You may not be able to pick your family, but I sure can pick the friends who turn into family. I'd say I know how to pick friends who can hold their red wine too, but judging by the spots on my carpet and floor, I'll take that back.
I barely ever go home to Pittsburgh any more, but the times of the year when I'm family-/homesick are usually the Jewish holidays. I'm not religious by any stretch of the imagination, but holidays to me are all about family, food and comfort. And on Passover, I miss home, my parents and brother, my grandparents, home-cooked food and years of memories and traditions (sorry for the shmaltz). My wallet is way over my frequently booked last minute flights though, so I have to make do.
I haven't been home for Passover in years now, so I figured I'd start my own traditions here, and instead of my blood family, I'd invite the people who are my Boston family. This is the 3rd or 4th year I've hosted my own very non-traditional seder "experience", and I have to say, I'm completely and utterly obsessed with the people in my life for making me feel like I have a family here.
Everyone brought friends and wine--the boys even brought us flowers!!--I had extra hands to peel apples and fry latkes, and people to stay until the wee hours to polish off wine and laugh in the kitchen. Pictures to come, but 25 bottles of wine, as many or more people, pounds and pounds of latkes, and an obscene amount of food (zero leftovers), and a whole day of love and conversation and spilled red wine left me feeling home, and not entirely homesick.
Many thanks and much love, and here's to having home wherever I have friends.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Finding Ada: Badass Women in Technology and Science!
Checking out Finding Ada for more background, but March 24, Ada Lovelace Day, celebrates women in technology and science--two fields where even today, there's a lack of recognition of women leaders, groundbreakers, earthshakers, and general rabblerousers. Ada Lovelace was a pioneer in the world of computing--back in the 1800s. Maybe not on a MacBook, but the woman knew what she was doing, and Ada Lovelace Day now pays tribute to women making an impact in the "nerdier" fields.
Although there are plenty of modern female role models in science and tech, I'd like to do a little throwback. I was a huge bookworm, even as a kid, and I read a ton of biographies. One of my favorites was a big, dusty hardback copy of a biography of Marie Curie. I loved her story, for starters because she was into some revolutionary political activism, and left her home country of Poland because of the political climate. She managed to study at amazing places like the Sorbonne, met a man named Pierre (hot name), and although he died tragically, she succeeded him as a professor of physics--no mean feat for a woman in the early 1900s.
Mme. Curie and her husband discovered polonium and radium, and were integral in researching and applying the therapeutic features of radioactive elements: treating cancer. Mme. Curie wasn't from a lot of money, and she worked hard for her success--no fancy laboratories or cushy existence, but hard work and passion for what has truly become a vital part of the resources for treating cancers (this is starting to sound like some of the language I use for writing thank-you letters at the hospital I work at....). Curie won not one, but two Nobel Prizes for her work--and although some write it off after it was awarded to Obama so quickly, a Nobel Prize is no mean feat, and two is pretty damn impressive.
She died of what was likely the side effects of radiation in a lab without safety precautions, something we know how to prevent today. (Crazy sidenote: the notes and other materials from her lab had to undergo more than two years of decontamination from radiation before they could be put on display for the public. I bet her insides actually glowed.) But her work lives on in the men and women who can now live longer as a result of radiation therapy stemming from her truly awesome work in a shed full of dangerous elements.
Women are still breaking new ground in the world of science, but we owe a lot to women like Curie who came before us--there's not a lot of "first woman to be educated at" statements in current biographies, because generations of women have already knocked down those barriers. The fact that her father enabled her to get a solid education in her early years had a lot to do with her success as well. I'm a firm believer in attacking problems of inequality from the ground up, and education is definitely the first step.
If' you're not familiar with the world of education/public policy, S(cience)T(echnology)E(ngineering)M(athematics) efforts are gaining traction in legislation and practice, ensuring that boys and girls alike have the best access to these vital fields--also important, because professionals in these fields typically make more money. If women are encouraged, alongside their male classmates, to pursue more generally "masculine"fields, they add crucial skills to their already growing arsenal, and can apply what they learn in STEM fields to anything from law to government to education as well as the sciences.
Want to do women a favor? Don't write science and technology off as a boy's world. Do science experiments with little girls if you babysit. Encourage friends to think outside the box or learn a new skill in the sciences if they want to expand their horizons. Don't assume a woman with a nice manicure can't build circuits or examine specimens in a lab. Women like Marie Curie, Gina Trapani, and girls like Jenn Walsh you may not have heard of yet: they're the past, present and future of life as we (may not) know it.
Although there are plenty of modern female role models in science and tech, I'd like to do a little throwback. I was a huge bookworm, even as a kid, and I read a ton of biographies. One of my favorites was a big, dusty hardback copy of a biography of Marie Curie. I loved her story, for starters because she was into some revolutionary political activism, and left her home country of Poland because of the political climate. She managed to study at amazing places like the Sorbonne, met a man named Pierre (hot name), and although he died tragically, she succeeded him as a professor of physics--no mean feat for a woman in the early 1900s.
Mme. Curie and her husband discovered polonium and radium, and were integral in researching and applying the therapeutic features of radioactive elements: treating cancer. Mme. Curie wasn't from a lot of money, and she worked hard for her success--no fancy laboratories or cushy existence, but hard work and passion for what has truly become a vital part of the resources for treating cancers (this is starting to sound like some of the language I use for writing thank-you letters at the hospital I work at....). Curie won not one, but two Nobel Prizes for her work--and although some write it off after it was awarded to Obama so quickly, a Nobel Prize is no mean feat, and two is pretty damn impressive.
She died of what was likely the side effects of radiation in a lab without safety precautions, something we know how to prevent today. (Crazy sidenote: the notes and other materials from her lab had to undergo more than two years of decontamination from radiation before they could be put on display for the public. I bet her insides actually glowed.) But her work lives on in the men and women who can now live longer as a result of radiation therapy stemming from her truly awesome work in a shed full of dangerous elements.
