We have finally set up the office. I thought I'd take a moment to describe my desk, now that I've set it up and have all my comforting things around me, simply because I myself love a description of domestic details. Right now the desk itself is an old, scratched-up drafting table, only so-so convenient as the cross-bar between the legs prevents one from pushing a chair underneath. But the top is nice and spacious and I like the scratches and the finish, even if it's kind of cheap.
The lamp is an old brass flexible one with a battered, yellowish shade that I retrieved from my parents' attic long ago. Then there are a few notebooks between a pair of carved wooden bear bookends - also from 10 Euclid - a silver cup (from Grandpa Moe) full of pens, a little glass boat to hold matches and tacks and other things. My paperweight is a little brass whale (probably also from Grandpa Moe) that I gave to my old boyfriend years ago, but stole back when I was feeding the cats once and saw it just sitting there over his bed and couldn't bear his owning it.
Pictures: well, framed letters, actually. These are from my dad; he picked them up at an auction house in the 70's and gives them to me as Christmas and birthday gifts. This Christmas he gave me a framed, type-written and signed Marianne Moore translation of one of her LaFontaine fables ("The Crow and the Fox") because he knows how I like her, although lord knows what possessed him to buy it, given his disinterest in poetry. A few years ago he gave me the remarkably sour and ungenerous H.L. Mencken letter, typed on American Mercury stationery. Into the Marianne Moore frame I've tucked a little postcard of an "A. Sisley" painting, "Le Loing a Moret," which the card says is from the Louvre, but which I got for a few cents with a bunch of other ephemera from a Bookiniste back when I lived there. Then there's a picture, no more than 2" high, of my grandmother in her wedding veil. (It's actually a xerox I cut to fit.) I bought that little frame when I was about 12, from a store called Flowers and Co. in Hastings, which was, I suppose, terribly precious, carrying as it did flowers and then Crabtree and Evelyn toiletries and various other gift items that seemed to me really beautiful. My latest addition is a little woman made out of scallop shells, probably made as some kind of cheap souvenir in the 40s or earlier, which I picked up at the Flea Market in DUMBO. If I have the energy, I'll add some pictures, although they'll make for pretty dull viewing!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Recipe Alert!
I just made something delicious for the first time and I had to share it with you!
Vidalia Onion Casserole
(I halved Sarah Leah Chase's Nantucket Open-House recipe; these are my amounts)
Preheat oven to 325. Chop 4 cups (about 3 large) Vidalia onions. Saute in a large pan in 3 T butter until soft and transluscent, 15-20 minutes. Meanwhile, boil 1/3 cup rice for 5 minutes. Stir together rice, onions, 3/4 cup grated Swiss cheese, 1/2 cup half-and-half, 1.5 T Vermouth (I used wine with no ill effects), and plenty of salt and pepper. Tip the mixture into a buttered casserole dish and bake until crusty and brown, 1 hour to 1 hour and fifteen minutes.
I served this (to myself) with some oven-roasted tomatoes and an acidic green salad to temper the richness. And, well, I wouldn't be recommending it if it hadn't been a roaring success!
Vidalia Onion Casserole
(I halved Sarah Leah Chase's Nantucket Open-House recipe; these are my amounts)
Preheat oven to 325. Chop 4 cups (about 3 large) Vidalia onions. Saute in a large pan in 3 T butter until soft and transluscent, 15-20 minutes. Meanwhile, boil 1/3 cup rice for 5 minutes. Stir together rice, onions, 3/4 cup grated Swiss cheese, 1/2 cup half-and-half, 1.5 T Vermouth (I used wine with no ill effects), and plenty of salt and pepper. Tip the mixture into a buttered casserole dish and bake until crusty and brown, 1 hour to 1 hour and fifteen minutes.
I served this (to myself) with some oven-roasted tomatoes and an acidic green salad to temper the richness. And, well, I wouldn't be recommending it if it hadn't been a roaring success!
