The worms crawl in and in and out
they crawl in cricles round about
eating holes in my delicate skin
acid resistant fortellers of sin.
Ladybugs inside my head
sing silly songs about the dead
they sing of heaven and afterlife
they sing of love of husband, wife
A moth flies round and round my heart
blush brushes brushing the blood dark dart
worry tickles the antannaed head
and turns his wing a crimson red
Red fire, red anger, red embarrassed, red hot.
Red love, red blood, red danger, red stop.
mardi 30 décembre 2008
lundi 29 décembre 2008
For Molly
The moon grows heavy
on its string. I
consider the palm tree
on the label of my beer.
In Britannic Bold it sings
of Old Palms Ale like
pirates on a nightship
heading out to sea.
And I dream it is me with
the wind on my cheeks
and treasure just ahead.
on its string. I
consider the palm tree
on the label of my beer.
In Britannic Bold it sings
of Old Palms Ale like
pirates on a nightship
heading out to sea.
And I dream it is me with
the wind on my cheeks
and treasure just ahead.
Single Malt Sunday
Last night, Cherry and I hit up the Viceroy in Santa Monica. A schmancy hotel near the beach. We were lured in by "Single Malt Sundays" which advertised single malt tastings, each vintage for $1. This sounded a little too good to be true, and indeed it was. We figured the catch was you had to order appetizers for a bazillion dollars each and then you got free scotch. But no. $1 per vintage meant if the scotch was aged 12 years, it cost $12. 30 years, $30. And so on and so forth. BUT, luckily there was a "flight" of five scotches together with an appetizer for $20. What they completely failed to mention was that the food was going to be so incredibly good that we would have to order twice. And the scotch just got better and better as the night went on. So good, in fact, that I haven't a clue what kind we had. Only that it started out good and by the time we made it to the last glass, the caramelly molasses-ness of it with our itsy bitsy diced apples soaked in a thin house-made caramel and used to garnish our apple frangipane tart with caramel ice cream was in every way a spiritual experience.
Our first appetizer was trout croquettes with an aioli and garnished with pickled radishes. The croquettes were insane. They had to have been fried in lard. They must have had some pork bits. They were divine with scotch. The pickled radishes were even better.
Next we had kielbasa with barely pickled cabbage and the most heavenly potatoes I've ever put in my mouth. Again, something to do with pigs and fat, I'm sure.
We then had our apple dessert which we chose from a list of dishes that were made out of that same kind of apple (it was the ingredient of the week)...hot apple cider with hazelnut ice cream, apple butter ice cream, and a few other things I can't remember.
By this time we were completely trusting the chef and would have ordered any odd sounding item on the menu (usually, I can't stand chefs doing stuff like chocolate bon bons with bacon. Eew.) So we ordered one more item: crostini with chicken liver mousse, mushrooms and ricotta. Unfortunately the ricotta was sour, but fortunately it wasn't mixed with the other ingredients. And very fortunately we got the entire dish for free. I appreciated that it said straight up chicken liver rather than trying to pretend it was something fancier. I knew that chicken-liver mousse could be quite good, but I did not know before last night that it could be good enough that I would actually consider picking up the plate to lick off the last bits. Or, I suppose that could have been the scotch.
We left after four hours having spent $30 each. My only regret of the evening was that my sister Gypsy was not there to share the experience with Cherry and me. Nothing's ever perfect. But that came pretty darn close.
Our first appetizer was trout croquettes with an aioli and garnished with pickled radishes. The croquettes were insane. They had to have been fried in lard. They must have had some pork bits. They were divine with scotch. The pickled radishes were even better.
Next we had kielbasa with barely pickled cabbage and the most heavenly potatoes I've ever put in my mouth. Again, something to do with pigs and fat, I'm sure.
We then had our apple dessert which we chose from a list of dishes that were made out of that same kind of apple (it was the ingredient of the week)...hot apple cider with hazelnut ice cream, apple butter ice cream, and a few other things I can't remember.
By this time we were completely trusting the chef and would have ordered any odd sounding item on the menu (usually, I can't stand chefs doing stuff like chocolate bon bons with bacon. Eew.) So we ordered one more item: crostini with chicken liver mousse, mushrooms and ricotta. Unfortunately the ricotta was sour, but fortunately it wasn't mixed with the other ingredients. And very fortunately we got the entire dish for free. I appreciated that it said straight up chicken liver rather than trying to pretend it was something fancier. I knew that chicken-liver mousse could be quite good, but I did not know before last night that it could be good enough that I would actually consider picking up the plate to lick off the last bits. Or, I suppose that could have been the scotch.
We left after four hours having spent $30 each. My only regret of the evening was that my sister Gypsy was not there to share the experience with Cherry and me. Nothing's ever perfect. But that came pretty darn close.
dimanche 28 décembre 2008
Stuffed Dates
Dates (the softer, sweeter kind are best)
Mascarpone cheese
Pecan halves, toasted
kosher salt
Pit dates. Fill each with a spoonful of cheese. Top with a pecan half. Sprinkle liberally with Kosher salt.
This can also be made with cream cheese instead of mascarpone. If using cream cheese, use the more firm textured dates and leave out the salt.
Mascarpone cheese
Pecan halves, toasted
kosher salt
Pit dates. Fill each with a spoonful of cheese. Top with a pecan half. Sprinkle liberally with Kosher salt.
This can also be made with cream cheese instead of mascarpone. If using cream cheese, use the more firm textured dates and leave out the salt.
Blue Cheese with Hazelnuts and Honey
1 wedge blue cheese (I like the really creamy soft kinds)
1 cup hazelnuts, chopped
2 sprigs rosemary
1/4 cup honey
Toast hazelnuts in a frying pan on the stove top with olive oil and rosemary until golden brown and smelling good (about 20 minutes, over low heat). Remove rosemary sprigs and add salt to taste (not too salty if the cheese is super salty).
Plate the cheese. Drizzle honey over the top and around the plate. Dump hot nuts and oil on top. Eat on crackers. I like it especially with those goat crackers...the sweet softish kind.
1 cup hazelnuts, chopped
2 sprigs rosemary
1/4 cup honey
Toast hazelnuts in a frying pan on the stove top with olive oil and rosemary until golden brown and smelling good (about 20 minutes, over low heat). Remove rosemary sprigs and add salt to taste (not too salty if the cheese is super salty).
Plate the cheese. Drizzle honey over the top and around the plate. Dump hot nuts and oil on top. Eat on crackers. I like it especially with those goat crackers...the sweet softish kind.
Stuffed Endives
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 lb parmesan cheese, diced (tiny)
1/2 cup celery chopped fine
1 cup toasted walnuts, chopped fine
1/4 cup flat leave parsley, chopped fine
5 endives, leaves removed.
Mix everything together. Put a spoonful of filling in each endive. Eat.
FYI, the amount I made for Christmas was this recipe doubled. Also, if you want to make it ahead of time, set aside the chopped walnuts and add them just before filling the leaves...they taste better crunchy.
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 lb parmesan cheese, diced (tiny)
1/2 cup celery chopped fine
1 cup toasted walnuts, chopped fine
1/4 cup flat leave parsley, chopped fine
5 endives, leaves removed.
Mix everything together. Put a spoonful of filling in each endive. Eat.
FYI, the amount I made for Christmas was this recipe doubled. Also, if you want to make it ahead of time, set aside the chopped walnuts and add them just before filling the leaves...they taste better crunchy.
vendredi 26 décembre 2008
I didn't really think before I jumped
on the train last night and went out
from the house with my skin
unzipped and my insecurities
hanging out all over the place.
I didn't think about the fact
that the people I chatted with
were strangers.
And now they've seen me. Practically
naked. Waiting for the train in the freezing
cold.
on the train last night and went out
from the house with my skin
unzipped and my insecurities
hanging out all over the place.
I didn't think about the fact
that the people I chatted with
were strangers.
And now they've seen me. Practically
naked. Waiting for the train in the freezing
cold.
dimanche 21 décembre 2008
I'm still here. Thanks for checking.
I've been challenged to write a story. The rules are:
1. 1-1000 words
2. must include a dog
3. due December 24
Sylvie swallowed the last too-sweet drop of her tea and set the mug down on the dining table. She stared out the window that was surrounded by bright yellow, cottage cheese-textured walls. Across the driveway, she could see Edith and Joe Kettleman scooping snow off their walk. It would have been nice, to have married. To have someone to shovel snow with when she retired. Not some old guy she could meet now, but someone she knew since college. Someone who she'd fought with and had children with. Like the Kettlemans. Maybe like Nick. What was he up to now? Married with a family no doubt. Happy...he always was. She smiled and wondered if he ever thought of her.
