What? Your family doesn’t dance around the garage in costumes at midnight Christmas Eve?

Previously: The Rolyat Five (2008) and last year’s experimental piece with a great cameo from our grandfather.

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and then sliced the rest of the poached pear over a bowl of oats this morning, thinking about all that has happened in the past month.

This afternoon, as big snowflakes fell, I made one of my comfort foods—a portobello mushroom roasted with garlic and sun-dried tomatoes, on top of spinach and latkes with goat cheese. The latkes I made with purple potatoes (I have a weakness for purple foods), and their crispiness offsets the silky mushroom that emerges from the oven in a pool of crackling, popping butter.

I have resolved that in 2010 kthread cooks, my online cooking video series, will return. Here’s how to make this portobello dish that I call “mushaboom” in one of the earliest episodes from February 2008 (see all 28 episodes):

Thoughts on what I might cook for the next episode?

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3. kthread cooks: eggs for Julia

Filmed by Kent Taylor in historic Roswell, Georgia at locations scouted by Mary Lynn Taylor, the video stars Kassandra Taylor. (Katrina Taylor and Reid Leslie do not appear in this year’s video due to travel calendars.) Featuring cameo appearances by Dr. William ‘Jitterbug’ Morrison and the renowned singer Amber Tatum, choreography is by Kassandra Taylor. Music is “Come Around” by Tim & Jean (part of Australia’s incredible music scene). Note: Much of this is freestyle—Kassandra isn’t responsible for my attempts to dance near her. Wait for the entire video to load, please, as I tried to use every iMovie filter and transition.

Before Christmas and the filming of the video, we all celebrated Kat and Reid making it through a flight cancellation from Portland, Oregon and arriving in time for Dad’s birthday, when Mom always makes a lemon cheesecake with her secret recipe.

Kat and Reid brought with them their formidable French toast skills,

and challah and panettone were dipped in egg and placed in a hot pan,

then topped with strawberries, pecans,

and a beautiful raw honey made by my mother’s student’s grandfather (you know how I feel about the importance of local honey).

Kat dressed up as a mod Santa,

Kass smiled as she opened her stocking, and we collected our first batch of little presents before readying for the meal.

Soon, the kitchen began to smell of roast pork (I’ll go into our family genealogy another time, but we are partly British),

with a lovely garlic-rosemary salt crust Mom made for those of you into that.

Roasted brussels, a bibb salad (Bibb lettuce is usually grown hydroponically now, so I find those are the only heads with soft leaves in the winter) with an improvised lemon-mustard-honey vinaigrette,

my usual smashed potatoes (this is a variety sold as Buttercream, the obvious choice for most potato recipes),

and wonderful chocolates Kat brought from Cacao in Portland.

Reid took our family Christmas picture outside by the lake (both Kat and Kass are wearing vintage dresses, which makes me very happy),

and we cut the cake. Jesus’s birthday cake. Kat decorated the cake with a crown and the usual lettering on the top—

we added a new phrase to the side of the cake that confused my grandfather, who asked me to give him a Christian side hug.

Instead, Kass, Kat, Reid, and I gave our new Snuggie™ blankets a trial run,

conferring like fleece-clad Druids,

creating a tableaux (we scared the dogs),

returning to our Gleeful show choir days,

and laughing at our very blue Christmas…

More pictures in the Flickr set.

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and Andrew opened the night’s slate of featured performers with an original song he composed for Annie, who is in library school, called “I Want You to Check Me Out”:

Highly referential and a very difficult act to follow, warm vegan banana bread was a good, gooey thing after the birthday Piano Man,

and folding an origami fox another great talent drawn randomly out of the bowl,

Cardmaker Caroline, who has just started nursing school, demonstrated her new skills taking Andrew’s blood pressure,

I donned a hat and shoes for Tap Like a Pirate Day (it’s really Talk Like a Pirate Day that is widely celebrated, but I subbed tap shoes for dramatic effect);

all the African countries were named,

some joint flexibility displayed,

a couple, newly married, impressed with athletic synchronicity,

a buried flask was opened (freshly filled with whiskey),

and used as a prop in a Eugene Debs reading (many of the guests work at a progressive think tank in the area, so more than a few of the acts alluded to the room’s high collective political and geographic knowledge).