Friday, May 8, 2009
Notes: let's not forget to address issues of sex & experience. Also: YSL, Lagerfeld and the willful pursuit of narcissism via tea leaves. It's quite possible I'll change my mind about discussing any of it and there's Nyquil at work here.
Against the clock/barbiturates: yesterday I said to my dad re: my brother/life goals or lack thereof, that it's not strictly speaking necessary to have a specific ambition nowadays as it was previously understood. Due (in terms he'd cotton to) to some collision of California, Warhol, and the Conventional Specialness that was a boomer special, parenting-wise.
Good night.
Against the clock/barbiturates: yesterday I said to my dad re: my brother/life goals or lack thereof, that it's not strictly speaking necessary to have a specific ambition nowadays as it was previously understood. Due (in terms he'd cotton to) to some collision of California, Warhol, and the Conventional Specialness that was a boomer special, parenting-wise.
Good night.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Birthday, Take 2
This evening, Slim and I went to dinner at a newish seafood place in a part of town I normally avoid, but which provided superb people-watching. (It made for a funny change from the Brooklynski crowd at last night's Found Magazine reading, and performance of the main Squeeze Accordian Orchestra!) Everyone seemed shipped in from either the West Coast or, at the closest, Murray Hill. We were seated next to a super-L.A.-looking, Sally Hershberger-esque lesbian couple and at one point one said, loudly, "So, would you like to watch me with another girl?"
The place felt a touch scene-y for my blood - and I never cotton to the Miami high-concept look - but I liked the open kitchen and was struck by the number of female cooks: 4. The chef is a woman,and very well-known for her Italian-accented gastro-pub shenanigans, but it's rare to see that many females working side by side in a restaurant. Food was terrific. We shared a bottle of Sancerre and some oysters, then I had a little cup of the richest imaginable oyster pan roast. Slim had a fennel soup, plush with crab meat, and then some charred octopus, served with a sharp, Spanish-inflected relish. We shared the "steamed treacle pudding for 2," which proved easily big enough for four and came swimming in custard. We won't be able to dine out for a year or so, but we agreed it was worth it, as the meal was truly special, and nothing at all we could replicate within our own kitchen.
We walked the meal off south and east. We ended up at Inven.Tory, whose owners we know and who carry a beautifully-edited collection of small designers at a sharp discount; the Century21 concept gone boutique. And then: I found one of the best pairs of jeans I've ever worn in my life, and I don't often get excited about jeans. But. Grey Ant, high-waisted, modestly flared...I have never felt better in a pair of pants, and the fact that they were over $100 off and seemed to run a size large hurt absolutely nothing, principles aside. I guess I ought to have given that some sort of "frivolity alert."
The place felt a touch scene-y for my blood - and I never cotton to the Miami high-concept look - but I liked the open kitchen and was struck by the number of female cooks: 4. The chef is a woman,and very well-known for her Italian-accented gastro-pub shenanigans, but it's rare to see that many females working side by side in a restaurant. Food was terrific. We shared a bottle of Sancerre and some oysters, then I had a little cup of the richest imaginable oyster pan roast. Slim had a fennel soup, plush with crab meat, and then some charred octopus, served with a sharp, Spanish-inflected relish. We shared the "steamed treacle pudding for 2," which proved easily big enough for four and came swimming in custard. We won't be able to dine out for a year or so, but we agreed it was worth it, as the meal was truly special, and nothing at all we could replicate within our own kitchen.
We walked the meal off south and east. We ended up at Inven.Tory, whose owners we know and who carry a beautifully-edited collection of small designers at a sharp discount; the Century21 concept gone boutique. And then: I found one of the best pairs of jeans I've ever worn in my life, and I don't often get excited about jeans. But. Grey Ant, high-waisted, modestly flared...I have never felt better in a pair of pants, and the fact that they were over $100 off and seemed to run a size large hurt absolutely nothing, principles aside. I guess I ought to have given that some sort of "frivolity alert."
