Up to my elbows in chocolate

I ended up really enjoying preparing Jbird's birthday cake.  I used the recipe I said I would for the cake, filling it with chocolate mousse, and covering it in a dark chocolate ganache, with white chocolate ganache streaks for effect.  I loved the way it looked when I was finished, as though it could sit in a shop window drawing customers into a chocolatier/bakery.  

Assembly was very messy.  The cake had sunk a little bit in the middle when it was baking.  This could possibly have been because I opened the oven a few times after discovering a drip through the spring form sides of the cake tin which I need to put a tray under.  The reaction of the hot/cold air in the early stages of baking left the middle section of the top of the cake with brain type bumps in it.  So I sliced the top of the cake off to flatten it.  There were chocolate cake crumbs everywhere.  Of course, I had to try a few.  I managed to make the mousse thick enough that the heavy top layer didn't squish it all out, but there was mousse everywhere.  I have a weakness for chocolate mousse so I tried 'some' of that too.  I was also happy with my ganache consistency.  Although it didn't have the extremely smooth quality I was going for, it didn't drip and pool either, but sat comfortably as I spread it over the cake.  Afterwards, there was dark chocolate ganache everywhere.  Including in my tummy.  The white chocolate was runny enough that it made very dramatic streaks across the top.  I added some diagonal stripes too.  Only one bit of white chocolate ganache dripped over the side of my icing bag onto the top of the cake which cleaned up pretty nicely.  Still.  There was white chocolate ganache everywhere.  And yes, I tried some of that too.  I tasted so much during the afternoon that almost didn't think I would be able to stomach a piece when we cut it it later that night.  Almost.

Soph brought berries which were a lovely decoration and added something special to the flavour of the chocolate.  We served it with yoghurt on the side*.  

*I think having yoghurt with cake is part of the New Zealand cafe culture because my American friends have made other suggestions when I mentioned having yoghurt with cake.  Like cream cheese.  When I first had yoghurt I thought it was too tart. Now I think it tastes perfect as it tones down the richness of cake.

Making the most of surface area

I finished another literature review today, with just a search for 65 unnecessary words remaining, and I celebrated with a pleasant hour in our garden.  After the usual watering, weeding, and pest control - netting, mole spray, and picking off fungi-ridden leaves - I could finally create my succulent garden.  

Do you remember my plan to bring a bunch of succulents here from New Zealand?  I was sure if they would get through customs so I didn't end up risking it.  Since then, I have been on the hunt and will nab some babies or break off a branch any time I see one at a friend's place.  That makes it sound more prolific than it is, I only have four different types, including one aloe vera.  I have noticed they grow beautifully if they are watered every time their soil is dry and they have a nice sunny spot.  I've also decided soil quality is not such an issue and have seen them growing in only two centimetres (one inch) of soil, with no drainage.  So I put some soil in the ceramic saucer that would normally catch water beneath a pot plant.  I've arranged them like a tiny miniature dessert scene scape and they should look quite nice on our coffee table.  I didn't want a high pot taking up a lot of room.  I'm pretty happy with my effort, though I may look out for a nicer looking shallow container.  I've already saved $40 by making this one myself.

Whippin' up some cream

When I made the Strawberry Shortcake last week, I finally followed Julia Child's advice and hand-whipped the cream over an ice bath.  I had previously thought she was a little bit silly to be so devoted to this technique.  It seemed tedious to set up the ice bath, tiring on your whipping arm, and time consuming.  But now I understand.  It doesn't take all that long, around five minutes.  The cream is whipped evenly, instead of stiff peaks on top and runny liquid underneath as often happens with hand held beaters.  Without that noisy machine in my hands, I was more in tune with the cream's consistency, producing a glorious result.

Speaking of which, I also followed allrecipe.com's advice on whipping egg whites when I was making the sponge cake.  They suggest you do it over a bath of simmering water because warmer egg whites bind better.  On their suggestion, I was careful to stop before they were dry and they were right!  My egg whites folded into the cake mixture beautifully, without little islands and spots of egg white breaking away.

The joys of following good advice.

