Starzstylista

Vintage Jewelry Valentine's Day Coupon! Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty girl!

2010-01-10T10:58:00.000-08:00

Django and Arabella have been digging through the treasure chest picking out "The Red Set" jewelry for the impassioned ones out there.

10% Off

Coupon code: Hip to be Square

http://www.etsy.com/shop/Starzstylista

Offer expires February 15, 2010.

I am really unhealthily obsessed with

2010-01-09T11:08:00.001-08:00

Jay Leno v. Conan O'brien. Poor Conan, that Leno is a VIPER!

I am really unhealthily obsessed with

2010-01-09T11:08:00.000-08:00

Jay Leno v. Conan O'brien. Poor Conan, that Leon is a VIPER!

Etsy Esty Etsy

2009-12-17T13:27:00.000-08:00

Who knew I would be so twee twee twee?

Movies and Me

2009-12-05T17:44:00.000-08:00

As we were watching a show on cinenmatographers, Django and I were just discussing how much movies have influenced my fashion aesthetic. No. 1 - The Conformist. So, look forward to a series of posts about my filmic fashion influences. NOW WITH SCREEN CAPTURES!

plus ca change

2009-12-05T09:00:00.000-08:00

Gastropoda remains a genius. Doughgirl scrambles an egg.

cough cough re·sus·ci·tat·ed

2009-12-04T19:04:00.000-08:00

Same old piquancy, new observations.

We should all start this thing. We could like

2009-10-16T15:17:00.001-07:00

post pictures and write stuff and kind of sort of get to know each other.

Then we could pretend we are very cool, and we have new careers based on it as writers. WRITERS! Like F Scott Fitzgerald or that guy who used to be an investment banker who wrote a book about investment bankers or Alex Balk, poor bastard.

We could call it wogging. You know like web logging! Get it? Get it? Then we could start sucking the dick of rich people in hopes of getting rich. We could go out with each other, and it could end badly. O the places we will go! To the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the fridge to see if there's a snack there.

Yes, yes. And our king will be . . . a guy in Sacramento.

So how are we all? Living in tents or what?

2009-10-16T15:13:00.000-07:00

Let me just say that I sort of hate Barack Obama. How did I not know that the president of law review would be a douche-bag? Also, I so could take Rahm Emanuel, I know I could.

The blogspot is so fancy now. Very nice. Like a new Saturn. That's a car right?

Out from Hiding.

2008-10-19T17:46:00.000-07:00

I am in Scranton volunteering for a few weeks for Barack Obama. After the peeing and laughing, this is what we need:

Kyocera Marbl for Virgin Mobile Phone = $12.99
One month of unlimited calling @$79.99

You can send to Bill Rubin from LaD @
222 Wyoming Avenue
Scranton, PA 18503.

Please help send phones.

O, and as for Scranton, after I get back maybe I will write the entire story. There is NO WHERE to get your nails done, and the clothes are just atrocious.

i went outside.

2006-05-18T17:10:00.000-07:00

now i am back inside. the sun hurt my eyes.

our daily bread

2006-01-12T20:04:00.000-08:00

my people overcome bad food capitalists. to wit.

fabulous photo entitled altamura 1973 by him. una cosa speciale, no?

re:fraction

2005-12-06T07:07:00.000-08:00

he's cute, but can he count? do you suppose he is 29 years 8 months which as she would know makes him 29.66, or is he actually 29.8 years old which makes him 29 years 9.6 months old? or does he just like the dot because he's a designer? o the enignomony of it all.

you think you've flown before, but you ain't left the ground

2005-12-01T06:34:00.000-08:00

it's a real good bet
the best is yet to come
and won't that be fine

you think you've seen the sun
but you ain't seen it shine

wait till the warm-up is underway
wait till out lips have met
wait till you see that sunshine day

you ain't seen nothin' yet
the best is yet to come
and won't that be fine

it's my birthday. hee hee. i love this getting old thing. (especially when you look young -- just ask my biggest proponent.) o and yeah, i lost like 40 lbs. when i'm old and hot i'll post a pic. when i'm ripe so to speak. then i'll just fall off the vine and rot.

no i haven't been sitting around eating bon bons

2005-11-25T09:28:00.000-08:00

i've been making them! truffles, baby.

white chocolate cheese cake covered in graham cracker
white chocolate peach covered in almond
milk chocolate malted
plan
raspberry
mocha

my daughter my wife my daughter my wife*

2005-11-23T12:37:00.000-08:00

woody allen is back? anyone who knows me knows that this is almost a holiday for me. if it's true, i rejoice.

*apologies to roman.

sorry for not posting too much kids. i've been working. as a lawyer. yeah. it's the end of the world. i may or may not go back permanently, the financial services market is back don't you know. if i do go back, i'm going to treat the b/f to the best dinner paris has to offer and screw him senseless in my favorite little hotel.

down down down into a ring of fire

2005-11-07T08:56:00.000-08:00

as anyone who has ventured outside the ceinture knows, it takes a lot of work to keep paris charmante. paris is my absolute favorite city on earth. i grew up and grew up and grew up there. i suspect if i go next month, i will grow up some more. however, it really is time for french intellectuals and radicals alike to take an agressive public stand with respect to france's racially charged economic and class issues. the french, however endearing i find them and however infuriating many plebian americans find them, love to cluck and tsk about america and our racial problems, often underscoring how france has always embraced blacks. so now, it is morning in france -- hangover morning.

anya kramenetz -- an insightful village voice writer

2005-11-04T08:27:00.000-08:00

writes about counter recruitment this week. i did one of these trainings about 4 years ago. it was given by some lefties from philly at friends seminary if i recall correctly. i made lunch for the 60 or so people that were there -- little brown bags with sandies, fruit, chips & cookies (very cute).

the stories the trainers told about phone calls they received from scared 18 year olds who had been co-erced into the military were just riveting. the tactics recruiters use to pressure these kids are just outrageous -- like telling them they could change their minds, signing them up drunk, showing up at their houses .(i wish i could remember more details -- those i forgot. the outrage i remember.) the recruiters are salesmen; they work on commission. so you can imagine what that means.

what really surprised me were how much bullshit the much touted gi benefits were -- training, money for college etc. it's not your grandfather's gi bill. it's kind of bait and switch with the bottom line being benefits are tiny, job training random with recruits required to re-up to receive them at all. i think everybody should take the training. i never actually did field any phone calls. (i'm more of a kind of feed the people who take the action kind of girl), but the information i obtained was invaluable.

daum as a post

2005-11-02T11:11:00.000-08:00

poor meghan daum came to new york and couldn't quite make it here -- so she moved to the cornhusker state. to be honest, however, i find her dilemma just a tad puzzling. not only didn't she move to brooklyn which is clotted with aspiring young writers, she didn't even try some of the tried and true methods making a go of it. to wit:

1. stripping -- she looks thin enough and in 6 months she'd be the proud owner of some prodigious tatas.

2. marrying up -- and i use this term loosely. hookup with someone who can afford the lifestyle to which you aspire. it's like a get out of jail free card for girls. unfortunately, the upshot here is that if you actually do get married you're going to be living in the suburbs with a couple of caterwauling brats in five years (and be mommy blogging to convince people you DID SO used to be cool.) so it's really like a get of county jail free and go to the federal pen (for life) card.

3. do 24 different jobs -- you know cater waiter, dogwalker, babysitter. gotta love those energetic strugglers. if you have any talent and you will do some sterling sucking up to your rich patron -- kaboom, you're IN!

4. be a mistress -- light housekeeping, high benefits, must enjoy being alone.

5. get a law degree or mba or develop some other useful skills.

i must admit i was partial to 4 & 5 with slight digressions into 2 & 3. i never became a stripper, because at a very young age i had a room-mate who was. after watching her decompensate for 8 months, i said -- when i start taking my clothes off for money, i'm gonna be a hooker. this penchant for cost-benefit analyses and pareto optimal resolution is what drove me into law school. law and prostitution = peanut butter & jelly.

what really caught my attention in that article though was this" $45 dinners. $45 dinnners???!!!! yeah, they'll break you every time.

so the michelin guide nyc out

2005-11-01T12:13:00.000-08:00

i'm too busy to post fully about this, but suffice it to say i've eaten at about 85% of the 1-2-3 stars (and 3/4 of the 3 stars -- i have not been able to force myself to per se and pay for, you know, good shopping). i think it's mostly right, but i'm surprised daniel only got 2. i had one of the most sublime meals there c. 1995 or so. also, i had to laugh to myself thinking about all our illustrious *cough* restaurant bloggers. i wonder how many have been to louie 15? i went in 1990, when they were 15. (i crack myself up.)

it's good to be old.

this is the scariest halloween on record

2005-10-31T09:25:00.000-08:00

scarier than night of the living dead. it's day of the living dead.

madonna, honey

2005-10-29T01:55:00.000-07:00

if you wore this outfit in 1975 trying to get into studio 54 you can't really wear it again 30 years later. and i know you did.

hey judy welcome to a fresh hell

2005-10-29T01:32:00.000-07:00

my friend judy mcguire lately of new york press has started a blog here. welcome to the world of writing for free, jude. but don't worry, soon i'm sure some enterprising blogger/intern is going to devise a way in which writers will start paying for the privilege of writing thus making us nostalgic for the good old days when we could write for free.

also judy you so owe me. see how i made you ten years younger than i? by all accounts you're now 28ish. i'm going to take that little favor out in trade -- i'll make you write my next set of wedding vows (or the ones after that).

our halloween costumes

2005-10-27T13:07:00.000-07:00

as the b/f said when i said: guess which one you'll be?

