I Am Still Alive

Contrary to what you might think given the paucity of posts lately, I have not in fact perished, nor have I become suddenly incapacitated.  Rather, I've been taken unawares by how much of a time suck wedding and honeymoon planning can be.  I've spent quite a lot of time mocking those brides-to-be who run around like chickens with their heads cut off attending to the minutiae of the big day, but I have to admit, as simple and low key as our wedding is going to be, getting it together is still a stunning amount of work.  Ideas for posts come into my head, but by the time I have a minute to sit down the idea has left me and I am face to face with a blank screen.  And lately my cooking has consisted mainly of bought rotisserie chickens from Whole Foods and some variation on the cream/ham/pea/pasta classic (occasionally adapted to accommodate the contents of my freezer...edamame is quite a nice stand in for the peas) so I have no particular culinary inspiration to share.  Hence the great silence.

I won't pretend that I'm coming to you today with anything ground breaking, but there are a few things I've been enjoying lately that perhaps bear mention:

Internet Wandering


Do you know Svpply?  If, like me, you enjoy vicarious shopping, this website is your dream come true.  Various users tag items that they like, providing a glimpse into the tastes of those with more taste (or perhaps more time) than I.  Those users with whom you feel a particular kinship can be "followed", like a chic version of twitter.  Through this borderline stalking behavior I've developed an unhealthy obsession with the following fantastic yet superfluous items:

From the looks of it, I'm in the mood to sit down in the sun and enjoy a little romance.

OK, I Am Cooking Just a Little


I'm working out these days, consistently, for the first time in ages, and am making an effort to match my eating habits with my new regime.  So no cookies, no pastries, but I have to have a little something sweet.  So I've been snacking on Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's Breakfast Cheesecake, a lovely cake made of oh so healthy cottage cheese.  Mix 650 g cottage cheese (or cream cheese, goat cheese, or whatever you fancy at the moment) with 75g unsalted butter, 3 tablespoons of semolina or wholemeal flour, a pinch of salt, 100g sugar, 2 eggs, zest of 2 oranges, 1 tablespoon orange juice, 3 tablespoons of raisins and combine.  Bake in a springform pan at 330 degrees for 25 minutes, or until reasonably set, and voila, a gorgeous, not terrible for you snack.

And I Am Eating Out Quite a Bit


A new crush...I'm always enamored with dark restaurants with lots of wood and good prices.  Bocca di Bacco has got all of those in spades.

After a mirth filled dinner there with some of my favorite people the other night I'm sold.  Too bad it's in midtown.  But then again no one's perfect.

Revisiting an Old Favorite...back in the day when Paul used to work in Soho, we and the posse of the day spent half of our time at the bar Toad Hall chowing down on those lovely bowls of party mix and quaffing beers, and the other half at Lucky Strike right next door.  Opened in 1989, it was an early addition to Keith McNally's retro french bistro empire, and it has stood up to the ravages of time quite well.

I had nearly forgotten about the old dear until Saturday evening, when I attended a birthday dinner there, but oh how happy I was to be reintroduced.  Festive without being obnoxious, warm, comfortable, good but reasonable food (I mean where else can a girl get a steak with roquefort butter for $18?), it's everything you want in an evening out.  I promise, dearly Lucky Strike, not to be a stranger anymore.

Do As the Pros Do

I have been known to profess a hatred for shopping. But really, I do not harbor any serious aversion to the act. Rather, I hate going from uninspiring store to uninspiring store in search of...I'm not sure what exactly. I'm not someone that loves to shop for shopping's sake, wandering through a mall just to be in the presence of things for sale. But I do love having a roster of fabulous little establishments from which to pull items that perfectly perform a function that I might suddenly have the need to fulfill.


I come by this honestly. Put my father in a department store and his face immediately contorts into an expression of extreme pain, but put him in his favorite local hardware store in search of an obscure wall anchor and he practically glows with anticipation. In the same vein, my mother is not a fan of large chains, but can also shop for hours in smaller specialized establishments.


I was taught to shop this way as well, to seek out functional, well priced items, no matter how far off of the beaten track it might take me. Often, this means going to where the professionals shop. Restaurant supply stores, for instance.


Check out the prices at East Bay Restaurant Supply (a haunt of my youth) or any of the myriad of spots on the Bowery (haunt of my adulthood) and you'll never step foot in a William Sonoma store again. Take a trip to Ray Beauty Supply over on Eighth Avenue and Ricky's will become a faded memory of a time when you actually paid retail. And next time you're tempted to head over to Home Depot, give Prince Lumber Company on West 15th Street a try to find out what real customer service is. As I happily discovered, real customer service is never letting a clueless woman attempt to carry a box of bricks to Ninth Avenue to catch a cab. Insist that the box is much too heavy for her to carry (it was physically impossible for me to lift), bring the box to the curb, hail a cab, and load up the car for the ignorant lass.


