The Great Funk

Talk to just about anyone in New York at this time of year, and they'll tell you that they're sick of everything.  Three months of cold and snow will get a person down.  In fact, this is probably about the only time of year when 9 out of 10 New Yorkers will tell you that they would happily move to L.A.

I am not immune to the great funk, I admit.  As much as I rhapsodize about the seasons, the end of winter is not my favorite time of year.  I drag myself around, living my life, going through the motions, but by the end of the day I have very little interest in much of anything but the TV and the couch.  And when Paul is out of town, as he is now, that tendency is only amplified.

Sadly, this means that food becomes a bit of an afterthought.  For all of the talk one hears of wonderful winter braises, I have no interest in initiating such an undertaking these days.  But at the same time, takeout somehow only makes things more pathetic, so some sort of a compromise is called for, and that compromise is miso soup.

It requires so little effort I'm not even sure it could be called cooking, but I enjoy it immensely just the same.  Just boil a couple of cups of water, add a tablespoon or two of miso paste (the amount varies wildly depending on the miso you use, taste as you go), perhaps some soy sauce if, like me, you ended up with some organic miso that has almost no salt (rookie mistake, obviously) and you have your base.  Throw in whatever you've got in your refrigerator next.  Chicken, tofu, mushrooms, I absolutely must have some sort of leafy green...and then, most importantly, the noodles.  I find it critical to have those crinkly, guilty pleasure ramen type noodles, but this is a highly personal decision, so I leave it to your own good judgment to choose your carb.

And then, after no more than five minutes of effort, I once again sink into the couch, in front of the TV, with a steaming bowl of goodness, contently waiting out the cold.

Revelations

After weeks of spending most of my energy working and trying to avoid the cold, yesterday, which I spent out and about since the weather had relented a bit, felt like a reawakening.

After my customary poached egg and toast with a steaming mug of PG Tips in the morning and a lazy perusal of the newspapers, I was off to try a new exercise studio on the upper east side.  Now over the years I've given just about every yuppie workout regime in the city at least a cursory try (save for spinning, it scares me just a tad) so I can say with some level of authority that The Refine Method, aka my new find, is one of the best, if not the best, exercise options in New York for the spandex-clad, body conscious set.

After an hour class, I was completely worked out...strength, cardio, the perfect level of sweat and fatigue.  And I love love love the teacher/owner.  Hilarious, quick and absolutely no bs, exactly my kind of girl.  She's so great I don't even hate her for her incredible New York City Ballet body.

And upon reading her blog I am even more obsessed with her.  She has done her research, let me tell you!  Read about how crunches screw up your back, how the idea that stretching after working out makes your muscles long and lean is ridiculous (obviously, now that I think about it) and how "dancer" workouts will never get you to Natalie Portman in the Black Swan.  And somehow I even love that the studio is on an out of the way street in the basement of a church.  Basic, no frills, exactly how exercise should be.  And happily, the no frills aspect is reflected in the pricing.  Also as it should be (but rarely is).

After class, on a wave of endorphins, I floated over to Via Quadrono on 74th and Madison for a quick cappucino.   I have to admit, as much as I used to adore this place, I had abandoned it of late.  The wait for the tables became too long, the prices too high, and the other coffee options in this city have become so great, but I was in the good mood and figured I'd give it a shot.  Happily, there was a space at the oh-so-Italian bar to stand and drink, so that is what I did.

I may have had a cookie or two as well...

...which I nibbled on as I admired the gorgeous sugar dispensers that surrounded me.  How many coffee shops do you run across that have just barely tarnished silver vessels for crystals both raw and refined?  Even Stumptown, my current favorite, doesn't go that far.

After my midday snack I was off to the Met, inspired by my mother to see the new Cezanne exhibit.  It was in fact wonderful, although a bit more brief than I had imagined it would be.  I guess there aren't nearly as many "card players" paintings as I thought.  But no matter.  As I always do when visiting the museum, I headed upstairs to check out the photography and impressionist galleries.  And it was there that I came across the most fabulous exhibit...Stieglitz, Steichen and Strand.  STUN-NING.  Stunning.  The photos of the New York of old were my favorites.  Some haunting,

some with that angularity and color contrast that so perfectly conveys "metropolis".

Exactly the style that I was trying to emulate as an undergraduate photo student when shooting in west Philadelphia, and only partially succeeded in.

After the photos I felt that my museum experience could only go downhill, so I decided to head back out to Fifth Avenue, stopping only for a moment to admire the always-wonderful flower arrangements in the front lobby (cherry blossoms that day).

