This is that time of year when, stylistically-speaking, things start to fall apart. Any resolve I might have had for fresh-from-the-ski-slopes pink cheeks and pretty, imaginative outfits has given way to reaching for a black sweater (Is that the same one I wore yesterday? No matter!), my black cropped jeans that, on a good day, make me feel like Audrey Hepburn and my black comfy nurse shoes (which only a handful of people seem to recognize are so ugly they are cool). Black, black, black, blah, blah, blah.

That's why it's so imperative that I turn to movies for fresh style inspiration in the dark of winter. It's not just that Cover Girl stars the unthinkably gorgeous and gangly Rita Hayworth and a tap-dancing-never-looked-so-sexy Gene Kelly. These stars, both of whom make the screen sizzle, are reason enough to watch the movie (and it bears mentioning that Rita Hayworth is a really underrated actress -- she does a drunk scene that will have you suspecting she was a fly on the wall in your college years).

But it's the glimmering, shimmering, coordinating, Technicolor world of 1944 that'll make your head spin. We just don't turn ourselves out the way we used to. Imagine this: broad-shouldered jackets on women featuring peplums with sharp, colorful insets and seams. Hats -- glorious, over-the-top, fantastical hats -- sitting upon heads of big, rolling curls of hair. Gloves that show off a slender wrist. Men wearing handsome tweed trousers that sit at their actual waists, hair slick and shiny, shirtsleeves rolled up above their elbows. It's a look that's as dignified as it is hot.



Style Takeaways from Cover Girl:

• killer red lipstick = instant glamour
  
• sensible heels mean you can dance in the streets and keep up with the boys
  
• jackets with fitted waists show off (and create) a curvy waist
  
• luscious waves are just plain gorgeous
  
• neat little gloves make you look like a lady
  
• the lean years may be the most plummy and romantic of your life
  
  

Bonus: If you live in or love Brooklyn, you'll recognize the "We have to cross a river to get there?!" incredulity from Manhattanites and the scenic charm of Dumbo -- or at least a Hollywood sound stage version of Dumbo.

Posted by sarah at 4:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

I think we all have a certain type of recipe we clip again and again or ingredients that sing out to us, convincing us of yet another way to approach brussels sprouts or chicken sausage we must try. My mom, for instance, rips out one recipe after another for black bean salads flecked with grape tomatoes and cilantro and big, triple-tiered snowy white coconut cakes. I, on the other hand, am seduced time and again in my search for the perfect potato gratin and cannot pass up anything that includes white beans or kale, preferably together.

And so I stumbled across this recipe one weeknight. Though it can't be made ahead of time, I think this would make a good fancy dinner party main course for the thrifty host; you can really stretch one tuna steak between two people. And though the ingredients and preparation are simple, the flavors are quite complex.

I learned my tuna lesson the hard way when I cooked Sebastian a tuna steak in the provencal style and watched it turn from bright red to gray-white on the stovetop. He prefers his tuna, he gently told me, utterly pink inside. And though the chef who taught me a thing or two would be loathe to know I served it forth at this state ("all fish should be medium!"), I might be on Sebastian's side on this one.

And you? Do you notice your recipe file has one page after another of croque monsieur or German chocolate cake or just about anything with fennel?

Rosemary Tuna with White Beans and Kale
Serves 2 with lots of beans and kale or 4 if you split the tuna steaks
adapted from Martha Stewart.com

2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
2 garlic cloves, 1 thinly sliced and 1 minced
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
2 6-8 ounce tuna steaks
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 cup thinly sliced kale
3/4 cup water
1 15.5 ounce can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1 1/2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
salt and pepper

In a skillet over moderate heat, add 1 tablespoon olive oil and the sliced clove of garlic. When the garlic begins to sizzle, turn off the heat, pluck it out of the oil and discard, and stir in the rosemary. Then pour rosemary oil into a bowl to cool.

Season tuna steaks generously with salt and pepper, rub with half the rosemary oil and let sit for at least fifteen minutes. Pour a glass of wine and check your horoscope.

Heat remaining tablespoon oil in skillet over moderately-high heat and add tuna steaks. Cook until taking on a beautiful golden color, about 1 minute per side. Remove to a plate.

