Tournament of Desserts Round 2

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If God Loses Things

If God Loses Things

I think I might be one of them

and I worry about how he will know

where to look to find me. After all,

didn't he lose me in the first place?

Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning

From the pulpit a grim gray man
wrapped in a starched white gown
extols the virtues of patience and obedience
moderation and self denial. I should be listening.
But after a sentence or two I've stopped,
choosing instead to look out the side window
into a garden filled with red tulips and purple hyacinths.
I'd like to be there, barefoot in the young grass,
elbow deep in the earth weeding, watering, helping things to grow.
Perhaps a nap under the blossoming crab apples,
the breeze riffling the hem of my dress.
But now, it is time to rise from the hard black pews,
recite the Creed, sing the Agnus Dei, receive the bread
until, blessed and free we are sent forth into the spring sunshine and wind.

Practice Resurrection

A few weeks ago, Lauren blogged on how theologians tend to have mission statements or stories that define their theology. Indeed, these mission statements define the way in which we participate in the world. Sometimes we choose these statements or stories. More often, I've found, these statements choose us.

I have a few, some from scripture (John 21:7), but I find that I am more frequently influenced by the work of poets I admire. Mary Oliver's first line to Thirst is often on my lips when I wake in the morning. If I'm in an unusually good mood, it may be the final line to Why I Wake Early.

Practice Resurrection. This is the final exhortation of Wendell Berry in his fine poem Manifesto: The Mad Farmer's Liberation Front. It is also among the lines of poetry that runs through my head most often. It is, one might say, my theological, personal, and poetic manifesto. During the last weeks, spring has been creeping into central Minnesota, and I have been preparing with increasing anxiety for my comprehensive exams. I'm proud to say that I passed both the written and oral exams last week with honors.

This has been one of the most emotionally intense periods of my life. This spring I was rejected from Ph.D. programs, read twenty-six systematic theology and scripture books, took a mind-bending written exam, and theologized off-the-cuff with the three of the smartest men I have met in my life for an hour.

Out of necessity, I spent many hours locked in my study carrel in Alcuin library. I also neglected many of the things I love to do (cooking, eating, spending time with roommates, reading fiction, doodling, visiting friends in Minneapolis, and heading to art museums.) While I am pleased with the outcome of those many hours in the library, I do not think it is an exaggeration to say that I boxed up some parts of my life and put them on the shelf. Last Thursday, I took that box down, dusted it off, and took a look at what was inside.

I went to the Minneapolis Institute of Art with my Western Christian Art class. We were supposed to be off looking at sacred art, but truth be told, I spent most of my time looking at the Chihuly chandelier they had hanging in the atrium. I love Chihuly's glasswork, and this one was magnificent. It reminded me of all of the interests that have been in that box on the shelf for the past four months. The chance to again read novels, see friends, spend half an hour examining a sculpture without worrying that I should be studying was such a gift. Moreso it was a reminder of the line from the Wendell Berry poem--an opportunity to practice a small resurrection in my own life.

Tournamnent of Desserts Round One

Undoubtedly some of you have seen the Tournament of Novels over at First Things. Now that I'm post-comps (for good or ill, after 5:30 today) I've decided to do my own knock off of the tournament.

Introducing the 2010 Tournament of Desserts.

I've cut down from the 64 contenders (simply because I don't have the recipes) to the Sweet 16. The dessert that wins will be debuted on May 15th, with the first two runners-up following some time this summer.

Please leave votes in the comments.

Round One Contenders

Bracket One: Lemon Buttermilk Cake with Berries vs. Vanilla Creme Brulee with Raspberries

Bracket Two: Rhubarb Pie vs. Lemon Cake with Lavender Cream

Bracket Three: Strawberry Tart with Port Glaze vs. Frozen Lemon Gingersnap Pie

Bracket Four: 12 Layer Mocha Cake vs. Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake

Bracket Five: Red Velvet Cake with Berries vs. Cinnamon Crumble Apple Pie

Bracket Six: Lemon & White Chocolate Mousse vs. German Chocolate Cake

Bracket Seven: Lemon Snow Pudding with Basil vs. Dark Chocolate Pomegranate Torte

Bracket Eight: Walnut Pecan Dark Chocolate Pie vs. Carrot Cake with Coconut Frosting

Sweet Things Ahead.

I know that some of you have seen the Tournament of Novels over at first things.

In a few days, for good or ill, I will have completed my comprehensive exams. In two weeks, I will be finished with my spring semester. This means that I am going to have a great deal of time on my hands over the summer.

Drawing on the Tournament of Novels, I've decided to launch an (abberviated) tournament of desserts. Rather than start with 64 dessert recipes, I've decided just to start from the Sweet Sixteen (appropriately enough).

Look for brackets soon.

Below, one of the contenders

(Frozen Lemon Gingersnap Pie)

Summer Plans

I am pretty confident in my hostessing abilities.

I have a stack of recipes on which I depend for dinner parties. People keep coming back for dinner, so they must be pretty good. I can make an elegant looking dessert without a whole lot of hassle. I have an amazing apron and can cook in high heels and pearls. There's usually table wine in the house and I have assigned playlists for when there are guests over. If it's an impromptu gathering I can whip together something incredible out of the ingredients in my house with a minimum amount of fuss. I have a collection of stories which can get a laugh out of the most boring group of people (some off-color, some for high-class company). I'm a great conversationalist and work hard to make everyone at the dinner table feel included.

The one aspect of my hostessing abilities in which I am not entirely comfortable is my ability to mix a really fantastic cocktail. I'm not talking about a vodka soda (too simple) or a bloody mary (at which I excel), but an actual cocktail. Consequently, this summer my goal is to teach myself to make my three favorite cocktails perfectly.

Cocktail number one:


The Classic Martini

I love martinis. As anyone who has seen me at a Friday happy hour can probably attest, I love martinis a little too much. It's classy. It's classic. It's totally fucking delicious. I'm also a bit of a snob when it comes to my martinis. A martini is always and forever made with gin. If it's made with anything else, you're drinking some other kind of glorified frou-frou cocktail. However, despite my love for martinis, I've never been satisfied with my ability to mix them well. Something always seems a little lacking in the ones I make at home--perhaps it's nothing more than the adorable bartenders who seem to mix the drinks at the establishments I frequent, the pleasure of the Mediterranean plate at Zeno's, or the the lack of dashing young men to take me out for my drinks. I will find out.

Cocktail number two:

The Brandy Old-Fashioned

I'm from Wisconsin, the state where Korbel exports 1/3 of all its brandy production. My father's favorite drink (when it's not a PBR) is a brandy and diet Coke. When I came to Minnesota I discovered quickly that no one drinks the stuff. I mean, at all. There's a fair amount of other alcohol consumption, but the brandy section at the liquor store is woefully inadequate. Additionally, no one (aside from my friend Betsy) can mix a decent old-fashioned. It's time these folks learned that watching Brett Farve blow an NFC championship game by throwing an interception is far easier when you have one (or three) of these in your system.

Cocktail number three:

The Mint Julep

Much like the hooker with a heart of gold, my mint juleps are a little rough around the edges. One of the greatest things about a well-made mint julep is you ability to drink the whole refreshing, sweet, strong glass on a hot evening without realizing it. It's a smooth, beautiful drink that makes me want to sit on a patio in a sundress and hat, fanning myself and talking about how the construction worker down the street is givin' me the vapors.

Those are the summer cocktails. I'm hoping that I'll be able to find some folks to come over, sample, and give me some notes.