WOOF.

my second choice was heckle & jekyll -- but i can't ever think of anybody but my baby brother as my magpie cohort. i would say these two are a tad more sophisticated having popped up in alphaville of all places.

it has been an incredibly dreary fall here in new york

2005-10-25T14:21:00.000-07:00

save for the little sac&mac evening a couple of weeks ago, nothing has tempted me to leave hearth and home. so today -- just out of sheer boredom and idle curiousity -- i went to expedia to see if i could get a flight to paris for my birthday. it was only $424 roundtrip. zut! i couldn't believe it. i can't afford not to go. it's just the antidote for the tedium that has lately been nyc. my petite boite is waiting as are some excruciatingly thin chocolates on rue notre dame des champs.

to all you bloggers -- yeah you know who you are --

2005-10-21T07:44:00.000-07:00

the ones on the VERGE. go see this movie about arthur kane. he was famous. he was particularly famous down down down on the lower east side. you know. "YOUR NABE."

my favorite new york dolls story:

i was sitting in manic panic trying on shoes. i was always trying on shoes when this little guy comes in. it's like 1978 or something. he sits down and says "nice shoes." i say "thanks." he says he's there to see tish and snookie, because he has these sweaters for them. nice sweaters. he says "i like to knit." i'm like "nice sweaters. cool hobby for a guy." he says "yeah." he says "my name is syl." i say "i'm maryann. hi." tish or snooky comes back from wherever she was and takes the sweaters. he leaves. it was syl sylvain erstwhile ny doll.

such a nice boy.

the new york press shit-canned

2005-10-19T11:07:00.000-07:00

my friend judy mcguire. i always thought she was wasting her time writing about sex and relationships. that is really the bottom of the barrel journalistically. hell, even i did it. that's how easy it is. of course there are some intelligent and literate sex writers, dan savage comes to mind, but for the most part that shit makes me hit the snooze button. i think you should live a life full of strange sexual escapades and monumental love affairs not write about them.

i met judy when we worked at high times together. she was just starting her career then and despite the fact that i was 10 years older than she -- and determinedly seeking "credentials" -- i recognized sheer youthful talent when i saw it. it pained me how well she wrote and (this the very highest praise from an editor) she had EXCELLENT grammar. i always say it's a bitch to be smart and perceptive enough to know how far short you fall when you meet someone with the real goods. she had the goods o boy.

i think this is great for judy. nobody reads the new york tabloid weeklies any more really (they're like the tv guide) and frankly the ny press has been piece of crap for such a long time. i hope this frees her up to write another novel or kicks her into a more worthy journalistic arena. she knows she'd be an upstoppable crime reporter. come to think of it maybe i ought to put her in touch with krucoff, but i think she's used to getting paid (such a quaint notion now).

rebbe yell

2005-10-11T07:41:00.000-07:00

well this puts the kibosh on the imminent release of my tone poem: don't schmear him he's schneerson (call him man, call him moishiach). thanks b/f.

what have i been doing lo these many silent days?

2005-10-10T22:27:00.000-07:00

o well practicing my turkey deboning technique of course. i'm toying with turducken for the thanksgiving, but i probably won't. what i have discovered is this: since light and dark meat require two entirely different approaches why bother cooking the whole bird at all? thusly, i have been playing my favorite food game with the economic bird, using EVERY BIT. i use a 3-pronged approach. here's how i proceed:

1. peel the skin off the thing in as big a piece as possible.

2. cut it in down the back.

3. cut the top half from the bottom.

4. debone the breast. retain carcass.

5. brine* the breast overnight. keeping skin separate.**

6. remove the rest of the meat from the bones.

7. make stock with bones (including neck which will have been tucked into the cavity of the bird) and wings. alternatively you can use the wings separately in a spate of ways ie fried, buffalo, baked. they are great -- crunch crunch crunch.

8. either grind all the dark and non-breast meat for turkey burgers or (and i love this recipe) braise it in red wine and serve as filling in cabbage rolls.

9. after breast has brined. rinse it off and dry it. bring the breast and the skin to room temperature. make tarragon/garlic butter and spread it thickly on both sides of the breast.***

10. roll the breast up. take the skin. DRY off the skin (as dry as possible). wrap it around the breast so you have like a package -- a swaddled turkey breast if you will -- and secure the skin with metal skewers, toothpicks or sew it up with a larding**** or trussing needle. butter the skin. use the high temperature roasting***** technique. i roast at about 450 degrees throughout to internal temperature of 160.

at the end of this procedure -- and my aim is to get the deboning down to about 7 minutes -- which only takes about an hour (not counting the various cooking and brining times) you have more than a week's worth of meals, moreover, meals which can be varied ie the breast with gravy (made from the giblets), turkey breast sandwiches, turkey salad, tarragon turkey pot pie, burgers, stew, barley soup using the stock as a base. all of it can be frozen except for the breast which would suffer texturally i think. it could, however, be frozen before cooking.

*i am well aware of the brining controversy, particularly of the opinion of harold mcgee. in my opinion however brining improves both taste and texture.

**brining only the breast meat and keeping the skin separate solves the problem of flabby skin that many brined birds have. i like crispy skin. if you brine the skin it is difficult (even with the recommended overnight air-drying) to obtain crispy skin.

***my intention is to experiment with this subcutaneous basting/light stuffing. i will most certainly use a duxelles, but i am also considering thin sliced bacon directly on the breast below the skin complemented by a light cornbread stuffing. the possibilities are endless.

**** as far as i am concerned, there is far too little larding in this world. i encourage all home cooks to lard and lard often. it's one of those little cooking techniques which has been lost in our fat-free flavor-free era. it can transform inexpensive cuts.

*****brined turkey breast cooks in about 2/3 of the time. the high temperature ensures a crisp skin and since the breast has been brined, it will not consequently dry out.

i miss

2005-09-29T13:31:00.000-07:00

bucky fuller.

womb days.
womb days.
dear old tummy tomb days.

never one to avoid kvelling about my prescient excellent taste

2005-09-28T08:09:00.000-07:00

and good sense (i refrained from an "i told you so" once in 1983), i submit for your approval the sad sad state of the time warner culinary kingdom -- buh bye pedestrian mall and pedestrian food.

I TOLD YOU SO.

well i AM sort of royalty being born in the kugel capital of the universe and all.

let's drink to the nouveau new yorkers

2005-09-22T15:18:00.000-07:00

(or meet me at the corner of west 4 & west 12).

the next time you turn to a definitive new york food blog, check mapquest to make sure the intersection or indeed the region exists.

pov

2005-09-18T19:07:00.000-07:00

She came from Greece she had a thirst for knowledge,
she studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College,
that's where I,
caught her eye.
She told me that her Dad was loaded,
I said "In that case I'll have a rum and coca-cola."
She said "Fine."
and in thirty seconds time she said,

"I want to live like common people,
I want to do whatever common people do,
I want to sleep with common people,
I want to sleep with common people,
like you."

Well what else could I do -
I said "I'll see what I can do."
I took her to a supermarket,
I don't know why but I had to start it somewhere,
so it started there.
I said pretend you've got no money,
she just laughed and said,
"Oh you're so funny."
I said "yeah?
Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here.

Are you sure you want to live like common people,
you want to see whatever common people see,
you want to sleep with common people,
you want to sleep with common people,
like me."

But she didn't understand,
she just smiled and held my hand.
Rent a flat above a shop,
cut your hair and get a job.
Smoke some fags and play some pool,
pretend you never went to school.
But still you'll never get it right,
cos when you're laid in bed at night,
watching roaches climb the wall,
if you call your Dad he could stop it all.

You'll never live like common people,
you'll never do what common people do,
you'll never fail like common people,
you'll never watch your life slide out of view,
and dance and drink and screw,
because there's nothing else to do.

Sing along with the common people,
sing along and it might just get you through,
laugh along with the common people,
laugh along even though they're laughing at you,
and the stupid things that you do.
Because you think that poor is cool.

I want to live with common people,
I want to live with common people etc...

LOVE LOVE LOVE wm shatner's cd has been. what a guy.

food glorious food

2005-09-16T14:42:00.000-07:00

yes as you may have guessed i am as a happy as a thirteen year old on quaaludes that roman polanski's oliver twist will be out at the end of the month. in the meantime i applaud this guy. at least he is actually telling me something i don't know, unlike, for example, the food section of the new york times.

i must confess, i have eaten natto. my dining companion, at that time about 3.5ish years old, gave the definitive gustatory pronouncement i think: tastes like snot. i had to agree although i think it does injustice to some of the snot i have sampled.

bill clinton's behaviour in this new orleans debacle

2005-09-07T09:48:00.000-07:00

is positively revolting. his bipartisan spirit is so clearly in service to hilary clinton's potential candidacy. he should be denouncing bush, not doing spin.

well apparently now t-rex is that thing with feathers

2005-09-06T22:33:00.000-07:00

very glam.

give me your tired your poor your huddled masses and i'll put them in a stadium and call it home

2005-09-06T09:02:00.000-07:00

Barbara Bush: Things Working Out 'Very Well' for Poor Evacuees from New Orleans

By E&P Staff

Published: September 05, 2005 7:25 PM ET updated 8:00 PM

NEW YORK

Accompanying her husband, former President George
H.W.Bush, on a tour of hurricane relief centers in
Houston, Barbara Bush said today, referring to the
poor who had lost everything back home and evacuated, "This is working very well for them."

