Hey - I just heard from my blogger pal Polly that she once modeled designer Betsey Johnson's clothes when she worked as a house model for Neiman Marcus in the '70s. Polly encountered Ms. Johnson at the end of the runway.
Can you imagine a sunny June Sunday on which you take a ferry to an island nestled off Manhattan? When you get there you encounter a well-manicured ghost town with paths laid out among the trim houses and clipped grass. Wait, what do you hear? The strains of 20’s jazz and a crooner. Yes, a crooner. Coming into focus you see women in a froth of pastel dresses; toile and silk. Cloche hats. Marcel waves. The men. The men are dressed in impeccable three-piece suits. They’re wearing straw boaters and knickerbockers. They’re dancing the Charleston, expertly.
You shake your head but the image doesn’t fade. It’s true. You’ve stumbled across the 2009 Jazz Age Lawn Party. And it happens on Governor’s Island, New York, next weekend.
Governor’s Island is hidden gem just off the southeastern tip of Manhattan, situated in New York’s awe-inspiring harbour. Under a shady grove of centuries-old trees, this true Gatsby affair takes place on a green surrounded by historic officers’ quarters and 18th century naval ramparts. The Jazz Age Lawn Party is one of New York’s most magnificent celebrations, widely anticipated by flappers and sporting gents, curious on-lookers and kids. And a recession-friendly $5 admission gives you access.
Picknickers are welcome and wide array of music, food and drink, activities, games and contests are open for all ages to enjoy.
Front and centre, the headliner on stage is Michael Arenella and His 12-piece Dreamland Orchestra. Michael Arenella is a lovely guy who talks the talk but also walks the walk. He lives in the 1920s, wearing clothes authentic to the time, adapting jazz age music for his orchestra. Living and working in Brooklyn, Arenella and his band can be found regularly playing joints in his neighbourhood. A while back I contacted Michael to buy a Dreamland Orchestra CD, which he sent me, asking merely for me to forward him 20 bucks. I sent him two Alexander Hamiltons and ended up feeling as happy as a clam.
Delightful summer cocktails will be served up at the Lawn Party. Vintage ‘78s will be spun on a 1920’s Victor Phonograph. Take a spin around Governor’s Island in the rumble-seat in one of the autos featured in the 1920’s Motorcar Exhibition. You can stroll amongst the vintage clothing dealers and milliners peddling their wares and the booths of 1920s ephemera hosted by the Dorothy Parker Society and the F. Scott Fitzgerald Society. There is also a Tug O’ War and a Parade of Hats. Some savvy party-goers have entered their pies in a recipe contest.
Maybe somebody would take the time to teach you the Charleston. Genevieve would be a good teacher. You succumb and it feels nice to have the grass tickling your toes as you Charleston. It will be a magical weekend.
The 4th Annual Jazz Age Lawn Party, Saturday and Sunday, June 6th and 7th, 2009 11:00 am to 5:00 pm. Admission $5 (Children under 7 Free)
Anna Piaggi is an Italian fashion writer and style icon. I was first introduced to her through Fashion Television and The Sartorialist. With her blue kiss curls and kohled eyes, walking sticks and crazy hats this 73-year-old is striking and unmistakable. Her friend, shoe designer Manolo Blahnik, calls her "modern beyond belief." He also dubbed her 'the world's last great authority on frocks'.
Piaggi writes for fashion magazines such as the Italian edition of Vogue. Since 1969 she has used a bright red manual Olivetti typewriter for her work. She shows up at many fashion shows and events dressed in an exuberant and eclectic way. Piaggi never appears in public in the same outfit more than once. Her huge clothes collection includes 2,865 dresses and 265 pairs of shoes.
Although flamboyant and unique I have never seen Anna Piaggi crack a smile. She seems to take herself too seriously. She reminds me of a teacher at Junior-Pup’s elementary school, who on “hat day” wore a gigantic foam fish on her head but didn’t smile all day.
Because of Piaggi’s sullenness, I feel she’s mocking us; reminiscent of street punks with the spiky mohawks who dare us to look and then say, ‘Wot you lookin’ at then?”
