Jeg har nettopp lest The Marriage Plot av Jeffrey Eugenides. Den handlet om ei jente, Madeleine, som leser en masse bøker og er forelska i Leonard som er en manisk-depressiv* biolog; og Mitchell som er forelska i Madeleine og skriver brev til henne fra India hvor han jobber som frivillig for organisasjonen til Mor Teresa mens han lurer på om han skal konvertere til katolisismen eller ikke. Og innimellom lesning av attenhundretallsromaner, studier av gjær og søken etter Gud, spiser karakterene i boka mat.
Det er ikke alltid lett å skjønne hvorfor Madeleine er forelska i Leonard:
Finally, the waitress came over. Madeleine ordered the cottage cheese plate and coffee. Leonard ordered apple pie and coffee. When the waitress left, he spun his stool rightward, so that their knees briefly touched.
"How very female of you," he said.
"Sorry?"
"Cottage cheese."
"I like cottage cheese."
Mens Madeleine leser Roland Barthes:
Madeleine had the book in her lap. With her right hand she was eating peanut butter straight from the jar. The spoon fit perfectly against the curve of her upper palate, allowing the peanut butter to dissolve creamily against her tongue.
Selv gjør jeg det samme med Nutella-boksen.
På vei til Leonard:
She kept her glasses on, left her hair loose, and walked over to Leonard's apartment on Planet Street. On the way, she stopped at a market to buy a hunk of cheese, some Stoned Wheat Thins, and a bottle of Valpolicella.
Mmm, biscotti med anissmak!:
Madeleine [...] nibbling all the treats, the nice-smelling fruit candies, the meaty drumsticks, as well as more sophisticated offerings, the biscotti flavored with anise, the wrinkly truffles, the salty spoonfuls of olive tapenade. She'd never been so busy in her life.
Om matvanene til Pleshette-familien:
The Pleshette's refrigerator was the first place Mitchell had encountered gourmet ice cream. He still remembered the thrill of it: coming down to the kitchen one morning, the majestic Hudson visible in the window, and opening the freezer to see the small round tub of exotically named ice cream. Not a greedy half gallon, as they had at Mitchell's house in Michigan, not cheap ice milk, not vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry but a flavor he had never dreamed of before, with a name as lyrical as the Berryman poems he was reading for his American poetry class: rum raisin. Ice cream that was also a drink! In a precious pint-size container. Six of these lined up next to six bags of dark French roast Zabar's coffee. What was Zabar's? How did you get there? What was lox? Why was it orange? Did the Pleshettes really eat fish for breakfast? Who was Diaghilev? What was a gouache, a pentimento, a rugelach? Please tell me, Mitchell's face silently pleaded throughout his visits.
Larry Pleshette er Mitchells beste venn og frankofil. På backpackertur i Europa drar de først til Paris, selv om Mitchell egentlig helst vil til England:
"How about couscous?" Larry said. "Mitchell, have you ever had couscous?"
"No."
"Oh, you have got to have couscous."
Claire made a wry face. "Whenever somebody comes to Paris," she said, "they have to go to the Latin Quarter and have couscous. Couscous in the Latin Quarter is so encoded!"
"You want to go somewhere else?" Larry said.
"No," Claire said. "Let's be unoriginal."
Leonard og Madeleine i ostebutikken:
"What do you recommend today?"
"What do you mean 'recommend.' Cheese! Same as always. The best. Who's your girlfriend?"
"This is Madeleine."
"You like cheese, young lady? Here, taste. Take some home with you. And get rid of this guy. He's no good."
Yet another revelation about Leonard: he was friends with the old italian cheese maker on Federal Hill. Maybe that was where he'd been going when Madeleine used to see him waiting for the bus in the rain. To visit his friend Vittorio.
Myntete er en av mine favoritting i verden:
They wandered the narrow beehive streets, listening to the muezzins' emotional cries, and drank bright green glasses of mint tea in the town square.
I Hellas:
At a restaurant across the street Mitchell ordered a carafe of restina and a plate of feta cheese and olives, not even trying to speak a few words of Greek, just pointing.
Det samme skal jeg gjøre når jeg drar til Hellas, ass. (Ok, kanskje ikke peke, men bestille et fat med fetaost og oliven.)
Taffy = en slags karamell:
"Saltwater taffy is always pastel," he commented. "Why is that?"
This time Heidi didn't respond at all.
"You know what I think it is, Heidi? I think pastels are the palette of the seashore. I'll take these pastel green ones, which are the color of dune grass, and I'll take some pink ones, which are like the sun setting on the water. And I'll take these white ones, which are like the sea foam, and these yellow ones, which are like the sun on the sand."
He brought all four bags to the counter, then decided to take a few other flavors. Buttercream. Chocolate. Strawberry.
Mathandletur i Calcutta:
He bought bottled water, mandarins, a chocolate bar, a package of biscuits, and a hunk of strangely crumbly cheese. He still hadn't had lunch, so he stopped at a restaurant for a bowl of vegetable curry and parathi.
Whisky- og kjeksbord i en leilighet på Manhattan:
[S]he joined Kelly at the drinks table, which was lined with Jim Beam bottles, Oreo cookies, glasses, and ice.
*Handlingen i romanen foregår på begynnelsen av 80-tallet, før denne lidelsen bytter navn til bipolar.
Viser innlegg med etiketten matporno. Vis alle innlegg
Viser innlegg med etiketten matporno. Vis alle innlegg
fredag 27. april 2012
onsdag 11. april 2012
Matporno #11: The Corrections
I Jonathan Franzens The Corrections er en av hovedpersonene, Denise Lambert, kokk. Eller som de sier i boka: hun er ikke en cook, men en chef. Med det følger beskrivelser av vin, mat og reiser til Italia og Frankrike i kokkekunstens tjeneste.
"There's a poached salmon in the fridge. A crème fraîche with sorrel. A salad with green beans and hazelnuts. You'll se the wine and baguette and the butter. It's good fresh butter from Vermont."
She'd quit school and worked to save money for a year, had taken six months in France and Italy, and had returned to Philly to cook at a thronged fish-and-pasta place off Catharine Street.
She taught them how to make spinach pasta and how to tango.
Hyllebærsorbé og hyllebærsuppe!
In Denise's kitchen, after shopping, she peeled potatoes immaculately or rolled out simple doughs while the cook contrived lagniappes for a child's palate: wedges of pear, strips of homemade mortadella, elderberry sorbet in a doll-size bowl of elderberry soup, lambsmeat ravioli Xed with mint-charged olive oil, cubes of fried polenta.
Denises bror, Chip, derimot, får ikke spist noe særlig bra mat, fattig som han er; arbeidsløs og med en ubrukelig litteraturvitenskapsutdannelse, som han ikke en gang kan bruke som lærer, siden han nettopp har fått sparken fra unversitetsjobben etter å ha involvert seg med en student.
[...] he suspected that the minimum price of further conversation with her would be an overpriced lunch of mesquite-grilled autumn vegetables and a bottle of Sancerre for which he had no conceivable way of paying.
Bortsett fra muffinsene da, som han får i en kurv utenfor døra si.
He lowered the blinds and drank the wine, and brought himself off again and again, and ate two more cupcakes, detecting peppermint in them, a faint buttery peppermint, before he slept.
Haha.
Anyways. Story of my life:
Finally he abandoned the Italian idea altogether and fixed on the only other lunch he could think of - a salad of wild rice, avocado, and smoked turkey breast. The problem then was to find ripe avocados. In store after store he found either no avocados or walnut-hard avocados. He found ripe avocados that were the size of limes and cost $3.89 apiece. He stood holding five of them and considered what to do. He put them down and picked them up and put them down and couldn't pull the trigger. He weathered a spasm of hatred of Denise for having guilted him into inviting his parents to lunch. He had the feeling that he'd never eaten anything in his life but wild-rice salad and tortellini, so blank was his culinary imagination.
Skjønner ikke helt at det går ann å befinne seg i New York City uten å få tak i avokadoer. Kanskje byen ikke er så fet likevel.
Og til sist, det er ikke bare jeg som gleder meg til frokost når jeg legger meg:
"Sometimes I get so excited thinking about my morning coffee," Mr. Söderblad said, "I can't fall asleep at night."
"There's a poached salmon in the fridge. A crème fraîche with sorrel. A salad with green beans and hazelnuts. You'll se the wine and baguette and the butter. It's good fresh butter from Vermont."
She'd quit school and worked to save money for a year, had taken six months in France and Italy, and had returned to Philly to cook at a thronged fish-and-pasta place off Catharine Street.
She taught them how to make spinach pasta and how to tango.
Hyllebærsorbé og hyllebærsuppe!
In Denise's kitchen, after shopping, she peeled potatoes immaculately or rolled out simple doughs while the cook contrived lagniappes for a child's palate: wedges of pear, strips of homemade mortadella, elderberry sorbet in a doll-size bowl of elderberry soup, lambsmeat ravioli Xed with mint-charged olive oil, cubes of fried polenta.
Denises bror, Chip, derimot, får ikke spist noe særlig bra mat, fattig som han er; arbeidsløs og med en ubrukelig litteraturvitenskapsutdannelse, som han ikke en gang kan bruke som lærer, siden han nettopp har fått sparken fra unversitetsjobben etter å ha involvert seg med en student.
[...] he suspected that the minimum price of further conversation with her would be an overpriced lunch of mesquite-grilled autumn vegetables and a bottle of Sancerre for which he had no conceivable way of paying.
Bortsett fra muffinsene da, som han får i en kurv utenfor døra si.
He lowered the blinds and drank the wine, and brought himself off again and again, and ate two more cupcakes, detecting peppermint in them, a faint buttery peppermint, before he slept.
Haha.
Anyways. Story of my life:
Finally he abandoned the Italian idea altogether and fixed on the only other lunch he could think of - a salad of wild rice, avocado, and smoked turkey breast. The problem then was to find ripe avocados. In store after store he found either no avocados or walnut-hard avocados. He found ripe avocados that were the size of limes and cost $3.89 apiece. He stood holding five of them and considered what to do. He put them down and picked them up and put them down and couldn't pull the trigger. He weathered a spasm of hatred of Denise for having guilted him into inviting his parents to lunch. He had the feeling that he'd never eaten anything in his life but wild-rice salad and tortellini, so blank was his culinary imagination.
Skjønner ikke helt at det går ann å befinne seg i New York City uten å få tak i avokadoer. Kanskje byen ikke er så fet likevel.
