(deep) breathing.

today is one of those days when the weight of the laundry overpowers. when my wood floor suddenly seems too dirty to walk on. when the proximity of a bank i trust is utterly too far for comfort or ease.

(when i've begun to panic about all the things i probably should have panicked about a week ago.)

that being said, my tickets to see beirut arrived in the mail today. and the young man at the corner store gifted me three tickets to see the yankees this friday. those two things along with salads consisting entirely of arugula, capers, pine nuts and olive oil have me breathing deeply.

so for your continued (deep) breathing i leave you with the following beirut video {one of my favorites}.

(i told you. i really do have a thing for unruly curls).

i simply can't get enough of this brian andreas figure.

she said she usually cried at least once a day not because she 
was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short. 




brian andreas

it should be noted that when we moved into our apartment a year ago i began calling the bathroom our etruscan tuscan wonderland. yes, yes, i know etruscan and tuscan pretty much mean the same thing. yes, yes i know that makes it repetitive. but i care not. with all the sand colored stone and strange, circular, tiled design  it deserves to be named. twice.

just the other day i found myself taking a shower with the window open and i thought, this is so nice. almost like i'm bathing al fresco. in italy. okay, well not in italy, but al fresco nonetheless. 


it took me a good five minutes to realize that the view i was so enjoying of the blue sky and other apartment windows was not without a cost.  if i could see others milling about through their windows well then they could see me. showering. naked. exposed.

needless to say i will not be showering with the window open again.

a night in sunnyside.

in an effort to prepare myself for the non move this week (we're {two of us} staying in the same apartment but playing musical chairs with rooms) i attempted to organize my room.

it now looks like either (a) i was robbed or (b) a bomb went off. i can't walk but for tripping over organizational containers. and suddenly my lenten resolution to keep a clean room is out the window and i am in a terrible mood. messy rooms, dirty sinks, and never-ending progression of grey skies will do that to a girl. but i digress.

last night i abandoned my messy room, my mile-high-pile of laundry and headed to sunnyside, queens. {for those who don't know new york city is comprised of five boroughs: manhattan, brooklyn, the bronx, queens, and (this is the strangest of them all) staten island. i live in manhattan. way, way up in manhattan. all the cool kids live in brooklyn. and a growing number of young people are moving to queens (where rent is cheep and space is abundant)}.

alisha (of doppelganger fame) and her boyfriend daniel hosted me for a lovely night of gourmet tomato soup and grilled cheese. 

as soon as i walked in the door i became that crazy person that can't even say hello before they marvel at the thing before them...the thing resembling an actual home. i opened every closet door, peered out every window, inspected every surface, sizing up square footage and inquiring about rent--this is what you do in new york when you've lived here long enough and reached a certain age. 

the night was perfect. good food. good discussion. a little baseball on the tele. and really good people. 

because this may just be the most beautiful thing i've ever come across...

this is a giant block of whatever is most difficult for you to carry & trust me on this, you'll carry it more times than you can count until you decide that's exactly what you want to do most & then it won't weigh a thing anymore.

brian andreas

nyc babycakes banana bread recipe.

i've gotten better in the kitchen as of late.

(and if you've been following this blog for any period of time you know this is no small thing).

so when i went home a few weeks ago i was determined to prove my culuinary prowess to my parents, a way of saying, remember that cuisinardt you got me? well look at me now!


so i decided to make my vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free banana bread (it may also be noted, i wanted them to know how good a vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free something could be).

so i packed my xanthan gum for the trip home. (funny--in a plastic zip-lock, in a suit case, it looks remarkably like a number of other things {none of them good}).

and once in texas i headed to the local HEB for the remaining products. agave proved most difficult to find (in part because i forgot about it at the first store) and when the manager at the randall's just up the street had the gall to suggest stevia or truvia instead you can imagine my dismay--i may have responded with something resembling an indignant--even dirty--look.

(there are few things in this world i find as offensive as fake sugar--and yes, i'm calling stevia a fake sugar as well).

but when i eventually had all the necessaries i set to work. and things went swimmingly. until of course they didn't. and the bread wouldn't cook through. and the bread wouldn't rise. and it was suggested that the humidity played a part but i knew--i knew!--it was because i had put to much batter in the pan. a silly mistake. one silly mistake and my culinary prowess was not proved--my culinary powers, flat.

but because it usually works and when it does there's nothing like it, i thought i'd finally share. so without further ado...

NYC BABYCAKES BANANA BREAD RECIPE (by Erin McKenna)

ingredients:


2 cups bob's red mill gluten-free all purpose baking flour (this brand, no other)
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon xanthan gum
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 cup coconut oil (plus more for the plan)
2/3 cup agave nectar
2/3 cup rice milk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract (high quality)
1 1/2 cups mashed bananas 




preheat the oven to 325 degrees fahrenheit. lightly grease a 7 x 4 x 3-inch loaf pan with oil. 


in a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, xanthan gum, salt, and cinnamon. add 1/2 cup oil and the agave nectar, rice milk, and vanilla to the dry ingredients. stir until the batter is smooth. using a plastic spatula, gently fold in the bananas until they are evenly distributed throughout the batter. 


fill the prepared pan halfway with batter (this means you're likely to have leftover batter). bake the banana bread on the center rack for 35 minutes, rotating the pan 180 degrees after 20 minutes. the finished loaf will bounce back slightly when pressed , and a toothpick inserted in the center will come out clean.


let the banana bread stand in the pan for 20 minutes. gently run a knife around the edge of the cake, cover the top of the pan with a cutting board, and invert the loaf onto the board. carefully lift the pan away and re-invert the bread onto another cutting board. either cut and serve warm, or wait until completely cool before storing. cover the uncut banana bread with plastic wrap and store at room temperature for up to 3 days. 