My Bike is my Mule

I have found that living as an expatriate can cause difficulties when it comes to grocery shopping.  Things that are available in the foreign land aren't necessarily what I'm accustomed to which obviously has both benefits and pitfalls.  Maybe I'll write about another time.  Something I find harder than that has been the mission of  transporting all the food back to my place of residence when I lack a car.  I would hate to do this in Auckland - the public transport is stupid over there (has it improved at all?) - and thankfully I've never had to try. 

Here in Bloomington, I ride my bike.  We've hitched a little crate on the back which I fill up, also filling up my backpack and sometimes an extra cloth bag or two that I hang from my handle bars.  It gets pretty wobbly so I have to go slowly, and I try to stick to the footpath as much as possible.  

The attachment that the crate sits on is slightly precarious.  We've used zipties to attach the crate to it and it to the seat post of the bike.  They often snap so I've learned to carry extras. I was a little bit vigorous in my uphill ride the other day.  I heard a plonk and the bike felt lighter...the zipties around the bike's post had snapped and let the crate slide back over the wheel - my groceries were all over the road.  Nothing was badly damaged - I only broke one egg - and I didn't have any extra zipties.  Oh, the joys!  I loaded up the cloth bags I always carry and balanced everything off the handle bars, walking most of the way home from there.  Even though I had been on the road at that point, I wasn't in the middle of a busy intersection.  Things could have been worse.  

I love the feeling when I get home with all that food.  It's the feeling of wealth and prosperity combined with strength at conquering an obstacle. 

The Pastry Chef

I was searching for a good home-made chicken pot pie pastry when I fell upon this little marvel.  It possesses the elements of croissant folding that I'm so enraptured with, producing a delightful soft and flaky pastry.  I give the butter a good beating with the rolling pin to help it become more malleable, as Julia Child taught me.  

New Zealanders: try the process, but use a NZ recipe for your quantities.  I suggest Annabel Langbein's though I don't know that it's any better than any other.  It's merely flour, butter, salt, and chilled water, after all.  She adds a little baking powder too.

I have tried to lessen the butter quantity but Jbird and I are sure to suffer from heart problems later in life.  Roll on summer, and a desire for fresh, raw vegetables.

Gammy Legged Ducklings

I have made a lot of amigurumi creations but they're always gifts for someone's children.  So under the guise of Valentines day, I made us two little love birds.   

I didn't have a pattern.  Creating something without a pattern is always a bit tricky so they took me longer than I intended.  I decided to put rice in their bodies so they actually stand up, causing me no end of pride.  Somewhere along the way, they became ducklings. The webbed toes were really hard to design, I had to remake them a bunch of times.  No matter how hard I tried, the fourth foot would not turn out like the other three.  Somehow the boy one is taller than the girl one.  We also know she's a girl because of a pink star button on her front and her pretty blue/green button-eyes.  The boy is wearing a little tie. 

On presentation to Jbird, he wondered "and what will I do with these?"  Well, Mr. Bird, they will sit on the piano and reside over our house.  When we fight, they may just learn to fly.

Light a candle in my window

Because we have a car this week, as we look after Ella the puppy, we get to drive around and look at all the Christmas decorations on people's houses.  I'm at the point where if a house hasn't been decorated, I'm disappointed in the owner.  I'm not fussy, just a strand of lights would be fine!  There are some that are really, really decorated.  They're exciting to see and often catch our attention for almost too long - it could be dangerous if you're the driver.  There are giant moving snowmen.  Blue trees.  The Grinch that stole Christmas.  Any more than ten yard ornaments and I wonder if they're part of a competition.

The house we're in has candles in the windows.  The first time I saw these in Baltimore, I thought they were really cheesy.  Now I consider them homey and inviting.  The house also has a wrapped door, as though it were a gift, and a tree covered with lights on a timer.  It's simple but nice, especially with it being so cold out.

I never thought I'd say this but when we live in a house, we're looking forward to decorating it for Christmas.  A little.  Maybe a lot.

Social Situations

I want to revisit the idea of social anxiety. I have to start with an apology - I don't have a very clear head as I've recently come back from a hens type meal.  My sister - not the one to-be-wed, the other, bought a bottle of wine to share with me, hence the foggy head.  However, the time to write is now as tomorrow will be wedding wedding wedding.

