It’s raining. I’m tired. So here are some photos from today. I suppose at least one of them could be considered mild food porn.

Image 1: The choke portions and detritus from artichokes I decided to grill. I think these discards are aesthetically pleasing in terms of color and texture. Yay for a camera that can handle macro shots.

Image 2: Kielbasa and portabella mushrooms (with balsamic vinegar) on the grill.

Image 3: A delicious Gala apple I had for dessert. It looks like something that would charm Snow White, doesn’t it?

Kind of well. My stomach is not pleased with the amount of food I placed into it this evening. It was a bit more than it’s been used to lately. But it was a business dinner - the restaurant had a three-course prix fixe thing going on… what’s a girl to do?

My workday was exceptionally long-feeling and, frankly, a bit overwhelming. Not to the point of tears or anything, but I haven’t multi-tasked like that or accomplished so much in so little time (or started so much in so little time) in a few months. And it’s not like I’ve been sitting at my desk twiddling my thumbs over the last few months either. Therefore, a business dinner with a small group of people I enjoy was just what the doctor ordered.

We went to Tabla. Mmmm, tasty.

First off, signature cocktail: the Tablatini. Imagine if you will: Skyy Citrus with Lemongrass-Infused Fresh Pineapple Juice. Served in a martini glass with a shoot of lemongrass resting atop it, piercing a wedge of pineapple. Points for presentation and many more points for taste.

I started off with the braised duck samosa, served over a salad of shaved fennel, orange & pea tendrils. That was mighty tasty. Since my colleagues had all decided upon fish for their main courses by this point, we ordered a bottle of white wine - Vouvray, Prince Poniatowsky, “Clos Baudoin” 1989. I had a glass before I started my main course just to get a taste - a mite sweet, but very good. And I’m not usually a fan of white wine.

I moved onto chili rubbed hanger steak & braised short ribs of beef with purple Adirondack potatoes and baby spinach. This was some red meat heaven. Prepared medium rare (my preferred level of done-ness) so it looked lovely on my plate as well - red and purple and brown and green… rich jewel tones, really. Aesthetically quite pleasing.

In between courses, we discussed our ethical issues (or lack thereof) with eating things like foie gras and veal, and how our connection with cats and dogs is the only thing that saves them from being food-stuff, talked about playing the ukulele and ukulele festivals, documentaries and the Anglican church, then drifted into talking about work, then forked off to talk about Facebook and Twitter first in a work capacity and then in a personal… and it was soon time for dessert.

When the dessert menu arrived, there was really only one thing I could pick - not because there weren’t other delicious options, but because I am obsessed. With crème brûlèe. If it’s on a menu, I am ordering it. Period, end of story. A lot of that has to do with Amelie - but not all of it. I’m not that easily influenced and shallow. There is something romantic (in a poetic old-timey way, not a bouquet of roses way) about the cracking of the caramelized sugar. Mmmmm. But there it was: coconut crème brûlèe with carrot cake, tamarind sauce, coconut ice cream and carrot sorbet.

And I am so full now, and so tired, and still have a bit of work to do from home. But it’s well worth it after this tastiness.

While I’m quite used to paying a little extra for everything when I’m in Manhattan, it’s sometimes still a bit of an adjustment.

For example, I just stopped at a supermarket here to get some food for the weekend: a bag of baby spinach leaves, a can of beets, small tube of goat cheese, box of cereal, carton of orange juice, a lemon, a couple of tomatoes, a container of chocolate-covered raisins, loaf of whole grain bread, jar of peanut butter, jar of jelly and (my luxury) two medallions of filet mignon ($11, so that wasn’t too bad). Stuff to make salads, sandwiches, breakfast and a couple of dinners.

The total bill (for me to eat this weekend) was $67. Granted, if I went out for all those meals, I’d be paying a lot more, but I couldn’t help but think about how the same stuff would’ve cost me no more than $40 “back home.”

And for that moment, I felt a bit stodgy and country bumpkin-like. But I understand that that’s what it costs if I want to eat well and not get McDonald’s for every meal or eat toast from morning ’til night. I have friends at work who will do their food shopping in NJ before heading home to NY at night so they can save $10 or $20 or $30. I was toting a suitcase today, so that wasn’t an option.

Still, it’s going to be a nice change to be here for the weekend: spending time with an adorable doggie, walking in the park and taking photos, meeting up with some friends, and just not being home (where the quiet would probably begin to affect me, given the events of this week.)

