esprit de l'escalier

Let's start at the very beginning

Tonight I had my first session for my 4 week "first time drawing" class at Lillstreet. I'm taking it because I realized when I took my painting class this summer that I jumped in too quickly and needed to start at the basics. We started off with a couple of different exercises and then did a still life. I have definitely improved with the still life. Which is good. It's fun to get all smudgy with the charcoal and I have a tic where I squish the squishy eraser as I'm contemplating the scene and sort of bounce at intervals. Plus I think I have a drawing face (akin to the running face or the singing face— faces made when concentrating), and I'm pretty sure I stick out my tongue a little. All of this I find hilarious.

My teacher had her 13 week old puppy with her, Gypsy, who had big bat ears and was adorable. I told her about little Franklin and how he wakes me up every two hours with his omnipresent claws. She countered with the fact that every two hours she has to get up, dressed and get her dog out the door to do its business. I told her she won. That definitely put Frank's antics in perspective. And I know I sound a little cranky to some of you, but it's the lack of sleep. I do love the little hairball.

Psycho kitty, q'est-ce c'est?

Sure, sure, little Frank looks real cute all tuckered out, but it's an act. I think he's a little p-sycho ("p" pronounced) or at least half piranha. He seems to be very interested in eating me in bits and pieces. But he's using the litterbox now, after one incident on my bed. He also managed to live through the day yesterday all by himself in my room, and nothing is destroyed. Anyhow, that's my kitty update. He's progressing well. Is it wrong I just want him to be a cat instead of a little pouncing furball with sharp, pointy teeth?

New kitty, Frank

This is my new kitty Frank. He's named after Franklin Pierce, a not so well thought of President (mostly for not stopping the Civil War, but could anyone have stopped that?). He was known for his good looks, his oratory skills and his descent into alcoholism. My little Frank is incredibly tiny and I can't really believe he's mine. Expect lots of kitty-talk around here...

PFR No. 5: Thanksgiving edition

This Thanksgiving was full of firsts: I hosted and cooked my first turkey, first time to visit Graceland Cemetery, first sweet potato pie instead of pumpkin. The sweet potato pie was made by friend Sharon and it was a huge hit.

My guest tester for this PFR was my roommate Natasha, and my brother gave a couple of quotes as well. She gave the pie a solid 4.

Here's what she had to say: "This is much more complex than a pumpkin pie and the filling is airier. The ginger and lemon work excellently together. The crust is not remarkable but the filling is— the lemon is doing incredible things." This morning, after her breakfast slice she said she didn't think she'd ever be able to go back to pumpkin. (Full disclosure: the crust was frozen because Sharon ran out of time to make her own.)

My brother said of the difference between pumpkin and sweet potato, "They look the same but they don't talk the same." For him it was the ginger not the lemon (he is so a product of my father) that made the pie for him.

As for the rest of the meal... the turkey was okay. I'm glad my mother wasn't there and I only fed a couple of people, this seemed like tech rehearsal or something. I feel like I want to try this again. My favorite part was the cranberry sauce (recipe via Mav of Port2Port). I did a terrible job carving, which mystifies me because I usually do not so bad a job. Below is my first plate. After we ate we walked down to Graceland Cemetery and visited with the past elite of Chicago. I'll blog about that later. It was good to get a walk after dinner.

PFR No. 3 and 4

This weekend was chock-full of pie, though it wasn't all great.

PFR No. 3

Friday night, after meeting my brother and some people at my brother's friend's art show and then taking my visiting cousin and his girlfriend on a quick night tour of Millenium Park, I met my friend Elaine at Taste of Heaven for some pie.

We shared a little apple pie that was dumpling-like, almost like an apple pie samosa. We had it heated up and split it down the middle. Elaine gave it a 4.7. She liked the light sugar on top and felt the crust was light, though a little floury for her taste.

I thought the filling was perfect. It wasn't overly sweet and it really hit the spot.

They have a case full of other sweets that I can't wait to try. It's just up the street from me and it's the perfect place to chat with a friend on a cold night.

PFR No. 4

For my fourth PFR I broke some rules and I'm a little sorry with the whole experience.

Saturday Natasha and I went to the DIY Trunk Show to see our friend Shana and her craft booth. It was at the Pulaski Park Auditorium. As well as a bunch of cool crafts, there were also people selling all sorts of delectable sweets. Seeing the pie, I had to get it. (I seriously do see pie everywhere now. It's kind of weird.) The pie was from the Hoosier Mama Pie Company, which I had just read about, and I thought it seemed like a good idea for me to buy a slice. I was a little overwhelmed, the place was crowded and warm and I was overcome by the options so I asked the woman working the table what she preferred. She said she hated apple pie and suggested the Maple Pecan. Now, my eye naturally fell to a pear-apple crumble thing, but I decided to go with her suggestion.

Much later in the day I ended up eating the pie while I watched the end of the OSU-Michigan game. Part of the reason for the PFRs is to enjoy pie in different locations around town with friends, so I broke the rules and in the end I didn't really enjoy the pie. I found the crust too hard and the filling was overly sweet (which I should have realized based on the name). Compared to the pecan pie from Dixie Kitchen, it was no good. Overall I give it a 2.5.

Today I was trying to work on a paper (that's due tomorrow) in several different locations. One of the two coffeehouses I was in had pie and I know just the person to tap for that PFR.

I hope you all had a good weekend, pie-filled or not. Two more days and I'm free from the shackles of this quarter! And then I have to make my first turkey. This blog is going to be full of food this holiday season.

