Neither Church nor Kitchen

But David Hockney!

Hockney has been an abiding passion of mine nearly as long as liturgical aerobics and swinging in the kitchen. My sister worked for the Andre Emmerich gallery in the 80's and I was exposed to Hockney's fabulous landscapes. And then the local museum carried a show of his photo collages and I was completly smitten.
Imagine my happiness when the Museum of Fine Farts announced a retrospective of portraits! I don't even really like the portraits, but a junky must get her fix...

Caveat: I am not an art writer, please bear with me.

The show is an investigation of Hockney's ability to work in many mediums with many faces. What I liked most was the feeling that the viewer was really allowed to get up close to the work and LOOK at it. I don't know if it was because the show was hung salon-style or because the write-ups were focused on technique, or if it was just my giddiness, but I really appreciated getting right up next to the paper.
The curators did a great job of showing off Hockney's appreciation of and internalization of Picasso. One piece is part of a series of sketches riffing on Wallace Steven's poem that was inspired by Picasso's painting The Old Guitarist. I am not a fan of Cubism (in fact, I nearly ran through the Cubist show a few galleries past the Gund Gallery), but I was captivated by the bold pieces of almost rearranged faces on one of the last walls. And, peaking around that free-standing wall, there were the photo collages! The are truly a movement of Cubism, but more emotionally attached. In all of Hockney's portraits you see the person as the painter sees: motion, expressions, postures, all at once. As such, the photo collages are a perfect expression of vision: all-at-once singularity of multi-faceted personalities. I could have sat in that little alcove all day!

Except that I got hungry and toddled off to the basement cafe.

But on the way home, I remembered that Milton, over at Don't Eat Alone had blogged about the blue guitar during Lent. So, in a way, my day was a little bit about theology and food.

The Kitchen Blues

If April is the cruelest month, does May become more cheerful by default?

Early Spring in New England is a difficult time for the cook. Who wants a hearty stew, or even more soup when that's what we've been slurping for months now? We're tired of roasts and starch-heavy dishes, especially considering how near the ocean lies, and how close the warmer months seem. Produce in the grocery looks anemic and dull and has driven who-knows-how-many-miles to find the shelf, but not even sorrel is poking it's head up through the newly turned fields.

Sigh.

At least we can celebrate Cinqo de Mayo with margueritas!

A-Z meme

Too good (and easy) to pass up:

Accent: upper-middle class New England (i.e. no flat a's and r's)

Booze: local white wines, vidal blancs are at the top of my list

Chore I Hate: vacuuming

Dog or Cat: two cats

Essential Electronics: radio, laptop, digital camera

Favorite Cologne(s): Aquolina Pink Sugar

Gold or Silver: gold? silver? can't decide

Hometown: Boston

Insomnia: never - it's the night terrors that drive me insane

Job Title: well, this is depressing, I apparently don't have one

Kids: 2, witty, beautiful, irksome

Living arrangements: lots of windows, wood floors - wait, I think this means: husband, 2 kids, 2 cats

Most admirable trait: welcoming

Number of sexual partners: why would you ask?

Overnight hospital stays: only for my babies

Phobias: rodents - the very thought of a guinea pig makes me itch

Quote: "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it."
or in the language of the Message:
"Why, some have extended hospitality to angels without ever knowing it!"

Religion: Christian, Episcopalian, liturgical

Siblings: the younger of two girls

Time I wake up: 6:36 a.m.

Unusual talent or skill: bread baking, but only buttermilk sandwich bread

Vegetable I refuse to eat: brussel sprouts, but I keep trying

Worst habit: rush to judgment

X-rays: teeth, hands

Yummy foods I make: lots!

Zodiac sign: Virgo

We've been on a bear hunt

And it was a beautiful day. Actually, it was a beautiful few days. The kids and I took off for NYC on Monday and came home on Thursday. The weather could not have been better: not too hot, a little breeze, nice and sunny...the whole city was cheery!

It's spring vacation week here on Aquidneck Island, and for the past few years we haven't done much during vacations. The kids love the City - from street vendors to subways to eating out all the time and always far later than they would at home. While we could have gone anytime, recent art world stirrings made me want to go NOW.