I don’t even know how much time I’ll have to write in the next week. Seriously.

Today I drove my friend to the airport in the morning so he could catch his flight to San Francisco, and I will be flying out there to hang out with him next Wednesday. The seven days between now and then will be both interminable and far too short.

For example, I’ll be working every single day, including the weekend. That’s when I’ll be working the New York ComicCon to represent my company’s Shakespeare: The Manga Edition series. It should be pretty cool (if providing a little bit of geek overload - which I might even enjoy a bit if I didn’t get scared by people who are crazy hardcore about [insert comic book/graphic novel/manga/TV/movie series here] ) and the days should fly by since it will be busy.

Neil Gaiman is doing an appearance and signing sometime during the convention, but one part is a $500-a-ticket fundraiser for the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund and the other (reading - $20 a ticket) is most likely going to have lines spilling out the door if it doesn’t sell out. Since I’m working Saturday and Sunday, Friday is my only free night this week (and I’d like to see my other friends before I disappear for about two weeks), I won’t be attending, as much as I enjoy Mr. Gaiman - and I do.

All that coolness doesn’t change the fact that I will have spent all the hours between noon and 8 pm (you know, hours when I could be taking care of things like laundry and shopping and packing) standing in a noisy convention center.

It just puts a lot more pressure on me to get things done in the evenings. My usual evening routine is to get home from work around 6/7pm, change into running clothes, run for 30-45 minutes or so, shower, eat, check email/RSS feeds, and then read or watch a movie until I fall asleep. Tonight, I was unable to adhere to that routine; I got home at 6:30, checked email quickly and then ran out to stores to get vitals like sunglasses, shorts, a couple of tank tops and such. I got home at 9:00 and ate some dinner (leftover spinach and a piece of toast - PATHETIC) then tackled email, checking tracking on some stuff I ordered for said trip (durable rock climbing pants since Old Navy cargo pants won’t cut it), put away purchases, did some cleaning… and now it’s 11:00. Where does the time go?

Somewhere I can’t see. And the reasons for my blindness may vary.

But I’m glad to know that the title of a mix CD I made provided the possible title for a story my friend is writing, that I am basically guaranteed to have non-stop fun during my vacation which makes everything coming up to it worthwhile, that the stress I’ll be feeling at work will be productive stress because I’ll be getting lots of things done, and that I’m going to go rock-climbing tomorrow and it will feel good.

• Violet is a repository of beautiful things. They sent me a “Penmanship” themed newsletter last week… and I am in absolute lust with these two items:

On the left, Cards for a Year… “40 cards and 42 envelopes. Each card is imprinted with an icon; text inside the card states the occasion.” Simple… perfect. I love the look and feel of these types of cards - just heavy white cardstock with a single iconic image. It plays right into my esthetic.

On the right, Punctuation Cards. Each card has punctuation marks letter-pressed onto it in bright colors. Striking!

• Then, there’s the new Portishead CD, “Third.” It’s been my soundtrack for the car/train/walk/computer since Saturday afternoon. It releases on April 28th, but some songs have been circulating on music blogs - and here are two that are in my top 4 from the album (so far):

  Portishead - Machine Gun
  

  Portishead -We Carry On
  

• Portishead will be performing at Coachella. So will a plethora of other musical acts I enjoy. Luckily, I will be attending Coachella, so I will get to benefit from all of these musical acts I enjoy performing in once place over a span of three days. Here’s another band I am looking forward to seeing - Cut Copy. They’ve a very retro 80’s feel to them which I enjoy… it’s not world-changing, but it’s fun. Especially around the 1:14 mark. I might be posting sample songs from several of other bands over the next few days:

  Cut Copy - Future
  

• I finally acted on the LibraryThing early reviewer email that I get every month and decided to throw my name in the hat for a few review copies of forthcoming books. I got an email today notifying me that I will be receiving one of them: Love Marriage by V.V. Ganeshananthan. It sounds right up my alley.

“‘In this globe-scattered Sri Lankan family, we speak of only two kinds of marriage. The first is the Arranged Marriage. The second is the Love Marriage. In reality, there is a whole spectrum in between, but most of us spend years running away from the first toward the second.’
The daughter of Sri Lankan immigrants who left their collapsing country and married in America, Yalini finds herself caught between the traditions of her ancestors and the lure of her own modern world. But when she is summoned to Toronto to help care for her dying uncle, Kumaran, a former member of the militant Tamil Tigers, Yalini is forced to see that violence is not a relic of the Sri Lankan past, but very much a part of her Western present. … (show rest)

While Kumaran’s loved ones gather around him to say goodbye, Yalini traces her family’s roots—and the conflicts facing them as ethnic Tamils—through a series of marriages. Now, as Kumaran’s death and his daughter’s politically motivated nuptials edge closer, Yalini must decide where she stands.

