seedy salt crostini with goat cheese, mascarpone, lemon zest, bacon and vermont maple syrup

I am not a fan of celebrating the New Year. Time is a man-made convention designed to make humans feel as though they have control over something completely uncontrollable and age should not be measured in years but in experience.

imho

The year 2011, however, has been something else and I feel as though I have no choice but to acknowledge the passage of this thing they call time.

Here's what I've learned

• Do not adopt a cat after drinking a martini and a Founder's IPA.  
• Being the most qualified for a job doesn't mean you're going to get the job and sometimes the job you think you want is the wrong job for you anyway.
• It is impossible to plan a small wedding unless one is willing to alienate a lot of people.
• Hendrick's gin is the best gin especially in the summer with cilantro, cucumber, lime and peaches.
• Biking in a major metropolitan city is not only possible, it's preferable.
• 8 hour brunches are the best
• Friendships take tending. Do not take them for granted.
• Marriage is more than a piece of paper.
• Experience gifts are just as good as home made gifts.
• Babies are not alien creatures.
• Oxtail stew is delicious.
• Faulkner is amazing.
• Family-in whatever form you are fortunate enough to have it-is the single most important thing in the world.

I have friends who are facing incredible challenges right now-cancer, loss of a parent either physically or mentally, joblessness, unstable partner relationships...The stroke of midnight isn't going to cure Gideon's cancer or bring Kari's Mom back from Alzheimer's, or help Christina and Rebecca find the jobs they deserve.  What it does do is remind us that change is the one constant and the single best thing we can do is embrace this truth and live every moment of our lives to the fullest.

Happy New Year, friends. 

charcuterie, rubber bands, and cleaning products

I think I might start thinking about getting into charcuterie.  I love salumi-proscuitto, capicola, mortadella, soppressata, lebanon bologna. (Why, yes! Yes that would be a recipe for lebanon bologna I found on the internets!  Okay, okay, maybe not my own lebanon bologna.)  I recently purchased some green peppercorn dried salami which lasted me a good long while as I only ate in in very small portions on very special occasions.  Being able to decide what goes into it makes me kinda swoony.

Winter break 2011 is coming to a close at HDL and we're calling it a success.  We had about 115 teens show up over the 2 weeks.  Quite honestly, given the space, I don't know if we could have had more in the room for Cardboard Knights and Angry Birds.  The most important thing I learned over the two weeks:  how to shoot a rubber band.  Properly.  So it hits people.  Or shoots things.  I am eternally grateful to William for teaching me.

I am about to head home where I will quickly change clothes and head upstairs for hopefully the last time. I stayed true to my goal of not going upstairs until after Christmas. The downfall has been that it's really really hard to go up there now that time has passed, but I've vacuumed, wiped baseboards, cleaned the fridge, wiped out cupboards and am thiiiis close to being done with the oven (must purchase drip pans tomorrow). I have help tonight which is nice as cleaning out an old apartment alone is just no fun.  The most important thing I learned whilst moving?  I'm a terrible housekeeper.

Up next:  Rebecca and Sandy are in the Holland area for the weekend (!!!), there be a party goin' on at the Boyli Saturday night (!!!) and soon I get to spend some quality time in the new room o'crafty goodness.  

And maybe some charcuterie......

it is a tired like no other

I am exhausted. Completely, utterly exhausted. My brain is complete mush. My eyes are burning. I feel like, if I had the time, I could sleep for two days.

I should feel elated. We are downstairs! The cat can be trapped in the basement! I have my own room with a door I can close! Peter has an office space! Our bedroom is ginormous! 

For some reason? I feel defeated. Maybe it's because a program we planned for tonight had zero attendance while a bunch of mostly way-too-old-for-teen-programs-at-the-library showed up for a group we had cancelled this month and managed to muscle their way into doing what they wanted. Again. Maybe it's because the reality that I am not going to be in Vermont for Christmas is hitting me harder than I would like to admit. Maybe it's because all of the changes we've been facing since we decided to get married are now coming to an end which means what's left standing after the dust settles is...what's left standing.

Yeesh.  

I'm going to go home and listen to my new awesome turntable and drink a glass of wine and go to bed.

Davison, out.

lucky peach continues to deliver

When I was a kid, my mom used to buy this deli meat called Lebanon bologna.  It was a combination sweet and spicy salami-type deli meat dotted with fatty bits which sounds vile, but seriously, I've been thinking about this childhood favorite for years. I would slather gushy white bread with mayo or mustard and eat the beejeezus out of those sammidges. (Childhood weight problem?  Never!) When I moved to Michigan, I would occasionally check grocery stores for it but without success. I started questioning whether or not I had made up this deliciousness as none of my Michigan friends had ever even heard of it.

Imagine my glee upon opening up the latest issue of Lucky Peach and discovering a two page spread on this Pennsylvania Dutch regional favorite!  There were pictures!  Of a deli!  With multiple varieties of Lebanon bologna!  Interestingly enough, the author of the article had scorned this delicacy for years as the description is...well...disgusting.  He is now obsessed.  And made me wish I was going home for Christmas just so I could make a Lebanon bologna sandwich.

This weekend was not nearly as productive as I had hoped. Friday night we had a lovely supper at Butch's.  No, really. Peter had a beautifully cooked piece of sea bass and I had the vegan cashew cream pasta which was so stinkin' good I'm still thinking about it. Much to our surprise, our bill ended up being covered by Chef as a wedding present!  Saturday I wandered over to Jack and Nancy's where I proceeded to spend about 5 hours lollygagging about (read: enjoying the company of Melissa, Jack and Nancy and getting to snuggle the nephews while having the added bonus of procrastinating going to Meijer) and Saturday night we stayed up way too late finishing off Top Chef All Stars.  Sunday I woke up in a stormy mood over having to make these $#@&!! cinnamon rolls for the #@$%! staff holiday party Thursday and make another batch of $^&#@! maple syrup roasted sweet potato soup for the $%^&#@ staff holiday party Thursday and finish these stupid #$@!! centerpieces for the #@$%@ staff holidy party Thursday and I have at least one knitted project I need to finish by December 22nd and one embroidery project I need TO START in order to have finished by December 24th.

4 pans of Pioneer Woman's cinnamon rolls?  Check-SIX STICKS OF BUTTER, PEOPLE.  I used 6 sticks of butter.  Depending upon how they turn out, I may end up turning into even more of my mother and giving away pans for Christmas presents this year.  So, local readers of this blog, get ready to get fat :)

One batch of maple roasted sweet potato soup?  Check-the overly cayenne-d roasted squash soup is in the freezer as is this new patch of sweet potato soup.  Wednesday night I need to defrost and combine the two and decide if it is bland enough for the palates of my co-workers.

I didn't even touch my knitting or my embroidery as I decided since my kitchen was already a complete disaster, why not make oxtail soup too! Unfortunately, it wasn't finished in time to eat for supper so the stock was strained and the meat was cut off the bone and today it is supposedly being turned into a stew of sorts.  I'm considering this my test run as I have promised oxtail soup to one friend (and by "promised" I mean, she was the only friend who would even remotely consider eating said oxtail so all other friends got un-invited) and as long as I'm happy with the results I'm going to Montello's to buy some more oxtail.

We hear we might be able to move downstairs in January.  If we don't move downstairs in January, I will have no choice but to murder Charles with my bare hands.  His new favorite place to be seems to be in the kitchen sink.  Or on the kitchen counters. Or anywhere I don't want him to be. I know it's not really his fault.  He's under a year old and a cat. And he's now been kicked out of the bathroom (it is alarming to me how quickly that cat can unravel and tear apart a full roll of toilet paper) and the bedroom (it's the only place my knitting projects are safe) so he's restricted to the rest of the apartment. Needless to say, we do not have a Christmas tree up.

And this pretty much sums up why:

brain blurry...eyes hurty

I have spent my day scouring the interwebs for top feature films, documentaries, and tv shows for what will hopefully be a small yet popular DVD collection for the teen department.  A fun project, but also frustrating as there is no guarantee I'll actually get to order the majority of items I have picked out due to a library policy that prevents anyone without a drivers license from checking out PG13 and R rated films.  Now, I'm not unreasonable. I'm not wanting to pack the shelves with The Hangover II and Bridesmaids and Paranormal Activity 2.  This collection is for 6-12th Grades. Fine.  But you know what I do need to have on the shelves?  Harry Potter.  Transformers.  The Twilight Series.  All of which are rated PG-13.  Adding to my frustration is the way we handle documentaries.  Documentaries are able to be checked out by anyone.  Sweet.  Bowling for Columbine seems like a no-brainer for a teen DVD collection.  Except it's rated R.  As is Exit Through The Gift Shop-the documentary about Banksy which is, again, a no-brainer for a teen DVD collection.  How the #$%@! does that make any sense?  Right now, anyone can go downstairs to our AV department and check these documentaries out, but I'm not supposed to order them UPSTAIRS because they're rated R and we shouldn't have rated R materials on our shelves up here?!?

Messed.up.

This is what the ALA has to say on the subject which one would think we would follow given...well...it's the American LIBRARY Association:

"Parents-and only parents-have the right and responsibility to restrict access of their children-and only their children-to library resources. Parents who do not want their children to have access to certain library services, materials, or facilities should so advise their children. Librarians and library governing bodies cannot assume the role of parents or the functions of parental authority in the private relationship between parent and child."

To the parents of the world:

1.  What is appropriate for one 13 year old may not be appropriate for another 13 year old.  It is YOUR responsibility as a PARENT to decide what is appropriate for YOUR 13 year old.

2.  Welcome to the 21st Century.  Your children have access to so much more information than you ever did.  More likely than not, your 13 year old is not watching Justin Bieber's rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town."  She's probably looking up Pink's "Fuckin' Perfect."  (She also probably has no idea that the word "fuckin" is not really a word.) Regardless, her having access to a copy of the latest Harry Potter DVD?  Nothing compared to what she's already accessing on the internet.

3.  What is appropriate for one 13 year old may not be appropriate for another 13 year old.  It is YOUR responsibility as a PARENT to decide what is appropriate for YOUR 13 year old.


I know I repeated that one twice, but that's because THAT'S THE WHOLE EFFING POINT.  I have parents who come up to my desk asking for the latest Gossip Girl novel for their 7th graders and I have parents who come up to my desk asking for Mossflower for their 16 year old sons.  When unaccompanied by a parent, I attempt to steer the child to what I think they would enjoy based off a brief reference interview.  If they liked Harry Potter?  They might want to try Skellig or the Artemis Fowl books or The Rangers Apprentice series.  Would I suggest Gossip Girl to a 7th grader?  No.  But if YOU think it's appropriate for YOUR 7th grader, go crazy.

YOU ARE THE PARENT.

Know what your child is reading, watching, and listening to.  Know that the library is here to provide unbiased access to a variety of materials. At the end of the day, only YOU and YOUR CHILD can decide what is appropriate for THEM.

And please let me order "Restrepo" and "Flight of the Conchords" for the teen department.  Because even if YOU don't want YOUR kid to watch them?  I'm fairly certain there are parents who do.

Rant over.

sick sick sick sick sick

I'm sick.  Peter's sick. Charles is sick. Everyone is sick. It crept up on me, but I'm now sitting at the teen reference desk coughing and sneezing and blowing my nose every few minutes.  My poor nose is hurty. I can't hear well. And my cough is explosive.

I would have called in sick, but I'm the only full time employee working today upstairs and the teen department is hosting a fuse bead craft program from 2-4pm.  And by "teen department" I mean me and one aide. It's a drop-in program so I'm hoping to remain steadily busy throughout the 2 hours without feeling like we're insane. I took otc cold medicine this morning for the first time in about 5 years so that should be fun.  Currently my heart is racing about a million miles a minute and my brain feels like it's wading through molasses. I have a checklist of tasks to accomplish today.  I'll be happy to just make it to 6pm.

Despite our respective illnesses (Jack and Nancy were sick too!  Our nephews are adorable, but GERMY!), we had a splendid Thanksgiving. It was just the four of us so we watched the Lions game, looked at wedding pictures, and ate a non-traditional feast.  I couldn't really taste the roast chicken, but I was told it was really really good.  I could taste the rib-eye which I thought was buttery and amazing if I do say so myself. We got a 24 oz 1 3/4 thick rib-eye from Montello's.  It was my first time cooking steak and I gotta say I think I nailed it. There was a beautiful crust, thanks to basting it with butter, and it was a perfect medium rare.

I do have to say the best part of Thanksgiving Day was FaceTime chatting with my whole family in Connecticut!  My iPhone was finally activated (though don't bother leaving me a voicemail message as I won't get it.  I need to call Verizon about that....) and yesterday morning I got to talk to AND see my family. It was amazing.  I'm about 5 years behind the technology bandwagon so little things like that can blow my mind.  I haven't really had the chance to spend a whole bunch of time with my phone yet-though my fb and Pinterest apps were the first downloaded!-and I'm hoping for a long tutorial with some iPhone aficionados soon.  I don't want to go app crazy, but the reason I got it in the first place was to help me get organized.  I want the best calendar app.  I want the best grocery list app. Suggestions are always welcome.

So think of me today, my friends.  Think of me snotting all over a bunch of teenagers. Think of me sneezing so hard I blow apart someone's carefully constructed fuse bead ornament. Think of me smiling and nodding and laughing at jokes I cannot hear.

6pm.  I just need to make it to 6pm.

so true, so true

it's been a month? yeesh.

Successful wedding:  check
Successful first week at new job:  check

I have not, alas, had much success in decluttering the apartment.  There are boxes of thank you notes stacked with cards that need thank you notes written and stacks of written thank you notes that need stamps and health and life insurance paperwork that needs filling out and coats draped over the backs of every chair as our awesome coat rack from Rebel.Reclaimed fell down again because I'm a moron who can't seem to figure out how to anchor the thing to the wall properly and wire hangers that need returning to the laundromat and wine glasses that can't fit in my current cupboards so are stacked in boxes in the dining room and Charles doesn't help matters as he seems to think every single thing in the apartment exists for his amusement and sometimes I just want to move because at least I'd have an excuse to get rid of about 90% of our stuff.

And you're in that 90%, Mr. Charles.

Aside from the messy home front, life is actually going alarmingly well.  Every day this week I have come home from work with a smile on my face. I show up early. I stay late. I'm reading voraciously. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up from a dream-chained to the overdues desk with 50 people screaming at me.  I've even managed to not end up back down in the circulation desk as I've made myself very available to answer questions via the phone or email.  I do frequently ask myself what it was I did to get so lucky.  And then I remember the 10 long years I put into this organization.

I deserve this.

The one thing I thought would happen if I got this job has:  I don't feel like I'm ever not working.  My brain is whirring constantly.  I've become obsessed with Pinterest which is good because I was informed by The Other Erin that it's part of my job to be obsessed with Pinterest. And while I have always had a love of teen fiction, I'm so ready to read something that doesn't involve a teen paranormal romance (I'm super psyched to read
"The Belly of Paris"-a wedding gift from someone who knows how much I love me some good food writing.  Anthony Bourdain-my mythological husband who is coming to Grand Rapids in February with my other mythological husband Eric Ripert!!!!-has called it the "Citizen Kane of foodie books" which means I'm gonna love it). Every time I wander about the internets I am asking myself if it's something I can use for the teen department. I'm optimistic my brain will eventually slow down.

I have been cooking like a fiend. Simple foods: roast chicken and braised brussels sprouts, broccoli and brie quiche, potato leek soup.  Tomorrow we're making bbq chicken, potato salad and this week I'd like to get a roasted squash soup in.  I also received a picture of an OBSCENE amount of kale young Berghoef picked up at the market this morning.  It's so big it won't fit in our fridge.  Tonight:  spicy rice, kale and beans.  Tomorrow am:  kale omelets. Tomorrow afternoon: kale soup.  Tomorrow night: roasted kale chips.

If you're in the area?  And you want some kale?

Just let me know!

friday night lights season 4: say what?!? dillon is like...bigger...than holland. with an african american community. huh.

I love Charles.  I do.  He's adorable and growing and purring.  And he sleeps real nice like when you need to spend a day in bed.

This was not the best time to get a kitten.

Cat?  Yes.  Kitten?  Obnoxious.

I am within striking distance of the skirt despite Charles.  I have become the heavy.  The one who holds the squirting water bottle.

To do:

Let Charles type:

++++++++
0

Oh look! I crossed something off my list!

typing one handed. this could take awhile.

I have a purr factory parked on my lap who tends to only like hands if they're petting him.  Typing fingers make him crazy so this might be short depending upon how well Mr. Charles Simic Furpants behaves.

I'm not sure what possessed us to think right now would be a good time to get a kitten.  We haven't moved and have no date yet when we can expect to move.  I am looking at some pretty major upheaval at work over the next few weeks.  And there's a little ceremony thing happening in a few weeks that, though fun, might also mean a little bit of stress.

A kitten who demands a fair amount of attention, considers knitting needles and yarn toys, and follows me around.  Everywhere.  Mewling.

He's adorable.

We saw "Tree of Life" this weekend which I'm not going to talk about other than to say this:  I thought the medium of film was dead as an art form.  And then I saw this movie and knew there was hope.   And we watched (and..ahem..bought in order to watch...) season 2 of Friday Night Lights which was only disappointing because it was written during the writers' strike so the season finale is way underwhelming.  Plus there's that whole Landry and Tyra are murderers subplot which was so absurd it was funny.  As our public library is currently missing a copy of this season, I suspect this copy will be donated.

Speaking of our public library, it was a heck of  a week and it looks like this next one will be as well. I had an interview last Wednesday for the Circulation Supervisor position and have another interview scheduled for Friday afternoon  for one of the Assistant II positions in the Children/Teen Department.  Who knows where I'll land.  I know I'm lucky to be considered for both positions and am awfully grateful when this is over I'll at least still be employed in some capacity.

Tomorrow: drop off laundry, open new bank account, go to BPW to set up new automatic bill pay because for some reason you can't do that ONLINE, drop off 3 garbage bags full of books to Goodwill, go to work and hopefully maybe possibly find out if I maybe hopefully possibly got a new job.

And knit any time Charles is asleep anywhere other than my lap.

corn husked and frozen

Because I am a crazy person, I've decided to attempt to make this skirt.  And I've decided to have it done by October 8th.  Or 9th.  Eighth if I think it looks awesome enough to get married in.  Ninth if I think it looks awesome enough to wear while hanging out with about 100 of our closest friends and family.  Oh hell. I might wear it both days.  If it's that magical.

I'm concerned. I'm not gonna lie.  It's not a complicated pattern and I do love me some cables, but that's not much time to make something that sort of kind of needs to fit me well at the end of it all.  Plus it would really be nice to have it done the week before so, you know, I can find something to wear with it.  The belt is ESSENTIAL.  Absolutely positively essential. And there will be some cool tights.  And perfect shoes.  And the perfect necklace.

