Monday, April 30, 2012

Tim Walker:


EGLINGHAM HALL AND BALLOONS
NORTHUMBERLAND, ENGLAND, 2000
MADONNA RITCHIE & HER CHICKENS,
WILTSHIRE, UK, 2005

AMERICAN VOGUE
'IT RAINED OUTSIDE, SO WE CAMPED INSIDE',
CHANTERS HOUSE, DEVON, ENGLAND, 2002
SELF PORTRAIT WITH CAKES,
EGLINGHAM HALL, NORTHUMBERLAND, UK, 2008

Friday, April 27, 2012

"Brown Penny" by William Butler Yeats

I WHISPERED, "I am too young,"
And then, "I am old enough";
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
"Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair."
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

more on ramps

the ramps today at the farmer's market:

the ramps today on my plate:
ramp season is . . . the most wonderful time of the year.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Daffodils by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils. 

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Tarte Flambée Recipe


yield: 4 breakfast-sized pieces or 16 mini sized
  • 1 10″ square of frozen puff pastry, thawed
  • 1 onion, thinly sliced
  • oil
  • 8 slices of bacon, cut into 1/4 inch strips
  • 2 tablespoons crème fraîche
  • salt and fresh ground black pepper
  • 1/4 cup ricotta
  • 1 cup arugula
Preheat your oven to 350 F. In a skillet over medium heat, cook the bacon until fat is rendered and bacon is crisp. Remove and drain on a paper towel. While your bacon is cooking, heat up a bit of oil in a small sauce pan over medium-low heat. Add your thinly sliced onions and cook until soft and caramelized, stirring every so often, about 15 minutes.
Cut your puff paster into 4 or 16 equally sized pieces. Spread a bit of crème fraîche on each piece and top with caramelized onions and bacon. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper.  Bake until puff pastry is golden and puffy, about 30-35 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes. Top each flambé with a tiny bit of ricotta and a couple leaves of arugula. Enjoy warm or at room temperature. For an extra crazy treat, top with a sunny side up egg.

[from i am a food blog]

Saturday, April 14, 2012

"Nothing Good Gets Away": A letter from John Steinbeck to his son, Thom

New York
November 10, 1958

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First—if you are in love—that’s a good thing—that’s about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second—There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you—of kindness and consideration and respect—not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply—of course it isn’t puppy love.

But I don’t think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it—and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone—there is no possible harm in saying so—only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.

Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.

It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another—but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.

Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I’m glad you have it.

We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.

And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens—The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Love,

Fa



[Letters of Note]

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

e. e. cummings' let it go


let it go – the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise – let it go it
was sworn to
go

let them go – the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers – you must let them go they
were born
to go

let all go – the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things – let all go
dear

so comes love

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Keith Haring at the Brooklyn Museum

Untitled, 1982
One of thirty untitled subway drawings, circa 1980-85
Untitled, 1982
On view through July 8, 2012

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Emily Dickinson's "It’s all I have to bring today"

It’s all I have to bring today –
This, and my heart beside –
This, and my heart, and all the fields –
And all the meadows wide –
Be sure you count – should I forget
Some one the sum could tell –
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.