Brownies

Okay, so here’s a departure from my usual missive.

Brownies.

I have a fail safe, delicious recipe that was passed down to me from my grandmother. I still have her handwritten version, which stays in my recipe file because I have it committed to memory. But I treasure it, because my maternal grandmother was amazing in the kitchen. And many of my memories of her and my grandfather are centered around food.

My grandparents on my mother’s side left Australia to return to the United States when I was 6. I was devastated. Although my grandfather could silence me with the lift of one eyebrow, and my grandmother had a shout that could chop wood, I adored them both, and reveled in my role as the oldest grandchild (in Australia).

The day they flew out I was inconsolable. My parents had even promised we would go to the pancake restaurant near the airport afterwards, as a treat. I cried through my pancakes, even though they were usually my favorite, and well into the afternoon. My Mama and Papa were gone.

The next time I saw them I was a much older and wiser seven and a half (the ‘half’ matters when you’re seven). My parents, my sister and I went to the U.S. for Christmas in Pennsylvania, and then a road trip down the east coast, through the south, all the way to new Mexico. It would take us several weeks, and we would travel in my grandparent’s motor home.

My grandmother would step into the tiny kitchen every dinnertime and make a delicious dinner for 6 on two hot plates, with a mini fridge and a micro oven. Even at the tender age of seven and a half, I knew that this was impressive.

Best of all were the pies. PIES! In that tiny oven. She made that perfect, flaky pastry from scratch, a feat I have never attempted even though I am on the eve of my 40th birthday. (It is on my list.) Cherry was – and still is – my favorite, but I have only had one pie in my life that was as good as hers (in California last year at a tiny diner in the middle of nowhere).

Lunch times were simpler affairs. Sandwiches, chips and pickles. As she taught me how to do that fancy playing card shuffle and play gin rummy, I munched on salami and mustard sandwiches, Fritos and massive dill pickles. I felt so ‘American’, and I was her little mate again.

Through the years I ate at her table, although not as much as I wish I had. Some of my favorite recipes – and some of my favorite dishes cooked by my mother and my aunties – are hers. My mother and I still hope to one day get her recipes out there – Mama’s recipes.

I have been baking her brownies for nearly 30 years, having tried other recipes and never being as satisfied with results. Last weekend I broke out the brownie pan for the first time since my move to the U.S. I bought all the ingredients, noticing how much finer the sugar is here, and calling my mother in Vegas to ask the difference between bleached and unbleached flour. Hershey’s cocoa powder replaced the Cadbury’s I have used for the past 20 years in Australia.

On top of the different ingredients, I was contending with a new oven. Anyone who bakes will tell you that an oven can be ‘fast’, ‘slow’, or even cook unevenly. I had yet to learn my new oven, hence why I opted for the fail safe brownie recipe.

I made them, baked them, and pulled them out of the oven ahead of the allotted time – just in case. I had a frown on my face as Ben walked over, commenting on how good they smelled. “They’re burnt,” I said, immediately thinking of what else I could take to our friends’ house later that night. “Really? They seem okay,” he offered, helpfully. The frown stayed, as I noted the dark color, and stuck a skewer in the middle. The skewer came out wet, meaning that they weren’t done yet. Hmmm. Burnt on the outside, uncooked inside.

I turned down the oven and stuck them back in for a few minutes. I would wait and see. Hershey’s cocoa is much darker than Cadbury’s – maybe that was it. I took them out, allowed them to cool, and cut off a corner. Delicious. I took a bite to Ben, who agreed that they were good. And they were – just different. The cocoa, the sugar, and whatever else is different about American ingredients had made a completely different brownie to what I was expecting.

In fact, because this recipe was created by my grandmother – and she was American – I think the ones I made on the weekend were closer to hers than any I made in Australia. When I served them to a group of experts (Americans) later that night, they were well received.

So, off the back of all that, I think I will keep Mama’s brownies as my signature baked treat. Oh, and I can still shuffle cards really well, but can’t remember a thing about gin rummy.

Here’s the recipe:

1/2 cup cocoa powder
1/3 cup margarine, 1/3 cup butter
Melt these together on a low heat. Remove pan from heat. Add the following:
2 cups sugar
4 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla
Mix well. In a separate bowl, mix together the following:
1 1/2 cups plain unbleached flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
Add the dry ingredients to the wet, and mix well with a wooden spoon. When combined, pour into a greased brownie tin and bake on 350F for about 30 minutes. Allow to cool in the pan before cutting and serving.