Earlier in the day, at the afternoon tea part of the hens events, I was almost in tears, I didn't want to go.  I was completely overwhelmed by too many new people, and trying to feel comfortable in a situation where I didn't.  The sister - older than me and oh so much more mature - very kindly went out of her way to persuade me.  Soon after this was a rowing-on-a-lake part of the events where myself, this sister and my mother shared a boat together.  It was a perfect time of the day, beautiful light, and we were surrounded by gorgeous New Zealand native bush.  I was able to relax and we had some nice conversation.  This helped me to forget my discomfit and I then attended the evening meal almost organically.  The dinner was fun, we sat with some fun people, though my angus beef burger was a little well done.  It was funny that my entire table of six ordered the same though we didn't discuss it.

I think we all ALL suffer from social anxiety at different times.  It can't just be me - though I feel like I suffer more than most.  I'm sure others feel the same way.  Remember my original post?  I blamed living in America (click here to read).  

When I review today's anxiety, I was at my worst shortly after I'd had space to think.  Too much space.  When things were busy, I felt better and forgot my worries.  If you have been able to follow and agree with my thread of thoughts directly related to creativity coming from space and time, you might feel as bewildered as I by the idea that negativity that can also flourish in that same space.  Depending on your frame of mind and how you let things flow.  

My little sister's getting married tomorrow.  Where did the time go!?

What dress shall I wear?

When I got here, I didn't really unpack or think about anything, I just went straight to the beach for my first surf and then to visit my niece and nephew (oh, and their parents!).  It was all I could think about.  A day later, when I realised I hadn't seen my bridesmaid dress in my boxes here, my first response was to panic.  I'm talking thirty minutes of doom and gloom, I decided I'd taken it to the States and left it there!

Jbird is my saving grace when I  panic at home.  He kind of just absorbs it.  Saying things like "Well, I think the only thing you can do in this situation is to panic." and "are you panicking yet?"  It sounds sarcastic and mean but it actually helps me to think: "oh, what should I be doing?"  I've heard this of sarcasm: it's no longer considered the lowest form of wit.  It can be mean, but it can also be clever, helping the recipient to think about where it came from, and what it means, encouraging creativity in their thought process.  I'm not just saying this because I have a habit of using it, either.  Click here to read the article.

I'm packing today to go down to New Plymouth for the great wedding fête.  The bridesmaid dress is already down there, taken by my mum.  It's going to be a fun weekend but I'm glad I'm only visiting one person and her baby today, I need a rest day!

Tying up loose ends

I ensconced myself in the corner of our lounge last night with the Mary Tyler Moore show, a bowl of chips and a bottle of water.  I had decided to force myself to finish off the three months worth of knitted/crocheted items I had overflowing from my craft box.  My friend, MK, tells me – with all the wisdom of a life-long artist and as a much more experienced crochet-hook worker – that I should enjoy this part of the job.  It’s creating the final product.  Particularly with the amigurumi toys I have been fond of making.  Your crochet skills almost don’t matter, as the sculptor, sewing them together is what gives them their character.  Do a bad job of it and you can end up with one funny looking toy.

I’m far more prone to let myself “do it later” than I would like to be because five hours later I had a cramp in my right hand and I had still not finished! 

On writing

I was talking to a new blogger buddy at church today.  It was nice to share this thing that we have in common, and to realise that it’s changed my life in a little way. 

The regularity of this blog was something that I needed when I started.  It helped me to keep it up and to fill a void I had from moving to a new town.  It hasn’t been too much of a challenge, so far, to write something and publish it every day but I don’t know if that will change soon.  My life is a little busier now and it’s sure to be even busier next year.  Most of it will be study busyness, and blogging is a nice distraction from that.  I’m going home on Friday for two weeks and the travel will delete an entire day from life - I just won’t see Saturday (I get two Sundays on the way back here).  It will be Thanksgiving just before I leave so I’m sure to have lots to write about and pre-schedule for those travel days.  I’ll just have to take the trip as it comes though, maybe I’ll miss a day or two.  Maybe I’ll be able to keep on top of it.  We’ll see.

