Friday night—John and I rarely, if ever, go out on Friday nights, mostly because we're too exhausted by our work week, but also because we've developed a great ritual that we hate to miss. But it was our pleasure to spend the evening with Tracy and Bill, who had invited us to see Greil Marcus and the Mekons with them.
We started with dinner at Red Stag Supperclub*, Kim Bartmann's ultra cool restaurant with a great menu and spectacular dining environment. It's the first Minnesota restaurant to have LEED certification, meaning that they've taken extra steps to ensure green building—that is to say environmentally friendly, energy conscious, and, most important, sustainable. The food was fantastic, especially any menu item with meat. I had elk, something I haven't eaten since I was a kid, when my dad hunted elk in Colorado with my Uncle Bill. It was very good and tender, unlike when I ate it as a child and made me instantly suspicious that it might not be elk. John's beef filet and Bill's duck were also outstanding. Anyhow, I'd like to go on record as saying that the red stag over the restaurant's front door would look great on my fireplace. Just saying.**
Over in St. Paul, at the Fitzgerald Theater, we saw Greil Marcus interviewed by The Current's Mary Lucia. I've long been a fan of Mary Lucia. I could recognize her voice anywhere, but I had no idea what she looked like. Tracy and I both thought it was a little trippy to now have a face to pair with her voice. The interview was great. The Mekons were pretty awesome, too. Sally Timm knocked my socks off. They played for almost an hour. Folksy tunes with edge, a totally natural progression from their alt country vibe of the early 90s, which, quite frankly, was evident even in their "punk" music from the mid 80s. Great Friday night out!
Saturday—Took Winston to the first stop on the March-May birthday party circuit, and caught up with the SPCC parents. After the party, so as not to waste a drive all the way out to Woodbury, I dragged Winston with me to Trader Joe's where he took control of the shopping cart so that he could find Tiki Sven, which was hidden in the store. Trader Joe's is such a weird place. Many of their food items look intriguing, but ultimately I'm grossed out that it's processed food—albeit without a lot of junk, such as HFCS. I spent a lot of time putting things into my cart, then returning them to the shelf. Later, John and I took the boys out for dinner to celebrate Winston’s birthday. He’s turning six at Gpa and Gma house later this week and he’s milking it, which seems so innocent and is yet so Machiavellian. Still we had dinner at Saji-Ya. Simon, who won’t touch sushi (which is okay, he’s 8.5) devoured two bowls of edamame and a plate of tempura shrimp. Winston ate a bowl of rice saturated with soy sauce, as well as a number of rolls and the eyes off a fried shrimp head. Both were mesmerized by sounds and flames of the teppanyaki chefs upstairs, so we vowed to return and try it ourselves.
Sunday—I love our weekend mornings. This one started with the family Shepard making a pancake breakfast together. Everyone got in on the action. We lifted our juice glasses and toasted the measurers and mixers, egg crackers and pancake flippers. Then I took a pile of Nancy Drew graphic novels—so much fun—and a very large, very heavy duffel bag packed with dirty clothes and headed for the laundromat. I don’t want to dwell on broken appliances so let’s just say I stepped in a very large puddle while washing clothes on Saturday. After the laundry was done, we drove to Montevideo to meet my parents. On the way we ate PB&Js that Simon had made. I read aloud from Winston's library book—The Secret in the Old Mill, a Hardy Boys mystery—as well as listened to Bill Cosby's 1964 recording I Started Out As a Child. In Montevideo, a halfway point (ish) between us and my parents, we handed the boys over to Gpa and Gma, who are kindly entertaining the boys on their spring break. On the return drive, I read aloud to John from Tony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential, his hilarious and revolutionary behind-the-scenes look at the restaurant industry. The first/last time I read this book, I read the manuscript, prepublication. And, though it was funny and well written, I would have laughed in your face if you had told me it would be a bestseller. John and I kicked off our third annual Hambone and Spice Restaurant Week at La Cucharacha, then returned home and plopped in front of the telly. In a very quiet house.
*I won't link to Red Stag's site as some redneck idiot has hacked it, and three days (or more) later, it still isn't fixed.
**Ostensibly, we went to Red Stag for bone marrow. The roasted marrow was beautifully presented. How could you not want to brag about how you love bone marrow—except it's about the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten. Mind you, I have eaten blood sausage, tripe, foie gras, sweetbreads, shrimp heads—all good. The marrow was oozy, like pure fat, but some of it was bloody. Okay, the less said about this the better. Needless to say, I'm feeling a little traumatized by roasted bone marrow.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
spring in the Midwest
A view of our home from the alley, March 21 (St. Paul)
Entering Memorial Park from the lake side, Easter (Watertown, SD)
Running on frozen Lake Kampeska, Easter (Watertown, SD)
doing
watching
A few weeks ago when I read in the NYT that Amy Sherman-Palladino had a follow up (score!) to The Gilmore Girls—The Return of Jezebel James, starring Parker Posey (score!)—there was no question I would add the show to my DVR queue. Unfortunately I missed the first couple episodes, but last night I watched what might have been the third episode. My first impression is that it’s not the instant success that Gilmore Girls was. The story is unfolding slowly in a way that doesn’t really fit a sitcom format, but the show had potential. I say had because Fox announced this morning that Jezebel James has been cancelled after only three episodes. I liked Posey’s daffy character—Sarah, a successful editor (score!) at Harper Collins. The petit annoyances hardly seem worth bringing up now so it’s back to Grounded for Life reruns.
reading
Over the weekend, I finished The Omnivore’s Dilemma, which was very, very good. It’s eye-opening, to be sure. But more, I loved Michael Pollan’s writing style, with its logically composed arguments and richly detailed prose. As a writer, I marveled at the way the prose effortlessly flowed from factual information (statistics, science, history) to personal (Pollan’s experience visiting the corn farmer and the grass farmer, as well as hunting and gathering). My book group met last Thursday to talk about the book. We were each suitably impressed by Pollan, yet horrified by the omnivore’s dilemma of too many food choices, many of which are killing us. I’ve got a little bit of ruminating to do before I write more; then I'll pick up one of the next three food books in the queue—Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Judith Jones’ The Tenth Muse, or John Thorne’s Mouth Wide Open.
eatingFish tacos. For the past few Fridays I have been eating fish tacos for lunch at Golden’s. Made with tilapia fillets and topped with shredded lettuce and pico de gallo with loads of lime and cilantro, these are my fish taco ideal. I tried my hand at making my own tonight. Lunds had tilapia but Simon encouraged me to also buy red snapper so we could compare. I used flour tortillas, which I prefer to corn, and a store-bought but serviceable pico de gallo. The family was split over which fish was better, though my preference was the soft and buttery tilapia. Next time, we’ll make fish tacos on a weekend so we can eat them with this awesome tropical fruit salsa (avocado, pineapple, kiwi, mango, lime juice, red onions, serranos, cilantro).
listening
Carbon/Silicon, Mick Jones' new gig.
