Damn It. I Missed April

Good morning to you all, or to you few. It is now winter/autumn in Brazil, which means about twenty degrees warmer than an average Seattle summer day. The nights are slightly cooler, but standing under the sun is as prickly as ever. Lately my days have been as such: I've collected a few more students and have ditched working with the school, been frequenting the lovely Vila Lobos park on the weekends with miss Sybil and our fellow dog-enthusiast friends, have passed through a cookie and cupcake photo shoot and have signed on for a new one, catered for an event at a fancy night club, and ----- I've finally made the perfect gluten free bread loaf. Saving the best for last, i know. I might give away the recipe in a few weeks. Or not.

cupcake tower by Sophie and Theo's Cupcakes

I had hopped that two months from now i would be on a jet plane to Seattle to visit my family and baby niece who i have never seen (well, she is only two months old), but unfortunately that won't be happening until December. At three thousand reais a ticket, it's impossible to go to Seattle more than once a year, times two people. I prefer going in December because I've always found December to be the happiest month in the US. Yes it's cold, but no one has school, most people are blowing off their jobs early and damn it i like holiday spirit. I do miss holidays living here. Now don't get me wrong, we have tons of holidays in Brazil. But 'holiday' here usually means a day off work, a barbecue or a quick trip to the beach (or as i like to say, a QTB. no not really). I miss the decorations and enthusiasm that comes with the holiday spirit in the US. I like it when store fronts paint pumpkins and turkeys in the window, when Starbucks serves seasonal beverages and draws whimsical holiday chalk drawings on their menu boards, when in December you seemingly can't walk into any commercial (or residential building) without hearing Christmas music. Will i ever have red, white and blue jello salad again? or use holiday-coordinated paper plates and napkins?

I think it's the weather. It's definitely not the argument of, "well Americans like to waste money on more crap" because if anything Brazilians spend a lot of money. So here we are shuffling on into Autumn like i mentioned before, and i can't help but think of Halloween. in June. yes. Brazilian culture doesn't celebrate Halloween. For obvious reasons, however. Halloween has its roots in Irish culture, an immigrant population that did not make its way as fully to Brazil as it did to the US. So i blame not! Usually when i comment on the lack of Halloween here to family and friends the response is, well isn't there Day of the Dead in November? Yes, technically there is. But it's not called Day of the Dead, it's called Finados (literally "souls") and is pretty unexciting. I mean, nothing happens. Observing Catholics might visit a deceased loved one's grave with a bouquet of flowers, but there's no parades or colorful costumes like Dia de los Muertos in Mexico. So Halloween-time festivities are out.

The closest Brazil gets to an Autumnal festival takes place in June, the Festa Junina. Festa is the only holiday i am aware of in Brazil (aside from Carnival) where costumes are involved. The theme of the Festa is "over exaggerated farmer" or drunk hick. Men wear plaid shirts, overalls and straw hats while the females wear raggedy-Anne doll dresses, straw hats with pigtails and painted on freckles. Costumes! One lucky gal at each party even gets to shove a pillow under her dress and act out the scene of the pregnant bride. The wedding ceremony usually happens around a bonfire and sometimes there's a conga line. Festive food includes corn, hot dogs, popcorn, corn pudding, peanuts, hot wine and hot cachaça. Personally i only go every year for the peanut candies. This year a friend of mine has invited me to a new one hosted by a brand new hostel here in Sampa, we will both be selling food stuff out of the kitchen and we are hoping to make the selection nouveau-festa-junina by making a fusion of American autumnal flavors with the classic Festa Junina flavors. So if any of you have any ideas and would like to share, please leave a remark in the comments section. We have until mid-June to get the menu spot on. The crowd will be young and intoxicated, keep that in mind. I leave you with a few random photos until next time, à bientot.

Dia das Maes Cupcake made by Sophie and Theo's Cupcakes

picnic sandwiches at Parque Vila Lobos

Dia das Maes brownies made by The Kitchen

Pumpkin Biscuits

For dogs. 

Lately I have been on an Asian food kick. Primarily because a week or so ago I visited Sao Paulo’s Liberdade district for the first time. Let me just say that this place has been here the entire time I’ve lived in Brazil (and apparently before that too). It’s been here and I, being but an hour and a half away, never visited. Stupid. Liberdade is market town. Consisting of ninety percent Japanese products (or perhaps just vendors, the products are from all over) with a bit of Chinese and a very scarce pinch of Vietnamese and Thai products. So sadly I really can’t call it China Town. I will let you know one fact that every Brazilian tour guide/website will point out to you – Brazil has the greatest population of Japanese (descendants) living outside of Japan, and yes it is for the exact reason you are thinking of; agricultural work boom at the turn of the (20^th) century. The point I am trying to make here is that Thai curry paste, spring roll wrappers, glutinous rice flour and every possible jarred sauce condiment ever created by man is now at my disposition. Expect some spring roll photos soon. But not today.

Lately I’ve been distracted. I received a catering request for a large business breakfast last week; I collaborated with a friend in the business and we sent our proposal. Never heard from the lady again. Not even a rejection letter, nothing. Even after sending a follow up letter. First rejection and we don’t even know why. Oh well. There will be a next time.

