so-so caca
sophisti-caca
funky house
grime
hip hop
techno
all raved out
on New Years Eve 2010-11 with UK lineup - Ramadanman, Bok Bok and friends. Midnight Request Line at midnight no less! Nice party on the small Elbo Room dancefloor with happy drunken people and my Dubious Dear-u.

Realist writer Moravia, lays down the truth bomb on a tortured relationship in, Contempt, and fascism in, The Conformist, both translated into film by Godard and Bertolucci respectively. The writer is intensely interested in misrepresentation, the point at which projection becomes invisible or decadence begets a need for order, and thus, the cinematic interpretations accurately depict tenuous idylls ruptured with a kind of paradox.

As incisive as McTeague, by Frank Norris, Moravia performs a dissection of human fallibility within the framework of external pressures. In the novels, though the object is always meaningfully and maddeningly obscured, the drive for clarity is precise. When the omniscient narrator is removed, complicated internal dialectics become flattened and baffling on screen. Instead, the audience needs to succumb to the aftereffects, pure visual interpretation, become mere humans wallowing and wading through the muck as best we can. Remarkable how much gets lost in and without language.

It occurs to me that American TV doesn't have the rich history of historical drama that the British boast of. Boardwalk Empire remedies the fault, with an over reliance perhaps on "shocking" sex scenes and sometimes clunky characterization, but making up for it with a cannily cast Steve Buscemi as Enoch "Nucky" Thompson, kingmaker and gangster extraordinaire, as well as Kelly Macdonald as his scrappy, vulnerable mistress, the widow and mother Margaret Schroeder. Gretchen Mol's turn as Gillian Darmody is largely a disappointment for such an interesting figure. However her son and Al Capone conspirator, James "Jimmy" Darmody, played by Michael Pitt and who is a deadringer for Scorcese favorite DiCaprio, but, thankfully, much more deadpan, is getting more compelling as the series continues. Freaky bible thumping cop, politicking, bootlegging, suffragettes, racism and lovely period costumes complete the picture. With the slow pace and multiple subplots, the show is just starting to scratch the surface of these people, but it seems like an extended viewing will pay off.


On the other hand, I'm tired of zombies already. Or to be precise, all of the living. For godsakes give the man a gun so he can shoot himself already.

A baffling trip to Trader Joe's for Burgundy a la Beef Bourguignon, prompted me to check out Drink This at the library - by Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl, with informative review here. In an unpretentious and practical voice, the author guides the novice through basic knowledge of history and wine making, provides a rubric to identify characteristics of specific species of wine, how to compare them and what to eat them with.

The Goal: Hopefully to lead budding oenophiles towards an assured recognition of their own taste preferences rather than inculcate what is "good."

I think this approach would also serve as solid practice when navigating all sorts of pedantic obsessions that might cross ones path in life such as opera, pizza, late 90's trance, contemporary fiction, French New Wave films, and politicians - in other words, all topics subject to subjectivity and dominated by intimidating eggheads.

While it's great to be informed, it's better to Be open. Be methodical. Like what you like. Even if what you like is Twinkies. Those Comp Lit skills ought to come in handy somehow.

Imminent Releases at the Top of my Personal Playlist:

Dragon Age II


Alice: Madness Returns


Diablo III


Rock of Ages

From Dust

Cargo


In the Works, or Games to Also Consider:

In tandem with eagerly awaited Game of Thrones HBO series, an RTS game by Cyanide.
Carbine Studios unannounced offering that looks eerily similar to Avatar.
Neverwinter Online. Sweetening the bitter aftertaste of Final Fantasy XIV.
Project MyWorld. May be too much social media for me, but I'm curious to see how this concept pans out.
Stellar Dawn Online
Captain Morgane
Bastion
Darkspore
Mass Effect 3


For 2012:

Bioshock: Infinite

Deathly Hallows I shows our intrepid children grown up and using all the skills they have worked hard to acquire and trading in on all of the moments, magics, and friendships of the first 5 books in order to overcome obstacles instinctively. Watching them do this is intensely satisfying - Harry easily banishing the eaters with a well practiced Expecto Patronus spell - and sometimes devastating - Hermione casting obliviate on her parents and her attackers. Draggy but true to book in the middle, with a grungy, dingy look that makes the impending doom seem more oppressive.
 
Is it just me? Or is Alan Rickman, like, really hot? Rickman has a slavering pungent and boyish quality that somehow captures an appealing repugnant perversion. Plus hes funny as hell and often repectably statuesque.

Two of my most favorite artists ever, Eiko Ishioka (Dracula, The Cell, Beijing Olympics and oh! so much more) and Julie Taymor (Lion King, Titus) have ganged up to produce the ubernerdy Turn off the Dark, a singing, dancing Broadway show based on Spider-Man. To all my geeky girls who played Street Fighter and loved Les Miserables, this is the one for us.

Oh yeah, Bono and The Edge do the music. Meh.

Lanvin expertise with H&M for the fall capsule collection...

"In the end, you really only have what you give away." --Alber Elbaz, December Vogue 2010

Hong Sang-soo is at it again with Ha, Ha, Ha, a totally hilarious and bitterly pathetic portrait of masculine inadequacy.

In honor of At the Movies, reviews by A.O. Scott and Michael Phillips of the new Disney film Tangled. I began this movie with trepidation - Why such liberties with the Rapunzel story? Why so much cheeky modern flourishing and implied sarcasm. Is this Shrek in disguise? Princess and the Frog scatterlogic narrative? Why is the film not called Rapunzel? Oh! No!

However...

The humor is less crass and more balanced with the rest of the film than the trailer might lead you to believe. Sidekicks are charming. Animation is glossy without getting too overwhelming, reminiscent of new classic Disney with nods to old classic Disney - though sometimes I felt like I was in a WOW instance. The music is familiar Menken and still memorable. Plus, the twisted mother daughter relationship puts all the academic theory of Disney films up front and center. My 16 year old dis-enfranchised self, demurred in the onslaught of all this sweetly updated, yet satisfyingly nostalgic honey, and allowed me an hour and some moments of pure, unadulterated, pre-adolescent pleasure.

Sumptuous and slightly cold, I Am Love is marred with fingerpointing in places that  didn't quite need it. Perhaps the director was afraid the audience wouldn't get the point - times gone stagnant, love gone stale, little thoughts and expressions bristling through a dusty tapestry of omerta. Nevertheless, the film features, for once, Tilda being elegant - feminine even, in a reserved way, in fantastic minimalist clothing, with long hair - though not, arguably, presented at her actor-ly best given the material. The real stars of the film are eloquently material - the spectacle of the staid, incredibly luxe, fascist palace juxtaposed with the a la moment, molecularly savvy, and personal food of today's locavore chefs. Ostensibly, the story here is about sensations, but all the gilding says the real battle is between the new money and the old.

Film egghead context aside, watching Copie Conforme is to marvel at the prowess of Juliette Binoche, flagrantly and effortlessly emoting in three languages about the devastating power of the failed relationship. The hesitantly structured film leaves very basic questions unanswered as it erases divisions between people, thoughts, places and time, and thus allows the actors to inhabit archetypes in archetypal moments against one another. Almost a web-of-stream-of-consciousness or an inquiry on the free flowing nature of pathology and thought, the film tangles with the reactive in life, those fleeting hidden recollections and musings that somehow end up defining our outward actions. Motives inside out.

Insight, uncovered through solid research and exposed by accessible prose, is what this collection has to offer. Familiar institutions suddenly shed their formidable monumentalness, instead they are revealed as a series of individual tics and half rationalized compromises. Gladwell tends to construct these narratives laterally, first stepping in one room and then a different one and yet another, before finally linking them together as incontrovertible evidence. Commonly held views on human behavior and social systems are questioned. Often debunked. Questions you never thought of are posed and answered.

In a way, he is teaching us how to process information and facts and intuition, how to put them together, how to change your perspective, because really how does one go about doing that - changing a perspective as if it was like changing a light bulb? The journalist doesn't just hand the expose to us and admonish, instead he leads the audience gently to epiphany, teaching the reader how to learn, how to warp our own ingrained perceptions, so that the insights are exposed.

