pepperknit

Lately the knitting has been sitting in a pile on the coffeetable—three ongoing projects all in need of some attention, hence, they are being ignored. What do I do in these situations? I break out the cross stitch. I just love the meditative quality of stitching—more meditative than knitting, for me. Because there’s absolutely no thought involved in stitching; I count, and I watch the boxes fill in. When I’m knitting, I’m thinking, designing, planning, perfecting. The scope for perfection in cross stitch is very narrow, and I love it.

When I decided to return to the stitching, I had to spend the first hour taking out about, I don’t know, 200 stitches that were all placed one stitch too low. In some ways, I don’t know how much it would have mattered to the final product (other than being one stitch larger)–it’s going to just be a cloudy sky, nothing that requires precision. But it would have been impossible to figure out how to stitch the whole thing with this erratic misplaced shape. I hope I’ll have enough of that floss left to use fresh thread, but really, there are like 6 other colors that look practically identical, so it shouldn’t matter.

Which brings me to the only problem with this project. It’s too abstract. There’s no satisfaction in finishing up the latest tree, or shape, or border. Instead, it’s, “wow, I just filled in all the ‘/‘ within that area of the image, and it makes . . . no recognizable shape at all.” I’m thinking I might need to buy a new cross stitch project, something that looks like something, but finding cross stitch that I like is really tough.

A lot of my friends who had cross stitched when kids express this, too—they think they’d actually want to dabble in it again, but they don’t actually want the finished product when it’s all over. So far my favorite large source for projects is Keepsake NeedleArts, which has such a large range that you’re bound to find something, and the stock changes pretty regularly (this sky project, for instance, is no longer in the catalog—and the designer’s site is not live right now). Googling “cross stitch kits” is a real crapshoot. This Cross-Stitch Art site has some nice pieces. I just found The Stitchery, which is another one with a large stock. Anyone else know of a good source?

All this week has been about satisfying my every food craving. Monday–homemade scones; Tuesday–a Subway sub; Wednesday–Japanese rice in tofu pockets; Thursday–fried dumplings; and Friday–a BLT with avocado. YUM.

No trip to Philly is complete without a visit with my peeps, and when that visit expands from what you think will be a short but nice afternoon of knitting into pretty much the entire day knitting, laughing, and drinking, well, it’s been a good weekend.

Megan (on the far right) is of course the originator of the “whelmed” face, and after 9 hours together, it seems it had rubbed off on everyone–Specs on the left, Jennie in the middle. You can’t really tell, but Jennie’s fabulous boyfriend D is standing behind her. Not pictured here is Megan’s own M, who joined us at the bar for dinner, but who is standing near me with their camera.

Jennie and D graciously let us overtake their adorable and cozy house, where we sat at their giant table—and some knitting actually happened. Last week was crazy busy for me, with a friend staying with me and plenty of work, so at about 1 am on Saturday morning I wound a ball of sock yarn and threw what I hoped would be appropriate needles, a measuring tape, and a photocopy of a stitch pattern (go me and my own personal copier!) in my bag. I’m doing a sock swap as part of Sit ‘n’ Knit New York, and as you know, if you don’t start the pair as soon as you can, you’re doomed.

This fabulous yarn, because I know you’re about to ask, is Neighborhood Fiber Company yarn, which I bought at Stitches East (Olga, I believe you found me right around then!). I can’t say much more about what I’m knitting, so as not to give away too much in case the person I am knitting for reads here, but I’m making up the pattern myself, and I’m quite enjoying it so far.

Once the hunger potential reached a specific level, we all went to the bar on the corner and debated politics, gender identity, knitting, blogging, and, really, the state of the world until midnight. The time just flew by! Can’t wait for my next trip down.

Look! Baby Minty!

Apologies in advance, guys. I just got a scanner, so I suspect I’m going to start scanning everything in sight . . .

We’ll start with this totally off-the-cuff fingerpainting that I made in college. I’m not sure why we were fingerpainting—some kind of hall-bonding activity? I think it was my senior year. At least, I remember having the picture hanging up that year. This was one of those things that I threw together without thinking, but when I saw the end result, I was totally proud of myself.