Lyrical and innovative, V. V. Ganeshananthan’s novel brilliantly unfolds how generations of struggle both form and fractures families.”

• Here’s a super creative move: this spiffy perfume tester technique from Givenchy. Elegant, eye-catching, and a bit unusual: ribbon. Three styles of ribbon, actually, each pre-printed with the name of the three fragrances in this new line (which they’re treating like a wine - complete with a vintage). Long enough that you can tie it around your wrist/hair/purse strap.

The fragrances themselves are a bit too strong, too floral and too “my summer mink is at the cleaners” for me (and I realize that that might mean something different to different people… I guess it’s my shorthand for something that’s cloyingly sweet and reminds me of extremely wealthy older women).

And yes, I did actually hear a woman utter that sentence once upon a time. It was surreal.

Friday was my birthday.
It was very very good; it was filled with a short work day, rock-climbing, and time with my closest friends involving good food, cupcakes, music and tea. A far cry from what I was envisioning and dreading even a few weeks ago.

Yesterday was a continuation of the goodness - a visit from another close friend, and a borderline normal dinner with the family (after initial chaos and drama re: navigation systems and driving).

Even a group of racist Czechoslovakians at the next table in the restaurant didn’t bring us down - nope. They were making comments about Polish people being “strong but stupid” to their hibachi chef. After a few withering glances from us and our speaking Polish to one another at just-slightly-louder-than-necessary-levels, they pretty much shut their yaps.

Here’s a photo of me hamming it up for the camera a bit on Friday, displaying the rings my friends gave me for my birthday. I am attempting to convey a sort of, “Hey - look at the sparkly - don’t look at me!” message. Unfortunately, my nose and eyes are in sharper focus - not the sparkly. But it’s OK; FAR worse photos of me exist and in the grand scheme of things, this one is OK.

My little sister has a photo of me with cocktail umbrellas stuck behind my ears (from yesterday) and I think it came out pretty well. I’ll have to get that from her for addition to my collection.

A few weeks ago, I gifted a copy of Veganomicon to my friend Sara. For the not-yet-indoctrinated, it’s a vegan cookbook and it’s apparently A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. It’s written by the gals who run PostPunkKitchen (theppk.com), an incredibly popular vegan cooking site (and TV show).

Anyway… Sara was kind enough to make us dinner using recipes from the book and this one recipe for tamarind lentils is the most delicious lentil dish I’ve ever had. I’ve made it twice since and it hasn’t bored me yet. A little sweet, a little spicy, a little tangy… mmmm. So here you go - recipe for Tamarind Lentils. If you like them, buy the book. It’s full of other tastiness that even meat-loving omnivores like me can enjoy.

Tamarind Lentils

3 tbsp. coconut or peanut oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 in. cube fresh ginger, peeled and minced
1 large onion, diced
1 tsp. garam masala
1/2 tsp. whole cumin seeds
generous pinch of cayenne
1 cup dried lentils (black or green preferred…brown are fine, but will be mushier.)
2 cups veggie broth or water
2 tsp. concentrated tamarind syrup or paste
1 tbsp. pure maple syrup or agave nectar
2 tbsp. tomato paste
1/2 tsp. salt

Heat oil over medium heat. Add garlic and ginger and let sizzle for 30 seconds. Add onion and fry until translucent and soft, 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in garam masala, cumin seeds, and cayenne, and stir for 30 seconds until spices smell fragrant.

Add lentils and liquid, increase heat to high, and bring to a boil. Stir and lower heat to medium-low. Partially cover and simmer for 25 to 30 minutes. Stir occasionally until lentils have absorbed most of the cooking liquid and are very tender. The lentils will be very thick….if you want a thinner consistency, add a few tbsps of water.

In small bowl, combine tamarind, maple syrup/agave, tomato paste, and salt (note: it won’t look or smell too pretty, but stick with it - trust me). Use rubber spatula to scrape all of the mixture into the lentils.

Stir to completely dissolve all the flavorings. Simmer for another 4 to 6 minutes. Adjust salt to taste.

Another thing to check off my list of firsts: going out to dinner at a restaurant by myself. And it was good. I almost wimped out and headed back to my hotel to order room service… I actually walked past the restaurant I was considering, and then thought better of it and turned around.

I went to Tapeo, a tapas bar on Newbury Street in Boston. I guess they’re used to seeing solo diners since the hostess didn’t bat an eyelash or ask me anything presumptuous - e.g. “will you be dining alone?” or “party of one?” or “are you waiting for anyone else?” Nope. She just asked me to follow her and seated me. I noticed that the next three people she seated were also single diners, so that made me feel pretty chill.

I got myself a glass of sangria… a mixed greens salad with hearts of palm, beets, orange slices and vinaigrette… medallions of warm goat cheese with honey and sweet onions… saffron batter fried shrimp with spicy mojo sauce… and pork sausage with figs.

Since the rain here wasn’t too bad at that point, I took a long walk around the neighborhood to get back to my hotel. That was nice. I managed to get back to my hotel without pulling out a map–just using my (fairly decent) sense of direction. All in all, it was a nicely confidence boosting evening.

But I’m wiped, man. I want nothing more than to curl up in bed with a cup of mint tea and a book.

Today was glacial. If you really want to develop an appreciation for your daily grind, regardless of how much it may wear you down (I’m thinking of my retail days), work a convention. Preferably a very specific one like the (making this up now) American Association of Chess Board Manufacturers. Standing in the same place for eight hours a day for three or four days repeating the same speech to people over and over again makes you long for something mentally stimulating. Really.

It’s not the worst thing in the world - far from it - but I am well aware that I don’t have the temperament for this sort of thing. I can fake it for a while, but it wears me down eventually.

Anyway - after this long day, there was more fantastic dinner in the North End of Boston (the Italian section) at an Italian restaurant called Mamma Maria. The venue itself was adorable; it’s in a town house looking out over Paul Revere House. We had some chianti, a Bibb salad (Boston lettuce with lemon pistachio vinaigrette) and the chef’s special for the night which was lobster ravioli with trumpet mushrooms, asparagus spears and arugula in a crazy delicious sauce that I couldn’t sort of parse out, but it was such a wonderful combination of flavors. There were huge chunks of lobster in the ravioli; the asparagus was perfectly cooked with a citrusy sauce of some sort; the mushrooms just have a beautiful delicate flavor that wasn’t too earthy; taken all together, it was just amazing. I ended up wiping my plate clean with the last bits of bread. Sure - that might have been gauche, but the sauce was soooo good. And I was demure about it.

Since we were pretty stuffed, we walked around the North End a bit and went to Mike’s Pastry to get some dessert. Tiramisu, ahoy! And I bought a cannoli to keep in the little mini fridge in my hotel room so I have dessert for tomorrow night. Nomnomnom.

We continued to walk and saw the New England Holocaust Memorial. It consists of six glass and metal towers; the plates of glass on each tower are etched with the prisoner numbers of people killed in the concentration camps. Each tower is named for a concentration camp and has a brief first person account or quote from a survivor etched on the interior of the tower base. You walk along the path– you can walk through the towers. They are open four-sided structures with a doorway through each; the foot of each is a metal grid through which you can see lights that mimic a starry sky, and steam comes up through the metal grids - perhaps to call to mind the gas chambers. There are lines of text carved into the marble that makes up the path; some of it is factual and some of it is more inspirational in nature. At the very end of the memorial, there is a large block of marble containing a quote from a Lutheran minister named Martin Niemoller.

Nearby was Faneuil Hall (Quincy Market) so we walked through that a bit and saw all the horrible tourist trinkets for sale… then caught a cab back to our hotels and called it a night. This was but an hour ago, and I have to be up tomorrow morning to do the glacial part all over again. Who knows? Tomorrow might fly by in a flurry of activity and excitement. I somehow doubt it, but hope springs eternal.

Also, it’s extremely cold here. They were forecasting snow, but it hasn’t fallen yet. It would look incredible from my hotel window if it did happen… a girl can dream.

Today was an adventure - in a good way, overall.

The driver from the car service picked me up promptly (even a few minutes early!) so I was on schedule to get to Newark Penn Station with ample time for reading, getting a snack, and otherwise loitering (though, really, if I’m a ticketed passenger, it’s not loitering, right?)  I know the main roads fairly well, but my friendly driver took an exit and got us on some backroads. I was excited at the prospect of learning a new secret ninja route to the train station. Instead, I now know a new secret ninja route to the AIRPORT. Yes, indeedy. He thought he was supposed to be driving me to the airport and when I noticed that he had taken an exit (from which there was no longer access to main roads to get to the train station) I spoke up and said, “Um… I need to get to Newark Penn Station, not the airport.” The driver actually took the flat of his palm and slapped himself in the forehead, muttered something to himself and then apologized profusely–and had to drive around the entire perimeter of Newark Liberty International Airport to get us back on the road.

But I got to the train station in time, so all was well. A little less than four hours later, we pulled into South Station here in Boston.

Since I’ve now taken the Acela express train to Washington D.C. several times and to Boston today, I feel comfortable saying that it is very much worth the extra few bucks just for the comfort factor. While regional service isn’t tragic, the Acela is definitely a nicer ride. I know some people who say it’s not that big a deal, but I ask them to try reading a book or doing a crossword puzzle comfortably on a four-hour regional train ride where you’re wedged in sardine-style with the person next to you. It won’t work. Also, if you ever have to get to Boston, taking the train is just a better option than driving. It’s a fairly beautiful ride since almost the entire second half is a ride along the Connecticut coastline so you’re seeing lots of little beach enclaves with waves splashing up against rocks and other such loveliness.

In true nerdy fashion, the first thing I did when I checked into the hotel was get the laptop out of my bag and connect to the internets. I felt right at home. Except that at home, I’m not on the 25th floor of a building overlooking all of downtown Boston. There will be photos later since I neglected to bring the USB cable for my (not that great) digital camera.

Blah blah - did stuff at the convention center - blah blah - figured we could call it a day until tomorrow - blah blah - weren’t hungry yet and decided to head over to Newbury Street to do some shopping. In doing so, we discovered my new favorite shopping street (and it might be my favorite shopping street ever since there aren’t that many terrific shopping streets that are affordable). The first thing that caught my eye was a Paperchase store right on Newbury. Not a Borders with a Paperchase boutique: it is a full Paperchase store. I could’ve done some serious damage, but instead I got a gold and pink velvet patterned change purse that was 75% off ($3.25) and some beautiful kraft paper notecards with intricate floral curlicue patterns in varying colors of metallic ink. (Photos of these to come as well.)

Further down Newbury Street, we walked into Tealuxe. It’s a tea shop with a glorious selection of loose teas to purchase by the gram. We got a list of their flavors and after a few minutes debating in line, I purchased 50 grams each of five teas:

• Puttabong 2nd Flush Darjeeling - black tea, “A bright bouquet and wonderful complexity, termed ‘the champagne of tea’”
• Pear and Pomegranate (black tea with pear and pomegranate)
• Lady Londonberry (black tea flavored with lemon and strawberry)
• Buckingham Palace Garden Party (Earl Grey tea with jasmine and blue cornflowers)
• Chocolate Raspberry (black tea flavored with chocolate and raspberry)

I have a feeling I’ll be going back tomorrow to get more. There’s a coconut green tea that sounds divine (and my coworker bought some and let me smell it - DAMN, it smells delicious) as well as Kashmiri Chai (chai with cardamom, peppermint and nutmeg) and Moroccan Mint (since it reminds me of the tea I had in Tunisia - strongly brewed mint tea is a “thing” in Northern African countries like Morocco and Tunisia).

Finally, we had a delicious dinner at Stephanie’s on Newbury. I had my New England clam chowder (mine only inasmuch as having some while here was a goal of mine) which was absolutely delicious and probably contained a full cup of cream. This was followed by pan roasted sea scallops with garlic, corn chowder, roasted red skin potatoes and thin onion strings (like onion rings, but not) accompanied by a glass of pretty tasty rioja (Marques de Caceres Rioja Crianza 2003). I ate all but half a scallop and skipped most of the potato and onion starch-fest because I wanted to leave room for dessert. And we got dessert. That was a roasted pear turtle cobbler (warm roasted pears with chocolate and caramel, topped with pecan crumble served with vanilla ice cream). I totally couldn’t finish that, but what I did have was incredibly flavorful and rich and wonderful.

So now I’m in my hotel room, drinking some of the mint verbena tea I brought with me from home in hopes that I will be able to digest all this food and feel not so much like a stuffed pig on a spit when I awaken tomorrow morning.