New York lends itself to shopping in this way, as the city is organized into a series of micro-neighborhoods, many of which are devoted to one specific industry. For instance, the garment district is well known (and the location of my best sample sale experiences), but I recently discovered that a subset of the area is devoted almost entirely to fur. And there is of course the diamond district (it sounds much more romantic than the reality, I assure you) and the theater district (exactly as romantic as it sounds). These types of neighborhoods are fading (the meatpacking district being a prominent example of one that has faded completely away) but those that have endured are wonderful to wander through.


And so the other day, as I was walking from one meeting to another, I routed myself through the flower district on West 28th Street in search of a bit of floral-based inspiration. There was much foliage out on the street, but it was inside Jamali Garden that I really found bliss. I actually have heard of this establishment many times before, as it seems that anytime I see some trinket that I like cited online it is attributed to this place. Why it never occurred to me that the store was in my own backyard I'll never know, but I'm so happy it has all been straightened out. Inside I was confronted with stacks upon stacks of large planters, tiny votives, hanging strands of crystals and dishes and platters of all shapes and sizes. And among this bounty I found an item that I had been searching for for ages...

...a tray to contain my kitchen sink accoutrements, for the low low price of $4.99. Exactly how much something like this ought to cost, I think. Now off to the orchid store to score some sub-ten dollar blooms.

The Greening of the Home

I spent much of my youth in a house that was, for the majority of the 80s, a construction zone of sorts. My parents fell in love with the beautiful piece of land that the house sat on, the tall trees that surrounded the house, and the picturesque creek that ran through the front yard. They seemed to be so entranced by all of this in fact, that they didn't notice the house.

They didn't notice that one of our bathrooms (bright orange!) doubled as a hallway, they didn't notice that the master bedroom was on stilts in lieu of an actual foundation, that the rest of the house needed a new foundation and that birds would occasionally make their way inside through some passageway under the eaves. But they did notice that the place was a lovely 1920s craftsman bungalow and that it had the potential to be a beautiful home. Or rather, I suspect, they noticed everything and felt that the potential outweighed the immediate negatives (in the end, I this was most certainly true as their house is one of my favorite places to be).

So they went to work. There were periods of being overrun with contractors (when the house needed to be raised and a new foundation poured, for instance), and periods during which my dad spent every waking hour not spent at his office working on the house. My sister and I were occasionally enlisted to hang sheetrock and shingles, although I'm not sure how effectively we lightened the load as we were both under the age of 10 at the time.

It was during these periods that I learned to love hardware stores. As my dad often made three or four trips to various shops on any given Saturday, I ended up spending a lot of time in them.

So I was quite excited when I began to hear about a new store that had opened on the Bowery devoted to green home improvement and household items called Green Depot. For several weeks, each and every time I was in the vicinity of the Bowery, I would scan the area for any sign of the place, but for some reason could never find it. Finally, after reading an article about it in the New York Times last week, I actually looked up the address and successfully navigated my way to the establishment's front door.

The location actually has quite an interesting history, as documented on a column towards the front of the store.

It was once a branch of the YMCA, then studio space for artists (Mark Rothko among them apparently), then a den of vice, then landmarked and now a LEED certified retail destination. Ah New York, such history, such dynamism!

Green Depot is part hardware store (finishes like environmentally conscious floor coverings and countertop materials are in the back, items like levels, paint and hammers are up front), part household supply store. Everything is non-toxic and otherwise green. They even stock an entire baby line of non-toxic furniture, clothes and toys. But surprisingly, the whole vibe is quite relaxed and welcoming. The staff is friendly, I detected no composting zealots, and the prices are pleasingly low.

The shop stocks all purpose spray cleaners, window cleaners, floor cleaners, dish soap and the like, all for $4.95 or less for 32 ounces. And you can refill empty bottles at the store's bar o' cleaners:

They stock green packing products, including more different types of twine than I can remember coming across in my whole life, varying sizes of boxes and a biodegradable alternative to bubble wrap.

And there is a whole section in the front carrying those wonderful little items that you never knew you needed but once you lay eyes on can't seem to live without. Mold testing kits (I have had mold paranoia ever since the great bedroom ceiling leak), drinking glasses made of recycled wine bottles, intriguing books (I may have to pick up Green Apple, a green guide to New York next time I'm there), more twine and these fantastic cloth buckets:

What would one use a cloth bucket for? Who knows? But don't you just love it?

There are loads of items like these, none of them are prohibitively priced and all of which are at least nominally practical, which I believe gives one absolute dispensation to purchase at will. So go ahead, green yourself silly.

Japantown

Sunday was the most beautiful day in recent memory (since those glorious days of October, oh so long ago) and I couldn't help but take the Sunday papers up to Central Park for some outside time and to enjoy the nascent buds on the flowering trees.  I apparently was not the only one with this idea.

Half the city was up in the park, making for a very jovial atmosphere.

