The majority of Swiss citizens have voted in a referendum to ban the construction of new minarets in Switzerland.
I walked beneath the minaret of a mosque on Atlantic Avenue this weekend, hearing the call of the muezzin. It was beautiful. He had a wonderful voice (and not all do!). I have often wondered why I don't hear the calls from home, and came to the conclusion that there must be some kind of decibel limit imposed by a noise ordinance? In Cape Town the call to prayer near the Bo Kaap is part of what makes the Cape the Cape. In Brooklyn it is part of what makes Brooklyn Brooklyn. In Istanbul it was bedlam, and beautiful.
Now, no one can accuse the Swiss - whose mountains I love - of major cultural diversity, but for a people renowned for tolerance (to those with money?), this is a shocking vote for racism.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Far Rockaways by subway
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[Above: boots and feet tired of being stood on at Jay Street]
After an i.n.t.e.r.m.i.n.a.b.l.e wait at Jay Street Borough Hall in Brooklyn for an A train to the Far Rockaways in Queens, we were under way. Vince had made this trip before, but it was all new to me. He was leading me to the ocean.
Below: the view through the subway car's windows. I had no idea. That's JFK. Water on both sides of the train line. We had taken the A back from the airport after dropping my mom off at the end of October, and that had given me a brief taste of the wetlands that are also New York. We had seen reeds and quiet water and cormorants and herons and ducks. And houses on stilts.
Now we were going further.
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A surfer paddled out into the surfless, cold sea.
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We found an empty bench on the wide boardwalk and parked for our picnic. Saucisson from Stinky on Smith Street, chicken sandwiches from the last night's leftover pot au feu, cornichons from Sahadi. Kir rouge. Us, wrapped in our coats.
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A pale moon rose over the ranks of apartment blocks as jets descended, making their final approach for JFK.
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We didn't stay long. Long enough to eat our lunch, to sniff this iodine air, to hear the small waves breaking on the length of beach, long enough to see another view and remember other places where the sea speaks.
Back at the station, we waited. The A train does not arrive in a hurry. I saw a pigeon with a Clint Eastwood shadow. We had to travel backwards before we go forwards because of construction on the platform.
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Playland. Boarded-up houses; new, paper-thin condominiums.
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The view from the station towards the inlet, on the opposite side of the sandbar to the ocean, was distinctly more upbeat.
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It was a very well lit station. With not a single bench. Three contractors were fighting on the side under construction. One of them did not like receiving calls after 2pm. Even though it made no sense, I understood what he meant and silently took his side.
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On the way back we kept our eyes open for the river otter Vince swore he had glimpsed on a beach on the way out.
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We did not see it again. Or the piece of wood it may have been - the tide had come in. But we think it was an otter.
Our fellow passengers were sleepy...
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Broad Channel, just past this point, below, will be our stopping-off point next time: the entrance to the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge.
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We will need binoculars for birds. 320 species of birds have been noted here in the last 25 years. Says Google.
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And perhaps one river otter.
Labels:
New York,
New York Winter,
Picnics,
Queens
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Pineapple Fluff Poeding
...is how someone landed on my blog. Searching for it, from Johannesburg. And I am very sorry to say I would not have been able to help.
So this is an official appeal:
I am looking for a recipe for a Pineapple Fluff Pudding. Or poeding.
I remember it from childhood. From the lunches we had in the middle of the day, at the tablecloth-covered dining room table. My mother does not remember it. It was tall and wide and white, or very pale yellow, and very fluffy. It had bits of pineapple in it. Pretty sure it involved gelatine. Maybe even canned pineapple. It is the kind of recipe that comes in a box of recipes on little cards, with pictures. Relics of the 60's, I think.
I would like, very much, to make it. The real one. Not one I've made up.
Update 12-14-09: the recipe is here. Thank you, Lynn!
So this is an official appeal:
I am looking for a recipe for a Pineapple Fluff Pudding. Or poeding.
I remember it from childhood. From the lunches we had in the middle of the day, at the tablecloth-covered dining room table. My mother does not remember it. It was tall and wide and white, or very pale yellow, and very fluffy. It had bits of pineapple in it. Pretty sure it involved gelatine. Maybe even canned pineapple. It is the kind of recipe that comes in a box of recipes on little cards, with pictures. Relics of the 60's, I think.
I would like, very much, to make it. The real one. Not one I've made up.
Update 12-14-09: the recipe is here. Thank you, Lynn!
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Bacon and egg sandwich
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As opposed to evil.
It was our holiday-Friday morning mantra. Eat simple good sandwich. Banish evil. Remember what we believe in. Which is making - or endeavouring to make - whatever we do, good. Because what is good, is beautiful. And that is all that counts.
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Roast your bacon in a 400'F oven. This makes it crispy and flat. Fry your eggs very gently in butter. Flip onto toasted wholegrain bread. Grind fresh black pepper over. Squoosh the slices together till the egg runs and the bacon crunches. Eat.
