I'm always ten light-year blocks away from what's new and hip, I know, so it is only today that I have discovered the delights of GoogleMaps. They rock. But I'm sure you didn't need me to tell you that. In lieu of studying, I just spent the last half hour fooling around, and provide you with my home address (of sorts) to show for it:

http://www.google.com/maps?f=d&hl=en&saddr=&daddr=&ie=UTF8&t=k&om=1&ll=-34.904923,-56.164185&spn=0.002055,0.003616


Now, in connection to the comments on my last post, I should clarify, right from the start, that I am no cook, much as I would wish to be. I am simply a talented and dedicated eater. That said, I shall now proceed to regale you with the only recipe I know by heart, and that I can promise (cross my heart and hope to die :P) will turn out edible and sinful (if you fancy a flavourful, creamy lemon ice cream).

Well, I already gave it away, so there's no mystery in what I'm about to say:

Lemon ice cream

1/2 litre cream
[YES, this WILL use the metric system, any other way is crazy]
juice of 4 (?) lemons
1 can condensed milk (370 grams)


Pour the cream into a bowl.

Whisk it good, until it has achieved a nice thickness (but try not to reach the point when the whisk leaves a groove on the surface of the cream) (but don't worry if it does, this is an easy-piecy recipe where you can do everything wrong and still get it to come out right).

Add the condensed milk (while googling around for translations and the like, I seemed to find that there's such a thing as "sweetened condensed milk", as opposed to "condensed milk". Just so we're clear, the one I'm talking about is super extra sweet, so it's probably the "sweetened" type you need) and stir a bit.

Squeeze the lemons and slowly pour into the mixture, stopping to stir and taste (don't be afraid to stick your finger in. Heaven, I'm telling you, heaven!). When it feels right, stop adding (and remember it tastes less lemony once frozen).

Pour into the recipient of your choice (personally, I have a beautiful set of large crystal stemware --I'm not sure if that's the correct way to define them, but you get the idea-- and I like to freeze the cream there, so it's super pretty to eat afterwards), cover in plastic film so it won't pick up a fishy smell from that weird container that's been sitting on your fridge for a month, and stick it in the freezer.

Check your clock. If more than 15, maybe 20 minutes passed since you started, you probably did something else in the middle, or were so enthusiastic in the tasting part that you won't have much left to put in the freezer.

Basically, you can take it out at any time. If it's sooner rather than later, it will be creamy and glorious. If it's later rather than sooner (say, 6 hours) it will have achieved a hard ice cream texture (creamy in your mouth once it's melted, but icy nevertheless). In any case, the fundamental taste is always the same.

If there's an occasion to celebrate, or you simply want it even classier, decorate adding a few mint leaves, small strawberries, almonds, small meringues or anything else lying around that suits your fancy.

It's a wonderful, win-win recipe. I wouldn't recommend doing it with your eyes closed, but then again I'd never recommend stepping into the kitchen with your eyes closed (too many cutting edges and hot stoves for my comfort).

If you wish the taste to be milder or more nuanced (sissy!) you can use lime juice instead of lemon juice. However, I can't vouch for the results in that case (it's all very well for you first-world-ers, but down here limes are hard-to-obtain delicacies, much like [sigh] fresh raspberries and blueberries and cherries and blackberries and good avocados year-round and papaya and holy moly I'm practically drooling! [sigh])

Enjoy!!!

Good evening, y'all. My name is Jude, and I'm addicted to food blogs.

(Cue: Hello Jude! in sepulchral chorus that never fails to sound creepy and unencouraging)

I have been food-blog-free for approximately ten minutes now, but probably won't be able to resist the temptation to reincide. There's just something about them that keeps me coming back, those luscious photos, those detailed, mouth-watering descriptions...
sigh

And I'm not even hungry right now.

Case in point: http://cookbook411.com/

now THAT is NOT cricket. I think that the extent to which we (or at least I) eat through our (my) eyes is simply astonishing.
I don't like cucumbers. Never have. The other day I went to this incredibly lovely restaurant that had the ideal atmosphere for me (decoration, concept, menu, lighting, even a cute waiter...). I know I tend to exaggerate and blow things up for effect, but I was genuinely surprised by how much I instantly loved this place, having barely sat down. And, more impressively, that feeling lasted all through dinner and beyond. Anyway. I ordered fish (can't remember which) with cous-cous (which is something that I never eat, because it is not at all common here and I don't particularly like it), and watched it lovingly prepared (you could see the kitchen from the dining area). It came served beautifully, but the first forkfull of cous-cous instantly revealed the dastardly cucumber concealed within.
I didn't complain. I didn't meticulously set it aside and eat the rest. I didn't swallow it without breathing to avoid the taste, as if it were medicine. Nope. I just ate it all up, and what's more, I enjoyed it. A lot.
And it's not because I actually like cucumbers but had become convinced that I didn't for some odd reason, or that I suddenly changed my mind. I still hate their vile taste. And yet, just for that night, my brain convinced my tongue that something that lovely had to taste right, and it did. Shall the miracles never cease?

