Frantopia

There will Never be Utopia without Youtopia.
The new partridge may no longer be in a pear tree… 
Although there are many who are no longer very religious, we tend to keep religious tradition around—Christmas being a big one. I’m not very religious, but I love Christmas. I love decorating. I love spending time with family. I love Santa. I love ugly Christmas sweaters. I love sitting by the fire. I love listening to Christmas music. I love tacky stocking gifts. I love great food. I love this season of red and green.
Perhaps it’s the repetition. It’s something to look forward to. It always comes at the same time of year, and it always is associated with the same colors.
Or maybe it’s the act of exchanging gifts—there is something incredibly rewarding about giving people gifts that you know they will love.
To me, the tradition has less to do with religion and more to do with an appreciation for those I am with and the generous acts of kindness we share whether it is tangible or intangible. Is this perhaps a reflection of a new sort of religion? A faith based simply on an appreciation for those around us and for what we have, and for what we can give? Or is this what religion is actually about? If you subtract the stories, remove the connotations…is there still a partridge in a pear tree??
There was certainly a partridge this year—but instead of being in a pear tree it was in my favorite flourless dark chocolate cake. I think I like the direction this tradition is going in.

The new partridge may no longer be in a pear tree… 

Although there are many who are no longer very religious, we tend to keep religious tradition around—Christmas being a big one. I’m not very religious, but I love Christmas. I love decorating. I love spending time with family. I love Santa. I love ugly Christmas sweaters. I love sitting by the fire. I love listening to Christmas music. I love tacky stocking gifts. I love great food. I love this season of red and green.

Perhaps it’s the repetition. It’s something to look forward to. It always comes at the same time of year, and it always is associated with the same colors.

Or maybe it’s the act of exchanging gifts—there is something incredibly rewarding about giving people gifts that you know they will love.

To me, the tradition has less to do with religion and more to do with an appreciation for those I am with and the generous acts of kindness we share whether it is tangible or intangible. Is this perhaps a reflection of a new sort of religion? A faith based simply on an appreciation for those around us and for what we have, and for what we can give? Or is this what religion is actually about? If you subtract the stories, remove the connotations…is there still a partridge in a pear tree??

There was certainly a partridge this year—but instead of being in a pear tree it was in my favorite flourless dark chocolate cake. I think I like the direction this tradition is going in.

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Italian Xmas Spritz. Bringing me back to Venice. Love.

Italian Xmas Spritz. Bringing me back to Venice. Love.

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Queen of Prep, Queen of Chaos.

I think it is interesting and insightful to compare my sister’s and my cooking habits.

Lillian is the queen of prep. All directions have been thoroughly understood prior to getting going. Everything is measured, poured, mixed, chopped, diced, minced and set aside; everything is ready before any pan or oven is heated.

I guess that makes me the queen of chaotic cooking? Maybe it sounds a little better to say, queen of creative chaotic cooking. Perhaps my haphazard habits stem from my desire to get things going. “Better get the onions and garlic sautéing while I chop the rest of these veggies.” Next comes the rush to get the other ingredients together so I can toss them into the overcooked onions and soon to be burnt garlic, all while hurriedly misreading the directions (if I am attempting to use a recipe at all).

Or maybe it’s just that I love allowing flavors and dish concepts to evolve freely and without constraint—to lead by taste and intuition.

I’m not very drawn to using recipes…okay, I’ll admit it, I’m really just not so good at following recipes. Perhaps I don’t like them because I’m not good at following them or maybe I’m not good at following them because I don’t like them, but regardless, it’s pretty hilarious to witness my consistent failure to follow a recipe correctly from start to finish.

I guess I would compare my cooking to someone who likes to improvise on the piano rather than read music (and yes, my example is a perfect reflection of how I was as a piano student as well).

This being said, I’m striving to take on a little more of my sister’s technique. I think it’s worth it for me to have a bit more patience for the prep and to thoroughly read through the recipe. I would like to expand my repertoire of meals that I throw together on a whim. In order to do this, I need to use more recipes. Goal for using more recipes: increase basic cooking techniques while also stocking up on inspiring tastes and flavors.

Creating a beautiful abstract piece of artwork necessitates a starting concept and an understanding for how to use whatever tools and materials at hand.

So here’s to building my skill and expertise in preparation for creating a new masterpiece!

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It was a good thing that I got to go to D.C. Not only was it a fun city to explore, but it reminded me of something important. I am one who is guilty of overlooking the splendor of our capitol and what it represents. Sometimes it seems it is too often tainted with never-ending political scandals and suffocating bipolarity to be recognized for what it is—a beautiful building housing historic ideas and inspirational footprints. We can find numerous flaws with our political system, but isn’t what we have amazing…and aren’t we lucky?

