apropos of anything

It really is. We’re only sidetracking for a teensy second.

I spent hours looking for pizza recipes because I wanted to serve pizzas at iftaar (which I did, a variation off Allie’s Mushroom Pizza), and now that it’s over, I find this page with all sorts of lovely pizza ideas. I’m writing about it here so I keep a link around, especially because I promised my brothers I’d make them pizza sometime this week since the halal pepperoni one ran out so quickly on Friday.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled focus.

We’re halfway through Ramadan now. I had hoped for something different. Something like last year (which at least means I met my goal for last year, that I should look back and think, if only I could do as much as I did last year).

When I read back through that post, I’m in awe of how much my head was in exactly the right place, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. This past week I have spent so much time thinking — no, obsessing — about things that are out of my control, things that have nothing at all to do with Ramadan, that I haven’t even noticed how many precious days have slipped by. Ramadan comes only once a year, and I am ashamed of myself for not taking advantage of it like I should.

I suppose there’s still time for me to fix it, to wrench myself back into the proper frame of mind, and to finish out Ramadan like it should be done.

I think I might start with the small deeds. As we left Makkah this winter, Imam Magid advised us to pick a few small things and do them consistently because he said we’d be more likely to stick to that regimen than if we tried to make grand, sweeping changes. I’ve forgotten to take his words to heart, but perhaps now, during Ramadan, is the perfect time to remember.

Iftaar’s over. The icebox cake was a smash hit, for what it’s worth.

I’ve had a bit of a conundrum this week. You see, the Braves are in the wild card race for the playoffs (the division title is sadly too far out of reach), and this week they’re playing the Phillies who are ahead of them for both the wild card and the division title.

Normally, it’d be a no-brainer. The Braves should win every game they can so they can make a serious run for a playoff spot, right? However. The Mets, who are currently leading the division, are unraveling faster than you can say “choke”, which means if the Phillies win their games against the Braves, they might be in a position to take the title instead.

Hence the quandary: Do I want the Mets to lose the division title badly enough to want my own team to lose whatever slim shot they have of making the playoffs this year?

It seems the Braves have taken the decision out of my hands, have fallen upon their own sword to help prevent Sauron from getting the ring. Their loss to the Phillies last night effectively puts them out of the running, and so for a second consecutive year, baseball comes to an early end in Atlanta. Thanks for trying, Mark and John and yes, even you, Chipper. Andruw Jones, on the other hand… I am not speaking to you.

I HATE not making the playoffs. The Phillies had better win that title, is all I’m saying.

At the moment, my feet.

They’ve yet to recover from the 3-day experience. I desperately need some professional help here, but things have gotten so ugly that I’m a little ashamed to let the pedicurist see them.

In fact, it’s gotten so bad that I, who have been known to call people in Chicago in December and gloat about how I have yet to put on closed-toed shoes, am seriously contemplating ushering in the closed-toe shoe season a few months early. If I didn’t have to worry about taking the shoes off at the mosque every night during Ramadan, I might have already done it. These things are scary, y’all. Like, is that skin, or have you joined The Flying Dutchman scary.

Anybody have suggestions on how to rejuvenate some toes?

Michael Kinsley’s column in this week’s Time magazine: How dare you!

If nothing else, you have to admit it’s a good piece of writing.

(Regarding the Petraeus report, there’s an interesting analysis that points out the reason certain parts of Iraq, such as the Anbar province, are less explosive these days has less to do with the presence and effectiveness of the U.S. military as it does to do with the presence and effectiveness of Iraqi ethnic cleansing. Of course the violence will stop once a formerly mixed Shiite/Sunni neighborhood because Shiite or Sunni only. I saw a site last week that had images of the maps Petraeus used in his Congressional testimony with the ethnic population of the neighborhoods overlayed on top. It’s indisputable when you see it that way, but sadly I was too busy to post the link at the time and now I don’t know where it is. If I find it, I’ll update this post.)

