Pi Day Tornado

The following narrative was written in my journal by the light of a candle between 3:36 am and 4:45 am. The pictures were taken on March 15 around noon.

So that thunder...was a tornado. A tornado that pancaked a loft 1/4 mile from where I live. A tornado that hit around 9:30 p.m. It's now 3:36 a.m. and I still don't have power. It looks like Kosovo. And the sirens won't stop.

To back up the story.

I'm sitting at home writing in my journal, trying to write a paper, and I hear thunder int eh distance. And it makes me happy. I forget that March is tornado season. The thunder gets louder, my internet cuts out, the rain starts, my power flickers. I decide to get a snack in case the power goes out completely and I'm in the middle of slicing bread when my power goes out all the way. Good thing my candles were already lit.
I sit down and try to type out more of the paper before my laptop batter dies. Hard to pick out passages in Derrida's Of Grammatology by candle light. Seriously, I'm blessed to have not lived in the 17th century. Or before they had candles. Reading by candlelight is ridiculously hard. I'm writing by it right now and it's not much better. Marginally so. I'm not trying to interpret anything at least.

I call my mom and we chat about how annoying this is. Eventually she realizes that I don't have power AT ALL whereas hers just flickered on and off. We hang up. Oh, during our conversation I asked if a tornado were heading my way. She didn't know. We hang up.
I sit in the dark. I contemplate the fact that I live in a studio apartment with a window in every room. I am fucked if a tornado blows through here. The rain gets worse. The wind gets worse. It dies down. I hear a shit ton of sirens go up and down my street. The weather seems better. I had talked to D. at some point during the storm and asked if he had power. He seemed confused that I should ask and replied that he was in Midtown at L.'s apartment for a Pi Day Party, they had power, I should come. Ok. I try to work some more, but really, trying to read by candlelight sucks.

So I decide to go to Midtown. L.'s place is only 1.5, maybe 2 miles from my house. I contemplate how dangerous it is to ride in my part of town on a bike, at night, when the power is off. No intersection lights, no street lights, etc. At this point i figured it was just a bad storm and the sirens were in response to auto accidents or something. I'm worried that I might become one of those accidents--Atlantan drivers aren't known for their four-way-stop skills at major roads like Ponce de Leon--but I throw my fender on my back wheel, grab my helmet, and leave the apartment.
Now, I live on a fairly populated street. There's an apartment complex across the street from me, restaurants next door, houses all around, street lamps, etc.--all blacked out. DARK. People milled around because it was so weird, but I've never seen this part of town so dark, ever. The only light glowed from the second floor balcony across the street: two men smoking cigarettes in the surreal night.

I rode towards midtown and, I kid you not, one block from my house towards downtown, the power was on. Go figure. The entire skyline of downtown is lit too. Only later would I discover via 3rd or 4th person on the phone that the Georgia Dome lost part of its roof and the CNN building lost eithe rpart of the building or had a bunch of windows smashed in by the wind. At this point though, I knew nothing. Just that, annoyingly, the power was out.
It's raining again as I near Midtown and i eventually reach my friends. Only 30-45 minutes later do we find out that there was a tornado. D., N., and B. live in the Mattress Factory Lofts. D. was in Midtown during the storm. N. and B. were at home. They called D. to say that they were on their way, and, oh yeah, by the way, a tornado just ripped through. Their loft was ok, but the Fulton Cotton Mill Lofts got hit hard.

Apparently they heard a terrifying noise, ran into the hall, the tornado passed, some metal and glass broken, but nothing major. And apparently the time between the noise and the actual tornado was 20-30 seconds max. Not enough time to truly flee the area. One or two more people trickled in, each with stories about missing porches, people wandeirng around like zombies, and lofts with entire top floors obliterated. More info came in on the phone all night. No tv was at the apartment, so it was all 2nd, 3rd, 4th hand info. Which, in itself, is terrifying enough. What really happened? Are our friends ok?
We hung out, made some random music--I played the spoons!--cause L.'s upstairs neighbors to get really mad and bang on the floor, and I left around 3. I decided to ride up Boulevard because, as sketch as it is to ride on it with the projects and the junkies and the prostitutes and gangs etc., it doesn't have a hill and the other was one big hill with fewer lights and it's own brand of sketch. Boulevard had power at least, so I rode up towards Highland, pedaling as fast as I could. So far no evidence of the storm. I get to my intersection and I'm about to turn left when I decide that i might as well ride to where the tornado hit, since I'm on on my bike and all.

I get to Edgewood and Boulevard and a police car is blocking the intersection. No one can go past that point towards Dekalb Ave. I ride up to the officer and say that i live at the Mattress Factory Lofts, it wasn't hit, can I go there? They wave me through and right as I get to Lenny's Bar, I see it. The damage. A tree branch here, there. And then. The apartments across the street from Lenny's. Their balconies? Well. A bunch were lying on the street. No power or electricity at this point. There were also enough branches and debris to make riding a bike stupid. But I kept going.
I turned right onto Dekalb Ave and it felt like I turned right into Kosovo. Shadows and outlines of mangled fences, buildings, trees lined the street, sidewalk next to the parked freight trains; lumps against the grey unilt sky. Shredded plywood and maples lay flung across the pavement. My bike bumped along. Every now and then, a homeless man would call out a greeting, but other than that, silence. So I rode. No cars. No lights (other than my comparatively weak blinkies). Debris, twisted fences lining the road, separating it from the tracks. Buildings missing corners, missing signs. Police baracading the MARTA station. Ironically, electricity on at the Mattress Factory Lofts.

I turned left onto Memorial to circle home via Cabbagetown and the Cotton Mill. Was a building really "flattened like a pancake," according to CNN? Still no lights, still silence as I was waved through by a policeman onto Boulevard. Turn right onto Carroll Street (emergency vehicles all over all this point0 and try to ride up the narrow technically two-way but really just one car width street. The businesses' glass all shattered, tree branches in the middle of the road, blinds hanging out of window frames on the outside of buildings. And then, to the left, the Fulton Cotton Mill Lofts. One building, two building, no building, four building. Oh. My. God. The building is there, technically, but three or four floors are gone. "Stacked." Kind of funny given the lofts' new name: The Stacks.
For a brief moment, however so tiny, I knew what it was like to be a New yorker and look out the window and see the buildings gone. But there were cars behind me, so I pedaled on. Weirder still was the Krog Tunnel. completely dark to the extent that I with my light on I still couldn't see in front of me more than two feet. And the tunnel is long enough to make that scary. So dark.

Made it home. Power still off. Though it's on one block over. Riding home I felt like I was in a war zone. one block was fine, the next obliterated, the next fine. The darkness, the shadows, made it all the more surreal. And as i approached Dekalb Ave, where it grew apparent for the first time that nature had her way, wreaked some havoc, the mockingbirds snag out clear against the murky night. Beauty in the midst of war.
I was lucky. So lucky. No damage here at my house. I can't help but think of friends at the Cotton Mill, near Carroll St, that may have been hit. I've heard there are no deaths. But no one counts the homeless. The tornado hit downtown, then ran up Dekalb Ave, and out across Boulevard, hit the Cotton mill, then lifted. The Cotton Mill didn't collapse for another hour or so, so hopefully everyone got out. But their lives are gone. Who knows how much art, how many projects, pets, collections, family heirlooms were lost. Who knows, maybe lives.

Fucking Kosovo.
War Zone.
And the birds
sing.

Meme Time! Seven Random Things...

I totally forgot that Bake My Day! tagged me for a meme last month. Since I don't haven't any food to post for you and it's 2 a.m. and I'm not sleepy thanks to last weekend's wonky time change, I'll take a stab at it. I don't feel like tagging anyone, but if you want to do this, go ahead!!

Without further ado, seven random things you never knew you wanted to know about me (and if anything is offensive, I apologize in advance...I'm not very diplomatic sometimes):


1. Lapsed Agnostic. I was raised in a conservative Christian household--you know, the kind where the earth was created in six days six thousand years ago, the kind where you memorize the ten commandments and go to church at least twice a week, the kind where you go to Christian camps and Christian school, and read stories about martyrs to your kids at the dinner table. I remember being terrified that the rapture would happen and my cats would die because no one would be around to feed them; they would starve to death because Jesus came back. And I remember wondering what kind of God would do that. I think I had a weird imagination when I was little... Anyways. I never really made it all the way to being an atheist, and frankly, I don't see that happening because you have to care enough to consider yourself one, but I'm a total lapsed agnostic. Every few months or so I feel the need to slink back into a congregation, sing some songs, feel guilty about what my life is like, and extend some good ol' fake cheer around. After a week or two, I wonder what got into me and I resume life as usual. It's a funny habit. Maybe not so funny to some readers...but bear with me, I went to protestant Christian school in the South for nine years!!


