New York Part Two

This is all about food.

Ya shoulda seen it comin'.

Well, this bit should be fun! I only had to eat (almost) every meal for a week and visit 6+ bakeries to collect enough material for a New York food post... Not that it was a sacrifice on my part or anything.

Anyway, I'll dive right in: here are Scout's new rules for cooking/food in general:

1) Use more bean sprouts. Just do it. I'm quite certain they would taste good in anything. Or almost anything.

2) Bread and chocolate? Always a good idea, much like Paris. Pain au chocolates galore, chocolate-almond muffins, fabulous morning rolls gushing melted chocolate from Levain Bakery, brioche with melty chocolate chips, chocolate sour dough twists from Amy's Bread... You gained 5 lbs. just reading that list.

Levain: how do they do it!?

3) Duck is only good if prepared well. If you can't do it, don't.
4) Crinkle fries are not always tacky, in fact, they can be quite good. The key is to make them less salty and oily and more full-figured.
5) Only eat as much steak as you can handle in that hour, even if it is only a few bites. It takes courage to eat such a small amount of steak, let me tell you.
6) Every restaurant, bakery, cafe, etc, has that one WOW item; find it and order it and never regret it.
7) Find the best bakery, and stick to it. It's your fault if it closes.

I concluded that Amy's and Levain were my favorites.

8) Glitter goes with everything, food included. It's the only thing that saved the cupcake from Magnolia's from going down in my book as a complete and total failure. Well, glitter-coated and that it was labeled "Breakfast at Tiffany's"; that certainly helped them.

Terrible flavor and texture, but at least it was super cute. 

9) Find a fabulous pesto recipe and use it until the day you die. And give it to me. :)
10) If they get your order wrong, punch them in the face. Haha juuuust kidding, what you should really do is become an acclaimed food critic, become their nemesis, drive them out of business, arrange for their facility to be demolished, light the wreckage on fire, and dance on the warm ashes until they turn cold. Savor the simple moments. (Again, just kidding. Just politely explain what has happened and get what you ordered and wanted. Savor being the gentleman/woman.)

Well, that's good enough, what with me not being a seasoned food critic or chef and all. Enjoy your week and your food!

Lover of bunny-shaped bread (Amy's),
Scout

New York City Part One // A "Nothing In Particular" Review

New York... Is sensational, staggeringly delightful, and catastrophically chaotic. It is full of venerable old brick buildings, shiny-sparkling new buildings, small restaurants and massive complexes that serve hordes of consumers (tourists especially), and is it just me or is everything in New York gargantuan or, well, small? It might just be me, but that's inconsequential. What is of great consequence to me is the actual city of New York, the captivation it induces. Let me elaborate while you settle back with a nice, broken-in pillow or, oh, I don't know, a Thighmaster. 

To start with, New York City is NOT overrated; I'm not kidding. Walking the pavement surrounded by bustling people and fenced in by towering buildings full of more bustling people gives you a spring in your step and a twinkle in your eye that nothing else can. It's entirely unique. In New York, you feel you are a part of something. Everyone belongs, no matter where they work or how much money they make, regardless of what they believe or what they think they will do that coming Friday night, and it doesn't even matter what their political views are or what they are wearing that season because everyone belongs. That's pretty remarkable - astoundingly, really - and it's mostly due to the diversity of the area. New York is an incredibly heterogenous city, and that makes it unique. To put it shortly, New York has a particular ring to it.

Also, to add to that, New York City is glamorous. There is a special type of glamor involved in seeing a guy vomit up his drink from the night before or enjoying the view of a blue sky fenced in with skyscrapers - I promise. More conventional signs of glamor would be the constant stream of limousines (disgusting), the lavish hotels full of sharp attendants, and the well-tailored clothes that a majority of the population is decked out in. Seriously, no matter the level of income, almost everyone wears apparel that fits... It's one of the most outstanding and mind-blowing things I have ever seen in my entire life, and I commend New Yorkers for the feat. But as alluded to earlier in the paragraph, glamor is not just finery: glamor (to me) is exciting, distinct, and obviously attractive (in a very general sense); details that make a place unique. Glamor is a kind of magic, and it can be found most everywhere... And it was blatantly obvious to me in New York. 

