main street

I think I mentioned I've been out driving in America, a brief western jaunt. I love long distance driving in America, I feel like I can't keep my eyes open wide enough, everything is so beautiful and changes so fast. I am a huge fan of two lane highways, this trip we hit Rte 13 in Colorado, Rte 789 in Wyoming, Rte 30 in Wyoming and Idaho and Rtes 26 and 22 in Oregon.

It is always freshly shocking and devastating to see some of the totally wiped out or barely hanging on main streets. Sure, I have a weakness for beautiful decay, but at least on the main streets I avoided taking too many pictures of the emptiness this time, and tried to focus on nice things well made, old signs and post offices. The top and bottom images above are from the city of Buhl, Idaho, "trout capital of America." Apparently most of the rainbow trout consumed in the U.S., over 20 million pounds annually, is processed outside of Buhl. Whoa, we didn't see any trout being processed but there was what looked like a potato or an onion storage facility just off main street. Downtown Buhl is right on the Thousand Springs Scenic Byway and still looks pretty good, a closed down dollar store here and some scuffed up signs there but overall still a place to go, a really nice post office, the dairy, and a giant, giant sculpture of a trout on the side of a building in the center of town. I wonder what you would make of it, Richard Brautigan?

But the middle picture is from Montpelier, Idaho, which has one of those main streets that you actually have to drive off the main road to get to, and it was pretty grim. There were a few people showing up at the movie theater when we passed through a little before dusk, and there was a pizza place right next to it that looked open but not much else. Really, side by side empty buildings, top to bottom, nothing. This poor bakery with the lovely sign is an empty shell. You can see a nice picture of the sign, as well as a view of the interior here, in these great photos from 2006, and if you scroll through the comments you can see notes from people who have memories of it open, not so long ago really. I can tell you that as of last month the interior is only dustier, greyer and more cluttered.

It make me sad, but also makes me feel lucky to have lived in the places I have lived I guess, where I can walk to things and smile at my shopkeepers and librarians and postal clerks every day. Interesting project about Main Streets in America here, check it out.

growing things

My mom took this picture of wild leeks in my home town, aren't they beautiful?

I "harvested" kale and oregano from my garden for my pasta sauce today.

winning and losing

Grizzlies 4, Beavers 2, not the perfect outcome, but that seems civilized compared to the beat down the trail blazers finished suffering moments ago. But taking in a game has other compensations, we had a lovely afternoon at the ball park.

keep it simple

Travel is delightful, of course, but I am always happy to have real food in a real kitchen when I get home. For our first night home, J.'s birthday, I cut the backbone out of a nice chicken, covered it in hot red pepper flake, lemon zest and salt, and roasted it on top of these vegetables. Spicy sweet potatoes have made me happy recently. The roasting minded itself for the most part, while K. and I took a long walk in the late afternoon sun up to the reservoir to shake ourselves out from several days in the car. I used my huge new copper roasting pan for the first time, recently scored at goodwill, worked like a charm, practically my new best friend. I think it came out well, and there were enough greens in the garden for a salad again!

out in america

Just got home this afternoon, and I'm still in the middle of unpacking, here are few things to get started with.

K. and I had a great drive, saw some new roads. And it was a beautiful afternoon to come home to. As we drove the last twenty minutes into town it was rainy and sunny at the same time, a windshield wiper and sunglasses kind of day, big, towering, fast moving, dark clouds and expansive, overpowering, profound shafts of sunlight. The garden did a great job while I was away, the scallions that I was worried about all came up, I didn't miss the magic moment when the peas grab the string but still they grew noticeably, and there was enough lettuce for J.'s birthday dinner, more on that tomorrow maybe.