Og til sist, det er ikke bare jeg som gleder meg til frokost når jeg legger meg:
"Sometimes I get so excited thinking about my morning coffee," Mr. Söderblad said, "I can't fall asleep at night."
mandag 19. mars 2012
Matporno #10: Pink Smog: Becoming Weetzie Bat
Som forrige gang jeg skrev et matporno-innlegg, gjelder det denne gangen også en bok av Francesca Lia Block, Pink Smog: Becoming Weetzie Bat. Den handler om det som skjedde før Weetzie møtte Dirk i Weetzie Bat som kom ut i 1989. Pink Smog kom ut i år og da jeg leste en tweet om den nå nylig, kunne jeg bare taste litt på lesebrettet mitt, så hadde et eksemplar innen ett minutt var gått. (Elsker lesebrett.)
I begynnelsen av boken flettes Weetzies frokost sammen med byen hun bor i:
When I checked on my mom she was asleep, breathing normally in the bed with the blue satin quilted headbord, so I got myself a bowl of Lucky Charms. The pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers ached my molars as the milk turned rainbow colors. I made my lunch, brushed my teeth, and put on my roller skates. The pavement rumbled, rough under my feet and up through to my heart, as I skated to school past the palm trees that my dad said looked like stupid birds, under i smog-filled Los Angeles.
I Pink Smog kan Weetzie ennå ikke lage mat:
My mom looked like she hadn't gotten out of bed all day. I brought her Brazil nuts and ginger ale and red licorice. I would have tried to cook but I always burned the grilled cheese sandwiches or let the rice bubble over. The only thing I could make was instant mac and cheese but she didn't want that and neither did I. I wished she had taught me to cook when I was littler and she was happy and loved to make dinner but now it was probably too late.
Eller, jo, hun kan lage litt mat:
I would show them Monroe and make hot chocolate with whipped cream and mini mashmallows for us to share.
 |
| Jeg digger tittelen på boka. |
Ikke bare spiser personene i boka hjemme, men de spiser på forskjellige steder i Los Angeles:
Butterfield's was a sunken garden at the bottom of the stair, like someone's run-down mansion where you could have elegant brunches with quiche, fresh fruit, and champagne among lacy trees.
[...]
Going out to eat was one of our favorite things to do together. When I was a little he liked to take me to Norms Coffee Shop for hamburgers and vanilla shakes that we ate in the vinyl booths, or we went to Ships where you could make your own toast in the toasters at your table. We had ice-cream cones at Wil Wright's ice-cream parlor in Hollywood, with the striped awning and the parquet floor. We drove all the way out to the Valley to Farrell's where they made a huge ice-cream birthday concoction called the Zoo that was covered with little plastic animals. The waiters, dressed in boater hats, striped shirts, and suspenders, ran around the restaurant honking horns until they arrived at your table to sing "Happy Birthday." There was also something called a Through that was so big you became an honorary pig for the night if you ate it all by yourself.
[...]
Charlie escorted me inside and we sat down under the wooden birds and ate the ornage sticky buns the rastaurant was famous for, as well as turkey dinners with pressed turkey and cranberry jelly and mashed potatoes.
[...]
In the same way I ate a double-scoop pistachio-and-cherry ice-cream cone and then had popcorn and a large Sprite at the movie theater where we saw Young Frankenstein for the second time. My dad guffawed but I just sat there chomping on popcorn and rolling my eyes along with Igor. But still I wanted more. [...] After the movie we went to Café Figaro for dinner. It was dark and there was sawdust on the floors and we ate bread and soup and the waiters were very beautiful young men in white button-down shirts.
Også på stranda:
I thought at the time that the ocean was the best backyard anyone could ever have – so vast and alive and musical, always changing colors, always singing different songs. We ate little pieces of raw fish and candied ginger and my parents had cocktails and wine.
Weetzie og jeg:
To cheer myself up about not owning a dog, I went to Will Wright's and got a pistachio, chocolate, and strawberry ice-cream-cone – my own Neapolitan mix.
Personene i boka har det samme til kveldsmat som jeg har hver dag:
Bobby didn't say anything. He went into the kitchen and came back with a large green apple and a cup of peppermint tea with lemon and honey.
Personene i boka har også skjønt at spinat og nøtter er en uslåelig kombinasjon:
In the morning I went to the grocery store to make pasta with pesto sauce and a spinach salad with walnuts and dried cranberries and balsamic vinegar from a recipe I'd found in the one old cookbook that hadn't been totally ruined in the fire when I was a kid. I found an old damask tablecloth and set the table with roses and candles and our best dishes. Then I put on a waiter jacket I had found in a thrift store and invited my mom to dinner.
Akkurat som jeg, liker Weetzie også å lage mat på upassende tidspunkt midt på natten:
I wanted to make pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs for dinner. Sometimes it cheered me up to eat meals at the "wrong times." Maybe my mom would eat some, too.
Ikke bare befinner Weetzie seg i LA, men i et av kapitlene drar hun til New York City for å besøke sin far: We had gnocchi and ravioli, Indian curries and samosas, pork buns and chow mein.
