Issue no. 12 | Post no. 11: Heirloom tomatoes are the jewel-toned starlets of CSA’s and farmer’s markets this year. They’re locally grown, oddly shaped, and imperfectly beautiful. Just like us! There are hundreds of varieties to slice into: scarlet, plum, amber, ruby, lemon and mahogany tomatoes– striped and mottled, miniature and massive.
Have a favorite? I know your favorite herb is basil…which got me to thinking. I do love a caprese salad. And a caprese sandwich- melted– sounds like a stroke of goodness.
Grilled Heirloom Tomato and Mozzarella Melt
5 to 6 sandwiches
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One large Heirloom Tomato, sliced thick
One ball of Fresh Mozzarella, sliced
One handful of fresh Basil leaves
One 4 0z. package Prosciutto (optional)
One loaf Rustic White Bread (sliced extra thick)
Good quality Extra Virgin Olive Oil & Balsamic Vinegar for drizzling
Freshly ground Salt & Pepper
If using a panini maker, pre-heat and adjust for thick sandwiches. If using a griddle or a heavy frying pan, heat 1 T olive oil or butter until bubbling. Assemble slices of tomato, mozzarella and prosciutto into thick slices of bread. Drizzle with E.V.O.O. and balsamic vinegar and generous amounts of salt and pepper.
Grill sandwiches until mozzarella is just beginning to melt, turning once if cooking on a griddle. Overcooking will cause the tomatoes to release too much liquid. Open sandwiches and layer in a few basil leaves. Serve immediately.
Heirloom tomatoes look and smell like the authentic, picked-off-the-vine, dripping-when-cut, summer ripe tomatoes of our childhoods and our grandparents’ childhoods. These ancestral vines creep back to a time when goodness and sustenance were grown with love and respect, from shared seeds and strong hands.
And they just taste better. So, do break down and buy one (if you haven’t tried one) and make your imperfect, beautiful
self a sandwich!
I will wear my bathing suit in front of others and not be mortified. I will go to the gym. I will buy the running shoes I promised to buy. I will make homemade ice cream. I will boil peanuts outside and share with my neighbors. I will drink from a watermelon rind.
I will start buying less-cheap chardonnay. I will go barefoot. I will dance under the full moon. I will cut off my jeans. I will attempt another crop of tomatoes. I will wear sunscreen. I will read a paperback. I will swim in the ocean. I will play well with others. I will sew a sundress and wear it. I will go see a drive-in movie. I will streak my hair with lemon juice.
I will play the harmonica. I will listen to the Beach Boys. I will rent a canoe. I will fish off the dock. I will wear a flower in my hair. I will act on a whim. I won’t tell. I will be brave. I will jump higher. I will bewilder my loved ones. I will kiss the ground. I will make amends. I will use my thoughts for good.
I will wonder. I will do a cartwheel. I will laugh at your jokes, like afternoon lightning storms and humidity and mushrooms blanketing my yard. I will stop my car by the side of the road and run through a field of tall grass. I will whistle along to Home.
Issue no. 12 | Post no. 9: A few weeks ago, my girlfriend sent me home with a posy of Thai Basil. The wonderfully fresh smell of mint mixed with anisette filled my car and by the time I pulled into my driveway, I was smitten. And hungry. For days, I chopped away at my beautiful little posy, sprinkling it on pizza, garbanzo beans, into stir fries and frittatas. I couldn’t get enough. I declared it my favorite herb EVER. Oh, yes I did.
After I massacred my tiny, fragrant bouquet, I hit the streets, desperately looking for a new source.
Found it– an international store nearby work. (I swear I heard a small Yippee! from somewhere deep inside my heart.) This time, I bought a huge bag. And tonight, I’m back at it, chopping and sprinkling and pairing it with peaches in a spicy (hot!) salsa that just might numb your tongue.
Rich goes back for seconds and says, “This is really good.” If you know the man, you know he’s not one to hand out an adverb.
So, what’s your favorite herb? Think before you type.
Grilled Shrimp with Spicy Peach Salsa
Serves 3 to 4 — Salsa —
3 Large or 4 Small Ripe Peaches, chopped
1 Jalapeno, sliced thin (I leave the seeds in)
1/2 Red Pepper, minced
1 Green onion or 1/4 Red Onion, minced
Juice of 1 Lime (~ 2 T Lime Juice)
1 T Chili Sauce
Handful of Thai Basil or Cilantro (chopped)
1/4 t Kosher Salt
1/4 t Red Pepper Flakes (optional)
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15-18 Medium to Large Shrimp, peeled and de-veined
1 Handful Thai Basil or Cilantro (chopped)
Serve over Couscous, cookedwith butter and/or handfuls of Fresh Spinach —
Prepare Salsa and let it steep while you peel and prepare shrimp. A good amount of liquid will accumulate. Grill (or flash fry) shrimp in a hot, lightly buttered pan or on a griddle. Remove while still pink and toss with a large flaked salt, such as Kosher or Sea Salt and fresh Thai Basil. Serve immediately over couscous and/or fresh spinach greens, piled high with spicy peach salsa.
Issue no. 12 | Post no. 7: Congratulations, Amy (!) and subsequently, Rachel. You two are the soon-to-be proud temporary guardians and watchers of Handmade Nation, the Movie!
Go forth and craft an heirloom. Or just munch on a bag of popcorn and watch the tatoo’ed girls in the film make spunk outta junk.
Here’s a quick pic of my crafty sculpture-in-progress and my girl, Mazy. I’ve finished the first round of paper mache and I’m letting it rest for a week while checking it for size in its future home at mid-stairwell. I’m also removing it from my kitchen to improve my sanity for the week. Hint: if I still played with Barbies, they would have cocktails on top of this baby, everyday at five sharp.
Eckhart Tolle and my Uncle Terrell have taught me a lot about living life in the present, certainly enough to make me question the tense of this sentence as I write it. Perhaps they teach me. Or at least they tried to teach me. Whatever. It’s a lesson I continually need to remind myself of. And these days, my reminder mechanisms aren’t functioning at their best. Lately, I’ve been itching to try this little “presence” exercise of focusing on the here and now- the Right Now- that Lisa and UndertheBIGbluesky have been sharing.
“Realize deeply that the present moment is all you have. Make the NOW the primary focus of your life.” — Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now
Here goes: July 27, 2010 7:46 AM
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In my paper cup: A mostly black blend that Rich brought me while Mazy and I were out walking.
In my head:The Selby is in my Place is in my head and I’m imagining him coming to my home, where he’d shoot some unnoticed corner that would appear beautifully melodic and I’d think, “wow, my house isn’t such a disaster, after all.”
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I am thankful for: Memories of Sunday spent with my family under the covered deck in the 102 degree heat.
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On my nightstand: 1. The Elements of Style (illustrated version) by Will Strunk and E.B. White and now I’m wondering if you italicize book names or bold them? I should go get the book, but I won’t. Note to family: bury me with this book, just in case. Me must write pretty in heaven. 2. Synthroid. 3. A glass of water- half full. 4. Lint. 5+. The latest Garden & Gun, Pottery Barn catalog, a paperback copy of The Book Thief, a paperback copy of The Yarn Harlot.
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On my mind: Quilts. In love with my freshly washed Double Wedding Ring.
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In the fridge: a drawer full of cold, ripe peaches. Leftover pasta salad.
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Overheard in the other room: Matt Lauer
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On my thermometer: 75 degrees Fahrenheit
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Feeling: Anxious about being late for work. Happy about going in late for work. Anxious. Happy. Mostly happy. Happy to be here.
Issue no. 12 | Post no. 5: You don’t have to be a card-carrying, scrapbook-clubbing, crafter to wield a glue gun or a brandish a pair of knitting needles. We all have lurking, repressed talents- beyond our collective cooking prowess. Did you know that these underused gifts – by universal law- must occasionally be unloosed into the exosphere? ‘Strue. So is your crafty alter ego in need of a little push?
How about 65 minutes of adrenaline-pumping inspiration that will electrify your crafty little fingers? Oh yeah. This is the summer of L-O-V-E. It’s the Paper Apron’s first-ever Give-a-Way, Share-a-Way, Craft-a-Way! I’m sending a copy of Handmade Nation: the Rise of DIY Art, Craft, and Design to one lucky winner, hidden somewhere inside one of our 50 united states.
Wait. There’s a hitch. Read the small print:
To enter, leave a comment sharing the name of one lucky person that you will pass the DVD along to, after you watch it, should you win. First names, nicknames, names made up to protect the innocent, whatever- this is the honor system. It would be super duper if that lucky person passed it along, as well, and so on, and so on and so on and so on. Until one day, it shows back up on my doorstep, tattered, and scratched and years beyond my memory of the yard sale where I’d sold my obsolete DVD player for pennies. But I should probably keep my one-with-the-universe aspirations in check.
