Librari[d]an

As you can see to the right, in a photo by Dong-A Ilbo, there is no more powerful imagery than thousands of votives flickering amongst the illuminated skyscrapers of Seoul. On June 11, 2008, this stunning photo graced the cover of The New York Times.

What compelling idea could unite these concerned citizens under a common banner? Ending world hunger? A push for global human rights? A call for ethnic and racial tolerance?

Nope. These South Koreans are pissed about American beef imports. Yes, American beef imports. Let me say it one more time, for emphasis: AMERICAN BEEF IMPORTS.

Now, the French will riot over anything, you name it: Bread, salt, ethnic tension, just because they are students, just because they are French. This is okay, because they are French and Parisians have a long and glorious history of rioting. (For an analogous American tradition, it’s kind of like rioting at Penn State’s Arts Fest. It just isn’t Arts Fest unless someone throws a flaming couch from a seventh-story apartment onto Beaver Ave, right?) So the French - and to a much lesser extent the students of Penn State - have earned their right to public spectacle. They go crazy, and the world may or may not respond. There’s an understanding. But what do our candlelit South Koreans think they’ll accomplish just by standing around? Do government policies get changed just by standing around?

Lets talk about economics. If you buy a bunch of candles and stand in the street, this will not really impact the importing of beef in your country. It will be a windfall for candlemakers and congest your city’s streets for several hours. You may get on the cover of The New York Times, but nothing will change. However, if you snuff out those candles, go home, and stop buying American beef things might. (The concern is over mad cow disease, so why the hell are they eating beef anyways?) It’s called boycotting; it’s what anyone with a lick of sense does when an issue can hinge on purchasing power.

I honestly have no patience for things like this. Get your stupid luminarias and stupid bodies out of the way and buy South Korean beef.

:: Bibliography ::

• Sang-Hun, Choe. “Korean Leader Considers Ways to Rework Government.” The New York Times, 11 June 2008. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/11/world/asia/11korea.html (21 June 2008).
• Ilbo, Dong-A. “Korean Leader Considers Ways to Rework Government.” The New York Times, 11 June 2008. http://www.nytimes.com/imagepages/2008/06/11/world/11korea.inline1.ready.html (21 June 2008).

I can’t stop thinking about fair weather, cycling, applying for jobs, ALA in Anaheim, and moving away from Pittsburgh. Not that I’m down on Pittsburgh–just ready for an adventure. (Or, if need be, a misadventure!) Nick called his desire to constantly move wanderlust. I, on the other hand, have always felt a dialectic need for and need to tear myself away from the familiar, the routine. It’s plagued me these past few years, having always found reasons to come back to or stay in Pittsburgh.

I’ve also realized that I am leading a life without music. (Not really, actually. It just feels like it.) Before the ‘pod broke, during my long walks - and occasionally bicycle rides (I know, unsafe!) - I would immerse myself in tunes nouveau and old. I think it’s time to make a financially unsound decision and get another.

This approximate recipe, which I gleaned from the gray, wet recipe book my Mom (pictured) calls a brain, sums up the amazing summer and early fall I had last year. I am resolved that it will be the last of my staple recipes that I post. From here on out, everything will be neuf.

:: Rene’s Vegan Bruschetta ::

Tomatoes
Onions (white)
Olive oil
Salt and Pepper
Basil
Oregano
Garlic (minced)

Directions are simple: Chop the tomatoes and onions and then throw everything in a bowl using amounts that suit your palate. Serve atop rounds of freshly toasted bread (baguette for a snack/appetizer, or something larger for a main course). You may want to brush the rounds with olive oil or put butter on them (if you’re not concerned about dietary restrictions).

Things to consider:

• If you find that this recipe yields bruschetta that’s too wet, remove and discard some (or all) of the tomatoes’ pulpy interiors.
• The type of tomato used can change how this recipe tastes dramatically.
• If you over-spice or put in too much olive oil, just add more tomato until things even out.
• If you have a few “problem” tomatoes (disappointing in taste or color, only edible in part, not exactly at the peak of ripeness, etc.) you can hide them rather wonderfully in this recipe.

I have battled with hummus recipes since long before I acquired a food processor. Without even a mortar and pestle, I would toil over a mess of mashed chick peas –attempting to transmogrify them into something palatable (if not delicious). You name it, I tried it: Different brands, methodologies, recipes, etc. One of my potluck efforts (the hummus and veggie squares) was very nearly undermined by disastrous hummus efforts. So when Erin over at Paper Rose Designs sent her own recipe my way, I was excited but skeptical.

I knew after the first pulse of my Cuisinart that the recipe was perfect. My hummus was too dry; I was skimping on olive oil/tahini, water, and lemon juice. And to my delight, I found that this recipe is infinitely adaptable. Want something a bit more spreadable? More water and lemon juice. Prefer the taste of olive oil to tahini? Go ahead and substitute or fiddle with the ratio of the two. Tweak the recipe to your taste. I can’t wait to try black bean hummus (at Andy’s suggestion) and locate the strange bread product in the Moroccan hummus that Usman told me about.

:: Erin’s Adventure Hummus ::

5 cloves garlic (2 cloves if using elephant garlic)
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 14-oz. can of chickpeas, drained
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup tahini
1 teaspoon salt
cumin and parsley to taste

1. Blend in a food processor.

2. Refrigerate before serving.

I use minced garlic in the jar, more lemon juice, and put in a bit of the lemon’s pulp (thinking about zest, instead). Erin suggests using the chickpea liquid rather than water, but I prefer the lighter taste that water achieves. If you’d like the hummus to look fancy, serve it on a flat plate, garnish it with fresh parsley and cumin (rather than blending it in), and top with a bit of olive oil. The Middle Eastern restaurant that I swore off a few months ago put some delicious pickles atop their hummus plate. If you know what kind of pickle they are, let me know! (I may have to do some reconnaissance work.)

A little sleep deprivation is all it takes for me to feel like my life has become the last two reels of a David Lynch film. I’m not sure if I’m just hyper sensitive to psychoanalytic images, but I think something good might be going down.

Recently, when I’ve been walking home on Bigelow, I’ve passed some brush where a flock of robins seems to be wintering. (Are robins a permanent resident throughout their range?) They’ve always been very silent, very still. It was eerie, having seven or eight birds within arm’s reach, their tiny black eyes reflecting no light in the katabatic darkness.

But today, at the corner of Bigelow and Center, a main had broken and water forced its way up to the surface, cracking the asphalt as if it were the crust of a rising loaf of bread. Catharsis, or the prelude to my recurring nightmare about imminent death in a culvert? Now I’m forced to think the former, as the robins were very much alive and active in the halflight made by the city light and low-hanging mists.

I don’t believe in any of this phooey anyway.