Happy Friday!

 I took this photograph last week, when I was in a really bad mood and bought myself flowers to help me push the "cloud" away.  I sometimes think I may have Reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder, because I can become really sad when spring approaches, for no apparent reason.  Flowers typically help, and this bright bouquet I put together with flowers from Whole Foods instantly lifted my spirits.  I may never be able to predict when my serotonin levels will drop, but at least I know there are a few things that will help bring me out of the slump. 

 Hope everyone has a happy weekend, as I'm sure I will, because my husband has Saturday night off and we will be spending it together! 

The Candied Orange Peel Experiment.

The combination of orange and chocolate is one of my favorites.  Every Christmas, my mom used to put one of those foil-wrapped chocolate oranges in the bottom of our stockings, and I remember that I always tried to make it last, but inevitably ended up consuming it before New Year's Eve.  Maybe it was my favorite because I got to whack the crap out of it before consuming, but I'm almost positive that the reason I went for it first was because of that amazing combination of flavors.  James has come to realize that a package of Orange Milano cookies placates the infamous "funks" that occasionally consume me, so whenever he starts to see the initial warning signs (moodiness, apathy, general unpleasantness), he knows to pick up a package at the store. 

I'm the type of person that obsessively researches something once I get it into my head that I'm going to try it.   So, when, during a recent visit to a local restaurant, a few friends and I ordered a dessert which consisted of shaved chocolate, whipped cream, and candied orange peel, I was immediately infatuated, and had a nagging urge to make candied orange peel.   I found various different recipes (and consulted with James's fancy Professional Pastry Chef book, which intimidates the bejesus out of me because it's all professional and measures things by weight instead of volume), and finally came up with a "recipe" that I felt comfortable trying.


Candied Orange Peel dipped in Dark Chocolate

(I referred frequently to David Lebovitz's recipe for candied ginger, but basically came up with this one on my own, through trial and error)

Ingredients:

4 oranges, unsprayed or thoroughly washed
2 c water
1 c granulated sugar, plus more for coating
Dark chocolate chips (or bars, coarsely chopped)

1. Using a vegetable peeler (I prefer using the Swiss kind because it scrapes a minimal amount of skin from my knuckles), remove the peel of the oranges in strips (unsprayed/organic oranges are preferred because of the pesticides used on conventionally grown fruit, but if you can't find any, or just don't want to pay the exorbitant prices for organic fruit, then just wash them thoroughly with vinegar and water).

2. Using a butter knife, remove any of the white pith that remains on the peels.  The pith is very bitter and will make your candy taste the same if it isn't removed.  (Pictured below, the peel on the left has been scraped and the peel on the right still has some pith attached.)

3. Add the scraped peels to a pot of cold water and bring to a boil.  Boil the peels for 5 minutes, drain, rinse in cold water, then repeat two more times with fresh, cold water.  Using a non-reactive pan is best when dealing with citrus, because the acid in the citrus fruits (especially lemons) reacts with aluminum to produce a metallic taste in whatever you're making.  I found this out the hard way when making lemon curd for the first time.

4. Bring 2 c water and 1 c sugar to a boil.  Add the blanched orange peels to the boiling sugar solution and simmer on low approximately 30-45 minutes, until the peels are translucent.  You're going to want to keep an eye on these, because the sugar-water will reduce to a syrup and will eventually cook until burned (I've also had the unfortunate experience of dealing with this when I neglected a poached pear syrup). 

5. Remove the peels from the syrup when the bubbles start to become bigger.  Turn off the heat and remove each peel, one-by-one, with a pair of tongs and coat in granulated sugar.  The peels will be covered in molten sugar syrup, so don't try to eat them or get any on your fingers, as molten sugar is like napalm (rinse immediately with cold water if you do get it on you). Shake off excess sugar, and try to avoid lumps of sugar sticking to the peels by brushing them off as they form.  Transfer the sugar-coated peels to a baking sheet covered with parchment or wax paper to dry for approximately 1 hour (or overnight if you're not coating in chocolate).  The syrup can be reserved for use in other recipes, and I'm sure it would make a lovely iced tea sweetener.  If you decide to dispose of it, as I did, do NOT dump it down your kitchen sink, unless, of course, you'd like to spend some quality time with your plumber in the near future. 

