Sometimes you start out with big dreams for your food blog. The one squash blossom growing on the back porch sparks visions of delicate pastas with brown-butter sauces and ethereal little fired blossoms floating on top. Or the announcement of some local farm-to-table gala awakes in me a desire to buy a dress from a vintage store and a floral headband and slap down $150 I don't have to eat some quasi-heirloom-organic-sustainable-sulfate free-no animal tested-caprese salad. Or a Food Lab-esque investigation into the best ways to make homemade waffle fries including a chemical analysis of the ways in which oil temperature affects the overall starchiness of the final product (...would this even affect starchiness? 10th grade chemistry, come back to me).
And then sometimes you come home from work and realize you don't have much in the way of food, or money for that matter. Or energy. But you do have frozen spinach, which gets dumped into a saucepan with lemon and garlic, and flour (and baking soda, and olive oil), which gets fried into a makeshift pita-thing. And then you put a little sour cream on top and make your version of a vegetarian taco and while it's not necessarily the best thing you've ever cooked it's pretty tasty given the circumstances. And the circumstances are exhaustion and miserliness. Damned if the desert that is my pantry is going to drive ME to spend money.
This is the crux of what defines the term collegiate gastronaut, at least for the purposes of this blog. It means an overwhelming desire to embark on deep space-level culinary explorations WHILE recognizing that sometimes the NASA budget has been slashed due to the recession down on Earth. You always want to send drones to Mars but if healthcare's in the shitter what can you do, you know? You just have to be content to noodle around with some old atmospheric balloons you found.
More food-musings to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment