practically the only color in the yard aside from grey. rain. rain. rain. i'm inside with a sniffly nose and some soup.
finished the lacuna yesterday. i didn't have high hopes after the bad review on fresh air. the historical/political part felt forced/preachy to me at times (and that's coming from the choir), but overall i really enjoyed the book. so many good descriptions and words and good dialogue. and i really liked the main character and the ending. flickrs cabin chickens and eggs i wouldn't mind some of this from miliken gardner etne
yesterday my friend jeff and i somewhat randomly ended up seeing a diane arbus exhibit in a gallery downtown. it was mostly work of hers that neither of us had seen before, all brilliant. how did she meet so many people?
pre gallery we stopped in at this hat store that was the size of a closet and mostly filled with fedoras. they specialize in handmade and california-made hats. very cool. i don't understand why hats aren't more back in fashion than they are. they're elegant, fun, spicy, functional. actually there were some nutty hats being sported by subjects in the diane arbus photos. one looked like a giant cabbage, and one had flopping layers. both worn by old ladies. i think the floppy one was fuzzy/furry too. or maybe it was felt. anyhow, talk about hats with character.
this is what i remember of the process (not a recipe)
buy a box (20 pounds) of bitter seville oranges at the farmers' market (talk about flowers, food, plans, shoes with three friends).
in a small, beautiful kitchen inside an apartment filled with treasures at every turn...
rinse oranges, wash jars, cut oranges in half, juice, save pips, save peels, scrape out white from peels (save both), cut scraped peels in half, scrape down even more (compost white parts), slice peels into thin strips. (laugh hard at the pain of all the scraping and the bossiness of the generous teacher-friend, consume adult beverages. pet sweetest visiting neighbor dog who watches the marmalading process patiently. marvel at labor of ancestors.)
boil juice and strips of peels with cheesecloth bag for a long time in a large, non-reactive pot (bag contains pips and first round of scrapings from peels), boil until pectin does its thing (while simmering, go down the street and eat some food {somewhat ravenously}).
return to the calm of the now heavily orange-scented apartment.
boil jars and lids for 15 minutes, air dry, funnel marmalade into jars, wipe jar rims so seals will be secure, put lids on, lower into boiling water, boil for 15 minutes, remove from bath, listen to lids popping (now sealed!). admire deep amber color and rows of filled jars, now cooling. clean stickiness from everywhere.
sleep deeply despite tugging burn in shoulder and neck.
gratefully enjoy beautiful marmalade on toast with cheese.
this one cow would honk-howl whenever it was feeling bothered—when people, dogs or horses passed by. neither rachael nor i had ever heard this sound from a cow before. definitely not a moo. i only got the very tail end of one of the howls on video.
and speaking of cows...
i've been enjoying watching cups (cooking up a story). farmers are such badasses. i've watched maybe eight of the short movies now. my favorites so far below.
i love this guy, anthony boutard. so charming. i like how he talks (with a smile in his voice) and what he has to say. note the gourd room.
about a farmer who had to also become a yarn producer/graphic designer/marketer/salesperson.