Foruten matbeskrivelsene, elsker jeg hvordan Block skriver om Los Angeles. For riktignok er Weetzie glad i sin far og de har det kult i NYC, men til syvende og sist savner hun Los Angeles. Dette har hovedsaklig ikke noe med mat å gjøre, men siden vi likevel snakker om denne boka:
I stayed for two weeks but I missed Monroe and my city and my mom and so even though I was sad to leave Charlie I was ready. I had started counting off the time until my return on the second day when the garbage smells rose up like monsters while we went to buy oranges, milk, and conrflakes at the corner market. My father's appartment felt cramped and hot and I longed for Los Angeles with its smog and flowers.
Og dette:He smelled like sand and tar and wind, gasoline and sawdust and oranges. He smelled like Los Angeles.
lørdag 10. mars 2012
Matporno #9: The Rose and the Beast
Igjen har jeg lest en bok av Francesca Lia Block og latt meg henføre av matbeskrivelsene som ligger der innimellom; mellom hjertesorger, heroinoverdoser, psykologtimer og ensomhet. Denne gangen er det novellsamlingen The Rose and the Beast jeg har lest og vil vise dere.
Bear brought him into the kitchen where Fox, Tiger, and Buck were eating their lunch of vegetable stew and rice, baked apples and blueberry gingerbread. They asked the gardener to join them.
- Fra novella Snow
Sometimes at night, gathered around the long wooden table finishing the peach-spice or apple-ginger pies and raspberry tea, they would tell stories of their youth – the things they had suffered separately when they went out alone to try the world. The stories were of freak shows and loneliness and too much liqour or powders and the shame of deformity.
- Fra novella Snow
The gardener was invited to share in the cherrymint pie she had made for the evening, and he spoke with her, asked about the books she liked to read (they brought her children's stories of magic, and old novels with thick, yellowish pages about passionate women in brutal landscapes) and the music she listened to, did she sew her own dress?
- Fra novella Snow; er det Emily Brontës Wuthering Heights jenta i Snow leser?
She loved to plant the beds with lillies and wisteria. camelias and gardenias, until her hands were caked with earth. To arrange the flowers in the vase like dancing sisters. To make the salmon in pomegranate sauce; the salads of spinach, red onion, pine nuts, oranges, and avocados; the golden vanilla cream custards; the breads and piecrusts that powdered her with flour.
- Fra novella Glass
She had made a meal of jasmine rice, coconut milk, fresh mint, and chiles. There were tall glasses of mineral water with slices of lime like green moons rising above clear bubbling pools. There was a glass bowl full of gardenias.
- Fra novella Charm; dette høres ut som en middagsrett jeg spiser ofte.
One of our assignments was to write about your perfect dream day. I wonder what this boy's perfect dream day would be. Probably to get to fuck Pamela Lee or something. Unless he was really cool as I hoped, in which case it would be to wake up in a bed full of cute puppies and eat a bowl full of chocolate chip cookies in milk and get on a plane and get to go to a warm, clean, safe place (the cats and dogs would arrive there later, not at all stressed from their journey) where you could swim in blue-crystal water all day naked without being afraid and you could lie in the sun and tell your best friend (who was also there) your funniest stories so that you both laughed so hard you thought you'd pop and at night you got to go to a restaurant full of balloons and candles and stuffed bears, like my birthdays when I was little, and eat mounds of ice cream after removing the circuses of tiny plastic animals from on top.
- Fra novella Wolf
I stopped at the liqour store and bought a bag of pretzels and a Mountain Dew because I hadn't eaten all day and my stomach was talking pretty loud.
- Fra novella Wolf
One day Rose Red takes Rose White farther away than they have been before. They are in the woods gathering berries – which they eat till their hands and tongues are purple – burying their faces in the pine needles, practicing bird calls, chasing butterflies.
- Fra novella Rose
In the morning they feed the Bear again and help themselves to bread and honey and cheese, milk and berries.They go out into the woods. Neither of them mentions the idea of going home. They forange for food for the Bear. Roots, nuts, more berries.
- Fra novella Rose
There were translucent sweet red and green fruits shaped like hearts, bright gold roasted-tasting grains shaped like stars, huge ruffley purple vegetables and small satiny blue ones. Everything smelled fresh and rich and light, and Beauty found herself stooped over her plate, licking it, like a wild animal.
- Fra novella Beast
We got the flu and ate rice balls and miso soup in the bathtub.
- Fra novella Ice
Bear brought him into the kitchen where Fox, Tiger, and Buck were eating their lunch of vegetable stew and rice, baked apples and blueberry gingerbread. They asked the gardener to join them.
- Fra novella Snow
Sometimes at night, gathered around the long wooden table finishing the peach-spice or apple-ginger pies and raspberry tea, they would tell stories of their youth – the things they had suffered separately when they went out alone to try the world. The stories were of freak shows and loneliness and too much liqour or powders and the shame of deformity.
- Fra novella Snow
The gardener was invited to share in the cherrymint pie she had made for the evening, and he spoke with her, asked about the books she liked to read (they brought her children's stories of magic, and old novels with thick, yellowish pages about passionate women in brutal landscapes) and the music she listened to, did she sew her own dress?
- Fra novella Snow; er det Emily Brontës Wuthering Heights jenta i Snow leser?
She loved to plant the beds with lillies and wisteria. camelias and gardenias, until her hands were caked with earth. To arrange the flowers in the vase like dancing sisters. To make the salmon in pomegranate sauce; the salads of spinach, red onion, pine nuts, oranges, and avocados; the golden vanilla cream custards; the breads and piecrusts that powdered her with flour.