Now to the distraction. Nearly two weeks ago my family dog [in Seattle] died unexpectedly before her time. The sadness over losing her hit me greater than I thought the passing of a non-human creature could ever throw at me. I’ve been around dogs my whole life. Since consciousness, there has always been a dog in my family. My husband, on the other hand, had never had a dog in his life, and since getting married had made it clear that he was not a dog (or any creature) person. So I never thought about dogs. I still have dogs, I would think, they just live at my parents’ house. When Olivia died I unreservedly cried for days. My tears were for the pangs of saudades, for the fear that she might have suffered, and for the pain I knew my sisters and parents were feeling. The gravity was due to the unexpectedness of it all. She was young, healthy, the apple in our eyes.

A few days later my husband suggested we adopt a dog. Say what? His change of heart, so he claims, came from pity for me. But I like to think that he subconsciously wished he could know what that feeling is…to cry out of love for a dog. Whatever the reason, we now have a dog. A dog, not a puppy. Last weekend we visited the UniãoInternacional Protetora Dos Animais (UIPA). The organization is actually extremely well run, which, if you are familiar with anything in Brazil, will surprise you. The organization is similar to American humane societies; they focus on rescuing mainly cats and dogs from the street, from abusive households and from abandonment. The UIPA in Sao Paulo city alone has over twelve hundred dogs at any given time. They survive on donations and a volunteer staff. Every dog or cat on site is vaccinated, spayed or neutered and de-wormed. They also require an on-site veterinary consultation with every adoption. The place is overrun with adult dogs. Only the puppies seem to draw attention. I find puppies too messy. We went in looking for an adult and found a quiet girl sitting in a corner pen with three one-month old puppies bouncing around. She didn’t bark. She didn’t move. She looked miserable. Yep, that’s the one. We picked her up and took her right then and there. One of the volunteer staff informed us that she was about one year old, was found pregnant on the highway about two months ago and had given birth to five puppies that were all already adopted or reserved for adoption. Only she was left. We named her Sybil.

Sybil is a true Sao Paulo street rat. But she is the sweetest thing we have ever seen. She has never barked and is afraid of everything. Doorways, staircases, pillows, blankets, ironing boards. Just being inside a building is frightening for her. But she is adjusting. Today is her fourth day and she is relaxing. Well, relaxing as much as anyone on antibiotics, flee medication, worm-pills and a new diet can.

So, being the food snob that I am, I had to make healthy dog treats for my new family member. The mini milk bone treats and what have you at the store are full of too many ingredients…primarily wheat flour. Nearly all veterinarians point out that wheat is not particularly good for dogs. While she does eat a pricy bagged dog food, I wanted to make whole food biscuits for her so I don’t feel guilty about filling her with msg. If you google “dog biscuit” recipes you will find that there seems to be a consensus that pumpkin is not only healthy but tasty for dogs. Pumpkin it is. All I did was mix two eggs with one cup cooked and smashed pumpkin, two and a half cups rice flour, a pinch of salt, a quarter cup of grated cheese and pureed meat from two chicken legs. Sybil is small (about 10 lbs) so I cut the biscuits into small half inch squares. She isn’t crazy for them, but she eats them. 

I live in a really nice neighborhood in Sao Paulo, so when we go for walks most of the dogs we meet on the street are pure breeds. “oh what is her race?” I am constantly asked. My reply – she is a dog, she used to be a street dog. Love the looks.

We’ll share photos once she is more relaxed. Tomorrow is my three year wedding anniversary, and spring rolls on Friday. See you then.

Extreme Recap

We’re so far behind, where do we start?

view from my living room window

Since the last post we’ve: moved into our new apartment in Sao Paulo, started part time (really part time) work with an English school, collected a few new private students, started figuring out how to navigate through one of the biggest cities in the world, started trying to work as a private chef, sold my food for the first time at a market, AND my very first niece was born last weekend. Life is wonderfully full at the moment.  I hope I will be that cool aunt in the foreign country who sends sweets and toys in the mail. I represent a beach vacation, I should be the cool aunt! 

So backup. Working with food? Since when did I become a chef right? I don’t have a job in a restaurant, I don’t hold a culinary degree, but I’m trying to get into working with something I actually like and am actually good at. Not that I don’t enjoy English teaching, I do. But im not proud of it, i teach simply because I'm an American living in Brazil. Anyone can do that. But I am a good cook, I am not modest about that. I can cook. Well, anyone can cook, but I actually cook really well, and people like what i make. For now let’s call it an experiment, shall we?

Two weeks ago I was invited to cook a four course sit down dinner for nine. Literally it was three day after moving into my new place, didn’t even have a fridge yet. The party was co-hosted by the owner of a Sao Paulo City travel website (My Destination Sao Paulo) and the owner of a wine and imports shop (Sonoma - they import gourmet items such as olive oils, cheeses, salts and spices). The amazing part of the event was that I sent my menu to the host early so that he could pair the right wine with each course. Let me just say the guests were quite spoiled. The event took place on the rooftop terrace of a penthouse in the south of Sao Paulo. The view was incredible. The dinner was started with one of my favorite entrances, potted crab, which is an original dish created by my Brazilian culinary double, Rafael. If I can remember correctly the crab was paired with Chablis. The entrance was followed by a raw salad of green (not actually green, just unripe and hard) papaya, carrot and cucumbers with a spicy Thai dressing (I actually julienned it all by hand, and it looked pretty uniform!) The main course was a spicy coconut curry with chicken thighs and was paired with Pinot Noir. For dessert I went with my safety net—the chocolate truffle tart that has NEVER disappointed. I finished it with freshly whipped cream and blueberries which, yes, you can find here. It was an amazing experience. My last thrilling experience on this level was when i successfully "catered" my sister's wedding in December.