6. Bring a pot of water to a boil.  Add the chocolate chips to a heat-proof bowl and place over the boiling water to melt the chips.  Stir occasionally to help the chocolate melt faster. 

note that if you're planning to use a stainless steel bowl like I did, use an oven mitt, because the bowl will become HOT ­­­– no joke

7. When the chocolate is melted, turn off the heat and begin to dip the sugar-coated orange peels in the chocolate.  Return each dipped piece to the parchment/wax paper and when all the pieces are dipped, transfer to the refrigerator to set for about 20 minutes. 

Candied orange peels will last up to a week when dipped in chocolate and should be stored in an airtight container at room temperature.  Without the chocolate, they will last a few months in an airtight container.

These are sure to please and impress.  The resulting peels are very sweet and have a texture reminiscent of chewy gummy-candy, with a rich complement of dark chocolate.  While not exactly a cinch to whip up in the kitchen, they're definitely a recipe that can be successfully completed by most, with a little love and patience, and would make a great gift.  

The Big Wave.

I remember reading the story The Big Wave, by Pearl S. Buck, when I was in the fourth grade.  Upon hearing the news of the earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan this past Friday, my thoughts, after immediately worrying about my coworkers and the people of Japan, went to the book. 

Essentially, the book is about two boys who are friends, one a mountainside farmer, the other a fisherman.  A tsunami hits the fishing village and wipes away one boy's family, who is then adopted by the farming family and tries to assume a new life with his adopted family.  In the end, when the fishing boy comes of age, he decides to return to the life of a fisherman, against the warning of his mountain-dwelling friend, and poignantly verbalizes the moral of the story: that it is only in the face of danger that one finds bravery and the appreciation of how wonderful life is. 

When I begin to think about people who live in "disaster prone areas," like the Pacific Ring of Fire, or next to volcanoes (et al.), I can't help but think that I wouldn't  be able to handle living in constant fear of something bad happening.  I would worry incessantly (more than I already do, if you can believe it).  I feel like I have a very good grasp on the concept of mortality and the fleeting nature of life, but I can't say that I would ever be able to stand in the face of danger, like these people do on a daily basis, and be ok. 

Regardless, my heart is so, very heavy with all the terrible news coming from Japan, and while my words can offer little solace in their current situation, I can say, undoubtedly, that they are much braver than I will ever be. 

::::::  American Red Cross Support Efforts  ::::::

::::::::::::::::::: The Citizen Effect :::::::::::::::::::

::::::::  Other Earthquake Relief Options  ::::::::

:::::::::  Lady Gaga Japan Relief Bracelet  :::::::::

I have been in the process of compiling a post about candied orange peel, but just can't bear to finish writing about something so frivolous at the moment.  It will come in time, however.

Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens...

I feel so ridiculous posting song lyrics as post titles, but I've been so melodramatic lately, that it just seems to fit...

We've had an absolutely obscene amount of snow here in the past few weeks.  It's causing roofs to collapse, the roads aren't being plowed properly, and there's talk of taking away vacation days from kids who've hit the jackpot in snow days.

I don't mind, of course, because I love winter.  I love the snow, the cold, the smell of the air.  I woke up on my birthday, with a fresh coating of pure white, and was in complete heaven.  We haven't had this much snow since I was twelve, and it's making me a bit nostalgic when I look at the plowed snow banks that skyrocketed above my 5'2" height weeks ago.  As a student at UMaine, one of my favorite things was walking to class in the freezing cold with a few feet of snow on the ground.  I don't know what it is, but it just gives me a sense of complete peace and calm, and I feel at ease with myself and my surroundings. I still love being outside first thing in the morning after a snow storm; even the small act of walking to my car puts me instantly in a good mood.  Call me crazy...

My camera has been staring at me for the past few weeks, increasing the amount of guilt I've been feeling for not uploading photos from its memory card, so I wanted to post these pics I took during one of the storms, when I trekked down to the Gore Estate, a historic mansion down the street from our apartment.  It was a beautiful afternoon, and the snow was the type that sticks to everything. I'm still (embarassingly enough) working on figuring out the settings on my camera, so these were edited in Picnik, which I've found to be a lifesaver for fixing my amateur photos. 

 

A long overdue thank you.

While I've been taking an unintentional break from blogging, I haven't been doing absolutely nothing...

