Cooking with (No) Gas

Endive and pear salad

Lately my weight is more than I am used to. I've incorporated weight lifting into a routine that alternates elliptical workouts with bag training and swimming. I like the added muscle, because it gives my joints a feeling of stability and solidity, but I can't help feeling bulky, which I am unused to. This new part of my training has also fired up my appetite and given me some powerful food cravings. 

So it's scale back time, with lots of fruit, veggies, and popcorn, for the extra fiber content, which imparts a feeling of fullness. And since I'm a hardcore foodie, it must be done well. Yesterdays' lunch was an endive and organic D'anjou pear salad, with sliced onions and chopped Applegate Farms roasted turkey breast, a drizzle of honey, salt and pepper, and a dash of fat free Italian dressing. Next time I'll skip the dressings, so I can simply relish the freshness of the ingredients. Nothing else is required, really. Bon appetit!

Around the Way

a seriously bad sign, Marie Doucette 2012

 

Attention readers: Our friends in the wild need our help. Wolves are at risk for a mass killing operation in Alberta, Canada. 

Please follow the link and sign the petition.  

Let's end this before it starts.

http://act.credoaction.com/campaign/tar_sands_wolves/?rc=fb_share1 

Picture Windows

picture window Marie Doucette 2012

city view Marie Doucette 2012

cotton clouds Marie Doucette 2012

wispy cloud Marie Doucette 2012

Around the Way

it's a beautiful day, Marie Doucette 2012

bullet the blue sky, Marie Doucette 2012

Around the Way

"Walk" Marie Doucette 2012

Picture Windows

Brooklyn Sunrise II Marie Doucette 2012

Cooking with Gas

I've been experimenting with vegetables lately, specifically the kind I didn't eat growing up. The key to healthy, well-rounded eating is consuming as much variety as you can stand. Cooking with fresh, seasonal ingredients is the natural way to get the best results. With the enormous amount of produce available in the Northeast, we are very fortunate to have access to great food at relatively inexpensive prices, compared to Americans who pay more in shipping costs.

I bought spaghetti squash this week, which I've never cooked before. It was stringy, copious, and chewy, with not much natural flavor. Since it's a bit of a blank slate, it takes flavors well, and the more one can heap on, the better. After adding spices, onions, garlic, butter and olive, I put Locatelli Romano* on top and it still tasted flat. Challenging.

Home, on the range

I found it worked better today as a left over, and a fried dish at that. Voilà! Frazzle Dazzle Spaghetti Squash Hash Browns, born out of necessity. I heated oil in a pan, cut up some leftover Applegate Farms** turkey breast as a base layer, frazzled that for awhile before forming a squash patty and placing that on top. Much better :)

Frazzle Dazzle Spaghetti Squash Hash Browns

*http://www.bestnewyorkfoods.com/locatellicheese-com/historyoflocatellicheese.htm 

 **http://www.applegatefarms.com/

Hello Peoples! Cats, drinks, and food!

Today's post is a hodgepodge of items. First up, it's FIRSTY CAT:
a cat so freakin' thirsty, I made up a new word for it. OOO, smooshed face kitty is sooo cute @@!

Secondly, I finished Mardi Gras in high style, with Framboise Lambic and handmade salted caramel ice sandwiches with oatmeal raisin cookies, from Bierkraft in the hood. http://www.bierkraft.com/

Lambic and Bierkraft ice cream sandwiches

To set the tone, I blasted some Cajun and Zydeco tunes. My favorite is "Zydeco Hog" by Nathan & the Zydeco Cha-Chas with Michael Doucet. Gotta represent the Creoles and Cajuns! Here's a link to the song, because I couldn't find a video clip of the track. How catchy and fun is it? Go ahead, you know you want to buy it ;)

http://www.amazon.com/Zydeco-Hog/dp/B0010TKVX6/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=dmusic&qid=1329999190&sr=1-5 

Here's Nathan with his band, and Michael Doucet with his son, playing for The Smithsonian.

You know you're feelin' it, so get up and dance. Et toi!!

And last but certainly not least, I fasted yesterday for Ash Wednesday, which made me feel a little like this by late afternoon: 

I got light-headed with a food headache, and my limbs felt sort of loose, but I drank a lot of green tea and water. Mine was a more strict form fasting. Please note that it is not mandatory. Most people keep vigil with two snacks and one midday meal. By 4:00 pm I had a quick bite, and at 5:00 pm. I broke my fast with the rest of the chips from Fat Tuesdays' feast. They give out extremely generous portions. Yeah!

Fat Tuesday fish and chips

It was a great start to the Lenten season, with a wonderfully traditional feel to it. How are you honoring family traditions this weekend?  
Whatever it is, enjoy!

Freak

All my life I've been called names or talked about in a disparaging way. Typically it's behind my back, though occasionally it's hysterical outbursts in front of me. It's really the only avenue left for those who wish to harm me, because I learned to defend myself physically. I know it comes from fear and self-loathing, but sometimes that doesn't make it easier to bear. It's particularly hard for me to grasp because I know there's nothing wrong with me. Seeing or hearing me incorrectly comes from the distorted senses of the beholder. That makes it all the more terrifying for me: these strong, visceral, and violent reactions from strangers, so-called friends, and even family members who should know me better. But they do not. To really know the object of ones' loathing would require honesty. To see me clearly, they would have to take a good look at themselves. For the mentally and emotionally disturbed, the truth is more than they can bear.

Of the many choice names I've been called since childhood, the one that stands out as the most oft-repeated is "freak". While I'm on the subject, let's go down the list: weirdo, witch (and the rhyming b-word), lazy, druggie (which oddly enough started in 7th grade, when I hadn't even kissed a boy yet), hippie, Alien, Martian, flat, flat-as-a-board, pancake, Olive Oyl (Popeye's skinny girlfriend), freckle-face, Pippi Longstocking (a crude, rube of a red-haired girl from children's book lore), and "boy" after my hair was shorn off for the summer, then broom stick because I was a late bloomer.

As I got older, the names got more insulting, becoming ethnic slurs and curses. My hair was a great target, and as I blossomed, so was my body. A relative told me one summer during my puberty, that some boys who called out to me to join them playing a board game, while on our way to the beach, only did so because I looked like a "slut" with black eyeliner. I was 13 years old. Of course, no help was extended to me in regards to its' application. A friend gave me a makeup palette as a birthday gift another year. She handed it over to me and said, "Marie, as much as I like purple, there are other colors out there." Her British stepmother took me to get our ears pierced at 15 years old. My mom had flatly refused to help me with such matters. She scorned my time in the bathroom as "primping", though in reality I was desperate to blend in, if even for a day, a luxury I've never had. Being average seemed like a blessing to me. I started reading beauty mags, teaching myself hair and make up, to survive school. I got my first manicure at 27, the day before I married. But I was marked as different, and I knew it. I felt like a monster.

If it wasn't my looks that got me in trouble, it was my brain. I didn't think like the other kids, and I knew it. I once stopped my parents cold by entering their bedroom and reciting a few lines from Shakespeare. I was about 7 or 8. My appetite for reading was voracious. I blew through books by Poe, Stephen King, sci-fi novels, and all the stupid period romances like Wuthering Heights, borrowed from my parents bookshelves. I joined book clubs at school and read in the library. Somewhere, out there, it had to be better than this insipid suburb we landed in. And it was. College was an epiphany in self-actualization for me. I was no longer told to "shut up" or looked at like I had three-heads. I could let my freak flag fly, as Jimi Hendrix once wrote and sang. I had been set free. I could let my hair down, and stretch my thoughts as far as they could go. It was so relaxing and luxurious. Leaving home had a profoundly beneficial effect on me. It taught me that freedom is worth dying for, because nothing compares to it.

I grew up and realized that I was atypical in the best ways: a ballet dancer instead of a ball player like other kids, an artist instead of some playground bullshitter, a reader and writer in lieu of the class gossip. I am unique, and not in the short-bus way I was mocked for. It's sad, but I've learned to adjust and protect myself from hatred and envy—hard, lonely lessons for anyone, let alone a little girl, one of the most vulnerable creatures on this planet. It's made me almost unbearably strong and resilient, which separates me from the pack even more. But being an "outsider" has become my greatest blessing, instead of the curse I'd been taught to believe. If it wasn't the hair on my head, it was my last name. If it wasn't my last name, it was my ethnicity. And if it wasn't my ethnicity or race, it was my religion. How fitting that today is Ash Wednesday, marked with a symbol we wear on our foreheads. I've finally embraced my path in life: by standing up for myself, I've accepted standing out. And how sweet it is! 

Fat Tuesday

Today is "Fat Tuesday" or Mardi Gras, typically a day of excess. Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, a day of abstinence and fasting, marked with a cross upon Catholic foreheads. I've decided to celebrate in grand style, by taking advantage of les bon temps while it is favored upon to do so.
With a divergence from the norm in mind, I planned todays' bounty with a bit more frying and sweetening than usual.

I started off the day gently, with a rather wholesome chocolate chip and banana muffin from a vegan café in the Slope called 'Snice. I've chatted with the lovely fellow who works there about the baked goods on display. They are all handmade. He bakes them downstairs in an oven that's in the basement of the building. He explained to me that he began experimenting with vegan cooking because he has a lot of food allergies. I made my selection this morning while the muffins were still warm, testing for freshness by using the gentle squeeze test.

Mac and Cheese Ball

Now, on to the heavy hitters. I've had a hankering for mac and cheese for the past few days, which led me to some creative surfing yesterday, searching for places nearby that would answer the call. Et voilà! The Chip Shop, you old so-and-so: http://chipshopnyc.com/. Excellent. It was with great excitement that I made my selections from the takeaway menu. There's a real fish and chip counter behind the restaurant, where I went to place my order: a fried mac and cheese ball, haddock and chips, and a deep-fried Mars bar. Dipping things in batter is a bit of a thing here. 

Haddock and Chips

Sadly, the gooey Mars bar sprinkled with powdered sugar did not last long enough for a picture, because you gotta go for it while it's still warm. Rest assured, I licked the container clean. Well, I've got daylight to burn and a few more courses to get through. There's Belgium Lambic beer on my list, and possibly some more dessert, like chocolate cake. See you at mass tomorrow ;)

Happy Mardi Gras!

 

Greatest Hits - The Simpsons

Many of my readers know I'm a big Simpson's fan. There's jokes and references for the pop culturally savvy to chew on for years. The gags just don't get old. Part of what makes it classic is impeccable comic timing, brilliant writing, and the key addition of music. I remember watching Barry White on an episode and thinking to myself "This is the best show I've ever seen." Still do. "The Man" has blocked much of the English-language Simpsons clips from the internets, so we get bonus Español. It's like a Bumblebee Man sketch from Channel Ocho:

I was in college when The Ramones still toured heavily. One year, me and my friend caught a show in the basketball stadium of Providence College, with a GabbaGabbaHey ending and everything. Needless, when The Ramones appeared on The Simpsons, it solidified our fandom for life.

Ever had a wacky Mexican holiday? The campers from Kamp Krusty did, as payback for one of the worst experiences ever. The kids went Lord of the Flies (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord_of_the_Flies), and it is awesome. Ultimately, it's nothing a little Tequila and Tijuana can't fix.

Hey, it's Tuesday! 

When's your next holiday?

Best.Fight.Ever. - Abominable Snowman Nation

http://yesterville.blogspot.com/2009/05/kenner-six-million-dollar-man-bionic.html

Those of you too young to remember the cheesy awkwardness of The Bionic Man, today is the day of your introduction and education about t.v. so bad, it's good. And it's not a bunch of drunk, 'roided up kids arguing, fighting, then breaking up several times=total yawn fest.

The only moral of the story here is a slight cautionary tale about hiking solo in the back woods, because a very tall actor in an ill-fitting hair suit might attack you. Just make sure you get something in writing, so you can collect residuals as an extra. Can't trust these entertainment executive types. Oh wait, there is a moral after all!

André the Giant has a posse.

Workin' it at 40+

Talk to the hands, 'cause the feet don't lie! Wearing sporty socks with an appropriate message helps me get into the right mindset at a ridiculously early time of day.

The elliptical likes to adopt a mocking tone with me, first thing in the morning. At the end of the time I plugged into it, a screen message automatically pop ups "Congratulations! Workout has ended!", like I just ran a friggin' marathon. What's next? Balloons pop out of the top, for using the damn equipment? It's so childish and annoying. I enjoy getting angry at it, and I've even given it the finger a few times: "F.U. machine. It never ends." Eases me right into bag training.

Do what you do.

Around the Way

St. Thomas Aquinas on 9th Street Marie Doucette 2012

http://www.stthomasaquinaschurch.org/ 

"All the single ladies..."

Guardian at the Gate Marie Doucette 2012

Years ago, living in New York post-college, me and my friends hit the town single. This predated big careers, marriages (some divorce), kids, mortgages, ailing parents, what have you. Still, we haven't changed our instinctively negative response to the rampant commercialization that's run rife in our society. We watched Capitalism go completely haywire, creating generations of Americans who sublimate their feelings and funnel their emotions into shopping as a mode of creative expression. Hoarding, the voice of the next generation. Not exactly the "Star Trek" future we had in mind.

