Three-Cheese French Onion Soup

Ever since I went on my first low-carb diet five years ago, onion soup has been a repeat performer on my list of all time favorite liquid-based foods. (And, yes, I really do have such a list. No, you may not see it.) When I lived in Germany, I couldn't seem to find it anywhere. Perhaps that has something to do with its French origin, or maybe the Germans just can't get behind a good oniony soup covered in melted cheese...I'm voting for the former. I did manage to finally find it in the Netherlands, where it's known as uiensoep (roughly pronounced oo-een-zoop), but I digress. The whole point of this story is that I had to learn to make it myself. This is the result of years and years of tweaking what started out as a pretty good recipe. One I have to keep pulling out because no one in this blasted country seems to know how to make it. Enjoy.

Three-Cheese French Onion Soup

Serves: 4-6, depending on portion sizes

Ingredients:

• 1/2 stick unsalted butter
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 garlic cloves, smashed
• 3 large onions, or 5 medium ones, halved and sliced
• 1/2 cup dry white wine (like a pinot grigio)
• 2 tablespoons fresh thyme
• 2 small bay leaves, or 1 large one
• 32 ounces beef stock
• 5-6 dashes Worcestershire sauce
• 1 teaspoon Nature's Seasoning (optional)
• Salt and Pepper to taste

• French bread, sliced into half-inch pieces on the bias, and baked at 300 degrees Fahrenheit for 20 minutes until dry and hard. Or just use old bread.
• Gruyere, Provolone and Parmesan Cheese

Directions:

Melt the butter and olive oil together in a medium to large saucepan over medium heat. Add onions and garlic, salt liberally, and allow to soften 5-10 minutes.

Turn the heat up to high for a few minutes and then add the wine, thyme (either on the stems or stripped off) and the bay leave(s). Allow to boil while stirring to get any crusty bits off the bottom of the pan.

Add beef stock, Worcestershire and Nature's Seasoning and bring to a boil and then turn down to a simmer and cook for 20 minutes.

Note: If you can't find Natures seasoning, just add in a little extra garlic powder, onion powder, a pinch of sugar and more pepper.

Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper if desired.

Ladle soup into oven-proof ramekins, lay one or two pieces of bread on top and then cover with the three cheeses. Broil in a hot oven or under a salamander until cheese is brown and bubbly.

Update

So it looks like I haven't updated this thing in over three years. Well, I've got good news for those of you who have faithfully checked this blog on a daily/weekly/monthly basis: I'm back. At least for now.

The whole point of this blog was to share my experiences moving to Europe and trying to find a job. Unfortunately, once I found that job, I sort of no longer had time to write anything. Well I quit my job, moved into one of my mother's two houses (more on that later) and really have nothing to do with my day except search the county for decent produce.

This brings me to my new ambition in life, which is to bring some delicious food to the greater metro area that is Zanesville, Ohio. I have literally been to every single restaurant in this excuse for a city and I'm here to tell you that none of them are worth the money they pay their sad employees. So, instead of merely complaining about the lack of quality food, I'm going to do what I do best: cook. And I'll be posting random recipes here as well. Stay tuned.

Royalty

So, low and behold, it turns out that I'm royalty. According to some British transplant to Miami that found me on Facebook, our venerable name comes from one Prince Madog of Wales. Over the years the dear prince's name has been bastardized into several forms, including Mattox, Maddox, Maddock, Maddick, Mattick and Mattux. We're also a very culturally diverse people, proud to include among our ranks those of African, Asian and Latino decent.

Finally, an excuse to be the pompous bastard that I am.

So my first order of business is as follows:

By royal decree, I, HRH Prince Mark Mattox of Wales, do hereby order that all correspondence to me be addressed to HRH Prince Mark Mattox of Wales. Or, if you're lazy, just to HRH Prince Mark. A select few will be allowed to simply use HRH. You will be receiving applications via Royal Post to apply to do so.

Furthermore, there will be no collecting of taxes...at the moment. Though any "donations" to the Royal House of Mattox would not be turned away.

That is all.

News Exam

I was recently asked to take an exam in order to earn a position on the news team which gives hourly live updates. Out of sheer boredom I sent 10 of the 25 questions to Ms. Nicki Hulec to give her something to do when she should have been working. Those 10 questions along with her answers are posted below. Some answers are actual attempts, while other's were just damn entertaining.

1. What is the job of Jose Manuel Barrosso?

Jose Manuel Barrosso is the keeper of the book of secrets.

2. How many countries are in the United Nations? How many in the Security Council? How many permanent? What are their powers?

There are 28 countries in the United Nations, 15 in the Security Council, all are permanent, and their powers are that of levitation, x-ray vision, super strength, and fist of Buddha

3. Who are the members of the G8?

The G8 is a notorious street gang that started in the Bowery district in NYC. Their name is derived from the original crew whose names were George, Gavin, Gerald, Gary, Gus, Gargimel, Gibson, and Goliath.

