Category Archives: Uncategorized

Heidi‘s pumpkin pie for breakfast today, finishing off the whipped cream as well. Ate it all while washing up the last of the champagne glasses.

The Post Sunday inserts arrived a day early and, flipping through the magazine, I came upon Slices of Life, something I styled for them a few months back. Nice pies, the lot.

Allison Dinner took lovely shots. Just a millicentimeter below the apex of the pies, the next pinnacle of that day was our lunch from Amsterdam Falafel. That’s Allison on the Amsterdam page, in fact.

On to a turkey and cranberry sauce sandwich. With just a smear of mayonnaise on both slices to stick the turkey in place. I’m whupped beyond whupped today, with nap on the brain. My brain feels like a heavy clump of cranberry-sauce-and-pie-stained tablecloths. Long nap.

Chris Kimball from America’s Test Kitchen visited Steve Inskeep’s kitchen a few weeks ago to tape an NPR Thanksgiving segment titled A Thanksgiving Meal from the Test Kitchen. I was there too, carrying all the food – some finished, some in parts. The segment aired yesterday, and you can listen to it and read about it at NPR.org.

Some of the pictures include me although I was support team only, not to be seen or heard. There I am between Chris Kimball and Renee Montaigne, and I appear to be dashing. I did need to zip about that morning – many bits and pieces, lots of cooking, very precise and lively.

We had a lot of fun and I learned some stuff about turkey, which I am putting into practice as we speak. The better for midnight sandwich making, my dear. Had to trade up on the turkey for a bigger one when our numbers swelled. And pick up a nice loaf of white sandwich bread.

The NPR gig was elaborate and cooking-minutiae packed. You wouldn’t think there would be anything more to learn about pie crust at this late date. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Sitting here with deep conditioner on my hair, trying to save a few bucks this month, and thinking about stuff.

Feeling thankful for all that I have. Tomorrow I will sit at the table with family and friends. My hair will look great. What more could I want?

Can a person “have it all”? In a word, no. That’s my word anyway. Having it all, however briefly, requires hitting it on the cusp. Perhaps a cusp can be enduring, but I don’t think so. No, you can’t have it all. Not all at once. Thank the heavens above. What on earth would you do with it?! There are not enough closets in the world for a person who has everything they need and desire.

Linda Kulman muses on the substantial menu of “everything”, meaning family AND career, in her blog post Sarah Palin and the “Post Palate Era”, and raises the ghost of dinner parties past, The Silver Palate Cookbook.

I wonder if a woman can have it all in this sense – young enough to have good skin, face, body, hair AND old enough to be wise, self-aware and informed. From what I understand, 34 is the golden age, although at 34 I was still quite the psychological morass. Had my current wisdom level kicked in sooner, I could have had maybe not all, but close to it, at ONCE. It being the essentials of a physical human entity, edited to the essence. It’s a cryin’ shame, but the world was spared the monster that would have been me. Phew.

Family and career? Yes, I have all that. And it’s a feast. Sleep enough? Money enough? Sanity enough? Maybe later.

A clipping just in via Malcolm Riviera in Taylorsville, NC. I have never wrapped my mind around the fact that he does not live here anymore. Huh? Taylorsville? Malcolm? Are all 50 bazillion 8-tracks in Taylorsville?

From my home town newspaper the year I was born! This is what they were feeding kids for a “snack” back then…. no wonder our generation’s kids are all ADHD! Just wash that slab of Snickers loaf down with a quart of chocolate milk (whole milk, of course!)!!

Dates? Does this recipe include dates? Shhhhhh, don’t breathe a word to the youngsters.

Honey, could you bring me my cigarettes? Now where did I put my cocktail?

One of the many joys of dating is the likelihood of random, intimate, astute remarks from near strangers. A comment was made, “You are having a conversation out loud that most people have in their heads,” and I thought it was pointedly hilarious. Should I have been embarrassed? I was not, although I don’t believe the remark was meant as a compliment.

A large amount of the thinking I do is out loud. The Danes think sandwiches with the inside on the outside, and with pride. Smørrebrød.

Heralding Christmas, the Danish Club of Washington, DC‘s Christmas Bazaar is held every year at the beginning of November, this year one week later than usual. Perhaps that accounts for the interminable line for kringle. Could it be that the shorter days sharpen our desire for almond kringle? Warmed till the almond paste scorches your tongue, with a cup of hot, black coffee.