Deadly apropos reality TV Sci-Fi satire with a fun, absurdist twist at the end. Directed by Elio Petri, whose work is really worth unearthing, the film is  based on Robert Sheckley's short story, The Seventh Victim, but was later novelized as The 10th Victim. Echoes of the assassin game can be found in Alistair Reynolds novel, Revelation Space, but with much less wit and much more hubris.

  
    A. Cut on the Straight, Worn on the Bias
          1. Square
          2. 4 Square
          3. Quadrant
          4. Barrel Cut
     B. Cut on the Bias, Worn on the Bias
     C. Cut on the Cross Grain, Worn on the Bias

  
     A. Fabric = rayon, silk, wool, double crepe, any crepes, velvet, heavy metallic lame
          1. Balanced thread count
          2. Loose Weave = not Synthetics
          3. Elasticity = Twisted Yarn
          4. Collapse = Less Friction
          5. Torque = Dimensional Stability
          6. Weight
          7. Width
     B. Design
          1. Length
          2. Volume
          3. Trim






  
     A. Very simple finishing - minimize any visible bumps or puckers
          1. Overcast seam edges
          2. Self facing
          3. Hong Kong Edges
     B. Built in Flexibility
          1. Size
                i. A stouter body at a particular height = dress is shorter.
               ii. A thin body at the same height = dress is longer.

Perfect instructions from Simply Recipes with helpful tips from David Lebovitz.

This recipe needs a little work. So far...

2 cups flour
2 1/4 cups rolled oats
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 3/4 cups softened butter


Mix together dry ingredients than add butter till moistened and comes together slightly. Lightly press half of the mixture into a 13x9 in baking pan, sprinkle with filling and top with the rest of the mixture. Preheat oven to 375 degrees and bake for 20-25 min or till center is melted and top is golden brown.

Season Two = industry realistic format of teamed contestants, longer workroom times, Mizrahi firing out sharp short critiques, very specific design challenges, and Iman = My favorite new/original Project Runway

"I cannot conceive of a god who rewards and punishes his creatures or has a will of the kind we experience in ourselves. Neither can I nor would I want to conceive of an individual that survives his physical death; let feeble souls, from fear or absurd egotism, cherish such thoughts. I am satisfied with the mystery of the eternity of life and a glimpse of the marvellous structure of the existing world, together with the devoted striving to comprehend a portion, be it ever so tiny, of the Reason that manifests itself in Nature." --Albert Einstein

Not technically an aji, as there are no aji chilies. This recipe is pretty malleable. Add scallions, more or less garlic, a tiny fiery hot red chili depending on your tastes. For creamier texture, add a 1/4 cup mayo, yogurt or milk and a little less cheese. Sometimes I see this sauce made with a bit of crackers or bread used as a thickener. If you can find real aji chili, either fresh or dried, or canned, make a paste, omit the herbs and just let the chilies do their thing.

1/2 cup queso fresco, feta or cotija
1 bunch cilantro, stems removed
1 tbsp mint, pineapple preferred
juice of a lemon
a touch of white vinegar or lime
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp sugar
4 tbsp olive oil
3 cloves garlic
1 large jalapeno, seeded, to taste

Add olive oil last and blend until very smooth. Done.

Serving options...
Grilled steaks or chicken.
Salad dressing. Add more vinegar and oil.
Peruvian Causa - crab and potato salad.

Success! A Two raw eggs gives this dish just the right consistency, bringing the salty, spicy, sour and creamy all together. We like our noodles a little spicier at this house, so the flavor of the mentaiko gets a little lost, but you can rinse the kimchi and lightly dry it. Perhaps I may try the saltier masago or tobiko to see if the flavor holds up better next time, plus substitute some actual cream. With two eggs, I'm finding the sauce is just about right. The mentaiko (or masago or what have you) definitely raises the flavors a bit. "New" Kimchi works best if you don't want to do any rinsing and a slight toasting of the seaweed gives the dish a bit of contrast.

