kthread

the penultimate summer sunday

Administrator — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 14:09:13 +0000

Sunday morning began with my sister Kassandra waking early and a trip to the grocer near my apartment for a few brunch things—some housemade sun-dried tomatoes to go with fresh pear tomatoes, arugula, and buffalo mozzarella (that’s the white) on top of a frittata,

and sugar plums from Red Jacket Orchards that exude a glossy syrup when roasted.

Catching up with my friend Solana over brunch (I’m happy she’s back in Brooklyn) filled my kitchen with laughter, and then she was off into her day, followed by Kassandra, who I see all too infrequently, leaving to drive to Philadelphia for her flight (she was in NJ this week setting a choreography and spontaneously rented a car to drive up for the weekend).

In the quiet kitchen, I turned to making a goat cheese cake for Tricia and Kenyatta‘s afternoon picnic, letting it cool by the open window,

before slicing figs across the top and drizzling it with honey from Brooklyn bees.

Arriving at Fort Greene Park, I found a sprawling group of artists, librarians, researchers, and videographers, everyone new to me and—unsurprisingly for friends of Tricia and Kenyatta—fascinating and creative.

The gracious Tricia poured me a mimosa and smiled with Kenyatta, who was in the center of the group, as I found an unoccupied patch of blanket.

The cake went quickly,

with the beautiful Elle waiting patiently, entranced by squirrels, before neatly nabbing the last slice,

and all too soon, it was time to fold the blankets—like Audrey, I wondered why summer Sundays ever have to end—

but then again, how nice it was to have spent the afternoon reveling with this crew…

More fun images and video in Tricia’s Flickr set—

the returning roads to brooklyn

Administrator — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 22:45:40 +0000

Of all the Washington, D.C. places to brunch, Tabard Inn excels at being that perfect place of quiet with green vines climbing the brick patio walls, tables nicely spaced, and warm, homemade doughnuts as the (expected) immediate order that arrive with whipped cream and berries.

(Note: This is the last of eight posts from this road trip. You might start at the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh post.)

Karen ordered French toast as we sat in the garden (a good way to end the pancake quest),

and I had the Eggs Benedict with housemade Tasso ham (harder to find in Brooklyn) as we recalled all our favorite moments of the week on the road.

We then set out for the Dupont Circle farmers’ market, watching the usual stranger interactions along the way (intersections are awkward in this place),

and crossed the circle to the busy vendors selling peaches and goat cheese.

At a great loss to Miami, my wonderful friend Holly (at right) now lives in the area, and she guided us to her favorite sellers and their finest varieties, bubbling over with her infectious zeal for local food.

And, just a few hours later, we arrived back in Brooklyn.

I stood with Karen (after she helped me unpack the car) and we smiled at the thousands of miles we had driven together, at the gifts of the road, and stories we’ll tell of our adventures,

especially as only Karen’s suitcases are in focus in this image, ready for the next time the road calls and we answer…

plates of green and orange

Administrator — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 02:06:14 +0000

Leaving Atlanta incredibly early on Saturday a few weeks ago, Karen, Kevin, and I pulled into the incredibly local farmers’ market of Carrboro, North Carolina around noon to meet my sister Kassandra and her boyfriend Sean (here, at left).

(Note: This is the seventh of eight posts from this road trip. You might start at the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, or sixth post.)

We found crowder peas and field peas,

beautiful tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers proudly displayed in individual containers from one of the many farmers in the allowed fifty-mile radius of this town within Chapel Hill that set up at the market.

Walking over to the Weaver Street Market food co-op, Kassandra and Sean looked for groceries (they both live in a neighboring area),

and Karen found the Carrboro raw truck to begin neutralizing the roadfood of the past week.

Carrboro is generally good at nurturing health, and Kass and Karen were serious about filling their plates with good food as we sat near happy dogs hoping for dropped food and children learning how to walk,

(this is Karen’s plate) before hugging Kassandra and Sean goodbye and continuing on to an underground Indian dinner in Washington, D.C.