There was discussion it should be made out of a champagne colored yarn.  As a red wine drinker, I demurred. I will spill tomato sauce, wine, a martini, a beer..something.  I will spill something if it's light colored.  So, I went out and bought..wait for it...you'll be shocked.........

Dark gray!  My favorite color!  After black!  Which would clearly be inappropriate for a wedding!  But dark gray?  It's practically champagne colored!

I mentioned the tights, right?

There will be brightish tights!  And a belt!  I promise the belt will not be black!

And whatever I wear on top I really really really promise won't be black!

No black!

it's thursday, right?

My work schedule has changed. For the first time in ten years. This might be the most startling thing that has happened to me in a decade.

One would not know it if one saw my daily life now, but I actually thrive in routine. It's why I loved marathon training.  Run this number of miles over this amount of time broken up daily and you'll be able to cover 26.2 miles, but you must get out there and run the miles every day. It's how the bathroom in my old apartment was sparkling.  Cleaning day was every Monday afternoon.  No exceptions. I cannot even tell you how comforting this whole routine business made me feel. There were palpable results.  Each day I ran I was closer to my goal and I could feel it. Each Monday afternoon, I could see that the effort I was putting into scrubbing my bathtub meant a sparkling clean tub. 

I can almost pinpoint the moment I started to feel suffocated by routine.  It was when I moved into the barn.  The cleaning thing quickly went out the window as the barn was...well...a barn.  A living space, but a living space crawling with spiders and a door that every time you opened would blow leaves into the living room and a bathtub drain that would back-up so quickly it seemed stupid to even try to keep clean. It was a losing battle. And I met new people when I moved. New people who seemed to be having a lot of fun not spending hours training for a race. My routines started to feel pointless.

I miss my routines. And I know that now after my hours changed. The change isn't dramatic. I'm working Tuesday nights instead of Wednesday nights. I start work an hour later every day. I have to work every other weekend.  But it's enough of a change, I've been thrown.  Yesterday morning I woke up at 8am intending to hit the market except the market is on Wednesday mornings. This morning I woke up convinced it was Thursday, but it was Wednesday. 

I've decided to combat my confusion with running. I'm not training for anything.  I am slooooow and pokey. But every morning I need to get out there. It's grounding. It's comforting. It makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something.

Now if only I could get inspired to clean the bathtub more...

this is why people hide keys under the flowerpot

Late last night, Peter and I were heading outside to drink a beer.  I was emphatically relaying a fairly irrelevant story regarding posting a comment on Hillary's blog about going out for beers when we're both in town at the same time and purposely looking our schlubbiest because, yes, we will run into people we know but who cares because we don't live there anymore.  Peter was out the front door and I was fiddling with the door handle lock.  I remember turning the lock, testing the door, and shutting it behind me.  The minute I did, I knew I had locked us out of the house.

We had no keys.  We had no phones.  And the guy who'd been living downstairs had moved out that day.

I went around to the back to double check our back door.  Yeah. It was locked. I kept looking over at our landlord's house and despite the late hour there were still lights on.  I was going to have to walk over there and knock on their door and apologize and ask for keys.  I really, really, really didn't want to do that. Peter said he'd check the car for something to try and break in with.  As he walked to the garage he thought to himself, "Maybe...just maybe...the back door to the downstairs apartment might be unlocked....the chance is one in a million, but maybe...."

Peter walked out the front door 2 1/2 minutes later. I thought it was a miracle. I thought he had fashioned a key out of a spring from a ballpoint pen and an old straw MacGyver-style. I thought maybe he crawled through a magic window that I had never noticed before. I thought maybe he had walked through a wall because there was no other possible logical explanation to how he had gotten us out of the mess I had gotten us into. 

If the roles had been reversed, I'm fairly certain I would not have been nearly as cool as Peter was. We were both coming off really long days with very little sleep the night before. We had a family party for which we needed to look slightly better than usual the next day as there were going to be family pictures. I would have mocked him.  I would have made him go next door immediately and get a key. I would have been enraged.

I am one incredibly lucky gal.  

Plus he now gets to lord this over me for the rest of our lives.  "Remember that night YOU locked us out of the house at 1am?  I always thought it would be ME who did that, but it was YOU! HAHAHAHA!"

i'm not hungry, but i haven't eaten, so maybe if i talk about food...

I have Tomatoland out from the library right now. It made the NPR rounds and as a good little liberal-what-you-eat-is-political-too kinda gal I thought I should read it.  It's been sitting on my bookshelf untouched since I brought it home a week or so ago.  Because here's the thing:  I don't need a book to tell me grocery store tomatoes taste bad. I don't buy grocery store tomatoes.  If I'm desperate and it's off-season I might snag one of those pint containers of those grape tomatoes, but I typically just steer clear of them. The texture is mushy and mealy. They taste like bad water. They're just gross.

We have just hit the beginning of tomato season at the market.  There are people who don't like tomatoes.  I don't understand these people (Berghoef, I'm looking at you...Joan too.  Freaks.) because tomatoes in season are like getting to taste heaven.  I'm serious.  So far this season I have sprung for Brandywines and a Cherokee Purple both of which were so freaking delicious and unique and tomatoey.  I ate them both raw--one sliced with some of that Black Russian Pumpernickel bread from DeBoers with soft butter and a little salt--oh my LORD that was good--and the other straight up plain sprinkled lightly with salt (Don't forget the sprinkle of salt!  It won't taste salty it will just make it taste even MORE tomatoey!). Right now on my counter I have the biggest most ugly yellow thing I bought from a guy who had a small wooden box full of heirloom tomatoes he just lovingly grew for fun.  I also got some sort of green one that I'm pretty sure isn't a green zebra because it doesn't look like a green zebra but maybe it is. I also got a box of smallish red generic looking one's from Boeve's with the plan being to toss them into a basil pistou pasta salad for the union picnic tomorrow night.

And then a miracle happened.

I stumbled upon smitten kitchen's slow-roasted tomato recipe and those tomatoes went from generic to amazing.  AMAZING!  I want to make trays and trays and trays of them and save them so I can get one taste  of tomato perfection in the middle of February.

This basil pistou pasta salad (which I would have made into a pistachio pesto but I know of at least one member who won't eat nuts no matter what...next time!) just went from "Oh. Hey. I'm a pasta salad. Yup. Basily. Little sauteed zucchini. Little summer squash. Touch of caramelized onion. Some generic raw tomatoes." to "Heeeeeey!!!!! What's up!?!?!  You want to put me in your mouth!!!!  You want to put me in your mouth RIGHT NOW!!!! That basil pistou is the BOMB!  And that squash looks so purty and yellowy!! And that zucchini is purrrfectly cooked and green!  And you are about to taste a sweet garlicy tomato bomb like you ain't never tasted before!!!!"

Yeeeeah.  I should have done this a few hours ago.

Is 10pm too late to make a BLT?

haven't you heard? i'm superwoman!

There's too much going on in my life right now to even come close to covering it in a blog post.  Suffice to say, in the next week and a half I need to pick up our car with it's brand spanking new $650 gas tank, go to the farmers market, make something for retirement party #1 on Thursday, make something and find a ride to a work picnic on Friday, wish my parents a Happy 44th Anniversary!, hang out with Rebecca and Sandy, attend Grandpa and Grandma's 65th Wedding Anniversary party, write two different resumes and cover letters for two completely different jobs I'm applying for, write a how-to manual for my current job, find one of those huge coffee makers churches always seem to have for coffee hours and learn how to make coffee for 120 people, make an appetizer-pick up the cakes-meet the caterers-and set up for retirement party #2, find appropriate cards and gifts for some very special people I will miss very much at work, turn in resumes and cover letters, open a new bank account and get new cellphones...Oh wait! I'm also supposed to let my Mom know how many announcements we'll need, and recently an idea was floated regarding a slightly more formal Open House-type thing on October 9th instead of The Sandbar so decisions need to be made about that and then invitations will need to be made and sent out, and Peter and I need to get serious about what this ceremony is going to look like....Oh wait!  And we should really start getting rid of some stuff as we're probably going to be moving sometime this fall.  At some point. And as it could happen any time at least having the Goodwill trips out of the way would be helpful as would starting to clean all of those nooks and crannies we've been ignoring because we didn't think we were going to move for awhile thereby making the whole Big Moving Cleaning ordeal a little more manageable. 

Who me?  Overwhelmed? 

HELL'S NO!

we really don't usually go out to eat this much. for realsies.

Oh, Theodore's! Why did I wait so long to visit you?  Why have I been wasting my money on Butch's?

I had intended to get over to Baker Lofts and eat there when they first opened.  I recently heard there was a change in ownership and a new chef.  I had heard excellent things about this new chef. 

The reviews I had heard were not wrong.

Drinks:  get the cucumber martini.  I had a grapefruit gimlet and though refreshing it just wasn't as good as Joan's cucumber martini.  There are no taps, but the bottled beer menu is fairly extensive. The wine list is manageable and the descriptions are extremely helpful especially for a wine moron like myself who knows only that she doesn't like sweet and prefers dry.

Shared plates:  Next time I might consider only getting a few shared plates.  There are a lot of them and they all looked good. We ended up with the scallops which were not freakishly large.  Freakishly large scallops kinda freak me out. The sauce was some sort of balsamic reduction with a ginger and berry puree. It was a perfect balance of sweet and spicy.  The only downfall were the dollops of sprouts topping each scallop.  I like sprouts.  I just don't get them with scallops. 

Entrees: There are only 5 entree options-beef, chicken, shrimp, pork, or vegetarian.  Two of us opted for the shrimp and the other two went with the pork and the vegetarian dish. The shrimp was perfectly cooked and again not freakishly large.  I bet there were 7 or 8 of those guys on top of a bed of the.most.amazing.coconut.rice. It was paired with a delicious sauce and topped with fresh shittake mushrooms. The vegetarian entree was tasty, but everyone wished there were just more vegetables in the dish. The pork was outfreakingstanding. Just perfect.  A big old piece of pork with fresh berries on top served with linguini and cream sauce.

There are a couple of smaller entrees.  A burger.  A grilled cheese. A pork roll. A mac and cheese. I have a hard time paying $12 for a burger, but it does look good. I almost went with the hoison pork roll only because it's unusual enough for a menu in Holland.

No one opted for dessert (did I mention we started the evening off with a goat cheese we brought back from Chicago?  And an amazing spicy tequila cocktail invented by Joan?) but there were two options.  A chocolate torte looking thing and then something that I honestly don't remember what it was called. It looked like cake that was stuffed with brandy soaked berries served with a gelato.  Or a sorbet.

The most awesome thing about the place is a bar that's open to the kitchen.  We didn't sit there, but next time I absolutely would.  You can watch the chef in action.  At the end of the night, Chef Matt came out and asked us how everything was. He is extremely friendly and I bet would be incredibly accommodating. 

The hours are very limited:  Thurs 5-9pm, Friday and Saturday 5-11pm. The saddest thing about the place is how empty it was. We were there on a Friday night at 8pmish and there were maybe 3 other tables. I hope more people in town discover them as I fear they might not make it otherwise.

And though it's not within walking distance, we biked!  It was supersweet! And a ridiculously short distance!  We vowed to never again drive to Baker Lofts unless the weather is terrible.  Seriously.  It was a 5 minute ride.  And the ride home?  Do you know how awesome it is to bike down the middle of River Avenue when no one else is around? 

Butch's:  I am officially done with you. I will go and sit at your bar and drink your martinis and consume your beer. But I refuse to pay more money for substandard food.

Oh yeah!  Did I mention the prices are less expensive than Butch's?

It's over, Butch's. Over.

they've already got pbr on tap. we just need them to get some founders...

One of my favorite things to complain about is how we don't have a single good place to eat supper out in Holland.  There are a few decent places. We have decent Mexican, Thai, and Japanese food.  The Piper is decent, but I don't always want to drop $20 on an entree. Same thing goes for Pereddies plus  they can also be spotty and I hate paying too much for Italian food.  I do love me some Russ' but honestly I think it's just because I love the novelty of ordering food by phone and two people can get out of there for under $20. There are a plethora of mediocre places: Curraugh, NHB, 8th St Grille, 84 East, Boatwerks, Butch's all come to mind.  And then there's the slew of chains on the north side which I pretty much refuse to go to. Where is the restaurant that is reasonably priced with an interesting menu that serves alcohol?

I think I have found it.

The Itty Bitty Bar on Ottawa Beach Road.

I still think it's a stupid name for a bar, but I am officially able to over look that after eating there last night.

Their menu is exactly what I'm looking for. They have roasted effing bone marrow on the menu as an appetizer.  ROASTED BONE MARROW IS FOOD FOR THE GODS. The number one recommendation we received from the bartenders was to order the burger (neither of us did, but we'll be back..) because it's popular and only $6.50 with the most amazing hand cut french fries.  I ended up with the chicken and waffles which wasn't even one of the three I was originally trying to choose from, but the bartender said she didn't even like waffles and she loved the dish.  It was unfreakingbelievable.  Buttermilk soaked fried chicken on top of 4 vanilla waffles (that could have been slightly crispier, but that's my only complaint!) and served with bourbon blueberry maple syrup and a side of goat cheese creme fraiche.

I dreamt about it last night.

Lobster mac and cheese and fish tacos and mini pulled pork sliders on homemade pretzel bread buns and a mini meatloaf and risotto.  Made to order.  RISOTTO MADE TO ORDER THE WAY RISOTTO SHOULD ALWAYS BE MADE. Their specials change every few days and are listed on their website.

I went there years ago when it was an Italian restaurant (Pontoni's?  Was it called Pontoni's?) and it is unrecognizable to me.  To call the decor understaded is...well...an understatement.  We sat on the bar side which is pretty dark with lots of big screen tvs and barstools (with backs!) that look like they've been there awhile.  The "restaurant" side has another smaller bar and-at least during the summer-is open to the front and the back.

The parking situation is pretty wretched.  We actually drove past once because it looked as if there were no spaces available.  By the time we came back a space up front had opened up.  The bartender assured us there was additional parking in the back which is definitely not made clear by all of the "Don't park in this field or you will get towed!" signs everywhere.  We were told you could drive in the field to get to the back parking.

The clientele, at least on the bar side, seemed a bit...40 year old divorced men smarmy.  To me.  With a dash of mid-30 something women who've had too much obvious plastic surgery.  Peter and I could not stop ourselves from staring at this one woman who had the most frightening fake lips I have ever seen.  And rumor has it the place can get packed and rowdy later at night.

The only other drawback?

It's on the north side.  I hate the north side. It's also in Park Township.  And I really hate Park Township.  I am willing to overlook these flaws if the food continues be good and judging by the menu I think it's going to to be good.

Roasted bone marrow?  You're next.

the one where i won't complain about the terrible, horrible, opressively unrelenting humidity

Saturday I purchased a 2 1/2ishlb chicken from Eater's Guild.  Sunday the heat index was around 105 degrees. Sunday I decided I really, really wanted to eat cold roasted chicken for supper. 

My kitchen is not air condidtioned.

I have roasted a number of chickens in the past.  It's really easy, but it's not the best way to cook a chicken. The breasts tend to dry out because the legs take longer. Enter Dorie Greenspan's (well, really, Daniel Boulud's) recipe for roast chicken from "Around My French Table." I got the cookbook from the library on the north side of town (which you should totally go visit because RFID has officially been installed and the self-checkout is freaking awesome plus their collection is smaller and newer so it's easier to spot the good stuff on the shelves!) and it's very, very pretty.  It also contained what will henceforth be my go-to roast chicken recipe.  While I won't discredit the possibility that an expensive organic chicken just tastes better, there was definitely a new technique involved that seemed awfully fussy.  I am here to say it was worth it.

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees (did I mention my lack of air conditioning in my second floor kitchen?) Put the bird on its side and roast for 25 minutes.  Flip the bird to the other side (I used tongs and a wooden spoon, but I bet those silicone mitts would be sweet) and roast for another 25 minutes. Flip the bird breast side up and roast for 10 minutes or until the thigh juices run clear.  Take it out of the oven, put it on a rimmed cookie sheet breast side down with the tail propped up on a bowl and LET IT REST FOR AT LEAST 15 MINUTES.

According to Dorie and Daniel, gravity will allow the juices to run back into the breast meat keeping it much more moist than if you just let it rest breast side up.  I am usually unable to resist cutting into the bird within 5 minutes because it smells so delicious and I think I've died and gone to heaven and the only way to make sure I'm not dead is to cut off a leg and go to town because dead people aren't that into eating or chewing.

I will never cut into a bird before resting it this way ever, ever again.

I also managed to carve the bird perfectly for the first time. Usually I end up with a pile of messy shredded meat, but this time I popped those legs out and chopped off those wings and cut those breasts so beautifully I almost took a picture.

I now have chicken carcass sitting my freezer for stock making. As there are cooler temperatures on the horizon and I somehow managed to survive roasting a bird for over an hour, I'm optimistic I can simmer some stock on my stove for 3-4 hours sometime in the near future. 

In other news, 50% of the new windows have been installed downstairs! My friend Molly is going to be the new head of Youth Services at my library!

They say moving, changes at work, and getting married are three of the most stressful events. 

Looks like I might be in for a very interesting fall...

it's boring. it's about libraries.

The library board voted last night to cut our hours.  Starting August 22nd the main branch will be open M & T 9-9, W-Sat 9-6.  The branch will be open M & T 10-7pm, W-F 10-6. The loss in hours downtown is about 6 per week with the branch being a loss of 3 hours per week as they'll now be closed on Saturdays. 

In addition to our hours being reduced, we had a voluntary buyout of 10 employees, 5 of whom will not be replaced.  All staff has also been at a wage freeze for about 3 years.

Our budget shortfall this year was around $250,000.  Next year it is anticipated we will have a similar shortfall.

The library is funded primarily through property taxes. I'm not sure if anyone has noticed, but Michigan isn't exactly the most economically vibrant state these days. Our property valuations have decreased dramatically over the past 5 years.  It is not expected to turn around for at least 2 or 3 more years.

It seems this vote created a fair amount of controversy mostly due to the public feeling they were not informed in advance the reduction in hours was a possibility.  While I can understand their frustration, the library is a transparent institution.  The board meetings are open to the public.  Copies of our board meeting minutes are available to the public online (through May) and in the library at the reference desk (up to date). The entire budget is made available to the public as well. If someone had attended board meetings, they would have known the board had been discussing the possibility of reducing hours since last fall. Our local newspapers are provided with board meeting packets ahead of time. It has been months since anyone from the press attended a meeting.