The former First Lady's remarks were aired this
evening on American Public Media's "Marketplace"
program.

She was part of a group in Houston today at the
Astrodome that included her husband and former
President Bill Clinton, who were chosen by her son,
the current president, to head fundraising efforts for
the recovery. Sen. Hilary Clinton and Sen. Barack
Obama were also present.

In a segment at the top of the show on the surge of
evacuees to the Texas city, Barbara Bush said: "Almost
everyone I’ve talked to says we're going to move to
Houston."

Then she added: "What I’m hearing which is sort of
scary is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is
so overwhelmed by the hospitality.

"And so many of the people in the arena here, you
know, were underprivileged anyway, so this--this (she
chuckles slightly) is working very well for them."

via Editor and Publisher

kayne west shall lead them

2005-09-02T21:34:00.000-07:00

get this.

on grammatology

2005-09-02T13:26:00.000-07:00

the results are not acceptable.

mistakes were made.

my new obsession is death deadness la morte the end le fin shuffling off the

2005-09-01T09:33:00.000-07:00

mortal coil leaving this vale of tears

not surprising. i'm always obsessed with some thing or other: quail eggs, cashmere, 12th century saints, freud, breech birth, the altar at pergamom, coco chanel, children, childhood, menses, yogurt, claude troisgros, brackets v. braces. this death thing is incredibly elegant and all consuming. it will be interesting to see where it leads.

in other news, mr. mento has made a very public pronouncement. of course, my response to this sort of thing is to do the complete opposite. i did get a giggle out of the laid off dad's comment: "you are always ahead of the curve." in the olden days when someone said he was going to do something because others had, we called that following the crowd. see how times change? now when you are doing what everyone else is doing, you are an original. so much simpler.

quit yinning my yang or proceed with caution.

2005-08-31T10:45:00.000-07:00

today's food section continues their ongoing series -- does series imply an ending? okay nightmare -- about the overeducated upper middle class's obssession with "local, seasonal and sustainable agriculture mak[ing] sense for the taste buds, the body and the planet* -- clean green and organic. these types have been around a long time. while such a diet does produce whiny uptight bitches, they are freaking long-lived whiny uptight bitches. i bet i knew their mothers.

when i was but an errant teenager living with a man much too old and much too dangerous for my own good, we were constantly honored guests to slumming richies living the macrobiotic lifestyle. in those days of course you went to lofts in soho and tribeca full of ferns and large art installations and smoked dope and ate course after course of brown food always capped by a glum chewy nutty oaty dried fruity dessert. no coffee. herbal tea. arrgh!!

luckily mr. mad bad and dangerous to know was a self-made outlaw and had the wherewithal to take the cherry bomb out for late night chinese or, if i was really lucky, to coney island for a couple of dogs and a quick scoot on the wonderwheel. i was an asset to the business after all. so when i read about these two i had a kind of an acid flashback moment.

the only people i have ever met who were able to live this lifestyle (ie tiny food waste margin) and produce anything near palatable food have been poor. i think when you are poor, or born poor, the impulse is to make food taste good rather than advance a political agenda. therefore the end product is a work of art not a polemic.

when you have a pair like these two in the article who clean out their refrigerator and then search epicurious (i kid you not), you are truly taking your life into your own hands when you go over their house to eat. not to mention that people who are this serious about food are bound to be tedious at dinner and wherever** as they are forever advancing an agenda. have you ever been out to dinner with a vegan? kind of tyranical aren't they?

so i say, beware of these scrap savers they will most assuredly be crap servers.

*everytime i hear dicta like this it makes me reach for my gun. thank you mr. hermann goring.

**the outlaw b/f and i used to laugh and laugh about the numerous times the husbands and lovers of the humourless macrobiotresses would try to get in my panties when the "women" as in "hear me roar" would be congregating comparing handloomed whatever.

my nerves are an overwrought jangle after spending

2005-08-29T17:55:00.000-07:00

a restful long weekend in bucolic bucolia. i detest the country despite the fact that the upper hudson river and its environs contain some of the most lovely natural beauty in the country, but even i must admit that our trip to olana possessed something of a 1001 nights in arden appeal.

i'm sure a couple of days in the sweltering city is all i need to calm my frazzled spirit.

p.s. as you can see cooking and movies will be a little off while we attend to more momentous activities.

there's going to be a big march on washington protesting the war

2005-08-26T12:48:00.000-07:00

Saturday, September 24
Massive March, Rally & Festival
Gather 11 AM at the Washington Monument
March steps off at 12:30 PM

Sat., Sept. 24 - Operation Ceasefire Concert
Sun., Sept. 25 - Interfaith Service, Grassroots Training
Mon., Sept. 26 - Grassroots Congressional Lobby Day and Mass Nonviolent Direct Action and Civil Disobedience

if anyone needs transportation or information, feel free to contact me or go to the war resisters league website.

also, i'd like to remind everyone to support the war resisters league antiwar vigil in union square every saturday from 12 p.m. to 2 p.m. (you can stand with them; just stop buy and show your support, or, what i like to do -- bring coffee (in the winter) or cold drinks in the summer.

An eye for eye only ends up making the whole world blind. -- Mohandas Gandhi

i'm too fond of

2005-08-17T08:31:00.000-07:00

fond to cook sous vide on any regular basis, but it is the perfect cuisine for people in a constant state of existential crisis like me. what better activity than to cook and cook and never get anywhere?

in the sunday paper we had another swooning essay by amanda hesser* on this subject -- which only ran about 2500 words too long -- the main flaw of which was a troubling paucity of information. i have to say that hesser's style reminds me of nothing so much as the teen 'zines of my childhood which cloyingly and gushingly discussed the merits of such long forgotten idols as bobby sherman and jack wild. hey little woman!

for a more thorough examination for people who want to try the technique (which of course you shouldn't because you could kill somebody, but that only enhances the allure for me), i recommend the egullet board and for a brief summary sautee wednesday. a few months ago the b/f (who i have come to endearingly call "igor") and i got a vacuum packer. it's been great. we, like the young chefs who reduced the clothes of new chefs to hockey puck sized packages, vacuum packed everything. the b/f loves it particularly for preserving bagels which require a pilgrimmage to a very special bagel store in brooklyn that by consensus of the teachers in my mother's school has the best bagels.** we have been intending to try sous vide since then, but the summer months are just not conducive to setting aside 30 or 40 hours to baby a lamb shank bath at 110 degrees.

so, since we have the tools, the b/f and i intend to begin a significant fall/winter sous vide project. the problem is stablizing the low temperature. we considered a fish tank heater. (we briefly considered this for yogurt-making, but finally settled on the swaddling electric blanket in the bathtub method), but apparently the way to go is one of these (not too big an investment considering the hours of fun in the kitchen it will provide).

*the single most significant line in the article was how m. bruno goussault arrived the at 64.5 degrees centigrade in which to cook his egg -- it was the temperature that joel roubochon had determined made the perfect egg. as with all things all the science in the world cannot substitute for the touch of god.

**trust me new york city public school teachers know. i doubt there is a profession that consumes more bagels, cream cheese and lox. they NEVER have a meeting without bagels. i think it's in their contract.

o yeah, who's laughing boy? louis-camille maillard. he's smokin'. really.

noted cuisiphiles re-enact the kelly/brenda prom dress debacle

2005-08-16T13:59:00.000-07:00

has anyone ever seen these two in a room together?

i should quote the oft quoted and most quotable gastropoda more often (but i've been too busy vacuum packing big macs) -- there shall be nothing less than 4 star food in my bomb shelter.

there's a fire in my panties

2005-08-15T17:11:00.000-07:00

and i want him to put it out.

friday afternoon poetry

2005-08-12T15:33:00.000-07:00

Are you there?

Each lover has some theory of his own
About the difference between the ache
Of being with his love, and being alone:

Why what, when dreaming, is dear flesh and bone
That really stirs the senses, when awake,
Appears a simulacrum of his own.

Narcissus disbelieves in the unknown;
He cannot join his image in the lake
So long as he assumes he is alone.

The child, the waterfall, the fire, the stone,
Are always up to mischief, though, and take
The universe for granted as their own.

The elderly, like Proust, are always prone
To think of love as a subjective fake;
The more they love, the more they feel alone.

Whatever view we hold, it must be shown
Why every lover has a wish to make
Some kind of otherness his own:
Perhaps, in fact, we never are alone.