Women are still breaking new ground in the world of science, but we owe a lot to women like Curie who came before us--there's not a lot of "first woman to be educated at" statements in current biographies, because generations of women have already knocked down those barriers. The fact that her father enabled her to get a solid education in her early years had a lot to do with her success as well. I'm a firm believer in attacking problems of inequality from the ground up, and education is definitely the first step.
If' you're not familiar with the world of education/public policy, S(cience)T(echnology)E(ngineering)M(athematics) efforts are gaining traction in legislation and practice, ensuring that boys and girls alike have the best access to these vital fields--also important, because professionals in these fields typically make more money. If women are encouraged, alongside their male classmates, to pursue more generally "masculine"fields, they add crucial skills to their already growing arsenal, and can apply what they learn in STEM fields to anything from law to government to education as well as the sciences.
Want to do women a favor? Don't write science and technology off as a boy's world. Do science experiments with little girls if you babysit. Encourage friends to think outside the box or learn a new skill in the sciences if they want to expand their horizons. Don't assume a woman with a nice manicure can't build circuits or examine specimens in a lab. Women like Marie Curie, Gina Trapani, and girls like Jenn Walsh you may not have heard of yet: they're the past, present and future of life as we (may not) know it.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Cities: Always keeping me guessing.
Today's "new place": a soul food spot in the basement of a bookstore. Jway Cafe is down a flight of stairs from Jamaicaway Books, and today, with my pulled pork sandwich, I even got to hear part of a lecture on the Harlem art renaissance. This was not part of the initial plan, but hey, I'll take a bonus! The lecture was given by the woman who served me my sandwich, and was on an old-school slide projector! Totally not what I was expecting, but was both delicious and educational--go figure. I'd go back for sure....and maybe try the sweet potato pie. We obviously also went to Gadgets (of the kitchen sort) and Boing (fantastic toy store). I don't think bouncy balls and weird kitchen utensils will ever lose their appeal to me. I obviously bought random little things at both places--planning on wheat muffins in my nice cheap muffin cups and hours of cubicle fun from the Bucky Balls I'd been dyingggg to buy for ages.
I love that the city has little unexpected things for me, even after 5 and a half years of living here. I always think I have a good handle on it, but then I find new places, meet new people, realize how many jobs and projects are out there that I've never even considered. Boston also continues to be the biggest small world ever for me. Running into NU people, friends of friends, old coworkers--sometimes I like it, sometimes it makes me want to run away, but at least friendly faces are always nice? I don't think I'll be in Boston much longer than 2011 before peacing out (where? Stay tuned, I'm starting to come up with ideas...) but at least I'm never bored here.
On a less people-note--with our apartment's fit kick (Sarah's kicking my ass, but I have biceps now!!) also comes a renewed obsession with walking everywhere. Even when it's raining or snowing. I love somehow always spotting new things on walks I've done a thousand times--tiny colorful houses, signage, storefronts. Great thing I noticed spraypainted on the Harvard St. sidewalk today: the 35' safety boundaries surrounding the space that will soon be a women's health clinic down the street from me. Walking, as opposed to public transportation or the passenger seat of Sarah's car, lets me pet puppies, find out the name of adorable babies, and take detours that the 39 or 66 won't really be in the mood for--and the busses don't drive around Jamaica Pond! Counting down til summer when walks will be accompanied by flipflops, sunglasses, and a towel and book for spontaneous sunning...
New York City in two weeks!
San Francisco in 6 weeks!
Warm weather...can't come soon enough.
I love that the city has little unexpected things for me, even after 5 and a half years of living here. I always think I have a good handle on it, but then I find new places, meet new people, realize how many jobs and projects are out there that I've never even considered. Boston also continues to be the biggest small world ever for me. Running into NU people, friends of friends, old coworkers--sometimes I like it, sometimes it makes me want to run away, but at least friendly faces are always nice? I don't think I'll be in Boston much longer than 2011 before peacing out (where? Stay tuned, I'm starting to come up with ideas...) but at least I'm never bored here.
On a less people-note--with our apartment's fit kick (Sarah's kicking my ass, but I have biceps now!!) also comes a renewed obsession with walking everywhere. Even when it's raining or snowing. I love somehow always spotting new things on walks I've done a thousand times--tiny colorful houses, signage, storefronts. Great thing I noticed spraypainted on the Harvard St. sidewalk today: the 35' safety boundaries surrounding the space that will soon be a women's health clinic down the street from me. Walking, as opposed to public transportation or the passenger seat of Sarah's car, lets me pet puppies, find out the name of adorable babies, and take detours that the 39 or 66 won't really be in the mood for--and the busses don't drive around Jamaica Pond! Counting down til summer when walks will be accompanied by flipflops, sunglasses, and a towel and book for spontaneous sunning...
New York City in two weeks!
San Francisco in 6 weeks!
Warm weather...can't come soon enough.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Not quite a 365 project, but....
More like a 52 project.
I usually hate New Year's resolutions. There's nothing original to resolve, and everyone poops out on plans to save more money, go to the gym more often, or keep in touch with friends better.
However.
Sam and I came to the conclusion that the best kind of resolution was to just do something that made us happy--we agreed to make our best efforts to visit one new place a week in Boston, every week, for a year. Places could include restaurants, bars, parks, museums, other attractions, but the ultimate goal was to escape the rut and routine of going to the same places over and over again, when we live in a city of so many options!
So far, so good. I'm behind on keeping note, so this post will be a little excessive, but I'm also hoping that updating with a new place a week will galvanize me to write more frequently.
Week 1: Brunch at the Friendly Toast
The Friendly Toast, in Kendall Square, is a new outpost of the original Friendly Toast in Portsmouth, NH. The Boston iteration lacks the 24-hour convenience of the former, but what it lacks in hours it makes up in kitschy charm and delicious toast. Boston needs more 24-hour places, as far as I'm concerned. South Station Diner is great, but its a little remote from most neighborhoods, and it's too tiny to take a whole crowd at 4 am. Anyway.
