gin's miscellany

Digging for family dirt

2012-01-20T08:17:00.003-05:00

I was in Columbus earlier this week for a work meeting, and stayed with a friend in nearby Delaware, Ohio. She has almost exactly the same position as I do at Ohio Wesleyan University, and also has keys to their Special Collections material. My dad's side of the family has ties to that campus for over 120 years. My brothers, cousins and I broke a seven generation legacy by not attending OWU for undergrad, though I find it funny to have a tie back to the school all these years later. My friend's office is located in the Archives, so when I am in town I stop by to do some digging through some dusty volumes. This visit I found out my great-great grandfather's brother also attended OWU, and also was in the National Guard. The Archives had his official paperwork from the Guard, as well as some photos. What surprised me the most were some letters he wrote that were later published in a small Illinois newspaper (where my Dad's side of the family has its roots), and also that he was quite a short man. His papers said he was 5'6", though my dad said he was really 5'3" and that someone probably felt bad and fudged the numbers- ha! The Dresslers are not short people, so this surprised me.

I also went digging for some photos of my dad's mother, who passed before I was born. I have heard so much about her over the years- She loved to cook and bake, she had a generous spirit about her, and loved a good game of cards. My maternal grandmother often tells me that we would have gotten along famously. She also has pointed out that some of my mannerisms that are eerily similar to hers. I guess you will sometimes look to find these connections with your relatives and your past, though I have often wondered what she was like. I had my friend pull some yearbooks and student files and did some digging. Found some pics that my dad had never seen, from her freshman year at Wesleyan (1934).

Chipotles en adobo sauce

2011-09-07T12:39:00.000-04:00

Haven't blogged about cooking in awhile, though I have been doing alot of it. Summer-time means lots of fresh produce and sometimes even from my own yard. This year it was a ton of tomatillos, which mostly went into a bunch of varieties of salsa verde recipes, but I also got my hands on some different hot peppers from my volunteer job at Squire Vallevvue farm, and also got four goody bags of dried peppers from a friend who was in Mexico. I threw these all together for a recipe I had picked up on this blog. ***Warning*** Your house will smell unbelievably amazing during this process.

Chipotles en adobo sauce

Makes around 1L
7 ounces chipotle chillies (around 65 of the purpleish morita variety, or in my case, whatever you wanted to throw in)
1 large white onion, roughly chopped
1 head of garlic, roughly chopped
3 tbsp fresh oregano or some dried oregano (I used some fresh dried stuff from the garden. Somehow this is the most potent oregano I have used)
2 tbsp thyme leaves
2 bay leaves (fresh if you can)
1/2 tsp cumin seeds, crushed
4 tbsp olive oil
1 1/2 cup white wine vinegar
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
3 tbsp tomato purée
7 tbsp demerara sugar or palm sugar
2 tbsp sea salt

•Wash the chipotles in cold water and drain. Do not forget this step, as you will be amazed how dark the water gets!
•Snip off the stalk end of each chilli with scissors. This allows the seeds to escape.
•Cover the chillies with water in a medium pan and simmer 30 - 40 minutes until soft. When soft, drain and rinse off any excess seeds.
•Put the onion, garlic, herbs and cumin in a blend with 3/4 cup water and 6 of the softened chillies. Blend until in a paste.
•Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy bottomed pan until it is smoking hot. Add the chilli paste and fry for around 3 minutes. Remember to stir.
•Add the vinegars, tomato puree, sugar, salt, and another 1/3 cup of water. Cook for 5 minutes then add the rest of the chillies. Cook another 15 minutes.
•Puree the entire batch and enjoy!

This time of year...

2011-08-29T21:41:00.000-04:00

This time of year always brings mixed emotions. The 29th of August rolls around and I have an almost eerie clarity of the events some 6 years ago. I wrote my whole out the sequence of events as I evacuated New Orleans a few years back, but the day still strikes at something close to my heart- always bittersweet and always a bit offsetting to the day. I often wonder about the what ifs, but that never gets you anywhere. I was struck at a bachelorette party over this past weekend that if I hadn't returned to Ohio after Katrina, two friends of mine would not have met, would not be getting hitched in a few weeks and then who knows, since I was the common denominator.

I find every time I go back to New Orleans (which I shoot for at least once a year), the city is returning to its former self, but also starting a new chapter. It's still got the funk and the charm that is unlike any other place on the planet, but it seems to be making its own path. Just as I have- I came back to my hometown and found some unexpected turns. Another graduate degree, another failed attempt at an earlier twenty-something relationship, another shot of small town Ohio townie shenanigans, and then meeting Hall at the end of it all. So I can think of the what ifs and the 'where would I be if Katrina had not hit' game, but all in all maybe it took a hurricane to bring me back home.

Me and numbers

2011-08-16T00:54:00.000-04:00

I've always had a knack when it comes to numbers. Considering my recent trip(s) down a nostalgic road, I've often wondered if this is in part passed down from the grandfather i never met, or if it just comes naturally. My grandfather taught mathematics at Kent State for thirty some years. There is also a picture somewhere of him standing in front of the first computer lab at Kent (probably an 8 foot tall calculator, but still impressive in size), and math seemed to go hand in hand with early computing. I've found it funny that I ended up in a job where I rarely have the need for math of any sort. Maybe it's human nature to identify with your relatives, whether you met in life or not. All I know, is that all my life numbers have made sense more than anything else. I tested out of 9th grade math and ended up in some AP class my senior year. Math just always seemed easy for me. I never took another math class, but it was still my highest scoring section of the GREs, some four years later. Very odd.

In college, I took the route of the dreamer's life by majoring in art and minoring that first year in music. My dad thought I should pursue math, but it just didn't hold my interest. There didn't seem to be any challenge, and besides, I'd much rather sit through a two hour art history class and learn some skewed historical lessons applied to artworks. A daydreamer's heaven.

It's one of those things that is funny to think about now- like those decisions you make on a youthful whim that end up shaping your life down one road or another. Guess I just never pictured mathematicians having a sense of humor either... An uncle of mine has one of the best lines that I love to use regularly on the topic of numbers. We have long joked that he is an eternal 34 years old, and when pressed about how old he really is, His response is always "Numbers are so vulgar." This line never ceases to make me laugh, and comes in handy in a number of scenarios (Say, trying to recall the # of pints at last week's wedding...) Numbers can indeed be vulgar, and speaking of which, Hall and I have an anniversary this week!

My Neal Cassady

2011-07-28T15:59:00.001-04:00

I met him on a Tuesday night in the French Quarter, at some crappy bar/comedy club at the corner of Esplanade and Decatur. It was a balmy, hot sweaty end of the summer night in New Orleans. I had just finished a long kitchen shift and was in no shape to meet anyone. But my best friend managed to drag me out with the prospect of free drinks, which is hard to deny.

I really noticed his friend before I noticed him. They were a good duo- both in plaid flannel and looking up to no good. I was flat broke and out on the whim of the local film festival freebie drinks at this dive along the edge of the Quarter. And so were they, though only in town for the evening from Pensacola. He and his buddy Ashley slunk in along the edge of the bar to scope out the rumored free drinks and play some pinball. I instantly challenged them to a pinball showdown. But these boys were practiced pinball bar players. They whooped our asses, and we bought some drinks. He had a sassy line, and before I knew it, I was outside talking obscure philosophy and old punk bands. I was sunk.

We caught a ride to some lame party Uptown after the film festival drinks were cashed, and managed to disregard everyone else around... continuing to talk each other's heads off till dawn. It was the first time I had felt at home in a long time, since I had left Kent, and he was electric. If we slept at all that night, it was only for a minute. I had to be back at work in the morning, and he caught a ride on the Saint Charles streetcar with me. I leaned my head on his shoulder as the jagged streetcar shot up the rusty tracks towards the Riverbend. He sat patiently out back as I sweated out the first few hours of my shift and sent longing eyes and scraps his way. I came out to check on him every now and again, stealing a kiss or two. Time was dragging by that morning while I itched to get off work, and he was supposed to be back in Pensacola to meet up with his buddies, but ended up in my net for a week. Time seemed to stand still for awhile....

We would take the whole day to walk to my shitty evening kitchen job along the Mississippi banks. He stopped along the way to juggle his shoes and tell jokes. I was smitten. It was a short-lived romance, but I loved every single moment. I knew he would be gone before long, and I clung to reasons for him to stay in the Big Dirty Dirty. He left for a month on tour with his band, and came back to New Orleans for another phantom week. We tried to figure out some type of normalcy in our patterns, but we were both foreigners trying to figure out our path in life in our early twenties. He was destined for an eventual return Oakland, and I wasn't ready to take the total dive into unknown waters.

He is really one of my only regrets- I wonder what life would have been like if I would have joined his adventures, but ultimately just lucky to catch him for a moment. I have always thought of him as my Neal Cassady- Electric, on fire, and completely out of control... speeding down the road faster than anyone I have ever known since. He traveled light and lived large. Perfect for an early 20s romance in the worst way. A fleeting romance that would prove to me that life had some fire and adventure left in store.

I wonder where life has taken him, and if he's the same ball of fire that he was all those years ago. I've found that some songs or bands seem to be matched to the season or a person for me- Jawbreaker in the Autumn, The Cure for winter flurries... Jolie Holland's Black Stars has always reminded me of that balmy New Orleans trainwreck romance.

Being a bad example

2011-06-30T13:31:00.001-04:00

Teaching my niece some annoying habits on a Wednesday afternoon.

Pictures in my mind

2011-06-29T00:24:00.001-04:00

I never met my father's parents, at least that I can remember. His mother had died in the year before I was born, and his father passed away before I turned 2. As such, my father has always been morbidly aware of time. He's counted the exact year and number of days that his parents lived, and he has called to tell me on both the days that marked his own milestone of outliving his parents. The Dresslers and Doves that make up his family line have not lived long lives, likely due to the over-the-top, decedent German diet that they must have lived by (at least this is what I have pieced together from the recipes left behind in my great Aunt Virginia's cookbook which she entitled Ginnie's Gems-- which I will totally name my bakery if that day ever comes). Lard, butter, eggs, and of course lots of meat. These were the basics to most of the recipes. I have heard more than a few people talk about my grandmother's cooking and my grandfather's baking skills. These stories and others have become almost like fables for the little children who have never met these long-gone grandparents.

I know my father makes this phone call for me to understand this significance of the time and distance passed, but I can only ever wish I had gotten to meet them. He has said before they were his best friends, and their loss was profound to my father in his mid-30s. Numerous family members tell me that I'd be especially close to my grandmother, but I can only weave together the stories of their lives that are repeated over the years, and occasionally some truly personal piece of info from their life will emerge. Pictures can tell some stories, but lack in so many details. It was years before I learned that my grandmother had polio as a young girl and would walk with a limp for the rest of her life. I was also floored to find out my grandfather Dressler had a facial tic. These funny little details are left out of the portrait photographs that sit on my father's mantel, but seem to add some flavor to their character for me, makes them seem a bit more real than my half real/half imagined stories that I have in my mind.

The house my father grew up on is at the corner of Crain Ave and Miller Rd in Kent. There are pictures of the house soon after they built, just about the first house on the block of Miller. My aunt ended up with the house after they both passed away, and she often babysat my younger brother and I growing up. We had explored every nook of that house on these days, and it's the backdrop to a whole other slew of memories for my dad that I know I will never fully know. My grandparents seemed to linger in that house, at least it seemed so to a young girl. Some of the house had remained the same after my aunt moved in- the furniture, books, and photographs littered around the house. I think this spooked my dad a bit, though I don't think he'd never admit to this.

These vivid memories of the house and my grandparents would become a reoccurring dream that I have had for most of my life. In my dream, I come up around the edge of the west side of the house, and there is a cellar door that I have never noticed before. I open it and walk into the basement. The world suddenly turns from color to black and white. I find a room in the basement that I had not discovered before. In it is a couch, a couple chairs and a bookcase. I recognize some of the books as being things from my aunt's house. So it gets creepy from here- a door opens, and both of my grandparents walk into the room. They are one of the younger versions from an old photograph that I have seen before, and they greet me as if they know me well. I completely freeze over, in disbelief. I start to ask questions that I have always wanted to know, though these questions seem to change as I get older- the only part of the dream that deviates. I want to know who they really are, if they said and did everything they wanted in life, if they would have changed anything.. and so on (I think one of my questions for my grandmother when I was a little girl dreaming this dream was to ask what her favorite color is). I become terrified when I realize they can understand what I am saying, but they are both mute. I have no other instinct than to start running. Sometimes I will make it back to my dad's house across town in the dream, other times the dream ends there. I never know whether to think of this as a nightmare or something else- a half remembered reality with a little creepy David Lynch-like features.

Summer fare

2011-06-22T21:22:00.000-04:00

I love summer Ohio produce. Bring on the zucchini, tomatoes and fresh herbs. We are still weeks away from the sweet corn and boatloads of other veggies, but I'm already up to my ears in basil, mint, oregano, dill and cilantro. So I threw some things together for a summer dinner that turned out pretty well.

"Ratatouille" w/ Black eyed peas

1 onion, chopped into wedges
2 garlic cloves
3 tomatoes, chopped into wedges
2 T olive oil, divided
2 medium zucchini, halved
Handful of basil
Salt and pepper

I slow roasted the tomatoes, onion, garlic, S+P and 1 T of olive oil at 200 degrees for about 2 1/2-3 hours. This slow roast is totally worth it- the tomato flavors intensify and the liquid evaporates. We used to make sheet pans of this combination at a restaurant I worked at in the South. Our head chef had started out as a botanist, and had some really cool insights into the process of cooking from a non-culinary viewpoint. We had one tenderloin entree that was topped with a handful of this delicious combo, and we also had a wedge salad with blue cheese with chilled tomato/onion combo. It's good hot or cold, and makes a good bruschetta type topping.

I coated the zucchini with the remaining olive oil and grilled them to a nicely blackened state. Sliced these and set aside.

I cooked about 1 1/2 cups of black eyed peas under tender, and then mixed together all the ingredients and cooked another 5-10 mins on low.

Kebabs

1/4 lb Tuna steak, cubed
1/4 lb pork, cubed
4 T reduced balsamic vinegar
1/2 T thyme
1 T olive oil
Pineapple, cubed
Red pepper, cubed

Hall and I can never agree on the main 'meat', since he's not crazy about seafood and I don't eat red meat. He likes sweet whites, I like dry reds. He likes porters and stouts, and I like hoppy IPAs. Some days it's a chore just to think of something to cater to our different tastes. So I did 2 separate marinades for kababs- one tuna and one pork. Just realized that Trader Joes sells ahi tuna pieces- about 1/3 of the price of the larger cuts, and perfect for kababs.

I mixed the vinegar, thyme and olive oil and let marinate for about 1/2 hour. Added pineapple and red pepper for the grill. Reduced balsamic vinegar is good on just about all summer veggies. Slightly sweet, and so much flavor. I don't think you can ever go wrong with reduced balsamic- Great as a topping for ice cream and strawberries, and great straight-up with good crusty bread.

Photography for sale

2011-06-18T16:04:00.000-04:00

Check out the photography tab above, or this link for my first selection of photos available for purchase. Shipping included for U.S. purchases, otherwise contact me for more info. Other sizes available upon request. Enjoy!

Sifting...

2011-06-10T19:39:00.000-04:00

In the past couple weeks, Hall and I have been under-going a massive cleaning/purging of the house. It's been hard to believe how much stuff/crap has accumulated in under two years... This started innocently enough when I started to go through my enormous art history book collection to see what I could sell on Amazon (perhaps the only tangible way that my art degree has paid off so far?? ha!), and it has since escalated to a complete top to bottom house purge. While I was recently out of town for work, Hall knocked out the whole basement, which I had been completely dreading.

I have been easily side-tracked during this process, diving into boxes that had been stored in my mom's basement when I left for my master's at Leeds in 2002 and not opened since. In one of these boxes I found a set of slides taken during my senior year in high school. I had taken every photography class that they offered at Kent Roosevelt, and even spent a couple years on the yearbook staff. One assignment was to create a short slideshow and set it to music. This was probably my favorite project- There were no constraints on the content or topic.

This was also right about the time I had fallen completely, absolutely in love for the first time. That devastatingly, sticky-sweet, punch in the gut, first puppy love. Constant knotted stomach and constant scheming for the next rendezvous. He was a bit older than I was, and lived in Cleveland. We wrote letters and made each other mix tapes on cheap cassettes. He would drive down on the weekends and throw rocks at my bedroom window. I would sneak out and we would take endless long walks or bike rides through the streets of Kent with the backdrop of trains sounding the hours, into all my favorite lookouts and corners, talking well into the early hours of the morning. The hours seem to slip by without notice... though I think we were oblivious to anything around us anyways.

One of the bands he included on a mix was My Bloody Valentine. This seemed to be the perfect backdrop for my photo assignment. Dreamy, spaced-out rambling songs for a girl with her head in the clouds. The next time the rocks clinked my window, I had come up with a plan to explore the heating and cooling plant on campus to take some shots to go along with the song "When You Sleep" for the photo assignment. The door on the receiving dock at the plant always seemed to be open, letting out some of the heat being cranked out from within. He was game of course, since he was always game for some adventure and trouble on a sleepy Spring evening. We crept through the plant while I snapped away as he played lookout.

It was strange to pull these out from the bottom of a forgotten box after all these years. These frozen moments captured on film brought back so many memories of youthful wanderings and simple days. Alright, back to the sift.

Chance decisions

2011-06-09T06:40:00.001-04:00

"It's useless for you to say that belief in immateriality is not a materialization."

There was a story that one of my favorite art history lecturers told in my Dada & Surrealism class many years ago about a young Marcel Duchamp in Paris, seemingly at a crossroads in his life. He had studied art at an academy in Paris, started to make some unconventional paintings, and had begun his own exploration and deconstruction of art. It was one of those moments that only someone with total freedom and choice could attempt and pull off so completely. In 1915, Duchamp reportedly flipped a coin to decide if he should move to New York the next morning by boat, or if he should stay in Paris. I've always loved this story and the fact that his life and work reflected this love of chance.

There are so many things looking back that were guided by chance. I met one of my closest friends on my first day in Leeds, standing behind her in queue for course registration. We may have met later in the year, since we were studying in the same department, but somehow our brief encounter and shared moment of humor towards the seriousness of the queue in the UK lead to a lifelong friend. She invited me over for lunch that day, and she has since been like a sister to me.

So many choices and paths in life, it is endless to think of all the possibilities of outcome. I loved the idea of possibility and change in my post-college years. For about five years after I returned home from England, I moved almost once a year. I had my life down to less than a two-door Ford Escort loaded with a few boxes and suitcases. No furniture, just the essentials. I never signed a lease, and had almost perfected the art of subletting. I moved from the Gulf Coast to West Coast and back. I couchsurfed in San Francisco for about a month before the city bankrupted my small checking account. I moved to Los Angeles with the thought that I was destined for a big city. I was young & restless, and loved the ability to pick up and go. I think I was also waiting for some place to really "stick"... to make me take hold of something and not let go. When I grudgingly came back to Ohio in the wake of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, I really had not given thought to truly being back my home state to live permanently.

I think part of my rambling around was due to spending my first 22 years in a sleepy, comfortable small college town in Ohio. Another part was the fascination with this sense of the immediacy of change and possibility of a new town, a new neighborhood, a new coffeeshop. I had countless part-time crappy jobs over these years, but had also somehow landed two better fulltime jobs along the way. Sometimes I think of the people I have met along this somewhat random road of my life; a friend in L.A. who I sat next to one morning during my audience work job by chance and immediately clicked with our dark Midwest humor amidst many many mad mad people, or a sweet Cypriot girl turning around to meet another foreigner in a ridiculously long and proper line at the University of Leeds. Life is strange and funny, and at times completely random.

"Ah! if the coin could take a month or a year to fall, how well everyone would understand us! Fortunately it is in the interval of a breath that the thing is decided..."

Mr. Nobody

2011-06-03T06:42:00.000-04:00

For some reason, while I was standing in my kitchen making coffee in the wee hours this morning, looking out into the depths of our almost overgrown backyard jungle in a zombie-like precaffeine trance, I thought about my invisible childhood friend, Mr. Nobody. It was years before I realized how funny that name for an invisible buddy (since at the time it seemed like a very serious name for a 4 year old), but he seemed to have left a mark on my childhood memories. I visit my dad as often as I can when he is babysitting my niece, who has basically taken over my old childhood bedroom in Kent. Most of my things are gone and it functions more as a guest bedroom, but there are still the patchwork curtains that my mother made hanging on the windows, a small jewelry box with plastic trinkets and a few other things around the room that are leftover from my days in that yellow bedroom. I am often pulled into this room by my niece, and certain things seem to trigger these memories, like the open windows in spring and the large lilac immediately outside the window.

There is a cedar lined closet in that bedroom, and I used to go in and shut the door to visit Mr. Nobody. We must have had great talks, since I get the idea that he was an important figure for me. I painted his name in nail polish stolen from my mother's bathroom on my favorite small blue stuffed animal. I found myself laughing out loud this morning, wondering what my father must have thought of his daughter locked away in a closet rambling to her invisible friend named Mr. Nobody. When we would leave on family trips, I had to run back in to say goodbye to Mr. Nobody. I remember a Delaware beach vacation where I was desperately trying to figure out how to transport Mr. Nobody to the beach. No such luck. My brothers tormented me endlessly about Mr. Nobody and at some point he truly did disappear.

My niece reminds me of so many things I have not thought about in years, in her big goofy grin and habit of dragging someone around the house with her as she discovers every corner of my dad's house.
I'm hoping to spend the whole day trucking her around tomorrow, just hoping I can keep up with that pure energy and excitement for everything around her.

Aarti Party's giddy-up steak

2011-05-14T17:59:00.000-04:00

I love Aarti Party's stuff- Great flavors, blending some of the best, classic Indian spices with a Western flair. I adapted her recipe for tuna steak instead of flank steak. Delicious-o! Her chicken tikka masala is also one of my favorites.

Giddy-up Rub:

2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon ground coffee
1 1/2 tablespoons brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon coriander powder
1/2 teaspoon coarse ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon garam masala

I used this on 2 medium tuna steaks, and let it marinade overnight in the fridge.

Onion-Date Compote

2 T olive oil
4 large onions, sliced very thinly
Kosher salt
4 dates, pitted and minced
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1/2 cup water

Heat the olive oil in a very large skillet over medium heat. Once the oil is shimmering (not smoking), add the onions, a pinch of salt, and stir to coat with oil. Cover and reduce the heat to low. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions turn a deep caramel color, about 45 minutes.

I seared the tuna steaks on the grill for about 1-2 mins per side- though I like my tuna very rare. Also served with reduced balsamic vinegar to drizzle over. Nom nom nom.

Random recipes from random searches

2011-02-22T12:44:00.000-05:00

One thing that I constantly love about my job, is that a simple search will take you on a journey through a number of different resources. I have not been crazy about the quality of alot of the Google book titles, but there is something to getting even a junky copy of a book at your finger tips. I've been using some of the more recent filters to searching through the Google collection, and stumbled upon a number of cookbooks that are pre-19th century. And this one is the "Random Recipes" from the Society for Seaman's Children. Hilarious! Maybe not all winners, but fun to flip through. Warning: there is a recipe for a Tomato Soup cake that I just don't know what to make of it....

Remembering Owen Bowen

2011-01-12T00:44:00.001-05:00

It's hard to believe it's been almost 20 years since my grandpa passed away. I think about him quite a bit, considering I was only eleven when he passed away. I have fond memories of him- he was good with kids, he had a great sense of humor, and even in his last days I remember a real sense of generosity about the guy. He really wanted everyone around him to be having fun. It was contagious. He loved the way my little brother and I goofed around, and how we couldn't pronounce words like squirrel or ice cream. He loved to laugh. He was an all in all good guy. I only wish he could have stuck around longer. I love my grandma to pieces, and only wish she had had another 20 years with my grandpa.

They lived and worked hard. They got married young, and never had much money. They lived most of their lives in small houses around Akron- my grandpa floating around jobs, fixing up a bunch of houses as they moved around the southern end of the city, started having kids, and then he landed his only regular job as a pattern maker at Ford. I was gullible enough to believe his story that it was his thumbprint that defined the top edge to the Ford Thunderbird rear bumper. Kids believe anything, but my grandpa sure told a good story. He would run his thumb along the top edge of the bumper, and ask my brother Tom and I if we could see his fingerprint in the rubber. I always swore I did.

I wish he could have stuck around longer, but I am glad to have vivid memories of the times I do remember- I still have a perfect picture in my mind of my grandpa. He liked cheap beer, his worn-in 70's brown couch, and a good (or not so good) Sunday football game at their little brick ranch in Kent. I would usually fall asleep next to him on that worn-in couch as he watched yet another Browns loss, but these are the things that stick with me after all these years. I think my youngest brother is most like him. He is charismatic and a total salesman at heart. My grandpa loved to wheel and deal.

My grandpa was also a heavy smoker and had a lead foot. We loved cruising around in newer Ford as kids. He hated traffic lights in small towns like Kent, and probably was only really happy on the open road. My grandma had a great story of their trip out West when my mom was in high school. They had driven for days to get to the Grand Canyon. They finally arrive, and after a few minutes my grandpa can think of nothing else but to get back on the road and drive another hundred or so miles. I always think he probably would have found peace as a truck driver.

I have gone with my grandma to his grave just about every year on Memorial day. We talk alot about the man who was, and also about the things that drove her nuts. The years go by, and I can hardly believe that it has been so long. I have come to know my grandmother in a whole other light in these 20 years. She speaks with a candid honestly about the past, and I have come to appreciate her courage and strength. She knew my grandpa's faults all too well, but she also knew the things she loved the most. She was caretaker until the bitter end through his battle with lung cancer, and had the strength to move forward through these last 20 years. There are some days I still don't know how she does it.

