lighthouses and making tortillas

Mother demanded a disclaimer: "I really enjoyed your latest blog although I would respectfully request a disclaimer at the bottom explaining that your lack of experience was not my fault - I taught you many domestic skills and your brother can cook. I would just like to internationally clear my name." Well, Mother, I put it at the top. 

first, a song.
this song reminds me of everything i especially love. the great lakes, holland, traverse city, leland, everything in between. i have a special thing for lighthouses. they remind me of how faithful he is. ever-present and ever-mindful during storms raging here. look for the light of his word. he is there, still. i like looking for him and seeing him. a beacon. a constant in my chaotic, always changing environment full of stresses, worries, and a whirring mind. he cuts through the darkness and the night. look for him and listen to this song.

second, a story. last week, i went to cheonan to have dinner with some friends. i was under the impression that we were going out and playing board games after. instead, i was ambushed with making dinner in a small little apartment full of helping hands and friends who also felt uncomfortable and out of place in a kitchen (at least that's what they told me). there were three of us and the master. turns out master r went to culinary school, which was why he actually knew what he was doing and made us do it instead. it was a learning experience. in both making tortillas and patience. it stretched me and rolled me and squished me in places, not being told exactly what to do and how to do it. things were left up to me that should never be left to me; how much flour to add to make the dough less sticky, when to stop mixing, size of dough balls, rolling method, things i've never done. this event instilled in me enough confidence and courage to make a second tortilla-making attempt: yesterday. it was the first dinner club in my little sinchang apartment complex and the theme just happened to be mexican. convenient. i thought it was too coincidental to pass up so i offered to take a second whack at making tortillas. (why i ever offered to make tortillas alone for the first time for public criticism is still beyond me).

it was one of the most stressful things i've ever encountered, and i've experienced quite a bit in college and in solo. i had to go to the store and find flour. ended up with wheat flour, but flour is flour (in my book, can i live by this?) 5:30pm. began mixing my ingredients. all of them. until i read the directions which said to.. not. i'm not sure how to mix and add oil and water at the same time, so maybe it's a good thing that didn't actually happen. mixing was an adventure in itself because i didn't have a 'bread hook' whatever that is and the dough seemed to really like the mixer and kept sticking and balling up the wands, whisks, metal things. i ended up hand-mixing the dough until it seemed smooth enough (in jackie kitchen terms). the only place in my entire apartment big enough for rolling the dough was my desk at the opposite side of the room. i cleaned it and floured it and i then divided the dough into 16 perfectly equal dough balls (because it was scientific) and smooshed them just a bit (okay, there were 17) and let them 'rest' for fifteen minutes. they hadn't done anything yet, why did they need a rest? after they had finished their siesta (and during) i attempted to turn the gas stove on for the first time. ever. it took me the entire resting period to get the flame to stick around. did i mention cat was on the porch yelling at me the whole time because he wanted in on the pyro action? (as if lighting his tail on fire from my candle a few weeks ago wasn't enough). the pan got hot, real hot. as expected, that was good. because i was at my desk, space was limited and i could only realistically roll out two tortillas at a time (sometimes three if i was lucky). because of this and the flames in the other room, i had to roll out tortillas then run them to the stove over and over and over again. roll, run, flip, run for another. 5.5 times. it was a workout. i ended up frying? cooking? the tortillas twice because i couldn't tell if they looked right. they looked better after the second round. i finished making them at 7:30pm and was supposed to be at the dinner at 7:30. i didn't have time to clean off my flour-y desk, i raced them to the building next door and almost dropped them because they were still so hot. precious cargo.

i was nervous when people started getting excited that someone made homemade tortillas.. i didn't want them to have expectations of any kind. but they loved them. they ate all of them. they raved. at least, that's how i remember it because i was so shocked. i was convinced, sure, that something had gone wrong and hadn't turned out right. but i did it. i made tortillas. by myself. in my apartment. alone with cat and open flame. and they ate all of them. it's weird making something for hours and having nothing to show for it. but i will remember that night and the people and the delicious mexican food that i ate and ate and overate because i didn't know when i would see mexican food next. and i'll remember the absolute disaster of an apartment and mess that i came home to and left until today.

thanks, lord, for being my lighthouse and for keeping me on my toes with friends who expect a lot out of life and out of me. thanks for throwing tortillas in my path and making me learn to trust myself and my ability in the kitchen (what little skill i have now). aiming to have a trust like abraham and sarah. next week, dinner club is doing curry. too bad the people of india don't eat tortillas (that i know of).

do i try to make naan?
now that's a scary thought.