  

I finally got around to photographing and posting these in the shop...  This was a bitch of a design, and while I love the final result, it will probably be awhile before I do something like it again, because trying to align the two screens perfectly was a pain in the ass...  I have a profound respect for all the letterpress and gocco printers who have mastered the art of registration, because it's difficult!!

The summer has been rather blah, I'm afraid to say.  The break from blogging was an unconscious decision due to a lack of inspiration, a lack of ideas, a lack of things to talk about... Well, I should say a lack of positive things to discuss.  See, I really dislike whining and bitching on my blog, so I try to refrain.  Unfortunately, there are many times when the only thoughts running through my brain are negative and not worthy of posting, because I don't like poisoning someone else's brain with negativity.  So, for anyone still reading...

I truly appreciate all of you friends, both that I know and have yet to meet, that read this, and hope that you will stick with me during my transition back to "happy thoughts." 

It's Complicated... but not really.

This past Sunday, I spent the day catching up on movies I've been wanting to see for a while.  It was an A+ movie day for me, as I couldn't have asked for better movies that were selected on a whim.  I love searching through our Netflix queue and picking movies of which I've never heard, but look and sound like something I'd love.  Of course, one of Netflix's greatest assests, is that they recommend movies to you based on your ratings of other movies, so I guess I wasn't just picking them blindly.  The movie I had heard mixed reviews about but ended up loving was It's Complicated. 

It was funny and romantic and a little bit sad all at the same time, but not too overpowering in any way.  There were a few scenes that had me laughing hysterically, and others that really left me with a little twang in my heart.  It's what I guess you could call a romantic dramedy.  If any of you have seen Something's Gotta Give, it's very similar in style (since they were both written and directed by Nancy Meyers), but better (in my opinion).  Don't get me wrong; I love Diane Keaton and especially Jack Nicholson, but the screen chemistry between Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin, and Steve Martin (and even John Krasinski who sometimes annoys me) was surprisingly fantastic.  If any of you have seen previews, you already know that it's about a love triangle between Meryl, Steve, and Alec.  Without a doubt, Meryl steals the screen, but Alec Baldwin comes through with a really emotional and vulnerable side that is irresistible, and Steve Martin is the perfect foil to Alec Baldwin.  I'm seriously considering purchasing the DVD to add to my collection.

The thing that struck me the most about the movie was the set decor.  I absolutely fell in love with Meryl Streep's kitchen and garden (and her bakery, not pictured here, isn't too shabby either):

 

 

images from here and here

While the garden is gorgeous, but completely impossible for even the most skilled gardener to accomplish single-handedly, the kitchen could easily be reproduced with some money and the correct location (good lighting is of the essence here).  What I love most about the kitchen are the marble island in the middle, the great window with room for small, potted herbs, and the display of assorted plates and cake stands.  It's a realistic design for a kitchen owned by someone who loves to cook or bake, as all the necessary tools and equipment are visible, within easy reach, and well organized. 

From around the web, I've found a couple of things that would easily reproduce the look of this kitchen, but to my own taste (obv.):

French Kitchen Island, Crate & Barrel

Harmon Pendant, Restoration Hardware

Emma Dinnerware in white, Pottery Barn

Scalloped Cake Stands, Williams Sonoma

 

Mauviel Copper Sautee Pan, Williams Sonoma

Of course, in an ideal world, these items would all be in the "low to cheap as dirt" price range, but as is usually my forte, I have chosen items that are on the more expensive end of the spectrum.  *le sigh*

Oh well.  It's nice to dream, right?  On second thought, I will have a kitchen that I absolutely love someday.  I will.  Even if it takes me years and years of saving pennies.

Anyway, I highly recommend the film to anyone looking for a good movie to watch on a lazy afternoon (and James even liked it, so it's not just a chick flick), as well as 84 Charing Cross Rd. (Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins!!), and Dear Zachary: A Letter to A Son About his Father (really, really sad, but so powerful). 

I feel bad shortchanging the other two movies, because I can't stress how fabulous they are as well... Seriously, A+ movie day. 

Rainy Days and Mondays...

my balcony "garden"

... are the two types of days that have the potential for putting me in a bad mood.  Yesterday was just one of those days.  It was rainy and I was cranky. On my way home from work, a flurry of pet peeves went flying through my brain at an astronomical rate, so that when I actually got home, I was teetering on the precipice between wrath and aggravation.  For your reading pleasure, a few of my most nagging pet peeves that were particularly bothersome yesterday:


I've been met with traffic jams on the highway every day on my way home for the past two weeks.  I've been driving the same route home from work five days a week for the past three years and have never seen this much traffic.  I hope it's just a coincidence.