It was a good thing that I got to go to D.C. Not only was it a fun city to explore, but it reminded me of something important. I am one who is guilty of overlooking the splendor of our capitol and what it represents. Sometimes it seems it is too often tainted with never-ending political scandals and suffocating bipolarity to be recognized for what it is—a beautiful building housing historic ideas and inspirational footprints. We can find numerous flaws with our political system, but isn’t what we have amazing…and aren’t we lucky?

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Train Ride.

There is something especially soothing about being on a train. I love it. As the forgotten side of cities wiz by, I sit still. I have no worries as to where we are going. Time is stationary. I can stare for hours out the window, without care, without purpose, and without concern. 

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Golden Gate

Golden Gate

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West Coast Fling.

There’s something to say about doing the touristy, cliché, and corny thing—a special feeling it engenders. This feeling can easily dissipate when too many of these sorts of activities are done. But every so often, it feels really good. 

These past few days I have been roaming the streets of San Francisco on my own. Discovering fun neighborhoods. Sipping on tasty coffees. Skipping along, hand in hand with the city.

Yesterday I went on San Francisco’s historical cable car ride. It was very much like a cheesy date with myself and the city. I wore red lipstick, I held the cable car’s hand, I looked the city lovingly in the eyes, and I took some pictures to remember it. It was lovely. 

Most of my time here has been like that—a fun cheesy date between myself and the city. When my sister has been at work, I have been at my own disposal. Sad, right? All alone, by myself. But it hasn’t been like that in the slightest bit! I’ve totally been loving everything about my time here regardless of whether I am alone or with someone. I guess it’s good to know that I enjoy hanging out with myself….and I’m hardly alone when I have a whole city at my side!

Unfortunately today is my last day in the city. All flings must end and so too does mine with The Golden State. It has been wonderful though. And I guess that’s what makes flings so great; they are short and sweet. I had the best visit I think I have ever had with my sister (she even taught me new fun crafts and fabulous cooking techniques and took me out on wonderful cocktail and dinner party dates!), and on top of that, I loved the alone time I had with the city. You were a great fling San Francisco. Thank you Lillian (and Dan) and thank you San Francisco. 

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Thanks for the lovely cable car date San Francisco.

Thanks for the lovely cable car date San Francisco.

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Pomegranates and Persimmons

So I was going to skip over writing about my Thanksgiving because I have been so busy while on my West Coast trip—but I’m eating pomegranates and persimmons this morning—so I had to. You might ask what pomegranates and persimmons have to do with Turkey Day and the answer is that they had everything to do with this year’s Thanksgiving. 

I was a little nervous going into this Thanksgiving because it wasn’t going to be the typical ‘Grammy June Thanksgiving.’ Instead of going to Grammy June’s in Florida, I was flying to California where I would be spending it with my sister’s boyfriend’s family in central California area. But it was a perfect Thanksgiving (as perfect as it could be without Grammy June that is).

Not only was I a little nervous going into a Thanksgiving without Grammy June, but I was a little nervous biting into my second ever persimmon because of my repulsive first experience. In october, my dad and I had found a wild persimmon tree. Of course being Wilsons, we wanted to try them. So into my mouth it went. Slimy, gooey texture with an abundance of inedible seeds and then the dreadful skin. The skin was what ruined the experience. It led to what seemed to be a never-ending pucker. To make everything even worse, I managed to get a piece of the pucker-inducing skin stuck in my throat, prolonging the uncomfortable sensation in my mouth and now throat. Never again will I eat a persimmon said I to myself.

But I did. Over Thanksgiving break, I ate my second persimmon—and let me tell you, it was worlds different! Crunchy with a faint and lingering sweetness, no seeds to be found…and you could eat the whole thing! As I have now learned, there are two types of persimmons: one that is an astringent with a high level of (unbearable) tannins and another non-astringent type. I obviously prefer the latter. 

In any case, my Thanksgiving persimmon experience worked out just as well as Thanksgiving itself did. 

It was the type of Thanksgiving where we made a table centerpiece with whatever we found lying around (pomegranates and persimmons being the main find) and it happened to match perfectly with the placemats that were covered in pomegranates and persimmons. Everything (including food, social interactions, scenery/weather, activities…overall experience) seemed to work out that way, tastily, smoothly and without effort. 

So to end with a little Thanksgiving ‘thank you:’ I’m thankful for the people in my life, my time here in california, great food, and yes, pomegranates and (non-astringent, Fuyu) persimmons. 

