No Tweeking Necessary

You must not listen to the people who say you shouldn't buy cookbooks anymore because you can get any recipe you want to from the internet.  Why deny yourself the pleasure of browsing a recipe book for ideas and enjoying good photography?

The Malibu Farm Cookbook by Helene Henderson is a recipe and lifestyle book based on her restaurant of the same name at the end of the pier in Malibu California. 

This farm to table cookbook combines simple recipes with the sumptuous photography of Martin Lof.  Henderson writes a light narrative of her journey from Scandinavia to California and her steps and missteps of buying a farm, and catering private parties on her small farm that turned into hard to come by reservations and the start of her restaurant.  A sampling of chapters includes From the Coop, From the Hive,  From the Sea and Beach and From the Vineyard to name a few.  While the book does follow some eating trends of the day (think KALE) it contains plenty of meat and seafood recipes and uses dairy and butter and grains.

How to best review a cookbook?  Make some of the recipes.  I tried several including Roasted Portobellas with Roasted Red Pepper Pesto, Black Olive Aioli, Salmon and Grainy Mustard Dressing and Malibu Honey Marinade.  None of these recipes required odd ball ingredients or tweeking the recipes in anyway.  Henderson does give substitutions if you are following a dairy free or gluten free diet.  The ingredients worked well together and the directions were clear.

So many cookbooks today seem to be fashion books filled with photos of the author in designer clothes, smiling and pretending to eat the prepared food.  This books shows real people in real clothes working on the farm and in local environs.  And most importantly--some really creative recipes that are straightforward to prepare.

My thanks to Blogging for Books for providing me a review copy of this book.

Don't Wolf Down Your Breakfast!

Now what made me think of that phrase?

Maybe waking up this morning to the best day of the spring so far made me think of these kind of Saturdays and growing up and my mother's wise words.

It was days like this that I Absolutely Could Not Wait To Get Out and Play, and breakfast was the necessary "first thing" till I came in for lunch five hours later. ("Don't Wolf Down Your Lunch" was just as frequently heard)  The days were not long enough.

Unstructured play.  Climb that tree.  Make a sandbox ledge full of "bakery items" out of sand and water.  Traipse around the yard with the wagon pretending I was Laura Ingalls Wilder.  (Poor dog Mr.  Twinks.  He had to wear a sunbonnet during those times.)

A recent conversation with a couple of new-ish but becoming dear-ish friends discussed technology and smart phones and how we are tethered to the masters of texting and emails.  Not to worry--this blog is not to rail on the evils of technology.  I simply know what I had to do to give more balance to my life.  My circumstance is not your circumstance and I understand that.

This weekend is semi unstructured play at Little Bohemia.  I have to load the car for a reset inventory trip to Madison this coming week. We sold four pieces of furniture the last week, and the booth needs a freshening.  Dear One is getting the hives in order for the shipments of bees due next week.  There are hostas to relocate and a pond to muck out.

But there is also a new cookbook from Blogging for Books for me to read.  I need to unlock all the windows on the porch and open them WIDE. A teak bench by the pond needs brushing off and to sit  on it awhile.  I want to open Grandpa's bird book and find out if that IS an indigo bunting. A paper Wall Street Journal to read--maybe while sitting on that bench. A healthy crunchy salad to make out of raw brussels sprouts (trust me on this) for supper and a couple of hours of "wander outside and do some unplanned something"--and not worry if it gets done today or tomorrow.

I apologize to friends that I am missing the updates on their lives from facebook.  I further apologize that I do not answer  emails very promptly--sometimes REALLY not very promptly.  You will never get a text from me.  Sundays are totally technology unplugged here--and we are experimenting with Saturdays as well. 

Enjoy your spring days the way you like best--there is not an infinite amount of them for any of us.

It's Italian Apertivo Hour

While cold brisk winds are still gripping the American midwest,  it was a real treat to find a copy of  Talia Baiocchi and Leslie Pariseau' s new book "Spritz" in my mailbox.  This attractive book promises to highlight Italy's most iconic cocktail and it delivers.

Beautifully photographed, this book is filled with recipes of spritz drinks and accompanying snacks that is sure to quickly point you toward an open air cafe on some street in some fabulous Italian town.  Who knew that enjoying  the Spritz, in its many incarnations and concoctions, was a national Italian pastime?

