For each of the pieces I wrote for this class, I did have a kind of process that I went through for writing it. Before I started writing anything, I had a relatively long period of what I’m going to call “pre-writing,” for lack of a better word. Pre-writing doesn’t really work to describe it, though, because it wasn’t writing that I did. What I did was think about my piece in great detail over the course of a few days. I’d think about what I wanted to say, how I was going to say it, and all of the details that I wanted to include. For some of the pieces, I had my piece almost completely crafted in my head before I put anything down on paper.
It usually wasn’t voluntary that I would think about the assignments like this-- it’s just a habit that I’ve fallen in to. Whenever I have a big assignment or something I need to write, it’s always on my mind to some degree, and every once in a while my brain will tell me to pay attention to it for a moment, because it’s just thought of something.
This was both how I planned my written assignments and how I picked my topics. For the topics of all three of my pieces, I brainstormed on and off for several days what it was that I wanted to write about. For some, like the perfect meal piece, I came to a decision on my menu very quickly, and had several days to perfect my meal before I begun the preparation. For others, such as the memoir, I went through several bad topics before finally settling on one I liked.
This process of “pre-writing” helped me work through writers blocks quite well. I rarely found myself staring at a blank document, unsure of how to start or what to write, because I’d already overcome all of those obstacles in my head. By the time I sat down at my computer, I was ready to write. The only frustration I had was if I struggled with how to transfer something from my thoughts to the paper--wording, that is. For the most part though, I found that the writing came pretty smoothly to me throughout this course.
When it came time to do revisions, I approached things differently. I didn’t really think about what I wanted to revise beforehand. Instead, when it came time to sit down and work on my revisions, I pulled out the notes I took during the workshop and set to work. I would read through my piece once or twice before beginning on my workshop notes, to look for things that I could catch and fix on my own. After that, I would make my way through each one of the notes, look for where that was in the piece, and either make the decision to follow that bit of advice, or not. There were several times when different things people said in workshop directly contradicted each other, so I had to find out what worked best for my by myself and go with it. Other times, I didn’t agree with something that someone said, and in this case as well I would make my own decision and change my piece accordingly. While I took the feedback and comments that my classmates gave seriously, when it came down to it I wasn’t afraid to do disregard something in favor of what I wanted to do or say. When I disagreed with the feedback in this way, it made me feel quite confident in my writing, because I would feel like I was giving my writing purpose and direction.
As I reflect on my writing from this class, it’s hard to believe that I’m able to narrow everything down to some sort of “process” like this, considering the great variety of things that I’ve written during the last 10 weeks. I’ve tested my feet in unknown waters during this class, writing my first ever food review, and I was also able to fall into familiarity with the memoir. I’m happy with all of the writing that I’ve done in this class, and I will look back on this class for years to come with a fondness.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
My Perfect Meal [Final Draft]
I have a confession to make: I’ve been looking forward to this assignment for about two months. Since I first heard that I would get to cook something, I’ve been mulling over ideas in my head about what exactly the “perfect meal” would be to me. I toyed around with the thought of cooking many different dishes, trying to decide exactly what was feasible with my limited resources and small cooking space. I took ideas from many different places and people, and my menu ended up being a little eclectic. As I look back at my meal, I can’t help but see it as a sort of metaphor for my identity. Several of my dishes-- the two entrees and the desert-- had their own unique meanings for me, and the resulting meal, however odd, somehow came together in perfect harmony.
The main entree of my dinner, and the first dish that I decided on making, was a soup called Spider Soup. Contained in the beef-stock broth are no creepy crawlies, but rather beef cubes, pasta, and a wide variety of vegetables. Spider Soup has a strong history to it; it was the first dish that I ever cooked by myself. When I was in 7th grade, we did a class activity in my Home Ec class in which we listened to a song called “The Spider Song” and made up a recipe to go along with it. The result was a recipe for Spider Soup. I, of course, promptly ran home and asked my mom to let me make it. This was only the second time that I’ve made Spider Soup, and all of the familiar smells and flavors made me feel like I was 12 years old, cooking soup for my family under the watchful eye of my mother. Spider Soup represents personal history, the idea that all of our past experiences contribute to who we are today.