The best part of this blog is that the voice that talks to me while I’m going about my day, my inside voice, has taken to composing blogs.  It’s quite nice - I will be lying in bed and realise I’ve thought up three new posts and I’d better get a pen to write them down.  I think it might even help me to avoid the negative voice that often likes to chime in.   

Here’s to writing regularly.

Building creativity and ability

A teachers’ college mantra through the four year degree was “...and write a reflection”.  They wanted us to learn to reflect on everything, at all times. At the time I was a young ‘un and I really didn’t know what I would reflect when I did reflect because I didn’t have the nouse to know I’d have to stop and think first.  I just wanted to do it as quickly as possible, get the grade and go do something I was interested in.

As a part time job during those years, I taught a small studio of violin students and I was fortunate enough to have an amazing mentor.  She supplied me with games, ideas and even stickers.  Even with her help, my lessons were awful.  I would finish everything in ten minutes, leaving twenty minutes to improvise.  The improvisations were bad too, I was empty of words.  My response to this was: "At least I won’t be doing this forever!  I’ll be in a classroom with 30 kids and everything will be much better."

It wasn’t, it was super hard.  I’ve learned that there’s no two ways around it, there’s more to teaching than just having a job.  

Today I started a violin student and it is amazing to see where I have come in 12 years.  I have this knowledge, a teaching pedagogy, that has built up over the years.  I still use a lot of my mentor’s material but I know what to say in the gaps and I know how long I should spend doing activities.  I probably didn’t reflect on it the way I was taught in teacher’s college, but I have developed and improved none the less. 

Did your twenties do this to you, too?

This post relates directly to what I’ve written earlier here and here.  I’m remembering to be bored so that I can be creative.

Making something out of rags

Rag rugs are a really satisfying, quite simple gift to crochet.  Making the rags takes a bit of time and it can be quite messy - I end up with a layer of rag fluff all over my clothes and the floor.  I prefer to make circle rugs, although I have found the hardest part at the start when I'm counting the first few stitch increase increments.  It's hard to see the definition between stitches with all the jaggedy edges getting in the way.  Doing this step properly makes a big difference for a really tidy looking rug, unless you’re going for the lopsided effect. 

They are one of the few items I make that I always like at the end.  They seem plush, and it's satisfying to see how the width of the rags I've made and the imagined design turns out in the finished product.  I've made a couple with some sheets my parents have had since they were newly-weds.  Those sheets are really familiar to my family but they had become thin and were tearing easily from over-use.  It's nice to have found a new purpose for them. 

Preparing for home

In preparation to go home next Friday, EIGHT SLEEPS FROM NOW, I have bought 144 votive candles and their glass holders for a very special wedding, written a Christmas letter for family and a few select friends, and am receiving packages in the post for things people want from the States that are more expensive or not available at home.  Clothes from baby gap (so cute, Madstar and Haz are lucky little people), cowboy belts for the resident cowboy (Mr. Bird, Sr.), and a kindle for some cuzzies (still waiting, I hope it gets here in time).  Older-sis ordered a bunch of American mags too, so I’m trying to get through those.   

I am also in the process of finishing off our New Zealand Christmas shopping. “Finishing off” is an exaggeration.  I should say, starting.  Fortunately, my study has finished, placing me into a very wintery summer holiday, so I have the time to concentrate on all these things.  Unfortunately, I am far more inclined to knit and watch old episodes of the Mary Tyler Moore show.  I should get on it though.  We have dinner engagements and thanksgiving to get through before I leave.  Oh, and the black Friday sales the morning I leave.  

Really, I have no complaints.

Just so long as you're happy

One of my many guilty pleasures is to watch back to back episodes of a show I’m enjoying at that moment, often whole seasons at a time (at the same time I’m knitting up a storm, so the time isn’t completely wasted). 

