Martha Stewart, For Example

Martha Stewart annoys me.

Any perspective that removes hope from possibility annoys me. Martha Stewart seems to enjoy the perspective that she is, in fact, the last of the dying vestiges of American Royalty, and as such, must vouchsafe to those bunkers where her kin are ensconced the fleeting solutions to so many agonizing problems good housekeepers everywhere have nearly died (DIED I TELL YOU) perfecting.

Did I mention that Martha Stewart annoys me?

Now, it's not that she's a brand. I can get past her speech patterns and phrasing. I can even be patient with the 28 steps she insists were necessary to make that darling ornament for her red-and-ravishing Christmas tree, to turn it from a drab eyesore into a trade-marked "good thing." I don't mind labor-intensive tasks (ask people, they know).

When and where did Martha Stewart give up her passion? This is the fundamental, underlying and overarching reason the woman makes my skin crawl.

Martha Stewart has an empire, vast and powerful. Ana Gastyer made much of her fame from her spoofs of Martha Stewart (loved the topless one, and Joan Allen as her Mother). Martha Stewart's own daughter enjoys saying "Whatever Martha" at any given chance.

I am passionate (again, ask people). My desire to make this world a better place, in addition to making myself a better me, drives much of what I do. How can someone who was driven to share "homespun techniques and ideas that bring elegance and charm from [her] Martha's Vineyard home of lore to the humble homes of the Midwest and beyond" become so self-involved she actually chides guest-cooks, explaining patiently how they're cooking their signature dish incorrectly? How is that reflective of an intelligent, inquisitive and knowledge-hungry host?

I'll answer for you: It isn't.

Do you see what I did, just there? I took your place. You aren't here to have this conversation with me, so I became your voice as well. This is what I'm talking about, specifically. Martha Stewart is supposed to be our ambassador, our conduit of questions and knowledge from people we have few opportunities to study in daily life. Rather than recalling her personal responsibility to the audience she cultivated in the 80's, 90's and through numerous cookbooks, Martha Stewart has become a Mogul.

Do you care how much time Wolfgang Puck spends tinkering with his menus? No. But you want to know how he gets that fish out of a pan so flaky and delicious every damn time, don't you. I know you do. You know you do. Martha Stewart knows this too, but it no longer applies to her station in life. She could care less how long it takes to perfect that wrist bend which means the difference between expertly tossed caramelized onions and a horrific mess your family is staring at while you scrub up, asking, "What made you think you could do that?" She already did that, 20 seasons ago.

Martha Stewart has, on the cover of her 2011 Halloween magazine, a picture of herself (of course; she's the Brand, kiddo) in make-up. I don't mean she has blush on and looks like she gets sun occasionally. She has butterfly wings attached to her eyelids. I'm not kidding.

Tell me, Mother of 3 from Des Moines, when was the last time your 3, 6, and 9 year old looked up at you with the time and patience of 86 year old men, saying, "You would look exquisite with dead aglossa wings glued expertly next to your bloodshot eyes?"

Even those younger women, whose lifestyles afford them more time and space to play with such frivolities as Halloween The Adult Holiday, I sincerely doubt will have the means to create the entire visage of Martha Stewart's cover. Because it takes more than just 1 or 2 things. This look requires: Money. Skill. Time. Patience. An audience unlikely to touch your face at any point. A wearer who will not freak out, get annoyed or at any point for any reason (including drinking) rip the dead butterfly off her face. Did I mention that the idea you'll get kissed in this outfit is about as realistic as the idea that you will, with $10 and a little elbow grease, look precisely like Darling Martha Stewart?

I hope, the next time you find yourself listening to what someone else has to say (whomever that person may be), you take into account the ways their narrative concerns vary from yours. Does this person ask the questions I actually want answered? Does the way this person reacts reflect the way I would? What could I have gained if I would have asked the questions myself, instead of the person asking them for me?

I may not always give you the information you wanted. I may give you more, or less, than you need. I do, however, strive to give you food I eat myself. I want to share a part of my world with you. Hopefully, this is a perspective you can use.

bon appetit And Slapping People, and A Snack

I like bon appetit, usually. A tidy, concise, well-written article is often a cure for all my ills, and when it comes to food, I can find it in the pages of BA.

I am, currently, annoyed and disappointed. "Always use non-boil noodles" for lasagna? Seriously? First of all, gross. Secondly, and probably more to the point, why are the revolting things non-boil in the first place? Doesn't that bother you? That is some seriously repugnant advice. Third, and finally on this point before I move on to something of actual value, I really see no value in this advice because I'm smart enough to figure out the following progression:

1. Lasagna was conceived and eventually made, for many many many years, using boiled lasagna noodles.

2. These boiled noodles added to the flavor and water-content of the dish, thereby directly contributing to flavor and texture.

3. Recipes were adjusted, better noodles were developed, and boiling continued.

4. (this is the key step) Someone thought it was tasty.

5. Survival of a recipe a majority of Americans (to say nothing of our Italian audience - Ciao) associate with family.

Nowhere in that progression does a non-boil revolution necessitate itself. I find absolutely no value in the idea that "noodles that aren't boiled will absorb more" of anything. If you can't make a delicious, boiled noodle lasagna, perhaps you have no business cooking it, and should leave your lasagna nights to the talents of Marie Calendar, or the fine people in Stouffer's kitchen. I have to say, after writing all that out, the idea makes its way across my cortex: "Do the writers/ editors at bon appetit think we don't read anymore?"

***

I need a snack. Don't you?


Puppy Chow

9 cups      Chex cereal (doesn't matter what kind)
1 cup        chocolate chips (mini ones work too)
1 tsp         vanilla
1/4 cup     butter
1/2 cup     peanut butter
1 1/2 cup  confectioner's sugar

Non-Food Items You'll Probably Need For This
1 Large Bowl
1 Gallon ziplock Bag
1 Large Spoon


1. Measure Chex cereal. Set aside in large bowl.

2. Into a microwave-safe bowl: chocolate chips, butter, peanut butter. Microwave on high 1 minute. Stir. Microwave again for 30 seconds. Mixture should blend together smoothly when removed from microwave.

3. Add vanilla.

4. Mix with Chex cereal. Stir until all cereal is coated.

5. Place confectioner's sugar in gallon-size ziplock bag.

6. Add coated cereal.

7. Shake, shimmy and just generally agitate bag until all the yummy pieces of cereal are finely coated in sugar.

8. Eat.




Yes, it takes less than 10 minutes to make. Yes, it's delicious, and named a million other things depending on region and intent. Now, I'm going to take my yummy snack and enjoy this beautiful fall day. Try not to get addicted; this particular snack made many appearances during my college days. Now my husband can't stop eating it. I'm just saying - sometimes the best possible thing is the simple, delightful, full-of-memory taste that speaks to soul as well as stomach.