The next dish I prepared was Banitsa, a Bulgarian egg and cheese pie that my Grandma Zonka used to make. My grandma died when I was about three, so I don’t have very many memories of her, but the stories that my family tells about her are more than enough to supplement these missing memories. I’ve heard stories about her ingenuity (she could fix anything from scissors to televisions, and helped build my dad’s childhood home from the ground up), her strength (she and my grandpa were prisoners in an Austrian work camp during World War II before they could escape to America with their two young daughters), and of course, her cooking. She was a wonderful cook, but Banitsa is one of only a handful of her recipes that we left. I had to call my aunt for this recipe, and she gave me the “shortcut” version-- instead of rolling out my own dough from scratch, she advised me to just buy a box of fillo dough from the supermarket. Banitsa is a thin, crispy, layered pastry, and there is an elaborate song-and-dance to follow when making it. As I layered the fillo dough, cheese, eggs, and butter, I thought about my Grandma Zonka. I thought about how many times she must have made this dish, rolling the dough from scratch with a wooden dowel (because she didn’t have a rolling pin). I thought about how and why she came to the conclusion that the second layer gets two sheets of fillo dough and is sprinkled with butter, while the fifth layer has only one sheet of dough and cheese but no butter. The Banitsa represents family history, my yearning to remember where I came from and what my family went through in their struggle to assimilate to American culture, and also how thankful I am that our family recipes and traditions have survived this assimilation.
For dessert, I made homemade chocolate chip cookie dough and pretzel ice cream. The ideas for this dessert came from two different friends of mine. Growing up, one of my best friends, Katie, introduced me to eating pretzels and cookie dough together. It is without a doubt one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted, a perfect culmination of salty and sweet, creamy and crunchy. So, I’d originally planned on just making cookie dough and serving it with pretzels for a dessert. The decision to make it into an ice cream treat was a spur of the moment one. I was talking with a close friend at K, Laurel, and she mentioned that she had an ice cream maker that she was eager to use. And so, just like that, my dessert morphed into a batch of homemade ice cream with cookie dough and pretzel mix-ins. This dessert represents the way in which my friends have influenced who I am, and how important friendship is to me.
Finally, the individual ingredients that I used in this meal have meaning for me as well. I did my very best, when shopping for my ingredients, to buy as many organic and unprocessed foods as I could. The Spider Soup was made of entirely organic vegetables (with the exception of the onion and the canned peas), and the cookie dough and the ice cream were made with organic half-and-half, whipping cream, and eggs. I was raised eating some local and organic foods, but after recently hearing several food industry horror stories that are hidden from the public, it has never seemed more important to me. The kind of ingredients that I chose represents my ideals and my personal opinions about food.
With a Caesar salad and some whole-wheat rolls added in to round off the meal and help appease the vegetarians, my menu was set. After roughly three hours of cooking, I was able to sit back and dine with eight of my friends. All of my hard work definitely paid off; everything was delicious. The soup was just like I remembered it, the Banitsa was flaky, and the ice cream was sweet, creamy, and mouthwatering. I was glad to see that my friends were enjoying the food as much as I was, too. Watching so many of my friends come together and share this meal with me was a wonderful experience; we talked, chewed, and laughed together, and though I can’t speak for anyone else, I definitely left the table with a full and happy belly.
The main entree of my dinner, and the first dish that I decided on making, was a soup called Spider Soup. Contained in the beef-stock broth are no creepy crawlies, but rather beef cubes, pasta, and a wide variety of vegetables. Spider Soup has a strong history to it; it was the first dish that I ever cooked by myself. When I was in 7th grade, we did a class activity in my Home Ec class in which we listened to a song called “The Spider Song” and made up a recipe to go along with it. The result was a recipe for Spider Soup. I, of course, promptly ran home and asked my mom to let me make it. This was only the second time that I’ve made Spider Soup, and all of the familiar smells and flavors made me feel like I was 12 years old, cooking soup for my family under the watchful eye of my mother. Spider Soup represents personal history, the idea that all of our past experiences contribute to who we are today.