Sylvie took her cup to the kitchen. If she'd married, there might be dishes in the sink. Someone else's dishes. Maybe the spices wouldn't be perfectly arranged in alphabetical order in the cupboards above the counter. Maybe the pickles would be on the top shelf where she had to climb her footstool to get them. Maybe she would wish she could just stay home and eat a scrambled egg for dinner and drink tea and read her book and have no obligations to anyone. She turned off the tap and carefully dried the mug and put it back into the cupboard. First shelf, right-hand side.
"Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, I made it out of clay, dreidel dreidel dreidel, I made it out of..." someone was singing outside, loud. But there were lots of transients in these parts and she was used to hearing oddities.
Sylvie hummed along as she pulled the trash out from under the sink and tied the top of the white plastic bag in a slip knot. She had a book home from the library about knot-tying and it amused her to practice while effeciently performing another task.
She slipped on her trenchcoat, buttoning it up all the way to the neck, then stepped into her rubber boots. Outside, the sun was sinking and turning the snow on the ground a delicious pink. Peppermint, she thought, and wondered how pink was first associated with the herb. She unlocked the trash gate and threw the heavy bag in. "Dreidel Dreidel Dreidel sang the man on the bench. Without thinking, Sylvie began to harmonize with the silly tune. The man turned to look at her. He had a long dirty beard and was wearing what appeared to be a very tattered Santa suit. He stopped singing mid-word, as did she. Behind the grey facial forest, his eyes looked kind. No. Familiar. She gave a tight smile and nod to the man and the Italian greyhound at his feet and headed back to the front door.
"Drei..." the man started again and Sylvie was, for a moment, 19. She was in Nick's mother's living room They were moving furniture here and there to make the Christmas tree fit. Someone had sent a greeting card and every time it was opened, it sang "dreidel, dreidel, dreidel...." That might have been the first time she'd heard the song. Nick was dancing around the room to the tune like a River Dancer on speed. Sylvie was surprised to feel a faint jab of pain still with her, as she remembered watching and thinking, I'll never be that fun. I'll never let go. I'll always be stuck inside this cell, surrounded by walls of self-consciousness.
Suddenly Santa stood up, he started to jump and fling his feet around around as he sang the dreidel song. His dog began to bark. And then she knew. Now or never. With hot tears flowing down her frozen cheeks, she straighted her arms at her side, and awkwardly began to jump and flail along with the man in the santa suit. She sang loud and off key. 3, 4 rounds of the song and she was winded. The man stopped. He looked at her with those kind, no, familiar, eyes and Sylvie, in her perfectly ironed trenchcoat, leaned her clean forehead up against the dirty chest of the tattered, matted red Santa suit.
1. 1-1000 words
2. must include a dog
3. due December 24
Sylvie swallowed the last too-sweet drop of her tea and set the mug down on the dining table. She stared out the window that was surrounded by bright yellow, cottage cheese-textured walls. Across the driveway, she could see Edith and Joe Kettleman scooping snow off their walk. It would have been nice, to have married. To have someone to shovel snow with when she retired. Not some old guy she could meet now, but someone she knew since college. Someone who she'd fought with and had children with. Like the Kettlemans. Maybe like Nick. What was he up to now? Married with a family no doubt. Happy...he always was. She smiled and wondered if he ever thought of her.
Sylvie took her cup to the kitchen. If she'd married, there might be dishes in the sink. Someone else's dishes. Maybe the spices wouldn't be perfectly arranged in alphabetical order in the cupboards above the counter. Maybe the pickles would be on the top shelf where she had to climb her footstool to get them. Maybe she would wish she could just stay home and eat a scrambled egg for dinner and drink tea and read her book and have no obligations to anyone. She turned off the tap and carefully dried the mug and put it back into the cupboard. First shelf, right-hand side.
"Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, I made it out of clay, dreidel dreidel dreidel, I made it out of..." someone was singing outside, loud. But there were lots of transients in these parts and she was used to hearing oddities.
Sylvie hummed along as she pulled the trash out from under the sink and tied the top of the white plastic bag in a slip knot. She had a book home from the library about knot-tying and it amused her to practice while effeciently performing another task.
She slipped on her trenchcoat, buttoning it up all the way to the neck, then stepped into her rubber boots. Outside, the sun was sinking and turning the snow on the ground a delicious pink. Peppermint, she thought, and wondered how pink was first associated with the herb. She unlocked the trash gate and threw the heavy bag in. "Dreidel Dreidel Dreidel sang the man on the bench. Without thinking, Sylvie began to harmonize with the silly tune. The man turned to look at her. He had a long dirty beard and was wearing what appeared to be a very tattered Santa suit. He stopped singing mid-word, as did she. Behind the grey facial forest, his eyes looked kind. No. Familiar. She gave a tight smile and nod to the man and the Italian greyhound at his feet and headed back to the front door.
"Drei..." the man started again and Sylvie was, for a moment, 19. She was in Nick's mother's living room They were moving furniture here and there to make the Christmas tree fit. Someone had sent a greeting card and every time it was opened, it sang "dreidel, dreidel, dreidel...." That might have been the first time she'd heard the song. Nick was dancing around the room to the tune like a River Dancer on speed. Sylvie was surprised to feel a faint jab of pain still with her, as she remembered watching and thinking, I'll never be that fun. I'll never let go. I'll always be stuck inside this cell, surrounded by walls of self-consciousness.
Suddenly Santa stood up, he started to jump and fling his feet around around as he sang the dreidel song. His dog began to bark. And then she knew. Now or never. With hot tears flowing down her frozen cheeks, she straighted her arms at her side, and awkwardly began to jump and flail along with the man in the santa suit. She sang loud and off key. 3, 4 rounds of the song and she was winded. The man stopped. He looked at her with those kind, no, familiar, eyes and Sylvie, in her perfectly ironed trenchcoat, leaned her clean forehead up against the dirty chest of the tattered, matted red Santa suit.
dimanche 26 octobre 2008
She's baaaaack.
I mean Linsey. She got home from Florida a few weeks ago and came to visit me last weekend. A whole three days of zero loneliness. It was awesome.
Day one, we did a little shopping (I got this sweater at Second Chance -- a sort of permanent sample sale store),
then out to sushi, and topped it off with some dancing at the Standard (a club on the roof of a skyscraper downtown). Lots of crazy pictures, but they're all on Linsey's camera.
Next day we hit up Ikea and I got some bookshelves (still working on filling them up.)
Then we had the BEST pasta (actually, Linsey's friend who met us for lunch ordered the best pasta, but Linsey and I eyed it like little puppies until we were finally allowed to finish it off). We were at Michel Richard's.
Anyway, it was basically a carbonara, but instead of having little chunks of onion, the onions had been strained out of the sauce. I tried it at home. HUGE improvement over my usual carbonara.
On our last day we went with my friend Sarit and her baby and her cousin to the Noah's Ark Exibit at the Skirball. It was AMAZING and I wanted so so so badly to have my nephews Nels and Willem there to enjoy it.
The ark and animals were all made out of "repurposed objects" and could be manipulated and climbed on. Here is linsey
moving this giant giraffe:
They truly thought of every detail kids love. Net walkways all around the ark that kids could climb up, ropes and pulleys for sending up food, a mini table, and fake poop for them to clean up.
Day one, we did a little shopping (I got this sweater at Second Chance -- a sort of permanent sample sale store),
then out to sushi, and topped it off with some dancing at the Standard (a club on the roof of a skyscraper downtown). Lots of crazy pictures, but they're all on Linsey's camera.
Next day we hit up Ikea and I got some bookshelves (still working on filling them up.)
Then we had the BEST pasta (actually, Linsey's friend who met us for lunch ordered the best pasta, but Linsey and I eyed it like little puppies until we were finally allowed to finish it off). We were at Michel Richard's.
Anyway, it was basically a carbonara, but instead of having little chunks of onion, the onions had been strained out of the sauce. I tried it at home. HUGE improvement over my usual carbonara.
On our last day we went with my friend Sarit and her baby and her cousin to the Noah's Ark Exibit at the Skirball. It was AMAZING and I wanted so so so badly to have my nephews Nels and Willem there to enjoy it.
