Brownies

Considering our lack of bread flour, my supreme laziness as far as grocery stores, and my need to bake something, it seemed like a perfect night for brownies. Luckily Dan has the Joy of Cooking since my cookbook collection is stranded in Maine.

They look a little souffle-esque but hopefully will taste delicious. Still cooling.

I went skiing today...on another note. We got 8.5 inches over the last few days and it started snowing towards the end of the afternoon, so negligible though that may be considering how far behind we are, it definitely felt like it helped. I might be fooling myself though; brown spots were nearly as numerous as lofty powder.

Post Script: Moist, airy, gooey, chocolatey...altitude what?

Something

Apologies for no updates recently. Life has been busy, I've been lazy, and our internet wasn't working for a few days.

A few important updates since the last post:
-I got crust on bread! Yay science!
-I made apple pie with really good crust.
-I haven't forgotten how to drive in the snow.
-I got a second job.

I think those are all the important points. So as not to bore you with the details and unnecessary stories since nothing is new and fabulous anymore, I will just throw up some pictures of my culinary achievements. Is anyone surprised that this has devolved into majority summaries of food-related exploits? Because I'm not.

A Little Slice of Heaven

As legend* will have it, two Italian men from Staten Island relocated to the remote haven of Fraser, Colorado and found it lacking in suitable pizza joints. So what would two entrepreneurial gentlemen such as themselves do? Why, start their own, of course!

This venture took the form of DeAntonio's, a strip mall hole-in-the-wall New York style pizza place that serves up 16" and 18" pies, as well as slices, garlic knots, and various pasta dishes that will satisfy the cravings of any thin-crust loving New York pizza eater. Thin, crispy-on-the-bottom crust (exactly how I like it) topped with delectable sauce in the right proportion with the cheese - as well as pepper flakes, parmesan, and garlic salt on each of the four or five tables squeezed in alongside the counter - this pizza gets the nod from three North Jersey-raised pizza connoisseurs and an Italian Rochester-ite with a history as a pizza shop employee. What higher praise is there?

*Most of this story is cobbled together from bits and pieces of hearsay and my own imagination.

**Added bonus; it even reheats well, for pizza two nights in a row!

Alternatively, It Might Be Butter

Really, we could use some snow. Not that I'm complaining; I mean, that 0.00001" we got last night is clearly going to make for some sick powpow. Whatever, I'm over it.

In other news, I finally bought laundry detergent (Leah was there, she can vouch for me) so my clothes will actually be clean rather than simply rinsed. She and I ventured into the Winter Park Market (unassuming name, most fabulous find ever), a gas station natural foods store and sandwich shop. I was totally kvelling over the sheer number of herbal supplements and organic vegetables and bulk grains and herbs and biodegradable cleaning supplies and real milk and Amy's pizzas and Yogi tea and Fage greek yogurt and lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Forget you, Safeway, and your fluorescent lighting (the Communist plot!) and homogeneous produce and your pasteurized, homogenized milk and your overpriced Tillamook cheddar and your tootling the multitudes and your preservative-filled breads and your feedlot corporate death meats and your national chain soccer mom minivan conformity. We are OVER!

In the Black

Because it's been so slow, all of our hours have been cut. No, that's not drastic enough; they've been slashed.* The upside of this is that I unexpectedly had the day to ski, despite the less than optimal conditions and lack of ski buddy. But I couldn't see what else I was going to do with my day, so my iPod and I sucked it up and hit the slopes. While not the most legendary of ski days, I feel as though I made some progress nonetheless. I skied a black diamond all by myself and only fell twice! It was the upper half of a lift line trail (the bottom half is blue) and was kind of steep and kind of bumpy. But it was my first full black and I survived. Then, joining Stosh on his ride break from work, we rode Outrigger, a fairly long black bump run speckled with little baby trees, grassy spots, and rocks, but altogether in decent condition. I lost a ski, but whatever, I made it down in one piece and I'll blame my slowness on physical exhaustion. So clearly I am becoming a sicknasty skier since I can "ski" blacks and live to tell the tale. Vasquez Cirque, here I come!


*Don't worry parents, my 401k will kick in soon. Just kidding - I am hot on the trail of 2nd and possibly 3rd jobs.

Youth Is Not Wasted

Someone once told me youth is wasted on the young. It might have been my father.

I must, at this point in my life, respectfully disagree. While our current pursuits may not be the most fulfilling, the most meaningful, or even the most productive, they are inherently enjoyable. We are here because we enjoy the outdoors, we enjoy the winter, we enjoy the freedom of this lifestyle. At what other point in my - or your - life have I been able to ski just two runs during an hour lunch break and be only glad that my life allows me to do so? Coming off the mountain I surprisingly did not feel that I had wasted that time - all I could think was "youth is not wasted on the young, not here."

This is probably TMI, but I have nothing else to write about.