The next dish I prepared was Banitsa, a Bulgarian egg and cheese pie that my Grandma Zonka used to make. My grandma died when I was about three, so I don’t have very many memories of her, but the stories that my family tells about her are more than enough to supplement these missing memories. I’ve heard stories about her ingenuity (she could fix anything from scissors to televisions, and helped build my dad’s childhood home from the ground up), her strength (she and my grandpa were prisoners in an Austrian work camp during World War II before they could escape to America with their two young daughters), and of course, her cooking. She was a wonderful cook, but Banitsa is one of only a handful of her recipes that we left. I had to call my aunt for this recipe, and she gave me the “shortcut” version-- instead of rolling out my own dough from scratch, she advised me to just buy a box of fillo dough from the supermarket. Banitsa is a thin, crispy, layered pastry, and there is an elaborate song-and-dance to follow when making it. As I layered the fillo dough, cheese, eggs, and butter, I thought about my Grandma Zonka. I thought about how many times she must have made this dish, rolling the dough from scratch with a wooden dowel (because she didn’t have a rolling pin). I thought about how and why she came to the conclusion that the second layer gets two sheets of fillo dough and is sprinkled with butter, while the fifth layer has only one sheet of dough and cheese but no butter. The Banitsa represents family history, my yearning to remember where I came from and what my family went through in their struggle to assimilate to American culture, and also how thankful I am that our family recipes and traditions have survived this assimilation.
For dessert, I made homemade chocolate chip cookie dough and pretzel ice cream. The ideas for this dessert came from two different friends of mine. Growing up, one of my best friends, Katie, introduced me to eating pretzels and cookie dough together. It is without a doubt one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted, a perfect culmination of salty and sweet, creamy and crunchy. So, I’d originally planned on just making cookie dough and serving it with pretzels for a dessert. The decision to make it into an ice cream treat was a spur of the moment one. I was talking with a close friend at K, Laurel, and she mentioned that she had an ice cream maker that she was eager to use. And so, just like that, my dessert morphed into a batch of homemade ice cream with cookie dough and pretzel mix-ins. This dessert represents the way in which my friends have influenced who I am, and how important friendship is to me.
Finally, the individual ingredients that I used in this meal have meaning for me as well. I did my very best, when shopping for my ingredients, to buy as many organic and unprocessed foods as I could. The Spider Soup was made of entirely organic vegetables (with the exception of the onion and the canned peas), and the cookie dough and the ice cream were made with organic half-and-half, whipping cream, and eggs. I was raised eating some local and organic foods, but after recently hearing several food industry horror stories that are hidden from the public, it has never seemed more important to me. The kind of ingredients that I chose represents my ideals and my personal opinions about food.
With a Caesar salad and some whole-wheat rolls added in to round off the meal and help appease the vegetarians, my menu was set. After roughly three hours of cooking, I was able to sit back and dine with eight of my friends. All of my hard work definitely paid off; everything was delicious. The soup was just like I remembered it, the Banitsa was flaky, and the ice cream was sweet, creamy, and mouthwatering. I was glad to see that my friends were enjoying the food as much as I was, too. Watching so many of my friends come together and share this meal with me was a wonderful experience; we talked, chewed, and laughed together, and though I can’t speak for anyone else, I definitely left the table with a full and happy belly.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
My Perfect Meal [Rough Draft]
I have a confession to make: I’ve been looking forward to this assignment for almost the entire quarter. Since I first heard that I would get to cook something, I’ve been mulling over ideas in my head about what exactly the “perfect meal” would be to me. I toyed around with the thought of cooking many different dishes, trying to decide exactly what was feasible with my limited resources and small cooking space. I took ideas from many different places and people, and my menu ended up being a little eclectic. As I look back at my meal, I can’t help but see it as a sort of metaphor for my identity. Each of my five dishes-- two entrees, two side dishes, and one dessert-- had its own unique meaning for me, and the resulting meal somehow came together in perfect harmony.
