Pierogis and Slavic Supermodels.
Work today was quite the milestone: I shot my first live sessions as a scheduled (and therefore solo) photographer. And I kicked no uncertain amount of butt. These seniors, whose parents are paying a pretty penny, are most definitely going to get the quality from my sessions that they pay for.
[pats self on back]
---
After work, it was such a gorgeous day that I rode my bike to the library. Picked up a few books, considering my penchant for works that represent not novels, but rather collections of thoughts of the author, from Tim Allen's "Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Man" to Chuck Klosterman's "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs". (well recommended by the Ex to me, and by me to you. Commentary at a later date). Biked over to the Arabica coffee shop across the street, Pearl Rd., a rather historic byway being the original highway from Cleveland to Columbus to Cincinnati (US Route 42). Don't you just love factoids?
No? Ok.
Anyways, as I sat reading one of the books on Arabica's outdoor patio, the seats at a table across the way began gradually filling up one-by-one with these unbelievable six-foot-plus, slender, and slinky runway looking supermodels until there were no less than eight of them. They were not so much sitting, but rather had lithely and gracefully draped themselves upon the patio chairs like female Jack Skellingtons, speaking amongst themselves in some Slavic language in that sexy, rolling, deep, husky, and throaty Russian accent.
Just when you think you've got it all figured it out, Parma, Ohio throws you random curve balls like this.
Well, you know me... Rico Suave that I am. I totally had every intention of approaching the lot of them and disabling them en masse with my wily charms, were it not for the following conditions: (a) I was wearing black socks with tennis shoes. (b) I was riding a purple bicycle. (c) The only other language I speak is Photoshop. (d) I was frequently laughing out loud at the book I was reading, the cover art of which made it appear as though I were sitting alone intently reading a paper grocery sack.
You do the math.
---
I got on AllRecipes.com and made my own pierogis from scratch last night! They turned out pretty darn well, I must say.
In their raw state. Aren't they so cute??
Step two is to cook by boiling them, and pray your crimped edges don't bust open.
Final cooking... a light pan frying in butter.
... and being a total dough novice, afterward it looked like an all-purpose flour bomb had detonated in my kitchen. It was EVERYWHERE.
I'm half Polish. It's hardwired into my genetic code whether I like it or not.
[pats self on back]
---
After work, it was such a gorgeous day that I rode my bike to the library. Picked up a few books, considering my penchant for works that represent not novels, but rather collections of thoughts of the author, from Tim Allen's "Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Man" to Chuck Klosterman's "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs". (well recommended by the Ex to me, and by me to you. Commentary at a later date). Biked over to the Arabica coffee shop across the street, Pearl Rd., a rather historic byway being the original highway from Cleveland to Columbus to Cincinnati (US Route 42). Don't you just love factoids?
No? Ok.
Anyways, as I sat reading one of the books on Arabica's outdoor patio, the seats at a table across the way began gradually filling up one-by-one with these unbelievable six-foot-plus, slender, and slinky runway looking supermodels until there were no less than eight of them. They were not so much sitting, but rather had lithely and gracefully draped themselves upon the patio chairs like female Jack Skellingtons, speaking amongst themselves in some Slavic language in that sexy, rolling, deep, husky, and throaty Russian accent.
Just when you think you've got it all figured it out, Parma, Ohio throws you random curve balls like this.
Well, you know me... Rico Suave that I am. I totally had every intention of approaching the lot of them and disabling them en masse with my wily charms, were it not for the following conditions: (a) I was wearing black socks with tennis shoes. (b) I was riding a purple bicycle. (c) The only other language I speak is Photoshop. (d) I was frequently laughing out loud at the book I was reading, the cover art of which made it appear as though I were sitting alone intently reading a paper grocery sack.
You do the math.
---
I got on AllRecipes.com and made my own pierogis from scratch last night! They turned out pretty darn well, I must say.
In their raw state. Aren't they so cute??
Step two is to cook by boiling them, and pray your crimped edges don't bust open.
Final cooking... a light pan frying in butter.
... and being a total dough novice, afterward it looked like an all-purpose flour bomb had detonated in my kitchen. It was EVERYWHERE.I'm half Polish. It's hardwired into my genetic code whether I like it or not.
posted by Grover at 8/20/2008 10:14:00 PM
1 Comments:
Thanks for wishing me a happy birthday! It wasn't too bad, but like you.. I kinda think the Bridget Jones's Diary type birthday would be much more fun.
The pierogis look awesome by the way. I'll have to try making them someday.
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