I despise the people who put those ridiculous "Baby on Board" plaques on their car.  What are they thinking?  That people are obviously driving like morons on purpose and that everyone on the roads are out there with the sole intent to hurt their precious bundle of joy?  Please.  Accidents are called accidents for a reason.  Don't worry jerks, now that you've so cleverly pointed out that you have a baby on board, I'm going to pay special attention that I don't hit your car, not for the sole purpose of keeping myself out of danger, but because of your child.  I'll also be sure not to flip you off, since that plaque seems gives you the right to drive like an incompetent twit, lest I expose your little genius to some off-putting hand gestures.  Assholes.

Why does Panera Bread always run out of bread?  You'd think that if you were going to put the word "bread" in your business name that you would kind of make sure that you'd have a plentiful supply of it.  I would, at least, but that's probably why I do not own a bread company.  They probably shouldn't either. 

Who are the people that go into Starbucks and order their drinks a specific temperature?  "I'd like a non-fat, sugar free, extra dry, 140 degree latte, with your left kidney on the side in a to-go tray.  K, thanx."  Do they realize how pretentious that is? 

I don't mean to send my annoyances out into the void that is the internet, but sometimes it just helps.  They are all minor and trivial, but the summation of them becomes so overwhelming that I'll realize that I've just driven half of the 17 miles home from work without actually "seeing" where I was going, because I was so lost in angry thought.  Scary.  So, sorry if I've gotten anyone all up and arms, or contributed to your bad day, but I just need to get them out of my head.


When I got home yesterday, I grabbed my camera and took some photos of my rainy garden balcony.  It's pretty small and humble, but it makes me happy, and I guess that's all that really counts on days like this.  I've started a small herb garden and have my gardenias and hibiscus (below) that are still hanging in there despite my almost killing each of them at least once.  The gardenia in the green pot is new (which is why it looks the healthiest) and was in full bloom last week, which was perfection.  I took full advantage of the blooms and had them all over my apartment and desk at work. 

Sometimes, in a sea of annoyances and frustrations, it's little things like a fragrant flower blossom, a favorite song that had been buried in my itunes playlist and recently rediscovered, or a good movie that keep me out of the loony bin.  Thank goodness for the little things.

* by the way, said good movie was The Young Victoria.

A green(ish) thumb.

I've always been intrigued by gardening.  Ever since reading The Secret Garden when I was in the second grade, I've always wanted my own "bit of earth," as Mary called it.  When I was nine years old, my parents gave my sister and me our own bits of earth.  We went to the local farm stand down the street and picked out the plants we wanted, and went home to plant them.  I chose a beautiful purple dwarf iris, some snap dragons, and catnip for our cat.  After that summer had passed, my garden quickly became the responsibility of my father.  I grew tired of watering it every night in the summer, wanting instead to enjoy every last minute of daylight playing with the neighborhood kids.  I still enjoyed seeing it bloom each year, watching how the plants grew heartier with each growing season, but I abandoned thoughts of adding new plants or weeding the existing ones. 

Currently, the garden has fallen by the wayside and nobody really cares for it.  My catnip is long gone (as is my cat, God rest his little soul), and the petite, purple dwarf iris that I had planted over a century ago has now taken over the whole garden, mutating into something that I never would have expected.  (Incidentally, my parents tried to uproot it one year and broke their shovel on the root structure; it's like Little Shop of Horrors.)  The other day, I was excited to see that between the stalky leaves of the iris were growing sweet lily of the valley.  I don't know where they came from, since I've never seen it growing naturally in my yard, but I was thrilled to discover it, and I hope they will survive and return next year.  Even though I abandoned the garden of my youth, I still love having plants around. 

Since moving to the city, I've started a very modest container garden that consists of a gardenia that I've coaxed blooms out of once and a hibiscus that has seen better days after I left it out one night during an early frost.  I've always wanted to grow my own herbs and vegetables, and although it's a bit late in the season, I think I may give it a whirl this year.  I've been inspired by these zinc window box planters from Crate & Barrel, and I think that I'll go after work and pick some up and start growing something in them this weekend. 

photos from here

I have no idea what I'll plant in them, but hopefully I won't lose interest before the weekend is over...

