Well, this is the last you'll hear from me till Tuesday. Our Gala is on Friday (prayers, and tickets sales, are much appreciated), and I don't have a moment to spare.
THE ALMOND ICE CREAM with almond brittle (above) that I made for Easter is probably the best ice-cream I've made so far. The flavor is good, the technique simple, and the brittle is magic. I did not vary the recipe one jot (shocking, I know!). My current problems with homemade ice cream are: this-ice-cream-is-as-hard-as-a-rock problem, and I've also noticed that when I let home-made ice-cream sit in the freezer for more than a day, the custard starts to break down, and you can taste the cream more strongly--and it gets all filmy in your mouth. I know...I'm sorry. That's not terribly appetizing. I suppose I could solve both these problems if I made sure to eat all the ice cream in one sitting--just as soon as it's done churning! (The Kitchn)
MY GRANDPA'S FRIENDS is one of the best time capsules on The Retronaut, ever. I love goofy photos! Old goofy photos are even better!
I AM SO EXCITED that the letters of J. F. Powers will be published next year by NYRB. You know how much I love Powers. (A Different Stripe)
THE TRAILER FOR Dinner: A Love Story is just great. Jenny, you're great in front of the camera. Also, I love you and can't wait for your cookbook. And I don't even have kids.
THE REJECTION LETTER is a fine art, according to DN. Norman McLean agrees (though the circumstances are reversed). (nomopoetry and Letters of Note)
MATISSE DRAWS A BOY via 101 Cookbooks
JUST IN CASE KIT would make a great present. And it's so cheerfully wrapped. It's the modern equivalent of "Don't Panic written in cheerful letters across the screen." (Plenty of Colour)
MISS MANNERS WILL ALWAYS be my favorite journalist, and this week she had two great posts. In one, she decries the incredibly annoying habit of check-ins on Facebook, but concludes with a real gem of a reminder for all well mannered men and women:
"A proper lady does not accept a new “norm” that is basically inconsiderate of others just because it has become common. But Miss Manners would also expect her to pity people who don’t know the right way to thank their hosts or to share their activities, and ignore what should not have been intended for her eyes."Her remarks have set me thinking about all the ways I use social media--mostly I am dissatisfied with my use of Facebook, but I haven't yet figured out what I want to do about it. And I do use it a lot. But it's nice to be reminded that behaviors we take for granted are worth re-assessing. And that one should always be polite. (Washington Post)
SAIPUA IS A SHOCKINGLY HIP little flower shop in Brooklyn (which is getting more ridiculous day-by-day). But it's also got a gorgeous blog. This is currently my favorite place to check in every afternoon when my eyes are tired and my brain is fried. Miss Hale, you'll love these flowers.
WILL SOMEONE PLEASE make me these cookies? I never got home-made cookies after school. And this week feels like the worse week of 3rd grade. And I am really bad at making cookies. (Now that I am done talking about me, I'll add that this recipe also has a lovely meditation on Motherhood.) (Not Without Salt)
I REALLY CANNOT BELIEVE I forgot to share this article with you last week. Heck, I should have written a whole blog post dedicated to it:
Lemons. 4053. Limes. 4048. Oranges. 4012.Read the rest of Working a "Not a Real Job" Job, by my friend Laura. It's witty, it's honest, it's reassuring, and it's just plain right. (Thought Catalog)
These numbers run through my head as I carefully stack Fuji apples on top of each other in the produce section at Trader Joe’s. The words “This isn’t your real job” run through my mind, over and over, like a mantra. They soothe my doubts and fears. They soften the confusion on customers’ faces when I tell them “Oh no, I already graduated from college.” They listen to my story about moving across the country. “Why would you EVER leave California?” They smile when I tell them “…but I have an internship in D.C.” and then they respond, politely, “Oh, that’s wonderful, hon! Just be patient. You’ll find your ‘real’ job soon enough”
My real job.
Why isn’t this a real job? Because I don’t sit in an office pretending to work while I really read Cracked articles for eight hours a day? Because I have to serve people? Because I clock in and out each day? Because I don’t hate it?
AND THEN THERE'S THIS (via Mo) (watch with sound):