The Great Boston Lobster Bake

Forget about the Boston Tea Party -- there are tons of steamed lobsters right outside my office at this very moment. Where are the vats of drawn butter?

The most excellent Hook family owners vow to rebuild after blaze destroys landmark seafood business. And I believe they will, and quickly. Better, stronger than before even. Behold, the next-generation bionic lobster company!

What particularly saddens me at the moment is that something "devoured 60,000 pounds of lobster...", and it wasn't me.

I'm guessing arson. That lobster pound sat smack in the middle of some prime waterfront real estate, in the hottest development area in town. And the Hooks have fought to stay there before.

There's another possibility, though, one too terrible to believe. Could it be my fault? Could this be another one of my mystical powers?

You see, I recently gave up lobster. (Yes, I know that report says I can have it as often as three times a month, but considering the massive quantities I've eaten in my lifetime, I figure I'm probably already way over my personal quota. I mean, it's not like the mercury ever leaves your system.)

So, I give up lobster, and then my fave lobster place burns to the ground. This would be merely a coincidence, if it weren't for the Raven bar in New York. I used to celebrate my birthday at the Raven every year, and there were many other messy celebrations. But right after I accepted the job in Boston and prepared to move, the Raven burned down and was shuttered.

Honestly, what kind of superpower is this? Nothing I love can live on after I leave it? (wait, don't ask any of my ex-boyfriends about that one...)

Well if the Raven has hopes to rebuild, then maybe we can still hold out hope that the Hook family will persevere. In the meantime, any intrepid souls with scuba gear in the mood for some smoky lobster bisque?

Ko-thario Picks Food Blogger Over ...me!

For all who are breathlessly awaiting the final chapter in my sudden foodie sort-of-fame:
Ko-thario Picks Food Blogger Over Atheist Carnivore

I had a hysterically fun time with this whole adventure. And what a bonus -- I now have two tags of my very own on Grub Street!

For the record, despite B's encouragement, I wouldn't have responded to the ad at all if I hadn't found the Ko-thario's writing witty, charming and funny. I'm in no race to go to Ko; I'll dine there eventually. If anything, it was the pork fat that was extraneous in this equation, not him.

Ko-thario, Dominique -- I hope you have a lovely time.

Happy Memorial Day weekend, everyone! Eat well!

Farmer Dave -- Somerville CSA

Woo Hoo! I'm Supporting Community Agriculture!

I am about to sign up for a local CSA, so I'll be getting a steady supply of fresh, locally grown fruits and veg all summer and fall.

The minimum share has food for two people. I'm going to ask my new roommate if he's into sharing it, but if not, I might be looking for someone to share. Let me know if you'd be interested!

Body news and translations as poetry

As much as I wish I found more foods to be unappetizing, what really sets my heart a-flutter is that translation.

Ko-thario and me -- more banter

He replied! Funny, charming, lots in common, cute. Looks like a tall dark Jewish Michael Cera.
Even though he's made this whole quest public, I'm not going to post his e-mail here without his consent. But I did write back again:

...67 replies -- behold the power of Grub Street! I'm glad you didn't stop counting at 69, too cliché and puerile. That said... the last time I went to a Trivia Night, our team name was "We're Not Gynecologists, But We'll Take a Look." So of course our final, losing, score was 69. The trivia master was at a loss for words.

I'm an omnivore / recipe anthologist / windowbox gardener / online journalist. I have a Master's in Journalism, but beat reporting isn't really my style. It also pays about as well as abstract expressionism, I suspect. So now I run the online events calendar for a major newspaper, as well as all the new-fangled mobile action. If you absolutely need to check the baseball score while we're out to dinner and you have a cell phone handy, I'm your girl.

I also used to edit a magazine for NYU, and my dad was a physics professor, so I still have a soft spot in my heart for academia.

Is there really that much demand for abstract expressionist porn music? Do you have sexy librarian glasses you toss aside just before breaking into a pole dance?

--Maggie

PS: I like your smile.I hope it's not really *that* rare.

And then I saw the latest update on Grub Street. I was one of only five people he wrote back to! (though I was also one of nine people who mentioned Brazilian waxes, alas.)

Grub Street posted the update at 4:15, and I didn't send off my reply until 5 -- I had it open on my desktop since this morning, but it's been a hectic day at work. If I'd finished up a little sooner, I might have more interesting gossip for you.

Stay tuned!