After all these years, I still really love this “painting.” I think if I sat down and tried to paint a true painting, I wouldn’t like it as much as I like this. Do you have things that you created on the fly but like better than some of your best efforts?

A chocoholic friend requested “something chocolate” for his birthday, and with that kind of challenge, well, I had to find the most decadent, luscious, ridiculous chocolate dessert I could find. Enter the Chocolate Oblivion Truffle Torte, from Rose Levy Beranbaum’s The Cake Bible, via 101 Cookbooks.

I followed the recipe as told, using Lindt 70% Extra Dark, which I got for a great price at Economy Candy down on the Lower East Side. As recommended in the recipe, I added 3 tablespoons of sugar. I used my 8-inch cake pan because it’s better quality than my 8-inch springform; releasing it from the pan just required about 15 seconds over an open flame. The only thing it needed was some kind of decorative garnish.

A sprinkling of Chinese cassia cinnamon was just the ticket. I cut the 2 and the 9 out after drawing them freehand, and I punched the polka dots out with my fun, new ¾-punch that a friend got for me. (I’d mentioned wanting one, and she surprised me with it. And to think, she thought it was an unnecessary invention!) Taking the stencils off, with a pair of clean tweezers, gave me painful flashbacks to childhood and that horrible game Operation—worst invention ever.

The torte, however, was a resounding success—one taster just kept repeating, “this is unreal.” I think the cinnamon really elevated it from just a chocolate torte to something that had depth and mystery. Which is something we should all have when we hit 29, don’t you think?

Before spring takes over completely, I’m happily remembering the fabulous snowstorm from two weeks ago. We haven’t had nearly the amount of snow the Midwest has been socked with, so I’m savoring every flake.

I’ve talked food before on the blog, but surprisingly little. Practically no one knows this, but for a short time, I actually had a food blog—eating and cooking are definitely two of my passions. I always kept the knitting and cooking separate, but I don’t really think they are—both are ways to express creativity. Having subscribed to cooking magazines for years, and even editing several food reference books and cookbooks, well, I know a thing or two about food. I have a lot of fellow foodie friends, and we often get together to cook.

This past Sunday, my friend John and I finally had a cooking afternoon—the last time was more than a year ago. That time we made a chicken that involved marinating it, giving it a spice rub, searing it, baking it, then pouring on glaze and broiling it. I still can’t believe how many cooking methods went into that one meal—but it was really delicious.

Two weeks ago John saw an episode of Jamie Oliver’s new show and was drawn to the Cheat’s Pappardelle with Slow-Braised Leeks and Crispy Porcini Pangrattato. But we’re not cheats. So we made the pasta from scratch.

OK, to be honest, John made the pasta, while I prepared dessert. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Jamie’s recipe is a series of wing-it quantities (knob, wineglass), but this recipe can’t really be messed up. It’s one of those “quality ingredients result in quality food” kinds of recipes. The prosciutto, which the guy at Whole Foods let us sample in great quantities in the store, was perfectly salty, the leeks were really fresh, and the whole wheat pasta had a perfect bite.

But the piece de resistance is the dessert, which we made up on the fly while standing in the produce section of Whole Foods. The grapefruit aroma was knocking us over, so we bought two grapefruit, two oranges, and decided to make a granita. And then I had a flash of brilliance and suggested we add basil.

Here’s our “pattern”:

Citrus Basil Granita
1 1/3 cup sugar
1 cup water
3 tablespoons julienned fresh basil, plus additional sprigs
2 large grapefruits
2 large navel oranges

In a saucepan, bring the sugar and water to a boil, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Toss in the basil and let the syrup cool.

Peel and segment the grapefruit and oranges over a bowl, squeezing the pith to get as much juice as you can. Transfer to a food processor and pulse a few times so that it’s more liquid than solid, but preserving the pulpiness. You should have about 3 1/2 cups of liquid.

