A Word About Turkey Day

I know we've been a little light on recipes round these parts the last few weeks.

I can assure you it isn't that I haven't been cooking, more that I've been cooking, eating and collapsing...and the very idea of grabbing my camera and setting up for yet another night-time shot fills me with revulsion.

I'm a little annoyed with my camera, and frustrated that I can't make my $300 point and shoot take the pictures of my food that I want it to take. I know this is a function of it being, well, a $300 point and shoot and not an amazing digital SLR worth more than my monthly rent but that just isn't in the cards right now, and, as a result, neither are pictures of food that look even remotely like the deliciousness I've been serving up. Which is why, when faced with the prospect of yet another disappointing photo I'm mostly opting to throw myself crankily upon the couch and demand rhetorically "What's the point!?", clutching my hands dramatically to my chest as my eyes well prettily with tears before heroically composing myself and settling down to watch some tv.

(Speaking of, did anyone else watch Slapsgiving 2: Revenge of the Slap last night? Brilliant. And I'm loving this continued use of the vaguely latin sounding "Sonovabeetch" on the part of both Lily and Barney. Most excellent. Which reminds me, is everyone following NPH on twitter? He is a genius I tell you. A GENIUS.)

Anyway, I thought I ought to write something about Thanksgiving, seeing as I am ostensibly a food writer and all, and it is sort of a huge food holiday. For those of you who have been keeping up with my own personal Thanksgiving family saga, a quick update about where we are at.

(And this, I hope, goes without saying, but thanks to all of you who chimed in with advice and thoughts about my dilemma. I took every one to heart making this decision. Because, god forbid I should make a decision on my own without input and thousands of hours of deliberation. Am I right? Whhat would the gut-wrenching, anxiety-ridden, ulcer-birthing fun be in that? Pfft.)

As some background for those of you who haven't been following along: My divorced parents live in the same town. Though years have passed without them both being in town the planets have aligned (or misaligned, I suppose) and all and sundry will be at their respective home bases for the holiday. What's a girl to do?

After a lot of thought, we have decided to do cocktails and Thanksgiving themed appetizers with my mom, then run up to my dad's house for the turkey and trimmings, and then run back down to mom's by which time she will have made a complete house transformation. That's right, when we leave it will be Thanksgiving, but when we return it will be Christmas. Sound like a lot of work? Let me explain.

Christmas at my mom's house has always been such a big deal that one of the very first short stories I ever wrote was about my mom's purchase of an artificial tree for the very purpose of PUTTING IT UP IN JULY. It's true. And wonderful. She has done it only a handful of times but it has been done, and done with tremendous style, may I add. The tree goes up, the carols go on, and while everyone else is sweating profusely, running through sprinklers and grilling outside, we were inside listening to Bing and floating around on gingerbread fragrance. (Needless to say, Christmas, for us, has about as much religious signifigance as national Talk Like a Pirate Day, so celebrating in July doesn't present any difficulty.) As such, my mom has all her Christmas materials close at hand, in the event that she might need to create Christmas in several hours time.

So, directly after Thanksgiving dinner we will head back to mom's house, trim the tree, drink some hot buttered rum and watch It's a Wonderful Life.

I was happy to be able to find this compromise and, hopefully, create a new tradition. Before anyone laments my mother slaving to turn the house over I should point out that she, like me, relishes a good challenging project and (obviously) adores the pants off of Christmas. We already have a gaggle of friends and family coming to join us to kick off part two of the holiday season.

It's a wonderful life, indeed.



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Good Rob Hunting

Here's something you might not know about me: I love, adore, worship and celebrate the hell out of birthdays. As much as I am sometimes stunned by the imperfections of this world I hope I never lose sight of what a gift it is to be here, and birthdays are the sanctioned celebration of that gift. (Needless to say my upcoming 30th birthday holds zero anxiety for me, I'm only crazy excited about it. Mostly because I secretly believe I have been 30 for about 23 years now, so it will be nice to catch up.)

That said, I have a confession. I have skimped on my husband's birthday celebrations until this year. I know. I suck.

Not sure why, but I've never been able to get myself organized in time to do something really special. Maybe it's the date. November 19th is at such an odd time; in that no-man's land right before the holidays when it isn't quite fall and isn't quite winter. It is cold enough here in the Northeast that people are really starting to mourn the total loss of summer while at the same time, not cold enough for winter's most enjoyable accessories; hats, gloves and your breath hanging in the air. Before I know it, every year, it sneaks up on me. We hastily cobble together a dinner, or a night out singing karaoke, or, memorably, one year an evening spent in a hookah bar, but I don't really feel like I've ever done something special for Rob.

