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October 31, 2005

Hiking the Palisades

For years, I've meant to spend a day hiking somewhere just outside the city. Someone mentioned Breakneck Ridge, which is right on the Hudson river train line, and I considered that for a while. Every time I visit websites about it, though, I read about how steep it is at the beginning and how people somehow die doing it every once in a while. Then I remember that I don't own hiking boots and I find a way to postpone the trip.

My mother has also recommended hiking the Palisades. You can get to the trails by taking the subway up to the George Washington Bridge and walking over (if you can DO that without losing your shit). The trails follow the Palisade cliffs up the Hudson, offering views and quiet picnic spots.

Somehow, when I brought up hiking as a weekend possibility last week, Derek took the initiative to plan ahead (and find a map) and we finally made it to the Palisades on Sunday. We packed a lunch and drove over the GW (too scared/lazy to walk) and parked at the Park Headquarters. From there, we followed the upper trail for a couple of miles, hiked down a gazillion stone steps, hiked right along the water for a few miles, and then followed switchbacks back up to the parking spot. It was just the right amount of exercise, the foliage was nice, the weather was perfect, and it felt great to be near the water (I always feel more comfortable near water, hence the sailing, lake-visiting, etc.).

The upper trail runs between a road and a rather sharp dropoff. It was a little annoying to hear and see the traffic, but there are a few spots where you can walk out onto the edge of the cliffs and see sweeping views of the Hudson and New York. Eventually, you get to a little stone castle called the Women's Federation Monument, where you can climb up to a platform and pretend you are Rapunzel. After that, you can continue on the upper trail for a while longer, or you can climb down to water level.

The lower trail runs right next to the water for a long time, and there are plenty of places to sit on rocks and look at the Bronx or Westchester or whatever is on the other side of the Hudson. Once you're down there, you can also look up at the cliffs above -- the scale is quite dramatic. It's peaceful, too. We saw a few other hikers and families, but for the most part we were on our own. Photos of the hike are on Flickr.

Posted by csageday at 10:49 PM | Comments (0)

Happy Halloween

Here's a recipe for appropriately orange and black candied orange peel dipped in chocolate.

And if you don't have plans this evening, I highly recommend the Park Slope halloween parade. OTBKB says it starts at 6:30pm and forms at Seventh Avenue and 12th Street. The over-achieving parents in the neighborhood never disappoint.

Posted by csageday at 12:26 PM | Comments (0)

October 30, 2005

Bringing Home the Baking

I just made another loaf of banana bread (I'm going to try the pumpkin bread recipe next) and realized that, for the first time ever, I have a kitchen that lends itself to baking. I have counter space! Lots and lots of counter space. I could make Christmas cookies. I could have a party devoted to making Christmas cookies. I could make BREAD. I have enough counter space to roll out dough. This calls for some serious experimenting. I could probably even fit a cooling rack somewhere (that thing recipes always mention and I always ignore), or a pasta machine! Hand-made ravioli might be worth a try. Maybe. I've been so used to a tiny little kitchen that I haven't been using this new kitchen to its full potential. I should probably investigate baking holiday gifts this year. Not that I need the stress, but hey -- it's probably cheaper that way. My mother has been making spiced walnuts for years, and lately has courageously branched out into peppermint chocolate bark (it came out great, but I think it involved Dad chopping up candy canes for hours on end).

Since I have been in love with food since I was born, I had my first baking phase somewhere around age 10 (my parents have a huge old kitchen that lends itself to baking and cooking phases). First, I had the epiphany that cookie dough was much better than actual cookies. It was so disappointing when all that good batter went into the oven, never to be tasted in its most elegant form again. (I still feel this way, especially with brownie batter. I always spend time eating the batter before I cook it. Banana bread batter is really good, too. I had a good quarter cup of it this evening -- there's a fine balance you have to strike to get that much. I'm no so much of a glutton that I'll pour some out for myself, but I leave a liberal amount on the spoon and in the bowl, spill some on the rim of the cooking pan, etc.) Anyway, one day after school I decided that I could make a batch of batter to have all to myself. I mixed together a bunch of ingredients that I remembered being in cake and cookie batters -- eggs, flour, vanilla, sugar, possibly some flour. I made a huge mess in the kitchen. It didn't taste quite as good as the other batters, though (the proportions were woefully off, I'm sure). I was a little disappointed, but I put it in the fridge, thinking it would be good enough for a snack. After a day or so, it became increasingly unappetizing. It was disgusting. It looked like bright yellow soup. When my mother asked if I wanted to keep it about a week later (with hardly a smile on her face -- or at least not one that I noticed), I said no. This was long before cookie dough ice cream, so I was definitely on to something, but I reluctantly stuck to the snickerdoodles recipe in my kids cookbook from then on, snacking on batter along the way.