Enjoy!!

The little things…

When you traverse the globe and land somewhere far from home, it feels different. At first you can’t quite put your finger on it, but it is a noticeable shift in how you experience the world. Outside looks different, like you’re looking at through Coke bottle glasses, or a smudgy window. It also sounds and smells different. Even if you’ve landed in another English speaking country, your experience of the ordinary is skewed.

It’s the little things. Lots of little things all adding up to one huge shift in perception.

It has been like that since I moved here to Seattle. And because I have been here and experienced this feeling before, it is like an intriguing form of deja vu. My reality is shifting, and more and more the little things that stand out as different are becoming my new norm. The light switches go the other way, I need to look left before I step off a curb, not right, and when I reverse in the car, I look over the wrong shoulder and can’t see anything. But these details are pretty ordinary.

There are things that are a little, well, quirky, about living in Seattle.

In the grocery stores here – notice the Americanism – there is the sound of thunder a few seconds before the automated reticulation mists the fruit and vegetables – so you have time to step back and not get wet. Thunder, then rain. You gotta love the genius behind that.

And the people who work at grocery stores are unbelievably cheerful. Kind, helpful, and when you check out they pack your bags and then offer to take them out to the car for you. They always look a little disappointed when I say, “No thank you, I am walking.” I doubt I will ever tire of a friendly chat over bags of groceries. They even thank you – on behalf of the environment – when you bring your own bags.

In fact, I have noticed that most people here are unbelievably friendly and cheerful. It is such a difference from Sydney that I have often spent a moment or two in stunned silence before responding. And I am determined to get to the bottom of this rampant friendliness. Not in an ‘I am dubious that it is sincere’ kind of way, but because we should bottle this stuff and send it Down Under. I mean not to disparage my homeland – in fact the friendly factor still rings true in many parts of Western Australia, like where my Dad and Stepmum live – but in Sydney? Let’s just say that if you can get a smile out of someone who works in the service industry – behind a counter, with a cash register – you should go and buy a lottery ticket. It’s your lucky day.

But not all the differences here are rainbows and butterflies for the soul. Try and find a low-fat, healthy version of anything that does not contain ‘high fructose corn syrup’ (which is pretty much BAD for you), and you will be looking long and hard, or dipping into your retirement fund. Healthy food, including fresh produce, can be pretty costly. But you can buy a burrito at Taco Bell for 99c. Which is why it is so intriguing that Seattle-ites are a fit and healthy bunch. There are as many gyms as coffee shops, and at the first sign of sun, the paths and cycle ways fill with people traffic. And people walk a lot in this city just to get somewhere – even when it is rainy and cold. In Sydney ‘cold’ means 12C or 54F. In Seattle, to be deemed ‘cold’ the temperature requires a minus in front. The other day it was 2. Degrees. Celsius. And only I mentioned how cold it was.

Just one more thing I will get used to as the ‘smudgy glass’ of my perception starts to clear, and Seattle becomes ‘home’. Less and less I find myself saying, ‘Back home, it’s like this…’ Because, I am home.

All quiet on the Vegas front

So, I spent the weekend in Vegas.

The Virgin America jet from San Francisco to Vegas was stuffed to the rafters with techie types all buzzing about the excitement of CES, a big-deal Technological Conference. Those around me were chatting excitedly about the shows they would see, the tables they would play, and how they barely planned to see the insides of their hotel rooms. I just plugged in my headset and watched TV. I was heading to Vegas for a family wedding, and I knew there was little chance I would be seeing The Strip at all.

I was right.

You see, people – real, normal, ‘I have a 9 to 5 job’ people – live and work in Vegas. In fact, once you get beyond Las Vegas Boulevard (The Strip) and the few streets that run parallel, you are pretty much in the ‘burbs. The streets in Vegas are wide, mostly 6 lanes, and there are apartment complexes, and housing communities and mini malls.
Wiiiiiiide Streets

So, how DID I spend my time? My cousin Mary’s daughter got married on Saturday, and she found a quirky and cool hotel to host the event. The Artisan is just off The Strip, and when we first stepped inside it took a while for our eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Gothic Lobby

The lobby is home to a baby grand piano, a fountain, and dozens of paintings on the walls and ceiling – yes, the ceiling.
The Artisan

I couldn’t resist a dramatic shot like this one:
Creating Drama
It was just that kind of place.