When I first got the idea for this year, I had just finished reading the results of a foodie scavenger hunt over at The Amateur Gourmet. The hunt itself was all food related and beautifully thought out. I thought a similar hunt, but all Rob related (some things still food-related because, let's face it, we live to eat), might be just the thing.

So, I started working with Adam's list as my inspiration (in fact, quite a few of his items made it onto my list at the end of the day, for which I am very grateful.) I'm posting the list here because I hope that someone else in or around the New York area is similarly inspired and stages a hunt of their own.

So here it is, in its (mostly) unedited glory!



Rob’s ## Birthday: New York City Photo Scavenger Hunt

Rules (And not the kind that are made to be broken, so don’t try.)

1. You have three hours. That’s it. 12 PM – 3 PM. Photos sent in after that time will not be eligible for pointage.

2. All photos must be sent from ONE mobile device to discourage divide and conquer methodology. When you get this list, please send me a text or email from the lucky electronic.

3. You may employ any and all resources to get these photos. Bribery? Sure. Phone a friend? Totally. Conscientious use of New York City’s impressive public library system? Go for it, Dewey D. Just don’t call me, I’ll be busy cooking up a scrumptious feast.

4. There may be game changing information part way through the hunt so don’t forget to check your inbox for messages.

5. That’s it! Have fun and I’ll see you all at the apartment when the dust settles.

Love,
STL


Take a picture or video of yourselves:

1. Inside the revolving door at Otto, careful, don’t hit your head. (5 points)

(Okay, this is such a funny story I have to interject. Once a couple of friends and I went to Otto the same night that Fast Alice had a blind date there. Mostly because we are mean spirited and wanted to make the guy sweat. I know. Awful. Anyway, she was super dressed up and we were all waiting in the entrance area for tables but we were standing apart from her so that her date (who had yet to arrive) wouldn't suspect, and it was because we were standing a bit away from her that we were able to get such a good view of the dude who was staring so hard at her as he was following his friends out the door that the giant revolving door at Otto flew around and beaned him with an audible *thwack* on the back of the head. Since we were already on a mean-spirited errand, yes, we laughed our faces off.)

2. At the Union Square Farmer's Market

a. holding as many apples as you can (1 point for every apple you're holding in the picture)

b. with some of Rob’s favorite! Octopus!!! (10 points)

c. eating a sample! (15 points)

3. Posing with a bust of someone important in Central Park (10 points)

4. Kicking a soccer ball in the park (10 points)

5. Outside of a Best Buy (5 points, 1 point for each additional Best Buy)

6. Outside Nevada Smiths (10 points)

7. Inside Nevada Smiths standing proudly next to your team’s regalia (5 points)

8. Eating a pork bun at Momofuku Ssam Bar (15 points)

9. Buying a kid a ticket to the Central Park zoo (no arrests, please) (20 points)

10. Eating a soup dumpling at Joe’s Shangai (either location)(10 points)

11. Walking the Brooklyn Bridge (10 points)

12. With a Jennifer Ferguson painting in DUMBO (10 points)

a. While drinking a Wicked hot chocolate from Jacques Torres (an extra 5 points)

b. With Jennifer Ferguson herself (20 points)

c. With her rat (20 points)

13. With a Fernando Botero sculpture:

a. cat (10 points)

b. His bears: (10 points)

c. His naked people: (10 points)

d. His naked people whilst eating a pastry from Bouchon Bakery: (additional 5 points)

e. Can you find another sculpture? (10 points)

14. With bagels on your fingers at Tal bagel, 3 points for every bagel (limit 4 bagels)

15. With a plate of meatballs at Ikea (50 points)

16. Wearing hotel shower caps at The Plaza (20 points)

17. In front of the graffiti at Mars Bar (5 points)

a. Extra (30 points) if you can find STL and Gillain’s graffiti!

b. Extra (10 points) if you use the bathroom (not recommended)

