OK, I hate my kitchen...

Maybe hate is too strong a word.


Though, up until this week, I would've just said hate, yeah, hate, without reservations. But this past week I started using the kitchen more than I have been previously, and suddenly I realize, I don't hate everything about it, just a few things. This means the impossible renovation I'd previously imagined may not be necessary. Actually, I'm starting to think, hmmm... a little paint, new light fixture, new counter-top, new floor, maybe a new fridge could do it. (You have to bear in mind; up until this past week my thoughts went more along the lines of: "I have to just rip it all out and start from scratch! My living holy hell, it's hideous! Agh, my eyes! Look at that! I want to vomit every time I walk into this room! Et cetera! Et cetera! F*** barking et cetera!!")

So here's how the change happened...

I woke up on my birthday feeling ok, but suddenly the day took a rapid nose-dive. I wasn't where I expected to be (either literally or figuratively), acupuncture (for the first time since I started) didn't invigorate me, I was weepy and feeling sorry for myself and convinced the day was shot.

Then, I went to the co-op.

Lo and behold, garlic scapes! The skies parted and the birthday angels sang: ah ahh AHHHH ahh. I don't know. I just find these things aesthetically perfect. Just their existence in the world cheered me. I bought just enough to make me feel better. Then got up on Saturday and went to the farmer's market and bought enough for the plan I'd concocted. I would make a giant batch of garlic scape pesto and all would be right with the world. So, I made a giant batch, froze most of it in smaller batches, cooked up some angel hair pasta, invited a couple friends over, threw together a fab salad (Remembrance Farm in Danby, NY sells the best Asian Braising Mix; I live off the stuff! Perfect greens. Perfect.), poured myself a glass of wine, offered my friends some beer, and had a lovely dinner on my front porch. A kitchen that made that possible couldn't be all bad, right?

I was thumbing through Apartment Therapy and, oh yeah, they suggested one clean one's kitchen top to bottom. So then I decided to clean the broiler, which was one of the reasons I hated my stove and longed so passionately for that O'Keefe and Merritt. Then I went through some cabinets and took some stuff to the Salvation Army. (May as well give back for all the treasures I find there.) Today, it cooled off enough for me to be outside, so I went after the blasted white morning glories (bindweed) trying to utterly consume my garden. But then I returned to the kitchen to roast some summer veggies.

Look how pretty these vegetables came out, with their lovely little caramelized tips. Do I really need a new oven? Huh. Maybe not.

I Heart Food

Just back from New York where I gave a reading at the International Center of Photography. I spent the weekend in Carroll Gardens where I was borrowing my friend Robin's fabulous apartment.

How I do love that neighborhood.

I walked around, stopping into the yummy boutiques. I tried on a fabulous Corey Lynn Calter dress (--at Dear Fieldbinder. If you love dresses you should go there. Seriously. No one's paying me to write these things.--) and I almost cried when it did not fit me perfectly. Anyway, now I've decided my writing project must include an essay on closets... something that touches on my love for dresses and shoes and being seriously high femme. More work for me.

I also ate my way through the neighborhood.

Loved sitting in the garden at Frankie's eating antipasto and drinking a bellini and reading The Poetics of Space.

Loved sitting in the open windows at Panino'teca scarfing devilled eggs with caviar (so simple; so delicious!)



Loved my breakfast of crepes au sucre at Provence en Boite. That morning the owner's little girl's class was having an end of the school year party. I love the sound of children. (I guess I'll have to write about that, and, specifically, the sound of the kids in the park across the street from my house, later too. More work for me.)


Loved (despite the terrible, weepy, vicious hormonal night I was having) tea and pastries at Sweet Melissa.

But the most spectacular food moment was my lunch at Jill's. On the menu, and the specials board, and on the website, there's this quote from Thich Nhat Hanh: "In this food I clearly see the presence of the entire universe supporting my existence." Are you eye-rolling? Well, guess what? In that food I clearly saw the presence of the entire universe supporting my existence. I sat there, precariously perched on that too hip, wobbly little stool, and thanked Jesus for my life after eating that food. Then I demanded the chef to come out from behind the counter and I kissed him. (On the cheek, honey!) Then I took Robin there for lunch the next day.

How I wish I had a digital camera (gotta do that, H.I.) so I could show you pictures of that food. Besides being delicious, it was aesthetically perfect: beautiful little purple micro greens against the bright backdrop of the green curry sauce for my rice paper spring vegetable ravioli. Steam rising from the white teapot where those gorgeous sprigs of mint steeped. God is good.

Now I'm back. My kitchen (wholly un-renovated, and in need, in my admittedly embarrassingly "bourgie" opinion, of a refurbished 1954 O'Keefe and Merrit Stove and a Summit undercounter refrigerator and freezer) should be put to good use tomorrow. A friend is coming over to make Ethiopian food. God is good.