Being sick is kind of a bummer. Tuesday was arguably the worst day of my life; body-wracking fever pains combined with sporadic yet heinously intense stomach spasms is not a recipe for a pleasant day. 800mg of ibuprofen, two Nyquil, and thirteen hours of sleep later, I was feeling worlds better but apparently still not well enough. I managed to eat breakfast and make it to work, only to have a recurrence of the stomach death which got me sent home after an hour. Probably a good idea, considering I didn't feel like doing much all day, and was somehow still sick enough to sit through all of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, possibly one of the most plot-absent movies of all time. That's when you know it's bad. Another twelve hours of sleep later (yes, I have sleep for more than half of the past 72 hours) and while my stomach still can't tell if it's hungry or hurting, at least food doesn't make me want to puke anymore. Baby steps, right?

Probably the biggest bummer in all of this is that we got nine inches of snow yesterday and last night, I don't have to work until one, but I am clearly not up for skiing. I think the gods are against me. What did I do to deserve this?

Cheers to Days Off

I semi-accidentally ended up on a 'gnarly' blue-black run today. Trying to stay together through trees and on unmarked trails is evidently quite difficult, and in the midst of the attempt I decided I would rather follow the lift line, despite huge bumps, than end up dead in the trees. I feel that was a prudent decision. However, it definitely took me upwards of ten minutes to navigate the daunting terrain and I spent a good portion of those sitting in nice powdery bumps. I guess that's the good thing about real snow, even on hard(er) trails - falling just doesn't hurt.

The Year of the Bread

Sometimes I feel like every time I have a free minute I'm proofing yeast, mixing dough, setting bread to rise, feeding the world. Now that we have our fourth roommate, the amount of bread to be consumed is going to be significantly increased. In 2010 alone I think I'm already on my fourth or fifth loaf. First was a regular half-whole wheat, nothing to write home about but definitely delicious, as is all homemade bread. The other night I decided a beer bread was in order (with innumerable gallons of beer at all stages of brewing in this apartment, I might as well take advantage, right?). I helped myself to a portion of Jeff's chocolate stout and used it instead of the water that goes into the dough. As the bread rose and baked, it let off an aroma of the rich, chocolatey libation inside. I have never seen a loaf of bread disappear so fast. It lasted 24 hours at the most. Dark, rich, almost sweet, this experiment definitely counted as a success. On the heels of the last rind of crust disappearing under butter and homemade jam (thanks to Dan for contributing to the bread-fest), I received swift requests for another loaf. After the success of the chocolate stout bread, I am now about to bake off a loaf made with Jeff's pale ale. Not too hoppy, it has strong citrus and herbal notes, and we suspect it will make a delicious loaf of bread. Not that it won't get eaten anyway.

On top of all these beer experiments, I mixed my first sourdough starter the other day, and so far it is going along swimmingly. Stay tuned for more on sourdough experiments. I also decided the time was ripe for homemade English Muffins (missing Standard much? Definitely.) and so have a rich, soft dough rising in the fridge to be made fresh tomorrow morning. Don't worry Daddy, I'll try to save one in the freezer for you.

10

So far the New Year has brought all kinds of excitement. Sort of. As much excitement can be had in life.

Yesterday brought the first day of normalcy in a long while - the busiest week of the season had passed, and with it the gaggles of Texans and Denverites that had been plaguing our slopes. After two weeks of nonstop work and chaos, we snagged this opportunity to get out on the hill, and the three and a half inches of fresh snow Saturday night didn't hurt. Still working on my mogul skills (taking a lot of work...ouch), Jeff decided he would give me a little coaching. Of course, he and Dan, expert skiers that they are, weren't super keen on sticking to "colored" runs with me. "Let's take either Retta's or Outrigger," Jeff suggested, referring to two long, steep, bumpy blacks. Ha. Right. Of course, anxious for whatever help I can get, I followed along. So here I am, probably not more than twenty five days of skiing under my belt ever, staring down a steep pitch pimpled by thigh-high moguls. I wanted to cry. But I didn't.

I made Jeff stay with me as I took it two, three, four at a time, fall. No big deal. About half way down it got steeper and Jeff directed me towards a cutoff path that brought me to a neighboring friendly blue. Sigh of relief. But I skiied a black! And his advice helped; the rest of the day all of my bumps felt better. Not that I'm a pro, and I still like runs with some kind of color in them (blue, blue-black), but hey, one step at a time, right? On top of that, it gave me the push I needed to take Panoramic (highest lift in the country...or something) to the highest point in the resort, 12,000 feet above sea level. Amazing. Above the tree line, real snow, fresh powder, completely free-form. LTD.

Plodding Along

I feel as though I should have lots of fabulous things to write about considering I have been MIA for almost a week, but no dice. This past week is the resort's busiest and it's all I could do to keep up with work, sleeping, and eating. Forget blogging, forget free time, forget a social life. I did get a chance to ski for a few hours yesterday morning and I'm definitely making some progress on those bumps, but it will be nice when the mountain empties out a little and we have time to ski and some fresh snow to do it on. Today's mini-snowstorm treated us to white-out conditions for about fifteen minutes, but we could use many many more. Hopefully I'll get out there a few times over the next few days, as right now begins my three day weekend. Hoorah!