With uni you get two

Grub Street tells of a funny foodie mensch who's looking for a Ko-date on Craigslist. B insisted that I reply (if this works out, he will have only himself to blame...):

Hello, you hysterically funny foodie!

I'm not a Brazilian porn star, but I have gotten an occasional brazilian, and I always find rock star parking. Haven't played Rock Band yet, but my 11-year-old niece got me hooked on Guitar Hero. But I digress...

Baggage -- does my Samsonite wheelie bag count? Because, seriously, it's amazing. Ten years old, travels with me about every other weekend on average, it's been as far as Japan and the Caribbean, doubles as a cat bed whenever I forget to put it away, and it's still going strong. Also, it may have saved my life, as I was dropping it off for repairs instead of commuting down to the WTC on the morning of September 11.

I speak five languages. Unfortunately, Dutch is not one of them. That said, if you're "romantically forking foie gras into [my] mug," I'll let you cop a feel. Left or right breast, your choice -- each is magnificent. Feed me uni too, and you can touch both.

You want a link? Here.
You want a picture? There's one in this post.

Ko ho,
Maggie

Hmm, I might have to make an OK Cupid profile out of that.

Not as green as they claim to be - The Boston Globe

Not to say "I told you so," but I'm glad to see my local paper discussing issues of the new Green craze that have been concerning me for a while.

When "green" became a positive catch phrase, products started tossing it around for the marketing benefits. But the term is meaningless; there are no guidelines or restrictions. This article includes many examples of "green" products that are no better, or even worse, than other products that don't wave that flag.

Of course I'm all for environmental protection and awareness. I drive a Civic with amazing mileage; I recycle religiously (and more importantly, I reuse as much as possible first, as the recycling process uses up energy); I even bought a "green" house that's highly energy-efficient and contains no off-gassing synthetics.

But I don't want the term to be cheapened, or an unaware public to be fooled. Take the Poland Spring bottle. Sure it uses 30% less plastic, which is great. But bottled water is a huge waste of transport energy on top of all the plastic. People should be drinking tap water and carrying it around in reusable containers.

When cars were introduced, they were a solution to the existing problems of that time. But flash forward a few years, and they've created a whole new set of problems. Our environmental crisis is a complex issue. Simplistic solutions are only going to create new problems for us in the future. And simplistic promotion of anything that calls itself green feeds right into that.

For all the semi-colonists

#99 Grammar � Stuff White People Like

BY the way -- apologies for being such a slacker lately. I know that for some people, no excuse is good enough, while for others, no excuse is necessary. Therefore, let me only say that the ironic truth of amateur blogging is that exactly when life gives you lots to write about, is exactly the same moment when life gives you no time to write about it.

But I love you all, I swear. And I'm fine, so no worries.

Make this for me and win my heart

Umami love:
Picholine’s ‘Oceanic’ Sea-Urchin Panna Cotta

For the record, I heart Dana Vachon

I don't care what you think.

Alas, while reading the Gawkers as they mock my darling, I gained a new insight:

"A Field Guide to Wall Street Men.

'Pink Shirt Guy' is from Connecticut or Westchester. Secretly wants to sleep with his mother. Went to some prep school you've never heard of and is in banking because of his insecurities.

'Blue Shirt Guy' is from Long Island or New Jersey. Secretly wants to sleep with his sister. Went to public school and is in banking because of his insecurities.

Both are total douchebags."

I never realized before that the suburban New York class wars are oriented on a North-South versus East-West axis. Me being from New England, I am honorary North, pink-shirt team. Excellent!

Cloonacy

I hope Cloomydia isn't bad for a baby...

You can't afford me

Powered By Limousines For Rent


Thanks, Nina!

(I don't know, though. Considering I just went through another insemination, somehow I think I should be worth more.)

Riding the single woman zeitgeist

To summarize, a few things about me --

• I canceled an engagement when I was 21, because I thought the guy wasn't stable enough to build a family with. (oh, by the way, his wife and five-year-old son seem to think he's doing a fine job these days.)


• I dumped a guy when I was 25 because I was intimidated by his family wealth. Also, I thought he didn't believe in marriage and didn't want kids. Last I heard, he's still married to the woman he got pregnant two months after we broke up. They have at least one other kid.


• I thought the series finales of both Friends and Sex and the City were ridiculous, because the most recent reuniting of the couples gave me no reassurance that they woudn't break up again as they had countless times before.


