Dinner with Einstein

My best friend from home sent me a text yesterday afternoon that read, “If you could have dinner with anyone (dead or alive), who would it be?” While it is an impossible question to answer, it is still quite fun to think about. But before I let the cat out of the bag about who would make my list, I need to provide a little more background for the reasoning regarding my choice.

In high school, math courses terrified me. While I took higher level maths, such as calculus and trigonometry, I could never get over my fear of numbers. I’d hunch over my I-heart-so-and-so covered notebook, clutching my calculator like a magic eight ball in hopes that the answer I wanted would appear.

I left math behind when I came to journalism school. Aside from an easy statistics class, and a few econ courses, I haven’t been back to my magic calculator since. Instead, I became a word nerd with a slight obsession for extended metaphors.

But the practice of math and science is like a luminous star that enchants me from a distance, shining complexities of theories and logic that make me wonder what else is out there besides words?

So I took this question into consideration when making my dinner date decision, giving physicist Albert Einstein one of the top three spots on my list.

Because I would be dining with Einstein, I would want to choose a dinner that would encourage a great discussion. My experiences at college have shown me that the best and most honest conversations happen over simple, good meals. It’s the midnight box of mac and cheese my roommate and I share that sparks our giggly talks before bed. And it’s the afternoon cups of coffee I pour with my brother that keep us recapping our weekend all Sunday afternoon long. Foods like these are the easy pleasures that make up the unique flavors of my memory. So it is no surprise that I would take Professor Einstein to Courtside for a hot chicken fiesta pizza and a pitcher of cold beer.

I’d pick his brain about the curiosities that spurred his studies into subjects like the theory of relativity and other topics that are way over my head. These kinds of topics I am only familiar with through the come-and-go awe moments I have between blinks. These are the list of studies that I may have left behind on my way to becoming a writer.

Sometimes I wish I could rearrange my choices and have pursued something a little more exact, a little more scientific. I question the good of, and even the point of, my future profession. With graduation soon in my future, I’m running out of time to find the right answer. So maybe listening to logical conversation about the laws of the universe over a slice of pizza and a Bud Light might put some certainty back into the equation.

So I know this was a long answer to a very short question. And since Professor Einstein won’t really be able to make it to dinner, I’ll have to rely on the little-of-this, little-of-that recipe that is my life now anyway.

But if that doesn’t come out right, I’m getting myself a real magic 8-ball.

Great Depression Cooking Video

I found this video on youtube, and I thought it was interesting. It is about cooking in the great depression. I thought us college kids could relate to cooking on a very tight budget, as well as eating from a nonstop pasta menu.

The Crock-Pot: A College Necessity

My roommate and I have quite a few things in common--our love of running, our obsession with Enrique Iglesias, our major and even our name. Where these two Sarahs differ is in the kitchen. While I live for trying out new recipes, she avoids food that requires more than a zap in the microwave. And when I reach for a sweet pint of chocolate ice cream to snack on, she grabs herself a bowl of savory steamed rice.

Clearly, our tastes differ. Despite her lack of enthusiasm for cooking, and for sugary treats, she does seem to find her way to the kitchen while I am making dinner. She asks questions—a lot of questions—about what I am doing, and how I do it. I enjoy teaching her, but I ran out of patience when she asked if we could decorate my tray of homemade brownies with glitter.

Glitter?

We were baking, not bedazzling a pair of jeans. Needless to say, I had to come up with a few rules for her being in the kitchen while I am cooking. Our number one condition? Don’t touch anything.

Although we have different ideas of acceptable kitchen behavior, she can whip up some really tasty stuff on her own. Her secret to cooking dinner without having to actually cook, and without driving me crazy, is a Crock-Pot.

A Crock-Pot is the “hot damn” of cooking utensils. Coming home to a Crock-Pot meal that your roommate prepared is like finding a 5-dollar bill in your pocket—an unexpected thrill that goes a long way. Designed to cook food over a long period of time, Crock-Pots can be left alone while you are away at class for the day. Simply toss your ingredients inside, cover, and set to the desired temperature. Be careful not to set the temp too high because it can boil over and cause a mess. Our Crock-pot seems to heat up hotter than what is required for certain recipes, so we use a lower temperature for some dishes. Soups are a great Crock-Pot item, and it is something that you can pair up with a sandwich or salad a few days later as a great leftover.