A gentleman in an unusual tie did acrobatics (furniture was relocated),

and “Gin and Juice” was reinterpreted for the guitar,

(here’s the chorus)

and Annie closed with a German song and a truly incredible cake with diverse layers and a splendid sour cream icing,

The next morning, I was recovering from potent tumblers of homemade limoncello mixed with hibiscus tea (Annie and Andrew seemed fine), and my friend Cameron met the three of us at the Dupont Circle Farmers’ Market with a ready explanation of how to pronounce “praline” (he poses the quandary in his calm, forthright way):

We four ambled around the market, spotting the praline muffins Cameron had referred to,

and beautiful fresh ginger, a nice reminder of the freshness ginger can bring to cooking and baking.

In Adams Morgan, Annie ordered homemade yogurt,

Andrew a crêpe with roasted peppers and goat cheese,

and my friend Nina arrived on her trusty bike Rusty.

Closing the loop on a weekend of celebratory sugar, we walked with Nina to Biagio, one of my favorite places, where she explained how the white chocolate we were about to taste surrounded a kulfi-like nougat (heavy on the traditional cardamom), that takes her back to the sweets at the end of Ramadan she waited for as a child.

I think D.C. is quite lucky to have all of these talented friends of mine that I hope to have occasion to see again soon; happy, happy birthday again, Andrew–

More images of talented people in the Flickr set.

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You can skip my Julia monologuing, and begin by making mayonnaise by processing one egg for ten seconds, then slowly drizzling in 1 cup of vegetable oil while the machine is running. Add 1 teaspoon lemon juice and season to taste; it will keep for a week chilled. Then, dice mushrooms (I use black trumpet here) and cook with 1 teaspoon of oil on med-high heat until they release their juices—about 5 minutes. Remove from pan, turn heat to medium and add two eggs, whisked (reserve one eggshell), and a tablespoon of heavy cream; gently fold eggs until softly scrambled—2-3 minutes. Spoon eggs back into eggshell and then around it on the plate; serve with mayonnaise and with potatoes, if you like (I sautéed baby potatoes and amaranth leaves with garlic).

Bon appétit!

reading recommendation: My Life in France, Julia Child with Alex Prud’homme

listening recommendation: the snappy “French Chef” opening theme

dance recommendation: waltz for Julia and Paul

eggs for Julia wallpaper on Flickr

drink pairing: beer, your choice

salt recommendation: Fleur de sel, of course (kosher in a pinch)

Your Julia memories?

More kthread cooks episodes on this page and on the Vimeo channel.

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was the ideal lobster roll—and whether it is heresy that I might prefer the Red Hook Lobster Pound roll at the Brooklyn Flea on Sundays.

On my way back from Camden PopTech office to the Portland, Maine “Jetport” last night, I stopped for pie in Moody’s Diner in Waldoboro. Again, it concerns me to go against the wisdom of fresh meringue, but how wonderful is meringue that weeps into the lemon filling below and beyond that, makes the crust soggy?

Very, I think. I’m inspired to experiment more with meringue, which could top more than pies. Some of you may remember the first kthread cooks episode with a lemon cupcake topped with toasted meringue; oh, the places we’ve been since January 2008, and the places before us!

A new kthread cooks episode is coming up soon. In the meantime, here’s how it all started (originally posted and with your hilarious comments here), with a kitchen blowtorch and sipping champagne in a can—

Meringue suggestions? Lobster roll opinions?

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Not that five white kids in wigs can do this justice (the song’s magic), but here we are, and so it goes:

Favorite song or memory?

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The event with the six community leaders in design, urban homesteading, neighborhood installations, community service, and storytelling in L.A. last month?

Voilà. (Also posted on the GOOD site, and more background in the GOOD recap.)