Betsey Johnson
Sixty-six year old Betsey Johnson is a fashion designer known for her feminine yet exuberant designs. I've known of her since college days when many of her designs were considered over the top. She’s loves the colour pink and is noted for doing a cartwheel at the end of her fashion shows. Johnson looks happy and fit and has the bod of a lucky 20 year old.
Winning Mademoiselle’s Guest Editor contest started Johnson's fashion career. Soon she became part of both the youthquake fashion movement and Andy Warhol's underground scene. She was married for 3 years to Velvet Underground's John Cale. In 1969, she opened a boutique in New York called Betsey Bunki Nini. Edie Sedgwick was her house model. As one journalist recently quoted, “If Betsey Johnson didn’t exist; we would have to invent her, simply to remind ourselves that fashion can be fun. She’s the original wild child and set to paint the town pink!”
I’m always taken aback by Johnson’s joie de vivre and energy. She makes me smile.
Which one of these women would you like to share a beer with or a cup of coffee? Which one would you like to have as your mother-in-law (or sister-in-law)? Discuss!
Here’s a stop-them-in-their tracks recipe I found originally in Canadian House and Home magazine. It was then called Icebox Grasshopper Cake. That sounded a little bit lowbrow and willfully old fashioned. I’m going to call it a Crème de Menthe Trifle. Sorry for the bad picture - it’s my well-thumbed clipping.
This dessert should be made at least 4 hours prior, or even the day before – to allow the cookies to soften into cakey goodness.
Here are the ingredients:
500 mL (1 pint) carton whipping cream
500 g (16 oz) tub mascarpone cheese (or ricotta)
¾ cup sifted icing sugar
1 tsp peppermint extract
½ tsp green food colouring
1/3 cup each Crème de Menthe and Crème de Cacao liqueurs (or 2/3 cup chocolate milk)
4 dozen digestive biscuits. Oops! I just realized Digestives might not be in the American market. I've included the wiki link so you can figure out suitable alternatives.
¾ cup thick chocolate sundae syrup
1 square grated semi-sweet chocolate.
And here's what you do with the ingredients:
1. In a deep bowl, whip cream until fluffy. Reserve and refrigerate 1½ cups for the topping
2. In a large bowl, beat together the mascarpone, icing sugar, peppermint extract and food colouring. Stir in half of the remaining whipped cream, then gently fold in the rest of the whipped cream. NOT the reserved topping in the fridge.
3. In a shallow bowl combine the liqueurs (if using). Then immerse digestive biscuits one at a time into the liqueur mixture or chocolate milk; arrange biscuits in a single layer to cover the bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish or trifle bowl, breaking the cookies to fit.
4. Brush the first layer of biscuits generously with the 1/3 of the chocolate topping. Layer with one third of the mascarpone mixture. Repeat with the remaining cookies, chocolate topping and mascarpone mixture to make more layers.
5. Spread the reserved whipped cream on top; Sprinkle with grated chocolate. Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or overnight. Makes about 15 servings.
I’ve made this recipe 3 times and it’s always well-received. It’s messy to make and you might be left with extra biscuits. I’ve only ever made it with the chocolate milk.
The silliest mistake I made was topping it with chocolate sprinkles which melted into a maroon-coloured mess that I had to hide under lashings of real grated chocolate.
I think it looks best in a glass bowl and the number of layers is really up to you. Whatever fits. I would imagine you could make a similar dish with strawberries or caramel. Maybe Cassis. or lemon curd. Hmmm.
It’s really rich and filling so one generous serving spoonful would suffice.
“Big...see...I, I don't want one for one night. I want something for a thousand and one nights. With plenty of room here for labels from Italy and Baghdad, Samarkand...a great big one.”
“I see, a flying carpet, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“I don't suppose you'd like this old second-hand job, would you?”
“Now you're talking…Gee whiz, I could use that as a raft in case the boat sunk. How much does this cost?
“No charge.”
“That's my trick ear, Joe. It sounded as if you said ‘no charge’.”