This week I have been watching a particular show about a Hollywood stylist.  No names shall be named.  When you watch the show a lot, you can’t help but notice the shallowness with which they make life changing decisions.  Their favourite mantra, when musing, is: “Well, I mean, just so long as you’re happy.  I don’t mind what you do, just so long as you’re happy.”  This is often at the expense of employees or so called loved ones.  Actually, a lot of the time their loved ones are paid by them – but that’s another story.  Nothing seems to make them happy.  Maybe the editors are more concerned with drama and don’t show the less shallow moments.

I have been thinking about this “just so long as you’re happy” mantra, and how often I use it myself, at the detriment of others.  A whole lot, I suspect.

Love Big

I guess I was a little bit obscure in yesterday’s post. I so badly wanted you to think about it too, not to have me spell it out.  However, I know at least one person who completely missed the idea I had tried to get at because they didn’t read the last paragraph.  

Today I will expand a tiny bit on what I was trying to get at.  Not to give you any kind of clue, because it’s your own life that you’re busy learning lessons in, more to help me to keep processing.  Here goes.

If I’m to let myself become withered yet strong, I’m also going to have to let myself love big, bigger than I know how to love.  I will have to do this with the expectation that it’s not an easy kind of love and that I’m probably going to be hurt in the process.

I've been doing some thinking

I want to write a bit more about that one plant I mentioned in an earlier post (click here to read it).  

It nearly died living indoors for two years and since we moved here, I've been growing it outdoors where it is thriving and multiplying.  I’ve let one of its cuttings grow inside, and they could be completely different plants, they look so distinct from one another.  The ones outdoors are strong, leaves growing upwards, thick and hardy.  The colour is denser, redder and, well, stronger – if a colour can be stronger. Its stems are sturdy. The one indoors trails down over the edges of its pot.  It has developed fine, delicate and pretty features.  But it snaps when barely touched.  

It’s the same for all indoor plants, they don’t have any elements to fight (apart from supremely dry air) so they just don’t grow strong - they don't need to.  I now realise its why the herbs I tried growing indoors last year couldn’t stand up to anything and never got bigger than an inch – every time they were knocked slightly, they would die. 

I think this is a good analogy for life.  Which would you rather be – a breakable, delicate, indoor plant, or a strong, yet weathered, outdoor plant? 

An adult student

I’m not a huge fan of teaching adult violin students.  They miss lessons, don’t practice, often don’t like being told what would help them, and inevitably give up.  They also always start with huge intentions and I just look at them and judge them right out: oh man, my experience tells me you’re never going to get there!  There’s a huge difference between what an adult can soak up subconsciously and what a child can soak up.  The flexibility of their brains are reflected in the suppleness of their fingers and limbs.  But the money is good so I never say no. 

That being said, I have been taking piano ‘lessons’ from Jbird and I don’t want to give up!  It’s been 13 years since I had lessons so I’ve gone a far ways backwards.  He doesn’t give me real lessons, I use my own expertise to know how to practice and sometimes ask him what I should do next.  I'm struggling through, taking baby steps.  

Remember my post about needing time to be creative?  I’ve got the time right now but I hope when life gets busier, I am motivated to carry on. Or that life doesn't get any busier.

A defeaning silence

I should let myself get bored so that I can be creative.  We teachers often want to fill our teaching timetables with lots of productive things that keep the children 'learning', all the time.  Or simply busy work, to make us feel better about running out of productive things to do. 

I now believe that children will learn at a deeper level if they’re given challenging problems and the space to knuckle it out, to be frustrated.  A lot of the time (not every time), I look at children struggling and give them some kind of a clue, big or small, therefore taking away their opportunity to do something mentally challenging, some real, deep learning.  It’s my insecurities that make me do this: that giving them a chance to think silence can be deafening.

I'm taking my time

I’ve got this idea that I’ve been thinking about for a couple weeks and I really like it.  It came from all the reading I’ve been doing for a paper on issues in mathematics education, as well as a blog post I read from some smart mum living in Thailand.  I’m quite sorry it’s taken me so long to grasp this as it would’ve helped my teaching a lot, I think, as well as other things about other parts of my life. I was going to expand on it but I’ve decided to just state the idea and I’m sure it’ll come up again.  I'm ready to stop bowling on ahead. 

The idea is this: I should let myself get bored so that I can be creative.