Do you see this door?

A porta permanence fechada. THIS DOOR STAYS CLOSED. Remember the skittering bug I mentioned last week? We got to know each other cara a cara last week. Face-to-face. I had gotten into the habit of turning on the light and fan before going into the loo as a warning… well, one time, he wasn’t so warned.

I screamed. AND I ran. Up those very stairs, in fact, bursting in on Marcella and Renato watching TV upstairs, almost in tears… because I’ve NEVER see a bug that big in my life. Basically (and this is to scale), it looks like this:

It’s SO BIG that there’s a HUMAN-SIZED WOMAN, dressed as a BIRD, STANDING ON ITS HEAD.

And now you know why I screamed.

I’ll come back to what that really is later… but to foreshadow, let me just say, “North America is as exciting as tepid bathwater when it comes to cultural exhibitions.” Yep.

Saturday was the best day ever. We went to TWO markets!! The first one was a local fruit-and-veg market, and the second one let us drive through central SP—my first glimpse—which meant I got to see some amazing architecture and absolute squalor. Interestingly, the place of the greatest history and beauty is also *the* most dangerous in town. I was basically agog, taking it all in—so photos (from the car!) will follow the next time we make the trek. This time, I was in awe. But now: the food.

I have a bad habit of feeling awkward about photography when out in public—and it shows in some of these snaps, a bit out of focus as I tried to take the pic and hide the camera in one quick step… but they *do* get some of the sense of the market.

It was hot and sunny when we made our way there, and the first thing that struck me was that my Lonely Planet was right—aaaaaaaaaand so was my Dad. I tend not to trust him when he tells me about “how it is” where he’s travelled, or about History (sorry Dad! Love ya!) because I’m both an academic *and* I have a different travelling philosophy, so I see the world differently.

BUT! He was right! SP has the *largest* Japanese population outside of Japan, which was obvious at the market. See, exhibit A:

A poor exhibit, admittedly, as these people are really just Asian and I’ve gone and extrapolated, but now imagine that this photo is a microcosm of the market—maybe 25% of people there were Japanese. Cool!

I tried to capture the breadth of the market—which is tough to do when you’re a shorty in a crowded place, but lo, a break in the crowd density let me catch this one… and this is only slightly less than half of it… awesome.

Our first stop was for sustenance, however, since Ondilège cereal doesn’t really tide you over…

This is the first time I’ve shown Marcella here, and I *LOVE* that she’s eating in it (OK, drinking)—because approximately 90% of the photos I took of her in Germany three years ago had her doing the same thing.

Everyone, that’s Renato and Marcella. Marcella and Renato, everyone.

This would be the coconut water part of our day—which I actually found to be quite tasty, in spite of really not caring all that much for coconut most other forms.

As a shout-out to Brazil’s slave history, the African transplant of manioc (aka, cassava) was on offer—and we bought some… I’ve had tapioca before (and wondered where it came from), but this is new! More to follow when we decide what we’re going to *do* with it. They cook it up right there at the market, too, so I got to taste some boiled. It had a pleasing, sweetish taste, with a texture like a cross between a potato and a parsnip.

Fascinatingly—even at 27 degrees out—the meat just sits in open cases.

And Kath asked me for proof of the gargantuan produce… well, in this next image, the cauliflower is normal-size. And that makes the zucchini about 8 cauliflowers long.

And then came the peppers…

Newsflash: Brazilian food is NOT hot. They don’t put black pepper on the tables, and when I used more than one splash of Tabasco on my mushroom-polenta last week, it became a topic of 2 minutes’ conversation about whether I should be allowed to *eat* it… and it wasn’t even hot after all that!

So it’s no surprise that we passed on the “Oh Shit” peppers, and opted instead for what Marcella called “Nose peppers”—because they’re so fragrant. And pretty!

They sell sugar cane in bags, like so:

and then Doce de Leite and other sweet treats:

But what fascinated me was the sugar cane juice:

100% natural, the man’s shirt boasts, and pressed right there in the market.

And one last glory shot of Marcella eating a cheese Pastel: a thin dough square “stuffed” (with a thin slice, mind you) with cheese, fried. Renato had his with cheese and “carne seco”, aka: beef jerky.

By then, Marcella was “tired of the noise and the crowd”, which I thought was funny since she *lives* in a MEGA city, and so we headed off to drive to Mercado 2: the central market.

Since it’s in such a bad part of town, I was warned not to take my camera out *outside* the market, and by the time we were inside, I was feeling distinctly cautious. So I took only a few photos—one of the stained glass:

And one of the pretty fruits—a better display than at the other market (and quite a bit more expensive):

And my thrill—did you know that cashew nuts come from this fruit?

