Food Gifting: A Brief but Accurate History

Sometimes, little things make you want to go crazy and do something you've never done before. The little things could be anything. A song you hear, something a person says, a change in the weather.

The weather here has gotten chilly, which is wonderful, unless, like me, you don't have any winter clothes with you. A grand total of four sweaters and two quarter-sleeved shirts leaves me literally out in the cold. But I took a walk tonight to wake up and clear my head and the brisk weather got me thinking.

I realized that I want to bake. Maybe it's the idea of warm bread/cookies/scones/what-have-you coming out of the oven while the windows frost over from the outside; maybe it's the idea of the upcoming holiday season which gives me the insane urge to make ridiculous amounts of delicious food for which everyone's stomach will thank me while their waistlines curse me. More than that, though, I think it's my need to do something nice for someone who is constantly doing nice things for me. How do you repay someone for being themselves? Well, obviously you bake them a tray of scones, a basket of muffins, a loaf of fresh bread.

Food gifts are older than time itself. The first cave man to shoot a prehistoric cervidae (deer) brought it home to the first cave woman, boasting over his fine catch and offering it to her, an obvious token of his undying, Neanderthal love. Overjoyed at the prospect of skinning and cooking the bloody carcass, Mrs. Caveman took the massive thing and turned it into the first venison stew. This was before seasonings were invented, but it was still pretty damned good, and this set the standard: women give better food gifts than men. Of course, Mr. Caveman meant well, but from then on, he decided that he was better suited to giving gifts like brightly colored leaves or particularly shiny stones that he found while out hunting. Mrs. Caveman quickly amassed a large collection of such thoughtful but useless trinkets and her husband quickly amassed a larger mass.

Not all cavewomen gave better food gifts than their men, however. Not everyone had Mrs. Caveman's natural talent for turning dead flesh into something edible. Fire was relatively new and the convection oven was not even a passing innovative thought behind the large foreheads of those early people, so making palatable meals was challenging. Hopeful cavemen often received back pieces of raw meat that had merely been cut with a dull stone and arranged on a flat leaf. This was before garnishing, but they did their best to make it look appealing. There was no comparison, however, between their lackluster attempts and the culinary marvels of Mrs. Caveman and those who managed to replicate her delicate searing of deer flesh. The other cavemen quickly figured this out and chose mates accordingly.

With this going on, the poor creatures who couldn't cook, being naturally selected against, became endangered and very nearly extinct. Unfortunately, there has been a rise in the kitchen-impaired gene recently, made possible by the invention of microwave dinners and women's rights.

After a while, the human race discovered how to make bread, probably the best discovery ever made. Once this happened, it was all over. Women everywhere had the secret to making heads turn, jaws drop and stomachs rumble. Is there anything that smells better than freshly baked bread? Exactly. From there, it was a simple couple of steps to turn that bread into various and sundry pastries, which we have been baking ever since.

Therefore I think it is something genetic inside of me that calls me to knead dough, to watch bread rise, to say thank you in this manner. Of course, it's inadequate. Everything's inadequate but some traditions are too perfect to be altered.

Apart from the weather, I've also been listening to a lot of good music lately, and spending time with good, honest, down to Earth people. I don't just want to bake. That's a temporary fix for my need to DO something. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm going to do something that will make a difference. Maybe it'll only make a difference to a few people, but that's all that really matters, right?

My dad touched the lives of so many people, just doing what he loved: teaching and being a father. I don't think he knew how much he meant to the people in his life. That's all I want. I want to mean something to the people who mean something to me. I want to be at least half the person my father was. Genetically, that's already true, so I guess I'm on the right path. I look in the mirror and I have inspiration to be someone worth knowing.

For starters, I'm collecting recipes and plotting when to unleash their deliciousness on the people who most deserve them.Be prepared.

It's a Strong Word; I'm Using It

"Hate is a strong word". Thank you, Captain Obvious. Here's the thing: it might be a strong word, but I'm using it, no apologies. In certain cases, it is the only word acceptable. Allow me to elaborate.

List of things I hate:

1. Spitting. Plain and simple. It's gross. If you do it, knock it off or expect me to punch you in the face.

2. Facial Hair. Alright, this one needs a little bit of clarifying. I don't hate facial hair for aesthetic reasons and I feel like on some people it can be very impressive, but it has never been attractive to me because I do not find the idea of kissing that appealing. But if I have no interest in you and you've got a sweet handlebar mustache? Good job, I hope you wear it well.

3. Cancer Jokes. Enough said.

4. Depressing people. I understand if bad things happen in your life, more than you know probably, but that doesn't give you permission to make sure everyone else around you is miserable, too. Also, if you're misery is of your own making and you're a drama magnet, expect no sympathy from me. You don't think I have things to be upset about? Listen to some music, write an angry poem, realize that life is bigger than you and your problems.

5. People who use other people. Look, this world isn't perfect and sometimes it downright sucks. We are all humans on this planet together and if we can't look out for each other, what can we really gain from life?

