Are you challenging me to a Bake-Off, BOO! Lander?

What you're about to hear is an epic tale full of hardship, passion, willpower, agony, resilience, and ultimate success. It's a story of youthful exuberance, wizened craftiness, spunky creativity, and mirthful gesticulations. It's a saga of untold yearnings, bitter frustrations, remarkable recoveries, and dare devil adjustments. But mostly, it's about baking.

Day One (Wednesday): Masterminds of the cookie marathon, Sara "If It's Brown, It's Burnt" LaBuff and Jeremy "Bet You Can't Eat Just One" LaBuff sit down and make a list of about 8 cookies they want to make over the holidays. Taking stock of the ingredients in the house, they also decide both what they will make that day and what needs to be purchased for the coming task. Not satisfied with a mere eight types of cookies, Jiggity (Jeremy) finds 3 more delicioso recipes online. Later that day, a batch of thumbprint PB cookies, graced in their middle with a Kiss or a Reese's Bell, as well as snickerdoodles, are churned out by the irrepressible duo.

Day Two (Thursday): Undaunted, our heroes concoct a double recipe of chocolate chip cookies followed by some shortbread masterpieces. Several babies are born in celebration. Dorothy Mantooth is declared a saint by the Pope, and a certain someone decides he does in fact like green eggs and ham.

Day Three (Friday, or the Backbreaker): After a delicious night's sleep, and joined by a feisty Carly "After Law School a Baking Marathon is a Sprint" LaBuff, the baker trio embarks on a day that still defies belief in several underdeveloped nations (Texas, for example). Matching their output of the previous two days COMBINED, they output the following: pumpkin cookies with death-by-nostimo icing, russian tea cakes, oatmeal raisin cookies, and (finally) double chocolate shortbread cookies. The warmth produced from the inherent goodness of the baked goods themselves (not to mention the oven) gave rise to several religions in Canada, only two of which died out due to persecution.

Day Four (Saturday, or the Calm before the Stiz-orm): Realizing that Christmas Eve was going to be REDONK-ulous not only in terms of baking, but with shopping, mandatory church, and the Steelers game, the LaBuff siblings planned to return to a sensible amount of cookies. This decision was further supported by the fact that Carly and Jeremy had vowed to cook dinner for the arrival of their older brother, Jesse "Now that I'm a Dad, Cooking is only a Chore" LaBuff, and his family. More on the dinner in a bit. An early batch of lemon squares was followed after dinner by the more adventurous Almond Tuiles. After having ruined one batch by using wax paper instead of parchment, Jeremy and Sara labored on, renewing their efforts with twice the fervor and eight times the common sense, producing perhaps the coolest cookie of the season. (N.B. The recipe called for ground almonds, which could have been achieved by buying almond flour. But instead of being lame-os, our favorite siblings toasted almonds and then pulverized them in a mortar and pestle. Booyakasha!).
The dinner itself was a three-person production. Carly guided the effort, and while she attended to the wild mushroom quesadillas, she oversaw sous-chef Sara in the making of an Arugula-Pear-Blue Cheese salad with Apricot Vinaigrette and sous-chef J-maker as he threw together a black bean salsa and fried up some tilapia. Get off me!

Also notable from that day was the arrival, with his father, of Lucas "I'm Cuter than you AND I speak two languages" LaBuff, who, among his other immortal deeds of the evening, decided that merely hiding one's head under a pillow was acceptable behavior. He's also impervious to his Uncle's attempts at corruption....thus far. I called him over and made him look at our different skin color (he's a wonderful rendition of Slavic Off-White), telling him that this meant we were of different races. He merely scampered off, demanding that I spin him around in this toy meant for his 9-month old brother. Touché, blond asshole.

Day Five (or the Bland Finale): Due to a series of foreseen but underestimated events (Steeler game, Christmas Eve service, the failings of humaty), only two more batches were baked. Jeremy rushed through an amazingly easily and delicious pan of Chocolate Toffee Bars (definitely making them stin Athina) before heading "dahntahn" to watch the Stillers suck. Then, following the church service, the cookie of all Christmas cookies, saved intentionally for last, the cut-out sugar cookies, were masterfully crafted by our intrepid pastry entrepreneurs. Abandoning the traditional cookie cutters after one pan, our heroes carved a number of award-winning shapes, including a unicorn, a narwhale, and Iceland. Oh yeah, and an emo kid. Jeremy also convinced his nephew that he had to sleep in a cardboard box that night. Unfortunately, his grandmother dispelled this noble lie, relegating the young lad once again to a normal (read, boring) night of sleep.

Postlude (or the Big Dance): Ok, dudes, so we have alot to be excited about. Not only have I scored massive amounts of PB, tons of interesting recipes, and a mortar and pestle (which I probably won't bring back since it weighs more than the couches sto saloni), but my sister gave me a travel scrabble game. Friday afternoon's will never be the same! Also, check out my nephew in his sweet new booties!















