Why does this exist…
I am resisting the urge to go out and buy 15 eggs and more vinegar and lock myself in my kitchen until I can finally poach an egg. I attempted to poach an egg according to Martha, with no luck. But I think breakfast rolls around once everyday and I have a date with a pan, water, egg and vinegar tomorrow morning and I am going to try a different method, thanks youtube.
Other things think I have learned from youtube..
How to cut an onion
I awoke in typical, I drank a bottle of wine by-myself fashion, with a dry mouth and confusion at 4 this morning. I can already sense this little note will be littered with mildly relevant cultural and pop references and have little to do with the crepes I just ate for breakfast.
Beginning on the journey of my morning: 4 am
I read a little of the book Julie and Julia
I hate the main character (the author) of this book. She is self indulgent, self obsessed and not the kind of person I would want to be friends with or invite to a dinner party. I am not the largest fan of this book, yet I feel like this book is an appropriate read for my month of Martha. The main character was making crepes in the book-so I thought…let’s makes some crepes.
I made crepes…
I wanted to make Spinach-Gruyere Gateau de Crepes…
but I didn’t have all the ingredients. So I mixed mustard and sour cream and put it with some chard, onions and curry powder-Lesson 1. don’t do that ever again.
I organized my spice rack for the second time this month. Lucky for me I actually enjoy organizing it and I have no clue how to keep it organized, it works well for me.
Then I watched videos of the adorable Julia Child
And the mind-numbingly annoying Julie Powell
and researched what to do with egg cartons..
Two cups of coffee later, laundry done, and counters cleaned, this type of a morning makes me want to drink wine and dance everyday.
That is until 6pm roles around and I am tired and have to go to bed like an old person in a nursing home. Eh, I see no problem here.
I know nothing about advertising, nothing. But I do know a few things about being a human and having a lizard brain and I think this advertisement by Skoda Fabia would push me to want to EAT (buy) that delicious cake car, while songs from my youth play and the environmental polluter becomes a friendly car cake.
In other Martha news: I have been ironing every single item of my clothing, folding them, and putting them away. It is utter hell. I just finished and in celebration I got wasted by myself and pretended I was at a dance club. I did the running man, I dropped it like it was hot and I am a little tipsy right now. I think Martha would do the same. In sweeter news; I made Amy Sedaris’s cupcakes with a little girl today and she experienced cupcakes for the first time. Have I mentioned I love this women and her cupcakes.
Featured on countless MUST READ lists, how to make friends and influence people forgot to mention Martha Stewart’s almond-berry coffee cake. The book isn’t just for creepy business majors or socially inept individuals (though it would behoove them to read it) it is a basic tell all of how to not be a jerk and how to get people to like you by being friendly, interesting and a good friend, employee, person…But! it failed because if you really want to make friends, succeed in business, impress people, have fame and fortune..make Martha’s coffee cake and enjoy it with others.
It is the kind of food that you don’t even want to keep for yourself you want to throw it to the masses and say-eat! there is a party that is about to happen in your mouth.
I have never really been that impressed with potatoes. Perhaps it is the anthropomorphic, Mr. potato and his wife Mrs. Potato head that screwed with my taste buds and mind. Instead of being able to enjoy the flavors of the potato I feel shame and guilt for eating my childhood friends. Or maybe it is that the only way that potatoes are flavored in my life has been with with butter, oil, salt and occasionally some yellow seasoning or green stuff. Potatoes always felt like the cousin that would come over on Saturday, drinking wine coolers and wearing last years fashion-you would entertain her for a bit but really you just want her to get out of your house as soon as possible. I had a bag of potatoes hanging out on my kitchen floor that were left over from a camp we had, typically I would think about what to do with them, make stamps, mashes, soups…but they would sprout-turning into terrifying creatures, before I would actually make anything with them (because I didn’t really want to make anything with them anyways). This month I have been making something new and delicious everyday I discovered that yummy and potatoes go well together.
I racked my mind for fun potato recipes-put them in the oven, put them in some water, put them in some oil. BORING! Put eggs, flour, and salt in them blend them together roll them like a snake and put them in water-oh, yeah! Gnocchi.