But at a certain point I had to admit that it really wasn't as warm as I wanted it to be, and that my time outside reading in the sun had actually left me exceedingly cold.  So I opted for a stroll around the Upper East Side, which, despite my populist tendencies, I absolutely adore (west of Lexington, at least).

Everything is just so beautiful, so perfect, so luxe, so well kept, that it makes me feel as if all is well in the world.  Ironic I suppose, since I imagine there are quite a few banker/hedge funders behind those limestone facades these days who would disagree.  But then I suppose that is the beauty of being on the outside looking in...I can live in blissful ignorance without knowing any of the ugly back stories.

And thus I can enjoy, unencumbered, the fabulous collection of cut flowers at Dean & Deluca (the Madison Ave location does a better job of creating the illusion of perfection than the Soho location I think):

And look how stunning the multi-colored roses just outside the store are!

It only seemed right to finish off my afternoon with another place that makes everything look perfect--my favorite Japanese grocery store, Katagiri & Co.

This tiny store on 59th Street carries what seems like every Japanese item there is.  Of course, I have never been to Japan, nor do I know too much about the cuisine, so I'm sure that I am the wrong person to ask when it comes to understanding how extensive the inventory really is.  All I can tell you is that to me it all feels very exotic.

The miso section alone is rather impressive:

I counted twelve different types of miso.  And also spied some fertilized chicken eggs.  At $8 per dozen I took a pass, but I must say they've been on my mind all week, so I may have to splurge the next time that I'm there.  Does anyone have any experience with them?  Are they delicious, or is there no difference?

The noodle and tofu section is equally well stocked:

Sadly no handmade noodles or anything, but there are plenty of packaged fresh noodle options and clearly loads of different types of tofu.

But the piece de resistance?  The fish, oh the fish!

Sadly, they are imprisoned in styrofoam and plastic packaging, but the pieces are stunningly beautiful nonetheless.  A bit like a box of jewels I think.  I picked up a lovely piece of salmon (only $2.50!  I will admit it was rather small, but it certainly sufficed for my dinner), sauteed it in my grandmother's cast iron skillet and draped it over my soba noodle soup.  Lovely, and I felt oh so virtuous.

I came home with quite the bag of loot:

And everything was perfect.  

For The Ladies

A tip for the curvier ladies out there:  you must pick up a pair of H&M jeans, the fit is amazing, and there is no tailoring necessary.

I'm actually not the hugest H&M fan generally.  I think it makes a lot of sense for people who buy clothes and get tired of them quickly, but my shopping style tends more towards the see-something-too-expensive-and-become-obsessed-with-it-and-occasionally-save-up-enough-in-a-year-to-buy-it.  So for me, H&M is a little torturous.  I buy something that I love from them (which, happily I don't have to save up for) and then it falls apart before I'm ready to part with it.

But my fellow curvy girl Vivian swears by H&M jeans, and since she is unfailingly impeccably turned out I decided to take her advice and buy a pair.  Besides, for $30 it wasn't much of a leap of faith, now was it?

Let me tell you, I have never gotten so many compliments as I have on my super dark wash boot cut H&M's.  Paul literally asked if I was ill because I looked like I had lost "too much weight".  And I've had them for nearly a year now and they seem to be showing no discernible wear, which is pretty impressive, even for non-H&M clothes.

So no more three figure priced jeans.  No need, simply no need.  In a good economy or a bad one.

Halfway To Hong Kong

When my sister and I were young, we got dragged around to what felt like hundreds of different food stores.  My mom was of the mind that different stores had different strengths, and as such, a shopping trip by definition had to include multiple stores.  And when it came time to buy seafood, we went downtown to Chinatown.  Oakland Chinatown, that is.

My most vivid memories of these little jaunts all involve buying crabs, which we did often during crab season.  We always bought live crabs, but my mom couldn't stand boiling them live at home so she had the fishmonger cleaver them in half for her.  Of course crabs have quite decentralized nervous systems so the legs continued to flail long after the cleaver had fallen.  And as they always gave us the crabs in a plastic shopping bag, any residual leg movement was make audible by the crinkling plastic.  Driving home with the bag in the back seat, crinkling away (in retrospect I'm sure most of the crinkling had to do with the movement of the car, not of the crab) I was totally traumatized, but the trauma was forgotten by dinnertime that night.

So all of this is to say that I have no fear of shopping for food in Chinatowns generally.  However, New York Chinatown is certainly not Oakland Chinatown.  New York's is more crowded, less orderly and there do seem to be more...unfamiliar, shall we say, items on display.  So I have always been reluctant to really delve into the bowels of the place, even though I know there are real gems to be had.  But I've found my stepping stone...the Hong Kong Supermarket.

This is apparently a chain in New York, and there are locations from East Broadway to Flushing, but my store of choice is the one on Elizabeth and Hester.