That night, we arrived at an Indian dinner orchestrated by a Jain,

that one of my favorite people, Nina, told us about (I surprised her here with the camera flash),

—and learned that Nina has different spices in her spice box than our host. I actually learned a great deal about making a spice box of one’s own as a way to indicate heritage.

The courses continued, interspersed with commentary on the background on this cooking style, but I was too happy to listen, surrounded by very good friends,

and knowing their friendship, like the bread passed throughout, are what anchors me, wherever I am.

Pausing to remark that sometimes this city surprises us, Karen, Kevin, and I headed back to the quirky Tabard Inn, where we prepared for the final leg of the drive back to Brooklyn…

corn muffins and fried chicken

Administrator — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 12:36:47 +0000

From New Orleans a few Fridays ago, Karen and I drove through Alabama, deliberating upon which roadfood stop to make, and deciding that fried chicken was the priority.

(Note: This is the sixth of eight posts from this road trip. You might start at the first, second, third, fourth, or fifth post.)

Corn muffins arrived immediately after we chose a table, and I smiled at the option of buttermilk by the glass on the menu at Martin’s in Montgomery (and applauded the choice to only serve whole milk).

We both ordered fried chicken, which is the thing to do here, and my three veg (fried green tomatoes, black-eyes peas, and creamed corn) filled the large plate. I closed my eyes, thought about crusts, and knew we had made the right roadfood choice.

(I also have a hunch the kitchen serves buttermilk because they use it to brine the chicken.)

Very tempted by the bread pudding dessert of the day, we drove away quickly, towards thunderstorms and the the Atlanta airport to pick up a mystery guest.

At my parents’ house that night, I tried to convince my grandfather (who can walk it out) to demonstrate his new tai chi skills.

He declined—graciously, of course—and we laughed that night as we recounted adventures from the trip so far…

a keeper

Administrator — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 21:52:17 +0000

After roping a dummy steer the night before, everyone went to sleep early so that we could rise before dawn and head to the zoo,

where Karen’s uncle Steve (also known as El Hefe Mucho at the San Antonio Zoo) has created a really special place that feels much more like walking among the animals. These below were skittish as the light began to steal over the trees,

And Karen and I watched a joey emerge from a mother kangaroo,

amazed to watch the little kangaroo stretch its legs and hop about its business.

Then Karen’s uncle joined us and directed our wanderings,

taking us up close to the elephant being fed,

(elephants are hairier than you think! I discovered while petting this one—thanks to Karen for taking this picture so early in the morning,)

and ushering us inside the hippo exhibit with another keeper,

that we later saw from the outside as a visitor usually does. It’s a beautiful space for these very intense animals, and fun to watch the bright fish swim near the windows.

Reluctantly leaving San Antonio, Karen and I headed out of Texas by way of a small diner far off the highway,

where the pancake quest continued,

I ordered biscuits and sausage gravy,

and then we ordered a slice of each type of pie:

coconut with crunchy bits on top of the meringue,

and chocolate silk, acknowledging that pie for breakfast is an excellent thing.

Driving through Houston we found a building of air,

and we watched as the landscape shifted into the blue of the bayou,

arriving at the famous Columns Hotel in New Orleans that Thursday night.

A meandering walk took us past a cluster of pastel buildings,

a workshop with music as loud as the creative energy waves that rolled over us as we paused,

leading us to happen upon good food and great cocktails (we started with Sazeracs, of course, and then discovered the classic French 75) at Coquette.

The next morning, we recalled sitting on the lively porch for a late round of champagne as we took the stairs at the grand old hotel down to breakfast,

before meeting up with my friend Brian, a wonderful ambassador of community and the goodness of local lore, as we continued our tour of the Deep South, full of things and people that are keepers…

ride it like you stole it

ride it like you stole it

Administrator — Sun, 22 Aug 2010 23:58:26 +0000

A few Wednesdays ago, heading out of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico with Karen, we drove to Las Cruces to the wonderful Nellie’s Cafe.