18. Singing karaoke (10 points) (if video - 30 points)

19. Outside of what is no longer CBGB’s, looking pretty pissed off (10 points)

20. With the Wall Street Bull (5 points)

21. Outside of the Italian embassy (10 points)

22. Inside the Italian embassy (5 points)

23. Inside the Italian embassy with an ambassador or at least, someone in a uniform (15 points)

24. Reading Terry Pratchett/Neil Gaiman/Chuck Palahniuk (10 points, bonus 5 points if you are reading all three)

25. With Terry Pratchett/Neil Gaiman/Chuck Palahniuk (75 points, with an autograph written to Rob: automatic win)

26. Outside of Per Se (5 points)

27. With Thomas Keller (100 points)

28. With a souvenir from Masa! (10 points)

29. Eating a Levain Bakery cookie outside The Levain Bakery (10 points)

30. With a milk mustache at Momofuku Milk Bar (10 points)

31. Outside of Billie’s Bakery (5 points)

32. Bowing down in front of Costco, BOW DOWN I SAY. (5 points)

33. With a papaya or someone wearing grey outside Gray's Papaya (2 points, 5 points for both)

34. Video of a busker singing anything by Lionel Ritchie. (20 points)

35. Drinking a Peroni out of the bottle, out of a bag. (5 points for each)

36. Eating a pretzel-covered sea salt caramel at Bespoke Chocolates (10 points for each)

37. Pictures of doormen (1 point each, the more creative, the better. Whole team (minus photographer) must be in shot.)

38. With a Silver Linden in the park (5 points)

39. With prunes or prune juice outside of Prune (10 points)

40. Sampling cheese at Murray's cheese (10 points)

41. On any part of the Amble Through the Ramble (5 points)

42. Outside the Dessert Truck (5 points)

43. Inside the Dessert Truck (15 points)

44. Outside the Dumpling Truck (5 points)

45. Inside the Dumpling Truck (15 points)

46. Pictures of tourists (these must be OBVIOUS out-of-towners and they must be “in” on the photo) (5 points)

47. Pictures of tourists from Kansas (10 points)

48. Pictures of tourists from Europe (15 points)

49. Pictures of tourists from Italy (20 points)

50. Pictures of tourists from Cremona, Italy (50 points)

51. Someone wearing an “I Love New York” t-shirt. (5 points)

52. Restaurants with Italian names (1 point per, whole team must be in shot – minus photographer.)

53. Kneeling in the diamond district (OMG guys! Get it? GET IT??!) (5 points)

54. Learning one of the greeting chants at Ippudo. (5 points) (20 points for video)

55. Checking out the art at the Morrison Hotel Gallery….don’t forget to look pensive. (10 points)

So, that's it. It was a great day and we all had a fabulous time (even little old me who was stuck at home fielding photos, keeping score, and burning myself brutally whilst trying to flip a ham. I have no finger prints now. LOCK UP YOUR JEWELS AND NOTIFY THE NYPD!)




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Thanksgiving Poll Results

Hello Wednesday People! The poll has ended and the results are in!

It's Thanksgiving! I cannot live without...

First of all, thanks everyone for voting! It is a fun way for me to interact with you and a great way for all of us to get to know each other!

Some thoughts.

Leftovers sandwiches are the clear winner and, really, can you blame their supporters? I definitely like a leftover sandwich more than the dinner itself (complete with a gravy soaked inner bread layer, thank you Monica!).

That said, I was sure that pumpkin pie would do a bit better.

Something else I was sure of? That Rob would one of the only people to vote for a pet turducken. That choice was pretty much tailor made for him and he played right into my hands. *evil laughter*

And finally, "Wine, lots and lots of wine" had a slow start didn't it? And then as we actually got closer to Thanksgiving it garnered more and more votes.

I wonder what that says about your stress levels?

Keep on voting!



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I Liked It. So I Put A Caps Lock On It.

WHOAH. So I'm about to blow your mind with zero build up. Ready?

The Boss' real name is Rob.

Your mind is blown. Yes?

Firstly, let me say this. I loved that nickname. I really did. And I think he did too, insofar as it allowed him to have the title of "boss" whereas our relationship is, in reality, one of equal values where no one partner has more sway than the other. (He is currently erupting into fits of indignant coughing in front of a computer monitor somewhere upon reading those words, but really, it's true.) We put the "egal" in egalitarian.

Secondly, the nickname's purpose was to protect Rob's identity. As it is I don't think anyone is going: "He is ROB!??? I've known who they are all along! So much for anonymity, fool!"

Thirdly, I can now stop picturing Bruce Springstein every damn time I write about my husband (something that was confusing for me, and, let's face it, the very LAST thing Patti Scialfa needs at the moment) and I can stop writing things like "The Brob" and "Roboss" and, memorably: The Bross. Adieu non-fruedian slippages! I have done with you!

So, yes. Rob. My darling husband's name is Rob.

Now that we have all THAT out of the way, I wanted to share a story with you. Is it crazy, you may ask? I give it a 4 out of 9. Charmingly idiosyncratic without being worrying.

I am a thank-you note freak. I've touched on this before I know, but it bears repeating. I looooooove a good thank you note. I love getting them. I love buying them. I love writing them (so much so that I had to be physically restrained from bringing thank you notes to write on our honeymoon at Rob's insistance that no, it wouldn't be "fun" and the worried look on his face that spoke clearly to his inner concerns about who, exactly, he had married, and how her twisted views of "fun" would go on to poison his life.)

