This morning, a clean copy of Judith Jones': The Tenth Muse, My Life in Food awaited me in the book room.
I met Ms. Jones a few years ago, she was petite and lovely. She told me about how she visits the union square market every other day, and always prepares delicious meals for herself, despite living alone.
But today, I met her anew.
I couldn't put the book down.
I savored every page, word, experience, flavor and photo.
I made an effort to walk by her office three times, and I inhaled deeply, hoping for a draft to escape the empty, still office.
Judith is in Vermont for the summer, but I hope to see her again someday.
For dinner, I made myself a fried egg, blanched asparagus and hollandaise, which ribboned in pale yellow, dotted by bits of pepper. Delicious.
I've realized that I have two passions in life; food and fashion. Are they mutually exclusive?
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday, Sundae.
Some dread Sunday. I think it is perhaps my favorite day of the week. Sunday brunch, the Sunday times, it is the last day to lazy around before a bustling work week begins again. It's like dessert, you savor it because it's the last portion of a meal, it's also the sweetest.
On this Sunday, I saw Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris. I suggest you see it if you haven't already. I found it full of wisdom in an ironic, jovial sort of way. In the film, Kathy Bates says something along the lines of, "It is not the job of an artist to succumb to the despairity of life, it is the job of an artist to fill the void of emptiness created by life." The film is all about how we long for the past, to live in another era, to experience another time, and how each of us must come to terms with our own present.
The most wonderful part of the day was the meal I shared with my aunt afterwards. We ate gaspacho, crab salad, and pâté on crunchy french bread, outside a small french bistro on 81st and Broadway. I was thrilled to order a glass of white wine, no proof of ID necessary. We talked about the film and I externally processed my complicated life plans. I'm only 20, and I already feel as though my life is sand, rapidly running through my fingers. I'm plagued by a fear that I'm running out of time, that I'm failing to make critical decisions and soon it will be too late, I'll find myself old, dissatisfied with my job and ultimately depressed. This sounds rash, but it's true. I imagine I'm not the only 20 year-old feeling this way.
My aunt spoke about sacrifice, she told me that it is important when making decisions to recognize that every option involves sacrifice. It is in weighing sacrifices, almost economically, that we can come upon the right decision.
I'm not sure that she said that at all actually, but that's what I took from the conversation.
It's like Bill Clinton's lists of goals, perhaps we should always revert to the basic tool of a pro's and con's list. Weigh our sacrifices, analyze the cost-benefit of the equation. Above all, know that there exists no perfect scenario, that everything involves sacrifice.
Midnight in Paris had me longing to travel to France, which further complicates my already shaky life plan.
On this Sunday, I saw Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris. I suggest you see it if you haven't already. I found it full of wisdom in an ironic, jovial sort of way. In the film, Kathy Bates says something along the lines of, "It is not the job of an artist to succumb to the despairity of life, it is the job of an artist to fill the void of emptiness created by life." The film is all about how we long for the past, to live in another era, to experience another time, and how each of us must come to terms with our own present.
The most wonderful part of the day was the meal I shared with my aunt afterwards. We ate gaspacho, crab salad, and pâté on crunchy french bread, outside a small french bistro on 81st and Broadway. I was thrilled to order a glass of white wine, no proof of ID necessary. We talked about the film and I externally processed my complicated life plans. I'm only 20, and I already feel as though my life is sand, rapidly running through my fingers. I'm plagued by a fear that I'm running out of time, that I'm failing to make critical decisions and soon it will be too late, I'll find myself old, dissatisfied with my job and ultimately depressed. This sounds rash, but it's true. I imagine I'm not the only 20 year-old feeling this way.
My aunt spoke about sacrifice, she told me that it is important when making decisions to recognize that every option involves sacrifice. It is in weighing sacrifices, almost economically, that we can come upon the right decision.
I'm not sure that she said that at all actually, but that's what I took from the conversation.
It's like Bill Clinton's lists of goals, perhaps we should always revert to the basic tool of a pro's and con's list. Weigh our sacrifices, analyze the cost-benefit of the equation. Above all, know that there exists no perfect scenario, that everything involves sacrifice.