“That's right.”
“Well, what's my name doing on it here?”
“A little present from old man Gower. Came down and picked it out himself.”
“He did?! What do you know about that...my old boss. Isn't that nice? "
When I heard the theme for Thursday was to be "Suitcase" this scene from the movie "It's a Wonderful Life" was the first thing I thought of. George Bailey who thought that the most exciting sounds in the world were anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles, never experienced travel; he stayed in Bedford Falls all his (wonderful) life.
One of my post labels is "The Suitcase". Click on the label "The Suitcase" below and you can see articles I've written on places I've been or places I long to go.
Please check out Theme Thursday for other participants contributions.
Script-o-rama at http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/i/its-a-wonderful-life-script.html did the transcribing for me. Thanks.
Some old country recipes, verbatim, from my Mum. I hope you enjoy reading them or even making them
"Here's a couple of recipes for you, one you could use, the other for fun.
"Looker's Pie." This is a traditional Romney Marsh dish. Lookers were basically shepherds but had to watch vast flocks of sheep in all weathers.
1 1/2 lbs lean lamb. 8oz. onions. 8oz potatoes. 1/2 pint lamb stock. 1/2 glass red wine. 1 tablespoon chopped mint. salt and pepper. short crust pastry. beaten egg to glaze.
Dice lamb and brown in oil. Chop and brown onions in a little butter. Put lamb and onions in a casserole dish with the wine, stock and mint. Season and cook for 1 1/2 hours at 325 degrees. Peel and boil potatoes for about 5 mins, chop into chunks and mix in with casserole once cooked. Roll out half pastry and line pie dish. Spoon in casserole contents and cover with rest of pastry. Glaze with beaten egg. Cook for 25 mins at 350 degrees.
From Lookers Heritage Recipe Book. Sounds scrumtious! Make sure you seasonwell.
RUMFUSTIAN loved by English sportsmen after a day's shooting. (and pirates too, says Hazel)
The yolks of a dozen eggs well whisked up. Put into 1 quart of strong beer. Add 1 pint of gin. Put into a saucepan a bottle of sherry with a stick of cinnamon, a grated nutmeg, dozen lumps of sugar, and the rind of a thinly peeled lemon. When it boils pour it into the gin mixture. Drink Hot.
I don't do blog bling, not since Poetikat nominated me for The Sexy Blogger Award, but I'm feeling surprising blue today due to expensive dentists, an effing cold and windy day and general family rows. I thought I'd bolster myself up and show off some awards I'd been given lately.
The most recent was the Toadally Awesome Award from the warty old Mad Aunt Bernard who oversees Mad Aunt Bernard's Tortoise Poetry. This was part of the Trebollocks Literary Awards. You should go on over and see the other winners. Thanks Aunty, you old bat. (shhh, I think she's a witch)(P.S. Aunty, what's going on with the new Rupert? I hate it)
Yesterday, Sallymandy at The Blue Kimono gave me a shout out for being a Valued Follower. Thanks Sallymandy. Please head over to her place to see the other blogger recipients. And a few weeks back Kat at Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes gave me the Noblesse Oblige award. Thank you Kat. She's the best blog poet I know. Revised at 4:00 p.m. E.S.T Poetikat flatters the Pup to much and has just given me another award. This one, the Premio Dardos Award (what does that mean?) is given to blogs of literary, cultural and artistic merit. Please check her site out for other winners. She's got a whole slew of them to hand out. Apparently Premio Dardos means Darts Prize. Hmm.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Weekend Update: Friday, after one of our dip dinners, we traipsed to the Junior Pup’s high school where we watched students and teachers put on an amazing tribute for his school’s 120th anniversary.
Skits, reviews, handmade films, or musical numbers were presented for each of the 12 decades the school has been in existence. Pup’s just in Grade 9 so I’m still getting used to the teachers and the in-jokes and I was a bit in the dark when the teenage contingent started whoop-whooping for different reasons. My translator was off sitting with some girls. It was unabashedly funny when Pup’s history teacher came out dressed as Elvis in an inflatable wig and his English teacher as Barbie.