The ark and animals were all made out of "repurposed objects" and could be manipulated and climbed on. Here is linsey
moving this giant giraffe:
They truly thought of every detail kids love. Net walkways all around the ark that kids could climb up, ropes and pulleys for sending up food, a mini table, and fake poop for them to clean up.
vendredi 17 octobre 2008
Library Lady
Yesterday I visited 10 classes at Gardner Street Elementary to promote the library. At the end of each class presentation, I always ask the kids if they remember my name and the name of the library I'm from.
Usually, they respond with some mumbled version of, "Ms. Hillary?" or "Ms. Libarian." Either that, or they don't remember at all.
But yesterday I got a couple of surprises.
One girl responded with complete confidence, "Ms. Harry!"
And later, Jordan (6), who knows me from the library already, answered, "Ms. Hillary. With two l's."
Usually, they respond with some mumbled version of, "Ms. Hillary?" or "Ms. Libarian." Either that, or they don't remember at all.
But yesterday I got a couple of surprises.
One girl responded with complete confidence, "Ms. Harry!"
And later, Jordan (6), who knows me from the library already, answered, "Ms. Hillary. With two l's."
lundi 13 octobre 2008
Barbaric Gourmet or Confessions of Eating Alone or Don't Come to My House for Dinner
Tonight I chewed the fat off of my lamb ribs
(pan-seared with a spice-and-chili rub) and drank
from the liter Pelegrino bottle, grasping it's
neck like a forty.
My farmers market baby greens and
grape tomatoes having been
wolfed down, I tipped
the bowl to my face and
drank the dressing.
I swiped my tongue up
a gallon tin when olive oil
started streaming
down the side.
And then I ate my stove-top roasted
eggplant with my fingers.
From the pan.
(pan-seared with a spice-and-chili rub) and drank
from the liter Pelegrino bottle, grasping it's
neck like a forty.
My farmers market baby greens and
grape tomatoes having been
wolfed down, I tipped
the bowl to my face and
drank the dressing.
I swiped my tongue up
a gallon tin when olive oil
started streaming
down the side.
And then I ate my stove-top roasted
eggplant with my fingers.
From the pan.
dimanche 12 octobre 2008
Failed attempt
I'm pretty much not a consumer of alcohol these days (unless I'm visiting Gypsy) but I had to go to Whole Foods because no one else carries Diamond kosher salt, and once I was there, I got adventurous and picked out a beer to try. I went to the section that sold single bottles and picked the one with the best lable: Biere du Bouranier. There's a pirate on the front with missing teeth. Très cool. Plus it says "superior class" on the top. Never mind that I had to dust the bottle off to see that label.
I cooked up some lamb and rice and made some salad, and pulled out my beer. One swig and my head started floating away. The pirate must have distracted me from the "11% alc. vol." written next to him. Woooeee. Beer is ok, but mostly tastes like alcohol. If you want my advice, stay away from pirate beer.
I cooked up some lamb and rice and made some salad, and pulled out my beer. One swig and my head started floating away. The pirate must have distracted me from the "11% alc. vol." written next to him. Woooeee. Beer is ok, but mostly tastes like alcohol. If you want my advice, stay away from pirate beer.
jeudi 9 octobre 2008
mercredi 8 octobre 2008
I typed what's in my head
Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. I didn't copy-paste.
dimanche 5 octobre 2008
samedi 4 octobre 2008
Off-meter, off rhyme: a poem about me
Don't ask me why
I walk upside down
I walk with my breast
pressed to the ground
Almost every
part of me floats
my head, my arms,
my legs, my throat
My rear-end is full of air
between my ears I've not a care
I'm electric -
look at my hair!
My hands cook
my eyes look
my arms hold up
any good book
I'm smiley and wiley
and crafty and cruel
I'm really a silly and
lovable girl
Except for the weight
that remains in my chest
pulling me down
to walk on my breast.
Its heavy so heavy
but I don't dare
let it go lest I lose myself
up in the air
while the rest of me floats
right out into space
sadness--my friend--
anchors me right into place.
I walk upside down
I walk with my breast
pressed to the ground
Almost every
part of me floats
my head, my arms,
my legs, my throat
My rear-end is full of air
between my ears I've not a care
I'm electric -
look at my hair!
My hands cook
my eyes look
my arms hold up
any good book
I'm smiley and wiley
and crafty and cruel
I'm really a silly and
lovable girl
Except for the weight
that remains in my chest
pulling me down
to walk on my breast.
Its heavy so heavy
but I don't dare
let it go lest I lose myself
up in the air
while the rest of me floats
right out into space
sadness--my friend--
anchors me right into place.
jeudi 2 octobre 2008
Random thoughts of a librarian
X950 G435 in pencil
I get to write numbers on the title page.
I always thought
Whoever wrote those mysterious markings
In the front of books must be very
Sophisticated.
I’m sorry sir, but yes, you’ll have to
Replace the six books you accidentally
Gave to the Good Will. I understand we
Are charging you over $300 dollars, but
Giving your books away is not a valid
Reason not to pay, according to our policy.
No, no this cutest 7 year old red-headed girl who
Is whip-smart and sits behind the
Desk with me pretending to be a librarian
Is not my daughter. But it makes me happy
When people ask.
It makes me sad too.
I can’t think of a single thing to put up
On my gigantic walls. Something to beat
A 25 foot dragon, a life-size tree growing
Out of the corner with Silverstein to match.
A poem by Miss Nova (of the red hair previously mentioned)
With kites and a summer sky over green grass.
What two-dimensional wonder can I use next?
No one drew on my best-ever art challenge-of-the-
Day: Draw something you would NEVER eat. I
Drew a plate of eyeballs. Maybe I won.
Schools to visit, stories to memorize, craft supplies
To buy, craft materials to prep.
Books to be moved, books to be cleaned,
Books to be read and displayed, songs to
Be learned and all the motions. And publicity
So someone comes. Make sure to call
The dancers, and the art teacher and the teen
Volunteer, “you ARE on your way, right?”. And stats.
Don’t forget to keep track and write up all your stats.
And could you get people to fill out an evaluation too?
Also there’s the bank. And, shoot, that guy
Is sleeping again. And drooling now.
Cough cough I hope I don’t get tb.
I have a chair behind my desk but
It is not for sitting. Rather it is another
Surface on which to pile books, ghosts made
Out of spoons, construction paper spiders.
I suppose tomorrow I should wear heels.
I get to write numbers on the title page.
I always thought
Whoever wrote those mysterious markings
In the front of books must be very
Sophisticated.
I’m sorry sir, but yes, you’ll have to
Replace the six books you accidentally
Gave to the Good Will. I understand we
Are charging you over $300 dollars, but
Giving your books away is not a valid
Reason not to pay, according to our policy.
No, no this cutest 7 year old red-headed girl who
Is whip-smart and sits behind the
Desk with me pretending to be a librarian
Is not my daughter. But it makes me happy
When people ask.
It makes me sad too.
I can’t think of a single thing to put up
On my gigantic walls. Something to beat
A 25 foot dragon, a life-size tree growing
Out of the corner with Silverstein to match.
A poem by Miss Nova (of the red hair previously mentioned)
With kites and a summer sky over green grass.
What two-dimensional wonder can I use next?
No one drew on my best-ever art challenge-of-the-
Day: Draw something you would NEVER eat. I
Drew a plate of eyeballs. Maybe I won.
Schools to visit, stories to memorize, craft supplies
To buy, craft materials to prep.
Books to be moved, books to be cleaned,
Books to be read and displayed, songs to
Be learned and all the motions. And publicity
So someone comes. Make sure to call
The dancers, and the art teacher and the teen
Volunteer, “you ARE on your way, right?”. And stats.
Don’t forget to keep track and write up all your stats.
And could you get people to fill out an evaluation too?
Also there’s the bank. And, shoot, that guy
Is sleeping again. And drooling now.
Cough cough I hope I don’t get tb.
I have a chair behind my desk but
It is not for sitting. Rather it is another
Surface on which to pile books, ghosts made
Out of spoons, construction paper spiders.
I suppose tomorrow I should wear heels.
mardi 30 septembre 2008
Walnut Bread
2 cups walnut pieces, toasted
2 1/2 t yeast
1/4 cup honey
3 3/4 C flour
1 1/3 cups water
2 T olive oil
1 1/2 t salt
Mix all ingredients together. Knead it for 10 minutes. Let it rise to double (1 hour or so) in a clean bowl covered with plastic wrap. Shape it into a ball and bake on parchment on a cookie sheet at 400 for 40 minutes. If the crust gets dark too fast, turn the oven down.
mercredi 17 septembre 2008
Today the man without a nose came into the library. A regular. His face below his eyes is flat, a little concave even, and his mouth is somewhere between where a nose and mouth usually go. It opens in a small "o" big enough, perhaps, for two pinky fingers. He wanted help getting on the internet. I showed him how. He wanted to look up flickr where someone had posted a photo of him and a poem.
