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All in File Under "i"
My mother, even while she was probably feeling herself fade, was planning on a lunch of canned tuna dressed with mayonnaise, sesame oil and sriracha sauce, a recipe clipped from the Boston Globe in the not so distant past, according to the fade on the newsprint.
It’s easy to resent the world for being beautiful if someone you love isn’t here to see it, and you know how much the full moon rising on a January night, or those five extra minutes of daylight falling through winter’s bare trees, meant to them.
Of the thousands of things I will miss about my mother an important one is the simple phone call to ask, “Mom, what are you making for dinner tonight?” So many conversations, so many themes on life, started right there.
In late October three men from the BBC and one Cornwall fisherman checked into the rooms above the Crow’s Nest; they returned to England with a new Gloucester export: Community Shared Fisheries.
Maybe all this is happening in some lab?
Under one lamp by day
and billions by night?
Everyone should visit the Vanves Flea Market and the Montmartre Cemetery in Paris. They’re both outside, a good thing to try to do even on the dreariest of Paris days. They don’t have to cost anything, but in the case of the market, if they cost something it’s a deal. And they both make you think about past French lives.
It’s like coming home for the Stein Collection to show at the Grand Palais, so many of these artists were associated with the Salons here. And yet this show is clearly one person’s personal taste extracted from - or imposed upon - now gigantic artistic characters.
The Gertrude and Leo Stein Collection at the Grand Palais will be traveling to the U.S. this winter, but Gertrude Stein said, “America is my country and Paris is my hometown.” I want to see her collection of paintings - some of the greatest Modernist and Cubist work in the world, collected by a genius - in her hometown. I'll include recipes by Stein's companion, Alice B. Toklas, and hopefully some Paris Christmas.
Paris may have Poilane, but if they were really lucky they would have Alexandra’s. I’m not exaggerating. Alexandra’s Bread in Gloucester, MA , a tiny, tin-ceilinged store front owned and operated by Alexandra Rhinelander and Jonathan Hardy, bakes bread that would crack a smile on the iciest Parisian fashion model.
A garden shed tucked away for the winter - the hoses rolled, the mower cleaned, the gardening gloves washed, the peony stakes bundled - is beautiful. Mostly, the whole thing is beautiful because all that WORK is at rest, which means the person in charge of digging, planting, watering, trimming, and weeding can rest.
“File under i” is where I put everything that's really important. Read on...