winter squash rocks me like a hurricane

At the suggestion of my fine roommate, I baked an acorn squash (350ish for about 40 minutes in a pan with a bit of water, well-buttered and S and P to the T.) The flavor was fantastic -- earthy, rich, and not too sweet -- but it wasn't too evenly cooked, and stringiness ensued. My method was to cut the thing in half, scoop out the innards, butter and go. Not bad for an easy meal (and it was a full meal.) I'm determined to make the best use of squash this season, though, and cooking it thoroughly seems a bit crucial. Joy of Cooking recommends steaming -- I respectfully disagree. Wouldn't graininess and loss of flavor come out of that? Baking in smaller sections is my new plan. Or a longer, slightly cooler bake time.

(Fun fact: Squash is actually considered a berry.)

Next squash endeavor: twice-baked squash mashed with potato, cheese (cheddar?), chives and paprika or curry.

The requisite thesis post

Since I'll be mired in it, I likely won't want to wax theoretical too much in the upcoming months. But I've yet to start classes (let's hear it for the quarter system...urgh) -- I haven't even bought books yet. So I'll give you a "just returned from a trip and haven't quite caught up with myself" filler post about it.

So translation studies is literary criticism as it applies to translation, involving history, cultural studies, linguistics, and literature (natch.) It's a very interdisciplinary discipline, and I chalk that up to its relative novelty as a field. Even though translation studies as a field is a new kid on the critical block, there has already been a movement toward feminist translation studies, which is the focus of my thesis. What bothers me a bit is that some scholars and translators, while advocating some manner or another of liberal-to-radical feminism also advocate restructuring languages (mostly target languages, although the source as well for some) -- well, this doesn't bother me per se. What gets my goat is that I feel compelled toward a more conservative theory of translation, toward preserving the source text and staying as loyal to that as possible. Intellectually, I think that's baloney. My brain tells me (among other things) that this schism of language represents a gender divide that has not been addressed by the predominantly male literary world. My brain also tells me that I like postmodernism. My gut tends to disagree.

Lately I've been thinking that I'm not actually being reactionary so much as cautious. Perhaps making Simone de Beauvoir read like Mary Daly or Kate Millett isn't too far off-base. That's not my issue, nor is a re-vamp of, say, Guenther Grass.* I just wonder if it's too obscure to really address and change gender disparity. Then again, that's the sort of defeatist reasoning that engenders apathy in my generation -- what I like to call, "I want a good job with good pay, but I'm not a bra-burning feminut" syndrome. (The abbreviation for that one is a bit cumbersome.)

*I mean outside of political reasons. Personally I think the hullabaloo over Grass' past is unwarranted. Who would blame him for keeping it a secret? At least the public found out on his terms. Naturally, Nazism was abhorrent. I don't excuse Grass, but I don't vilify him either.

A two-fer

Generally, I hope to keep posts separate in theme, but since I'm on the road, it's going to be somewhat less well thought out. Jots, not thoughts as I'm craigslisting around the Pacific Northwest. To that end, I don't want to segregate posts into BOOK POSTS and FOOD POSTS, especially when they're relevant to each other (or I'm pressed for time...) Anywho. Onward.

I'm rereading Moby Dick for the third time. For me and my rotten spot for the Romantics, it's pretty much the perfect late summer read. The first time I read it, I was starting my senior year in high school and trying to impress my teacher, who was and still is unequivocally cool. Coming from Alaska, whales ought to have more of a significance for me; they don't, but the ocean sure as hell does. To say nothing of Melville's meditations on spirituality that punctuate the first half especially. I've never been much for believing, especially as a 17 year old, but some passages hit home on the deeper level of spirituality -- that which is beyond sects and goes straight to the core of those pesky, crucial questions about how we should live. Take, for example, this chunk of a speech from the sailor-turned-preacher, whose torment drives him to and from God:

"...Woe to him whom this world charms from Gospel duty! Woe to him who seeks to pour oil upon the waters when God has brewed them into a gale! Woe to him who seeks to please rather than to appal! Woe to him whose good name is more to him than goodness! Woe to him who, in this world, courts not dishonor! Woe to him who would not be true, even though to be false were salvation! Yea, woe to him who, as the great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching to others is himself a castaway!"
He drooped and fell away from himself for a moment; then lifting his face to them again, showed a deep joy in his eyes..."

The scene ends with the preacher kneeling in the pulpit, head in his hands as the congregation quietly trickles away.

Strong stuff, but my favorite chapter is the one called "Chowder." Go figure. It's worth it to read the book to that point, if you're determined to make an effort. Hey, it's not a book for everyone, and by all accounts I should probably hate it. Which might be why I love it so much. Did I mention that I read this on the Alaskan coast, huddled in my jacket with my thermos of tea, watching the waves every time I needed a break? That I read it over the course of August and September, which is when the belugas run in Prince William sound? That I SAW a white whale while reading Moby Dick? Yup.

And now, as they say, for something completely different. Or at least, a different tack. Sushi! I went out for sushi with a wonderful friend in Portland the other night, and found that I really like yellowtail. More than tuna, which I find grainy unless it's seared, and even then I'm not such a fan of the texture. But this yellowtail (raw) was buttery and not too overwhelmingly fishy. Set off with cucumber or something crispy and moist, it would have been perfect; I found just the fish and rice combo a bit dry and heavy.
The tempura shrimp and broccoli roll was great. Crunchy shrimp in a gooey ball of rice and broc? I'll take two. Dozen.
It's all a wash anyway. Like all too many Alaskans, I say go salmon or go home.

fundamentals

Joining the two great loves of my life (you guessed 'em, food and books) is a tome of great prestige in my personal library. The Joy of Cooking will always occupy a hefty place on my shelf, and not necessarily the with my cookbooks. I'm systematically going through the sometimes witty, sometimes stodgy, but always helpful information from the "Foods We Heat" and "Know Your Ingredients" sections, as well as various other morsels from the in-betweeny recipe areas. Would that I weren't a poor college student! I'd totally buy a butter churn and, thanks to the knowledge these lovely women have imparted unto me, make my own super-UNsalted butter. It's inspiring, really. A recipe for almond milk? Yes please! Somewhat passive-aggressive asides regarding reactive cookware? Make mine a double!

Julia Child said that this would be her only cookbook, were she allowed only one. I'd have to agree. For all of the snark and general blandness of recipes, this old workhorse of a cookbook is all I need to start. Hence, the entry. More to come.