My next baking phase (although you can't really call the batter phase a baking phase) involved bread. I found a recipe and followed it to the T. I kneaded the dough. I covered it and let it rest. I kneaded it again and let it rise in the oven next to a pan of hot water. It sort of rose, a little. I kneaded it again. I put it in the oven. I checked on it later, and it had a gorgeous brown crust and looked perfect. I was so excited that I gathered the entire family in the dining room for a tasting. I set out of spread of butter and jam and plates. Then, mom sliced it open. Despite the perfect exterior, it was still dough on the inside. Given my previous experiments it probably didn't surprise the family too much, but I think I remember some grumbling about being hungry from Dad and Nick. I kept at it, though, and ended up making a few (well, maybe two?) loaves of bread that were perfectly edible. That first attempt haunts me, though -- I'm always amazed when I hear that someone has made bread at home (and without a bread machine!). The Food Network makes it seem so easy. Hopefully being an adult this time around will help.

Speaking of food, I wish someone would figure out what caused all of New York City to smell like maple syrup. I mean, it was pleasant and all -- I thought some restaurant nearby might have been having a pancake festival or something -- but hello??? Can someone explain it, please? Did an experiment go horribly wrong at the Ministry of Magic? Or maybe Cooper Union? Was there an accident involving a barge full of maple syrup? Was it a marketing campaign for aromatherapy?

Posted by csageday at 11:28 PM | Comments (0)

The Squid and the Whale

We saw "The Squid and the Whale" today, finally (synopsis, NYT review). It was filmed in Park Slope (and is now playing in every theater nearby), so I've been itching to see it, if only for the scenes of the old neighborhood and brownstone interiors. The plot follows a mid-80s divorce between a self-involved, formerly-successful writer and his wife, who is just beginning to find some success in writing. They have two boys, aged 12 and 16. The characters, with the exception of the mother, are all well developed -- almost painfully so. Both boys are at vulnerable ages of a different sort, and the extent to which they are influenced by their parents' neuroses is a major theme.

There's a lot of great, funny dialogue and humiliation. The whole experience of divorce is chronicled, from the anger the kids feel to the bad-mouthing parents do of each other. It's painful to watch the scenes where the kids are clearly looking for direction and comfort that neither parent seems able to provide. Each character's vulnerability and shortcomings are obvious in nearly every scene. When the younger boy runs away from his father's house to his mom's, his mother, instead of figuring out what's wrong, explains that it's not "her night" and she needs time for herself sometimes. The father treats the older boy, Walt, as if he's a carbon copy of himself, and encourages him to "play the field" of women when the kid is barely handling his first relationship. Walt is happy to have his father's attention and confidence and adopts his father's philosophy wholesale. He ends up practically divorcing his mother, yelling at her for having an affair and using phrases clearly not familiar to him. This creates some comedy, since the audience can see what's going on -- the teenager looks a little ridiculous with his righteous, accusatory look and his talk about "bringing men into the house right under our noses".

All in all, I enjoyed watching it -- it may be a familiar theme (the disfunctional family), but the characters were believable and interesting. The time-frame was also familiar to me, since I was growing up at the same time -- I think we might have had the Burger King glasses that show up in one scene.