• I am currently trying to conceive a baby with donor sperm -- I have another insemination attempt scheduled for tomorrow -- because I am 37 and unmarried.


• I have a sweet boyfriend who is a good man and adores me, but I refuse to marry him because of religious and philosophical differences, but also because I'm just not feeling it in my gut.


• My Dances-with-Wolves-style Indian name is Paralyzed By Indecision


• I recently watched the movie Say Anything

Despite all these facts, it might surprise you to know that I did not write this article.

But I could have, clearly. Not only that, I should have (why am I not writing more?).

I also should have read this article several years ago, when it still might have done me some good.

Recently, the Lumberjack, the Captain, and a former boss have all put the moves on me in some way or another. It really doesn't help an indecisive type such as myself to be all "strong bidder" like this, when really I should just settle (down) and get married, already.

Sigh.

All My Georges

Okay, so my husband is gorgeous, charming, funny... yeah, yeah, we all know that already.

What I'm finding funny lately, and what this clip reinforced for me today, is how much, as he gets gently older, he's beginning to look like my dad.

(oh, yes, Dad's a hottie. Hands off, ladies!)

NYTimes "wonderfully easy" pea soup

Slice and sauté an onion.
Add 3 cups chicken stock, a 1-pound bag of frozen peas, 1/3 cup oats, 1/8 teaspoon cardamom, some salt and pepper.
Bring to boil.
Purée in blender.

From How to Survive in New York on 99 Cents

Men Create More Housework for Women - Yahoo! News

Well THERE'S a shock.

The Nonna Files

When I was little, I used to watch my grandmother cook. She didn’t write anything down, so neither did I. I thought I’d learned her recipes, kept them in the muscle memory of my hands.

I grew up, she passed away, I worked more and cooked less. One day I realized I couldn’t remember anymore.

I feared it was too late. But when I told her friends M and A my regret, I discovered they'd all shared recipes, and the friends had written them down. Now every week we pull out the card file, and I learn a new dish. Some were from my grandmother, some are M or A’s, and some were scrawled on the back of a paper plate during a party, source unknown. But each recipe, I assure you, is from someone’s Italian grandmother.

Lesson #1: Pizzelle

Sure, you can buy them in the market in those plastic boxes, but homemade is better. The only problem is that to make them at home, you need an iron to press out the cookies, and maybe you don’t want another very specialized appliance in your kitchen.

When I confessed to A that I’d always preferred her pizelle to my grandmother’s, she laughed because she uses my grandmother’s recipe. Here’s her secret: A doesn’t use a regular pizzelle iron, she uses an old Black Angus sandwich grill, which has an adjustable hinge height, so it doesn’t press as tight.

So if you like your pizzelle thin and light and crisp, and you have lots of storage space in your kitchen, get a pizzelle iron. But if you prefer a slightly denser cookie with a little more heft, you could experiment with a patterned sandwich press. Or you could search eBay for a Black Angus.

3 cups flour
1 ½ cups sugar
2 ½ tsp. baking powder
6 eggs
1 cup (2 sticks) butter, melted
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. anise extract

Sift flour, sugar and baking powder into a large bowl. In a small bowl, beat the eggs lightly, then stir into dry ingredients. Add melted butter and extracts, and stir by hand until batter is smooth and glossy. Let batter rest for half an hour. While batter rests, heat up the iron, get it good and hot.

Put a little butter on a paper towel and grease the iron plates up well, then wipe of any excess. You only have to do this before you start pressing cookies; after the first batch, the butter in the batter will keep the plates lubed up.

Drop a teaspoon of batter into the center of each circle on the press, close it, and squeeze the handles together for about five seconds. Then let go and let cook for about 45 seconds. (Cook times will vary depending on your iron. Experiment with your first few batches, until you figure out how long it takes to achieve golden brown deliciousness.)

Carefully peel the cookies off the iron plates, using a table knife to protect your fingertips. Lay cookies flat on clean dish towels to cool. Once they’re cool, stack them and store in an airtight container.

While the pizzelle are right off the iron and still warm, they’re soft and malleable. If you’re so inclined and can work fast, twirl them into a cone shape or press them into a bowl, to serve ice cream.