The place is truly a supermarket...one stop shopping for anything and everything Asian.  And some things British (much like Hong Kong itself!).  McVities Biscuits, every Thai, Chinese and Japanese condiment you would ever look for, detergent, cheap Shiseido hair products, Korean candies, veggies, and the list goes on.

One of my favorite parts is the noodle/won ton wrapper section.  Udon noodles, little egg noodles, tofu sheets, won ton wrappers in every shape imaginable.

And the fish section is really lovely (and CHEAP).

You can order one of the live fish swimming around in the tanks, or choose from the dead ones.

The flash got in the way in this photo, but the eye on that red snapper was perfectly clear.  And the thing was only $3.99 a pound.

The prices on these shrimp are pretty hard to beat.  I bought some of the ones in the back for $4.99 a pound.  And they were great!  And much much cheaper than the comparable product at Whole Foods, which was $15.99 last time I checked.

The meat selection is pretty extensive and really cheap, although I'll be honest, I tend not to look for bargains on meat.  You hear so many horrible stories about mistreated animals and unsanitary practices all in the name of cheap meat that I prefer to stick with my west village butcher when it comes to roasts, pork chops and the like.  But if you're looking for something a little out of the ordinary, like silky chickens, this is your place.

Additionally, they sell both young and mature chickens if you're interested in a stewing hen.

And have you been wondering where to get your beef pien?  Look no further.

So perhaps after a few months of shopping here, I can move onto the stalls with the fish flopping around in the styrofoam boxes and the chickens with the head and feet still on.  One can dream, at least.

Sailing the Ocean Blue

On Sunday I took another little venture to Brooklyn, but this time by boat rather than subway.  

I was searching for a picture frame for my Keep Calm and Carry On poster which recently arrived from Barter Books, and figured that Ikea would be the best place to find a cheap one.  I'd heard that they ran a free water taxi from lower Manhattan to the Red Hook location, and since I live about fifteen minutes from the pier in question, I figured it should give it a try.

What a lovely way to travel!  The views of Manhattan:

Inside the actual "hook" of Red Hook:

I do hope that some poor misguided developer wasn't planning to turn this building into the next hot condo tower prior to the market collapse!

And, here we are at our destination:

I must say, I don't understand why, given our numerous waterways in New York, we don't make better use of them from a public transport view.  It really is the most civilized way to get around.

Anyway, my Ikea trip was a bit of a bust.  My poster is apparently a somewhat odd size so there was no frame of the appropriate size.  So I came away with some wooden hangers (I love wooden hangers, and at $3.49 for a packet of 8, they are hardly prohibitive if you are willing to make the trip to Ikea), some lingonberry jam, cloudberry jam and Elderflower drinks.

But my trip to Fairway, which is just down the street from Ikea, was an utter success!  At 4:00 on a Sunday afternoon, the Fairway I know and love/hate (on the upper west side) would be packed with frantic shoppers.  But in Red Hook, it was only moderately busy.  I could browse in a leisurely manner through the aisles, which by the way were about twice as wide as those in Manhattan, and never once had to pack myself into that dreadfully slow elevator.  Fabulous!

That, coupled with a nice swing by the Red Hook version of the Chelsea Garden Center made for quite the lovely afternoon.  Completely worth the journey.

Hippie Dippie

Despite all my years living in Manhattan, I don't think it is any secret that I have a tiny but powerful hippie streak. I don't own anything made of hemp and I do occasionally wash my hair, but I love the whole "be kind to the earth and each other and eat non processed food" ethos that the hippies (if there are any true hippies left anymore) subscribe to.

So where do I get my hippie fix in the yuppie morass that is New York? Why I'm glad you asked. Take thee to 13th Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenue, and you will find the Integral Yoga Institute. Now as much as I enjoy yoga, I don't come here for my namastes. Hatha yoga is a bit gentle for me...I tend to fall asleep rather than breath through my elbows or whatever odd thing it is they always direct you to do. No, I come here for food.


I don't have one favorite food shop in New York. Rather, I have several that I like for different things. Sort of like a group of friends I suppose. There's Citarella for fish and nice peaches, there's the Union Square Greenmarket for my seasonal produce (at the moment that is basically potatoes), milk, butter and eggs, Florence Meat Market for my meat (delicious bacon), Buon Italia for nut flours, pasta, pancetta and parmesan, Trader Joe's for cheap nuts, dried fruit and their Valencia peanut butter with flax seeds, Fairway when I need a lot of different items and am feeling thrifty, and Whole Foods when I'm too lazy to trek up to Fairway.

Integral Yoga is where I go for honey, maple syrup, rice and barley syrups, pretty much any grain or flour that I'm looking for, and generally anything weird (a specific type of seaweed, for instance or manuka honey).

The place is tiny but packs quite a selection into that little space. With the hippie version of pretty much every grocery store staple, organic fruit and produce, beauty products and a juice bar in the back (I adore the place but for the love of god do not order their crazy green juice combos) you can get pretty much all that you need. But a lot of it is pretty pricey.

