At Bakeri

I have been living, pretty much exclusively, for the lavender shortbread cookies at a cafe called Bakeri. It's a small place, always full of suspiciously clean people sporting that sort of new rumpled elegance that has grasped Brooklyn and won't let go. The girls behind the counter wear blue coveralls and vintage scarves to keep their hair out of their face. There are only 4 proper tables and getting one is harder than getting into Harvard. 

So when you get one, you stay. As long as you can. As long as you can get away with it, an hour at least. Bring a book, bring a friend (preferably one who puts up with fretting). Drink more coffee than you need to just so you don't have to give up the little table. Cling to the little table for dear life. It's a jungle out there so you might as well take your time.

Read More

Sunday Morning

I woke up to a pair of mourning doves at my windowsill cooing, it was 6:40am but felt much earlier and darker. (Hello, daylight savings.) On went the slippers. On went the music and the frying pan and the butter. It's rare I do myself a bacon breakfast but when you have it in the fridge resistance is futile. 

Bacon. Just crispy enough to hold its shape but not so crispy that it breaks when you bite into it. Yolks runny enough to soak in toast but not so runny that they're still cold. Ground pepper big enough to get endearingly stuck in your teeth. Coffee. And a lot of it.

This song is absolutely in order.

Read More

Au Panetier

Will you yell at me if I say that I'm not going to Laduree for macarons? In the beginning of our trip we stumbled by chance into the most charming patisserie called Au Panetier and I just don't want to spoil it with the hype of Laduree. (I'm hype sensitive.)

There was a line to the door (always a good sign) and we were the only non Parisians in the line (an even better sign). We split a violet macaron, which was wonderful, but I have to admit I'd rather an old timey macaroon anyday. You know, a shredded coconut ball? All about them.

The space hasn't been touched since 1890 and the walls were completely tiled with a patchwork of antique ceramic flowers. I think we spent the whole time drinking our cafe au laits in awe. Unexpected discoveries always beat out plans in the end.

Read More

Pumpkin ice cream

Do you guys remember this post from a little over a year ago? Probably not. It's a prerequisite for the one I'm writing now, so go and take a minute to get caught up to speed. I'll be here when you get back.

No seriously, go back and read it.

When spring rolled around this past year, my beloved Ralph's never opened for the season. I was crushed. There is now an awfully unnecessary late night deli (which might officially be called "late night deli" or something equally banal) in the old Ralph's corner location. It only took one summer for the war of Graham street to be over and for Uncle Louie G's to push out my dear italian ice spot. Boo. Hiss.

I swear with you as my witness, never once did I purchase ice cream from Uncle Louie G's while Ralph's was in business, pumpkin ice cream or no. I was stayed loyal till the end.

Of course the upside of all of this is that I can now eat pumpkin ice cream whenever I want and today being the first day of fall, I did just that. Nevertheless, rest in peace sweet Ralph's. Gone but not soon forgotten.

Read More

Blueberry baking

Within the course of a week or two after blueberry picking I made a pie, scones, pancakes, a tart and cobbler. I rarely have time to bake at home, so I think I over saturated my family when we were at Elmwood. (Admittedly I saved the tart and cobbler baking for Brooklyn, sometimes one does not want to share these things, even with those you love.)

Wild blueberry pie with homemade whipped cream (not too sweet). I think I could sustain myself on this and nothing more. Starting tomorrow, I will try.

Read More

Raspberries

My mom brought me up a big bowl of hand picked raspberries from home last week. I made a birthday pie with peaches and the raspberries which was, in fact, the biggest crust disaster in years. I underestimated how brutally hot it was in the kitchen at Elmwood (so hot), meaning my very well chilled butter for the crust went from very well chilled to darn near melted as I was cutting it in. I need to get one of those new fangled processor things people keep talking about.

The pie was mediocre at best, meaning my mom and I ate the whole thing that same day. She was just humoring me. She's good like that.

Read More

Victory is sweet

June being nearly over is cause for celebration in the floral biz. Each weekend has been stuffed full with weddings, we've made flowers for 13 brides this month. After our last June wedding I devoured a piece of blueberry cheesecake from Baked in about 2 minutes as a "celebration". I did not know it was possible to eat so fast while basically sleepwalking with exhaustion.