My husband and I were introduced to the Aperol Spritz (page 57) on a recent trip to Taormina Sicily.  We plopped into a chair on a late Sunday afternoon (a bit early for the usual 7pm Apertivo Hour in Italy) and eyed other tables to see if we saw a drink we could point to and say "two of those please!!"  We did not see a variety of drinks--we saw ONE drink that almost all the 50 or so patrons were drinking--the Aperol Spritz.  We laughed as we commented to ourselves it sounded like an American motor oil from the 1930s.  But instead--two glass of  orange colored wonderfulness were placed in front of us.  The mixture?  2 ounces of bitter liquer(Aperol), 3-4 ounces of prosecco (sparkling white wine) and 2 ounces of soda water.  Garnish it with an orange slice and an olive--and you have just become Italian.  Accompanying it were little dishes of chips and olives and snackie bits.

Spritz the book takes you through the origins of the drink, the regional tweeks and various recipes and accompanies each with a mouth watering photo and easy to follow recipes.  The spritz contains a bitter of some sort, and an effervescent wine or soda water, and a spirit or wine--and a garnish of citrus or olives.  Page 61 has a drink that looks particularly wonderful and refreshing--the White Spritz--4 ounces of dry white wine, 2 ounces of soda water and 1/2 ounce of lemon syrup (recipe provided).

This is a treat of a book--and certainly would make a wonderful hostess gift.

Thanks to Blogging for Books who provided me with a copy of Spritz to review and enjoy.

Who Was Herbie?

Dear One and I have a new addition to the family.  Meet Herbie.

Herbie is the name of our new  rhinestone and jewel encrusted 1920s vintage accordion made by the Chicago firm P. Del Pricipe and Company.

Herbie is one  incredible piece of bohemian jewelry,  that is for sure.  He is a full sized accordion, absolutely covered in interesting marbled bakelite keys and buttons and faux gems like you would not believe.  We bought this treasure for a song (Lady of Spain perhaps? HA!)  Think of the Czech version of an accordion if played by Liberace.  Actually--I think Liberace DID play the accordion--but I digress...

Anyone who knows Dear One and me knows that this little treasure MIGHT eventually make its way into the shop--but most likely WILL NOT.  He fits right in in our living room--and glitters better than a night light!

Inheriting Stuff and Guilt

When a collector or a dealer finds themselves inheriting family antiques or vintage items--it is not necessarily the wonderful windfall it may first appear.

While many of us lovers of history and family and genuine neat old stuff spend a big chunk of our time with vintage and antiques,  dealers must have a disconnected sort of affection for what they buy and possess.  If a dealer plays the "should I keep it or should I sell it" game with everything purchased--there would be no money  made and overstuffed houses. (actually that IS the plight of some dealers, but Never Mind That Now!)

I am a dealer and I am WAY too sentimental about stuff.  If something catches my eye that I am buying to sell--it is not unheard of that it spends some time in our home.  Because there is no personal connection to these items, it is not hard, after a time, for the goods to find their way into the shop.

Not so easy and clear cut with personal inherited items.  In the past couple of years--I have "come into" quite a few items belonging originally to my grandmother and great grandmother and before.

What to do?  Keep it all?  Stuff it in our house?  Fill closets or bins in the garage?  Keep it or donate it?  Sell it?  Guilt abounds.

But Grandma used that biscuit cutter!!  Grandpa used the camera!  Great Aunt Can't Spell Her Name hooked that rug!  Hobnail glassware will come back in fashion!  I don't know what that tool is, but Great Grandpa used it!

Now the guilt.  I am a person who will walk an extra block to the crosswalk to cross a street safely.  I have NEVER been stopped by a police officer for a speeding ticket.  I draw the drapes when I cut the Do Not Remove tags from mattresses.  And I am supposed to GET RID of inherited stuff??  That Just Is Not Done!

Yes--yes it must be done.  If you are a dealer or collector or just a plain old person--chances are your house and shop are filled with items that did not start with your family--but started in someone ELSE'S family.  Things must move on.  I do not make biscuits.  I will not use the camera.  I can use one but not eight hooked rugs.  Hobnail glassware will NOT come back in style.