Sam and I caught up on all the New Year's Eve gossip over basic and delicious eggs/toast/homefries/bacon, and made friends with a great couple sitting next to us. They overheard us bemoaning all of a sudden being grownups, and piped in with some of their expert suggestions: not to worry too much, and to avoid credit cards. I love talking to strangers--I think my mom bred it into me to talk to people in all sorts of environments, and while I know it surprises friends I'm with sometimes, meeting people enhances any experience, even if it's a single-serving experience, a la Fight Club.
Week 2: Dinner at Teranga
Flaking on other plans, I met Sam, Vilvaraja (referred to as V in the future) and Jake at Teranga, a tiny Senegalese restaurant that opened recently at the corner of Washington and Mass Ave, right next door to the fabulous Mike's Diner. We were lucky enough to have the owner as our waitress! I love Ethiopian food, but wasn't sure quite what to expect at Teranga. I ordered a spicy fish dish (I rhyme, fantastic), but wasn't expecting a WHOLE fish, eyes, mouth and all, to end up on my plate. I tried to avoid eye contact, then picked the skeleton clean.
Week 3: Vietnamese Food in Chinatown (can't remember the name of the place!!)
Sam taught English in Vietnam last year, and a friend she met there was in town visiting with his cousin. My friend Will is also Vietnamese, so when we decided to go to Chinatown for authentic Vietnamese food, I dragged him along too. When we got there, the...gringas? is there a similar word for non-Asians? among us boycotted the menu and asked our Vietnamese friends to order us the best of the best. For less than $10 a person, including tip, we feasted on soups, noodles, rolls, and other delicious things I don't know the name of. I'll definitely be going back.
Week 4: Drinks and Snacks at Regal Beagle
Coolidge Corner has some wonderful restaurants, but lacks a true bar scene. Regal Beagle is still more of a restaurant, but Sam and I snagged bar stools in the back, with a good view of both parts of the long, skinny space. I ordered sweet potato fries--which turned out to be whole fried sweet potatoes! Cocktails were strong, but tasty, and named after things from the show Three's Company--a little before my time, but cute concept. We also loved whoever's writing is on the chalkboard detailing the rotating menu line-up. The place is super busy because it just opened recently, but I'm hoping it turns into more of a low-key neighborhood hangout...
Week 5: Publick House for dinner
I cheated a little, I'd been there once before, but Sam and our mutual friend Lisa hadn't. Publick House is famous for three things: beer, mac and cheese and mussels. We skipped the mussels in favor of mac and cheese this time, and gossip over food and beer. One thing I'm loving about our plan to try a new place a week is that it's a great excuse to invite people along. I took classes with Lisa senior year, but don't think I'd seen her since graduation!
Week 6: New Place Jackpot!
Sam and I marked off 3 in one day! (four for Sam!) We headed to Metropolis in the South End for brunch and people-watching, a gallery space for an indoor Valentine's-themed arts market, topped off with South End Buttery for a snack on the way home. I spotted possibly the cutest child I've ever seen in my entire life at the Buttery, so we loitered and watched him run around the coffee shop. Sam went into the Boston Public Library for the first time waiting for me to get to Copley to walk to the South End--I can't believe she'd never been in there! She discovered the wonderful courtyard, and I recommended the Russian section for quiet study space since she's taking night classes.
The quest to try new places continues! We'd love recommendations. A personal favorite, something off the beaten path or in a neighborhood we might not be familiar with, a brand-new spot...and if you want in, just let me know! The more the merrier. Stay tuned...
I usually hate New Year's resolutions. There's nothing original to resolve, and everyone poops out on plans to save more money, go to the gym more often, or keep in touch with friends better.
However.
Sam and I came to the conclusion that the best kind of resolution was to just do something that made us happy--we agreed to make our best efforts to visit one new place a week in Boston, every week, for a year. Places could include restaurants, bars, parks, museums, other attractions, but the ultimate goal was to escape the rut and routine of going to the same places over and over again, when we live in a city of so many options!
So far, so good. I'm behind on keeping note, so this post will be a little excessive, but I'm also hoping that updating with a new place a week will galvanize me to write more frequently.
Week 1: Brunch at the Friendly Toast
The Friendly Toast, in Kendall Square, is a new outpost of the original Friendly Toast in Portsmouth, NH. The Boston iteration lacks the 24-hour convenience of the former, but what it lacks in hours it makes up in kitschy charm and delicious toast. Boston needs more 24-hour places, as far as I'm concerned. South Station Diner is great, but its a little remote from most neighborhoods, and it's too tiny to take a whole crowd at 4 am. Anyway.
Sam and I caught up on all the New Year's Eve gossip over basic and delicious eggs/toast/homefries/bacon, and made friends with a great couple sitting next to us. They overheard us bemoaning all of a sudden being grownups, and piped in with some of their expert suggestions: not to worry too much, and to avoid credit cards. I love talking to strangers--I think my mom bred it into me to talk to people in all sorts of environments, and while I know it surprises friends I'm with sometimes, meeting people enhances any experience, even if it's a single-serving experience, a la Fight Club.
Week 2: Dinner at Teranga
Flaking on other plans, I met Sam, Vilvaraja (referred to as V in the future) and Jake at Teranga, a tiny Senegalese restaurant that opened recently at the corner of Washington and Mass Ave, right next door to the fabulous Mike's Diner. We were lucky enough to have the owner as our waitress! I love Ethiopian food, but wasn't sure quite what to expect at Teranga. I ordered a spicy fish dish (I rhyme, fantastic), but wasn't expecting a WHOLE fish, eyes, mouth and all, to end up on my plate. I tried to avoid eye contact, then picked the skeleton clean.
Week 3: Vietnamese Food in Chinatown (can't remember the name of the place!!)
Sam taught English in Vietnam last year, and a friend she met there was in town visiting with his cousin. My friend Will is also Vietnamese, so when we decided to go to Chinatown for authentic Vietnamese food, I dragged him along too. When we got there, the...gringas? is there a similar word for non-Asians? among us boycotted the menu and asked our Vietnamese friends to order us the best of the best. For less than $10 a person, including tip, we feasted on soups, noodles, rolls, and other delicious things I don't know the name of. I'll definitely be going back.
Week 4: Drinks and Snacks at Regal Beagle
Coolidge Corner has some wonderful restaurants, but lacks a true bar scene. Regal Beagle is still more of a restaurant, but Sam and I snagged bar stools in the back, with a good view of both parts of the long, skinny space. I ordered sweet potato fries--which turned out to be whole fried sweet potatoes! Cocktails were strong, but tasty, and named after things from the show Three's Company--a little before my time, but cute concept. We also loved whoever's writing is on the chalkboard detailing the rotating menu line-up. The place is super busy because it just opened recently, but I'm hoping it turns into more of a low-key neighborhood hangout...
Week 5: Publick House for dinner
I cheated a little, I'd been there once before, but Sam and our mutual friend Lisa hadn't. Publick House is famous for three things: beer, mac and cheese and mussels. We skipped the mussels in favor of mac and cheese this time, and gossip over food and beer. One thing I'm loving about our plan to try a new place a week is that it's a great excuse to invite people along. I took classes with Lisa senior year, but don't think I'd seen her since graduation!
Week 6: New Place Jackpot!
Sam and I marked off 3 in one day! (four for Sam!) We headed to Metropolis in the South End for brunch and people-watching, a gallery space for an indoor Valentine's-themed arts market, topped off with South End Buttery for a snack on the way home. I spotted possibly the cutest child I've ever seen in my entire life at the Buttery, so we loitered and watched him run around the coffee shop. Sam went into the Boston Public Library for the first time waiting for me to get to Copley to walk to the South End--I can't believe she'd never been in there! She discovered the wonderful courtyard, and I recommended the Russian section for quiet study space since she's taking night classes.
The quest to try new places continues! We'd love recommendations. A personal favorite, something off the beaten path or in a neighborhood we might not be familiar with, a brand-new spot...and if you want in, just let me know! The more the merrier. Stay tuned...
Sunday, December 20, 2009
On Recipes from Jewish Grandmothers
My mother has requested a dish called "osso buco" for her birthday dinner (she's a Christmas baby!). My paternal grandmother made it for her birthday for years, but now Gram lives in South Carolina and we won't be with her until the 26th. I called my grandmother up to try to get the recipe. Disaster ensues.
Precursor: the last time I asked my grandmother for her mandelbrot recipe, she left out crucial ingredients like, oh, I don't know, baking powder. Needless to say, my first attempt at mandelbrot was a little terrible. I have two theories behind this problem:
1) No Jewish grandmother works from written recipes. Recipes live in the mind, and involve measurements like "a little of this", "a handful of that", and "oh, who knows, just taste it til it seems perfect". Because she was working off of a mental recipe, she just plum forgot the baking powder.
2) Through a scheming grandmother complex of never wanting anyone else to make her signature dishes as beautifully as she did, she purposefully left off an ingredient or two, knowing I wouldn't be able to tell, my cooking would turn out a little mediocre, and she would remain queen of Jewish cooking for all time.
You decide.
Anyway. So I call up my grandmother, who at the age of eighty-something, is, to put it kindly, deaf as a fucking doornail unless you're sitting right next to her. My grandfather picks up, and I tell him what I want, warning him of my past recipe strife, and asking him to tell her that I want the WHOLE recipe, no shenanigans. He gives the phone to her. Before I can even get out of my mouth that I want her osso buco recipe, she has handed the phone to my grandfather because she can't understand me. Through multiple phone-passings-off, we are both finally on the same page that I need the recipe. Highlights of the phone conversation are as follows:
Gram: "Then add tomatoes! You know, I used to just pick them out of the garden, back in the day, but a can will do."
Me: "What size can?"
Gram: "A can. One that's big enough. You'll know."
Gram: "Put all those ingredients in a bag. Shake the bag. Shake it hard."
Gram: "Pour in some white wine. I like all kinds. PLENTY of white wine."
Gram: "Just bake it til it tastes good. You'll know."
We get to the end of the recipe-imparting. I rack my brain, trying to see if I remember any other delicious components of the dish. There are always big chunks of carrots. She has not remotely mentioned carrots. I call her out on this.
Gram: "Oh, carrots...of course, carrots. Brown them. Big chunks of carrots. Very important. Did I not say that? Carrots"
I am skeptical. This seems like scheming grandma, not forgetful grandma. I will win. I will make delicious osso buco. I ask if there are any other ingredients. She says no, wishes me luck with the dish, suggests I rob a bank to pay for the expensive veal shank bones that are the base of the dish. This seems like a good idea.
I call my mother, to tell her about scheming grandmother recipe ordeal. One minute in, my grandmother calls through, to tell me I should cross-check her with the Silver Palate recipe for osso buco, because "I'm old, you know". She tells me that I will make it beautifully, that my mother will love it, and that she wishes she could be there to taste it. Sighhhh. Cutest grandmother ever. I fly down to visit her on Saturday!
I love my grandmother, and am now in a quandary over how to gauge future recipes. Does she love me? Does she want me to fail? Are the two mutually exclusive? (I hope not??) Wish me luck on the osso buco journey. I remain wary.
I will be her one day. Never trust my recipes when I am a grandma and have to guard my Jewish culinary renown. Maybe don't even trust me now. But remember, even if I set you up for failure, I love you. It's for your (my?) own good.
Precursor: the last time I asked my grandmother for her mandelbrot recipe, she left out crucial ingredients like, oh, I don't know, baking powder. Needless to say, my first attempt at mandelbrot was a little terrible. I have two theories behind this problem:
1) No Jewish grandmother works from written recipes. Recipes live in the mind, and involve measurements like "a little of this", "a handful of that", and "oh, who knows, just taste it til it seems perfect". Because she was working off of a mental recipe, she just plum forgot the baking powder.
2) Through a scheming grandmother complex of never wanting anyone else to make her signature dishes as beautifully as she did, she purposefully left off an ingredient or two, knowing I wouldn't be able to tell, my cooking would turn out a little mediocre, and she would remain queen of Jewish cooking for all time.
You decide.
Anyway. So I call up my grandmother, who at the age of eighty-something, is, to put it kindly, deaf as a fucking doornail unless you're sitting right next to her. My grandfather picks up, and I tell him what I want, warning him of my past recipe strife, and asking him to tell her that I want the WHOLE recipe, no shenanigans. He gives the phone to her. Before I can even get out of my mouth that I want her osso buco recipe, she has handed the phone to my grandfather because she can't understand me. Through multiple phone-passings-off, we are both finally on the same page that I need the recipe. Highlights of the phone conversation are as follows:
Gram: "Then add tomatoes! You know, I used to just pick them out of the garden, back in the day, but a can will do."
Me: "What size can?"
Gram: "A can. One that's big enough. You'll know."
Gram: "Put all those ingredients in a bag. Shake the bag. Shake it hard."
Gram: "Pour in some white wine. I like all kinds. PLENTY of white wine."
Gram: "Just bake it til it tastes good. You'll know."
We get to the end of the recipe-imparting. I rack my brain, trying to see if I remember any other delicious components of the dish. There are always big chunks of carrots. She has not remotely mentioned carrots. I call her out on this.
Gram: "Oh, carrots...of course, carrots. Brown them. Big chunks of carrots. Very important. Did I not say that? Carrots"
I am skeptical. This seems like scheming grandma, not forgetful grandma. I will win. I will make delicious osso buco. I ask if there are any other ingredients. She says no, wishes me luck with the dish, suggests I rob a bank to pay for the expensive veal shank bones that are the base of the dish. This seems like a good idea.
I call my mother, to tell her about scheming grandmother recipe ordeal. One minute in, my grandmother calls through, to tell me I should cross-check her with the Silver Palate recipe for osso buco, because "I'm old, you know". She tells me that I will make it beautifully, that my mother will love it, and that she wishes she could be there to taste it. Sighhhh. Cutest grandmother ever. I fly down to visit her on Saturday!
I love my grandmother, and am now in a quandary over how to gauge future recipes. Does she love me? Does she want me to fail? Are the two mutually exclusive? (I hope not??) Wish me luck on the osso buco journey. I remain wary.
I will be her one day. Never trust my recipes when I am a grandma and have to guard my Jewish culinary renown. Maybe don't even trust me now. But remember, even if I set you up for failure, I love you. It's for your (my?) own good.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
What's in your closet? (and why I DO think it matters)
Even if you swear you're "not into fashion", you still get dressed in the morning. Getting dressed requires making choices. Choices about your style. Otherwise you'd go to work in a paper bag, or better (worse?) yet, naked. In other words, everyone has a style. It's more a matter of how you choose to express it.
I follow a bunch of fashion and style blogs, a stack of home and design blogs, and religiously read magazines from Vogue to Nylon to ID to Paper. I love some of it, ignore a lot of it, and wish I was the style editor for a big chunk of it. And yes, I think the pricetags on most of things on the pages are ludicrous. Because they are. Nobody should follow these publications or "experts" blindly, or they would go bankrupt. I use everything from magazines to people on the T to IKEA as inspiration for how I dress myself and the world around me, and can do so for low-brow pennies on the high-street dollar. But I do make style choices, for a variety of different reasons, depending on the day. And so do you. Unless you dress exactly like your roommates or your sister or your girlfriend every day, you have style.
If you think that style doesn't matter, I hate (ok, LOVE) to say that I think you're wrong. When you don't have much to judge people on, appearance ends up being one of the first things we utilize to form our opinions about people. It can be in a good way or a bad way, but the way we look does speak to a few things about us. It can subtly impart that we're trying to impress or follow the rules (slicked back hair, carefully ironed pants, expertly matched accessories) or that we bend the rules (tattoos peeking out from crisp white sleeves, a tasteful nose piercing). Big jewelry or bright colors can hint that we want to be remembered, while simple or dark clothing can indicate a push to blend in and not make a scene. Trendy bag = penchant for labels? Or just a love of that designer's aesthetic. Jacket from your mom's era? Sentimental value, or maybe you just hate the only leather jackets for sale in 2009 don't make you feel badass. Dressing for yourself, or dressing for other people: we make choices about what we wear, where we wear it, and what we want to portray dressed like that. Or we'd show up naked, and not care at all.
(Still think I'm wrong? Look at a picture of yourself when you were 2. And then one age 7. Then 11. 15. 20. Today. Are you wearing the same things? Do you cringe at some photos? Is part of the cringing not at acne or blurry photography, but at what you're wearing? Still wish you could wear pink puffy dresses or Superman pajamas in public, but some part of you says you shouldn't? I'm right. Fashion and style matter. You're welcome.)
(STILL think I'm wrong? Would you wear your bathing suit to a job interview? Would you wear your business suit to the beach? No? Yeah, I'm right. I thought so.)
Don't get me wrong--I'm not saying you have to spaz every time you put on jeans: "What am I saying if I put on boot cut or skinny, acid-washed or dark rinse?!?!" Style and fashion shouldn't be a singular obsession: you can look like Heidi Klum and still be bad at your job or be a terrible person. But don't write it all off, either. Think about how your favorite concert t-shirt or a dangly pair of earrings or a killer cocktail dress can lift your mood. And how uncomfortable you are when you're wearing shoes that hurt, an ugly sweater your mom made you wear, or when you know you're having a bad hair day. We all make style and fashion choices, and you may as well admit it and enjoy it. And if you want to go shopping, give me a call.
Suggestions if you want to open up your mind to the world of style?
The Sartorialist--one of the pre-eminent fashion photographers today, Scott Shuman
Garance Dore (Thank you to Kate!) Scott's girlfriend Garance, a photographer and illustrator
Put This On (thank you to Leif) "how to dress like a grownup" (I will be writing more about this...)
New Brahmin (Boston style) Local fashion and style buffs who work for Boston publications
New York Times Fashion and Style. The eponymous NYTimes.
The Moment (New York Times) NY Times style blog
The Selby amazing photos of interesting people, their style, and their homes
Magazines:
Vogue (British edition highly recommended) Vanity Fair, Nylon, ID, Paper, and many, many more.
Comment with your favorite style and fashion blogs, please!
I follow a bunch of fashion and style blogs, a stack of home and design blogs, and religiously read magazines from Vogue to Nylon to ID to Paper. I love some of it, ignore a lot of it, and wish I was the style editor for a big chunk of it. And yes, I think the pricetags on most of things on the pages are ludicrous. Because they are. Nobody should follow these publications or "experts" blindly, or they would go bankrupt. I use everything from magazines to people on the T to IKEA as inspiration for how I dress myself and the world around me, and can do so for low-brow pennies on the high-street dollar. But I do make style choices, for a variety of different reasons, depending on the day. And so do you. Unless you dress exactly like your roommates or your sister or your girlfriend every day, you have style.
If you think that style doesn't matter, I hate (ok, LOVE) to say that I think you're wrong. When you don't have much to judge people on, appearance ends up being one of the first things we utilize to form our opinions about people. It can be in a good way or a bad way, but the way we look does speak to a few things about us. It can subtly impart that we're trying to impress or follow the rules (slicked back hair, carefully ironed pants, expertly matched accessories) or that we bend the rules (tattoos peeking out from crisp white sleeves, a tasteful nose piercing). Big jewelry or bright colors can hint that we want to be remembered, while simple or dark clothing can indicate a push to blend in and not make a scene. Trendy bag = penchant for labels? Or just a love of that designer's aesthetic. Jacket from your mom's era? Sentimental value, or maybe you just hate the only leather jackets for sale in 2009 don't make you feel badass. Dressing for yourself, or dressing for other people: we make choices about what we wear, where we wear it, and what we want to portray dressed like that. Or we'd show up naked, and not care at all.
(Still think I'm wrong? Look at a picture of yourself when you were 2. And then one age 7. Then 11. 15. 20. Today. Are you wearing the same things? Do you cringe at some photos? Is part of the cringing not at acne or blurry photography, but at what you're wearing? Still wish you could wear pink puffy dresses or Superman pajamas in public, but some part of you says you shouldn't? I'm right. Fashion and style matter. You're welcome.)
(STILL think I'm wrong? Would you wear your bathing suit to a job interview? Would you wear your business suit to the beach? No? Yeah, I'm right. I thought so.)
Don't get me wrong--I'm not saying you have to spaz every time you put on jeans: "What am I saying if I put on boot cut or skinny, acid-washed or dark rinse?!?!" Style and fashion shouldn't be a singular obsession: you can look like Heidi Klum and still be bad at your job or be a terrible person. But don't write it all off, either. Think about how your favorite concert t-shirt or a dangly pair of earrings or a killer cocktail dress can lift your mood. And how uncomfortable you are when you're wearing shoes that hurt, an ugly sweater your mom made you wear, or when you know you're having a bad hair day. We all make style and fashion choices, and you may as well admit it and enjoy it. And if you want to go shopping, give me a call.
Suggestions if you want to open up your mind to the world of style?
The Sartorialist--one of the pre-eminent fashion photographers today, Scott Shuman
Garance Dore (Thank you to Kate!) Scott's girlfriend Garance, a photographer and illustrator
Put This On (thank you to Leif) "how to dress like a grownup" (I will be writing more about this...)
New Brahmin (Boston style) Local fashion and style buffs who work for Boston publications
New York Times Fashion and Style. The eponymous NYTimes.
The Moment (New York Times) NY Times style blog
The Selby amazing photos of interesting people, their style, and their homes
Magazines:
Vogue (British edition highly recommended) Vanity Fair, Nylon, ID, Paper, and many, many more.
Comment with your favorite style and fashion blogs, please!
Friday, November 20, 2009
On the kind of customer service that keeps me from yelling at you
I have worked in customer service for years: retail, food service, secretarial work. Cliche but true, the phrase "the customer is always right" [at least until they're out of earshot] is something to tattoo in a highly visible spot in your brain. While customers shouldn't ignore the humanity of service workers, they are still paying for a service, and expect and deserve polite, respectful, and non-condescending communication. Regardless of age or gender.
Case in point: If you are an MBTA worker, and the trains are running 10 and then 25 minutes late, do NOT berate ME for "cutting it too close" and rudely blame MEfor the fact that I will be horrifically late for work. Instead, apologize for the delays and thank me for my patience. If you do that, I am much more likely to empathize with you also having a stressful morning, surrounded by soggy, late commuters. If, however, you choose to talk down to a 22 year old girl, when I pay the same $60 a month for your services as the rest of your beleaguered customers [only to be late 75% of the time] I will call you out on this in front of said platform of fellow angry riders. I played zero role in making the train late (for the millionth time this year), and therefore, will not accept your Masshole attitude alongside my lack of caffeination and sopping wet shoes.
This same advice goes to sales clerks (how do YOU know that I'm not going to buy anything? I usually do, and if you're a snob, I will tell the cashier that any other salesperson helped me and screw you out of any commission), waitstaff (I tip insanely well), and staff at universities or human resources (I am a student/employee, please don't treat me like a moron).
Do unto others, don't be an jerk, the customer is always right--all synonyms for the same thing. Treat your consumers with at least a modicum of respect. Or beware their early morning rage.
Case in point: If you are an MBTA worker, and the trains are running 10 and then 25 minutes late, do NOT berate ME for "cutting it too close" and rudely blame MEfor the fact that I will be horrifically late for work. Instead, apologize for the delays and thank me for my patience. If you do that, I am much more likely to empathize with you also having a stressful morning, surrounded by soggy, late commuters. If, however, you choose to talk down to a 22 year old girl, when I pay the same $60 a month for your services as the rest of your beleaguered customers [only to be late 75% of the time] I will call you out on this in front of said platform of fellow angry riders. I played zero role in making the train late (for the millionth time this year), and therefore, will not accept your Masshole attitude alongside my lack of caffeination and sopping wet shoes.
This same advice goes to sales clerks (how do YOU know that I'm not going to buy anything? I usually do, and if you're a snob, I will tell the cashier that any other salesperson helped me and screw you out of any commission), waitstaff (I tip insanely well), and staff at universities or human resources (I am a student/employee, please don't treat me like a moron).
Do unto others, don't be an jerk, the customer is always right--all synonyms for the same thing. Treat your consumers with at least a modicum of respect. Or beware their early morning rage.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Just another great cab conversation...
In my cab to a strange business meeting last night, I had a Lebanese cab driver. He asked me what I did, and when I said I raised funds for Mass General, writing all the thank you notes to rich people, he started telling me about the Muslim theories behind giving.
He spoke about "zakat", the philosophy of giving in Islam. In his culture, giving was more of an obligation, not a thing to be congratulated for. He told me that the best way for a wealthy person to give was in such a manner that the recipient didn't know the giver, and the giver didn't know the recipient, commenting that in this type of situation, nobody could feel better than or worse than the other party. There should be neither pride nor shame in giving or receiving, he said. Also, he said, the idea of people tacking their names all over buildings or donor lists, expecting a pat on the back for giving, when they were in the financial position to be generous, was silly.
This made total sense to me. I told him that the word for exactly this concept in Judaism is "tzedakah", or obligation. Giving is expected of everyone, in greater amounts from the wealthy, and in small amounts from everyone, and flashy or public recognition of tzedakah is unnecessary and runs counter to the underlying philosophy. There are 8 levels of giving, described by a Jewish philosopher. The top level is teaching or enabling someone how to support themselves so they don't require money from others, and the level right below that is the double-blind giving described by my Muslim cab driver. He laughed when we realized the parallels between our two cultures, when for others simply realizing there was a Jew and a Muslim in the car could have been awkward. We both smiled discussing the things in common between the two beliefs and cultures were and how not many people pause to realize the links.
When I asked why he left Lebanon, the conversation segued into a Munich-like dialogue(if you haven't seen the movie, please do), about how politicians and people at the top create much of the conflict in the Middle East, while everyday people just want to live their lives, support their families, and be happy, regardless of ethnicity, wealth, or political affiliation. He left Lebanon, where politicians at the top almost caused a civil war a few years ago, hoping for a place with less conflict and the chance to live a good life.
In a world where we're always dead set on finding the differences, whether Democrat/Republican, man/woman, Jew/Muslim, American/foreigner, I hopped out of my cab, truly touched by the simple and compassionate conversation between two regular people, willing to see how similar all people are.
He spoke about "zakat", the philosophy of giving in Islam. In his culture, giving was more of an obligation, not a thing to be congratulated for. He told me that the best way for a wealthy person to give was in such a manner that the recipient didn't know the giver, and the giver didn't know the recipient, commenting that in this type of situation, nobody could feel better than or worse than the other party. There should be neither pride nor shame in giving or receiving, he said. Also, he said, the idea of people tacking their names all over buildings or donor lists, expecting a pat on the back for giving, when they were in the financial position to be generous, was silly.
This made total sense to me. I told him that the word for exactly this concept in Judaism is "tzedakah", or obligation. Giving is expected of everyone, in greater amounts from the wealthy, and in small amounts from everyone, and flashy or public recognition of tzedakah is unnecessary and runs counter to the underlying philosophy. There are 8 levels of giving, described by a Jewish philosopher. The top level is teaching or enabling someone how to support themselves so they don't require money from others, and the level right below that is the double-blind giving described by my Muslim cab driver. He laughed when we realized the parallels between our two cultures, when for others simply realizing there was a Jew and a Muslim in the car could have been awkward. We both smiled discussing the things in common between the two beliefs and cultures were and how not many people pause to realize the links.
When I asked why he left Lebanon, the conversation segued into a Munich-like dialogue(if you haven't seen the movie, please do), about how politicians and people at the top create much of the conflict in the Middle East, while everyday people just want to live their lives, support their families, and be happy, regardless of ethnicity, wealth, or political affiliation. He left Lebanon, where politicians at the top almost caused a civil war a few years ago, hoping for a place with less conflict and the chance to live a good life.
In a world where we're always dead set on finding the differences, whether Democrat/Republican, man/woman, Jew/Muslim, American/foreigner, I hopped out of my cab, truly touched by the simple and compassionate conversation between two regular people, willing to see how similar all people are.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
On Being Employed!
Exciting news! I negotiated my way into a full-time position at my temp job. This means the following:
Now that I can take a mental deep breath, I'm signing up for a real gym membership, applying to be a Big Sister (they ask that you have a secure lifestyle for the foreseeable year to even apply!), plotting more networking and community involvement, and spending weekday afternoons reading and going to the movies instead of writing cover letters. The chunk of actual and subconscious time taken up with the job search and stress is out the window for the time being, and truth be told, I won't miss it a tiny bit. Now I can just giggle at the Missed Connections part of craigslist, instead of the marketing/PR and nonprofit sections of the job posts.
Since I'm working in development (read: bringing in the $$ bills, y'all) at Mass General, I'm hoping to learn enough useful things to contribute skills (and my free time) to nonprofits that need an extra hand--a big perk of learning and working at a large and stable organization. Listservs like Young Non-profit Professionals Network (YNPN) disseminate work, volunteer, and networking opportunities in the Boston area--check it out if you're in the field. There are some great programs going on at Mass General too, like the Home Base Program, which provides crucial psychological services to veterans returning from deployment with post-traumatic stress disorder and traumatic brain injury, and I'm excited to volunteer at more events.
I plan to use any comp time I get on the job to travel on the weekends. Places on the itinerary are DC and NYC for starters, but I'm always looking for new places/people to visit, and saving up time to make it out to California to see my brother, my cousin, and maybe Leif and Stivers if they're lucky!
On a slight tangent, a friend on Twitter mentioned a great program that doesn't seem to have a general group in Boston: Dining For Women. Once a month, women (don't see why men couldn't be included too) meet for a potluck dinner, donating the funds they would have spent going out to dinner to women in need. I'd seriously love to set up a chapter, any takers? Check out the site and the mission statement below!
Mission Statement:
Changing the world one dinner at a time
DFW empowers women living in extreme poverty by funding programs fostering good health, education, and economic self-sufficiency, and cultivates educational dinner circles inspiring individuals to make a difference through the power of collective giving.
- I can stop trolling craiglist (NOT the adult section, thankyouverymuch)
- I will have real health benefits!
- I will get paid more!
- And the best part: I know what I will be doing for the next year or so, and can make other plans accordingly.
Now that I can take a mental deep breath, I'm signing up for a real gym membership, applying to be a Big Sister (they ask that you have a secure lifestyle for the foreseeable year to even apply!), plotting more networking and community involvement, and spending weekday afternoons reading and going to the movies instead of writing cover letters. The chunk of actual and subconscious time taken up with the job search and stress is out the window for the time being, and truth be told, I won't miss it a tiny bit. Now I can just giggle at the Missed Connections part of craigslist, instead of the marketing/PR and nonprofit sections of the job posts.
Since I'm working in development (read: bringing in the $$ bills, y'all) at Mass General, I'm hoping to learn enough useful things to contribute skills (and my free time) to nonprofits that need an extra hand--a big perk of learning and working at a large and stable organization. Listservs like Young Non-profit Professionals Network (YNPN) disseminate work, volunteer, and networking opportunities in the Boston area--check it out if you're in the field. There are some great programs going on at Mass General too, like the Home Base Program, which provides crucial psychological services to veterans returning from deployment with post-traumatic stress disorder and traumatic brain injury, and I'm excited to volunteer at more events.
I plan to use any comp time I get on the job to travel on the weekends. Places on the itinerary are DC and NYC for starters, but I'm always looking for new places/people to visit, and saving up time to make it out to California to see my brother, my cousin, and maybe Leif and Stivers if they're lucky!
On a slight tangent, a friend on Twitter mentioned a great program that doesn't seem to have a general group in Boston: Dining For Women. Once a month, women (don't see why men couldn't be included too) meet for a potluck dinner, donating the funds they would have spent going out to dinner to women in need. I'd seriously love to set up a chapter, any takers? Check out the site and the mission statement below!
Mission Statement:
Changing the world one dinner at a time
DFW empowers women living in extreme poverty by funding programs fostering good health, education, and economic self-sufficiency, and cultivates educational dinner circles inspiring individuals to make a difference through the power of collective giving.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Play Nice, Win Big.
It pays to be nice to people.
Case in point: I'm running late to work this morning, and I stop by my usual Dunkin Donuts. The people who work there are super friendly and nice, and they know me as a regular by now. I make it a point to always be pleasant with them, even if an order gets screwed up or the line is long, and I ask how they are or how their weekend was. This morning, I walked in, and before I even actually got in line, one of my favorite women behind the counter got my attention, showing me she'd ALREADY made my bagel! I was in and out in no time, in a great mood, and a little renewal of faith in humanity after the typical morning T ride.
Treacly/sentimental, sure. But my mom always taught me that it's right to be pleasant and friendly to everyone. The coffee shop worker, the janitor, the secretary, the store clerk--not only are they real people who deserve friendliness and respect, they can also be your best connections (transition from altruism to a little premeditation). If you befriend the office secretary, you always get a warm welcome and are guaranteed quick responses. A clerk is more likely to do you a favor or hold an item if you don't treat them like dirt. Vice versa, your boss will love if you notice she's having a rough day, and your dad is thrilled when you remember to wish him good luck before a big meeting. And everyone I know was on the bottom rung at some point in their lives. I worked for minimum wage at a deli and folded panties at the Gap. To this day, I tip counter staff, try to not wreck clothing displays at stores, and say "Thanks, have a good day!" to stressed out workers. I do expect the same, and am often disappointed by the lack of basic politeness and pleasantries in others, but hey, maybe I'll start a trend.
This translates into every facet of life. Everyone is a real person with real feelings and real problems. Even superficial or quick relationships should be two-way, and cognizant of both parties' humanity. Unless of course the other party just fired you, dumped you, or gave you the wrong version of your half-caf latte, two Splendas, one cream. Then clearly that person is the spawn of Satan and deserves to roast in hell....
Case in point: I'm running late to work this morning, and I stop by my usual Dunkin Donuts. The people who work there are super friendly and nice, and they know me as a regular by now. I make it a point to always be pleasant with them, even if an order gets screwed up or the line is long, and I ask how they are or how their weekend was. This morning, I walked in, and before I even actually got in line, one of my favorite women behind the counter got my attention, showing me she'd ALREADY made my bagel! I was in and out in no time, in a great mood, and a little renewal of faith in humanity after the typical morning T ride.
Treacly/sentimental, sure. But my mom always taught me that it's right to be pleasant and friendly to everyone. The coffee shop worker, the janitor, the secretary, the store clerk--not only are they real people who deserve friendliness and respect, they can also be your best connections (transition from altruism to a little premeditation). If you befriend the office secretary, you always get a warm welcome and are guaranteed quick responses. A clerk is more likely to do you a favor or hold an item if you don't treat them like dirt. Vice versa, your boss will love if you notice she's having a rough day, and your dad is thrilled when you remember to wish him good luck before a big meeting. And everyone I know was on the bottom rung at some point in their lives. I worked for minimum wage at a deli and folded panties at the Gap. To this day, I tip counter staff, try to not wreck clothing displays at stores, and say "Thanks, have a good day!" to stressed out workers. I do expect the same, and am often disappointed by the lack of basic politeness and pleasantries in others, but hey, maybe I'll start a trend.
This translates into every facet of life. Everyone is a real person with real feelings and real problems. Even superficial or quick relationships should be two-way, and cognizant of both parties' humanity. Unless of course the other party just fired you, dumped you, or gave you the wrong version of your half-caf latte, two Splendas, one cream. Then clearly that person is the spawn of Satan and deserves to roast in hell....
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