I bought 500 thank you notes prior to our wedding, all personalized and perty with our names and a tigerlily and you should know this: they are gone. GONE. I will write you a thank you note for opening my car door, JUST YOU WATCH ME. I will have it in your mailbox BEFORE YOU GET HOME! DO NOT TEST ME.

My sister famously didn't open a birthday check I had sent her, pointing out to my mom that any small sized stationary from me was "probably just a thank you note."

Seriously.

So, imagine my surprise when said little sister starts sending up thank you notes from her freshman dorm with alarming regularity. And punctual! And referring to the gift and how she used it and with sweetly looping handwriting like the perfect little thank-you-note-automaton of my most happy dreams.

I immediately sensed her game. She was trying to out-thank me. Out-thank ME. THE UNDISPUTED QUEEN OF THANK YOU NOTES.

Clearly this would not do.

Clearly she needed to be reminded that I have forgotten more about the art of postal gratitude than she will ever hope to know.

Clearly, I needed to bring out the big guns.

Thankfully, I had picked up just such a big gun on a recent trip to Long Island.

Behold, the thank you-thank you note, courtesy of Mean Cards:



Mwahahahaha. Young grasshopper has much to learn.




PS: These cards are all fabulous, and the company is really cool. I promise you will want to buy every single last card they have. Enjoy!



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The Costco Diaries -Or- My Weekend At Yummy's

And oh what a weekend it was.

This past weekend, I had the honor and pleasure of traveling to The Yummy Mummy's country estate. I'd love to tell you all about it but since she will probably like to do that on her own blog, and out of respect for her family, I am going to pass.(See her hilarious post on the wonders of country living, wine cravings and you tube, here.) At one point yesterday, she turned to me and said: If I had a dollar for every time you've mentioned Costco this weekend..." after which I immediately thought, "...you could buy so many things at Costco with those dollars. SO MANY THINGS."

I'm not going to lie, I've been to Costco three times since it opened. It opened on Thursday morning and I was away Friday, Saturday and Sunday so basically that means I have been to Costco way to fucking much. It's true. And I'm proud of it.

Having leapt gracefully over my initial distress at the OH GOD STORE SO BIG. SO BIG STORE. BIG STORE SO BIIIIIIIIIIIIG! I landed in a place of determination. I am determined to conquer this store. Determined to figure out how I can make it work for me and for our household budget. Determined to figure out how to go in there and not spend $263,786 dollars more than I meant to upon arrival. (Um....if anyone has figured out this last bit, drop me a line.)

To this end, I'll be cataloging somewhat my experiences, what I like and don't like, etc. No, this is not going to be a blog about Costco, don't worry. But I'm so excited about this place (shamefacedly) that if I don't address it head-on, with multiple posts it will be like that time I decided I liked olives so would therefore like olive juice so surreptitiously stole away to the kitchen over the course of one afternoon in 1985 and drank olive juice until I had a massive stomach ache. (You might remember a similar story about mayo.) My point? If I had told my mother what I was doing she would have surely steered me away from my rampant salt guzzling and saved me many hours of discomfort.

And so, this is where you come in. If you see my Costco obsession becoming dangerous. If it begins to cause dizziness, swelling, vomiting, night terrors, indigestion, gibbering, salsa dancing or speaking in tongues, please contact The Boss immediately and help stage an intervention to ensure my immediate discontinued use of the Costco.

Until then, lookie! Duck confit! Broccoli from a ginormous bag of broccoli!

I have to say I'm not usually a fan of prepared foods (obviously, right? I would hope that's obvious) but I couldn't resist trying this duck confit (for $7.99). It is made by a company called, confusingly, "Cuisine Solutions Fresh", or "Cuisine Solutions. Fresh." or possibly "Cuisine. Solutions. Fresh." (the last of which totally reminds me of the old Nuprin ads, or at least, that's how I'm saying it in my head.) The duck itself heats up in about 15 minutes total and was actually very tasty. Having had some pretty outrageous duck confit in my life (and I realize I'm very lucky to be able to say that) it didn't quite measure up to my other experiences. Furthermore it was seasoned with orange and ginger and I am just not a fruit with meat kind of girl. Even foie gras....people always try to serve it with jam or pickled strawberries or grape swirl of some persuasion to "cut the fat" where I just want, well...the fat. I WANT SALT AND FAT WITH MY SALT AND FAT. GIVE IT UP BIG STORE! So ok, I'm not in love. But...$7.99, dinner for two, duck confit I can purchase in Harlem?