I always get a nose-prickle at the beginning of live events - I guess I’m easily moved - but I cried through this whole review, whether from emotion or just laughing too hard. I could blame mopping my face on the temperature in the auditorium which must have been about 95 degrees. The eagerness and confidence of these kids was astounding (my own kid not included…yet).
I felt about 100 years old when the kids started cheering for a montage of things from the ‘90s. Power Rangers, Pokemon, Game Boy, cell phones. The kids were cheering for things, not people or events. I thought that weird.
This 120th Anniversary was also a school reunion, so I had some men from the class of '76 next to me who were more interested in catching-up than watching the show.
Saturday, I wandered around my neighbourhood for the community yard sale but decided the last thing I needed was someone else’s junk. This was not Antiques Road Show material. Later, to satisfy my itch to buy something, I went downtown and purchased a replica of a French chocolate jug plus a couple of other things to stimulate the economy. I wish I’d bought a genuine chocolate jug when I saw it at the Harbourfront Antique Market in the ‘80s but I doubt if I could have afforded the original at that time. That night we gave into a whim and synched the DVD of The Wizard of Oz with Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. Apparently the sound effects mesh perfectly with the movie, but I think this was invented by somebody who was too high and had too much time on their hands. I think in the right hands Raffi or Tom Jones’ Greatest Hits would have worked equally well.
Speaking of too much time on one’s hands, I took some pictures of my reflection in the back door. Contrary to my post a couple of days ago about colour, I’m wearing subdued tones. I’m getting as big as my 17-foot-wide house. Something must be done. You also get a good view of my forehead wrinkle. Like a can-opener’s been taken to my head. Sunday I slept in for the first time in about 2 years for some much needed beauty sleep. Later, more boosting of the economy. Hot dogs for dinner. Then while ironing Señor Pup’s shirts I watched the film Paris Je T’aime and got my Sergio Castellitto fix. No shirts were burned during this 10 minutes.
Today, I just got back from spending 2½ hours in the dentist’s chair. Apparently I need a retainer on my 46-year-old teeth. I had 14 x-rays, multiple pictures taken with retractors and without -that wasn’t pretty. Impressions were taken of my teeth with that clobbery substance. Gag! I had a skull x-ray taken. They listened to my jaws click with an electronic monitor and measured my nasal air output. Holy Cow! Tomorrow I’ve got to go back so they can measure how I walk. What?!! Maybe I should find a sash from a beauty pageant.
This is way too much information out me. Must stop.
1 cup granulated sugar 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter or margarine, softened 2 eggs 4 tablespoons sour cream 2 ripe bananas, mashed 2 cups all-purpose flour 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 (6-ounce) package chocolate chips (or up to 12 ounces, if desired) 2 medium disposable foil loaf pans (about 8-by-3-by-2 inches)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cream together the sugar and butter. Add the eggs and beat well. Add the sour cream and ripe bananas; mix well. In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking powder and baking soda. Add the dry mixture to the sour cream mixture, then fold in the chocolate chips. Divide the batter between two greased loaf pans. Bake for about 50 minutes. Turn the loaves out on to cooling rack or aluminum foil as soon as they're done.
Cook's note: Beatty Zimmerman, mother of singer Bob Dylan, says this recipe is no-fail: "It's one minute to make."
Sandy Thompson of the Duluth News-Tribune interviewed Beatty Zimmerman, June 30, 1999 and Beatty Zimmerman shared this recipe. Tested by the Duluth News-Tribune, July 7, 1999.
The above image is Beatty and Abe Zimmerman holding hands with Robert, 1942. The image is taken from http://www.garon.us/Abram%20Zimmerman.html
A tip of the hat to Bob Dylan, who turns 68 today. My husband re-introduced me to Dylan 18 years ago. Since then he's been like another member of the family.
Check out Youtube for the wonderful Dylan video Series of Dreams. It's fun to shout out when you see the other famous people. I sold Donavan a ring in 1986 - one degree of separation!!
Bob also recorded a song in 1973 entitled "Hazel". This helped greatly in my affection for him. Here he is singing "Hazel" at The Last Waltz concert with The Band. Unfortunately Scorsese did not use it for the film.
Worthing checking is bobdylan.com for other great videos. And please check my next post, which features a recipe from Bob Dylan's mother.
I found this on The Sartorialist on May 20th. I loved this look the moment I saw it.
There's been some talk over at The Blue Kimono about the question of dressing appropriately for one's age. Some support it - but the majority of her commenters are all for individuality.
I'd like to defy the notion of dressing appropriately for one's age. I think that if a woman has the confidence to wear something bright and unique then she should go for it.
Knowing what suits your body helps a lot in this regard. For example boatnecks look bad on me and t-shirts are out because of my volu(m)ptousness. Queen Anne necklines and wide-legged pants suit me. One doesn't need to look like mutton dressed as lamb.
If I found the skirt above I would definitely wear it.
Some stores I like that fit the bill:
Boden - colourful, a full range of sizes and everything is just a little quirky. Well made too.
LL Bean - For the pants. The have a full range of petites and larger sizes. I like their velveteen jeans.
I also buy a lot of silky, brocade items from Indian, Tibetan or Chinese shops. Bright, different and they can really funkify jeans or a black skirt. And I shop at gently used places too.
Have a happy weekend everyone.
Hazel
photo used by permission from Scott Schuman/The Sartorialist
My dream vacation. What's yours? I have so many. But here’s just one. No siren song of Lorelei leading me to the Rhine this time. This time I have the gall to stay in France.
Since this is a dream, I don’t have to fly to get there. I wake up in Paris with the birds chirping and the curtains gently billowing into my room at the Hotel Grandes Ecoles in Paris’s 5th Arrondissement.
The air smells of fresh brewed coffee. I get up, stretch, shower and throw on a cotton sundress, maybe periwinkle blue. I don’t need comfortable shoes because it’s a dream. I have a fortifying coffee on the terrace but I shun the continental breakfast in favour of a Crêpe Marron that I buy from a nearby window. Then I head a little west to the Cour du Commerce Saint-Andre. There I sit and review my maps. In my perfect dream-French I’ll order an espresso. Feet away is the Café Procope which claims to be the oldest operating restaurant in Paris. Aparently the guillotine was perfected just out in front. Procope’s regular visitors included Molière, Voltaire, Napoleon, Georges Sand, Victor Hugo, Oscar Wilde, Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin.
Colette and Picasso once lived within walking distance. I head in the right direction and gaze at their respective windows from the street. I’ve found myself on Rue Bonaparte. Look - there’s Laduree. Maybe I’ll have one of their famous macarons. Yes. A Cassis Violette. Can I afford it? Yes, it’s my dream vacation.
Back towards the hotel I pass the two cafes on the Boulevard St. Germain that were popular with the Existentialists and the Surrealists; Café De Flore and Les Deux Magots. I reflect on the on the writers and artists that must have mused on the terrace - Hemingway, Andre Breton, Sartre, but I don’t go in. I’m heading to the Musee National du Moyen Age. The National Museum of the Middle Ages has conserved the most magnificent examples of ancient textiles in the world. The Lady and the Unicorn tapestries are here. Wandering around in the Medieval Garden outside, who do I see but the Italian Actor Sergio Castellitto. He’s not French, but it’s my dream and he finds me delightful.
He agrees to accompany me up to the bouquinistes on the Left Bank of the Seine. The antique books and prints are fun to browse through. At one of the stalls I find a first edition of a Colette that I haven’t yet read. A real deal too. Sergio and I enjoy an ice cream cone while walking along the Seine, each picking out our favourite houseboat. He’s wearing a nice summer suit and looks great.
I consent to an invitation to dinner on a Bateau Mouche. Sitting astern I enjoy the asparagus cream and the seared breast of duckling. What will I have for dessert; Crepes Suzette with Raspberry Butter or the Chocolate Mousse with the praline and Hazelnut Crisp?
