Last week, the lab across the hall from my office held a sort of “labwarming*” party to show off their recently-renovated digs. Food, drink, conversations, et al.

Reason #A to love this job: Beer at the party.

Reason #B: When the party officially began, I was setting up the PI’s new network printer. The process was smooth and straightforward, but it was a little time-consuming to configure everything. While I worked, though, three different people offered me a beer at three different times, even suggesting that beer is useful as a “testing beverage”. (For the record, that is very true.)

Reason #C: Chocolate fountain at the party. Seriously.

Reason #D: Because food and drinks are not allowed in the lab itself (to prevent cross-contamination of food/drink, equipment, and supplies), the hallway was lined with partygoers eating and drinking. That made it very easy to mingle — just walk down the hall…

Reason #E: Somehow, I impressed a few people by pointing out the Mendoza region of Argentina on a nearby world map. This somehow led to a great conversation about the Shackleton Antarctic expedition and their numerous ordeals.

Reason #F: I got to meet or at least come to know of a bunch of spouses and children. I’ll think twice before calling any grad student or postdoc a “kid” again.

All this from a couple hours on a Thursday in February. Score!

*Have you ever stood near a PCR thermal cycler? Those suckers get hot, fast. This lab has several of them close together, and they get heavy use, so that part of the lab stays toasty warm year-round.

First, we harken back to this post of a Neruda sonnet, which pre-dates my current relationship but is a damned fine post anyway.

Second, we have this:


(Image found by Flickr user valart2008 and posted at http://www.flickr.com/photos/23516766@N04/2244002673/; it’s CC-BY-SA, so check the license terms before re-using it.)

We don’t really do anything super-special for Valentine’s Day — aside from the whole “Hallmark holiday” argument, there is much to be said for recognizing love in all its small everyday manifestations — but the occasion does give me a chancean excuse to be sappy.

So.

Click the link to see this year’s cheesy graphical Valentine.

Tuesday night I cooked dinner for Valentine’s Day — it’s cheaper and less crowded, everyone. Just wanted to recap.

A year or so ago, I impulsively grabbed a box of quinoa from Trader Joe’s. It had been sitting in my cabinet ever since, because I was a bit intimidated by it (thinking “oh my God what did I get myself into?! I’m totally unfamiliar with Incan cuisine!”). Last week, though, as Fred and I planned a trip to our friendly local wholesaler, we did our best to try to re-claim space. As a result, I volunteered to cook the quinoa.

On the back of the box was the recipe I wound up making for Valentine’s dinner. It turned out to be absolutely wonderful, so I’d like to share it here…

Garlic Chicken Stir-Fry with Quinoa, Peppers, and Basil
• 1 cup quinoa, well-rinsed in cold water or soaked (as appropriate: unprocessed quinoa has a bitter and mildly toxic outer hull that can be removed by soaking, but some commercial brands [including Trader Joe's] already have that hull removed)
• 2 cups chicken stock
• 4 tbsp garlic-flavored olive oil
• 1 ½ pounds chicken breast tenders, cut into one-inch sections
• 1 red bell pepper, seeded and thinly sliced
• 1 yellow bell pepper, seeded and thinly sliced
• 1 small onion, halved and thinly sliced
• 5 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
• ~20 leaves fresh basil, finely shredded (do a chiffonade!)
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Grated or shredded Parmesan cheese

In a medium saucepan, bring quinoa and stock to a boil, then reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 10 to 12 minutes. At the end of this time, the quinoa should have little rings throughout: this is the germ of the seed separating from the rest of the seed, and indicates that the quinoa is finished cooking.

Heat a large skillet over high heat. Add oil, then sauté chicken until golden brown, ~5 minutes. Add peppers and onion and sauté for another minute or two; then add garlic, salt, and pepper and sauté until peppers are limp. Remove from heat. Toss in basil and cooked quinoa until basil wilts.

Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese and serve immediately. Serves four or so.

We had this with a light salad and a crisp white wine (a blend of Ugni Blanc and Viognier), and followed it with frozen strawberries with cream dipped in white chocolate. (yes, most of this menu came from Trader Joe’s. and no, I am not affiliated with that company in any way.) Quite lovely, especially by candlelight, and especially with the pink tulips I had surprised him with envased nearby.

Needless to say, I am no longer afraid of quinoa. It’s a piece of cake to prepare and has a lovely texture, almost like al dente couscous. It’s also high in fiber and protein, and triples in volume when cooked so I felt it was a good value. I’ll be cooking it again sometime.

THE LAST DAY. There’s no distinct division between yesterday’s stuff and today’s, so this picks up right around midnight on Valentine’s 2001.

To the NSA people reading this: in the first paragraph, I’m pointing out an obvious flaw in airport security in Chennai. Had I actually tried anything of the sort, I imagine one of the pleasant ‘n’ well-armed military types wandering the airport would have interrupted me, perhaps with a hail of gunfire. (resisting the urge to crack a Cheney joke here)

First, security check — my nasty green monster got a sporting new plastic band, but carry-on was left without. Strangely, though, as I discovered, I could have carried in weapons/explosives/etc. in the carry-on, transferred them to Greenie, and gotten them onboard — the plastic band, while effective on suitcases, was pointless on frame packs. <evil thoughts>

Couldn’t check in for 90 minutes at least, so I settled in with some nice techno and Anglo-Saxon epic poetry. Considered phoning my mom (there! American spelling triumphs!), but since I had/have Re. 1/- in cash on me, and they would only take rupees in cash, skipped that.

Eventually got to queue up for check-in. Promos!

• All passengers got a little heart pin and chocolate or cookie.
• They’d have a drawing for 2 return tix to London (Club World class, 1 up from “World Traveller” or coach) for all those at the gate by 03:30. At this writing, however, I’m not sure if that’s only Chennai< ->London… eep.

Checked in after fending off clowns and filling out paperwork. Got boarding passes for all 3 legs of my exhaustive itinerary and a snazzy tag for the blue carry-on. Say goodbye, Greenie! (Or should I call you Grendel?)

We now jump 9 months ahead in time, because jeem didn’t bother to work any further on the journal during this trip or its immediate aftermath.

(Oct 14 2001 Chicago)
OK — recap —

• Chennai< ->London RT drawing, I lost.
• Flight to London uneventful.
• At Heathrow, I wound up helping a young Jordanian woman (with baby and rambunctious kid in tow) get to her flight. The big challenge: she spoke no English, I no Arabic. We made it, though, with a little help from a Royal Saudi employee.
• Bought the following duty-free:

• Earl Grey, loose, in cobalt blue tin for my mother. Damn, it’s good shit.
• Pint glasses w/four bar mats for Ed.
• Brown Brothers 1997 Merlot. For my father, even though I wound up drinking 2 glasses. Awesome, awesome, awesome wine.

… and thus we stop the “official” record.

• As a result of this trip, Ed has learned never to ask me to bring him some tacky tchotchke from a duty-free shop. This is primarily because the duty-free shop at Chennai consists of liquor and cigarettes; no tacky tchotchkes in sight. So instead he got cheesy pub glasses from the Heathrow Harrod’s.
• I had a little spare time at Heathrow, so I stopped in for a drink. Unfortunately, just as I was tucking into a lovely pint, I glanced up at the monitor to see that my flight was boarding. And freaked.

  Friends, never chug Newcastle Brown.

  Additionally, after chugging a pint of a substantial beer, never attempt to run with a heavy backpack through an airport terminal.

• Later that year, my father tried to claim that the Brown Bros. wine was something he had found online. I was able to disprove his claim, though, by looking them up online and pointing out that they did not ship to the Western Hemisphere at that time. (They returned to the US market in 2004, though. yay!)
• The young Jordanian woman was trying to get to Los Angeles. Apparently somebody would meet her there.
• Once I got to O’Hare… well, it was sleeting. Hard.

  In an attempt to stave off jet lag, I decided to have tea (it was 16:00). Unfortunately, the only thing I could find was Starbucks’ let’s-raid-the-spice-cabinet chai latte. It was VERY hot and tasted nothing like anything I had in India, but I had no other option.

  As I took my first sip, I glanced at the monitor and discovered that my flight from ORD to STL had been cancelled. I didn’t chug the tea, though — hot, remember? — instead I carried it with me as I ran to the nearest customer service counter for my airline.

  I had somehow come away with two heart-pins from Chennai Airport, so after the frazzled young woman at the counter got me onto a later flight on a different airline I gave her one and wished her a happy Valentine’s Day.

  I called home and my employer, then wandered O’Hare for a bit before finding some dinner. (I don’t know why, but I love to wander airports and see all the stuff that nobody else notices.)

  New flight was as uneventful as only flights between St. Louis and Chicago can be. (though I had been awake for over 48 hours by that point, I was plenty caffeinated and on my fourth or fifth wind.)

• When I got home, my youngest brother had TP’d my bed. Having just returned from 3 weeks in a place where toilet paper was almost unheard-of, I was mortified.
• Because I know somebody is going to ask: a jug of water and the left hand.
• After I got back, I specifically avoided Indian restaurants for a couple weeks, because I knew they just couldn’t compare. When I finally did decide to have Indian food again, though, I picked a restaurant frequented by young NRIs (Non-Resident Indians) who worked downtown.

  However, I went back on Ash Wednesday. Right after noonday services.

  Turns out ash smudges on foreheads are starkly reminiscent of bindis…

That’s all for now. I’m working on an omnibus summary of my experiences to be posted when I’m satisfied with it, and will be posting more pics from this trip tomorrow.