this print by etui, which i finally framed as a birthday gift to myself
the launch party for colin hearts kay tonight!
photo via KatarzynaNowak
visiting a dear, old friend in an old country
this album, my soundtrack for spring
rereading persuasion after a facebook quiz said i am like anne elliot
blossoms everywhere
april showers
a world where Susan Boyle is a star.
you?
My mom has always copped to having a very active imagination. As a girl growing up in the center of a bowl (that’s what the night sky looked like in South Williamstown, MA), she had to have imagination to deal with the isolation of growing up on a farm, the oldest girl, and too smart for her own good. Not unlike one of Pink of Perfection’s patron saint heroines, Anne Shirley, I might add. Perhaps it is not so surprising then that her daughter should have an overactive imagination, too. In fact, it was probably encouraged.
One of my favorite ways of indulging this day-dreamy nature is drawing up blueprints for different ways of living: what a day could look like (a spring day, a week day, a day in Paris), what a house could look like (if I lived in Denmark, if I lived in the woods, if I somehow snatched up a brownstone with crown molding), what my ideal life might be. And again and again, in all of these imaginings, there are familiar tropes: pops of color, cheery fabrics, vintage bicycles, strong coffee, and meals eaten with friends.
But people don’t really pop over for dinner much round these parts. There are dinner parties, which are lovely in their own ways, but then there is just the humble supper: a bowl of soup, a knot of bread, and a friend or two. Those meals make me happiest if only for their sheer simplicity, for the total lack of expectations on the part of either cook or guest. And lack of expectations, in my experience, often leads to something very, very good.
That is why whenever my sister calls to say she will be getting her haircut in my neighborhood and can she come up for dinner, I am overjoyed. It’s not because she never fails to bring Lillet and paté, though those are nice perks — I just wish she ate dinner at my table more often. Katy, consider this, if you didn’t already know you had one, a standing invitation.
And while we are on the subject of my big sister, she said I absolutely had to tell you about the article I co-wrote and researched for the May issue Bon Appétit. I’m loathe to sound braggy, but, well, there it is. My first magazine feature.
I know we all joke about lentils being the ultimate “I’m broke” food, but let’s take a moment to talk about how wonderfully delicious they are. The red lentil, most of all, has stolen my heart; she cooks up quick and velvety and is as bright as salmon roe, as cheap as dust. I am such a fan of anything starring this legume, in fact, that I plan to eat them even if my Mega Millions ticket finally comes through. In fact, this soup will be perfect for that occasion (once I’ve tired of champagne and paté, naturally) as it seems somewhat elegant (caramelized onions always seem do that) but could still be thrown together once I’ve burned through my cash and am back in the poor house.
This soup is, I think, the essence of spring in a bowl — the lemon brightens up the lowly lentil, the flecks of parsley send your eyes dancing, and the caramelized onions are rich and sweet, the perfect foil. Make this for yourself on a bright chilly day and I think you’ll be pleased, dare I even say dazzled?
I’m heading off to take care of some wedding-related details for the next few days. I leave you with this soup and some past spring recipes to explore. That is, until April 1, when I’ll burst back here at the beginning of my birthday month, ready to receive spring with open arms. And more lentils. Until then, friends.
Continue reading “Red Lentil Soup with Lemon and Caramelized Onions” »
image via magnummavis
How can you draw on nature’s rhythms, on the arrival of spring, for inspiration, possibility, and renewal? Spring is a powerful time to begin a project, to renew a commitment, to honor a pledge. What do you want for yourself in this new season? What is one goal that you have? In this season of growth, plant a seed of possibility by taking just one simple action toward that goal. — Aruni Nan Futuronsky, Senior Life Coach, Kripalu
Ultimate creative happiness was waking up early yesterday to act out my writerly fantasies — there was hot coffee in teacup at my side and the sun was shining through the windows on my geraniums — type, type, typing away and feeling so virtuous and productive.
