
a hopeful bud near Yenching Auditorium, probably later wrecked by day of whipping gales and pouring rain.

Ratatat performed at Harvard's Yardfest on Sunday to much crowdsurfing failures. I enjoyed "el pico" "wildcat" and "seventeen years" immensely.

then i ate a vegan brownie at veggie planet to celebrate the rainy doom about to hit the city.

proof that I can cook, too! sort of.
Becca, Kate, and I tried to make pad thai the other day… it turned out reasonably successful (aka tasty and edible) however, I had to avert imminent disaster since we subbed curry paste in place of tamarind paste (don’t ask), which resulted in an inedibly spicy dish.

Cue washing the noodles off 4 times. Following by cooking up the rest of the noodles.
Martha Stewart would be proud.

The recipe was also terribly worded and confusing. It advised cooking the noodles in a the wet ingredients. Which there were not enough of to finish cooking the noodles. Cue dumping in the rest of the vegetable broth + a lot more water.
I guess in real life, cooking is not as linear as on the Food Network. I may never achieve a state of Ina Garten zen.
But my noodles will at least edible.
I haven’t died yet.


Sorry for the weird tinge. YOU trying taking pictures without flash in a dimly lit restaurant. Also, note delicious onion ring competing for greasy greatness with the burger patty.
Delicious sliders for only $1? Yes! On Tuesdays at Match (this Tuesday was a long time ago), this super-trendy restaurant next to the Hynes/ICA T stop serves their cheeseburger sliders for a mere buck. The fancier versions with lamb and whatnot are regular price. Then come back on Thursdays for $5 entrees.
But only for women.
To make up for passing bowling balls through our nether regions. Centuries of oppression. Panhandlers hitting on me. It’s only fair.
Lena Chen and I had a grand time eating our burgers and onion rings. That’s an onion ring wedged in there, to add a greasy, delicious crunch. We also had a fantastic dinner yesterday at Mulan, along with Josh Reyes and Christine Liu.
At Harvard, to facilitate the exchange between student and the intimidating faculty, once a semester students can invite faculty members (whether they be full professors or mere “teaching fellows” aka TAs) over for dinner. As a freshman, this means dining in the hallowed Annenberg Hall, frequently compared to Hogwarts. As a sophomore, this means taking advantage of the more intimate environs of the upperclass dining halls.

It’s a kind of exercise uniquely suited to grooming the future leaders of tomorrow for formal socializing. The boys put on button downs and tuck in their shirts; the girls put on skirts and heels. Dinner is preceded by schmoozing and nonalcoholic punch. The dining hall staff, instead of replacing giant vats of pasta, don crisp white shirts and refill water glasses.

For dinner, we were served a standard Caesar salad, followed by a prosciutto-wrapped chicken breast with gnocchi. (At this point, the fire alarm went off. We milled outside as fire trucks arrived and our chicken cooled.) Then dessert was a surprisingly delicious chocolate cake topped by a chocolate-dipped tangerine section – the cake was rich and crusty, in a good way, without going for the usual molten convention of goo. Me and three other girls had invited the professor who teaches Food and Culture (Ted Bestor), and after two of them left, the conversation took a turn towards the more bizarre, perverse aspects of Japanese culture.
