Apartment 6C is Turned into a Winter Wonderland, Julia Child Eat Your Heart Out, and an I.R.C. S.O.B. Swipes my Metro Card

I am determined to take another crack at a festive, wintry, amazing New York Christmas. And Wynene's visit is extra incentive, so Brian and I went out on the town one Monday and shopped for beautiful decorations for the living room. His enthusiasm for decorating matched mine, so he was very helpful. It was so much fun! We listened to Christmas music the whole time as we cut out paper snowflakes, strung twinkling white lights, created a snowy diorama, lit tiny candles, and placed shiny, silvery ornaments everywhere. The sight when I come home from work is very pleasing and comforting, and I can't wait to show it off to the guests at our holiday party next Tuesday. What fun! 

Brian sets to work, creating many lovely snowflakes for the apartment.

A light flurry hits apt 6C

Our diorama! Isn't it cool? It's supposed to be a little wintry landscape.

Aren't they pretty? Brian made most of these. The few that are square and sort of strange-looking are mine. I gave up on trying to shape flakes and instead prepped the paper for Brian so that he could create some really cool ones.

Having to contend with the flash being off and his shaky hands, Brian snaps a picture of me putting the finishing touches on our wintry wonderland.

Brian turned 31 on Monday, December 14. He wasn't excited about it at all. So I wanted to give him the best birthday I could. I thought the perfect way to do that was to cook for him because that's all he does for people, though no one ever cooks for him. I was dreading it because I don't cook, but was determined. However, stumped about what to make, I wrote to Rilkean, asking for help. She suggested something warm and hearty because of the weather and listed a couple of things, including coq au vin, reminding me too that it's French. This is particularly cool because Brian is trained in classic French cuisine. I next turned to epicurious.com and searched recipes for coq au vin. I chose a classic version, mostly because it was fairly complex. Again, I never cook, but when I do, I am inherently adverse to cutting corners. I don't even buy frozen vegetables, opting instead to buy fresh in order to be forced to prepare them myself. 

I read this recipe lots of times, trying to sell myself on the idea, pumping myself up, the way I imagine a football coach tries to stir excitement and desire for a great performance from his boys before they hit the field for a game. I even showed it to Jenny, who reviewed it with me and pointed out that 97% of people who used it would again, and that it got three forks out of four, which is good.  Finally, I was ready.

The dinner was a complete success. As I've told a few people, this was my most ambitious culinary effort. It was complicated. And filled with so many steps. But it completely paid off. Brian was impressed and touched that I cooked for him.  He had a terrific birthday.

The chicken sits below, submerged in a marinade of pinot noir, carrots, celery, flattened, garlic, whole peppercorns, and extra virgin olive oil. I prepared it on Friday and it stayed covered in the fridge, only seeing occasional light. When Brian was over I had to sneak it to the bathroom in order to turn the pieces of chicken without him seeing. On Sunday, I spent three hours before work cooking the meal. 

Preparing my mise en place

I remove the pieces of chicken, bloated and purple like a drowned corpse, from the marinade, where they sat stewing for two days. 

The first step to cooking the meal: frying the bacon bits.

Duel pots. The recipe directed that the chicken be cooked in a single layer, no pieces sitting on top of each other. I didn't have a pot large enough so I had to divide the pieces between two pots, which made me nervous when it came to everything else: How do I divvy up all the ingredients evenly? I was particularly concerned about the flour because I knew it was used to thicken the sauce, and the recipe called for three tablespoons. I was worried about it being too thick in one pot and not thick enough in the other, etc. Well, I thought, Everything will be combined at the end so I won't alter the measurements. I just tossed what I had as equally as I could between the two pots, though I did end up using three tablespoons of flour in the left pot and two in the right, the right being slightly smaller. Too much information?

Trying to keep up with dishes at the same time. I was able to wash these as I kept a careful eye on the chicken cooking in the bacon drippings on the stove to my right.

Just before I add shallots, garlic, flour, and chicken stock to it. These are the "solids": the original ingredients that made up the marinade, minus the pinot noir, which has been strained at this point and is sitting aside. 

When the time arrives to sautee the pearl onions, I return to the recipe for instructions and realize suddenly that I have to peel 20 of them. Right now. I just have so much going on that I don't think about it and now I begin to frantically peel each one, my hands shaking from the urgency of the situation. And of course my face begins to itch a little here and there, probably from the sudden stress. And I have bits of onion skin sticking to my fingers. Ughh. But I'm still taking pictures of it all, because I told Rilkean I would. The camera's a bit slick from food and grease by this point.

My sauce. I had to strain it and press every ounce from the "solids." Since I didn't have an adequate tool, I had to pour everything first into a larger pot through a colander, then take a smaller pot and press the bottom of it into the colander, squeezing precious juice from the carrots and such. Then, I took my wooden spoon and pressed further, making sure to get every drip of sauce from the solids. This is the result.

The recipe at this point asked that I strain the sauce from the solids. Then, discard the solids. Discard the solids? I read that part a bunch of times. Are you kidding? Those solids took work to put together. Those are they in the picture, the carrots, onions, celery, and peppercorns from the marinade. Needless to say I kept the solids and placed them in tupperware to be used in some way at a later date. Oh, and with so much going on all at once for three continuous hours, I never stopped once to taste anything. So at this point I popped a carrot into my mouth. The sauce was amazing. Is it okay to say that about my own sauce? I asked myself as I tasted it, Would I enjoy this if I had ordered it at a restaurant, prepared by professionals? The answer was an immediate yes. I was completely surprised by the results. I actually tasted it a few more times because I didn't trust my reaction at first. Seriously. But it tasted so good each time. Yay! 

