Fake Out

I am in the business, and art, some might say, of faking you out. In defense of inedible food, without taste, smell and touch, the eyeful must fill you up. As a food stylist, walking the line is what I do.

When has the food gone too far past reality and become an “over-promise”, a disservice, a hazard to the cook? Perhaps that destination is when the food can be mistaken for real, but is absolutely unachievable. The place just before it is discernibly plastic.

Once plastic, the fake-out is in the safe zone. We all know it’s just playin’.

Japan Today

Photos by Steve-Kun

Thank you Mike at ComicsDC! Without you Arlington would be a wasteland.


Anything Goes

Anything goes on bread.  Witness the macaroni and cheese pizza.  at Ian’s. Bread is the carrier, the conduit, head of staff. Bread is beast. Beast of burden. Anything goes on bread. Personally stunned and appalled, shocked not awed, that bread has become maligned. The pendulum will swing, mark my words, and butter will be in search of crumb again. Anything goes on bread. Witness the potato gratin sandwich.

sandwicherie

Please pass the bread.

Buttered thanks to the Sublime Miss M.

Between a Rock and a Hard Roll

WWIDW (What Would I Do Without) JAF, MMSMINY (My Main Sandwich Man in New York) who sent me this story? I shudder to think.

    

  

Holy Mothers of Invention this is not your parents outdoor rock and roll.

Pork Belly, Lobster and, Yes, Music

Had it in mind to work towards world peace with mindless eating, as in, don’t think about it, just eat it. Turn your mind and body towards all things edible. Why oh why would it not be good if people, any people, eat it, crave it, love it, grow it, cook it, share it, dream of it, wash up after making and eating it? Why oh why?

Uh oh, here she comes again with that rant on, “I’ll have what you’re serving.”

My idea was, put people together, young people, the amoebas, the unformed, amorphous blobs who are defining themselves by what they don’t like and what they don’t eat. Have them cook for one another, and then eat it, together, without thinking, no refusing allowed. No comments other than thank you very much, this is delicious, thank you for sharing your food with me, thank you for showing me about yourself and your culture.

That was my idea, my move towards world peace, one meal at a time. Thought I might apply for some grants. Write a book. Conduct workshops. Guru it.  Apparently my idea is NOT needed. Look what these people are eating. Wowee. Everything. Oh to be young again. These people are eating circles around  me.

I’ll have what they’re eating. And mind you don’t call me ma’am!

Toast Poast Number No Time Like the Present

Even if you think you know what you are getting yourself into, you are probably waay off the mark. Toastmasters, toast masters. A person could spend a happy lifetime mastering toast. Or mastering toasts.

Don’t die with your mastery inside you. Come on and let it show.

Toaster Love

The Best Laid Sandwiches

 April 21, 2012
Two cities, Tampa and Miami, are locked in a battle to claim the Cuban sandwich as its own.
april 25, 2012
And the winner is….

After an admirable effort by the upstart Miami Cuban community, the people have chosen Tampa as the true home of the Cuban sandwich.

Isn’t all food in flux,  like the river of time? It’s never 1:05 or 2:17 or any other o’clock. Time is always on its way to somewhere else. Becoming 1:06 or 2:18. Can something be the best? Is that a static state? Nah. Not in an ever changing world. Superlatives, claims, titles and best ofs exist to be knocked back, do they not? Life is tippy at the pinnacle. Hell, in high school you would not catch me being first flute. No place to go but down. Who wants to be the best?, she said, spoken like a true underachiever.

Any Cuban, bad, good or mediocre is bound to be pretty darn good. Who makes a Cuban other than someone who likes a Cuban? And doesn’t the simple intent invest the sandwich with grandness?

So many questions.

All doled with a grain of salt considering I am a suspicious person due to my personal pedagogical method.

Jeepers Peepers

Sorry-Birds Ellen tells me she is spending too much time on her internet longboard. I’d say she is spending just the right amount of time – the clipping service is superlative. Thank you, Ellen!
Speaking of burgers, does this make-up make me look fat? 

Buzzfeed

Does This Cheeseburger Make Me Look Crafty?