Lady of the Night Marie Doucette 2012

In response to the crassly-colored Valentine's Day crap crammed into drugstores, garishly festooned with little girl bows and lace, me and my crew rejected so much childish sentiment. Thus was born the single persons' party, one fun and rowdy night out with one of my boys, who was also riding solo on Valentine's Day: whiskey (lots of it), cigars, and hot wings.

Whiskey Row Marie Doucette 2012

I'm happy to report that I upheld this important ritual in high style last night, and I had a blast doing so. Thanks to the folks at Keens Steakhouse, for helping me celebrate with aged Black Bush on the rocks and a killer burger. I debated buying a cigar afterwards, but it's not really my lifestyle anymore. To the great people I met at the bar, it was a pleasure talking with all of you. You're a big part of what makes this city such a wonderful place to live. Happy Valentine's Day!

http://www.keens.com/

L O V E

Secret Admirer, Marie Doucette 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling) 

                                                 i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

E. E. Cummings

 

Fan Mail

Hi Readers,
I'm kicking off this week with a new feature called Fan Mail, the first
of which I received last week, in response to my article about the Prospect Park Zoo. And what a doozy it is! I really can't ask for much more, except maybe sponsorship (hint, hint). Stay tuned.

Hi Marie,

I got the link to your post on PPZ from a Google alert. My staff and 

I are head over heels with your post. It is so lovely. We should have 

you doing PR for us because you absolutely understand what we’ve been working to achieve at the zoo. We have a lot of new animals in the works so I hope you’ll come back and visit. In fact, in April we’re going to “unveil” our newest big exhibit of dingoes, the wild dogs of Australia. It should be pretty exciting. Again, thanks for the wonderful post!

Denise McClean
Facility Director, Prospect Park Zoo
Wildlife Conservation Society

Picture Windows

Brooklyn Sunrise © Marie Doucette 2012

Street Art

"André the Giant Has A Posse" sticker by Shepherd Fairey

Years ago, young and enrolled at the Rhode Island School of Design, me and a friend ran wild in the quiet dark of Providence, sidewalk chalk in hand. We went on silly, drink-fueled capers, knowing our works disappeared with the next rain. Still, it gave us a thrill. We wrote a dirty rhyme with a ridiculous caricature of then-President Tom Schutte on the brick wall in front of the deans' house. The funniest part is, he must have realized the deed was done by matriculated Illustration students, from the level of accurate detail and the nature of the pun. I hope he had a good laugh at our joke, because it was intended without any real malice.

After all, it was 1992 and street art was on fire. Shep Fairey printed batches of André stickers that went mad viral while he was a student. He gave them away as fast as he printed them off the equipment in the Printing department studios. We passed them around just as quickly. We were geared for global expression in a huge way, and what grander scale is there than the whole wide world? When someone is denied a voice for a long time, it's bound to come out one way or another, legal or not. And I was totally on board.

http://www.nycgovparks.org/about/history/historical-signs/listings?id=11977

New York City was a hotbed for graffiti and street art. When I was a teen, Keith Haring posted drawings in the slip-in slots for subway maps on trains. I once spotted a black piece with white glyphs, easily identifiable as his work, complete with a signature. Woe to me now that that I didn't take it, but it was midday and too many people were around for me to make a quick grab. I pointed it out to a friend in passing, as we left the train. Haring also made drawings on the platform spaces reserved for ads, incorporating the partially removed ad as part of the piece. For years his murals lined our streets, like the one on the West Side Highways' handball court. I still associate Keith Haring with the drive to Queens, for visits with my grandfather. 

When a group is robbed of a voice, it will come out. In the case of our city, the rougher neighborhoods were pressure cookers, popping off here and there explosively. It was the reason for many a family exodus from our beloved town: drugs, crime, prostitution, gangs...it was everywhere. Bombed out cars and burning trash cans lined the streets, serving as fodder for post-Apocalyptic nightmarish movies, like Escape from New York. After visits to town, I could feel the crunch of sharp, broken crack vials under my feet, which covered the sidewalk on the way back to the Port Authority bus station: past the X-rated movie theaters, the 3-card Monty swindlers, and the fake I.D. store fronts that showcased exotic-looking drug paraphernalia for the masses through grimy windows. 