I trotted off to work feeling as if I were finally living my longed-for secret life of morning creative work, before heading out to my jobby mcjob. I was so excited, most of all because I had something new to share with all of you for the third time in a week. And for a girl who once went the entire month of August posting once, this is a major improvement.
But ultimate frustration was getting home that evening and realizing the dumb and sour truth: I had forgotten to hit save. It was the most profound dope moment I’d had in awhile, and I was in such a funk about it I had to walk away from the computer, sink on to the couch, and watch Rick Steves for the rest of the night. And now, this morning, I think I’m finally over it.
So let’s begin again: The story I had written that morning was about my friend Alison. She has a way of putting a sunny spin on even the most treacherous of times with her unfailing humor and affection for the absurd. And so I knew she was the person to call one afternoon last summer when I was acting desperate and dramatic (not unlike how I was behaving last night when my computer woes struck, frankly) about something I now have no recollection of (funny how that works, isn’t it?).
Right when I wanted to throw myself on my bed and wail wildly, Alison chirped in with her sweet voice: “If your life were a movie, what would the heroine do?” Like other romantic types, Alison and I wish our time here on earth more often came complete with a score and some choreographed dance numbers. Despite my desire to gulp some NyQuil and call it a night, that’s not exactly heroine behavior. A heroine would put on a flippy little skirt, a red and white striped top, and go out into the world for a fresh perspective. And so I did.
I think my heroine would also eat these tartines for dinner. She would click into her little apartment at evening’s end wearing shiny red flats, a little weary, and make these quick, toasted open-faced sandwiches in an ancient, creaky oven with the odd bits of this and that rolling around in her icebox. The results, of course, would be miraculously delicious.
And that is the beauty of the tartine. Some good bread and a few tasty nibbles toasted together are all you need to feel sustained again. And I should mention, of course, that I got the idea from all of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The Tartine Way
Toast a slice of country bread, and then spread with a moist ingredient like aioli, pesto, tapenade, or the cheese of your choice, such as goat, gruyère, or comté. If you’re craving some real heft, add leftover roast chicken, prosciutto, smoked fish, or a poached egg. Be sure to also add delicious veggies like roasted red pepper, arugula, and tomatoes. If you want your tartine hot and melty, pop in a 425 degree F oven for 15 minutes. If you prefer a cold tartine, just pop into your mouth. The tartine pictured here is a union of goat cheese, tomatoes, and artichoke hearts. The next night we had pesto, roasted red pepper, and these Alfonso olives I’m having a love affair with. There are limitless combinations for your tartines, and that’s really half the fun. The other half, of course, is eating.
My entire life I have wanted a comfortable reading chair in a cozy bedroom and my own little herb garden. Don’t you imagine that Amelie had a neat little row of herbs outside her kitchen window she could freely pluck when roasting a chicken or throwing together a salad? Last summer I tried to make my herb garden dream come true, but I left some delicate-looking thyme seedlings in full sun with no water for weeks and, well, you can imagine what happened. This summer, though, everything is different. I have a sunny fire escape and the presence of mind to not let those herbs fry.
Continue reading “Fire Escape or Kitchen Window Herb Garden” »
New York and I took a while to warm to each other. I hated the impersonality of the city, the ferocious ambition of its inhabitants and the poundingly-loud bar I lived above. Winter slush kept my toes wet and my mood foul. Heavy groceries bags made my arms ache. Eight percent sales tax made me cry. Did I mention I couldn’t get a wink of sleep because of the damn bar?
Continue reading “Spring Risotto with Lemon, Asparagus, and Peas” »
With its tidy little packages steaming with juices and unadulterated flavors, cooking en papillote has always transfixed me. At the same time, I found myself flummoxed. Without ripping the package open, how could I be sure whatever I was cooking was in fact done?
Continue reading “Scallops with Artichokes, Tomatoes, and White Beans in Parchment” »
This month, POP is giving to Girls Write Now.