It has been suggested we charge an annual fee for our cards.  We already do that.  It's called taxes. 1.1 mils is levied against all property owners in the district.  It has been suggested closing the library 2 nights a week is inconvenient to people who work.  The hours selected for closure were the hours the least amount of people were using the library.  I was one of the people taking gate counts last year every hour for a few weeks to determine when we were the least busy.

I get it.  I really do.  I hate that we're closing 2 nights a week. But this is temporary. And it's necessary.  We are a quarter of a million dollars short on our budget.  We cannot afford to stay open.

And if you're a community member?  Please, please, please come in and talk to our director. Please, please, please come in and ask for our board meeting minutes.  Please, please, please consider attending our board meetings (3rd Thursday of every month at 4pm) or contacting your board members.

This is YOUR library.  Be informed.  Get involved.

"we're one cubs game away from a ferris bueller day"

I could go on ad nauseum about our Pitchfork Music Festival/urban biking adventure/awesome foodstuffs/Art Institute weekend in Chicago.  I won't because most of you will be forced to listen to me go on and on about how amazing biking in that city can be, and how the contrast between hearing Animal Collective on Friday night and Fleet Foxes on Saturday night was so perfect and unique, and lula continues to be delicious, and watching Ariel Pink for 30 minutes before he had his typical meltdown was so worth it, and the Viking Funeral from The Whistler might be the single best cocktail I ever had followed very close behind by the gin/cucumber/lime/cilantro drink Christina introduced me to, and the Tour de Fat bike parade was incredible, and the beer cheese from the Berghoff is probably chock full of crack it's so addictive, and The Girl and the Goat was even better than I expected, and Odd Future was crazy offensively entertaining, and going to a bike-friendly restaurant like Handlebar means you can safely lock up your bike and eat delicious vegan food, and just walking into the Art Institute for the first time in my life got me a little choked up, and I can't help it-I still love the CTA, and stumbling upon a brewery like The Haymarket with a solid IPA after a weekend of Heineken light is just what the beer doctor ordered, and discovering a new band like Wild Nothing is what makes Pitchfork my favorite festival, and! and! and!

We should go out for drinks and I'll detail the ride through Wicker Park on Saturday night at 10:30 pm, and describe the flavor of the baby grilled octopus we had yesterday, and attempt to explain how I felt when Peter found the Joseph Cornell boxes in the modern European wing at the museum,

and! and! and!

new nephew alert: Silas James was born July 13, 2011!

Lucky Peach is the bomb.  I am obsessed.  I was planning on taking it to Chicago with me, but have recently decided I don't want to risk it getting wet/wrinkled/crushed/whathaveyoued. It is beautifully designed and so well written it makes me want to never write about food again because I am not worthy after reading Peter Meehan describe a tour of ramen shops he took in Toyoko with David Chang.  DAVID EFFING CHANG, PEOPLE!  My mythological husband Anthony Bourdain has a column that will appear in every issue.  Wylie Dufresne, David Chang, and Anthony Bourdain have a rambling conversation during which Wylie disses the farm-to-table movement! I haven't read that part yet, but Jesus Harold Christ, I'm fairly certain it's going to make me tingly in my girlie parts.  Though the first issue is primarily about ramen (Ruth REICHL reviews instant ramen packets!!!) there is this glorious section in that back that is devoted to my beloved egg.  60 minute eggs, perfect soft eggs, eggs beautiful eggs! It's food porn for food nerds.  Buy it.  BUY IT. And if you're lucky enough to have an ipad, it is or shall soon be available as an app.  I don't even really know what that means, but I'm seriously considering purchasing an ipad so I can get it. 

This Lucky Peach app thing.

A storm of epic proportions swept through Holland on Monday at 10:30am.  I know it was 10:30am because I happened to be in the library at the time. We lost power and a big old tree fell down right in front blocking River Avenue in both directions.  Pine Avenue looked like a Michael Bay movie with telephone poles and electrical wires crisscrossing the road. Power wasn't restored to the library until late Tuesday night (no, I didn't get the day off.  And no, I don't want to talk about how it all went down), but thankfully we had ours back on by Monday night around 5:30 allowing me to stop freaking out about my expensive meats and delicious cheeses I had in my fridge.  It's funny how much one takes electricity for granted until one no longer has it.  "I'm hot.  I'm going to turn on a fan.  Damn it!  I can't turn on a fan.  I know, I'll have a glass of ice water.  Damn it! I can't open the freezer."  Not so bright, this one. Thankfully, my foodstuffs were saved and resulted in a delicious Tuesday night supper of pesto pasta salad with goat cheese, kale salad with tomatoes and balsamic vinaigrette, and the once-a-year-because-it's-ridiculously-rich almond and cheese stuffed zucchini.  All served cold. Because it's been so stinkin' hot.

In an unexpected turn of events, instead of taking the train to Chicago this weekend, we are driving the car.  The car which now has four (4!) new tires. We're also taking our bikes because...drumroll please...we are going to bike around Chicago.  When we first bought tickets, I suggested we bike to Pitchfork.  For some reason, the all-biking-all-the-time Kevin was kind of meh about the idea. This week the alien that had clearly taken over his brain finally freed Kevin and we're back to biking!  I'm so psyched.  A little freaked out because I, uh, haven't been biking as much as I have in the past and I'll be biking in a kinda sorta big city. But Kevin happens to be a league cycling instructor which can only mean he'll shield me from making some sort of embarrassing lane faux pas.  And keep us to the less frightening streets.  And it's only 4 miles so I know I can do that physically.  And hopefully knowing I have to bike home at 10pm will keep me from underhydrating as it's gonna be all kinds of steamy in the Windy City this weekend.

The fact that the only beer available at Pitchfork is Heineken will also help as I'm not so much of a fan.

Did I mention I might be going to Hot Doug's too?  For a fois gras dog? And maybe hopefully Lula's for brunch on Saturday or Sunday?  And the perfect ending to the perfect weekend being a meal at Girl and the Goat?

To do:  pick up bikes from bike shop, pick up bike rack from Kari, swing by the beer store for some much deserved beer for Melissa, hit the VanTils to meet Silas, don't go to Butch's for a gin and tonic, pack for Chicago, enjoy what will surely be a glorious weekend of music and food and really good friends.

let them eat pigface

It was one of those weeks where it felt like the majority of people were looking at a page and reading a page and reacting to a page and I was wondering why they were even looking at that particular book.

I came thiiiis close to defriending every single person who commented on/were upset by the Casey Anthony verdict.  And when the OJ Simpson photoshopped picture showed up I just about lost it.  It doesn't really matter what that woman did or didn't do.  She was probably a terribly mother, she possibly killed her daughter and she was definitely a pathological liar.  But at the end of the day, the burden of proof lies with the prosecution and though there were dots every person who obsessively watched cable news seemed to put together placing her squarely in the guilty category, the evidence was primarily circumstantial.  I know it seems to be a horrible case of injustice, but this case actually demonstrates how well our criminal justice system works. 

More importantly, this one single case managed to outrage what seemed to be all of America (especially those with a uterus..ahem) and yet-as young Berghoef so eloquently said-where's the outrage over a genocide in Africa?  Where's the outrage over a country's people starving? 

Makes.me.crazy.  And makes me wonder if this whole mess of country with its cable news obsessed culture deserves to collapse upon it's morbidly obese selves.

Wedding plans are progressing, I guess. There has been drama because even a wedding with only 12 people attending-including the two people getting married-has to have some sort of drama.  Number one reason why our original plan involved a courthouse and not revealing to anyone we got married. I'm starting to get way more excited about the Vermont party as a date is pretty much set and it looks like some good people from Michigan and Chicago are going to make the trip.  Which is awesome. I love showing off Vermont.

Next weekend we embark on our annual pilgrimage to Chicago for the Pitchfork Music Festival where it will either be blisteringly hot or pouring down rain or perfect.  There will be hipsters and fashion and good food (though this year I will NOT get the pad thai.  I feel like I dodged a bullet last year as Xtina ended up missing the last 2 days due to what was most likely food poisoning.  Shudder) and most importantly Animal Collective and Neko Case and Fleet Foxes and Ariel Pink and Woods and The Dismemberment Plan and Kurt Vile and OFWGKTA.  PLUS there's the Logan Square farmers market and maybe hopefully Lula's for brunch and possibly a small gathering on a rooftop and a reunion of Poe and Peter and a pigface for me from Girl and the Goat.

It's gonna be so sweet.

this is what we call perfect summer weather

Oh, polenta.  You are so delicious in my mouth.  On our epic beercation, the lovely Joan reintroduced me to the tube o'polenta and since then I have been pondering how best to use it.  Monday night I pulled out the Saturday market haul and made up a tasty treat.  Sauteed garlic scapes and red onion with swiss chard, tomatoes, and cannellini beans.  I fried up some polenta in the cast iron skillet, put some thin slices of Grassfield Farms gouda on top and stuck it under the broiler for a minute then topped it off with my mess of sauteed vegetables. 

The picture doesn't do it justice.  Nor can you see the polenta as it's buried under a mound of veggies. It was delicious.

Tomorrow night I'm going to try another version with whatever kind of beans I have left in the cupboard and goat cheese.  And more swiss chard because swiss chard is the bombest of the bombs. 

Strawberries are still going strong though this season I'm being pretty militant about eating organic strawberries since they are on the dirty dozen list and organic strawberries at the market are $3.50 a pint.  Nonorganic strawberries?  $3.50 a QUART.  I'm sorry, but organic strawberries just taste better.  They're little and expensive, but they don't leave that metallic pesticide taste in your mouth which always leaves me wondering if that bite was the bite that would eventually cause me to die an early death.  Not to be dramatic or anything. 