4. Elections are held every __4__ years for the _______Bundestag____ (Bundestag or Bundesrat) and there are currently 145_____ seats there. (145, 234, or 614)

5. Robert Mugabe is the president of what country.

South Africa

6. China's Hu Jintao and Japan's Shinzo Abe had a meeting. What are the surnames of the two men?

Smith

7. What team won the Bundesliga last season?

FC Munchen

8. What is the Kosovo?

A dance similar to the Macarena in style, but is intended to bring about the end of the world. It’s globally banned for said reason.

9. Where are Janjaweed militias located?

Sierra Leon

10. Who is the title and name of the head of the United Nations?

This one I knew, but have forgotten.


Now for all of you super geeks, like Paige (see that Paige, I put you in here) who want to know the real answers, here they are:

1. What is the job of Jose Manuel Barrosso?

Jose Manuel Barrosso is the President of the European Council.

2. How many countries are in the United Nations? How many in the Security Council? How many permanent? What are their powers?

There are 192 countries in the United Nations, 15 in the Security Council, 5 are permanent, and the 5 permanent members have veto power over any SC resolution.

3. Who are the members of the G8?

The United States, Great Britain, Germany, France, the Russian Federation, Italy, Canada, and Japan.

4. Elections are held every __4__ years for the _______Bundestag____ (Bundestag or Bundesrat) and there are currently ___614__ seats there. (145, 234, or 614)

5. Robert Mugabe is the president of what country.

Zimbabwe

6. China's Hu Jintao and Japan's Shinzo Abe had a meeting. What are the surnames of the two men?

Hu and Abe

7. What team won the Bundesliga last season?

VfB Stuttgart

8. What is the Kosovo?

The Kosovo is a province of Serbia which has declared itself as an independent republic. It has an Albanian majority.

9. Where are Janjaweed militias located?

Sudan

10. Who is the title and name of the head of the United Nations?

Secretary General, Ban Ki-Moon

Ok, so how many did you get right? If you have come up with more entertaining answers than Nicki, which is, let's face it, highly unlikely, kindly email them to me at themadox31@hotmail.com.

What's in a name?

I've had a lot of trouble with my name throughout my life. Born as the first son to middle class Americans it was only natural that they would want to pass on my father's nomen to me. However, they seemed to have messed up somewhere. For instead of given my my father's full name, which is Mark Dennis Mattox, they decided to mix it up a bit by giving me a different middle name. This is all well and good, but then they took it a step further and decided that not only would I get a different middle name than my father, they would use it to refer to me for the rest of my life.

This worked out okay for me up until about the age of 14, when I felt I should rebel. Every year up to that point was the same. The first day of school would come and the teacher would read out our names, saying, "Now if any of you prefer to use a middle name or a shortened version just make sure and tell me." And every year they would get halfway through the class and say, "Mark Mattox?" And I would reply, "I go by Ryan." I just had to be different. There were only ever 2 or 3 other kids who would want to be called something else, and even then it was usually just a Jake instead of Jacob, or Tom instead of Thomas. No one went by their middle name.

So when 6th grade rolled around I decided to challenge the status quo. Mr. Geyer went through the names, marking down abbreviations. When he got to me I simply said, "Here". There was an audible gasp in the room. Everyone there except for poor, unknowing Mr. Geyer, had always known me as Ryan. My decision to claim my birth name flew in the face of everything they had ever known. Throughout the day I was asked countless times why I did it. I never really had a good answer. I'm not sure that I have one now.

A year later, the first day of 7th grade, there was a palpable tension in the room when Mrs. Hartmeyer came to my name. She had always known me as Ryan, having taught 3rd grade at the the first elementary I attended before moving to the middle of nowhere. So instead of saying my name and looking around the room she simply said, "Mark, oh wait, no, you're Ryan, and I see that you're here." And just like that I was back to being Ryan, and I stayed Ryan until I graduated from High School.

It was as Ryan that I went off to college, but that soon changed. I tried to maintain my identity, but when the class size grows from 30 to 150 it becomes a little difficult to convince people that you're name isn't the one they have on their roster. It would have been simpler if I had been named Marcus and wanted to be called Mark. That they would have understood, but to be named Mark and want to be called Ryan was just ludicrous. So I gave up. I became a Mark and embraced it.

Most of my friends now know me as Mark. My boyfriend has never called my anything other than Mark. Though there is an interesting phenomenon among both my friends and relatives. When my relatives speak to my friends they refer to me as Mark, but when my friends speak to my relatives they refer to me as Ryan. It's almost as if everyone sub-consciously goes out of their way to make those around them more comfortable.