I couldn't read much of the poem from over his shoulder, but I got the impression it was "tres cool, tres hip, tres pc" and didn't much care for the person whose face was on the internet open for all the world to comment on. I hoped he wouldn't notice you could click on the "comments" link and read them. He did. He stayed for two fifteen minute sessions before getting frustrated with the mouse.
Anyway, I might have written that poem and even felt righteous about it. And maybe by posting this blog I am like the poet. I don't know. But it made me think.
I couldn't read much of the poem from over his shoulder, but I got the impression it was "tres cool, tres hip, tres pc" and didn't much care for the person whose face was on the internet open for all the world to comment on. I hoped he wouldn't notice you could click on the "comments" link and read them. He did. He stayed for two fifteen minute sessions before getting frustrated with the mouse.
Anyway, I might have written that poem and even felt righteous about it. And maybe by posting this blog I am like the poet. I don't know. But it made me think.
dimanche 7 septembre 2008
In 2008 I took a little trip...
Summer, for librarians, is somewhat akin to Fall for winemakers. Our harvest comes in and it's ripe for the picking, but we only have 2 short months to gather it all up. After 10 weeks of of programming and half a year of preparation, it was time to take down the 25 foot library dragon, each of it's scales naming a child in the summer reading club and his or her age (Melanie, 6 1/2 Ryan, 8 3/4) and time to pack up for a visit to the fam.
My mom picked me up from the airport with chicken salad, crackers and cut up cantaloupe all prepared and stored in disposable tupperware containers. Luckily, she didn't tell me until several days later that the chicken was precooked chunks that came in a can from Costco. We headed straight up to Camas, Washington to visit Gypsy, Shaun, Willem, and Nels. The boys were much more appreciative of my newly learned pirate songs than were my storytimers at the library. Willem immediately donned the pirate patch, hat, and face before I was even allowed to begin the first shanty. I stole all of the songs from a librarian blogger.
The next morning we visited Fort Vancouver. The day was rainy and sunny and cold and warm all mixed up and so was my mood, so it's a bit of a blur in my memory. We saw (well, heard, really) a cannon being shot, pet some furs -- mink, bear, beaver, peered down a well...
and checked out some really cool ovens. Unfortunately, they seem to have been used for preparing sea biscuits. Something I'm glad I was not around to eat.
Mom wanted to know why the wood poles that made up the fence surrounding the fort on one side were sharpened like pencils and why on the other side they were cut at an angle. No one knew. Turns out they didn't even know what the real fence would have looked like. Everything was a reproduction, but apparently there were a few details missing.
My mom and I returned to Bend, OR the next day. We went for a hike and then to lunch at Black Butte Ranch, where we ate a delicious sea food chowder. Chunks of good sea food doused in a buerre blanc, I think. (i.e. butter, cream, wine, seafood. Yum.) Mom then proceeded to water the plants in the restaurant (this is her job) and I sat out on the lawn and read. The view wasn't bad.
I visited the Bend Farmer's Market and found some peaches to reproduce a peach cobbler I had made on a previous visit.
The reproduction was so successful we ate one cobbler for breakfast and the other for lunch.
Along with some hand-made tortellini filled with mushrooms, shallots, wine, and cream. Yes, they are made from aproximately 1" x 1" squares of hand-rolled pasta. Yes, I will never make them again.
It was back to the library the next day. I called an officer in when neither I nor another, much louder librarian could wake a sleeping patron up. He seemed to be breathing okay, so we held off on the ambulance. When the officer arrived, the sleeping man's girlfriend told the officer not to bother him since he was just sleeping off a 1/2 gallon bottle of Vodka. A 7-foot tall man who walks around very very slowly and somewhat creepily, walked back and forth and back and forth to stare into a woman's purse. The next day the green man ( a man so covered in tattoos he is green) pushed and spit on one of our staff members. His friend then spit on him and they both left.
Home, sweet home.
My mom picked me up from the airport with chicken salad, crackers and cut up cantaloupe all prepared and stored in disposable tupperware containers. Luckily, she didn't tell me until several days later that the chicken was precooked chunks that came in a can from Costco. We headed straight up to Camas, Washington to visit Gypsy, Shaun, Willem, and Nels. The boys were much more appreciative of my newly learned pirate songs than were my storytimers at the library. Willem immediately donned the pirate patch, hat, and face before I was even allowed to begin the first shanty. I stole all of the songs from a librarian blogger.
The next morning we visited Fort Vancouver. The day was rainy and sunny and cold and warm all mixed up and so was my mood, so it's a bit of a blur in my memory. We saw (well, heard, really) a cannon being shot, pet some furs -- mink, bear, beaver, peered down a well...
and checked out some really cool ovens. Unfortunately, they seem to have been used for preparing sea biscuits. Something I'm glad I was not around to eat.
Mom wanted to know why the wood poles that made up the fence surrounding the fort on one side were sharpened like pencils and why on the other side they were cut at an angle. No one knew. Turns out they didn't even know what the real fence would have looked like. Everything was a reproduction, but apparently there were a few details missing.
My mom and I returned to Bend, OR the next day. We went for a hike and then to lunch at Black Butte Ranch, where we ate a delicious sea food chowder. Chunks of good sea food doused in a buerre blanc, I think. (i.e. butter, cream, wine, seafood. Yum.) Mom then proceeded to water the plants in the restaurant (this is her job) and I sat out on the lawn and read. The view wasn't bad.
I visited the Bend Farmer's Market and found some peaches to reproduce a peach cobbler I had made on a previous visit.
The reproduction was so successful we ate one cobbler for breakfast and the other for lunch.
Along with some hand-made tortellini filled with mushrooms, shallots, wine, and cream. Yes, they are made from aproximately 1" x 1" squares of hand-rolled pasta. Yes, I will never make them again.
It was back to the library the next day. I called an officer in when neither I nor another, much louder librarian could wake a sleeping patron up. He seemed to be breathing okay, so we held off on the ambulance. When the officer arrived, the sleeping man's girlfriend told the officer not to bother him since he was just sleeping off a 1/2 gallon bottle of Vodka. A 7-foot tall man who walks around very very slowly and somewhat creepily, walked back and forth and back and forth to stare into a woman's purse. The next day the green man ( a man so covered in tattoos he is green) pushed and spit on one of our staff members. His friend then spit on him and they both left.
Home, sweet home.
dimanche 17 août 2008
Pink Pasta
I made this out of desperation...not a lick of food left in the house the day before the market. It may not be the most nutritious dish, but I ate about half a box of pasta it was so addictive:
1 onion, finely diced
1 red pepper (or a pinch of red pepper flakes, or just black pepper...something to add spice)
1/4 cup white wine vinegar (any vinegar or old wine will do)
1 T tomato paste
1/2 cup cream
1/4 cup grated Parmesan (optional...only use if you have Reggiano on hand, the other kinds get clumpy when you melt them instead of turning into a cream that will coat the pasta.)
1/2 lb penne or other pasta
Cook the onion in a bit of butter or olive oil until clear, add the pepper and vinegar, reduce until almost dry. Add tomato paste and cook for just a minute. Add cream, let it come to a boil so that it reduces a bit and gets just a little thick (maybe 1-2 minutes). Add dripping wet pasta (and Parmesan if using)...and toss to coat. The dish would look prettier with some chopped parsley thrown in, but I didn't have any, so I didn't try it.
1 onion, finely diced
1 red pepper (or a pinch of red pepper flakes, or just black pepper...something to add spice)
1/4 cup white wine vinegar (any vinegar or old wine will do)
1 T tomato paste
1/2 cup cream
1/4 cup grated Parmesan (optional...only use if you have Reggiano on hand, the other kinds get clumpy when you melt them instead of turning into a cream that will coat the pasta.)
1/2 lb penne or other pasta
Cook the onion in a bit of butter or olive oil until clear, add the pepper and vinegar, reduce until almost dry. Add tomato paste and cook for just a minute. Add cream, let it come to a boil so that it reduces a bit and gets just a little thick (maybe 1-2 minutes). Add dripping wet pasta (and Parmesan if using)...and toss to coat. The dish would look prettier with some chopped parsley thrown in, but I didn't have any, so I didn't try it.
vendredi 15 août 2008
mardi 12 août 2008
Many happy returns of the day indeed...
Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the birthday calls. Loïc is visiting from Paris and he and I spent the day tromping around LA. He showed me some of the famous sites in Hollywood I am supposed to know about as a resident, and I took him to the Getty museum where nearly everyone but me turned out to be French. We did a lot of driving and so I watched my cell phone buzz with new calls while I couldn't answer it, but all the messages made me very happy anyway. I promise to call you all back soon.
samedi 2 août 2008
Dinner
Polenta with fresh corn and gruyere
1 cup water
1/2 cup polenta
1 ear fresh corn (removed from cob)
1/4 cup grated gruyere cheese
1 sprig rosemary
1/4 cup chopped walnuts
1 Tablespoon butter
Boil the water in a saucepan with the rosemary sprig , then add the polenta. Cook until thick. Remove the rosemary. Mix in butter, cheese, fresh corn, and walnuts. Season to taste.
1 cup water
1/2 cup polenta
1 ear fresh corn (removed from cob)
1/4 cup grated gruyere cheese
1 sprig rosemary
1/4 cup chopped walnuts
1 Tablespoon butter
Boil the water in a saucepan with the rosemary sprig , then add the polenta. Cook until thick. Remove the rosemary. Mix in butter, cheese, fresh corn, and walnuts. Season to taste.
lundi 28 juillet 2008
Variation on a theme (not duck fat)
I bought plums. Perfectly ripe delicious red red plums. And left them in my hot hot car all day. When I got home I had a bag of juice and split open fruits. I decided to boil them in a simple syrup (just threw the whole plums in some water with some sugar. When it had boiled for a while, I steeped some mint leaves in the liquid for a few minutes. Then I strained it into a pie plate and froze it (doesn't freeze all the way because of the sugar). A few hours later I scraped it up with a fork and made this parfait like thing with cream between layers of granita (a copy of the coffee granita recipe I posted from the Zuni cafe cookbook earlier.) I'm very happy with the intensity of the plum flavor (and color) considering I strained all the plum out of the liquid. I bet this would work with just about anything. Broccoli granita, anyone?
(KIDDING...sheesh.)
samedi 26 juillet 2008
jeudi 24 juillet 2008
French Class
When you make your French teacher laugh so hard he snorts, I'm pretty sure it doesn't mean your doing terribly well. Sigh.
vendredi 18 juillet 2008
Brave
Alright, this is not only my first attempt at putting up an audio file, but also my first encounter with garage band. Don't laugh.
Snow upon root.aif
Grilled Cheese
I rarely have pre-sliced bread on hand. When I try to slice my baguette or rustic loaf thin enough to get a sandwich I can fit my mouth around without scratching up the gums and roof, the bread falls apart. This, I believe, was why the panini press was invented. And furthermore, the reason it was invented in a country that generally doesn't eat pre-sliced bread. Anyway, you can cut the slices as thick as you like, and still end up with the most deliciously mouth-sized, crunchy, buttery-all-the-way-through sandwich.
All it takes is some butter, bread, cheese (I like gruyere) and a panini press (or something):
All it takes is some butter, bread, cheese (I like gruyere) and a panini press (or something):
mercredi 16 juillet 2008
I've always heard horror stories about men and toilet seats, but I thought they were mostly myth. Until now.
"Roei, come here for a minute."
"Okay, just a second. What?"
"See that?" I point to a large dry yellow splotch on the little porcelain piece between the toilet seat and the tank.
"What?"
"And that?" I lift the lid. Yellow stripes that end in puckered yellow dots adorn the bottom of the toilet lid.
"I know I know, this is because the mens have to...how do you say" (he shakes his hand up and down to demonstrate) "after they piss. What, you want me to do this in the bathtub?"
Well, no actually, I don't prefer pee stains in the bathtub to pee stains on the toilet.
I'm not sure what other men do to shake dry without decorating the bathroom, but he better figure it out. Quick.
"Roei, come here for a minute."
"Okay, just a second. What?"
"See that?" I point to a large dry yellow splotch on the little porcelain piece between the toilet seat and the tank.
"What?"
"And that?" I lift the lid. Yellow stripes that end in puckered yellow dots adorn the bottom of the toilet lid.
"I know I know, this is because the mens have to...how do you say" (he shakes his hand up and down to demonstrate) "after they piss. What, you want me to do this in the bathtub?"
Well, no actually, I don't prefer pee stains in the bathtub to pee stains on the toilet.
I'm not sure what other men do to shake dry without decorating the bathroom, but he better figure it out. Quick.
mardi 15 juillet 2008
Bastille Day
Well, not much to write about here, but I did make it to a little Bastille Day celebration in West Hollywood Park. I forgot to take pictures of the people (good company with Cherry and John and Roei's sister's family--Sarah, Tomer and baby Nathaniel, who has hair like Elvis.) Darn, I wish I could show you. Anyway, I remembered to take pictures of the food. A quiche to be in the French spirit, a fresh black-eyed pea and tomato salad, and apricot cobbler (originally going to be apricot tart, but I thought with the quiche crust it might be a bit much...it was still a bit much.) Cherry and John got wild and performed a little covert operation sneaking out a cup each of wine and pastisse through the yellow "Do not enter" tape. The weather was perfect, and once the super-soaker war going on around us ended, it was quite peaceful too. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday...short of being in Paris.
mardi 8 juillet 2008
vendredi 4 juillet 2008
Yakitoriya
Last night Cherry introduced me to a yakitori restaurant on Sawtelle called Yakioriya. We decided to be adventurous and order things we'd never tried before. The minimum requirement was 5 skewers each, so it was really more a matter of deciding which four we weren't going to order. We couldn't resist asking about the special on the wall listed as "soft bone." We were no better off after the waitress explained the dish to us, but in our adventurous state, we decided to try it anyway. After we ate it, we still didn't know what it was. Chicken, definitely, but which part(s)? Anyway, the meat around the "soft bone" was delicious. The "soft bone" not quite soft enough for our western palates.
Cherry did a little internet research and sent me this quote from a New York yakitoriya:
"Try as we might, we never got to sample “soft knee bone” (only two per chicken, after all) or the enigmatic “soft bone,” which, the waitress explained, requires three chickens per serving. Where was this bone? The waitress turned and pointed at her bottom. "
Our other adventurous skewers were liver (I prefer it blended into paté, but it was tasty with the really really spicy mustard they served on the side) and gizzards (good flavor, crunchy texture...like cartilage. Wouldn't try it twice).
We also had a side of skin served on green onions shredded super fine and soaked in ponzu sauce. My favorite dish was a side of rice which I've forgotten the name of. It was served with pickled ginger and seaweed and was so cute with a little quail egg cracked over the top.
We did not feel adventurous enough to try the "premature egg," nor did we ask about the "toriwasa" which Cherry just informed me is raw chicken.
To finish off we had their homemade ice cream: black sesame and blood orange. Delicious.
Cherry did a little internet research and sent me this quote from a New York yakitoriya:
"Try as we might, we never got to sample “soft knee bone” (only two per chicken, after all) or the enigmatic “soft bone,” which, the waitress explained, requires three chickens per serving. Where was this bone? The waitress turned and pointed at her bottom. "
Our other adventurous skewers were liver (I prefer it blended into paté, but it was tasty with the really really spicy mustard they served on the side) and gizzards (good flavor, crunchy texture...like cartilage. Wouldn't try it twice).
We also had a side of skin served on green onions shredded super fine and soaked in ponzu sauce. My favorite dish was a side of rice which I've forgotten the name of. It was served with pickled ginger and seaweed and was so cute with a little quail egg cracked over the top.
We did not feel adventurous enough to try the "premature egg," nor did we ask about the "toriwasa" which Cherry just informed me is raw chicken.
To finish off we had their homemade ice cream: black sesame and blood orange. Delicious.
dimanche 29 juin 2008
A few good things
The flowers I bought at the market today:
My desk. Each day is a battle to get through all of the piles. By the end of the day, I've generally created new ones. But they're fun piles.
Coco. Roei's sisters dog.
Me and Grandpa stylin' in our specs at the Katella deli.
My desk. Each day is a battle to get through all of the piles. By the end of the day, I've generally created new ones. But they're fun piles.
Coco. Roei's sisters dog.