DeCordova Museum

Do you ever have days where you don't want to get out of bed, or you just want to putz around in your pajamas all day?  I do.  I start to get especially withdrawn when I have a lot of stress or anxiety in my life.  It's not healthy, but I've always found that it's easier (on everyone) if I just hunker down and let it pass.  Two weeks ago, I made plans to spend the day with a friend over the weekend.  We've been wanting to meet up for a "photography date," in order to just walk around taking photographs of whatever struck us as interesting.  The week had been rough for me, so I was already feeling like I wanted to just stay in all weekend and mope, regardless of the fact that it was going to be the first beautiful weekend in weeks.  As we were discussing our plans Friday evening, I could feel that little voice in my head nagging me to call it off and postpone for another week.  I didn't want to cancel, because I haven't actually seen my friend since Christmas, so I decided to suck it up and weather the storm outside in the sunshine instead of cooped up in my bed, watching dvr'ed episodes of Gossip Girl.  I'm glad I did, because it was a really therapeutic afternoon!  It's good to have people to talk to that understand the things you're going through, and I'm so grateful for the friends I do have that I can talk to on a regular basis when life gets a little too heavy. 

The DeCordova Museum in Lincoln, MA is a modern/contemporary art museum in a beautiful area, near Walden Pond and historic Concord.  The museum itself was closed for the day, but it didn't really matter, because the sculpture park is huge.  We spent a few hours walking "the grounds" and barely covered everything.  Below are some of my favorite sculptures and photos from the day:

 It was really sunny out, so the photos weren't as great as I would have liked, but it really is an interesting place if you ever get a chance to visit. 




 

A date with Monet.

This past weekend, a few friends and I ventured down to NYC to visit the Monet Water Lilies Exhibit at MoMA.  Since taking a class on Modernism and Postmodernism in college, I've been fascinated with Modern and Postmodern art (well, that sounds rather redundant).  I've found that it's difficult to appreciate some of the pieces unless you actually know a bit about this specific art movement, so my parents didn't really understand my appreciation of this:

One: Number 31, 1950 

Jackson Pollock

(photo by me, after people actually stopped walking in front of my lens)

I love Pollock's work.  While I'm especially fond of his drip paintings, my research for a term paper left me baffled by the fact that his earlier work looked completely different.  I love studying artists' lives and how the events going on with the artist influence their artwork. I have a special spot in my heart for artists (and anyone, for that matter) that have suffered from depression, as Pollock did.  I guess it's a way of relating to the art and artist, and even empathizing, on a completely different level that a lot of people can't understand (and I hope that they never do, because depression is not a fun thing).  I digress...

The trip was absolutely fabulous.  We started out at MoMA, visited the top three floors, had lunch in their fabulous Cafe 2 (although I didn't think their seating strategy was all too wonderful), then viewed the galleries on the second floor, as well as the sculpture garden.   It was pretty crowded, so there was an overabundance of people walking in front of you as you were trying to look at a painting.  My favorites were the older ladies who either a) wandered in front of you while viewing a painting and stopped altogether, forcing you to move, or b) tried to push up against you as close as humanly possible (which is absolutely not socially acceptable) so that you'd move away from the glass case displaying rare sketches by Picasso.  I found myself locked in a battle with a pushy lady who may or may not have had a cane and was placing her grubby hands all over the glass.  I could tell that she was expecting me to do "the right thing" and move aside so she wouldn't have to *gasp* walk two steps to the left to pass me.  I was there first, and she was totally going against traffic!  She was pretty desperate to see how Picasso's deconstruction of a Minotaur screwing a young lady was progressing (oh, that's not the real title of the sketch series, by the way), so maybe I should have yielded to her nagging persistence, but... I was there first!  I stood staring at the same sketch for at least ten minutes before she huffed her way past me and let me get to the last piece in the series.  Whatevs, you old bag.  Again, I digress.

I was really impressed by how many famous paintings and sculptures they had in the museum.  At one point, I entered a gallery room and saw a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye.  I thought to myself, "Is that what I think it is?"  I turned, and it was this:

Isn't it perfect with its golden frame?  
My flash totally went off as I was taking this picture and I almost died as the guard gave me a stern look.  
At least he could tell that I was mortified and on the verge of becoming physically ill from my stupidity.