A raindrop in Atlanta means catastrophe on the roads. The interstates grind to a halt, and all the lovely maps on Georgia Navigator turn a blistering red, which means soon afterwards the surface streets are clogged with frenzied motorists who foolishly believe avoiding the major highways will actually get them home faster. Because of the rain, I went straight to Al-Farooq masjid after work. I’d rather sit reading in a mosque than fuming in gridlocked traffic, and Al-Farooq would feed me if I chose to eat (I never do, but the option is nice), and it was all more efficent that way.

So I went, and I read, and I pretty much didn’t pay attention to anything else that was going on, except for the iftaar and maghrib. I’m trying to make as much headway in the Quran as early as I can because I know that I’ll fall behind later in the month, and I want to build up a buffer.

But when the adhaan for isha started… I haven’t seen Mansoor since he stayed behind at the Boston airport on Labor Day. I haven’t talked to him for more than ten minutes since then either… but I know his adhaan. I knew it in the tents in Mina, and I knew it tonight, even when I thought he was out of town. Hearing it made me a little teary because Ramadan is a time for friends and family, and I know it’s only the first day, but I hate doing even a day of it alone, and Mansoor does a beautiful adhaan. You hear his adhaan, no matter what else you’re doing or thinking. It absolutely stops you in your tracks.

Tonight was an auspicious beginning to Ramadan, and insha’Allah, the rest of the month will continue the same way.

Y’all. Ramadan Mubarak. This is going to be the BEST. RAMADAN. EVER.

How do I know?

Because of the cookies. The cookies, they are a sign.

Today after sunset I went to Walgreens — not my usual Walgreens as for some bizarre reason I picked the one that is closer to me but completely out of my way to send the photos to this time — to pick up my pictures from Musab and Abby’s wedding. I was chatting with Dave, who I’d called to wish Ramadan Mubarak and to laugh at his comment on the cookie post, when I saw the Fresh Market next door to the Walgreens.

Yesterday when hunting for Whole Foods phone numbers, Alicia had mentioned Fresh Market carries Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafers. I figured I’d give it a try.

It’s a cute little shop, smaller than Whole Foods but with the same type of groceries and more of a general store kind of feel. I scanned the cookie aisle and saw the Nabisco Nilla Wafers and the Ginger Wafers, but not the Chocolate Wafers… until I looked up two shelves.

There they were.

Obviously, the icebox cake was meant to be made for Ramadan this year. It is going to be a good Ramadan, insha’Allah.

Now if only I can find that new mosque around the corner….

Phew.

I don’t know that I’ve ever read a book with as many never-ending sentences as Special Topics in Calamity Physics.

Granted, it’s a 500+ page book, so there are some simple sentences mixed around in there, but overall, Pessl definitively proves she doesn’t believe for a moment that brevity is the soul of wit.

The reviewers adore this book. They’re tripping over themselves to smother it in praise: The New York Times, Salon (although at least they find some chinks in Pessl’s literary armor: “If only Pessl wouldn’t try so hard to convince us that she is a novelist of grand, American-style ambition; she seems to think that if you fling enough metaphors at your readers’ heads, their ducking can be interpreted as bows of reverence.”), The Christian Science Monitor … all echo Jonathan Franzen’s glowing recommendation on the back cover.

I’m not sure if I adore this book. I’m not sure exactly what I think of this book. Is it too smart for its own good, or is it simply too smart for me? Are the chapter titles (each one is the name of a book) a clever literary device, or a pretentious, overly-precious gimmick? Is the ending ultimately unsatisfying, as many of the Chickliterati attest?

At the beginning, I was intrigued. In the middle, I was a little bored. At the end, I couldn’t put it down, even though I had a strong suspicion about what was going to happen. And even though I was right, I was still surprised to read it because I was so sure Pessl wouldn’t go there, that my imagination was running amok as usual. Possibly I read through it too quickly. (Sometimes when I HAVE to know what happens, I’ll start to skim and then go back and do a thorough re-read later.)

