To Have and Have Not

Well, my friends, the worst that I had feared has come to pass. My computer is indeed dead, and while the lovely people at Apple got me up and running again with a new hard drive, all of the information on the old one was lost.

To be honest, I'm strangely okay with it. Yes, I'm sad that I lost all my photos (hence the lack of any accompanying picture), as well as lots of personal and professional documents. I'm disappointed that I lost some of my favorite tunes, and all of my settings and bookmarks, but sometimes being cut off from the trappings of our everyday lives can be strangely freeing.

Matt and I are (still) in the middle of moving, and as I spend my days packing boxes, leaving newsprinted fingerprints all over our white cupboards, and generally trying to make the sprawl of our existence simpler, tidier and more compact, I'm struck by just how much stuff follows us through our daily lives.

If I'm honest, few of these things actually get used on a regular basis, and yet I find myself unable to part with them. Some have sentimental significance, but more often than not, it's my I'll-use-that-one-day optimism that keeps me holding on.

Losing my computer was frustrating - as far as the blog goes, I'm irked that I'll have to essentially start building up content and recipes from scratch - but the whole unfortunate experience taught me some useful lessons:

1. Nothing in life is permanent - not even the material things I hold so tightly (or the thirty boxes currently crowding my living room!)
2. Our lives are not defined by the things we have, but the things we do
3. It's possible (and kind of refreshing) to react rationally to the irrational
and finally,
4. Always, always back up your hard drive.

Unforeseen Circumstances

I wish I'd seen it coming.

I wish I'd known that my new little MacBook Pro was going to give up the ghost this morning. I wish I'd known that Angus MacBook (see what I did there? My computer is Scottish!) was suffering grave hard drive issues. I wish I'd known he was thisclose to packing it in all together. But I didn't, and he suffered in silence until this morning when he suddenly collapsed.

That's the worst thing about unforeseen circumstances - you never see them coming.

I've made an appointment to get my computer fixed, but since we live in the wilds of Tennessee, it will be a while before we can get to an Apple Store. Until then I'm tethered to Matthew's computer - which means I have to share. I'll try to keep updating the blog in the meantime, but what's worse is that it looks like my hard drive has been corrupted - which means I've likely lost all the recipes, photos and posts I've created in the far-too-many months since my last back-up. You know the most tragic part of the whole affair? I just told Matthew that I was overdue for a back-up...yesterday.

Moral of the story: back up your computers, folks. Don't just think about it. Don't just talk about it. DO IT!

P.S. I wanted to make a joke about a 'wormy Apple' but the pain is still a little too fresh. I'll have to get back to you when I get to the 'acceptance' stage of this process!

Dad's Favorite Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

Father's Day is just around the corner, and I love seeing all the Dad-themed crafts that are popping up all over the internet - the tie-shaped cookies, the painted stones that say 'Dad Rocks', the King-of-the-Grill aprons, the creative candy bar cards. My dad would have loved all of those things, but he passed away four years ago and this holiday has always hit close to home ever since.

To honor his memory and keep myself from too much introspection, I always make an effort to mark the day in a way that would have been special to him. Sometimes it's reading a nautical book (Arthur Ransome's stories are a childhood favorite), or watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie, but more often than not, it's baking strawberry rhubarb pie.

Last year, I spent the holiday on the road so I had to be satisfied with store-bought pie (at least it was Amish-made!), but this year, I had the opportunity to make my own. My Dad was a great lover of pie - a fellow sweet-tooth in a house full of savory-lovers - and strawberry rhubarb was his favorite.

We had our own rhubarb when I was growing up in England; a few large plants that sprung up at the back of our garden, amidst some rambling raspberry bushes and a hedge of beautiful-but-deadly foxgloves. I remember distinctly the first time I saw it, the slender, ruby red stalks a stark contrast to the large and spreading green leaves. I thought it was a vegetable (and it is, technically!) so I was amazed when a friend taught us to cook it with sugar and bake it in pies - such sweetness from a sour vegetable seemed nothing short of kitchen alchemy to me! I've been enthralled ever since, and though I love the magic and simplicity of a pure rhubarb pie, the addition of strawberries really does give you something special.