There's something so surreal about looking at an original painting by an artist you love.  It's very difficult to verbalize, so I'm not going to attempt it.  I can't even imagine how it must feel to be in a place like Rome or Florence.

Before I get to the Monet, one of the most interesting parts of the day was the special exhibit of performance artist Marina Abramović.   We first encountered her in the atrium, where she was sitting at a table, staring blankly ahead of her.  Audience members could actually go and sit across from her and have a "staring contest" or, more artistically speaking, a meditative moment of connection with the artist.  I toyed with the idea, but chickened out, as usual.  We then found the exhibit dedicated to her lengthy career and were met with warning signs about nudity, no photography, and no children.  At first, I was really uncomfortable, because there were lots of nude performers, but once I got over that initial discomfort and realized that everyone else was looking at naked people too, I became more relaxed.  One of the things that relaxed me the most, was when I noticed a really pervy looking man creeping closer and closer to one of the nude performers.  As he did so, I could see security inching their way in, ready to pounce.  I thought that was kind of hilarious. (Although, this article just came out yesterday which makes me cringe a little for the performers.)

I didn't understand the meaning behind a lot of the work, and I will admit that I didn't really read a lot of the plaques that were positioned around the exhibit, partly because I was a little uncomfortable lingering.  In retrospect, I realize that they probably would have given me more insight into some of the performances, which included a naked woman suspended on the wall, sitting on a bicycle seat, another naked woman lying underneath a skeleton, two people with their hair tied together, and two more nude people standing in a small doorway, forcing people to squeeze between them (I decided to walk around to the other side of the gallery to avoid this installation in particular).  The exhibit contained actual video footage of many of her previous performances.  Some of her performances were utterly disturbing, like the one in which she's repeatedly walking into a wall, the sickening sound of her naked body hitting it again and again (with force), as well as the one where she's standing nude, with a skull clutched in her hands and her hair brushed forward over her face like Cousin It, repeatedly slamming the skull into her chest (again, with force).  Upon reading more about her life, performances, and the meaning behind them, I grew a greater appreciation for the exhibit as a whole, and really wish I had read more about it before going... (If you're interested, a quick google search brings up tons of info.)

The Monet exhibit was a lot smaller than I thought it would be.  The collection consisted of six paintings, two of which were enormous, wall-size paintings.  I took the most photos in this gallery for some reason, and I was pretty pleased with the way that most of them turned out.  One thing I will say is that the gallery lights were horrible to the colors of the paintings in the photos, so I bumped them up a bit with an editing program to give a better representation of what they looked like in real life.

All photographs by me.

not to toot my own horn, but I'm super in love with this last photograph.  I love how you can see the cracked paint and brush strokes. (click on it to enlarge!)

I think that the photos speak for themselves, but it was a really amazing exhibit.  It's unbelievable when you stop and actually think about the fact that he created these masterpieces with debilitating cataracts impeding his vision and color perception. 

There was also a really good Picasso exhibit showcasing his printmaking skills and creative process of deconstructing things on paper (the one in which I had the stand-off with "the old bag").  This was one of my two favorite pieces from the exhibit:

Head of a Woman No. 5. Dora Maar.

Pablo Picasso, 1939

All in all, it was one of the best days I've had in a very long time.  There's something about art that just relaxes me completely and gives me that "everything is going to be ok" feeling.  Plus, it really helped that I was there with some very good friends.  Very therapeutic. 

We ended the day with some shopping at Rockefeller Center and a carriage ride around Central Park.  Perfection. 

While art is different for everyone, I highly recommend MoMA to anyone who is remotely interested in modern art.  It's definitely worth a visit. 

And, Central Park in spring is just lovely...



sorry for the long post.  i toyed with the idea of chopping it in two, but could bear splitting anything up...  i guess this makes up for my month-long silence, right?

Flood Watch 2010

As many of you know or may have heard, we are getting hit with a major rain/wind storm here.  I am lucky enough to live next to a creek, so this is what my parking lot and street look like: 

(please excuse the crappiness of the photos... I was trying to be quick so my camera would stay dry)

Our street and surrounding our building have turned into a miniature river with a pretty strong current, as I found out wading in it last night (the water was just to my knees).  We moved our cars to higher ground yesterday afternoon, so at least they're out of harm's way.  As of this morning, James (who is 6'3") said the water was above his knees when he went outside, and I decided that all 5'2" of me should stay inside.  Luckily, I live on the top floor, so I'm not concerned about damage to our apartment, but they've already evacuated two buildings down the street, and we're supposed to get 1-2 more inches of rain by tomorrow morning.  We haven't lost power and our building is relatively dry so far.  Hopefully, we will be able to stay here and the waters will start to recede by this evening... Keep your fingers crossed!