2. Ecology and Literature. I'm currently in school earning a B.S. in Ecology and a B.A. in English. Next year I'll be researching austral migrants (birds that migrate from North to South America and back) in a patch of forest in Georgia. I'm also interested in philosophy and literary theory and am immersed in trauma theory and becoming-animal. Jacques Derrida, Gilles Deleuze, and Martin Heidegger are my heroes.


3. Bicycles. I ride a purple fixed gear bicycle everywhere! Yup, one of those hipster bikes without gears. I do have a brake, however...there's hills in Georgia and mad traffic--I'd like to keep my body intact, thanks. I used to have a purple road bike until I was hit by an SUV in an alley cat (yes, one of those illegal races that made the news thanks to the guy who was killed by an SUV in Chicago a few weeks ago). Luckily I survived ok, but my bike didn't, so I replaced here with the fixed gear. Originally silver, I repainted her to a matte purple, added a "Veganism is for Lovers" sticker to the top tube, and stuck my spoke cards in the wheel. She's pretty great and way better than any car I've owned.


4. Veganism. Ok, so that doesn't seem like a random thing. Yes, Jes is a vegan. Of course. BUT what you don't know is the story about the first day I was a vegan. Ironically, I ate meat that day. Figure that one out. On July 7, 2007 I decided that it was time to bite the bullet and declare myself a vegan. I'd been eating as a vegan for months--minus the baked good thing...I mean, heck, I worked at a bakery at 4 in the morning, it was hard to not eat a muffin here and there--and decided that it was time because my forray into eating what I made at the bakery was making me gain a lot of weight and if I were truly vegan, I wouldn't eat it. Extra guilt incentive or something. Now 07-07-07 was also the Lucky Sevens alley cat. I bounced up to my best friend Kyle and yelled, "I'm a vegan!" right before the race started and we shared a happy vegan moment. He'd been waiting for me to say that for awhile. Hooray! So we race off to the first checkpoint and he gets there slightly before me. Food checkpoint. Oh no. Kyle rolls the die to see what numbered can he has to eat from and gets Spam. He turns away, forsaking any points, and says "no way." He pedals off. My turn comes. I roll the die. Number Three. Dog food. DOG FOOD. ughhhhhh noooooo. I look at the guy running the checkpoint, say "I decided to be a vegan today," grab the spoon, take a chunk of mushy dog food, stick in my mouth, swallow, grab my bike, and pedal off as fast as I can. Three shots of vodka, twelve miles, and one tattoo later, I win the first place female. I suppose that was worth it. But man oh man is dog good + vodka + bike a bad combo. shudder.


5. Rats & Cats. I'm owned by two rats, Rad & Merckx, who have been featured on the blog AND two cats, Sheba & Mistoffelees. We all live in a tiny studio apartment. The great thing is that the cats are scared of the rats and whenever I have the rats out, the cats run under the bed and hiss. It's a great symbiotic relationship or something.


6. Southern. So I'm technically Southern. Technically. But I hate sweet tea. And collard greens. And unsweetened cornbread. And Coca-Cola. Basically, I'm the biggest blasphemer in Atlanta, Georgia EVER.


7. Magic. I believe in magic. No, not the pulling a rabbit out of a hat or cutting some poor woman in two magic, but everyday magic. The every day magic of kneading positive energy into dough, letting it rise, and watching people experience truly loved bread. The magic of holding a yellow-rumped warbler in your hand and feeling its tiny heartbeat against your palm. The magic of reading a good book in front of a fire or hiking in the woods or riding a bike into the sunrise. Life is magic, and it's everywhere.

