Thank god for Trader Joe's! Picked up this potted Hyacinth when I was in the Upper West Side yesterday, for just $2.99.  In the midst of Polar Vortex number 2 (I think this is the winter word of 2014, at least on the East Coast), I was in desperate need of something that reminded me of the upcoming spring.

I've always been curious of the Victorian flower symbolism, wondered how many people actually were fluent in the "language of flowers", how universal/ubiquitous it's usage actually was.  There was something delicious about it, arcane, perhaps a bit silly/romantic (depending on your perspective), with a dash of subterfuge/spy-novel-mystery. 

It turns out the symbolism of the hyacinth way predates Victorian usage. For you budding etymologists out there, the -nth suffolk denotes a pre-Hellenic origin. In a nutshell, this is a racy gay love triangle. Apollo, the sun god, was the lover of a beautiful boy, Hyacinth. But Zephyr, the West Wind, was also taken with the boy, and jealous that his affections weren't returned. While Apollo and Hyacinth were throwing around a discus, Zephyr changed the course of the wind so the discus struck Hyacinth in the head, killing him. While Apollo was powerless to save his young love, he caused purple hyacinth flowers to  spontaneously grow from blood that soaked the ground. Hyacinth would never completely vanish, and every spring he would be reborn.

Today's cat-cam

Mushu makes a lovely resting place for Molly's Kindle.

Sunday brunch.

Inspired by our recent trip to North Carolina, Molly fixed up some delicious cheesy grits with roasted tomato, mushroom, and soft-cooked eggs. I made the tomato soup side, crowned with a healthy dollop of sour cream. Having a friend over is always a good thing for us in one ways than one, since it forces us to have an overdue reckoning with the apartment clutter. In this case, long overdue!


Grits with Roasted Tomatoes, Mushrooms, and Soft-Boiled Egg

Ingredients:

3/4 cup Stone-ground grits

4 cups water

pinch of salt

2 tablespoons butter

Cheese, about 1 cup shredded (to taste)

1 pint grape, cherry, or campari tomatoes (something small enough to roast whole)

1/2 lb Baby Bella mushrooms, sliced

1 onion (red or yellow)

4 eggs

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Take your eggs out of the refrigerator to allow them to come to room temperature. 

Bring the four cups of water to a boil and add a pinch of salt. Sprinkle in the grits while stirring so that lumps don't form. (Note: cooking directions may vary slightly from brand to brand for grits. I just follow the directions on the package (we gotthis brand as a gift from my brother for Christmas), and try to make enough for two people plus a little extra. Anything that's not eaten can be made into pan-fried grit cakes the next day, but that's not usually a problem in our house!

While the grits are cooking, wash, trim, and slice the mushrooms about 1/4 inch thick. In a mixing bowl, toss them with olive oil to coat, and salt and pepper. Arrange them on one side of a large cookie sheet lined with parchment paper or foil (to make clean-up easier). Leave the tomatoes whole but give them the same olive oil/salt/pepper treatment. Cut the onion in half and then slice into thin half-moon cuts. Toss with olive oil and arrange next to tomatoes and mushrooms.

Roast the vegetables for about 20 minutes, until they are cooked through and browned. The tomatoes should just about implode on themselves and be letting off their juice. The onions may be done cooking before the other vegetables; if they look like they're about to burn, take them off the baking sheet and set aside on a plate. 

In a small saucepan, bring enough water to cover your eggs to a boil. Once it's at a rolling boil, lower the eggs in one by one with a slotted spoon. Cook for five minutes, then set aside in a bowl of cold water.

Once the grits are cooked through, stir in the butter and cheese. I like to use a blend of sharp white cheddar and parmesan, but use what you like and have on hand.

Ladle a healthy serving of grits (about two ladle fulls is a generous portion, I find) onto the center of a plate. Arrange the roasted vegetables on top, then peel two eggs and slice them in half and add them to the pile.

Garnish with a little bit of left-over shredded cheese (if your wife hasn't eaten it already) and a few twists of freshly ground pepper.

Enjoy!

Weekend Rituals.

Cappucino and NYT at Milk Bar

When I first moved to Prospect Heights, one of my favorite leisure activities was to amble down to the Austrailian-owned cafe on the corner of Prospect and Vanderbilt, and order a cappuccino or latte (pricy!) and a generous half-order of cinnamon toast ($2!). There was always a NY Times to read, and good tunes to listen to; when I particularly liked what I was hearing, I would hold my phone above my head, cocked in the general direction of the speakers, while the Shazam (i.e., the "tell me what song this is!") app collected its' required amount of data. When Molly and I started dating, she was soon folded into this afternoon ritual.

There was something relaxed, yet rarefied, about those early weekends. The short but pleasurable walk past the brownstones we both loved. The sighting of the familiar slate blue awning, wooden "antler" chandelier through the glass, the feeling of having a regular "place." The New York Times was always in the same place, stacked slightly off-kilter on the right counter corner. We would sit with our respective sections in companionable silence, every now and then, exchanging sections with each other, or commenting on the articles.

Then, somewhere along the time, the sense of leisure that characterized our weekend dissipated. Life quickened, or seemed to. A wonderful coffee shop with delectable cookies (baked goods at Milk Bar were always comparatively weak) opened up a minute's walk closer.  Whenever I would get coffee, whether with Molly or alone, I would go to the newer place instead. After all, it also had nice (Brooklyn-esque) decor, good coffee, and good music.

While it may no longer be my number one, it was lovely to re-visit Milk Bar this weekend. I forgot how intimately sized it was by comparison,  how wonderful it was to just sit and read the weekend Times over coffee, the actual "hard" copy in your hands. While I'll continue to go to Hungry Ghost on weekdays, I hope that Molly and I can start to weave this weekend ritual back into our lives.

 

Re-model in progress

It's been a long, hard search for a blogging platform. I made the (fatal) mistake of picking a platform that was later acquired by Twitter, and all of my posts were subsequently deleted. After that debacle, I tried Tumblr since it's visually appealing and easy to use. Ultimately, I was forced to come with the conclusion that it wasn't the right fit for this somewhat text-oriented blog.  And so, here I am on Blogger. Needless to say, I still haven't figured out how to make it look anything other than butt-ugly. :( 

Molly suggested that a good way to start getting things up to snuff was to remove the existing, amateur-looking header, and design something more fitting to the spirit of the blog. 

I decided to sketch a composite brownstone landscape. I'm hoping the ink really is as water-proof as claimed, and I'm going to play around with watercolor washes. 

Hopefully, the end result will be a prettier blog-child!

You got my heart on a string.

Something so dreamy and delicate about today's latte art.

#hungryghost

On a beach in Hawaii

Love is like the open sea

And I wish you were here with me

On the beach in Hawaii.

An innocuous winter trip to the Guitar Center to buy a capo turned into a bit of an impulse buy. While looking for assistance, I suddenly ran smack into the ukulele section.  Like the wannabe Brooklyn hipster that I am, I was instantly smitten (Puppy-dog sized! Beautiful wood grain! Surprisingly lovely tone!). Feeling ridiculous (I'd only started guitar lessons a little over a month ago!), I wrenched myself out of the store. Only after texting with a snowbound, Detroit-trapped Molly (trapped in conference hell), who urged me to allow myself a small pleasure like this, even it was silly, did I return and buy one. Not the beautiful ones pictured (too expensive), but the cheapest one that didn't look and sound like it was made with a sheet of plywood and a glue gun. Once at home and parked in front of some youTube instructionals, it was easy to pick up some songs, in a basic sense. The ukulele seems to be an easier (if more limited) instrument than the guitar, at the very least, certainly easier on the fingers! If my travel schedule ever picks up, it will be nice to have something so portable.