What You Should Be Watching, Listening To, & Eating

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"Look yourself in the mirror and ask yourself, "What do I want to do everyday for the rest of my life?" Do that. I promise, you can monetize that shit. If you love Alf, do an Alf blog. You collect Smurfs, Smurf it up. Whatever you need to do, do it." - Gary Vaynerchuk

Gary Vaynerchuk: Do what you love (no excuses!) | Video on TED.com

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Or maybe a little of this?

Eat

This granola has chewy, sweet dried apricot pieces, almonds, and a little autumn spice... just what you need to upgrade your breakfast (or morning snack... or afternoon snack...). 

Apricot-Almond Granola

2 cups old-fashioned oats
3 tablespoons brown sugar
1 cup sliced, blanched almonds
1/2 cup chopped dried apricots
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
6 tablespoons canola oil

Preheat oven to 300 degrees.

Combine all dry ingredients in a medium bowl and combine well. Pour the canola oil over the oats mixture and mix thoroughly.

Spread the mixture over a baking sheet evenly. Stirring every ten minutes, bake for thirty minutes, until the oats are fragrant and mostly dry. Let the granola cool on the sheet for ten minutes, then use a spatula to scoop up the granola.

Store in an airtight container. Makes about 3 1/2 cups of granola.

Takeout in East Boston: Rino's Place

E's been talking up Rino's Place for months. We all have high expectations when we finally gather up a group and go for dinner.

The restaurant is small and intimate... wooden floors and chairs, white tablecloths, and painted murals across one wall. Short, curvy waitresses pick up plates of pasta at the pass and barrel up and down the middle of the room.

The wait for the four of us will be an hour, so we opt for takeout. I order one of the specials, the sauteed chicken with asparagus, wild mushrooms, sundried tomatoes, and Rino's homemade pasta.

Thirty minutes later, our takeout is ready. We have four massive tinfoil containers, and four salads (included with our dinners), and bread and butter... we are overwhelmed by the volume of food. My pasta could easily feed two... maybe three people. 

What's impressive about the pasta is the unusual shape (long, twisty pieces), and the pieces of chicken are plump and juicy. But the whole thing is coated in a cream sauce... a sort of bland and very beige cream sauce.  I guess I should have known. Or I should have asked. But I don't like being surprised by cream sauces. Giving the takeout menu a second look, I see that it's dominated by cream sauces.

I steal a bite of E's Melanzane Parmiggiano (eggplant parmesan). The marinara sauce is so savory and well seasoned... so I'm not giving up on Rino's yet. But next time, I'm ordering an appetizer.

Foodie

I'm running through the South End, not really knowing where I am or where I'm going. South of Tremont, my mental map breaks down. I think about turning around, but then I weave together gourmet food shops and restaurants to take me home... South End Formaggio on Shawmut to The Butcher Shop at the corner of Waltham and Tremont to where Icarus used to be located on Appleton. I know where I am when I see food that I know.

I'm walking home and hauling heavy grocery bags, including a gallon of milk, pounds of butternut squash, and a whole chicken. I always underestimate how much my groceries will weigh. But I don't mind (too much). I have a plan for the chicken.

I'm going to East Boston, night after night, because E swears she's found the best Indian (she was right) and then she swears she's found the best Italian (she actually scrunches up her fingers and kisses them to express her total love of Rino's). So I keep on going.

Because, really, it's all about the food.

Verve

"In all important matters, style, not sincerity, is the essential." -- Oscar Wilde

Life is best when there are candles on my window sill and champagne in my fridge. When there's a small glass of bright pink flowers perched on my bathroom sink. When there's a silk top on a hanger, waiting to be worn.

All I know is that life can sometimes be not so fun. Sometimes, papers pile up on my desk and I miss my train. There might be dust bunnies under my bed (what is it about old Boston apartment buildings and dust?), or sad news, or just one of those days.

But flowers and candles are the things I can insist on. So I do. Because it's about more than just getting through the day.

Flair is the wrong word. So are panache and style and all those other overused words.

Maybe it's verve.

Since Mad Men was released on instant play on Netflix, I've wanted to watch nothing else. I just finished Episode 1 of Season 4 and I'm still absolutely devastated by the ending. I mean, devastated in the best possible way. The normally reticent Donald Draper sits down with a Wall Street Journal reporter and, in a cloud of cigarette smoke and whiskey, tells the reporter exactly what he did and just how successful he was... and the opening chords of Tobacco Road by the Nashville Teens are playing and Don has that cocky smile and, yeah, he's still got it and he knows it. 

We all need a little verve. 

So I'll spend my time framing black-and-white photographs and piling fun pillows on my couch. I'll light all of the candles when there's company over... or when there's not. This new place of mine could use a little life.

I'll put Frank Sinatra and Foster the People in the same playlist and I'll quote Charles Eames. I'll make mulled apple cider and open up my new fondue set. I'll go for a walk just to look at architecture, to give some time to the city we live in and to this season. I'll take any excuse to wear high heels, to celebrate, to bake a pie, to wake up early for sunrise yoga....

Because, after all, what's the alternative?

Trying Out a Little Running

There hasn't been too much running in the last few weeks.

But that's not how I had intended it to be. I had registered for a 5K race. I had my training plan. I was all ready for speedwork and -- with the cooler temperatures of September -- I was looking forward to it.

And then I woke up one morning and my right knee really hurt. Bending it was excruciating. I had no idea why. Just overuse, I guess. Too much running, dancing, and tennis and not enough attention paid to my joints.

I've run through plenty of pain. I've run when I shouldn't have. But knees are different. Thinking about the 5K race,  I knew there was no way to care for my knee and to train sufficiently. I decided to run the race just for fun, to stretch, to foam roll, to ice.... The past two weeks have been full of time on the elliptical and yoga classes.

Today, in the middle of interval training, I wanted to try running. I added two five-minute treadmill runs in between sets of weights. It was a little choppy at first and my strides were uneven. But, in the second run, I found that easy, loping cadence, that rhythm that is so hard to find during a run and even harder to find on a treadmill. I lost it for a minute and then slowly fell back into the rhythmic motion of muscles gliding and feet striking the treadmill so lightly that it was more like stroking.

Next weekend, I'll be back out there running. I'll run a race.  I'll pin my bib number to my shirt but I won't tie on the timing chip. I'll run because the race is for a worthwhile cause, because it will be a beautiful fall morning, because I'll have great company, because I can run and my knee won't bother me too much any more.

And maybe I'll look ahead to November and the race calendar. Maybe then I'll try again for time.

One Fine Day & An Apple Galette

Step 1: Pick apples at Belkin Family Lookout Farm, South Natick

Step 2: A few hours later, in a Boston kitchen...

It's okay if it's messy. Apples you pick yourself always taste the best. And this pie crust is a winner.

Apple Galette
(Adapted from the Galette of Rhubarb recipe in The New Basics Cookbook)

1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold and cut into small pieces
1/2 + 1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
2 tablespoons cold water
6 tablespoons brown sugar
2 + 1/4 cups apples, peeled, cored, cut into chunks, and tossed with lemon juice (to taste)

Combine the flour, sugar, salt, and 1/2 teaspoon of the cinnamon in a medium bowl and stir well with a fork. Add the butter pieces and cut the butter into the flour mixture, pressing well with your fingers and tossing until the mixture resembles large crumbs.

Sprinkle the water, 1 tablespoon at a time, over the flour mixture and mix it with a fork until it's incorporated and you can easily gather the flour into a ball. Knead briefly, then wrap it in plastic wrap and refrigerate it for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Lightly flour a baking sheet and roll out the dough with a lightly floured rolling pin to form an 11 inch circle. Mark off a 9 inch circle in the middle. Sprinkle 3 tablespoons of the brown sugar evenly over the 9 inch circle and add the apple chunks. Sprinkle the remaining 3 tablespoons of brown sugar and 1/8 teaspoon of cinnamon on top of the apples. Fold over the edge of the dough to form a crust.

Bake for 40 minutes. The crust should be a very light golden brown and the apple chunks should be soft. Cool slightly and serve. Serves four people.

The Kind of Morning I Like Best: Oatmeal Raisin Muffins

Are you a morning person?

I'm not so sure if I am. I do not like waking up. No, I do not.