One of the rules of the road is to eat breakfast, and there is a happy energy at Nellie’s that translates to the food.

I ordered my pork and eggs with both red and green chile (ask for “Christmas” when asked which chile you prefer), and then we set out for the long, straight road through West Texas to Karen’s uncle’s place in San Antonio.

I have been to Austin many times, but this was my first time in San Antonio, and it was like stepping into a dream—the horse Karen’s aunt had showed that day (this is a friend walking her) had braids and matching socks,

and we went to go see the bull, our shadows tall in the intense heat of the late afternoon.

The animals weren’t overly excited to see us, but I could see why Karen loves visiting her aunt and uncle here.

One of my favorite parts of the house is the shower handle in the guest bathroom. Yes, that’s a pair of pliers (Dave, this deserves to be in your shower handle research collection), and it’s in keeping with the way Karen’s uncle and aunt roll.

Earlier, as we updated them on our driving progress in the afternoon, Karen’s uncle paraphrased a rodeo line and told us to “drive it [the highway] like we stole it.”

It’s my new mantra.

And so, when Karen related my story about learning to gator rope as a teenager, somehow, her uncle loosened up his best rope, gave me a quick refresher course, and trusted me with trying to rope his dummy steer,

helping me turn my wrist,

and finally, I roped that dummy steer, determined to drive it like I stole it from here on out…

Last three images courtesy of the lovely Karen Barbarossa.

the clouds of colorado

Administrator — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 18:16:43 +0000

“Blue!” Karen would say again and again as we drove through Colorado a couple Tuesdays ago, referring to the wonderful shades and shapes of the clouds of Western Colorado, the wide sky an airy tableaux too large to fit in one frame.

(Note: This is the third of eight posts on this recent road trip. You might start at the first or second post.)

We happened upon Ouray, Colorado (learning the town’s pride in being the “Switzerland of America,”)

and glimpsed the windy roads ahead of us on a spectacular drive that I navigated while Karen’s shutter clicked in documentation (I’ll link to her images later),

until we arrived in the Land of Elk and Honey (and had quite the gift shop experience with a clerk pushing whipped chokeberry honey).

Pulling into Durango after the famous Durango Diner had closed, we took their advice and crossed the tracks to another diner nearby, where Karen proceeded to carboload her veggie burger (roadtrips are all about endurance).

That afternoon we marveled at the red rock formations,

the land being watered (these might be my favorite machines for the garden),

and, in very dramatic fashion, narrowly missed being struck by lightning as the clouds lit up around us.

Dodging further electricity in New Mexico, we entered the Owl Cafe as the sun set, impressed by the wall of badges and the cafe’s alarming embrace of orange cheese product.

Welcoming the warm mineral baths of the Sierra Grande Lodge in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico that night, we rose to see the stone circle,

and cacti in the spare landscape as we took the spa’s vegan scones and headed back on the road…

by way of wyoming

Administrator — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 13:45:26 +0000

Karen and I left Salt Lake City two Monday mornings ago, lighting out for the upward route from Utah into Colorado. We knew it was going to be quite a day of driving—heeding the roadtrip code of exploring detours—as I pulled over early in the day for the antlers on a garage, and then noticed the perfect address.

(Note: This is the second post of eight about this road trip. The first one is here. )

Pulling off a few hours later, somewhere in Wyoming, we found the bright lights of Broadway Cafe (maybe it was only the dazzling sun),

and Karen’s pancake quest began.

I opted for chilaquiles, and the kitchen wasn’t shy about the cheese (we were one of two occupied tables in the diner).

After a straight shot all the way across the bottom of Wyoming, we detoured at Laramie, dropping down through Fort Collins on the way to Boulder and seeing my charming friend Andrew Hyde.