Following said dinner (described above) I was invited by one of the dinner guests to sell food at a night market that she helps to organize. The event is mostly attended by gringos and hosts a variety of vendors selling everything from cupcakes to paper lamps. I was a little too nervous to accept right away. Who would pay actual money for my food? A week later I received a final call email about the event and impulsively decided to go for it without having any idea of what I would sell. I originally thought to do a cold bruschetta or tapas because it would be simple to assemble and wouldn’t require the grill and hotplate that I don’t possess. Unfortunately one of the other vendors wrote in that they were selling something called “toastex” so we decided I should go with something else. So I decided to do the same thing but inside of individual tart shells. Big mistake. It’s hard enough to make a few tart shells much less fifty of them. And to top it off, I made them gluten free.

I filled the shells with two different mixtures: the first was a blackberry (amora) red onion sauce topped with watercress and salmon grilled in wasabi and sesame seeds (the wasabi wasn’t strong) and the second was filled with herbed goat cheese ricotta (homemade), apple, crispy bacon and sprouts. I planned on selling crème brulle in edible shells but after making fifty tart shells I gave up. The public was a little hesitant to try them, but those who actually did gave great feedback on the flavors. One woman actually bought six to take home. I didn’t make any actual money (just slightly over three hundred reais, which was my break even mark) but the experience was incredible. Not only did I actually get to talk to strangers enjoying my food, but I received a few contacts requesting my service as a caterer. What I really got out of the market was confidence. 

That was two days ago.

Sao Paulo is a crazy city. For one, it’s the largest city in all of the Americas. Living among eleven million people seems like it could be a bit overwhelming…but luckily Sao Paulo, like most large cities, is divided into neighborhoods that honestly form their own cities. You feel as if you are in a small community with your own groceries, banks, butchers, street markets, schools, sports centers, and restaurants—technically you never actually need to leave your own neighborhood in this city.  We all do of course. I am very lucky to be in a very quiet, relatively safe and clean neighborhood known as Perdizes/Pompeia. I’d always been nervous about moving to Sao Paulo, but I’m actually in love with the area. I get to see my friends more often and I’ve even made a few new friends already. If the metro covered more areas I would be in heaven.  But one of the greatest assets of the city is the diversity of the population here. There is a demand for everything. My style of cooking actually has a chance here whereas in the countryside it had little to none.

Now we are caught up. There is a carrot cake cooling in the kitchen for a birthday party tomorrow and im planning the menu for a luncheon on Sunday.  The ninety degree weather was just interrupted by a hail storm. Such is life in Sao Paulo where you can experience every season in one day. We’ll talk about this carrot cake next time.

Creme.

I can't begin to describe how difficult it's been for us to rent an apartment in Sao Paulo. It, as with almost all other endeavors that involve "a paper to be signed" is as or more complicated than donating your kidney. It has been over one week since our offer on a place was accepted and no contracts have been issued. The only things that have been moving are the mountains of personal documents being schlepped into the realtor's office. At this time well over fifty documents have been sent to the realtor. personal documents. From both the renter and the renter's "financial guarantor." In this city you either get a guarantor, pay an insurance or (very seldom) are allowed to make a down payment deposit (oh how i wish). All the apartments we've been after require either the guarantor or the insurance. A guarantor must be a property owner, and my mother in law agreed to be ours. What makes me uncomfortable is how much they require from both us and the guarantors. At this moment, for all parties involved, the real estate agency now has our bank records, tax returns, property deeds, receipts from property purchases, national ID cards, social security cards, copies of everyone's national worker's records, salary statements and the list goes on and on. I wonder if i should send them our vaccination records and diplomas as well. Once again, oh "process in Brazil" you spleen me for unnecessity.  Our first guarantor (a Brazilian I might add) actually backed out of the deal after criticizing that the agencies asked too much of him in exposure. Which, i fully agree with. It is a bit excessive for simply renting. So there you have it. I know that some transactions go smoother and quicker and that perhaps we just got the unlucky stick, but one day i would just love it if some transaction/action/endeavor in Brazil actually went down without gagging us on the way!

Why are we bothering to leave the interior for Sampa anyway you may ask? Well, aside from this real estate trouble and high prices of everything, I am so eager to get my butt into Sao Paulo i can barely handle it. The place may be big, dirty and overwhelming - my favorite description of the city will always be that of Tony Bourdain; "Sao Paulo is as if Los Angeles threw up on New York." But there are so many interesting people, new foods, new opportunities, new shops, new restaurants and more museums and cultural events than i will ever have time to attend. This city is without a doubt among the most interesting in the world. I am more than ready to try and start a new entrepreneurial direction with my life and I know that Sao Paulo is the only place for me right now. That being said, nothing in Brazil comes without a good dose of frustration...

In the meantime my house is packed up (sort of), i'm out of work (should already have moved) and i am without a car (H takes my car to SP everyday now to work, we already sold his car. and we should already be living in an apartment in SP). I don't know why we thought our timeline would go smoothly in Brazil as it never does. We should know better.