It has been pointed out to me that I've been not handling stress well lately.  And there is a fair amount of stress around these days.  Things are incredibly uncertain at work.  There are going to be some fairly massive changes which I hope will ultimately be positive, but may also result in me being in a job I'm not too thrilled about.  I started trying to plan a wedding that would make everyone happy, but ended up feeling like it was making everyone happy but the two people who mattered.  This whole wedding thing is why people elope and one of reasons why I've never wanted to get married.  I'm living in a town whose City Council voted against an ordinance protecting the LGBT community which just about broke my heart.  Eventually, someday, we-have-no-idea-when we'll be moving downstairs which will be awesome, but not knowing when that's going to happen is..well..stressful.

This week I decided to go back to what I know.  Running in the mornings, drinking gallons of water throughout the day, eating lots of real foods, and attempting to get sleep. I'm hoping with the running and consistently getting up around the same time regardless of the amount of sleep I've gotten the night before I'll eventually be so exhausted I'll have no choice but to fall asleep on my own.

If all else fails there's always gin and tonics.

we've decided to get married

I have been eating wretchedly.  I mean, so horrifically I can't even tell you what I've been putting into my mouth. Without thinking, without tasting. Just stuffing my face with awfulness. Which is makes tonight's supper extra special superfantastic awesome:

Asparagus tofu stir-fry with carrots, kale and soba noodles and an obscene amount of garlic.

What also makes this an extra special superfantastic awesome supper is that it's the first time I have truly successfully stir-fried tofu.  And asparagus. On an electric stove.

I started with a wok so hot it changed color. The bottom got all rainbow silvery before I splashed a glug of sesame oil (note:  step back immediately unless you want the delightful experience of tiny scorching droplets of oil burning your arm hair. Just saying.) and then added the tofu.  Also?  If a piece of tofu falls on the ground and you decide to just keep going because stir-frying is most successful when done effortlessly and continuously just remember that stepping on tofu in bare feet is really, really gross. Like you stepped on an eyeball gross.  Anyway, keep the wok moving constantly.  Keep the tofu moving constantly.  When it reaches that optimum golden hue crispy stage on all sides take it out of the wok and put it aside. Add another glug of oil, bring the heat back up and add the garlic.  Do not stop moving the wok to keep the garlic from burning. Give a minute or two and add 1" pieces of asparagus and chopped carrots.  Keep things moving around for 4ish minutes and add the chopped kale.  Just before it's done add back in the tofu.  A splash of shoyu, a hefty pour of fish sauce, and a fair amount of sriracha.  Add in some just cooked soba noodles and stir it all up until it's all mixed together in a bowl of delicious.  

Stir-frying isn't hard.  In fact, it's the perfect cooking technique for an efficiency freak like myself.  Chop and prep every single thing ahead of time and place in bowls based on cooking times. Heat wok, add all the ingredients and viola!  The hard thing is mustering up the energy to do it (by the way, it took me only 25 minutes from start of prep to eating which makes this a perfectly easy meal to make on a school night) when all you want to do is wait for Peter to get home at 10:30 with road tacos.

It was worth it and way better than road tacos.

Tonight the Press Delete played at Uncommon Grounds in Saugatuck which is a big deal because they haven't played there before and it happens to be Waterfront Film Festival Weekend. I opted out for a couple of reasons. I have had an insanely social week. From 11 1/2 hour brunch to Yeasayer at the Majestic to dinner at Phil's to last night with Travistina (speaking of food, Christina made this bbq chicken pizza with a sourdough crust that was like a sex party in my mouth which sounds really, really filthy unless you were hanging out with us last night when we told them the lyrics to the song we had been listening to:  "Sex Party" by Hush Hush) tonight was the first night I was home alone for more than a lunch break in over a week. Also tomorrow we become entrusted to care for Izzy the cutest chihuahua in the entire world for 2 1/2 whole days at our apartment and I thought I should at least attempt to make the apartment slightly less cluttered. Plus, I would really like to get to the market relatively early as the organic strawberries are gonna go fast and going to see the Press Delete play at a coffee shop most certainly would mean we'd end up at the Sandbar which would mean no organic strawberries for me.

Oh, and I'm hoping to find myself two hanging plants.  For the front porch.  'Cause the front porch is all ours now that the downstairs apartment is vacant.

Hello, summer of 2011.  I think we're going to get along just fine.

"every time a couple gets married, two single people die"

Words of wisdom from the one and only Leslie Knope.

Our camping beercation was awesome.  5 growlers of various Shorts and a 30 pack of PBR will keep 4 adults filled with beer for about a day and a half.  If you don't drink in the morning. Which I didn't.  Because our 5 growlers were filled with 5 different IPAs. So all I wanted in the morning was very strong coffee and water. I wish every morning started with a big pot of french press coffee and a delicious breakfast made by Joan.

The library is imploding. There are buyouts being offered. If buyouts are not taken, there will be layoffs. There is talk of a massive reorganization mid-August. There is talk of furlough days. There is talk of closing on Wednesday and Thursday nights. I'm showing up, working hard and keeping my head down.

Tomorrow is 8 hour brunch day, Monday is Yeasayer at the Majestic with Michael and Peter, Tuesday I'm off because Monday is Yeasayer at the Majestic with Michael and Peter. Tuesday night is supper with the Berghoef parents. Someday I'd like to see my bff. Someday I'd like to see my friend Molly. Someday I'd like to go to the beach. Someday I'd like to chillax to the max.

Foodwise, I was once again disappointed by a meal at Butch's. I might never learn. I was pleasantly surprised by a salmon blt at 8th St Grille. I'm already thinking about when I can go back and eat it again. I made a delicious salad of chilled steamed asparagus, broccoli, edamame and lettuce tossed with an herb vinaigrette and goat cheese. Don't do what I did and toss it all ahead of time. It's definitely better tossed at the last minute. Crane Dance bacon is back in my life. May I never have to live without it again.

I read Anthropology of an American Girl. Meh. People raved about that book. I found myself rushing to the end just so it was over. Never a good sign. I've moved on to some ya fiction:  the new Gary Schmidt book (half way done and it's very...Gary Schmidty. Good solid story with believable characters placed in slightly unrealistic situations with a "moral" slant) and and Beauty Queens by Libba Bray. She wrote Going Bovine which won the Printz award last year and I thought was quite good.  The description is delicious:  teenage beauty queens crash on a desert island.  A little Lost meets Lord of the Flies meets...teenage beauty queens.

I also need to finish my friend Hillary's book which I brought on the beercation with me where I managed to mix up the pages. And the pages aren't numbered.

Lesson learned:  manuscripts and beercations do not mix.

a love letter

It was the first day of the market!  You know what that means?  It means Erin gets to eat and cook and shop the way she wishes she could all the time!  Asparagus, my friends.  It is the beginning of asparagus season.  Asparagus soup, roasted asparagus, just crisp steamed asparagus plain, asparagus with poached eggs and hollandaise, asparagus stir fry, asparagus on the grill...hell, I'll eat it raw.  Peeled up like a slaw with some asian flavors or a little olive oil, lemon and salt.  Asparagus frittatas, omelets with asparagus and goat cheese.  Asparagus tarts.

I also paid $7 for the privilege of getting four of the first greenhouse tomatoes.  Excellent on a sammidge, but a little mealy on their own.  I'm going to lay off the tomatoes until later.  Eating things before they're ready to be eaten just doesn't really pay off.  I was thrilled to see my favorite lettuce people already selling lettuce and it's better than buying organic romaine in a bag, but it's pretty tough and bitter.  Again, excellent on some whole wheat bread with a smear of hummus, some Golden Legacy turkey, a slice of muenster, a pile of tomato and some radishes.

Radishes!  Oh, how I love radishes!  Raw in a salad, sliced thin on a sandwich-even better if the sandwich is made with a good crusty, doughy bread, a generous slathering of butter and a sprinkle of fleur de sel.  Radishes sauteed in butter and salt?  Heavenly.  Downright decadent.

Neither Otto's  nor Crane's Dance  were there which meant I ended up at the jerky guy's booth for the first time.  May I just say, I am awfully glad I did.  Multiple kinds of sausages (including andouille which means helllllo, gumbo!) and kielbasas and about 9,000 different kinds of jerky.  We sampled so many pieces of dried meat and cold sausages at 9am this morning over our Lemonjello's coffee (Now taking credit cards at the market!  Good god, I love that coffee shop.) we almost skipped breakfast at the Windmill.  But we didn't.  Because Wednesday mornings mean breakfast out and today that meant a bird's nest with a basted egg and rye toast at the Windmill.  Toss in a stop at our local record shop for the recent limited edition release of Timeless on clear vinyl and you've got yourself all of the reasons I love living in Holland, Michigan.

Remember February?

Neither do I.

because eventually i'm going to have to write something

Peter and I have managed to lose a tent.  How in the name of bleeding Jesus did we manage to lose a tent?  We know not.  It's just gone.  We went to Wheatland.  We slept in our tent.  We came home from Wheatland.  We put the tent...

Far be it from me to accuse Peter of being a bit lackadaisical with his searching methods, but I was fairly certain I would come home and find it within 5 minutes.  He had spent a maddening afternoon searching which is hilarious because we only have 1 very tiny crawlspace and 2 small closets.  I opened a couple of trunks and got out the flashlight but I feel fairly confident after a 20 minute search that the tent is not here.  He claims he has looked in the trunk of the Honda (which is currently housing a broken turntable, a very large dictionary and my Keens which, coincidentally, were last worn at Wheatland) and I only believe him because he honestly believes he is losing his mind for not being able to find that tent.  I bet the spare got taken out just in case the tent could have slipped down in there.