The candlelight serves to enhance my enjoymnent as I sail by Notre Dame, the Louvre and the illuminated Eiffel Tower. We disembark at the Pont Saint-Michel near Shakespeare & Company. Adieu. I have to get back to my hotel. I have an early start. I'm going on a train trip. But that's for another day.
Real life intervenes today; dog walking, paid work and a visit from the window salesperson. Windows made me think of the amazing view we had from our hotel in Regensburg the Hotel Orphée when we stayed in the Bavarian town in 2006.
Our balcony was as big as our room and overlooked the town square with the city hall on one side and a view down Wahlenstraße to the left. Eye-tickling blue lobelias festooned the cast iron railings.
A great memory to top this off was that despite votive candles on both the café tables on the balcony we had no matches. Junior Pup and I watched as Husband Pup left the hotel with a candle in hand walked down the cobblestones to a nearby restaurant and came back up the dark street with the lit candle.
The Hotel Orphée is undoubtedly the coolest hotel I have ever stayed in. Absolutely beautiful and a great deal too.
I live in a red brick Victorian row house. It’s 17 feet wide and attached on both sides; garbage cans and lawnmowers go through the house – not around. It’s similar to the one below, but that’s not my house so don’t come knocking.
Decorated mainly in faded blue and white striped wallpaper; somebody in the ‘80s must have gone for a French provincial feel. When we first saw the house in ’97 it was imbued with a shabby-chic style. Now it’s just shabby. We haven’t had the energy to do anything with the walls.
I did find the energy to trace the house’s history. Through the Central Reference Library, Ancestry.com and the L.D.S. I was able to piece together a chronological record of who lived in our house.
Built in 1892, our house was unoccupied until 1895. The theory bandied about was that the builders, who were brothers, each wanted one of the seven in our row for family members. They ran out of money and my house was purchased by a man called Feagan.
Born in 1853, Feagan worked in a grocer’s downtown owned by Solomon Moyer. He married the grocer’s daughter Susan. They had children Stewart, Susie and a little girl called Harper who died before they moved into this address.
Shortly after moving in Feagan went into partnership with a fellow grocery clerk from Moyer’s called Stipe. Together Feagan & Stipe ran a grocery wholesale close to Toronto’s docks. They could be found in the Toronto City Directory under “Fruiterers” and sounding very much like a firm found in Charles Dickens.
After about 10 years the Feagans left and a succession of owners ensued. Many of them worked for the Toronto Electric Rail Company.
During World War 1 two elderly single sisters lived here. In a subsequent Directory entry an equally old Italian neighbour a few doors down had moved in. By the next year he had married one of the cousins.
In 1919 a Frenchman bought the house – a translator for a large farm implement company. But he and his brood did not move in until much later. They stayed until 1959.
Puzzled about the ductwork in my house, one day I pulled the cast iron cover off the cold air return on my bedroom floor. I immediately spied a note, “Victoria was here, 1994”, lying under the floor boards – a message from the previous tenant of the room.
Curiosity piqued, I didn’t have far to look before I found 3 notebooks dating from the 40s and 50s, a toy block, a box for a gyroscope ( the gyroscope itself still remains out of reach to this day) and some crumpled up Vargas girl illustrations. These belonged to the Frenchman’s son Albert.
Albert was old enough to know better. He had commandeered his sister’s music scribblers and between the lines written his copious erotic fantasies regarding a married woman called Ruby Reilly. At first I thought I had found a confession but it was just Albert's wishful thinking. Albert’s writing was so repetitive I couldn’t be bothered to read all of what he and Ruby would do when she was ‘Barenakit” It was all very procedural and much like the scene in The Shining - All Work and No Play… But I learned that Ruby had apparently flashed him at a nearby rubber tire factory where they both worked.
I guess he stored his writings under the floor and forgot about them when it was time to move on. Albert still lives in the city.
Over time, my friend and I got a shopvac and brooms and tried to reach the other things under my floor but to no avail. However I did name my next cat Ruby Reilly. She was a horrible wild thing.
