My Own Space

Some musings on space:

For months I have looked longingly at magazine photos of women's home offices in Better Homes and Gardens, the magazine my grandmother subscribed me to after I got married. I love it--it gives great decorating ideas and (no surprise here) gardening ideas, but it did also make me crave my own space. The women profiled in the magazine, photographed in front of their uber-organized and personality-laden desks, looked so together, so happy. Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly happy, but I did often feel backed into a corner when it came to work--and not even my corner! My husband had his home office. I could certainly use it of course, but it just seemed so mannish with its dark paint and mahogany bookshelves, his desk usually well-organized and surrounded with books for his dissertation--it just didn't feel like my space, you know? And it is located in the back of the house, the perfect man-cave, so far from the action. My house is an open floor plan, and I love that (sorry, Betty Friedan) but it does make it hard to carve out a work space for myself. I ended up working on the couch (TV temptation), at the dining table or at the counter, but my stuff was always in the way, making me feel like I was in the way. I couldn't leave my work out or I'd risk getting dinner on it, and it just generally made the house look cluttered, something neither of us liked. I just felt like my work and I were always in transition, always in the wrong space.

Until now. Dan got the itch to build something--always a good thing--and planned on building a bookshelf for my cookbook collection, which had begun spilling onto the kitchen floor. I mentioned how much I wanted a desk between the living room and the kitchen, where the bookshelf was to go, and the next thing I knew, he'd drawn up plans and we were at Home Depot shopping for wood and paint. After a busy weekend and some sore muscles and sunburns, I had my desk. We moved it inside tonight, put the books on the shelves, and I am in heaven. Isn't it amazing that a shelf, a tall white shelf, makes me feel so much more professional, like my work really has a purpose? Maybe Betty Friedan was right, in a way--an open floor plan makes women feel that they have no space of their own, as the whole house is their "job" and they have no privacy. Well, my space is still in the middle of that, but I've always dreamed of a desk just off the kitchen, so I can sit down to work for 30 minutes while something's in the oven or a sauce simmers, but am still within earshot of the timer, and can still smell the wonderful smells coming from dinner or freshly baked bread. I'm where I want to be, yet I have a delineated area to call my own--not the table, the counter, or the couch, but my beautiful desk. And to make it even better, now I look up from my computer and there are the colorful spines of my favorite cookbooks--Nigella, Jamie, Rose, Edna, Giada--they're all there, getting me through my work. Now I really feel like someone who does food studies. I mean, I'm ready to edit a new food and literature journal! I have space! All mine!

Dan, wow. You're really amazing.

Dark Chocolate-Cherry Brownies

In an article on "Cravings" in the September issue of Cooking Light, I found a recipe for these brownies. They sounded too good to be true--how could a low fat brownie possibly satisfy any craving? I have been disappointed with low-cal baking in the past: My Blueberry Coffee Cake got soggy, other cookies were too dense, and I've become convinced that egg substitute cannot be used in baking. At least not in my baking. And for heaven's sake, don't try to use regular eggs when the recipe calls for substitute--that's worse than using the substitute in the first place! So I always have my eye out for Cooking Light baking recipes that use normal ingredients. This one is unbelievable. 

I don't usually like fruit and chocolate together, although I have become a chocolate-dipped strawberry convert. But fruit pizzas drizzled with chocolate or even trail mixes with dried fruit and M&Ms don't tempt me. But something about this recipe intrigued me. It used cherry preserves rather than actual cherries, so there was no weird texture combination, a big problem for me. The photo in the magazine suggested that these would be the dense, chewy, fudgy brownies that I loved. And they are sprinkled with powdered sugar. After seeing a picture of Nigella Lawson's brownies dusted with powdered sugar and gold powder sparkling in birthday candlelight, and then last December's Cooking Light cover photo, displaying chocolate cupcakes enjoying a powdered sugar snowfall, I am easily seduced by this chocolate-powdered sugar pair. 

I worried also that the cherry flavor would seem strange with no noticeable fruit source in the brownie itself. I even considered adding some dried cherries, though this would seem to directly contradict my dislike for that textural combination. I recognized this at the time--I just worry too much.

Finally, I made the brownies following the recipe exactly. And they were perfect. The cherry flavor was a lovely muted sweet-sourness--it added depth and really brought out the dark chocolate. It even kept the brownies from being too sweet. And the powdered sugar, added right before serving (or it will soak in--these are super moist brownies) is, almost literally, the icing on the cake. 

Dark Chocolate-Cherry Brownies

(adapted from Cooking Light, September 2008)

Yields 16 brownies.