I watch this and smile—hope to be out that way again in early June and meet up with some of the lovely people in this video, including the wonderful Max Schorr of GOOD and my wise friend John, who attended the event to support this really interesting work—

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Cava is always involved with America Day celebrations (see America Day I and America Day II), and a cork soon popped at the apartment; Stewart, John, Ben, Michael, and I toasted to the revelries ahead:

Then, there was Mothership Wit on draft at the Riverfront Tavern, and stellar huckleberry vodka that led to some of us not waking as gloriously as the tulips,

that waved near the Noshville diner, where Lady Liberty waited on the roof (you can see her in the distance above), whole pickles unnerved us on the table, and the server wanted to take part in America Day.

Stewart and I both ordered the ‘We Dare Ya’ breakfast, a dare we lost to pancakes the size of flying saucers,

and afterwards, we began incorporating all the elements of country music songs: reverence, wine, and Baby Jesus,

a nice day for (any kind of) a white wedding,

casually perplexing proposals (I found a large ring with a white stone that we needed to fold into the America Day narrative and Wonder Woman costume—so, this is the America Day where Wonder Woman becomes engaged to a hot Nashville musician).

Michael analyzed what Wonder Woman’s ideal wedding gown would look like in reference to cupcakes,

Ben disappeared to find coffee (which should be a country song),

new leaves heralded Spring,

and dogwoods bloomed in front of the Nashville Parthenon, where this scholarly group was bound.

I circled Stewart, John, and Ben with my Lariat of Truth,

before deciding to lasso a saxophone player instead,

and in this place of learning, we noted that really all of America rests upon what’s written on the bench:

We drove to East Nashville’s Hip Zipper vintage,

discovered I Dream of Weenie was closed and our weenery dreams were to be unfulfilled,

so we bought scratch tickets at a gas station and headed toward Cowboy fashion on Broadway.

As is America Day tradition, Ben met a bachelorette,

Stewart lit a cigarette (seriously, how gorgeous is my Facebook husband? Note the vehicle in the background) while John stood by in a very serious black cowboy hat,

Ben evaluated Michael’s boot choices,

I liked the boots I was wearing,

that prompted this wonderful Linda Carter story from a sales clerk.

We were welcomed in American Apparel,

where Ben Superman and Michael contemplated truly blue jeans,

though I liked the lettering on Hatch Print Shop posters more.

We five decided B. B. King’s was appropriately American, taking the long walk back to Section D,

extending the pickle motif with fried pickle chips and horseradish sauce along with Blues Brew.

I ordered a Porktato (yes, I take implicit menu dares as well, and I think a Tofutato would also be great),

before the boys gave each other direction in matching sweatbands,

and we headed out for an American dance party at Mad Donna’s,

with Michael reminding us that Girls Just Wanna Have Fun across the street at Lipstick Lounge,

and we suffered through terrible karaoke before returning to Riverfront Tavern in America Day stripes by Ryan (at left) and plaid (Matt, to the right of John).

Ben was reunited with his bachelorette,

and there was more of that lovely huckleberry vodka.

The next morning, we brunched in the sunlight at Mad Donna’s,

with Michael’s French toast swimming in double doses of syrup and caramel,

and Ben’s unusual, colorful Cap’n Crunchberry French toast serving as a metaphor for our merry Day encrusted with bright flecks of Americana.

As this fantastic four dropped me at the airport, I glanced back with love—I will meet them anywhere for next year’s America Day IV (Chicago? New York? Los Angeles? Where do you think?)—

and we do hope that those of you that couldn’t join us this year will rejoin us or experience the magic of America Day for the first time next year…

View the entire Flickr set with additional photos and videos here.

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Image by Emily Lerman/LAist. I’m in the middle surrounded all of these wonderful leaders–missing from the picture is my co-conspirator at GOOD, Max Schorr.

Two weeks ago yesterday, I flew to L.A. for an event that GOOD Magazine partnered with Knight Pulse, the community site I work on for Knight Foundation, to produce, tapping six community leaders with projects working to improve the city through design, urban homesteading, neighborhood interventions, community service awareness, and rights to creative storytelling.

You can read more about the five projects in the GOOD blog post, in Emily Lerman’s LAist post (she also took the picture above, and my friend Andy Sternberg of LAist was also there), and in my friend John Jackson’s post, where he notes Natalie Portman was sitting in the front.