I'm taking this as a sign

Tucked in my mailbox today was a postcard baring a photo of a scrumptious looking slice of blueberry pie with the declaration, "Time to order pie!" WHAT? I thought. I was on the phone as I checked my mail and couldn't pay attention either to the conversation or to read the postcard thoroughly. Had someone sent me this? Did someone sign me up for some sort of pie-related mailing list? Word (and my address) seems to have gotten out! I thrust the card to my roommate for her interpretations as I bustled into the apartment and got off the phone. She, being literate and all, deciphered the code. It was from First Slice, the cafe attached to Lillstreet, the art studio where I took some classes this summer (and am taking a class between Thanksgiving and Christmas, because who needs those pesky evenings to yourself?). They so sent this to the right girl. I'm definitely doing a PFR there.

In other PFR news, Ms. Amy of Gazelles on Crack posted about her 1st PFR last week. My friend Dan also posted a comment about his pie experiences while he's in Paris for the year. I hope they inspire others of you to eat pie in your areas and come tell us about it!

It does not look like this today

But I am going to pretend that it does. I spent all of yesterday in the library working on a paper due next week. (Though I did sneak out to see Stranger Than Fiction, which I enjoyed more than I thought I would. Last week I saw Little Children, which was good, but made me extremely tense. It was populated with some very beautiful people, though.)

Since I'm busy busy and the weather is pretty November (read: grey, cold), I thought I'd post some photos from a couple of weeks ago, when it was sunny. (See the originals here and here.) My mood seems to be a reflection of the weather as well. I have an extreme want to hibernate.

Morning after

I have been looking forward to seeing the end of this election cycle. I'm pretty jaded with the electoral process. This may have everything to do with the fact that the second election I ever voted in was the 2000. That election didn't really sow seeds of confidence in a young woman's idealistic heart. Nor did the presidential election to follow. Though I guess my latent political junkie came out last night, because I surprised myself by staying up way too late to watch Chris Matthews honk at Keith Olbermann. I am pleased with some of the results (what with the House and all), though I fear we're going to have some lawyers holding us back for a couple weeks in Virginia (and Montana?).

I'm not terribly pleased with the governor results in my state, but my hope is that G-Rod gets indicted soon and kicked out of office. (Thought it's too bad about Duckworth.) I'm very pleased with the Senate and Governor seats in Ohio, though. I was also paying attention to the 15th district there, where I was once a constituent. I (sort of) know Mary Jo Kilroy, but it doesn't look good for her, which is too bad. (I campaigned for her once when I was 15 or 16.)

Back in my college stomping grounds, I was very pleased to see that Hostettler got kicked out of Indiana's 8th District and Baron Hill won in the 9th.

All in all, I hope we settle these disputed races soon. Frankly I'm just happy those horrible campaign ads are gone.

UPDATES: As for thoughts on the IL governor election, here's a quote from today's Beachwood Reporter:
How do citizens vote against corruption if both candidates in a given campaign are corrupt? That was my question. (The Beachwood Reporter has become a daily read for me. Check it out if you live in the Chicago area, though it's made me more bitter towards the politics here.)

Here is a great post by Sara Robinson about the historical momentum leading up to yesterday's elections and where liberals should go from there. (Hat tip to Res at Republic of Dogs.)

Matt of the Tattered Coat has a great quote from Whitman, which was the perfect way to start my day.

PFR No. 2

Last Sunday I went on my second Pie Field Research trip. This time to the Dixie Kitchen in Hyde Park. This is two for two for Southern restaurants, and I want to assure you all that this genre of restaurant will not be the only I frequent for pie research. It's happenstance that the first two are Southern.

I was down in Hyde Park last week with my roommate, our friends Libby and Ryan (who live there) and my high school friend Carter (who was visiting a friend there). I ordered the pecan pie, as I was disappointed with the peach at the last place. When the pie came out, I asked Ryan to be my guest tester, as he is a confessed pecan pie snob (and happened to be sitting next to me).

Ryan gave the pecan pie a 4 out of 5. The crust was flaky and not too dry, though Ryan guessed it was a Pillsbury crust. He found the filling to be, "not too sweet with a good ratio of nuts to filling." He found that "the consistency gelled well and was not too soupy with a good color." (After rattling off like that I'm thinking of having him guest test at every location!)

The pie did several rounds on the table and Natasha agreed with Ryan about the filling's consistency. She said that "sometimes (pecan pies) have the tendency to candy at the bottom and this one didn't." We were also all pleased with the gravy boat of real whipped cream that accompanied the pie.

I have the next place scouted out, with a guest tester lined up as well. I also spied a bakery near the Newberry Library the other day on the bus that looks like it will end up in my sample. Jennifer, we need to reschedule our suburban pie expedition! Plus Sharon has promised me a homemade sweet potato pie for Thanksgiving. I have pie a-plenty in my future!

A poem

Percy (Two)

I have a little dog who likes to nap with me.
He climbs on my body and puts his face in my neck.
He is sweeter than soap.
He is more wonderful than a diamond necklace,
which can't even bark.
I would like to take him to Kashmir and the Ukraine,
and Jerusalem and Palestine and Iraq and Darfur,
that the sorrowing thousands might see his laughing mouth.
I would like to take him to Washington, right into
the oval office
where Donald Rumsfeld would crawl out of the president's
armpit
and kneel down on the carpet, and romp like a boy.

For once, for a moment, a rational man.

– Mary Oliver

I'm lucky to have a poetry-literate roommate who likes to share her finds! Isn't this a good one? Oh! I miss my little pooch.