art of yuppies

I became a Young Urban Professional today. We listened to the Talking Heads and drank Ginger Brew that kicked me in the face with every sip. "Is this going to help our health or destroy it?" I wondered out loud yuppyishly.

What is it that is so appealing about ginger? I also wondered, but secretly. I know people who are in love with it. Not so with me. Every time I encounter it, I instantly become suspicious and defensive. It's a reflex.

Now I've had the root itself--plain. And candied ginger, ginger powder in chicken, etc.. Once, some Chinese friends gave me a warm ginger tea which was hard to wrap my heart around, but it worked well to warm me up, which was the point. But I think part of that was the energy and heat generated by my body to process the ginger as I determinedly drank it.

In Ginger Brew's defense, I also have had it in a lemon sherbet number . It ironically cured my upset stomach in an obviously medicinal way that doesn't usually correlate with desserts. But I was grateful, nonetheless.

"I kind of like how it burns your throat," L said reflectively. (Which, by the way, is the very thing that scares me.)

My favorite spice is garlic, which may not even be classified as a spice, but also goes well with chicken, and buttery things, and unlike ginger, will rarely burn throats. Except once, when the lid of the garlic container came off in the casserole before I baked it, successfully dumping in one third of the jar. I believe garlic is now my sister's most loathed spice. But I say: to each his own.

art of fountain felonies

When L and Company were knee-deep in a fountain, in scuba gear, filming a short skit, a policeman swung by to investigate their suspicious behavior. After a brief round of introductions (in which the officer took down names of the fountain offenders), L turned reporter, recorded here:

L: Can I ask you a question I always wanted to ask a cop?
C (for "cop"): Sure, go ahead.

L: What do you do when you are in the middle of nowhere being pulled over by a police car? How can you prevent being pulled over as a scam?
C: Slow down, then call 911. Talk to the dispatcher to confirm that it is a policeman, then tell the dispatcher that you will slow down, so the officer knows. Does anyone else have any questions?

S: How can you tell if a cop ID is a real one?
C: They should have two forms of ID. They should have a badge on their coat. On their badge that they carry, the top part will have picture ID and their name. All officers and federal agents will have a badge like this. The metal badge is optional.

L: Optional?
C: The badge doesn't have to be metal like the ones in the movies, though most people won't believe you if you don't have one.

L: What is the rule with the state line? If someone does something, can they run across the border and get away?
C: We can still go after an offender if we are in pursuit, even across state lines.

L: What about tree climbing? We've been told it's illegal in a college town.
C: Illegal only on campus. You can throw snowballs, too, off campus, if both parties are in a mutual combat.

L: What are your feelings on pepper spray?
C: Murphy's Law. If something could go wrong, it will. What if the wind blows it back in your face?

L: So, would you like to be in our movie? Ironically, it's about why people shouldn't break the honor code on campus.
C: No, thank you. I don't want to be video taped.

L: Is it against the rules?
C: Personal preference.

L: Are we your favorite people you've stopped?
C: Yeah.

L: Thanks for lying.
C: Thanks for not running away. No really, it was fun. And it was nice to meet people who were so cooperative about being cited...

Anytime.

the art of ugly dumplings ( jiao zi)

“Can dumplings be mei li?” I asked testing the chinese word I learned for beautiful.

"No--Flowers!" G laughed at me. "That word is only for flowers--or girls. Not for dumplings." I laughed with him, though secretly I thought dumplings could be beautiful--mine weren't, of course, but those that S made while teaching me were amazingly uniform.

They looked like half-flowers. The transformation from a small thin disk of dough into a folded, stuffed dumpling was practically a miracle. A miracle that wasn't mine to experience apparently.

"You did a good job." S gave me a thumbs-up as G boiled the jiao zi.

"How do you know when it's ready?" I asked curiously, leaning over his wok.

G shrugged, "By experience."

Experience, again.

"How will I know, then?" I asked, laughing a little.

He grinned, "Someday, you will have experience."

I nodded ruefully. That had sounded very wise-man-on-a-mountain.

Basically, there was nothing for me to do but....I didn't finish my thought. I noticed I could easily tell which were the mei li de jiao zi, and which weren't. Luckily beautiful dumpling or ugly dumpling--they both tasted delicious, which is a lesson you learn in the kitchen, sometimes.