Turn the heat down to medium, and add crushed red pepper, thyme, and the minced garlic clove and cook just until the garlic becomes aromatic, about 1 minute. Add kale and cook until wilted, about 2 minutes. Add water, raise heat, and simmer for 5 minutes. Stir in beans and simmer for two additional minutes (and yes, I set timers), before turning off the heat, and stirring in the red wine vinegar and more salt and pepper, if you think the dish needs it.

Slice the tuna and serve atop the beans and kale mixture, drizzled with the remaining rosemary oil.

Posted by sarah at 8:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

Just as you will start noticing playing cards all over a city once you have your eye out for them, frames pile up on curbs more often than you'd expect. And because new frames can tend to be on the pricey side, I simply cannot pass up a free one. In fact, someone close to me informed me they think I have a "frame problem" since I have stacks collecting dust on the tops of my bookshelves. But my feeling is that you can put anything in a frame -- leftover holiday wrapping, scraps of wallpaper, fabric -- and you have instant art. Suddenly, when it comes to wall hangings, you have credibility. You tell the world, "I do not use double-sided tape to hang my pictures anymore!" and you mean it.



So when I found these old sewing patterns for a dollar each in a three-story junk shop in rural Pennsylvania, I knew they had to be snatched up. And when my favorite $1 store in the neighborhood commenced their going out of business sale, I knew I could get four matching frames for a bargain basement price. The planets were aligning! But why, my shopping partner wanted to know, could I not use one of the many frames corralling dust bunnies above my collection of cookbooks? Because I might need those for something else, duh.



I bought these four ugly yellow and green frames for $6, spray painted them a glossy black, and popped in these terrifically glamorous, wasp-waisted ladies. Don't they inspire you to cinch your waist with a belt, toss out some bon mots and wink at an old man? Me too.

Posted by sarah at 10:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)

Doesn't this just remind you of a quietly introspective fall afternoon, saddle shoes, and a bicycle with a wicker basket?

"Out of Circulation -- One" by Jillian Ditner available at Keep Calm Gallery.

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Perhaps there was a part of me that thought washed and chopped bags of lettuce were a cop-out, something Julia would never do. So I belabored my authenticity, really driving the point home that I am oh-so-old-fashioned, buying heads of lettuce, washing them, spinning them dry, and wrapping them in embroidered tea towels before stowing them away in the crisper.

Well, no more, my friends. Now I'm all about the short-cuts: peeled and steamed baby beets, smoked meats, frozen gnocchi, sacks of washed arugula, and trimmed hearts of romaine. These, I think, may just be the key I've been looking for in the preparation of the weeknight meal. Sure, in an ideal world, I'd head out to a garden where I'd pull carrots out of the ground by their fronds. But things aren't always exactly as we want them to be; and that, at least, gives us something to dream about. For the day to day reality of living, all that matters is that when I sit down, I don't want the meal to feel as if it has sprung from the freezer or a tin can. For supper to feel truly restorative, the food must be vibrant. It must feel voluptuous, simple, and relaxed, the way the best meals are.

And look at this. Does this seem in any way like a meal of cut corners? I promise, it doesn't taste like it either. So when my sister was coming over on a Wednesday and I stepped through the door only a few moments before her, this was the perfect thing to piece together in 20 minutes. Forgive me if I sound a little too pleased with myself, but I believe I may have just made a major breakthrough. But chances are you were steps ahead of me, so do tell: what are your go-to quickie but vaguely, you now, fancy meals? I'm dying to know.



Red Lentils and Beets with Smoked Duck
Serves 4

1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cups red lentils
1/2 an onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
1 teaspoon thyme
1 cup thinly sliced kale
1 8-ounce package peeled, steamed beets, or 8 baby beets, peeled and steamed
1 smoked duck breast about 3/4 of a pound, trimmed of fat

Heat the olive oil in a sauce pan over moderate heat. Saute onion, garlic, and carrots for about 5 minutes. Stir in lentils and cover with five cups cold water. Add thyme and season with salt and pepper. Raise heat and bring to a boil, then lower heat to simmer. Cook until lentils are tender and water is absorbed, about 15-20 minutes (you may need to add more water). Just before the lentils are done, stir in the kale to wilt. Serve lentils with thinly sliced duck breast and steamed baby beets.