--WH Auden

on my to do list

2005-08-12T13:45:00.000-07:00

the edukators -- but not at ifc of course.

food stuffs

2005-08-12T10:09:00.000-07:00

as usual there is a fair amount of research and development going on at the lad/bf household. i have a tendency to make the same recipes over and over with slight variations until i get something i like. then i immediately stop making it, and the next time i make it i forget what i did. i'm a searcher, what can i say? here's what i learned:

jam
make it in the microwave, it's a perfect. no direct heat means less chance of burning and no stirring. use as little sugar as possible for the fruit and add a squeeze of lemon which helps the pectin coagulate. the smallest screen on the food mill is good enough to get the seeds out of raspberries -- although i must say, i'd have to get one of those french screen things to make it absolutely seedless.

shortbread
i used 2 cups of flour -- 1/4 c. of which is rice flour. better than confectioner's sugar -- process sugar until it's finer than castor/bar sugar but not yet confectioner's. also reducing the sugar by 10% makes a shorter product -- more tender. i want to get these cookies right so i can make royal shortbread and sandwich cookies (with the homemade jam) for my mother's card parties. o the ladies will love them!

gnocchi
i've been making gnocchi forever. research was completed by great, to the 14th power, nonna. we just love them. i made them really as an excuse to eat ripe fresh tomatoes.

people really seem to have a hard time with gnocchi, but really it's much easier than homemade pasta. here's the deal:

get a big old baking potato. the more mature the better. boil the potato at a tender boil. if you boil it too hard the skin comes off and it gets all water-logged -- not good. for light fluffy gnocchi potato shold be light and fluffy.

now here's the thing about italian cooking, but really all cooking, but i always think about it re: italian cooking. you have got to do it like you're making love (and i'm not even kidding). i mean when you have to be hard, like kneading foccacia, you have to be hard. when you have to be soft, you have to be soft. with gnocchi you have to be soft.

let the potato cool off enough to peel it. it's better warm -- but you don't have to hurt yourself. put it through the food mill* (you can mash, but the mill gives you a lighter product). for a big old potato i put in:

2/3-3/4 cup flour
1 egg yolk
pinch of salt
pat of butter

the thing is with gnocchi you have to be gentle gentle like with a baby. take the bowl with the potato. mix in the yolk and the butter. make sure the potato isn't too hot and the egg doesn't cook. you know mix it around quickly. use the wooden spoon, then use your hands -- i do.

add 1/3 c. flour mix in with a wooden spoon. it will be like stiff mash potatoes. flour a board. mix in the rest of the flour into the potato. this is important: ADD AS LITTLE FLOUR AS YOU CAN MANAGE TO MAKE DOUGH. (i used less than 2/3 of a cup last night.) do this all gently. don't compress it. just knead lightly. it shouldn't be resilient. ie when you press it, it should stay pressed.

roll the dough into a rope about 1/2 in diameter (they'll get bigger so keep them on the small side.) cut 1/2 - 3/4 inch pieces on the diagonal. make a little depression on the top with the back of a wooden spoon. (the traditional is to roll a fork over them, but i like the depression, it's the way my gradmother did it.)

in a large pot of boiling salted water put in about half the gnocchi. COOK THEM ONLY UNTIL THEY RISE TO THE SURFACE. (only a couple of minutes) gently, gently scoop them out using a spider. put them in the simmering sauce which should be in a wide low saucepan. cook the remaining gnocchi. keep in sauce for a minute or so.

put on plate. cover with parmigianno reggiano. eat immediately.

people say gnocchi don't keep, but you know -- i've kept leftovers and zapped them the next day and i, and whoever, was always happy to eat them. as for sauce. you can put anything on gnocchi and they'll taste good.

brown butter, sage and parm (this is good for pumpkin gnocchi)
marinara
bolognese (you know from emilia romano)
pesto i bet

this time of the year i am always looking for ways to use fresh tomatoes and this is my favorite sauce for gnocchi. get 2lbs fresh egg tomatoes; takes skins off. cut out core and seeds. chop them coarsely. salt. add 4 T butter and 1/2 onion cut in half. simmer until the butter and tomatoes separate -- 20 to 40 min. take out the onion. toss the gnocchi briefly with this sauce and add parm and it's heaven. a chiffonade of basil at the end would be great too.

here's few tips for larger batches. use 1 pot/2/3 cup flour per about 2 servings. cook the gnocchi in small batches. keep the cooked unsauced gnocchi in a warmed pasta serving bowl (you know wide and shallow). when they are all cooked toss with sauce.

i'll probably make them again this weekend. the b/f has been too lazy and busy to take pics (and let me tell you the scones, creme and jam were gorgeous), i'll try to take step by step pics.

also with all gnocchi and even hand made pasta if they don't come out don't fret. throw them away and make macaroni. we all have failures. just keep trying. eventually they'll be edible and eventually they'll be perfect.

*a food mill or at the very least a ricer is an absolute essential for the serious cook. i don't really think you can make truly excellent mashed potatoes without them. for average the old masher is okay, but for transcendent silkiness the ricer is the way to go.

i'm such a new yorker

2005-08-11T14:01:00.000-07:00

the thing that bothered me most about this whole story was: "the priest's 2 million dollar beach house." so saint peter.

the shag is always with us -- a sordid boon

2005-08-11T06:14:00.000-07:00

i. marianne faithful, 1962

ii. jane fonda, bree daniels, 1971

iii. joan jett, rock star, 1981

iv. leah, suicide girl, brooklyn, ny 2005

v. sarah harper, new york mag beautiful person/student/waitress, 2005

are iv and v the same person or a incredible simulation?

owing to the popularity of the sublime

2005-08-11T06:06:00.000-07:00

il conformista is being held over at the film forum until the 23rd.

rabbit-eared

2005-08-09T01:00:00.000-07:00

read louis menand's fantastic article in the new yorker about edmund wilson. cranky eddie has a eery reasonance. that's scary.

and who is hotter than louis menand? (if you go for that big brain thing, and who doesn't?) nobody. NOBODY. that's who.

can't touch this

2005-08-08T13:40:00.000-07:00

the new her.

i have only been sporadically successful at keeping a diary

2005-08-08T09:47:00.000-07:00

and for some reason, they always disappear at breakups. although i never begrudge those guys anything. it's like who gets the photos.

keeping different listblogs satisfies my organizing and categorizing impulse. yes that very same impulse that sent me to law school. remind me to kill that impulse.

i know i could keep this on my hard drive, but this is easier and more memorial. so for myself and anyone else who is interested, food i cook. food i eat out i'll put in another color, purple maybe. i'll decide when i get there. and i i think i will switch the templates as i black is more suited to the movies perhaps.

il conformista

2005-08-08T08:50:00.000-07:00

has there ever been a more visually stunning movie? perhaps not.

simple story. intellectuals salivate over the petit bourgeoisie -- sandrelli looks just like a succulent poulet roti bonne femme in this movie -- while the bourgeoisie lust after brute power; power is hot to f*ck or dominate -- it's synonymous to them isn't it? -- intellectuals.

one of the funniest scenes: the innocent young newlywed sandrelli confesses on their honeymoon to clerici she isn't virgin having had sex at "a well developed 15" with uncle "perpuzio"*; a little startled, clerici asked how long it had gone on, she innocently and slyly answers: "6 years." hilarious.

*the names alone speak tomes and bertolucci is brilliant at depicting romans with their ci ci ci sprinkled over everything ( as my professor used to say) like parmesan cheese.

i'm going today again. vittorio storaro's cinematography alone is like master class in composition and design.

wouldn't these girls

2005-08-04T17:11:00.000-07:00

look good in the cathedral in siena?

well i'm going to start a film log. ecclectic i'm sure.

well this guy

2005-08-04T16:12:00.000-07:00

is like a genius -- the unfortunately named burritoboy. see sac. see how tolerant i am. i even allowed the b/f to eat one in the house yesterday. i think i'm going to make them, to see if a can make them taste good. but, as god is my witness, NO overbloated zeppelins.

on a related note, there was a guy on the ultimate film contest who went through leonard maltin's film book and made database of all the movies he saw, rating them and cross-referencing them. why is this something i want to do? my only problem is i sometimes i forget i saw a movie -- renting them twice. this happened with truffaut's small change.

let me applaud and underscore

2005-08-03T14:26:00.000-07:00

the ever-sagacious cinetrix's recommendation, to those of us who can, to go the film forum for il conformista.

there is a film pantheon, and this movie is, without a doubt, in it.

the breakout performance in the movie belonged to dominique sanda, and although i preferred the looks of certain other more masculine stars of the 70s -- most notably faye dunaway and charlotte rampling -- ds turned out more than a couple of monumental performances during the 70s, most notably, this role and michel in garden of the finzi-continis. these movies are based on books by alberto moravia and giorgio bassani. read the books they are better than the movies.

you know people my age, and even more so those a little older than i, are obsessed with ww2 and the rise of fascism. maybe because in our early lives many of the heroes and villians of that era were still alive. european filmmakers, particularly those who were children and young adults during the 30s and 4os, were obsessed with it and could not explore the subject often enough. this, despite what this nuance deficient dolt at gothamist may think of his character,* is what makes polanski, in my book, the greatest. the holocaust informs 90% of his work.

i LOVED movies about those decades of dissolution. a couple of faves with dunaway and rampling** are voyage of the damned and the damned, they're just so stylish and seductive (much like the fascists themselves must have been). to be honest, alot of my pre-pubscent entrancement had to do with the clothes. i love bias-cut white silk and marcel waves, there are entirely too little of them in our world. (i even wore black leather boots and a monocle a la dunaway for a couple of months when i was 17 or so. as punk rock style, it seemed right.)