A few weeks ago when I read in the NYT that Amy Sherman-Palladino had a follow up (score!) to The Gilmore Girls—The Return of Jezebel James, starring Parker Posey (score!)—there was no question I would add the show to my DVR queue. Unfortunately I missed the first couple episodes, but last night I watched what might have been the third episode. My first impression is that it’s not the instant success that Gilmore Girls was. The story is unfolding slowly in a way that doesn’t really fit a sitcom format, but the show had potential. I say had because Fox announced this morning that Jezebel James has been cancelled after only three episodes. I liked Posey’s daffy character—Sarah, a successful editor (score!) at Harper Collins. The petit annoyances hardly seem worth bringing up now so it’s back to Grounded for Life reruns.
reading
Over the weekend, I finished The Omnivore’s Dilemma, which was very, very good. It’s eye-opening, to be sure. But more, I loved Michael Pollan’s writing style, with its logically composed arguments and richly detailed prose. As a writer, I marveled at the way the prose effortlessly flowed from factual information (statistics, science, history) to personal (Pollan’s experience visiting the corn farmer and the grass farmer, as well as hunting and gathering). My book group met last Thursday to talk about the book. We were each suitably impressed by Pollan, yet horrified by the omnivore’s dilemma of too many food choices, many of which are killing us. I’ve got a little bit of ruminating to do before I write more; then I'll pick up one of the next three food books in the queue—Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Judith Jones’ The Tenth Muse, or John Thorne’s Mouth Wide Open.
eatingFish tacos. For the past few Fridays I have been eating fish tacos for lunch at Golden’s. Made with tilapia fillets and topped with shredded lettuce and pico de gallo with loads of lime and cilantro, these are my fish taco ideal. I tried my hand at making my own tonight. Lunds had tilapia but Simon encouraged me to also buy red snapper so we could compare. I used flour tortillas, which I prefer to corn, and a store-bought but serviceable pico de gallo. The family was split over which fish was better, though my preference was the soft and buttery tilapia. Next time, we’ll make fish tacos on a weekend so we can eat them with this awesome tropical fruit salsa (avocado, pineapple, kiwi, mango, lime juice, red onions, serranos, cilantro).
listening
Carbon/Silicon, Mick Jones' new gig.
Monday, March 24, 2008
weekend report: march 22-23
The family Shepard is back in the Twin Cities following a slow weekend in Watertown, SD. We brought fewer toys and projects with us this time, so the car felt less loaded, which was okay since we drove the Prius. Still, we didn’t manage to use most of the things we brought. For example, I never cracked open my laptop.
The roads on Friday evening were in better shape than I had feared, which was a pleasant relief. In fact, there was very little traffic, coming or going, from the Twin Cities, so we flew. I read aloud to the boys for a bit from The Fire Within, which showed promise.
While John took his evening nap, I drove and listened to disc one—remixes—of the Scion Daptone compilation, and to the Kitchen Sisters's audiobook Hidden Kitchens, narrated by Frances McDormand. Both were pretty awesome. I had some great ideas while listening to the Kitchen Sisters and look forward to exploring them further.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, there isn’t much to do in Watertown. The highlight of the weekend was taking a hike through the park next to my parents’ home. We saw robins, their fat red breasts providing pops of color throughout the naked tree branches. My naturalist father helped us identify tracks in the snow—robins, pheasants, and canine of some sort (dog, we hope).
Also, my mother and I filled plastic Easter eggs with candy and hid them for the boys, who then conducted their own hunt WITHOUT WAKING ANY ADULTS. This was so against the rules when I was a kid. I was a little stunned to see the boys’ baskets half empty by the time I rolled downstairs at, oh, 8 a.m. Simon said, "But Mom, I could see three eggs without even looking for them." Translated: if you can see it, hunt it.
After a gut-busting, albeit delicious, ham and potato midday meal on Sunday, we packed up and drove home. Apparently the snow continued to fall in St. Paul on Friday and Saturday and the temperature has remained low. The streets are still snow packed, the sidewalks are icy.
Even so, we’re glad to be home!
The roads on Friday evening were in better shape than I had feared, which was a pleasant relief. In fact, there was very little traffic, coming or going, from the Twin Cities, so we flew. I read aloud to the boys for a bit from The Fire Within, which showed promise.
While John took his evening nap, I drove and listened to disc one—remixes—of the Scion Daptone compilation, and to the Kitchen Sisters's audiobook Hidden Kitchens, narrated by Frances McDormand. Both were pretty awesome. I had some great ideas while listening to the Kitchen Sisters and look forward to exploring them further.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, there isn’t much to do in Watertown. The highlight of the weekend was taking a hike through the park next to my parents’ home. We saw robins, their fat red breasts providing pops of color throughout the naked tree branches. My naturalist father helped us identify tracks in the snow—robins, pheasants, and canine of some sort (dog, we hope).
Also, my mother and I filled plastic Easter eggs with candy and hid them for the boys, who then conducted their own hunt WITHOUT WAKING ANY ADULTS. This was so against the rules when I was a kid. I was a little stunned to see the boys’ baskets half empty by the time I rolled downstairs at, oh, 8 a.m. Simon said, "But Mom, I could see three eggs without even looking for them." Translated: if you can see it, hunt it.
After a gut-busting, albeit delicious, ham and potato midday meal on Sunday, we packed up and drove home. Apparently the snow continued to fall in St. Paul on Friday and Saturday and the temperature has remained low. The streets are still snow packed, the sidewalks are icy.
Even so, we’re glad to be home!
Friday, March 21, 2008
LISTENING: itunes shuffle
1. My Weakness (Moby)
This is what angels must sound like
2. Ways to Be Wicked (Lone Justice)
I had no idea I had a copy of this
3. Vertigo (U2)
A little commercial, but likeable
4. Love Pipe (The Red Elvises)
Russian surf guitar
5. Black Star (Soul Asylum)
From the live album recorded at the Grand Forks (ND) senior prom, awesome
6. See How We Are (X)
A demo version; nothing says summer of 1989 louder than X; they're playing the Cabooze tomorrow night and I'm bummed to miss them
7. Don't Leave Me This Way (Communards)*
Wins award for the day's most blatantly 80s tune; some might say this is a dance song, but, as personal experience is my witness, it would argue for its potential as a great makeout song (see Christmas break 1985, initials NM)
8. Colossus (Walt Mink)
One for the "where are they now" files
9. A Wot (Orgone)
Just got this CD from Krista; funk from Ubiquity Records, a West Coast version—if I dare say so—of Daptone, whatever that means
10. Deathwish (The Police)
Not much to say
* Here, see for yourself:
This is what angels must sound like
2. Ways to Be Wicked (Lone Justice)
I had no idea I had a copy of this
3. Vertigo (U2)
A little commercial, but likeable
4. Love Pipe (The Red Elvises)
Russian surf guitar
5. Black Star (Soul Asylum)
From the live album recorded at the Grand Forks (ND) senior prom, awesome
6. See How We Are (X)
A demo version; nothing says summer of 1989 louder than X; they're playing the Cabooze tomorrow night and I'm bummed to miss them
7. Don't Leave Me This Way (Communards)*
Wins award for the day's most blatantly 80s tune; some might say this is a dance song, but, as personal experience is my witness, it would argue for its potential as a great makeout song (see Christmas break 1985, initials NM)
8. Colossus (Walt Mink)
One for the "where are they now" files
9. A Wot (Orgone)
Just got this CD from Krista; funk from Ubiquity Records, a West Coast version—if I dare say so—of Daptone, whatever that means
10. Deathwish (The Police)
Not much to say
* Here, see for yourself:
welcome to spring
Today marks the first full day of spring. I should feel more cheerful, and I would except for the snow that's falling. The lead-gray skies have provoked a bought of SAD, which was suspended temporarily when I went to book group last night. The snow is inevitable—it is, after all, mid March in Minnesota.