For me--it has just meant prioritizing.  I have culled through and kept special pieces for entertaining that I really have and will use.  A few.  Not 100. I have kept the bread and butter plates from Grandma's dishes--because I will use them for hors d'oeuvres at parties, not the whole set.   I have kept a few tools with real patina or character--not the tool box full.  The memories of all the stuff are still there--but there comes a time.

Give yourself permission to keep what you love, and let the rest move on.

Housekeeping Yoga

This is a curious book—and you need to be in the right frame of mind to read it.  Spark Joy by Marie Kondo is the second book by the Japanese anti-clutter/organization giant.  This book promises to help the reader cull out the mess of all categories of things in one’s living space—and surround yourself with order and only things that “spark joy.”  It calls itself the master class on the art of organizing.  I think it could be titled “Housekeeping Yoga.”

Some reviewers might poke fun at Kondo’s way of having conversations with the objects of clutter.  The author recommends being respectful of what you are tossing or giving away, thank it for the place it has had in your life, and move on.  She recommends saying good bye with gratitude before you move on.

The book has a very calming pace about itself—the author does impart a Japanese style to her writing—this is not a frenzied plan to  sort and purge.  Much of the book describes the KonMari method of tidying.  She has developed a plan—and requests that you follow her order for discarding items that do not give you joy.  Tackle clothes, then books, papers. Komono (everything else) and sentimental items.  She spends much time with her much reviewed way of folding clothing—which I found of least interest.  American’s use hangers and dresser drawers—rolling and folding clothes like you are packing a suitcase is over the top. 

This book is a very fast read—the 291 pages go quickly--and I am not sure I found any novel tips for tidying and getting rid of clutter.

I do like that she is respectful of folks with clutter and problems with too much stuff.  So many books and programs about clutter and hoarding have an element of shame to them.  Not Kondo.  Her plan is methodical—and after reading it—I have no doubt it works. Her plan is a little dodgie on how one defines joy.  That is a big word for me— the little paperweight my grandma gave me makes me smile everytime I look at it—is smiling the same as joy?

You can’t argue with success.  Kondo has created an empire—but I am not sure there is a third book needed to make a trilogy.

Too Much of a Good Thing

We just finished  a marathon of shows and shops in "the land of Oz" where we have visited for more than 10 years each March.

Thousands of people converge on a few small towns for  up to  five days and scurry from shop to show and back again searching for the elusive fabulous antique for collection or to resell.  Dear One and I have cabin fever at this time of year--the daffodils are still hiding--and the brown-ness of northern Illinois makes us want to see the brown-ness of another part of the state.

We are all crazy people as we traipse from show to show--stand in line and race around in  overheated overcrowded rooms.  We remember the days when there was just one show on the weekend--now there are six.  By the sixth one--Dear One and I have battle fatigue.

We found a few good finds.  We also look at it as a research trip--what is selling-what are people charging-what are the new fakes on the market.  Since we are seeing many things we do not collect or sell--I used to be a bit intimidated by the sea of early American antiques--and the amount of knowledge I did NOT have.  Not any more.

This trip--I watched a woman purchase a step back cupboard that was easily painted with "old" paint last week--no wait--maybe last month.  I wanted to rush over to her--talk to her about "honest wear" and how this piece was missing it.  Old cupboards were not painted on the backside.  Where are the decades and decades of greasy finger marks and bumps and bruises and character?  That blue color is NOT old paint.  Use your nose--SMELL it.  Feel the surface.  Look closer lady!! 

I asked a dealer about a  sign they had. I asked my usual "what can you tell me about this piece?"  I happen to come from the part of the county where the product originates.  While the sign had a folk art look I liked--something was "off".  How does a sign come off a tavern if it has no nail holes, no  indications it was in a now missing frame, and no weathered wear? Signs in the outdoor  elements  have tell tale markings.  Not this one.

Then again you find a dealers who knows their stock,  one who is selling something you do not see in booth after booth after booth--and is selling like gangbusters.  After a million of these shows--we know have learned where you stop and where you don't bother.

We found some treasures,  had a stock up from our favorite country grocery store,  our lungs are full of crisp not Chicago air--and we have  a whole lot of enthusiasm for a good selling spring ahead.