(do not attempt to eat before the bread has completely cooled. take it from me, it doesn't taste to terribly good when it's warm. when it's cool...there's nothing like it).


also, according to tom colicchio's forward to the book, know this: follow the recipe exactly. 


and for banana bread with chocolate chips (my personal favorite) simply add in some chips to the batter before cooing. 




and a very happy weekend baking to you... 

dreaming of...

it's grey and wet here in new york. and cold.
i can hardly fathom how long this winter has gone on.
i have yet to take my inaugural spring walk through central park. yet to enjoy an afternoon sitting on the benches in fort tryon. yet to consume my first sidewalk meal of the season (and much as i don't care for the city sometimes, eating outside as the crowds careen by is one of the great joys of my life).

but i believe--i have to believe--that spring is near. that time of year when i can subsist on nothing but iced lattes--when the feel of an ice cream cone in my hand against a breeze that promises summer is the highlight of the fading day.

so the promise--or hope--of spring has me thinking of clean lines, lace curtains, white, bay windows, stripes, and...breakfast foods (as it turns out).

photo credits:

cinnamon buns

striped sweater

afternoon tea

lace curtains

bay windows

girl in window

pancake

a list.

i start shaking now--when something upsets me.
visibly.
it would be embarrassing but that it only happens in private.

my favorite pair of shoes cost a mere twenty-two dollars.
twenty-two dollars, i say!

the stress of (not) moving is giving way to thoughts of potted plants, easter brunches, and open windows.

i like to sleep with my feet hanging off the bed.
or diagonally.
depending on my mood.

there's nothing i like quite so much as climbing under the covers immediately following a bath.

speaking of lists, a friend recently listed all of my failed romantic ventures.
all together, on paper, they seem a bit laughable.
but they are mine and i claim them as such.

(and yes, my legs are so white they actually glow.
and i am not--i repeat--not ashamed).

someone i loved once gave me a box full of darkness. 
it took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.

mary oliver

thank you micaela for this

just a thought. a fleeting, passing, unforgivable thought.

the girl's greatest fear--if the girl was really honest with herself--was that you could find the man--the man you'd follow to the ends of the earth--the man for whom you'd lay down your life and sacrifice and work and love for--and that he'd then find that woman. in someone else.

because the fairy tales told as a child never allowed for this possibility. and perhaps they should have?

the (non) move.

monday mornings can be hard. most difficult when the week threatens to undo you before it even begins. 

yesterday i marveled at the shifting light now hitting new york. i walked along the river and watched as bicyclist after bicyclist pedaled past. this corner of new york is dare i say, something of a bike mecca. i noticed young men with rackets on their backs headed to the free tennis courts just down the hill. suddenly the neighborhood is alive and threatened with the prospect of having to leave it, i simply don't want to. 

much as a part of me is ready to leave new york, it's not time yet. and it wouldn't be so easy. tumultuous as our relationship is, we have mutual accounts, joint stock options, and suddenly a lot of furniture that i don't want to give up. 

so i've decided to stay. for another year at least. which means another year in my castle in the sky apartment. but not moving can prove unbelievably stressful.

and there's nothing like moving (or not moving in new york). the whole things is a giant game of roulette combined with cat-and-mouse, and even a little strategic chess (or battleship, depending on where your preferences lie). and then there's that pesky little sticking point: it's expensive. and not terribly well-managed or policed. 

so this is the week that i roll the die. cast a net out in search of a roommate and hope that all the little card houses i've built add up to something...viable, instead of crashing down around my feet.

of course there's not enough time for any of this...but such is life.

so i remind myself to breathe and throw a little prayer up towards the powers that be, a little help?

a letter to the man who finally undoes me (in the best possible way)...

baby, you're the one for whom i'm gonna break all the rules.


xo,
the one you sunk

if you press me to say why i loved him,

i can say no more than because he was he,

and i was i.

michel de montaigne 

the meat metaphor.

the thing about the new york city subway system is that you're bound to run into someone you know.

the longer you live here the greater your chances. (until you've lived here so long that everyone else has moved away. but i'm not there yet. close, but not yet).

often. when least expected. the door opens and a shadow of distant days steps on, looms over you.

i ran into one such...shadow not so long ago.

we made polite conversation.

i asked him a question regarding something my mind had retained from years previous.

he remarked on my good memory.

i smiled.

turned my head towards my lap and smiled.

i really wanted to turn to him, look right at him, say yes, i remember everything and get off at the next stop.

but i simply smiled.

and sorted through the conjured memories by my lonesome as innocuous language was used to fill the seven-year-stop-gap between us.

weeks later now a new memory has arisen. and it makes me giggle. makes me feel like i'm eighteen and young and the world is harmless.

ready? he compared men to different cuts of steak. asked why i'd want a macdonald's big mac when i could get a tender filet from the best steakhouse in town.

ha, steak. men!

funny because now i'm a full-fledged, card-carrying vegetarian (if they carried cards, i'd have one).

the metaphor never made too much sense to me anyway. and certainly never got him what i assume he wanted which was not all...above-board, shall we say.

and besides, i always liked a good big mac.

all in its time. all in its place.