I can honestly say I still love weddings. It's beyond sweet to be a part of a couple's wedding day and I never get tired of of seeing a girl in a white dress looking nervous or thrilled or dazed.

That being said- it is not lost on me that all of these weddings have turned my life into the "before" of a bad 90s romantic comedy. Quirky girl spends her days making bouquets for weddings and romantic boyfriends and then goes home to disheveled apartment filled with long haired cats and floral dresses. And eats a lot of cheesecake in the process.

(And honestly- a house to one's self and lots of cheesecake sounds just as good if not better than this so-called "marriage" thing people keep talking about.)

Read More

Valentines Day has been all consuming this year. Funny, my first year without a real valentine in, gag, 9 years and I've been up to my neck in beautiful flowers and chocolate and paper hearts made from 1870s wallpaper. Working in the love business will do that.

It's actually been very sweet to help boys all over the city give flowers to the girls they love. Luckily I'm not the bitter type, so I've been thoroughly enjoying my small peaks into other's relationships, while secretly feeling relieved to be alone these days.

That being said, I did receive my first ever box of beautiful chocolates from a nice boy to whom I'm not related. A chocolate cameo. I blushed. I'm always blushing a little bit, I think.

The flowers at the shop this weekend were some of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. For all of my satisfaction with my situation, oh gosh... I did slip off into dreams of receiving some of the arrangements we sent out the door. Sweetest and simplest of all were the antique medicine bottles with a single stem and a rex begonia leaf, tied with a silk ribbon.

Hoping your day was as full of beauty and love as mine- borrowed or otherwise.

Read More

Truffles

So the good news is that I didn't have to buy a whole new computer just yet, the bad news is that I've lost all of my data from my old computer. A single tear rolls down my freckled cheek and splashes on the keyboard.

On the bright side, i made truffles for christmas. Sort of lumpy and misshapen and I can confidently say making truffles is perhaps the messiest thing one can do in a kitchen. About 2 minutes into the process, i got a huge smear of melted chocolate on my nose. I was elbow deep in rubber gloved ganache so it just stayed there, taunting me until I had rolled the last one.

I kept 6 for myself and gave the rest away. I'm actually all chocolated out now, so the 6 are patiently waiting to take the 5am train home with me tomorrow morning.

My family isn't doing "christmas" this year. No mad wrapping of presents, no pressure and panic. My big sister is coming home from LA, I'm getting a week off work and we have 6 homemade truffles to split between us on christmas eve. The best christmas eeever.

Read More

Gourmet

Raise your hand if you're going to miss the now shuttered Gourmet as much as i am?

Not like i even cook enough to get properly weepy, but it was one of the first magazines i propped for so i'm extra sad to see it go.

Remember this shopping trip i went on almost a year ago? In memoriam of gourmet, i figured I'd better show the end result, a soup story from the feb. 09 issue.

I assisted Noemi Bonazzi on the shoot, who is just so amazing words aren't enough to describe her. This woman blows my mind. One day I'll tell you about the day i first went to her house. It involved Domino and cappuccinos and china. It was amazing, but that's another post all together.

I remember i had to borrow her SUV to drive down to Fairway in Red Hook at 8am to pick out (and carry to the car!) $500 of fancy firewood imported from europe for the above shot. The car was running on E, i didn't know where the nearest gas station was, my phone was dead, i had never driven a SUV before and i was running late late late for the shoot. I may or may not have had a minor coronary.

These are the valuable life experiences publishers like Conde Nast are robbing from assistants everywhere by closing titles. Keep our beloved magazines open if for no other reason than to keep torturing the assistants and freelancers, please? I swear, we like it.

Read More

Sisters

Ok fall. Perhaps I said some not so nice things about you before. For that, I apologize.

Yesterday I ate a pear that literally melted in my mouth. I didn't know pears could do that. But they can and when they do, oh good god.

My big sister Micha smelled like pears for my whole childhood. She had some pear scented something that I thought was just the height of lady like amazingness. They always make me a little heartsick for her.

Sisters are a funny thing. One day, you're throwing shoes at each other's heads and then bam, you grow up (as much as possible) and can't live without each other. In this public forum, I'd also like to state that I totally deserved that whole business with the chunky platform senior year. End of story.