Labels:
Meals for We,
Seasons without and within
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving cocktail
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For an hour, macerate 4, inch-long strips of tangerine peel in 4 tablespoons of Grand Marnier.
In champagne flutes, drip 3 drops of Angostura bitters. Add one strip of tangerine peel to each flute. Add 1 tablespoon of the Grand Marnier. Top with chilled Prosecco.
Drink.
Then repeat.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
White Food
...is what you make the night before Thanksgiving.
I will make ajo blanco, and Vince will make flan, and we will roast chestnuts.
Then we will get into our new, white, very high thread count sheets from the Macy's sale, to replace the very low thread count sheets I bought by accident, and then...
...we will go to sleep.
I will make ajo blanco, and Vince will make flan, and we will roast chestnuts.
Then we will get into our new, white, very high thread count sheets from the Macy's sale, to replace the very low thread count sheets I bought by accident, and then...
...we will go to sleep.
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Labels:
New York,
New York Winter
Giving thanks
Thanksgiving menu, Thursday evening, with Dan, Nancy and Ariana, at Savoy, run by the the original locavore chef. Before the bandwagon. Honey from New York City rooftop bees.
Hm Hm Hm
I am torn between the bisque, the pâté and the salad, though...Fortunately they leave you no choice with the scallops. And then? I never eat turkey, so this is the day to eat it, ain't it? But the venison is calling me. Vince can have my dessert.
We'll see.
'Tis an interesting season, full of surprises.
Hm Hm Hm
I am torn between the bisque, the pâté and the salad, though...Fortunately they leave you no choice with the scallops. And then? I never eat turkey, so this is the day to eat it, ain't it? But the venison is calling me. Vince can have my dessert.
We'll see.
'Tis an interesting season, full of surprises.
Labels:
Friends and family,
Meals for We,
New York
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Winter's flowers
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Labels:
Flora,
New York Winter,
Roof gardens
Field garlic stuffing
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Well-versed foragers and gatherers of wild foods must yawn at it, but out of the whole expedition with Steve Brill, this was the most useful and worthwhile find for me. In fact, as I type, I am full of it. Field garlic, I mean: sweet little organic roast chicken with field garlic, breadcrumb, feta and lemon stuffing for dinner.
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First, having caught your field garlic, wash it it. (Top centre - I abandoned the mustard green roots and burdock root: way too tough).
1/2 cup finely chopped field garlic, mostly white but some green parts
1 shallot, finely chopped
1 cup breadcrumbs
Zest of about a quarter of a lemon
About a 1/4 cup of feta, crumbled
Saute shallots and field garlic in olive oil until translucent. Add breadcrumbs, stir to coat evenly with oil and onions, add zest, add feta. Grind some fresh black pepper over it and taste for salt (feta is salty).
Variation: Adding pancetta at the onion stage is also delicious.
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Consume, happily, with some Syrah, I think.
Labels:
Foraging,
Meals for We,
Recipes
Monday, November 23, 2009
Wild mushrooms from Brooklyn
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Pretty oysters. Same treatment, with field garlic greens.
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* Visit these 2010 blogposts for more oyster mushrooms adventures and here for cooking with field garlic.
And my edible weed article for Shelterpop for more about odd things you can eat.
Labels:
Brooklyn,
Foraging,
Meals for We
Foraging with Steve Brill
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Then we waited a bit more while the books were packed and put into a faraway car.
It was a pretty day, clear-edged and blue and full of fallen leaves underfoot.
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Soon Steve was a-digging and our group of 33 clustered close.
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Above: Foraging Position No. 1.
Below: Foraging Position No. 2.
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The Frenchie holding a Kentucky coffee tree pod - Gymnocladus dioicus. I roasted the beans this evening and heard them explode all over the oven. Heat too high. Did not think to cover. Next time.
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My grubby paws holding the seed capsules.
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Seed and exploded capsule. The fat seeds were nice enough.Nutty?
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Rambling on...
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Beautiful leaves of black cherry - Prunus serotina.
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And who knew that lamb's quarters turned red in fall? Not I.
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Everyone just barreled on over. Vince started to look down his long French nose.
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A little farther on was another persimmon, unfenced with prettier fruit on the branches.
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Shake tree, get fruit. Better tasting, too.
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We ran out of time to see the sassafras trees, which I was rather looking forward to. Fewer songs on the 'brillophone' may have speeded up the trip and seen more plants covered.
But certainly I'd like to do it again in another season, to learn more. Steve is a very good teacher and patient. I'm happy to train in these wonderful, big parks, and look forward to taking some more knowledge into proper woods and fields.
And a special thank you to The Frenchie for lending moral support (and carrying the picnic!). He is not a natural born forager, and manfully nibbled at gout weed and garlic before he started to think rather hard about dogs.
Labels:
Brooklyn,
Flora,
Food,
Foraging,
Native American Flora,
Public Parks and Gardens
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