Classic Movie type

The Quiet Man.***

Since my introduction to the entrepreneurial world (which involves some hunger, a lot of anxiety, and much freedom), I've been cutting costs like a store having a fire sale the day after Christmas. All items must be sold! Bargain prices! SELL SELL SELL! 

I solved my "watching t.v. on a budget" dilemma through the acquisition of a cheap digital antenna and converter hooked into the back of my flat screen and...voila! There it was; the moving images we've come to know as modern t.v. The baddest part was the first channel it tuned in: a bitchin' classic movie channel aptly named "Movies!" with a capital "M" for a logo (which suits me just fine), airing a "Sinbad" movie with original Ray Harryhausen* stop-motion animation. WOW!

It's given me access to a host of golden oldies I wouldn't have found before, enhancing my education through the knowledge that humans really haven't changed all that much since the invention of modern cinema, because we really haven't. Families still struggle with dysfunction, powerful addictions, cycles of poverty, illness, and other dastardly things, albeit played by handsomer folk than that girl next door, but that's not very different than any other type of storytelling. 
If you're going to see a show, why not look at some pretty people? 
It'll make the time go faster.

The artist in me especially loves the opening credits, like a beautifully illustrated book with a gorgeously set title page. I've always preferred trailers over a full-length feature (for obvious reasons, like my time), and classics are no different. Check out some typesetting from back in the day, and bask in the knowledge that artists have always lead the way, whether you've realized it or not. You're welcome!

From the original 1943 version of "Heaven Can Wait".**

*     http://www.rayharryhausen.com/
**   http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0523932/bio?ref_=nm_ov_bio_sm
*** http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Quiet_Man

“Quiching!”

The perfect hot, bubbly, cracking crust of a quiche.

The grocery store had an amazing special on eggs last week: a full 18 pack with no broken eggs for $1.88 that I couldn't pass up. Would you? Could any halfway decent chef with half a brain walk away from a bargain like that, right in the middle of a really harsh winter? No, and  "%uck no!" So, I did what any respectable artist would do, by brainstorming meal ideas, first at my mom's house with her old feminist cookbook about hating cooking, which she urged on me along with her old taped-together-as-a-binding green cookbook with horribly outdated ideas. Of course, I already knew exactly what newspaper clipping I was looking for in her recipe box, because I remembered it as the essence of simplicity in a recipe, and here it is:

A humble, simply perfect quiche recipe.

Since my days currently revolve around simple as a life concept, I knew right away that this recipe was the basic standby I recalled from my childhood, because it seems like something my grandfather would make. Norman people are not typically fussy, overblown drama queens, nor are our shared recipes.

I gilded the lily (just like you would with any basic template) by adding mushrooms, onions, and good cheddar cheese, poured into an also-simple, easy pie crust from a box that just needed water added to it, with as few ingredients as you can make a pre-made, powdered concoction to be.

The perfectly flaky pie crust that crumbles into layers....from a box!

The result was perfection, and it occurred to me as I sat, stood, bent over, and alternately stooped achingly over a stainless steel bowl of egg whites, that I had just made my quiche into a sport, so athletic are cooking exertions without the messy clutter of stupid gadgets that don't ever work as well as one healthy, talented human being. 
Behold, human! I have made "Quiching" into a sport, and it is good.

I ate three pieces of quiche after it came out of the oven.

The Perfect Studio

Ever since I was a child, I wanted to live as any artist would, either in some old Parisian attic atelier, or a big city loft, or a large one room studio. In my mind, it simplifies life down to the necessary essentials (with way less cleaning involved), plus there's plenty of Romantic tall windows pouring in natural light, which define my lifelong scholarship: the study of light and optics within the natural world as it relates to the human condition. 

But, time and money conspired greatly against me: I either had a family member to take care of, or I couldn't afford it on my salary, or some man and/or a college friend wanted to muscle in on my living situation, such is my ability to properly house myself on less.

And so, many, many years after I originally conceived of it, I finally realized my lifelong dream of "aloneness" and oneness in one simply beautiful, humble studio space that I can share with you all. I can finally say with a sigh of relief that I spent my mid-years according to my ideals of comfort, style, and simplicity, and that I willingly left my "Bachelorette" years behind me just as I foresaw and designed them to be; on my terms and on my home turf. I can have the luxury of saying to my loved ones, at the end of all my years here on earth, that I ended my bachelorhood as splendidly as I entered it: perfectly beautifully. See it here, for yourself.