...and this is my other nephew, dressed up in a $1.50 santa outfit. I felt for him, but at least he had the wherewithal to tear off the hat...

27 hours and then some

The day had started off so well. Well, as good as any day could start that began at 4:15 am. But that being said, I was pretty lucky to get to the station just as the bus arrived, and the bus wasn't even that crowded. Everything changed, however, when I got to the airport and realized the truth: all my teasing of Katie for misreading her itinerary had finally come back to bite me...hard. Instead of a 6:50 flight, my plane was leaving at 6:05, i.e., in 45 minutes.

But I stayed cool (obviously); the line wasn't that long, and since I was flying to Germany boarding wouldn't take long. When I got to the counter, everything was still acceptable in my mind until the lady informed me that my ticket wasn't paid for, which necessitated me going to another desk, buying the tickets, and coming back. This I did with all the fervor one can muster at 5:30 in the morning, but upon my return, the lady was nowhere in sight. Eventually I found a man willing to check my bag, by which time it was almost 6. "You need to go now," he said. Thanks, captain obvious. So off I sprinted, first to the counter where my bag was sent to the plane, then to security, then to the gate. The funny thing: I wasn't even the last one on the plane. Apparently there was more than one Tzos in Greece that day.

My ludicrosity continued upon landing in Frankfurt. My mental dialogue as the plane deboarded went something like this. "Do you have your passport?" "I dunno, but I'm sure I do." "Why don't you check?" "Dude, chill, why wouldn't it be in my pocket?" "At least look in the back of the seat in front of you." "Fine....oh, why is it there?" So yeah, I almost left my passport on the plane.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. I went into Frankfurt during my long layover (the train takes less than 15 minutes), walked along the very pretty river, and hit up the sculpture museum, which contained some pretty cool items. My favorites were the paintings from Egypt and the Western Greek and Etruscan figurines. No discernible Christian destruction, sadly(?).

On my flight to Amerrrrca, I had the double disappointment of being offered as a film "Flicka" and then only getting to watch half of it (they just stopped playing it halfway through....cinematic euthanasia?). Tim McGraw is as good an actor is he is a creative musician, let me tell you. There were some shorties in it though. The only real highlight was this little boy in front of me, with a curly aphro, who kept playing informal hide and seek with me, and even gave me a chocolate Santa Claus for no reason.

By the time I got to Philly, I had been up for 20 hours, and the only thing that got me through the next 5 hour layover was the 2 large slices of pizza I downed and the fact that there was football on. Still, I felt as if I was slightly drunk, being rather disoriented. I'm pretty sure I ended up staring unintentionally at alot of (unattractive) people, or maybe I just became paranoid at my own dazed state.

In any case, I got home safely and and currently emerging from jet-laggedness. I just perused my Greek cookbook this morning, and let me tell you, we are going to be one busy family this spring. In other news, I did a ton of crossword puzzles on the plane, have started my Italian mission, and miss our parea tons. Oh, and I'm terribly tempted to rent the Christmas special of the Office, but I'm resisting...for now.

Birds have small brains

This weekend was one saturated with the fruit of fertile minds and that which defines them by its Otherness. This blog entry is the humble attempt to reproduce such harvest as may be fit for the broader audience that my imagination has created to justify the countless hours, sweat, and toil I have devoted to a venue of expression that primarily appeals to preteens. It is also meant to reassure those of you to whom I have perhaps given the impression that my social life here isn't as titillating as it has been in previous years. Hold on to your butts.*

Friday night. Around 9 pm (just after dinner). In the salonaki (the smaller, and some might say lesser, living room). Set(h), Alex, Marcie, Katie, I, et al. sit in the various couches and chairs oriented toward a lifeless television set.

Katie: What should we do tonight?
Jeremy: Isos, we could go get a drink...
Alex: That burrito was delicious, but it was filling! Thefore, I shall not be able to "put one back," as the saying goes.
Marcie: Grumblgrmblgrmblgrmbl...
Set(h): I'm playing backgammon!
J: Ok, then!
K: Well, what are we making for Sunday brunch. I'll look up some recipes.
J: I could make made-to-order omelettes.
M: I don't really like eggs.
J: You're an egg!
M: ROOOAAAARR!! [levatates in her chair, glaring at me with the eyes of the girl from the Exorcist, or of Ron Burgundy after Veronica Corningstone, reknowned pirate hooker, told him he had bad hair.] That was the worst insult ever! I'm so angry and with good reason!!!
A: I'd just like to point out that Jeremy just called Marcie an egg.
Tzos: INDEED!
S: Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos-Tzos

And so it was agreed that new most potent(est) rip would be to call someone an egg. This resulted in much mirth for everyone, except for Marcie, who actually was an egg, though we didn't discover this for centuries.

Saturday afternoon. Out and about. Katie and I have just returned from a highly successful shopping trip, and are walking through an abnormally crowded street, where a number of stands are set up.