Cooking spray

3/4 cup (3.4 oz.) AP flour

1 cup granulated sugar

3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa

1 tsp. baking powder

3/4 tsp. salt

1/3 cup cherry preserves

1/3 cup water

5 T butter

1 lg. egg, lightly beaten

1 lg. egg white

1/3 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Powdered sugar

1. Preheat the oven to 350 F.

2. Spray a 9-in. square baking pan with cooking spray. (If it is not a really good non-stick pan, line it with parchment paper, then spray.)

3. Weigh or lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups; level with a knife. Combine flour, sugar, cocoa, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl; stir with a whisk.

4. Combine cherry preserves, water, and butter in a small saucepan; bring to a boil. 

5. Add preserves mixture to flour mixture; stir well.

6. Add the egg and egg white; stir until smooth.

7. Stir in semi-sweet chocolate chips. 

8. Scrape into prepared pan. Bake at 350 F for 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with a few moist crumbs. 

9. Cool in pan on wire rack. Right before serving, dust lightly with powdered sugar.

Debates, Exams, and Food for Change

Today is the first presidential debate. (We think--c'mon, McCain, commit already.) The campus has been turned upside down for weeks, but today we hope to see the fruits of our labor--or for those of us who have not truly labored, then the fruits of our annoyance. My street has been closed for a week, parking has been crazy (thankfully only at certain times of day) and students have been, well, somewhat distracted. I will say, though, that I've heard more conversations about undecided undergrads since McCain pulled his, "Hey, let's postpone the debate--because the American people will feel better about their finances if we don't talk to them!" Really, it seems as though that small amount of irritation at their Republican candidate has given Obama the small opening he needed to get them to listen to his message. Oh, please, I hope I'm right. 

As far as the actual debate, though, I have not been terribly excited--we don't get to see it, and I was afraid the campus would be overrun with journalists without given anything back to the students. But like any true southerners, our Mississippi debate planners knew what we needed--FOOD. I am so excited about lunch today. Vendors from all over the South will be setting up booths in the Grove to demonstrate what we are all about.

I'm both excited and frustrated by this. I'm excited for my tastebuds, for the chance to try all of these foods without a ton of traveling on a grad student budget. I'm excited to show off the South through one of its best assets--its cooking. But I'm academically frustrated. How is it that everyone, I mean everyone, knows the power of food to represent identity and place, but so many people, scholars and non-scholars, do not realize that it has a serious place in the academy. Sure, the Southern Foodways Alliance is here at UM working to preserve southern food traditions through oral histories and such, but what about food in literature, or food writing as literature? We are in an era of Cultural Studies, were this type of scholarship should be appreciated, but even some of the best scholars still see it as an offshoot of gender studies (there are SO many things wrong with this, it makes my brain hurt) or, as Katie puts it, "scholarship lite." Like food is so obvious that we shouldn't even bother studying it. But that's just the point! People for years thought gender studies was too obvious to study--obviously, men were superior, right? It was in their nature! Thank you feminism, but where's the movement to legitimate my field? Food Network's certainly not helping, dumbing down every show so that any megamarket shopper who buys packaged seasoning mixes and cookie dough can consider him or herself a chef. The network that used to challenge us with experienced and imaginative chefs now, like so many other American institutions, caters to the lowest common denominator. I'm not trying to belittle those women (not to be sexist, but most home cooks are women, let's face it) who want to make their family or themselves a home-cooked meal but have no time to make fresh bread or desserts. I completely understand, and I am thrilled that they can put in some time, get some help from the store, and appreciate the act of being in the kitchen. But please, Food Network, why does EVERY show cater to this person? Why is Giada one of the few who is still imaginative? Thank you for adding Jamie Oliver and Alex Guarnaschelli to the lineup--but why so early on weekend mornings? How any people are watching, versus the number who watch Sandra Lee in the afternoons and later weekend mornings? 

You, Food Network, are really doing nothing to help me out. People think that this is all there is to food. Yes, foodie-ism is almost becoming a movement in itself, but is there a way to not dumb it down but also not be elistist? To teach the real importance of food, the joy of food, without being holier-than thou and making people appreciate it less because they feel like they can't understand it? I often feel this way when teaching--how can I convey the complex, sophisticated, incredible ways you can use language without scaring and overwhelming my students and actually causing them to do the opposite of what I want--to get them to love language?

Well, I'll enjoy the food in the Grove today. I'll take some pictures and post them tomorrow. And I'll try to turn off the scholar in me, for a little while at least. But why can the academy not recognize that what seems the most obvious is often the most revolutionary?