-absorbing obsession with Monty Python's Flying Circus and lots and lots of juice. In it, I was Judy Tatamumakil, who had small boobs despite a last name that suggested otherwise (tatas the size of a mumakil) and Brenda was Brenda Wafflebottom, whose butt wasn't as hot as it was suggested. Robert was a pompous voiceover man who was deflating us of our ego.

I wanted Judy to be a sensible character in comparison to Linda's lunacy, which is a reversal of our actual personalities. Not that Linda is completely sane, of course. The real Linda, I mean. Jesus, this is getting complicated.

In Westmount, maybe 10th or 11th grade, I baked biscottis and brought them to school. When they were freshly baked, they were soft and delicious, but by the next day, they were completely inedible due to their hardness. I think it was Jennifer who actually banged them on the edge of the cafeteria table to show how hard they were.

I'll probably be mentioning feet and toes very often in this book. It's not that I have a foot fetish, but I think feet and hands should be a main component when considering one's beauty. Yeah, I'm weird like that.

I was once told by someone (was it Jennifer?) that I have an invisible smile. For years, I didn't know what that meant until I saw America's Next Top Model, in which Tyra Banks is forever screaming, "Smile with your eyes! YOUR EYES!" Thanks, Tyra!

I rather like the idea of the Enforcers, these secret police agent types, walking around with elaborate beauty pageant style sashes. I could be changing the details of the sash itself, but for now the sky blue with golden bananas is lovely.

Ookie Cookie: Chapter 1 - Section B

We left off last time with the introduction of Linda Purplefork, our heroine in the quirky land of Idunnowat.

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This is hardly important. What really matters is the collection being housed in Linda’s hollowed-out oak. Instead of magical tomes of incalculable power, expensive and sparkly jewels or even an assortment of the best movies in the world, the library was the home of the most insensible collection known to man.

“My cookies!” Linda climbed up the spiral staircase coming out of the centre of the library floor. She wore a bright blue apron and big red rubber gloves. In her hands, she held a bottle of window washing fluid, a soft rag and a special cookie duster that she fashioned out of soft daisy feathers. She began her daily routine of wiping down the hundreds of glass covers in the cylindrical room. Linda enjoyed this rather mundane task, because it gave her a chance to admire her “crumbly darlings”, as she called them. As contented as she was, admiring the first mint chocolate chip cookie ever made or the chocolate chip chocolate cookie with chocolate icing and a dollop of chocolate sauce, she glanced at the one empty compartment in her shelf and sighed.

The Ookie Cookie is the rarest cookie in the world. So rare, in fact, that the only surviving record of its existence is in a book titled The Collection of Silly Superstitions, Mad Myths and Ridiculous Rumours in the Land of Idunnowat by Marianne Shaw-Buckitt, a best-selling historian with beautiful feet who had an unfortunate tendency to make up things, most of which are contained in her book. Just after the entry “The Dastardly Nocturnal Deeds of Fairies” is the entry about the Ookie Cookie:

“The Ookie Cookie is the rarest cookie in the world. So rare, in fact, that the only surviving record of its existence is in this book, written by yours truly. From years of research – mostly conducted in the mango-peach juice bars – this humble author has discovered that the legendary baked good may be traced back to the Temple of Dungivadamme, the centre of the Enlightened Indifference movement.

“It is said that the High Priestess of the ancient cult ordered the High Baker to create a dessert for the Day of Shrugging celebration, which consists of all believers putzing around in their sleeping clothes, unshaven and dirty-haired, contemplating their superior powers of utter apathy. The High Baker, Gaston was his name, sought inspiration in grapefruit juice, the sourness of which makes it a favoured drink of those wishing to reach the state of religious ecstasy. High Baker Gaston drank so much of this fruity liquid that his ecstatic fit caused his limbs to flail about and make a mess of giant proportions, which took High Caretaker John three hours to clean up the next morning. Coming out of his daze, the High Baker clenched his right hand and found that it held some dough. He took it as a sign and popped it into the oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit or 175 degrees Celsius for twenty minutes. The cookie was beautiful to behold and nary a crumb fell when High Baker Gaston lifted it from the pan. Suddenly, he could not bear the thought of anyone eating his perfect creation, and after carefully wrapping it in a piece of wax paper, the deranged cook fled from the temple. When it was discovered that the High Baker was missing along with his divine dessert, the High Priestess ordered her soldiers to search for the traitor. Unfortunately, the Enlightened and Indifferent soldiers soon gave up, realizing that they just did not care about the cookie or in fact, anything at all. (See page 304 for the entry on the downfall of the Enlightened Indifference movement and the Temple of Dungivadamme.)

