Archive | Food Matters

23rd Street Explosion, Magic Rock Revolver

1986wigstockI was already asleep when news of the explosion hit the wires. Being intuitively conflict-avoidant, a sense of impending doom sent me to Poughkeepsie the day before September 11, 2001; to an Oklahoma campground the week of the 2003 blackout; up the East Williamsburg hill while Hurricane Sandy crashed elsewhere in Brooklyn and Queens. I felt those disturbances in the force anyway, though, and I feel this now. It’s what pulled me awake at 4:45 this morning, early even for me.

In the darkness I made coffee and prayed for the 29 injured by the 23rd street bomb. Then, clad in slippers and the caftan I rarely wear outside the house, I hopped into magic car Minerva and zoomed over the Williamsburg Bridge still lit up against the night sky. (The sun is so lazy this time of year.) As I drove, I wondered at the rush of energy I was feeling. Was it dissociation? Despair? No, I said loudly, and turned on the Beatles’ Revolver, which had been playing in my head since I’d woken up.

Your day breaks, your mind aches
You find that all the words of kindness linger on
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Hermine Looms, the ‘I’ Fades Away

daddy o daddyTemperatures cool, winds pick up. The doves huddle on the fire escape, permakitten creeps closer by my side. Coming up from intuition sessions I’m so wild-eyed and ravenous. Rice goes in the cooker, mushrooms and asparagus get chopped. We roast a chicken Bitman-style: sea-salted, thymed and magic-oiled, stuffed with olives, garlic, lemon, and chili peppers, cast-ironed at high, high heat. Eyebrow cocked, ogle the big sunset (too soon, too soon), then Astaire’s restless gams, Wilder’s Daddy Long Legs. Caron on the satin screen, Hermine on the horizon, summer in the rear-view mirror. Rueful, real: red wine for all.

C.J., Lemon Lobster Rice, and Me

cj creggO human people: we only can preach at other so much before our faith falters. Today I’ve read as many articles and social media posts as I can manage, written three pieces (and one vehement blog post), and walked four miles in this stupid, stupid heat. My brain is officially dry white toast. So I’m going to make lemon lobster rice and wolf it in my air-conditioned bedroom while watching episodes of “West Wing.” Who knew that show would represent a relatively halcyon era of American politics? Anywhere, here’s the recipe if you’re interested. I made it up while watching C.J. Cregg eviscerate a fashion reporter, so if it’s off, you have my ardent apologies. It tasted pretty good to me. Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy