I recently took the F train to heaven: a trimming store in New York's fashion district with thirty foot ceilings and ribbons as far as the eye could see. They had unknown yards of velvet, silk, vintage, organza, grosgrain stripes, solids and polka dot ribbons (and this is to say nothing of the bolts of lace, tassels and some true trimming oddities). I was like Maria von Trapp spinning wildly in the hills of Austria; it really took all my self-restraint to not grab a world-weary shopkeeper by her shoulders, shake her, and exclaim that she works in the best place on earth.

But this field trip wasn't just an exercise in appropriate social boundaries, it was a brainstorming session, too. I've been tying ribbons in my hair and around my waist for a while, but I finally wanted to use these beauties for more than just personal adornment. I would highly recommend walking into a notions store armed with nothing more than $5 and a keen imagination. Home sewers (even bad ones, like me) are sort of a relic of the past, and these stores are bustling with an old-fashioned creativity that is really unmatched. And so the ribbon napkin ring was born!

These are so ridiculously simple to make before a dinner party, you can assemble them as your hair is drying and you're debating between liquid or pencil eyeliner. I also decided to throw place cards into the mix, since I think they're a really simple way to make guests feel special. Plus, I find that when people are first shrugging off their coats and settling in, they really do like to be told what to do ("Hey, Lucy, crack open this bottle of champers, will ya?") and where to sit ("Right next to me, handsome.") And it just may be that what's true for an hourglass figure is true for a napkin, too: they both look pretty great cinched tight in the middle.

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Forget kitchen twine (who has that on hand?) and pacing around in expectant circles, basting and changing the oven temperature. This is the lazy way to roast a chicken.

All you'll need is a 3-4 pound whole fryer-broiler chicken, a cake pan to squeeze it into, and an hour and half to sit around while the chicken sizzles away in the oven and makes your entire apartment smell great. This technique has never failed me in yielding super-juicy chicken.

A little chicken this size will make skimpy-ish servings for four, but I think it's best shared between you and a friend on a Sunday night with plenty of leftovers to use during the week in chicken quesadillas with chipotle-sour cream, late night chicken sandwiches with tons of mayonnaise, or a spicy chicken corn chowder. I mention two tools in this episode that are by no means necessary (I have neither but could probably use both), but certainly make things a little easier. An oven thermometer is helpful in ancient and sometimes unreliable rental apartment ovens. The thermometer hangs right on the rack in your oven, letting you know how hot it actually is inside, no matter what the exterior dial might claim. Clearing up that discrepancy sooner rather than later can save you a lot of heartache, particularly when you're baking.

The other tool I mention is a meat thermometer. It looks kind of like a needle with a dial at the end, and you can stick it right into your chicken (or leg of lamb or steak or whatever) to find out if it's done. It's a cool tool to have since it saves you from wrecking the presentation of your dish by cutting into it before it gets to the table. Since, however, we opted not to tie our chicken's legs together and left them splayed open in a rather unladylike manner, presentation might not be our highest priority at this juncture. All the same, each time you plunge a fork or knife into your chicken, you're releasing juices that really ought to stay inside to keep things, well, juicy.

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In the past few months, I have finally been able to pinpoint the ingredients in my recipe for happiness. It's my guess that my criteria for a rich life are not unique to me, and that's what the Pink of Perfection is all about.

A lot of people I know want the same things in life: to give and receive a lot of love (from a cocker spaniel, Mom, or, ideally, a sexy playmate), and find a way to express themselves creatively. I've found that if I can manage to also cook dinner for my friends and loved ones on a regular basis, I am well on my way to to a pretty peachy mood.

From there, a lot of other stuff seems to fall right into place: I find myself having cheerful exchanges with the guy at the deli, the line at the bank bothers me less, and I roll my eyes when I spill my coffee rather than having a Starbucks-style breakdown. In general, I am more present in my daily life and I look more kindly at the world around me. Not a bad worldview adjustment for anyone, I'd say, all for the price of pulling out the knitting needles or inviting a friend over for a slice of lemon pound cake.

I think of the Pink of Perfection as a guide to good living, thrifty la dolce vita. "Thrifty," isn't necessarily about doing things the cheapest way possible, but rather knowing when to splurge, when to pinch, and always being happy with the charming imperfections of doing things yourself. There's no reason why a lush life should come only to those with a plush bank account. When you put your precious time into your apartment, your birthday gifts to friends, your outfit, and your dinner, instead of just handing over dough at the cash register, you're living in the Pink of Perfection.

In the Pink of Perfection, we love the highs (homemade pate and Charles Jourdan) as much as the lows (street hot dogs and three-in-a-pack Hanes tanks), and we adore lots of vintage charm (ladies with gloves and cocktails served with rooster embroidered napkins). We are young, and we live in basement studio apartments with kitchens that may leave something to be desired. We pick up furniture off the street, and we buy chandaliers at yard sales. We plot to make throw pillows for the futon and we roast chickens in cake pans. We have to improvise a lot, but we have a lot of curiosity, creativity, and we love beautiful things.

Personally, I want to turn off my television more often and actively add more beauty to my life with sewing projects, big pots of stew shared with a gaggle of friends, and more red heels. If we're purposefully crafting a life, then we're consciously adding to its beauty. I have one window in my apartment; I need all the beauty I can get. Don't you?

So this website is at once my promise to myself for a creative, yummy, party-packed life, and a place to share those ideas with you. I have some party tips up my sleeve, lots of ideas for crafts with ribbons, and I may even break out the fondue pot.

Lest there be any misunderstanding, the Pink of Perfection is not about doing things flawlessly. I will make mistakes along the way, rest assured, and I will definitely opt for the lazy route in my projects. I'm not a faultless maven of the domestic arts, and I'm still learning along the way, too. After all, perfection is so boring and inert, but the Pink of Perfection -- that's dynamic, totally fun, and imperfectly lovely. So thanks for reading, visit often, and comment as much as you like. Let's play!

--Sarah

Posted by sarah at 10:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (27) | TrackBacks (0)