Midst all the fretting, however, there have been a few milestones that i've neglected. Two days ago (February 5th) was my three year anniversary for arriving in Brazil (as a resident). That's an achievement I dare say. If i can last three years here maybe i can last four, or even five. And then of course a real call for celebration yesterday as it was H's 29th birthday. Instead of cake I made his favorite dessert-creme brulee. To make it a little fancier (not that there's anything wrong with it au-naturel) i lined the bottom of the cups with a chocolate truffle...filling. well actually it's what you would make a truffle out of so i suppose it is simply chocolate truffled creme brulee.

My recipe for creme brulee in Brazil is very simple; two boxes of creme de leite, 1/2 cup of sugar, 5 egg yolks and a dash of vanilla. I use farm eggs so my creme is a bit on the orangey side. But trust me you can tell the difference between a factory and farm egg especially in a creme brulee. As for the truffle; make your favorite truffle recipe and pour straight into the ramekins while it's still liquid. Allow the truffle to set and cool before pouring the creme mixture on top. Then just bake as usual in a bain marie in the oven. I usually cook them for 45 minutes. Refrigerate the custards for at least two hours before serving. You can broil them, but they are much better torched because then the custard and truffle remains cold. Not a big fan of hot creme.

While creme brulee is definitely one of the more simple dessert recipes of the French genre, i don't think there's anything (on my list) that tops it. While living in Paris i must have had it once or twice a week at my familiar bar à vin. The thing i loved the most was that chef would change it up every time. Sometimes it would come to me with pistachios crusting the bottom or baby blueberries (myrtilles) strewn throughout. Hazelnuts, raspberries, chestnuts, chocolate -- he would add anything. So for this i know that creme brulee is a dessert as versatile as a sandwich. It is extremely fun (and easy) to play around with to match any occasion or season your're in.

So we may be in a semi-packed up house anxious about our future, but we still managed to forget it and enjoy salmon and shitake risotto followed by a rich (maybe too rich) dessert. The real surprise of the day, however, was the half dozen roses H brought home for me, on his birthday. A very sweet surprise that I know was to encourage me to relax and deal with the real estate frustration with a grain of salt. I really want to get this apartment...and i guess at this point i am supposed to say that home is where the heart is. I know I can't complain about life. But i just think that these flowers would look so lovely in the new place! à bientot.

January

I think I’ll start writing as if I never left. The reality is that I have been gone for this blog for three years.  Well, a few spotty appearances over the past three don’t count, so let’s just say that since moving to Brazil I quit. That’s right, I quit my blog. Why did I have it anyway? Not even sure anymore. I think that’s why I quit it.

Last week I returned from a one month stay at my parents’ in Seattle. While there, a few (as in more than one) people inquired as to what happened to the Salty Cod. My response – oh, that. It died. Died? Well why did you kill it? I’m not sure. I think I lost inspiration. Confidence with photography, and really, was my life so damned interesting that people actually wanted to read about it? Exactly three years ago the stigma of foodie blogs started to get to me. There were just too many, and everyone was doing the same thing. So I sneaked out the back door. I got tired of seeing that same bloody wooden spoon tied with twine to a mason jar full of pudding. Who ties spoons to their puddings before eating it? So you see, I felt like this foodie blog thing (which was literally nothing in 2006/2007) had turned into like a diaper party of bored housewives.  Not that there’s anything wrong with bored housewife diaper parties, but as a 26 year old expat constantly trying to break into some “entrepreneurial” gig, my biggest fear lurking in the shadow is me becoming a bored diaper partying housewife. So I distanced myself from it.

My second reason for leaving, I think, is that I just got sick of negative comments left on my blog. I never understood why anyone would bother reading my crap if they hated it so much. I didn’t experience much negativity while living and writing in Europe, but once I started writing in Brazil, I started to get punched in the face by Brazilians. I couldn’t mention how I missed picking blackberries in Washington without some anonymous troll scolding me for being spoiled and ungrateful for living in a country with such horticultural abundance and still wishing I had my dumb American berries. Well the problem is that I happen to like my dumb American berries. Yeah, yeah, yeah; ignore. Easier said than done.

My third reason is that I think I started to get bored with the city I live in. When I lived in Paris there was always something to write about. Living in the countryside city where I am now isn’t exactly chock full of things to do. So after a while my stories started to run out.  Who wants to read about food only?

So why am I deciding to come back? Because I’ve gotten over most of the things that pushed me away. Food blog? I’m not going to call this a food blog, I think it can just be called blog. I will still talk about food (mostly my food). But don’t call me a food blogger.  Does that make any sense? No.  And to the Sensitive trolls? Well, I think I’ve lived here long enough that I’ve realized they are omnipresent, both online and out there…in the street…in the bar, lurking. So luckily on the eve of my 3^rd year anniversary in Brazil, I don’t really give a damn if someone gets offended by something I have to say about my own perception of Brazil. And lastly, we’re leaving our little city after three years and moving into Sao Paulo, one of the biggest cities in the world. Life in the concrete jungle, I assume, will produce a few more stories than here in my sleepy suburb.

We’ll see how this goes. What I miss the most is sharing my life with people who actually care—the friends, family and strangers who actually enjoy reading (and sometimes talking) to me. So let’s give it another try.

As you can see by the not so creative photos, I recently made a cake. Yesterday to be exact. The cake is for my best friends’ new baby who will be born in a few days. A zero years old birthday cake. She’ll love it. 

