Tag Archives: cuisine

Streams of Whiskey

This is a lonely image.

This second image is almost conceptually identical to the one above, yet somehow much more comforting. And that’s because I’d just eaten a portion of the (boozy) cake you see before you.

These are samples of my friend Alice’s marvelous, ridiculously scrumptious handiwork. They are tiny (mighty) whiskey-soaked chocolate cakes with Guinness ganache on top–we’ve started calling in Guinnache (©, p.s.). Anyhow, the tin is nearly empty, which is naturally a good sign. I thought I might brag a bit before they were totally gone, just in order to accomplish a couple things:

1. to confirm Alice’s divinity

2. to give you the opportunity to improve your life, and

2. to do so on St. Patrick’s Day, a day on which there always seems to be a plenitude of whiskey.

This is Alice in true form.

Alice and I have both made this recipe before and, accordingly, it’s become one of our favorites (the Guinnache is all her doing, though–I wouldn’t dream of taking credit for her ingenious creation). The cake recipe is from an amazing food blog which you may have heard of: Orangette, written and operated by Molly Wizenburg. She and her husband recently opened a restaurant in Seattle named Delancey, she has a relatively new cookbook out, and she writes monthly columns for Bon Appétite–in short, she’s a food goddess. This cake is further proof.

I first made it a little over a year ago with another wonderful friend, Brian; he’s off in Washington now, doing big bad research in the field of nuclear proliferation. But back then, when life was simple, we made cakes. Cakes with Bulleit in them.

That’s Brian, working magic; and that’s the final, heavenly product, with its tasty benefactor in the background.

If I remember correctly, we made that cake to blow off some stress. We particularly wanted to alleviate some of Brian’s, since he was embarking on his second semester of Reed College Thesis Hell and also being a SB senate mastermind (don’t ask me how he does/did it). We accomplished our goal and got a ridiculously amazing cake out of it to boot. I certainly remember the day fondly (that much is obvious if you click the “About” tab up above). To insure that your own cake-making experience is ridiculously happy and appropriately decadent, I recommend you put the full cup of bourbon on into the batter. Then sprinkle a little more on top, just for good measure. It’s so natural and so worth it.

Anyhow, one year later, this cake is doing its job once again, this time coming from Alice’s incredibly able hands, alleviating the aches and pains of a new generation of cracked-out, under-slept seniors. It has powers. It works magic, I tell you (and don’t you try and tell me it’s just the boozy aroma). So my words of advice to you are: quit pussyfooting around and make your life better–make this cake. Now. And listen to some Pogues while you’re at it.

Oh, and as far as the Guinnache goes, you might have to improvise. I think ours is destined to become a secret house specialty…

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Things for which I’m Thankful: 2008

Thanksgiving. The night was spent with the school. My table was Hannah, Leslie,and Claudius, our German, happy-being-awkward professor of European politics, all for whom I'm grateful.

Thanksgiving. The night was spent with the school, merry-making. My table was Hannah, Leslie, and Claudius, our German, content-to-be-awkward professor of European politics. I'm quite grateful for all of these people.

— What can be summed up as the Miracle: the miracle that is my family of friends — friends who make and share meals together, share values, brawl around Portland on bikes, sleep under desks, listen, hold, edit, reflect, share burdens, send love letters and care packages, play pool, languish in Prexy, take the dog to the vet and then to Mt. Hood, hold gatherings for the express purpose of sharing 22s of Portland beer, spoon at the end of dance parties, dance, turn up the vinyl, make the pancakes at the dawn of the day or the middle of the night, go swimming fully clothed (or partially, whatever), bring spare toddies on hot afternoons, like kale, refine their gluten preferences, overcome, go to senate, harmonize, share their space heaters, skip town for the day, talk about The Future, teach me how to count, hold me up, lift me up — all together. I love you guys. Mush mush mush.
— Reed College and Opportunity.
— My bicycle.
— The tiny beginning of a family at the Gallery.
— The Reed music department and the amount of autonomy it allows me.
— Stumptown coffee.
— I miei insegnanti di composizione e cantare alla Scuola di Musica di Fiesole — Maestri Kamran Khacheh e Gabriele Lombardi.
— The impressionists.
— Italian leather products.
— Likewise, wool. “Cosa di lana!!”
— Reed dance parties.
— Student loans.
— Being able to ask where the bathroom is in several different languages.
— Having the right to vote and speak and educate myself.
— Libraries. Particularly Hauser.

"corn and leak chowder" and "corn on the cop." Also, sideways. Sorry.

— The European rail system.

— Amsterdam, Firenze, Pescia, London, Cortona, San Gimignano, Venezia, Roma, Salzburg, Wien, München, Berlin, Dublin, Paris.

— Not being in Venezia anymore. But that one’s only kind of true.
— That there’s a bed and a room and a window and a collection of books and a warm kitchen all waiting for me in Portland.
— My mommy and my godparents.

P.S. I’m done with school in 18 days. Shhhh.

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Filed under Experiences Abroad in Italy

Nngh. I never thought this moment would come, but — I’m starting to get truly sick of pasta.

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Filed under Experiences Abroad in Italy