The tent is definitely missing.

Which is really no big deal because we know about a bazillion people with tents who would be happy to lend one to us for the upcoming weekend.  We are headed north with the destination being Shorts Brewing Company in Bellaire.  What's awesome is that aside from Shorts and a vague idea of stopping in Traverse City either on our way up or on our way back down for a good meal, we have no plans.  Go to Shorts.  Fill as many growlers as we have.  Go back to campsite.  Drink growlers and eat food.  And repeat.  A beercation.  With the Boyles.  It's gonna be sweet.

As I suspected, this weekend kicked off some May fun right nice like.  Not only did Peter successfully navigate across the state and back through a terrifying rainstorm.  Not only was the Crofoot as cool as I had heard (outdoor courtyard with a bar and an upstairs deck outfitted with chairs, plus excellent bar service and a great vibe).  Not only did Sharon Jones not disappoint.  Thanks to my friend, Erika, I got to meet the reason I went to the show in the first place: Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears.  AND I met a couple of Dap Kings.  So weird.  I never like meeting famous people because I never know what to say.   "Hi!  I love you!  I think you're awesome!  Awesome!  You were awesome!  Thanks for an awesome show!"  Thankfully, I was a couple of drinks in and somehow found myself talking to the horn/tambourine player about how it must be hard to be away from home so much and why he's glad they're not on Pitchfork's radar and the bass player said something about how their new stuff is completely totally different from what they're playing and Joe used to be really into punk and practically unlistenable and how they've got haters in Austin and why SXSW is really cool and how they're gonna smoke The Black Keys and how we should go see them when they play the Magic Stick in August and then I got a hug and a "I can't believe you guys will have driven 6 hours in order to see us!  Thank YOU!" from a Honeybear.

So.

I think I'm going to see Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears in August at the Magic Stick.

Anybody want to come?

on family

My parents are not native Vermonters.  After they got married they decided that instead of settling down near either of their families they would start their lives together in a state completely unfamiliar to them which I've always considered to be incredibly adventurous and bad ass of them.  Though I used to have the reputation of suffering from wanderlust, everywhere I moved I knew someone.  There was someone who would show me how to use the subway system or help me get a job or let me crash indefinitely.  My parents applied for jobs and just...moved.

There were some downsides to this growing up.  Not having grandparents who were there celebrating with you on your birthday, always knowing that even if you didn't have any friends in school you at LEAST had your cousins who were required to be nice to you and were actually fun to play with, and an aunt and uncle who owned pool?  The best ever.  I've never had the kind of easygoing relationships with any of my relatives that I saw in my friends with their aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents who lived close by.

What I did have, however, was a community of people handpicked by my parents to fill all of those roles.  There was Mr. and Mrs. Miller who lived across the street on Diamond.  I would crawl up on one of those sea foam green stools with the step that folded down and sit at the ironing board while Mrs. Miller would feed me endless sugar cookies and Tang.  When we moved to North Main I got the Bliss' who not only gave me my Winnie the Pooh bear (33 years old and still in one piece!), but also introduced me to their grandson who turned out to be one of my very first friends.  The Jenkins family was like my second family.  I took the bus there after school, I ate countless suppers at their house, I was introduced to the Beach Boys and the Beatles thanks to Joy's sweet record collection, and their daughter was my number one, secret handshake, basketball loving, pig latin speaking, imaginary world creating best friend growing up.

Because both of my parents were teachers and teachers work about 100 hours a week and therefore see other teachers all the time who also have children, I had a plethora of "aunts" and "uncles" and "cousins" from school.  I remember afternoons playing with the organ right inside the back door at the Moulton's old house.  The Annual Kids Christmas Party with a craft and a gift exchange was an epic event involving 5 teacher families.  There were picnic trips to Killkare and so many birthday parties I honestly couldn't count.  And there was the now infamous afternoon spent jumping on my parent's bed when Stevie affectionately dubbed me Erinbone. (And do not under any circumstances start referring to me as Erinbone.  It is a very special nickname that is only allowed to be used by very special people.)

Thanksgiving was almost always spent at the Zakrzewski house.  Marylou was a 4th grade teacher at the elementary school where my Mom was the librarian and Frank was a history teacher at the high school in the same department as my Dad.  Their 2 daughters were instant playmates for my sister and I.  Karen once pushed my sister Traci out a plate glass window.  Man.  That story is the best kind of family history.  Kristen and I were mostly underfoot and loud-banging on the piano in the front room and screeching about things only little girls understand.  Thanksgiving was, of course, an all day affair.  Kristen's black cherry jello was (and still is!) an absolute must.  A small cut glass boat shaped bowl was filled with canned olives and placed on the table early and I would always eat almost all of them before the meal was even served.  After the meal we would play spoons and laugh and laugh and laugh.

I had Frank for US History my sophomore (?) year.  I honestly remember very little about the class. I remember where I sat.  I remember him trying to make me feel at ease regarding the discomfort I felt over the whole I've-known-this-man-my-entire-life-and-called-him-Frank-but-now-I-should-probably-not-call-him-that thing.  I sat very close to his desk and he always told jokes.  I liked to think it was his attempt to get me to loosen up just a little.  And it worked.

Frank passed away last night.  He had been battling cancer and fought for a very long time. A lot longer than anyone expected him to.  He was a man of incredible grace.  He was an amazing father and outstanding Grampy.  I feel unbelievably blessed to have known him.  And I know he is now free and released from the unfathomable amount of pain he was in.  He was back home in Vermont and surrounded by his wife and daughters.  He wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

And yet I sit here sobbing on this glorious sunny Saturday morning because this is the beginning.  Frank is the first member of my Vermont family to pass away.  This is the first time the parents lost a very, very close friend.  This is the first time the kids are losing one of the parents.  Every time I think about Marylou and Kristen and Karen right now I can't stop wishing I was there because I know how badly I'm going to want them there when this happens to me.  I may not get to see them very often, but this is my family.  These are the people who I have those easygoing relationships with that make me feel loved and accepted no matter what.

Much, much love to Frank and family.  And many, many thanks to my parents for handpicking the best family I could ask for.

time warp: you're a grownup

Weird.  That's how my day started.  Just weird.  NPR went off at 5:55am and I heard "bin Laden dead" and I was pretty sure that was not real.  I am reading this book right now (advanced review copy which is pretty sweet) and it is MESSED up.  I mean, I just read Swamplandia! and watched Catfish, but let me tell you this book is MESSED up.  As the last thing I was conscious about last night, that book managed to stay with me all night long through my dreams so it took shutting off my cellphone at 6am for me to get the news that Osama bin Laden was indeed dead.  (Thanks, Vanderelzen.  You beat Malkowski to it this time!).  For some reason (torture) I felt the need to wake Peter up and tell him.  And we both just said weird.

It's mostly weird to me not because I feel anything.  Actually I feel alarmingly underwhelmed by the news.  Rather it's that Saturday night post-perfectly-cooked-bone-in-salmon at Salt of the Earth, I sat on my porch (!!!) with Peter and the Kapetyn-Dekkingas passionately discussing white people problems.  I know.  Public transportation and bike lanes are not only white people problems.  This is a socioeconomic problem and a piece of the environmental solution.  And the ongoing local, organic, vegetable based grocery shopping experience is a health issue and yet another environmental solution with direct links to a glaringly obvious socioeconomic problem in obesity rates with major impacts on our completely broken health care system.  And gentrification kills cities.  It straight up kills them.  But aren't we awfully lucky we had the opportunity to go to private colleges where we were under the impression we could and would be able to do anything with our golden ticket degrees and come to find out no one can afford to retire so we're stuck doing jobs we don't love in order to discuss whether or not I should buy a new bike even though I love my frame while I spend $100 on dinner at a restaurant committed to local farms or what neighborhood is desirable enough so you can afford it, but not too desirable so it's not gentrified (expensive and douchy) yet safe enough to raise kids and maybe possibly will eventually become gentrified so you make money off the eventual sale?  But seriously, I had an amazing time Saturday night talking to you guys.  I miss you.  It's nice to feel like I can 100% be myself around you both.  No need to impress.  No need to be anxious.  Because I know we'll never, ever run out of things to talk about which is really my favorite trait in friends.  And the one and only Xtina:  What was the name of that insane nut-like laundry thing that you use 5 times and you toss it in your laundry in a little sack?  I WILL track them down and start using them asap!

Where was I?

Right, white people problems.

In the middle of all of this Peter points out that we've been talking for awhile and yet no one has even remotely mentioned Libya.  Or Afghanistan.  Which immediately led Erin and Xtina into the "We need to GET OUT!"  "We CAN'T get out!"  "But we NEED TO GET OUT!" "But we CAN'T GET OUT!" with some "It's the JUST war" "There's NO SUCH THING AS A JUST WAR!" conversation every good liberal has had since we got into this whole mess.  But amongst all of that I distinctly remember Peter saying "And yet we never did find that guy who started this whole thing" and Kevin responding with "That doesn't matter.  He doesn't matter." which is 100% true.

In my humble opinion.