Midnight in Paris had me longing to travel to France, which further complicates my already shaky life plan.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Back in the city for a second summer to collect wisdom.
It's time to begin writing again.
Armed with a broken foot, a new internship, and a refreshed spirit despite my best friend leaving yesterday -- it is the end of week 2.
I adore my grandparents.
They left for CT at the end of last week, but the apartment is littered with their remnants: Keebler Chips Delux cookies, stacks of ambiguous papers and books, and my grandmother's unhealthy collection of miniature bath products, and jams.
I am working for Knopf. I have my own badge equipped with a proximity card that allows me to enter and exit through every door. For those of you who cannot appreciate the thrill of such seemingly benign power, you have clearly never been an intern.
This morning I sat in on a sales meeting via conference call. The interesting thing about the advent of non face-to-face business meetings, is that no one can see each other's expressions. There was a litany of eye-rolling, head shaking, and pantomimed temple shooting. My boss is too handsome to be straight and working in publishing. He is Spanish, and speaks with one of those slick, effortless lisps. He bought me lunch on day 2.
Collected wisdom thus far this summer, has come from books. Random House has a room of free books from which we are free to take whatever we like. The liberty to take new, crisp, free books, has likened me to the greedy little fat girl in Gourmet Garage, camped out by the bread sampler tonight.
I finally read Bill Clinton's autobiography, a few years late, I know. I loved the preface the most. Clinton says he read a self-help book that taught him the necessity of listing. The book instructed him to make lists of long, short and medium term life goals. Then to categorize each goal in order of importance (A, B or C). Finally, the book said to list under each goal specific activities designed to achieve the goals. Bill's goals were boring, something like: be successful, be a good husband and a good person. He definitely fell short with the husband goal.
Could this simple method of setting and accomplishing goals really be effective? I've decided to try for myself. Being a more visual person, I've stuck notecards on the walls in the hall. I won't say what my goals are specifically, but I will tell you that one of my activities designed to achieve a goal included deleting my facebook. Yes, I have taken that leap, and I already feel like a marginalized outsider. I have no idea how I'll remember birthdays.
What are your goals?
Armed with a broken foot, a new internship, and a refreshed spirit despite my best friend leaving yesterday -- it is the end of week 2.
I adore my grandparents.
They left for CT at the end of last week, but the apartment is littered with their remnants: Keebler Chips Delux cookies, stacks of ambiguous papers and books, and my grandmother's unhealthy collection of miniature bath products, and jams.
I am working for Knopf. I have my own badge equipped with a proximity card that allows me to enter and exit through every door. For those of you who cannot appreciate the thrill of such seemingly benign power, you have clearly never been an intern.
This morning I sat in on a sales meeting via conference call. The interesting thing about the advent of non face-to-face business meetings, is that no one can see each other's expressions. There was a litany of eye-rolling, head shaking, and pantomimed temple shooting. My boss is too handsome to be straight and working in publishing. He is Spanish, and speaks with one of those slick, effortless lisps. He bought me lunch on day 2.
Collected wisdom thus far this summer, has come from books. Random House has a room of free books from which we are free to take whatever we like. The liberty to take new, crisp, free books, has likened me to the greedy little fat girl in Gourmet Garage, camped out by the bread sampler tonight.
I finally read Bill Clinton's autobiography, a few years late, I know. I loved the preface the most. Clinton says he read a self-help book that taught him the necessity of listing. The book instructed him to make lists of long, short and medium term life goals. Then to categorize each goal in order of importance (A, B or C). Finally, the book said to list under each goal specific activities designed to achieve the goals. Bill's goals were boring, something like: be successful, be a good husband and a good person. He definitely fell short with the husband goal.
Could this simple method of setting and accomplishing goals really be effective? I've decided to try for myself. Being a more visual person, I've stuck notecards on the walls in the hall. I won't say what my goals are specifically, but I will tell you that one of my activities designed to achieve a goal included deleting my facebook. Yes, I have taken that leap, and I already feel like a marginalized outsider. I have no idea how I'll remember birthdays.
What are your goals?
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