- Fra novella Glass
 |
| Jeg synes forresten coveret til boka er vanvittig fint. |
She had made a meal of jasmine rice, coconut milk, fresh mint, and chiles. There were tall glasses of mineral water with slices of lime like green moons rising above clear bubbling pools. There was a glass bowl full of gardenias.
- Fra novella Charm; dette høres ut som en middagsrett jeg spiser ofte.
One of our assignments was to write about your perfect dream day. I wonder what this boy's perfect dream day would be. Probably to get to fuck Pamela Lee or something. Unless he was really cool as I hoped, in which case it would be to wake up in a bed full of cute puppies and eat a bowl full of chocolate chip cookies in milk and get on a plane and get to go to a warm, clean, safe place (the cats and dogs would arrive there later, not at all stressed from their journey) where you could swim in blue-crystal water all day naked without being afraid and you could lie in the sun and tell your best friend (who was also there) your funniest stories so that you both laughed so hard you thought you'd pop and at night you got to go to a restaurant full of balloons and candles and stuffed bears, like my birthdays when I was little, and eat mounds of ice cream after removing the circuses of tiny plastic animals from on top.
- Fra novella Wolf
I stopped at the liqour store and bought a bag of pretzels and a Mountain Dew because I hadn't eaten all day and my stomach was talking pretty loud.
- Fra novella Wolf
One day Rose Red takes Rose White farther away than they have been before. They are in the woods gathering berries – which they eat till their hands and tongues are purple – burying their faces in the pine needles, practicing bird calls, chasing butterflies.
- Fra novella Rose
In the morning they feed the Bear again and help themselves to bread and honey and cheese, milk and berries.They go out into the woods. Neither of them mentions the idea of going home. They forange for food for the Bear. Roots, nuts, more berries.
- Fra novella Rose
There were translucent sweet red and green fruits shaped like hearts, bright gold roasted-tasting grains shaped like stars, huge ruffley purple vegetables and small satiny blue ones. Everything smelled fresh and rich and light, and Beauty found herself stooped over her plate, licking it, like a wild animal.
- Fra novella Beast
We got the flu and ate rice balls and miso soup in the bathtub.
- Fra novella Ice
torsdag 2. februar 2012
Matporno #8: 'Kjøkken' av Banana Yoshimoto
For det første har forfatteren tatt Banana som fornavn. For det andre heter romanen Kjøkken. For det tredje liker jeg boka kjempegodt. Her er noen fine utdrag som handler om mat fra denne bittelille japnske romanen:
Mens jeg pugget oppskriften, laget jeg gulrotkake som inneholdt litt av min sjel. På supermarkedet kunne jeg stirre på en knallrød tomat og elske den helhjertet. På denne måten lærte jeg hva det er å ha det hyggelig, og jeg ville ikke kunne vende tilbake til slik det var før.
"Det å se så vakkert måneskinn påvirker sikkert hvordan man lager mat. Ikke i betydningen Se-månen-nudler, altså."
Heisen stoppet brått. Da han sa det, kjente jeg meg hul i hjertet, som om han kunne lese meg.
"På en mer fundamental måte?"
"Ja, nettopp. På en mer menneskelig måte. Forstår du?"
"Ja. Og det er en forbindelse. Helt sikkert."
Jeg sa meg enig med en gang. Om man hadde spurt folk i spørreprogrammet "Vi spør 100 mennesker" hadde sikkert alle stemmene stemt i med "det er en forbindelse!" i gjallende enighet.
"Nettopp. Jeg tenker på deg som en kunstner. Når det dreier seg om matlaging... Ja. Du elsker virkelig å arbeide på kjøkkenet, ikke sant? Det er kjempefint." Yuichi gikk og nikket, enig med seg selv. Han gikk og hadde en samtale med seg selv. [...]
I det gjennomsiktige kveldslyset begynte vi å spise det overdådige måltidet jeg hadde laget. Salat, pai, stuing, kroketter, frityrstekt tofu, kokt spinat med bonito-flak, bønnesalat med kylling (alt med egne sauser og dips), kylling Kiev, eddikmarinert svinekjøtt, dampede kinesiske shumai... mat fra mange forskjellige land. Vi spiste i timevis og drakk vin til. Vi endte med å spise opp alt, og ble stappmette. [...]
"Hva har du spist? Det høres interessant ut."
"Jaså, du blir profesjonelt interessert? Tja, det er altså tofu hele veien. Tofu og intet annet enn tofu. Det er godt, det er ikke det, men det er fortsatt bare tofu... Dampet egg med tofu, bakt og grillet tofu i misosaus, frityrstekt tofu, tofu med sitrusfrukt, tofu med sesamfrø - alt er tofu. Og gjett hva som var i en klare suppen? Bingo! Egg-tofu. [...]
(Men jeg digger tofu da!)
Mens jeg pugget oppskriften, laget jeg gulrotkake som inneholdt litt av min sjel. På supermarkedet kunne jeg stirre på en knallrød tomat og elske den helhjertet. På denne måten lærte jeg hva det er å ha det hyggelig, og jeg ville ikke kunne vende tilbake til slik det var før.