Since I am cheap, the stuff I gravitate towards are the items that they sell in bulk. For instance, you can get a half pint of clover honey for about $1.60. A pint of brown rice syrup for less than that, and a half pint of maple syrup is $3. And I cannot leave out their wonderful nut butters...peanut, cashew, almond, a mixture of all...can be had for less than $2 for a half pint. The shelf o' syrupy yet natural sweeteners and nut butters:

They also have a wonderful selection of bulk grains and flours. I always buy my oats, sunflower seeds and sesame seeds for granola here, my non-white bread flours (stone ground wheat, rye, whole wheat pastry), steel cut oats, and any and all whole grain I'm in the market for. In fact, I recently have been getting into baking whole grain breads and was wondering where on earth I would find wheat berries to make sprouted wheat. But lo and behold, I not only found wheat berries here, but also rye berries and kamut (whatever that is, I will let you know shortly as it is currently sitting on my kitchen counter).

The tiny but well stocked bulk grains aisle, looking into their fabulous organic produce section:

Although I don't generally come here to shop for produce, I must say that their selection is always of high quality, and frankly, if you are very commited to organic, their prices on fresh fruit and veggies are quite fair. So hippie or not, it is most certainly worth a try. If for nothing else, than for their chocolate covered papaya treats!

Taking A Ride On The L Train

Although I like Brooklyn, I don't make it out there too often. As a rule, I don't know where I'm going, I don't know many of the local spots, and I feel like every time I make the trek there is something weird going on with the subway, and as I'm not that familiar with the lines outside of Manhattan, I can't adjust my route as easily as I might be able to closer to home.

But that said, there does seem to be quite the culinary community growing up there, particularly in Williamsburg (I know, I know, skinny jeans/fauxhawk people be damned...but the place has got some great food, and it is often created by...gasp...people in loose jeans!).

This whole food thing they've got going on has drawn me out of my Manhattan bubble quite a few times over the past month or two. But until I saw this article in the New York Times about the "new culinary movement" in New York's hippest borough, I had completely forgotten to post about my little adventures. By the way, I could not be happier that the Times mentioned my favorite little chocolate company, Fine & Raw!

My enlightenment all started with my pig butchering class at The Brooklyn Kitchen.

In addition to hosting a great panopoly of classes, including those taught by the very talented butcher Mr. Mylan, the Brooklyn Kitchen seems to serve as one of the centers of this growing culinary community the New York Times is so excited about. The owners are local, they are cooks, and they like to hang out with their customers. And perhaps most importantly, the product line is not only extensive but also very practically oriented. There are not too many ridiculous Williams Sonoma type items (no bar sets, no seasonally themed cake tins), rather everything to me seemed quite useful, and like something I might conceivably want to buy.

So when I read about a kitchen supply store on Bedford Avenue (not far from The Brooklyn Kitchen) called Whisk, I figured it was worth checking out (I'll admit that at least part of my excitement had to do with the fact that it was only one stop into Brooklyn on the L train).

On a sunny, cold Sunday afternoon I trekked out to the Bedford Avenue stop and headed south (I think? I am directionally challenged when I change boroughs). As I walked along the street I noticed that just about every other storefront seemed to be either a restaurant or a food shop, and I noted a couple to check out on my way back to the train. It seemed that I was at ground zero for the new culinary zeitgeist.

Anyway, when I came upon Whisk I was absolutely charmed. It is distinctly more boutiquey than The Brooklyn Kitchen, and perhaps a bit more...feminine? The store winds through the bottom floor of what looked to be two townhouses (they even have tiny front gardens with wrought iron fences!), which makes for wonderful weekend browsing, as you are always discovering new nooks and crannies as you make your way through.

Most of the products are quite functional, (a few are simply pretty, but we can all use a bit of beauty in our lives, no?), the cookbook selection was somewhat small but excellent all the same, and I found the prices to be fair, particularly for plates and bowls and the like. I became particularly obsessed with the blue plate at the bottom of this picture:

If I recall, it was only about $10. As I think about it now, I may have to go back and pick up a few!

On my way back to the train, I swung by the Bedford Cheese Shop, which was also quite charming and had a wonderful selection of...you guessed it...cheese! They also had quite an extensive selection of butter, mustards, cookies, crackers, capers and the like. I will admit that I took umbrage to some of their prices (I think $11 for a half of a pound of butter is a little insane), but that said, everything they carry really is of the highest quality.

And my last stop before my return to Manhattan? After the cheese shop, it simply had to be a wine shop. UVA Wines and Spirits, to be specific. The place had a distinctly democratic feel to it. The prices were varied, but in general they hovered around my comfort zone ($10-$20 per bottle). I recognized some of the wines (always a comforting feeling in a wine shop) but some of them were totally new (also a comforting feeling in a wine shop). The place was highly navigable, the salepeople were pretty knowledgeable, and the selection was quite extensive given the small size of the shop.