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Birthday Lemon Cake
I sort of winged this - the cake was adapted from the Orange Sour Cream Cake in Marion Cunningham's The Supper Book, while I got the syrup idea from Barefoot Contessa - but it worked out nicely! If you should try it, let me know!
Cake:
-Preheat oven to 325. Grease and lightly flour a loaf pan.
-Cream 1 stick butter and 3/4 cup sugar until light.
-Add 2 eggs, the zest of 1 lemon, and the juice of half a lemon and 1/4 t salt.
-Stir together 1 cup flour, 1/2 t baking powder, 1/2 t baking soda.
-Mix in drys alternately with 1/2 cup plus 2 T sour cream.
-Bake 40-50 minutes, until a tester comes out clean. I err on the side of less.
-Once baked, cool in the pan 10 minutes or so. Poke with a skewer and drizzle with syrup. After that's absorbed, turn out onto rack, and poke/drizzle the bottom.
-When cool, ice. I guess that's optional.
Syrup:
-Heat together 1/3 cup lemon juice and 1/3 cup sugar until melted and clear.
Frosting:
I beat together about 2 T soft butter, some lemon zest, about a cup of powdered sugar with enough lemon juice and cream to thin it.
-Top with small doll or flower sprig. Happy birthday. Also, I have found, delicious for breakfast. Also, with tea.
Cake:
-Preheat oven to 325. Grease and lightly flour a loaf pan.
-Cream 1 stick butter and 3/4 cup sugar until light.
-Add 2 eggs, the zest of 1 lemon, and the juice of half a lemon and 1/4 t salt.
-Stir together 1 cup flour, 1/2 t baking powder, 1/2 t baking soda.
-Mix in drys alternately with 1/2 cup plus 2 T sour cream.
-Bake 40-50 minutes, until a tester comes out clean. I err on the side of less.
-Once baked, cool in the pan 10 minutes or so. Poke with a skewer and drizzle with syrup. After that's absorbed, turn out onto rack, and poke/drizzle the bottom.
-When cool, ice. I guess that's optional.
Syrup:
-Heat together 1/3 cup lemon juice and 1/3 cup sugar until melted and clear.
Frosting:
I beat together about 2 T soft butter, some lemon zest, about a cup of powdered sugar with enough lemon juice and cream to thin it.
-Top with small doll or flower sprig. Happy birthday. Also, I have found, delicious for breakfast. Also, with tea.
Here I am, a year older. Somewhat more employed, a bit more engaged, definitely better housed, and altogether glad to be here. As a friend with a nearby birthday says, a wonderful time to take stock and make resolutions, far less arbitrary than New Year's. For my part, I plan to up my volunteer work, look a lot more deeply into the various religions that interest me, and, regardless of what I find, start going to church again regularly (if only for the wonderful rhythms of the liturgical calendar and the music), take up running or something I can do safely in my neighborhood. Keep up with friends' birthdays and cultivate the conscientious attention to detail I appreciate in others (no excuse not to with Facebook!) And then of course, there's always learning to drive.
Birthday itself was a tad gloomy, as Slim was awfully sick so all celebrating had to be put on hold. His fever seems to have broken. But I received a few lovely gifts - a cocktail hat, an antique "Jennie Wade: Killed at Gettysburg" pin, and a book on YSL and Lagerfeld that I've been wanting to read, as I'm interested in creative "scenes" whatever they be.
Speaking of: went on business (with the necklace thing to prove it) to a lecture series on Sunday, and saw two panels, one tedious and one, starring Marc Jacobs, pretty interesting. He was willfully frivolous but very smart, and said some things which made one forget he was sporting a kilt and several million dollars' worth of diamonds. There were questions, which are always my favorite part, although in this case they were all too obsequious or silly - "what advice would you give someone who wants to go into fashion?" - to be worth much. I asked how one goes about firing a muse, but he didn't answer it to my satisfaction, which I suppose I ought to have expected. That same morning, I ran into a couple of friends who live the adult dream - they're currently in the process of buying a brownstone. When I told them where I was going she said, "Do you care about Marc Jacobs and Narciso Rodriguez?" - no question whether she did, or what she thought of those who do - and I said, "Well, I care about the people who care." And it's true, although I could have just explained I cared about everything which is more to the point. Some things I don't understand, but that's different.