What have we here (in the snapshot below)? In the back, frikadeller, and that apple dessert that I love so much and mean to make but never do. In the front the vet’s midnight snack, crisply fried fish (perch or?), and shrimp salad. You can’t see the bread but it’s there, under the overhang. Buttered. I like the bread buttered and am surprised that pre-buttered bread never hit the market. And thankful.

My mother, who took us all to lunch, said, “Nice to see Teddy enjoying his smørrebrød. He is growing up!” Bread + butter + smoked salmon are his super fuel, and he is still young enough to battle windmills and balloons.

Shooting down 95 around noon she said, “I know a cute diner in Richmond,” and I said, “Exit here to Millie’s!”

I used to do quite a bit of work for Hamilton-Beach with Tom Chambers and Jeff Saxman in Richmond, just 100 miles south and a whole civilized world away when it comes to workpace. In Richmond, during photoshoots, we go out to lunch. Up here, in bottom-line focused Baltimore, too often we have what is called a “working lunch”. Ha ha. Emphasis on “working”.
Had we put a quarter in the juke box at our table we would still be waiting to hear our song two weeks later. Millie’s was mobbed.
Crack attack. A tribute to the food hall of fame.
A road trip requires staff – driver and navigator, cruise director and talent. Clay drove valiantly, while Heidi was our sundial.

Heidi gamely ordered the BLT and it was loaded for bear with avocado. That’s whatcha call a BLAT.

Paul Keevil, that handsome devil, was roaming the joint and looking in on booths. He generously gifted us with two Millie’s cds.

Just around the corner from Millie’s, also in Shockoe Bottom, is another Keevil sandwich outpost, Lulu’s, where Paul’s band plays occasionally and the sandwiches are stacked.

Millie’s-style sustenance got us to Raleigh and rocked us with the Bottle Rockets till 2 am, then we skipped with gusto behind John Horton’s metronome-even, long, strong strides to a chic, late night sandwich spot for an Uber-Wisconsin Grilled Cheese. Scarfed. You hadda be quick to get more than a crumb. Then goodnight fellas, love ya!, and sleeeep of the dead.

Quiet day at the Lunch Encounter, which is all for the best. Gave us time to sweep the corners, clean out the grease trap, scrub the buffalo chopper, sand the monkey bars and oil the robot coupe. 

A tip did drop over the transom…

Just opened last month, Taylor Gourmet has gotten kudos for their look, their deli-stuffs, and for bringing in Philadelphia bakery Sarcone‘s breads. And…Taylor’s delivers! Sandwiches, hoagies, olive oil, meats, cheeses, the works! Hoagies! Wrapped in oily paper, one would hope. Got to get myself over for a first bite.

Taylor Gourmet
1116 H Street NE, between 11th and 12th Streets
Washington, DC
202-684-7001

Things just ain’t what they used to be. Now when I was your age and being awarded new Brownie badges, a big deal was made of it. Guest celebrities, fireworks, flags flying.

After two long, long days of styling ice cream cakes I needed to be scraped off the floor. Meant to rest up over the weekend but burned the other end of the candle instead, driving down to Raleigh to see my beloved Bottle Rockets.

Monday morning I headed back up to Arbutus, close neighbor to Baltimore, for a round of sandwich styling. Honestly, those things were a piece of cake compared to ice cream cakes. Sitting on a couple stacked milk crates, forceps in hand, adjusting crumbs and kraut strands I felt completely at ease.

What came to mind immediately was: This job is like taxidermy compared to the open-heart surgery of last week’s cakes. Food is always dying as you work on it, but the pace of ‘wiches is so civilized. Photos by Dan Whipps.
He has a new website and it is beauteous.

Putting a new band together. The Outskirts. My future bandmates have not been clued in on this, but they will have to go along because we are all for one and one for all. Polygamist’s wives we are. Fundamentalist girls gone WILD. 

Except that one on the right-back. She/he is a bit of a mess. Keep that on the lowdown – wouldn’t want to ruffle any fundi-feathers.

When the man is preoccupied we eat Whoppers. Heaven knows a person could choke on a fast food sandwich when it has become contraband.

The meals around this joint would be tastier and timelier were there a wife or two, or three, to spare. Fewer sandwiches when the clock is not striking lunch. More fork food when the clock IS striking dinner. Where do I sign?

PS: BLUE is the color of freedom — the freedom to be yourself.
L. Bourgeois

That would be Louise. LoU-EaSe.  Club Louise, in case you don’t know, is the exclusive club for girls who have turned to women and are not done being wild.