In about two weeks, (let’s say Wednesday, August 4th, 11 PM EST, if I can stay up that late) I’ll write everyone’s name down on a scrap of paper (I’m a purist) and I’ll ask a random passerby to pick one name out of a hat. I’ll write you to get your mailing info and you, my lucky winner, will be off to the movies.
In the meantime, I’ve started my own summer crafting adventure. Any guesses as to what it’s going to be?
Issue 12 | Post no. 4: I could subsist carefree and happily on fruit and vegetables during the summer: a bowl of peaches and blueberries for breakfast, a tomato and cucumber salad for lunch. And for supper, a bowl of warm butter beans and an ear of sweet corn on the cob. I actually eat plenty of meat, but as long as we’re milking this vegetarian fantasy, if I were allowed a dairy cow and a hen, I’d make a fire by the beach (yes, my fantasy farm is on an island off the coast of France), whip up veggie-filled, Gruyere quiches and eat happily-ever-after as Madame Crusoe.
Quiche is one of my favorite summer meals. There’s no crust to roll out and you can use up a lot of the veggies from your garden. Right now we have tons of jalapenos so I’m throwing them into every meal I make. When you remove the seeds, they add a subtle, spicy crunch to salads, pizzas, guacamole and omelets.
Our tomatoes are refusing to grow in this heat and we don’t even attempt to grow corn, so I find myself pulling off at my local market almost every night on my way home from work. Thank goodness for real-live local farmers.
Sweet Corn and Tomato Quiche
Serves six Butter or Oil for pie plate
1 1/4 cup grated Gruyere Cheese
1/2 Sweet Onion, chopped
3 to 6 Jalapenos/Banana Peppers seeded and minced (optional)
2 ripe Tomatoes, sliced thin
2 ears Sweet Corn, off the cob
2 T chopped fresh Basil and extra leaves for chiffonade topping
4 Eggs
1 small can (5 oz.) Evaporated Milk
1/8 t freshly Ground Pepper
1/4 t Salt
Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9 inch pie plate with butter, cooking spray or oil. Layer the Gruyere cheese, then onion, peppers, and the slices of one tomato. Add the corn and top with slices of the second tomato. In a medium-size bowl, crack four eggs and pour in one small can of evaporated milk. Add salt and pepper, whisk, and pour over vegetables. Add basil and another grind of pepper. Bake for 30 minutes or until center is set. Smother cooked quiche with basil chiffonade and serve immediately.
Issue no. 12 | Post no. 3: Three seasons out of the year, I am a solid girl. I wear solid colors, I eat off solid colored plates, I dream in solid colored dreams. I play the game of life in safe mode. Then summer drives in, bouncing atop a vintage orange Vespa, music blaring, pink paisley sarong flying, her over-sized yellow and lime-striped shades concealing one brown eye and one blue. She is fearless in her mismatched clothes, her joie de vivre. She has a reckless disregard for anything solid, anything stable or safe. Summer is here and she is all about mixing, but not necessarily matching. Summer insists that my alter ego come out and play.
The Caring Forest, by APAK
Today’s post is a mismatched, stream of consciousness celebration of the creative, colorful spirit that summer brings out in us all. Plus, I saw the movie Handmade Nation last night, and it’s driving me crafty.
Oh, about the print above: BuyOlympia.com sells this enchanting print- The Caring Forest- for $35.00. It’s a great little online store, if you’re staying inside and chilling with the A.C.
The Little Friends of Printmaking sell this lovely orange lady print as well as the pink skull print. These two print makers are on the edge of artsy/ crafty/ crazy.
Handmade Nation: the Movie
I wasn’t sure what to expect from this exposé about the rise of the underground crafting culture in our nation, but Holy button holes, Batman; it is truly inspirational. From the handmade title animation and sing-songy, clapping “Hands On” theme music(are you listening to it? isn’t it great?), this documentary weaves its tale through the mouths of dozens of artisans, telling their stories with a deadpan seriousness, often wry and darkly humorous. Suddenly, you find yourself hooked like a handmade rug in the DIY spirit. And if that handmade rug has a naked woman or an oversize skull on it, then it’s surely circa 2000-2020. Craft has gone a bit subversive. It laughs at itself now and it has one wicked sense of humor.