Addendum- our theme song. She's definitely the one who wore the dress and i'm the one who stayed home.

Read More

Last gasp of summer

I went on a date with Ralph tonight. I even wore a pretty dress for the occasion.

Ralph's is my home away from home. My insta-mood lifter. My Williamsburg first love. He has saved me from certain death on many a hot day and provided me with dinner many a desperate night. When he closes for the winter I won't know what to do with myself.

I always get the same thing. Half peach, half red raspberry water ice*, size small. Unbelievably, for the first time in three years, the time I had my camera to document the Ralph's experience, they were sold out of peach water ice. For the rest of the season. I burst into tears.

No, I didn't. But I did let out a highly embarrassing wail and said, half pleading..... "But you've alwaaaaays had it before....." Yes. I am a food service employee's worst nightmare. I made sure to tip an extra buck.

I ended up getting a half banana, half coconut cream ice* and it tasted like sunblock would if sunblock was really really delicious. Big chunks of frozen bananas.

* Ralph's sells water ice, cream ice and ice cream. Don't be fooled by the big sign that says Italian ice. They refer to it as a water ice and it took me several months to wrap my brain around the idea that something called water ice could taste so good.

Now to the real problem. Earlier this summer, on the very same block, another ice place opened up with a blue and white striped awning. I was all up in arms, how dare they encroach on my beloved Ralph's and Uncle Louie G's go back to Park Slope where you belong... until I noticed they have pumpkin ice cream. Oh shit. I love pumpkin ice cream.

Ever pragmatic, tonight I asked the owner of Ralph's if he would be interested in selling pumpkin ice cream. He said no so quickly and in such a heavy Italian accent it made me question whether he even understood my question. Then he started rambling about how he used to make pumpkin ravioli, which sounded really tasty but didn't help me with the task at hand.

Sweet readers, do you stay unswervingly loyal to your local favorites? What's a girl to do?

Read More

Fond farewell

I have a confession and I'm ashamed to admit it because it goes against everything I normally stand for.

I'm dreading fall. There, I said it.

It's funny, because under normal circumstances I'd say it was my favorite season. I love knitting socks, snuggling under woolly blankets, apple picking, wearing thick tights, drinking hot cider and collecting leaves. But for some reason I just can't let go of summer this year.

All I want to do is sit in the shade and eat peaches, forever and ever. Summer, please don't go. I miss you already and you haven't even left yet.

Read More

The swingle

It's hard to convey the divinity of a swingle in a photograph. It's hot outside so there's the melting factor, not to mention that they're just a bit too heavy to be held up by a little popsicle stick.

Plus, it's hard to have a swingle in your hand and not be eating it. I could only mange a few pictures before I gave in. Never heard of a swingle? Neither had I, so you're in good company.



They can be found only in the remote reaches of uncharted Red Hook at Steve's Authentic. For awhile I thought it was called a swindle, not swingle, perhaps because it's more than i'd like to spend on a street side popsicle. But 5 dollars for pure heaven it sometimes necessary.



Anyway. It's a 4" key lime tart, dipped in dark chocolate and frozen. On a stick. Oh god. It's unbelievable.

And I am not the only one who thinks so. Shopdog Nea has also actively declared herself a fan of frozen lime custard.

Read More

In a pickle

There are several things my papa and i bond over; botanic gardens, house plant propagation, family history, widdling walking sticks, broken-in leather bags and most of all pickles. We both are seriously devoted to pickles.

It's a running joke that his top requisite for a wife was whether she canned her own pickles. Needless to say, my mom doesn't even really like pickles. And yet true love endures.

Given the fact the pickle juice runs in my veins, when Kate F. posted about her recent fridge pickle making foray, I shamelessly copied.

And since then, I've consumed 5lbs of homemade pickles in two weeks. It's been awesome. All thanks to Kate. Can I just take a minute to say how much I love this girl? After a year of reading each other's blogs, we had our first real live date last week. Not only is she holy smokes pretty, she was able to geek out with me about the various foods featured in The Little House on the Prairie, a surefire mark of someone I will instantly and forever adore. Salted ham! Maple syrup snow! Kate, you're the best!

Read More