But I'm a type A first-born. Being in pajamas at 11am -- even on a weekend morning -- makes me panic a little.... Oh no! The day is practically over! Oh no! I should get up at 5am tomorrow! Yes, I'll totally do that!

I'll never actually get up at 5am. Not a chance.

But I do really like good breakfasts. So, in the name of breakfast, I might get up just a little earlier than usual.

I woke up today, knowing it was a muffin kind of morning. There are only a few things that make me jump out of bed. Strong, hot coffee. Christmas. A new running route on a sunny morning... followed by coffee. And excuses to bake breakfast. Cinnamon rolls, challah, or baked eggs... it doesn't really matter.

Five minutes later, I was out the door and stumbling down the street, for coffee and a box of brown sugar.

Was waking up early worth it?

Absolutely.

So when you're lying in bed doing a cost-benefit analysis of hitting the snooze button one more time, these muffins might just give you the motivation to get up. The muffins are fluffy, moist, and packed with oatmeal and raisins... and just a little brown sugar.

After all, Mary Poppins always said a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.... and sometimes we need a little something special to make mornings better. 

Oatmeal Raisin Muffins

1 1/3 cup old fashioned oatmeal
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
2/3 cup raisins
1/2 cup plain yogurt (I use nonfat)
1/2 + 1/3 cup milk (I use 2%)
1/3 cup tightly packed brown sugar
1 large egg
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
Butter (to grease the pan)

The night before:

Stir the oatmeal, cinnamon, nutmeg, and raisins together with a fork in a large mixing bowl. Add the yogurt and 1/2 cup of the milk and stir well. Cover and place the bowl in the refrigerator overnight (at least 12 hours).

The day of:

Position an oven rack in the top third of the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a muffin pan with liners or grease the pan with butter.

Add the remaining 1/3 cup of the milk to the oatmeal and stir well. Stir in the brown sugar and then the egg, mixing well after each addition.

In a separate bowl, combine the flour and the baking soda and stir together with a fork. Add the flour to the oatmeal all at once and mix well.

Fill the muffin cups about 3/4 full and bake for twenty minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle of a muffin comes out clean. Let the muffins cool for ten minutes on a wire rack, then serve. Makes twelve medium muffins. 

September Days

Sunday:

Hanover Street, North End

Monday:

Boston Public Library, Copley Square

 Tuesday:

Whole Foods, Central Square, Cambridge

All the Roads are Winding

The day is clear, the sky is the palest blue in patches and vivid in others, and there's just enough cool in the air to let us know that autumn might be coming soon. The streets are full, with runners, dogs, tourists, baby strollers, shoppers... I'm running along the side of the Common, heading towards the North End, but I know that its tiny streets will be too busy. I take the next right onto School Street. I randomly pick streets and head deeper into the Financial District, for a little space to run.

I run in a trance. I'm barely aware of the mechanics of running,  though a little twinge from my left hamstring is a reminder.  I ignore the cones blocking off what looks to be a construction site. But, just outside Winthrop Square, I'm stopped. It's a movie set. I'm told that it's the new Jeff Bridges and Ryan Reynolds movie. I jog in place and, eventually, filming stops and I'm let through. The square is quiet, with traffic diverted elsewhere, but, a few blocks away, business proceeds as usual.

When I was last in New York, I found a movie set near Grand Central. Vanderbilt Avenue was blocked off and transformed into New York of long ago.

Extras waiting in line for the craft service table

But back to Boston. I arbitrarily decide that I want to run to the South End. No good reason. I just do. I pass New England Medical Center and I cross the Pike. I have no destination and I unintentionally run in a circle, crossing the Pike again on Arlington Street. The view of Bay Village is not unfamiliar to me but it's still extraordinary -- red brick rowhouses with slate grey mansard roofs against the blue glass of the John Hancock skyscraper. It's as if someone Photoshopped Boston and saturated the color.

I spend a little time in Bay Village, finding my way to Park Plaza. I have no idea how far I've run. I'm not paying much attention to my watch or to stoplights... I run when there's no walk sign and I find myself running in place at a street corner, my mind wandering, when I do have the walk sign.

I run these streets to know them. In a few weeks, when someone mentions Herald Street or Winthrop Lane, I will know it. I run to see one neighborhood fade into the next and to find the connections between them. And I run because Boston is at its best today. There is so much happening, so much being played out on our streets and sidewalks. Outside Cheers, there was a bride in a huge, poufy dress, with white plastic sunglasses. Her bridesmaids, dressed in primary colors, carried sunflowers. In Bay Village, a shopper returned home by bike, with a Brooks Brothers shopping bag stashed in his basket.

I intend to trace Arlington Street to the river. But, looking down St. James, I see the corner of the Boston Public Library peeking out and I want to get closer.

And I'm off again.

A Little More Summer: Sauteed Shrimp with Late Summer Tomatoes, Spinach, & Peas

It rained again today. To see the rain falling is to know that the seasons have, for the moment, gotten themselves confused... and to hope that they will get themselves unconfused soon.

I made something summery for lunch: sauteed shrimp with late summer tomatoes, spinach, and peas, with a little chopped parsley as a final touch. The shrimp and spinach, sauteed in olive oil, are almost buttery, the peas are sweet, and the tomatoes add color and acidity. It's a simple dish, with about twenty minutes of cooking time.

The rain stopped tonight. There's sun in the five day forecast. So maybe we have a little time before autumn comes. A little more time to eat late summer tomatoes.

Sauteed Shrimp with Late Summer Tomatoes, Spinach, and Peas

1/4 lb shrimp, cleaned, deveined, and tails removed (approx. 9 small shrimp)
1/2 teaspoon minced garlic
2 1/2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
3/4 cup ripe tomatoes, chopped 
2 cups spinach leaves, washed well, dried, stems removed, and torn into smaller pieces
1/2 cup shelled peas
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon chopped Italian parsley
Black pepper to taste

Heat one and a half teaspoons of the oil in a large saute pan over medium low heat. Add the shrimp and the garlic; saute until the shrimp are pink, opaque, and cooked through (3-5 minutes, depending on the size of the shrimp). Turn the heat up to medium and add the tomatoes. Saute until the tomatoes release their liquid and the tomatoes reduce in size by about half (about 3-4 minutes). Set aside the shrimp and tomatoes.

If using fresh peas, bring a saucepan of water to a boil. Add the peas and boil them until bright green and tender (about 1-2 minutes); then scoop them out, run them under cold water, and drain well. If you choose to use frozen peas, follow the instructions on the package to fully thaw them. 

Placing the original saute pan over medium heat, add the remaining teaspoon of oil and heat. Add the spinach and saute until the spinach is wilted and dark green (about 2 minutes). Stir in the peas and cook until they are heated through (less than a 1 minute).

Add the shrimp and tomatoes back to the saute pan and combine. Stir in the parsley, salt, and pepper. Serve immediately. Serves one.

Not Quite Autumn

I slipped away from Boston for a few days, to a place where summer is still in full swing, to a place where September 1st holds absolutely no connotation. And I didn't mind missing that day at all. Even before I left, there were moving boxes piled on sidewalks and U-Hauls getting stuck in narrow Boston streets (Yes, stuck. Yes, I watched. No, I don't know how it happened).

When I got back, suddenly autumn was in full swing. The change that Boston undergoes when we flip our calendars to September is incredible. The college students are back and their classes have started. And we're making plans for apple-picking. I've never been apple-picking; I've never made apple pie or apple butter. I can't wait.

But, really, we're not seeing autumn yet. We've had a few wet, chilly days that remind me more of early April than September. Last night, I walked along Arlington Street, along the side of the Public Garden, and I looked out across the wet pavements and empty benches of the park, shrouded in a smoky, violet dusk, to the twinkly lights of the Financial District.

I love my rainboots and walking through puddles as the water splashes up around my legs. But I'm not ready to let go of summer yet.

Soon enough, peaches will be out of season. And we'll be looking out of our windows at falling leaves and, a little later, snow.

Maybe September could slow down a little bit. Because there's a lavender-colored ruffly sundress that I haven't worn yet. Because I didn't have a chance to make white wine sangria. Because I really love late summer tomatoes and those warm days and cooler nights of September in Boston.

Maybe we could have a little more summer. Because the seasons will change soon enough.