I went for a perfect run this morning.  I felt good the whole time minus the blister on my back left heel which makes my sock bloody and me feel bad ass.  As logged onto facebook while I was eating breakfast I was struck by how passionate some people felt about this whole event.  Which I thought was weird.  There were essentially 3 major camps:  1.  God Bless the USA cheerleaders who pontificated on bin Laden's sadness at not discovering virgins in H E double hockey sticks 2.  John Lennon and MLK quotes regarding love and love and love and love  3.  A mixture of gleeful "Christians" who spouted quotes about eyes for eyes and confused tentative Christians who were uncomfortable and weren't sure how what to think.

Weird, right?

I had a few bright spots.  Brandon Zwagerman would have gotten the status updates of the day award for his thoughtful posts, but then he posted an article about what Bloomberg thinks is wrong with Detroit and though he still disparaged Bloomberg, Brandon made me want to punch him in the mouth for thinking NYC even gets to have an opinion about what's happening in Detroit.  Randy Smith ultimately won with his "thanks Obama for accomplishing the one thing I really didn't give a fuck about now how's about you go in there and really get us health care and really shut down Guantanamo and really fix our education system" update because it cut right through all the political bullshit.

And the first time I read this quote

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. ~ Martin Luther King, Jr"

as someone's update I got a little choked up. (Except come to find out it's a fake quote!  HA!)

What I found most interesting and understandable and terrifying were how many early 20-somethings were the one's showing up in droves to cry and sing and get drunk and come together at very symbolic sites.  Interesting because young people don't seem to do much these days so getting them mobilized was a big deal and understandable because these kids were 10, 11, 12, 13 years old when this happened.  I remember how scary 9/11 was for me and I was 26 years old.  Remember how helpless you felt watching everything unfold.  So confused and hurt and scared and angry?  Now imagine you were 10 when it happened.

And I was terrified because for the first time I looked at a generation and thought "Gosh, I get it, but seriously guys this is not the point.  This is so not the point.  This is all far from over.  This is not to be celebrated and quite honestly your behavior right now is kind of humiliating."

By the way, my entire weekend was swell. I met an old cranky marmalade cat I have actually prayed prayers for.  He was loud.  And let me pet him.  I can't ask for much more.  I introduced a man to deep fried pickles and turned him into a believer.  I am the terrified yet grateful recipient of sourdough starter thanks to my bff.  I survived my first day of many running the overdues show alone.  I just ate my 9876th meal involving fish sauce, shoyu, garlic, toasted sesame oil and sriracha only this time I had it with a cold whole wheat pasta, edamame, and the rest of the fresh produce I had in the house.  It was amazing.  I'm about to eat a sliver of pecan pie (also bff made-she thought it was gritty.  She is insane.  It's effing perfect) and have some Sleepytime tea while I finish off the second episode of Manor House before I crawl into bed with my messed up book.

A weird end to a weird day.

danger: profanity ahead

I had a whole gosh darn post written up about how I’m wracked with anxiety and don’t want to go home and I’m not sleeping and I didn’t run this morning because I was scared to run in the dark and I’m spending an inordinate amount of time at my desk so I don’t have to see them and then I decided to delete it.  Fuck those guys.  They can intimidate me all they want.  I am the one who holds their fate in my hands.  All I have to do is call 911 and at least one of them will most likely go back to jail. 

I have a splendid weekend planned.  Tomorrow I’m picking Christina up at 9am for breakfast in Saugatuck at Pumpernickel’s.  Around lunch I’m heading to Michael and Jennifer’s to help dig some garden beds.  The two of them are going to keep me in produce all summer long and as they won’t accept payment in the form of money and they have an enormous amount of work to do I thought this would be a good way to start paying them back.  Plus Jennifer is making Thai food-a most excellent incentive to get over there!  Tomorrow afternoon the Kapteyn-Dekkinga’s will be in town and we are all hitting up Salt of the Earth in Fennville followed by something to be determined.  Either the now smoke-free Sandbar before the Shirey Brothers play (though I just noticed it’s “Sounds of Saugatuck” weekend which means Saugatuck sounds like it would be hell) or there may be a fire we can go sit around or perhaps we will just stay in our apartment and listen to records.  Like the new Fleet Foxes record.  Ahem.  Sunday (weather permitting) we are going to the first month of the antique fair in Allegan as the most excellent Rebel.Reclaimed will be there.  I love the Allegan Antique Fair if only for the deep fried pickles.

If my weekend sounds awesome, wait until you hear my plans for May:  Black Joe Lewis and The Honeybears and Ms Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings at the Crofoot, a camping trip up to Shorts Brewing Company with the current plan being to fill as many growlers as we all have to bring back to the beautiful campsite on Lake Michigan so no one has to drive, and maybe possibly hopefully at least one night up in Mesick for Memorial Day weekend. 

Dang.  My life sounds so sweet I might feel a twinge of guilt over kicking them off the porch and taking away what I’d bet was the highlight of their day.  Wait…wait…nope.  Oh wait.  Yeah…that’s right…

Fuck those guys. 

or maybe reagan was right....?

Those of you who are long-time readers of this little blog may remember an incident last summer involving a young gentleman who had taken up residence on our front porch.  Last we heard he had "gone to Allegan to live with family" (read:  jail).  He recently returned to our fair city and for the past 3 days has been spotted with another regular patron sitting.on.our.porch.  I decided we needed to nip this in the bud and notified our downstairs neighbor (who is ultimately responsible for this young gentleman even being in my life) that I would prefer them to not be out there unless he was there with them.  Like for a party.  Or whathaveyou.  I said I felt comfortable talking to them and asked if it was okay to do so.  My neighbor got back to me and agreed that perhaps that kind of behavior should not be encouraged. 

Not 10 mniutes later I am walking home for lunch and lo and behold those boys are on my mofo porch.  Words were exchanged.  I was given a bit of lip.  I went upstairs and called my neighbor and explained what had occured and he told me I should feel free to call the cops.  They then knocked on his window and he talked to them.  About what?  I know not.  Was I painted as a racist bitch?  I know not.  All I know is that after I calmed down (My voice was shaking, my eyes were shaking, my entire body was shaking.  I was OUTRAGED.  I'd like to thank my lovely parents for talking to me for an hour and a half so I could calm down!) and returned to work the gentlemen were gone. 

The neverending question since this issue arose last summer is "Am I being unreasonable?"  On the one hand, these guys are sitting on a porch talking.  A porch I rarely sit on myself these days.  The only interaction I have to have with them is saying hello when I walk by.  On the other hand, the only time I have ever had the cops knocking on my door (EVER!  I mean, EVER!  This includes when I lived in Chicago!  NYC!  Other nefarious locations about the greater Holland area!) was when they were looking for him as he had given our house number as his residence.  On the one hand, these guys have got nothing going on.  Nothing.  They spend an obscene amount of time in the library and are most likely homeless.  Seriously?  You're not going to let them sit on your porch?  Get a little compassion!  On the other hand, this is my home.  MY HOME.  I don't know who these guys are.  I know that they are trouble.  I know I don't like them.  I know that if I let them sit there during the day there is a very good chance they'll feel comfortable sleeping there at night.

And ultimately?  That's what makes me angry.  They have this "We're sitting here and we're entitled to sit here and there ain't shit you can do to move us because we're not doing shit" attitude that makes me so angry.  I want to tell them pull up their pants and get jobs.  Try working 40+ hours a week.  Try being somewhat responsible and find a place to live and if you can't afford a place to live than go to the mission and follow the rules and just make an attempt to turn your lives around.  No one owes you anything.  If you want help finding a job?  I will help you find a job.  If you want help filling out applications?  I will help you fill out applications.  If you want to get your GED or go back to school?  I will help you educate yourself.  But don't sit on my gd porch all effing day while I schlep myself back and forth to and from my job which pays me so I can afford to live in this house with this lovely porch.

omg.

I might be turning into a Republican.

this sauce is magnificent

Last night we had mustard glazed pork tenderloin with garlic whipped potatoes and just steamed asparagus.  This was all Nancy and all delicious.  Enough so that I have decided pork tenderloin is my next big Crane Dance meat purchase.  And today a patron said he'd bring me in a recipe that involves smothering the tenderloin in fresh herbs.  Hell's yes.  This is the second time I've had asparagus before Michigan asparagus comes in and I've got to say just tasting that greenness made me so excited for spring, summer and fall eating.

The market begins on May 18th.

Not that I'm counting down the days or anything.

Post-supper inevitably led to sitting around the table and talking-which is probably the best part of family meals, but maybe that's just because it reminds me of my family and I miss my family-and drinking coffee (7pm and I unknowingly drank caffeinated coffee.  This is why I will never be a Berghoef.  Those three drank it like it was chamomile tea.  I was up until 11:30 trying to turn off my brain) and somewhere between the "remember when" stories and the inevitable library shop talk, the conversation turned to tomato sauce.  I am certain Peter was mocking my insistence on making my own sauce for everything from spaghetti to lasagna and I found myself getting oddly defensive.  "Whaa--?  Did you not just...are we not both wildly disappointed every time we end up buying a jar of sauce?  It's too sweet and too salty and doesn't taste like tomatoes?  Let alone how much jarred sauce costs compared to buying cans of tomatoes (or hopefully next winter having canned my own tomatoes!) and tomato paste?"

Tomorrow night we're having spinach and ricotta stuffed shells.  I made my own sauce.  I sauteed a fair amount of garlic and 1/2 an onion in olive oil,  added 1 large can of tomato puree and 1 small can of diced tomatoes, tossed in a glug of red wine vinegar, some black pepper, oregano, and thyme, a teeny bit of cayenne pepper and, just as it started to simmer, I tossed in the end of the rind of some really good parmigiano-reggiano.

Jarred sauce, indeed.