6. Cheaters. 

7. Super sporty guys. This category extends to guys who don't play sports but are just super jacked. It's gross. Get a life outside of the gym.

8. Horror Flicks. Seriously, what is the attraction in this? The constant adrenaline rush isn't fun enough to make up for the weeks I will later spend unable to sleep or walk alone down a hallway. If I want an adrenaline rush, I will ride a roller coaster, thanks.

9. Pronouncing "library" as "libary". No longer are we in the first grade. Learn how to speak.

10. People who use words they don't understand. I appreciate a large lexicon, this is true, but if you're using words just because you think it makes you sound smart, news flash, it doesn't.

11. Cold French Fries.

12. Ungroomed hands. I don't want everyone to pay for a thirty-five dollar mani-pedi every two weeks, but seriously? At least cut, file and wash your nails. Guys, this includes you. My dad always had the best nails of any man I knew. He cut, filed and kept them clean. It's possible, and it doesn't even take that much effort.

13. Country Music. I'm not apologizing for that.

14. Feminism. I am a strong, independent woman who happens to laugh at sexist jokes. Sorry. You want me to make you a sandwich? Hand me two slices of bread. Do I think that women should be respected? Of course, we're people, too; we just happen to be people who can cook, clean and have babies. Stepping on toes? Oh, good.

15. Guys who "flirt" by tearing me down. A little bit of playful teasing is alright, even fun. What's not fun is feeling like I can't get a word in without being ridiculed. You think you're being funny but it's solely at my expense and if I try to turn it around then I'm overreacting and being defensive. Try your methods on someone with a little less self-respect, buddy.

16. Telemarketers. 

17. Apathy. This pisses me off. Give a damn about something, please.

18. Math. 

19. Rap Music. 

20. Talking about politics. I'm entitled to my opinions (or lack thereof) and you're entitled to yours. Doesn't mean I want to hear about them.

21. When people tell me that they prefer my hair straight. My hair is curly, get over it. I love it, so should you.

22. Mint and Chocolate. NOT a match made in heaven. Thin Mints are not my favorite Girl Scout cookie and I do not enjoy mint-chocolate chip ice cream. Mint by itself is nice, though, and chocolate alone is, well, it's chocolate, what more can I say?

23. McDonald's. I'm not going to pretend like I don't ever eat at McDonald's, but I really hate it.

24. Lack of Chivalry. This goes hand in hand with my hatred of hard core feminism. Is it so hard to hold the door for me, dammit?

25. Running out of toilet paper. 

26. People who don't appreciate music. Music is life. The sooner you understand that, the sooner I'll stop hating you.

27. People who don't appreciate musical theatre. Music AND theatre. What don't you appreciate??? That being said...

28. The musical "Annie". Seriously.

29. Stupid people. You'd think I wouldn't have to state this, but you'd be surprised at how many deliberately stupid people there still are out there.

30. Jealousy. It's unbecoming of everyone. Also, can I just say that in relationships, I've noticed that the jealous one of the pair usually ends up being the cheating scumbag.

Well, that's it. I wouldn't call this comprehensive, but it's definitely accurate. Maybe I'll share more if I'm struck by inspiration later. And by inspiration I mean rage.




Author's Note:
You might be thinking, "She's done an entry like this before...". In answer to that, I'd like to say "So what? It's not actually the same thing, this entry isn't tempered with things that I like, it's just a pure unadulterated list of what I can't stand, but it doesn't really matter, because this is my blog. You want each entry to be original? Write your own blog."

Friends and Fruit

First of all, can we take a moment to appreciate my lovely mother? Parents' weekend, an arbitrary weekend when, for some reason or other, it becomes fashionable to drive insane distances to visit your independent college students and subject them to mortification or at the very least boredom, was this past weekend. This tradition is boring and annoying unless your parents don't happen to come, in which case it leaves you feeling a little left out, despite the fact that your parents have very good reasons for being absent.

Well, this is how I felt this parents' weekend. My friends were out and about with their own parental units while I was lying around in my room, feeling "under the weather". Apart from feeling vaguely lonely, though, I was more than fine. I had time to do a great deal of homework, I pretended like I was a composer and wrote a song, and I got reacquainted with my good friend, Netflix. On Sunday, when parents' weekend was effectively over, I received a call from a strange number.

"Hi, this is Ben from Edible Arrangements."
My heart stops.
"....yes?"
"Is this Meghan Crawford?"
"...yes..."
"Can you come downstairs and let me into Landis, Ms. Crawford? I have a delivery for you."
"OKAY!"

I threw my phone down and ran out of the room, my room mate trailing behind me, begging to know what was going on. There he was: Ben. Standing there, holding a beautiful bouquet of fresh fruit, he became my new favorite person in the world. I signed for the fruit and opened the card.

"Sorry we couldn't be there in person for parents weekend. We love you! Mom and Appa."
Hmm, no apostrophe after "parents"... Oh, well, I have delicious fruit!