The main entree of my dinner, and the first dish that I decided on making, was a soup called Spider Soup. Contained in the beef-stock broth are no creepy crawlies, but rather beef cubes, pasta, and a wide variety of vegetables. Spider Soup has a strong history to it; it was the first dish that I ever cooked by myself. When I was in 7th grade, we did a class activity in my Home Ec class which resulted in the creation of a recipe for Spider Soup. I, of course, promptly ran home and asked my mom to let me make it. This meal was only the second time that I’ve made Spider Soup, and all of the familiar smells and flavors made me feel like I was 12 years old, cooking soup for my family under the watchful eye of my mother. Spider Soup represents personal history, the idea that all of our past experiences contribute to who we are.
The next dish I prepared was Banitsa, a Bulgarian egg and cheese pie that my Grandma Zonka used to make. My grandma died when I was about three, so I don’t have very many memories of her, but the stories that my family tells about her are more than enough to supplement these missing memories. I’ve heard stories about her ingenuity (she could fix anything from scissors to televisions, and helped build my dad’s childhood home from the ground up), her strength (she and my grandpa were prisoners in an Austrian work camp during World War II before they could escape to America with their two young daughters), and of course, her cooking. She was a wonderful cook, but Banitsa is one of only a handful of her recipes that we left. I had to call my aunt for this recipe, and she gave me the “shortcut” version-- instead of rolling out my own dough from scratch, she advised me to just buy a box of fillo dough from the supermarket. Banitsa is a layered pastry, and there is an elaborate song-and-dance when it comes to making it. As I layered the fillo dough, cheese, eggs, and butter, I thought about my Grandma Zonka. I thought about how many times she must have made this dish, rolling the dough from scratch with a wooden dowel (because she didn’t have a rolling pin). I thought about how and why she came to the conclusion that the second layer gets two sheets of fillo dough and is sprinkled with butter, while the fifth layer has only one sheet of dough and cheese but no butter. The Banitsa represents family history, my yearning to remember where I came from and what my family went through in their struggle to assimilate to American culture, and how thankful I am that our family recipes and traditions survived this assimilation.
The two side dishes, a Caesar salad and some whole-wheat rolls, have much less personal significance. The decision to make these things was partially arbitrary, in an effort to have a well-rounded meal, and partially influenced by my friends. Two of the friends that I invited were vegetarians and I knew that because of this, Spider Soup wasn’t going to be a big hit with them. I settled on these choices for side dishes so that my vegetarian friends would feel welcome and leave feeling full. Knowing your audience in this way is always important, whether it is in cooking, writing, or even just interacting with friends.
For dessert, I made homemade chocolate chip cookie dough and pretzel ice cream. The ideas for this dessert came from two different friends of mine. Growing up, one of my best friends, Katie, introduced me to eating pretzels and cookie dough together. It is without a doubt one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted, a perfect culmination of salty and sweet, creamy and crunchy. So, I’d originally planned on just making cookie dough and serving it with pretzels for a dessert. The decision to make it into an ice cream treat was a spur of the moment one. I was talking with a close friend at K, Laurel, and she mentioned that she had an ice cream maker that she was eager to use. And so, just like that, my dessert morphed into a batch of homemade ice cream with cookie dough and pretzel mix-ins. This dessert represents the way in which my friends have influenced who I am, and how important friendship is to me.
Finally, the individual ingredients that I used in this meal have meaning for me as well. I did my very best, when shopping for my ingredients, to buy as many organic and unprocessed foods as I could. The Spider Soup was made of entirely organic vegetables (with the exception of the onion and the canned peas). The cookie dough and the ice cream were made with organic half-and-half, whipping cream, and eggs. The cottage cheese in the Banitsa was from a Michigan farm. After ten weeks of this class, eating local, organic, and unprocessed foods has never seemed more important to me. The kind of ingredients that I chose represents my ideals and my personal opinions about food.
Once all of the cooking was said and done, I sat back and dined with eight of my friends. All of my hard work definitely paid off, and I was glad to see that my friends were enjoying the food as much as I was. Watching so many of my friends come together and share this meal with me was a wonderful experience; we talked, chewed, and laughed together, and though I can’t speak for anyone else, I definitely left the table with a full and happy belly.