I don’t get it… but I will.

And to my amazement after finding Brazil pricey, our trip to the markets was an absolute *bargain*! Marcella said “we should make a habit of this.” oh YES!

And at the end of this fine day, we cooked a nice meal (yay! Next post!) and then took in the “Parintins folklore festival” on TV—Marcella was reading from the Portuguese Wikipedia to tell me about it, and it was WAY more substantial than my link. Wiki is wrong—because I *saw* the blue Coke ads (no hoax!), but ultimately, the whole event was somewhat beyond my understanding, so I’ll close with some choice images (maybe better viewed while under the influence of *something*), and renew my statement that North America needs to kick up the colour of cultural events somewhat, non?

Oh. Yeah.

PS: I’m absolutley being HARASSED by this IP address: 91.224.160.146 which has spammed me 64 times in the last 4 days. I want them to leave me alone, but I don’t know how… can anyone give me suggestions, remembering that I’m technologically un-inclined?

1) I FINALLY did it!! I went to the gym! That was my single greatest personal challenge on my re-focusing, and now, the seal has been broken! What will I do next?!?

(source)

WIN!! Now, in fairness, I had a sort of lite workout: I did 10 minutes of intervals on the AMT (which apparently burns more calories than a standard elliptical trainer… to me, the main thing is that multiple planes of motion = less boredom), and I did a continuous series of back, shoulder, pec, bi- and tricep exercises, and then some core work and a stretch. Just one set of each exercise, and no legs… because a man from my running group asked me to please come running tomorrow am, and I agreed.

Then he pointed out that we’re “springing forward” tomorrow, and now, I have regrets. So that I wouldn’t have more and worse regrets, I decided not to do my legs so that I won’t have lead feet when I run.

It’s baby steps… and I’m delighted. And wouldn’t you know it? After one little workout, that’s totally my upper body in that pic up there. I think I’m a prodigy!

(source)

2) After the gym, I actually felt like having meat for dinner. That never happens, but I went with it… and off to the grocery store. Organic meat is only available frozen here, however. Argh. Not so good for an immediate meal. So I asked the meat department worker about the provenance of the meat in the case. He said “oh, it’s the same. They did a 6-year study and there’s no difference in people’s health if they eat organic or regular.” That was a bit of a non-sequitur. And oh-so-much more…

For starters, I dispute the idea of that study, and there are WAY too many variables for such a certain statement… but that’s only part of my concern when it comes to how I choose what meat I want to eat. So I said, “but what about the animals? Are they ethically treated? I would like to know that I’m not part of a system that’s abusing meat for the sake of mass production and low cost.”

And thereafter followed 5 minutes I will never get back.

He said “I can tell you how to solve this. You see, the problem is that if everyone was making $25-30 an hour, we could all buy organic. I know who shops here: it’s only doctors and lawyers who can buy it.”

Now, I do live in a blue-collar, industrial town, but I also know that industrial workers make twice a year what I make—and more, with their paid overtime. So the organic meat issue is not just about income. And this doesn’t really answer the issue at hand. But since we were on the issue of price, I responded with a little Michael Pollan / Food Inc. “No, I don’t think that wages are the issue. The problem is a public health issue. The cultural belief that we should be eating meat every day, several times a day, is what feeds the perception that we need cheap meat. For public health, we should maybe try eating vegetarian more often—eat meat less often, but when we do, choose wisely: ethically treated animals for better tasting, better quality meat.”

You can probably guess where this went: “no. Sweetheart. You see, if everyone could get paid more, everyone could buy organic. And since they can’t, there’s no point.”

I was tempted to point out that there was no logic in his last statement. I was tempted to try to explain what I meant, since he clearly wasn’t on the same page as I was and perhaps wasn’t even reading the same book. But in the end, having had enough anger in the last few days, I simply said “right. Thanks. Helpful.” And I left. Empty-handed.

I still want meat. Tomorrow is a new day…

3) I have tart dough chilling in the fridge, the filling is made, and it will be assembled tomorrow. Come on back for the (terrible iPhone) picture!

I had un très petit car accident last week. Well, mostly très petit. I’ve picked up a persistent drug-resisitant headache since then, which has led me to make some different choices.

For example, when I came home from the cupcake event on Friday, my kitchen looked like this:

Recipe binder out, two different sets of icing tips, a ziploc bag of frosting, my snap-pea snack, and the dregs of both a blood orange and pound of butter, hugging my KitchenAid. And do you see what else is nestled in there, too? On my cutting board?

