Rolling eyes and ankles

Happiness.

Evie — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 02:42:32 +0000

I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels–until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.

Ghormeh Sabzi

Evie — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 06:22:07 +0000

Mohammad’s daughter made a little bit of extra Ghormeh Sabzi for me this weekend. He found a dessert container and kept it for three days in his refrigerator for me to arrive on Tuesday. It’s my favorite dish.

That dish marked the first time I crossed over to the dark side of communal living and stole a roommate’s food.

She told me I could try a bite, but I just couldn’t stop. When she left the room, I went back, barely opened the container with my fork, and spilled rice all over the kitchen. She had to have seen the evidence, but she didn’t say anything.

It’s cliche to say this, but Persian food is an all-out assault on the senses. It’s not like jumping off a bridge into an icy river or eating a spoonful of hot sauce when you weren’t expecting it. It’s not painful. It’s more like showing up at an elaborate theme party where everyone’s in period pieces in a fleece hoodie and flip flops.

It’s like preparing for a 5k and then running a marathon. It’s like biting into an apple and getting a grape.

Persian food is like a grapple.

It was to me at nineteen, anyway. Savory mint and parsley and rhubarb and pickled everything and rice that’s basically burnt, but so good you can’t get enough of it. Kidney beans done up to actually taste sexy. All of it the color of a large squished beatle seeping green herbed oil out from the corners of Styrofoam that just holds on for good life. He’s tried to teach me to make it myself multiple times, but I just can’t pull it together. The beans are wrong. The spices are not correct.

I almost burnt the house down trying to perfect ta-dik and haven’t attempted since. It’s stayed on our visit to-do list like a threat for the last year, right next to “go on a boat” and “visit the Central Library.” We’ve done the library twice. There are only so many boat tours I can do before we’ll need to tackle the kitchen again.

And this is why I love the internet

Evie — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 21:28:46 +0000

Evie — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 06:11:06 +0000

Sometimes, being in the Northwest really gets to me. I realize that I’d probably have an easier time if I’d stuck to southern California, where I grew up and went to college. I’ve got a lot of connections there. It’s easy. The weather is better. I look better tan.

And then I realize that in San Diego, I could never take a day trip to THE OLYMPICS, buy tickets off a scalper for half the retail price, and spend the latter part of my afternoon singing “Sweet Caroline” with a crowd of Swiss and Chinese and Canadian and Norwegian and American hockey fans.

We got home after midnight. God bless the Northwest.

trippin’

Evie — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 18:59:02 +0000

“Can you drive me to the airport on Thursday? My flight’s at 6 a.m.”
“Ugh. Sure, I guess. Where are you going?”
“Utah.”
“Wow. I mean, I knew you were going, but I didn’t think it was this soon. When do you get back?”
“Thursday.”
“Thursday?”
“My flight gets in at 6:30.”
“The same day.”
“Yeah. Can you pick me up, too?”

Evie — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 02:49:04 +0000

I was in the car coming back from work when the rain that had been drenching us all day turned to snow. I was watching it fall past a streetlight, when suddenly (I hate that word) it. slowed. way. down.

It’s little things. So happy, I could burst.

work work work, work all day

Evie — Tue, 02 Oct 2007 16:49:14 +0000

S8300208, originally uploaded by EvCaldwell.

I will never have another job that encourages me to wear spandex and make ridiculous faces to sell clothing. The best part? It’s for our catalog.

the send off

Evie — Tue, 11 Sep 2007 18:22:56 +0000

the send off

A friend of mine is back in the States on a graduate study-abroad program (this being his second, after this) and I got visit on his west coast tour a few weeks ago before he made his way to Boston. He slept on my couch and put up with my chronic hostess anxiety syndrome (“Hey I’m stressed out my mind but it’s great to see you!”) without complaint, or which I am grateful. He was my fourth or fifth guest in a month.

Ok, one complaint. After flights from Paris to JFK, JFK to Seattle, and running on next to no sleep, the dude thought it would be unsafe to crawl from the third floor onto a two foot-wide ledge directly over a busy street to get to my roof. Come on, guy, live a little!

dispatches from Appalachia

Evie — Sun, 12 Aug 2007 01:34:06 +0000

Been in Oak Ridge, Tennessee the last few days for a master’s race. We were curious to see how many people live here (and I needed to know the name of the southern-tropical-humid-as-hell climate pattern), and thanks to Wikipedia, I now know that I’m even more ingnorant of history than I already thought. Turns out that Oak Ridge was an official government secret until at least 1945. The town didn’t even appear on maps until 1949. Imagine it. There was a population of 75,000 people in 1945, and no one was supposed to even know they were here. There’s a race here called “Secret City.”

This is where they produced the plutonium for for first atomic bomb. Only a few of the 75,000 knew what they were working on before August 6, 1945. Christ. I really should know these things.

Tomorrow might involve visiting some museums or production plants (I’m sure that will go over well) before getting back to Atlanta for the flight home.

PS. Red Hook at Big Ed’s Pizza, a local hang out, is like $2. A pitcher of soda is $3. Nice.

I’ve been everywhere, man

Evie — Mon, 06 Aug 2007 18:42:09 +0000

Just got back from mini-vacation with a friend of mine who rode across the country to revisit his old stomping grounds in the Bay Area. He’s a foodie. Some notes:

- Thai Brunch in Berkeley at the Thai Buddhist Temple. God, this is good – hundreds of people eating thai food at 10 a.m. in the thin alley between two temple buildings. Cheap, delicious, and entirely worth it. Thai iced coffee for $1!

- Breakfast at Boogaloo in the Mission. Plantain breakfast cake over a happy sea of black beans. Thank you, sir, may I please have another?

- Berkeley Bowl produce section. Five or six different kinds of pluots. Lots of fruit I’d never heard of. Tangerines bright enough to hurt a hangover. Mm.

- Tapas. I love tapas.

- Went to Modesto and picked up some almonds (and visit my brother). They pronounce almonds “A-monds.” Modesto is pretty damn hot, but a fun town.

- Apparently my brother is in charge of 2% of the wine produced in the United States. Personally in charge. Oh, and white zinfandel is great with ice when it’s 100 degrees outside. It ain’t classy, but it works.

- Coffee at Ritual. Ritual takes their coffee very, very seriously, and it shows. Amazing cappuccinos.

- pizza, bread, cookies, and great cheese at the Cheese Board in Berkeley. It’s employee-owned, so customers get to buy cheese directly from the makers. There was a line out the door for pizza at 2 p.m. People were camped out in little strip of grass in the middle of the street to eat. SO good.

- heard stories about bacon-wrapped hot dogs. Not sure how I feel about that one.

- Tried to make it to some pastry shop in the Mission, but the line was out the door. The smell was enough to appease us, though.

Now I’m back in Seattle, thoroughly spoiled. My co-worker and I leave for Tennessee this Wednesday. Probably won’t be quite as interesting, but you know what they say about assumptions.