So there you go...Bedford Avenue, serving all of your culinary needs (or at least some of them).

Old Money In The East Village

I have a soft spot for the New York Post. I know that it is not exactly the paper of record, but the headlines make me laugh (my favorite cover was during Heather Mills and Paul McCartney's divorce, with a picture of Heather Mills scowling accompanied by the headline "Hopping Mad"), and I can always get through the Sunday paper (not necessarily true of the New York Times).

And in this blissfully digestible sunday paper is a feature that I look forward to every week: "My New York". This is a chance for major and minor celebs alike to give the readers of the Post their ten or so favorite spots in the City. Now some of them are sort of like Gwyneth Paltrow's restaurant recommendations: good but completely obvious. I mean Central Park is great, but as the largest continuous swath of land in Manhattan, it is not exactly a hidden secret.

But occasionally you get some gems, like Helena Christiansen's "My New York". Now I already have a minor Helena obsession going. I ran into her coming out of the door of C.O. Bigelow a couple of years ago and was blown away not only by her beauty but by her innate coolness. Then I checked out her store Butik , which was full of fabulously unique clothing and effortlessly hip knickknacks, and fell a little more in love. Plus I covet her bangs.

So when she recommended John Derian as a must see shop, I made a mental note to check it out when I was in the East Village next.

This past weekend I found myself mere blocks from the shop, so I ducked out of the dark, snowy afternoon into the soft, vintagey light of John Derian's world (a world I would very much like to live in by the way).

I was met with tables and tables of decoupage plates and platters. The images were fantastic. Botancial illustrations, giant bugs, bats, but my favorite was an excerpt from a letter on a blank background: "I must insist that you return my trinkets. This is your last chance." I think that would be perfect as a mail tray, and had to seriously restrain myself from buying it on the spot.

And as I poked farther back into the store I found lamps to fall in love with (my favorite was unfortunately $695), dishes,

flatware, objets,

hanging lights, moroccan poufs, the best smelling candles in the world (I believe they were made by Astier de Villate), and a phenomenal collection of brushes...for cleaning, I guess.

Everything in the store was ostensibly classic, but at second glance had some sort of edgy twist to it. You had the feeling that one of those slightly faded but pleasingly eccentric old money families would have a big old heap of a house filled with everything in the shop. And as I have a secret wish to be a rich eccentric I also have a not-so-secret wish to own everything that John Derian sells. As will you, I daresay.

Field Trip to DUMBO

This past Saturday, Marissa and I braved the frigid temperatures to check out the Brooklyn Flea Winter Antiques Market in DUMBO.  I was excited, with visions of old copper pots, 30s era furniture and first edition books dancing in my head.  

The facility was great...not the drafty warehouse I was imagining, but instead a fairly posh space at the corner of Front and Washington.  Perhaps a vacant retail space?  Who knows, but regardless it was warm and spacious.  

Unfortunately, the mix of merchandise was a little disappointing.  It is entirely possible that if we had gotten there an hour or two earlier, closer to the 11:00 opening, the options would have been better, but it was a lot of clothes (despite my love of thrift shops in high school, now I'm not so into used/vintage clothing) and a ton of costume jewelry.  Some of it was actually quite cool, but I found the prices a little...optimistic, shall we say?  Marissa was vaguely interested in a golden Givenchy necklace but the vendor was inflexible on his $125 price.  Sir, Givenchy was quite chic back in the Audrey Hepburn days, and is having a bit of a renaissance now with the shoes that were featured in the Sex and the City movie, but your 80s trinket is certainly not "a very fine piece".

But all was not lost.  We spent so little time in the market that we had quite a bit of time to explore DUMBO, which is not something I've done too much of in the past.  First stop was Powerhouse Books.  It's certainly not your typical arty bookstore.  Lots of New-York-In-The-80s photo books, skater/surfer culture photos, and quite a random collection of food books.  I felt cooler for having been in there...it's perfect for browsing (although not the type of place you go to find a specific title).

Second stop was the Tivoli Home Shop at 111 Front Street.  Tiny, and in the back of what looked to be a lovely restaurant, it was packed with items that I wanted to spirit back to my apartment.  I particularly loved the pillows, and virtually all of the tableware.  And, as they carry my new obsession, Royal Copenhagen china, I got some very enjoyable ogling time in.

But the find of the trip was really Loopy Mango, a quirky little women's clothing store.  I recognized many of the brands carried in this lovely little shop, but I have to admit I didn't recognize any of the pieces, which to me indicates that there is an independent spirit alive and well at this establishment, which is always heartening to see.