J: I think that stand is giving away free wine. Shall we partake?
K: I'm already there Cheech!
Man 1: Greekitybabblybabblebabble Merlot babblebabbleaboutwinebabble-Sauvignon...
J: Nostimo (Delicious)!
K: Dude, there are free shots over there. Ela re!
J: I hope so! [to girl 1] How much do these cost?
Girl 1: They don't.
Not-as-hot-girl 2: [Something I didn't pay attention to]
J: So how many shots have you had today?
Girl 1: None
J: I don't believe you!
K: Vodka Vodka Vodka! Down into my belly!
Girl 2: [to girl 1] You should really use a period at the end of your sentences.
Girl 1: Well I heard your periods attract bears!
K: You hear that? BEARS! GREAT!


Saturnight (it really should become a word). Nick and Joanie's house. Many are congregated for a holiday party full of spinach dip, sugar cookies, mulled (sp?) wine, and fake mistletoe. Tzos, Set(h), Bloody Steven, and Sannan are talking out on the balcony.

Bloody Steven: ...and so that's why Colin Farrel sucks.
Sannan: I'm gettin' REAL sick of him!
Tzos: Interesting indeed, my friend. I shall return.
[Turns and walks directly into the glass door] WHAM!
Set(h): HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA


Sa:TEEHEEHEETEEHEEHEETEEHEEHEETEEHEEHEE!

BS: [Smirks in resignation]









T: If that were anyone else, you would have assumed they were extremely intoxicated.
BS: The only other creature I've ever seen do that is a bird. Birds have small brains, Josh.
T: [with a hint of sadness creeping up at the end] Indeed...


So as you can see, I am literally living it up here in the Big Olive (Get it? Like New York is the Big Apple, but Athens is the Big Olive because olives are in Greece? Isn't that brilliant??). No need to worry, unless of course, you are nervous that I might be bored once I return to the States. In which case be afraid. Be VERY afraid. You have some work to do.

*I apologize for the inordinate amount of Anchorman quotes and references, but it leavens even the flattest of baked blogs...

A Gaelic Cretan Adventure

Sitting through the seventh presentation in the past five hours, a desperate Alex Feinstein discovered the only thing that could get her through what was increasingly becoming the most difficult moments of her sort of young life. And so the great Limerick Obsession of '06 was born. The following is only a sampling of the output produced in a mere four days, selected based on the minimal amount of inside jokes and restricted to my own compositions.

There once was an island called Crete
Of cool sites it was a blank sheet
I got really bored
As 'round it we toured
At least there was lots of good meat!

[Ed.-I made the mistake of orally performing this one in front of our group leader, which not only made her feel bad, but probably added to the already numerous occasions where I've jeopardized my career in the field. Like the time I wore an old T-shirt to my quals]

We woke up around half past 3
And got on the bus...no Katie!
Set(h) ran back to Loring
And found her a-snoring
But she still had time to brush her teeth.

The first day was really quite hard
We've been up 9 hours so far
It's still before lunch
The planner needs punched
Where to find some feathers and tar?

There once was a bus microphone
It made someone's voice higher-toned
We covered our ears
The sound was so sheer
But it mattered not; our hearing was blown.

[Ed. Sometimes our group leader's announcements were a tad high-volumed. The only benefit derived from this was when Saraki (aka Sara) had to give her report on the bus, and asked into the microphone if her voice was too loud, prompting the group leader to ask Sara if she was too loud. Saraki replied (into the microphone) most politically: "Sometimes it gets a little loud." It was pretty awesome, and if you don't think so, I will fight you. That's no lie.]

There once was an overgrown land
With bushes as tall as your hand
The girls had to pee
So they crouched like a "G"
Thus they slackened their bladders' demand

[Ed.-We're often at sites with no bathrooms, so the girls have to take to wild when nature calls. They don't always pick the most subtle of spots.]

There once was fun soccer game
Things were for while still rather tame
Then Erika tripped
Her front tooth was chipped
And to an end playfulness came

[Ed.-Luckily, Erika was ok except for some minor scrapes, bruises, cuts, and said chipped tooth. We never found the fragment]

There once a waitress so coy
She gave hope to one special boy
She sent all the signs
But when it came time
He's better off with Chips A'Hoy

And on an unrelated note...

There once was a small KFC
And a bucket had by a lady
The dude said, "One fork?"
"BESCUSE Me?? T'ain't pork!"
You best mu-fuckin' 'pologize to me!"

The worker most aptly replied.
He said, "Bitch, I don't know your life!"
But what happened then
Don't ask of Sannan
This sure is a real bumpy ride

[Ed.-You can tell that I wrote this on the bus. Also, this didn't happen in Greece, but in fair America, and was told in prose form to us by Sannan. The quotes are adapted to fit the meter, with the pork and apologize parts being added (though not the mu-fuckin', which was said twice in a questioned which wondered whether the lad thought the lady was going to eat the whole thing by herself.]

I didn't include pictures in here because they are online elsewhere, so if you don't have access to facebook or didn't get an email from me for Kodak, let me know. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for an important date with some potatoes, cream, butter, and garlic.