Need Some Sun?

This is what passes for a dose of sun for those of us suffering through April showers back East. I snapped it while walking to my car after work the other day. I had hoped for an unobstructed view of the clouds, but the nature of my NJ landscape got in the way. It's too bad I didn't get the silhouette of any egrets flying home to the lake after a long day. They're back! And you can really see them right now, as the budding leaves don't provide them much cover. Hopefully I'll capture them on film soon.

Before I forget, us Knicks fans could use you: pray for a playoff victory tonight! I'm trying to stay optimistic, but the last two games have reminded me what it's like to be a Knicks fan in the post season. Almost feels like the 90s! Still, if we could get just one playoff victory this year, I would consider it a successful season. The bar is low my friends.


And one more thing, here are this year's NYU tulips. I have to say, not as impressive as years past. But who can turn their cheek to any array of tulips? Not I, not I.

Have an excellent weekend. I plan on cleaning my house tomorrow (glamorous, I know, but I'm craving some order in my life, it's supposed to rain, and Mr. SevPrez is in the last weeks of school) and making a bunny cake on Sunday to bring to my mom's for Easter dinner. Hopefully it turns out well and you'll see the fruits of my work.

Momentus Occasion

My beloved New York Knicks are in the playoffs for the first time in a long time (let's not dwell in the past). They play the Celtics tonight at 7pm. To honor this momentus occasion I present to you Bearnard King, lovingly crafted by my mother way back when. I resurrected him from my parents' attic so he can watch the resurgence of his team with the family.

Rub his belly for good luck!

First Modern Family

I usually try not to just grab pictures and repost, but I was looking through the Michele Obama Look Book at NYMag.com and spotted this image of the First Lady and daughter Malia leaving the White House on March 18th for their trip to Brazil. 

So modern, chic, and lively. I love these people. Say what you want about their policies, they have style, confidence, and panache. We could use more of that in America.


On a related note, cookie maker extraordinaire Sweet Dani B made cookies for Operation Shower Presents Red, White and Coo at Camp Lejeune, an event for 40 pregnant wives of service members attended by the First Lady and Dr. Jill Biden.  Like Sweet Dani B on Facebook to see all her amazing cookies — including her cookie portraits of the Obamas on Inauguration night. 

Whoopie Pie Experiments

Today I made whoopie pies for the first time, inspired by my trip to Maine and the delicious Friars' Bake House version.

I perused a lot of variations in my Making Whoopies book... Since they were such a regional treat for so long there are a lot of longstanding family recipes that use different tricks and turns. I will spare you the knowledge of all the stuff that goes into these guys (trust me, you don't want to know why they taste so good), but basically there are two schools of thought: pro marshmallow fluff v. pro egg whites.

Although the Friars don't use fluff, I was reluctant to make the egg white version since I am testing them out for Stolen Goods Bake Shop purposes. All the grandmas in the book say "no one's ever gotten sick!," but why take the chance?

I intended on making mini cakes, but tablespoon dollops of batter spread a bit more than I thought they would. And upon first tasting I thought the filling was a bit more buttery than necessary, and definitely very different than the Friars' version, but when I tried an assembled whoopie pie... They are pretty awesome. I think I'll try another recipe next time I make them, but I have to say, it may be impossible to make a bad whoopie pie.

Sharing A Poem: No Regrets

Love this. Just reading it makes me feel a little freer, lighter, older, and wiser.


Antilamentation
by Dorianne Laux


Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook, not
the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication, not
the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punch line, the door or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don't regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the living room couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You've walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You've traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the window.
Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied of expectation.
Relax. Don't bother remembering any of it. Let's stop here,
under the lit sign on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.


from The Book of Men.