Treat Day

It’s hard to bake in small batches, but I love experimenting with desserts. Usually, if I don’t want to waste food, I have to eat a LOT of treats. That might not sound like hard-ship except: a) my thighs are going to have something to say about that many calories and b) no mater how delicious something is, even I get sick of it after a few days.

So I solved this problem by bringing baked goods into work at least once a week. This way I still get to play with my stand-mixer and never have to throw out uneaten sweets. I leave a plate of cookies or a batch of brownies in the kitchen and I’ve never gone home with anything but crumbs in my Tupperware.

As an added bonus, I’ve developed a reputation. Random colleagues have started referring to me as “the baker”. I often get expecting looks of “what did you bring me today?” when I come in the door. Of course there are those who feign disapproval for providing temptation, as if I’m secretly trying to fatten them up. But they’re not fooling anyone. They still sample goods!

This time I remembered to take pictures of my accomplishments as well, getting a few weird looks from my co-workers as I set up mini photo shoots with my food. Some look less pristine than I would like. Not all desserts survived the journey to work equally.

Here are a few of the treats I’ve brought in so far:

Cinnamon Glazed Scones

Chocolate Raspberry Marble Cheesecake Bars

Dark and Dangerous Chocolate Chip Cookies

Toffee Cookie Brittle

Apple Cranberry Muffins

Oreo Cheesecakes and White Cupcakes with Strawberry Meringue Buttercream Icing

Spartacus: Blood and… more blood

Last night, I had the unfortunate experience of sitting through the season finale of the HBO series, Spartacus: Blood and Sand. I’ve managed to avoid the rest of the season, but my boyfriend has been following it. I was making falafels for dinner, he turned it on, and we ended up watching the rest while we ate. He tried to fill me in on the plot, but the most I could gather was that there a lot of betrayal and manipulation by rich people in togas towards slaves and gladiators – most of which involved having sex with and/or killing their wives.

I can’t say much about the Sand part, but I can tell you that Blood was certainly front and centre. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood in one place. During a scheduled match, the gladiators revolted and escaped the arena – Hey I’m with you there guys. Freedom! Go Team! They attacked and killed the men who had committed injustices against them – Alright, that’s a little gross, but I get it. I’m still on board. And then…they started slaughtering everyone in the vicinity, including rooms full of fleeing women – Okay WOAH, that’s where you lost me boys. Don’t you think that’s taking it a little far?!

Here are just some of the things I witnessed in a mere 15 minutes:

-A sword going straight through the centre of a guy’s forehead
-A pregnant women getting speared through the womb
-A close-up shot of a guy’s throat getting slit, with his head flopping around.
-A slave-girl stabbing a teenage boy repeatedly in the throat, while blood spattered all over her face.

I tried to bury my head in the “entertaining” section of The Joy of Cooking, preferring the rules of formal dining to the image of Romans running for their lives, but I couldn’t escape the sound of blood sloshing, spraying, and spewing. If it weren’t for the screaming, I could have sworn I was listening to people at a water park. At one point I looked up and they were literally wading through pools of blood.

Now I realize that I’m a female and therefore not really qualified to comment on violent, R-rated slash fests aimed at the male half of the population. But I still maintain that there was nothing redeeming about the graphic violence in this episode. Some disturbing shots are necessary; to underscore the brutality of the situation, but there’s no need for a show to degenerate into torture porn. When violence is designed to titillate the audience, to be something ‘awesome’ that they enjoy overdosing on, it becomes a problem. What ever happened to cleverly staged sequences that suggest horrific acts, but don’t shove them in our faces? Personally I think the more intelligent storytellers are the ones who use a little subtlety to make their point. It sure beats attacking the point, stabbing it through the heart repeatedly and parading its carcass around on a stick.