Stir the juice and simple syrup (with the basil) in a shallow dish (a baking dish works fine; metal is probably ideal), and place in the freezer, stirring and crushing lumps every 30 minutes for 3 to 4 hours, or until it is a little more frozen than a slushie. Scrape it with a fork and serve in the most amazing dainty cups that were your friend’s mom’s, or whatever bowl you have handy. Garnish with additional basil sprigs.

My apartment is overflowing with cardboard boxes these days—from ordering a printer, envelopes, etc. for setting up my home office to ordering groceries from Fresh Direct, I’ve got boxes all over the place. I need to break them down and throw them in the recycling, but I always wonder if they’re going to come in handy in the future.

Like the way cardboard boxes were an actual necessity for a project I did in architecture class in college. The challenge was to make a chair out of cardboard using a minimal amount of cardboard and no external fasteners—only cardboard. My friend Emily made an adorable little “hard-backed” chair. One woman made something that could only be described as a plush chair, and while she completely ignored the “minimal amount of cardboard” rule, it was downright comfy. I took the charge to use a minimum of material to heart and decided to make a pyramidal stool.

Part of the process was making a model at ¼-scale. I love the mini stool so much, I’ve held onto it, and it’s served as a stepstool, an end table, seat, and a planter over the years.

Two arced pieces of cardboard curve into each other and are tacked together with tabs. Each tab is kind of like the letter T, so it stays put. The understructure “pinwheels” and forms the tabs that hold the two pieces together along the x axis; along the y axis the tabs serve to hold the support in place and are a decorative element.

You can see some tape down there at the bottom, but believe me, it’s just tape that was remaining on the cardboard box I used (remember, too, this was the model—meant to be thrown together and used to ensure the design worked—the final was made out of clean cardboard). The top, which I was graded down for, especially in light of the fact that I kept calling it a “lid,” which made it all too clear that I hadn’t fully thought out how to incorporate the seat, is also attached with the same kinds of tabs.

It’s starting to look a little worse for the wear, 10 years after I made it, especially since it wasn’t made to last—the full-size model was really sturdy and is probably hard at work in a dump somewhere. I ultimately hated the final piece, though it worked perfectly well as a seat. The tabs seen here are so lovely and perfect—about ¾ inch tall. But when you multiply by 4 and have just 5 giant tabs down the sides, it looks . . . ugly. If I’d been more ambitious, having the tabs this same size on the larger model would have been fabulous.

But at 9 inches tall and with a 12 x 12 inch footprint, it works just great as a footstool. I keep it under my table where I work now—better than resting my feet on top of my printer!

I’ve been itching to post here lately, for no other reason than my return to blogging has made me want to do it even more, but I haven’t had much to chat about. I’m knitting only secret projects right now, so there’s nothing to show. I’m working on some non-knitting crafts, but they’re not photogenic yet.

But I have a confession to make. I got to see Pam again. And it turns out she has something of a secret. Because though she’s mentioned the band, I hadn’t realized she was a rockstar.

I missed Empty Orchestra’s show on Thursday, and I hadn’t paid much attention to where their show on Friday would be. Turns out Long Island City isn’t way the heck out on the island, like you might think; it’s just one subway stop out from Manhattan in Queens! When she let me know that we’d completely misinterpreted their location, well, I surprised myself by bundling up and heading right out. (Another secret: When I’ve got it in my head that I’m “in” for the night, it’s normally impossible to get me out of the house.)

Note Pam’s Ravelry T-shirt. You can’t escape the knitting.

Not only did I get to meet Stephen and the rest of the band, but I met some friends of their from Flint who live in New York, one of whom makes instruments (bass). (Yay for crafty folks of all kinds.) And I even ran into someone I recently met—he’d remembered the name Empty Orchestra, was coming by the bar anyway, so decided to check them out and see if I was in attendance.

I have to admit, I had some trepidation about going to a show by myself. But I had lots of time to hang out with Pam beforehand and afterward, and I met enough people that I could have a conversation with a few different people. And I could always hide behind the camera, if necessary. So the biggest secret of all? I had a total blast.