John, the boys, and I are meant to drive to So Dak to celebrate Easter with my parents. I have already told John that I'm not keen to drive in the current sloppy, slushy turning to icy driving conditions but he has yet to take me seriously. My life is in his hands, and I completely trust him—until he hits his 7 p.m. slump and drives us into a ditch. I also mentioned to the boys that I'd like to wait until tomorrow morning to make our drive, but they view this idea as a betrayal of the grand plan in which John drives and I read to the family.
Am I being a big baby? I don't think so...I just don't feel like putting my life, and the lives of the people I most cherish, at risk.
Regardless of when we leave town, we are spending the weekend in Watertown, SD, which means packing as if we were going to be stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean. Actually, this analogy isn't far from the truth. There is not a gosh darn thing to do in Watertown. To be fair, the best things to do in Watertown—such as golfing and swimming in the lake or at the new, awesome water park— involve warmer, drier weather. Since my parents don't believe in providing us with activities or entertainment and sort of treat our visits as an afterthought, we like to bring our own amusement.
For this trip I'm packing the following:
~ a few books I've already started and would like to finish (From the Mixed-up Files ... and the second book in Donna Leon's series)
~ magazines, small stack I've been hording, yikes, including the Vogue from two months ago
~ a puzzle to assemble with the kids
~ cool Dover coloring books we got for xmas, this is mine
~ mommy's box of 64 crayolas
~ laptop, even though there's no wi-fi
~ external hard drive
~ camera
~ boots, hat, mittens for a hike in the park
~ knitting, for when I can no longer concentrate on reading over my mother's yammering
And, of course there's the food:
~ cheese (you cannot get a decent, non-processed chunk of cheese in Watertown; Laguiole, which we're trying for the first time, a truffled pecorino-type cheese, and a few others that I picked up at Whole Foods earlier this week)
~ wine (there's serviceable wine to be found in Watertown, but my dad, who claims to love wine and who has drunk from some exquisite bottles in France, refuses to spend more than $3.99 on bottle so we bring a few good but not expensive selections)
~ crackers, to eat with the cheese
~ Easter candy for the kids' baskets, because I couldn't resist
~ B.T. McElrath truffles for the adults' "baskets, because I shopped at the Golden Fig yesterday and couldn't resist
We'll drive slow and treat ourselves well. By the time we return to the Twin Cities, the latest snowfall will have melted. Soon, we'll be back to the business of spring.
Happy, happy weekend!
John, the boys, and I are meant to drive to So Dak to celebrate Easter with my parents. I have already told John that I'm not keen to drive in the current sloppy, slushy turning to icy driving conditions but he has yet to take me seriously. My life is in his hands, and I completely trust him—until he hits his 7 p.m. slump and drives us into a ditch. I also mentioned to the boys that I'd like to wait until tomorrow morning to make our drive, but they view this idea as a betrayal of the grand plan in which John drives and I read to the family.
Am I being a big baby? I don't think so...I just don't feel like putting my life, and the lives of the people I most cherish, at risk.
Regardless of when we leave town, we are spending the weekend in Watertown, SD, which means packing as if we were going to be stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean. Actually, this analogy isn't far from the truth. There is not a gosh darn thing to do in Watertown. To be fair, the best things to do in Watertown—such as golfing and swimming in the lake or at the new, awesome water park— involve warmer, drier weather. Since my parents don't believe in providing us with activities or entertainment and sort of treat our visits as an afterthought, we like to bring our own amusement.
For this trip I'm packing the following:
~ a few books I've already started and would like to finish (From the Mixed-up Files ... and the second book in Donna Leon's series)
~ magazines, small stack I've been hording, yikes, including the Vogue from two months ago
~ a puzzle to assemble with the kids
~ cool Dover coloring books we got for xmas, this is mine
~ mommy's box of 64 crayolas
~ laptop, even though there's no wi-fi
~ external hard drive
~ camera
~ boots, hat, mittens for a hike in the park
~ knitting, for when I can no longer concentrate on reading over my mother's yammering
And, of course there's the food:
~ cheese (you cannot get a decent, non-processed chunk of cheese in Watertown; Laguiole, which we're trying for the first time, a truffled pecorino-type cheese, and a few others that I picked up at Whole Foods earlier this week)
~ wine (there's serviceable wine to be found in Watertown, but my dad, who claims to love wine and who has drunk from some exquisite bottles in France, refuses to spend more than $3.99 on bottle so we bring a few good but not expensive selections)
~ crackers, to eat with the cheese
~ Easter candy for the kids' baskets, because I couldn't resist
~ B.T. McElrath truffles for the adults' "baskets, because I shopped at the Golden Fig yesterday and couldn't resist
We'll drive slow and treat ourselves well. By the time we return to the Twin Cities, the latest snowfall will have melted. Soon, we'll be back to the business of spring.
Happy, happy weekend!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
is it time for lunch yet?
Since the announcement was made three weeks ago that the company employing me would be sold, as soon as humanly possible, all productivity, mine included, has come to a screeching halt. Naturally we’ve all assumed that we’re going to be out on our asses, jobless, rather than reaping the benefits offered by new owners.
Here’s my exit strategy:
1. polish resume (but it’s more fun to blog)
2. beef up my LinkedIn profile, starting here
3. let every friend and acquaintance know I’m on the market (consider yourself notified)
4. pull together a portfolio of clips (the articles I have had published in Homeplans publications)
5. start thinking about options outside of publishing
Sounds easy doesn’t it?
Here’s my exit strategy:
1. polish resume (but it’s more fun to blog)
2. beef up my LinkedIn profile, starting here
3. let every friend and acquaintance know I’m on the market (consider yourself notified)
4. pull together a portfolio of clips (the articles I have had published in Homeplans publications)
5. start thinking about options outside of publishing
Sounds easy doesn’t it?
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
wiki wednesday
It's time for Wiki Wednesday!
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
Another geography entry—this one in the continental U.S.—Walsenburg, Colorado. Go here to read about local attractions, history, and demographics (median age at the 2000 Census: 38).
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
Another geography entry—this one in the continental U.S.—Walsenburg, Colorado. Go here to read about local attractions, history, and demographics (median age at the 2000 Census: 38).
The historic City of Walsenburg is a Statutory City that is the county seat and the most populous city of Huerfano County, Colorado, United States.[6][2] The city population was 4,182 at the 2000 census.
Robert Ford, the assassin of outlaw Jesse James, operated a saloon/gambling house in Walsenburg, and his home at 320 West 7th Street still stands.
Monday, March 17, 2008
erin go bragh*
The luck of the Irish to you. I’m not Irish in the very least, but every March 17, I'm Irish for the day. It's kind of the law if you live in St. Paul, Minnesota.
Twenty years ago, while spending my JYA in London, I accompanied my flatmate, Julie, to Ireland for spring break. We flew then-fledgling Virgin Atlantic from Luton (outside of London) to Dublin. We rented a car and drove around Ireland for a week.
For the record, I have never met a bigger U2 fan than Julie. Ever. This trip to Ireland didn't just signal a heritage visit for her, either (she's 110% Irish). This trip to Ireland was meant to trace every single step that each member of U2 had ever taken. I'm no longer sure how each place we visited is connected to the band, but I can assure you that at times our trip had a life of its own.
We saw some amazing sites—most of which an not U2 related—and an incredible landscape.