 
 

The Perfect One-Room Studio (Pearl River, N.Y., 2015).

Food! The Wintertime Edition

I have a bunch of food pics that I started taking right after Thanksgiving, with the arrival of our very first snow of the season, and most of it comprised of hot, salty foodstuffs. Yum! Here we go, bangerz. 
Let's get into it:

Crack an egg in a pan, put it on top of a leftover salad, and call it "done".

Skipping breakfast for that second cup of coffee? Word! I got you, bro: go for it brunch-style with a fried egg on top of that already-dressed leftover salad and you're done, just like me. I have stuff to do anyway, and I want to get out the door quick, yo. Ain't got time for dishes and fussy stuff today!

Steak and eggs for breakfast: it's a dish every guy knows.

Same deal with this bitch right here: take leftover food from last night's doggie bag, add a cracked egg in the middle of them pan drippings, slice up a spicy white onion real quick, and you're done. You're welcome. (On a side note: this steak sucked as a dinner entree, but slammed as a late breakfast that became my lunch. Resting overnight in a fridge done it right, homey.)

Imported Italian grape tomatoes canned in olive oil. That's slick yo.

I found an excellently-priced item made by my local grocery store that was on sale and came in a can: these beautifully-shaped, perfectly ripe, whole grape tomatoes stewing in olive oil and imported from Italy. Priced right, packaged well. Also a done deal, and so friggin' fresh-tasting, it's like you picked them that morning from your Italian grandmother's herb garden with a handful of leaves from the basil plant, right outside her kitchens' sliding glass door that's conveniently placed for your optimal cooking pleasure. I know! I know. That good. 
I cooked them down in a sauce with some leftover eggplant for a spaghetti dinner. Yeah, baby!

A late night diner classic: the perfectly melted "Grilled Cheese" sandwich.

Sometimes, all you want to eat for lunch is a melted American cheese sandwich (that we call a "Grilled Cheese" sandwich), with some deli pickles on the side. I had it as a lunch almost exclusively for an entire year in my grammar school days, (sometimes alongside a bowl of Campbell's tomato soup that's made with milk instead of water, with some crumbled Saltines on top that you fish out as they go soggy, which is a really fun thing for a kid to do), so I can attest to its' long legs as a foodstuff that goes the distance. It stays with you, man.
You know what I mean?

Swiss-made, with stylistic origins of the Pennsylvanian Dutch who live here.

I found these imported Ginger cookies on sale in a cardboard display at the end of the cookie aisle that was priced to move, so I did it. 
They were just OK with a cup of tea (and all you fuckin' Micks know exactly what I mean, so don't front that you and your mam don't do that every single friggin' afternoon, yo), but I found that I loved the Dutch Swiss design reminiscent of our own Pennsylvania Dutch culture here (my family lived briefly in Pennsylvania) that has remained largely untouched and linguistically intact, thanks to the isolationist practices of the Amish who live there still. Quaint, n'est-ce pas?

Have a banquet for $.88! I can (and will) accept this as a foodstuff to eat.

I bought three different flavors of these cheap pot pies that were on sale for .88 cents apiece. 'Nuff said really: it's all salty, melt-y, gooey, hot gravy goodness. That's it, right?

More salt with hot gravy, meat, and potatoes. Please!

Don't forget an old reliable like this can of salt and gravy that's heated up in a small saucepan. My mom always kept it in her pantry for us to eat when we wanted something quick (that, or a small can of Beefaroni, yo), and we did the same thing during our college days on tiny hot plates in a small dorm room while living on a very cold upstate New York mountain top. It was priced right (that's reads as "cheap"), and I wanted it. That's what I can say about that.

A hard-boiled egg on half of a toasted and buttered sesame seed roll.

I had eggs, I had leftover sesame seed rolls that were going stale fast, and I had butter; I was also hungry and running short on food, time, and money, so this is what I did with those ingredients, and I had two of them in a row. Hey man, good eats to you today. 

Enjoy life and eat something today, will ya?