goods and heroes

making mini envelopes

I was feeling a bit under the weather yesterday with some painful sinus action thrown in, so the thought of reading or staring at anything electronic just wasn't appealing. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself (and Ted had taken the boys ice skating) but then I remembered that something fun I'd ordered online had arrived: my Japanese mini-envelope template from JetPens. I'd seen these over on Angry Chicken's blog a few week ago. I justified needing to have one as I am teaching a class at North Park Village Nature Center on November 11th and the theme is The Art of the Envelope. (Oh and that's our cat Caddilac's paw, he wanted to play with the template.) 

I am a sucker for wee little envelopes. Not only are the adorable but they're perfect for holding teeny-tiny notes or a few stamps or a handful of seeds. And with this template, you can recycle old catalogues, magazines and discarded books and transform the pages into something new. I like to use old children's encyclopedias and reference books that I pick up at yard sales and thrift shops. Yesterday it was Life and Its Marvels. 

Here's a quick tutorial -- but it's super simple. First grab the template, a pencil, scissors, a glue stick and whatever paper you'll be using for the envelope paper. This template actually makes four different sized mini envelopes. I went for the biggest of the four. 

Trace the lines onto the paper. I actully used a black pen instead of a pencil since I was having a hard time seeing the pencil on the paper.  

Cut along the tracing lines, your envelope shape should look like this:

Fold the two smaller side tabs first and then the two larger tabs last. Pull the folds back "open." 

The envelope should be vertically-oriented in front of you. Run the glue stick along the edge of the large tab on the left. Fold  the right tab down and give it a good crease. Bring left tab over like you are closing a door and and press it firmly. Run the glue stick along the small tab at the bottom, fold it up over the glued "doors" and press firmly. Voila! You now have an envelope! This might be totally stating the obvious but don't glue the top tab. At least not until you've put something inside it. Here's the back of the envelope:

And here's the front. Love that floating "butter" banner!

I made four envelopes, three were from old book pages and one was from the cover of an old Anthropologie catalogue. 

I stacked them up and tied them off with a little bit of baker's twine. All ready to be given as a simple little gift. Maybe I should give them with a tiny pad of paper ane one of those mini gel pens? 

Or maybe I'll just hold onto them and find something marvelous to tuck into each one. 

the gift of reading

I am thrilled to report that were almost as many books as toys under the tree this year. Sam alone received 10 or so and he paused on each one to peek in and read just a bit. (Towards the end of the opening of presents, Ben wasn't quite so enamored and refused to open any "flat" presents. Oh well, maybe next year.) 

I was quite the lucky gal in the book-receiving department. So I thought I'd share with you what I happily scored as well as one that I bought for the entire family. 

I got this book from my lovely friend and consummate gift giver, Sarah.

She got it at the New York Historical Society on a recent trip to the Big Apple. It's a wonderful reproduction of an instructional book for children. The original text on the back states, "The amusement of finding objects and their parts will continue long after the ordinary story book has lost all charm." And it goes on to state quite practically, "It will instruct youth and even adults the correct names of many common objects." 

Yes indeed, and I even learned a few new words for old things that might not be so common now, like "shawl-strap" and "cuspidore." They are in the picture above, um, somewhere. I could see creating stories by looking at all the objects -- I am going to try that out with Sam and Ben. 

Speaking of children's books, Ted gave me two. Not necessarily to read to the boys but just because I love children's books, especially old ones. Right before Christmas we had a nice breakfast with Grandma Franny & then all of us headed over to Open Books. If you haven't been, you should go. It's a non-profit used bookstore and they have tons of books and a rocking children's section. Apparently when I was in another section Ted got me this one. 

I love the illustrations . . .

He also got me this wee little book, illustrated by Maurice Sendak. 

It's about a naughty little sister who goes into her older sister's room and plays with her things and draws on the walls. Hmmmm, I know someone who used to do that sort of thing. The illustrations are totally classic Sendak. And it has a happy ending. 

Ted also gave me this book, which is a companion to my other book Our Plant Friends & Foes by the fomidably named William Atherton DuPuy. (Which I got up at the Armadillo's Pillow used bookstore in Rogers Park last summer, another fine used bookstore here in the city). Anyone who knows me knows that I have a soft spot (or maybe a it's becoming a problem) for old nature-based books. Especially those geared toward children. I just learned that Mr. DuPuy also wrote Our Insect Friends & Foes, might have to put that one on my wish list. 

It was illustrated by  Edward Herbert Miner, "Animal Painter to the National Geographic Society." Check it out . . . so beautiful.

In the Christmas box that my father sent, he included a copy of "Beyond the Perf" which is a magazine out out by the US Postal Service. So techincally this isn't a book, but it provided me with lots of quiet, geeked-out stamp-loving pleasure on Christmas afternoon after all the presents had been opened and the floor was littered with scraps of wrapping paper. It avaliable on-line as well, so if you like reading the stories of how stamps come to be and who designs them, dive in here. 

Since 2011 was the year that I fell in love with stamps old and new and re-kindled my long love affair with the glorious machine we call a typewriter, I'd have to say this was my numero uno stamp in 2011.  I read all about its designer in the magazine, you can read about it here. 

And finally, since the spirit of this post is how books bring so much satisfaction and joy, I am going to end with this little red book that I purchased a few nights into Hanukah. 

As a family that celebrates both Christmas and Hanukah and is sometimes sort of torn on how we do that with grace and humor, The Latke That Couldn't Stop Screaming was just what we needed. It is kind of dark but also tear-inducing hysterical. I love the little latke . . .

and the boys (including Ted) loved collectively screaming "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh." 

It has a surprise ending too, well, two of them actually. But I can't tell you, you'll have to read it yourself. 

I hope you received some deliciously good books for the holidays and that you've had a bit of time to curl up with them. Here's a toast to lots of reading in 2012. Cheers!

 

 

hello 2012!

Happy New Year . . . may it be filled with health, joy, beauty, change, wonder and humor. And whatever it is you need it to be filled with.

I love this list of New Year's Rulins from Woody Guthrie. # 19 is particularly wonderful: "Keep the hope machine running." Cheers to that. And #18 is important for me to remember: "Stay glad." Indeed.

You can read his amazing list much better here at his website -- which I didn't even know existed until about 12 seconds ago. I am quite glad for that, Happy New Year!

 

with all my happy heart

I was worried it would be too quiet, too alone, too "not enough" for the Xmas holidays this year. I was so wrong, it was one of the best Christamsas we've ever had. Just our pace, just our style. I think we hit our groove this year. Just quiet and mellow enough that I didn't feel overwhelmed/freaked out and just social enough that I felt connected and celebratory. 

And Sam reminded us about what it's all about in this lovingly homemade, totally inclusive holiday card:

With all our happy hearts, we hope you are having quietly beautiful holidays.  Peace out.

 

 

 

re-thinking wrapping

Last weekend I taught a class on "green" or recycled gift wrapping for my local (and fabulous) Nature Center.  It was titled "Re-Thinking Wrapping" and my challenge was to come up with ideas and examples that went beyond the wrapping with the Sunday Funnies.

I started looking for and gathering materials a few weeks ago and I have to say, it was a blast to start looking at what my be considered garbage or something to thrown in the recycling bin as rather an awesome opprtunity to wrap something.

My materials generally fell into one of the following three catergories: a box of sorts, a bag of sorts or literally wrapping something around an object. I found almost everything right in my home -- mostly from the kitchen and specifically in my recycling bin. But I did keep my eyes out for things that I could use as wrapping, such as scarves & maps at thrift shops but also things that other people might be tossing out, like old posters from a holiday craft show.

Here's a peek at some of the things I came up with and a brief-ish description of the materials I used.

Small salsa can with a band of red & white paper from a Trader Joe's bag. The ric-rac came from my always teeming box of recycled ribbon and string.

Cardboard mushroom box base with stretchy polyester "ribbon"  that I found in the laundry room. The tissue is biodegradable.

Old "Melissa & Doug" wooden box that held play food (was sitting in the thrift shop pile), soft old bandanna from my large collection and a tag made from an old Binth card (using Fiskars 2 inch circular hole punch.)

Speaking of Binth, my friend Suzanna recently opened the Binth Shop & Studio in Forest Park. I was there before it opened helping out with whatever needed to be done. Suzanna had ordered these felt banners from her homeland of Germany that said "Frohe Weinhacht" in grey fuzzy letters. They came in the cool bag above. She was going to toss the bags but I pounced on all three of them.  I love the old school typewriter font on the white label. So German. I used a snowflake hole punch for the flakes and used old Binth cards for the paper.

Tiny green mesh garlic bag with skinny purple ribbon (that was wrapped around a gift my friend Heather gave me recently). The sticker is from The Small Object Labels & Stickers collection. Produce mesh is super fun to work with, it comes in lots of bright, punchy colors. It can't be recycled so this is a good thing to keep out of the landfill.

Being a "green" class, I just had to do something with a toilet paper tube. So that's what this is: toilet paper tube wrapped in recycled tissue paper and stripey ribbon from my collection. (I tucked candy inside the tube, so it looked like a big bon-bon.) 

Thoroughly washed black styrofoam meat tray with saved/re-used plastic wrap and old twine. The black and red pot holder inside is from the thrift shop. I call this my "manly urban explorer kit."

Ball jar with a vintage tea towel (also from thrift shop) and leftover butcher twine. The tag is from old crafty paper.

An old map of Michigan with "ribbon" of old cassette tape. My friend Molly gave me this idea. VHS ribbon looks great as well.

This is a mint tea box I simply turned inside out and glued it back together. The waxed blue linen thread is from my box and the stripey Japanese tape was not repurposed but I thought it looked great on the brown of the box.

This paper is from a School of the Art Institute student magazine I saw downtown one day. I love the igloo images. The purple ribbon is from my ribbon box. Just because it's not green or red or white doesn't mean it can't feel Christmas-y or Wintry.

I think this is my favorite, so I'll end with this one. (There were many others, but I didn't get shots of them all.)  The green tissue paper was wrapped around an Anjou pear that I purchased at the Korean Supermarket called H-Mart. The maroon wool is from a spool I scored at a garage sale back when we lived in Denver more than 13 years ago. The red tape is Japanese tape that my friend Krista gave me for my birthday. The tiny red map dots were left over from the charrette I put together in October. The tissue paper was pretty small but I loved it, so I used it to wrap a bar of soap. I love the blue "USA" print on the paper.

Well, I guess that's it. I just boxed up packages for my family in Australia as well as my family in Colorado and not one single piece of wrapping paper was used on any of the gifts. I'm not bragging, I am letting you know that if you have time to just be a bit cunning, creative and open to trying new things, you can easily wrap your gifts in just about anything. Besides, it is better for the environment (those overloaded landfills will thank you) it's almost free and it's a ton of fun.

Happy Holidays to you all!

 

 

 

write a letter, get a letter

A couple of weeks ago, I was at a Letter Writing gathering at the Hideout. It had been a really tough day. Actually, it had been a supremely awful day, one that I wish not to repeat anytime soon. But it was quietly coming to an end. And so I limped on over to the Hideout, said hey to the lovely Letter Writers Alliance ladies, grabbed a beer, picked out some stationery and a pen, found a place at the table across from my old friend Nance and wrote a letter to my 11 year-old neice Claire. It wasn't my most inspired letter writing: I asked fairly basic questions ("What's new? What are you reading?") and kept it pretty short. But it got me out of my own head. I had a feeling Claire would appreciate getting an actual letter in the mail--it coming simply out of the blue and for no good reason other than to say hello and let her know that I was thinking about her.  And so my letter to her was put in the mailbox and that was that. I really didn't think much more about it again. Until yesterday, when I came home and in a plain, white envelope with my name on it was this:

A hand-written, two page, exclamation-mark filled letter from Miss Claire. I think you can read the really big exciting news in the center "I MIGHT GET A BUNNY!" (!!!!!) But what you might not to be able to read is Claire telling me about her Thanksgiving and then she asks about the Letter Writing party I was at. She asks if I've been to Korean bbq lately (I took her and Sam to San Soo Gab San when she visited last summer) and then recounts how recently she had to endure eating escargot at a French restaurant for her father's birthday. "Happy Birthday, here's some snails!" she quips and draws a teeny version of their curly-moustached waiter, who she simply calls Mr. Mushtash. She also tells me how she is reading this series of books called "The Secret Series" and how they are so, so much better than "The Lord of Rings" which she says "was probably the most tedius (sic) book of all time. 75% of the book was: They walked. It was cold. They walked. It was cold." Her summary of "The Lord of the Rings" killed me. (And I totally agree with her.) And then she ends the letter with this drawing she made for Sam, since she knows he digs Calvin & Hobbes. "Ask him 4 me if it looks OK."

I haven't been this happy with getting something in the mail in a long, long time. It just totally filled me with the kind of joy that has no price tag. A simple letter filled with news and snippets and questions & comments. I adore it. And so I am going to write her back and tell her just that.

Oh, and I hope she gets the bunny. I'll tell her that too.

 

 

rock therapy

We spent last weekend at our friends' beach house just outside Manitowoc, WI. It sits on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan and the beach is wild feeling and peppered with rocks in all sorts of sizes, textures and colors. 

I actually went down to the beach with the intention of just going for a long solo walk. But the rocks called to me. While the boys scrambled up and down the bluff, digging away at it with croquet mallets and getting covered in thick, brown mud, I spent several hours down on the beach collecting and playing with rocks. It was incredibly satisfying: time slipped away, I forgot about the chilly wind and I even found myself laughing out loud a few times.

Of course not all the rocks stayed down there on the beach.

These came home to Chicago. Just in case I need to play a little bit more.

If you too are a lover of rocks, I highly recommend this book. And it's true, everybody does need a rock. Or rocks.

 

 

soup & bread & a brand new cookbook

There's a lot of soup love that happens here at Goods & Heroes. Some might say I blather on a bit too much about all things soupy. But there are so many reasons why I have a deep appreciation for soup. It can be restorative or even healing. (Jewish Penicillin, anyone?)  It requires that you slow down just a little bit to make it from scratch but it doesn't have to be fussy or overly complicated. (My friend Sarah makes an exquisite Onion Soup that has three ingredients!) And soup can feed a large crowd economically but still be pleasing.

But before I go any further on my happy soup rant, I want you to know that the fabulous food writer/bartending community organizer Martha Bayne and her uber-inspired Soup & Bread events have produced a really rocking Love Child: The Soup & Bread Cookbook.

Apparently I wasn't the only person a wee bit excited about this coming -- the book release party was last night and people arrived in droves, filling the Hideout to capacity with folks spilling out into the street. And I think it's because this isn't just another cookbook and people love Martha's writing and they also love the Soup & Bread series, which gives them a place to go on a cold winter night to sample homemade soups while hanging out with other soup-loving people. (If you want to read more about Soup & Bread at the Hideout and why it's so dang cool, read all about it here.)

Using recipes from the different folks who have brought soup (and bread) to the the Soup & Bread events over the years, each chapter has a different theme which explores the subtle powers of soup from a community-building standpoint. It's one of those cookbooks you want to curl up with and savor one chapter at a time. Oh sure, you might be inspired to make some pretty amazing soups (Stephanie Izard's Pear, Parsnip & Pistachio Soup has certainly caught my eye) but you'll also love reading about Soup & Peace or Soup for Art. And you can even read about the Soup Swap that was held right here at Tawse-Grossman HQ last February in Chapter Two: Soup for Swapping. 

Intrigued? You can purchase the book on Chicago's own independent Bloodshot Record's website -- that's a double whammy good thing. But even if you don't or can't afford to right now, I strongly encourage you to stop by Soup & Bread one night this winter. Heck, I might even be standing behind a Crock Pot ladling up soup.

a collection

This is Sam's pencil tip collection. Yes, that's correct, it's a collection of pencil tips.

I will never forget the first time Sam showed it to me. I was at his school to do an observation in his class, we were at his locker while he changed into his "indoor shoes" (very Montessori, I know). This was last year and at the time Sam was missing most of his front teeth. He turns to me from the locker with this huge toothless grin and says, "Do you wanna thee my penthul tip collecthun?" And I said, "What?" and he said, "My penthull tip collecthun." Oh my god, I wanted to crack up so hard but I could tell it was genuine, it was something he was truly, wholly proud of. "Sure, yes, please show me!" I answered quickly. And there it was. Mostly lead tips but a few colored ones that contrasted quite nicely against the deep shiny grey of the lead. And an eraser tip and the green and yellow metal band that connects it to the pencil. And a lovely blue bead, I never asked how that got in there. But he did tell me that it took him a long time to collect all those tips and that it wasn't easy keeping an eye out for them.

A pencil tip collection. It was just so odd and specific. That day, when I first saw it housed & protected in his locker--that most sacred place for important possessions--my initial reaction was to laugh because it was kind of um, out there. But then the feeling that washed over me was  I have an awesome kid who has such a brilliant head & heart that he created his own pencil tip collection. I mean, I had a rainbow collection when I was 9, when rainbows were everywhere, on our jeans and on those awful Love Is . . . posters. How boring and predictable is that? (But wait, my Mom loved my rainbow collection and added quite happily to it. Hmmmm. There's a lesson in here, how meta is that?)

I must say, I didn't think I'd be posting about his pencil tip collection today. But I was looking for something in the office and there it was, up on the shelf and I was just filled with joy and yeah, I started cracking up. (I still hear "You wanna thee my penthull tip collecthun?") I don't think it's that dear to him anymore. And my "marching to the beat of his own drummer" kid is not immune to peer pressure. Sam just recently demanded that his crazy surfer locks be cut off and we eventually figured out it was because a girl in his class (who we think he might have a tiny crush on) told him his hair was "too wild." Isn't funny that "crazy surfer locks" = "good" to his family and "too wild" = "not so good" to this dreamy 8 year-old girl? Hmmmm. I wonder what she'd think about his pencil tip collection.

cider

Picking apples didn't happen this year. It just wasn't in the cards with everything going on. September's always a busy month for us with back to school and Sam's birthday but this year it was just bonkers. But don't feel too sorry for us -- we've had a steady influx of locally grown apples from neighbors, friends, work pals, I even bought six bushels of apples for the charrette and they were a huge hit with everyone that came into the gym. We've munched on Honey Crisps and compared the tartness of a Jonagold with the pucker of a Granny Smith. Still, I was feeling a teentsy bit blue that fall was in full swing and an apple had not been plucked from a branch.

But that all changed on Tuesday night because my old friend Nance invited the family to come to her house to press some apple cider. Nance's owned a cider press for years and I've been invited to cider making gatherings in the past but just couldn't swing it. But this year, I knew it needed to happen. And boy am I glad it did.

We arrived at Nance's place in Little Village at 6 pm. She has a slightly overgrown garden where she cultivates and cares for everything from chickens to currants. The boys, especially Ben, were in heaven. "It's like a forest in our city," Ben said, "with a rooster!"

Fighting the fading light, we quickly set to work chopping up apples that were grown on Nance's parents' farm outside of Barrington. There were seven of us cutting up small imperfect heirloom apples, so we filled our bins and buckets pretty swiftly. Ben hung out with the chickens and Sam found a bench and dove into a book.

Then the fun really began. With a fat, full moon floating overhead, we started feeding the chopped apples into the antique press named "Lawrence" (after its original owner) painted a wonderful turquoise blue with original wooden components. We took turns tamping down the apples and turning the giant wheel that pushes the apple pulp into the wooden basket. Sam quickly put his book down (it was too dark to read anyhow) and was turning that wheel with all his might. Once the basket was filled with chopped up apples, then it was time to squeeze the cider out of the pulp and into buckets and jars.

Sam hopped onto this task as well. It really took a lot of upper body strength to squuueeeeeeeze all the juice out of the apples. When the cider started trickling down the wooden channel and into a glass jar, we all sighed collectively, it was such a lovely sound. And it smelled divine.

Nance had asked us each to bring a jar so that we could take home some cider. I brought one Ball jar for our family. But she was so impressed with Sam's determination, hard work and the joy he was getting out of pressing the cider, that she sent us home with three jars. Three! What a gift.

Of course it's the most delicious cider we have ever tasted. And we are savoring it, having wee jelly jar glasses of it breakfast & supper so as to make it last. We clinked our glasses the morning after our cider making, our arms sore from pounding, turning, pulling. "To apples, to cider, to Nance for inviting us." I asked Sam if he would like to go back again and press cider next year and he said, "Oh yeah, that was awesome." Yes it was.  We will find time to pick apples next year. And hopefully bring some over to Nance's for another cider pressing party.

 

back in the saddle, or maybe just back

I guess I didn't make it back to my blog in Septepmber, now did I? Sorry, I jumped in on an exciting project that kind of swallowed me whole. It was like, there's Bonnie sitting on her front steps watching her boys scooter up and down the sidewalk, wondering what to make for dinner and which beach to go to the following day and them Voooomp! I was transported into a totally new and at times, ass-kicking dimension. I really don't want to blather on any more about it but I just want to say that I am back! And I also want to tell you that You Rock for being so patient with me.  And if you want to see what kept me so darn busy the last eight weeks, this summarizes it up nicely.  I'll be back soon. Honest.

gone fishin' (sort of)

Friends, I'm going to take the next few weeks of August off from the blog. I'm not really going fishing but I'm going to try and focus my attention getting organized before school starts and digging in on an exciting new work project and trying to squeeze in as much beach time with my boys as I can. I'll be back sometime during the first week of September.

Cheers!

weekend away summer salad

We spent the weekend up in Michigan at our good friend Jonny's house, which overlooks Lake Michigan. This is a yearly ritual with the same core group of friends (Ted's childhood pals from Hyde Park) coming together to hang out at the beach, catch up on everyone's lives and of course, to gather around meals. And luckily, happily, this is a group that likes to cook and eat. As long as we've been doing this, we've divided up the meals so that each family pretty much prepares one meal or even a snack.

This year we were given Brunch on Sunday. This would be the last meal of the gathering. So I planned to just be super straightforward and do a mess of really excellent bacon from my buddy Crystal and farm fresh eggs, scrambled (Ted's job) and fresh slices of watermelon and a simple tossed green salad. Not complicated or exotic but still satisfying. The night before we had roasted corn on the grill and Jonny had made a ratatouille of sorts with tomatoes and zucchini. In the morning when I was pulling out the bacon and the eggs I saw several uneaten ears of cooked corn, a large uncooked zucchini, a small bag of fresh basil from my window box in Chicago, a bunch of parsely and a half a red bell pepper.

"Corn salad!" I announced to the fridge. It would be just the thing to round out the brunch offerings and really make it feel of the season. I mean, if corn doesn't sing "Summer!" then I don't know what does. Plus, I have this frugal/hyper-practical side and I hate to see things go to waste. So I cut the corn off the cob, diced and quickly steamed the zucchini, I rolled the basil into tiny cigars and sliced the leaves into ribbons, diced the red pepper and chopped up about 1/4 of a cup of parsely. Finally, I tossed in some crumbled Feta to balance the sweetness & crunch of the corn and the peppers with a little creamy saltiness. And there it was, summer in a bowl.

This is so easy to riff on. Had there been asparagus or cucumbers instead of the zucchini, I could have easily used those. Instead of basil I could have added ribbons of kale or spinach or mint. Instead of the peppers, red grape tomatoes would have been lovely. I used a squueze of lime and about a teaspoon of oil to bring it together but a prepared vinaigrette would have been just fine.

We had a really nice brunch. Ted's eggs were soft & fluffy and every piece of the bacon was eaten, the watermelon was juicy & cool, the salad was a nice foil to the bacon's bad-ass-ness. But it was the corn salad that made me happiest. I hope we get the last brunch again next year.

 

 

what works for me

When I am blue or in a funk two things that help pull me out of the dark place are riding my bike and being near water. So this past week, when feeling rather jacked up, I ended up riding my bike to my new favorite beach. A double whammy approach. And you know what? It worked, three hours later, as the sun was starting to go down, I was breathing somewhat normally again. The tightness in my chest was gone. I was actually relaxed and my mind felt at ease. It also helped immensely that Ben called me into the water and we splashed and slithered and jumped around the cool lake for at least 30 minutes. So it's not a complicated equation: bike + beach + play  = joy & calm.

What works for you?

 

will work for food

So as you may know, since the beginning of the year I have been without a steady job. My friend Allison playfully refers to this as being "underemployed." Ahem, yes indeed. I have been picking up projects and gigs hither and thither -- writing for good organizations like this one, teaching green workshops for lovely companies such as this and even dipping my toe into art education for the likes of this amazing museum. It's been rewarding and brings in a few extra nickles, but the work's been spotty and somewhat unpredictable.

However, I have had one steady gig for the past six months or so. Four to five times a week and usually in the morning before heading out to take on the day, I do the social media for Irv & Shelly's Fresh Picks, the wonderful, family-owned company that delivers organic & natural foods to people's homes in Chicagoland. That means I might Twitter about the current state of honey bees or post food-related articles by the likes of Mark Bittman on the company's Facebook page. It's not rocket science and it doesn't take up a whole lot of time but it does keep me in touch with what's going on in the world of food, including legislation surrounding food production and the challenges that small family farmers face. Basically, I'm doing work for something that I care about and believe in.

There's one unique aspect about this working relationship. I don't get paid in cash. Rather I get paid in these:

and these

and these

as well as these.

Yep, I barter my writing for a weekly delivery of a very large bin of gorgeous fruits and vegetables, all of them grown organically and most of them (except in the winter) grown locally. It's such a great set up. First of all, it's easier for Irv & Shelly's to pay me in produce rather than cash because produce is what they've got, an entire warehouse in fact. And I get foods that are healthy and taste great, save money that I would have had to spend at the grocery store and all this amazing produce is pushing me to try new things. Last week I made a kick-ass kohlrabi, fennel & parsley salad and normally I don't even give kohlrabi the time of day. (That will no longer be the case.) 

And something surprising has come out of this exchange of services for goods. A few times I've just had too much produce, it literally won't fit in the fridge and there is no way I'm going to let this beautiful food go to waste, it would just break my heart and make me feel guilty.  So I've texted neighbors and asked if they wanted any of my surplus.  And they say yes and come on over and we chit chat and well, talk about kohlrabi or how cippolini onions are just sublime or marvel at the first plums and try and remember who wrote the poem about plums. And I don't know if I can articulate this without sounding a little odd but when you're not working much and your bank account is a little pallid, being able to share something with someone, to give a small gift of something that you earned, well, it feels really great. Especially when that something is a plastic bag teeming with beautiful, fresh vegetables.

I might post later about other things I've bartered for this past year but for now I've got to go get dinner started. I've got a lovely bag of peas just waiting to be snapped.

my summer of soba

Finally, it's acting like summer. It's hot and sunny, the kids are going to their day camps, we've been hitting the beach & staying up late. And we've been eating all kinds of wonderful in season fruits and veggies. (Talk about hyperlocal eating -- we're growing raspberries in the parkway and just yesterday Ben ate the first 10 right off the bush.) In summer I tend to back way off from the hot, hot, heat kind of cooking -- you know, slow braised meats and big batches of pasta -- because our teeny tiny kitchen heats up faster than you can say Hades.  And I'm loathe to admit it, but frankly,  I'm trying choose my carb & white flour moments a little more thoughtfully these days.  Mostly. I mean, sometimes. Anyhow, if I was on a Green Bean Salad jag last summer, then this year I seem to be on a Soba Salad run that shows no signs of slowing down. That's fine with me.

First of all, soba noodles cook in about 2 minutes, so the kitchen doesn't turn into a Russian Spa just because I want to slurp up some noodles. Secondly, soba noodles are made from buckwheat, so they're actually good for you. (I used to be an Udon noodle gal but I've actually learned to like the somewhat nuttier flavor of the buckwheat.) And finally, they're super versatile. They can be served hot in soups or cold in the traditional Japanese manner called Zaru Soba where you dip your noodles into a sauce on the side. Or you can riff a little on the 80's version of a pasta salad and make a slightly wetter (and tastier) version with the soba noodles.  That's what I've been doing for the past few months, thanks to this delightful recipe from former Minimalist always brilliant Mark Bittman.

You can literally toss in whatever veggies you have in the fridge. A few weeks ago, I was using a lot of asparagus & spinach as that was what came in my Irv & Shelly's Fresh Picks box. I've also been throwing in edamame as Ben loves to help me out by popping them out of their shells and into the noodles. The shot above is from the other day. I had bok choy and another Asian braising green (its name escapes me) that had to be eaten up before my new Fresh Picks box arrived. The corn was from a leftover cob that had been boiled the night before. (Never toss out uneaten cobs! You can saw the kernels off into all kinds of things.) This version was actually edging more toward a cold, refreshing noodle soup than a cold salad, but that was fine by me. More happy summer soba slurping action for yours truly.

p.s. if you're one of those amazingly capable cooks that would even consider making your own noodles from scratch, here's a recipe with cool step-by-step photos. I doubt I'll get around to that. It would just take time away from being at the beach and enjoying summer. And more soba.

 

 

 

road trip!

Last week the boys headed up to Michigan for four days of "Camp Grossman" with Grandma & Grandpa and Ted had to work through Friday. So I decided to take advantage of the situation and head up to Wisconsin for a super quick but thoroughly restorative trip. My destination was Mineral Point in the southern end of Wisconsin's "Driftless Region."

Settled by Cornish miners in the 1800's, Mineral Point is small, hilly and full of authentic and historic charm. These days it's a bit of a magnet for artists and one of my favorite parts of the trip was visiting the Shake Rag Alley School of Arts and Crafts. I was having so much fun brainstorming with the uber- friendly Program Director (one minute I'm sheepishly looking at the gardens and the next thing I know we're in her office talking about making twig journals and fairy houses) that I didn't take any pictures. It's on lovely grounds with historic buildings and even has its own lodge. But a class at the school (for myself or the boys) would be reason enough to return. They're having a "Woodlanders Gathering" next week, which is a blitz of craft classes that has been described as "Summer camp for adults!" If only it were a little closer . . .

Here's a few other highlights from my 48 hour getaway:

I thoroughly enjoyed the solo "motel therapy" time at the spotless and affordable ($40 for one night!) Dairyland Motel. The owner Tom is a quiet character and at check-in he suggested I would have a "fine dining experience" at Tony's Tap at the end of town.

Did I ever! Tony's is a casual family-owned tavern with super friendly staff. I was surrounded by multi-generational families, girlfriends out for drinks and construction workers and felt totally welcome and comfortable. A gorgeous bacon cheddar burger set me back $4.25.  The vodka soda was $2. My kind of fine dining indeed. (And seeing how I am rather underemplyed these days, this trip was going nice and easy on my pocketbook.)

The next morning I had extra luck. Hook's Dairy is only open to the public on Fridays from 6:30 am to noon. So I woke up, hiked down the hill and opened the door to see cheese curds flying. I can safely say this was one of those "Only in Wisconsin" moments.

After scoring some award-winning cave-aged blue cheese, I headed to the town of Dodgeville where this sign made me very happy. I grabbed two uncooked pasties and put them right into the cooler. A little tip here: don't ever, ever go into the state of Wisconsin without a cooler. No matter where you are there's always something you're going to want to take back.

Heading out of Dodgeville I spontaneously decided to check out Little Norway near Blue Mounds. I was worried it would be kitschy/crappy but not at all. It's a historic family farm and my tour guide was excellent. As we entered all the amazing buildings that have such incredible stories, I was channeling my Grandma Ruthie and Laura Ingalls Wilder at the same time.

After Little Norway I went into the town of Mount Horeb, whch was settled by . . . you guessed it, Norwegians. I ducked into Duluth's to check out their small in-store Tool Museum. I so wished my Pop was with me, he'd totally dig and appreciate all the old tools and the way they're honored and displayed.

And then I went down the street and literally stumbled upon the tiny Mt. Horub History Museum. Just because a museum is small doesn't mean it can't be powerful and moving. They have a quilt exhibit in the back that was so moving I almost cried. Some of the quilts were from original settlers and most had the name and a photo of the quilt maker and a little bit about her life in the region. This Crazy Quilt was jaw dropping.

Then I climbed back in the car and began the trip home. I had a lovely lunch of fried cod and German Potato Salad at the Glarner Stube in the Swiss town of New Glarus (hey, it was Friday in Wisconsin, how could I not?) and then grabbed some swiss veal sausages at Ruef's Meat Market next door.

And that was that. The end of my trip. Time to go home. I had such an amazing adventure in a short amount of time and I can't wait to bring the boys back. And next trip I want to go a little further up to Viroqua and check out the Driftless Folk School. But I might have to stop into Tony's for a burger in Mineral Point first.

 

 

things to do

It's summer! We came up with a few ideas for things to do and made a list.

But now that I look at the list I am noticing things that aren't on it that I still want to do. Like take the Water Taxi to Chinatown (never done that). And go to the Ginza Holiday Festival in August (we go every year and always dig it). And maybe finally make it to the Peach & Gladiola Festival up in Coloma, MI.

And sometimes in summer, lists be damned, you just need to be spontaneous and do things as they come across your path. Like hitting Mario's 57 year-old wooden shack of a Lemonade stand on Taylor Street in Little Italy.

 

(It's not lemonade at all but actually more like an all-natural, super citrusy slushy. And it tastes like summer should. Even when you eat it in the car.)

So here we go . . . on and off the list and into an exciting summer. Tomorrow I'm taking a quick one night solo road trip up to Mineral Point, WI. I'll report back soon! Happy summer, everyone.

 

a new version of June

For the last few years, right around the beginning of June, I've done posts apologizing in advance that I would be kind of M.I.A. with all the craziness that the first few weeks of the month delivered. This June, two full weeks into the month, I'm doing a quick post where I don't apologize for not posting for the last few weeks but instead share with you some of the magical, wonderful reasons I've been sidetracked.

I was lucky to be able to swing a quick trip to New York a couple of weekends ago with my friends Sarah and Patti. (Huge thanks to our hyper-gracious hosts, Skip & Kathy!) My favorite part was just walking around and ducking into shops and museums and postage stamp-size corner gardens. Everyone should go to visit the High Line Park, but before you do that, you should visit Russ & Daughters and score some smoked salmon (we chose Scottish) and bagels.

The surprise magical moment of the trip was taking a Sunday stroll through Central Park. I'd never seen the southern end of it. Olmstead really knew how to infuse the landscape with beauty and wonder. And having a cool glass of wine at the Loeb Boathouse really hit the spot after an impressive urban hike.

When I returned home, the very next day Ben had his "end of year" ceremony. This is a big deal for all of the children in his Ginkgo classroom but it was profoundly touching for Ted & I to see how Ben had come so far. Back in September and for many weeks Ben cried more often than not in terms of going to school. On this last day, he said he wasn't ready for it to end. And so I cried.

We then had a few days off to muck around, we had play dates, watched movies, indulged in comic books and ice cream. And then we entered the first official weekend of summer somewhat quietly and slowly. We headed down to Sherman Park on the southside -- the Fishing Guys were there with rods & bait for the kids. Sam fished for almost two hours while Ted, Ben and I just hung out in the park. It's a gorgeous park and on Saturday it was quiet and cool.

The next day I found myself in Columbus Park on the far west side. I was doing sun prints with kids as part of the "What's Out There Weekend." There weren't a ton of kids but there was a lot of dappled sunlight and urban nature to keep me happy. I even had time to sketch in my nature journal -- something I haven't done in two years! If Central Park is Olmstead's genius work, then Columbus Park is Jens Jensen's. What a gift to leave the city of Chicago. (And what a shame that so few people go and enjoy it.)

Yesterday, the boys and I spent many hours over at River Park and today we spent a good chunk of the day enjoying Bartleme Park -- a brand new park in the West Loop with a super cool playground that kept the kiddos happily kinetic.

So I am liking the emerging theme here . . . not running around like a crazy lady, spending time with family and friends and experiencing the simple joys that one can get from visiting parks. It's looking like it's going to be a really nice summer.

 

 

 

project onward portraits

Last Saturday, it being a cold, misty supposed Spring day, the boys and I hopped on the #147 bus and headed down to the Chicago Cultural Center to check out Project Onward's "Portrait Slam."

For those of you not familiar, Project Onward is a DCA program that supports adult artists with mental disabilities. The program provides all the art supplies, gallery space, guidance & training and even gets their pieces shown in other venues. The artists' work takes on a great range of styles, some of the paintings are oddly humourous or childlike while others' work might be moody, painterly or righteously meticulous. Here's a piece by David Holt, who seems to have a knack for deceased performers.

When we entered the room there were six artists stationed at round tables. It was $20 for a portrait and the sitting was expected to last no longer than 30 minutes. Ben was not interested at all, but Sam was super into it. You could pick the artist you wanted to do your portrait and as we entered it just so happened that Adam E. Hines had just finished a portrait and had a "hole" in his schedule. Two years ago when I worked at the Cultural Center (and had an office across the hall from Project Onward) I bought one of Adam's pieces. It's called "Funniest Modern Characters" and has a hyper comic book feel to it. We all dig it and it hangs near our bookshelf in our living room. When I told Sam the artist that was going to do his portrait was the same artist who made the piece hanging in our living room, his eyes grew wide and he practically leapt into the chair. He took the portrait sitting very seriously and sat incredibly still.

I like how Mr. Hines chose to make Sam's head blue.

He asked Sam a series of questions and I think this relaxed Sam a bit. And then I noticed Sam put his hand on the table and he sort of slowly moved it closer to the artist's. This picture, it says so much about what art can do on a bunch of levels. 

I took a picture of Sam with the finished product and with Adam, but when I got home I realized Sam had his eyes closed. He saw the photo and made me promise I would not post it on my blog. (!!!)  So I am going to keep my promise and I'll just share a shot of the portrait.

Can't wait to frame this one. I walked around the room a bit while Sam's portrait was being done and enjoyed watching the other artists at work. One man was working in pastels and was making these very classic but slightly haunted looking portraits. Another artist was doing very realistic pencil-drawn portraits but with a totally grafitti style name floating above each head. I want to get one done at a later date but I am still on the fence as to which artist to choose.  But for Sam on that day, Adam E. Hines was the perfect artist for his very own portrait. And we all like that Adam wrote, "Be brave & strong also stay kind!" at the bottom of the portrait. Indeed.

ps I am sneaking of to New York tomorrow for a very quick trip without the boys or Ted. Can't wait to report back on my adventures, including going to the Maira Kalman exhibit and finally walking the High Line.