Hash Browns Make My World Go 'Round

I'm not a health nut. I'm not a "good" vegan either. When given the chance at a fancy enough place, I will break my veganism. Does that make me a bad person? Nah. Just realistic. And addicted to chocolate. Don't tell anyone that I ate that flourless chocolate cake at Carrol St. Cafe last night. It paired oh so well with the house Merlot though!
So I'm from the South, and being from the South means that you grow up with Waffle House EVERYWHERE. Somehow I managed to avoid it until I started leading backpacking trips in college. There's something amazing about walking into a Waffle House after being in the woods for days and days and days, smelling like a dead skunk, and looking like a beaver who just fought a mountain lion and somehow survived, and being served a cup of black coffee and a plate of hash browns. It is heaven. And the Waffle House ladies don't bat an eye. In the city I get my fix at the Majestic Diner whenever I'm out dancing or drinking or meandering around town at three in the morning. Hash browns are my intellectual soul food. Some of the best conversations I've had occurred over a plate of hash browns and a mug of coffee. Hash browns make my world go 'round.
I love hash browns. I think potatoes are God's gift to mankind (along with chocolate, Beligian beer, and everything bagels), and skillet cooked potatoes with onions and ketchup is even better. This is my comfort food. And my poor student food. Some people have Ramen; I have hashbrowns.
All that said, there's no real recipe to an amazing plate of spuds. Take an onion and a couple of potatoes. Slice them up. Throw them in a pan with several tablespoons of oil (amount depends on how much you're making), cook for 20-25 minutes. Serve with ketchup. If you want to mix in meat, cheese, mushrooms, peppers, etc., add it at the end with five minutes or so to go.

All you have to do now is eat them. Relish the potatoes, sauteed to a tender yet crisp skinned perfection. Drink a cup of black coffee, smoke a cigarette, talk about Martin Heidegger. You won't regret it.

But Everyone's Doing It!

Julie Hasson's steamed sausages are taking over the internet. No joke. Who around here hasn't already made them??? Really??? You should be ashamed of yourself! Go make some!

I have to admit, vital wheat gluten has always mystified me a bit. I'm not talented at making seitan. It always ends up lumpy and pretty looking. I guess it tastes ok...but it's not like the store bought stuff or Soul Veg's kalebone. So the thought of something thrown into tin foil, wrapped, steamed, cooled, etc. with no kneading and shaping made me really excited. And hungry.

Half way into the recipe I realized I had very few of the spices called for. So the following recipe is a twist on Julie's. These are so simple easy and tasty. Go make them, seriously!

I ate the first one sauted with onions, green bell pepper, and mushrooms wrapped in naan with veganaise and gravy. It was so not healthy...but hello delicious.

Super Easy Steamed Sausages

2 1/4 cups vital wheat gluten
1/2 cup nutritional yeast flakes
1/4 cup soy flour
2 tbsp Veg Base broth seasoning stuff
2 tsp chili powder
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp sage
2 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp dried chili flakes
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 roasted red pepper, minced
2 1/4 cups cool water
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp soy sauce

In a large bowl, mix together all of the dry ingredients. Whisk together the water, roasted red peppers, olive oil and soy sauce and using a fork, gently stir into the dry ingredients. Stir just until ingredients are mixed. If dough mixture is too dry, you can add another tablespoon of water or as needed.

Scoop 1/2 cup dough mixture at a time and shape into logs. Place logs on piece of aluminum foil and roll up, twisting ends. Place sausages in steamer and steam for 30 minutes. Once sausages have cooled, remove from foil and refrigerate until ready to eat.

Makes 8 sausages.

Peace Offering

It's been a long time since I posted... I'm alive, I haven't dropped off the face of the planet (although I feel like I have sometimes)... I'm just in a strange transitional state. I don't cook much (or anything worth posting) these days, and I haven't baked in ages. I was on a liquid diet of sorts over winter break (haha) and haven't recovered the culinary bite since then. So today, Sunday, after a long weekend of sorts (all day philosophy conference, heavy drinking following) I decided to reorganize my life (in addition to doing the dishes, which I'd managed to put off for a week) and I cooked! Well... sort of. My peace offering to the blogging community is in the form of "I don't have time to cook but I want something tasty" form. This could be a three ingredient dish, although I threw in some extras. It works with whatever you've got in your fridge and is a total last minute dish prep-wise. Do keep in mind that it takes an hour or so to bake. Without further ado, my Italian polenta bake.

Italian Polenta Bake

Pre-heat the oven to 350.

1 tube of polenta, sliced
1 zucchini, sliced into rounds
1 yellow squash, sliced into rounds
handful of mushrooms, halved or quartered
handful of sun-dried tomatoes, cut into small strips or diced
1 jar of tomato/spaghetti sauce

Place the polenta rounds in a small-medium sized caserole dish. Cover with a layer of spaghetti/tomato sauce. Layer the zucchini, squash, mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes. Cover with sauce. Bake for one hour or until the vegetables are tender.

