When fifteen minutes of meditation, followed by fifteen minutes of cutting up vegetables for a salad for dinner, then eating said dinner, all fail to erase the stress of a wicked work day, then I turn to Duke Ellington and this song on ‘Solitude’ to ease our home into the weekend. It looks to be a sickeningly chilly and rainy weekend, so today was likely my last chance for doing any sort of outdoor work. Such is spring. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life.
Friday nights used to be the shit.
Now, I just want to sleep, but I can’t just yet because that would fuck up the night.
So I force myself to stay awake until a little later, and I write this, with the hope of summoning some collection of posts for the weekend. I cannot promise anything. I’m tired out.
Despite being glamorized by Mame Dennis and her nephew Patrick in ‘Auntie Mame‘ – (as “fishberry jam” – it’s salty kind of but he liked it) – caviar never held much allure for me. Part of me also suspected I might enjoy it a bit too much, given my penchant for briny things – olives and capers and all things fishy. For those slightly contradictory reasons, I’ve avoided caviar all these years, happily not spending the extra money or indulging in such decadence.
That changed during our recent homage to ‘Babette’s Feast’ in which ‘Blinis Demidoff’ formed the opening salvo. Suzie put the caviar on sparingly for all the guests, so I was left with an almost-full jar at the end of the evening – which meant I could act a total fishery jam glutton and go to town the next day. The sea-like brilliance that was merely hinted at with that first trial, was magnified and made center-stage on a bed of creme fraiche, and I was instantly a caviar convert.
Sometimes all it takes to be Dazzler of the Day is one underwear shoot to launch a new brand of skivvies (at least new to the United States). Bonds has been an Australian underwear staple for years – only now does it find its way onto our weary shores, and it has a scintillating ambassador in the form of Dazzler of the Day Robert Irwin. Son of the late Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin, Robert has made a splash in his own right, which finds a nifty highlight in these shots displaying his, err, trouser-snake, among other creatures.
While I usually have the company of a cherished friend along for my diner adventures, there are occasional moments when that’s simply not possible or preferable.
Diners are made for solitary dining, and no one bats an eye at the strange fellow by his lonesome at the end of the long row of single chairs near the kitchen. You can blend in at a diner better than you can blend in almost anywhere else. In a diner, everyone is an oddity, therefore no one is.
Many an artist has plopped themselves into a diner and thought or wrote or crafted something of significance, something that was more than its greasy, fried origins. Maybe because a diner represents a slice of humanity, as perfectly imperfect as a slice of pie or cup of black coffee. It is where the magnificent and mediocre meet under one tin roof, slightly rusted, and beautiful in an ancient way.
The final installment of “The White Lotus’ arrives next Sunday, and it’s reportedly a 90-minute boffo episode, because that’s the least amount of time it will take to unravel all the loose threads that have been hanging all season.
The lights of the attic are turned low, and the time is almost 10:30 PM as I write this. Vaguely mid-century vibes crossed with Scandinavian simplicity inform the tranquil space, while this musical selection, entitled ‘Asian Dream Song’ adds a third aspect that brings together three corners of the world. On this night, when spring is on the wind, and the wind is strong enough to make the rafters creak and moan, the attic feels like the coziest respite and escape from the darkness outside.
This was supposed to be the morning blog post, but this song. and this version of it in particular, is far too majestically moody to squander in a morning post. This is music for when the sun goes down, when you’re either about to begin your evening out, or winding down for the end of it. It’s the stuff of dreamy nightclubs that may or may not exist in the real world – and if they do you can only find them around midnight.
Night and day, you are the one Only you beneath the moon and under the sun Whether near to me or far It’s no matter darling where you are I think of you Night and day
Day and night, why is it so That this longing for you follows wherever I go In the roaring traffic’s boom In the silence of my lonely room I think of you Night and day
And now, as we enter into an uneventful Tuesday evening – a more dull and mundane Tuesday could not be conjured from the doldrums of average – we straddle the night and the day in a song and dance designed for a dream.
Night and day Under the hide of me There’s an oh such a hungry yearning burning inside of me And its torment won’t be through ’til you let me spend my life making love to you Day and night, night and day
Jelly beans were never my favorite candy, yet every year when they roll them out, we somehow end up with a bowl in the house. These pretty things were a gift from our friend Lorie – they came with a couple of chocolate bridge mixes that I devoured immediately, but these got saved for last and poured into a bright bowl for looks more than anything. We don’t decorate for Easter so it was a welcome visage.
They lasted all of a day, as Andy and I ended up eating them in quick fashion once I popped a few in my mouth and remembered how good jelly beans could be when you find a fine batch. These were from Krause’s Homemade Candy, which has always supplied insanely delectable sweet treats. Lorie lives near their store and we are lucky to get a gift from there when we have her over for dinner or join her for lunch.
I have thus far had the will power to avoid the place, because I know if I go there once that will be it for my already-problematic waistline. (I cannot afford to lose 100 pairs of pants to go up another inch – I will not do it!) But I also won’t say no to a delicious thoughtful gift.