So me and my roommate don’t always eat or cook the same way. To each his own, right? Besides, the pork and sauerkraut that she and her Crock-Pot cook up is good enough to make me forget that she doesn’t like chocolate. I’m keeping an open mind. And watching out for glitter.

A Culinary Experience

When I was a child, my cousins and I would wander down to my grandma’s basement. We’d transform the cold, damp room into a haven for hide and seek, freeze tag, and lost kids. Hiding behind broken armchairs and between the washer and dryer, we’d spend Thanksgivings and Christmases fighting over who would be “it.” That basement was our Neverland.

In the dusty corner of this far away place, there sat a mysterious little creature on top of my grandfather’s bar. In our eyes, the olive green water that filled the small jar lit up the basement like Pan’s tinker bell. We’d grab hold of the counter tightly, standing on tiptoes with curiosity, to peer at the strange thing inside, always asking the same question. “How did he get it in there?”

This thing was a pickle—a big, green, monstrous pickle that engulfed the jar from bottom to brim. The answer to how that pickle fit inside was a debate that went on between the getting in trouble and the getting dirty. Each of us had our own theories I think. But no matter how many times we’d talk about it, we’d always end up in the same place, wide-eyed and scratching our heads.

The answer to our question is not the amazing part of the story. According to my father, my great-grandfather slid a jar over what started out as a pickling cucumber. After snapping the cucumber from the stem, he added vinegar and water to preserve it, before tightly sealing it shut with a lid. My dad’s dad, my papa, kept it in his basement, which later became a playground for cousins, brothers and sisters.

The pickle is gone now. So is my grandfather. My papa passed away when all of us were either very young or not yet born. And the pickle was just one of the many items that were lost after my grandma’s basement flooded. But for the younger generation of our family, growing up with the story of that pickle created a very special relationship between us and our papa. The pickle was the catalyst for storytelling, making our aunts, uncles, moms, dads and my grandma the beautiful narrators of his life.

And it is something that brings our small and varied group of cousins—from ages 14-26, filled with musicians, artists, athletes, and even a lawyer—back to the Neverland of my grandma’s basement.

Bad Food Habits

Ordering take-out food is a dangerous habit. The craziness of my schedule over the past week has pushed me into it hard. With nothing but coffee and stale oatmeal in my stomach, I have been running from class to class hungry, cranky and with one thing on my mind—dinner.

Pitas, subs, and burritos were the usual ticket to my really unhealthy and satisfying meal. I love food that comes wrapped up in something shiny. It’s like Christmas, except what’s inside is usually smothered in guacamole, tzatziki sauce or sour cream.

But after waking up this morning and having to hold myself back from ordering DP Dough for breakfast, I decided that this has to stop. I need a reset button for my life.

So how do you kill the craving for a greasy calzone without spending the rest of the day lusting over it? Make it yourself. It sounds like a lot of work, but it’s not. There is a great Rachel Ray recipe that I used over winter break that resembles the spinner (my favorite calzone), but it has a hearty twist. Along with the spinach, ricotta and mozzarella, it includes earthy artichoke hearts. They aren’t cheap, but because this recipe makes 4 calzones, you can freeze them for later meals. In the long run, the two-dollar can of artichokes will seem like nothing compared to the cost of a six-dollar calzone.

So the next time you find yourself dialing for a quick-fix takeout treat, try this recipe. And if hitting reset doesn’t work, hit the phonebook. Just make sure to get some extra sauce on the side, because if you’re going to fall into a bad habit now and then, make sure it’s headfirst into some marinara.

Mystery Dinner at Baker

Check out the Mystery Dinner and Show on Saturday, February 21, in Baker Ballroom. The dinner and entertainment is being put on by the University Program Council at 7 p.m. during Parents Weekend. For ticket information and a menu, visit the UPC Web site.