As for Brooklyn scenes, the father is continually losing his parking space and having to drive around the neighborhood looking for a new one (we know ALL about that). There are shots of subway stations from 7th Ave to Ditmas Park, and there are a couple of scenes from a Chinese restaurant in the Slope (still not sure exactly which one). I like the inside of the family's brownstone -- the kitchen, the bookshelves, the staircase bannister. I'm a sucker for Brooklyn brownstones. The family seemed to live on a block in the North Slope near the park (now known as TwoMillionDollarBrownstoneVille, or, alternatively, Bugabooville or NannyLexusStockbrokerVille).

In other movie news, we saw and loved "Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit" and have been saying "Cheeeeeeese. I love cheeeese. Gorgonzooola, limburger, monterey jack!" ever since.

After the movie we headed over to Sugarcane for some Carribean food -- Derek has been wanting to go there forever. It was a little loud and crowded, but not bad. The plantains, shrimp on sugarcane skewers, and the roti were all great. Not sure I'd want to put up with the noise again, though. I'd advise against the sugarcane mojito, too -- regular mojitos have enough sugar as it is.

Posted by csageday at 01:38 AM | Comments (0)

October 28, 2005

Chocolate

I am consoling myself at the moment with a bar of chocolate after a stressful couple of days, and I thought I should take this opportunity to inform all and sundry that the best chocolate bar you can buy in this country, bar none, is from Green & Black's. Hershey, Lindt, Dove, Godiva, they don't compare. Jacques Torres sells some wonderful fancy chocolates that might win prizes in other categories, but not for a perfect chocolate bar. Cadbury is a close second -- it can serve as a backup in an emergency, but it's not quite as decadent.

I should clarify that I'm only talking about milk chocolate here. I'm sure the Green & Black's dark chocolate bar is good, too, and G&B sells all sorts of odd flavors, but I can't vouch for those.

Whatever it is in chocolate that my body craves is satisfied by G&B best. It has the perfect melting temperature -- anything warmer than room temperature. I'm currently dipping it in hot tea -- the inside melts but it doesn't melt into the tea -- if I take it out just in time, I get a perfect square of liquid cocoa.

It's expensive: $3.60 at Whole Foods and $2.40 at the Coop (it's organic), and it's not widely available, but it's certainly worth investigating if you consider yourself a fan of chocolate.

One more thing: If you really like chocolate, I recommend a pilgrimage to Cadbury World in England. Derek and I went years ago and were too late to take a tour, but we must have spent an hour in the World's Biggest Cadbury Store buying up interesting chocolate concoctions.

Posted by csageday at 12:21 AM | Comments (1)

October 23, 2005

Stock?

Derek has spent the afternoon juicing celery, onions, tomatoes, and carrots for vegetable stock. The plan is to juice said vegetables in the juicer, then throw them into a pot with the pulp, and cook it for 20 minutes. This is meant to produce vegetable stock, with hitherto has been made in a span of hours, not minutes. In my opinion, this method will produce cooked vegetable juice. Something along the lines of warm V-8 juice. It's just not natural. The last time I made vegetable stock it took seven hours in a crock pot. D says the juicing method is "in a recipe" and therefore acceptable. I'm highly dubious. For chicken stock, are we meant to shove raw chicken through the juicer and cook the result for 20 minutes?

Posted by csageday at 06:03 PM | Comments (3)

October 22, 2005

Al Di La

We've just been to Al di La for dinner and it is fanstastic. Wonderfully buttery and fresh. My beet-ricotta ravioli was clearly house-made and perfect. Derek's rabbit was incredibly tender. The tagliatelle was sublime. The plum bread pudding and tarragon ice cream was the best dessert I've had in a while.

This day started out crappy -- I had an awful sleep last night and developed a splitting headache by 3, there seemed to be no heat in the apartment, and it was raining, but now I'm perfectly happy. Good food, good wine (and good desert wine) completely turned things around. The trick to getting a seat without waiting is to get there exactly at 6, when it opens. Also, save your appetite for dinner so you can order both a primi and secondi plate.

Knitting note: I finally paid a visit to The Point (cute store) and got some more baby blanket yarn today -- something I'd been meaning to do for weeks. All in all, a successful Saturday.

