If you bake a sweet potato properly — in its skin, with a few holes poked in it (they’ve been known to explode, in a messy but not dangerous sense) — you will get a combination of textures that no other food can offer, and with no added ingredients: sweet stickiness, from the caramelizing liquid that oozes from the inside out; a little bit of crunchy chewiness, from the parts of the skin that this liquid helps brown; a soft, velvety yet slightly leathery skin, perfectly edible; and, of course, the meltingly tender, ultra-luxurious flesh, which can range from creamy white to familiar orange to deep red and even purple, and is perhaps best enjoyed with a sprinkle of salt. (from ny times “all hail the sweet potato”edward weston.harbuttmarsha burnssandra weiner.
Archive for November, 2012
Anatomy of a Cashew (taken from Jorge Debravo’s book of poetry entitled Vórtices selected by Andres Alfaro). much better in Spanish.
Wrap your fingers around its curves. Its fruit is soft
and fragile like a heart. It has a spongy pulp and
contains the flavor of the tropics and rain inside.
Enclose it. It has, like an appendage, its seed on the
outside. It has never been a hypocrite.
How different from those fruits that love to deceive!
They appear big and round from the outside. But inside
the seeds are huge like soccer balls.
There are women who cover their faces with congealed
fats. Touching their skin gives us a strange sensation,
as if we were walking at night down a filthy, remote alley.
One of those alleys where the sun never shines as if petrified
Do you know any man, woman or child who is like
Darwin speculated that crying occurred less in Britain than in non-Western countries. More robust cross-cultural evidence comes from the Dutch psychologist A. J. J. M. Vingerhoets, who with his colleagues surveyed crying across 37 countries. Americans, Germans and Italians are more prone to tears than Bulgarians, Chinese and Peruvians. Paradoxically, people from wealthier democratic countries with moderate climates cry — or admit to crying — more frequently, and the gender differences are greater. The less hierarchical the social-class structure, the more tears flow, which is perhaps a reflection of greater individual autonomy, acceptance of emotional displays and exposure to the arts. (from Ny Times “I Cry, Therefore I Am”)
and on a completely different note:
the list of things i like as of november 5, 2012:
the weekly forecast
soft boiled eggs (the idea of, i rarely actually eat them)
sam’s beard and his moles and my moles
HIMALAYAN SEA SALT! ooooh how fancy
agave on greek yogurt
beans. farting is good for you.
pie crust. always have, always will.
alphabet letters in soup
sage on popcorn
the wind outside
pumpkin goo in my fingers, squish squish
mate: 3 cups a morn min.
mulled wine: hot spicy cinnamon german winter glow wine. the opposite of sangria, but with the same perks.
mortar and pestle
the fold you make with the comforter that you tuck your bare feet in
edgar keret, george orwell, anthologies
my first burrito!
stones vs. rocks
when the dalai lama laughed at 9.30 in the morning in vermont and there was frost outside and we suddenly felt awake and with tears in our eyes
remembering climbing trees but not feeling compelled to do it now
the list of the things i don’t like (today:
knowing the mouse is in the apartment, somewhere.
this knot under my left shoulder
arrogance (coffee server, travel agent in chinatown, arrogant…crab baby. arrogant anything)
when the kids ask who my favorite pop star is and when they sing so loud every pop song
but then again, they also tell me about the tenement buildings and about the architect who designed central park. so, it’s a balance of good and bad, but with the balance overwhelmingly tilted towards good
in other news: survived the sandy. it was fun in the dark drinking red wine by candle light but then got annoying when there was no water or power or internet or cell service. how reliant are we on internet for our news? very, but soon lower manhattan relied on word-of-mouth as the lines for public phones pushed blocks. i escaped to westchester county: the home of a german shepard, sam’s family, and tagines full of apple and raisins, eggplant, carrots. breakfast porridge with blueberries and walnuts. big cozy norweighan sweaters, walks in the frost, g&ts every night. it was heavenly.
back to the city and life will resume.
After the English lawyer Daines Barrington examined the 8-year-old Mozart in 1764, he wrote: “He had a thorough knowledge of the fundamental principles of composition. He was also a great master of modulation, and his transitions from one key to another were excessively natural and judicious.” Yet, Mozart was also clearly a child. “Whilst he was playing to me, a favorite cat came in, upon which he immediately left his harpsichord, nor could we bring him back for a considerable time. He would also sometimes run about the room with a stick between his legs by way of horse.” (from the ny times on prodigies. )(lucien clergue)