Old ladies, oatmeal cookies
Some of my loyal readers have been requesting that I update this blog more frequently. While I am flattered, I am afraid that I will not be able to fulfill this demand. I'm convinced that a food blogger forced to make daily notes ceases to write about things that anybody finds interesting. In my case, my life is boring enough that once- or twice-weekly updates provide me with ample opportunities to regale you with tales of my food-related adventures, and anything more than that would devolve into droning on about what I ate for breakfast (some sort of fibrous, organic cereal, but not Weetabix, Melvin) and what I ate for lunch (my grandma's wonderful chicken soup and half of a semi-rotten cucumber and 2 oatmeal cookies and a truffle from Patricia's Chocolates).
Lately I haven't had many food adventures at all, to be honest. After the pate de fruit experiments, we spent the weekend in Michigan and had a divine meal at Mesa Luna in Three Oaks, a restaurant that I can't say enough good things about. The sweetbreads were top-notch, the duck was tender, the chocolate creme brulee was sublime.
Since then, I've eaten nothing of interest and have spent most of my time volunteering in the Vintage Department of my church's upcoming rummage sale. I can say confidently that I am one of the least religious people on this planet, but I have been known to find religion in vintage tea towels, fluffy pink fifties party dresses and rhinestone brooches.
At first I was dreading the volunteering; I thought it would be long hours and boring work. But I've gotten a big kick out of hanging out with a large gaggle of old ladies all day long, listening to them gabbing and joking. I brought them some cookies this morning and they were gone by 11 a.m.; I think some of them found it a bit reassuring to know that the younger generations haven't abandoned cooking altogether.
I also have enjoyed sorting through the immense piles of vintage linens. I know that sounds insanely lame, but it provides me with ample opportunity to muse on women's roles and work over the last 100 years. We are mainly organizing linens from 1880-1960, which means a truckload of doilies and delicate white napkins of all sizes. It overwhelms me. So many tea towels and dresser scarves and hostess aprons and bridge cloths and tablecloths and sheets and handkerchiefs and even toaster cozies and special four-sided napkins designed to fold up and around one's freshly baked biscuits ...just think of all the washing and ironing and sewing and repairing women must have done.
And then you look closer and see the embroidery, and the lacework, and the careful, tiny stitches depicting dancing teapots and lilacs and round, red apples. Think how only a few decades ago, it was normal to embroider a set of tea towels or a pillow as a wedding gift. Now we just dash out to Crate and Barrel and point at something off the registry (My friend Rachael, loyal reader, is excepted. She hand-embroidered beautiful dish towels for her family this past Christmas. Rachael, I admire you for this and many other reasons!).
I just can't help but treat all these cloth relics with respect, because this wealth of female experience and energy and creativity is so visible in each one of them. That's pretty much how I feel about the old ladies, too.
Lately I haven't had many food adventures at all, to be honest. After the pate de fruit experiments, we spent the weekend in Michigan and had a divine meal at Mesa Luna in Three Oaks, a restaurant that I can't say enough good things about. The sweetbreads were top-notch, the duck was tender, the chocolate creme brulee was sublime.
Since then, I've eaten nothing of interest and have spent most of my time volunteering in the Vintage Department of my church's upcoming rummage sale. I can say confidently that I am one of the least religious people on this planet, but I have been known to find religion in vintage tea towels, fluffy pink fifties party dresses and rhinestone brooches.
At first I was dreading the volunteering; I thought it would be long hours and boring work. But I've gotten a big kick out of hanging out with a large gaggle of old ladies all day long, listening to them gabbing and joking. I brought them some cookies this morning and they were gone by 11 a.m.; I think some of them found it a bit reassuring to know that the younger generations haven't abandoned cooking altogether.
I also have enjoyed sorting through the immense piles of vintage linens. I know that sounds insanely lame, but it provides me with ample opportunity to muse on women's roles and work over the last 100 years. We are mainly organizing linens from 1880-1960, which means a truckload of doilies and delicate white napkins of all sizes. It overwhelms me. So many tea towels and dresser scarves and hostess aprons and bridge cloths and tablecloths and sheets and handkerchiefs and even toaster cozies and special four-sided napkins designed to fold up and around one's freshly baked biscuits ...just think of all the washing and ironing and sewing and repairing women must have done.
And then you look closer and see the embroidery, and the lacework, and the careful, tiny stitches depicting dancing teapots and lilacs and round, red apples. Think how only a few decades ago, it was normal to embroider a set of tea towels or a pillow as a wedding gift. Now we just dash out to Crate and Barrel and point at something off the registry (My friend Rachael, loyal reader, is excepted. She hand-embroidered beautiful dish towels for her family this past Christmas. Rachael, I admire you for this and many other reasons!).
I just can't help but treat all these cloth relics with respect, because this wealth of female experience and energy and creativity is so visible in each one of them. That's pretty much how I feel about the old ladies, too.
posted by cindym at 1:20 PM
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