*i can't help but refer to this little hysterical diatribe as the distinct charmlessness of the bourgeoisie. the spineless remark really burned me considering rp's parents died in concentration camps, and he escaped from the warsaw ghetto. i'd bet zlotys to chrusciki that the author didn't have to forage for food in the suburbs of her adolesence.

**i also love the night porter, but that movie is always a subject of great dispute.

god knows that these internets are full of

2005-08-03T09:47:00.000-07:00

unself-examined folks of questionable (questionable? that is far too kind. BAD, yes BAD) taste and judgment. happily, the internets are redeemed by fellows like manolo who seem to possess unerring good taste, insight and a sense of humour. for a further view into this man for all seasons see this interview on if.

palio has reopened

2005-08-03T09:24:00.000-07:00

i was always unimpressed by the food, but sandro chia's mural is captivating (and a nod to my fave). if you've never been, go. it's very la vida toscana.

the palio in siena is on my to do list as is its groovy cathedral.

stawberry statement

2005-08-02T11:03:00.000-07:00

i'm going to the greenmarket this weekend to forage for berries so i can put up jam. also, i'll make one of my fave bistro desserts: gratin des fruits rouges: groseilles, framboises fraises des bois, cassis, mûres, myrtilles and put them in a gratin dish spread them with creme anglaise and top with coarse sugar. run it under the broiler and you have a gratin des fruits rouges.

i am absolutely obsessed with this movie

2005-08-01T18:00:00.000-07:00

and i want to know more about it. so if anybody knows anything: comment or email. and please don't send me the results of your nexis/lexis and google searches. surprise! i know how to do that too. but if you've seen it or have specialized knowledge let me know.

and yes.

i know the english title.

i know the photo is oversized. such is my love.

jim jarmusch is most eloquent about the ev

2005-08-01T17:41:00.000-07:00

in sunday's paper.

During the late 70's in New York, anything seemed possible. You could make a movie or a record and work part time, and you could find an apartment for 160 bucks a month. And the conversations were about ideas. No one was talking about money. It was pretty amazing. But looking back is dangerous. I don't like nostalgia.'' He smiled. ''But, still, damn, it was fun. I'm glad I was there.''

yeah damn it was fun; i'm glad i was there.

and o who didn't love

the del-byzanteens

ein bisschen Weltuntergang, ein bisschen Witz

no i have not

2005-07-28T13:54:00.000-07:00

declined; i'm a meme behind is all.

indeed, without the inspiration of you and him my life would be utterly without meaning.

she f*ucked with her boots on.

2005-07-28T09:16:00.000-07:00

rank and skank.

there's a photo of my neighbor* in today's nytimes.

the paper of record today features the summer boot.

this is a strand in a 20 something style that i have come to term "rank and skank."

i'm not talking about the tiny little chic hobo-ey sara crewe-ishness of the olsen twins. no this is more foul.

it consists of young women, the pudgy and emaciated alike, walking around with stringy disgusting hair, showing entirely too much unappealing pasty flesh and swathing themselves in the cheapest and most dowdy of h&m garb. it gives me a shiver. the boots, no socks, minskirt thing is part of it, but however hot these misguided girls think they look, their feet smell like fresh kills. how do i know?

sometime in 1978, i was the proud owner of a pair of super hot fry boots. one august i thought it would be a fab fashion statement to pair them with a 50's style skirted cotton bathing suit, which, owning to my diminutive size at that time, hung on me like a mini sundresss. i LOVED that dress, it was covered in a print of little records (maybe 1.5" across) each having a different 50s colored label -- turquoise, salmon etc. i loved it.

when i got home that evening, not only did my feet look like they had been run through a meat tenderizer, but they smelled like walt frazier's hamper. never again. plus it didn't look hot. it looked sleazy (a word apparently not within the fashion vernacular of some 20-30 year olds).

i beg you girls, BUY THREE WAY MIRRORS, or at the very least, keep your boots on while having sex during that precious fourth period-free f*ck week that you have so strategically planned by overdosing on birth control pills.**

*she's always nice to me, but uh, thanks deb: "I like that they are such an old-school thing, something people were doing a long time ago in the 80's," Ms. Kuhn, 29, noted blithely.

**you know that sound a rusted hinge makes when you try to work it back and forth? this i imagine is the sound of a penis entering and withdrawing the vagina of the period-free sprite.

the apt renovation is going well and

2005-07-27T22:01:00.000-07:00

i think i found a contractor i can trust!

once again the brillant manolo

2005-07-27T17:10:00.000-07:00

comparing donald trump to nero.

per la mia nonna

2005-07-27T13:54:00.000-07:00

i probably learned more about cooking from my maternal grandmother than i did in cooking school and by running my cafe combined. i still try to reproduce her roast chicken, escarole salad, stuffed lobsters and linguine con vongole, but mere ingredients can never reproduce love and security.

little did i realize how ethereal those days were. my grandmother came to this country at 15 by herself, her younger sister and brother in her charge. her mother had died, and as far as i could ascertain, she and her siblings were forced into a type of indentured servitude at the hands of her new stepmother who had something like 14 kids. this is the manifest of her ship the conte rosso.

in late summer, the memories of my grandparents are so strong. in their yard they grew (among other things): lettuce, tomatoes, radishes, pnions, beans, squash, figs and grapes as well as a host of herbs. organically we might say, but they were too poor to buy fertilizer and would have been horrified if chemicals besmirched the fruits of their labors.

at dinner time, my grandmother would take a large handle-less basket and go and pick a salad. every time i eat frigid lettuce and hothouse tomatoes i remember my grandmother's salad which, even though she ran the ingredients under cold water, retained the day's warmth within. the insalata was dressed with olive oil and the vinegar my grandfather made along with wine he made annually.

during these sultry days of our heat wave, i have been not cooking just as my grandmother would have.

pasta alla checca

1lb spaghetti, capellini, spaghettini, linguine fine, linguine (you get the picture)
some, i have no idea, a lb of tomatoes -- i like organic cherry tomatoes, but anything vine ripened and in season would be good
olive oil
basil
garlic
salt & pepper
1 buffalo mozzarella

3 or so hours before dinner. mix oo with chopped tomatoes -- take out seeds and that white thing but retain as much juice as possible, chopped garlic, chiffonade of basil, salt and pepper and mozzarella cut in 1/2" cubes. some times i leave the basil out until the last minute, gives it a fresher, more potent taste.

cook pasta. don't drain it. just pull it out of the water. i fish out the mozzarella cubes from the oo. mix oo w pasta to coat. add a little pasta water if it's too dry. put in the mozzarella cubes. hold for a moment till they melt. eat in the garden with your grandaughter. smile with your heart and your eyes when she croons: mi piace nonna! mi piace!

For Dave -- always the faerest

2005-07-26T14:21:00.000-07:00

Paen to a Small Fish

O you humble and too oft forgotten
swimmer, in a world of char and brook bass,
add but a bagel and we are besotten.
Add onion and sour cream and you surpass:

salmon, swordfish, snapper and lotte; alas
all sole and cod and the rest of the bland,
you are outdone in form, richness and class.
Bow down shrimp and tuna -- belly or cann'd!
Hail king of cold waters! Yumminess you command!

77 minutes in heaven

2005-07-26T11:49:00.000-07:00

i was stunned as stunned could be the other day when i asked the b/f if he had ever been to a game at yankee stadium and he said: no.

now, it's true that one of the hottest qualities about the b/f is his lack of absorption in sports and for this i thank god daily. my second husband was an obssessive fan of every sport, but it was kind of charming in him because it was so anomalous to his jazz musician/beat-poet/tibetan-scholar near genius* mien. sports nut or not, however, everyone must make the pilgrimmage to yankee stadium.

in the 1960s all the cool kids were mets fans. YOU HAD TO BE. the mets were as countercultural as the weathermen. they were the first ball players who wore long hair and had moustaches. they were the flotsam and jetsom of the national league. antiheroes. our antiheroes. then there was shea stadium.** opened in 1964, it was mod; it was rocking; it was christened with dodgers holy water from the gowanus canal and giants holy water from the harlem river at the exact location where it passed the old polo grounds. THE BEATLES PLAYED THERE.

but by the late 80s the mets were becoming tedious, no longer charming upstarts. we, crossing the rivers east and harlem, reverted back to the old testament and suddenly the navy and white pinstripes resplendent in their pristine simplicity were just the anti-dote to orange and cerulean.

to go to Yankee Stadium for a midsummer's nightgame transcends partisan fanaticism. when you take your place in the stands, the air a moist cloak, the banks of billion watt lights shining on the emerald field set in a cushion of midnight velvet with just the mere-ist sprinkling of diamond bright starlight points in the night sky, you know: this is what heaven looks like.

so you sit back, open your program, wait in anticipation for the line-up and the anthem and settle in to keep a meticulous box-score with that ridiculous little pencil. and life is good. and god is great. and you are in heaven.

