Shoes and Haikus

Opening Ceremony Bow Tie Bootie

Walking on some clouds.
Uh oh, looks like it might rain.
Kick the ink barrel.

image via polyvore.com and barneys.com

Hight Tea...my style

brand of choice.

Though my affinity for tea consumption is something of the last 9 months, it has always been a part of my life, and frankly more constant than any material possession I've had to date.  My Mom has always been/will always be an avid tea drinker.  I could quite easily prepare her morning brew with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back, as it's an act I've witnessed and participated in for the greater part of my life. 

To this day, our mug cupboard (there is a cabinet dedicated entirely to mugs alone that mock you with teetering movement every time you open the door) provides a surplus of comfortably handled canteens, most of which I can recall precise origins.  There are alumni mugs a-plenty from our copious academic endeavors, those hailing from the several charities/organizations for which we serve/contribute, the sports ones because we're all suckered into it every once in a while, the misshapen beauts painstakingly created by yours truly, and the random few that cause morning callers to ponder, "are these people normal?".  The vast majority of them are tea stained to an inch of their life, and those on the front line have the latest rosey Estee Lauder shade printed on them as the dishwasher perseveringly fails to remove lipstick pigment.

I've always enjoyed tea - British, of course, loaded with milk and sugar - but fell victim to coffee and espresso in my collegiate years as it was the only way I could survive Statistics and Anthropology, although I suppose that was my fault for choosing a university that required 2 full years of prerequisite classes, the bulk of which I forgot as soon as the classroom clock ticked minute 50.  Then, I entered the working world of 6 AM wake up calls, after a short stint in childscreamingcare - both requiring coffee multiple times daily.  I still love coffee, but there's a different mentality associated with it for me.

and so we've arrived at my current place, Now, where leisurely teas, 3+ times daily, have become the norm.  In an ode to my love of tea, and my Mom, I present you these 'tea accoutrements' to make those 3+ times daily that much more aesthetically pleasing.

1. Alessi Michael Graves cordless electric kettle.

This is my dream kettle.  It's sleek, stylish, has bird detail, and withstands use in multiple countries as it's cordless.  It's a gem and I'm currently drooling into my 2nd cup of tea today.

2. 'Tea Revives You' print from Keep Calm Gallery.

I'm not usually a fan of food/drink themed artwork in kitchens, but this is an exception.  If I had my own kitchen (or the desire to pay the VAT to ship this to Germany only to ship it back one day), I'd hang this in it.  I love the gray color and graphic print that has a bit of a propaganda feel.

3. Owl and Stump sugar/creamer set from Shoshonasnow shop on Etsy.

Owls may be a trend, but my love for them is deep, true and Kappa Kappa Gamma blue.  That comment had the perfect level of sorority cheese to it, as intended of course.  But really, this set I found on etsy is so fantastic that I actually need it.  I may order it to my parents house...something I've been pledging to do a lot of recently, as I'll be stateside so soon!  And since it's on etsy, my funds would surely be supporting a starving artist, ergo classifying this a socially conscious purchase.  I'll justify spending on anything.  Try me.

4. Big Tomato Company 'English Eccentrics' mugs.

These mugs are beyond brilliant.  I cannot take credit, as our neighbors in Munich have a bunch of them, but they actually accomplish making whatever you're drinking better.  When I visit their flat, I'm typically served in the "posh totty" mug, while my dear friend imbibes from the "desperate housewife" variety.  If you peruse the site, there are hundreds of them.  I've showcased a few favorites above, and have already picked out the ones I'll eventually own by family member:

Mom: "back seat driver"

Dad: "guv'nor"

Brother: "prodigal son"

Sister: "bleeding heart liberal"

Bro2: "footballer"

KC: "hypochondriac" (we can share he he he)

Me: "dictator" (I kid, I kid...although there is one that says that)

Clearly I'd get a few extras too...

5. Cow Creamer

I don't really care what it looks like, as long as it's authentically cow-esque.  I just feel like everyone needs a good cow creamer in case of emergency.