The palette of patty toppings is seemingly limitless. Beef ain’t bland, but we love to luxe it out. We get all crafty and s**t, embroidering here, crocheting there, adding bits of this and that.

The Cheese & Burger Society knows all about it. You oughta see the lilies, lace, lilacs and doilies they’ve got dangling and draping all over those dripping burgers. Spectacular! Crafty bastards, look out! Yo gabba gabba hey, you’ll be digging through your cheese drawer to trick out your grilled fancies in the blink of a briquet. So click on the  link, yo! CLICK! Exceptionally clever and charming site. I’m telling you!

And while yer at it, Eat Wisconsin Cheese, hey! It goes with everything, particularly ridiculous croqueted frocks. Holy goldyfrocks, cheeseman!

Holy crocheted-doily, Craftzine‘s done it now.

I Like My Terra Firma

Made of Winn

Earth Day originated in Wisconsin, the center of my universe.

As I have said before and often, “ME! ME! ME!”

 

Six Degrees of Separation from Alice Waters


Kathryn Ivy knits mushrooms.

Suits-Herself Cindy does not knit, although she is an integral KnitWitz entity. We make an entirety, an entirety on which I am entirely dependent. The knitting posse, knitters or not, are in the living room each month, living, and giving me a pulse.

So does Beryl Cameron.

One might think these people know a little something about the glories of psychedelia. Aaaah, how beautiful and exciting. The beauty and power of nature. Succumb to it.

In December there were presents – presents!

May I never be too old to catch a thrill from a wrapped box. A gift of mushrooms. I didn’t keep a mushroom box for myself. Fungi-dang, that was dumb! Could the loca-santa bring me one in 2012?

Back to the Roots Mushroom Kits

Do not know about the others, but Suits-Herself Cindy cultivated her shrooms in a box. In lieu of oyster mushrooms in bloom in my room, spora-flora rose in pixels here. Thank you, Cindy.
In her words: Here is a funny serendipitous thing about the mushroom gardens that you gave us.
We had the Freshfarm Markets (Cindy manages the Crystal City market) holiday lunch yesterday at Restaurant Nora.

(I cooked for Nora Pouillon in the late seventies when she first opened this place. She’s become an icon, deservedly imo, and is an enigma to me, unclassifyable, a magnificent way to be.)

I was talking about the mushroom gardens and how cool they were. I was sitting next to the teacher at Watkins Elementary school who teaches the fantastic food program there. She was thinking maybe they would grow mushrooms in the winter.
The conversation moved on to reveal that Alice Waters is visiting the school today and meeting with her.
And then, it turned out that Alice Waters funded the mushroom garden business startup. The guys were graduates from Berkeley.

So, there was much discussion. Small world. I love those food people.
Sadly, as much as Freya – (Jon and Cindy’s daughter, whose sparkle will make you want a gaggle of girls to inhabit your life) liked growing the mushrooms, she was not terribly interested in eating them.

“More for us!” said Jon.

Second harvest! Those fertile fungi regrew.

Really, the pictures speak for themselves, said Cindy.

Tru, they du.

LRoy Inhales a Bomb

Sandwich Bomb!

From L Roy, a prodigious sandwich inhaler and friend.

I just inhaled one of the most delicious/grotesque sandwiches ever made I only eat one of these every two years, though I can’t seem to eat it slowly, as much as I want to savor it.

It’s the Egg Bomb from Nicola Pizza, Arlington, MA. I may have submitted this WMD a few years ago, but The Bomb is known to cause memory loss as well as numerous other debilitations.

Read and weep:

Scrambled egg

Sautéed mushrooms

Grilled onions

Green peppers

Pepperoni

Sausage

Cheese (American I think, but as I said, it went down too fast)

I had to eat this in a nearby park because,

– the shop had just mopped its floors (though it was hard to tell) and smelled of ammonia

– too messy to eat anywhere except the great outdoors

There were children playing on the swings nearby and I feared arrest for exposing a minor to obscenities. Whatever, part of growing up.

As Red Sox fans like to sing, “so good, so good, so good.”

Time for dessert…