The love child of this momofuku4two recipe originally taken from the Momofuku book/restaurant, and the Kimchi Udon from Ginji. I found this first iteration not as creamy as I would like, aka Momofuku version. However, the flavor was close to what I was after. I actually think there might be an egg in the Ginji dish like a carbonara, and not actually any mentaiko, but I will have to test that theory. As it is...
3 blocks of frozen udon
1/2 lb pork belly, sliced very thin
3 tbsp pork fat or butter
2.5 teaspoons kewpie mayonnaise
2 sacs mentaiko, skin removed
1/3 cup kimchi, packed; washed first if too spicy
pinch of salt
1 sheets of nori, sliced into very thin strips
2 green onions, diced

Heat a large pan or wok. Simultaneously heat water in a pot. Meanwhile, combine the mentaiko, kewpie, and kimchi in a bowl. Once the noodles go in the boiling water, very quickly start stir frying the pork belly slices. When the noodles are ready in 1-2 minutes, directly ladle the noodles into pan and remove from heat. Add butter and sauce. Toss till everything is well combined. Adjust seasonings or spiciness and serve immediately. Garnish with nori and onions.

Timing is key with this recipe. You want everything hot, the noodles slippery and chewy, the sauce emulsified, and the pork crispy. Reserve some noodle water in case you need more. Very fine pork slices match the texture of the dish better than thick. Bits of thin beef work as well. Freeze the meat for 20 minutes before slicing. 

After finishing first, Terminal World, by Alistair Reynolds and then, All the Windwracked Stars, by Elizabeth Bear, I realized that both novels are much of the same. Meaning... In the aftermath of apocalypse (or several, as in the case of Bear), on a foregone, poisoned planet (a pseudo Earth), humankind, or a mutated semblance of such, clings wretchedly to life in concentric rings around the epicenter of remaining civilization, a polyglot construction of such towering proportion, hubris, and deterioration, that any comparison registers only, of course, to Baruch's Babel. Reynolds and Bear tend to view their city (not the only, but the only one remaining) as a retreat from the devastation of man, though obliquely because such devastation is always wrought by man as god rather than mortal. God, Him/Herself, is reliably absent and his punishment is meted out as provident punishment.

Thus, Bear's world is haunted by fallen angels, models of perfectly flawed human beings and broken reincarnations of their former selves, condemned to wander the poisoned planet in a self imposed exile for their sins. In contrast, Reynold's angels live at the very top of the city, a symbol both of aspiration and oppression to their less fortunate peers at the bottom. The location of their aerie in the stratosphere both metaphorically and technologically mirrors the belief that evolution equals superiority equals the status quo. Both stories emphasize the disparity of the haves and have-nots from a determinist view of biology, location, and circumstance trumping personal endeavor. There's a top down approach to the devastation, recalling the totalitarian social programs of the Modernists gone awry, the imperfect results of a major social experiment gone out of control.

The inevitably scourging of both worlds is credited to the well intentioned but ultimately inadequate plans of those that decide (makers with small M), an apology of sorts for cultural hubris, as well shabby execution by the rest of us ignorant plebes. However, despite the allure of technological innovation and starting from square one to set things right, the narratives' main allure originates from an evaluation of what advancing socially and technologically actually means to us. Accordingly, I'm coming to see Steampunk (or in Bear's case, Steampunk-esque) as more than simple revisionist fantasy. Rather it is important that the fallout of our industrialization is conveniently wiped away and the memory of describing Asians as Oriental have been erased. Those holes in the narrative fabric of Steampunk act as gauge, measuring what "progress" actually means; which human programs have come out intact, why we ever needed them at all, and what we regret of our history. While there is a sense of willful nostalgia that exists like a layer of ornamental tarnish over the basic mechanism of Steampunk, these two authors have obviously picked up on the importance of that tarnish as an opportunity to evaluate social decay as malaise. If the victors get to rewrite history, they can never completely erase it. Steampunk gives the survivors an opportunity to address the interstitial space that cannot quite be explained away.

