Tonight we’re going to be marching in the 39th Annual Village Halloween Parade, singing into megaphones with our dear friends, the awesome boys of No Small Money Brass Band. Here they are, marching in the parade in 2009. It’s going to be almost as good as candy! And, BONUS, since I’m a grownup I can also have as much candy as I want all the time. Happy Halloween!
Month: October 2011
Childlike Wonder pt. 1
I’m not sure if it’s on purpose, coming from me- if I’m drawing a feeling of awe out of the air like a lightning rod or if there has been extra beauty latent in the world as of late and I’m drawn to it like a open-mouthed moth to a flame of awesomeness. Either way, I really feel like the past few weeks have been full of wonder. This is a hard thing to come by, so needless to say it’s been pretty great. Is it that we’re too tired usually to look around? Is it that the world is extra-lovely when it tilts its orbit to squeeze the last bit out of fall? I went to Dumbo to see the Creators Project and poke around and I simply could not get over how beautiful everything was. It was ever so marvelous a feeling.
Things Could Be Worse
I’m going to plan the rest of my day using this fabulous collection of drawings. First, I think it’s time for a mid-afternoon coffee. And then I think I might make myself something delicious and fall-y:
If I can get my mitts on the recipe.
And then maybe I’ll go see Roosevelt Dime play tonight at the fabulous Brooklyn Winery.
Cutest infestation ever.
A few sexy Halloween costume ideas…
Seeing as I already have the boots from when I was thinking about going as “Miss Piggy playing the Accordion”, I’m thinking Sexy Inexplicable Melancholy sounds doable. Though if I can get someone to go as “Masculine Toast Points” with me, then maybe Sexy Perfect Soft-Boiled Egg is where it’s at. So much sexy.
From the brilliant Jillian Tamaki as found on The Hairpin.
As always, thanks to Meags for this (who’s going as “Sexy First Edition ‘Old Man and the Sea'” of course.)
Rosamond Bernier is a pretty neat lady
In Wendy Goodman’s New York Magazine feature on Rosamond Bernier’s apartment, the 95 year-old Bernier says, of founding the art magazine L’OEIL, “It was everything that interested me. I would just think of things, or hear of things, or read about something, and off I would go.” I love that. If that weren’t enough, here are some pictures of her that are pretty damn fabulous. Her captions. 
Age 6 on her pony Teddy, after winning a cup at her first horse show. Philadelphia, 1922.
At 16, she played the harp in the Philadelphia Orchestra as part of a Youth Concert Series.
She moved to Acapulco in 1938 with her first husband Lewis Riley, who had properties there. Here she is with some of her menagerie.
When She returned from Paris to New York, she began a career as an art lecturer. Here she is talking about Henry Moore in 1972 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She still wears this dress.
Awesome. Makes me want to read her book.
Beware, Ms. White
Eating a fresh, crisp, delicious Granny Smith apple with a fresh manicure makes me feel a) totally awesome and b) like I might poison a princess sometime soon. If you live around Brooklyn with 7 other little dudes and are always cleaning your house… WATCH OUT!
Tea Party of One
One of my favorite things about the chillying weather (despite frequent deluges, this past week must be one of the most beautimous in New York history… also helps that Sweetheart and I have been listening to Billie Holliday on repeat) is the transition from cold brew coffee back to plain old dark and delicious hot coffee. But despite my militant affection for coffee, there’s just something about late autumn afternoons that seems to require tea. It’s such a lovely little ritual- the loose leaf Hediard that Maman and I got in Paris (and that Sweetheart replenishes from McNulty’s), the old copper kettle, with its real throaty whistle, the time and steep. Just a little honey for me, always.
City Mouse, Town Mouse
Visiting our friends in Pennsylvania over this past weekend, I discovered something new: the life of the town mouse. Until now, I’ve only known the pretty sharp divide between Country Mouse (beauty, idyll, low rent, and terrible chinese food) and City Mouse (the glittering compromise of paying pounds of flesh for the privilege of seeing a human poo on the subway… on the way to get amazing sichuan and see The Moth story slam live). My dear friend McKay, sensing a potential shift, gave me this New Yorker cartoon when I first moved up from my Virginia farmhouse (sidenote: the fact that a New Yorker cartoon actually pertained to me was an early City Mouse thrill):
But instead of either traipsing down a fetid sidewalk or run over in the middle of 6th avenue, there could be another fate: Town Mouse. Rare in America, my friends have a beautiful old sort of Craftsman house in an awake little old-fashioned downtown- walking distance to the market, the dry cleaner, the bookstore, the coffeeshop, the train station, and (!) work etc. but with space, calm, fabulous light and a good mortgage (I’m guessing. City Mice don’t think twice about talking rent money and square footage over $8 beers, but when you’re drinking a very nice cote du something with some Town Mice, it feels unseemly to ask them whether they paid extra for the washer/dryer). But think. Town Mouse could keep her jewels in a tiny cup when she was at the sink. 
Town Mouse could have a sweet, sunny little place for strawberry baskets, eggs from the chickens, and muddy shoes.
Town Mouse could have this tree in her backyard.
But…City Mouse still has it pretty good, for now.
Gone to Lebanon
My mama was in town all last week and we had a time. When we weren’t covered in paint or dust we were covered in flour and wine and good long hugs. Just as things should be. You’ll have to wait a minute for the before/after of all the projects we tackled… but first! I must tell about the Kitchen Garden Cooking School. This was the theoretical “excuse” of her visit, that she would come up and we would meet our dear old friends (a mother and daughter just as prone to nesting and cocktails as we, of course) and take a short class on Lebanese cooking. Glorious. The air was gilded, the kitchen was warm and bright, and the lions share of the ingredients came directly from the garden. Things I didn’t know about before: sumac (a deep red powder that lends a lemony sprinkle), pomegranate molasses (deep, dark, tart, sweet, the best new discovery since Maggi Seasoning, and available at Sahadi’s on Atlantic avenue), and, of course, how to make pitas from scratch:
We left with full bellies and a packet of recipes- some that will become favorites, some that may never be attempted again- my favorite? Muhammara. This roasted red pepper dip is not only a total revelation of deliciousness, it’s made from ingredients that can simply lie in wait in the pantry, ready to ambush a blitzkrieg of unexpected dinner guests.
Muhammara
2 roasted red peppers (from the jar is just fine)
1 cup walnuts
½ cup fine bread crumbs, crackers or panko
1 T lemon juice
2 T pomegranate molasses
1 tsp dried Aleppo pepper or hot paprika
¼ tsp ground cumin
½ tsp salt
¼ tsp sugar
2 T olive oil
In a food processor, puree all of the ingredients except the olive oil until completely combined and creamy. Add the olive oil in a thin stream. Serve at room temperature. Marvel at the skill and ease with which you entertain.
(from Sheila McDuffie and the Kitchen Garden Cooking School)
ps. don’t all New Yorkers wish their kitchen felt like this? O! The Open Shelves! O! The TWO sinks! O me O my!
Arts and Farts and Crafts
In which: my mama comes to town and we begin to execute a series of much discussed craft projects (increasingly-ambitious-proportional-to-the-amount-of-wine-we’ve-had) painstakingly designed and overseen by Nipsey Russell the cat. More to come…
Feather By Feather 