Until I accumulate some of the above devices, I'm left to sip my tea, from water boiled in a sauce pot, in the miniature tacky gluhwein mugs from the Munich Christmas markets (we own like 6)...

Good news is, tea is great regardless.

If I was a Dentist...

I would most certainly advertise in this manner:

pic via onecoolpick

genius, really.

Molly McButter

Do you remember that stuff?  Powdered butter...who would have thought.  It gets me thinking about possible staples that I could powder-fy, tack my name on and make millions with, but so far all I can come up with is peanut butter.  Other than sprinkling that on top of jelly-ed toast, I can't think actually think of any other use for it.  Not to mention the fact that my name's already been taken in butter product market.  I should really collect royalties.

Point of this post isn't to discuss future forms of food items, but to tell you of another butter related experience.  This time, however, it wasn't my fault.

It all began in the Munich airport with my frivilous purchase of an American InStyle magazine.  10 Euro it set me back and no, I am not kidding.  Look, people, it's my favorite publication and I haven't been stateside in a few months so I find it well worth the $13.58 according to the current exchange rate.  The fact that it was an uber-thick issue AND provided me a culinary challenge of the Truffle variety further justified my decision.

Begin experiment.  This recipe comes from some swanky NYC restaurant called The Harrison, and looks just mouthwatering.  Perhaps because of my unconditional love of mac'n'cheese (I've been known to consume an entire box of Kraft's cheesiest and trust me, there were no blue box blues going on), my latest and oddest infatuation with green veggies or my intrigue with truffles...a delicacy I found quite prevalent in Munich this fall.  Whatever it is, it fit the bill as a (not so) healthy companion for my tried-but-true stove-top chicken - a 7x weekly request of KC's.  Little did I know, the challenge had nothing to do with following a recipe which was a breeze.  No, my friends, the real challenge lie in locating truffle ANYTHING in Plymouth, county Devon, England, UK. 

I don't know what gave me the impression I'd be able to find truffle butter (what the recipe called for) or truffle oil in a land where the most revered indulgence is a pasty - phonetically pah-stee and NOT pay-stee as I confidently mispronounced in my first few weeks in the Queen-Motherland.  Story is, pasties were logically crafted as lunch for miners down in the depths of Earth.  Plastered in dirt and who knows what, they'd eat all but the crust which acted as a simple handlebar for the carbtastic deliciousness.  My intentions are NOT to mock the pasty - promise.  Like I say, it's uncomplicated, logical, and downright tasty.  I'm merely creating the backdrop for my unsuccessful truffle hunt here in dear Plymouth.  And hunt I did.

On a blistery Thursay, I set out with determination and a solid pair of flats on...not knowing what mean streets of Plymouth I'd traverse.  Fortunately for story's sake, I managed to cross 6 "stores" off of a nonexistent list in a vain effort to create a posh dish.

Stop #1 was the infallible Marks & Spencer.  I've referenced M&S before as it's a daily stop of mine and our closest Target comparison.  I gathered all of the necessary ingredients save orzo and truffle butter/oil as I knew they'd require polite inquiry.  I found a charming brunette lady - the type that looks like she works in a food mart for no greater reason than to stock her already brimming cupboard with even more discounted baking goods.  The interaction went something like this:

Me:  Hi there, do you happen to know if or where I can find truffle oil here?
Lady:  I'm terribly sorry, my love, but we don't have any at the moment.  You're actually the second person who's asked me today - I wonder if it's the same recipe? (she then walks me to the oils where it would be) Making something nice, are you love?  We actually used to have small bottles, they were right here - see?  We haven't had it in ages though, I would know, I do the ordering.  I'm truly sorry.  Can I help you with anything else?
Me:  Oh well, I knew it'd be a long shot.  My recipe is from an American magazine, so I'm not sure if it would be the same.  It's a truffled orzo with asparagus - you wouldn't by chance know where the orzo is?
Lady:  I'm terribly sorry, my love, I've never heard of it.  I'm not sure what orzo is - my apologies.  What exactly is it?
Me:  It's a pasta but it looks like rice.  That's ok though...can you point me toward the garlic?
(she then marches me through the store, pointing the way, making sure to stop passing foot traffic for me, only to find the last bulb of garlic in the box which was browning and squishy)
Lady:  Oh my goodness, I'm so very sorry, my love, it appears this is the last of the garlic.  It's been a busy day.  Goodness, I haven't been much help have I.
Me:  No, I promise, you've been great - no worries, I'll find the things I need.  Do you know of a place that may carry truffle products?
Lady:  Well first you my try Julian Graves, just across the street.  Then, you might also try Holland & Barrett, also just across the way from that, over on Cornwall Street.  Now I'm not sure if they'll have them, but they might be your best option.
Me:  Thanks so much, you've been quite helpful.

In true British fashion, she called me every sweet name in the book, apologized for what wasn't her fault, was genuinely embarassed that she couldn't properly help me, and gave me loads of suggestions/ vague directions in such a manner that all I could do was smile and think, despite it's lack of anything I needed, that M&S was the greatest place on Earth.  That is customer service.  On to stop #2.

Julian Graves.  This must be some sort of fancy nut store.  I saw a few food storage items, loads of nuts and seeds, and 2 older ladies gabbing behind the small counter with a cup of tea.  I didn't even bother to have a look for myself, and asked straight away for the coveted truffle oil.  Of course they didn't have it, but were happy to pause from their cuppa to kindly provide the bad news, cast doubt on whether their competitors, Holland & Barrett, would carry it, and helpfully suggest two ethnic markets further down the block.  Understanding the vagueness naturally accompanying British directions, I attempted to get a more specific location only to be told that I would surely be able to smell them.  Perfect, of course.

Because I had the time, I gladly shuffled over to stop #3 Holland & Barrett, just to be sure.  The only oils they had in there were of the cod-liver variety.  On to the ethnic parts.

The international shop I was "smelling" for was called Continental Market.  Now the ladies in Julian Graves said it was literally just down the way.  I saw a large sign that said Market and thought, that must be it!  Heading in, I realize it was a legit market hall vending everything from pickles and pies to bootleg DVDs and lace trim.  Somehow, with a greater supply of curtain panels than fruit in the fruit stand, I ascertained that this was not the Continental Market for which I was searching. 

Clearly, I didn't follow my nose.  Exiting the market hall (I guess stop #4), I wandered aimlessly for a few minutes.  Frustrated, confused, and wanting to ask someone, I did a bit of a figure eight on the street I thought it was on.  Crossing back and forth a few times, I was nearing defeat until it happened.  I smelled it.  Sure enough, under a sign fainter than my feet in the thick British fog, was stop #5: the Continental Market.  It was a jewel box...if I'd been looking for rubies and sapphires in the form of curry powders and rice noodles.  They even had real, Canadian Maple Syrup.  Almost over it, with the image of waffles now flashing in my mind, I nearly scrapped the stupid truffle pasta and contentedly left, Syrup in hand.  I soldiered on, though, suggesting to the clerk that maybe truffle oil would be a nice thing to carry and complimenting her on the lovely smell emanating her shop.

Having winded myself down some street I didn't know, I gave up on Plymouth's back alleys and headed for the city center again.  Forunately, not 4 doors up the street was another small international grocer, stop #6.  International was somewhere in the name, but the inside provided nothing but Asian characters plastered everywhere, about 10 Asians, and large adverts for international calling cards - the only thing I could read. 

Defeated, I exited and headed for the big chain grocer - Sainsbury's.  It's not as high end as M&S, but is significantly larger so I thought to hell with it, might as well give it a go.  And so I was at stop #6.  I won't even bore you with details, they clearly didn't have truffle anything and, once again, I was met with blank stares when asking for the orzo.  I must be crazy.  I grabbed a bag of tiny conchigliette pasta and ditched any further food related efforts for the mall.