The premise of ABC's tv show Castle - intelligent yet winsome novelist turned NYPD homicide consultant to poker faced procedural hotty Kate Beckett - is laughable, but realism aside, this mystery crime series has just gotten better and better with age. While charges are partially true that the character of Beckett is an old routine, that Stanic plays her a little too stoic, that sometimes the romance falls short of drama, it is also true that the puppy dog and dominatrix relationship between our two leads works out just fine. Wisely, the writers have steered away from steamy narrative dissections between these two characters, and instead most of the sparks are funneled into the casual camaraderie of professionals on duty, may-hap with a little physical attraction but a lot of respect. Underlings, Esposito, the real man's cop, his goofy partner, Ryan, and spitfire medical examiner Parish, add to the dynamic of daily group banter.

Castle himself, gets the bulk of our attention, turning his relationships with supernaturally goody goody daughter and self absorbed actress mother into murder case resolving insights. Fillion, perfect in the role of charming rake, is a rarity, a handsome man with lots of personality, and the directors exploit his comic timing to fantastic effect in what is essentially a funny show about violent death. Accordingly, the writer know their strengths and give us fans a lot of service. For instance, Fillion's appearance in the space cowboy costume of one Malcolm Reynolds for the Halloween episode, and his steam-cyber arm on season 3, episode 4 "Punked" as in "steam-punked". In an installment where Castle conjectures that an antique bullet might in fact be evidence of a time travel murder, the writers have the victim driving a cosplay Delorean. Gotta love that attention to detail, the irreverent reverence to subcultural phenomenon, and the nicely wrapped package.

This Yale Press coffee table book features deliciously large photos that show design detail with great clarity. Considering the intent of the author to prove American designers have innovated as much as their international peers, Mears unfortunately describes garment construction textually when a simple pattern image would have illuminated the same point in a more concise way. Perhaps the publisher believed a lay audience wouldn't respond as well to flattened models, but some of the more architectural designs actively insist on a plan view. However, her narrative on how dressmaking and tailoring have evolved in response to a particular lifestyle is invaluable to an understanding of new silhouettes and approaches to American design. I especially appreciated the cross section of Charles James' Clover Dress.

Taken from a Fashion-Incubator posting regarding pattern frustrations.

"It is quite natural that we should adopt a defensive and negative attitude towards every new opinion concerning something on which we have already an opinion of our own. For it forces its way as an enemy into the previously closed system of our own convictions, shatters the calm of mind we have attained through this system, demands renewed efforts of us and declares our former efforts to have been in vain." --Arthur Schopenhauer

 "The traits of work that makes someone happy:

1. stretches a person without defeating him

2. provides clear goals

3. provides unambiguous feedback

4. provides a sense of control"
--The Economist as cited by Penelope Trunk.

Despite the moderator's attempt to steer the discussion towards a mundane dissection of undergraduate level humanities theory, New York Times writer, Cathy Horyn, managed to land a few gems on the topic of critical thinking and fashion during yesterdays installment of Stanford Humanities Department Arts Critics in Residence Series.

Horyn, breaking from dated women's wear reporting of fashion, ascribes her critical style to the demands of the designers themselves. In the 90's, supplanting the relatively easier to understand world of Vogue reportage that included heritage designers such as Yves Saint Laurent and Calvin Klein with his wildly accessible marketing campaign, was an era of "difficult" clothes, conceptual garments that virtually that insisted upon intellectually driven discussions post runway.

Some examples: Rei Kawakubo's "lumps and bumps" grotesquery, the Japanese designer envisioning the 21st century silhouette that referred to our mobility, phones and backpacks included; the Belgian avante garde; Chalayan's deconstruction of the body as habitat; the work of stylists delving into street and grunge, or the unique eye of Helmut Lang that diverged from New Look and classic Haute aesthetic manner of seeing. Such defiance of fashion mandate in favor of individuality, encouraged avant garde designers to explore self-conscious expression and process technical inquiries in public view as finished product.

"I want to be the real 21st century designer." --Alexander McQueen as related by Cathy Horyn.

