I'm having trouble with my RSS feed at the moment, but I am working to solve the problem. If you know me well, you know I'm gonna sit here and work on this until I've rip off every hair on top of my head. However, bald or not, in your readers it may look like I'm updating all the time. I'm not. Hopefully this issue will be fixed. Soon!
I have moved, moved from the US back to Sweden and life suddenly looks a whole lot different. I knew this day would come, but I didn't know how it would look like. However, one can't be in the US forever without going through some serious visa procedures and not even that is a guarantee. No need to get bogged down by this. Instead I'll focus on sharing my new life with friends and family back in Cleveland through Ramble Magazine.
I'm living on the east coast, along the Baltic Sea, in a town about an hour and a half from where I grew up. That, in a way, is strange. I've been away from the town of my childhood since I was seventeen years old and for every major change I moved further and further away. Before I moved to the US I used to say it would be nice to be a little close than I was to my parents - just so I could visit for a weekend. I lived in Malmo then, the third largest city of Sweden and a five hour drive from where I grew up. But instead of moving closer I moved even further away to Cleveland, Ohio.
The wonders of spring really have me going - the trees, beautiful in all shades of green; flowers blooming one after the other and in my tiny garden lettuce has started to poke through the soil. So much growth, I mused in admiration and wondered what greenery would be available at the Farmer's Market. It's still too early for the regular produce, but something most be available even is this northern part of the country.
I took off to the Farmer's Market at Shaker Square, one of the larger ones in the area, and there I found something I'd never seen before: Japanese asparagus.
It's a curious little plant, not native to this country, and finding information about turned out to be a challenge. Just the name is strange, Japanese asparagus. I searched the internet and came first up with nothing, but then a Latin name: Aralia cordata.
Aralia cordata is in Japan called Udo and one of spring's early vegetables. There are supposedly two kinds of Udo, though. One, called Shiroudo, which grows in dark spaces and should therefore end up being white. The other one, called Yamaudo, is growing in full sun and grow up to two meters tall. Just like asparagus the end result is different depending on how one grows it.
The vendor recommended I just split the vegetable lengthwise and then sauteed them with salt, pepper and a little brown sugar. I did and although it wasn't the most amazing food-experience in the world, it was a taste of spring.
Invented in 1930, the Twinkie has somehow become an American institution. Essentially the Twinkie is shortcake with vanilla cream filling and as such it shouldn't be that bad. However, Twinkies are the kind of treat you find in vending machines, in gas stations and ... all other place where shelf life is number one. Taste, well, that ends up much further down the list. Consequently, what once was just flour, sugar, eggs, butter and some kind of dairy product; is now a chemist dream. And a corn farmers dream. Since 1930, no more than six different corn products have been snuck into the Twinkie. We have corn syrup, high fructose corn syrup, modified corn starch, corn starch, corn flour, and corn syrup solids. Ah, the wonders of corn subsidies!
Watch the documentary King Corn on PBS and the romantic corn filed will never be the same again.
Anyway, I've had my Twinkie and I can honestly tell you I won't eat one again. Ok, if I end up stranded after a nuclear blast and Twinkies are the only edible thing around, I might grab one. We can glow together - Twinkie and I.
"How can you eat like that," my friend said. She eyed me from tip to toe. "And be skinny."
I had just told her about my latest discovery in the art of American comfort foods - Banana Cream Pie. A buttery pie crust filled with banana slices, a sinful vanilla cream and, on top of it all, a sweet meringue. Oh, so sweet and the banana flavor - mhmm - it'll make your belly dance.
"A lot of exercise," I answered my dumbfounded friend. "And no soda -- unless it comes with alcohol." Truth to be told, though, I'm not entirely sure why I'm not larger because I've stuffed myself full of this lovely pie.