Vegan Eggnog Cupcakes

I'm finally done with the semester! Whoever decided that exams could run until the 19th and then slated my last boring general education requirement class on the last exam period of the last day, 4:30 pm on the 19th, is evil. But now I have time to do more things like baking! Ok, or, if I were honest with myself and you all, go dancing, stay up the whole night, and then sleep the day away. I'm loving life.

On Monday, while writing my last paper of the semester (it's amazing how 10 pages seems so short now--I started the paper on Monday and finished it by 9 pm) I decided to play around with the vegan eggnog some more. My general love of cupcakes prevailed and since cookies don't really call for milk, I could only use the eggnog in a more cake-like substance anyway.

Two of my good friends served as taste testers and the review was positive. I think they really taste like eggnog and I love the spiciness coupled with the chocolate ganche. I think they'd pair well with dark chocolate stout cupcakes with peppermint frosting.

Vegan Eggnog Cupcakes

1 cup vegan eggnog
1 tsp apple cider vinegar
1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp cornstarch
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
3/4 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp cloves
1/3 cup vegetable oil
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp almond extract

Preheat the oven to 350.

In a small bowl, whisk the apple cider vinegar into the vegan eggnog. Set aside to curdle for 10 minutes.

In a large mixing bowl, mix the oil, vanilla, almond extract, and sugar together until combined. Add the vegan eggnog mixture, combine. Add all dry ingredients. Mix until smooth--you don't want lumps.

Pour batter into oiled or lined cupcake tins. Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until an inserted knife comes out clean.

Makes 6 large cupcakes and 12 mini cupcakes or 9 large cupcakes.

Ginger Miso Soup

Baby, it's cold outside!

I knew that the 75 degree sunny gorgeous weather wouldn't last, but did it really have to drop from 70 to 20 degrees in one day? My body isn't a fan of that! I don't have central heat in my apartment either, so my cats and I feel the impact even more. Let me tell you, those cats didn't leave my side all night. It was one cozy cuddle party in my bed. (smile)

Last week I made this recipe for Ginger Miso Soup from Kitchen Caravan and fell in love with it. Who doesn't love gingery, noodley, kaley, brothy soup? Exactly. They suggest 2 inches of ginger, but my personal suggestion is 2+ inches of ginger. I can't get enough of the rhizome. Note: ginger is not a root.

I also discovered that this soup made me feel 800 times better while I was sick. Cha-ching! So last night I made it again, because really, it's too cold and I want to be a lot warmer than I am. The recipe is super easy, I didn't even need the recipe the second time, and I'd recommend making this to anyone who is sick, is cold, or wants a soup that feels like chicken noodle but is definitely not chickeny (but is noodley!).

Ginger Miso Soup
from Kitchen Caravan

1 2-inch knob of ginger
6 cups water
2 cups loose shitake mushrooms, cleaned and chopped in half [cp note: I left mine whole]
1 cup kale (about 3 leaves) [cp note: I used green kale]
2 heaping tablespoons white miso paste
1 handful soba noodles (sometimes they come segmented into bunches, you need about one bunch)
½ large carrot, peeled (optional) [cp note: I didn't use this]
1 scallion (optional) [cp note: I didn't use this]

Make the ginger broth by grating the knob of ginger with a cheese grater, and then putting it into a pot with the 6 cups of water. You should have about 2 tablespoons of grated ginger to infuse. [cp note: I used a vegetable peeler to "grate" the ginger since I don't have a grater anymore. It seemed to work just fine.]

Bring the water to a boil and simmer slightly for about 15 minutes. Let it sit for another 15 minutes if you can, but you are welcome to go along at this point.

Bring another pot of water to a boil. Cook the soba noodles for about 6 minutes in the boiling water, drain, and rinse them with cold water. Set the cooked noodles aside.

Drain the infused ginger broth of the grated ginger and bring the liquid to a boil.

Add in the shitake mushrooms and simmer until soft, and then add in the kale and simmer until cooked through. Turn off the heat.

Now, place the miso into a small bowl. Pour in some of the soup water, and soften the miso. Pour everything back into the pot and stir until the miso is well integrated into the soup.

*I suggest letting the soup sit for at least 15 minutes before serving. Honestly, it tastes the best the day after. I'm not sure why, but the ginger flavor seems stronger after sitting.