Here's a picture from his days in the Navy

Summer travel

2010-07-06T05:57:00.000-04:00

After a long holiday weekend, I find myself getting really really really antsy for my next trip. A good friend of mine is getting married in less than two weeks in Trinidad. Needless to say, I am pumped. I have really never needed a reason to travel, but this be an amazing trip. First off, many of my favorite people from New Orleans will be in attendance (a mini- New Orleans invasion!), all collected from our respective homes and getting to spend a solid week vacationing together. I am looking forward to being a beach bum (see pic below) and trying out all the local fare and flavors (shark & bake!!. We'll spend most of the trip in Central Trinidad, and 2 nights in Crown Point, Tobago. Pictures to come!

Biscotti

2010-06-08T17:05:00.000-04:00

Tried out a new biscotti recipe over the weekend- Used some tips from another blog ('So I married a chef' to amp up the recipe with some cayenne (and subbed cashews since that was all that was in my pantry). They turned out really well- I had some chili infused chocolate left over from my stash that I usually reserve for my turkey chili. I found out about the second blog listed above after visiting the South Russel Farmer's Market over the past weekend. I've been really excited about this market opening up- We moved into a new house last fall, and I have been pretty stoked to have this one in bike riding distance. Commuting in 45 minutes each way most week days, it is great to be able to bike somewhere!

Anyways, I am a sucker for a good biscotti, and could not get over how easy the recipe was to make some delicious treats for the morning commute. Hoping to stock up on some hazelnuts over the weekend at a best little market by my mom's house.

First stab at GPS

2010-04-18T12:09:00.004-04:00

I borrowed a Gisteq phototracker from a coworker before my trip to India this spring. While I ended up busting the power cord a few days in, and couldn't get a steady signal more than a few hours at a time, I was able get a few gpx files from the little device. I put the files into GPS visualizer and took a couple screenshots

What I find hilarious in these screen shots is looking at the pattern of our Punjabi driver, winding through the streets of Delhi from the airport to the hotel at 1 AM

Our crash course to Indian traffic was weaving through a midnight traffic jam outside the Delhi airport after a 15 hour direct flight from Newark. This clip was taken a week or so later in Bangalore, but at least shows a bit of the flavor of the autorickshaws/motorbike/bicycle/car mesh of the Indian roadway:

Our trip to India would not have been the same without our affable pink-turbaned driver from the North

salsa, salsa, salsa

2010-04-09T07:25:00.004-04:00

I've been swiping my dad's old issues of Food and Wine magazine, and found this recipe for beer braised turkey tacos recently. They are delicious! I made it again this week and subbed chicken, and were still a hit.

The recipe in print was also accompanied by a couple new salsa recipes:

Pineapple pepper salsa
Toss diced pineapple and jicama with minced red peppers, cilantro and green chiles. Add about 1/2 T of rice vinegar and about 2 t of sugar. Season with salt and lime juice.

Roasted tomato/garlic/chile
Roast a couple of tomatoes with garlic cloves and chile (I used green chiles for the first batch, and then chipotle with the adobe sauce on the second), until tomato skins are charred. Blend with white onion and cilantro in a food processor. Season with salt and lime juice.

You will need one beer to cook the turkey tacos, so you might as well booze while you are making the salsas too. Thanks to Em for bringing up some 90 Shilling Ale from the Columbus Brewing Company!

B-Spot

2010-01-13T11:19:00.000-05:00

During the madness of the holiday shopping, we got a chance to check out Michael Symon's new-ish place in Woodmere on Chagrin, B-Spot. Vegetarians and pseudo-vegetarians beware: there is not much for you to eat here. Michael Symon loves his red meat. There are a couple chicken options and one lone vegetarian option: a veggie burger on the menu labelled, 'Why?' Oh, and Symon will gladly add bacon free of charge on this veggie option. And another heads up for veggies: don't even think about the french fries- they are fried in lard.

I did have some of the best wings at B-Spot- I got the lime/cilantro. They were delicious. And you get enough that you can share, or have some tasty leftovers. There are no apps here- everything comes at the same time. I like this approach, though I probably wouldn't have ordered the tomato soup with blue cheese. It was really tasty (blue cheese was all melty and delicious), but after those stellar wings, I probably could have gone without the soup.

Hall and Katie got burgers, which got rave reviews. There is a pickle station for the burgers and some unusual table condiments (a reduced balsamic 'steak sauce' that was tasty on its own). Oh, and for dessert, how about an apple pie bacon milkshake? Lordy lordy, that man really does love his pig!

Bit by the travel bug

2010-01-06T20:07:00.004-05:00

In just over a month, I'll be packing my bags and heading to India for about 3 weeks. I can't wait- lately it seems like time is flying by, and I am putting the finishing touches on the itinerary. I have found the hotel and B&B reviews on tripadvisor.com to be indispensable (and often pretty hilarious). One reviewer claimed that the pictures on the website from a hotel in Delhi to be from the early '80s and even took a picture of a fat cockroach hanging out in the hallway. Good to know. Many of these brutally honest reviews are pretty helpful when it comes to booking a hotel half a world away.

Our travel plans will take us through the Taj Mahal, Jaipur, a weekend in Mumbai, a trip through the 'jungles' of Bangalore with a good friend from grad school that we meet up with in Mumbai, and a trip to the Southern coast to hit up Chennai, wander throught the French-influenced town of Pondicherry and Mahabalipuram (below)

And maybe a day on the beach... The last 4 days of the trip will be spent in Delhi for the festival of Holi. I am pumped, though I have been warned that I will likely be going through customs with the stained cheeks from the colorful powders thrown during the festival

Grammy's date/pecan pinwheels

2009-12-10T07:59:00.003-05:00

These are my all time favorite cookies ever. I look forward to days and weeks after Thanksgiving when I'm in NE ohio, mainly for these cookies. My grammy's kitchen transforms into a full-scale cookie making operation. She doesn't even count how many tins of homemade goodness leave before Christmas, but it is alot! I start noticing in the summer the preparation- her freezer begins to fill slowly with pounds of butter as she finds the sales. Last year, I counted over 25 pounds. That is some serious baking.

Yesterday, I attempted to make these cookies, and have a whole new love and appreciation for my grammy. While the recipe might not look too complex, this is a major pain in the butt with the number of times you have to refrigerate the dough.

Date/pecan pinwheel cookies

1 cup butter, room temp
2 cups brown sugar
3 eggs, beaten
4 1/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
8 oz. chopped dates
1 cup of pecan pieces
1 cup water
1 cup granulated sugar

Blend butter and brown sugar together until smooth. Add eggs. Sift together flour, powder and salt. Add this to the butter mixture and refrigerate. (Grammy suggests overnight)

Combine dates, nuts, water and sugar into a medium size saucepan. Cook over medium heat for about 10 minutes. The mixture will start to thicken in the last few minutes. Allow to cool, though not too much. You want this to be spreadable.

Cut dough into 2 portions, and roll out into long rectangles. Spread out the filling, and roll up like a jellyroll. Refrigerate overnight in wax paper.

Cut the log into 1/2 inch pieces and bake at 400 degrees for about 8-10 mins. (Grammy suggests cooking on parchment paper to avoid the sticky pans)

Just down right ridiculous!

2009-12-03T07:32:00.003-05:00

I was having some Great Lakes Xmas ales with my little bro last night in Akron, when he shows me quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I have seen in a long time- the Chad 'Ocho Cinco' app. Really?! It sort of acts as the magic 8 ball- you can ask questions, and get ridiculous answers (topics include bribing officials & Tiger Woods). I do not have an i-phone (and probably never will), but i thought i would share.

Travel bug

2009-10-16T08:32:00.003-04:00

I have an insatiable travel bug. It probably began while I was in high school, during a summer in Mexico working with a volunteer organization. I've since spent a semester abroad (an incredible 'travel and study' program which hit up 17 countries in Europe), completed a master's at the University of Leeds, and have been trying to visit friends in their native land. In the last few years, my traveling has been limited to mostly local/stateside trips, but I am looking forward to two big trips overseas next year.

First off, will be almost 3 weeks in India. Planning to visit Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore and Chennai. Knowing someone native to the culture has been a huge factor in these trips- I love to see the living, breathing side of the cities, not just the view from the double decker tourist bus. I like to walk until your feet are about to fall off, though admittedly, this could be more difficult in an Eastern country. I always liked to wander around under the radar, though in India my travel companions and I are likely to stick out like sore thumbs.

My main goal for the trip is to see the Holi festival- something described as the Indian Halloween, but really it will be all about getting hit with colorful powders and hopefully witnessing some impromptu street parties. My friend in Mumbai is trying to prep us for the insanity of the city, such as the over-crowded train system.

My other trip is to attend a good friend's wedding in Trinidad in July. I am quite excited about this trip- I'll get to see alot of old friends from New Orleans, as well as touring the island, and spending a day in Tobago as well. As a tradeoff, I have been eating PB&J's just about every other day in hopes of not going completely bankrupt by these trips. C'est la vie.

If anyone has any India travel suggestions, I would appreciate it!

Miscellaneous miscellany

2009-10-10T12:24:00.006-04:00

While I was unpacking all the boxes that I had labeled 'miscellaneous' (note to self, do not do that again. 1/2 a dozen boxes of miscellaneous junk that I probably should pitch half....), I came across a pile of letters from the first guy I dated, well hell... the first guy I was head over heals, smitten, falling down goofy, completely in love with. Since I'm a sentimental fool who will undoubtedly keep these old letters as long as I can, I find myself rereading them again just about every time I move. It was before cell phones, instant messaging or email, at least in my world. I've always loved that I have these handful of tangible letters that serve as a reminder of this puppy love. I used to think that your first love never really goes away, or is at least the longest to shake off. I used to think that you really never get over the first love, not completely at least. Maybe it doesn't, but some days I don't think that is necessarily a bad thing.

These now yellowing letters and envelopes do take me back to a somewhat simpler time... We wrote to each other a few times every week the whole time we dated, even though the distance was just from Kent to Cleveland. Neither he or I were much for long phone calls, so we wrote in between our saturday day-long dates. I remember inventing some fictional sleepovers at a high school friends house to my mother that would give me the excuse to turn the saturday day-long date into an almost solid 36 hour time period that we would spend talking each other's ears off, and becoming so goofy and light headed that I couldn't even think straight. It was the best.

I had grown up around campus, so I knew every building with 24 hour access on campus and every Denny's/Country Kitchen in the area. I would show him my favorite spots in Kent, and we'd spend hours wandering the streets of Kent. I was 17, and he was somewhat older. In these letters, I remember how he was my introduction into a less mainstream, underground music scene. He sent along cassette tapes with mixes of his favorite bands, and I shudder to think what I was sending back. I still have most of these cassette tapes somewhere, but no longer have a cassette player. The funny thing is, he really did shape much of my budding interest in music, with these mix tapes.

It's funny how a few letters can send you reeling down memory lane, or finding an old song that still kills you every time.

ok. back to reality.

Favorite Cavs personality

2009-10-04T11:48:00.004-04:00

More delays on my writing lately- we are all moved in, but have found out that we live along a 3/4 mile stretch of Internet deadzone. Very frustrating, though a few people have mentioned that maybe this inconvenience could be for the best? Not having the overwhelming feeling to check my email every morning or spend countless hours in front of a computer screen that I am dying to get away from the 4 days a week that I work... Sigh. But it is an adjustment. While we are still looking for options to get around this dead zone, I have been reading more and getting more stuff done around the house, like painting, cleaning (ick) and the endless yard work that comes with 2 acres of land. Did i mention that the leaves are starting to fall in NE ohio?!

Anyways- A friend told me about a line of tshirts dedicated to the antics of Delonte West, who is hands down my favorite Cavs player... here are my favorites

Delonte on donuts

summer dessert

2009-08-12T09:57:00.004-04:00

so..... it's been awhile since I've last written, but my excuse is that we've been scouring 3 counties in a four month house hunt, and the last thing I want to do after spending all day in from of the computer at work is to start typing. Sorries. And the lure of a frosty mojito on the back porch in the PM usually wins out. (I bought a juicer a few months ago, and the experiments have included mulberry, blueberry, apricot and peach mojitos. The peach is by far my favorite, but here's a picture of the mulberry....

(anyone else getting thirsty??) Cucumber margaritas are also amazing. When a cucumber gets juiced it turns almost an electric green. Sometimes I think it's more about whatever I can cram into that juicer than what it spouts out.

One of my favorite local produce places is Stahl's on Route 14 on the outskirts of Ravenna. They're open nearly year-round, and always have some good stuff. We picked up some of the early Ohio apples in July, and Hall picked up their schedule for the fall varieties, and I was really excited to find some recipes on the back from locals. I've made this one twice, and it is quite tasty. I found another recipe that melted caramel cubes for the topping instead of the store bought ice cream topping, but this is less messy. I also cut the butter in half the second time around.

Caramel Apple Bread Pudding

8 cups stale French/Italian bread, cut into cubes
3 1/2 cups milk
6 T butter
3/4 C brown sugar
1 T vanilla
1 1/2 t cinnamon
4 cups Ohio apples, cored and diced
1 small jar of caramel ice cream topping
1/2 cup cashew (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In small saucepan, heat milk. Spray a 9 x 13 inch baking dish with non-stick spray. Place bread pieces into baking dish and pour over heated milk until the bread absorbs all the milk. Set aside.