Posted by csageday at 08:35 PM | Comments (0)

October 21, 2005

Restaurant Update

Cookshop looks like it's worth a visit (it's a new local, sustainable food restaurant in Chelsea). Also, a very purple-looking "beet" restaurant opened last night on 7th Ave and 9th Street (Park Slope) -- it smelled good. Might have to give it a try.

Speaking of restaurants, Add Your Own is a new wiki-style review site for restaurants/bars/etc. The Park Slope section is pretty big. I couldn't help but contribute a few bits of information about restaurants I like. It's amazing how Brooklyn restaurants are getting top billing in Zagats and elsewhere these days -- Applewood (right up the street!) is one of the top three restaurants in New York, Stone Park Cafe and Al Di La get recommended consistently, and Rosewater gets top billing for brunch. I've always felt spoiled by all the amazing restuarant options nearby, and I've wondered whether Manhattanites really appreciated it -- now they can't ignore us!

Posted by csageday at 12:01 PM | Comments (3)

Car Talk

I have an excuse for being a pathetic blogger, really I do. All of my free evening time has lately been spent giving this a (phase I) redesign, and it's getting another (phase II) redesign shortly, so my readership may dwindle from 2 to 1 (not counting evil comment spamming bots). Also, I had to take my car in to get inspected last night, and that took, as usual, about four times as much time the mechanic said it would when I brought the car in.

As a car owner in New York City, I've had various NYC car-related experiences. I've had a nasty note left on my windsheild. I've gotten parking tickets for things I haven't done, fought them, and lost. I'm familiar with holidays like "Shemini Atzereth," which allow me to keep my current parking spot longer than 10 minutes. Finally, I frequent places like gas stations, car washes, and, most frighteningly, auto repair garages. I would avoid them completely if the state and federal governments didn't require an annual $37 inspection.

It's somewhat embarrassing. I've owned my car for 6 years and my father used for fix and sell cars for a living, but I am clueless about the innards of my Chevy Lumina. Each time I'm forced to interact with someone who does, I vow silently to myself that I will enroll in some sort of Automotive Basics 101 course so I won't feel so helpless the next time around. I never do. When a mechanic explains what needs to be fixed, I try really hard to understand what's going on, but I can barely hold up my end of the conversation. I always end up paying lots of money.

For instance, last night, I walked in to Pep Boys and asked for an inspection. I remembered to bring the registration and everything. I asked how much it would cost. $37.

Then, when I came back to pick it up, I found out that my car had failed.

"The brakes need an adjustment," they say. "Why?" I ask. "Blah blah brake pads blah blah [gesticulating] blah blah parking brake blah adjustment blah blah could kill some children," they say.

Honestly, it ended with "could kill some children," said with a completely straight face. I stare, trying not to laugh, trying to seem concerned. I also try to come off like I know my car so well that the "blah blah parking brake" couldn't possibly be the problem. I thought we'd gotten "the brakes done" recently, and I know I wrote a hefty check to have some other part NEAR the brakes replaced a couple of months ago. I try hard to remember some jargon from those adventures, but "rotor" wasn't the right word, and my Dad kindly sheparded me through the part replacement, having a grand old time with his friends at the garage all the while.

So I throw up my hands (mechanic-style) and say, "But I thought we just did that! We just got that.... uh, that THING replaced."

The mechanic stares. I start describing the THING.

"It's, you know, that metal bar that connects...[here I realized I have no idea what it connects to]...I mean, that's in the back. It's, like, a metal rod? [I use my hands to convey "metal rod" here, expecting that my vague image of it might help things along.] I think we, um, dealt with the brakes too?"

"Did you have the brakes replaced?" mechanic guy asks.

"Uh, no, but, um...." I say. I debate calling Dad or Derek for backup. Then I give in. "How much will it cost?" I ask.

This is how all my conversations with automechanics go. It's humiliating, because I have no idea if I actually need whatever I've been told I need.

One time, when my battery died while parked (we left an interior light on), I called AAA to get a restart. Some very shady-looking guys came over, made a suspiciously lame attempt to start it with one of those charger things, and gave up. They needed to "bring it in" -- which is automechanic speak for "this chick knows nothing about cars, let's convince her she needs to buy stuff she doesn't need." (Next time I'm calling a friend for the jump.)

