Candidacy

A nasty five-letter word punctuates the first two years of graduate school. Quals. You see, UC Berkeley needs to put its stamp of approval on any little snot precocious enough to attempt a doctorate program.

To be fair, my program does not formally QC as hard as other programs. We have no preliminary written exams, no comps, and *gasp* no thesis defense. That's right. Eventually I just hunt down the old guys and make them sign the dissertation. They don't get to put up a fight first. Perhaps that is why they go into hiding.

Nonetheless, simply because the department depends on WWI attrition tactics does not mean that my second year class cruised effortless through qualifying exams. I needed a paper bag to breathe into during the month's preparation for my three-hour interrogation. In the words of the older student, "If you don't have an emotional breakdown some time before the exam, you aren't doing it right."

So what did I do? I read thousands of pages on stuff, swang on the swings every day, and occasionally hid in trees. I talked to the neighborhood cats about biophysical chemistry. I compared my oven to protein binding sites. In other words, I took 'quirky' and turned into 'wtf'. But in the end I passed, and now I talk to cats less often. Also, I still have friends.

The weather matched my gloom. Those four weeks were filled with the cold, foggy wetness that seeps through the skin. I sulked under multiple sweaters, hoods, hats, and occasionally a snuggie. My nose froze and my hands wouldn't type. I drank boatloads of tea, but the fleeting heat of steeped water always left me yearning for the comfort of true warmth.

A PhD candidate is supposed to come up with solutions to problems in an experiment. I could do that! Well, maybe not. TWO snuggies would be excessive. However, I persevered.
Behold, the impossibly non-photogenic hot chocolate. Brandied hot chocolate with cayenne, to be exact. I take more pride of this creation than I do of my data. It's a drink that pulls you away from reality and beckons a minute's introspection. It is simple and easily adjusted to taste. However, it is REAL drinking chocolate--no powders or rehydratable marshmallows. Finally, there is no cloying sweetness to dominate each sip. The three flavors come together with a satisfying complexity. The dark chocolate, brandy, and cayenne play a nice trio: three individual players that you can sense solo and in harmony.

It's a triple threat to cold. Rich hot chocolate warms the insides better than tea: the fat substantiates the heat. However, 2% milk keeps the drink from being too heavy. Brandy gives a little fire to the stomach, while cayenne leaves your lips and mouth with just the right tingly heat. In the words of my friend, "Sounds like a nice drink to give to a lady friend." Sounds like a nice drink to give to myself. Every morning, forever and ever.

Charlene's favorite hot chocolate

1 c 2% fat milk (you need milkfat to emulsify the chocolate. I like 2%, but feel free to try whole)
dash salt
1/4 c chopped dark chocolate (50-75%)
Brown sugar, to taste (2T if using 72% chocolate and don't like cloying sweetness)
1/2 T brandy
Sprinkle cayenne pepper

Heat milk, salt, and sugar in a sauce pan until almost simmering. Take off heat. Add chocolate. Whisk until smooth. Add brandy and cayenne, to taste. MAke sure the sweetness is to your liking before serving.

Small things

Our hamster died. Cis, the cutie with the gingersnap, died after almost three years of pawing around. Our lab is officially hamsterless.

We buried her... in front of our building. We placed her in a box and dug a deep hole in a secluded corner of dirt and dead leaves, careful to make sure no dog would sniff her out. Nothing about lab dynamics sinks in like realizing that you are digging a dirt hole with your PhD mentor like some minion of Vesalius.

If I ever graduate, I will have a doctorate in molecular biology. My thesis work will have included burying pet the hamsters that I brought to class. Best of all, people will think it's prestigious.

Pet Cemetary parodies aside, grad school is not all fun and funerals. The past two years have been the hardest mental and emotional struggle since puberty, and there is no Chicken soup for the jaded grad student soul to comfort my emo battles. The extended writing hiatus has been a partial refrain from being yet another whiny, mediocre diatribe on why the world sucks. Also, "feelings" turn me into a lazy bastard.

Nonetheless, things are looking up; better medical doctors, fewer grad-school stressers, and phenomenal friends go a long way to finding stability. Well, that and the satisfaction in simple things.

Holy writing-about-life-cliche, Batman! I was referencing medieval grave-robbing anatomists not three paragraphs before. Bet you didn't see THIS coming, eh? Well, cliches are not exclusively born in the cubicles of Hallmark. One thing I can confess: there is nothing that strips away contempt of the contrite like realizing some of it is true. Investing the effort to appreciate the simple goes a very long way.
For example, tomatoes. I crave tomatoes like I had terminal scurvy. They are such a friendly fruit; full of tasty vitamins and msg (yeah, that's right). My current favorite tomatoey treat is slow-roasting all day at very low heat. A friend first explained this phenomenon, and this is the best way to turn a mediocre tomato into tomato crack.

Simply halve them, toss in olive oil, season. If you want you can add some fresh basil. I popped in some garlic for aromatic (and gustatory) flourish. Five hours later my roommate and I piled roasted garlic, goat cheese, and tomatoes on slices of fresh baguette. An epic bite: teeth sink into the chewy bread and tomato. Concentrated tomato-red sunshine bursts into the mouth. The tang of goat cheese and mellow warmth of roasted garlic provide a backdrop for one's palette to fall back on post "tomato-red sunshine explosion" (who uses these words, anyways?). My next dinner get-together will feature these guys because they pair fancy and comfort in a splendidly simple manner.
De Lycopersiconi esculenti fabrica


To begin:
Oven to 250
Cut tomatoes in half. Roma work well, as do cherry/grape tomatoes. If you have snooty/fancy heirloom tomatoes, I'd spend them on some fancy, adjective-heavy adventure. Put on a baking pan

Coat with thin layer olive oil. Season with sea salt and cracked pepper.

Take either cloves of garlic or an entire head. Cut the top of the head of garlic and drizzle olive oil on top, or coat cloves in oil as well. Also put on pan.

Sprinkle torn or chiffoned basil over the tomatoes. Pop in oven.

Here is the battle. The longer you can wait at the low temperatures, the more sun-dried like they will be. However, if Christmas morning was always torture for you, turn the heat up to 400 15 min before you MUST eat them. The tomatoes will roast themselves done. However, it's worth the wait.

Take garlic out when it smells good and is fork tender (so, start checking it once the house smells like garlic. This will depend on how much you added and the oven temp.)

The tomatoes make great appetizers with garlic, cheese, and bread. They also taste good in simple pastas, sandwiches... you get the idea.