"Det å se så vakkert måneskinn påvirker sikkert hvordan man lager mat. Ikke i betydningen Se-månen-nudler, altså."
Heisen stoppet brått. Da han sa det, kjente jeg meg hul i hjertet, som om han kunne lese meg.
"På en mer fundamental måte?"
"Ja, nettopp. På en mer menneskelig måte. Forstår du?"
"Ja. Og det er en forbindelse. Helt sikkert."
Jeg sa meg enig med en gang. Om man hadde spurt folk i spørreprogrammet "Vi spør 100 mennesker" hadde sikkert alle stemmene stemt i med "det er en forbindelse!" i gjallende enighet.
"Nettopp. Jeg tenker på deg som en kunstner. Når det dreier seg om matlaging... Ja. Du elsker virkelig å arbeide på kjøkkenet, ikke sant? Det er kjempefint." Yuichi gikk og nikket, enig med seg selv. Han gikk og hadde en samtale med seg selv. [...]
I det gjennomsiktige kveldslyset begynte vi å spise det overdådige måltidet jeg hadde laget. Salat, pai, stuing, kroketter, frityrstekt tofu, kokt spinat med bonito-flak, bønnesalat med kylling (alt med egne sauser og dips), kylling Kiev, eddikmarinert svinekjøtt, dampede kinesiske shumai... mat fra mange forskjellige land. Vi spiste i timevis og drakk vin til. Vi endte med å spise opp alt, og ble stappmette. [...]
"Hva har du spist? Det høres interessant ut."
"Jaså, du blir profesjonelt interessert? Tja, det er altså tofu hele veien. Tofu og intet annet enn tofu. Det er godt, det er ikke det, men det er fortsatt bare tofu... Dampet egg med tofu, bakt og grillet tofu i misosaus, frityrstekt tofu, tofu med sitrusfrukt, tofu med sesamfrø - alt er tofu. Og gjett hva som var i en klare suppen? Bingo! Egg-tofu. [...]
(Men jeg digger tofu da!)
tirsdag 21. juni 2011
mandag 17. januar 2011
5 på topp kokebøker
1. VEGAN WITH A VENGEANCE av Isa Chandra Moskowitz
Denne boka lærte meg å lage mat. Jeg kjøpte den da jeg var nitten, ikke så lenge etter at jeg ble veganer (for the record: jeg er ikke veganer lenger). Alt jeg hadde lagd av mat til da begrenset seg stort sett til å lage toast i toastmaskinen. Jeg visste ikke en gang hvordan man kokte poteter. Den dag i dag kan jeg verken steke en omelett eller mikse sammen en vaffelrøre, men jeg kan lage bananpannekaker, sitronmuffins med sesamfrø, gulrotmuffins med rosiner, grove ingefærmuffins, kokosnøttmuffins, banansplittbrownies, chocolate chip cookies, peanøttcookies, scones og macademianøttingefærkokosnøttgulrotkake uten egg og melk, jeg kan lage chilli sin carne med en dæsj mørk sjokolade i, flere forskjellige kikertkaseroller og marrokansk gryterett med linser og couscous, jeg kan lage lønnesirupsbakte vintergrønnsaker, rørt tofu på minst fem forskjellige måter og balsmicomarinert sopp, jeg kan lage verdens beste suppe og samosaer med kokosmintsaus til, jeg kan lage kremet potet- og aspargessuppe, ertesuppe og suppe på bakt hvitløk og hvite bønner, jeg kan lage spinatpolenta med soltørka tomat-pesto til, jeg kan lage gulrot- og vårløkpannekaker og pommes fries av søtpoteter, grønn pastasaus og gnocchi fra scratch. Takket være denne boka.
2. MAT SOM GIR ENERGI av Nic Rowley
Denne maten gir deffo energi - på en god måte. Føler meg alltid sykt sunn etter å ha spist maten i denne boka. Pluss oppskriftene er kjempegode og nokså enkle. F.eks. penne pesto med italiensk salat (og her snakker vi ikke majones italiensk salat, men råkost italiensk salat), baba ganoush med råkostsalat, alligatorsandwicher og krydrede kikerter.
3. DEN STORE VEGETAR KOKEBOKEN av Susan Tomnay (red.)
(-Irriterer meg over orddelingen i tittelen, men hva kan jeg gjøre, det er det boka heter.) For vegetarianere (eller folk som bare foretrekker vegetarisk mat - sånn som meg) trenger vel ikke denne boka noen større introduksjon. Her står det også hvor lang tid det tar å lage rettene, og det er sykt praktisk for meg, for ofte leser jeg aldri gjennom oppskriften før jeg er i gang med den, og da er det litt skitt! hvis det tar tre timer å lage maten og jeg må rekke en buss om tre kvarter.
4. VEGETAR av Jenny Stacey
Superliten bok man bare kan slenge i veska før man går ut hvis du vet det er din tur til å lage middag i dag, men ikke vet hva ennå, det kan du bare finne ut på bussen. Flere av oppskriftene har vi laget flere ganger, og den ene er tilogmed blitt en klassiker: pasta med spinat, sjampinjong og pinjekjerner. Sykt god + lett å lage. Kan også anbefale avocado- og grønnsakssuppe, spansk tomatsuppe, spaghetti med pære - og valnøttsaus og paprikapai.
5. AKTIVISTENS KOKEBOK av Kokebokgruppa på Blitz
Denne fortjener å havne på lista bare pga. av oppskriften på Pønkegryte: Basert på at man tar hva man har og som regel ender opp med en slags chili uten carne. Det er fint. For da kan man bli kvitt alle restene i kjøleskapet oppi én rett og jeg kan sove godt om natten fordi jeg ikke har kastet mat (jeg kan ikke fordra å kaste mat). Dessuten liker jeg bedre å hive oppi noe jeg tror er en teskje enn å faktisk ta en teskje opp fra bestikkskuffen. Man må stole på følelsen. Og so what om det plutselig ikke er mer ingefær igjen, da tar vi bare muskat oppi i stedet. (Men det må sies at da jeg gjorde sånt i begynnelsen av min tid på kjøkkenet, endte rettene opp som katastrofer. Nå kan jeg lage mat, så nå går det greit å improvisere.) Men, ja, boka: det er ellers en veldig bra bok også. Plukket opp tips fra denne da jeg lagde min første lasagne (den var selvsagt vegetarisk) og oppskriftene er billige å lage. Og ikke minst dyrevennlig!
Denne boka lærte meg å lage mat. Jeg kjøpte den da jeg var nitten, ikke så lenge etter at jeg ble veganer (for the record: jeg er ikke veganer lenger). Alt jeg hadde lagd av mat til da begrenset seg stort sett til å lage toast i toastmaskinen. Jeg visste ikke en gang hvordan man kokte poteter. Den dag i dag kan jeg verken steke en omelett eller mikse sammen en vaffelrøre, men jeg kan lage bananpannekaker, sitronmuffins med sesamfrø, gulrotmuffins med rosiner, grove ingefærmuffins, kokosnøttmuffins, banansplittbrownies, chocolate chip cookies, peanøttcookies, scones og macademianøttingefærkokosnøttgulrotkake uten egg og melk, jeg kan lage chilli sin carne med en dæsj mørk sjokolade i, flere forskjellige kikertkaseroller og marrokansk gryterett med linser og couscous, jeg kan lage lønnesirupsbakte vintergrønnsaker, rørt tofu på minst fem forskjellige måter og balsmicomarinert sopp, jeg kan lage verdens beste suppe og samosaer med kokosmintsaus til, jeg kan lage kremet potet- og aspargessuppe, ertesuppe og suppe på bakt hvitløk og hvite bønner, jeg kan lage spinatpolenta med soltørka tomat-pesto til, jeg kan lage gulrot- og vårløkpannekaker og pommes fries av søtpoteter, grønn pastasaus og gnocchi fra scratch. Takket være denne boka.
2. MAT SOM GIR ENERGI av Nic Rowley
Denne maten gir deffo energi - på en god måte. Føler meg alltid sykt sunn etter å ha spist maten i denne boka. Pluss oppskriftene er kjempegode og nokså enkle. F.eks. penne pesto med italiensk salat (og her snakker vi ikke majones italiensk salat, men råkost italiensk salat), baba ganoush med råkostsalat, alligatorsandwicher og krydrede kikerter.
3. DEN STORE VEGETAR KOKEBOKEN av Susan Tomnay (red.)
(-Irriterer meg over orddelingen i tittelen, men hva kan jeg gjøre, det er det boka heter.) For vegetarianere (eller folk som bare foretrekker vegetarisk mat - sånn som meg) trenger vel ikke denne boka noen større introduksjon. Her står det også hvor lang tid det tar å lage rettene, og det er sykt praktisk for meg, for ofte leser jeg aldri gjennom oppskriften før jeg er i gang med den, og da er det litt skitt! hvis det tar tre timer å lage maten og jeg må rekke en buss om tre kvarter.
4. VEGETAR av Jenny Stacey
Superliten bok man bare kan slenge i veska før man går ut hvis du vet det er din tur til å lage middag i dag, men ikke vet hva ennå, det kan du bare finne ut på bussen. Flere av oppskriftene har vi laget flere ganger, og den ene er tilogmed blitt en klassiker: pasta med spinat, sjampinjong og pinjekjerner. Sykt god + lett å lage. Kan også anbefale avocado- og grønnsakssuppe, spansk tomatsuppe, spaghetti med pære - og valnøttsaus og paprikapai.
5. AKTIVISTENS KOKEBOK av Kokebokgruppa på Blitz
Denne fortjener å havne på lista bare pga. av oppskriften på Pønkegryte: Basert på at man tar hva man har og som regel ender opp med en slags chili uten carne. Det er fint. For da kan man bli kvitt alle restene i kjøleskapet oppi én rett og jeg kan sove godt om natten fordi jeg ikke har kastet mat (jeg kan ikke fordra å kaste mat). Dessuten liker jeg bedre å hive oppi noe jeg tror er en teskje enn å faktisk ta en teskje opp fra bestikkskuffen. Man må stole på følelsen. Og so what om det plutselig ikke er mer ingefær igjen, da tar vi bare muskat oppi i stedet. (Men det må sies at da jeg gjorde sånt i begynnelsen av min tid på kjøkkenet, endte rettene opp som katastrofer. Nå kan jeg lage mat, så nå går det greit å improvisere.) Men, ja, boka: det er ellers en veldig bra bok også. Plukket opp tips fra denne da jeg lagde min første lasagne (den var selvsagt vegetarisk) og oppskriftene er billige å lage. Og ikke minst dyrevennlig!
onsdag 22. desember 2010
Matporno #6
Denne gangen kommer utdragene fra nok en Francesca Lia Block-bok: nemlig novellesamlingen Blood Roses som jeg nettopp har lest.