Combine butter and sugar in mixing bowl until thoroughly blended. Add eggs, vanilla and cinnamon and beat until fluffy. Stir in apples and add to bread mixture. Bake for one hour until brown. Serve with caramel sauce.

delicious.

2009-05-19T20:47:00.005-04:00

I have a new favorite magazine. Someone left a copy of the UK publication, 'delicious.' in the staff lunchroom. Not only did the picture of a roasted tomato and rosemary toad in a hole on the cover make me wish my reheated leftovers were something else, but also inspired me to try out a new roasted chicken dish. I've translated the UK measurements below and added some pics

Honey, lemon and thyme roast chicken

4-6 pound roasting chicken
3/4 T butter
Zest from 1 lemon
2 T fresh thyme leaves
4 T honey

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Season chicken with salt and pepper, and rub with butter. Place chicken in roasting pan and cook for 40 minutes-- this time is for a 4 pound bird, so you can add more time for bigger birds. (I slightly changed the recipe by adding some red potatoes under the chicken, and also added some of the lemon juice from the zested lemon, and ended up using more honey than the recipe called for. I also loved using the lemons inside the cavity in my last attempt at roast chicken, so I also added these at the beginning)

While this was roasting, I flipped to another recipe in the November issue to prep while the chicken started roasting

Roasted garlic and thyme beetroot

2 beets, peeled and quartered
1 garlic bulb, seperated and peeled
Leaves from 5-6 fresh thyme sprigs
4 T olive oil

Mix the above ingredients in a large pan. You can cook this with the chicken for the last 40 mins. There is a suggestion to add a splash of balsamic vinegar right before throwing the pan into the oven. You can serve the roasted beets with the garlic cloves.

Back to the chicken.

After 40 mins, remove from oven and pour any juices into a saucepan and set aside. Mix together the lemon, thyme and honey and cover the chicken.

Return to oven, and baste every 5 minutes. The honey mixture really loosens up as it is heated, so it becomes pretty easy to spoon over the chicken. After 20-25 minutes or so, baste chicken once more and then turn off oven and allow chicken to rest for 15 mins in the pan. Serve up with extra juices (also makes a tasty gravy with a little thickening on the stove)

hungry yet?

Portage hike and bike trail

2009-03-30T20:28:00.006-04:00

A week or so ago, the newest link of the Portage hike and bike trail opened down the street. We took our bikes up to explore- the path now connects downtown Kent with the bike path that runs by Towners Woods and up through Ravenna.

We up the trail near Beckwith's

The path is pretty nice- it's paved and runs along the Cuyahoga and a set of train tracks.

I remember the old BMX trails that wove in and out of this previously wooded area, running past one of the places high school kids snuck down to drink beer, start fires and set off fireworks- since it was relatively secluded from the main part of town.

Half way down the path, you can peak out over the river to Standing Rock and the cemetery

The path drops you at one end of the Crain Ave bridge, which will be the pedestrian bridge for the trail once the new bridge goes up

favorite places and sounds

2009-03-05T14:39:00.004-05:00

Not so long ago, I used to go to a ton of shows, all the time, anywhere. (OK- before the 40 hour/M-F job thing which has unwillingly made me into a morning person). I used to rearrange my work schedule in my waitressing years so that I could go to any weeknight show and still pay the rent. These days I still see a few, but nothing like what I used to see. I even had a brief stint reviewing shows for a music magazine out of Canada, but gave it up after Katrina. My rule to myself was never to make comparisions to bands other than the one being reviewed, though I have broken my own rule below.

Anyways, I was thinking of my favorite shows and the respective venues, no particular order--

X, Sunset Junction, Silver Lake, Los Angeles, Summer 2004

I was a little skeptical about seeing these guys, since i hate when bands decide 20 years after the fact to regroup and tour, but they put on a great set. Plus it was a free street fair on a warm Los Angeles night. To me, X is the quinessential Los Angeles band- a balance of grit and glam. Exene was just as angry as ever, and even played a Knitters song with John Doe.

The Cure, Coachella, Spring 2004

I was a Cure/Smiths junkie in high school, and felt like a giddy teenager when they took the stage. By the end of a day at the Coachella music festival, you will probably be sunburnt, exhausted and probably pretty ripe. The chill of the desert sets in, but makes for an amazing backdrop with palm trees and setting sun as the headliners take the stage. (after all these years, i still have a little crush on Robert Smith)

M83, Knitting Factory, Los Angeles, Fall 2004

I've always loved the recordings from this band. Catchy, echoy BIG sound-- which has always brought me back to the sound of My Bloody Valentine. The Knitting Factory seemed to suit this band perfectly, a small confined space with no room for escape from wall of sound. A friend's band from Cleveland was opening, so i got to witness their soundcheck. I have never seen anyone so thorough- their French sound staff that travels with the band were placed at every corner of the rooming- almost calibrating the sound evenly across the room. This meant they were over an hour overdue, though it seemed as soon as the first song started, the irritable crowd was too mesmerized to think about the long, boozeless wait outdoors.

Kill the Hippies, Mantis, Kent, Ohio

I've seen this band more than any other band, and seen them the most at the Mantis. Countless Saturday nights in high school of made-up sleep overs or sneaking out of the house to walk across town for forgetable out of town bands followed by local KTH. The only thing about this band that ever changes is the drummer, and maybe their recent move out of Kent. I always took the Mantis for granted when I was growing up- it is more than a hole in the wall, BYOB, all ages unlit dive. It wasn't until years later after seeing Crimson Sweet at The Circle Bar in New Orleans when I mentioned to the bass player that I had seen them play at the Mantis that I really began to appreciate it. He told me that no matter what night of the week, they could guarantee a crowd of some sort. A crowd ready for cheap beer and a late night. A true college town in that aspect, but Kill the Hippies somewhere along the line became a staple at the Mantis.

The Avett Brothers, Morgantown, WV

Drove down with the Viper (what was that place called??) on a cold winter night- the place was packed to the brim with uber-Avett fans. Probably one of the last times I saw them before they really seemed to get the hippie/frat crowd. For a moment, I thought the Viper was going to get in a fight with the loud youngsters next to us, since he is a crabby old man at heart.

Rebirth, any given Tuesday night at the Maple Leaf, New Orleans

This band in this place is probably what made me really question where you see a show as it affects the performance of the band. I saw them a few weeks after Katrina at one of my favorite Cleveland venues, the Beachland Ballroom, but it just wasn't the same as their hometown gig. When I first moved down to New Orleans in 2004, my friend Lynn would ask every Tuesday when we got off work if I'd join her for a Rebirth show. Her description of the show being a hot, sweaty mess of people did not entice me on the last humid Southern summer nights of the year. Though some months later when the city did finally cool down, I finally made it into the Maple Leaf- very much a neighbordhood bar and out of reach for most tourists. The show always started late, catering to the restuarant workers like Lynn and I to get off the dinner shift. The band would play multiple sets into the early hours of the morning, and the charaters on stage changed about every week. I loved that they would often have more than one drummer, often with marching band snares and bass. There would be anywhere from a handful of people to almost 20 on stage performing on any given night. The place was usually packed, and the hours rolled by without notice. In my first year in New Orleans, I came to love that the loose jam style of many New Orleans musicians carried over in the streets and daylight quite often. As Mardi Gras season approached, middle school and high school kids waiting for the Saint Charles streetcar would play incessantly until their car arrived. I worked at a museum on Jackson Square, which would be filled with music from early morning until late evening. Almost inescapable at times, but always infectious.

here's a clip of rebirth at the maple leaf, with Trombone Shorty (here, the trumpet player on the left-- who is aaamazin

digital camera and procrastination

2009-02-22T14:58:00.009-05:00

I finally bought a digital camera. My first! Yeah, I am probably almost the last person to get one besides my dear old grammy, but I decided to splurge and spend at least part of my tax return on something completely selfish.

After this week's roast chicken dinner followed by one of the more decadent desserts I have made in my time, I decided to use the chicken leftovers for a homemade chicken noodle soup (complete with homemade egg noodles), and also try another batch of brittle. While I was waiting for the chicken stock to cook, I looked over the brittle recipe from Bon Appetite again. I decided to vary the recipe a bit, leaving everything but the choice of nuts and peanut butter the same (original cake and brittle recipe here).

I subbed almond butter for the peanut butter-- (also added a tablespoon rather than a teaspoon)

and a mix of pecans and peanuts for the dry nuts--

(maybe it's just that I like recipes that call for smashing things??)

The first part of this recipe calls for you to boil the corn syrup, water and sugar together for about 10 mins. It's a little strange to watch essentially liquid sugar boil for 10 minutes without burning, but after 10-15 mins the liquid very quickly turns to a dark amber.

Once the liquid has turned to a darker amber, you want to quickly mix in the remaining ingredients. I would give it a few more mixes than you would think, as the dry nuts tend to lump together. The almond butter seems a little richer in flavor and texture, and I'm sure you could make quite a few tweaks to the original recipe and still make something pretty tasty.

Check out the new super cheesy margarita glasses Hall and I found yesterday: 12 of them for $2! I cannot wait for summer.

Next new recipe this week: Lime pickled red onions

1 red onion, diced
1/4 cup fresh lime juice
1/8 cup olive oil
Salt, to taste
Fresh cilantro, chopped, to taste

Combine and allow onions to marinade at least 3 hours before serving.

In search of the perfect roast chicken recipe

2009-02-17T17:12:00.003-05:00

Recovering from vacation (which I still want to post some pics from the Krewe du Vieux parade...), I am back at work, beginning to feel in the work mode. And what better way to get back into the non-vacation mode, then have a few good friends over, make some good food and drink some wine?

Tonight, I am trying my hand at another roasted chicken recipe. Last time I loosely used Emeril's recipe for 'perfect roast chicken'. The lemon rinds in the cavity helped keep the chicken moist. This time around, I'm going to use another recipe for 'perfect roasted chicken' that includes an apple in the cavity. I am mixing those 2 recipes together, and will see what happens. I've put half a lemon and half an apple in the cavity, and hopefully Hall will remember to heat the oven up and push that chicken in before I get home from work. I also subbed brussel sprouts for the celery. I also love the recipes that call for a single glass of white wine, leaving the rest for drinking. I'm not crazy about the whites, but I'm sure I'll find some takers.

For starters, I'm doing a salad with a mix of greens (boston, romaine and spinach) with red peppers, red onion, figs, tomatoes, walnuts... with some goat cheese on the side. I can't imagine not liking goat cheese, but it was also the one thing I served Hall on our first date that he was too polite to say he hated until we had been dating for a couple months. I could eat goat cheese every day- just like I think I could eat sushi every day.

Last night I started to make one of the components for the dessert. While I was waiting to get my hair cut last month, I flipped through an issue of Bon Appetit and saw the most amazing looking cake. I made the peanut brittle, which was surprisingly easy to make (though the leftover sugary goo in the pan was not so nice). Another blogger who also tried to make this cake, ended up with delicious looking chunks of gooey cake, but hopefully my dinner guests won't be too picky!

Vacation, part II

2009-02-07T09:56:00.002-05:00

Another day of great food and great weather. Katie and I got breakfast at a little Uptown Italian coffeeshop called Il Posto. More of a lunch menu, but great coffee and different bagels with fixins. Also a good place to make the gameplan for the rest of the trip. My to do list includes a few favorite restaurants, the F & F candle store, and an oyster poboy.

We lucked out and got an appointment at Dave Noellert's (AKA Shaky Dave) newer shop (or at least new since Katrina) that's located at the bend of the Saint Charles streetcar line at Saint Charles and Carrolton. I used to work a few blocks down the street, and love the neighborhood. It's only a few hundred feet from the Mississippi River, separated by train tracks and the levee.

Stopped in at Parasol's in the Irish Channel to split an oyster poboy. Yum! This is a great place to be for the Saint Patrick's Day which runs right past it. They bring out some make shift bars onto the side streets and it quickly becomes a block party.

If oyster poboys weren't enough, we had dinner with my old roommate and her beau, along with Katie's sister and boyfriend in town from NYC at Herbsaint in the warehouse district. We split some tasty apps, shrimp bisque, an arugula salad with roasted beets and a yummy homemade burrata cheese, and a jumbo shrimp entree with a cauliflower popcorn rice gratin. Deeeelicious. And if that wasn't enough for food coma, we split a panna cotta and a strawberry and fennel crisp topped with goat's milk ice cream. Now that is enough for food coma!

Oyster poboy- check!

Vacation!

2009-02-06T09:49:00.003-05:00

Currently in the great state of Louisiana back in New Orleans for the kick off pre-pre-Mardi Gras parade, Krewe du Vieux. It's my favorite of the parades, mostly since it is nearly three weeks before the tourists get to town and the town is still somewhat intact. The calm before the storm?

The parade barricades are stacked at almost every street corner along Saint Charles Avenue in anticipation of Mardi Gras, and many restaurants, bars and houses now don purple, green and gold colors of Mardi Gras. Last night after a tasty Vietnamese dinner at Tan Dinh, we headed to Vaughn's to catch local trumpeter Kermit Ruffins. He's played every Thursday night at this small Bywater bar for as long as anyone can remember. What's great about Thursday nights, is that your door charge will also get you unlimited red beans and rice, which in the spring and summer is served out of the bed of a pick up truck parked in front of the bar. This is the kind of nights I liked when I lived here- a very local scene, mixed between the weathered Bywater residents and some of the less annoying college students from Uptown.

We ended the night with a few Abita Ambers at St. Joe's bar on Magazine Street. One of the best outside patios, decorated with ornate mosaics and huge muted glass orbs hanging from every possible inch of the ceiling. A much needed break for the freezing temps of NE Ohio!

Cookin up a storm

2009-01-26T20:26:00.005-05:00

Just got a cookbook of collected recipes that have been reprinted in the Times Picayune since Katrina. People who had lost it all wanted their favorite family recipes back, and maybe a little flavor of the city while they were miles away from home. I had caught part of the segment on NPR a few weeks before Christmas and selfishly added it to my amazon order. Crazy array of recipes, but some really great apps (bbq NOLA style shrimp and grits) and alcohol-laced desserts. It was interesting to find one recipe for turkey legs that were cooked in the microwave, since the paper wanted to print recipes for those stranded in motels or other places in the weeks and months immediately following Katrina.

Tonight while I was driving home I was thinking about why I love to cook. This brought me thinking about a Eva Hesse conference I attended in Leeds while her retrospective was up at the Tate Modern in London. I love her stuff- irregular, lopsided molds with a kind of earthy feel to synthetic materials. Her boyfriend/studio assistant who gave a talk during the conference described Hesse as being obsessed with the process of art, not so much the product of the obsession. Her larger works heavily relied on process- she was one of the first artists to use and experiment with latex, fiberglass and other plastics. Many studio artists feel a compulsion to create, whether to draw, paint or sculpt... and in the process of doing is what satisfies the drive to create. Then does the process take precedent over the work?

I also thought about my old boss in L.A. She had run a small art gallery in Little Toyko for many years, and her release after a long day at work and a grueling drive home was gardening. For her, it was a complete disconnect from the art world, and perhaps her own private paradise. I always told her my after hours diversion was cooking or baking. Especially those dishes I've come to love and make over and over, the process is what I find to be the best part. Sure, the product goes to good use, but I love the chopping, measuring, sauteing, blending. For me, bread is probably the most therapeutic and most involved, but I really love it all... except the dirty dishes. Good thing I found a guy that will do my dishes.

Or maybe it just runs in the family? I am definitely daddy's little girl, and my dad and I spent many hours in the kitchen baking up a storm. My great-aunt Ginnie, who i never met, but ended up with both her first and middle names, published a cookbook called 'Ginnie's Gems', which I want to start putting up here, in addition to my own recipes, whether borrowed from my many kitchen jobs or those others I've stumbled across over the years.

Tonight I made what might be my new favorite salad. I mixed romaine and spinach with blue cheese crumbles, red peppers, figs, cukes, tomatoes and walnuts. Top it all off, I made a pretty simple chicken dish with some roasted potatoes.

My style lemon chicken

2 boneless chicken breasts, pounded out to about 1/2 inch thick
1 lemon, juiced
1/2 cup white wine (I think the drier, the better)
1/4 cup flour
Paprika
Cayenne
Salt
Pepper
1 chicken bouillon cube
2 T olive oil

Heat oil in medium-hot pan. Mix flour, paprika, cayenne, salt and pepper and place onto shallow plate. I usually eyeball the spices, but it really depends on how much spice and heat you like. Dip each side of the chicken into the flour mixture. Not much of the flour will stick, so don't worry too much about coating heavily. Cook each side 3-5 mins. Remove chicken from pan, turn up heat and add lemon juice, wine and bouillon cube. Stir quickly and deglaze the pan. The wine will reduce, and pour a few tablespoons over the chicken breast. You'll have some extra sauce left, which I like to put on the side. Yum!

Ohio day trip

2008-12-05T08:24:00.006-05:00

What better way to spend a day off than driving through the heart of Ohio? Yesterday I took a mini roadtrip an hour or so of where I live in Northeast Ohio. I started the day with breakfast in Canal Fulton at Sister’s Century House Restaurant. One of the best omelets I have eaten in quite a long time- fluffy, just greasy enough, plus sourdough toast on top.

Then, I stopped in at the Ashery Country Store in Fredricksburg, just across the Holmes county border. They're known for their bulk spices, but I guess I was hoping for more variety. They did have some bargains though- a tub of cinnamon sticks, a vanilla bean and a homemade curry for under $3 for all. Plus anyplace with free samples of toffee/chocolate covered pretzels gets my vote. It's also the only place I've actually seen MSG for sale.

A short drive back up north to Wayne county, and a stopover through downtown Wooster (real cutesy downtown), the Smucker's retail store, Lehman's (neat old timey Amish store- great kitchen section), and lunch at Das Dutch. Lots of xmas presents found, good food, plus enough Amish and buggy sitings to tide me over until the New Year.

Post robble robble

2008-11-28T08:18:00.009-05:00

I've always wanted to see a train derailment. Couldn't tell you why- maybe something to do with the scale of things- not that I want anyone to get hurt, but I guess I just want to see a big pile of metal. I had come across a photo while I was working in Special Collections at Kent, which my dad remembers happening sometime in the 70's.

Maybe I like that everything gets held up for a little while? Or the massiveness and destruction of train compartments looking like crumpled up tin cans?

Well, anyways I got my wish. Last Thursday just down the tracks from the 70's crash, a train derailed near the Crain Ave. bridge in Kent. I actually heard a news clip on the Cleveland traffic report. Noone was hurt, but there were about 9 cars carrying coal that were crumpled up along the sides of the track when I finally got to peak around Saturday afternoon.

Here's some pics, courtesy of our friends at the Record Courier.

All hail Christmas Ale

2008-11-10T08:44:00.006-05:00

Tis the season for Great Lakes Christmas Ale. A few pints of this beer will lead directly to Blackout Island- one way ticket, no stops or detours. It's kinda like Girl Scout cookies- the anticipation all year is so intense, that once those cookies hit your office kitchen counter, there is no other choice but to gorge yourself on as many Caramel Delites you can get in your mouth before you get caught with your hand in the cookie box.

This year's batch debuted a little later than past years, which is probably a good thing. Usually the first time I remember seeing it on tap, is in the middle of another blurry Halloween event in Kent. My first pint this year was at the Euclid Tavern, which I had not set foot in since it had closed years before. The bartender asked if this year's batch was better than the previous year, but it's so hard to gauge an almost wiped out memory from the year before (due entirely to the potency of the ale).

I've been told that my buddy Burke who bartends at the Zephyr in Kent (and more importantly, creator of 'The Christmas Story' shot that mixes the ale with Bailey's and franjelica) was dedicated the first shot of the season to Obama last Tuesday night.

I started the weekend out right with a six pack. Much better on draft, but a gal really shouldn't complain about a six pack which only requires 3 or 4 to start the journey to Blackout Island.

Halloween record setting

2008-11-03T08:54:00.003-05:00

I love this- in addition to the normal chaos of Frenchman Street in the Marigny on Halloween night, this year my friend Katie and my old roommate Marianne participated in an attempt to break a world record- to get as many people together to do the Thriller dance at the same time. Some pics.

and a video-

My Halloween record? Getting a parking ticket and sideswiped in the same day. Harumpfh.

Broken Hymns, Limbs And Skin

2008-10-29T07:23:00.003-04:00

I am really liking the new album from O'Death. I caught their live set over the summer, which was pretty insane. The spastic punk quality with banjo, violin and crackling vocals, which I can't help thinking of being at least somewhat inspired by Tom Waits, both in the quirky compositions and at moments some of the vocals (or at least, so it seems in my head). Their drummer was one of my favorite parts of the live set- he seems to push the madness and energy of the band over the edge.

here's one of the songs off the new album - in a seemingly makeshift beachfront performance

Travelin' woman

2008-10-24T13:22:00.007-04:00

I love to travel. Short trips, long trips, i love them all. Too long between trips, and I tend to get grouchy. A short trip to Pennsylvania over the summer was all I had done until a short trip a few weeks ago to the Delaware coast. It was really great to get away, even if it was only for a few days. I want to take some sort of big trip next spring, since my passport is expiring in May. This particular passport has taken me through most of Europe, Cyprus and Peru. It's definitely got some mileage. I've been thinking about Puerto Rico, since I have some free flight vouchers for continental 48/puerto rico (go figure!), and it would be good to practice my half-ass Spanish. Puerto Rico wouldn't need a stamp, but maybe i'll beg for a stamp like a little kid when i get to customs.

In the meantime, I've taken some time in early November off, and now I need to make a decision where to go. It's a toss up between New Orleans and New York. I'm still waiting on one call-back to see if I can use my voucher for New Orleans, and Hall's never been to either city. If New Orleans doesn't work out this time, my plan is to really try to get to this year's Krewe du Vieux. It's the unofficial start to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, about three weeks before Mardi Gras day. Krewe du Vieux is really unusual- no large floats (everything is on foot or pulled by horse); one of the few to parade through the French Quarter (most stop on Canal along of the edge of the Quarter- though Saint Anne's is a great one Mardi Gras day), and it's pretty crude. It's also my personal favorite parade- no grand floats, Trombone Shorty and Rebirth is usually in it, and lots of makeshift costumes. And of course, the crude humor and jokes. I saw the parade in 2004 and 2005 while I was living there; themes were The Quest for Immorality and WWKdVD? (What Would Krewe du Vieux Do?). Krewe du Vieux was the first parade after Katrina, and in 2006 was named “C'est Levee”. Good lord. FEMA was the butt of many jokes that day, as well as the taped abandoned refrigerators that were still likely littering the city.

This year it's in early Feburary....

and... bird's eye view of the afterparty on Frenchman St.

i love that city!

Listen down memory lane

2008-10-22T07:43:00.005-04:00

So I'm turning 30 next spring. There are definitely times when it hits me- like running into someone out of the blue and thinking that I've known for 15 years. And like that reunion show last weekend at the Zephyr (flashback 1996).... and i've also been going through my CD collection, listening to albums i have not listened to in years on my way to work.

Albums that really make a girl feel like she's getting O-L-D

Universal Order Of Armageddon, Switch is Down

sleater-kinney, self-titled

Man, o man. i love you tubes random crap. Had no idea velocity girl made a video.

Weekend shows

2008-10-20T07:02:00.005-04:00

Busy weekend. Friday was an Obama fundraiser at the Civic Theater in downtown Akron with three Akron area legends. I love the Civic- old, ornate... just a great place to see a show. The Black Keys started off the show- a half hour set of some of their more recent songs. Some political banter I guess was to be expected, though I was there more for the show than to hear the mayor of Akron and others. Chrissie Hynde played a pretty meager three song set, followed by almost an hour's music from Devo. These guys are still something to see- still very lively; dressed in distinctive red hats and yellow suits. I was surprised to remember how many Devo songs I knew out of the hour set. They probably played all their 'hits'- it seemed like most of the crowd was there to see them. Some people came dressed in pieces of Devo gear, and the elaborate film intro only heightened the excitement before their set.

Saturday, Hall and I went to Kent to make an effort to see two shows in one night. We met up with panko, rick and the erratic epicurean at Ray's for dinner to start the night off. We headed to JB's to see the Ravenna Arsenal and 17 evil inches of force. Ravenna arsenal seemed to be dead on- really tight vocals and a drummer who reminds me of Animal from the muppets. And with song names like 'Louisiana Swamp donkey', how can you go wrong? 17 evil inches of force are vikings who have decided to play metal. Enough said.

We headed down to the Zephyr to catch This Moment in Black History and the reunion of Harriet the Spy. So nuts. This was a band i used to see quite a bit when i was in high school. It was surreal to say the least. People I had not seen in years were out. Dave joked that they had tried to book the show at Europe Gyro and that singing lyrics you wrote when you were 22 seems a little ridiculous. It was funny to witness a reunion of people that I never thought would give it the time of day to think about playing again. Of course, i still knew all the songs as if I had heard them yesterday, and Joel's stage banter is just about my favorite thing in the world.

P.S. Thanks Pat Hu for a video!

Chuckie Egg

2008-10-14T11:04:00.002-04:00

So my job is kinda nerdy sometimes. And I guess the fact that I'm back in school again also shows another nerdiness. I'm in a digital preservation class this semester and one of the cooler things we read about in class was the emulation of old video games. Are the newer emulations better than the flickering screens of old? You tell me

Chuckie Egg, 1983 on commodore 64

Who knew September was so rockin?!

2008-09-24T22:59:00.004-04:00

Every Tuesday this month is packed full of good shows for some strange coincidence. I used to live and die for local shows. Now, it's pretty lucky if I can make it to one a week.

This month started off with Ra Ra Riot, with openers Jupiter One at Case's 'The Spot'. Not sure what to expect, I stopped in at the Barking Spider before the show. My first visit to both places that night- Barking Spider seems like a great setting for acoustic music- really laid-back, great beer selection and dimly lit. My one big qualm: $3.50 for a Great Lakes beer served in a tiny plastic cup. (Boooo!) Next time I will have to go the pitcher route, but there's something about drinking a good beer from a bad container that even violates a crappy beer drinker's palette. But the Spot made up the difference. $1.75 for any bottled beer, and they had some good stuff. (Hoegaarden!!). The Spot is not the best place for sound- low ceilings, and a feel that combined a basement of a dorm with a school cafeteria (thanks more to the wafting smells of plates of cheap wings being sold with the cheap bottle).

Jupiter One was good- lots of energy, plus an occasional violin thrown into the indie pop mix. I had not heard any of Ra Ra Riot's music until that week (thanks, Roger!), but loved the set. Floating, melodic vocals drifted above lush undertones of guitar, bass, violin, electric cello and the occasional piano.

Next week was Jessica Lea Mayfield at the Beachland Tavern. I really love Mayfield's sparse guitar and voice. Not only because Mayfield is a Kentite, but there is a depth to this young woman's music that is beyond her 19 years. She's been playing locally for who knows how long (Europe Gyro, Zephyr, Kent Stage), but has been gaining momentum on her national touring. Lucky for her, she also knows some of the right people. Guitarist Mike Lenz and Bassist and brother David Mayfield played part of the set to help fill out some of the sound, and kicked up the pace. Black Keys guitarist Dan Auerbach was milling about for the set, who Mayfield has worked with previously. I find her vocals to be quite haunting... often finding myself humming them the next day.

Another local group The Magpies opened (former Roger Hoover and The Whiskeyhounds) the show with a different vibe- more bluesy, and very well-crafted songwriting. These guys have been playing together for awhile, but still have an energetic stage presence- particularly the keyboard player. Balancing his tallboy PBR while hoisting his foot up to the keyboard was one of his tricks. Usually it's the drummer who has the disjointed, funny faces, but this guy had him beat.

Last night I saw Neko Case at the Beachland Ballroom. My first time seeing her live, and the place was sold out. Packed in like sardines, I lucked out and found a place along the left side that was set back just enough that my ears weren't ringing today. What an incredible performer. I love random stage banter, and Neko had plenty. But she also has a precision and grace in her live act that I've only seen a few other times, without being too staged or sounding exactly like the album. (Low is the one band that I have yet to see miss a single note in their live shows). Neko restarted one song and flubbed a bit, but it fit into her goofy sidenotes and stories between songs. She played some new songs off her upcoming album (Middle Cyclone) and older favorites from Fox Confessor and Blacklisted.

For being packed in like sardines, I was convined that Neko's growing popularity and the nitwits who were standing behind me, would entail crowd sing-alongs. This is one of my biggest pet peeves. The chatty cathys grouped behind me would have fit into this group of people. After they had talked and yelled through the opening band, I thought for sure one of them would be belting out off key lyrics. But, fortunetly, Neko has not yet crossed into that realm, at least in Cleveland. Working so many larger rock/country shows at Blossom this summer, I saw so many people who had shelled out at least $90 for pavilon seats to proceed to sing along to every song. Why bother? You could save yourself the money and sing along to your crappy CD player at home. OK- onto more positive notes---

After Star Witness, I was pretty damn content with life. Until I realized that work was coming pretty early the next morning, so I headed out before the encore. Now I'm definitely on the look out to catch the New Pornographers one of these days.

Next Tuesday's show is Ryan Adams at the Palace Theater (and free, thanks to my buddy!). New Orleans Rocktober, look out!

Roommates

2008-09-16T10:08:00.006-04:00

I have had many a roommate in my time... particularly in my early/mid 20s. In my 'fly by the seat of my pants'/the cheaper the better phase (some may argue that I am still in this phase, perhaps slightly more settled). Anywho, one of the more memorable was an older lady I roomed with briefly in New Orleans.

I was just back from Leeds and had six months to finish my thesis, and I wasn't too crazy about finishing it up in Ohio. My best friend had moved to New Orleans when I left for Leeds, and had promised her a visit sometime after my return. The initial plan for a one week visit quickly became a six month stay, while I finished writing and picked up shifts in the kitchen where Katie worked. She found a sublet for me in the house next door to her. My house was identical to the one she lived in, built sometime in the early 1920s. Hardwood floors, faux fireplaces in just about every room, clawfoot bathtub. What not to love? Maybe the aging 50 some year old roomie that also inhabited the house?

Let's call her Jerri. Like Jerri Blank. Because that would be the closest comparison to the ridiculousness of this lady

plus she always smoked like a chimney, wore bright red lipstick and had much of the same wardrobe and hairstyle of Jerri.

So Jerri was working the front desk at a small historic hotel on Saint Charles Avenue called the Columns. One day at work, she somehow chips her tooth on the side of the porcelain sink in the employee bathroom. She calls her dentist and makes an appointment to come in a few days later. In the meantime, Jerri decides that the best way to deal with the chipped tooth is to apply a good ole Lee press on nail, tooth colored, of course.

Now I cannot imagine what the dentist must have thought, but I thought this was one of the more ridiculous things I have seen in my days. It took him a good solid hour to get the damned thing off her tooth, all the while she did not see the problem in her fake veneer.

(i heart google images- i found this under the word 'veneer')

Otley run

2008-09-05T08:56:00.005-04:00

I was thinking about the Otley Run the other day for some reason, while i was talking to a co-worker about how excited I am about Halloween (hands down, favorite holiday). The Otley Run is a pub crawl that takes place in Leeds, England, where I spent most of 2002-2003 working on an MA in Art History at the University of Leeds. Kids from Leeds Uni and Leeds Metro gather in fancy dress (or... essentially Halloween costumes) and get really, really wasted.

So, sometimes on Fridays, my friend Erato and I would get some beer and plant ourselves outside, near the end of the run, and watching the masses of stumbling drunks. My favorite was a group of people who had rented full size animal suits:

....but picture a group of them, completely tanked, falling over drunk, in a garbled Yorkshire accent. (favorite spoof of the Northern accent is Devvo!!!

Wasted Brits in ridiculous garb. What's not to love? The crawl route started near my flat in Headingley, and then worked down towards campus and the city centre. The Three Horseshoes and Headingley Taps were some of my favorite nearby pubs.

A drunk Captain America:

British WWF?!?!

And, last but not least, a drunk Napoleon Dynamite

Reeeedonkulous. I love it.

Remembering NOLA

2008-08-27T12:19:00.013-04:00

On the morning of August 28, 2005, I woke up and was unknowingly about to leave my job, my apartment, my friends, essentially my whole life as I knew it in New Orleans. Looking back each year gets a little more surreal, a little more like a dream, but still painfully vivid of every detail in the days before and after Katrina. I look back every year, and am in the very least thankful for my friends and my last weekend of life in Louisiana.

Thursday night (five days before Katrina), my friend Kory and I picked up his friends from SF from the New Orleans airport. Looking back, these weekend visitors meant that my last weekend in New Orleans was spent tagging along with Kory and company, wining and dining at all of our favorite haunts. My last few days in the city were spent at some of my favorite restaurants and bars, including our last Saturday night at the Circle Bar at 5 A.M. where we swore to each other that we would ride out Katrina for better or for worse in New Orleans. (ha!) New Orleans is perhaps the best city to wine and dine- the best food, the most beautiful little shops, with the darkest corners of the city that seem to come alive on any night of the week. The days and nights are seemingly endless in this Southern city, and there is always a frozen Irish coffee at Molly's in the Quarter if you start to get sleepy.

Friday afternoon a friend of mine had gotten ahold of tickets to the filming of Wheel of Fortune in the Convention Center. Yeah, completely random. We went mostly as a joke, though this was my first visit to the place that would, in a few days time, be filled with those who really did end up choosing to ride out the storm in NOLA. The show was filmed in one of the larger rooms at the convention center, complete with decorations of everything gaudy and cheesy about the city; fake stage sets of French Quarter balconies, a faux street car, Mardi Gras beads and plastic crawfish. Everything that was completely generic about the city I came to love as my own. But by now we were used to this representation of the city. We were used to people thinking of the whole city as Bourbon Street antics and Mardi Gras madness. But I lived Uptown- Beautiful homes, little fragrant quiet streets and some of the kindest people I have ever met. I loved my job which I had started the previous January, and I loved my life as a new-ish Southener.

So, the following day was just another Saturday to me. In fact, my roommate and I had a yard sale. A yard sale! While some people were already packing up to leave town, we found some shade in the front yard and set-up shop. Everything for cheap cheap cheap, from a broken microwave to a queensize headboard. Quite random, but I did meet one of our more interesting neighbors that day, who I remember going by the name Miss Mae. She was probably in her 80s, judging from her attire and deep lines in her face, and had lived Uptown on the part of General Pershing St. that ran between LaSalle and Freret (right around the corner from our place). Our long, fenced in backyard actually ran against her property, and I had often wondered who's pipsqueak dog was barking its head off every morning. Miss Mae sat with us for part of that eerily quiet and hot morning, calling in all her neighbors and friends for our bargain yardsale. She told us stories about growing up in New Orleans and Uptown, and how she had proudly never evacuated for any hurricane in her life. I often wondered since what happened to Miss Mae.

Sunday, however, was not like any other day. My roommate wakes me up in the early AM to tell me that she is evacuating and suggests I do the same. I turn over and go back to sleep, thinking that I'll figure out the evacuation thing later, once Kory and his out of town guests call. I had only been back in New Orleans a short time, but between my friends in the city and the people I knew who had grown up in New Orleans, I had always been assured that evacuation is rarely necessary. Previously, hurricane warnings had meant a few days off work, which were usually spent lounging around in the A/C all day watching movies, followed by drinks on the porch and catching up with friends. Most of the New Orleanians I had met, did not usually evacuate and often looked at these days as some extra paid days off. I know like to tease my father that I missed all the outbound traffic by waiting until the 13th hour.

I woke up later that morning and actually watched part of a movie before calling Koko. I headed over to his place in Mid City and gathered together some candles and canned food, with the intention of riding out the storm at his pad. At this point, we were not too concerned about the impending Hurricane, since it was not supposed to hit land until the following morning, and in our minds, was plenty of time to figure out an escape plan. We flipped between a movie and the local news, still not too worried. His buddies from out of town finally showed up after a late night in the Quarter, looking tired and ragged still dressed in clothes from the day before. His out of town friends were due to fly out that Tuesday (a day after the landfall of the projected hurricane), we were debating whether to stay or go. We soon hear a loudspeaker from the street and see a passing cop car announce a mandatory evacuation. We still debated what to do, since our guests had outbound plane tiks, when an announcement from Mayor Nagin about the highway closing seemed to make up our minds.

This was our cue to leave... we thought if the city was taking out one of the only options to leave, we had better get going. I stopped by my place and grabbed a few changes of clothes, an umbrella and my CD collection that were in those softback cases. Later, this seemed like a funny combination of things when these were my sole material belongings for the next six weeks (seriously, two changes of clothes, what seemed like 5 pairs of pink socks (pink!, really?!) and my passport). Our initial plan was to drive East, and that figure it out once we passed Pensacola (what I thought was out of the hurricane 'zone'). Our plans changed once we got to the Mississippi border and were asked to turn around by local police at the border. Apparently, the great State of Mississippi had closed its borders.

Plans then changed to heading North. Since our out of town visitors were scheduled to fly out of the New Orleans airport the next afternoon, we had to figure out where we could get our guests to an airport. The options: Jackson, MS or Memphis, TN. As we headed up towards Jackson, we quickly realized the massive number of people already camped out in hotels, church pews and even temporary camp sites. We stopped in at a gas station (that turned out to be completely out of gas) to talk to some locals. Their advice was to keep moving North, and not to look back. Word had spread by that evening that Katrina was going to hit the SE coast of Louisiana, and it was not slowing down. Gulp. This quickly hit home- we had to figure something out quick.

Luckily, we were able to find a place for the night in Memphis, though were asked to leave the next morning since Koko had his kittens in tow. We dropped off the California kids and headed to the first diner with television. Watching the footage of the city put the reality of the situation in front of our face. Each person I've talked to has a moment when they realized that their life would never be the same, though the footage that I saw that morning was only small indication to what was to come. My moment was a few days later as I stood in the doorway of the living room of my parent's house in Kent, Ohio watching in complete disbelief as the footage rolled of those poor souls in the Super Dome and the Convention Center. In this footage, I saw one of my favorite Uptown characters: a saucy, spunky old lady who worked as a cashier at the small market down the street. She was one of those people who was never at a loss for words, and always had a snappy line with every purchase. (Lordy, lordy, my total one time was rung to $6.66. I found out she was also extrememly supersticious) She was one of my favorites, though she rarely showed any outward friendliness or kindness through her tough old lady front. I found myself completely devastated and crying like a baby when I caught a clip on the news a few days later from the Convention Center, this same woman from the market who had rung up my oyster poboys so many times, crumpled on the edge of the pavement, in tears amongst the chaos around her. I just could not believe this seemingly impenetrable woman was so so broken.

Kory and I stayed in Memphis for a total of four nights, until it was clear we were not going home any time soon. We had switched hotels, to a seedier part of town to one that allowed pets. It was filled with many other New Orleanians; many families and even a few familiar faces. There was nothing to do except watch the unfolding of the aftermath of Katrina. We scanned pictures like this:

trying (in vain) to get any info on our homes and neighborhoods. It was surreal. For the next six weeks, we would scour the Web and news for any info on our houses in photos like these. No information, no help. No one could answer any questions. Cell phone towers were down, so I could text friends, but could not place calls to any (504) numbers. No updates from work- the whole system was down. I had some coworker's home and cell numbers, but this was useless when his house was 20 feet under water. Our work email system was down. I found email more useful than any other means of communication. FEMA denied not only my application and but also my three appeals. Complete, utter frustration.

Back to Memphis: We knew a few people who had recently moved to Memphis, and so many other familiar faces had also evacuated to Memphis from New Orleans. Our last night in our junky hotel, we went to a local dive bar, where the remnants of a few punk bands from New Orleans assembled to play with their Memphis buddies. I think Kory and I knew this would be, in part, a goodbye to these friends indefinitely, and maybe even that chapter of our New Orleans lives. We had no real concept at the time, but we were parting to go our separate ways and had to figure out how to pick up the pieces of our lives once we returned home. I can tell you this is a hopeless feeling. I had found a city I loved, friends I loved, and a job that I was really digging. Our city had given us the boot in the most ungraceful way. I was back to my hometown, for better or worse, though I was still grateful to have somewhere to evacuate to.

Kory and I headed back to Ohio the next day. We returned the borrowed jeep I had been "carsitting" that summer to my friend's parents in Cincinnati and returned home to Kent, while Kory flew to Florida to be with his parents. When I was dropped off at my parent's house with my small bag of clothing, a hilarious little umbrella and my part of my music collection. So this is what I had deemed worthwhile. These would be my only possessions for the next 5 weeks, other than the miscellaneous boxes in storage at my parent's home. I still remember vividly my stepmother bursting into tears as I gathered up my small suitcase and milkcrate of music and made the way up the drive to my childhood home. It was slowly starting to hit home that life would never be the same.

It wasn't until the first week of October that I was able to return to New Orleans. Driving through southern Mississippi, the devastation of Katrina could be seen for miles and miles. Highway signs looked like crumpled pieces of paper along the side of the road. Large trees were completely uprooted. The main freeway we usually took over Lake Pontchartrain into the city was still in pieces from Katrina. We came into the city by a different route, the first thing that hit you was the stench. Like an old pastrami sandwich. OK, maybe pastrami and sauerkraut. It reeked. And the devastation. Complete devastation of homes and lives that made my sitatution feel small. I was a relative newcomer to the city- no kids, no family, nothing that had not fit in a few boxes during my move from Los Angeles to New Orleans that previous winter. This scene was only a precursor of what we would see within the city limits.

Our block of LaSalle had sat in many feet of water, judging by the lines of dirty water that marked the sides of every home. Luckily, our apartment sat up above the water line a few feet, though I found that most of the damage to our place resulted from the impact of Katrina (broken windows galore), from the water damage resulting from the smaller following storms. These smaller storms had soaked most of the furniture, but had amazingly left my photographs and books alone.

Driving down to New Orleans, I knew I had to be alright with the fact that we had rented a moving truck, but there may not be anything to move. When faced with the decision of what size truck to rent, I had to come to terms with the fact that there may be nothing to pack. That this trip home may be that of funeral- closure and cleaning. I had no idea what to expect. Weeks of the unknown and hyped up media reports had left me completely numb to what would await for me on LaSalle Street. I was honestly relieved to have something to pack. Our neighbors were not so lucky. One of the neighbors was a younger family. While I was packing up my things, I saw the father in a white painting suit and masked, equipped with a shovel. He was piling the contents of their home in a large pile in the front yard with the trash. They had lost everything from the looks of it. How do you rebuild with a young family? Where do you go and how do you start over when you lost everything? Childhood pictures, books, everything. Many things that had not been damaged by water were moldy beyond belief. I considered myself lucky to have somewhere to evacuate to. I was so completely overwhelmed with this disaster that there seemed like no place to begin. The mess was incredible. Everyone who had been back had put their refrigerators outside (perhaps the reason for the pastrami/sauerkraut smell...) There was no running water or electricity. The city was also under martial law. Nutso.

It's strange coming back into the place you once lived weeks after a disaster like Katrina. The calendars were still on August. The library book I was reading before the storm was laid out on the bed where I had left it the hours before evacuating. Life inside those four walls was partially still there- I could feel it. It was home until I looked outside into the piles of trash and was at a loss at where to start. I couldn't start over, not again. I packed until dark, and then rode a borrowed, beaten bike across Uptown to meet up with my ride.

My roommate and I had dinner at Coop's on Decatur in the French Quarter, which was one of the few places open and serving, and one of my favorite places pre-storm to enjoy a little gumbo and jambalaya. The National Guard was in town to enforce Martial Law and the curfew. The Quarter was filled with out of state police and volunteers. It did not feel like home, and I wondered if it really ever would.

The next morning, we packed up and once again headed north. I knew that I was fortunate to have a place to call home, and I was fortunate to have family and friends to come back to, and some semblance of a life once lived. It was still the hardest decision I've ever made. I didn't recognize the feeling as guilt until months later. I was listening to a man talk about his return to the city, where he had lived most of his life. He came back to the cement foundation of what had been his home. He put a tent up on the concrete block, and had been in a lengthy court battle with the city to prove that the piece of concrete was his (since all of his papers and records had washed away with his home). He said in the interview that he felt guilty that he left. Even though staying would have been fruitless, he still felt guilty that he had abandoned the city he loved. It struck me that I also was guilty of leaving for so many reasons. Guilty I didn't have the strength to stay, guilty that I didn't have the heart to help rebuild, guilty about feeling guilty. I had no idea where to begin to rebuild in such a disaster, how to start cleaning something that was so far gone. Even a year later, many of my friends and I have all moved on in different directions. A bitter sweet ending to the city that we had loved for better or worse. New Orleans was never a perfect city by any means, but it was someplace that I was proud to call home. The days and months after Katrina, I can only think of the life I had pre-storm; my bike ride from LaSalle to Jackson Square every morning as the sidewalks along Bourban were washed down by those pour suckers stuck on morning shifts at the 24-hour bars; the saucy cashier I had come to love at my little grocery Uptown; the lucious fragrant smeall of Saint Charles avenue on any day of the year, and all the wonderful people I had come to love and call friends along this crazy journey. I'd never had my life dictated by a natural disaster, and it felt strange to be back at the very place I started my journey in Northeast Ohio, and not by choice. It has always been strange to also think of life as what could have been if Katrina had not rolled through town, since I am not a person of regrets or one to think about the 'what ifs'. All I know is that this life is one hell of a ride, and I will always know what it means to miss New Orleans.

These are some links of post-Katrina New Orleans:

Hurricane Digital Memory Bank : This website is a collection of oral histories of many Katrina evacuees and also some of the responders living in Middle Tennessee.

Louisiana Digital Library : These oral histories were collected by curators at the Louisiana State Museum in New Orleans.

Alive in Truth : Oral histories from New Orleanians. Alive in Truth began on September 4th, 2005 outside the Austin Convention Center, which served as a shelter for 6,000 New Orleans residents. It is an all-volunteer effort, and continues to collect oral history and to support displaced New Orleanians.

National Policy and Adovacy Council on Homelessness : Many of these interviews were from people living and working in Houston, Texas, which received a huge number of evacuees from Hurricane Katrina in the days and weeks following the hurricane. These interviews were conducted with the support and assistance of the Congressional Hunger Center and the Bill Emerson National Hunger Fellows Program.

Humid City & New Orleans Oral History Project : These audio tracks have been incorporated into the Hurricane Digital Memory Bank, but include news and writings of people who have returned to live in New Orleans.

U.S. Coast Guard Oral History Project : Oral histories of Coast Guardsmen who participated in the Hurricane Katrina rescue & relief operations.

i-10 witness project : A community based story collective in partnership with Xavier University's Department of Communications, formed to document the myriad tales emerging from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Comprised of Louisiana artists, educators and community organizers, I-10 Witness seeks to give voice to affected Louisiana citizens by documenting their stories through sound and video.

No whippersnapper here

2008-08-26T12:18:00.003-04:00

Last night was a reminder that there are some really great parts of Cleveland, as much as in the middle of winter I will say the opposite. Thanks to a heads up from my co-worker, we met at Lincoln Park in Tremont for The Rude Mechanical Orchestra, unicorn rides and some free food, courtesy of Food Not Bombs. The Rude Mechanical Orchestra is a 30 person marching band from Brooklyn (myspace page here) who covered Le Tigre and Twisted Sister songs in the same spirit. This group is pure energy- in addition to the musicians, there were more than a handful of dancers, weaving in and out of the crowd and performing some balancing acts and coordinated dance moves. Here's a pic from Roger's new fancy smancy iphone

Then we headed over to Now That's Class over on the West side. Our intentions: see what this place is all about and drink some cheap beers. Both goals accomplished. I had my choice of Schlitz, Black Label, Blatz, Old Milwaukee, PBR, Strohl’s and Bitburger. Phew! (there was better beer selection.... i was just surprised at my options for the cheap stuff!!) There was a large projection screen along one wall with some of the oddest video clips I've seen in awhile. My favorite clips were the Super Bowl Shuffle and some mid-70s clips of Richard Simmon's show (scary!).

Remember this??

After a few Schlitzs, I was ready for bed. Couldn't stay awake for Panko's boyfriend's band. Ain't no whippersnapper no mo'!

mini weekend getaway

2008-08-18T15:32:00.012-04:00

My mini weekend vacation began last Friday afternoon. I probably officially mentally clocked out at 1, when I went over to get lunch at the Feast of the Assumption in Little Italy in Cleveland. Homemade gnocchi in red sauce. Yum. Rachael, Gus and I walked over right in time for the parade, a pretty small affair. Food vendors refused to sell until the priest's blessing was over, which cut into our limited lunch hour due to Rachael's unsympathetic employers. (boo!!)

I only had an hour left of work to go after lunch, so I couldn't complain. I spent my remaining $9 on pastries at the Feast for the boy's parents. I met up with them and some others for pre-game drinks at Harvey's bar downtown before the Indians game. Quite exciting, since it was also my first game at Jacob's field (errr.... Progressive Field? I can't keep up with all the name changes!), and they actually won a game.

Saturday morning we drove over to Lucky's Cafe in Tremont. Cute little house converted into small restaurant, with outdoor picnic tables surrounding small herb gardens. I am a sucker for drinking coffee out of those humungo round coffee cups you have to hold with both hands, so I was happy with my super strong coffee while waiting for my breakfast burrito. It was worth the wait- it was scrambled eggs with veggies, rolled in a tortilla and covered with guajillo pepper sauce. Very tasty. Hall got the 'Shipwreck', which was a mess of potato, egg, bacon and veggies with homemade Como toast and fruit. Also quite tasty, especially the bread.

We took off for Squire Castle on the East side of Cleveland, and the day could not have been any nicer.

Next, on to Erie, PA to do some biking around Presque Isle State Park. Biked most of the peninsula, and put my feet in the warm sand.

Stayed in Edinboro, PA. Hall was real excited to find a place that not only made their own bagels, but had a PB & J bagel on the menu. His was on a blueberry bagel, while i opted for egg and cheese on jalapeno. Yum.

Headed south to Pymatuning State Park to wander through the fish hatchery

and look down into the spillway of hundreds of hungry carp.

Soda or pop? Or sodapop?

2008-08-15T09:42:00.002-04:00

I think the arguments on the semantics for that fizzy drink to be mildly entertaining. Growing up as a 'pop drinker' (and, I mean massive, massive amounts of Coca-Cola consumed in our family), I never thought I would cross over to the soda camp. But here I am. (more about the pop vs. soda in the U.S. here)

I think it happened somewhere in the 2002-2005 range, somewhere between living in Leeds, Los Angeles and New Orleans. I remember the first time I was really conscious about my pop antics, when the then owner of my favorite Leeds dive bar, the Fox and Newt, looked completely appalled. Like not just the look of 'god, your American accent is atrocious', but more like the 'did she just say she wanted me to pop her'? kind of look. He quickly told me never to use such a term, and to please just say Coca-Cola. Wow. I was pretty stunned. I remember people teasing a boy that had moved to Kent during middle school from Brighton for saying soda, and now I knew the sting of living not only in a foriegn country, but a non-pop region. Somewhere along the way, I have replaced pop with soda, and find myself back in Ohio, full circle.

The pop and soda debate splits the nation

More "tasty research" on the debate

man, i'm thirsty.

NOLA on my mind

2008-08-12T14:22:00.006-04:00

Almost every day, I think about New Orleans at some point... whether it's something that reminds me of the city or something that makes me think about my incredibly goofy (like, goofier than me) best friend who still resides in the city, or the other peeps I crossed paths with at some point in the 15 months I lived in NOLA. Particular foods and flavors certainly bring the city to mind again and again-- crawfish, fresh lump crabmeat, cane syrup, chicory, Abita beer and that all essential file powder. These tastes and smells are memories of the city to me.

I thought I'd share two recipes that I learned while I was working in the kitchen at Dante's Kitchen. I in turn left my sweet bread recipes from my days at the Zephyr Cafe of pumpkin spice bread, mocha almond, apple ginger, banana nut bread.... which I came to find had an entirely different meaning of sweetbread, and a whole different look in the South. Ick.

Spoonbread

* 3/4 cup cornmeal, stone or water ground (if you can)
* 1 teaspoon salt
* 1 cup boiling water
* 3 tablespoons melted butter
* 2 large eggs
* 1 cup milk
* 2 teaspoons baking powder
* 2 tablespoons honey

Combine cornmeal and salt in a mixing bowl. Stirring constantly, gradually add boiling water, keeping smooth; stir in the melted butter. In a separate bowl, beat eggs until thicken and pale in color. Add milk and beat to combine. Add milk and egg mixture to the cornmeal mixture with baking powder. Stir until smooth, and add honey. There will probably be some small lumps, which is OK. Turn into a greased glass baking dish (or, even better a cast iron skillet). Bake at 350° for about 30 minutes, until firm. Serve with a large pat of flavored butter. (We did cane syrup, but maple syrup or honey would also be good! Allow butter to come to room temp, and mix in whatever you want! I've also seen pumpkin butter-- yum.)

Candied bacon

* 1 cup cane syrup (or reduced Maple syrup)
* 1 lb. Bacon (thin or thick sliced)
* ¾ cup Crushed pecans

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a cookie sheet or baking pan with aluminum foil. Place the bacon strips evenly in pan, making sure not to overlap the bacon. Bake for about 5-7 minutes. Take bacon out of the oven and allow the strips to cool slightly. Discard some of the excess oil into a proper container for grease.

Coat each slice in cane syrup or reduced maple syrup, and then with the crushed pecans. Place back on the pan, and bake for another 5-10 minutes, making sure the pecans do not burn.

To reduce maple syrup: Put about 1 1/2 cups maple syrup into a saucepan over medium heat for about 10 minutes. The syrup should not be heated to high, but enough to reduce some of the water. You can also substitute cane syrup for the maple syrup. Pour the reduced maple syrup into a flat container and allow to cool.

Some varients include: adding ½ teaspoon of cayenne pepper to the syrup for some kick, or use as a topping for deserts like vanilla ice cream or apple pie... or some would even argue for bacon ice cream

Give grease a chance

2008-08-11T13:23:00.004-04:00

"Rest in Grease", Jerry's Diner, Kent, Ohio

A sad, sad day. Not only are my hopes of going to my first pro baseball game dashed, but I found out this morning that part of my youth is to be demolished. Sigh.

I don't remember the first time I went to Jerry's... just that it was something my dad and I did on a regular basis. He loves greasy diner food, and from the time I started kindergarten at Holden Elementary, Jerry's was part of our after school tradition. He would walk down to pick my brother and I up from school, and, depending on the day, Jerry's would be the destination for some late afternoon greasy homefries, freshly baked desserts or a milkshake. Our other downtown haunts were Ace's (now Anthony's Coffee and Cakes next to Home Savings) and occasionally the Acropolis on Mantua. (We later thought a trip to the Acropolis was punishment for something...) He would pick us up from school and we'd make the trek down Franklin Ave towards downtown. Sometimes we'd nag him to take us to McDonald's and the little convenient store on Water St for candy, and sometimes he would opt to take us home and bake up some chocolate oatmeal cookies.

He had his office on the 2nd floor of a converted house on Water Street in downtown Kent (now the Kent Historical Society- weird.), which was right across the street from Jerry's. From 3-5 pm, my dad was in charge of entertaining the kids. Jerry's was more entertaining to us than Ace's, since they had the old classic diner swivel chairs. My dad always knew someone at Jerry's and Ace's. Usually an older townie that my brother or I never knew, but who always seemed to know us, even now. I suppose my dad liked the social aspect of it, since he was often alone at his own business most of the day. Later I found out that his morning routine was greasy homefries and/or a donut at Ace's in the late morning, along with a cup of coffee, while he was chatting up the guy's from the flour mill, or other downtown businessmen.

Strange, but even though the place has been vacant for 10 plus years, it's still kinda sad to me. Like another part of the Kent landscape is changing. Other people remember Jerry's for being open 24 hours, as a late night snack and hangout after bar close. I remember Jerry's more as the epitome of my smalltown upbringing and those afternoons with my dad. Rest in grease, Jerry's!

Gourmet in the Garden

2008-08-07T08:46:00.003-04:00

During the summer, Cleveland Botanical Gardens has been putting on "Gourmets in the Garden" on Wednesday evenings. It was pretty packed, but worth the wait. This week's chef was Douglas Katz of Fire in Shaker Square. The demo was Grilled Peach Salad with Mackenzie Creamery Blue Goat Cheese, Covered Bridge Garden Pecans and a Vanilla Vinaigrette. The vanilla flavor went really well with the grilled peaches. The chef talked about local produce and the importance of cooking with seasonal foods.

He had gone to a program in Italy a few summers ago called Terra Madre, emphasizing use of local produce and highlighting the local flavors. From this site, I found the Cleveland Slow Food's blog.

Afterwards, I had dinner at #1 Pho- a nice little Vietnamese place on E. 30th and Superior in Cleveland. Shrimp rolls for apps, with rice vermicelli, lettuce, bean sprouts, and shrimp rolled in rice paper, with a sweet, dark dipping sauce topped with crushed peanuts. We then split the Veggie Crispy Roll Vermicelli (bean sprouts, lettuce, cucumbers, ground peanuts, vermicelli noodles with a side of Nuoc Mam sauce- great blog on this here) and a Chicken dish with shrimp, squid, fishballs and veggies over crispy noodles. Deeeelish.

Radiohead, Blossom, 08/04/08

2008-08-05T15:28:00.004-04:00

I work weekends at Blossom, usually most of the orchestra events, but this time lucked out with a show I was dying to see. I had planned to use my 2 comp tickets and take a friend to see the show from the lawn that night, but as things often go, the show sold out Sunday night while I was at work. My boss asked if I wanted to instead pick up a shift, so I found myself about 200 feet from the main stage. Normally, a great place to be... but for ushers, the view is more like this

Watching the crowd backwards

Not too exciting, though definitely entertaining, particularly once the show starts. People make the most hilarious faces.

This concert goer must have been close to where I was standing, when I was able to get quick peeks of the stage.

Stage left

His photo album on the Radiohead show really captured some of the great light effects on stage too---

Joel Hawksley's album

There were also some quick people out there who also got some video clips up:

....and Paranoid Android through binoculars...

Monday, monday

2008-08-04T12:05:00.004-04:00

I always dread the alarm going off Monday morning. Today's was set at 5:50 in the A.M. Yuck. After a weekend of relaxing, the last thing I want to ever do is drag myself out of bed and into work. Yet, somehow in the last five months (to the day!), I have, in some sick way, become more of a morning person that I had ever thought. Maybe due in part to the other carpoolers that I share the commute with, or the unusually strong coffee I've been making lately.

This morning I had 3 errands I had to run before meeting up with everyone else in Kent, and I cannot for the life of me ever expect anyone else to keep such hours. Miss Rosalie was dropping off a paper on the Kent campus for my complete procrastination and then my poor father was running to the Bursar's office to drop off my payment for my fall class for me today. Also for for my complete procrastination. They both said they would be up at 6:30, but I just couldn't bring myself to call or ring the bell. I dropped my paper off on Rosalie's balcony, and my invoice in my dad's mailbox. I mean, I guess it's alright that I've somehow managed to dress myself, make a lunch, get a to-go coffee ready and driven myself somewhere, but I can't assume that anyone should have to be functioning that early.

It does occur to me while I make my way to 271 North, that maybe I am on the road with other semi-functioning people behind the wheel. Scary.

I find this video on youtube to confirm this theory. Ever scarier. But, who's going around filming sleepy drivers???

Warning: this video is slightly nauseating, and will induce involuntary memory flashes of slow-as-molasses freeway driving

soggy ole Boston pie

2008-07-24T23:41:00.001-04:00

Well, here I am. Drenched to the core, and thoroughly beat.

After a long delay in the Canton/Akron airport, I finally arrived in Boston late last night during a small break of the seemingly neverending rain. Boston had been under tornado warnings for part of Wednesday (hence the delay), and the dark skies did not want to leave quite yet. Hoping to catch up with a friend from high school before he headed out today, I caught the blue line westward. I love cities with public transport, but even more I love cities where you can walk. Walking until your legs and feet are pleasantly sore.

After the AV conference let out for the day, I decided to ignore the dark skies and hit the city. Destination: Wagamama's. I was especially excited because I had found a Wagamama's the first time I was in London in 1999 and have been obsessed with the place ever since. There are Wagamama's all over the UK now, but the Boston stores are the first in the US. (thanks again Rosalie for the heads up!). There are 2 in Boston, and I opted for the one in Cambridge. This meant a 3 mile hike from the hotel, though I figured I could see whatever else came across along the way. I found a couple record stores, a ton of book stores, and an Asian market. Some dried seaweed for the salt water fish for Hall, some random rifling through some vinyl (no dice), and some strange rice crackers for the flight home.

Got a little soaked on the way there, but only to be warmed up with some miso soup. Sat along a window seat over looking JFK St and got an udon noodle dish with shrimp, leeks, shallots, pickled ginger and tons of sesame seeds. I decided to take the walkway along the Charles River to get back to the hotel. Whoops. About 10 minutes walking east, I get slowly start to get drenched. The air is warm, the sun is setting, and I thought it was funny that it was a similar circumstance when I first came across Wagamama's in London.

I had flown into London a few days early, before I was to meet up with the group from Eastern Michigan who I would be spending the next 4 months backpacking through most of Europe. As with all other flights I've taken into London, you land really early in the morning, and then fight to stay awake long enough to try to adjust to the time change as painlessly as possibly after the long transatlantic flight. I usually make it to about 6 pm London time before passing out in a dead sleep.

That particular afternoon in August 1999, it was my first trip to Europe and my first trip alone. I had dropped my things and tried the best to kill the most of a rainy day around Victoria's Garden. I made my way to the British Museum that afternoon in an attempt to both stay awake and dry. The narrow corridors lined with ancient treasures (funny how the British Museum really doesn't have a British collection, more like 'collections from all the British occupied countries'....) only seemed to encourage the onset of impending slumber. I realized it was close to midnight Ohio time, and I hadn't eaten anything other than the sad meal on the plane. I wandered through some of the side streets around the museum, determined to make my first meal abroad an exceptional one. It started drizzling. Then it started to really rain. And guess who wasn't the prepared traveler? I lucked out, and within a few minutes had found a menu posted on the window with noodles galore. Where was I? Wagamama's! I looked around and saw plates of steaming noodle dishes everywhere. Smells of soy sauce, ginger and peppers were all around. Years later when I was studying at Leeds, I looked forward to my trips to London for my Wagamama's meal. After 10 months in England, Wagamama's was my diamond in the rough among greasy fish and chips, mushy peas and Yorkshire pudding (see below).

morning commute

2008-07-21T15:48:00.002-04:00

At the end of 2004, I sold my car for the sake of both sanity and pocket book. I had just finished a year of commuting on some of the busiest freeways in the U.S. I had a 13 mile commute from South Pasadena to West Hollywood, which on a good day ran about 3 to 4 hours roundtrip. Enough to make a girl go crazy, particularly in the run-down hand me down Ford Escort equipped only a small AM/FM radio. Luckily, I found two local radio stations that kept me somewhat entertained in the gridlocked streets and freeway systems of Los Angeles. (Henry Rollins' rants and Steve Jones lunch hour show, Jonesy's Jukebox on Indie 103.1 )

(los angeles "river")
After hundreds of mind-numbing hours staring at the bleak Los Angeles landscape, I sold my car and headed back to New Orleans for a new job in January '05. I could bike to work until about mid-June, or when the air felt like pea soup, and then switch to either the St. Charles streetcar into the French Quarter, or the not so luxurious New Orleans bus system (as my roommate Marianne referenced the busline closest to our Uptown apartment, the 'Freret jet'). Not too bad, coming from the traffic inferno of Los Angeles. I was loving the extra cash from not owning a car, but on the flip side, I did have 3 different bikes in an 8 month period (thanks to the high bike thieving population of New Orleans). A friend of mine once caught a guy in my front yard attempting to carry away his moped which had had the wheel locked... but i guess that's a different story. Anywho...

So up until this past spring, my average commute time was less than 1/2 hour, at the most. Almost 4 years of no car payments, no insurance, no gas gripes. These days my commute time runs right around an hour and some change each way, which is doable, but also meant a major adjustment back to the world of the early AM commute. In these past months, I have settled on my own 'top 5 albums for the morning commute' that go well with foggy brain and strong coffee:

1. 'At Dawn', My Morning Jacket
2. '23', Blonde Redhead
3. 'Loveless', My Bloody Valentine
4. 'Heartbreaker', Ryan Adams
5. 'Wincing the Night Away', the Shins