In fact, just when I started to get used to the dark interior we were ushered outside for the ceremony.

Bride and Groom

Yes, outside in the middle of January – but I will come back to that later.

The reception was held in the hotel’s dining room, where we were served by an eastern European waitress with a thick accent and black hair to her waist. “Where did you think she is from?” my uncle asked the next day. I went with my first impression, “Transylvania.” I wasn’t kidding.

And what is a wedding without cake? The cake, in the wedding colors of black and purple, was so good I had two cupcakes – but don’t tell the bride.
Quirky Theme

We drove home at sunset, as it was an intimate lunchtime affair. As I sat in the backseat, I looked across all the dazzling lights of The Strip to the mountains beyond, and watched as the sun crawled behind them. The silhouette of the mountain ridge was beautiful. For all that Vegas in known for, it is rarely its natural beauty that gets a mention.

The next afternoon, just before sunset, I went for a run down to the local park. The park is encircled by a running track, and was full of families and teens enjoying the last moments of the weekend. I ran the track five times as I watched the goings on around me. I was completely thrilled to be running outside in the middle of winter, without gloves, a hat or even a long sleeved sweatshirt. I also had the pleasure of seeing watching another sunset under a clear sky.

Suburban Sunset

Las Vegas is not just a city of decadence and glamor. It is also a where families play in the park on Sunday afternoons. But perhaps my favorite thing about Las Vegas its natural backdrop. The mountains are truly spectacular –
Foot of the mountain

– especially when it snows!
Snow in Vegas
[With thanks to my mother for this shot.]

Yes, it is possible to spend a quiet weekend in Vegas. A bit of shopping, a trip to the cinema, chilling out with family, and getting out in the fresh air…that’s Vegas, Baby!

All Quiet on the Vegas Front (archive)

I am digging through the archives of my blog and found this post from Jan ’09, which was somehow mis-categorized as a ‘page’. Moving it over to join it’s fellow posts.

 

So, I spent the weekend in Vegas.

The Virgin America jet from San Francisco to Vegas was stuffed to the rafters with techie types all buzzing about the excitement of CES, a big-deal Technological Conference. Those around me were chatting excitedly about the shows they would see, the tables they would play, and how they barely planned to see the insides of their hotel rooms. I just plugged in my headset and watched TV. I was heading to Vegas for a family wedding, and I knew there was little chance I would be seeing The Strip at all.

I was right.

You see, people – real, normal, ‘I have a 9 to 5 job’ people – live and work in Vegas. In fact, once you get beyond Las Vegas Boulevard (The Strip) and the few streets that run parallel, you are pretty much in the ‘burbs. The streets in Vegas are wide, mostly 6 lanes, and there are apartment complexes, and housing communities and mini malls.
Wiiiiiiide Streets

So, how DID I spend my time? My cousin Mary’s daughter got married on Saturday, and she found a quirky and cool hotel to host the event. The Artisan is just off The Strip, and when we first stepped inside it took a while for our eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Gothic Lobby

The lobby is home to a baby grand piano, a fountain, and dozens of paintings on the walls and ceiling – yes, the ceiling.
The Artisan

I couldn’t resist a dramatic shot like this one:
Creating Drama
It was just that kind of place.

In fact, just when I started to get used to the dark interior we were ushered outside for the ceremony.

Bride and Groom

Yes, outside in the middle of January – but I will come back to that later.

The reception was held in the hotel’s dining room, where we were served by an eastern European waitress with a thick accent and black hair to her waist. “Where did you think she is from?” my uncle asked the next day. I went with my first impression, “Transylvania.” I wasn’t kidding.

And what is a wedding without cake? The cake, in the wedding colors of black and purple, was so good I had two cupcakes – but don’t tell the bride.
Quirky Theme

We drove home at sunset, as it was an intimate lunchtime affair. As I sat in the backseat, I looked across all the dazzling lights of The Strip to the mountains beyond, and watched as the sun crawled behind them. The silhouette of the mountain ridge was beautiful. For all that Vegas in known for, it is rarely its natural beauty that gets a mention.

The next afternoon, just before sunset, I went for a run down to the local park. The park is encircled by a running track, and was full of families and teens enjoying the last moments of the weekend. I ran the track five times as I watched the goings on around me. I was completely thrilled to be running outside in the middle of winter, without gloves, a hat or even a long sleeved sweatshirt. I also had the pleasure of seeing watching another sunset under a clear sky.

Suburban Sunset

Las Vegas is not just a city of decadence and glamor. It is also a where families play in the park on Sunday afternoons. But perhaps my favorite thing about Las Vegas its natural backdrop. The mountains are truly spectacular –
Foot of the mountain

– especially when it snows!
Snow in Vegas
[With thanks to my mother for this shot.]

Yes, it is possible to spend a quiet weekend in Vegas. A bit of shopping, a trip to the cinema, chilling out with family, and getting out in the fresh air…that’s Vegas, Baby!

Settling in Seattle

I am a little hesitant to use the word ‘settling’, because of its connotations about settling down and settling for less – neither of which describes my move here. I am however, settling in.

After a fruitful trip to IKEA, I now have drawers, and having lived out of a suitcase for two months, drawers are more exciting to this girl than a sale on shoes AND bags. I could have kissed Ben when he put my bedside table together – in fact I did. I won’t say what he got for putting together my dresser.

Maui and Tahoe get settled
Tahoe and Maui get settled in Seattle

My boxes – all four of them – arrived bang on schedule. We actually picked them up after Ben picked me up from the airport. Over the subsequent days they exploded all over the living room as I pulled things out and exclaimed, “Oh cool, I forgot I packed this.” Then the contents made their way into drawers, closets and various nooks and crannies. I have had to nudge my way into some of the nooks – and the crannies – as I sweetly ask, “Honey? Do you think we can find somewhere to put this?” Once or twice I have suggested that something of his could be, um, ‘recycled’ (removed from our universe).

To Go
Piles of recycling and rubbish post unpacking

Ben, through all of this, has shown incredible patience. I think perhaps because we are making a home together here, which is a joy to us both.

Over the past week and a bit we have traipsed around furniture stores and sat on dozens of couches and dining chairs. Finally we have narrowed our selections and have ordered something to sit on and eat at. These items arrive in three weeks or less. Meanwhile we are making do with the recliner rocker, the Love Sack – a giant cube of a beanbag – and Ben’s desk. (I have to say that Ben’s desk set up is a little more than ‘making do’, as it is quite impressive. It just doesn’t make the greatest dining table.)

What a set up!

So, as I caught the bus to Social Security today and then walked home in the rain via the bank, the grocery store and the post office, I felt happy. Seattle is home now – for us both. But we won’t be settling down in the traditional sense. No, no. This weekend I am off to Las Vegas to see family and catch a show, and while I am away Ben is going skiing with friends. We will still be us – only with furniture.

Settling in Seattle

I am a little hesitant to use the word ‘settling’, because of its connotations about settling down and settling for less – neither of which describes my move here. I am however, settling in.

After a fruitful trip to IKEA, I now have drawers, and having lived out of a suitcase for two months, drawers are more exciting to this girl than a sale on shoes AND bags. I could have kissed Ben when he put my bedside table together – in fact I did. I won’t say what he got for putting together my dresser.

Maui and Tahoe get settled
Tahoe and Maui get settled in Seattle

My boxes – all four of them – arrived bang on schedule. We actually picked them up after Ben picked me up from the airport. Over the subsequent days they exploded all over the living room as I pulled things out and exclaimed, “Oh cool, I forgot I packed this.” Then the contents made their way into drawers, closets and various nooks and crannies. I have had to nudge my way into some of the nooks – and the crannies – as I sweetly ask, “Honey? Do you think we can find somewhere to put this?” Once or twice I have suggested that something of his could be, um, ‘recycled’ (removed from our universe).

To Go
Piles of recycling and rubbish post unpacking

Ben, through all of this, has shown incredible patience. I think perhaps because we are making a home together here, which is a joy to us both.

Over the past week and a bit we have traipsed around furniture stores and sat on dozens of couches and dining chairs. Finally we have narrowed our selections and have ordered something to sit on and eat at. These items arrive in three weeks or less. Meanwhile we are making do with the recliner rocker, the Love Sack – a giant cube of a beanbag – and Ben’s desk. (I have to say that Ben’s desk set up is a little more than ‘making do’, as it is quite impressive. It just doesn’t make the greatest dining table.)

What a set up!

So, as I caught the bus to Social Security today and then walked home in the rain via the bank, the grocery store and the post office, I felt happy. Seattle is home now – for us both. But we won’t be settling down in the traditional sense. No, no. This weekend I am off to Las Vegas to see family and catch a show, and while I am away Ben is going skiing with friends. We will still be us – only with furniture.