Fra novellen My Haunted House, som handler om Fleurette som har et dukkehus hvor det skjer en masse mystiske ting:
Fleurette went into the refrigerator and took out the pecan pie her mother had made. She scooped out the filling and ate it. It was creamy and tasted of burnt sugar. Then she ate a jar of pickles. Salty, crunchy. Then she ate some vanilla yoghurt and a bag of rice cakes.
Fra novellen My Boyfriend Is an Alien, som er min favorittnovelle av alle i Blood Roses:
Afterward we went to eat burritos. My boyfriend had a carne asad burrito with extra hot sauce. I had a vegetarian bean and cheese with guacamole. My boyfriend is a carnivore. Aliens are not vegetarians. They like to eat cows cooked in various ways and other meats as well. He gnawed hungrily at his food and his big eyes flashed. I had mentioned that the fire photographs looked apocalyptic. He was telling me about the end of the world.
Fra novellen My Mother the Vampire, som handler om Sasha som er sykt tynn og alle tror hun lider av spiseforstyrrelser, men hun gjør ikke det, det er moren hennes som tapper henne for blod hver dag:
Sasha let Clyde in because the Madonna concert was depressing her, because of the flowers and because she missed putting his hair in pigtails. She gave him a beer and he fed her Cherry Garcia ice cream from her mother's freezer, out of the carton with a turqoise plastic spoon. He said she should stop losing weight, that she was just perfect.
Fra novellen Wounds and Wings, som handler om Audrey som finner en engel som noen har revet vingene av; hun redder ham, kaller ham Sad Lincoln og gjemmer ham på rommet sitt:
He went for days without eating and then wolfed down waffles and scrambled eggs, potato salad and cheese sandwiches, grilled chicken, steamed broccoli and pie.
Fra novellen Changelings, som handler om en gutt med en kjæreste som er død og en far som er død og som blir kjent med Daisy som vil ha ham med ned i underverdenen:
Their idea of a big night was cooking a gourmet meal together (something with figs, something with polenta, pomegranate seeds, salmon), drinking a glass of wine and getting in bed by nine. They had not slept apart one night since they got married twenty-two years ago.
Fra novellen My Haunted House, som handler om Fleurette som har et dukkehus hvor det skjer en masse mystiske ting:
Fleurette went into the refrigerator and took out the pecan pie her mother had made. She scooped out the filling and ate it. It was creamy and tasted of burnt sugar. Then she ate a jar of pickles. Salty, crunchy. Then she ate some vanilla yoghurt and a bag of rice cakes.
Fra novellen My Boyfriend Is an Alien, som er min favorittnovelle av alle i Blood Roses:
Afterward we went to eat burritos. My boyfriend had a carne asad burrito with extra hot sauce. I had a vegetarian bean and cheese with guacamole. My boyfriend is a carnivore. Aliens are not vegetarians. They like to eat cows cooked in various ways and other meats as well. He gnawed hungrily at his food and his big eyes flashed. I had mentioned that the fire photographs looked apocalyptic. He was telling me about the end of the world.
Fra novellen My Mother the Vampire, som handler om Sasha som er sykt tynn og alle tror hun lider av spiseforstyrrelser, men hun gjør ikke det, det er moren hennes som tapper henne for blod hver dag:
Sasha let Clyde in because the Madonna concert was depressing her, because of the flowers and because she missed putting his hair in pigtails. She gave him a beer and he fed her Cherry Garcia ice cream from her mother's freezer, out of the carton with a turqoise plastic spoon. He said she should stop losing weight, that she was just perfect.
Fra novellen Wounds and Wings, som handler om Audrey som finner en engel som noen har revet vingene av; hun redder ham, kaller ham Sad Lincoln og gjemmer ham på rommet sitt:
He went for days without eating and then wolfed down waffles and scrambled eggs, potato salad and cheese sandwiches, grilled chicken, steamed broccoli and pie.
Fra novellen Changelings, som handler om en gutt med en kjæreste som er død og en far som er død og som blir kjent med Daisy som vil ha ham med ned i underverdenen:
Their idea of a big night was cooking a gourmet meal together (something with figs, something with polenta, pomegranate seeds, salmon), drinking a glass of wine and getting in bed by nine. They had not slept apart one night since they got married twenty-two years ago.
mandag 8. november 2010
Matporno #5
Jeg elsker (belgiske) vaffler, Nutella og banan - samme hvor trash det måtte være. Og det gjør Pretty Foods & Pretty Drinks også!
søndag 31. oktober 2010
Matporno #4
Av og til når jeg legger meg, tenker jeg at jeg gleder meg til å våkne i morgen, for da skal jeg spise frokost.
Jeg har såvidt nevnt Cinnamon Mornings før, men jeg viser den igjen likevel. Det er en blogg med bare bilder av frokoster. :)
Jeg har såvidt nevnt Cinnamon Mornings før, men jeg viser den igjen likevel. Det er en blogg med bare bilder av frokoster. :)
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