Goucher Eats: Senior eats finale

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

This is my belated thank you letter, the one that extends hundreds of miles and

Kathryn Walker ‘14 and her brothers outside Stimson Hall after moving in Freshman year (Photo: Courtesy of Kathryn Walker)

Kathryn Walker ‘14 and her brothers outside Stimson Hall after moving in Freshman year (Photo: Courtesy of Kathryn Walker)

oceans wide, the one that I should have written to so many people for so many things, the one that never came in the mail or still lies unwritten on my desk.  For the things big and small, heroic or ordinary, important or inconsequential.  For the people, moments, and places that have swept me off my feet and shaken my small corner of the world.  As the Dictionary of Obsolete Sorrows so aptly describes, a memory, a lifetime, “are not just the moments, not the grand gestures or the catered ceremonies, not the poised person smiling in photos, they’re the invisible things. The minutes, the cheap raw material of ordinary time.”
Four years ago, my family – both parents and all three brothers in tow – dropped me off at Goucher in the sweltering Baltimore heat for my first cross-country pre-season, my first real Goucher memory.  After four hours of unpacking, sweating, and bickering, I waved them off with a factitiously haughty, “I’ll see you at Thanksgiving – maybe.”  Five minutes later, I was lying on my bed staring at the cracks in the ceiling and wishing with all my heart that my family would hear my silent thoughts and come back for me and take me home.  I came to the conclusion that if this was what college would be like – silent, lonely, sweaty – then these next four years were going to suck.
Read more of this post

Club profile: Chemistry club

Jessica Gude
Staff Writer

A common misconception about scientists is that they spend hours on end cooped up alone in a lab, surrounded by a jungle of beakers, burets, and Erlenmeyer flasks. While the forest of tools may be correct, the solidarity certainly isn’t. As anyone who has ever been in Hoffberger Science can tell you, scientists are anything but solitariness. Science, especially today, is a team effort. Scientists spend time together both in the lab and outside of it. This sense of scientific community is evident at Goucher and is embodied by the Goucher Chemistry Club. The club has several events throughout the year that bring together students and professors from the Chemistry and Biology departments.
Read more of this post

Goucher Eats: What we eat when we eat alone

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

“Inspired by Deborah Madison’s essay collection “What We Eat When We Eat Alone”

Breakfast
On most Sunday mornings, way before my roommates have even thought about rolling out of bed, way before most college students have even thought about the idea of rolling out of bed, I get up and watch the sun rise.  I put some water on the stove, I listen as the water roils around, I slouch on the sofa bemoaning the fact that yet again, I can’t sleep past 9 o’clock.  I watch through the window as the light goes from soft mist to beaming rays, as slowly-yet-surely people begin to walk by my window and head to wherever they’re going in the world.  The water reaches boiling, and I begin the process of drinking copious cups of tea.  I stir some of the water into my oatmeal, waiting for the grains to solidify, then add quick flicks of cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg.
The cinnamon dust sometimes pokes into my nose and makes me sneeze. The honey goes on last, swirled around in small circles on the top.  Then I start eating, waiting for either my brain to start engaging and clicking and making sense of things or for my hands and mouth and stomach to finish off my breakfast before I even have a chance to realize that I’m indeed up and out of bed.  I finish and decide to read something, anything, to jolt myself awake. Sometimes I feel ambitious and strap on my running shoes and fly out the door.  Most of the time I just linger at the table searching for a reason to stand up, brush my teeth, and go ahead with my day.
At the high school breakfast table, my dad attempted to engage me in witty conversation or intellectual dialogue.  Most of the time, he was greeted with a scowl and a lot of under-the-breath sass. Now in college, I reserve the morning scowling and sassing just for my family.

Lunch
More peanut butter, slathered on bread, some banana wedges and honey layered between.  Some mango slices. Then I jet on with the rest of my day.