*one day my exhusband's father grabbed me and took me aside (after a particularly heated family discussion about religion) and sotto voce said: he's a near genius you know. i'm pretty sure, no i'm certain, considering his astonomically high iq, he was solidly in the genius category. but i've always loved the phrase "near genius" it's like 2% milk or something).

**not to mention the too cool architecture of shea stadium. indeed all of queens is riot of mid century modernism from eero saarinen's twa terminal to the ruins of the 64-65 world's fair.

i covet this table

2005-07-25T19:26:00.000-07:00

this product is carried by the absolutely charming dwell.

i see it with arne jacobsen series 7 chairs. teak would be nice. it would also be nice with some parsons chairs in olive or brown suede.

a pox on your nasturtiums

2005-07-25T06:19:00.000-07:00

yes it is nearly august and for those of you who are in love with the greenmarkets (and you know who you are), everything's coming up nasturtiums.

thankfully we have passed through that moment in 1989 (or was it '91?) when every salad one ordered was rife with the nasties. you remember that moment -- right after the ubiquitous goat cheese and mache yearnings but before the iceburg and chopped salad revival? yes, the colorful flower salad moment. o yuk. i believe i once went to a greek diner and found them limply jockeying for room with the hothouse tomatoes and the dignified romaine.

well persnickety diner that i am, it is very rare that i welcome flowers in my food. o sure, i ADORE crystalized lilacs ( indeed all crystalized flowers having spent many an afternoon painting rose petals with egg whites and castor sugar) as well as the odd borrage blossom floating on my champagne punch not to mention essence of rose in my food and drink.

but i cannot actually eat the furry little buggers in my salad -- they have the mouth feel of the ear of a plushy animal. so limp. and don't give me that peppery/spicy line -- you want peppery go roquette or better yet dandelion.

ipso i don't think of flower-food mid-summer, but i do think of boulliabaisse. when i think of boulliabaisse naturally i think of marseille, french sailors and apache dancers. maybe in a former life . . .

but i digress.

they say it is impossible to make a true boulliabaisse without the famed rascasse, that fish native to the provencal mediterranean deemed the ugliest fish in the world. but you know, well that's what they say in marseille, and you really can't take that to the bank can you? i note here, that it is probably in SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA and with the fish native thereto that you can make the best boulliabaisse in this country.

i always dread these boulliabaisse days, because the godamned soup is so labor intensive and requires an extraordinary number of ingredients. the recipe i use is something like this, but along the way i have learned to add dried orange peel (a result i think of a discussion with a waiter in provence). i like it chunky -- you know soup and fish separate, but sometimes i make more of a soupe de poisson where i run it through the food mill. after all, it's all an excuse to eat the accoutrements isn't it?

so what's the moral here? i guess: i prefer ugly food and dangerous cities to pretty food in prettified cities. no surprise there. i'll post pics of the soup when i get around to making it. it's at least a 2 day affair.

allons enfants de la patrie

2005-07-14T06:48:00.000-07:00

le jour de gloire est arrivee!

14 juillet 2005

on gossamer wings

2005-07-13T08:41:00.000-07:00

the ever-fey mr. mento gives us a hop and skip through our punk rock past. i laughed though -- that debbie harry she had a big old head. it doesn't look as big now, because she's a little bigger. she really in real life looked like that cartoony stick figure on that girl lindsay's blog. like a big balloon head on a stick . . . a big beautiful balloon head on a stick.

i love people that look like cartoons. (and doesn't sac look great in stripes?)

somedays how i feel about my bloggy friends:

2005-07-13T08:08:00.000-07:00

Out of this wood do not desire to go:
Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate;
The summer still doth tend upon my state;
And I do love thee: therefore, go with me;
I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee,
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep;
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.
Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!

Peaseblossom captures him perfectly, no?

how do i love thee? let me count the ways

2005-07-11T13:30:00.000-07:00

i love your depth and breadth and height

i love you. i truly do.

I always wanted to be a truffle hunter.

2005-07-11T05:00:00.000-07:00

I would train a Chinese pot-bellied pig to snuffe them out. From the New York Times:

July 10, 2005

In a Drowsy Tuscan Village,
It's Truffles That Arouse Interest

By DENNY LEE

SNIFFING through the dank woods of Tuscany, Ugo, a truffle-hunting dog, paused before a pine tree, dug his paws into the crunchy soil and darted off. "Vieni! Vieni!" Luciano Tognazzi shouted. But it was too late. The truffle had become the world's most expensive doggy treat. Not to worry, said Mr. Tognazzi, 45, a stocky truffle hunter with dark curly hair and a broad nose. He pointed to a dark forest in the distance. "There are plenty of truffles there."

They are plentiful, yes, but hard to find. Truffles, which resemble knobby potatoes and taste like fermented mushrooms, are often buried under a foot of dirt, masking their pungent, knock-your-socks-off aroma. Some have likened the smell to primal musk, with hints of garlic, overripe cheese and ozone. To others, they smell like gold: truffles can fetch upward of $4,000 a pound in the global gourmet market.

That heady scent, however, proved elusive on this hot afternoon in late March. There were no truffles in the oak forest, none by the sheep farm and the broom shrubs were picked clean. Unearthing a truffle, it turns out, takes plenty of patience, not to mention luck and comfortable hiking shoes.

It wasn't the hoped-for gastronomic bonanza, but at least it wasn't a touristy affair. In Alba, Italy's truffle capital, in the northwestern province of Piedmont, demand for the fungi has spawned a cottage industry of package tours, food festivals and a strip mall of truffle-themed shops. (Truffle ice cream, anyone?)

Meanwhile, the cognoscenti are converging on the less-trampled truffle paths around the sleepy village of San Giovanni d'Asso, about 25 miles southeast of Siena in the cypress-studded hills of Tuscany. While Tuscan truffles lack the brand-name recognition of those from Alba, San Giovanni d'Asso also lacks the circus atmosphere that can result in overpricing and overhunting. And the quality, some say, is just as odoriferous.

"The truffles here are very, very, very good," said Leonardo Terzigli, a truffle trader from Florence, who goes door to door buying truffles in San Giovanni d'Asso for several high-end restaurants in London, including Locanda Locatelli. "Truffles don't like pollution and, as you can see, there's nothing here."

Nothing, that is, except for luscious wheat fields, crumpled clay hills and the ribboned vineyards of the Sangiovese grape, which is used to make two of Italy's finest wines: Brunello di Montalcino and Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.

Perched on a craggy hilltop, San Giovanni d'Asso is also nothing like Cortona, the Tuscan village lovingly chronicled - some say ruined - by the writer Frances Mayes. There are no postcard or craft stores, just a butcher shop that keeps irregular hours, a tobacco store and a hole-in-the-wall cafe that offers half-day truffle excursions. The trifolau (truffle hunter) will sometimes plant a tuber to ensure an entertaining hunt.

Last November, in a bid to elevate its truffle stature, the village of 940 opened the country's first museum dedicated to the food. "Nobody heard of us before," said Michele Boscaglia, the town's 35-year-old mayor. "Now we have more beds for tourists than for residents."

Mr. Boscaglia gave a tour of the trattoria-sized museum, housed in a 13th-century castle overlooking the rustic valley. He had a firm grasp of the contents, which included three fist-sized replicas of truffles cast from resin and a device that emits a synthetic truffle perfume. Like most able-bodied men in the village, he goes hunting in his spare time, just as his father did, and his grandfather before that.

But fungi foraging can easily graduate into a full-time pursuit. The season lasts 11 months, from June to April. The summer black truffle appears on menus in early June. The prized white truffle, sometimes called the white diamond of Italy, grows from September to December. And the late spring saw the waning days of the bianchetti truffle, a milder cousin of the white truffle that is found widely in Tuscany.

Regardless of the season, skillful hunters keep their mental treasure maps up to date. They also learn to worship the waxing moon, which supposedly draws out the truffle's scent, and ignore the lightning storms, which, according to myth, trigger the growth of the spores. And they become intimate with their hounds.

"The most important thing is the relationship with the dog," said Mr. Tognazzi, the truffle hunter, who has four Lagotto Romagnolos, the preferred breed in the area. Rivalry for top dog is fierce: every few years, several Lagottos are poisoned by strychnine-laced sausages, presumably left by unsportsmanlike hunters. "For the truffle dogs to be exceptional," Mr. Tognazzi continued, "you have to hunt everyday."

Ugo, a shaggy white five-year-old, clearly needed a refresher on another Saturday. After scouring a hillside, Ugo led three visitors down a muddy path, before running away at the sight of a wild boar track. It had been a disappointing season, Mr. Tognazzi said.

Then again, truffle hunters are the alter egos of fishermen: instead of telling fanciful tales about the big one that got away, they always report returning empty-handed, the better to avoid taxes and the envy of neighbors.

Mr. Tognazzi, however, was determined not to let his customers down. After an exhausting two-hour hike, he finally drove to one of his secret spots, a sun-dappled pine forest at the edge of a farm. Then he let Ugo off his leash. Mr. Tognazzi cajoled, commanded, praised and reprimanded him in a rapid staccato: "Dove?" (Where?), "Cos'è?" (What is it?), "Bravo ragazzo" (Good boy), "Fai la finita" (Stop that).