Sorry, it's a little blurry. The meal is almost complete by this point. The last thing to do is combine everything to the sauce bubbling away on the stove: the bacon pieces, carmelized pearl onions, carmelized wild mushroom assortment, and of course, the chicken.

I brought out the recipe towards the end of the meal so Brian could review it. He approved. Those are parsnip fries in the middle. I figured I had to make some sort of side, but you know what? That meal stood up perfectly on its own.  Does anyone recognize the picture in the background?? Terrific holiday picture of us in a sleigh, soaring over beautiful San Jose?

He loved it!

The employee room at work is actually a bathroom converted to a storage closet for bleach, cloth napkins, speakers, and our stuff. It's accessible only to employees and with a key , which we keep in a special place and share among ourselves. Long ago I stopped keeping cash in my wallet when I would stow my bag in the closet. Though when I first started, I kept a lot of cash in my wallet, unattended, mostly because I would forget to take the money out the night before at home after a shift, but also because I trusted all of my coworkers. I really liked my new job and everyone. I knew it was a bit naive, and after a few months when I discovered that 30 dollars went missing from my bag, I stopped keeping cash in it.

From time to time I would think about how stupid it is to keep my Metro Card in my wallet as well, but for some reason I sometimes, sort of, test situations. I've been aware of it for a few years and  cannot account for why I decide to do things, aware of potential, undesirable consequences. The best answer I can come up with is that, in the end, I don't believe the outcome will ever be bad. Does it make sense? I think to myself, If I leave my Metro Card in my wallet, an employee could easily take it. BUT he probably won't. And I go with the latter, trusting that everything will be okay, but knowing it's wiser to be more cautious. 

Anyway, you can probably guess where this is going. Last night at the end of my shift, I grabbed my bag from the employee room, took little notice of the fact that my wallet was sitting upside down at the bottom, stuffed my tips in it, and hurried for the train, tired and uninterested in being kept at work any longer, especially since we didn't make much last night. It was at the train stop at W215, my breath steaming before me from the chilly night air and my cold fingers fumbling, that I pulled out my wallet for my Metro Card. When I opened it, all I found in the usual spot was my driver's license, which I always keep tucked behind my Metro Card in the same sleeve. My heart instantly dropped to my stomach as I feared the worst. I rifled hurriedly through my entire wallet, panicked because I was pressed for time. 

Chagrined at not immediately finding it, I was compelled to temporarily abandon the search in anticipation of an approaching train. I went to the machine and very reluctantly fed it $2.25 for a single-ride ticket. I slid through the turnstile and pushed through the doors to the platform, taking a seat to conduct a more thorough search of my wallet. Why did I purchase only a single-ride ticket instead of one that would last me a week or two weeks? Because just two nights ago, two nights ago, I bought one for $45, which actually has a $50 value. I had exactly $45 left on the card when it was taken from me. It was the same as having cash stolen. That card would've lasted me about two weeks. And there's no way to be reimbursed if it's been purchased with cash, obviously. 

When I first moved here Rilkean sent me an email, telling me that if you buy a Metro Card with an ATM card and it gets lost or stolen, you can call a number and have it cancelled, and the remaining value is returned to your ATM card. It's sort of a long process, but it does work, as I discovered when I lost my card last summer. Lost that time, not stolen. I know that for sure. 

After having scoured my bag for that card and not finding it, panic gave way to upset, and on the train I found my mind racing, quickly assembling a list of my coworkers that evening. I feel I can safely eliminate a couple of people, but for the rest, I have no idea. I don't want to look on anyone with suspicion because I honestly have no clue who did it. But I can still feel very pissed off by it. Because I said goodbye to every one of them last night and they each said good night back with equal good humor. And whoever took my card had to see my sunny face on my license, smiling up at them as they stole from me (It's true: My expression in the picture is pretty bright, which is unusual for me). And there's no way to figure out who did it or even place a camera in the room because it's a bathroom, and that's weird.

It's so easy for people to rummage through others' things in that room. They get to lock themselves in there, for crying out loud. At my last job, we had to cram our stuff in this greasy cabinet, but at least it was in plain view. It was in a short hall lined with tables, one we had to pass through countless times throughout the day, so it was impossible for someone to go through another's bag without all employees, and patrons too, for that matter, witnessing everything.

Sigh.

Of course Brian has offered to drive me to work even more right now. Very sweet. And guess what? At the end of tonight's shift, as I was sweeping the mezzanine, I happened upon a Metro Card lying on the floor. I figured it was discarded, but picked it up anyway, just to see if maybe it had something left on it. On the way to the train stop I was eager to try it out at the turnstile, but assumed what was likely: that the stile would blink insufficient fare in its digital green readout and I would have to toss the found card. However, when I pulled it out and passed it through the slot, it worked. It had two rides left on it. Awesome! That made me feel better. And a little lucky, actually. 

Thanksgiving in Cambridge

What happens when you stick eight adults and five children in a huge, old New England house with wonderfully creaky steps and have them live together for three days to share friendship and terrific food? A fabulous holiday. Thank you guys so much for hosting Thanksgiving. We had a great time. 

Nate and Thaedryn (sp??) engage in light conversation before dinner. Beef stew and Bisquick biscuits? Sign me up!

Oh man--they have no idea what's about to hit them. In the background Brian scrubs up before he lays hands on the turkeys.

This picture cracks me up: At three years old, Canon already shows promise of being a great orator. 

Brian, as usual, is very busy in the kitchen. 

I like the empty bottles of Corona and New Castle in the background. They, I don't know, add the necessary comic touch that the turkey was missing

Maebe shows some festive foliage for the camera. The children collected some really beautiful leaves to adorn our dinner table.

Ramona wows in her Thanksgiving ensemble and I'll say it again: I love a bold necklace piece

The spread

The moment we were all waiting for... and we definitely feasted