Costco if you were a man I would have no choice but to leave my marriage and make sweet sweet love to you.

As it is you are going to have to settle for a threesome.



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Barroom Ballerinas

I've been teasing you with a big reveal these past few weeks, but before the grand unveiling, a little back story.

As some of you may have pieced together from my none-too-veiled references in some of my past posts, I made a very special gift for my bridesmaids to mark the one-year anniversary of their heroic efforts as my ladies in waiting. I know I was no bridezilla, but the expense and effort and time that go into being a bridesmaid at a traditional wedding are enormous, and I'll never forget everything that my girls: Gillain, Duckie, Sarah, Carolina, Nibblet and Legs did for me to calm my nerves, soothe my heart, and get me good and drunk when necessary (which was often.)

I knew some time ago that I wanted to get them a gift, something to commemorate the day, something fun and girlie and eventually decided that, despite the fact that I didn't know how, or even why: I would make them all a grown-up tutu.

The idea began when my dear friend Liz, a devoted follower of www.textsfromlastnight.com found the following text and sent it over to me:

(917): I'm once again drinking at eight am on a Sunday in my tutu. This garment is literally my best purchase ever.

...and I thought: "Hm."

...because having cocktails in a tutu (though not necessarily at 8 AM on a Sunday, because I like to think I am waaaay to grown up for that kind of behavior - something I like to think that will naturally turn out to be wildly untrue some time over the coming holiday season/summer/next 50 years of my life) sounded like a pretty fabulous thing to get to do. (Liz, for the record, immediately bought herself a professional grade tutu and has had many a cocktail in it since - I owe you one, Liz!)

This got me thinking about women and the way we dress, what a shame it is that to "dress up" as a girl usually means t&a with a side of red lipstick. If we can explore costumes it is usually to be the "slutty" iteration of whatever thing we are pretending to be, as I'm sure this past Halloween demonstrated handily to anyone with eyes. When The Boss was feeling festive over marathon weekend he threw on his Italy jersey...it is a costume of a sort isn't it? It says: "I am having a good time" without degrading the wearer or pouring him into a painfully tight dress (thankfully).

The more I thought, the more I realized that I would rather like to have a cocktail in a tutu, surrounded by be-tutu'd women I know and love. It also occurred to me that tutus were, in a way, rather sophisticated (with an obvious soupcon of whimsy) and might be look great with a cute pair of heels. So, with the creativity of Duckie, Liz, and Samantha Grass, Barroom Ballerinas was born.

I'm not a small business owner, and I don't expect I'll be leaving my job any time soon (at least not to become the Tutu King of Chicago), but I'm really enjoying putting these pieces together (not mentioned is the fact that I am grateful for anything to do with my hands...I know I haven't mentioned it recently but I am still remaining vigilant against smoking temptations, and keeping my fingers occupied is a handy way to stop myself from obsessing).

I wanted to share some pictures with you guys. We don't have any snaps of the kiddie tutus yet and the "Ruff" Dia is wearing is actually my infant tutu, which is so cute that when I show it to people they actually double over and clutch at their ovaries. True story.

So I've found a fun new hobby and was able to make sweet little gifts for my friends (as well as some other custom orders). Tulle being tulle, my color options are pretty limitless and I am having fun making friends in the garment district (WHAT UP ABDULLAH!) and having a new something-to-do.

Anyway.

Pictures by the wonderful Samantha Grass, who has been enormously generous with her time. She is (I think, obviously) an amazingly talented photographer and also does portraits (of both the human and animal persuasion). She once took a picture of beef stew that actually looked appetizing, if you can believe it. She is a genius.

Modeling by the lovely Sarah Booz (I love you lady, thank you, and my god do you have expressive legs!) and Sam's doggie Dia.

Tutus by me, Saint Tigerlily. Enjoy!









Bonehead update: Yes. I have an Etsy shop...but it is sort of embarrassing right now and I don't really know how to work the custom order function and if anyone out there has ANY advice I will kiss and kiss and kiss you. From afar.




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You Were Abducted! Of Course You Need Crepes!

You guys. Yesterday...something happened. Something sort of magical.

A Costco opened two blocks from my apartment. It is the first of its kind in Manhattan and I am now an EXECUTIVE MEMBER! I feel happy and guilty and dirty and hungry all at once.

Do you guys have these? Do I have anything to feel bad about? Or should I just revel in the seafood-any-cheese-I-can-imagine-duck-confit!-10-lambchops-for-14-dollars-GIANT-shampoo miracle that just plunked itself down in my backyard.

I'm counting on you to steer me right.




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