08 December 2010

blintz in a bowl

"So go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy
That's fine, I'll tell mine you're gay
And by the way. . ."
-Taylor Swift, Picture to Burn

No, I don't have pictures of my latest culinary creation. But I still want to mention it. Basically, after I went running today, I had a mad hankering for some blintzes. I put together the one egg I had left, a scant amount of milk, threw in an unmeasured amount of flour, pinch of salt, generous sugar, you know the drill.

I have this habit of avoiding measuring at all costs; I think it stems from my loathing of math. And yet, I always act surprised when things I cook come out wrong. Today, the batter was a little runny; I didn't grease the pan properly; I don't know-- anyway, the blintz stuck to the pan a little bit so that I couldn't flip it smoothly, and then it got all bunched up and didn't cook properly. So I had a soggy blintz on my hands.

Then, I made too much filling. And I tried to roll all of that filling into the blintz, and put that
back in the pan to seal and brown it. The ends started to come apart and it was just a sad-looking blintz all around. It became clear that it would never hold up on a plate. . . so I chucked it in a bowl and poured the strawberry topping over it. Behold! Blintz-in-a-bowl!

If I were in a country with functioning kitchen appliances, I would have considered turning the ingredients into a veritable mechayeh of a smoothie, which I would then dub blintz-in-a-blender.

What can I say? My endearing neighbors, with their delicious cuisine and delightful customs, are wearing off on me. Here's a pic of just one of the many families of observant Jews in my neighborhood. You'll also notice the horse-drawn carriage in the background. Likewise, it is another fixture of Almagro.

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