I make my strawberry rhubarb pies with a crumb topping because that's the way my dad liked them, but there is method to my madness - one of the most common problems with strawberry rhubarb pies is that they can become 'sloppy' during baking. Lots of recipes add cornstarch or tapioca to counter this, but I prefer to keep additives to a minimum, so I have a few tricks up my sleeve:

Firstly, the crumb topping helps to absorb some of the excess liquid while also allowing steam to escape easily during baking, unlike a regular pie crust, so there's no need for venting. Secondly, I cook my rhubarb on the stove first, with some of the sugar, to create a rhubarb compote which makes the filling thicker. And thirdly, the trick is to allow your pie to 'rest' before serving. I know there are few foods more comforting than a hot slice of pie with a cool slick of vanilla ice cream, but resting the pie does make a difference - you'll notice that I did not rest my pie before taking these pictures (do as I say, not as I do!) which is why some of them still look a little gooey.

If you really, desperately want to serve your pie hot, you can re-heat the pieces individually after cooling or just serve it fresh from the oven with the knowledge that you probably won't be dishing up picture-perfet wedges. Along the same lines, you'll get even better slice if you refrigerate your pie before serving - if you can wait that long! Of course, absolutely none of this matters if you're just going to eat it straight out of the pie plate with a fork. Or perhaps a teeny tiny spoon. Don't worry, I'm not one to judge.

Disclaimer: I have to admit that I'm not happy with the photos of this pie - Matt and I were so eager to dig into it that I didn't take the time for a proper shot, and it shows. I'm also a little disappointed that I had to use 100% whole wheat flour for the crust. I don't recommend this since it creates a drier crust, but since we're in the process of moving and trying to use up our groceries, I had to make do with what we had on hand. I guess all of that means I'll just have to make it again - soon!

Now that my excuses are out of the way, I will say that there was one thing that completely lived up to my expectations - the taste! This pie was absolutely delicious, from the first sticky-sweet mouthful to the very last brown-sugary crumb...and yes, Matt and I ate the entire thing between the two of us. Somehow, I'm pretty sure my dad would have approved.

Do You Durian?: My First Taste of Durian Candy

My recent trip to Chicago's Chinatown didn't just leave me with a tummy full of dim sum and a bag full of pork buns, it also allowed me to cross off an item on my Eat-Before-I-Die list - you know, the list that starts with caviar and foie gras and ends with 'Garbage Plate,' fried Oreos, poutine, and fistfuls of delicious Thai street food. Although I eat a lot of strange things, it's rare that I get to cross something off THE list, so needless to say I was pretty excited.

Incidentally, the item I crossed off is a Thai specialty - but I can't exactly say that it was delicious, and if you sold it on the street you'd likely get arrested! Its flavor is often described as "oniony, with a touch of gym sock," and my own Chinatown encounter was rather like chewing a lightly sweetened rubber tire on a hot day. The best description by far, though, comes from Singaporean cook Wai Ching Lee, who compared eating this food to "eating custard in a sewer."

There's only one culinary delicacy that could inspire such poetic, impassioned descriptions - that's right, folks, it's the durian.

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Imagine a skin so spiky it makes the African Horned Melon look like a cotton ball. Imagine a scent so malodorous it makes sewage seem perfumed. In case you think I'm making all of this up, or simply giving in to exaggeration, you should know that while the durian is considered a delicacy in parts of Asia, it's also banned from lots of public places and forms of public transportation because of its pungent smell.

If you can imagine the combined aromas of rotting meat, dirty socks, melting rubber, and gas leak combined in sweet symphony, you'll have a slight approximation of the odor of a durian.

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At this point you may be asking why on earth I'd put this fruit on my eat-before-I-die list, forearmed, as I was, with such damning information. The truth is that in spite of its cringe-worthy stench and polarizing flavor, some people absolutely love to eat durian. I've eaten enough strange things in my life to naively believe that I might be one of them.

Sadly, I was very, very mistaken.

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Don't get me wrong, it's an 'interesting' flavor, but not one I'd necessarily go chasing. There's a hint of sweetness to it that's actually pleasant, I'm just not sure it's worth the exposure to the rotten smell and, worst of all, the lingering aftertaste. Eatocracy has a riotously funny and witty account of a durian experience that explains the untold peril of the "durian burp," but all I can say is that for the next few hours after eating one, yes one candy, my breath had the compelling odor of a natural gas pipeline!

It must be said that I did not try durian in its unadulterated form - I purchased hard durian candies (whose milky sweetness helped to mask the flavor and odor), but have been told that the custardy texture of the real fruit really helps it along - I guess the only question now is whether I'll ever be brave enough to test that out.

In the meantime, if anyone wants an opened-but-barely touched bag of durian candy, it's all yours!