Me and Grandpa stylin' in our specs at the Katella deli.
jeudi 26 juin 2008
A breath of fresh writing
I just read the most beautiful book. A new one, by Eileen Spinelli, for probably second grade and up. It's called "Where I Live" and it's the first example of a novel written in poems that actually works without any strain. It begins like this:
This is where I live--
in the yellow house
with the white shutters.
I'm the one who helped plant
the maple tree in the front yard,
the one who waters
the daffodils in the spring,
who rakes the leaves in autumn.
My room is on the second floor.
See my window?
This morning I looked out
and saw my best friend, Rose,
waving to me.
"Wanna ride bikes?" she called.
The sun was shining,
the sky was so blue,I thought I could swim in it.
My heart was happy.
It's a good day when the sky is blue
and the sun is bright
and Rose and I have plans.
And the illustrations by Matt Phelan
are just right.
I love being a librarian.
lundi 23 juin 2008
More food
This is the goose egg I bought at the farmers market. The picture doesn't really show you the size, but the yolk unbroken was about the circumference of a coffee mug. I made an entire omelet from just the one egg. Cool. (I couldn't taste any difference though between it and a chicken egg...not sure why since some duck eggs I've had DO taste different. Maybe it depends on the duck/goose/chicken.)
This is another Zuni Cafe cookbook recipe (so are the lentils, below). Again, I am impressed by such simple recipes turning out such good results. To make the granita parfaits, melt one cup of sugar in two cups of coffee, put it in a shallow dish and freeze. I didn't try it, but I bet khalua would be a good addition....When it is frozen, chop it up into bits and layer it with sweetened whipped cream. True to Zuni's word, the cream that touches the ice freezes just a little and gets the most amazing chewy texture. So good for the hot weather we've been having!
This turned out really really good. Not flashy, but just plain good. Chop up about 1/2 cup each celery, onion, and carrot. Cook them just until they sweat in a few tablespoons of olive oil. Add 2 cups beluga (black) lentils, a bay leaf, and a cup of red wine. When the wine is almost all absorbed add 1/2 cup chicken stock. Add a pinch of salt. Add another 1/2 cup after the first is absorbed. Continue adding stock 1/2 cup at a time--as if you were making risotto--until the lentils are tender. Add more salt if necessary and dress with a few more tablespoons of olive oil. Adding the liquid slowly helped the lentils absorb lots of flavor without getting mushy.
dimanche 22 juin 2008
New Recipes
McDonald's boy ate ricotta gnocchi with sage-butter and carrots...and liked it. We're making progress. Of course, he still ordered a Papa Johns pizza after. I was probably the last person left in LA whose number was not in the system at any fast-food pizza joint. Calling around for a pizza delivery, we got a lot of confused workers asking over and over, "can you repeat that please?" I think we've got just about all of them covered now, so bring it on over Dominoes.
I've been cooking a few things out of the Zuni Cafe cookbook Sam bought me a while back. So far, the recipes have been simple and successful. A difficult, but useful combination to find.
I made the ricotta gnocchi (this is a photo of the page because I did not take a picture of mine). I did the little carrots just the same (and they were really good rolled in the sage-butter) and I used sage instead of chervil cuz that's what I had. The recipe's simplicity depends on getting good ricotta, which I can, but I doubt it would work with the stuff in those little tallish plastic containers at the grocery store. So if you have a good Italian market nearby, I highly recommend making these.
1 pound ricotta (blended until smooth)
2 eggs
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup grated parmesian
a bit of nutmeg
Whip it all for a bit with a whisk or in a kitchen aid, then shape ovals using two spoons. Coat them in flour and cook them in boiling water for about 5 minutes. Drop them in a pan of melted butter with herbs. Serve immediately. The carrots I just blanched and shocked and then rolled them in the same butter.
The other recipe I tried got really good after it sat in my refrigerator for a few days. Slice two pounds of sweet onions (like maui or vidalia) and put them in a bowl. Add olive oil, a little white wine, some salt, very thinly sliced lemon rounds (with the rind still on), chopped fresh mint, and olives. Lay that in the bottom of a large baking dish. Arrange artichokes cut in half and trimmed then doused in olive oil and salt among onions. Cover the whole thing with parchment paper and then with foil and bake until artichokes are tender, about an hour and a half at 375. I trimmed my artichokes a lot thinking I'd be able to eat them without using the "scraping" method, but I still had to scrape, so I recommend not going to all the trouble to trim them that much. Here's mine:
And here's the book's:
I've been cooking a few things out of the Zuni Cafe cookbook Sam bought me a while back. So far, the recipes have been simple and successful. A difficult, but useful combination to find.
I made the ricotta gnocchi (this is a photo of the page because I did not take a picture of mine). I did the little carrots just the same (and they were really good rolled in the sage-butter) and I used sage instead of chervil cuz that's what I had. The recipe's simplicity depends on getting good ricotta, which I can, but I doubt it would work with the stuff in those little tallish plastic containers at the grocery store. So if you have a good Italian market nearby, I highly recommend making these.
1 pound ricotta (blended until smooth)
2 eggs
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup grated parmesian
a bit of nutmeg
Whip it all for a bit with a whisk or in a kitchen aid, then shape ovals using two spoons. Coat them in flour and cook them in boiling water for about 5 minutes. Drop them in a pan of melted butter with herbs. Serve immediately. The carrots I just blanched and shocked and then rolled them in the same butter.
The other recipe I tried got really good after it sat in my refrigerator for a few days. Slice two pounds of sweet onions (like maui or vidalia) and put them in a bowl. Add olive oil, a little white wine, some salt, very thinly sliced lemon rounds (with the rind still on), chopped fresh mint, and olives. Lay that in the bottom of a large baking dish. Arrange artichokes cut in half and trimmed then doused in olive oil and salt among onions. Cover the whole thing with parchment paper and then with foil and bake until artichokes are tender, about an hour and a half at 375. I trimmed my artichokes a lot thinking I'd be able to eat them without using the "scraping" method, but I still had to scrape, so I recommend not going to all the trouble to trim them that much. Here's mine:
And here's the book's:
jeudi 19 juin 2008
One Day Vacation
Tuesday was my last day off until the 4th of July. Thanks goodness for holidays. And holiday pay. SO, Roei and I decided to get out of boiling hot LA and take a little trip to Carpinteria.
Of course, we stopped by the Duddridge garage to pick out our toys: a beach umbrella, a gargantuan towel, some sunscreen, and snacks.
Then it was off to Summerland beach. Which was gorgeous. But I left the camera in the car. So, as we were pulling out we decided to stop and make two old ladies walking their dogs together take our picture. They were so cute and obliging I almost decided to take them home with me. They even managed the digital camera.
After a long nap on the beach (under the umbrella for me, under the sun for Roei) we drove up to Cold Springs Tavern. If you look above Roei's arm, you can see a piece of the view. Hard to get from the passenger's seat.
I figured Cold Springs Tavern was the perfect place for my hamburger-loving boy. But, alas, the dinner menu was quite decadent with all kinds of game meats. Perhaps he trusted me that a New York Steak was cow, but he called his sister and got the entire menu translated, just to be sure.
That was a lot of driving, so we took Terry up on her offer of a bed for the night. When we got back to the Duddridge's, we opened the front door to find the familiar smell of boysenberry pie wafting out at us. The Duddridge household, thanks to Terry, always has either the smell of bright, clean laundry detergent, or pie. They always tease me that I have a knack for coming over when there's pie, but I have a feeling someone is fixing the cards.
A dunk in the jacuzzi finished the night off.
We drove back to LA at 7am on Wednesday morning so I could make it to work on time. First, though, tea and pie in the garden. For the bazillionth time I was grateful to have one of my childhood homes still feel like home.
Of course, we stopped by the Duddridge garage to pick out our toys: a beach umbrella, a gargantuan towel, some sunscreen, and snacks.
Then it was off to Summerland beach. Which was gorgeous. But I left the camera in the car. So, as we were pulling out we decided to stop and make two old ladies walking their dogs together take our picture. They were so cute and obliging I almost decided to take them home with me. They even managed the digital camera.
After a long nap on the beach (under the umbrella for me, under the sun for Roei) we drove up to Cold Springs Tavern. If you look above Roei's arm, you can see a piece of the view. Hard to get from the passenger's seat.
I figured Cold Springs Tavern was the perfect place for my hamburger-loving boy. But, alas, the dinner menu was quite decadent with all kinds of game meats. Perhaps he trusted me that a New York Steak was cow, but he called his sister and got the entire menu translated, just to be sure.
