Chips, er... Crisps

I will be so happy when these papers are turned in. I'm tired of looking at them, tired of thinking about them, and tired of contemplating natural law. I get it, I can find 2,000 words on it. Which is not many words at all in the grand scheme of things. But I don't feel like I have a real direction and I'm just kind of typing and seeing what comes out and going with that. I'll give it a bit more tonight but I have to go to bed at a decent hour since I have to be up early for hiking tomorrow. Yay, hiking!

But for a break, I wanted a snack. And potato chips are my weakness (crisps... I must remind myself to call them crisps). And what did I find in the Tescos?



Sweet Chilli!

For those who don't understand my excitement since we don't have this flavor in the States, if you've never tried sweet chilli, you don't know what you're missing. It's just the right amount of heat without a lot of bite and it is amazing. I was introduced to sweet chilli flavoring by my former housemate during the Olympics in February. McDonald's had a number of limited time international dipping sauces for the McNuggets and sweet chili was one of them. Now, she'd fallen head over heels for the flavor when she spent a year in New Zealand and she got ridiculously excited when the commercial came up. I asked what the heck she was yelling for and within 15 minutes, we were in the car, through the drive-through, and back tasting this amazing taste.

Oh Tesco, you've made my night. And I will enjoy you, dear, delicious, Sweet Chilli Kettle Chips, and you will making talking about Aristotle and Aquinas and Natural Law that much better.

And then I can't have another bag in the house, cause I'll eat the whole thing *lol*

It's All Greek to Me

(Scene: Library. Hours, hours, of reading. While the classmate I'm with has been so proud of finding a book and keeping it and waiting to get around to it.)

Her: 'Ah, I think I'll move on to Seneca and work on that essay.'

Me: 'Cool that you found all of the epistles in one place. Since I know you hate citing the web.'

Her: 'Nice, big print... okay, let's open this up...' (pause)

Me: '...?'

Her: *headdesk*

Me: 'What's wrong?'

Her: *hands me the book without saying anything*

Me: '... omg it's in Latin??'

Her: 'How am I supposed to read Latin?'

Me: 'Um... poorly?'

Grad school win of the day: Realizing the that primary source you need to complete a paper is NOT actually available in English anywhere in your library. Or not backordered on Amazon.

Bonus

Other Classmate: 'What's wrong with her?'

Me: 'She just realized the only text available here is in Latin. And Amazon's backordered.'

Her: 'Who buys up all of the copies of the English translation of Seneca's epistles??'

Other Classmate: 'Well, Christmas is coming up soon...'

Open Letter to Grad School #1

Dear Grad School,

It was a lovely weekend in St Andrews. The sun was shining after a bout of rain, it was chilly but not cold, and all around there were happy people enjoying their time outside.

Unfortunately, you let me enjoy only the briefest of it in order to walk to the grocery store yesterday and back. Instead, you wanted me to stay inside and read and write and read a bit more so that hopefully I can have my essays done by next Monday and not sound like an idiot in class tomorrow morning. While it was a lofty goal, I'm still irritated that you picked a nice weekend to demand that. This is not how I wished to spend my evening again.



Aquinas isn't that interesting, even if he will be the subject of one of my essays. Therefore, I'm calling it quits tonight. I'm done. I'm done reading, I'm done thinking about Natural Law, and I'm done trying to make your verbose logic arguments make sense after reading so many that they all start to run together. It was a nice ride, but I'm done for the evening. We'll reconvene tomorrow and make some real headway. But for now? I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Or at least hide under a pile on my desk to be found later.

To put you out of my mind, I propose the following. First, a snack.



Said snack will be of the easiest things to pull out of the fridge/cupboard. Cheese, an orange, and Hobnobs (which seriously need to be sold in the States -- oat cookie dipped in dark chocolate ftw). This will be accompanied by tea, Earl Grey since it's amazing.

Second, television of the American variety. Choice should include attractive men, fun, stories as deep as mud puddles, and nothing depressing. Bonus points for suits and style.



White Collar it is. (Mad Men, you were a close second. Alas, you didn't fit the 'nothing depressing' qualifications this time around.)

In exchange for the respite, I promise to hit the books hard tomorrow. Cross my heart.