After regaining strength in the world of retail I headed home to attempt the above recipe without the truffle or the orzo.  Here's what I got:

Hahaha.  That's what it took to get through the recipe after a 4 hour effort in the name of truffles (and maybe a cute pair of shoes).  This is what it REALLY looked like:

It was basically just home-made mac'n'cheese with asparagus.  No truffle, no orzo, but damn good.  What can I say, I'm a mac'n'cheese girl at heart.  It made breakfast the next morning too...

Full recipe is here.

Another pair of shoes...and a haiku

The perfect spring shoe...

Why hello, gorgeous,
want to run away with me?
Tie me up, Scotty.

Thank you, Jeffrey Campbell, for your fine craftmanship.

Munich by camera phone...

In honor of my trip being short, so too will this post.  Plus, I imagine the 7 friends/family members that regularly follow this (thanks to my emails informing of updates) have discovered my unwavering verbosity, and may be slightly tired of squinting at run-ons.

This weekend I wanted nothing more than to gad about my European home base soaking it up again whilst eager to convince that I'm not (entirely) a tourist despite my dismal knowledge of the German language.

That being qualified, I took maybe 15 pictures with my phone to provide a visual delineation of my 3, agenda free days in Munich.

pretty little street leading right up to the Wiesn (Oktoberfest grounds)

Neues Rathaus

lunch and dinner

Altes Rathaus

2 lovely options for modern flat decor...

Frauenkirche

my corner fruit stand

our friendly neighborhood coffee shop where I spend too many euros...ironically, it's a German company

my dirndl patiently waiting for Oktoberfest 2k10

a road weary schnellbahnnetz

breakfast of champions

contrary to popular belief, these archaic systems still exist...in Germany

I'm contemplating spearheading a class action suit for false advertising as there is nothing easy about flying.

# of tickets necessary to get from Munich to Plymouth...one way. 

Believe, Hon

Ahhh, nothing quite reminds me of home like the ambiguous city-wide 'Believe' campaign.  I don't exactly remember when the single entity replaced it's predecessor, the laughable mouthful, "Baltimore: a City that Reads", once plastered on every bench south of Stevenson, but I'll admit that I'm filled with pride and nostalgia when I see it (especially if it's followed by a comma and a 'Hon').  I like the irony in this trash bin picture, too.  I won't admit it a fitting description of my beloved birthplace, but given preconceived notions and the popularity of The Wire worldwide, it made me laugh.   On to my point and my post...

In my most recent hobby of blog stalking, I came across a sweet college student who posted 25 things she believed in.  Most were sappy regarding love/family/relationships/honesty, but they made me smile nonetheless and instantly ponder what 25 things I'd assert as belief-worthy.  I think it's relative really.  Actually, I know so.  If you'd have asked me in 2004 to complete the same task, I would have certainly believed in my family, homemade chips from the Tavern, friends, booze, cheap/cute clothes and a raucous spring break...and probably the politics of poverty, to make myself sound slightly less shallow, as I vaguely remember taking a captivating class of the same name in that year. 

Here's the thing, I'm not pledging to save the world with the following catalogue, or make anyone tear up (I realize I shouldn't flatter myself).  I just happen to think I have some decent and logical beliefs, sprinkled with a few frivilous ones.  So here's my list for March of 200910 (random WORDY aside: I've become quite fond of sending snail mail across the pond.  There's something about surprising people with a postcard onto which I've tried to spurt the maximum amount of wit from abroad in a space the size of a movie ticket.  I also love the fact that most recently, all my mail is sent out donning a "Royal Mail" sticker with a stamp of ol' Queen Beth next to it.  My point is that I always write the year at the top of each letter because I'm a sappy hoarder - or, my mom - who saves every card I receive and likes them accurately dated.  Well for the past 3 months I've been writing 2009.  Must have been a good year or something, but I do realize it's over and have staged an intervention with my ballpoint to halt my blunders.)

No really, here is the list.  I BELIEVE......

1. That the R in 'Toys R Us' should be turned around.  What are we teaching our children???  There is no reason for it to be backwards.  None.

