sundays in the fall

sundays in the fall are for bringing your own pumpkin {b.y.o.p.}
and making whoopie pies, pumpkin butter, pumpkin bread, and mulled wine about it.
they are for putting bacon on your caramel apples, and sea salt on them too.
...for forgetting to take pictures of the apple cider donuts and for remembering to add a handful of bacon to the dough.
{for shutting up about bacon but also not caring when something is so 2009...}
sundays in the fall are for old friends, new friends, and ones that show up after everyone else has left so you can bask in the hum of the dishwasher, sip on porkslap, and discuss plans for taking over the future. 
sundays in the fall are for gingerbread mustard and vermont friends appearing in the doorway with my favorite vermont mustard.

sundays in the fall, oh how i love you so. summer fridays, you've got some serious competition.


fall failures

when i want to feel like a failure, i make a hole-in-the-middle, then i take pictures of it, and then i let the pictures stare back at me with sad puppy blog-about-me eyes because it's like they know that i can't resist an egg portrait these days. what is the reason for this? what is so attractive about eggs? why do i keep trying to make a hole-in-the-middle even though i know that only mum and sometimes cracker barrel can make them perfectly? overnight me a hole-in-the-middle, mum, please.

why is there suddenly someone in my life who eats one and one half dozens of eggs each day?


morning magic

my mornings are typically spent at home: writing articles, studying music, editing photos, testing recipes. it's my little bit of playtime before i head to an office, and lately this has included more oatmeal than even a picky five-year-old could fathom.

but today i called in sick for my own morning. we'll call it an executive decision. i got out my favorite dishes {the egg cups from zaanse schaanse, the cheese board from amsterdam, the plate from *hehe* staten island}, stirred a bit of halva spread into my yogurt, and took the extra bit of time to sprinkle just the right amount of salt and pepper onto my medium boiled egg.

i'd say it was magic. the kind you can't plan. the kind that seems to be happening more and more these days. maybe it's the brooklyn air?

after a second {or third} espresso, i put on my sweater* to be on my way to manhattan, but not before stopping at a little bakery for half of a miche and a chocolate chip shortbread.


*someone gimme a barf bag, i could puke in excitement over this newly arrived sweater weather.

plots to take over the fall

this year's halloween costume rhymes with my name. if you guess what it is, you get a high five. 

in working on a piece about oatmeal for the violet's fall issue, and feeling like a bit of failure, i discovered the oatmeal artist. it is pure gold.

soon it will be leg warmer and risotto weather and your girl will not look back.

does anyone care about anyone else's opinions about politics? or do people only want to talk about how they feel and agree with the other people who feel the same way?

apple pickin, nose pickin, sufjan stevens ballet!

i am counting down the days until dog days. also relearning the 100 pages of vibraphone notes and it is the most fun in the practice room i've had since famicom.

anyone got any good australian licorice recipes?