I'm sitting here torn between wanting to say more about all the great stuff out there and wanting to tell more about how nice it was to get home, and really I can't do either right now. It will be better anyway, tomorrow, I'm sure.

back at the wonder

This time for Yeasayer, they were awesome, and the nice bartender gave me a beer, thanks bartender! Good day all around, but I still have to pack and wash the dishes, so I'm off for now. I'm out of town for the next few days at least, on a road trip with Pops. I hope I'll have good pictures when I get back!

turning off the lights

I've been reading and listening to a lot of coverage of the closure of the Stinson Sardine Cannery in Prospect Harbor, Maine since I read this article in the NY Times a few weeks ago. What would it be like to have the Library of Congress filming you as you work, because you will probably be the last person ever to perform your particular job in this country? It is a frustrating story, familiar too, and as far as I can tell in this case, there really isn't even a satisfying villain. Bumble Bee Foods took over the cannery in 2004, but it seems that catch limits on Atlantic herring and a lack of demand for canned sardines in the U.S. are more the narrative than the evil of big business or the export of American jobs. Still, the result is the same, one more thing we don't make anymore.

I'm not a fish expert but I'm not a fish idiot either, so I was surprised I didn't realize that atlantic sardines and herring are the same fish. I guess it makes sense, I've certainly seen minor structural differences in sardines from the mediterranean and from the north atlantic. Wikipedia notes 5 or 6 different genera and lists "pilchard" as an alternate name, which sends me down a little rabbit hole here from the Jarvis Cocker song, to the Beatles "Semolina pilchard, climbing up the eiffel tower, elementary penguin singing hare krishna man, you should have seen them kicking edgar allan poe." Whew, o.k., back to Maine.

I guess lobster men buy a significant amount of the allowed catch of herring as bait, so that is kind of a good thing, right? You can still get lobster in Maine for now. Since I've already given in to tangents, did you ever read that fascinating John McPhee article about UPS and lobsters? It was originally published in The New Yorker, but it is probably collected in that transportation book he did, Uncommon Carriers. Great article, great writer, but speaking of tangents, I wish he would stop with the lacrosse articles.

originally uploaded by National Maritime Museum.

harbour and herring fleet, Scarborough, Yorkshire, 1897

I'm still learning about what pictures are o.k. to use for my blog, so I've been playing it pretty safe. I'm sure if you want to see pictures of Stinson Sardines you won't have any trouble finding them. The constraint does lead to some interesting discoveries though. I love this picture of a fishing boat traffic jam from The National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, England. It looks like a great museum, I'm putting it on the list of places to go one day.

So goodbye, Stinson Sardines. I'm sorry I never knew you, and I hope everybody who is losing a job finds something fulfilling and satisfying to do. For the record, I love sardines, and herring, and canned fish and shellfish of all kinds, except maybe canned salmon, I've never had very good luck with canned salmon.

chomping at the bit

I am not a patient gardener. I do not want to wait for the soil temperature to be right. I do not want to wait ten minutes for the soil test to finish. I do not want to wait for the seeds to germinate. I check my starts every morning, looking for action.Finally we are getting to the point now where I can see the changes every day. Which means here comes my other problem, I hate thinning out seeds. I know I have to do it, but it just hurts me, plucking out those perfectly good little sprouts. Good sign though, this year I have done better than last, and since this is only my second real year of having a garden (or a house) I'm optimistic about my future.

This is the first real salad of the year! I picked a little of the wild arugula a few weeks ago, but it wasn't really enough for a whole salad, I had to mix it in with the store bought. But the arugula is awesome, it came in super early and I didn't even plant it, it just came back from last year, and it's spreading! I hope it takes over the whole yard. I hope I grow enough lettuces this year to overdose on the stuff. Lettuce is one of my favorite garden things because it is so, so, so much better than store bought or even farmer's market bought a lot of the time. I love going out and picking a little bit of different kinds and eating it right away. But I really hate washing it, it is such a hump to get over, like when you are reading on the couch and you really, really want to go to bed, but the effort of getting up and brushing the teeth and washing the face are just too much to face, too, too hard. I know, rough life.

out last night

O.k. I know you can't see really see the pants in the photo from last night, I have been resisting taking a real camera to see music, but you'll just have to take my word for it, they were awesome. Black pants with a silver metallic pinstripe, leather pockets and a pleated leather waistband, the boots were dynamite too.