“Of the High Baker’s tragic fate (for one can only assume in these types of stories that the end was suitably disastrous), nothing can be said for certain. However, the legend of the Ookie Cookie has only grown over the years. Some attribute powers of immortality, telepathy, invisibility, omnipotence, omniscience and ambidextrousness to it, while others suggest that the possession of a saccharine object – especially that born out of religious ecstasy – can have only negative consequences, such as mortality, impotence, obesity, hyperglycemia and other diabetes-related symptoms.”

Every night, Linda pored over this passage before going to sleep, trying to find some meaning in the tangled phrases. And every night, she came to the conclusion that Miss Marianne Shaw-Buckitt was a harebrained loony – a perfect Idunnowat citizen. Then she threw the book at her light switch across the room, and kicked up the blankets in frustration. Her sleep was always plagued by befuddling dreams of a giant winged cookie beckoning to her from beyond a lake of milk shrouded in mist.

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Some notes:

What are "daisy feathers"? Darned if I know. Debbie suggested them to me and I liked the beautiful soft sound of them.

It should perhaps be mentioned that Linda's surname "Purplefork" is a play on Greenspoon, the Westmount math teacher. I think it was Leah, Linda and I who used the name "Purplefork" in a composition we had to do in French class.

I'm big fan of Dickensian names. Long ridiculous names. Shaw-Buckitt is my favourite to use when I can't think of a name right away. I think this one will stick for once. I love its faux-English sound.

The Enlightened Indifference movement was born when I finally realized after years of self-torment that it is best simply to let some things go. There are instances when apathy truly is a great comfort. I had thought of naming it Jindaludyism, which is a cult that Linda and I thought of starting one day to take over the world, but that was a bit on the nose, so I settled for the more understated name. As understated as one can get with a structure called "Temple of Dungivadamme", that is.

If I can one day get this printed, I would probably include all these as footnotes probably for my own amusement more than anything else. ^_^

The Resurrection of..."THE OOKIE COOKIE"!!!

Dear friends,
I haven't been writing for a long long time. As much as I like cooking and boasting about new recipes I've tried in my solitude here in Montreal, it doesn't give me the same boost as writing Crazy E-mails and Foodietales and wacky stories.

Ookie Cookie is a story I've been trying to write for the longest time. The problem is that even though I have all these ideas floating around in my head, it takes me forever to put them down because I'm so focused on writing the most perfect sentences. So, as a way of getting back to writing and also forcing myself to keep doing it, I've decided to write one new paragraph of Ookie Cookie every week. I would love any feedback you have about my writing.

Ookie Cookie was born from a random song Linda was singing to herself one day in my car:
Ookie Cookie
Ookie Cookie
I want a cookie!
(repeat)

The Lord of the Rings movies had just come out and we thought of an idea of a character going on an epic quest for a mythical cookie. We had no real idea of where the story would go from there, but I planned to soak the story with WSS in-jokes and references. At one point, we were actually thinking of "Ookie Cookie: The Musical", so if this works out and I'm not completely rhyme-dead, I will also be writing lyrics to various songs that would feature in such a musical.

Some song ideas right now are:
The Ookie Cookie Song
What Rhymes with Potato?
That Cookie Better Be Vegan!

For now, I'm posting Chapter 1: In which the adventure begins, Section A that I wrote a few years ago.

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Deep in the Land of Idunnowat, fairies in wispy dresses made of mist (dyed with fruit juice, in the case of the vainer of our winged friends) chatter and giggle late into the night, sitting cross-legged in their mulberry tree nests. When bored with the latest gossip about the Fairy of Sunflowers courting the Fairy of Mischief, they creep out from behind the leaves and take to the air, after peeping to make sure no one is around. One of their favourite activities is to fly through the open windows of sleeping humans and tickle the big pink ears or toes with dandelion puffs.

Such is the fluffy nonsense that the inhabitants of Land of Idunnowat believed, for they were very silly. Each and every one of them was an oddball, a nutjob or a weirdo, but it won’t do to call them such names, as they preferred the term “whimsically eccentric”. Good sense was frowned upon; it was a good thing too. When was the last time anyone had a smashing good time after someone had uttered the words, “You know, my good sense tells me…”? Anyone so practical as to say such things was immediately banished from the Land of Idunnowat to a grey and desolate country filled with math teachers, philosophers, astrobiologists and other miscellaneous people who belonged to the category of “No Fun Crankypants”. The population of Idunnowat dwindled somewhat, but the remaining citizens lived quite happily and peacefully, basking – and sometimes even suntanning – in the silliness of each other and the world around them.