Maybe I should start writing about food... since it DOES seem to have become my sort-of primary concern (not really, but... whatever)

If you say nothing or offer no alternative, I shall treat you to an at-length digression on the wonders of the dessert menu at said restaurant

Note: there is, after all, a Spanish saying to the effects of "silence implies consent" -- el que calla, otorga

Note2: how can it be "an at-length digression" when there's nothing to digress from? But I digress...

(I'm sorry. I shouldn't try to joke. The Doctor said it was bad for my health, and it certainly can't be any good for yours) (and there I go again... bad jude!)

[This is a true story] [Ominous low music]


There once was a little girl named Jude, who studied very hard indeed, for she had a nasty exam. And after she had procrastinated enough to be so bored of procrastination that the sheer dullness of it all had led her over the edge that separated not-studying from studying, she read. And read. And read. Until she was tired of reading. And that was just the first hour.

That first hour was followed by many, many, many more hours and days, until two weeks had gone by, and the exam loomed, ever so terrifying and big.

And little Jude was scared, because she couldn't really remember much of that first hour, or of the many hours that had followed. So she started writing it all down, which wasn't a very good method to begin on the day before the exam. Finally, she simply shut down her brain to all outside reality, and for 4 interminable hours devoted her whole being to perusing everything again with every neuron wide awake. This is a last-resort studying capacity of Jude's that she is rather proud of, because she can actually feel her grey matter humming and whirring, like an expensive SUV that someone was dumb enough to drive in the beach.

After that, she slept 5 hours and had a very good piece of spinach pie that she wasn't able to enjoy due to the caffeine surplus and very thin, taut string keeping her nerves in a bundle. Ten minutes later little Jude's father drove her to school, where she discussed with her friends at length on the relative strength of her own knowledge and memory (they said she knew enough, she wasn't so sure. She has a tendency to overestimate the amount of dedication others put into study, and therefore deems her own efforts insufficient). She silently absorbed the essence of a few more pages. Lenin, NEP, origins of capitalism, Dobb-Sweezy, gold-exchange standard, pax britannica, letter of exchange, Wilson, mumble-jumble.

A member of the administrative staff started calling out names. Jude's last name starts with a G, so she wasn't in a hurry. Half an hour later, they started calling out her last name. There were approximately 13 people with her last name registered to take the exam. Their names were called out one by one, and they each approached the door and provided their ID for identification purposes and received blank pages to write on and then entered. Jude waited. Now was the time. Oh well, she thought. I just want to get this over with. I'll do fine. In three hours it'll all be over.

However, soon the 13 names had been called out, and the man started calling out another last name. Little Jude blinked. She hesitated. Finally she walked to the door and asked the man to check if she wasn't on the list. She wasn't. He said, go to Administration and find out. She said, thank you. She wasn't worried. It must be a mistake.

She knocked on Administration. They let her in. They said, give me your ID and I'll check on the computer. Little Jude complied. They asked, you did enroll in this course, right? Little Jude's heart skipped a beat. She said, no. They said, you didn't? She repeated, no. I didn't know I had to. I enrolled to the career, but since this course had no practical classes... They said, you should have, you always have bla bla bla courses with midterm exams all require bla bla bla. Little Jude, not rudely, interrupted, is there anything I can do now? They said, no. She insisted, nothing at all? No. You can enroll next year or take the full exam in July. Little Jude felt a little dazed. She said, thank you. She walked out. She called her Mom. She said, come pick me up, I wasn't registered.

A month later, when the results came back (for all the other people who had remembered to register, of course), she learned that almost everyone had passed, even the ones who had studied from a bogus synthesis of the class notes.

That was three months ago. Today, little Jude started to study all over again. This time, not only has she to re-read and re-absorb the plentiful bounty of pages from before, but also has she to read the same amount of other, new and exciting books that she wasn't required to study last time.
Oh bliss, she thinks.
If she had remembered that teeny tiny inscription detail, she would only need to write a ten-page paper on a subject of her choosing.


[some people have found this story funny. Little Jude has not, did not, and does not. However, you are quite welcome to laugh at her expense]