The real reason to talk about this cake is the frosting. You see, I have been wanting a Kitchenaid mixer since I started cooking/baking (secretly in my dorm room) in 2005. The problem is that I could never really afford one. After moving to Brazil, I could afford, but the logistics of getting one here were ugly. So For the past seven years I have been griping and grumbling over every god damn facebook post from friends showing off their new mixers, with titles such as “I will make cookies first!” god damn it…cookies in a mixer? I deserve that not you!!!  I am a very jealous person apparently. Long story short, I finally sucked it up and sacrificed 25 pounds of luggage space for the beast and brought one home with me. The years of whipping meringues, frostings and whipped cream by hand are over. Though I am sure I have a much stronger tennis arm than all of you because of it. The first thing I wanted to make was Swiss meringue buttercream. I have been wanting to do it for a while…….but the descriptions of “mix at medium speed for 15-20 minutes” turned me off…that’s like 40 minutes in arm whipping time…yeah no.  

So I made it. Very simple. And can I just add—it tastes at least ten times better than powdered sugar buttercream, who the hell ever invented powdered sugar buttercream and why is it still in existence? Good grief. It has an amazingly smooth flavor and the texture is much better for stacking layers and covering cakes. Oh man I’ve been missing out.  I am fairly certain that at this point I will never make chalk buttercream again.

Want a recipe? Google it. There are a billion out there. One tip though I would add—after adding the butter to the glossy meringue, make sure to switch to the paddle attachment on the mixer. 

cupcakes and getting back to the photos.

So cupcakes are kinda a big deal outside of the US. why? Because they are different and are so stupidly cute that even the manliest of men can't overcome the urge to sneak one into the corner. That and the fact that anything remotely american in brazil is considered "que chique!" Brazilians, like many other non-americans, are cookoo for cupcakes. My theory is that they are coveted so simply for the fact that they are actually attractive unlike most Brazilian desserts. Now there i go offending Brazilians again, it's an unfortunate habit of mine, but the fact of the matter is that most Brazilian desserts are ugly. If you knew me, say 4 or so years ago, you would remember my sentiment about Portuguese desserts. ugly. It seems to be an inherited trait from papa portugal. As recorded here on the Salty Cod a few years ago, when i first arrived in Porto, one of my initial thoughts that may or may not have been said aloud was how god-awfully ugly most of the bakeries were. That pretty much sums it up for the pastry scene in Brazil as well. Many Brazilians have argued with me on this, but meh. Stewed strawberries in a simple syrup just don't translate for me, many apologies. Either way, once you have been in a Parisian boulangerie-pâtisserie, everything will seem ugly to you henceforth. This is where cupcakes come in. They are brilliant for children as they offer relatively small portions, and they simply look good, whether or not they actually taste good.   

You can find a few cupcake copycats at supermarkets or bakeries around the Sao Paulo, but most look like cookie monster vomit. However, there are a few cupcake "specialists" in the area. One being the delightful to-order cupcake shop Sophie & Theo's Cupcakes in Sao Paulo owned and run by my New Zealand expat friend Jaime. The key to Jaime's cupcakes is the cake to frosting ratio which is right on the money, and she even has a line of gluten free cakes. If you are looking for an authentic cupcake with actual taste in the Sao Paulo region, i recommend getting in touch with her at saopaulocupcakes. and yes, she sells a special cupcake with a hello kitty charm!

Lately i have been shooting quite a few cakes and cupcakes. They are just so deliciously photogenic. And to be honest, i miss sharing photos with you. So here are a few cakes and cupcakes i have been working with lately. just for fun. As hard as i try, i just can't get away from photographing food, especially sweets. 

Hello?

potatoes.

I know there's nobody there anymore. The hello is rhetorical. This writing is strictly for the nobody i started writing to somewhere around five years ago. It feels good to write to nobody. Salty has been dead for close to nine months. But really Salty has been dead for a year. No food. No photos. None of that jazz that got us off the floor of that baby-puke stained family room all those years ago. Why did i let it die. I don't know exactly. People have been asking me that. I have been asking myself that. Sometimes the subject is avoided; that big fat pregnant elephant in the room. Murder is not an appropriate dinner time conversation. She lost her touch. She lost her drive. Ah, she got too busy. I don't really know. Actually i do. and it's more than one answer. It was never supposed to be forever. I was only 20 years old.

Today, there are more blogs- particularly food blogs- out there than words in the english language (that number hovers somewhere around two million) and i suppose i got tired. I got tired of it all. It felt like a basketball team potluck. I had thoughts of a race for some nonexistent pay. And then there was that Twitter. There's something about that Twitter my friend... Even without the words, there was this smoky smell of a competition. of a community. Who the hell came up with that idea anyway-online community. to judge each other. Communities are for moms sitting around a church or school room floor teaching each other how to breastfeed. Communities are soccer parents figuring out who will fetch and deliver their prodigy children to their practices on any given day. Communities are for alcoholics and drug addicts learning how to live again. i made my point, and that point isn't that i'm antisocial. the point is i fell out of love with the idea of the word blog and was overcome by the fear of considering myself a stay at home (insert female associated word) who blogs to pass the time and train my camera to take as many of the exact same shots with bled-out backgrounds as everyone else who, from my point of view, popped up over night. The thing that i failed to convince myself of was that i could just ignore it all. That was murder stage one.