And the music was good, I should say. I wasn't really sure what to expect. I think Charlotte Gainsbourg has always made interesting choices as an actress and I respect her work. She does not have a large voice as a singer, and that was distracting on a few of the songs. I have been to other shows at the wonder ballroom where I thought the lead vocal was mixed a little low, so I don't know if that was part of the problem? In addition to the material from her current album, she played a couple of her father's songs, a Jarvis Cocker/Air song that I liked, and a Bob Dylan cover that I wasn't crazy about. Overall, worth the money.

The Wonder Ballroom is a great size for me, I think one reason I like it so much is because it reminds me of the town hall where I grew up. I practically expect to be able to go downstairs to the lady's aid society rummage sale in the basement. I finally got to see the balcony, it has been closed during the other shows I've seen there. I'm happy to report it is a good one. I used to be nearly unable to go to see live music, some kind of claustrophobia, so one reason I'm so keen on balconies is because I think the ability to see over the crowd instead of being caught in it calms me down. Also, there is usually beer there.

love letter to charlotte gainsbourg's pants

more on this tomorrow. . .

a nice thing from today

tulips, sun

icelandic fantasy

The crowd at the Jonsi show was a little more earth toned than I had anticipated, but I guess it makes sense, since he presents kind of as a cross between a wood sprite and a lost boy from peter pan, in a delightful way, I mean. He was really delightful. I can't say that I totally understand the rainbow macrame dreadlocks hanging off of his costume, but that doesn't mean I didn't like them, and when he came out towards the end in a multicolored feather boa and crown, (headdress?) I was one hundred percent on board. He seemed to be playing to satisfy himself, which is a great quality, the best really, in a mature artist. It was a great show, although, dear Mr. Enthusiasm who was standing right next to me, you seem like a nice guy but singing along is something that you do in your car, not at a live show. It's like talking at the movie theater but maybe even worse because if I really need to I can walk out of the movie and go again the next day. And, also, I'll bet even in your car you can't really sing along to half icelandic falsetto. But I'm glad you enjoyed the show, I did too!

I wish I could say more about all the instruments on stage. He started out by himself with just an acoustic guitar but the rest of the instruments, and the musicians playing them, were amazing. There was a very large and complicated xylophone (and an awesome two man xylophone breakdown) at least two keyboards, a upright piano, one visible drum kit and another kind of percussion set up behind the piano that I couldn't see very well but that at one point seemed to involve a ringing metal plate. And then there were a lot of mysterious boxes that I could probably tell you more about if I hadn't been up in the balcony, can't keep me away from a good balcony, or maybe if I was more musically literate, sorry! Oh, and a miniature guitar, but, no, it wasn't a ukelele. Try to catch the show, you'll see.

I had been a little on the fence about going all week, I already blew the concert budget on Charlotte Gainsbourg, but I won the tickets! Thank you Jeremy Petersen and OPB, not only for the tickets but for the win! I need some winning in my life right now. Let's hope I'm on a streak and it lasts through tomorrow!

And, as a bonus, if you need a little more Iceland in your coffee this week, check out the collection of Icelandic Candy that just went up at Kiosk in New York.

score

Two recent aquisitions:

I do have a fascination with cookbooks, and I'll admit to a raging goodwill addiction, but I try to be discerning in my selections, and not just buy any old kitschy book that comes along. Books are already crowding out my dry goods, and since J. seems to feel he needs a backup of every item in the kitchen (seriously, we live less than 5 minutes BY FOOT, from a totally acceptable grocery store, do we really need three bottles of soy sauce? ) I do have to keep it under control. I have my eye on a spot for built in cookbook specific bookshelves one day, but still, there must be guidelines.
The Outdoor Cook's Bible here joins a sub category of what I guess I would call "special circumstances" cookbooks. Included are Bradford Angier's Wilderness Cookery (nice line drawn chapter on foraging wild plants), The First Book of Boy's Cooking from 1957, Patience Gray's Honey from a Weed and also M.F.K. Fisher's amazing 1942 How to Cook a Wolf. This last one is about food and life under rationing during WWII, and is the only cookbook I can think of that speaks knowingly of iceboxes commandeered by the local red cross for blood plasma. Jim Harrison hangs out here too, pretty much any time he mentions food. Also, I'm waiting for just the right copy of Judith Jones' and Angus Cameron's L.L. Bean cookbook to come along.
Belonging to an established area of interest, writing style, book design, recipe quality and sheer novelty do count, but aren't necessarily enough all alone. So for example, the interesting observation that frogs will jump at red flannel is awesome, but maybe not quite enough to buy a book for. What probably put this one over the top is more the aggregation of useful and unusual facts, pictures and ingredients, rather than any particular recipe.
This one, Patonga Country Kitchen, barely made the cut, but the chapter on pickles won me over. I'm always looking for an interesting pickle. I'm excited to try the tomato-strawberry jam this summer. I really loved this tomato jam recipe, and I love this pasta sauce. And, I have a good feeling about the scone recipes, a well tested baking recipe is really something to take seriously.

supper for one

Supper time, such a nice time for eating and a bad time for pictures, for me and my kitchen anyway. Here are eggs baked in french lentils with a little parmesan on top. The lentils are cooked with kale, onion, oregano, thyme, celery, hot pepper. It was really good. I made it yesterday, too, but it was better today. Yesterday the eggs were a little firm in the middle, not quite as creamy as I would have liked. Today they were just liquid in the center but not watery, the white was soft and creamy. I don't usually make the same thing twice in a row, I guess I've just been feeling a little listless for the past few days, and this seemed so comforting and nourishing. Since J. has been out of town I have been eating more vegetables and way less meat, but I'm not trying to refer to the holiness of my diet with the backdrop or anything, that was just a newspaper clipping on the counter. This would totally not qualify as dinner for him, he would eat it, but with a pork chop.

forwards and backwards

It has been at least 21 years since my elementary school class buried a time capsule. I'm beginning to think Mrs. Spengler had no intention of leaving instructions for its retrieval. How many years did we say anyway, 10, 25, 50? This country's playgrounds must just be mine fields of abandoned time capsules. Another story adults tell children, and like most of those stories, told with perfectly good intentions. I'm sure there is that one district where someone's dad keeps track, and he shows up on the appointed day, shovel ready. But I know that watching the clock wasn't and isn't really the point. Mrs. Spengler, you did a good job.

I started thinking about Lincoln Elementary while I was digging around my own basement a few days ago. Like I said I've been contemplating the mail in offer lately, its heyday and decline. I came across this crash cover, another mail related obsession of mine. I guess I had forgotten all about it, but here it is, at the right time, rising to the surface. The cover itself was at least familiar, but I had completely forgotten about the rush coupon inside. I haven't been able to figure out what Coast Industries was, Los Angeles, 1950, anybody?

What a sad little novella this poor water stained envelope is. Mr. and Mrs. Prince, what happened to you? Mr. Prince were you dreaming of California, 52 and alone? I'm sure I don't even have to mention that I think Mrs. Prince might have felt there was some bitter irony to her married name. Is that the sad story, the modern one, or do you prefer the traditional one, the one where she died young, and so soon after the war. Either way, she's long gone and without even a name. And then the fire in Cadiz? Oh no.

No prior hypnotic training needed! I feel like I'm always burying things and digging them back up again. Refolding, resmoothing, reordering, putting away. Sometimes it feels like exciting and wonderful discovery, I remeet little perfect object being its delightful self, containing its weird old story. Sometimes I just wish I could keep everything out all the time, or at least not forget so much all the time.