That was a lot of driving, so we took Terry up on her offer of a bed for the night. When we got back to the Duddridge's, we opened the front door to find the familiar smell of boysenberry pie wafting out at us. The Duddridge household, thanks to Terry, always has either the smell of bright, clean laundry detergent, or pie. They always tease me that I have a knack for coming over when there's pie, but I have a feeling someone is fixing the cards.
A dunk in the jacuzzi finished the night off.
We drove back to LA at 7am on Wednesday morning so I could make it to work on time. First, though, tea and pie in the garden. For the bazillionth time I was grateful to have one of my childhood homes still feel like home.
dimanche 15 juin 2008
Orin's Place
I guess I'm actually going to have to try my hand at writing since I forgot to take pictures of the food at Orin's bbq/house-warming party/concert. Roei and I arrived at the new Highland Park place around 6:30 to find a shrimp -kebab assembly line working at the kitchen table. The shrimp were rubbed in curry, jalepenos, and lime juice before they were skewered and cooked on the grill. Next to them stood a heaping platter of veggie kebabs with red and yellow bell peppers, purple red onions, and mushrooms all cut precisely the same and putting many a Bon Appetit cover to shame. Not realizing beforehand that it was a house full of vegetarians (minus Orin, of course) I brought lamb chops marinated in oregano and lemon juice. They weren't nearly as colorful as the shrimp or the veggies, but they were mighty tasty.
I actually managed to have a good time in spite of the fact that I only knew Orin and one other person, barely, when I arrived AND in spite of the fact that Roei left for a few hours in the middle of the bbq to go eat at McDonalds.
Orin's cupboards, as always, contain all sorts of fun stuff. If you dig deep in his alcohol cabinet, you'll find non-alcoholic black currant syrup. In his fridge were mini bottles of Pellegrino. It didn't take me long to get the two together and I found the perfect drink. Here's the recipe:
Open individual sized bottle of San Pellegrino. Take three medium-sized sips. Fill empty space with Zergut black currant syrup. Drink.
FINALLY for the first time last night, I heard Orin play violin when he wasn't at a wedding. I managed to stay until midnight when the concert actually started. And, though I'm not capable of appreciating the type of music they played, I couldn't get over how amazing it was to go to a really easy going barbecue where no one was cool, everyone cooked, and everyone sat around til the wee hours playing music for each other.
AND Orin's new place is great. It even has an avocado tree.
I actually managed to have a good time in spite of the fact that I only knew Orin and one other person, barely, when I arrived AND in spite of the fact that Roei left for a few hours in the middle of the bbq to go eat at McDonalds.
Orin's cupboards, as always, contain all sorts of fun stuff. If you dig deep in his alcohol cabinet, you'll find non-alcoholic black currant syrup. In his fridge were mini bottles of Pellegrino. It didn't take me long to get the two together and I found the perfect drink. Here's the recipe:
Open individual sized bottle of San Pellegrino. Take three medium-sized sips. Fill empty space with Zergut black currant syrup. Drink.
FINALLY for the first time last night, I heard Orin play violin when he wasn't at a wedding. I managed to stay until midnight when the concert actually started. And, though I'm not capable of appreciating the type of music they played, I couldn't get over how amazing it was to go to a really easy going barbecue where no one was cool, everyone cooked, and everyone sat around til the wee hours playing music for each other.
AND Orin's new place is great. It even has an avocado tree.
samedi 14 juin 2008
Excuses
I'm not exactly sure what to write about since I haven't been cooking. But I've been getting snide little comments about my blog not being updated, and I'm so glad to know people are still reading it that I feel I better write something!
I haven't been cooking for three reasons. First, I've been working my rear-end off trying to make a little extra money, so I put in a night at the cooking school and two days at the Santa Monica library on top of my regular 40 plus hours. I haven't been home a lot. Reason number two, I seem to have acquired a new family. A family that is full of wives who cook and invite Roei and I over for dinner and send us home with three-days worth of leftovers. Luckily, they all seem to be very good cooks and I'm looking forward to expanding my repertoire to include Israeli food. As of yet, I'm not even well-versed in it enough to tell you what I ate other than it's all tasty and it's all brown. Lots of grains, lots of fat. Third, I have been so discombobulated by the rice-a-roni and cans of coke and Kraft macaroni and cheese that have shown up in my house, that I've almost been too out of sorts to eat at all.
I have high hopes for market day tomorrow though, so check back.
I haven't been cooking for three reasons. First, I've been working my rear-end off trying to make a little extra money, so I put in a night at the cooking school and two days at the Santa Monica library on top of my regular 40 plus hours. I haven't been home a lot. Reason number two, I seem to have acquired a new family. A family that is full of wives who cook and invite Roei and I over for dinner and send us home with three-days worth of leftovers. Luckily, they all seem to be very good cooks and I'm looking forward to expanding my repertoire to include Israeli food. As of yet, I'm not even well-versed in it enough to tell you what I ate other than it's all tasty and it's all brown. Lots of grains, lots of fat. Third, I have been so discombobulated by the rice-a-roni and cans of coke and Kraft macaroni and cheese that have shown up in my house, that I've almost been too out of sorts to eat at all.
I have high hopes for market day tomorrow though, so check back.
samedi 7 juin 2008
Tomatoes and More Armenian Attempts
All recipes I've ever seen tell you to peel tomatoes by scoring the skin then blanching and shocking them. I, however, hate scoring the tomatoes because my knife is never sharp enough (no matter how sharp it is) to score the tomato skin properly and I end up cutting a huge gash in the bottom and losing half the tomato in the boiling water. So today I decided just to boil the tomatoes without scoring them. It worked perfectly. I boiled them for about a minute still on their stem and everything, then dunked them in cold water and they peeled MORE easily, and stayed in one piece. Beautiful.
This is a stuffed zucchini recipe from the Armenian cookbook I previously mentioned. Carving out the middle of the zucchini proved to be a lot harder than I anticipated, but by half number 8, I was getting a system down. The filling is ground lamb, finely chopped onion, parsley, salt and cayenne pepper. First they are fried on the stovetop:
And then you dump tomatoes over them and cook them in the oven at 350 for 45 minutes. The best part was the tomatoes. They dried out a bit and became super intense (kind of like sun dried tomatoes). I accidentally spilled a bunch of cayenne into the filling, so they were pretty spicy. Good.
With the unused part of the zucchini, I made these pancakes. They are zucchini, onion, egg, flour, cumin, mint, and parsley mixed up and fried in olive oil. So far I've learned that Armenian food requires a lot of chopping.
This is a stuffed zucchini recipe from the Armenian cookbook I previously mentioned. Carving out the middle of the zucchini proved to be a lot harder than I anticipated, but by half number 8, I was getting a system down. The filling is ground lamb, finely chopped onion, parsley, salt and cayenne pepper. First they are fried on the stovetop:
And then you dump tomatoes over them and cook them in the oven at 350 for 45 minutes. The best part was the tomatoes. They dried out a bit and became super intense (kind of like sun dried tomatoes). I accidentally spilled a bunch of cayenne into the filling, so they were pretty spicy. Good.
With the unused part of the zucchini, I made these pancakes. They are zucchini, onion, egg, flour, cumin, mint, and parsley mixed up and fried in olive oil. So far I've learned that Armenian food requires a lot of chopping.
vendredi 6 juin 2008
Plum Clafouti
This is a recipe that 14 year-old Julian brought in to the pro II cooking class. It's his French grandmother's recipe. It takes about 10 minutes to make and it's delicious...a little bit mochi-esque in texture. Mine is not puffy because I accidentally quadrupled the sugar! Oops.
1/4 C plus 1 T sugar
3/4 lb plums, halved and pitted
3/4 C light cream (half and half)
3/4 C flour
2 eggs
1 egg yolk
1/8 t salt
1 t vanilla
Preheat oven to 400 degrees and butter the pie plate well.
Sprinkle the pie plate with the 1 tablespoon sugar and distribute the plum halves over the sugar, skin side down. In a blender blend the milk, light cream, flour, eggs, egg yolk and salt for 2 minutes. Add the 1/4 cup sugar and the vanilla. Blend the mixture for a few seconods and pour it over the plums. Bake the clafouti in the middle of the oven for about 30 minutes or until puffed and golden. Dust the clafouti with vanilla sugar and serve at once.
dimanche 1 juin 2008
I know, I promised to write about my Korean and Thai food experiences. But, the idea practically bores me to death. Now I remember why I hated food writing. I hate paying attention. I hate trying to remember the names of everything. I can manage photos at home, BEFORE I start eating. But to pull out a camera at a restaurant each time something new is served just kills the fun for me.
Instead I'm going to show you the lovely (and lovely smelling!) peony I bought at the market today:
And fillo triangles I made. They look exactly the same, but there are two kinds: one stuffed with ricotta cheese mixed with parsley, an egg, and a teaspoon of baking powder, the other filled with finely chopped walnuts mixed with cinnamon and sugar with an orange-flower water syrup on top. I got these recipes from an Armenian cookbook we have at the library. The cheese was supposed to be mixed with munster, but I just couldn't see how this was authentic and left it out. The syrup is supposed to be lemon. Yawn.
The fillo is store-bought. I've tried to make it before, but I can't get it anywhere close to thin enough (puff pastry is worth making at home, but not fillo, I've decided). You just spread some melted butter in between each layer and the stuff is amazing, no matter what you put in it. I had some left-over orange-flower syrup and mixed it with sparkling water for a tasty little soda.
I went a little nuts shopping today. Food is the only area I really have a lot of trouble controlling my budget on. First, everything looked so good at the farmers market. All of the stone fruit is out...and it's not cheap. I had to buy plums and peaches, bare minimum. Then, I couldn't pass up Harry's Barrys strawberries. They are outrageously expensive : $4.75 for one basket. However, they are the only people in the universe who pick their strawberries already ripe. I stopped by Ralphs and bought Organic Valley cream and have been eating my strawberries with it all day.
Later in the day I realized I had most of the ingredients for another Armenian recipe, but was missing scallions. So I went over to the Korean market. And next to the scallions, they had sesame leaves, three bunches for a dollar. I haven't a clue what they are for, but I couldn't pass them up. I made the mistake of wandering the isles after that. I had just been talking to Annalaura who taught me to make sticky rice and eat it with mangoes and cream. And when I got to the isle with 500 different kinds of sticky rice, I had to get a bag, since I already bought cream at Ralphs for the strawberries. So I went back for a mango and ended up finding some interesting green tea. I did FORCE myself to put the salmon roe back even though I had just read a recipe with cannellini beans and caviar and I had already-soaked cannellini's on my counter.
Now I have food for about 20 at my house. If anyone's free for dinner, you're invited.
Instead I'm going to show you the lovely (and lovely smelling!) peony I bought at the market today:
And fillo triangles I made. They look exactly the same, but there are two kinds: one stuffed with ricotta cheese mixed with parsley, an egg, and a teaspoon of baking powder, the other filled with finely chopped walnuts mixed with cinnamon and sugar with an orange-flower water syrup on top. I got these recipes from an Armenian cookbook we have at the library. The cheese was supposed to be mixed with munster, but I just couldn't see how this was authentic and left it out. The syrup is supposed to be lemon. Yawn.
The fillo is store-bought. I've tried to make it before, but I can't get it anywhere close to thin enough (puff pastry is worth making at home, but not fillo, I've decided). You just spread some melted butter in between each layer and the stuff is amazing, no matter what you put in it. I had some left-over orange-flower syrup and mixed it with sparkling water for a tasty little soda.
I went a little nuts shopping today. Food is the only area I really have a lot of trouble controlling my budget on. First, everything looked so good at the farmers market. All of the stone fruit is out...and it's not cheap. I had to buy plums and peaches, bare minimum. Then, I couldn't pass up Harry's Barrys strawberries. They are outrageously expensive : $4.75 for one basket. However, they are the only people in the universe who pick their strawberries already ripe. I stopped by Ralphs and bought Organic Valley cream and have been eating my strawberries with it all day.
Later in the day I realized I had most of the ingredients for another Armenian recipe, but was missing scallions. So I went over to the Korean market. And next to the scallions, they had sesame leaves, three bunches for a dollar. I haven't a clue what they are for, but I couldn't pass them up. I made the mistake of wandering the isles after that. I had just been talking to Annalaura who taught me to make sticky rice and eat it with mangoes and cream. And when I got to the isle with 500 different kinds of sticky rice, I had to get a bag, since I already bought cream at Ralphs for the strawberries. So I went back for a mango and ended up finding some interesting green tea. I did FORCE myself to put the salmon roe back even though I had just read a recipe with cannellini beans and caviar and I had already-soaked cannellini's on my counter.
Now I have food for about 20 at my house. If anyone's free for dinner, you're invited.
mercredi 28 mai 2008
Please don't laugh...
But vowels seem to be difficult for my Israeli. And I'm pretty sure that he is not being crass when he ends our nightly phone call with "Good night, Boobie."
mardi 27 mai 2008
Pizza Party Part II
We had a lot more pizza eaters than bakers for PPPII. Cherry came at the appointed 10AM hour and we whipped up three batches of dough (18 pizzas). The kitchen wasn't pretty:
But the little dough balls were:
Our three batches were: 00 pizza flour imported from Italy, a mix of AP flour and farro flour, and whole wheat mixed with bread flour. We discovered that the 00 flour (what is used for pizza and pasta in Italy) really DID make a difference all the way from making the kneading of the wet dough easier to rolling out easier, to tasting better once it was cooked.
We left our dough to rise and set off to the farmers market. Our biggest score was delicious and cheap tomatoes. FINALLY, tomatoes that actually smell like the ones on the vine in the garden when you are a kid. And it made a huge difference in the sauce...the most delicious I've had in a long long time. At the market we also found early apricots and white peaches for a tart. After that we headed off to Sorrento's. It is an Italian market straight out of the 50's, meatball sandwiches, prepared salads and all. We got prosciutto and brasaola and buffalo mozzerella and ricotta and Parmegiano...and they advertised "sweet European Butter" but were all out when we asked. We sat down for a quick nibble on a ricotta cheese canolo before heading home.
Just plugra, but still beautiful. Use about this much for a large galette.
We mixed the apricots and peaches together and let them sit in a bowl with sugar, lemon verbena and mint. We took the herbs out before we baked the tart, but they made a delicious syrup which I later burned. (Pizza cooks at 550, not tarts).
For appetizers we had brasaola with wild arugula and mustard greens dressed with lemon juice and olive oil.
Though we made artichoke and goat cheese pizza, prosciuto and arugula pizza, egg and anciove pizza, potato and rosemary pizza, and ricotta and spinach pizza, the margherita was the best. As always:
See, I really did burn it. Once it was off the burnt pan and covered in lots of cream, it was actually fairly tasty.
Luckly Oleg turned the camera around at some point. As our resident photographer no one might ever know he was here. Or that he had a pizza named after him (prosciutto, spinach, bechemel, and potatoes) aka the tv dinner pizza.
But the little dough balls were:
Our three batches were: 00 pizza flour imported from Italy, a mix of AP flour and farro flour, and whole wheat mixed with bread flour. We discovered that the 00 flour (what is used for pizza and pasta in Italy) really DID make a difference all the way from making the kneading of the wet dough easier to rolling out easier, to tasting better once it was cooked.We left our dough to rise and set off to the farmers market. Our biggest score was delicious and cheap tomatoes. FINALLY, tomatoes that actually smell like the ones on the vine in the garden when you are a kid. And it made a huge difference in the sauce...the most delicious I've had in a long long time. At the market we also found early apricots and white peaches for a tart. After that we headed off to Sorrento's. It is an Italian market straight out of the 50's, meatball sandwiches, prepared salads and all. We got prosciutto and brasaola and buffalo mozzerella and ricotta and Parmegiano...and they advertised "sweet European Butter" but were all out when we asked. We sat down for a quick nibble on a ricotta cheese canolo before heading home.
Just plugra, but still beautiful. Use about this much for a large galette.
We mixed the apricots and peaches together and let them sit in a bowl with sugar, lemon verbena and mint. We took the herbs out before we baked the tart, but they made a delicious syrup which I later burned. (Pizza cooks at 550, not tarts).
For appetizers we had brasaola with wild arugula and mustard greens dressed with lemon juice and olive oil.
Though we made artichoke and goat cheese pizza, prosciuto and arugula pizza, egg and anciove pizza, potato and rosemary pizza, and ricotta and spinach pizza, the margherita was the best. As always:
See, I really did burn it. Once it was off the burnt pan and covered in lots of cream, it was actually fairly tasty.
Luckly Oleg turned the camera around at some point. As our resident photographer no one might ever know he was here. Or that he had a pizza named after him (prosciutto, spinach, bechemel, and potatoes) aka the tv dinner pizza.
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