So that's how Parents' Weekend went from being an apathetic couple of days spent holed up in my room to a wonderful few hours of surprise and fruit.

That's my Mama. So thoughtful and sweet. She remembered that I am at college, also known as the land of only apples and bananas, and so she thought to send me some real fruit. I love her.

Do you know who else I love? My best friend. She's a couple hundred miles away, but it doesn't really matter. If I need to unnecessarily freak out about something, she knows exactly what to do, depending on the situation: if it's a guy, she freaks out along with me; if it's my family, she freaks out along with me; if it's school work, she freaks out along with me; in fact, it's safe to say that whatever it is, I can count on her for a sympathy freak out. Because, as everyone knows, it is always better to freak out in good company than alone.

She's pretty much the only person who understands that I need to be a spaz every once in a while in order to function properly on a regular basis. It probably doesn't hurt that she's a spaz, too. So we freak out together, and act manic depressive together, and drink tea together over Skype. This is the nature of our friendship. It is solid. It is strong. We are strong.

I miss her.

Celery

So, we all know about the "negative calories" thing that celery has going on. The favorite snack of health conscious women everywhere. Even if they don't actually like how it tastes, at least they know that everyone who sees them eating it will think that they are super healthy.

Apart from its slimming properties (I cannot promise that you will be thin if you eat celery), this vegetable also serves another, less well-known, and harder to prove, purpose which brings me to the actual point of this entry because, as you know, I am not writing a food blog.

Celery contains androsterone, a hormone naturally found in the human male. This hormone contributes to the feelings of physical attraction suffered by women around the world. So, in a way, you could say that celery is a healthy alternative to the "feel good" feelings you get from chocolate.

I will confess to being a celery addict, although this was true of me long before I researched its somewhat questionable roots as an aphrodisiac. I don't know how much I believe that, to be honest. I think I like it because it tastes good.

But don't take my word for it, test it out. Go buy some celery. Oh, and by the way, it only works for girls. Sorry guys.

Oktober Fest

Oktober Fest is something that Americans pretend to understand but will never truly grasp. Just like people who don't live in New Orleans aren't ever really sure what is so fantastic about Marti Gras. However, in typical American fashion, we celebrate Oktober Fest anyways.

"A holiday where you can get drunk for no discernible reason??? Well, heeeeeellllll, add that to the list, right next to Fourth of July, Labor Day, Cinco de Mayo,  and Valentine's Day!"

To be fair, some people have very good reasons to get drunk on Valentine's Day, most of which have to do with chronic and/or crippling loneliness. Those other holidays, though? Um, yes, let's celebrate the birth of our nation with an ice cold beer. Nothing says "America" like getting sloshed. And Labor Day? Does anyone even understand the meaning of that holiday? Let's recognize the work force of our country... with a picnic and a few beers! And my personal favorite: Cinco de Mayo! It's not even our holiday, people! If you are Mexican American, then fine, but otherwise? Let's celebrate Mexican Independence Day! Yeah, that day actually falls in September. Cinco de Mayo is the commemoration of an important battle, but nice try at justifying your support of Mexican beer companies (which are actually corporately owned by Americans!).

So I'm not big on the use of holidays to overindulge in alcohol. Maybe I'm old-fashioned. Oktober Fest, however, is a German tradition which happens to involve beer. Mostly because Germans are so good at making beer. Or so I'm told. The point of all of this is that here at FSU, someone has decided to recognize Oktober Fest. At least the cultural aspects of it.

Considering that this is an educational institution, the big wigs cannot exactly endorse the drinking of large amounts of foreign ale. However, whoever is in charge of the menu at the Suwannee Room thought it be nice to serve German food at lunch this week.

I do not have any sort of personal vendetta against German food. In fact, I happen to enjoy it quite a bit. The problem is this: I was not prepared to walk into Suwannee and be greeted by loud German music and a festive atmosphere, including but not limited to, the presence of blue and silver streamers.

Blue and silver aren't even the colors of the German flag...

"Is this some kind of Ravenclaw party...?"

My room mate thinks that maybe blue and silver are the "colors of Oktober Fest". What does that mean? Well, something similar to how Marti Gras is generally associated with green and purple (and gold and blue and beads  and feathers and masks and drunk people...) or how the Fourth of July is red whit and blue... like the American flag. So Oktober Fest should be green, black and red. Color scheme aside, it was just strange.

Not only was it strange, but they didn't even have a fantastic selection of food. Which is of course not Oktober Fest's fault, but rather Suwannee's. Per usual, they didn't have any desserts, which  was frustrating as I love German pastries. More than anything, though, this entire Oktober Fest experience made me realize how much I wished they were serving Polish food instead. I would give anything for a Pierrogi right now.

Goal for the weekend: find a Polish restaurant in town, find a ride, stuff my face.


Editor's Note: So, apparently blue and white are the colors of the Bavarian flag, as my friends in Lederhosen told me. Yes, I have friends who wear Lederhosen.