Poppies on a rainy Saturday night.

I've always been a huge fan of botanical illustrations and paintings, but have never been able to find any to buy (I probably haven't been looking hard enough, or at all).  I have always loved drawing, so I figured that I could just make one of my own.  I drew up a sketch of a poppy a few months ago and finally got around to using the watercolors my grandmother gave me this past Saturday night:

It's not a traditional botanical illustration with the diagramming of seed pods and petals and such, but it didn't take very long, considering I haven't touched watercolors in at least 14 years.  It's not perfect (the highlights are a bit off), but it's a start, and I finally convinced myself that watercolors aren't as scary as I thought they were.... not impossible, at least!

I had an extremely creative weekend, and have a couple more posts lined up for the week to show you what I was up to...  Hope you all had a fabulous weekend and are easing into the week with an easy Monday! 

If you have a Case of the Mondays, however, check out Melita's blog for a little pick-me-up!

On Why I Joined Netflix (aka, Alyson joins the 21st Century)

I'm a strange person when it comes to certain things like where I get my coffee, where I buy my groceries, and especially where I rent my movies: I'm loyal to the point of zealousness. 

Historically, I've always loved going into a video store and browsing, reminiscing about movies I've seen and loved, as well as chiding movies I've hated.  When James and I moved to Waltham, one of the first things we did was find a local video store and gain membership.  We chose the rather commercial Hollywood Video, because it was right down the street, and it wasn't Blockbuster (I hate Blockbuster for no real reason).  This video store was special.  Its employees were one of a kind, and we often surmised about what their real lives were like, when they weren't watching The Goonies, or talking to us about their opinions on recent releases. 

One employee in particular, let's call him Mark, was our favorite.  He was a middle-aged man, whom we were convinced still lived with his mother and did not have his drivers' license (because he was probably forbidden from ever operating heavy machinery).  Have you ever seen the episode of Seinfeld in which Elaine goes to the movie store and feels like she's completely in-sync with Vincent's Picks?  That's like Mark, except he never sent us the play button on his VCR, and he certainly wasn't 15 years old. We got a thrill out of impressing him with our movie choices ranging from Vincent Price classics, to sleeper-hit Indies, so much so, that it became a game in the back of my mind.  Will this impress him enough, or will it be too predictable?

About a month ago, we had been on a brief hiatus from video rentals, since there was a healthy line-up of network television shows to keep us occupied during the week, and our schedules didn't really permit for a leisurely evening of movie-watching, so it had been months since we last rented.  One night, we decided to go browsing, with no particular movie in mind.  We pulled into the parking lot to find it completely deserted.  As I tried to peer through the opaque, soap-stained windows, I caught glimpses of a barren wasteland of rows and rows of empty movie racks.  As I turned back towards the car, wiping a single tear rolling down my cheek, I swore I saw the ghost of Mark crying in the corner.  The realization of what had happened hit me like a ton of bricks: Netflix had put my beloved video-store out of business.  What would Mark do?  Who (in their right mind) would employ him now?  If we had only known that the last time we had been there would indeed be our last time, I certainly wouldn't have rented Labor Pains with Lindsay Lohan, (just kidding, it was actually A Haunting in Connecticut, which wasn't much better) and I probably would have made my last interaction with Mark way more meaningful than, "Wow, I can't wait to see Sunshine Cleaning."

After boycotting Netflix for an entire month, and searching desperately (and unsuccessfully) for another video store (our local Blockbuster went out of business too!), I finally caved and signed up for a free one-month trial.  I mean, it was free after all, and it wasn't like I was entirely committed to anything yet.  As soon as I set up my queue, I started to marvel at their selection of movies for which I've been searching a long time (A Man for All Seasons, King of Hearts, The Road to Wellville).  Netflix even lets me rate my favorite (and not-so-favorite) movies and recommends movies I might like based on my ratings, so a multitude of titles have just opened up before my greedy little eyes.  My one-month free trial is coming to an end, and I hate to admit it, but I think I'm going to stick with it, because so far, I really like it.  And maybe I just lost a piece of myself by admitting that, and maybe somewhere out there, Mark just died a little bit more on the inside, but thus is the ever evolving state of things.  Sorry Mark, blame it on Netflix.  I do.

the end.