Wine and Chocolate Tasting

The Ohio University Inn is hosting a Wine and Chocolate Tasting tomorrow night. Take in the musical styles of Guitarist John Horne while enjoying 5 different wines and chocolate treats. The tasting is being put on by Paul Tolchinsky of Wineworks Ohio. See the Athens Visitors Bureau Web site for ticket information.

Cooking Pictures

Below are pictures of some of my cooking experiences in the kitchen.


Me and my roommate's fiance are peeling apples for a pie. Pie is a lot of work, but it is my favorite sweet to bake.


You cant tell, but I am covered in flour.


This is a picture from a pancake breakfast we had at our house last Spring quarter.

A Culinary Experience

Baking is something that I love to do after a stressful week. With three midterm exams behind me, I decided to kick back by baking last night. I’d suggest this kind of test relief for anyone in college who enjoys being in the kitchen. I was baking for a friend, and his request was simple—a two layered chocolate cake with white icing.

It sounded simple anyway.

I began with a Hershey’s chocolate cake recipe. Mixing together the flour, sugar and cocoa with the wet ingredients created a smooth dark batter that drifted back and forth like tiny ocean waves, making delicate bubbles inside my plastic bowl. They crackled.

I poured the thin, brown batter into a cake pan that I covered with a generous layer of butter and flour. It flowed quickly, hitting the center and rushing to the sides. As I pulled the bowl away from the pan, small spots of batter dropped to the counter. I felt like a child picking up stray pennies in the sunlight. I got every last one.

After the cake was done baking, I placed it on the counter to cool. But chocolate makes me impatient. I flipped the pan over on to a plate, thinking that it would slide out with ease (because that is what happens on all those cooking shows that I watch.) I pulled the pan away to find nothing there but the emptiness of my clean, white plate. My cake was stuck.

Now what? I ran a knife around the edge and tried the flip again. Still nothing. I stood there alone in my kitchen and got extremely frustrated--frustrated with our broken can opener, flimsy used steak knives and our extremely mismatched plates that were always dirty no matter how hard we cleaned them.

But I was being a baby. I’m in college. If there is ever a time to enjoy the broken, borrowed and dirty, it’s now. I like that doing laundry requires a scavenger hunt for quarters, making me dive between couch cushions and under beds. I like that homemade popcorn isn’t ruined by the loud and constant beep of a very sensitive smoke alarm. I like eating from slightly dirty plates, just because I can.

So I took a spatula and scooped instead of flipped. It was in pieces, but much like my life in college, I held it together with a little laughter and a lot of icing.

College Student's Omelet

Last weekend, my roommate and I woke up starving. The night before was filled with the usual Court Street fun, which left us craving a hearty breakfast that morning. As I opened the refrigerator door, I noticed that we didn’t exactly have the key ingredients for the meal I had in mind. Like most college kids on campus, we hadn’t made a trip to the grocery store in quite a while. With the upcoming stress of midterms, and a half quarter behind us, we were out of money and time.

After foraging through every cupboard, drawer and shelf in the kitchen, I compiled a stack of ingredients for what I like to refer to as the college student’s omelet. Not really an omelet per say, but it's rather a jumble of stray canned goods, frozen veggies, almost-expired lunch meat, whatever cheese isn’t molding and one magic ingredient—eggs.

If you have a dozen eggs in your kitchen, you have the start of a fantastic Saturday morning brunch. Because most college kids, like myself, don’t own a pan that is good enough to make a decent omelet in, just sauté all your components together before adding your eggs. Once everything in the pan is singing a sizzling hum, whisk your eggs and toss them in. They may take a little bit longer to cook fully because there is so much going on in the pan. If you have some cheese on hand, add that just before the eggs are done so you can distinguish between cheesy goodness and runny, undercooked eggs.

My list of ingredients follows, but don’t be afraid to get gutsy. And if it doesn’t work out, don’t worry about it. We’re in college, which means we’re used to eating food that doesn’t taste that great.
My College Student’s Omelet:

5 eggs
A splash of milk
salt and pepper
A handful of frozen spinach
Green olives (chopped)
Half an onion
A clove of garlic (finely chopped also)
A small shot of Worcestershire sauce
A teaspoon of Horseradish
Turkey (lunch meat style)
Instant mashed potatoes (prepared according to the directions on the box before adding to the eggs)