Monday, November 24, 2014

fresh, local, seasonal

My last visit to the country I spent a considerable time watching ice form.  The creek water is shallow; it tumbles over jumbles of rocks creating small waterfalls, estuaries and coves. The temperature drops, molecules rearrange, and moving water, ice crystals and icicles mingle.

I was sad to read about the disappearance of glaciers at Glacier National Park. It's overwhelming, all of it.

And I keep thinking about this piece by John Lanchester, A Foodie Repents, in the New Yorker discussing, among other things, his Irish mother's spaghetti bolognese, and how she, who was at one time a nun, learned to cook. Also working as a restaurant critic, food trends, and  the politics of food--how the choices we make about food matter at every level. To a point. The point at which we can't feed the world with our seasonal, local free-range choices. 

He writes, "If shopping and cooking really are the most consequential, most political acts in my life, perhaps what that means is that our sense of the political has shrunk too far—shrunk so much that it fits into our recycled-hemp shopping bags. If these tiny acts of consumer choice are the most meaningful actions in our lives, perhaps we aren’t thinking and acting on a sufficiently big scale. Imagine that you die and go to Heaven and stand in front of a jury made up of Thomas Jefferson, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Martin Luther King, Jr. Your task would be to compose yourself, look them in the eye, and say, “I was all about fresh, local, and seasonal.”

So now I'll tell you about the meal that my three boys and lovely daughter-in law cooked. They bought my husband a smoker for his birthday and came to the country to present it to him and cook up a storm. Our new kitchen was put to the test. They made pulled pork (from a Catskills pig), kimchi, pickled scallions, kale (cooked with gobs of Hudson Valley garlic), biscuits, mashed potatoes, and ice cream. A dozen eggs from our friend George's chickens were used. A meal made with love. And as much local food as we could find.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014


This way?

Or maybe this?

A bit of turquoise?

The changes are subtle but make a difference.
 Sometimes it's difficult to know when a painting is finished.

I am really getting into these dark paintings. Start with black and work out from there.

And then there are cats and flowers.


Wednesday, November 5, 2014

on the waterfront

The Italian film Shun Li and the Poet, is about friendship, mostly, and immigration, poets and fishing. It is poignant and lovely and sad, a little bit heartwarming, a dash of toughness. I found it on dvd at the library, a great source for movies. I also recently read a fierce and loving book called My Brilliant Friend, by Elena Ferrante, the story of the friendship of two girls in Naples in the 1950's. So detailed and fascinating and infuriating. It is the first in a trilogy, and I am making myself wait a bit before I read the next one.

The above pictures were taken last weekend, on the waterfront in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.