We arrived later than hoped-for on Monday, mostly due to my futzing around at home, but also because we got caught in the slowest traffic from the NY State line all the way off the BQE. A quick trip to the Village Chip Shop (have you had a deep-fried Mars bar lately?) and we were ready for bed.

Tuesday dawned bright and beautiful and after a trip to the bank with Aunt G, we hopped the F train and stepped out at the Met. I promised the kids that if they behaved for the Kara Walker show, we'd eat at the museum cafeteria and then hit the Temple of Dendur and the Astor Court, B & W's favorites, respectively. After the Deluge was thought-provoking and difficult but interesting and in many ways very beautiful. Kara Walker's cut paper works, especially the large-scale ones, are incredible. The space is small, and it wasn't too crowded (is the Modern Art wing ever crowded?), and it was full of well-heeled women with inquiring minds. I totally needed a book to go along with the show, as I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to be pondering. There's lots of white space on the walls and on the floor, and Kara Walker's own pieces were hung with others from the Met's collection. I really enjoyed stepping back from the subject matter and just looking at how she hung pieces together. All in all, I am really happy that I got to go.

It was a long day inside the grand art palace. The Modern Art wing is removed from most other stuff and at one far corner, the Temple of Dendur on the far side. The new cafeteria leaves a lot to be desired (including an exit sign once you are finished eating!). The Costume Institute is closed, so trying to reach the Astor Court, was, well, trying. At one point we got lost in the Egyptian Catecombs and then again in a web of musical intruments.

Thank God we could carouse in the park when we made it out at the end of the day! We went in search of a moderatly-priced ice cream and started off into the park. The kids had their photos snapped on Hans Christian Anderson's kneee and we stopped at the boat pond and watched the remote-controlled sailboats for a while and then meandered over to Bethesda Terrace, a favorite of ours, even with the fabulous tunnel mosaics under wraps as they are renovated. We settled on frozen fruit bars from the carts and let the mist from the fountain cool our faces. Good thing, too, to be so refreshed, as we got lost once again, in the Ramble!

We finished our day with pizza with Aunt J and Cousin A. I don't think the kids have ever met their Aunt and she is a true New York character. Perhaps I can figure out how to link photos and insert one of the clan.

Wednesday's ruminations will have to wait for another post.

What are the roots that clutch

What branches grow out of this stony rubbish? ... 'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;	35
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,	40
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.

The first soft days of Spring, with the jonquils and forsythia vying for our attention, yearly recalls T.S. Eliot's the Waste Land. Like Spring, like the Resurrection, this litany creeps to my conciousness.

for we are the sheep of His hand

I start every morning facing the sink, facing East, fixing coffee. As a ritual, it is extremely satisfying - not much changes in the phsyical functions, even sickness or cranky children can't stop the flow of water from faucet to pot, the fine grains of coffee from bag to filter. The view framed by my window remains the same: cul-de-sac, 3 large neighbor-houses, hedgerow, field, sky. Within those confines, everything changes. 6:40 am is always different. Some mornings I watch raucus crows and gulls argue their wake up calls. Many days it's the creep of fog up from the river that focuses my attention. The February field is tan stubble, but the May field is verdant. Last fall brought orange globes of pumpkin shining through the mist, this fall it may be tall corn. After the harvest I see porch lights, and know the houses by their dark shadows. Each day requires fine adjustments. The sun wheels 'round the edges, its meniscus higher now than 3 months ago.

This morning's 6:40 was blue and yellow, the sun already above the far banks of the out-of-sight river, the field tipped with green. Cold water filling the coffee pot, I pushed on the radio. Today is a very different morning than it was 3 months ago for the family and friends, the coworkers and the unknown supporters of freelance reporter Jill Carroll. Her freedom broke my heart open, and what I didn't know was locked was free, too. This woman that I don't know and never will touched me deeply.

Ms. Carroll is young, articulate, intelligent, and committed to telling a story she knows she can tell. I will be interested in reading her account of her confinement by captors who never told her what they wanted. I will be interested in her return to writing, and I hope her return to the streets and the people of Iraq.