Gnocchi pronounced nok-ee but me, being all Italian and unknowing like to say gnok-ee. Alright, alright this is like Nietzsche pronounced nee-chuh not chee or whatever all I know is that potato pasta gnocchi is delicious and I haven’t, yet, been able to get through a book by Nietzsche. Now on to more important things-Martha Stewart and her recipe for gnocchi you can watch a video with Francis Ford Coppola and Martha together making gnocchi, which I suggest because he tells stories about his family, life and gnocchi (traditionally served on Thursdays) or you can go to youtube.
I think this would be great paired with some cheese.
and maybe some wine.
I find myself completely and utterly taken over by Martha. Martha has reached the status of Chuck Norris, unicorns and espresso’s in my head. She is no longer a real person; she is an image and an ideal. I find myself conjuring up the spirit of Martha as I am just living my life and hearing myself saying things like, “Martha would never….” I am making jam, in a house that is filthy from last night calzones and burnt jam (more on that later) and I think Martha would never let her house get so messy, she would never eat while typing, she hates sugar in her coffee, and she never burns jam because she is chatting with friends while drinking a beer (a cheap, light beer at that). I am typing this while drinking my second cup of coffee of the day and planning on pouring the stale beer from last night into my hair (mixed with vinegar and lemon extract) for a nice hair rinse. These things I can be sure Martha is opposed to; I imagine her drinking one cup of espresso, wait I have googled this she does only drink one cup of coffee in the morning and she would never use beer in her hair-that is so uncouth.
And I wonder how did this women who I have never met, whose books I don’t own, whose television show I don’t watch and whose magazine can’t find it’s way to Armenia and my doorstep, lodge herself somewhere inside of me and who for better or worse till this month end do we part, we are joined. This month has been extravagant, I have made jam, cupcakes, cakes, calzones, buckles and delicious items everyday. I have been using face masks, drinking water, and doing morning yoga and evening stretches. I have been attempting to keep track of my finances, manage my emails and organize my spices. It is six days in and yet, my house is dirty, my bed isn’t made, my garbage is piling up and there is the smell of burnt plums-the Martha of my mind thinks-tisk, tisk. How is it that this certified bitch, perfectionist of a women is still such a dominating force-she has faced jail time and the scrutiny of the public eye and no one, no one! can live up to the image of this demigod. Yet, we (I) find myself looking to her, envying her and longing to be-like her.
At first I thought it was the facade that Martha allows for. Yes, my life is hectic and crazy and sometimes I am overworked, stressed out and tired-but hell, I just made the most beautiful presented dinner with desert to follow-the crust was flaky, the meat was moist, the vegetables were paired perfectly and the desert made me slip into oblivion and I touched the clouds of heaven, if only for a moment.
Now, I think that Martha is much more than that. She isn’t the facade of a perfect life. Martha is the internal longing, the internal expectations and the quite silent seeming voice of insecurity. As people subscribe to the powerhouse, they are embracing, cradling and nurturing those parts unknowingly. I love Martha, I love her so much. I am discovering that she is much more a reflection of that letter society wrote me when I was little that said.
Dear little girl,
You must be everything. You are a modern women who can get educated, work, have a family, and travel! Do it all. Work hard and be beautiful! All those ideals of the past, oh there still there- make your home as beautiful as you are, impress people with your abilities and put lip gloss on that smile. You are super! Look at you, you are a cook, maid, economist, mother, sister, daughter, student, employee, great friend! Manage that check book. You will make less than men and you will be alright with this because your hands will be busy and your heart will be full of the joy of working and proving yourself. You are never good enough so just keep on trying. You will find love through the eyes of others so look to men to validate you and to other people to affirm who you are. Know how to make a cake and how to properly apply eyeliner.
I write this after my mother telling me she is getting a face lift and how she used drugs since I was 3 years old (three years clean) and now, ready for a new life and a new pretty face.
I wonder when we are going to throw up our middle finger and tell society to stick that in it’s cake. This, written from a girl who loves pretty clothes, tea time and eyeshadow. I like to imagine, Virgin Woolf would applaud the contradictions while enjoying some peach cobbler and a rousing discussion.
I can’t wait to share the other delicious items and fun things that I embark on this month with you. I have a feeling that this month I will learn more than I did while meditating and standing in tree pose.
Get busy girls (sexist comment), cause we are going to get baked.