I think the Bluebloods are what trip up most readers who don’t review books for a living… but to explain why, I’d have to get into the guts of the book, which I don’t want to do because I’m hoping somebody out there will want to read it soon and discuss it with me.

And if that doesn’t happen, I’ll simply bide my time because they’re SO going to make a movie out of this book.

Ramadan is coming up. (Like, day after tomorrow. Early Ramadan mubarak, y’all!) And so, of course, I am planning an iftaar party because that’s what you do in Ramadan when you are not fasting or praying or reading Quran: you go to iftaar parties. I got the first Evite almost six weeks ago, at which point I turned, wide-eyed, to Alicia who was sitting next to me, and said, I have to pick a date! Now! The flood has started!

Indeed it had, as somebody else got my coveted original date before I sent out invitations for it. (Narrowing down the guest list is hard. I dither for days as I try to balance my small house with all the people I’d like to invite, and particularly with all the people who I know will invite me. This time, I lost the date in my indecision.)

I was working on the menu when I ran across this post from Smitten Kitchen. The icebox cake. I’ve heard of it before and always skipped over it without reading the recipe too closely, casually dismissing it as too 50’s housewifey for my taste. And then I saw that photo. It’s beautiful. It’s simple. It’s beautiful in its simplicity. Best of all, it MUST be made the night before.

This, I decided, would be my chocolate dessert.

The universe has decided otherwise. No icebox cake for you, guests. You’ll just have to settle for a fudgy chocolate layer cake with chocolate ganache icing, or maybe dark chocolate cupcakes with cream-cheese frosting. The icebox cake has five ingredients, one of which does not exist on this planet, or at least not outside of Chicago.

I’ve scoured the Internet. I’ve called four grocery stores and one drugstore. I’ve harangued two store managers. I cannot find the Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafers anywhere except on Amazon, and despite the deep level of my current obsession, I don’t know if I can pay $40 to ship myself six boxes of cookies. (Although, as I write this, I’m beginning to wonder if $40 for six boxes of cookies is really ALL that much.)

Everybody has them in the computer. Nobody has them on the shelf. The Kroger customer service person cheerfully offered me the phone number of another Kroger in the area. The Publix store manager halfheartedly offered to order them for me, but even I don’t go to Publix enough for him to know my name, which he didn’t bother to write down so he could tell me when they’d arrived. And then there’s the Whole Foods manager.

Ah, the Whole Foods manager. Alicia convinced me to call the store rather than going by in person. She even wrote out a list of phone numbers for me as I searched the Internet fruitlessly for chocolate wafer cookies, any chocolate wafer cookies. I called the one in Sandy Springs.

“Hi, I’m looking for Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafer cookies. Do you carry them?”

“Hold on,” she said, “let me transfer you.”

Several minutes of hold music later, a man picked up the phone. “Who are you holding for?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafer cookies. Do you carry them?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll transfer you to grocery.”

Two more minutes of hold music. “Grocery.”

“Hi, I’m looking for Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafer cookies. Do you carry them?”

“Nabisco?” (said as though he didn’t understand me)

“Yes, please.”

“Nabisco?” (said as though I had just insulted his grandmother)

“Yes, the Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafers.”

“No.”

And then there was a click, and he was gone. Apparently, Nabisco is beneath Whole Foods. I wonder if it’s the high fructose corn syrup that puts them over the edge.

So, Universe 1, Huda 0. Chocolate wafer cookies still so securely hidden even Jack Bauer couldn’t torture their whereabouts out of some nefarious and wily stock boy. It might be time to stop doing my best Sir Pellinore impression and turn instead to Essence of Chocolate for a chocolate dessert recipe… or maybe to give in and order off Amazon after all.

On a completely unrelated note… spicy garlicky cashew chicken? SO YUMMY.

Bottles that are clearly marked “soda”, Italian or otherwise, should not be shaken immediately before opening. It doesn’t matter HOW cloudy they might look towards the bottom.