This morning, at 6:41, as water flowed and coffee dripped and the sun stretched warmth westward, I was sure the Psalmist got it right:

Come let us sing to the Lord; *
let us shout for joy to the Rock of our salvation.
Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving *
and raise a loud shout to him with psalms.

For the Lord is a great God, *
and a great King above all gods.
In his hand are the caverns of the earth, *
and the heights of the hills are his also.
The sea is his, for he made it, *
and his hands have molded the dry land.

Come, let us bow down, and bend the knee, *
and kneel before the Lord our Maker.
For he is our God,
and we are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand. *
Oh, that today you would hearken to his voice!

Roast-Alt

I hate leftovers. I know they are lurking in the fridge, ready to stink up a storm, make me toss the tupperware, and feel guilty for waste all at the same time. So imagine my gratitude, when during a silent moment in church this morning, I realized I could swing leftovers for lunch this afternoon out of last night's dinner!

Cauliflower leftovers:
Heat 1 Tbsp olive oil in medium saucepan. Add 1 chopped onion and one smooshed-and-chopped clove of garlic until soft. Pop open can o' chicken stock, bring to a boil. Add leftover cauliflower and simmer until heated-through, about 5 minutes. Toss in flavoring of your choice: I happen to have some almost-moldering basil that needed to be used.
An immersion blender is great for soups. This is the moment when I would plug it in and let it whirl. And I did. Except it didn't work. There were still plenty of little cauliflower florets afterwards. Oh well, a regular blender would work better but make more mess...
I plopped in a spoonful of butter, just to make is silky and yummy and let it sit on the stove at barely-a-simmer while I went about the rest of the meal.

Pork Quesadillas:
The best quesadillas are made on a skillet, but really, who has time for that? Turn your oven on to 350 or use the broiler if you are good about remembering. I tend to get sidetracked and the broiler often burns more than it broils.
Shred whatever assortment of cheese your fridge drawer holds. We had low-fat cheddar and jalapeno monterey jack. Also shred, or small dice, leftover pork - sans the bread topping, that just sounds gross! If you have some salsa, use that, too. Arrange toppings on tortilla and pop in oven for 3-5 minutes (less if you are using that broiler!). Fold over, cut in half, and top with salsa.

If leftovers were always this easy, we'd have a clean fridge!

Roasted Dinner

I ate before thinking, so there's no photo to accompany the delicious meal we just finished. One of my favorite roasts is from the Joy of Cooking, a boneless pork loin with some Florentine-y title. I can only remember that it is subtitled "Arista" which is useless when you are trying to use the index! I have been riffing on the roast for years, but tonight's was the best:
1 boneless pork loin plonked into a small roasting pan
pour over 1/4 cup of homemade champagne-vinegar-based salad dressing with lots of garlic, pepper, and parsley
Preheat the oven to 450 and let the roast sit while you try to figure out the rest of the meal...

I had bought a lovely orange cauliflower last week, and as that was quickly going to go bad and was too expensive to toss, that was definatly on the menu. I cut it into tiny florets and tossed it with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

The roast works best if you roast it at high heat for a short while, so let it cook for 10 minutes in the 450 oven.
While it's in there, mix 1/2 cup fresh breadcrumbs with 1 or 2 Tbsp melted butter and some of the goodies from the salad dressing already used.
Lower the oven to 275 and pat breadcrumb crust on top of roast. Continue cooking until thermometer registers 160. Remove from oven to platter, tent with foil for 5 minutes, slice and serve.

Well, that's how it should work, except I had to get that cauliflower in the oven at a higher temperature, and we needed to eat within the next hour...so after 1/2 hour at the lower temperature, I bumped the temperature up to 350 and popped the cauliflower in on the top rack. When the roast registered an approximate temperature, I took it out and raised the temperature to 400 to finish those poor veggies.

Too much roasted food? We served it with a bag o' salad and bubbly water!

The Blank Screen Ovewhelms

When I look back on this, I will be humbled. Welcome to my blog, folks!