Dinner
At the end of the day, I am famished. So I decide to combine everything that rests on my cabinet shelves – dried rosemary, some lemon pepper, an onion, two cloves of garlic, two eggs, some bread.  I even wrestle some ketchup from the fridge.  I turn the stove on high, slick a pan with oil, slide in some of the onion, the garlic, the rosemary, the lemon pepper, and wait for the sound of a sizzle.
My feet are tapping the floor, my hands are winding a spoon through the garlic. The onion becomes translucent. I crack both eggs and slide them into the skillet, slamming a lid overtop to cook the yolks.  The bread is rubbed with garlic, then put in the oven to toast. Five seconds later, I root through a drawer to find a spatula and slide the eggs, garlic, and spices onto a plate where they are quickly capped by the toast. The yolks are soft, too runny, almost raw; the garlic crisp, the onions clear.
I dip the toast into some ketchup, and then open my mouth wide and devour the egg-toast-ketchup combo in record time, deep yellow yolk running down my hands.  I don’t bother with napkins.  This breakfast-for-dinner is more than I could have ever hoped for.

Dessert
I ruffle through the drawer and find a single spoon, and I then tip-toe over to the side cabinet and pull down the jar of Nutella followed by the jar of peanut butter.  I scoop up one spoonful of Nutella followed by one spoonful of peanut butter.  I decide there is nothing better in the world than this salty-sweet combo.  So I grab one more spoonful of each and then fall into bed, content.

Eats: The land of pasta & carbs

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

I will always, till my last dying breath, be a Carb Consumer.  I will eat endless bowls of winding noodles, savor the soft insides and warmth of a fresh baguette, dole ladles and ladles of oatmeal into a seemingly endless bowl.  Carbs equal energy, plain and simple, but have also provided me with some of my most favorite memories around the table.  The spaghetti dinners with teammates, the pancakes flipped from my grandma’s stove, the radiating warmth of the boulangers’ baguette under my arm.  Scientifically, there are reasons and nerve endings and endorphins that fuel my carb-cravings; but sentimentally, I just love eating any and all sorts of carbohydrates.
Read more of this post

Healthy Eating: Oh, Kale Yeah!

Danielle Meir-Levi
Staff Writer

Usually, I have almonds with me around the clock during the week. They’re packed with vitamin E, calcium, protein, and healthy unsaturated fats. However, recently I’ve been trying something new: I’ve discovered the beautiful benefits of kale.
Kale is one of the healthiest vegetables around.  It has been found to lower the risk of cancer and lower cholesterol. Understandably, college students are not concerned about their cholesterol levels. You guys want to be able to fit into last year’s jeans and work towards those summer beach bods. Kale can do the trick!
Read more of this post

Goucher Eats: Feasts and families

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

WATCH OUT! TURKEY COMING THROUGH!”  my mom bellows.  I dart quickly to the side, missing the fire-hot turkey by mere inches as I make my way to the table.
“MASHED POTATOES! PIPING HOT!” my dad yells from the other direction, forcing me to leap back across the room.
“Ok! I – gahhh!”
“KHAK – CATCH!” my brother Matt calls out, tossing a wad of napkins across the table, hitting me squarely in the face.
Welcome to Thanksgiving, Walker style.
Read more of this post

Goucher Eats: What your fridge says about you

Kathryn Walker
Co-Features Editor

My family has a long-standing belief that food has the super-ability to last way beyond its expiration date.  The numbers, dashes, and dates printed on the sides or caps of containers and boxes do not deter our forks, knives, and fingers from diving and scooping into ice cream or yogurt containers a few weeks past their prime.  Thanksgiving and Christmas leftovers last for at least two weeks, birthday cake until it’s devoured.  Driven either by Puritanical thrift, “temporary” blindness, or plain old laziness, my family’s collection of expired food is finely exhibited in our see-through fridge, a repository of cold-cuts tinted with mold.
Read more of this post

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 681 other followers