I was most taken with all of the day dresses that they carried.  I'm always lusting after those tailored, vaguely french looking day dresses that the women in Bill Cunningham photos seem to own so many of so was thrilled to see the likes of this Yoana dress adorning the racks:     

In the same family (but a coat) by Tony Cohen:

And as I'm currently on the hunt for a new everyday black bag, this Malene Birger bag intrigued me:

So most certainly worth the trip.  And given the compact nature of DUMBO, it's a perfect outing on a cold day, when you don't want to spend too much of your time wandering down the street against bitter winds.

Ye Olde Butcher

Following the holidays, my usually well-stocked freezer was looking a bit depleted, so this past weekend I vowed to embark on a mission of mass stock production. If all went according to plan, chicken stock and veal stock would soon fill the shelves, resting in deep freeze until their tasty services were required.

Now stock is one of the easiest things in the world to make...outranked only, I think, by toast. I mean, really, it's basically meat tea. The only vaguely difficult aspect is collecting the necessary meat scraps, which can be a little challenging if you don't have a good butcher. Thankfully, I do.

I have been a serious devotee of Florence Meat Market since my early days in New York. Although I wish I could call it my neighborhood butcher (partially because I would love to be able to pop in anytime, partially because I would love to live in the West Village), I do have to travel a couple of subway stops in order to get there. But I am never disappointed that I have made the trip.

I can't say for sure that it is a family-owned establishment (given the plethora of family snapshots and communion photos on the walls I assume it was at one point), but regardless, it has a distinctly familial feeling about it. I always see the same people in there, performing the same functions (Maria answers the phone and works at the counter, her merry band of butchers prepare various cuts behind her), and everyone, customers included, always seem to know each other.

The quality is unfailingly high (do not miss their fantastic homemade sausages), the butchering is nearly perfect (it seems to be done with an almost surgical precision) and I cannot recall ever asking for something that they did not have or could not get for me in fairly short order (with the exception of chicken feet, which I occasionally like to throw in my chicken stock, but they are an addition that I can certainly live without).

I would recommend calling ahead to place your order, even if it is something you plan to pick up the same day. Occasionally, they run out of certain items towards the end of the day, so it's not a bad idea to put a claim on your cut of choice, and because they custom cut everything, you may have to wait for a bit for them to prepare your order if you are just walking in. But waiting is not the worst thing in the world. There is quite an entertaining cat to play with (just to give you fair warning, the cat is a bit difficult...it will love some pets until it decides that it hates them and then turns around and bites you) and the crowd is always convivial.

Well, all did go according to my plan, and I now have ten quarts of stock in the freezer.

My chicken stock, in the early stages:

My veal stock, about halfway through cooking:

By the way, why is it that everyone (I guess by everyone I am referring to certain Food Network personalities) always makes such a fuss about how hard beef and veal stock is to make? Aside from roasting the bones, it is exactly the same process as making chicken stock!

If homemade stock is of interest to you, my recipes, if they could even be called that, follow:

Chicken Stock

4 lbs chicken parts (backs, necks, wing tips, feet)

2 carrots (I peel them, but I doubt it is necessary)

1 onion (red or white, halved, I peel them but again, probably not necessary)

3-4 celery ribs

2 leeks (wash them very well, but only use them if you have some knocking around, the stock is fine without)

few sprigs of parsley

1 bay leaf (fresh if possible)

few sprigs of thyme

2 garlic cloves (once again, I peel them, but do as you please)

1/2 teaspoon whole peppercorns (do not crack them, it will make the stock too spicy)

If you have a pot for cooking pasta (one with a strainer insert, like this), fill the strainer (while in the larger pot) with all of the ingredients. Otherwise, use a large pot, and put all ingredients in the pot. Then fill with cold water to cover, and bring to a boil over high heat. Skim off the foam at this point (unless you have particularly scummy bones, I find it much easier and less wasteful to skim all at once rather than bit by bit along the way), and turn the heat down to low and let the stock simmer for 2 hours, skimming occasionally if necessary.

Remove from heat, either lift strainer out of pot or pour stock through colander, catching liquid in a large vessel, depending on what kind of gear you are using. Then decant into storage containers. If you will be using the stock within three days, you may refrigerate it, otherwise, freeze it. However, prior to freezing, let stock chill in refrigerator until fat on top has turned solid. Skim fat off, then freeze for up to six months.

I do not salt the stock at this point. I find it easier just to salt whatever dishes I use the stock in when I am cooking them.

Veal Stock

3 pounds veal soup bones (ask your butcher to crack them)

excluding chicken bones, same ingredients as above

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Roast veal bones for 45 minutes. When finished roasting, pour a bit of water into the roasting pan to loosen any bits that have dripped down. Place roasted bones and water from roasting pan (along with any bits you've been able to loosen) in large pot (again, preferably one with a built-in colander). Add rest of ingredients, cover with water, bring to a boil over high heat. Skim, then turn heat down and simmer stock for two hours.

Remove from heat, strain stock, and follow storage instructions for chicken stock.