Witness the late Alexander McQueen, who combined technology and modernity with the personal that resulted in an artist's rendering of madness and death. He applied these themes not only to the way garments were worn, but how they were constructed. Each collection begged dissection in terms of cultural meaning, not simply, "What is beautiful now?" but also "What is femininity?" And fruitful discussion required the same language used to understand iconic art pieces.

Elaborating on the way technology has transformed fashion writing, Horyn describes the liberation of a journalist from deadlines and page limits through the advent of blogs. The freedom of occupying a new conversational space with the reader - one in which the instantaneous nature of blogging performs a "stream of conscious[ness]" relationship between the meta muse of theory, current events, tv, and celebrity - offers up a kind of mirror for the ephemeral nature of fashion itself while engendering a similar brevity in content. Although people tell Horyn that they are hungry for depth and detail, publishers and marketers continue to argue that consumers want pictures and loath language. Such emphasis on speed and soundbytes, a new kind of working mode that hearkens back to the pre-institution of big media itself, has replaced classic narrative reportage and effectively diminished the kind of critiques that elevated the work of fashion in previous decades. Pressure to compose concise quips drives a quantitative over qualitative approach to talking about fashion.

On the implications of Twittering...

"Twitter is a haiku... I dont want to get too involved with Twitter. It kills your mind." --Cathy Horyn

To sum, Horyn stresses that the audience has grown wider, more diverse, and as such, the modes of writing must succumb to the variety of information consumption available. In this case, how does, I have often wondered, a professional reporter compete with the likes of Tavi and her bevy of bedroom commentators? Horyn stresses the primacy of basic journalism; gaining access to demonstrations of construction technique, gathering insight into ongoing and changing modes of production, picking out the best pattern makers behind the scenes, and reflecting on the relationship with potential constomers watching the show. An examination of Alaia's introspective obsession with ruching and how the master fits his clients, can shed light on the process of iterative design, application at a manufacturing level, and eventually modes of consumption.

But if information has become shallower, so too fashion as it becomes broader. Horyn points out that globalization tends to cater to globalization rather than regionalism and that despite the number and scope of proliferating runway shows in every country, western aesthetics continues to dominate. To aggravate the trend, designers have opened their runway shows as direct buy web shops, designing easy-to-fit, wearable clothes with wide reaching appeal. The paradigm of the couturier, the designer as artist, lapses into oblivion as a confluence of economic factors limits truly innovative creativity in the face of financial risk.

Over time, Horyn has come to define herself as anti-commerce, because the runway has become, or perhaps returned to being, a promotional tool rather than a forum for challenging ideas. But if fashion critique has declined, it's because fashion itself has become less challenging. The contemporary industry, she intimates, is consolidating and reductive, show over substance, veering away from the notion that clothes matter over presentation. We are full circle from what's new, to what's IN. Horyn admits that a good show still has relevance, the  ability to cultivate an aura of milieu as Galliano did with his "Twins" motif. She states that designers have a keen eye for when a difficult concept can be presented. But these are not those moments, and the days of McQueen "having something to say" with and about the staging a live stream show are perhaps over, or at the very least, out of fashion.

Horyn reminds us that for all its transient nature, the real impact of a fashion moment is something gradual and almost primeval, an evolutionary process of ideas that proliferate over time. For instance, how Raf Simmons redefined a generation of menswear, or how Margiela's minimalism has permeated our approach to modern dressing. Those insights are a blip glossed over by the propulsive forward thrust of technology. The reporter's task according to Horyn, is to take a mundane observation, and then scribe a cogent, contextualized response that helps us understand who and where we are.