To recap, I loved New York because it was different from what I usually experience: sounds, smells, tastes, feelings, surroundings at large; it had a special movement to it; it was unpredictable; it was glamorous; I liked feeling a part of something big; I loved seeing and hearing all the new people; I loved all the newness; it was stubborn and prideful, and it was stunning. New York is like that person who walks in the room and you immediately believe that they own the place because they're so confident and in control and interesting; they're riveting. So yeah, that's New York: it's a bit of fantastical quicksand that sucks you down in a second. And I am in love with it. 

Enthralled and enchanted,
Scout

Smitten

I should write about New York City, I really should: it is my duty as a recently returned traveler. However, this is currently a no-can-do situation, partner. Having informed you of that fact, I promise you that a) I want to write about the wonders of a week in New York, and that b) I will. But this is all too pressing.

I love to bake. I love folding berries into batter, the aroma of brownies being created in the fires of kitchen-hell, sprinkling cinnamon-sugar over scones and whisking them away into the oven, where the sugary layer will transcend to an even more delightful state. I even love the heat of a summer kitchen, though that one took some time, and the challenge of it all. In my baking career - if one can call it that - many things have emerged from my oven. I will be direct and frank: a lot of them were fantastically scrumptious and "successful" - though who can really measure success? Anyway, today another experiment joined the "successes". The name? Boy Bait; Blueberry Boy Bait. 

I'm kind of clever... Moving along to you, let me guess, you're thinking, "Boy Bait? Scout thinks she can buy affection with baked goods?" Here is what I am saying: "..." And here is what I am now going to say: "No, however, here are the points I would like to make: a) a certain level of affection CAN be purchased, so ha; b) I am not trying to do that, heaven forbid; c) I didn't name the recipe; d) whether you are a boy or not, you would be lured in by this treat." I've said it all. 

And somehow explained nothing. Well, here you go: I wanted to make something "for" General Conference today, and after sorting through all the food inspiration I got in Gotham, I found that I was particularly inspired by all the fabulous pastries I sampled over the course of the week. This of course included those splendid blueberry muffins that I enjoyed on many occasions. So what did I do? I did a speedy search through the files of the ever-trusty food blog Smitten Kitchen (which is fittingly the creation of a New Yorker) and found this recipe for a blueberry-muffin cake; at least, that's basically what it is.

Although my cake turned out very well, I have no skill with the camera, so no, I did not take the picture. The photo is in fact from the Smitten Kitchen, which means the cake shown is Deb Perelman's, not mine. Mine was a tad more blueberry-infused anyhow. Sorry, you've been deceived. Also, because I can, here's an adorable picture (that I did not take because I'm a cat...and in the picture) of my cousin Emma Lahti and me:

She does know how to strike a pose, that little ball of white fluff.

Truly, madly, and deeply,

Scout

West High Mock Trial / I still have vigor for life!

*Insert song "Anthem" from Chess*

As soul-sucking as mock trial is, this last week is proof that you should never let anything get you down. After losing our semifinal trial by what was essentially one point, I was pretty devastated, and so was everyone else. We had performed well, but the scores didn't show it. Additionally, it was not our best, so we perhaps felt that we had left some loose ends. 

Just days after I had moved on, our Red team lost in finals to the same team that had knocked us out, leaving us with 2nd and 4th in state. Most people would be thrilled, but when you know things could have been different, you're quite simply crushed. This was also the same team that beat us (unfairly) last year in finals, so it was a slap in the face. They aren't even all that good... *Incoherent mumbling* 

After all the misery and devastation and fury, I'm alright: I really, truly am at peace with the 2013 mock trial season. West High's senior teams had a good showing, and next year we'll just work twice as hard and use twice as many post-its and do our absolute best and we shall vanquish every opponent and dominate every courtroom and beguile every judge! (Sounds charming, no?)

But something new happened this year: West High's junior team took 1ST IN STATE (in their junior division). Last year we got 3rd, and the year before... Not so hot. But the 2013 West High junior team took STATE. STATE STATE STATE. West High fully supports winning. ;)

Junior team - state champs!

WHMT Black team (missing Vivian)

WHMT Red and Black teams (mostly everyone is there)

Yours truly,

Scout

Salt Lake City

You know what I love? I love Salt Lake City. I mean, I love all of Utah, don't get me wrong, but gosh, Salt Lake! I know that for the majority of people, it's somewhere else that hits them outta the park, but for me, it's Salt Lake. I'm reminded of the song by Brandi Carlile called "Caroline", part of which reads:

I have seen things in the sky 
Stars and lights and birds and I,
I've been Rocky Mountain high, told them all about you
Because you are still the only thing that constantly amazes me.