Years ago, with my previous car -- a station wagon -- some Exxon guys tried hard to convince me that if I drove another foot all four tires would blow. "I wouldn't leave this garage," they said, raising an eyebrow. I'm very proud that I had the confidence to leave that garage and get just one tire replaced at the Sunoco next door. But still, I barely know what I'm talking about, so I'm easy prey. While Pep Boys is much more reputable and I probably did need the brakes adjusted last night, this is based completely on trust, and I'm still suspicious.

For twenty minutes, I sat in one of those greasy garage waiting rooms staring at an army recruitment brochure holder that said "MONEY!" in huge font and "The Army Reserve" in tiny font. Then, it came to me.

"It was the stabilizer bar!" I say triumphantly to the mechanics standing around.

"Oh," one says.

Apparently this is unrelated. Still, a shred of my self-confidence is restored.

Later, another mechanic rolls out one of my tires to show me a nail clearly embedded in it. I'm releived to hear that only adds another $15 to my bill, but I say, "Those tires are new!" and get a pained expression on my face. I roll my eyes and look around indignantly, like maybe they'll give me a refund or something. I thought they might be new, sort of. It seemed like the right thing to do. I can't shake the urge to try to be one of the boys, ridiculously inappropriate as that may be.

Anyway, as a result of last night's adventure at Pep Boys, I'm on a crusade to get another course introduced to the standard high school curriculum (in addition to Personal Finance 101): Automechanics 101: How to Change a Tire, Change the Oil, Jump Start the Car, and Talk to Mechanics. This may not be necessary in Des Moines, but it should probably be incorporated into the Regents exams for New Yorkers. Listening to episodes of Car Talk on NPR just isn't doing the trick.

Posted by csageday at 12:23 AM | Comments (1)

October 19, 2005

Comment Spammers: Scram!

The comment spam was driving me bonkers. I've turned off comments for a while so I can live my life without fear of 300 comment spam emails flooding my inbox. Go post a comment on a Flickr photo if you must express an opinion about something.

Or, entertain yourself with photos of knitted robots, courtesy Make via Derek. (Make was made for Derek. I'm hoping it will inspire him to actually make something, like, say, a motorized ball winder made out of legos.)

Update: My goodness, and you can also go look at knitted zombies! (Thanks Kirsten.)

Posted by csageday at 01:50 PM | Comments (0)

October 18, 2005

Sheep and Wool (and Llamas and Rabbits and Dogs)

Apologies for the sparse posting. The more blog-worthy events one has in one's life, the less time there is for blogging. For instance, yesterday I went with Rose and Francis to the NYS Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck, NY. Despite the overly long drive (poor map planning on my part), we had a good four hours of sheep and wool gawking and festival-food eating.

Derek ducked out at the last minute for fear of being stranded in a field with sheep and llamas while the rest of us discussed the finer points of spinning yarn. He needn't have worried. I was completely distracted by festival-food fare for the first several hours. I got some buffalo mozzarella (nothing to do with sheep or wool, really) and some sheep's milk cheese right off the bat. Then I stood in line for some lamb kebobs, but my conscience got the better of me right before I had to order and I beat a retreat, guiltily eying sheep along the way, to a stall advertising "Artichoke French". The line was endless, but the final product -- fried artichoke hearts with bread and collard greens and beans -- was worth it. I love artichokes. I chased that down with apple crisp while resisting the urge to buy fried dough. Finally, I picked up some fresh kettle corn for D and some maple sugar cotton candy. (The stuff is heavenly. Just insanely good.) I tried some wine, but wasn't happy with the sickeningly-sweet samples I got so I gave up.

All the while, I was thinking that I really should start looking at yarn seriously, but I kept getting distracted. There were rabbits, llamas, and sheep to look at and pet. And given that sheep need herding, there were sheepdog trials. I was absolutely fascinated by those -- the dogs look like they were born to herd sheep -- they know exactly what to do and when to do it. I also caught the end of a frisbee dog demonstration which was very entertaining -- hyper frisbee-obsessed dogs can jump VERY high.