This is an experiment for Pulse (you know how I like crazy ideas), and each of these projects will convene a community event this spring. I took video of their presentations (better video from GOOD will be up soon, and I’ll link to it here, but for now):

And each of the projects in on Knight Pulse in the new GOOD Leaders section.

I wanted to share with you what excites me about media and community: events like the one in Los Angeles to announce these leaders, where a crowd of two hundred stayed for two hours to listen and ask questions and think about how to make this community stronger.

Congrats to Alissa (her post on the event), Eric, Sonja, Edgar, Erik and Kelly—

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The owner happily explained what we should fill piñatas with:

and I hoped my unicorn piñata might carry both of us on to the parties as we walked along the highway. Instead, we hailed a pedicab,

and scooted over to a karaoke “Cogaoke” contest at the Scoot Inn, slightly behind Kevin.

Ah, alternative transportation. To add to the excitement, we were hit by a cab while racing to catch up to Kevin’s pedicab—we didn’t, but we did make it safely to the party. And the adventures continue…

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We started at a trailer park since Torchy’s Tacos are “damn good,” and this month’s special is a Mr. Pink:

Laura ordered a fried avocado taco,

and then we headed over to the Best Little Smorehouse in Texas,

otherwise known as La-Dee-Dah, the Airstream of Awesome,

a place where handmade letterpress cards and feather headbands awaited us.

I gave the owners sweatbands with the logo of the community site I work on, and their reactions matched ours at the delightful headbands:

Laura and I have received compliments everywhere we’ve worn our new fascinators (the name this millinery should be called, my similarly fascinating friend Kevin tells me), including at the PBS Engage headquarters this week (where my other friend Kevin took this with Laura’s camera) at the Mooseknuckle Pub.

I do think Tyra would scold me on my weak pout below, but all attention should remain on the feathers, please.

Nearby La-Dee-Dah, Laura liked Sugar Mama’s “Marilyn Monroe” cupcake (with ethereal icing so different from D.C.’s CakeLove’s heavy buttercream) that I unwrapped more than the “James Brown” cupcake I maintain has a superior texture to any other in cupcake shops across the country.

Sitting beneath handmade aprons, we deliberated before journeying off to find vintage ballgowns (Mom, I’m including this one for you—it reminds me of one of Nana’s),

and padded rain jackets (not including this one out of deference to Jessica), only the first day in our Austin adventures (more soon about yesterday’s house party revelations in Texas brisket)…

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Many of you are braving the cold this week, but it is warm in the kthread Kitchen Network (hereafter referred to as kKN), and we are all ladling tomato broth over velvety avocado and swirling curlicues of crema over crispy tortillas we have made—

Recipe: Tortillas: 2 cups water to 1 1/4 cup masa 2 cups masa to 1 1/4 cup water, stir, form into palm-sized balls. Flatten in tortilla press or with rolling pin. Fry in hot pan with 1 Tablespoon of oil, flipping once, letting air bubble form within. Soup: Sauté one diced onion in 1 teaspoon oil in medium-hot pan until translucent, add one minced garlic clove, stir, cook 10 seconds. Add one 14.5 oz can of diced tomatoes (or 5 fresh, ripe tomatoes in season), simmer for 5 min—also adding chile powder or other spices, if desired. Then, add twice as much stock/broth (of your choice), cover for ten minutes. Serve: dice avocado for bottom of bowls, put shredded protein in next, ladle broth over, crumble in cotija or queso fresco, top with tortilla strips and crema.

reading recommendation: So Far From God, Ana Castillo

listening recommendation: “Paris is Burning” (Cut Copy remix) —Ben, this is especially for you.

tortilla soup wallpaper on Flickr

drink pairing: Mezcal

salt recommendation: kosher

Other soup suggestions we could make next?

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Like the jackfruit I found this summer at the South Florida fruit stand Robert is Here, the mulberry is composed of separate drupelets (individual female flowers) within the whole fruit.