And now i will describe murder stage two. My disdain with the idea of being a food blogger was merely the prepping; the gagging, the blind folding, a few slaps in the face. But not murder. I was the lone gunman. And i didn't even have the guts to shoot out of mercy. I bled him slowly. and with no proper burial. I accredit my unbalanced thoughts (i won't use the word depression because unhappiness is not involved here, more of an uneasiness) to the fact that i was still a foreigner living in a foreign country. The only problem was that as two years loomed on the horizon i gave myself this brilliant idea that i no longer fit the description of out of place foreigner. After a few years, are you really still a tourist experiencing a delicacy of strange yet charming cultural differences? Do you have that excuse anymore? I thought no. Two years is enough. apparently this is now my home. No longer a tourist. and i started to see the place differently. My eye color changed from objective to subjective. Somewhere among this rubble i killed Salty. Either I thought i didn't need him anymore or maybe he didn't need me anymore. But more to the point, with my sandy colored new shade of subjective pupils, i knew i had nothing to write about my daily life in Brazil that wouldn't cause uproar, criticism and hatred. If i write what i want to write, i will be salted and dried in the cold Norwegian sun along with my dear friend. I didn't want to write about my childhood memories of cookies, or how lovely apples are on the trees in the dying light of the harvest season. I wanted to write about real things. But after a few death threats by anonymous readers for complaining about missing raspberries and street harvested blackberries (side note: if you were to ask any foreigner whether visitor or resident what they love about brazil, they will undoubtedly tell you about how friendly and open the people are) i realized that what i wanted to write about wasn't exactly what my audience wanted to read. and on top of it im a crybaby. yes. a crybaby. So, that age-old saying of if you have nothing nice to say--- to top it all, i told myself i was ready to end it. to grow up and focus on bigger things. i thought it was time. But to be honest, it wasn't.

I've been feeling out of sorts with myself for a while. Nobody really tells you how hard it is to live in a country not your own. And nobody really tells you how hard it is to live in Brazil- with an opinion. So now to wrap up this murder confession, i will expose for you the straw that broke the camel's back. Yes, one straw that made my yearning to crawl back into Salty's arms too unbearable- a discussion with an intelligent old man. I live in a small town. Small for Brazilian standards, average for American standards. In this small town it is common to run into people you know and people you wish you didn't know. As you might guess by now, the story has something to do with running into an acquaintance. at a bar. a high school teacher, no not my own (can you imagine my North Kitsap High School teachers mulling around Indaiatuba?) this was H's highschool grammar teacher, a man, who, i could tell, was very respected by H. After being invited to take a seat the trouble began. To make the story short (though, in retrospect the conversation was quite amusing) i will sum it it by saying that i would not have been one of his favorite pupils had i been lucky enough to be under his tutelage (i am positive that was the first time i have ever used that word.) In other words, the man hated the air i breathed. why. one was most likely the fact that i had an opinion. the second, that i learned only later in the conversation was that i was female. and finally, that i wouldn't accept a roast of my native language. When i meet new people, the first question is always, do you like brazil? and my answer is always, mais ou menos- more or less. is that so? yes. i will describe the things i like. and the things you don't like? those always seem to get me in trouble.

The list is not long, but it is powerful. matters of justice, matters of public safety, equality--and my favorite, solutions to these problems. you don't think about these things during your first year in another country, but as time goes by, they are more visible than the sun. and yes, i have an opinion. while this gentleman was not the first to argue with me (don't get me wrong, i love a good argument) he was the first to tell me that they didn't matter. that these problems were not for me. these were problems of his country and i needed to learn to adapt to them. at this point i pulled out a quote --as i often do when i need someone more gifted than i to help me out-- a quote by one of the most respected men in the world. and when i finished, he threw it to the ground. rubbish. i watched as he spit on the words of the world's greatest ever defender of human rights and i knew. i knew i should write whatever i wanted. Just because i don't praise something does not mean i don't love it. who wants to read a story filled with fruit baskets and coconut water. not me. but getting frustrated doesn't help. words help. photos help. food helps.

You will be happy to know that as the crybaby that i am, i did not shed one tear. Not even after being told that my Portuguese was at a "pathetic" stage for the two years that i have been here.

And so, me with my pathetic Portuguese, i have decided to return to Salty. a new Salty.

And that is the murder story. You might never forgive me, Salty might never forgive me. You might never return. Once a murderer, always a murderer. But for now, i realize i need us. Not because i can't handle a few messy conversations, but because i need more messy conversations to keep my head on straight.

A few parting notes - why the potatoes? no reason. they were in the fridge. dark. natural. boring.

And the final parting note - the scene with the teach at the bar ended quite humorously, and i think you will all agree. When we moved the conversation to food i mentioned how i love bacalhao, cod fish, and how it has an amazing history. my opposition's approach- idiot girl, cod is not a type of fish, it is a method of preservation! your teaching license, good sir, should be revoked.

