Bread with Brad

Hey folks,

It's been a while, I know, I'm sorry for that. Living in Buenos Aires is beginning to feel more and more like an odyssey of sorts. Every time I think I have everything managed and my life can start calming down another calamity hits and I must quickly readjust and adapt to the new scenario.

For example, last Sunday my loyal computer which had served me well for four years finally gave up the ghost, and with it all of my lesson plans, materials, and documents I had stored for the last four years. Thus I was left with the daunting task of trying to scramble together a number of new lessons for all of my students for that week, which was no easy task. Luckily I was able to purchase a new computer early in the week, but I've still had to recreate all of my lost lessons, which has taken countless hours of time.

That being said, this has been the first moment I've had to write and update my blog, and I want to focus this installment on bread and bread making.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to take a bread making course with my former TEFL professor Brad. Brad does a lot of TEFL work but he also worked as a Chef and owned a restaurant in South Africa. He still enjoys cooking and will offer bread making classes and other cooking related events every so often.

Thus when I received the invitation to attend the bread making class I was more than happy to accept. Bread is one of my favorite foods and probably makes up the base of my weekly diet. The problem? Good bread is hard to come buy in Buenos Aires and it is not cheap. To buy a loaf of whole wheat sandwich bread you'd need to pay upwards of 15 pesos. To make a loaf of that, would cost about 3 or 4 pesos, which is what you'd pay for a cheap tasteless baguette in the supermarket.

Aside from the issue of pricing there is also the learning curve one must overcome. I recall the many times I've endeavored to make a loaf of bread. Each time I would end up with my hands so completely covered in soggy bread dough, desperately trying to knead the watery mess into something resembling a deflated bouncy ball. Furthermore it usually took half an hour of dedicated scrubbing to wash all the water-flour mess off my hands when I had finished.

Now I know how simple bread making can be. I've practiced all the steps, I know the general ratios, I know dark breads from white breads, dry yeast from fresh yeast, and baguettes from sandwich breads and flat breads. The course was about 3 hours long and in it we made four types of bread. First we made a whole wheat seed loaf, next we learned to make flat breads, then we made a delicious tomato and herb bread, and finally we made Kyle's bread. Yes, that's what we named it. Brad asked me what type of bread I wanted to make and I said "a light fluffy bread with lots of holes inside." The bread didn't have a name so we just called it "Kyle's bread."

The course had a mixed group of students. Some were native Argentines and some were like me, expats living and working in Buenos Aires. The group was lively and fun and all of us were eager to learn.  

From Left to right: Maria, Maria Luisa, and Mariana are enjoying some of the flat breads and whole wheat breads! 

I can say with certainty that Brad's bread course fulfilled the age-old quote:

 "give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."

Brad's bread making class gave me the skills and experience to finally feel confident making bread.

Making the Whole Wheat Seed Loaf

Ratios
1 kilo flour to 50 grams of yeast
1 kilo flour to 600 ml of water

Mix 1 cup of warm water with two teaspoons of sugar. Add the yeast and stir until the yeast is fully dissolved. Allow the yeast to activate in the warm water for about 5-10 minutes (It should look like a creamy cafe con leche).

For the dough: Mix 1 kilo of flour with 1-2 tspns of salt, 2 tablespoons of oat flour, 2 tbsp of flax seeds, 2 tbsp of sesame seeds, 2 tbsp of sunflower, 2 tbsp of black sesame, and two tbsp of vegetable oil (the oil allows for the dough to be mixed and kneaded more easily and gives texture). Rub the oil through the flour until thoroughly mixed.

Next add the 600 ml of water to the flour mixture in roughly 50 ml amounts. Mixing it into the dough after each time the water is added. Important note: It is much easier to add water to the dough than to add flour, so add water in small amounts until the dough has reached a uniform, non-sticky consistency.

Once the dough is malleable and doesn't stick to your hands (it should still be moist), place the dough onto a flat surface and begin to knead it, pound it, do whatever you have to do to have fun and release energy and stress. The pounding process releases the gluten in the dough and is probably the most fun part of bread making. Do this for about 5 minutes.

Now shape the dough into whatever shape you want your bread to be. Create sharp cuts on the top of the loaf with a knife to give it the artisan look. Allow the dough to sit and rise for about 15 to 20 minutes and allow to cook in the oven until the crust is hard (15 minutes-medium heat), and voila, you have yourself a fresh, healthy, loaf of bread! Bon apetit!

The finished loaves!

Epic Week: An Introvert's Nightmare

Hey folks,

I figured it was finally time to crawl out of the cave I've been living in all weekend and write the next installment to my blog. Truth be told I haven't actually moved into a cave, it is a term I prefer to use in describing my retreats into isolation and solitude after taking in too much of the world. I take these retreats often, and can go for days without actually speaking to anyone. Granted it is much easier not to talk to anyone if there is a language barrier, but it also helps that I am an introvert.

Right now many of you may be saying, "ohhhh, I wonder if he has enough friends?" Or, "Why is he such a loner?" After all, who in their right mind can really go for days without speaking to anyone? This must imply that poor lonely individual has no one to speak to. Well, more often than not that individual isn't lonely, has plenty of friends, and really enjoys their solitude. I am one of those.

For me, a quiet weekend relaxing, reading, running, exploring, and cooking, is much less stressful and less mentally taxing than attending parties or large social gatherings. In fact I often dread such events, not because I have some bizarre phobia of social interaction but because after an hour or two of withstanding a social siege my mind is so mentally numbed by all the noise, social interaction, and small talk, that I usually arrive home exhausted and collapse in a tired heap on the futon. This is typical introvert. The upside to being an introvert is that you are almost never bored, and when you are bored it is almost always when you are with other people.

At this point you are probably wondering how this has anything to do with Buenos Aires. This is where I tell you. A city, at least in my opinion, is an introvert's worst nightmare. The barrage of sensory stimuli are everywhere. They are in the form of billboards, advertisements, graffiti, talking, noise, endless traffic, a thousand different coffee shops all advertising their cafe and medialunas promos. The same goes for pizza, pasta, ice cream and just about any other shop you can imagine. For every hour I spend receiving these intense visual stimuli I probably need an hour in peace to re-energize.

This is why the week was so epic. To begin, the week didn't start out very well. In my first class on Monday morning I open my computer to present the lesson and to my shock and horror the computer had died. The several hours after that class were spent walking the streets of el microcentro, the business hub of Buenos Aires, searching for a new power cable. Tuesday wasn't too difficult but Wednesday and Thursday I worked from the early hours of the morning until about 10:30 at night. I actually recall late on Wednesday how the class I had that morning seemed as if it had taken place days before. So much happened that time seemed to stretch to accommodate all of it.

Finally on Friday I inhaled a refreshing breath of relief. I ordered a coffee and some pastries with a friend and we chilled out all Friday afternoon. After the coffee I entered the cave and have been living there until this afternoon, emerging for brief moments to check facebook or write this blog, only to re-enter the cave once my task had been completed.

Just as it began, it must also end. My time in the world is finished for this Sunday. I did my daily run early this morning at about 7:30, Church at 10:30, finished all of my lessons for the week, dinner at 5:30, but still need to find some time to read. One final thing to know about introverts... we are very organized.

My Sunday Morning Walks

Hey folks,

I thought I would take this blog post to talk about a small weekly ritual I've developed since my arrival in Buenos Aires. I believe in some of my previous posts I have alluded to Porteño tendency toward a night owl existence. Indeed the day doesn't really begin until the workday is over at about 6 or 7 at night.

I recall cooking dinner one night in the shared apartment I lived in several months ago and one of the other tenants came in and began cooking as well. It was 7 o'clock which to me seemed very early for him to be cooking dinner so I asked him, "es muy temprano para vos a cocinar la cena" ("it's very early for you to be cooking dinner."). To which he replied "estoy cocinando almuerzo" ("I'm cooking lunch"). While that isn't word for word how the conversation went down, it is the same message. Many people don't wake up until 10 or 11 in the morning, even later on the weekends, which means for a person who values their mornings and time in solitude, Sunday morning walks became a favorite weekly pastime for me.

University of Buenos Aires buildings visible on my way through Once. 

A map of the various neighborhoods in Buenos Aires. You can see Barrio Once next to Abasto.

(Image courtesy of http://www.reservas.net/alojamiento_hoteles/buenosaires_neighborhoodszones.htm)

My destination is the local Christian Science church where I attend services every morning. The church is located in between the neighborhoods of Once and Abasto, about 2.5 kilometers from my apartment, and a leisurely 35 minute walk.

This building looks like it belongs at Angkor Wat.

I've long been fascinated by the Art Nouveau style architecture prevalent throughout the city. 

I don't know why I like Once so much. There is trash everywhere and avoiding the doggy-doo is almost impossible, even with my eyes glued to the sidewalk. It may have to do with the Sunday morning atmosphere. The neighborhood itself is rather gritty, with old, decaying cement buildings, a residential atmosphere that brings to mind a "true" Porteño culture, and a large Jewish population who are always out and actively celebrating the Sabbath. I think what draws me to the neighborhood is it's genuine atmosphere. It doesn't try to pass off as something it isn't. The rough edges aren't hidden away behind a Façade, and no attempts are made to obscure the true image of the neighborhood. 

Fresh-baked Medialunas awaiting hungry customers at a local cafe.

I stumbled across this building while exploring. It looks to be in the Abasto neighborhood.

A common sight in Buenos Aires are buildings like this. You can see where a stairwell once existed by the formations in the brick.

A quiet side street with a mural of Carlos Gardel, the famed Tango singer.

Some peculiar street art reminiscent of both Gauguin and Japanese Ukiyo-e prints. 

Carlos, looking happy as always : )

This was a rather interesting sight. I'm not quite sure what to make of the car but it could easily belong in a 4th of July parade.

mmm, postres at a confiteria ready for the eating.

In Once there is no "glamour", no deceptive trappings of modernity. A simple walk through Recoleta, or Barrio Norte (where my apartment is located), and you will encounter all the current examples of modern "perfection": Billboards advertising the perfection of Fernet + coke, all the local, polished ice cream chains with their glittering interiors, dozens of ritzy tourist hotels, and restaurants catering to the tourist. Let's not even begin with Puerto Madero, a new and modern neighborhood in Buenos Aires that could be located anywhere in the world it is so deprived of a history or culture. In Once no attempts are made to cater. It is simply business as usual without desire to impress or to awe. This might be why I can look beyond the ugly cement edifices and the unwashed streets. The neighborhood truthfully lives in its traditions. The shabby storefronts, the unkempt pizza and pasta parlors, the composed buildings, and the dignified confiterias all represent the long and nonfrivolous heritage of a historic barrio. Once is truly Once, with no ambition to be anything but.    

I won the war! Time to celebrate!

The results are in, the bodies have been collected, the death count has been furnished and the winner is...
Yes, that's right. I won the war! I beat one of mankind's most tenacious enemies, at least temporarily. The vile, despicable creature that refused to pay rent has, as of this moment, been evicted from the premises. The victory had its setbacks however. The first setback was my inability to find the nest. This made it difficult for me to set up my weapons in the most opportune places. However, after observing their movements for several days, and eliminating some more of them with the raid, I happened upon their lair almost by accident.

I thought this was a fitting image to place at the beginning. This is one of those three inchers you typically find.

I think it was still alive because the back leg that you can see sticking straight up was moving all about.

On Saturday the plumber came to repair my kitchen drain which, until then, had been clogged. After he left he threw out a large glop of nasty drain muck into my trash can, and some of it seeped outside the bag and into the can itself. Now in case you weren't aware I have a rather fancy trash disposal container that has several parts. Well I took out the trash can casing and guess what I found underneath? Yes, the lair! I raided the poor devils, raining an armageddon of insecticides more dense than the ash at Pompeii. Yes it was brutal, and there were many dead, but I needed to restore peace in my kingdom and the path of fire and brimstone seemed to be the most logical choice.

All the wet stuff? Yeah, that's the raid. The little back dots are the little critters.

Fallen soldiers.

Yet another fell for its cause.

Here I washed out the trash shell to disinfect it so the little critters don't make a comeback in the future. 

This is probably not the best time to mention it as the sight of roaches doesn't quite stir the appetite, but I tried my very first Havana Alfajor just the other day. One of my students gave it to me as a return from holidays present. For those of you who don't know, Alfajores are probably the most recognized cookie in Argentina, and hands down the most popular. Havana Alfajores can only be described as the Ben & Jerry's of the Alfajor cookie world, not because they do anything different or crazy, but because they produce a quality product that never ceases to satisfy. They come in shiny gold wrappers reminiscent of Wonka bars, and when it is straight from the refrigerator, nice and cool and ready for eating, the taste can melt your soul. 

Here is my first Havana Alfajor.

The exquisite golden wrapper!

Alfajores are usually coated in white or dark chocolate on the outside. As you can see this one is the dark chocolate variety.

Mmmm, Inside are two cookies with dulce de leche spread in between them. The flavor is truly remarkable.

The Roach Hunt

Surprise surprise folks! 

You probably all knew this was coming, and if not, well, just by living in Buenos Aires means the topic is bound to come up at least at some point. Roaches are everywhere. The city is full of them. The infestation is rampant. I usually see at least one 3 incher smashed on the sidewalk when I'm going down the street. I guess combining a sub-tropical climate, a heavily urbanized population, very old buildings, and poor sanitation all come together to make this the perfect haven for a roach empire. Almost daily I'll see a 3 incher smashed against the sidewalk and at night I'll usually see them scurrying around, avoiding traffic and pedestrians until an unwary individual takes a step and hears a crunch. 

I decided it was finally time for this post, especially as a new situation has come to light. The roaches have begun to appear in the kitchen! The infestation has begun! I will no longer sit back passively and watch the roaches climb up and down the walls (I didn't do that to begin with but it does sound poetic : )

The war has begun, and this post is an account of how I am fighting that war and how I will hopefully prevail. 

The other night I discovered the dreadful little critters when I turned on the lights to the kitchen and immediately saw some tiny little black things scurrying every which way. I picked up the raid as fast as a cowboy can draw his six shooter and executed all of them faster than a cowboy could say yeehaaaw. Casualties were minimal however and, after counting the dead at 6, knew I had a lot of work to go. 

There is an old saying in roach country that goes "If you see one roach then there are undoubtedly more." Indeed, possibly thousands more. You could be living a floorboard away from a 10,000 strong roach army and not have a clue until it is too late. Not only do they multiply nearly as fast as single-celled organisms, but they are just about the toughest things to kill. They can live without food for well over a month, and I can recall having to spray one roach at least three times with the raid before it finally gave up the ghost.

All that being said, I don't think my problem is bad, at least not yet. They do monthly fumigation here to kill off the roaches and I also decided to arm myself as well with some weapons of my own. All of the roaches I have seen have been tiny, which means they are most likely a new invasion, and I probably brought them in with me. In my previous skirmishes with the little devils I traced their possible encampment to under or around the sink area, so that is where I decided to set up the majority of my assault weapons. 

Here are my weapons of choice. For defense I have the raid. My offensive weapons include the Somerset insecticide gel, which the roaches eat and then spread to all the other roaches, eventually wiping them out; and the two peach juice and water traps. You line the inside walls with vaseline so the roaches can get in and swim to their hearts content but then they have no way of getting out. Yes, I know, this is all very sinister, but I am at war now and I must be ruthless. After all, they are a ruthless enemy.

Shhhh, I think they might be in there.

The previous tenant left quite a few old beer bottles, a perfect hangout for roaches. My first step was to clear them away and see if the roaches were hiding behind them. 

Alas no, my theory was incorrect. But since this is where most of the sightings have been I will place most of my weapons here. 

First for the roach gel. I'm even wearing the powdered latex gloves for good measure.

Lastly I place the roach traps under the sink. Tomorrow we'll see what tonight's battle brings.

  

Fighting the Inundation

Greetings everyone!

The past several days have been a test of endurance for me in several ways. The test began Sunday evening. I was watching a movie called "Boys of Brazil", an odd thriller, drama, and sci-fi mashup involving neo nazis, Dr. Mengele, and boy clones of Hitler. It was late at night and with all the suspense lingering in the air I began to feel a desire for some dessert. It had been raining very hard the entire night and the rain gave a peaceful background ambiance to the darkness. Well I walk over to the kitchen, through the door, and immediately feel water wash over my foot. I froze. Could it be? Immediately I pulled my foot away and turned on the light. Yes, the kitchen had officially flooded.

At that point I found it difficult to think. All these thoughts were flooding into my mind from all different directions. Where do I even begin? How do I get the water out? Do I have a mop? Should I speak with the landlady? Where did the water come from? Is there a leak in the wall somewhere? Upon further examination of the kitchen I discovered that the water was not draining out through the drain pipe and I concluded that the water likely came up through the pipe itself and overflowed into my kitchen. I decided to begin by contacting people and asking for advice. I sent out an S.O.S on the expat forum and received replies within 15 minutes. I also spoke to the landlady who was busy cleaning up flooding on the floor below me. She told me the best way to get rid of the water was to take old rags and use the soak and squeeze technique (soak the water up in the rags and squeeze it out into the toilet). What I think might have happened, I've since concluded, is that the water got backed up from the ground floor and spilled out from the drain in my kitchen.