Posted by sarah at 4:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (0)

My friend Amanda is one of those people who is totally together. She works out every morning and makes dinner every night, her shoes are never scuffed and her curls are always shiny. I suppose this could be annoying on someone who wasn't the funniest person ever, but Amanda is, so it's not. And hello, she's one of my favorite people on this green earth, so she could pretty much start eating small children, tell a rationalizing, funny joke about it, and I'd be on board.

But she doesn't eat babies, of course, she eats rice and beans. Not just any rice and beans, but rice and beans with the right accoutrement to really make them sing as a meal. Amanda uses short grain brown rice and tops the whole affair with homemade guacamole (mash up cilantro and a bit of garlic in the mortar and pestle and then mix with an avocado) and pico de gallo. And, scene. Learning that this easy-breezy bowl of peasanty deliciousness is a go-to meal for my personal model of togetherness helped a lot of things fall into place for me.

Namely that, on a weeknight, after you've come home from your kickboxing class, and the clock is fast-approaching a number dangerously close to your bedtime, you can hardly expect yourself to pour over a new recipe and measure homemade chicken stock. Rather, I should say, I cannot expect myself to do this. Deb, another personal model of togetherness, definitely can.

But after 12 hours out in the world and six hours since my last meal, I confess my mental functioning starts to break down a bit. I like to pour a glass of wine (another trick learned from Amanda), chop a couple things, stir something, and be done with it. The whole process should take no more than 40 minutes and hopefully a lot less (and that time allotment includes digging around in the cupboard for the salad spinner and washing out the saucepan I left in the sink the night before).

I like brown rice in my rice and beans, but I also confess to really loving the Goya yellow rice. I sauté one small chopped onion and two fat cloves of chopped garlic in a touch of olive oil until they are soft and translucent. Then I add two cans of black beans. I fill up an empty can about 3/4 full with water and add that to the beans along with a heaping teaspoon each of cumin and chili powder and let them simmer while the rice cooks. Sometimes I'll mash them up a bit. I stir in salsa, or whip up my own pico: juice of a lime, 1/2 purple onion diced, 2 cups grape tomatoes, quartered, a jalapeño, and a whole lot of cilantro. If I'm feeling really decadent, I'll top with some chipotle sour cream, and then I'm mmm-ing all the way to the bottom of my bowl, sanity saved and weeknight time constraints be damned.

Posted by sarah at 11:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm not such a fan of the New Year, New You phenomenon. It seems awfully presumptuous. A whole new me? There are parts that aren't too shabby, thank you very much.

That said, I do believe in any opportunity to reframe the way we see our lives and dream up wild ideas, no matter which holiday is causing the upsurge of optimism. These are, for me, some of the most inspiring places on the web:

May I introduce you to Victoria Moran? She is a lifestyle guru I adore who believes in pleasure, abundance, and living a charmed life. She has books, a blog, articles online, and you can also listen to her radio show.

A diet, and the only diet, I'm thinking about going on.

I have a big crush on podcasts right now, listening to them during mindless tasks and on the commute where I can't get a seat to read. Hip Tranquil Chick is hosted by Kimberly Wilson, a woman whose exuberance and seemingly-endless energy always astounds me, and the Poetry Foundations's Poem of the Day will remind you that words aren't just for spreadsheets and marketing presentations and can create artful works of beauty.

If you're looking for meaningful work, a job adventure, or just kicking around some ideas during your lunch hour, check out Backdoor Jobs.

If you do have resolutions, consider stopping by The Happiness Project to learn what to do when the initial zeal wears off. One tip? Maybe you should think about giving up one of those resolutions. See why I like this lady?

More and more, I'm beginning to think that quietude is the cure for just about everything.

Posted by sarah at 3:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

I consider my work on the Pink of Perfection to be about a deep desire to create beautiful days. The reason why I embroider and bake and love having people over is to add sparkle to a 24 hour period that more often than not includes work, commuting, and other daily drudgeries. But the one piece of the puzzle that I haven't quite gotten my arms around yet is supper.

If I have just stumbled through the door, sometimes in sweaty workout clothes and sometimes just with the musty shroud of the day on my back, I am tired. And I'd put my life savings on the fact that you are tired, too. In those moments, even if I know in my heart of hearts that pouring myself a glass of wine and throwing something quick together will give my day a sense of meaning, no matter how small, sometimes all I want is for someone else to do the work.

