goods and heroes

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.