Everything in the shade, Sometimes I rush - Fine
If you like Neko Case, Mazzy Star, Smerz
Too Late - M83
Strange Overtones - David Byrne, Brian Eno
Yellow Rose - Remi Wolf
You Make Me Weak At the Knees - Electrelane
Obscurity Knocks - Trashcan Sinatras
I’m Not Crazy - Junior Varsity
I blogged about this album last summer. It feels like Ireland to me. And yes, it's back. Cross The Street is the best song to leave your apartment to in the morning when you're running late. Whole album goated tbh except the part about grey's anatomy
...and a few I picked up on my adventures
The Emperor's New Clothes - Sinead O'Connor
Embarrassed I didn't know this one tbh
I Seen a Man Die - Scarface
Also embarrassing that I didn't know this one
Show and Tell - Al Wilson
Or this one
Prettiest Girl in the World - Sesame Girl
In this song the star is the bass line
I am, as we have discussed, goated at vegetables, and am here to share two recipes that are very good together.
I don't have sexy pictures of these things because honestly, I think they kind of photograph poorly, so you're just going to have to trust me.
first is the squash, which is basically verbatim a julius roberts recipe, minus this part: get a koginut squash from trader joe's or whole foods or bi-rite, etc. it's half kabocha, half butternut, and I like it better than either classic option. here is the one i have been eating these last two days, on our date at the park, a couple hours before dinner:
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| koginut <3 |
when you get home, pre-heat your oven to 400º. Get your sharpest knife. Split the squash in half vertically and de-stem it, then clean out the inside before cutting it into vertical wedges (go for an inch at the thickest part), starting from the soft side and pushing the knife through the skin inside-out. Once it’s in wedges you can carve off the weird butthole part.Toss this with olive oil and a generous pinch of salt and fresh black pepper and get it into the oven (use the big rectangular Staub) for 35, 40 minutes. If it hasn't begun to brown deliciously, stick it back in the oven.
In the last 4-5 minutes (between the start of browning and irretrievable burning), add a handful of chopped and a handful of stripped thyme. If you don't like thyme, you can do the julius roberts thing and flash fry sage and put it on top, but i think sage without chicken tastes like soap, and that fried sage tastes like oil and soap. Note that if you don't keep your hazelnuts in your fridge they will taste horrible and rancid and ruin this dish.
NB: I had a friend come by and have this with me and I agree with his assessment that it's actually really hard to eat the hazelnuts like this, so you should chop them, and having this over farro or rice would help ensure they don't just roll away.
When the dish is done, let it cool for a bit before removing the squash and the hazelnuts to plate. Tear up a whole burrata or two and scatter it around and on top.
next is the way to make green beans that aren't absolutely pulverized the way they are in a lot of french cooking. I allege that french green beans are, in fact, brown, lifeless, and gross. I like my green beans bright green and crisp (they should snap when you bite!), but fully cooked, maybe even with a few charred spots. full of flavor, but no burnt garlic. a delicate act! but quite easy once you know how.
(might you already know how? I wouldn't be surprised.)
Realistically, you should get this going while the squash is still in the oven, maybe 10 minutes before the timer is set to go off. At home I always have to make two batches because my sister and my mom will eat these like chips and empty the plate before i've finished setting the table.
Start with a shallot. I run it on the mandolin to get it real thin and rough chop half the pile into 1" strands. It's going to disintegrate. So I don't know why I bother. That goes into a stainless steel pan with olive oil that got hot over low heat. In goes a light pinch of salt. While that gets going, I press a couple cloves of garlic and hold that in reserve, and I go find my lemon and set out my microplane.
Once the shallots are looking a little worse for wear, in go the green beans, and up goes the heat to a true medium or even medium-high. I want these things to start turning bright green. I don't fuss with them much in hopes that one or two of them will develop those delicious little charred spots. after a few minutes, there should be still be no sign of wilting, but you might get the instinctive sense that they're going to start looking less fun pretty soon, and this is when you add the garlic and a generous pinch of salt and start tossing things around a bunch, until everything's pretty mixed together. I like to add lemon zest here if because I like the bitter edge taken off, but you could also add raw zest when you're plating.