Toward four o'clock, I started to panic. I circled desperately around the same four buildings trying to decide which yarn to buy. I couldn't concentrate on finding something for the baby blanket emergency because I needed cotton for that. And since I can only think one project ahead, I didn't have a project in mind that I needed wool for. The sheer quantity of wool on offer -- sometimes for wildly different prices -- was intimidating. After much grumbling and credit card swiping, I ended up with three lovely kinds of yarn: some light brown alpaca (for a sweater) from A Touch of Twist, and blue merino (another Clapotis or similar shawl) and gorgeous Manos de Uruguay variegated red wool yarn (luxurious, tarty scarf) from The Needle Lady. I managed to squeeze the last purchase in while the vendor was packing up (whew).

A few more Rhinebeck photos are on Flickr.

Posted by csageday at 12:34 AM | Comments (0)

October 13, 2005

Dream, Dream, Dream

Although we missed the Laurie Anderson opening, we were invited to a screening of her hour-long high-definition film "Hidden Inside Mountains" at the Sean Kelly gallery last night. We drank wine and nibbled at chicken-on-a-stick and tried our best not to stand out like sore thumbs while Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson and friends circulated about before and after the screening. We didn't know a soul and didn't feel like risking mortal embarrassment by talking to anyone. Other than that it was fun pretending to mingle with the artsy folk. The film itself was beautiful and largely abstract, sometimes with English and Japanese text (haiku) superimposed. Anderson plays with shadows, movement, and language, and there are plenty of self-reflexive references to art and film and spectatorship. I would love to see it again.

The entire exhibit, along with the film, arose out of a series of dreams that LA was having. There's a large book with illustrations of dreams and simple written explanations. The centerpiece of the show is a looping film of a dream-like scene in a dark room that includes LA herself watching the scene in the foreground.

In "Hidden Inside Mountains", one scene in particular reminded me of sick dreams I used to have when I was little. In these dreams, my body is gigantic -- blown completely out of proportion (I can only see part of it at a time) -- and my skin is unnaturally smooth and blank. I'm like a cartoon or a parade float. Something about the vision is grotesque and wrong. (In retrospect, it makes sense: I was projecting an image of myself that reflected how physically wrong I felt at the time. The repulsion I felt was the nausea.) The scene that reminded me of this in the film is of a man dressed in white. He lies down in front of two perpendicular screens -- as he does so, you notice that a camera on the floor near his head is transmitting real time video to the two screens. Once he's lying down, he opens and shuts his eyes, and a grotesquely large image of his head fills each screen. It was disturbingly familiar to me. It works as a metaphor for dreaming while at the same time clearly evoking that sense of distortion and dislocation you sometimes feel in a dream. There's also the sense of being both in the dream (at the mercy of it) and outside of it (aware that you're dreaming) at the same time.

After drinking a reasonable amount of free wine, we wandered through the meat packing district throngs, aimlessly looking for something worthy of a post-gallery visit with famous people. Pastis was packed with people from out of town. Another place required cash and we didn't have any, so we started walking south. I had no idea where Fatty Crab was, but it appeared out of the blue so we got to try it sooner than expected. The menu is one of the more unusual ones I've seen. For starters, we had quail egg shooters (good if you like raw quail eggs -- not sure I'd do that again) and an oyster omlette. The omlette had a nice sauce on top and had a bite -- Derek liked it more than I did. Both of the entrees we had were great: slow cooked pork ribs in delicious sauce for Derek, and "Nasi Lemak" -- coconut rice with chicken curry and a poached egg -- for me. The meat was falling off the bone in both dishes, and sides on mine were good, too. Interesting side note: The waitstaff was all male, young, and damn good-looking (Derek mentioned it -- I was just quietly enjoying the scene).

Posted by csageday at 12:00 AM | Comments (0)

October 10, 2005

Fall Food Update

It's so sad. I didn't make it to a single OHNY event this weekend, due to various family- and baseball-related activities. Did anyone go?

