Chicago, Full Fat
Where there is reprieve from winter there is butter and whole milk.
There is a house on North Campbell where the air whistles through the mail slot but the kettle whistles louder still. There is a piano in the kitchen and cast iron skillet on the stove and, a dozen brown eggs on the counter.
If austerity is measured in teaspoons, then the metrics of the soul – and of this place – are slabs and pallets, mouthfuls and handfuls. Human measurements that the heart understands.
Where there is reprieve from winter there is butter and whole milk, because joy and warmth and love and fat are not to be skimmed.
#dappercity (at Chicago, Illinois)
This guy (at Wicker Park Neighborhood)
Eureka! Shades of the West
Ever since I left California as a child I’ve sort of held the state at a safe distance. It always seems so far, so inconvenient, and so inaccessible to the licenseless.
Thankfully, this month my misimpressions were politely effaced by the elements of Los Angeles: the sea, the salt, the sun. The sun. The sun.
When you’ve lived in New York, or anywhere, long enough it ceases to be a choice: the dirt and grime, the sleet, the subway, the series of small, artificially-lit rooms where life takes place. LA reminded me that those small rooms are, in fact, a choice and that there are, inherently then, other options.
And so I spent a week remembering. Remembering a place where afternoons are a cheek pressed on warm stone. Where centers of gravity are low. Where the scent jasmine leaves you drugged and lovelorn walking home for dinner. Where there is air and sky and space enough to stretch.
This is what over a decade of interloping looks like #Vegas #nuptials #latergram (at Las Vegas, Nevada)
Finally catching up on what really matters… #vaycay #vogue #lenadunham (at West Hollywood)
Rose is getting married and all I can think about is the girl who sat in the hallway, cross-legged on the laminate floor, smiling. The girl who slept, for a year, under a nine foot poster of Johnny Depp at the piano. The girl I attached myself to so unabashedly that first year (and others) and who was sweet enough to oblige.
Rose is getting married. And, so, I give you the Save-The-Date Cake.
This was my interpretation of the Raw Cashew Dream Cake from My New Roots. This blushing beauty is more than just a pretty face. There’s no cooking/baking required, it’s also raw, vegan & gluten free (so no one has an excuse not to indulge!) Best of all, it holds up great in the freezer for coffee breaks and midnight snacks later on.
So here’s to Rose, with love, on this rosy occasion.
The Kingdom of #Sweden where even government propaganda is ethically and aesthetically superior