Ugo snapped to attention like a lion on the prowl and started digging furiously under a towering pine. "Piano, piano," (Slowly, slowly), Mr. Tognazzi cried, pushing Ugo away with a gentle shove. With a stout gardening hoe known as a vanghetta, he scooped out a clod of brown soil, revealing an orange-beige truffle the size of a walnut. He reached into his vest pocket and gave Ugo a kibble. "Bravo," he said.

Ugo was on a roll. He sniffed out three more truffles over the next hour, ranging in size from chickpea to garlic clove. On the short drive back to town in his Fiat, Mr. Tognazzi insisted on giving away the day's paltry catch.

With the prize in hand, a victory lap was made to the local supermarket to pick out ingredients for a truffle-centered meal. In keeping with Tuscan tradition, the courses would be simple: baked eggs with shaved truffles; buttered tagliatellini tossed with truffles; and a grilled T-bone steak served over arugula and drizzled with truffles. There wasn't enough to experiment with truffle ice cream.

As night fell, the kitchen at a nearby bed-and-breakfast began filling with the tantalizing and precious aroma: slightly earthy, a touch nutty and, as the Romans once described it, vaguely sexual. It brought to mind something that another trifolau had said.

"I get tired of looking for truffles sometimes," said Fosco Lorenzetti, 62, a hunter for 30 years. "But I never tire of eating them."

Visitor Information

Getting There

San Giovanni d'Asso is about 150 miles north of Rome and 75 miles south of Florence. In late June, flights in mid-July to Rome from New York started at about $1,200.

Where to Stay

La Locanda del Castello, Piazza Vittorio Emanuele II, 4, (39-0577) 802 939, on the Web at www.lalocandadelcastello.com, has seven rooms and three suites ranging from $135 to $185, including breakfast.

Ankhura, (39-0577) 802 943, www.ankhura.com, in the adjacent hamlet of Monterongriffoli, has four rustic-style rooms for $123 including breakfast. It also offers Tuscan cooking classes.

Tours

Half-day truffle excursions for $49, at $1.23 to the euro, are offered by Assotartufi, (39-0577) 803 076, www.assotartufi.com, at Via XX Settembre, 22. Nearby bed-and-breakfasts also can arrange for hunts.

Museum

TheMuseo del Tartufo di San Giovanni d'Asso, Piazza Gramsci, 1, is open on weekends from 10 to 1 and 2 to 6. Admission is $3.70. For more information: (39-0577) 803 101; www.museodeltartufo.it.

The best thing about Jessica Cutler?

2005-06-28T13:12:00.000-07:00

She brings a new dimension to the term: whoring yourself out. Kudos Ms Cutler, your parents must be so proud.

when i had my salon de the

2005-06-28T10:19:00.000-07:00

melissa o'donnell* who was the chef at le zoo was a great friend, supporter and patron. i am delighted she is featured in this article in today's nyt. what the article doesn't say is: she turned le zoo AROUND. she's a brilliant chef. (and what a smokin' body -- please.)

i was always insecure about my professional cooking, because i'd never gone to cooking school. i am very sensitive about technique. for example, i could never take daniel boulud mocking my mincing as he recently did about mark bittman's. anyway, melissa paid me perhaps the highest compliment any food professional ever has. she said i had perfect taste. i have savored that moment many times in the ensuing years. she's a real lady (convent-schooled and everything).

*it's absolutely hilarious that she mentions new zealand reisling as the ceo of the new zealand stock exchange was also a devoted customer. he and his dog came almost every day. it was quite a little scene. a moment in time. i know another guy who used to come all the time. he's gotten a fair amount of fame as an artist now -- he was broke then -- he set a piece in my place. very funny. i don't think i even have a photo, but if i do, i'll post one.

as god is my witness

2005-06-24T11:00:00.000-07:00

i will never order produce from fresh direct again.

gawker -- so young so dumb

2005-06-22T20:55:00.000-07:00

for thinking strikers and fellow travellers, "the union side", don't enjoy the cicchetti at da silvano. it's no da umberto, but what can you do? life's a bice.

i mean who do you think makes more dough -- dentykes or guys who've been making a union wage for 30 years? okay let me make that a little simpler: who do you think has ~~better~~ health insurance?

i promise i'll write about my little sat a.m. excursion to the ifcc tomorrow.

on the 21st century

2005-06-21T13:15:00.000-07:00

about twice a year i go to century 21 -- new york's best kept secret! if you don't count the 3,004 guidebooks in which it apparently appears. the guy in line in front of me was holding a copy of siberia west's guide to ny sample sales, i swear.

so around 10:30 a.m. i stroll in, thinking about trying to save 200 or so bucks on a pair of chanel sunglasses. and i think to myself: i don't come here often enough! look at these bargains! look at that gucci safari suit discounted 70%! look at all the le creuset on sale! i always think it's going to be crowded, but it's not! it's actually kind of nice! i'm too harsh! sorriest words i ever thought.

by 11:15 or so i felt like flavius honorius in july of 410. the descending hoards -- americans and foreigners alike -- charged willy-nilly toward the small leather goods, ferragamo ties and perry ellis button-downs with nary a thought about compound fractures and soft tissue damage. about 1/2 of them were on cell-phones discussing the merits of thread counts with an unseen entity (who apparently had complete and absolute veto power over linens thereby necessitating an in-depth discussion of every fitted sheet in the 4000 sq ft bedding department). all i could do was shove and claw my way to an exit.

when i hit cortlandt street i was gasping for air. i bobbed and weaved through a close order of new zealanders who were discussing la perla as though their very lives depended upon it. they looked menancing, so i nervously cast about for deliverance -- but, dammit all, i was abandoned -- not a swab skidder, medevac helicopter or yellow cab in site. nothing. i was left alone with nothing more than my wits and deep desire to go upriver and get safely home. i did what only a desperate woman would do -- i went down into the bowels of the earth and took the r train. it was, of course, not running. stalled at pacific street.

as advised by the nearly inaudible loud speaker i took the w train. i have never heard of the w train. i have no idea where the w train goes or where it comes from, but desperation being what it is, i got on.

the train was for mid-afternoon eerily empty and cool. i sat alone with a young girl about 22 years old. her sylphy-ness proclaimed her to be a ballerina. she was wearing about 1/3 of a yard and 25 cents worth of fabric covering her frail frame -- and flip flops of course. but, i knew i was nearing civilization; she was carrying a mabillon (o an it was real allright, the hardware and lining are a dead give away). no sooner was i studying her and wondering if she was some rich man's lo, than i was at eighth street.

i came up to the street. the sky was never bluer. the gwathmey never gwathmeier. and then, thinking of leviathans in madras shorts munching street corner hot dogs in front of the wtc hole, i smiled to myself and went to luncheon as we still do in the civilized world.

the new new yorkers

2005-06-20T14:54:00.000-07:00

a particularly clueless article about new york by a particularly unsophisticated new emigre who is too dumb to know what it doesn't know prompts me consider a new tv show:

4 roomates rent a two bedroom apartment in williamsburg
1 is from a mississipi trailer park
1 is from middle middle middle class suburban new jersey
1 is direct from orange county
1 is a tall blonde from minnesota
gender = pick 'em

they get off their respective planes, trains and automobiles and declare: I am a New Yorker! I must hold forth on my New Yorkness, and the New Yorkness of my life and celebrate the very New Yorky things I am doing and will do.

they will do exactly what they did back home, only they will do it in cramped apartments and franchise bars. then they'll blog about it. they will bring more of their incredibly average friends from back home to share their apartments and appetizers at hip new restaurants.

they will shop at home depot and ikea and k mart and h&m and any store that has numerous outlets and is owned by a large corporation. they will drink coffee from starbucks and order mediocre produce from fresh direct.

the girls will shove their pudgy bloggy bodies into too tight and cheap clothes. the boys will buy expensive t shirts and square glasses. the girls will think they are outrageous (in a wonderful way) for sloppily and drunkenly making out with their sorority sisters in bars on essex street for the benefit of some guy. far too many of the incredibly white and bald ones will shave their heads completely resembling the puny puds they are no doubt packing below.

they will be relentless in their drive to suburbanize while waxing rhapsodic about their hip urban existence. they will look right through and step right over people who do not look exactly like themselves.

o yes and they are all on the verge. every one.

long hard summer

2005-06-17T12:39:00.000-07:00

there has been a devastating epidemic of red tide in massachusetts this summer. so bad, in fact, that congress is on the brink of appropriating emergency funds. it is heartrending to hear interviews with the shellfishermen and women who depend on clamming for their livelihood. they are devastated. the cause of red tide is unknown, although scientists theorize that increased development on shorelines may effect the problem. red tide affects filter feeding mollusks like clams, oysters and mussels, but not scallops (at least not the scallop muscle). it doesn't affect fish or lobster or swimmers for that matter.

it is just heartrending to see the hardworking men and women of the bay state who depend on seafood harvesting for all or most their livelihood. they are facing financial ruin. local restaurants are affected as well. i was particularly struck by an interview with the owner of a cape cod seafood box. his costs had increased 25%. when asked by the newsman whether he intended to raise his prices he responded no, he was only experiencing a diminution of profits -- others had lost everything.

i couldn't help but think of the investment bankers and lawyers and businessmen that i knew (when i was a corporate lawyer) who routinely constructed and deconstructed companies like so many lincoln logs never, ever giving thought to the effects their acts had on people. men and women who only made decisions based on the bottom line. i felt shame, a great deal of humility, and i thanked god that decency does still exist.

dear diary

2005-06-16T10:51:00.000-07:00

you know that guy, the one that knows EVERYTHING about movies. he's the dreamiest. i am so lucky to know someone who can answer those questions. you know the kind: i'm thinking of a movie i saw once that time by the place near the thing. anyway, here's the deal. this is it. this what we want to see. unfortunately, it's not here yet, but i think it will be soon.

i bet this is at least as good as this* which i'll see i'm sure and is probably good, but miranda july strikes me as just a little too tautouish, which makes me just want to, you know, rip off her face and feed it to some maneating pigs like in that hannibel lechter movie.