Our itinerary took us from Dublin to Galway on the west coast. We followed the coast, stopping to crawl on hands and knees to lean over the very windy and stunning Cliffs of Moher (county Clare). The Cliffs, pictured above, was a site for a promotional video that U2 shot prior to Unforgettable Fire. We drove along the breathtaking Ring of Kerry (county Kerry). At Kenmare we cut east to the small market town of Macroom, which has a cool gate to the city. On our way to Cork, we kissed the Blarney stone. On our way back to Dublin, we visited Youghal, a quiet fishing village, and the Waterford factory.
Before we reached the Dublin city limits, we made one last very special stop in Bray (county Wicklow)—to knock on the door of a man known locally as Paul Hewson. We had Hewson's address from a reliable source**, but still had to do some asking around to find his unusual home, a Martello tower. Jules had read a Rolling Stone interview in which Bono stated that he would invite in for tea anyone who could find his home. We found his home and knocked on the door, to no avail. Bono was busy in Dublin doing a press junket for what would be U2's breakout album.
Finally, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day 1988, in Dublin, during what I believe—though wikipedia begs to differ—was the city's 1,000th anniversary. St. Paddy's Day was crazy with a big parade and drunk people—lots of drunk people—hanging off statues and streetlights. Not exactly the solemn, religious holiday I had been told the Irish practice. Later that week we hit every Dublin club in which U2 ever played and saw Van Morrison, the Chieftains, and U2 play live. Free.
St. Patrick's Days since then—even those spent with the Scanlan's gang—have paled.
*Long live Ireland
**Jules had a boyfriend who worked for Island Records
Twenty years ago, while spending my JYA in London, I accompanied my flatmate, Julie, to Ireland for spring break. We flew then-fledgling Virgin Atlantic from Luton (outside of London) to Dublin. We rented a car and drove around Ireland for a week.
For the record, I have never met a bigger U2 fan than Julie. Ever. This trip to Ireland didn't just signal a heritage visit for her, either (she's 110% Irish). This trip to Ireland was meant to trace every single step that each member of U2 had ever taken. I'm no longer sure how each place we visited is connected to the band, but I can assure you that at times our trip had a life of its own.
We saw some amazing sites—most of which an not U2 related—and an incredible landscape.
Our itinerary took us from Dublin to Galway on the west coast. We followed the coast, stopping to crawl on hands and knees to lean over the very windy and stunning Cliffs of Moher (county Clare). The Cliffs, pictured above, was a site for a promotional video that U2 shot prior to Unforgettable Fire. We drove along the breathtaking Ring of Kerry (county Kerry). At Kenmare we cut east to the small market town of Macroom, which has a cool gate to the city. On our way to Cork, we kissed the Blarney stone. On our way back to Dublin, we visited Youghal, a quiet fishing village, and the Waterford factory.
Before we reached the Dublin city limits, we made one last very special stop in Bray (county Wicklow)—to knock on the door of a man known locally as Paul Hewson. We had Hewson's address from a reliable source**, but still had to do some asking around to find his unusual home, a Martello tower. Jules had read a Rolling Stone interview in which Bono stated that he would invite in for tea anyone who could find his home. We found his home and knocked on the door, to no avail. Bono was busy in Dublin doing a press junket for what would be U2's breakout album.
Finally, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day 1988, in Dublin, during what I believe—though wikipedia begs to differ—was the city's 1,000th anniversary. St. Paddy's Day was crazy with a big parade and drunk people—lots of drunk people—hanging off statues and streetlights. Not exactly the solemn, religious holiday I had been told the Irish practice. Later that week we hit every Dublin club in which U2 ever played and saw Van Morrison, the Chieftains, and U2 play live. Free.
St. Patrick's Days since then—even those spent with the Scanlan's gang—have paled.
*Long live Ireland
**Jules had a boyfriend who worked for Island Records
Sunday, March 16, 2008
weekend report: march 15-16
Friday: My weekend started early on Friday, when the pub team cut out of the office for lunch and the Parade of Homes. We tour Parade homes semi-annually for inspiration and to see a more three-dimensional rendering of the blueprints with which we spend our days. Plus it’s a fun and easy way to do some team building. In past years we have visited homes in the northeast, southeast, and southern parts of the Twin Cities, so it was fitting that we would travel west to Plymouth and Wayzata for the spring Parade.
The first two homes we toured were part of a large development, built by Lennar, the Twin Cities’ largest builder. These homes had standard layouts with square footage ranging from 2,845 to 3,233 s.f., placing them firmly in the “move-up” category. Some of the nice details included cherry cabinetry, granite countertops in the kitchen, and a two-way fireplace shared by the family room and the living room. Homes in this category start at $600,000, which seemed to be incredibly overpriced.
The last two homes on our trip were massive, gorgeous luxury homes built by Hickory Fine Homes. I must say that while each of these homes was beautiful, they were a bit over the top, starting at $1.5 million. One home was a basically a large “barn,” with a series of gambrel roofs. Continuing the barn-theme inside, the Great Room had an incredible vaulted ceiling with massive support beams. The kitchen’s was vast. Both rooms open onto each other and shared a view of a small lake. The laundry room, five bathrooms, kitchen, and lower-level bar each had countertops from a unique slab of granite. The lower level also sported a basketball half-court and a climate-controlled wine cellar. Oooolala.
In general, the homes were really well staged, which always inspires me to conquer clutter and pay attention to the details in my own home, which, if I do say so, has very nice bones.
John and I took the boys to see Horton Hears a Who, which I found to be a near-perfect adaptation. I’m always amazed at how a fifty-page children’s book can be stretched to fill eighty minutes onscreen. In between the computer-animated jungle and Whoville scenes, there was a neat homage to the hand-drawn art of Dr. Seuss that will satisfy the Seussian among us.
Saturday: Made Bittman’s quick and easy waffles (How to Cook Everything has the best, uncomplicated breakfast recipes). John and I worked in our bedroom, folding the mountains of clothes and sorting through the detritus the ends up there on a daily basis. John took the boys to Minnehaha Falls for a hike with friends while I enjoyed some time for myself. First I hauled a couple buckets of paint and cement sealer to the county household hazardous waste site. The cement sealer, which had been stacked between two other containers for at least three and a half years, started leaking last week. So I bagged them as best I could without actually touching the ooziness, and with thoughts of Pa Ingalls and Mr. Edwards treacherously hauling nitroglycerin to Mankato in their horse-drawn wagon, I transported the containers very, very carefully to the dump. Then treated myself to a cafe mocha at Dunn Brothers while I read Omnivore’s Dilemma in anticipation of book group this coming Thursday.
Finally, the evening of our dinner reservation at one of Minneapolis’ hottest new restaurants, Heidi’s, had arrived. John and I shared our four-top with Tracy and Bill, who had just returned from a month in Mexico. We started at Tracy’s for aperitifs (a chateauneuf du pape and a tempranillo accompanied salumi from Salumi and some treats from Premier Cheese Shop—lomo, roquefort, and an Irish cow’s milk soft-ripened cheese).
Heidi’s is a tiny space that looks posher online than in real life, but it’s still a lovely space. Even though we arrived late, we were still greeted by a slight backup, which gave us time to chat with Frank, the zany front-of-house guy. Chef Stewart Woodman’s food was phenomenal. I started with the fingerling potatoes enrobed in a grainy mustard and cornichon-studded raclette sauce and topped with frizzled leek strips—an elegantly reconstructed take on the French apres-ski treat. We drank a Gruner Veltliner Gmork with our starter. My main was off the menu: lobster in pureed parsnips and a ginger reduction of some sort. Sublime. We drank a French pinot noir with our main courses. I’m still thinking about Tracy’s beet ravioli with a whisper-thin wrapper surrounding a beet slice (rather than a puree), nestled into a truffle foam. John’s Australian sea bass was crispy on the outside and soft inside in the way we’re never able to cook fish at home. The table split a chocolate cake with espresso ice cream that was, hands down, the best dessert I’ve had since 112’s tres leche cake. I cannot wait to go back to Heidi’s, and you should march there as soon as you can.
Sunday: Yoga was cancelled so what better alternate than a pastry breakfast at Bread & Chocolate with the guys, who, afterward, very politely indulged me in a trip to Garden of Eden. Later, Simon and I snuck out for ice cream at Izzy’s (Irish moxie [coffee base with Jameson whiskey, oreos, and heath bars] and a Guiness izzy); then stops at Cheapo’s (looking for Carbon Silicone, Mick Jones’s latest project) and the library. We spent a lazy afternoon around the TV. I got to read for an hour or so while John watched Tiger Woods win the Arnold Palmer Invitational. We met friends at the St. Paul Curling Club for dinner and watched our friends Colin and Dave curl. Their four-person curling team advanced out of the semifinals for their league’s championship. John and I stayed up late, hanging out in the studio and working on our computers. Such an awesome way to end a good weekend.
The first two homes we toured were part of a large development, built by Lennar, the Twin Cities’ largest builder. These homes had standard layouts with square footage ranging from 2,845 to 3,233 s.f., placing them firmly in the “move-up” category. Some of the nice details included cherry cabinetry, granite countertops in the kitchen, and a two-way fireplace shared by the family room and the living room. Homes in this category start at $600,000, which seemed to be incredibly overpriced.
The last two homes on our trip were massive, gorgeous luxury homes built by Hickory Fine Homes. I must say that while each of these homes was beautiful, they were a bit over the top, starting at $1.5 million. One home was a basically a large “barn,” with a series of gambrel roofs. Continuing the barn-theme inside, the Great Room had an incredible vaulted ceiling with massive support beams. The kitchen’s was vast. Both rooms open onto each other and shared a view of a small lake. The laundry room, five bathrooms, kitchen, and lower-level bar each had countertops from a unique slab of granite. The lower level also sported a basketball half-court and a climate-controlled wine cellar. Oooolala.
In general, the homes were really well staged, which always inspires me to conquer clutter and pay attention to the details in my own home, which, if I do say so, has very nice bones.
John and I took the boys to see Horton Hears a Who, which I found to be a near-perfect adaptation. I’m always amazed at how a fifty-page children’s book can be stretched to fill eighty minutes onscreen. In between the computer-animated jungle and Whoville scenes, there was a neat homage to the hand-drawn art of Dr. Seuss that will satisfy the Seussian among us.
Saturday: Made Bittman’s quick and easy waffles (How to Cook Everything has the best, uncomplicated breakfast recipes). John and I worked in our bedroom, folding the mountains of clothes and sorting through the detritus the ends up there on a daily basis. John took the boys to Minnehaha Falls for a hike with friends while I enjoyed some time for myself. First I hauled a couple buckets of paint and cement sealer to the county household hazardous waste site. The cement sealer, which had been stacked between two other containers for at least three and a half years, started leaking last week. So I bagged them as best I could without actually touching the ooziness, and with thoughts of Pa Ingalls and Mr. Edwards treacherously hauling nitroglycerin to Mankato in their horse-drawn wagon, I transported the containers very, very carefully to the dump. Then treated myself to a cafe mocha at Dunn Brothers while I read Omnivore’s Dilemma in anticipation of book group this coming Thursday.
Finally, the evening of our dinner reservation at one of Minneapolis’ hottest new restaurants, Heidi’s, had arrived. John and I shared our four-top with Tracy and Bill, who had just returned from a month in Mexico. We started at Tracy’s for aperitifs (a chateauneuf du pape and a tempranillo accompanied salumi from Salumi and some treats from Premier Cheese Shop—lomo, roquefort, and an Irish cow’s milk soft-ripened cheese).
Heidi’s is a tiny space that looks posher online than in real life, but it’s still a lovely space. Even though we arrived late, we were still greeted by a slight backup, which gave us time to chat with Frank, the zany front-of-house guy. Chef Stewart Woodman’s food was phenomenal. I started with the fingerling potatoes enrobed in a grainy mustard and cornichon-studded raclette sauce and topped with frizzled leek strips—an elegantly reconstructed take on the French apres-ski treat. We drank a Gruner Veltliner Gmork with our starter. My main was off the menu: lobster in pureed parsnips and a ginger reduction of some sort. Sublime. We drank a French pinot noir with our main courses. I’m still thinking about Tracy’s beet ravioli with a whisper-thin wrapper surrounding a beet slice (rather than a puree), nestled into a truffle foam. John’s Australian sea bass was crispy on the outside and soft inside in the way we’re never able to cook fish at home. The table split a chocolate cake with espresso ice cream that was, hands down, the best dessert I’ve had since 112’s tres leche cake. I cannot wait to go back to Heidi’s, and you should march there as soon as you can.
Sunday: Yoga was cancelled so what better alternate than a pastry breakfast at Bread & Chocolate with the guys, who, afterward, very politely indulged me in a trip to Garden of Eden. Later, Simon and I snuck out for ice cream at Izzy’s (Irish moxie [coffee base with Jameson whiskey, oreos, and heath bars] and a Guiness izzy); then stops at Cheapo’s (looking for Carbon Silicone, Mick Jones’s latest project) and the library. We spent a lazy afternoon around the TV. I got to read for an hour or so while John watched Tiger Woods win the Arnold Palmer Invitational. We met friends at the St. Paul Curling Club for dinner and watched our friends Colin and Dave curl. Their four-person curling team advanced out of the semifinals for their league’s championship. John and I stayed up late, hanging out in the studio and working on our computers. Such an awesome way to end a good weekend.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
wiki wednesday
It's time for Wiki Wednesday!
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
Today I got Southend Cliff Railway—sounds like fun(icular)! Groan. Photo by David Carson.
The Southend Cliff Railway is a funicular in Southend-on-Sea, Essex, constructed in 1912.It is 130 feet (40 m) long and climbs 57 feet (17 m). The single car runs on 4 feet 6 inches (1,400 mm) gauge track with a 1 foot 9 inches (530 mm) gauge counterbalance beneath the main track.[1]
doing
chaperoning
Today I met Winston’s kindergarten class—make that all five kindergarten classes, each with at least twenty learners—at the Children’s Museum where they spent a few hours exploring. I kept an eye on my own child, plus Sam and Keishon. Going into this, I was a little nervous that I might lose a kid not my own. Mostly I spent my time hanging out with Win’s teacher, Ms Maura. She’s a trip, and I really like her. Well, really, how could I not when she spent so much time telling me how entertaining and wonderful my kid is. Two little boys in Win’s class were each wearing khaki-ish cargo pants and baggy jeans jackets with satchels (appeared to be purses) slung across their bodies. When I commented to Elijah's mother that I liked his bag, she said, “Oh, you mean, Indiana Jones?” I felt sort of dense for not noticing. Win's excited about Indiana Jones, but until movie number four is released, he's all about Star Wars. The best part of the outing—the twenty minutes walk in each direction from my office. Today’s high temperature was 50 degrees. With a warm sun and blue skies, it was a glorious day.