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Essential to the creative cocktail.

Essential to the creative cocktail.

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New cocktail concoction: tequila, VT maple syrup, fresh squeezed lime, club soda and some cardamom bitters.

New cocktail concoction: tequila, VT maple syrup, fresh squeezed lime, club soda and some cardamom bitters.

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Liquid Pens, Feral Cats and The Creative Habit

Well to start off with a little piece of advice—don’t open a liquid pen while high up on a plane—perhaps this is a no-brainer to you, but I on the other hand happen to be covered in blue ink as I’m writing this while sitting on my flight to San Francisco.

I haven’t written a blog entry in a while and I’m trying to get to the bottom of why blogging seems to so often fade to the background for periods of time (like so many other projects and interests of mine). It certainly isn’t because I get pen ink all over myself every time I write a blog. I love blogging—so why would this be an issue? Does blogging stop being fun when it becomes a pressure? When does what is fun transcend into something that feels more like work? The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp talks about the importance of routine. Routine seems to be what I’m missing. Am I afraid of routine? Am I afraid of commitment?

Secondly, why blog at all? Why would anyone want to read what I have to say in the first place? The woman next to me on the plane is writing about feral cats—I guess we all have our niche. Not really sure if I have a specific niche, but I guess what I’m realizing about blogging is that it is an important connector. Blogging can finally connect everything I do. In times like these where I’m feeling a bit scattered and lost amongst all of my interests, I can converge thoughts, projects, adventures, and my everyday into one written platform, one place. I’m creating a foundation, and this foundation requires routine so here is where I state my commitment to writing one blog entry every Wednesday.  

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This year’s scarecrow was a scary crow!! 

This year’s scarecrow was a scary crow!! 

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Chicken Stock—a dish I make for the smell just as much as the flavor.

Chicken Stock—a dish I make for the smell just as much as the flavor.

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Leather Boots, La Cordonnerie and the Guilty Closet Shopper.

I think there is something very important to say about how the French live. I could of course go into talking about food here, but I’ll save that for everyone else. I want to talk about shoes. In every town you can find ‘La Cordonnerie’ on just about every street. For those of you who don’t speak French—‘La Cordonnerie’ means ‘shoe repair shop’ …of course it sounds much better in French. Not only does ‘cordonnier’ sound better than…shoemaker? Or wait, cobbler?—do we even use this term anymore? I only just re-discovered the word ‘cobbler’ after double-checking my French-English translations online where I soon came to realize that I knew the French word, but didn’t really know the proper English term! And you know what, now that I have just used the word ‘cobbler,’ I realize that I actually like our term for ‘shoe repair man.’ Okay, I’m going off topic here.

What I was trying to say was, not only does the word sound better in French, but it sounds better in France. In France, being a cobbler is an honorable job. In the U.S. we would smirk at someone who said that they repair shoes for a living.

In summary, we no longer really have cobblers in the U.S. because 1) we have no demand for them; we throw out our poorly made shoes instead of repairing them because they probably can’t even be repaired and 2) because we have lost respect for the craftsman. 

Okay enough about the cobbler—let’s talk about shoes.

My dad, an environmental guru, has always believed that I have an excessive amount of shoes. He is probably right—but I love shoes! So does this mean that I can never make amends with the environmentalist? I hope not, because I like to consider myself as an ‘eco-friend.’ So how can I be a friend of the environment while being an avid shopper and trendsetter as well? Here is where I bring back my lesson from living in France—quality over quantity.

Let’s talk about leather boots. I have two really nice pairs of leather boots: one black and one brown. I love them. I wear them all the time—they feel very used, in a good way! They have both been re-soled (at a Cordonnerie in France actually) and I regularly polish them (with a polish I purchased in France). So yes, to produce the boots in the first place, it took a toll on the environment, and the polish itself is perhaps not eco-friendly, but the fact that they are not throwaway boots means a lot.

We can’t eliminate shopping; we can’t prevent people from shopping (even people who have a special affection for the environment like me). But we can make better decisions about what and how we buy. True, better quality usually means more expensive, but we can save up for a really nice pair of leather boots by choosing not to make all the lower quality purchases or we can just go to the thrift store—and voilà, I think we have just made both a financially and environmentally conscious decision! My hope, is that we will eventually have the option to not only buy a nice pair of leather boots, but to easily find ones that are made in an environmentally conscious facility (and yes, fairly-traded and locally crafted etc., but let’s take things one step at a time in our new boots).

So am I trying to justify my love of shopping by all of this? Well, yes! But I’m a quality shopper  :-)

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