Brown to Blue

This past Saturday, after a rousing visit to the Onassis Center to see the exhibit Worshipping Women:  Ritual and Reality in Classical Athens (many urns, most of which were in stunningly good condition considering that they are several thousand years old, in case you were wondering), Robin and I headed up Fifth Avenue, against my better judgment, and, as it turned out, against a massive tide of directionally challenged tourists, to one of my absolute favorite stores, Takashimaya.  I'm not sure why, perhaps it is due to the Japanese ownership, but every single object in this store is stunningly beautiful, stylish and unique, and shockingly, not all of them are out of my price range.  In fact, quite a few are well within my price range.

Anyway, we wandered somewhat aimlessly in the direction of the Shu Uemura counter (I feel much the same way about Shu Uemura as I do about Takashimaya...I love everything) and were greeted by a lovely, chic woman offering to show us some new colors.  I was ready to demur in deference to my sister, who is generally less than enthusiastic about makeup, but to my utter surprise, Robin accepted the invitation with unbridled excitement.  Hallelujah!  Despite her stunningly blue eyes, my dear beautiful sister insists on using brown eye shadow.  Don't ask me why.  It was time for a professionally mandated change.

And change she did.  The lovely, chic woman introduced Robin to the joys of baby blue (it looked good, I promise) shadow, slate shadow, silvery shadow, and the most beautiful shimmery slate grey eyeliner.  And to the joys of scant amounts of mascara (her eyelashes are so ridiculously long that a normal amount of mascara looks a little gratuitous).  And she did something amazing to Robin's skin, don't ask me what.  But you literally could not see the makeup.  So pretty:

The artist was so sweet and did such a competent job that I thought it worth revealing her name:  she's Keshonah, and she works Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays.  However ladies, if you have big plans for New Year's Eve, she's also working this Wednesday so take advantage of her talents, and of course, buy something from her.  She most certainly is deserving of the commission.

Going Home Again

Despite my vaguely disturbing fascination with Martha Stewart, I'm not what I would consider a "crafter".  I don't make personalized canvas totes, or flowers out of paper or acorn pendants.  In short, I am not on Martha's "craft of the day" distribution list.

However, I occasionally enjoy making things by hand.  For instance, when the weather begins to turn cold, I suddenly feel the need to knit something.  But this is usually as far as it goes.  Except this year.

As you may remember, because my family came to me for the holidays this year, I erected my first Christmas tree ever last week.  And since it was my first, I had virtually no ornaments.  And since I didn't feel the need to spend vast sums on new ornaments, I was forced to get a bit creative...crafty, if you will. 

Now the only craft store I've ever heard mentioned in general conversation is Michael's, which from what I understand is a national chain.  But as New York is a somewhat difficult environment for big box retail to establish itself in, there is no Michael's in the city (or at least not yet, I hear that one will be opening in the new year).  So I was forced to turn to Google, and with minimal research discovered that there is a crafting mecca by the name of Lee's Art Shop at 220 West 57th Street.  Score!

And when I got there, what did I discover?  The most magical place on earth!  Endless aisles of glitter, ribbons, yarn, feather boas, glue, paper, lights, framing materials...the inventory seems almost infinite.  At four floors, the store really does hold an extraordinary variety of items.

And perhaps most importantly, the prices are all totally reasonable.  So for about $35 I got all of the materials necessary to decorate my whole tree (or at least the half of it that faces the living room, I will admit that the back is rather barren).  And with the help of my very lovely friends, I actually was able to produce all of the ornaments that I had conceived of.  For instance, a 49 cent foam snowflake covered with silver Martha Stewart glitter (I know, I know, I talk about her ad infinitum, but I'm telling you, her glitter really is quite superior, much finer and sparklier than the competition), produced this dramatic effect:

And some 35 cent papier mache forms combined with glitter and Greg's artistic flair created these adorable little adornments:

And some wide grosgrain ribbon along with a needle and thread (along with some inspiration from Martha's latest issue of her magazine...I told you my fascination is a bit much), produced this cute sunburst:

And the final product?  Here:

OK, probably would be more impressive if I had something other than my Blackberry to take pictures with.  But trust me, it is the best tree ever.

I'll admit I did not create the star at the top, that was a wonderful find at Kate's Paperie.  And by the way, if you're there for the star, you should absolutely pick up some of the beautiful and adorable rhinestone reindeer silhouette ornaments.  (Thanks to my sister, who also brought me a gorgeous painted ball from Scotland, and my parents, I am now the proud owner of two of the  sparkly reindeer and I love them more than is really appropriate).

Anyway, back to Lee's Art Shop.  A leisurely wander around the store is the ultimate antidote to a soul-crushing, or simply a marginally bad, day.  The abundance of frivolous, eye catching items will transport you back to the best parts of your childhood (assuming you enjoyed the kindergarten art project phase), and you will rediscover your child within.  At least until you exit the store, throwing yourself back onto the frigid streets of Manhattan.