I am as the weather // no knead bread

OKAY, time for some light to cut this interminable ice state we're in. I'm sitting by my bedroom window, next to a verilux solar lamp that I dug out of a box last week. everyone I know is getting had by the cold and I am too. it sits on my shoulders and furrows my face. what good is winter if you're not near the woods??


IMPORTANT:  
to melt ice:
bake bread* and share it with friends in your living room. slather it with jam. toast it and eat it with a fried egg. use it to sop up soup. hold the loaf to your ear and hear it crackle on the inside after you take it out of the oven.


do people in other cities use umbrellas when it snows? people here lean into their tiny-boned umbrellas like shields. Like the umbrellas won't immediately be inverted and broken and shoved into the nearest metal trashcan. (maybe new york is a bird city, with all of the pigeons and the umbrellas and that obsession with the hawks in Washington Square Park, and the tall, tall buildings. lots of wings all around considering we're so often underground or walking with heavy, quick, earthbound steps.)

* jim lahey's no knead bread. 

 bake it and commune with your ancestors.


it's a wonderful recipe, super easy, and this week has provided a hearth equivalency, warming my hands and reminding me of wholeness. the only thing I'd say about the recipe used by the new york times is that you can substitute active yeast for instant, you just have to dissolve it in warm water for a few minutes before you mix it with the flour, sugar and salt. the rest is just a matter of time.    
 
(isn't that how it always goes.)


be warm and be well. draw something instead of doing laundry. massage your jaw. wear the winter hat your grandma gave you!

some options // coconut cake

1) buy tulips. put them in every room.

2) know where most things are, have no idea where a few things are. 

3) drink water (hot?) / write a letter, enjoy satisfaction of sealing an envelope.

4) do something with your hands. clay:shape, paint:brush, paper:cut.  feel important and proud of your craft project. are you an artisan?

5) bake a coconut cake.*

6) express gratitude to someone, somehow and then

7) go on a walk, get cold, warm up, grab a handful of salt, scatter it on your front steps.

8) plan a party.

9) send some 'professional' emails. don't worry about them. instead

10) think about very, very, very tall trees. 

*coconut cake          

from 'barefoot contessa at home' by ina garten
serves 10-12

(( It is really, really very good. Unbelievably, it's not too sweet. It spares nothing, and will make your kitchen smell like almond, and coconut and vanilla. Like a novel by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.))

hunkering // grapefruit olive oil cake

east village, pre-blizzard

I stumbled upon the concept of 'hygge' in a blog post here this week, and it felt like the word and idea I've been searching for my whole wintry life. Growing up in Michigan my hair used to freeze on my walk into school. Ten years and two states later, the wind still howls when I get up for work. I tiptoe down the sidewalk to the subway, trying not to slip on unsalted ice. 

It's a term that defies easy definition in English, but it centers around a feeling of warmth, community and well-being. Like holiday cheer, but all of the time. A winter survival method. How To Be a Winter Conifer. Let the snow pile up, but never lose your leaves.

I'm working on planning a few gatherings to better integrate this concept into our February. But for now...! A few things that brought some coziness and comfort to my week:


-baking this*, and staring into the face (the heart?) (the center) of two halved grapefruits. Buying them at the grocery store and forgetting how to tell if citrus is good or not. Is it heavy? How does it smell? Press the navel? (That's a cantaloupe.) Getting in touch with The Grapefruit and Its Body. Eating it for desert after a dinner with sweet friends. 

-using travel time productively. (staring into the face the heart the center of this book, and this one.) closing them to listen to the musicians on the Metropolitain G platform. Opening them again and almost missing my stop. 

-being a part of a reading and some rehearsals that brought color to my face. I'm just telling you, if you love acting, there is seriously nothing like doing it. It's a part of the discomfort of being an actor, I think. When you can't do it for whatever reason, there's a sadness in the absence. I love acting, and when I do it, a part of me wakes up.





get your blood pumping. then drink some wine! make some soup! more hygge to come!

*Grapefruit and Olive Oil Pound Cake  (exactly as it appears in the Smitten Kitchen Cookbook by Deb Perelman)

Cake

• butter or oil for the pan
• 1 1/2 cups all purpose flour, plus more for the pan
• 2 Tbs freshly grated grapefruit zest (1-2 grapefruits)
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1/2 cup turbadino or raw cane sugar (granulated sugar can be subbed if you can't find this variety)
• 1/2 cup good fruity olive oil
• 2 large eggs, at room temperature
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1/4 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp table salt
• 2 Tbs freshly squeezed grapefruit juice
• 1/3 cup buttermilk or yogurt

Syrup

• 2 Tbs granulated sugar
• 1/3 cup freshly squeezed grapefruit juice

Glaze

• 1 cup confectioners' sugar
• 2 Tbs freshly squeezed grapefruit juice

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, and butter and flour a 9-by-5-inch loaf pan.