reading to myself
Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma has me rapt. He’s a fantastic writer, which makes the eye-opening nature of this book easy to take. I have resisted reading this book for a long time. I’ve read enough articles and reviews to know Pollan’s argument, and I’m in his camp so I’ve never felt like I needed to be further converted. Also, I’m a little afraid of some of the details that might force me out of my comfort zone. But, I’m reading this for a worthy cause—book group. In fact, I chose the book based on the strong encouragement of a friend who also had it on her TBR list. A little hand-holding is a good thing. I’m trying to write daily notes here.
reading to kids
In eager anticipation of the new Horton Hears a Who movie, the kids are on a serious Seuss tear. Not a horrible thing, in my opinion. I’ve read Horton to each of them, as well as Seuss’s first book, And to Think That I Saw It on MulberryStreet (1937), and I Wish That I Had Duck Feet. Simon has checked out Yertle the Turtle from the school library, and I hope to get to it tomorrow night. Yertle was one of the Seuss books I had as a kid (If I Ran the Circus and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas were the others). Seuss is near perfect (illustrations, complex but accessible stories, terrific rhyme scheme), and I’m really enjoying myself.
eating
Hot Cross Buns. I can feel the carbophobes recoiling in horrow now. But, ‘tis the season, and it's a very short season at that. Whole Foods had samples fresh out of the oven last week, and I couldn’t resist. Made with whole wheat flour, WF’s version is flecked with raisins and citron, spiced with cardamom and cinnamon, and drizzled with a healthy amount of icing. They are best served warm. Wuollet’s rendition is, at best, a dinner roll with raisins and a cross of fondant or marzipan. I’ve sampled both, but didn’t find them to be as good as in previous years. Breadsmith, so far, has my favorite HCB. Their version also sports a whole wheat dough, on the sweet side but not too yeasty, and raisins and citron. The icing drizzle is deftly applied. I know I shouldn’t be gorging on bread, especially as the first thing I eat in the morning, but it can’t be helped.
listening
Grooving to the lo-fi sounds of the Black Keys’ 2004 album Rubber Factory. Krista included this in the big box of music she sent me for my birthday. Thanks Krista! I love the blues-inspired rock these boys from Akron—yes, O-HI-O, kick out. Also in heavy rotation—Queen’s Greatest Hits and, taking me back twenty years, R.E.M’s Life’s Rich Pageant. Up next: a couple of new EPs, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Is Is and The Rascals Out of Dreams.
Today I met Winston’s kindergarten class—make that all five kindergarten classes, each with at least twenty learners—at the Children’s Museum where they spent a few hours exploring. I kept an eye on my own child, plus Sam and Keishon. Going into this, I was a little nervous that I might lose a kid not my own. Mostly I spent my time hanging out with Win’s teacher, Ms Maura. She’s a trip, and I really like her. Well, really, how could I not when she spent so much time telling me how entertaining and wonderful my kid is. Two little boys in Win’s class were each wearing khaki-ish cargo pants and baggy jeans jackets with satchels (appeared to be purses) slung across their bodies. When I commented to Elijah's mother that I liked his bag, she said, “Oh, you mean, Indiana Jones?” I felt sort of dense for not noticing. Win's excited about Indiana Jones, but until movie number four is released, he's all about Star Wars. The best part of the outing—the twenty minutes walk in each direction from my office. Today’s high temperature was 50 degrees. With a warm sun and blue skies, it was a glorious day.
reading to myself
Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma has me rapt. He’s a fantastic writer, which makes the eye-opening nature of this book easy to take. I have resisted reading this book for a long time. I’ve read enough articles and reviews to know Pollan’s argument, and I’m in his camp so I’ve never felt like I needed to be further converted. Also, I’m a little afraid of some of the details that might force me out of my comfort zone. But, I’m reading this for a worthy cause—book group. In fact, I chose the book based on the strong encouragement of a friend who also had it on her TBR list. A little hand-holding is a good thing. I’m trying to write daily notes here.
reading to kids
In eager anticipation of the new Horton Hears a Who movie, the kids are on a serious Seuss tear. Not a horrible thing, in my opinion. I’ve read Horton to each of them, as well as Seuss’s first book, And to Think That I Saw It on MulberryStreet (1937), and I Wish That I Had Duck Feet. Simon has checked out Yertle the Turtle from the school library, and I hope to get to it tomorrow night. Yertle was one of the Seuss books I had as a kid (If I Ran the Circus and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas were the others). Seuss is near perfect (illustrations, complex but accessible stories, terrific rhyme scheme), and I’m really enjoying myself.
eating
Hot Cross Buns. I can feel the carbophobes recoiling in horrow now. But, ‘tis the season, and it's a very short season at that. Whole Foods had samples fresh out of the oven last week, and I couldn’t resist. Made with whole wheat flour, WF’s version is flecked with raisins and citron, spiced with cardamom and cinnamon, and drizzled with a healthy amount of icing. They are best served warm. Wuollet’s rendition is, at best, a dinner roll with raisins and a cross of fondant or marzipan. I’ve sampled both, but didn’t find them to be as good as in previous years. Breadsmith, so far, has my favorite HCB. Their version also sports a whole wheat dough, on the sweet side but not too yeasty, and raisins and citron. The icing drizzle is deftly applied. I know I shouldn’t be gorging on bread, especially as the first thing I eat in the morning, but it can’t be helped.
listening
Grooving to the lo-fi sounds of the Black Keys’ 2004 album Rubber Factory. Krista included this in the big box of music she sent me for my birthday. Thanks Krista! I love the blues-inspired rock these boys from Akron—yes, O-HI-O, kick out. Also in heavy rotation—Queen’s Greatest Hits and, taking me back twenty years, R.E.M’s Life’s Rich Pageant. Up next: a couple of new EPs, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Is Is and The Rascals Out of Dreams.
Monday, March 10, 2008
weekend report: march 8-9
Springing forward kicked my ass, as well as the asses of all those with whom I live. For not being able to get out of bed this morning, we did alright, getting ready for school/work. As expected, the atomic clock in our kitchen did not reset itself, contributing even further to the my sense of discombobulation.
Friday night: started reading the second book in Donna Leon's Commissario Brunetti series, Death in a Strange Country. Immediately engaging, I felt like I was being reacquainted with old friends. Also, I absolutely marveled at how quickly I was able to read sixty pages (a little over an hour), where it has taken me a week to read as many pages in The Omnivore's Dilemma.
Saturday: Woke up to a barfing child (Simon) so spent most of the day housebound, but I got to do some puttering. John and I had a date on Saturday night, which started at Cheapo, where I picked up the Daktaris' Soul Explosion. The Daktaris are on the Daptone label and are self-described as “a well-disciplined army of two hundred African Bull Elephants marching relentlessly up your business to the beat from Funky Drummer. With an arsenal ranging from barking baritone sax and clarinet, to eerily winding flute and melodica, the Daktaris’ notion of horns pumps out an encyclopedia of dark, enormous African melodies over an ocean of pounding funk syncopations, reminiscent of the great Fela Kuti” from the liner notes. I also picked up the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs' ep, Is Is. John selected the Pretenders first album (a nostalgic pick), some Allman Brothers, Alice in Chains, I know, his musical tastes are even more all-over-the-place than mine. Just one of the many reasons why I love him.