http://publictransitallstars.tumblr.com/

What can street kids do, lost as they are, abandoned by their parents, authority figures, and society? It feels like they are nothing, they don't exist, a band of kids desperate to survive, their spirits challenged to the max. I saw their tags as a way of crying out to the world "See me! I'm here. I exist. I am real.", affirmations of their lives writ on our shared public spaces, for us to take notice. It linked us back to our ancestral artists, who recorded their lives for an eternity on the Caves of Lascaux, using their hand prints as signatures. It shouts out "I was here!", a poignant message sent to us via time portal. Researchers concluded the painters of Lascaux were predominately women, measuring their hands against those of modern man. What powerful expressions of the self, by the empathetic and generous mothers of humanity. It makes me feel less alone.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cave_painting

I always found graffiti artists worthy of a larger audience. As street art gained in popularity, more appropriate venues gradually replaced the illegal ones. Galleries started showing their work, and wall spaces devoted to mural art became available, giving disenfranchised artists a bigger voice with sorely-needed income. It also helps to ensure their safety, as they learn to take less risks with lives. Being an artist is an act of bravery as it is. I'm glad their time has come around again.

Shep Fairey Art in NYC © Marie Doucette 2010

A Walk in the Park

 

Lefferts Historic House © Marie Doucette 2012

http://www.prospectpark.org/about/history/historic_places/h_lefferts 

Portrait in the Park © Marie Doucette 2012

Prospect Park Zoo

Sea Lion, © Marie Doucette 2012

Here in Park Slope, we have our own version of the zoo from Madagascar: a sweet, homey place filled with good vibes. I've been meaning to visit the Prospect Park Zoo for many years, but just like with Greenwood Cemetery, time got away from me. Yesterday was a beautifully clear and sunny day, perfect for a walk through the park and a visit to my local zoo. It's an incredible place.

Indoor Aquarium, © Marie Doucette 2012

There's several indoor buildings with animals for viewing, clustered in a semi-circle around the outdoor Sea Lion exhibit. For children (and big kids, too), there's a very charming petting zoo, with food pellet dispensers for an interactive experience. Who doesn't like seeing cute critters up close? I know I do. The geese put on a funny show for visitors by trying to fit in a small barrel of water, while the llamas placidly chewed straw and watched, unconcerned with their frenzied feathered antics.

Petting Barn, © Marie Doucette 2012

This little fellow felt asleep in the warmth of the midday sun, drowsing while leaning against a tree stump, a picture of contentment.

Afternoon Nap, © 2012 Marie Doucette

The petting zoo portion of the park has barn buildings, lending an air of authenticity to the atmosphere. The feel of it couldn't be less exploitative, if animal enthusiasts have concerns about supporting a zoo. This is a typical day for domesticated farm animals.

Entrance to the Discovery Trails, © 2012 Marie Doucette

The entrance to the Discovery Trail is magical. Beautiful sculptures decorate a stone walkway. During the outdoor exhibit tour, visitors walk along trails that showcase different animal terrains. I was psyched. Here. We. Go. Oh boy, oh boy. Red pandas!! OK, calm down, I told myself. RED PANDAS!!! Didn't work.

Sleeping Duck, © Marie Doucette

The aviary has several species living within it. Can you find the bird in this picture? As nice as this area is to explore, I had something else on my mind. Hmm, what could that be? O.M.G. There he is!! The rock star of the zoo, the Red Panda. I won't lie to my audience by writing that I played cool, because I did not. I talked to the pair of pandas like a babbling, star struck fan, while the young male swaggered around scenting bushes. Wow. Major attitude. I was totally impressed. You can tell he's a young one by the way he aggressively paces back and forth, actively guarding the perimeter to their zone.

The Red Panda of Prospect Park Zoo, © 2012 Marie Doucette

After a territorial breach on a tree branch almost lead to a throw down, the bears separated again. The older panda defended its' portion by raising its' hackles, hissing and bearing a set of pointed fangs. They have extremely sharp claws for grabbing on to tree limbs, making them experts at climbing. They are stunning creatures bearing impressive markings, active and aware with a lively intelligence. Despite their small size, I would not want to be in there with them. They are brawlers for sure. PANDAS RULE!

Red Panda Feeding, © 2012 Marie Doucette

My visit was everything I hoped for and more. Because of its small size, the Prospect Park Zoo is very manageable as part of a longer trip to the park itself. It is an excellently curated collection of special animals, chosen with obvious care and tended with love. While I was there, an art program was in progress for a small group of children, overseen by a zoo worker, in a section dedicated for just such a purpose. They observe animals in their terrariums, working on craft projects and learning about the wonderful creatures that live there. See for yourself and have a great adventure!

http://www.prospectparkzoo.org/