After moving to Germany my name didn't change, but the way it is pronounced did. I was no longer Mark Mattox, pronounced Maddox, no I had become Mahrk Mat-tox. And not just Mahrk Mat-tox, but Herr Mahrk Mat-tox. It got to the point that when I would have to say my name to a German I would just give in and pronounce it like they do, if only to facilitate spelling. My German boyfriend has managed to get it right, so maybe there's hope for the rest of the country.

Since becoming a journalist my name has changed even more. When the hosts read my name on the air it always ends up coming out as Mark Mat-tox. So I changed the way it is spelled in the leads that they read. When they, as well as other people, don't have my name right in front of them, they often call me Matt or Mike. Matt I can understand because of my last name, but Mike? Really? Recently I wrote a story about the scandal at Siemens. A Dutch woman, who speaks English like an odd mix between a Brit, an Aussie, and a New York socialite said that following sentence: "The scandal comes on the heels of the departure of CEO Klaus Kleinfeld. Max Mattox has the details."

Max?

Max?

My name was right in front of her face! This is just getting out of control.

The Language of Birds

As I was standing on my balcony chain smoking clove cigarettes and yelling at the pigeons a thought came to me. When cartoons and movies are aired, it is generally assumed that any and all animals can automatically speak the language of whatever country it happens to be shown in. In addition to that, it is generally acknowledged that our pets and farm animals at least understand, if not speak, the same language we do. Living proof of this can be found in a dog who belongs to my boyfriend's aunt. This dog is rather friendly, sometimes too friendly, and no matter how many times I tell it to go lie down and stop bothering me in English it won't listen, but the minute I say the same thing in German, off it goes to the corner to do as I asked. I suppose this isn't especially extraordinary, but it got me thinking about birds, specifically migratory ones. The arctic tern migrates every year 12,000 miles from its breeding grounds along the Arctic circle to its wintering grounds on the edge of the continent of Antarctica. The tern is a circumpolar species, meaning that it lives along every edge of both the Arctic and Antarctic circles.

The Arctic Tern (well actually 2 Arctic Terns)

So what language do they speak? Do they learn every language of every country the live and/or stop in? If this is the case, they have to learn not only English and Spanish, but Russian, Swedish, Finnish, Norwegian, French, German, Japanese, Chinese and a plethora of African and Inuit dialects. Or are they, as I assume, more like rude American tourists spreading across the globe with snot-nosed children and luggage packed to the breaking point in tow, demanding that every man, woman, child, and arctic tern they meet accommodate their ignorance.

These are the things I think about because I have no job and, therefore, more time than sense.

Damn Germans

All I wanted was a new cell phone. This seems like a simple enough request, but as it is with most things in Germany, wanting and getting are two totally different things.

I woke early on Wednesday morning. And of course by early I mean 9:30, which, technically for me anyway, is early. I went online one last time to look at the different phones and plans at the three or four main German cell phone companies, just to make sure that there wasn't something that I had missed in my previous 1400 hours of looking. After showering and dressing myself in a sassy ensemble of a hellblau polo, jeans and some black pumas, I was on my way. My first stop was the O2 cell phone store.

Before we go any further, I think I should explain a few things about the German cellular phone system. First of all, Germans are more interested in having a phone that does anything but make phone calls. Germans, as a general rule, don't make many actual phone calls. They tend to prefer the text message, and therefore look for a phone with the easiest keys to press in the most efficient way. It isn't odd to see at least 40 or 50 Germans on any given day walking around with their heads down, frantically typing some message to be sent off into the wide world of cellular space. Second, unlike America, where you can buy a plan with 400-500 minutes for roughly a fair price, in Germany such a plan would cost you up to and including 80 euros. A price I am unwilling to pay, especially considering you only look cool if you are sending a text message.

With that knowledge off I went into the store. I informed the greasy looking Turkish fellow (I know, I'm racist, but he deserves it...you'll soon see why) that I want to order an O2 phone over the internet (thereby securing 2400 free text messages...I'm a thinker) and I have come in to seek his advice on which phone I would like. So, instead of getting off his lazy ass to show me the finer points of each phone, he simply points to where they are and tells me to go have a look. (See, told you he deserved the racist epitaph.) I then ask him if I can get a cell phone with a credit card, or if I have to have a German bank account. This seems to annoy him and he answers, in a not very friendly tone I might add, that credit cards cannot be used. This in a country where it's perfectly normal to buy a lottery ticket with a credit card.

So, dejected and phoneless, I make my way to the bank in order to get myself a bank account, eventually a cell phone. After walking about 14 km, and waiting in a line for about 20 mins, I am informed by the cute guy behind the counter (who I'm pretty sure was flirting with me) tells me that I can't have a German bank account until I have a residence permit. I then tell him that I can't get a residence permit without a job, and when I get a job, they're going to ask for my bank account number, since the only way you can get paid in this country is by direct deposit. He shrugs, gives me an application for my perusal, and sent me on my way.

So here I sit, phoneless, bank accountless, and jobless. Maybe tomorrow will be better.