The main entree of my dinner, and the first dish that I decided on making, was a soup called Spider Soup. Contained in the beef-stock broth are no creepy crawlies, but rather beef cubes, pasta, and a wide variety of vegetables. Spider Soup has a strong history to it; it was the first dish that I ever cooked by myself. When I was in 7th grade, we did a class activity in my Home Ec class which resulted in the creation of a recipe for Spider Soup. I, of course, promptly ran home and asked my mom to let me make it. This meal was only the second time that I’ve made Spider Soup, and all of the familiar smells and flavors made me feel like I was 12 years old, cooking soup for my family under the watchful eye of my mother. Spider Soup represents personal history, the idea that all of our past experiences contribute to who we are.
The next dish I prepared was Banitsa, a Bulgarian egg and cheese pie that my Grandma Zonka used to make. My grandma died when I was about three, so I don’t have very many memories of her, but the stories that my family tells about her are more than enough to supplement these missing memories. I’ve heard stories about her ingenuity (she could fix anything from scissors to televisions, and helped build my dad’s childhood home from the ground up), her strength (she and my grandpa were prisoners in an Austrian work camp during World War II before they could escape to America with their two young daughters), and of course, her cooking. She was a wonderful cook, but Banitsa is one of only a handful of her recipes that we left. I had to call my aunt for this recipe, and she gave me the “shortcut” version-- instead of rolling out my own dough from scratch, she advised me to just buy a box of fillo dough from the supermarket. Banitsa is a layered pastry, and there is an elaborate song-and-dance when it comes to making it. As I layered the fillo dough, cheese, eggs, and butter, I thought about my Grandma Zonka. I thought about how many times she must have made this dish, rolling the dough from scratch with a wooden dowel (because she didn’t have a rolling pin). I thought about how and why she came to the conclusion that the second layer gets two sheets of fillo dough and is sprinkled with butter, while the fifth layer has only one sheet of dough and cheese but no butter. The Banitsa represents family history, my yearning to remember where I came from and what my family went through in their struggle to assimilate to American culture, and how thankful I am that our family recipes and traditions survived this assimilation.
The two side dishes, a Caesar salad and some whole-wheat rolls, have much less personal significance. The decision to make these things was partially arbitrary, in an effort to have a well-rounded meal, and partially influenced by my friends. Two of the friends that I invited were vegetarians and I knew that because of this, Spider Soup wasn’t going to be a big hit with them. I settled on these choices for side dishes so that my vegetarian friends would feel welcome and leave feeling full. Knowing your audience in this way is always important, whether it is in cooking, writing, or even just interacting with friends.
For dessert, I made homemade chocolate chip cookie dough and pretzel ice cream. The ideas for this dessert came from two different friends of mine. Growing up, one of my best friends, Katie, introduced me to eating pretzels and cookie dough together. It is without a doubt one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted, a perfect culmination of salty and sweet, creamy and crunchy. So, I’d originally planned on just making cookie dough and serving it with pretzels for a dessert. The decision to make it into an ice cream treat was a spur of the moment one. I was talking with a close friend at K, Laurel, and she mentioned that she had an ice cream maker that she was eager to use. And so, just like that, my dessert morphed into a batch of homemade ice cream with cookie dough and pretzel mix-ins. This dessert represents the way in which my friends have influenced who I am, and how important friendship is to me.
Finally, the individual ingredients that I used in this meal have meaning for me as well. I did my very best, when shopping for my ingredients, to buy as many organic and unprocessed foods as I could. The Spider Soup was made of entirely organic vegetables (with the exception of the onion and the canned peas). The cookie dough and the ice cream were made with organic half-and-half, whipping cream, and eggs. The cottage cheese in the Banitsa was from a Michigan farm. After ten weeks of this class, eating local, organic, and unprocessed foods has never seemed more important to me. The kind of ingredients that I chose represents my ideals and my personal opinions about food.
Once all of the cooking was said and done, I sat back and dined with eight of my friends. All of my hard work definitely paid off, and I was glad to see that my friends were enjoying the food as much as I was. Watching so many of my friends come together and share this meal with me was a wonderful experience; we talked, chewed, and laughed together, and though I can’t speak for anyone else, I definitely left the table with a full and happy belly.
Caesar Salad
Banitsa
Spider Soup
Whole Wheat Rolls
The Perfect Meal
Cookie Dough Pretzel Ice Cream
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