Yeah, hard to tell with the iPhone pic (and maybe *this* week will be the week I figure out the fate of my poor camera lens)… on that cutting board is chocolate. Chopped. Ready for melting. So even though the clock said “10.53″, my vision was clouded by this:

I used the darkest chocolate I could find. I remember once in Oxygen magazine they suggested chocolate-covered strawberries as a recommended treat, “at just 50 calories per, with fibre, too!” (although calories *have* to vary based on the size of strawberry, amount of chocolate, and type of chocolate used, but I digress)… And yet: loving both strawberries and chocolate, I’d inexplicable never dunked my strawbs before. Putting aside my environmental conscience feeling that it was just *wrong* to have a strawberry in March, I think I’m in love.

Maybe the best part of this little treat is that I could have just one (or the two small ones, if I’m honest), and I didn’t go nuts with cravings later, like I would if it had been a baked good. I think that’s because it’s way less of a nutritional hit, while still having something sweet—no demon wheat, for example! Sorry, cupcakes, there’s a new law in town.

Chocolate and fruit. Best. Treat. EVER? Discuss!

Thursday I planned on having steak and baking gingerbread something. Yeaaaah…

But I got wrapped up in my day and by 3pm, I realised I hadn’t really eaten… nor had I really done groceries in a few weeks, since I had been away last weekend.

If necessity is the mother of all invention, then hunger is the father of all random lunches. And this time, the randomness was answered by two heels of bread (boo! They don’t toast evenly!), some avocado, mustard, an egg and some baby spinach, with carrots on the side.

Hunger sated, I moved on to the next plan: working out the meat sitch.

The cut was a strip loin steak.

I Googled “how do you cook a strip loin steak?” and ended up with this, which was one click away from my goal: cooking said steak inside.

It was easy! Heat stove to “really hot”.

Ew! Clean much, S? (No, and in fact, I know that I don’t. I’d rather sleep than clean. And exercise than clean. And blog than clean. And since there’s finite time in a day, I’ll *get* to cleaning eventually. It burns calories, after all!)

While the stove is heating up, salt and pepper the steak on both sides:

Oopsie! Out of focus… cook for 4 minutes per side… and:

A delicious, medium steak, cooked by ME on my STOVE TOP!!

I really hadn’t had high hopes for this. How could salt and pepper alone have made this tasty? I guess because organic makes a difference! The taste is so much better when animals are raised right and treated better, and I do *love* pepper—this was simple and SO good.

I ate 1/3 of it and went to start my gingerbread, only to realise that I had eaten the last egg in the house in my sandwich (the horror!), and was therefore SOL. Duh. So I went to work… and for the next 4.5 hours, ALL I could think about was that steak! I think my body wanted the protein, though, if you’re counting, that was 3 red meats in 7 days for me… which is a LOT!

Still, I came home and finished it, and then slept like a dream. The extra protein even propelled me into the gym on Friday morning. Morning!

NEWS FLASH!

As someone who believes in “if you’re going to do something, do it properly”, I’ve passed on the gym in the mornings, knowing that a workout was ALWAYS at least an hour, plus travel time, plus showering and changing… and all too often, there’s no way that’s in the cards. I think that ideally it *is* better, for me, to squeeze in a super-circuit (alternating weights with cardio to keep my heart rate up), but—and here’s where the news comes in—I can rock a workout in a fraction of that time! Yesterday, hell-bent on getting my workout in before my 8.45am doctor’s appointment, I was in the gym at 7.20am, I did one set to failure of each of these: squats; walking lunges; bench press; military press; superset flies; 1-arm rows; lat-pulldown; seated row; skull crushers; overhead extensions; back raises; *and* some abs… and I was STILL out the door at 7.45.

A WHOLE WORKOUT, that I’m *definitely* feeling today, IN 25 MINUTES!! I think I’ve just revolutionised my working out.

My revelation has almost cured me of my no-gingerbread angst… if only I could have gone back in time on Thursday and said “no, man. Don’t eat that egg, it’s for the gingerbread”… if only…! On the upside, today is a new day, and I’ve recruited some willing stomachs for my baking. Things seem to be falling into place.

Mind you, YESTERDAY was a new day, too, and though I stopped at the grocery store *expressly* for eggs on the way home from work last night, I left with 2 bags full, without a single egg!!!!!!!!!!.

I think now it’s time—that broken clock (right twice a day) must be in my favour! Today might actually see me buy a freaking egg—or 12.

Do you like gingery baked goods, and what kind?