Dinner for Four, Please.

This weekend, I held my first (of many to come) formal-ish dinner party.  I don't mean formal in the sense that everyone dressed up in ball gowns and we ate caviar, just the type where I actually had a three course dinner planned, used the "nice" plates, linen napkins, and water glasses, and did not wear sweatpants (I know, right?!) 

Since I was so nervous, I made a soup (easy), salad (easy), and dessert (terrifying).

The Menu:

Baby Arugula Salad with Roasted Golden Beets, Blue Cheese, 
Cracked Pepper, Pink Sea Salt, and Sesame Dressing

French Onion Soup with Mushrooms and Barley, 
accompanied by delicious French bread that I did not make 
(thanks Kathryn!)

French Pear & Almond Tart, with Shortbread Crust

The soup and salad were easy.  I made the soup the night before (and made some substitutions to the original recipe -- used beef broth instead of water, more ginger, omitted the beef, and didn't forget the sesame oil), and roasted the beets that morning.  The pear tart was the part that scared me the most, because I had never made this sort of tart before. 

I had scoured the internet for a dessert recipe that would go with such an already earthy menu.  I knew that I couldn't use citrus, and I didn't want to do a chocolate dessert, because I felt that it would be far too rich.  I finally got the idea to make a tart of some sort (since I had perfected the shortbread crust not too long ago), and decided on pears, because they're readily available in the winter and are pretty hearty.  The French and almond parts came into play when I was doing more research.  I happened upon David Lebovitz's blog, and fell in love with his French Pear Tart recipe (along with many of his other recipes).  I used the shortbread crust recipe from Ina Garten's cookbook, The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook (except I doubled the quantities to make for a more substantial crust).  Everyone seemed to like it, and James gave it the seal of approval (my toughest critic, besides myself). 

First, I poached the pears in sugar and water, and added a whole vanilla bean.  I followed David Lebovitz's recipe pretty much to the T (I used organic Bosc pears which held up nicely and had great flavor), except I put a cover on the pot instead of using the parchment paper.  Then, I made the Almond Cream also according to his recipe, only I omitted the liquor at the end.  I don't know if it made a difference.  I had a significant supply of poached pears on-hand afterward, because I found that I didn't need the 5 I had poached.  I assembled and baked the tart according to the recipe, except I didn't add cherries or any other fruit; just pears.  The 40-minue bake-time left me with a slightly over-cooked crust, so in the future, I would probably pre-bake the crust for only 10 minutes instead of 15 (if at all). 

Here's the final result:

 

  

 I glazed it with the reduced poaching liquid, and served it with vanilla bean ice cream.  Dish Delish.

 I felt that the whole dinner was successful, because nobody recoiled in disgust after tasting any of it, and if they didn't like it, they hid it well.  My dinner guests were very polite!

 

Oh hey, what's this... a picture from a snazzy new camera?  YES!   :o)

(I'm still geting used to it, and it frightens me a bit since it's a DSLR with lots of settings)

Shortbread Tart Crust

adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook, by Ina Garten

3/4 c unsalted butter at room temperature

1/2 c sugar

1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

1 3/4 c all-purpose flour

pinch salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, mix butter and sugar together until they're combined.  Add vanilla extract, flour and salt (sifted together -- although I didn't sift and it turned out just fine).  Mix on low speed until the dough starts to come together.  Gather dough and press it into a 10-inch round false-bottom tart pan.  Be sure to make the finished edge flat.  Chill until firm (I put mine in the freezer until totally firm).  

Butter one side of a square of aluminum foil (make sure it will completely cover the bottom of the tart) and place it in the bottom of the tart, buttered side down.  Fill with beans and press the foil down around the sides, but don't cover the edges of the crust.  Bake 10-15 minutes, then remove beans and foil and bake 5 minutes more.  

If you're planning to fill the tart with a fruit-curd (like lemon!), then cook the crust 20 minutes with the beans and 20-25 without the beans, so it's completely cooked through.  Cool, then fill with your delicious curd.