Along the way, we decided to stay at a castle in Vail as neither of us had been,

and we drove into Vail that night to find a fairyland of fringed trees and alpine roofs. Pleasantly empty, we imagined how it must feel in the season—heated comforters on the beds, fireplaces dancing in the rooms, cobblestone streets busy with families.

And with the Colorado zig behind us, we woke to sunshine and crisp mountain air, and set out for the zag of Grand Junction and Durango, with all the exciting twisty roads in between, and the electric energy of New Mexico…

the road to a red iguana

Administrator — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 18:44:55 +0000

Last Sunday I returned to Brooklyn after a few months in Santa Cruz, and I traveled back in my favorite mode: a circuitous roadtrip. (This is the first post of eight, one for each day of the trip.)

Leaving San Jose on August 1st in the quiet of 5 a.m., I took my friend Matt’s advice and stopped at Ikeda’s in Auburn, California a few hours later, looking at the morning sky and leaving the market with granola, homemade fig bars, a bagful of peaches, and a razzleberry cobbler of raspberries and marionberries.

On into Nevada, I passed Reno and went on to Winnemucca, smiling at the retro lettering on the Sundance Casino,

and then the rows of classic cars at their Sunday afternoon town festival (sadly, Chico’s Formal Attire shop behind this car wasn’t open).

I found Nevada full of strangenesses—faded painted letters in Elko advertised “neon,”

while a nearby cleaners I would happily patronize had letters that seemed more likely to light up.

I crossed the border into Utah and a lighter brightness as the roadside began to shimmer at the Bonneville salt flats. One of the most beautiful drives I’ve ever taken, the afternoon light and the whiteness of the salt flats drew me down the highway,

and toward the great Salt Lake as I raced to pick my friend Karen up from the Salt Lake City airport on time—in an amazing gift of time and trust, Karen had only booked her flight two days before as I finalized the first day of the route.

Into hilly Salt Lake City we drove, staying at a historic b&b and sampling mole at the excellent Red Iguana. I sipped Devastator Double Bock Wasatch beer (seemed appropriate) and we caught up, talking about the days ahead,

and driving out early on Monday morning, we passed the Temple spires on our way to Colorado where we would end up staying in a castle…

first food adventures in flushing

Administrator — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 20:38:23 +0000

Last night, I finally journeyed out to Flushing for noteworthy Chinese food with new friends, starting the night with Qingdao at M & T 美而特 Restaurant.

We were fortunate to have Tricia Wang in our party; besides being an incredibly enthusiastic champion of certain dishes, she made sure (in Mandarin) that we ordered the freshest dishes, like the squid below (the point here is texture).

The rest of the table—

next to Tricia, the Mustachioed Man of Mystery Ben, then Kathy, who is a choreographer and professor, her husband Steve, a writer of wit, and Kevin, who coordinated the dinner—was open to every menu suggestion, almost sparring with chopsticks to try all of it as we poured TsingTao beer (it’s the yearly festival of this beer from the same area as the food).

We heard how just yesterday morning, a television crew had filmed the restaurant scrambling eggs with clams (this is a wonderful, simple dish) that will air in early September,

and the dishes kept arriving:

this pork head one became the table’s favorite,

the Ma Po Tofu that Ben ordered went almost as quickly,

I liked the sauce on the braised cabbage,

and Tricia showed us the best way to eat Qingdao pasta with special sauce (“very special,” we were told),

the noodles of shaped jelly stirred into vegetables around the sauce.

Tricia ordered one of her favorites, Chinese chives—which is a crunchy vegetable rather than an herb, (and one I plan to cook with more often, especially for the traditional eggs with Chinese chives.)

And as Ben and Kevin continued to regale us with stories, Steve seconded the idea to continue on, so Tricia led us to Imperial Palace for their sticky rice with crab.

We filmed some of our fun with the Lazy Susan on the table that I’ll link to later when it’s posted.

