It seems lately that I’ve found a lot of good reasons to not cook – or, if I do cook, to not cook anything new or anything that requires more than a passing thought. I’m a big champion of scrambled eggs for dinner, as you likely know, and a seven-minute egg on anything that holds still, and I could eat Ed Fretwell Soup for an entire week of every month. I am currently in a very pleasant rut of all of the above, plus whatever-is-in-the-fridge-cut-up-and-dunked-in-vinaigrette and a decent amount of pizza from my own establishments, because what is the point of having restaurants if you can’t eat in them, right? Someday I will cook something new and write about it. But not today.
1. I am delighted, thrilled, everything and beyond, to announce that I will be teaching a week-long writing workshop at the Sitka Arts and Science Festival this July, in beautiful Sitka, Alaska. My workshop is on the craft of memoir, with an emphasis on place, and it’s from July 16 to 23rd. The festival is “for older teens and adults interested in exploring the intersection of art and science” and “brings together the brightest minds in art and science for exciting conversations, excursions, and workshops,” to quote liberally from its website, and one of my fellow faculty members is the artist Nikki McClure(!), whose work I have seen everywhere for years(!), but whom I’ve never met. It’s going to be a famous week. Scholarships are available, and you can register right this way. Please join us.
2. Tim Mazurek, I love you.
3. I am infinitely more comfortable in front of a microphone than in front of a camera, but Ashley talked me into doing a Facebook Live thing with her last week, and it was a really good time. We talked about motherhood and everyday cooking, and let me tell you, Ashley is a real wizard at bean doctoring. You can find our conversation on the Not Without Salt Facebook page.
4. My friend Cristina Victor is an artist, performer, and force of nature, as well as the bold hand behind the mural in the back hallway of Dino’s. Right now, she’s hard at work on raising funds for a new project, a collaboration with immigrant students in Oakland, CA, to produce a series of flags to be displayed along Telegraph Avenue. The project has received a matching grant, but in order to secure the funding, it has to raise $3600 in the next six weeks. If you’re so inclined, learn more about the project here.
6. Something I think about often and work hard to put into practice as we parent June: Nine Body Positive Terms You Need To Teach Your Daughter.
8. Also thanks to John: the not-at-all-new but totally perfect spoof “An Oral History Of Radiohead’s ‘OK Computer.’” When OK Computer came out, I was in my freshman year of college, and one of my roommates, Maggie, came home with it on CD. I remember the first time she played it. Maggie was infinitely cooler than I was, and slightly terrifying, and I probably would have tried to like any music she played, but I didn’t need any reason to love OK Computer. It blew my head off. It was sexy and weirdly, wonderfully wrenching. I decided immediately that I wanted to lose my virginity while listening to the song “Let Down,” because it was so poignant, dawwwwww, and so pretty. It was only much later that I realized that losing one’s virginity to a song called “Let Down” would be (tragi-)comedic gold. Possibly the best joke of my life, and I didn’t even notice. I’m slow on the uptake.
Have a great weekend, everybody.
Every year, my friend Brandi takes her preteen niece Paige on a trip for spring break, and this year, June and I went along. Last week, the four of us spent four days exploring the Grand Canyon and nearby Antelope Canyon, eating trail mix (the kind with M&Ms in it, the only kind), and feeling a quasi-religious level of gratitude that the flat tire we got while driving between the aforementioned canyons didn’t occur in the desolation of mid-desert but rather in the parking lot of one of only two gas stations along the route. Somehow, June is now big enough to carry her own backpack. My life passes before my eyes. Back at home, I find that we have reached, yet again,…Read more
Yesterday, my mom took June to the aquarium, and Brandon and I spent the day at Dino’s Tomato Pie, hanging photographs and making lists, getting ready to open the day after tomorrow. Like Delancey and Essex, Dino’s is owned by the two of us, but this business is more purely Brandon’s brainchild than either of the first two. I know I once said Delancey was Brandon’s baby, and then Essex was Brandon’s baby, but no, Dino’s is really, really, really Brandon’s baby. Dino’s – which is pronounced deeno, a shortened version of Brandino, the faux-talian nickname some of our friends have given Brandon – is a pizza tavern, modeled on the kind of place you find along the New Jersey Turnpike. It’s wood…Read more
Today, on the ole blog: some thoughts about cooking with a kid! After the jump! Because I totally get that not everyone wants to read about kid stuff! See you next time!Read more
On the night we got there, when we checked in, the lady at the front desk wrote out the wifi network and password on the corner of a pad of paper, ripped it free, and handed it to me. I slid it into my phone case, so that I wouldn’t lose it, and last week, three months later, I noticed it still wedged there. “How’s that Rancho Pescadero wifi working for you?” Brandon says, peering over my shoulder. “Little slow, from 2,000 miles away?” I roll my eyes, yank out the scrap of paper, and crumple it up. But when he looks away, I press it flat again and slip it back in. I first heard about Rancho Pescadero was from a couple of Delancey neighbors and longtime…Read more