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We made this book for Nicole the other day because it was her birthday again. Nicole likes to jot things down and has a million ideas at once, so we made her book that is split into three, so that her thoughts can grow concurrently or independently from one another. I can't wait to see it when it's full of scribbles and ideas.
For my birthday last month our friends Michele and Dan gave me a lovely scarf by SoloUniko through the e-tailer 111Vox, a Swedish site. Although the scarf was made by an English company, the good Swedish people sent along an additional treat with the sweet gift. Throughout the box I found a handful of these brightly colored old school designed BRAVO candies by Larsson & Soner. Choklad (Chocolate), lakrits (licorice), grädd (cream) and nöt (nut) were the flavors, delicious the taste. I'm sure these are the kind of confections that sit stale in a Swedish grandmother's candy jar, but I really enjoyed them visually and as a guilt-free sugar fix. Sorry, couldn't find a website link for Larsson & Soner.
Our friend Kate insisted that we based our trip to fall over a weekend in Moscow a) so that we could have a night out with the billionaires and b) so that we could go to Izmailovsky Market. I know which option drew my attention.
It was a great time of year to go – cold, but not painfully so, with sunlight bouncing off the shiny lacquer that is ubiquitous in Russia. It's just a fascinatingly rich place to look at; matryoshka dolls of every ilk (Lenin, Putin, Eminem, you name it), furs, stuffed animals, crazy antiques that you aren't allowed to take out of the country, guns, bullets...and this was the one place where people were genuinely excited to meet foreigners. Probably because we may buy something. Michael even had someone sing Snopp Dogg at him. Yikes.
We also had probably the best food of our whole trip in the market. And it didn't cost $200! Puffy flatbread with grilled pork, cooked perfectly with hot sauce. And thank God we had it just before we got on the plane, as I can't really attest to the strengths of Aeroflot cuisine.
Two weeks ago, my friend Michele and I cooked a dinner hosted by The Apartment for Téva. The dinner was filmed to coincide with the launch of the Sex in the City movie in France. Somehow we ended up being part of that. I'm really not sure how professional chefs do it, as after almost two days of cooking, Michele and I could barely stand in our (mandatory) heels, let alone be scintillating.
I don't have many pictures of the dinner itself, as I was too busy cooking. But our menu went as follows:
Figs and gorgonzola dolce wrapped in San Daniele prosciutto
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Asparagus soup with morel custard
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Spring chickens stuffed with Michel Bras's olive powder
Roasted rainbow carrots with bourbon, honey and thyme
Potato and leek dauphinoise
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Lavender crème brûlée
Honey madeleines
Popped blueberries
Last Saturday found me and Natasha on Stamford Connectcut's Shipan Peninsula for our niece Sophia's third birthday party. As my sister and her husband ran off to Carvel for an ice cream cake and a few more carrots for the suburban mandate that is crudité, Natasha and I took Sophia down to the waterfront for a bit of romping around in the muck of low tide. As Sophia gathered kelp and seaweed under the somewhat watchful eye of Natasha, I managed to fall into beachcomber mode looking for any natural wonder or man made detritus I could find. As Sophia's equally keen eye for the unusual spied miniature shells and ladybugs, I began to find rather ornate and water-worn sherds of black pottery. As my Indiana Jones mind kicked into full gear, I wondered to myself, "what could this be"? Ancient Piquot pots broken in the bay as a part of some long forgotten fishing ritual? Evidence of a Pre-Columbian of Viking settlement, or just some industrial age garbage amongst the other crap that lines our nation's once pristine shores?
After a bit of thinking from my bird brain it came to me, these were broken pieces of clay pigeons that were released and mercilessly shot out of the sky by some shotgun-toting Connecticut Yankee. Mystery solved.
A superfluity of nuns? Who knew? Who even thought about what a group of nuns was?
We hadn't, until Friday when we were walking around Cold Spring on the Hudson on Friday night. A whole gaggle of nuns, bursting with excitement because they were going to Yankee Stadium. No, it wasn't the game they were excited about, it was the Pope. My bad.
We also saw a few other things in Cold Spring and Garrison this weekend. And we did the Breakneck Ridge hike, which I probably wouldn't have chosen had I read the rest of the description. Although, to any normal person, the name "Breakneck Ridge" would have been enough of a clue. This was serious rock climbing, but hey, it made us beautifully tired for the rest of the weekend.