I love the road and I've been blessed;

I love you best.

Absolutely nothing compares to Salt Lake City when it's midday and people are on break for lunch and they are busy walking and talking; the region's on the verge of spring and the crusty, grey-and-white snow lines the sidewalks and you hear your heart in your ears and you look into the sky past the tall buildings and it's blue after the rain and torn by tree branches. In that moment, your heart is stolen and you are completely lost in love. But here, to explain further:

"You know that thing when you see someone cute and he smiles and your heart kind of goes like warm butter sliding down hot toast? Well that's what it's like when I see a store. Only it's better," continued, "But what's even more spellbinding than that is a new place: it has new streets, new people, new architecture, its own unique culture, etcetera. It is all new."

Salt Lake is magic to me, even Pioneer Park. Actually, maybe especially Pioneer Park! I mean, come on: during the summer, when it transforms from its usual state and transcends to the site of the farmers market? Magic! This kind of magic you collect from enjoying a walk along the downtown blocks of Salt Lake City is comparable to the kind of magic you collect from listening to Paul Simon's album Graceland. It has healing powers! It gives you a miraculous sense of wellbeing! It's the exact kind of magic I felt today when I chose to walk from the City Library to West High. The walk took me right through the heart of downtown Salt Lake and what with the sun and the streets and the jaywalking and all the people I didn't know and a great playlist playing, I had a transcendental experience. I'm telling you, brother! This is magic! I'm sure I'll write more about my hometown in the future, but for now, this is all - here is my humble offering to the spirit of Salt Lake City.

Best of luck,

Scout 

Wonder: So Worth The Read

Do you ever wonder about who you choose to be and what your actions say about you? 

I do, and the book I just finished reading focuses on that. It's called Wonder, and it's amazing. I  avoided reading it for a couple of months because it's a "kids' book", but in retrospect that was such a lame excuse; Wonder is inspiring and engaging and well-written, and the themes speak to people of every age. Stupid Scout, few books are only for kids. 

But all's well that ends well, and hey, I read it and loved it. I can't even explain how much I loved it or why I loved it so much; I just know that I feel the urge to go off and read it to every single person on Earth. Which, although it is a short read, would take a long time so I won't be doing that. Unfortunately.

I should probably give you a bit of a review... Wonder is the debut novel of R.J. Palacio that follows a 10-year-old kid named Auggie who was born with a facial deformity. The story follows him (and the people he affects) for a school year: 5th grade, his first year of "real" school ever because he was homeschooled before. It's full of very real characters, laugh-out-loud moments, and thought-provoking remarks. The book is, at the most basic level, a celebration of kindness, but goes far beyond that. It reminds you that actions are always noticed (your deeds are your monuments), and that they always affect others (no man is an island, entire of itself), and that it's not enough to just be friendly: you have to be a friend.

There is exactly one thing I want you to get out of this post: I want you to read Wonder. I won't even care that much if you pick up your Nook or Kindle or whatever and read it! I just want you to read it and bask in its glory! Though if you buy a copy and peruse its pages, I'll be much more impressed. Just read it, please! 

Greetings from the luckiest guy on the lower east side,
Scout

P.S. When given the choice between being right and being kind, choose kind.

My Father's Day

My dad is 40 today. Someone's growing up! At least physically...

There is no one as wonderful as a father, no matter how obnoxious he is when he wakes you up on a Saturday or how many times he asks, "Have you finished ALL your homework?", or how times he tells you that, "That would be unwise." He might have a saying that seems to become completely overused (like, "To know and not yet to do is not yet to know.") and try to teach you things, but hey, that's part of his job.

In my opinion, my father is the best father - he's my father - and I love him. I love making him laugh and doing annoying things with him and making pies and reading and skiing and going to the grocery store with him. I love seeing him after he gets home from a long business trip and I love his impersonations and I love how he makes waffles and pancakes. He's smart, he's funny, he's loyal, he's hard-working, and he's persistent; so many things I want to be. I've got 24 more years until I'm 40, and maybe then I can be as cool as my father. But I kind of doubt it.

 He makes parenthood look suave...

 His facial expressions are always lovely...

HE is lovely...

He's my dad, and I simply adore him.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD! CARPE DIEM!