More female trouble

A bit of stream of consciousness about something that's been making me feel creepy all day. Summarized from an IM with my darling bf:

Last St. Patrick's day, we were all at the bar, and the Lumberjack was there with his new undergrad girlfriend, who he'd met at a party in January. And I was sad, cried later, because it was the nail in the coffin that nothing was ever going to happen with us.

But it wasn't just that. There was something else that night that made me sad.
The Storm.

Storm had been friends with the Usual Suspects before I'd moved back home and met all these hooligans. Also, the Lumberjack used to cheat on his last girlfriend with her, but as far as I ever heard, they'd never actually dated for real. Since then, there had been some kind of falling out between Storm and the U.S., but she was still friends with 'Jack. But because of the circumstances, everything was hazy and unspoken by the time I started meeting these people.

I met Storm because 'Jack started bringing her to PubNight. Again, no one was talking, really, neither 'Jack nor the U.S., but as I understood it, 'Jack wasn't taking part in the falling out/shunning, so he brought his friend out, with no apologies nor explanations.

Now,
1. I liked her, she made a good first impression
2. I like 'Jack, and as such wanted to be friends with his friends, and know what's going on in his life. So I talked to her, we hit it off. And I want to make my own judgment about this new person I've met.

But she lives far away, and only seems to come to the area with him. So I'm beginning to notice that indeed, she is a little fucked up; the U.S aren't totally off-base. But still, I want to judge on my own.

Turns out Storm is still hung up on the Lumberjack. But she also has this boyfriend up where she lives. So she's been sublimating her romantic feelings into a friendship, like you do.

ANYway...
St. Pat's day, at the bar. Most of the Usual Suspects are there, as are 'Jack and his undergrad, and Storm and her guy, and me. The Undergrad is stuck to 'Jack like glue, and taking every opportunity to point out that he is HERS. While 'Jack pulls her aside to tell her to Chill, Storm asks me who the hell that is. I explain that she's 'Jack's new teeniebopper girlfriend, and Storm FLIPS OUT.

This is a woman with a boyfriend.

So part of the reason I was so sad after St. Paddy's was that I looked at Storm, who was the "other woman" for this guy with no honest and public relationship coming of it, and who now had a boyfriend and was still hung up on him. And I said to myself, "I do not want to be this woman. I tried, it didn't work, I need to move on. I deserve better."

And I mourned a little, but I did move on.

I also found out that night that Storm was moving back to the area -- in fact, right around the corner from me! So we'd exchanged phone numbers, and said we were going to hang out. She was supposed to move April 1.

The first week in April, she calls me, says "sorry I haven't checked in yet, turns out I'm moving April 15, everything's a mess."
I'm all, that's cool; let me know when you're settled in.
And then, she starts grilling me on 'Jack and the undergrad.
She's bullshit; starts in all -- APPARENTLY he's not her friend anymore, APPARENTLY he doesn't value her, if he's keeping these secrets from her. She says she HAS a boyfriend, she doesn't NEED 'Jack, et cetera.

I try to calm her, try to dissociate, get off the phone. She says she'll call me after she moves and settles in, and I don't here from her ever again.
That was almost exactly a year ago.

Since then, Storm always comes up when I run the Friend Finder on Facebook, but I never friend her, because she's not my friend. Today, when I ran it, though, something caught my eye.

Storm's new profile pic is a picture of her in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown...
with last year's boyfriend next to her....
and she's holding a newborn.

Yup, they had a baby a month ago.

So basically, she gave up on the Lumberjack, and got knocked up in short order.

Way to move on!

Honestly, this is great for her, she looks happy, and moving on was clearly the right thing to do. And she's engaged to the baby's father.

But I can't help it, the timing of it just makes me go ew ew ew.

Am I right? B says that's a fucked up story, full of fucked up people and fucked up decisions and fucked up emotions, and yes, ew.

I've been creeped out all day, so just wanted to share. (though I know this is not the breeding story I have been promising you, sorry...)

Spot Cloooney's girlfriend

back in her wilder clubbing days, at something called 108 Degrees.

Looks like wild but charming fun at the start. Then perhaps the photog went back to a hotel with some hookers, but no Larson there, so don't feel the need ot scroll all the way to the end.

Lollapalooza 2008 : Westward to Chicago!

I had such a great time last year, I'd like to make it an annual trip. Captain's going too; he helped make last year's trip such a blast.

But hey, it's a big place, there's room for more if you want to come! We've missed the early-bird super discount, but advance-sale tix are still available.

Come on, come on! So much fun!