If I were to be totally honest (and you seem to like it when I am), I would have to tell you that at least once a week, and often frightfully more frequently than that, we order take-out. Even worse, when the food arrives, we clear off the coffee table and unpack the hot and sour soup right there in front of the television. And yes, when I was sick yesterday, I did eat that Cup of Noodles.

Are you still reading?

One of the things on my list is to do this less often. If I were honest with myself I would admit it's an indulgence that feels good only until I am sitting in front of a stack of gnawed rib bones and the coffee table is scattered with empty soy sauce packets and stray grains of rice. "God isn't finished with me yet," as my mom says, and I'm working on making sitting at the table a more regular part of our weeknight meals and not something that just sounds good in my head.

At the same time, I can't deny reality. I will probably always be someone who wants the feeling of being cared for every now and then. That means me changing into my pajamas while someone else cooks my dinner and brings it to my door. It also means watching Dr. Katz and not having to make conversation while I slurp down my noodles. I hope to do it less, sure, but to not do it at all? I tend to believe that would be cutting out a certain kind of sparkle a particular kind of day needs.

These reversible placemats will make eating at the coffee table a cheerier -- and neater -- practice. They will catch those errant grains of rice and splatters of sauce and a quick shake-down over the trash can will leave them clean again. Bet you didn't think post-take-out clean up could be even easier, did ya?



Reversible Oilcloth Placemats
makes 4 placemats

1/2 yard of oilcloth (1/4 yard of each print)
pen
pinking shears
sewing glue or sewing machine
ruler or a box lid or book to trace
iron

When sewing fast and loose like this without a pattern, I think the best thing is to find an object you can trace directly on the fabric. I used a box lid that was 15" x 12". Find an object around that house that works for you, or just measure out the shape with a ruler.

Iron wrong side of the oilcloth on a low setting if it has deep crinkles from being folded. Trace or measure out shapes on the wrong sides of both pieces of oilcloth. Cut out with pinking shears. Put one cut-out shape on a flat surface, wrong side up. Place the other pattern of oilcloth on top, wrong sides together and printed side facing you. Line up edges to your satisfaction. Pin if sewing and stitch along all four edges, or carefully run sewing glue along the edges between the two pieces of oilcloth, press and smooth. Let dry. Eat!

Posted by sarah at 12:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

To go go through a New Year's Day in the South without eating black-eyed peas or Hoppin' John (with rice) would just be asking for trouble. The traditional dish is thought to bring luck and prosperity in the new year, and you're not going to pass up an easy chance for added wealth and good times just by eating something delicious, are you? I am drawn to rituals and find this one, entering on the first day of the new year, a fine way to usher in good things to come. But why play hard and fast about the New Year's Day rule? As much as I am a lover of tradition, I'm not much of rule-follower. Cook these up within the first week of year, and I bet you'll be just fine.

This is the kind of "recipe" that is utterly unintimidating, since this is a dish cooked in a thousand homes in as many different ways. In other words, you can't go wrong. Add collard greens for extra wealth, use a jar of your favorite salsa to spice things up more, use a ham bone, salt pork, or bacon for a rich saltiness, or make yours vegetarian-friendly. I rocked mine out with a Southwestern flair, topping them with sour cream and lime juice. Even with just a sautéed onion, this earthy dish ushers in a sense of cozy well-being so welcome on this first cold day of the year, whether or not it will actually usher in bags of cash in the coming months.

New Year's Day Black-Eyed Peas
Serves 6

1 lb dried black-eyed peas
6 slices of bacon, chopped
3 fat cloves garlic
2 stalks celery with leaves, chopped
1 jalapeño, minced
sour cream and lime wedges

In a large pot, cover the beans with about 8 cups of water, turn the heat to high, bring to a boil, and let bubble furiously for two minutes. Then turn off the heat and let the beans sit for an hour. Take an alpine hike.

Next, drain the beans and set them aside, and use the same pot over medium heat to cook the bacon until it gives up its fat and is beginning to turn brown. Add the garlic and celery leaves and sauté until soft and translucent. Return the beans to the pot and add enough water until just covered. Raise the heat and bring to a boil, then lower to a simmer. Add jalapeño or other desired flavorings. Cook until the black-eyed peas are tender, about 15-25 minutes. One wise man I know says you can blow on a bean and if it's ready it will crack open; see for yourself. Serve with sour cream and wedges of limes and get ready for a super awesome year.

Posted by sarah at 10:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)