Then we had dinner at The Strip Club, a new St. Paul restaurant from the Town Talk Diner guys. I think the restaurant has a lot of potential, but I’m worried that all the rave reviews it’s getting will allow them to rest on their laurels. The Strip Club is fun and hip and has an uncomplicated menu with solid food (just a few execution problems is all), but their wine list needs some attention. You can read more about our experience and meal here. For the unexpectedly lovely view of downtown St. Paul and the small plates, it’s worth the trip.
Sunday: We had friends over for brunch, bagels and mimosas mostly, and then had a thoroughly enjoyable, restful afternoon. I blogged and read blogs and played a card game (There’s a Moose in the House) with Simon and tinkered in the kitchen (big pot of very spicy chili). Because the day had such a restorative effect, I was able to stay awake reading until an absolutely unreasonable hour (1 a.m.) on a school night. John went out with friends last night, further enabling me to stay up late. They lifted a glass in Gary Gygax’s memory. I’m not joking. I love my (former) D&D geek.
Friday night: started reading the second book in Donna Leon's Commissario Brunetti series, Death in a Strange Country. Immediately engaging, I felt like I was being reacquainted with old friends. Also, I absolutely marveled at how quickly I was able to read sixty pages (a little over an hour), where it has taken me a week to read as many pages in The Omnivore's Dilemma.
Saturday: Woke up to a barfing child (Simon) so spent most of the day housebound, but I got to do some puttering. John and I had a date on Saturday night, which started at Cheapo, where I picked up the Daktaris' Soul Explosion. The Daktaris are on the Daptone label and are self-described as “a well-disciplined army of two hundred African Bull Elephants marching relentlessly up your business to the beat from Funky Drummer. With an arsenal ranging from barking baritone sax and clarinet, to eerily winding flute and melodica, the Daktaris’ notion of horns pumps out an encyclopedia of dark, enormous African melodies over an ocean of pounding funk syncopations, reminiscent of the great Fela Kuti” from the liner notes. I also picked up the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs' ep, Is Is. John selected the Pretenders first album (a nostalgic pick), some Allman Brothers, Alice in Chains, I know, his musical tastes are even more all-over-the-place than mine. Just one of the many reasons why I love him.
Then we had dinner at The Strip Club, a new St. Paul restaurant from the Town Talk Diner guys. I think the restaurant has a lot of potential, but I’m worried that all the rave reviews it’s getting will allow them to rest on their laurels. The Strip Club is fun and hip and has an uncomplicated menu with solid food (just a few execution problems is all), but their wine list needs some attention. You can read more about our experience and meal here. For the unexpectedly lovely view of downtown St. Paul and the small plates, it’s worth the trip.
Sunday: We had friends over for brunch, bagels and mimosas mostly, and then had a thoroughly enjoyable, restful afternoon. I blogged and read blogs and played a card game (There’s a Moose in the House) with Simon and tinkered in the kitchen (big pot of very spicy chili). Because the day had such a restorative effect, I was able to stay awake reading until an absolutely unreasonable hour (1 a.m.) on a school night. John went out with friends last night, further enabling me to stay up late. They lifted a glass in Gary Gygax’s memory. I’m not joking. I love my (former) D&D geek.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
wiki wednesday
It's time for Wiki Wednesday!
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
A truly random selection—Christiane Scrivener.
Christiane Scrivener (born September 1st, 1925, in Mulhouse, France) is a French politician, a member of Valéry Giscard d'Estaing's Parti républicain (now replaced by Alain Madelin's Démocratie libérale).She was Secretary of State of Trade for Consumers' protection between 1976 and 1978, first in Jacques Chirac's and then in Raymond Barre's cabinet. In this capacity she spearheaded several legislative changes, including an Act to protect the information of consumers on products and services (loi sur la protection et l'information des consommateurs de produits et de services, 1978), well-known under the name of loi Scrivener.
She was then elected a Member of the European Parliament (1979-1984).
In 1989 she became the European Communities Commissioner for Taxes, Revenue Harmonization and Consumer Policies in the Delors Commission, a position she retained until 1995.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
bicycle painting
It has become quite the tradition for me to give John a bike-related Christmas gift, such as books, DVDs of races and documentaries of riders, cycling jerseys, socks, and gadgets. This past year, I was somewhat at a loss for a unique cycling-themed present, especially as he's come to anticipate the usual. So it was with pleasure that I decided to indulge in another piece of bike art.
I've long admired Taliah Lempert's bicycle paintings, portraits in which the subject is the bike. Technically proficient, she has a remarkable ability to capture the spirit of the bike's owner, through their bike. Many of her subjects are part of the New York City bike culture.
Every time I think I'll bite the bullet and purchase one of her paintings, I resist, for a few reasons. One, I'm indecisive about exactly which painting to choose. Two, I get sticker shock. Three—and this is the most important—I'd rather have a portrait of John's Rambouillet, which was custom built for him and comes from a boutique frame designer, rather than a stranger's bike. I've even contacted Taliah about doing this and she's game. We only have to get his bike to Brooklyn so she can see John interact with it. Some day...
In the meantime, I did choose one of Taliah's bike paintings to have reproduced as a print, at a fraction of the price of an original painting. Again, not an easy task to choose just one, but since I planned to give it to John as a gift, I chose a print that would speak to him. It's a study of a bike with a Brooks saddle—his favorite (he rides a Brooks saddle on three different bikes). When he opened the poster tube and unrolled the print, he was thrilled to see the Hetchins brazing just below the seat post. Sigh.
The print recently came back from the framer and now has a spot of distinction in our dining room. (Yes, we have knotty pine walls in our dining room.)
Monday, March 03, 2008
weekend report: march 1-2
The weekend was pretty awesome in that way weekends should be. I think it helped to have had my car detailed on Friday, which I did on my way to work. Getting all the sand and kid detritus vacuumed off the floor and seats did wonders for improving my outlook.
Friday night: John’s coworker Jessica stayed with us. I tried making one of Bittman’s 10- minute meals—#97, so-called fettucine alfredo—and it was a disaster. Such a simple dish shouldn’t require a recipe. My friend Steve told me how to make alfredo sauce: heat in a saucepan butter in any amount, milk in any amount, and cheese in any amount. I should have listened to him instead of Bittman. These are basically Bittman’s instructions, too, but he suggests using a skillet rather than a sauce pan. With so much surface space, the sauce heated too quickly and started boiling. When I added the pasta to the skillet, the sauce separated. It was ugly and not very tasty. We saved face by ordering a pizza from Davanni's. I drank too much wine before I’d had any real food. Silly.
Saturday: John and Jessica left for the F1 overnight web challenge (described best by host Sierra Bravo—one part nerd Olympics, one part community service project and one part race-against-the-clock) in the neighborhood of 6:45 a.m. A few hours later, I woke to the sounds of cartoons drifting down to my bedroom from the den. The kids and I had a lovely breakfast together. Then I made chicken stock by putting a whole chicken in my huge stock pot (Christmas gift), adding carrots, celery, and onions that had been cut into large pieces; an herb bundle (Christmas stocking stuffer); and a handful of kosher salt and peppercorns. I covered the bird with water, brought to a boil, then simmered for nearly four hours.