Extracting meat from the claws, we all agreed this was a Cantonese dish worth traveling to an outer borough for:

We were the last table at Imperial Palace, and before they started turning off the chandeliers, Kathy explained Steve’s shirt—

This is how great Friday nights go, with friends old and new, shared plates, sartorial explanations, and tellings of games, code words, and historical triumphs…

summer dinner at sarah’s

Administrator — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 19:02:35 +0000

Shortly before I left for Santa Cruz in May, I invited my friends Sarah and Fil to a grains dinner party at my apartment—and I have missed them during my summer away.

On Wednesday, Sarah, who is an artist as well as a great cook and hostess, invited me over to her apartment for a dinner party that felt summery and full of the best parts of Brooklyn.

Fil and I arrived to find Sarah working on an avocado and tomato salad, while Xavier finished his wonderful garlic chicken (he’s off to the right side above).

It was so nice to sit on Sarah’s floor, open bottles of cava and laugh as we started with Fil’s excellent cheese plate, then filled plates with ripe market tomatoes, buttery avocados, seasoned corn next to the garlic chicken.

All three are talented performers and delightful conversationalists, and we opened bottles of Vinho Verde, lingered over warm brownies Sarah served in pink melamine cups.

You’ll find these friends on kthread again soon; these are just some of the reasons I’m happy to be back in Brooklyn…

community stones and chickens

Administrator — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 22:37:24 +0000

A few months ago, I moved to a little cabin in Santa Cruz to spend the summer on a personal sabbatical (more in my original May post), and July 31st, I left the redwoods and my Stellar Jay friends to return to Brooklyn.

Above is what the inside of the cabin looked like every morning as I peeked out of the sleeping loft around five and climbed down the wooden ladder to begin the day.

On my last afternoon in Santa Cruz, Margaret (who has become one of my closest friends) raved about a community stone event happening in a nearby neighborhood, and walking through the backyard gate, I smiled as the stone artisan related the blissful attributes of bright orange stone Margaret chose.

Trays of beads were organized by color (Santa Cruz is a town of rainbows),

and Kevin listened as the energy of the pink stone he drew out of the “magic stone bag” was explained.

Margaret’s children were running about with joy as usual, and Zsa Zsa had chosen blue as her color of the day—her nails and stone necklace match, of course.

From blue—or maybe Zsa Zsa was really an indigo girl—the color aqua appeared in the form of a fresh egg, to the general excitement of those around the chicken run.

Kevin was perhaps channeling the dark pink stone energy when he cradled a chicken in his arms and had a moment. (I left him to commune with the chicken. These things happen in this town.)

Shortly after I said goodbye to Margaret’s family and a really lovely few months, Kevin and I went to watch aspiring surfers laze in the calm afternoon water as we napped in the sun and then drove to San Jose, where I began the drive to Brooklyn the following morning.

Thank you, thank you Santa Cruz for a summer I’ll remember, and one that is helping shape the path ahead…

bargaining for potatoes

Administrator — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 12:00:27 +0000

Every week this summer, the weekly salon and market at Fairy-Tale Farm has grown more magical, with gleaming potatoes two Thursdays ago,

that Margaret’s daughter Zsa Zsa deftly bargained for, as Roman contemplated biscuits and Madeline watched people enter the summertime salon.

We all ate a market dinner of biscuits and honey (pictured is my instructor in how to ladle honey),

salad with dried fruit, rice with almonds, and Persian vegetables,

from a table that always seems to replenish itself until everyone is fed.

A soft, sweet plum cobbler was, if possible, even nicer that the plum pie with a heart crust a few weeks back,

and Margaret’s son Roman made accordian music with a new friend,

while Zsa Zsa related her motto for Fairy-Tale Farm (“where all your dream come true,” I think it goes),

and Madeline continued her advanced training in chicken support, solemnly holding one under each arm.

And then Zsa Zsa’s face appeared, curiously, in orange,

and the girls worked together to make a chicken foot shape.