My stomach was gnawing at me a bit, and so I headed over to the nearest food truck that didn't have the word "Sabrett" on it.

Now normally I wouldn't touch a pretzel truck in New York with a ten foot pole.  All of them insist on those horrible giant heavy pretzels with too much salt that I swear must be stored in warehouses with rats running through them just before the vendors reheat them for our eating pleasure.  But this one looked different.

Jalapeno pretzels, garlic and thyme, feta and olives...could it be?  Is New York finally catching up to the gourmet food truck trend that so many others adopted years ago?  It seems that the community near the Met steps is.  My feta pretzel was warm, tender, tasty and just the right size.

The perfect ending to a revelatory day.

Genius in Tomato

Wall of passata at Eataly

When it comes to home cooking, there's not much new and different to discover.  It's all pretty much been done by the many generations that came before.  Of course, the Microplane changed everyone's life for the better a few years back, and the rice cooker was quite a revelation for me once I got over my snobbery and finally took it down out of the cabinet to try it out, but these are rare occurrences.  Usually as a home cook I just go along, happy to find nothing more than a new cheese that I enjoy melting on toast.

But the other day I came across something new and exciting enough (to me) to put a bit of a spring in my step.  Have you heard of passata before?  Usually packed in tall thick bottles, it is essentially tomato puree.  I don't know if the puree is a more pleasing texture or taste than what you normally find in cans, or if I just like the packaging better than a can (love being able to dump out a few tablespoons here and there and reseal), but I'm absolutely obsessed.

A recipe calls for a few ripe tomatoes in the dead of winter?  No matter, throw in a bit of passata.  It gives the color and taste of tomato without having to deal with those hard specimens at the supermarket or that unpleasant texture that canned tomatoes often have if you end up biting the wrong part (am I the only one totally grossed out by the remnants of tomato skin and stems?).  It's like summer in a bottle.  And at this time of year, we can use all of the fortifications against winter available.  

This Time of Year

I seem to forget each year how utterly exhausting January can be.  After lounging around in California for a week and a half at Christmas, working here and there but by no means all day, and taking a few days off back in New York with my beloved for New Year's, spending a full day in the office and then going out for evening activities is terribly difficult.  And somehow every year the days are busier in January than you ever expected they could be, and everyone wants to "catch up after the holidays" so evenings are booked solid.

But at the same time it's bitterly cold outside and all you really want to do is hunker down in cozy clothes under a cozy blanket, eat cozy food and watch movies or perhaps bad wedding reality shows on the WE channel.  Perhaps emerging only if properly dressed to do some outdoor activity in a pristine location as we did last weekend when we went snowshoeing up at the Mohonk Mountain House.

There's a very unique culinary feeling about January...I'm not in the mood for anything elaborate, just satisfying food with few ingredients that can simmer away, untended, as I snuggle down on the couch.  But at the same time, after the excesses of the holidays I'm not looking for anything as serious as braised short ribs or cassoulet...I want something cleansing and nourishing and light.

It is this unique need that develops at specific times of the year that has made me fall in love with Nigel Slater's The Kitchen Diaries (I have already fallen in love with all of his other books after all).

My parents bought it for me some time ago as a gift and I had periodically flipped through it in a rather cursory way, knowing that I liked the book but not really understanding why.

But now that I have pulled it off of the shelf in a more serious way, I see that Mr. Slater's diary about what he ate throughout one year of his life (and the accompanying recipes) is wonderful to cook along to in real time.  Just as I yearn for something hearty yet easily digested on the first day of the new year, so does he, and he provides just the recipe to fill that yearning (an indian scented pumpkin soup in case you are wondering).

One evening when I was looking for something hot (not an unusual desire at this time of year) but easy and clean, I took his lead and threw together a pot of thai scented mussels and was absolutely sated.

The other night I even transgressed and wandered a bit into February to make some chicken (in my case pork, as I could find no reasonably priced ground chicken) patties in broth (served over rice in my case) which were delightfully easy and delicious and homey.

And this evening, in addition to the bulgar with eggplant and mint that I made for dinner tonight and for lunches this week, I was in the mood for something aromatic and sweet, so I immediately flipped to his ginger cake.

And came out with this

which I will not be, as Mr. Slater suggests, letting mature for a day or two.  Rather, I'll be cutting into it in short order, reveling in it's warmth and spice and January-ness.

This cooking alongside a seasonal cook thing may be a full-year endeavor for me...or perhaps when the sun comes out and the warmth comes rushing in I'll lose interest entirely?  I certainly hope not...I'd be missing out on loads of excellent and appealingly easy recipes.

