Trying to tell you a little bit of everything with this post, so bear with me and my outlandish title.
I was thinking last night on the comfort of home. I had something of a long day, and was just noticing the sense of relief, as the bus pulled toward my familiar home stop. It's kinda strange, 'cause even though I've lived in this neighborhood all my life, that side (i.e. where the stop is) never seemed like anything to me. A few years back, I would've considered it ugly. Then again, a few years back, I didn't care much about my present home. I always wanted to be elsewhere.
I still do, by the way. Go figure.
But I've come to love this place. I love the relief of coming home, the way it extends to the surrounding area. There's streets upon streets that I consider home, but they exist in different cities, which makes life hard at times.
Also makes me happy when I travel, which is tomorrow, and while our holiday is shaping up to be quite exciting, I'm realizing it's vastly insufficient for all the bikinis and beachwear I've acquired (from thriftstores around the continent).
How do I choose who to be tomorrow?
I got a small lesson in who not to be yesterday. I went to see some local yoga studio for a potential collaboration. The pricey, posh end of town. Streets lined with Porsches, Mercedes, and small penises. And no sooner had I sat down than the owner started giving me some story about how their students are particularly knowledgeable about yoga, and require very high-end teaching. Naturally, I felt a tad intimidated, and did ask what they meant, exactly. Were their typical students proper, long-time yogis?
Apparently not, but they were "well educated" (as opposed to practitioners in the rest of the city). Meaning they paid twice what the rest pays for classes and drove a fancy car.
Fair to say, it wasn't the best experience, and while I was daunted a bit at first, the more I thought about it, the more enraged I was.
See, I was teaching a class later at my regular gym, and kept thinking, what gives you the right? Who the fuck do you think you are to put my students down in that way?
Thankfully, I really love this gym I teach at, it's got an amazing sense of community, and I felt right at home. Really undid the previous couple of hours.
Seriously, though, some people are just dicks.
Nothing a good yoga class and a nice dish won't fix. I was welcomed home with a delicious meal, topped by a nice dessert. I made plum tart! Felt very fancy and French making it. Super easy too.
Basically, you just gotta do the dough. And have an excess of plums about to go bad. That helps you in any situation.
Turn on the oven to 220C.
Toss some 200g plain flour with a bit of salt and a tiny bit of sugar.
In a separate bowl, you want to mix about 100 ml oil (I mixed olive with a bit of sunflower oil), and a couple tablespoons of milk. And a little almond extract. Think I could've used a tad more, as I didn't really feel it, but hey-ho.
I'm not normally a fan of baking desserts with oil, but this was an exception, and very interesting at that.
I liked how the dough came out. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Of course, first mix the dry and the wet ingredients. Shoulda led with that. Ideally, you'll have a very oily, but firm, moldable dough to work with.
Line a dish of your choice (I used a classical tart dish) with baking paper, or smear with butter (and breadcrumbs) to avoid sticking. Next, use your fingers to flatten and even out the dough, edging it gently up the sides.
Plum time.
Halve or quarter your plums (about 20-25 should do you fine) depending on size and arrange them over the dough (cut side up):
In a separate bowl, you want to combine two tablespoons of flour, about 50 g of cold butter (cubes) and 150 g of sugar.
I used brown, and didn't really measure it, just eyeballed it. Turned out well enough if I dare say so myself. Use your fingers to mix the crumble, then sprinkle evenly over your tart.
Put in oven and bake 30-40 mins until the color looks a decent, toasty shade. I think I may have overbaked mine a tad, but tasty enough. Serve with whipped cream for best enjoyment. Be unimpressed by dicks, put on your bikini and dance.
Bon appetit.