Margaret and I talked, hosts Karsten and Debora were their usual thoughtful, kind selves, and corsages were soon to be created on the craft table,

a nice activity to complement the crafters who bring their wares to the market each week.

Madeline smiled at her new necklace before making corsages with Zsa Zsa,

and I thought about how nice it is to be surrounded by the creative energy of Margaret, her children, and everyone else here each Thursday night on the farm, all of us grateful that Debora and Karsten open their space to the Santa Cruz community…

a visit to roadtrip nation

Administrator — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 11:48:32 +0000

In Los Angeles a few weeks ago (after seeing the wonderful Ben and Jeremy), I drove down to Costa Mesa to spend a few days talking online community strategy with Roadtrip Nation, a group that loves to empower personal life paths…and cupcakes. They really love cupcakes.

One of the staffers convinced this mobile sugar delivery system, through repeated tweets, to swing by the headquarters of this team that puts students on the road to interview their personal heroes. (I know Roadtrip Nation from my days at PBS HQ.)

Like the students they work with, this is a younger group, inspiring to spend time with,

as the Founders (from left to right, Mike, Nate, and Brian) continue to expand the audience and focus their happy team on creating work they are all proud of as they build the Roadtrip Nation movement.

After work, the staff hangs out together,

and they often lunch together—on Wednesday, many of them showed up at nearby store/community space Generic Youth,

where the store upcycles donated clothing into stylized hoodies and flips burgers in the middle of each week at a donation event (your donation can be clothing).

Roadtrip has a beautiful new space for all the lovely people that work here with the green RVs that students drive across the country each year parked all around (and inside!)

It’s not unusual to find a staffer on top of an RV, like Ray—who works on the Outreach team—was one afternoon, prepping for a presentation to visitors.

I spent much of my time in Costa Mesa with Mariana, who leads online community for this company of neat people and big, huge ideas about how to lead and begin meaningful conversations about the direction of your life.

Working with someone who truly cares about how to begin and nurture everyone the Roadtrip television show, online content, and curriculum touches made the days fly by.

Look for new things from Roadtrip Nation as early as this Fall, and until I am in Costa Mesa again (missing those Banzai Açaí Bowls already), all my best to the Founders, staff, and roadies—

carpinteria and pirate cruises

Administrator — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 00:50:09 +0000

A few Sundays ago, I left Santa Cruz early to drive down Highway 1, that dreamy coastal road that happens to hold a cluster of restaurants in Big Sur as attractive as the waves crashing by its side.

Big Sur Bakery is hidden from the road with trees and shrubs, the better to conceal the apricot strudel,

and citrus morning bun from the bakery inside.

With pastries further beautifying the drive, I continued on to the elephant seals and walruses playing,

and pulled over a few hours later to investigate Andersen’s theme restaurant in Buellton, CA. The theme? Pea Soup.

One of my friend Ben’s special skills is in making soup, so I secured a pack of the peas and the recipe for him to test and tweak.

I find the Pea Soup characters (Happea and Pea-Wee) that appear on billboards hours before the restaurant exit endlessly amusing as they smash the peas for the famed split pea soup—you can see them splitting peas blurred in the background here.)

Driving on, I met Ben and Jeremy at Carpinteria Beach with some friends of theirs who also add to the brain trust at Cal State LA,

and found Ben leading the charge with a bright ball as trains rumbled by in the distance behind the beach.

Jeremy obligingly dove to return Ben’s serves (in dramatic fashion) into the late afternoon,

and then we three drove to Santa Barbara, walked down the wharf,

didn’t let Jeremy captain a pirate cruise,

so that at the Santa Barbara Shellfish Company,

we could instead toast with a Bloody Mary or two to the scholastic year ahead, their move to a new apartment, and the (usually) warm weather of Califas…

Ben and Jeremy, I’ll miss the fiery Chinese restaurants in your old neighborhood (we may need to journey back, though not for a frog leg hot pot), but am very much look forward to seeing your new place—