For want of juicy details about a visit to the Montauk club or canoe trip on the Gowanas, here's an update on our latest cooking exploits.

I still don't quite have the cooking experience needed to "throw something together" and have it actually be good. I'm not sure if that skill comes from genes or cooking experience, but I'm hoping for the latter. It's frustrating when there's a fridge full of overripe produce begging to be used and I can't just, say, make a paella or something -- I know too well that my improvisational cooking skills still leave something to be desired. Having a grill is nice because just about anything can be grilled, but even then, things usually turn out better if I stick to a recipe. I'm hoping that if I spend a few years following recipes, a la Amateur Gourmet or The Julie/Julia Project, my "throwing-dinner-together" talent will somehow emerge. I'd love to walk through the farmer's market, see some arugula, funny-looking squash, and kale and say, with a French accent: "Alors! I know exactly vat to do vit zose!" (Regarding ze accent: I am very envious of a friend of mine who took time off in college to go to the Cordon Bleu in Paris.)

Case in point: I took another stab at chile relleno because a recipe for it on Gothamist looked promising. This time, I remembered to put the chiles in a paper bag after broiling them, and the skin came off much more easily. For filling, we probably deviated a bit too much from the recipe. We used gruyere, mushrooms, baby eggplant, and pomegranate seeds (I wanted to use figs but there were none at the Coop).

The pomegranate was a first for us -- I assigned D the task of getting the seeds out of the red thing we brought home, and he stared at it for a while as though he didn't quite know where to begin (he usually preps for new cooking experiences by reading the full history of the food in Joy, but I convinced him that slicing the thing open would be fine) Once it was open, I kept sneaking seeds away because they make for a good little snack (although the seed is a little bitter). The resulting stuffed chiles were better than the last batch, but still not fantastic. The filling just isn't interesting enough (chorizo would have helped), and the poblano peppers were a little bit too hot (it's possible that I left seeds in them by mistake). Oh well. Practice makes perfect, right?

On the positive side, we tried out a recipe from the Barefoot Contessa Parties! cookbook (thanks Mel!) for Grilled Herb Shrimp with Mango Salsa. It was fabulous, and the leftover mango salso goes well with just about anything. The ingredient list is longish, but entirely worth it. And since we completely destroyed our last shimp-on-the-grill endeavor by overcooking everything (a perfect example of rash creativity in the kitchen), I was relieved when the shimp came out perfectly tender and tasty with this recipe. It was a nice finale to our grilling-on-the-roof season.

On the baking front, I found a wonderful recipe for Banana Bread on Simply Recipes. I've always been disappointed with the New York Times Cookbook version because it's a little dry -- I think banana bread should be moist and as banana-ey as possible. This recipe involves using only a wooden spoon so things don't get too blended, and with 4 very ripe bananas, it makes a great loaf. It's fantastic with butter when it's warm. I'm definitely on a cake and comfort food kick right now, with the cold weather creeping up on us. I'll probably have my winter weight on by the end of the week.

Here's another highly recommended cake recipe that was a hit upstate this summer: Blueberry Pudding Cake from Epicurious (again, thanks Melissa!). It's lemoney and the blueberries turn into a wonderfully sweet syrupy goo. It's perfect with ice cream in the summer.

I'm starting to realize that my recipes are in a sorry state -- they're loosely collected in a binder and some are on the web -- if a website decides to take them down I'm in trouble. I'd like to find some good recipe-management software that could print recipes on index cards or something. Not that I'd ever be organized enough to use software like that.

One last thing while I'm on the subject of cooking: we had some great scrambled eggs earlier this summer. The secret ingredient: cream cheese. Worth a try. (Fresh basil and cream also works well.)

Posted by csageday at 05:59 PM | Comments (1)

October 07, 2005

Open House Heaven

Real estate voyeurs unite! Open House New York is this weekend (thanks Rose). Here are the Brooklyn listings. Last year, we went to the top of Grand Army plaza (after waiting in line for a while), which was very cool. This year, I'm interested in seeing the inside of the Montauk Club in Park Slope. I passed by the building on my way to the Brooklyn Museum last Saturday and caught a glimpse of a very tony party inside -- I saw a few 60s style cocktail outfits and thought the gathering resembled something more suitable at the Colony Club or some private Upper East side ballroom. It could have been a wedding, but it had a very exclusive society club atmosphere, so my curiosity is peaked. The Brooklyn Historical Society might be worth a visit, too. More details.