One such silly person was Linda Purplefork, who lived in the hollowed-out centre of a giant oak in the north corner of Idunnowat. The idea of living in a tree, as well as being terribly romantic, was also terribly convenient, for the hollowed-out centre of the giant oak formed the ideal cylindrical shape for her library. She ordered special shelves that curved inward to fit the shape of the walls perfectly, as well as a ladder that rolled along the library walls for easy access. That was the main reason for her to build this custom library. In her previous house, the library formed a heptagon, which was most inconvenient for ladders and Linda was forced to huff and puff as she dragged hers from shelf to shelf. The contractor and the real estate agent who suggested that she simply buy custom shelves that fit the heptagonal walls and form a circle with the inner edge – instead of moving to a new house with a cylindrical shape – were both sacked and booted out of Idunnowat. Linda had no patience for sensible types.

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Up until this point, I was on a roll. I knew exactly what words I wanted to use and the tone I wanted to convey. More to come!

In the Morning

The faint rays of sunlight peeked through the folds of her yellow curtains and touched his face. He stared at his fingertips, now eerily glowing in the semi-darkness which was slowly retreating in the light of day. Transfixed by the flaming appendages, he felt as though a small part of him was now invincible. Godlike, even. He turned his attention to the tiny foot poking out from under the soft pink duvet on the bed. It was limp, but it pulsated with life. As he stared, the blood underneath the skin seemed to become even redder in the sunlight. He concentrated and he thought he could see the blood vessels branching out longer and further into the smallest capillaries. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He slowly reached for the foot with his glowing fingers. As he got closer, he felt - or did he just imagine it? - the skin throbbing in a slow rhythm.

He pounced.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle!", he yelled.

Cooking Attempts: #12 - 17

I haven't been productive at all lately, so the recipes have been piling up since I got back from Toronto. I've made some yummy things though, so it seems a waste to not put up these pictures, even if I don't have the energy to write a complete recipe for each of them. Enjoy!


Cooking Attempt #12: Crepes for breakfast!
I used strawberry jam and Nutella. I think next time, I might use fresh fruit.




Cooking Attempt #13: 유부초밥 - Japanese rice balls in a bean curd pocket!
The bean curd pockets, vinegar sauce and veggie flecks come in an instant package. You just mix the latter two with warm rice and fill the pockets (which are a variation of tofu) with the mixture.




Cooking Attempt #14: Banana bread
I made this from scratch using a recipe I found on the internet, but I also added walnuts and chocolate chips for extra texture. It was yummy and healthy too!




Cooking Attempt #15: 국수 - Korean noodle soup
I used Korean vermicelli in an anchovy broth and added shrimps to the soup. The mixture on the top is green onions, hot pepper flakes and soy sauce. It turned out to be rather bland, which probably means that I didn't use enough anchovies to make the broth.




Cooking Attempt #16: 수제비 - Korean rice dough and beef soup
I made this, because I was just starting to get a cold and I wanted to warm myself up. It's basically like the beef and radish soup recipe, except it's got potatoes instead of radishes, more onion and chunks of dough made from rice flour. I could only make one serving at a time, because if you warm it up again, the dough in the soup doesn't taste as good as the first time.




Cooking Attempt #17: 카레 - Pork and veggie curry
After cooking the veggies and pork in a frying pan with a bit of oil, I scooped it all into a pot and covered it with water. After bringing it up to a boil, I added curry powder that comes in a package at Korean markets. Since I like my curry to be extra spicy, I also added a teaspoon of hot chili powder. Yum~

Cooking Attempt #11: 비빔밥 (Bibimbap - Korean "mixed rice")

I suspect that bibimbap was invented by a Korean who was too lazy to bother lifting up his chopsticks to pick up dainty portions of Korean side dishes to go along with every mouthful of rice, because it is essentially rice with lots of side dishes dumped on top of it and then mixed vigorously like you can't trust your stomach to do the churning up for you. (I fear the French version of this post will be a grammatical disaster.) You can't just mix anything though. The side dishes have to be very mildly flavoured. When I say mildly, you have to take it with a grain of salt, because it's Korean food we're talking about and Koreans love their kimchi which is about as subtle as bonking someone over the head with a sledgehammer to get their attention. (Seriously, my sentences are getting dangerously flamboyant for a multilingual post.) Unless of course, it's a Seoul-style kimchi. Those sissies.

Je soupçonne que bibimbap a été inventé par un coréen qui était trop paresseux et ne voulait pas soulever ses baguettes (that's chopsticks in French) pour ramasser portions délicats avec des bouchées de riz. C'est essentiellement du riz avec beaucoup de plats d'accompagnement posés dessus et puis mélangé vigoreusement comme si on ne peut pas compter sur son estomac pour le barratter tout seule. On ne peut pas mélanger n'importe quoi. Les plats d'accompagnement doivent être assaisonnés légèrement. Je dis "légèrement", mais la nourriture coréenne est relativement piquante, sauf laquelle de Seoul. Les gens de Seoul sont les vraies mauviettes.


Anyhoo, my main vegetables were spinach and bean sprouts, but you can add pretty much any veggies you like: zucchini, mushroom, potatoes, onions, cucumbers, etc. Just make sure that they're very lightly cooked, so that they don't lose their texture.

En tout cas, j'ai utilisé des épinards et des germes de soja, mais on peut ajouter n'importe quel légume qu'on veut: la courgette, les champignons, les pommes de terre, les oignons, les concombres, etc. Il faut les cuisiner légèrement pour qu'ils ne perdent pas leur texture.


Ingredients!

Spinach
Bean sprouts
Crushed garlic
Salt
Carrot
Thin beef slices (like in teriyaki)
Korean hot chili pepper paste
Sesame oil
Kimchi (cut into bite-size pieces)
Rice
Egg


Les ingrédients!

les épinards
les germes de soja
l'ail écrasé
sel
une carotte
les tranches fines de boeuf
la pâte de piments coréene
l'huile de sésame
kimchi (coupé en petits morceaux)
du riz
un oeuf


The nice thing about this recipe is that you can make vegetable side dishes on their own to eat with rice. They can also be made ahead of time and kept in the fridge. I bought one bunch of spinach and a 500g package of bean sprouts, which should last awhile.
Spinach and bean sprouts are tricky to cook, because if you cook them too long, they get too soft. First you put water on the stove with some salt. As soon as it starts to boil, dip the spinach (or bean sprouts) in the water, swirl it around and then fish it out (Is this blanching?). Rinse very quickly with cold water and drain. Then you put some crushed garlic (I like to put a lot, because I love garlic) and mix it thoroughly. And that's it!
Other vegetables should probably be cooked on a frying pan very quickly after being cut into bite-size pieces (Potatoes should be julienned.)

J'aime cette recette parce qu'on peut cuisiner les légumes tous seules pour manger avec du riz. On peut les faire en avant et les mettre dans le réfrigérateur. J'ai acheté une botte des épinards et un paquet des germes de soja. Ils peuvent durer un long temps.
Les épinards et les germes de soja sont difficiles à faire, parce que si on les cuisine pour un long temps, ils deviennent trop doux. On met de l'eau sur la cuisinière avec du sel. Dès que l'eau commence à brouiller, plongez les épinards (ou les germes de soja) là-dedans, tournoyez-les et repêchez-les. Rincez-les rapidement avec l'eau froid et égouttez-les. Mettez un peu de l'ail écrasé et mélangez. C'est tout!
Des autres légumes doivent être cuisinés dans une poêle très rapidement après qu'ils sont coupés en petits morceaux. (Il faut qu'on coupe pommes de terres commes les alumettes.)


I couldn't be bothered to julienne the carrots, so I cut it into slices like I normally do and cooked it with the beef in teriyaki sauce (and a dollop of honey).
Finally, I fried an egg sunny side up.
Put cooked rice into a bowl. Add little amounts of the side dishes (including kimchi) and the egg. Add as much chili paste as you like and sesame oil. Mix well. Eat with just a spoon like the lazy person that you are.

J'ai coupé la carotte et je l'ai cuisiné avec du boeuf dans la sauce teriyaki avec une cuillerée du miel.
Finalement, j'ai frit un oeuf sur le plat.
Mettez du riz dans un bol. Ajoutez les petites portions des plats d'accompagnement et l'oeuf frit. Ajoutez la pâte de piments coréene et l'huile de sésame. Mélangez bien. Mangez avec une cuillère comme le fainéant que vous êtes.



There's rice under there. After mixing...