2. In God.

3. That traveling light is VASTLY underrated.  I'm moronic in my overpacking, and realize that pashminas in every color of the rainbow are not essential.  Nor are 2 pairs of congnac boots despite the slight differences in heel height.  I long to travel with one underweight suitcase containing the ultimate all-purpose outfit withstanding multiple appearances with the same people.  I long to breeze through check-in without shelling out 50 bucks (30 euro, or 10 GBP per kilo over) PER suitcase.  I long to make it to my gate without red strawberry bruising on my right shoulder from my handled cylinder block, I mean carry-on (read: someone buy me a pretty little Mac rather than this hunker).

4. That at the end of the day, your word is what you have, and that shouldn't be taken lightly.  I believe that you should just be honest...it's not that hard to do.

5. That old things have the best stories, perhaps explaining my love affair with antiquing despite my youth.

6. That multi-purpose cleaning spray is as comforting as my childhood blanket....which isn't saying much as I don't really remember said blanket or have any idea its location.  Bottom line - I believe in the power of the spray down.

7. That love is best shown in the simplest of ways.  No explanation necessary.

8. That the BBC broadcasts the most stellar documentaries.  So far I've been behind the scenes with Taliban insurgents, witnessed the true power of a killer squid, and been privied to the wicked interiors of some ghastly prisons.  I also believe that I have a predilection for the morbid, but that's not # 9.

9. That going to the movie theater is therapeutic.  Regardless of the world outside, you're sat for 2 hours in (sort of) silence with buttered popcorn.  In those moments, all is right with the world.

10. That everyone should live, for some time, as close to the center of a city as their wallets allow.  The experience is humbling (lugging laundry), convenient (take-out at all hours), fitness-inducing (grocery bags and stairs), penny pinching, culturally stimulating (museums, architecture, street style, etc.).

11. That everyone, and I mean everyone should have the unlimited use of a dishwasher.  I would rather walk barefoot through Grand Central Station, scrub the toilet - you know, underneath the rim where it's particularly grotesque - and listen to Randy Travis on repeat before living without a dishwasher.  I. hate. handwashing.

12. That iced coffee is the most economically sound and reliable cure-all.  Could be a migraine, stomach ache, Mondays, hangover from hell, Tuesdays, snow days, sleep deprivation, Texas summers, jet lag, rainy days, Wednesdays, I miss the USA days....you get the point.

13. That all towels should be big and white.

14. That onions and/or honey mustard make 99.9% of things taste better.  Sweets being the clear exception.

15. That education is of the utmost importance.  If I could single handedly make higher education a reality for all, I would.

16. In refinishing furniture.

17. That people should compost more.  Disclaimer: I don't actually do it, I just think about it a lot as I constantly throw food scraps away/down the drain.  One day, when I have a home with a deodarized drawer specially designed for rancid food, I will compost.  I guess I'd need to have a garden too?  Yikes...

18. That the Snuggie, though a backwards robe and an easy target, catches a bad rap.  Since receiving my very own (Luxury) Snuggie, I find myself wondering what life was like before it accompanied me everywhere.

19. That the answers don't come in our time.

20. That blazers are tried and true.  They cover lovehandles, instantly enhance an otherwise dull outfit, withstand various categories of weather, and most importantly, have pockets.

21. That the Olympics are one of those things that simply better our world.  Steroids, ambiguous birthdates, and the occasional on ice brew and stogie aside, they are an addicting example of emotion, competition, pride, comraderie, and a thousand other sappy things.  I always cry, always, and could watch the dullest of events (ahem, curling) with as much enthusiasm as I do watching KC score a game winner.  And I'm not just listing this because they recently ended and are fresh in my mind.  Bring on London 2012!

22. That it is unacceptable to walk through a door without glancing behind to see if someone else is following suit.  Inaction on this front is something I simply cannot tolerate.

23. That white shoes should never be worn after Labor Day/ before Memorial Day.  Residence in Miami does not an offender excuse.

24. That baths are often the answer.  Go ahead, throw a little bath salt in there.

25. That yoga is boring.