Friend Caryl and her daughter Charon came over for lunch. We made pizzas from balls of dough and sauce that I had purchased at Cossetta's. Charon treated us to Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies. Yum! While the kids engaged themselves in play and a few episodes of Scooby Doo, Caryl and I made soup—caldo verde, a Portuguese kale and sausage soup, from The Soup Peddler's Slow and Difficult Soups. David Ansel is the Soup Peddler and he delivers soup—on his bike—to the eclectic folk who populate Bouldin Creek in Austin, Texas. Caryl sourced the sausage—linguiça—from Kramarczuk's, the Nordeast Minneapolis restaurant that specializes in sausage. And, she brought lacinato kale, which, as opposed to the extremely curly kale, is like a thick spinach leaf. Basically, we browned the sausage links, in their casings, in olive oil, and removed them when they were cooked (about 10 minutes). Then we sweated onion (1) slices and sliced garlic (6 cloves) in the remaining olive oil, densely permeated with the linguiça's salty, smoky juices. After 5 minutes we added the homemade chicken stock and diced potatoes (enough small red potatoes to equal four normal sized potatoes) and simmered for 20 minutes. The sausages, which had since been cut into coins, were returned to the soup with a bunch of finely chopped kale and simmered for another 5 minutes. Caryl took her soup home.
Handsome husband aside, I have only ever cooked with one other friend (Thanksgiving 01 or 02 with Steve C.), but it's something I've always wanted to do. I'm so glad that Caryl suggested it. We had a wonderful time chatting as we sliced and diced our ingredients, comparing notes as we tended to the soup, and documenting the process (thanks Caryl!!). And, I had a great time anticipating future kitchen sessions. I hope that one of these will culminate with a meal we can share with our families.
At some point during the afternoon, my parents arrived for a quick visit. We took the little boys out for dinner at Brasa's, where we had the 12-hour roasted pork and the chicken, collard greens, garnet yams with chorizo, barley-chickpea salad, and fried plantains, all washed down with Negro Modelo's.
Around 10:30 p.m., I checked in on John. He informed me that his team was working hard and well together, but that they wouldn't win the web challenge because they lacked the sizzle that other teams had.
Sunday: My parents left by 10 a.m. so they could have breakfast with Nik. Boy, is it ever nice to have a sibling in the same city so as to share the parental love. The boys and I were a little at loose ends. I desparately needed to get out of the house, but neither wanted to get dressed and leave. I even promised a Target run, but they preferred to play a board game. Two hours of Dragonology ensued, which isn't a horrible way to spend time when you can't think of anything better to do. I won, then soothed disappointed kids with a trip to Target where the boys bought crappy plastic stuff (to be fair, Winston selected a LEGO Indiana Jones something or other—go Indy!). Later we called John to learn that IB had won the F1 web challenge. Yay!! I'm married to a gold medalist from the nerd olympics!! By the time John got home, he had been awake for over 32 hours. So I left him to sleep while I helped Jeff H. celebrate his 40th birthday with drinks and nibbles at Dixie's, which was fun because I hadn't been there in ages.
I'm having my house professionally cleaned tomorrow, for the first time since I fired our last cleaner way back in October. Spot cleaning just isn't cutting it any more and I'm totally grossed out by cleaning bathrooms used by three boys. Let's just leave it at that.
Friday night: John’s coworker Jessica stayed with us. I tried making one of Bittman’s 10- minute meals—#97, so-called fettucine alfredo—and it was a disaster. Such a simple dish shouldn’t require a recipe. My friend Steve told me how to make alfredo sauce: heat in a saucepan butter in any amount, milk in any amount, and cheese in any amount. I should have listened to him instead of Bittman. These are basically Bittman’s instructions, too, but he suggests using a skillet rather than a sauce pan. With so much surface space, the sauce heated too quickly and started boiling. When I added the pasta to the skillet, the sauce separated. It was ugly and not very tasty. We saved face by ordering a pizza from Davanni's. I drank too much wine before I’d had any real food. Silly.
Saturday: John and Jessica left for the F1 overnight web challenge (described best by host Sierra Bravo—one part nerd Olympics, one part community service project and one part race-against-the-clock) in the neighborhood of 6:45 a.m. A few hours later, I woke to the sounds of cartoons drifting down to my bedroom from the den. The kids and I had a lovely breakfast together. Then I made chicken stock by putting a whole chicken in my huge stock pot (Christmas gift), adding carrots, celery, and onions that had been cut into large pieces; an herb bundle (Christmas stocking stuffer); and a handful of kosher salt and peppercorns. I covered the bird with water, brought to a boil, then simmered for nearly four hours.
Friend Caryl and her daughter Charon came over for lunch. We made pizzas from balls of dough and sauce that I had purchased at Cossetta's. Charon treated us to Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies. Yum! While the kids engaged themselves in play and a few episodes of Scooby Doo, Caryl and I made soup—caldo verde, a Portuguese kale and sausage soup, from The Soup Peddler's Slow and Difficult Soups. David Ansel is the Soup Peddler and he delivers soup—on his bike—to the eclectic folk who populate Bouldin Creek in Austin, Texas. Caryl sourced the sausage—linguiça—from Kramarczuk's, the Nordeast Minneapolis restaurant that specializes in sausage. And, she brought lacinato kale, which, as opposed to the extremely curly kale, is like a thick spinach leaf. Basically, we browned the sausage links, in their casings, in olive oil, and removed them when they were cooked (about 10 minutes). Then we sweated onion (1) slices and sliced garlic (6 cloves) in the remaining olive oil, densely permeated with the linguiça's salty, smoky juices. After 5 minutes we added the homemade chicken stock and diced potatoes (enough small red potatoes to equal four normal sized potatoes) and simmered for 20 minutes. The sausages, which had since been cut into coins, were returned to the soup with a bunch of finely chopped kale and simmered for another 5 minutes. Caryl took her soup home.
Handsome husband aside, I have only ever cooked with one other friend (Thanksgiving 01 or 02 with Steve C.), but it's something I've always wanted to do. I'm so glad that Caryl suggested it. We had a wonderful time chatting as we sliced and diced our ingredients, comparing notes as we tended to the soup, and documenting the process (thanks Caryl!!). And, I had a great time anticipating future kitchen sessions. I hope that one of these will culminate with a meal we can share with our families.
At some point during the afternoon, my parents arrived for a quick visit. We took the little boys out for dinner at Brasa's, where we had the 12-hour roasted pork and the chicken, collard greens, garnet yams with chorizo, barley-chickpea salad, and fried plantains, all washed down with Negro Modelo's.
Around 10:30 p.m., I checked in on John. He informed me that his team was working hard and well together, but that they wouldn't win the web challenge because they lacked the sizzle that other teams had.
Sunday: My parents left by 10 a.m. so they could have breakfast with Nik. Boy, is it ever nice to have a sibling in the same city so as to share the parental love. The boys and I were a little at loose ends. I desparately needed to get out of the house, but neither wanted to get dressed and leave. I even promised a Target run, but they preferred to play a board game. Two hours of Dragonology ensued, which isn't a horrible way to spend time when you can't think of anything better to do. I won, then soothed disappointed kids with a trip to Target where the boys bought crappy plastic stuff (to be fair, Winston selected a LEGO Indiana Jones something or other—go Indy!). Later we called John to learn that IB had won the F1 web challenge. Yay!! I'm married to a gold medalist from the nerd olympics!! By the time John got home, he had been awake for over 32 hours. So I left him to sleep while I helped Jeff H. celebrate his 40th birthday with drinks and nibbles at Dixie's, which was fun because I hadn't been there in ages.
I'm having my house professionally cleaned tomorrow, for the first time since I fired our last cleaner way back in October. Spot cleaning just isn't cutting it any more and I'm totally grossed out by cleaning bathrooms used by three boys. Let's just leave it at that.
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