On a personal level, I came to fashion awareness during the apparently halcyon days of high concept. Perhaps I didn't fully understand Rei Kawakubo's bumps, nor all of Chalayan's references at the time, but the aesthetic of the Japanese Avant garde, Ackerman's subdued constructivism, Australian-Japanese Akira Isogawa's beautiful cross cultural textiles, and McQueen's tortured elegance were instilled early on. Their sensibilities mirrored my awe and aversion to the Town and Country elitism of the old Haute, scrambled the body centric ideals to which my awkward teenage form could never compare, transcribed all the nascent rebellion and geeky glasses modern artsy-ness that I couldn't express. After more recent seasons of boredom -costume lady edwardian dressing, Project Runway, retro pastiche, return of the pretty, preppy, and wandering through the shops not falling in love with anything - Horyn made me realize my longing as a case of "It's not me, it's them". If not for my slim wallet and my no place to go, I would have slung a piece of avant art on my body long ago. As things lie, suitably professional or California beach bum defines what some would call a "wardrobe". Not a lot of designers sell avant on the rack. But behind all the t-shirts and jeans, a coveted bottle of Alexander McQueen fragrance is hidden in my closet. If his creations aren't actually advertised by my actual corpus, I ought to display that cracked heart in the open as a reminder to stick by my instincts and be brave otherwheres.

On losing weight, deconstructing and reconstructing perspective on fashion, inhabiting the body and ostensibly, participating in the decisions that are your life...

"John [Abroon M.D.], I got myself into the bakery section, I think I can find my way out." --Cathy Horyn in Fashion, the Mirror and Me

Random Notes:


2000 - McQueen in tandem with Chalayan. Apocalypse.
loss of individuality
constructed identity
buyer performs the clothes
death of the author

I made the magical cheesy puff bread constructed from choux dough from the Tartine baking book, which resulted in accolades among all testers. Remember to poke the puffs immediately after leaving the oven or they will go flat. Plenty copy pasta on the interwebs, so I won't repeat it here. Unfortunately, my camera is still having troubles and my picture of beautiful puff choux are nil. However, I can attest that the recipe is perfect and works even if you forgot to add the thyme, or your inexperienced sous chef pours egg wash all over the baking sheet. I can also attest that 3 year aged sharp cheddar cheese from costco works just as well as fancy gruyere. So there.

A little short on sauce for our taste, I added a bit extra garlic and salt and another can of crushed tomato puree. I also reduced the amount of parmesan in the meatballs as they were plenty rich enough for my yin yang twin. That said, I enjoyed this dish from Ina Garten a lot.

Meatballs


1/2 lb ground veal
1/2 lb ground pork
1 lb ground beef
1 cup fresh bread crumbs, crust removed
1/4 cup seasoned dry bread crumbs
2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 large egg, beaten
1/2 cup water
vegetable oil
olive oil


Place the ground meats, both bread crumbs, parsley, Parmesan, salt, pepper, nutmeg, egg, and 1/2 cup warm water in a bowl. Combine very lightly with a fork. Using your hands, lightly form the mixture into 2-inch meatballs. You will have 14 to 16 meatballs.


Pour equal amounts of vegetable oil and olive oil into a large (12-inch) skillet to a depth of 1/4-inch. Heat the oil. Very carefully, in batches, place the meatballs in the oil and brown them well on all sides over medium-low heat, turning carefully with a spatula or a fork. This should take about 10 minutes for each batch. Don't crowd the meatballs. Remove the meatballs to a plate covered with paper towels. Discard the oil but don't clean the pan.

Sauce

1 tbsp good olive oil
1 cup yellow onion, chopped
1 1/2 tsp minced garlic
1/2 cup good red wine, such as Chianti
2 28 oz can crushed tomatoes
1 tbsp chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper

For the sauce, heat the olive oil in the same pan. Add the onion and saute over medium heat until translucent, 5 to 10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 more minute. Add the wine and cook on high heat, scraping up all the brown bits in the pan, until almost all the liquid evaporates, about 3 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes, parsley, salt, and pepper.

Return the meatballs to the sauce, cover, and simmer on the lowest heat for 25 to 30 minutes, until the meatballs are cooked through. Serve hot on cooked spaghetti and pass the grated Parmesan.

A belated picture of candied pecans.

"Be your best self". --Darryl Philbin

"Imagine concentrating on a challenging modern painting that becomes just a little bit different every time you shift your attention from one detail to another, or try to impose a frame on a running river, making it a finite, enclosed work of art yet leaving its kinetic quality unsullied, leaving it flowing freely on all sides... It has been done. Steve Reich has framed the river." --Tim Page