Thanks bunches,
Me

When In Doubt, Bake

I spent Saturday in the loving academic embrace of Aquinas and friends, which meant that by the middle of the afternoon I was desperate to do something, ANYTHING, different from what I was doing. And since it was a nice day, it was worth it to walk to the big grocery store. It's amazing how differently you think about things when you don't have a car and you have to decide 'is a mile and change to far to walk today for the big grocery store' and 'make sure that I don't buy too much cause it would be too heavy to carry' and 'I could always grab the bus, now where's an extra £1.20 around here...' I'm very aware of how privileged I've been in the past now, as this is my first time without ready access to a car.

But it was a pretty day, I felt like doing some cooking, and they just didn't have all of what I needed at the Tesco around the corner. So I made the hike to the second of three grocery stores in town.



Why, hello Morrisons! And gah, perhaps it's not a terrible thing that I don't have access to a car. Unless my math is failing me, £1.14 per litre ends up just a little over $8 per gallon. Holy expensive gas, Batman! Remind me not to complain about $3 gas when I get back to the States...

Anyway, hello Morrisons. You had my sage, and my ziploc bags (I've lasted a month without them cause my flatmates didn't seem to need them, but again, I use the heck out of ziploc bags), but you didn't have the butternut squash that I was craving. Alas, no one's perfect. But you also had tea on sale, so I'll forgive you this time.

My desire to bake (and I'll use bake loosely because the precision of baking often eludes me) came about because of running across this recipe: Spinach Strata with Sage and Gruyere

If the name didn't entice you, how about a picture of the finished product?



One of the worst parts about my little student housing kitchen is that the oven doesn't have a window for me to obsessively watch it cook. But you mix it up, and then 45 minutes later you get this delightful creation. It's warm and carb-y and cheesy and tastes very much like fall. So worth the walk and the late cooking!

Spinach Strata with Sage and Gruyere

Ingredients:

• 1/2 baguette (to yield about 6 cups of torn bread)
• 1 tablespoon softened butter, plus 3 tablespoons melted butter
• 3 eggs
• 2 1/2 cups milk
• 2 tablespoons fresh sage, torn
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2 medium cloves garlic, minced (about 2 teaspoons)
• 1 1/2 ounces baby spinach (about 1 1/2 cups)
• 3 ounces Gruyere (about 1 1/2 cups, grated)
• 1 ounce Parmesan cheese, grated

1. Cut the bread into slices about ¾-inch thick. Set on the counter for several hours to dry out, or toast the bread in a 400°F oven for about 5 minutes. Tear each slice into several pieces. You should have about 6 cups.

2. Grease an 8-inch by 9-inch casserole dish with 1 tablespoon softened butter.

3. In a large bowl, whisk the eggs until frothy. Whisk in milk, sage, salt, pepper, melted butter, and minced garlic until homogeneous.

4. Add the torn bread to the custard, mixing to make sure every piece absorbs some liquid. Stir in spinach and Gruyere. Pour the bread-custard-spinach mixture into prepared casserole dish. Sprinkle with Parmesan and top with more freshly ground pepper. Cover with plastic wrap and allow to sit for 1 hour on the counter, or several hours in the fridge.

5. Preheat the oven to 375°F (191°C) about 20 minutes before you’re ready to bake the strata.

6. Bake until the top is browned and slightly puffed and the strata is cooked through, about 45 minutes. Let rest a few minutes before serving warm.

Courtesy of Serious Eats

Nom nom nom...

Lord Nelson, I Presume?

My favorite thing about Friday is that the only place I have to be is choir practice. There is something delightfully cathartic (and boy could I use the catharsis after the budding anger of dealing with an idiot boy yesterday) about choral singing. It was something that I didn't realize how much I'd missed it in the six years since I'd had the chance to do it. It was one of the worst things about working a job that required extended travel during two seasons and drop of the hat travel during the rest of the time if it came up -- I couldn't do art, or music, or theater because I could never guarantee that I could be there for rehearsal.

Now? Now Friday nights are choir nights. And even though it took a moment or two to get used to British choral terms (a quarter note is apparently a quaver here, which... it never occurred to me that terms would be different. I assumed it was like math, a universal language. But then, they also call it 'maths' here, so I can see where my logic is fundamentally flawed...) it was like riding a bike or pulling out a comfortable sweater. It just fits. I'm a singer, I always have been. The weight of the music in my hands and the awkward and humorous warm up exercises are like coming home.

And for a community choir, I am impressed at the level of difficulty they take on. Performing Haydn's Lord Nelson Mass for Christmas? Yes, please! Attempting Paul Mealor's Sabat Mater even though all of the vocal parts end up down in the basement for most of the piece? Of course! It's all new and challenging... and comforting. I've missed this, and I needed it.