The film succeeds at elevating wonky felt monsters and mittens-as-punk-band-swag to a hip, refreshingly real, reflection of the times, which in many ways is an anthropological, evolutionary consumerism backlash against anything sold pre-packaged in plastic at Walmart. Ho boy. I just realized my fascination with Anthropologie is a direct result of their manipulation of the handmade, unique item, one-and-only-vintage, foreign/thrift-store appeal cravings that we are all having. Yet, they are riding the wave with a mostly mass-produced sales floor. Well, aren’t they sly and stealthy geniuses?
(Oh, and to slip quickly down another rabbit hole- here’s a link to Anthro’s chief buyers TV show: Man Shops Globe. Haven’t seen it. Can’t wait to, though.)
We Rejoin our Regularly Scheduled Movie Discussion…
Besides, leaving a theater with a rediscovered desire to break out your glue gun, is what I call a fine use of an afternoon. If you haven’t seen it, yet, you may want to check the schedule to see if/when it’s coming to a theater near you. Or, buy the book. Yep, there’s a book.
June Apron | Eliza Kate Designs
This is the spunk. This is the spunk we all need more of. I love this pose. I love those boots.
Our June apron (really a child’s apron dress) can be found on Eliza Kate’s Etsy store. And as we all know, Etsy is the ultimate online sales tool of stay at home crafters and professional artisans.
Are the Scandinavians cool or are the Scandinavians what?
Those stylish Scandinavians are at it again. They’re having fun with modern shapes, materials and graphic design. Here’s a melamine chicken tray from huset that is pecking away at my heartstrings. Is a product designers mission nothing but to entice you to buy what you never knew you wanted?
True, this chicken tray is possibly mass-produced, but it sure has the look and feel of a crafty style.
It’s Madness, I Tell You
Oh, and I’m reading these craft books. And I have my sewing kits out- this is progress! And here’s a handmade bustier that I made years ago, back when I was feeling quite crafty and totally crazy and well, less bust-ier. I’m off to get into some trouble. Enjoy your day!
HOME– As a teenager, I’d wake up before sunrise and walk out on the porch to the stillness of a wide, platinum-gray lake, laid out before me like a deep, dark mirror– quietly, reverently, waiting to reflect the sun. In one corner of the sky, the clouds would begin to blush like the fuzzy cheeks of summer peaches. Then the day would stand up, stretch, and step over the trees. Immediately, the gray, still water would start to twinkle with stars of sparkling sapphires and yellow and white diamonds. Watching this awakening, you could feel all the possibilities of life warm your shoulders and you were ready for whatever would come next. Like breakfast.
Today, I wake up to a peaceful, sleepy street, whose dew-kissed lawns and draping oak arms, coax me out onto cooled, old concrete. Or, perhaps it’s Mazy doing the coaxing. Nonetheless, the experience of an early urban summer morning, without the grandeur of a lake sunrise over a mile-long horizon, is still worth the effort. The peace and quiet are still here– every sweet, humid Southern morning. And getting out for an early walk is nothing less than ceremony.
Mazy is a good companion. Today, we wandered the streets of nearby Wales Garden, hoping to get a call from Rich (leaving on his daily Charlotte trek), who indeed met us and handed me a paper cup of piping-hot coffee. Half-way through our walk, Mazy took a dip in an old horse fountain. Nearing home, we had grown into giants. And as the sun climbed over the rooftops, we were well on our way… to breakfast, of course.
HOME– Yes, I’ve been away. But, let’s talk about that another day, okay?
This morning, I’m arranging flowers in my new laboratory beakers. It’s humid and unbearably HOT here in South Carolina, so a morning walk to collect flowers and garden vegetables is about all of the outdoor activity that I can imagine today.
I found this inventive little glassware on a pilgrimage to Anthropologie yesterday. The one with the white hydrangea is actually a small carafe from Ikea, but it holds its own with the chemical brothers.
And for those of you with a keen eye, yes, my chalkboards are empty. But soon, they will be filled -once again- with goals and dreams for the year… albeit, the second half of the year.
I also bought a few of Anthropologie’s infamously hot-ticketed cappuccino bowls. At 5 bucks each, I piled twelve on the counter. Of course, I didn’t need twelve new bowls, but look at this palette! I couldn’t resist. And I have to say, the pretty pale aqua bowl made my morning cereal taste extra special.
And look at this adorable ceramic colander. I have to bite my finger it’s so cute- it cups my morning garden harvest like a little… well, like a bowl. It cups them like a bowl. Okay, so it’s been a while- months, actually. Perhaps my similes and metaphors aren’t exactly flowing from the fingers, yet.