Holiday Lessons Learned

Well well well, there was quite a bit of snow in New York last week.  I of course experienced next to none of it as I was "stranded" in California where the weather was mellow and warm.  Thank goodness Continental couldn't get their act together and I got stuck there for three extra days.

During my enforced vacation I learned quite a few things:

The Black Swan is actually not a lovely movie about ballet, but a terrifying horror movie.  Still I enjoyed it, despite yelping audibly in the theater.  Perhaps it was the makeup that won me over in the end.  That or Natalie Portman's gorgeous performance.

The King's Speech is just as good as everyone says.  If I was in a poncy movie reviewer mood I would say something about it being an elegant portrait of a troubled but deeply good man, and something about the touching friendship that forms between two strangers.

But I'm not so I won't.  I'll just say that Colin Firth is absurdly good and Geoffrey Rush is fabulous as always.

I also learned that Up is an adorable movie, perfect if you are in need of a pick me up.  Who couldn't be charmed by an old man who attaches thousands of balloons to his house in an effort to move it to South America?

Other lessons?  5 Hour Lamb is delicious for Christmas dinner, although 4 hour lamb might be even better.  4 month old nieces are very cute and lots of fun to play with.  There is nothing quite like a slightly dying fire, when the hearth is warm and the fire is not raging so much that one can't sit in front of it.

But most important lesson learned?  Home is the best place to be for the holidays.

Getting in the Spirit

I absolutely adore Christmas, but this year you'd never know it.  The holiday has barely registered with me.  I've been preoccupied with work so my kitchen has been cold for an uncommonly long time, the holiday parties I've attended have been fun but oddly devoid of Christmas decor, and although I've been haunting the department stores in search of a wedding dress it's the massive shoe sales that have caught my eye rather than the holidays windows.

But somehow this weekend the tide turned.  I'm headed to California on Tuesday, so now that I'm preparing for the trip it's really feeling like Christmas.  I spent the weekend running about doing last minute shopping, and taking full advantage of the very serious sale at Kate's Paperie and a considerably smaller one at the Conran Shop which has the cutest gift tags ever.  I spent Sunday morning wrapping presents with my loot from the shopping trip

and appropriately enough, Nigella's Christmas special was on at the time.

Now that is a woman who knows how to do Christmas.

In addition to her be-lighted and be-boughed townhouse, she's preserving dried fruits in booze,

roasting prime rib,

icing cookies (I was absolutely jealous...I barely even have bread in the house now)

and entertaining her sparkling circle of friends effortlessly.

After watching that show I was well and truly on the holiday bandwagon.

Now that my Christmas spirit has been ignited, my gifts are in order, my laundry done, my apartment clean and my work in hand, I'm free to revel in the holidays on the fairer coast with my family.  I'm looking forward to that roaring fire, the scent of the tree, the poppyseed bread on Christmas morning and that lazy time with my nearest and dearest.

I can't wait!  Happy Holidays to you all!

It's All Coming Together...Sort Of

After months of inaction, Paul and I have, in the last month or so, made a lot of progress on our wedding planning.  A church has been secured, a restaurant rented and I've narrowed down the choices for the party venue.  But that said, there's a fair amount left to do.  Finding a dress, for instance.  After four hours of shopping today at just about every spot worth visiting in midtown, I'm perhaps a centimeter closer to finding something than I was when I woke up this morning.

But one thing that I have no worries about is the invitations.

I was never someone that dreamed of a very specific wedding day from the time I was a wee thing, but I did have ideas about certain, relatively random things.  Flowers for instance.  I've loved Saipua's relaxed, wildflower vibe for as long as they've been in business.  So I booked her early.  And after a quick spin through the world of wedding invitations I realized I hated just about everything, so I pleaded to Sarah from Saipua for help.  And did she ever come through.

She pointed me in the direction of a young illustrator named Asheley Wilson who works in fabulous flower stores all over town (and Brooklyn).  Paul and I met her for coffee and were utterly charmed.  She was positive, open to our ideas, totally non-judgmental about our modest budget, not to mention cute as a button.

Since we have more out of towners than in-towners coming to the wedding, we wanted sort of a vacation, destination wedding vibe, since for most of our guests it will be.  Asheley was all over it and came back with this:

A postcard...brilliant!

Paul was thrilled because it was colorful, I was thrilled because it was un-frilly but fun.  And we were both thrilled with the speed with which she pulled it off.

She's drawing away now on actual invitation ideas...I'm waiting in breathless anticipation to see what she comes up with.