Exclamation points are usually used sparingly here, but for a full-frontal reveal, we employe them to the utmost!!!!!!! On this special day of all special days, and coming so close to the Easter holiday, Bad Bunny is here letting it all hang out, so scroll down for a glimpse of his Easter basket, if you know what I mean! And anytime you see liberal use of the exclamation point, be on hyper-alert!! Something wicked this way comes!!!!
There’s a very long road of infamous proverbial yellow-brick that waits to be traversed before we get to the release of the second part of ‘Wicked‘ but I love the build-up and anticipation, and it’s never too early to start. In another month or two the first official trailers should be out, and our journey back to Oz will begin again.
The earliest days of spring are always a little rough. Winter’s chill hangs on in the night and mornings, and the sun still struggles to warm the day. This cute little picture popped up somewhere this past week, and it felt like the cozy embodiment of where we find ourselves. A kettle of tea to warm all the world and a ceiling of snowdrops to cover the sky… on with the weekly recap, because it’s totally dreamy.
Fuck MAGA. There, I said it, and more of you should say it. I shall not be silent in such times as these – I shall resist, and I shall put it on record, because one day your kids and their kids will look back at this moment and wonder what you did, what you said, and how you remained silent and got along to get along.
Several weeks ago Suzie Ko and I slipped quietly into the 76 Diner, where we set up shop at a table hidden near the back, ordered some diner fare, and proceeded to plot out a seven-course meal inspired by the movie ‘Babette’s Feast’. Suzie has loved the movie since her childhood; I’ve avoided it for forty years, assuming it was some soft-porn piece more aligned with Suzie’s peccadilloes than mine. When it showed up on television a month ago I decided to give it a shot, and despite the Danish language (you try saying ‘rugbrød’ the correct way) I fell in love with it too. Happily, or unhappily depending upon why you’re here, the movie has less to do with porn and more to do with a feast prepared by a woman named Babette.
“I have been with you every day of my life. You know, do you not, that is has been so? And, I shall be with you every day that is left to me. Every evening I shall sit down, if not in flesh, which means nothing, in spirit, which is all, to dine with you, just like tonight. For tonight I have learned that in this world anything is possible.” –Isak Dinesen, ‘Babette’s Feast’
We both agreed to forego an exact imitation of the fancy French dishes that Babette prepares (it was likely that nobody in our families would take kindly to eating turtles or quail) so we settled on a seven-course menu that provided enough to approximate Babette’s wondrous work while giving us something within reach of our culinary abilities.
“Grace, my friends, demands nothing from us but that we shall await it with confidence and acknowledge it in gratitude.” – Isak Dinesen, ‘Babette’s Feast’
After picking Suzie up, we made a stop at the market to get the last-minute items for the opening salvo of the meal. I’d already prepared the almond dessert, curry dish, and a couple of batches of the Danish rye bread, Suzie had done most of the sorbet (with assistance from Pat and Milo), and Mom was bringing the show-stopping centerpiece of Cornish game hens. We just had to make the potato leek soup, blinis, and risotto.
“Through all the world there goes one long cry from the heart of the artist: Give me leave to do my utmost!”~ Isak Dinesen, ‘Babette’s Feast’
For the opening blini dish, the batter struggled in its race against time (we may have also forgot to do this part first), but it puffed up just enough to make the gray buckwheat carriage for the crème fraîche and caviar – and unfortunately I am now hooked on the exorbitant combination (another post celebrating that is on the way, courtesy of breakfast the next day).
The potato and leek soup came together more easily, thanks to a leek-top broth and immersion blender. Finally, Suzie’s recipe for an Instapot risotto defied the typically-sweat-inducing process of a proper risotto and resulted in the creamy and dreamy bed on which the Cornish game hens would nest.
Mom and Milo helped with the dish-turnover, and Andy helped with the dishwasher-loading, and by the time the evening came to a close, our appetites for comfort and culinary decency had been satiated. Suzette’s Feast had been a success.
“Long after midnight the windows of the house shone like gold, and golden song flowed out into the winter air.” – Isak Dinesen, ‘Babette’s Feast’
It’s nothing that I can’t handle, but it does occasionally alter my lunch plans, as it did this past Friday when I didn’t get out until 2:30, when the coffee shops were just beginning to shut down for the day. On that particular day it wasn’t coffee I was after, but a simple walk through downtown Albany. The later lunch time meant fewer people out and about, which lends a more contemplative aspect to the walk. At such times I don’t need to find a church to obtain quiet and the space for mindfulness – it is all around, there for the notice and there for the taking.
The sun would dart behind clouds, then show itself for the short duration of my walk, alternating between bold and bashful in this hide and seek game – the ultimate spring tease. Some of the trees were just starting to swell with buds but nothing substantial had been brave enough to burst forth; early days yet. Instead, I had to find my fun in the circular sticker of bananas seen here on a lamp post.