Thanks to TVO, Ontario’s public broadcaster, we watched a sexy movie last night. -Y tu mamá también. This Mexican film is a buddy/road movie, involving two friends just finishing high school. Through a series of twists and turns, the over-sexed boys end up taking an older voluptuous cousin (by marriage) on a road trip to a non-existent beach.
They get into a precarious sexual predicament with the older woman. Hi-jinks ensue and emotion interrupts the boy’s friendship.
I enjoyed this movie a lot. The male leads are cute without being overly handsome. The dialogue struck me as genuine smutty boy-talk. The sex (how’d they do that??) looked so real and too true. Nothing is stereotypical and nothing is glorified. There is no happy ending.
I felt a little uncomfortable watching this with my teenaged son. But I’ll tell you what - this coming of age movie (god, how I hate that term) seemed so true and honest I couldn’t object. Real life trumps Hollywood anytime. And real life was what this movie represented.
Y tu mamá también was directed by Alfonso Cuarón who ended up directing Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. The film orignally came in '01, so I'm a bit slow on the uptake. The film stars Diego Luna, who was the teenaged lover in Frida, Gael Garcia Bernal and Maribel Verdú, who I last saw as Rocio in the Spanish film Belle Epoque.
I’d recommend this film to anyone who likes movies with European sensibilities and who’s over the age of 18!!
About 3 or 4 weeks ago I was invited by Polly Jackson to join in a paint-off. We were all to paint the same subject, in this case, a realtor called Trudie. Here are the results.
Please visit Polly to see them in more detail. Mine's bottom centre. Next month the subject is a cow named Daisy.
Polly also has released a great instructional video via mindbites.com. Here's a link to a 60 second clip of Polly showing us underpainting techniques when painting with acrylics. It's really worth the $3.99 price tag. Painting with Acrylics: Underpainting Technique
I was mightily impressed with how well this photograph turned out. I was doing the dishes and snapped this picture of the fruit bowl on my window sill. I think it has a real "old masters" feel to it. There are some suds on the bowl.
Last summer, to avoid endless days of gaming on behalf of my son, I urged my Junior Pup to do two things. Read a book per week and make a cake per week.
Pup read 3 novels, The World According to Garp, The Hotel New Hampshire and J-Pod, by Douglas Coupland. To make up for the deficit he made 11 cakes.
The cake featured today is the first cake he tried, with some help from me. It's based on a recipe in “My French Kitchen”; a collaboration between chef Fran Warde and author Joanne Harris of “Chocolat” fame. Her cake is called Gateau Lawrence in honour of her brother. It’s made with almonds instead of flour.
This is a very moist cake, in fact I remember mooshing it back into a circle when it came out the pan. It’s almost too rich for icing, maybe just a sprinkling of powdered sugar would do. But I will include an icing recipe because it was delicious.
Here we go.
For the cake
6½ ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped into small pieces (about 1½ cups) ¾ of a cup unsalted butter at room temperature ⅔ cup sugar 1⅔ cups (7 ounces) ground sliced almonds 4 large eggs, separated
For the icing
3½ ounces bittersweet chocolate (about ¾ of a cup) 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
Heat the oven to 300◦F. Line a 10-inch spring form pan with parchment paper.
Chop the chocolate into small pieces and melt it in a heatproof bowl over a pan of boiling water, in a double boiler-like arrangement. Remove from heat and cool until tepid.
Cream together the butter and sugar until combined using an electric mixer. Add the ground almonds, egg yolks and melted chocolate and beat until evenly blended.
In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff and fold into the cake mixture evenly with a rubber spatula. Pour into the prepared pan and bake for 35 minutes. A light crust will form on the top and the middle should still be a little squishy. Leave to cool a little before carefully removing the sides. Cool on a wire rack. Slide a long knife underneath the cake to release the parchment but leave it on the paper anyway.
For the icing, melt the chocolate and butter together in a heatproof bowl over a pan of simmering water. Stir. Spread evenly over the top of the cake and leave to set. Slide the cake off the paper and onto a serving platter. Serves 6.