Slim and I sometimes joke about which of my collection of inherited tote bags - "Wesleyan University," "Dobbs Ferry Democrats," "Friends of the Seaside Branch of the Montery County Library" - is least likely to get one's ass kicked. It's a tough call. Usually I resort to an almost-worse one I got for free when the Brooklyn Urban Outfitters opened, which not only says "Brooklyn" on it, but then has pictures of Ebbetts Field, Biggie Smalls and Jackie Robinson. At Target the other day, a middle-aged fella stopped me to ask where he'd gotten it - I'm guessing he liked the stadium image - and he seemed so downcast at my answer that naturally I emptied it out and gave it to him, not without misgivings regarding his safety should he carry it in public. I am on the lookout for a tote bag that is neither precious nor irritating. I enjoy these vague ongoing challenges; I was without a key chain for months until I found just the right one - a miniature suede moccasin from Montreal.
Saturday, I actually found myself at the Green Market holding a "Wesleyan" tote full of ramps, rhubarb and organic bread - feeling like the walking cliche I was. Did some good people-watching, though; we couldn't decide if the #1 slot went to the old man in the zoot suit or the hippie complacently munching on a stalk of raw rhubarb.
Birthday itself was a tad gloomy, as Slim was awfully sick so all celebrating had to be put on hold. His fever seems to have broken. But I received a few lovely gifts - a cocktail hat, an antique "Jennie Wade: Killed at Gettysburg" pin, and a book on YSL and Lagerfeld that I've been wanting to read, as I'm interested in creative "scenes" whatever they be.
Speaking of: went on business (with the necklace thing to prove it) to a lecture series on Sunday, and saw two panels, one tedious and one, starring Marc Jacobs, pretty interesting. He was willfully frivolous but very smart, and said some things which made one forget he was sporting a kilt and several million dollars' worth of diamonds. There were questions, which are always my favorite part, although in this case they were all too obsequious or silly - "what advice would you give someone who wants to go into fashion?" - to be worth much. I asked how one goes about firing a muse, but he didn't answer it to my satisfaction, which I suppose I ought to have expected. That same morning, I ran into a couple of friends who live the adult dream - they're currently in the process of buying a brownstone. When I told them where I was going she said, "Do you care about Marc Jacobs and Narciso Rodriguez?" - no question whether she did, or what she thought of those who do - and I said, "Well, I care about the people who care." And it's true, although I could have just explained I cared about everything which is more to the point. Some things I don't understand, but that's different.
Slim and I sometimes joke about which of my collection of inherited tote bags - "Wesleyan University," "Dobbs Ferry Democrats," "Friends of the Seaside Branch of the Montery County Library" - is least likely to get one's ass kicked. It's a tough call. Usually I resort to an almost-worse one I got for free when the Brooklyn Urban Outfitters opened, which not only says "Brooklyn" on it, but then has pictures of Ebbetts Field, Biggie Smalls and Jackie Robinson. At Target the other day, a middle-aged fella stopped me to ask where he'd gotten it - I'm guessing he liked the stadium image - and he seemed so downcast at my answer that naturally I emptied it out and gave it to him, not without misgivings regarding his safety should he carry it in public. I am on the lookout for a tote bag that is neither precious nor irritating. I enjoy these vague ongoing challenges; I was without a key chain for months until I found just the right one - a miniature suede moccasin from Montreal.
Saturday, I actually found myself at the Green Market holding a "Wesleyan" tote full of ramps, rhubarb and organic bread - feeling like the walking cliche I was. Did some good people-watching, though; we couldn't decide if the #1 slot went to the old man in the zoot suit or the hippie complacently munching on a stalk of raw rhubarb.
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