Well I got most the water out of the kitchen but unfortunately for me the water had also soaked through some of the carpeting. I dried the carpeting as best I could but it really required time to air dry. One thing I never knew about wet carpeting is that it stinks! It really smells awful. Going to sleep that night was miserable. The smell was so intense. Alas I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a lethargy I hadn't known since my computer game days in high school. Luckily since Monday was the first day of Carnaval I didn't have any classes so I could just mope around the apartment in a dreary stupor. The smell had receded a bit but the carpet was still a little damp so the smell continued to linger, attacking my sense of smell in intermittent bursts. One of the highlights of the day was lying on the floor of the apartment, partly to avoid the smell and partly because of my lethargic mood, with my eyes closed and listening to Prairie Home Companion. Ah, what a wonderful show. How it made me miss buttermilk biscuits (even though I've never tried them), rhubarb pie, and New Orleans (even though I've never been there).

Now that the floods have receded I think things should settle back to normal.

Cheers,

Kyle

"The shoes really tied my life together"

Hey everyone,

As exciting and successful my move into the new apartment has been, it doesn't mean I haven't faced losses. My poor, hardworking, "relic of the past" running shoes are no more. Alas I made the mistake of leaving them outside the door to the apartment after going for a run one day and the housekeeper came by, noticed them in the hall, and threw them into the trash.

I didn't know how much I depended on running and exercise until my means to go running were taken away. For days I was devastated. I guess you'd call it my mourning period. I questioned why my shoes had to be punished so severely, they even had the socks in them! Why, I would ask myself repeatedly, would someone take my shoes from outside the door to the apartment, especially when the logical conclusion would be that they belong to the tenant inside? It should have been obvious, I kept thinking, that the shoes naturally belonged to the person residing within, and that maybe that person didn't know about the 'no shoes in the hallway rule', as I certainly didn't until my poor shoes were taken from me.

Well, I suppose life must go on, and with devastation in my heart I resolved to say my last farewell to the pair of shoes I loved so dear. It's sad things needed to end this way, and I must confess buying shoes in Argie was not what I had in mind. It may come as a surprise to many of you that buying shoes in Argie is not an activity to be taken lightly. Shoes seem to exist on a golden pedestal of their own, especially for women. The number of women's shoe stores is phenomenal. I actually went into a few thinking they had both men's and women's shoes, only to find that I was getting inquisitive stares from many of the other customers, at which point I realized I was the only male in the entire store.

Where was I? Ah yes, the golden pedestal. Shoes here are worth their weight in gold. The cheapest pair of running shoes will likely cost you almost $100 US. My old pair cost me about $30 US and they served me well. Furthermore the only real quality shoes you can get, or would want to get, are the Adidas, Reebok, or Nike brands. There is one brand called Topper which was a little cheaper but I was skeptical. New Balance, Asics, and all the other standards are nowhere to be found. I decided it was worth spending my Tuesday afternoon scoping out the different shoe stores on Avenue Santa Fe, looking for the golden shoe, to fit my golden foot, for the perfect golden price. My Goal? To pay less than $500 pesos ($100 US) for a new pair of quality running shoes. That's a whopper of a price but sometimes you really do have to pay for a little happiness and peace of mind. After all, I can't imagine myself free-running barefoot on the Argentine streets, dodging the doggy doo and bird carcasses and trying my best to avoid the trash heaps. That's not my style.

It turns out the first store I went into is the one I finally settled on to purchase my shoes. All the other stores were brand-specific and overpriced, or they sold cheap knock-offs. I actually went into the Puma store to see what they had but my internal sirens immediately went off when I noticed no prices next to anything. For me no price spells expensive! I ducked out. I purchased my new pair of 'golden' running shoes for about $440 pesos, just less than $100 US. I think that is the most I've spent on a pair of shoes in my life. At least they fit well.

The people in the store also gave me a daily schedule for keeping the shoes maintained and happy. Apparently in the mornings they need to be taken out for their daily exercise, then scrubbed clean of any street dirt that might tarnish them, and finally in the evening they need to be taken out for a final exercise, usually just a walk around the block, before putting them in their cubby for the evening. Actually I just made the whole schedule thing up. But I couldn't help making the connection between my expensive, "pedigree" shoes, and maintaining a purebred cat or dog, or horse or whatever.

I have enclosed some pics of my purebred shoes for your perusal. I still feel pangs of loss and longing for my old pair. This is most likely just nostalgia will surely pass of course but I do pine for the old $30 dollar pair that served me so well.

As for this new pair, I think I will enter them into a purebred shoe show and see how they fair.

Cheers,

Kyle