In a large bowl, rub the grapefruit zest into the sugars with your fingertips.  This will help it release as much flavor and essence as possible.  

Whisk in the oil, then the eggs one at a time, and scrape down the bowl.

In a second, smaller bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  

Combine the grapefruit juice and buttermilk in a liquid measuring cup.

Alternating, add the flour and buttermilk mixtures to the sugar-oil mixture, beginning and ending with the flour.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, and use a spatula to smooth the top.  Tap the pan on the counter a few times to pop any air bubbles.

Bake 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. (In my oven this took an hour.)

As the cake is baking, make the syrup.  Combine 2 tablespoons of sugar with 1/3 cup of grapefruit juice in a small saucepan.  Cook over low heat until the sugar dissolves, stirring occasionally.  

When the cake is finished, cool it in the pan for 10 minutes.  Meanwhile, line a baking sheet with parchment paper or foil, and top with a cooling rack.  Carefully invert the cake onto the rack, and use a toothpick or skewer to poke holes all over the top. Pour the syrup over the cake slowly.  Allow the cake to cool to room temperature.

To make the glaze, whisk together the confectioners' sugar and grapefruit juice until smooth.  Once the cake has cooled, pour the glaze over the cake, allowing it to drizzle down the sides decoratively.  Slice and serve.

Winter Blues

Color is hard to come by in the city in the winter, until, it seems, you stumble into it accidentally, fully and completely. 

Thank you to the Home Depot Garden center...! Thank you to the baskets of citrus in the Associated Supermarket. Thank you to the warm glow of candles on the table, even to the deep browns of a bread loaf and the white branches of the beech tree across the street. 

Oh what a grim march it can be, oh how important the cuts of sun through the curtain, the moments of mulchy quiet in a greenhouse.

I'm thirsty for color that you might want to drape yourself in. 

BLOG DREAM FOR 2015

Okay! This is something I'm going to actually try to do. Could it be possible that I only need to try harder? Care less or care more? 

Heavy snow on the walk from the subway to work today dressed New York up in its best look. Someone came in for their coffee and said happily, "New York is not a sunshine city." They were correct. The snow accumulated on my hat and scarf and made everything look exquisite for five minutes, and when I came down through the trapdoor to hang up my coat the head cook said "oh look, a snowman." Morning miracles. 


This winter has been full of light so far, with beautiful birthdays and a new apartment to arrange and rearrange and rearrange again and a whole new set of cooking accoutrements that came in this great package deal along with my new roommate. More light to come, I hope. I'd like to document the changes as they unfold.


Join me if you'd like. I'm going to try to post semi-regularly. Or should I have a goal? Once a week?


 maybe take a moment to think about whatever place it is that makes you feel like this: 

and then get back to bracing yourself against the cold. sweet hearts. see you around here. 


xx h

sort

All is humidity and beer and work and play and change over here in Brooklyn this summer. I'm living a life of total fiscal irresponsibility and so far have not been forced to come to terms with the fact that it's unsustainable. We have lots of fans all throughout our apartment and sometimes they're effective and mostly they're not.

There's something really sweet about summer in New York, even though it is so absolutely, determinedly hot, and the kids on my street set off fireworks outside my window, and the restaurant where I work is like an armpit but with more huevos rancheros. People look kind of beautiful with their perpetual sheen, and the sun wakes you up early and keeps you up late. The fire hydrants that constantly spout water make you feel like you're walking through New York the way it always has been and the way it always will be.

I'm working on happiness, and am concurrently wondering what that means. Right now I guess it means signing up for a ceramics class and not worrying about the future. The future is the fall. When I put on a sweater I'll think about what comes next. For now it's all loose cotton and the feeling of the soft tar of the roof under my legs while I sit,  alone or with friends, and watch the Manhattan skyline simmer.

Sometimes very tiny things seem very large. Like the tapping of a cane on the floor at the Bowery stop. And three oranges rolling from a fruit cart into the street. And a cigarette butt with lipstick on it in the middle of the sidewalk. And hair falling to reveal a neck in a certain way. And steam rising up out of the sink when you pour hot water down the drain. And chamomile flowers in a glass jar.