In the past few days, I have had dinner with three different friends on three subsequent nights at three different restaurants, with identical orders. I’m tempted to think of this as a cluster of symmetrical meals, but the mulberry’s structure reminds me that each order was a separate part that made up a really wonderful set of nights out.

Kevin courageously tried fried green tomatoes and aioli at the 8 oz. burger bar that just opened in Miami, where the service needs a bit of smoothing and the beers aren’t yet on tap. He points out how his order is slightly different:

(Watch Kevin essay the psychic machinery of reality; I am hereby tagging him for the “25 Things About Me” Facebook meme.)

The following night, my dining companion (who prefers to remain anonymous), agreed that my favorite pizza sandwich of roasted garlic, goat cheese, and mesclun at Everybody’s Pizza near Emory University in Atlanta, was a quietly beautiful thing in a loud place:

And the next night I met my friend Dave (his “Friday heh” blog posts are all kinds of marvelous, a good example of smaller, individual hehs making up the whole heh) at Holy Taco in East Atlanta.

Switching from Native Lager (a local Florida beer) and Sweetwater 420 (brewed in Atlanta) the nights before, I drank buzzaritas and caught up with Dave’s new job adventures. When the food arrived, I heard those three magic words: pork belly torta. Dave narrates:

What will I find at the Pinecrest market in Miami this morning? And what will others standing next to me at the market deciding between heirloom tomato varieties, types of lettuce, make with the same ingredients? I wonder…

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Exploring on foot, I discovered a hideaway to eat at next time I’m around Greenpoint,

and a graffiti color scheme I admired.

In the afternoon, I hung out at NYC Resistor with Bre Pettis. Highly caffeinated from a beverage the hacker collective stocks (otherwise unavailable in the U.S.) and jazzed about the sorts of projects the group works on, I headed back to the hotel to dress for the Shorty Awards:

That night, I watched lights on bridges,

and met MC Hammer.

There are some other Shorty Awards (for Twitter users) highlights in a video I made for Knight Foundation (KF sponsored the awards):

Friday after work, I headed across the street to an outdoor concert from the Miami Downtown Development Authority and really liked the longer songs from local band Afrobeta; I stayed for part of Chana:

On Saturday morning, I found these pictures of roses from last week’s farmers’ market in Coral Gables,

And headed over to this week’s Coral Gables market with Jessica and Dianne, picking up the CSA farm box on the way.

We had just missed the cooking demostration,

but I snagged the last bunch of quirky carrots at my favorite vendor—the farmer proudly held them out as I walked toward the stand, and I embraced them, my arms full of the long green tops.

Summer crops of large onions and cherry peppers filled another stand (these peppers are fantastic marinated and then filled goat cheese),

and Jessica befriended owners of a Corgi, while the wonderful citrus grove owner filled my market bag with extra tangelos (these are like the honeybells, now out of season).

There was a tiny dancer moved by the market musicians,

near children with wonderfully oblivious focus diagramming hopscotch.

From the market, we took tree-lined roads till we stood on the street where Jess will live,

and she will see the door opening at the end of the hall,

walk toward it and the tree with purple flowers in the yard.

Part of Jess is already there, spinning castles in the air.

The tree with the face is waiting for her,

and I’ll be on the swing when I come to visit.

Later that day, we popped cava, cracked local stone crab, and melted butter with spring onions and garlic chives before dipping strawberries in chocolate cake batter (Mica, I do have a moelleux au chocolat recipe for you), toasting to local food we love and friendship to hold close.

We spent the afternoon laughing, partly at the silly romantic entanglements we have extricated ourselves from in the past year.

What I love most about the markets here in the South Florida is the mystery fruit grown by Redland Organics that appears on Sunday mornings. Gambooj reminds me of tart plums.

My sister Kassandra, in town for a few days, joined me at the market with her friend Caitlin and my friend Susan,

and we drove all the way to North Miami for great Cuban food at Little Havana restaurant (great tres leches cake and cheese flan are immediately endearing),

before mojitos in Coral Gables. How nice it is to be surrounded by fascinating, adventurous women visiting Miami—two of whom are, at this moment, sleeping soundly at the Magic Cottage…

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