By they way, I love this photo from RedKen.

Posted by csageday at 02:43 PM | Comments (0)

October 04, 2005

Knot Lost in Translation

I had a wonderful subway moment on my way home today. I've been working reluctantly on squares for the baby blanket -- which may or may not ever be finished -- with some Rowan Calmer cotton yarn. This is something I like to do on the subway since it's small.

With the last two squares, I've spent the majority of my time untangling the humungous knot that develops, somehow, between the knitting and the ball of yarn. It's endlessly frustrating and I'm not sure how it happens. I've tried all sorts of knot-untangling techniques, but the progress seems to get slower and slower.

Today, I was sitting next to an elderly Chinese woman for most of the ride home. I could feel a few people on the train watching my ongoing struggle and I was doing my best to ignore them, but the Chinese woman was clearly getting more and more involved. She would lean in -- more than is acceptable by any sane follower of the unwritten Subway personal space rules -- squint, and then lean back again.

When I was pulling a long strand of yarn out of the mess, gently, with an expression of extraordinary don't-you-dare-talk-to-me concentration, she started SHAKING HER HEAD. Like she completely and utterly disapproved of my untangling skills. I was in full Subway defense mode now, desperately trying to cling to my shred of knitting privacy. I shoved the remains of the knot in my bag and started knitting with the extracted yarn.

The woman got upset about that, though, and was bold enough to REACH INTO MY BAG and grab the knot. My first reaction was obviously the pick-pocket one, but I realized while discreetly eying my wallet that my next-door neighbor was a perfectly normal woman who wanted to help, but didn't know a word of English.

She took the knotted yarn into her lap, flipped her hand at me, and gave me a quick look indicating that I should keep knitting, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was as if she was frustrated with me for being so inefficient and NOT letting her do the untangling earlier. So I went back to knitting. I felt a little awkward, handing off the hard work and knitting, but she untangled and I knit for four subway stops. I wonder what the other people in the car were thinking. I couldn't help smiling now and then at the whole scene.

True to her earlier criticism, she was better at untangling. I was sad that we had to stop when we got to 7th Avenue. I thanked her many times and showed her the knitting and explained that it was for a baby blanket. She smiled and I stepped off the train. I'm still getting a kick out of it -- I smiled all the way home.

(Note: Clever title courtesy Derek.)

Posted by csageday at 10:46 PM | Comments (2)

On the Food Front

The magically low-priced organic health food store, Trader Joe's, is finally coming to New York (not Brooklyn, alas, but close enough). It's going in the old Palladium space, two blocks away from Whole Foods and the Greenmarket and across the street from a Food Emporium. This is truly an era of dueling grocery chains. So much the better for the food-obsessed public (of the lox-loving, taleggio-eating, organic-locally-grown-tofu-sauteeing variety).

We now have Fairway, Zabar's, the Union Square Greenmarket, Sahadi's, the Coop, Whole Foods, a multitude of other fine food establishments with fabulous cheese counters, and Trader Joe's. We also have epicurious.com, the Food Network, and food bloggers giving us recipes and tips 24/7. So why am I not an excellent chef? I place the blame squarely on the insanely good restaurants in the damned neighborhood. God we're spoiled.

A food-blogger version of Survivor is in its final round, with two bloggers' New Orleans-inspired dishes facing off for the prize. The Amateur Gourmet is responsible for this Iron-Chef-of-the-Internet.

Two restaurants I want to try: The Little Giant and A Pizza Napoletana. Other possibilities: Fatty Crab, Stone Park Cafe, and The Spotted Pig when it reopens. I'm also trying to find a suitable occasion to convince Derek to go back to Al Di La.

Posted by csageday at 05:33 PM | Comments (0)