About a minute later, when the garlic is smelling really delicious and caramelizing but not yet burning: I add a couple careful splashes of lukewarm water to deglaze everything. (You might even be able to use something like white wine or vermouth but I never do.) Once all of this has steamed off, I dump the beans onto a plate and douse them in fresh lemon juice. And also more salt. just a tad! or a tad more than that!
I will be making these two dishes again and again and again, all winter long. They work with salmon, with chicken, and with my favorite winter salad, which i'll add here soon...
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| xx, still thinking about this |
Today was a beautiful day. Spence was staying over and we grabbed breakfast sandwiches at the farmer's market and went on walk through Kalorama and sat with Joe on the Spanish steps.
We dropped him off at the train and said our goodbyes on the platform like old friends have been doing for over a century, leaving him with a baggie of chocolate chip cookies and a letter.
Monica and Joe and I set off in search of pumpkins. I ended up making the stupidest looking pumpkin I could muster. "Holy teeth," said Joe.
| After I finished my carving I was wiping dried pumpkin pits off of my palms when Dani called me, which is weird, because our friendship has always floated along over text. I picked up, and she said "hi," and I said, "what's up?" and there was a silence, and then she whispered, "I'm engaged," and I fell to my knees. Never once have I done that before. I started to laugh and cry at the same time, and so did she, and that went on for a good ten minutes. |
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| 16" laptop, so like a foot in diameter? |
Last night I was at All Time once again with Juju, which we’ve decided is our place. We sat there sipping lemonade and whispering about why do you think they sat us at the bar and I think two of the servers are catalog models.
We talked about other things too. We came up with some diagnostic questions for every relationship: Are you happier or sadder now? What about life has gotten easier or harder? Do you like it better than being single? Are the questions you have about yourself any different from what they were before?
We were perched on these high chairs with our legs crossed, and it’s one of those friendships where the knee you grab when you have something to say isn’t yours, and you don’t need to use the little plates they give to each of you for sharing food. We pulled out a notebook and made diagrams, as usual, this time by candlelight. That restaurant must spend a thousand dollars on wax every week. We asked the bartender to roll our food slowly and sat there for just under three hours, taking our time picking the figs and tarragon out from among the glistening tomatoes and soaking every last bit of goat cheese in vinegar. Everything was delicious and salty. Cold fish and the last of the summer tomatoes, itty bitty figs, goat cheese and roasted corn and charred cabbage in a bed of stewed beans and wet herbs, and what I can only assume were Harry’s Berries in a bowl of loose cream and vanilla bean custard. I wanted a second one, but we were too full. We should have ordered it anyway.
I think about Juliet whenever I start to hate myself for thinking about love. I love that she does and want to know every thought. It seems good to try to turn that curiosity onto myself. She drove me back to Ethan and Elvira’s with the roof open and the windows down, and the air felt warm and wet the way it often does in October in LA, and seemingly everyone hates except for me. I let it wash over me.
We turned the corner near the sports club and I started to mourn that there wouldn’t be enough time to get to everything; there never will be, I’m guessing. We parked outside the apartment and held hands, staring out at the road, savoring our last threads and sharing this feeling of anticipatory girlhood that I suspect never quite goes away, at least not until your parents die, and then you’re really a woman. We’re always in puberty, we concluded, and then we said I love you and goodnight and I came into the house.
I let Ethan and Elvira tuck me into bed on their couch with a burrito for a nightcap. I fell asleep before Elvira finished her crossword… piles of used limes on the table, Ethan at his desk charging my brick before my flight, air thick and heavy from an evening spent detangling his hair. They finished my laundry for me with the lights low.
This morning I went for a walk before anyone else woke up. Elvira washed four apples for me and kept the stickers for her notebook. While I folded my clothes, she sat on the couch, carefully rubbing remnant adhesive from each fruit, and now I’m eating one on the plane to DC.
Tomorrow I will decorate a cake, and then I will eat pork shoulder braised in fruit with my friends. Monday morning I have flight back to California, but that is Sunday’s problem.