*i'm worried this movie will suffer the zach braff effect. you know, mediocre movie, but way better than anyone expected, so everyone says how great it is, and it really just sort of sucks.

2005-06-16T06:23:00.000-07:00

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and atoned:

Introibo ad altare Dei.

look who's

2005-06-15T15:51:00.000-07:00

talking. i could swear it wasn't there this when i posted this a.m. and i love that they sing about breast implants in brazil. talk about your songs with a message.

this may be the best food

2005-06-15T11:07:00.000-07:00

blog i have ever read. in fact, to call it a blog at all seems unfair. it is much more like a symphony. (i came upon it looking for a recipe for pink grapefruit granita.)

how could i contribute to that hot new crime blog

2005-06-15T08:24:00.000-07:00

blottered? ah yes, the food crime beat.

lauri with an i of this

2005-06-14T16:51:00.000-07:00

site wrote one of the best comments i've gotten here. "cracker mommies of park slope." that is soda out the nose funny.

this is why i laughed and laughed at the new york times

2005-06-14T16:37:00.000-07:00

recent article on grain fed meat at the union square greenmarket.

notice the careful packaging and refrigeration of that poultry? pristine. impeccable. i am sure they handle all perishables with equal care -- the very best in styrofoam coolers. i'm sure. it's ALL NATURAL BABY. (photo courtesy of the very funny christopher kula.)

it occurred to me as i was watching

2005-06-14T11:35:00.000-07:00

daisy martinez on public television yesterday, that i had never seen a cooking show hosted by a puerto rican born new yorker; before the food revolution of the 1980s (and the current de-evolution), and the influx of panamerican latin food, puerto rican food had a much higher profile on the new york landscape. cocina criolla was everywhere.

of course ave c is so white white white now, but in the day, on scorching days like today, if you were lucky you could sit outside on webbed beach chairs, with someone's giant speakers pointed out the window playing sukiyaki love, and your neighbor's abuelita would bring you a big plate of pernil, habichuelas and yucca to eat with your rheingold.

it's especially good if the hydrant is open down the block, and the kids are screaming and playing, the old men are playing dominos, and you and your friends are soaking your feet in a kiddie pool and smoking dope and shooting the shit.

girl on fire

2005-06-14T10:18:00.000-07:00

another searingly brilliant regina schrambling offering.

costello tagliapietra

2005-06-14T08:26:00.000-07:00

are two designers from brooklyn. their style is not fully matured, but i have a feeling they're going to be very big. i mean i know they're big in fashion circles, but i'm thinking diane von furstenberg wrap dress big. they're italian, natch.

i am so sad.

2005-06-07T16:32:00.000-07:00

anne bancroft died today. she was italian you know.
nee: anna maria louisa italiano.

she was brilliant in the pumpkin eater a genuinely avant garde movie.

those noci on egullet

2005-06-07T16:10:00.000-07:00

spring is here and thoughts of liguria are dancing in my head. rooting around for the best pesto recipe for trofie, i came upon this thread wherein kevin72 undertakes a year of italian cooking. (bravo kevin!) i particularly like the discussion of which regions make the the cut and why. and is it possible there really are no good calabria / basilicata cookbooks?

poor dumb desperate south african refugee:

2005-06-07T12:42:00.000-07:00

too dumb to be born a stunning actress.

there used to be a service just like

2005-06-07T12:31:00.000-07:00

this that used to ferry drunken co-eds from harvard square to wellesley. we called it the fuck truck. same people different venue. i think soon as i learn to drive, i'm going to start a service ferrying busboys home from per se to union city.

I think lactating mothers should be banned from Manhattan

2005-06-07T06:58:00.000-07:00

altogether, indeed all parents and children -- and their strollers and other expensive crap that clogs up the already overcrowded streets and aisles, their preternaturally articulate child-adult interactions,* and their revoltingly bland midwestern and too often upper-middle-class-pretending-to-be-artistic (or worse CULTURED) faces -- should. I mean that's why places like Park Slope and Prospect Heights (wherever the fuck that is) were invented -- to house these poor deluded emigres who think they are New Yorkers. This may be the first time I have ever agreed with Barbara Walters (unless she fucked Castro, then it's the second).

*Parent in a voice that sounds like HAL from 2001 while the kid is shrieking through YOUR $200 dinner: Yes, Conan (or Drea, Francesco, Isadora, Isabella, Fiacre, Max or Sophie), I UNDERSTAND you're frustrated, but would you rather have the seared scallops or soupe de possion? You like soup you know like nanny makes you for lunch sometimes?

I'll take any questions as to why these lumpy Pillsbury dough families do not belong in the city, and while I'm on it, why can't Oshkosh embrace their pasty unattractive progeny so we don't have to be subjected to wave after wave of this? (I have a feeling the the restaurant "Oriole" where he worked for a day is this.)

(O and by the way, before you even go down that road, tant pis pour toi, Europeans of any stripe and most South Americans, Africans and Asians are de facto New Yorkers. Why? Their pets and children are well behaved;they know that one ought to dress for dinner; they refrain from wearing garb that makes their asses look like a dozen jello shots in a ziploc and hosiery that makes their legs look like two pink canned hams. And while I'm on that, hey you girls, you know who you are, you think you're hiding that excess 20 lbs by distracting people's attention by parading your saucy tits in a push up bra? Not so much. Unless you think the Pillsbury dough girl carrying a pair of uncanned hams home is hot.) It's, in fact, very bovine -- much like mothers who nurse in public come to think of it.

Starzstylista

Vintage Jewelry Valentine's Day Coupon! Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty girl!

I am really unhealthily obsessed with

I am really unhealthily obsessed with

Etsy Esty Etsy

Movies and Me

plus ca change

**cough** **cough** re·sus·ci·tat·ed

We should all start this thing. We could like

So how are we all? Living in tents or what?

Out from Hiding.

i went outside.

our daily bread

re:fraction

you think you've flown before, but you ain't left the ground

no i haven't been sitting around eating bon bons

my daughter my wife my daughter my wife*

down down down into a ring of fire

anya kramenetz -- an insightful village voice writer

daum as a post

so the michelin guide nyc out

this is the scariest halloween on record

madonna, honey

hey judy welcome to a fresh hell

our halloween costumes

it has been an incredibly dreary fall here in new york

to all you bloggers -- yeah you know who you are --

the new york press shit-canned

rebbe yell

what have i been doing lo these many silent days?

i miss

never one to avoid kvelling about my prescient excellent taste

let's drink to the nouveau new yorkers

pov

food glorious food

bill clinton's behaviour in this new orleans debacle

well apparently now t-rex is that thing with feathers

give me your tired your poor your huddled masses and i'll put them in a stadium and call it home

kayne west shall lead them

on grammatology

my new obsession is death deadness la morte the end le fin shuffling off the

quit yinning my yang or proceed with caution.

my nerves are an overwrought jangle after spending

there's going to be a big march on washington protesting the war

i'm too fond of

noted cuisiphiles re-enact the kelly/brenda prom dress debacle

there's a fire in my panties

friday afternoon poetry

on my to do list

food stuffs

i'm such a new yorker

the shag is always with us -- a sordid boon

owing to the popularity of the sublime

rabbit-eared

can't touch this

i have only been sporadically successful at keeping a diary

il conformista

wouldn't these girls

well this guy

let me applaud and underscore

god knows that these internets are full of

palio has reopened

stawberry statement

i am absolutely obsessed with this movie

jim jarmusch is most eloquent about the ev

no i have not

she f*ucked with her boots on.

the apt renovation is going well and

once again the brillant manolo

per la mia nonna

For Dave -- always the faerest

77 minutes in heaven

i covet this table

a pox on your nasturtiums

allons enfants de la patrie

on gossamer wings

somedays how i feel about my bloggy friends:

how do i love thee? let me count the ways

I always wanted to be a truffle hunter.

In a Drowsy Tuscan Village,It's Truffles That Arouse Interest

cough cough re·sus·ci·tat·ed

In a Drowsy Tuscan Village,
It's Truffles That Arouse Interest