Wedding Photography

My First Wedding

So it's been a long time. May, June and July. Yikes. i suppose that means i'm not a real blogger anymore. I guess life happens to everyone. In June this blog turned 4 years old; the midlife crisis age in the blog world. In July this photographer turned 25 years old; the quarter century crisis age in the human world. Unfortunately i must report that i am not experiencing any crisis. No, the only crisis i experience on a daily basis is readjusting back into life in Brazil. I took my first trip back to the US in June. Three weeks visiting my family, three small weeks after nearly 18 months away. It was nice. On top of it all what made it even nicer was the culminating event i spent the last year preparing myself for--my first wedding photography job. Not meaning to exagerate, but photographing your first wedding is painful in preparation. If you have ever dreamt of entering the competitive field of wedding photography then you have probably spent mindless hours (days) browsing the web looking for advice, inspiration and other encouraging words from the professionals in the field. And if so, then chances are you didn't find any. One of the strangest things i came across during my study (yes, i consider it a study as i did it everyday) was the resentment from professional photographers toward new ones. Comment after comment on chat and message boards warning newbies to "go home and let the pros do the wedding, do you really want to be responsible for ruining such a special event?" Fortunately there are some very kind and helpful people in the business who stand out from these jealous old timers who actually do encourage and help. So my idea going into my first wedding was, well, he's right, i could mess the whole thing up. But on the other hand, we all have to start somewhere don't we? I also got pretty lucky on the fact that i not only got a beautiful couple for my first gig but also a beautiful setting. The backdrop was so stunning that you would have to be one fool of a photographer to mess it up.

I think it went pretty well. And my 25 year old spine was ready for the chiropractor by 10pm. The day started with the prep shots at the salon. The bride and bridemaides had rented out the whole salon for their hair and makeup. Unfortunatley the salon thought only two employees were necessary and the event took around four hours. By the time we got out of there and back up to the spa (wedding location) a bit of chaos errupted. The bride and groom are serious diy'ers (which showed in the delightful personal quality of the whole event) and so things were running behind schedule, including the cakes. As the wedding party scrambled to get the final details arranged, i found myself aiding the mother of the bride in cake decorating. yes. 7 three layer cakes needed to be assembled and decorated and there just wasn't enough time. If you know what's good for you; hire a wedding photographer who can be used in other areas as well including cake decorating, therapy and even manual labor. It all made me realize that the photographer isn't just the "artist on the scene" no-they are there as your employee and they are helping as much as anyone to get the show on the road. pretty great feeling. The fast pace of it all, the blink and you miss it. The pressure. the running. where are my shoes? Meeting the family members of both the bride and groom and having them clap you on the back with a big "oh you will do great, i can't wait to see them!" is sure to increase your nerves ten fold. The pressure helps though. Not gonna lie, as a perfectionist i loved the control. I would add a small suggestion however which probably would have helped me; EAT during the day.

The wedding took place at a lovely secluded spa in the middle of pea and wheat fields in Walla Walla, Washington, a city about four hours drive south east of Seattle. The bride and groom were not strangers to me, on the contrary the bride is my only lasting friend from those far off high school years. She was there when i got my first real camera and as my co-valedictorian (viking pride!) she knew that my obsessive perfectionism would surely result in suitable photographs. I couldn't have been happier to give her this gift (and to have done it successfully) and at the same time i am honored that she trusted me enough to give me the chance to be a wedding photographer. This has been something that has been lurking in my head for years, and i am ecstatic that it is finally ready to come out. I am now enterring the Brazilian wedding photography market in the areas of Indaiatuba, Campinas and the general São Paulo area and i couldn't be happier. i have a great way to come in photography as does every photographer, but it really does feel like a dream come true.

To view more photos of the K&J wedding, please visit my friend Rita's wedding blog at Missão Casamento where she is showcasing the photos for the Brazilian audience. For any information on my photography services, please email me at mallory (dot) f (dot) ramos at gmail or visit my photography website at malloryelise.com. Estou uma fotógrafa de casamento!

Chocolate Chip Cookies

and a vacation to Ilhabela-SP



While i had planned on being part of an Easter celebration this year with eggs, chocolates and bunnies, a sort of last minute vacation got in the way. Thank god. Two weeks before the long four day weekend of Tiradentes (a holiday that celebrates a national revolutionary hero, Tiradentes, who was among the first martyrs for the cause of Brazilian independence from Portugal) that happened to fall the day before Good Friday, H and i decided to go to the beach. If you know anything about the state of São Paulo then you know that is a suicide mission. National holiday weekends on the São Paulo seashore are nightmares. Every human with the means to leave the concrete jungle will. not to mention the rest of us in the interior...so heading to the seashore with half a million cars. Brilliant! Somehow we managed to plan the trip strategically though; we left a day before the holiday started and chose a destination that while popular, is not among the destinations of the majority. Ilhabela is an Island just south of the São Paulo coast (you can see it clearly from the city of São Sebastião) and requires a ride on a small flat deck ferry to access. The long drive, ferry and extremely inflated prices of lodging, food and virtually everything on the island does not attract as many people as say the bigger and more affordable destinations such as Santos or Praia Grande. So while there were many visitors to the island during the weekend, it was nothing like Copacabana. Only a few of the island's beaches were crowded beyond our liking (we could never, ever be a carioca when the beaches turn into sheep farms.) While we did wake up at 2:30 on Sunday morning to avoid the five hour ferry wait and seven hour traffic crawl on the continet, the vacation was a wonderful decision and i didn't miss Easter at all. I can say that i have been to paradise, can you?

I really didn't take many photos while on vacation, there's something about just wanting to sit in your plastic yellow Skol chair and not do anything. at all. Well, anything other than drinking caipirinhas, rubbing on bug repellent (Ilhabela is known as mosquito Isle, and i'm still itching) and randomly getting up to jump in the deliciously blue water for a swim. We explored the island, sized up the beaches, trecked through a monkey trail for an hour to get to a hidden waterfall for an icy (dangerously slippery) swim, but in the end there was only one beach where we really wanted be--Praia do Jabaquara. The first day on the island i grabbed a map and decided that i wanted to go to Jabaquara only because it was the very last beach on the circuit that you can get to by car. All of the beaches on the eastern side of the island are only accessible by boat or by a guided jeep offroading expedition. So we drove, and drove and drove. It really is the last destination on the circuit. The drive is about an hour of long and ends on a bumpy, dangerous, dusty rock-filled dirt road that hugs the cliff on the northern side of the island. You really feel like you are never going to get there...witnessed a few cars giving up and turning around...if you are brave enough to scale the monkey trail then you end up at paradise. The beach is secluded, away from cars, roads, everything. And the distance and terrifying drive keeps the number of beach goers way down. White sand, a bar, trees, chairs and open ocean. The chairs and umbrellas belong to the only restaurant/bar on the beach, so if you sit you have to order. But it's well worth it, not just for the shade and seats but for the bathroom and shower. Buy a few drinks but bring a few of your own as well.

We liked Jabaquara so much that on the fourth day we gave up looking for another beach and just headed back with fresh fruit and a bottle of wine in tow. We did end up losing our licence plate on the difficult terrain, but that's ok. Ilhabela was truly the perfect vacation fo us. H and i are travelers and we hadn't been anywhere since Rio in July. 2011 has been extremely busy for both of us; H started a new job and continues his post grad classes and I jumped into language teaching which has taken off a lot faster than i expected. Throw in my photography and housework (yes, i consider housework a job) and it sounds like we're on turbo. I mean, i haven't even been blogging! We're too young to not slow down and do something crazy every once in a while. A little fresh perspective is helping to refuel my Salty motiviation.

We spent most of Easter in the car (from 2:30am-11am) after which we indulged in a very long nap. I realized onlythe day after Easter that neither of us had had an ounce of chocolate. sad. So last night i took out the giant 2.5 kilo bar of baking chocolate at about 9pm and could only think of doing something simple; cookies. I'm not terribly good at baking gluten free cookies, i've gotten my hand in on cakes, pizza doughs and quick breads, but my cookies always disapoint because they end up too crumbly. Tried anyway and threw in a banana in hopes that it might be sticky enough to keep the things together. They were still a bit crumbly, but once cooled they seemed like normal cookies... not something that i would really want to blog about though.

On monday we eat dinner at about 11pm because that's when H gets home. After the fire breathing curry i made for dinner, i shuffled a plate of hot cookies over to the couch. To my surprise, H was giddy; "cookies! you haven't made cookies in forever!" i suppose i haven't, and i suppose i haven't actually baked anything for us in forever either. No desserts in months. We eat no sugar! I was wondering why we were getting so skinny. I love to bake and we love to eat baked things yet i let them dry up. So like with needing vacations, i realized that we both need Salty so we can have a few sweets at least once a month! After coming to this conclusion the cookies seemed so much more regal to me; a cookie, a chocolate chip cookie. Nevermind that it has no butter and is made with whole soy, rice and quinoa flours, it still has chocolate in it. So here it is, on the blog. Nothing special yet it's what shoved me back in finally.

Having the cookies around also led to another excuse for photographing them; to try out my new lens. I shot these with my first ever prime lens, nothing special-i can't afford special, but all were taken with my new 50mm 1.8. If you don't know what a prime lens is it is simply a lens that cannot zoom; it only has one focal length. There are many advantages to a prime lense (quality advantages if you can't afford top zoom lenses like me) but also i needed something with a wider aperture. So lo and behold! $135 on Amazon and i only had to wait a month or two before the aunt of a friend in SP came for a visit from the US. Yes, that's how we buy things in Brazil....

Chocolate Chip Cookies (adapted from Tartelette)

ingredients:

1 cup rice flour

1/2 cup tapioca flour

1/4 cup soy flour

1/4 cup quinoa

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 banana

3/4 cup sugar

1/2 cup oil (i mixed olive and soy)

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla

about 1 cup chocolate chips or chunks

method:

Mix all the flours together and set aside. Beat the sugar, oil, banana, egg and vanilla together and add the flour mixture. Combine and add the chocolate. Refrigerate until stiff and form into flat disks. Do not cook round balls, this recipe doesn't flatten out very well. Let cool completely before eating or you will be in the midst of a crumbly mess. I don't have xantham gum here so binding agents are always my biggest challenge...if you have xantham gum, add 1 tsp for a better result.

Ilhabela really is a paradise. We declared it our Christmas/New Years/H's birthday/one year wedding anniversary vacation. At least that's how i see it. It's always a bit sad to go home from a vacation, leaving the hot sun (for some reason it was hotter there than farther up north...) and freedom to do whatever on a weekday is difficult. I remember crying and getting really depressed when i was a young girl every time i had to go home after a vacation at my aunt's house or a camping trip to the beach. You grow out of that but there's still a little bitterness when it's time to go home. Over the past year i've not been feeling any bitterness though, and i think it's because while i enjoyed the beach imensley, what made the trip was who i was with. I celebrated my one year wedding anniversary one month ago and i hope i never stop feeling like the luckiest girl on the planet. A friend of mine recently asked for a bit of advice about "moving in" with a boyfriend or husband- i answered with the difficulties that we all whine about, but i also mentioned that the one thing that shadows over all of the negatives is knowing that you're always either going home to someone or someone is always going home to you. Or even better--going home together to eat chocolate chip cookies.