What Project Runway and the Bush Administration Have in Common

I am a huge fan of Project Runway. Not because I want to see 14 variations of cocktail dresses made from recycled car parts.  The draw for me is the contestants themselves.  I don't care about the group dynamics, or anyone's sappy back story.  What keeps me tuning in week after week is the chance to hear the contestants critiquing their own work.  Nothing on this earth impresses these people more than themselves, and it is utterly fascinating to watch.  These people are blown away by their own awesomeness, and say so out loud.  In fact, "blown away" is one of the most frequently used terms when the contestants watch their creations come down the runway.  No matter what sort of disaster they have draped on some poor stick-figured model, they tear up when they see the girl sashay down the runway draped in the hideous mess of their design.  Each contestant is happy to say that his or her own work towers above anyone else in the competition, and if the judges disagree, the judges are wrong.  Really, what would Michael Kors know about fashion?  Listening to people so confident in their own abilities despite ample evidence to the contrary actually evokes some wistfulness from me.  I do not have the ability to heap praise, warranted or not, upon myself, and mostly I think that's the way it should be.  There is self confidence, and there is delusional self confidence.

Which brings me to the Bush administration.  These men and women are the political equivalent of Project Runway contestants.  They believe in themselves and their choices despite the fact that most of the world believes they are wrong.  They don't learn from mistakes, because they don't think they've made any.  They consider themselves to be divinely inspired.

Problem is, the consequences from George Bush's delusional self confidence will be around a lot longer than those fugly Project Runway dresses will be.

UGH!

I love snow this time of year.  And only this time of year.  From now until Christmas, I'm all for a light dusting of snow every few days.  After all, I am a born and bred cold-weather Canadian, so I know how to walk like a duck to keep from falling in snow.  This year, I thought I was being extra clever by getting a pair of new boots, both warm and functional.  I thought...

Yes, I got myself some shearling boots called Emus.  Uggs are too damned expensive, and I really was going for practicality more than style (if I had wanted to look like a fashion victim, I'd have bought a pair of Uggs 5 years ago and worn them in the summer).  That being said, these boots were a big mistake!  Ok, they are warm, and the inside is soft, but the treads on the soles are useless.  I know this because this morning I slid off the sidewalk at the corner of Jarvis and Carlton, did a sort of demented pirouette, and landed on my butt in a pile of filthy slush. I got to work wet, dirty, and more pissed off than usual, and I'm always pretty pissed off on Monday mornings. 

 Sartorially, as well, these are not the boots for me.  I look like I was built at the Muppet Workshop at FAO Schwarz .  I'm not that freaking old, but I think I am too old for these boots.  This was confirmed for me on the way home from work, when a 4 year old pointed at my feet and shrieked to her mother: "those are the boots I want!"

It's not enough that I look like a fool in these boots, I am also endangering my life.  My old boots are already at the Goodwill store, so tomorrow I have to go to the mall to drop more money and get some boots that will keep me from ending up underneath a streetcar on a slippery day.  That, or I can go to Goodwill and buy my old boots back for a Loonie.

Stained Glass Cookies

OK, I had to make the stained glass cookies last week, because I had made the dough a few days earlier, and it probably wouldn't have kept much longer.  NBC provided me with an appropriate background of Christmas music and the lighting of the tree at Rockefeller Center. Miley Cyrus's version of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree is an instant classic.  No, not really.  

Although bashing lolly-pops with a rolling pin on the balcony was great, I'm not sure I crushed them small enough.  I haven't made these cookies in 15 years, give me a break!  How the hell did I crush the candies last time?  Can't remember...

Here are the un-Christmassy cutout shapes (the only ones I had that had littler versions).  Filled with crushed red lolly-pops.  

Finished cookies.  The "stained glass" doesn't exactly remind me of Chartres, but I'll try to disguise the mistakes with icing.  There may be a second attempt, stay tuned!

Attack of the Giant Cookie Press

Finally used my massive "ergonomic" Williams-Sonoma Cookie Press.  My old, regular-sized one broke, and when I tried to exchange it, the WS at Yorkdale only had this model.  In the spirit of testing new cooks' tools, I decided to give it a try.

In some ways it's nice that you can fit an entire bowl of dough in at one time, but it makes it more difficult to change the die, and no one wants to make all their cookies the same! Problem is, it's a total bitch to squeeze it!  The whole design is just foreign to me; I was an expert marksman with my old cookie press.

The final batch- only 36 cookies, where I used to get about 80 smaller ones, which was better for packaging and giving away.  Took them all to work, and they were much appreciated.  Cookie press is going to be exchanged for the smaller model, however.

Stand Back, I Have A Glue Gun!!

The early 90s were fun, weren't they?  Well, they were for me, but I wasn't paying a mortgage, or even rent, back then.  I know that the lousy economy at the time is what helped elect Bill Clinton in the US, and that certain trends always seem to accompany lean economic times. Nesting, cocooning, or whatever the currently fashionable term might be, comes back in style when we all pretend that the thing that got us to the point of worldwide financial meltdown was the fact that we go out to dinner on occasion.

Whatever, I have decided to wholly embrace this "recession"  (it isn't real if you use quotation marks, right?) by digging out old Martha Stewart Living magazines and getting insanely crafty. I will be baking a lot, but that's not unusual for me at Christmas, but this year marks a return to home made ornaments, decorations, gift wrap, and whatever other silly things my friends and I come up with. 

I'm off to Michael's Craft Store to buy some provisions, and will update once some of the disastrous but fun results are in.  It's a Good Thing!

Spends 2 Little

OK, I get it.  We're in a recession.  Stocks are down, credit is tight, and shopping is considered as unseemly a habit as clipping your nails on the subway.  Problem is, we need some shopping to get us out of this mess!  Sure, if you make minimum wage selling shoes at Foot Locker, you shouldn't go into credit card debt for a 65" television, but extreme belt-tightening by everyone will only prolong the situation.

Tom Friedman says you should be home eating tuna fish , and no one should buy anything. This is supposedly the intelligent, and moral, choice.  Oh, it's cool if you buy a 10 kg bag of lentils from No Frills, but buying anything "frivolous" is practically sinful.  If you tell people you're going to the mall, they look at you like you said you were off to join the Manson family. But how will this help? An economy requires the exchange of goods and services, and if we all want jobs, we'd better start exchanging some cash for some goods.

Yesterday, Oprah told viewers that a great gift for a friend is a note card  telling her how you feel about her.  If Oprah were my friend and she gave me that for Christmas, it better have been pinned to a sable coat.  Jesus, if the billionaires stop shopping, we are truly screwed.

So all of you gainfully employed people out there should get your asses to the mall, and do your North American duty:  SHOP! Don't buy more than you can afford, but remember, if you choose to stick all your money in your mattress, you'll be able to lie on it all day, because your job will evaporate eventually.

"Worth" It?

I needed some high heels to go with the black silk dress I'm wearing to the Look Good Feel Better Ball this Saturday.  (Probably the last extravagant thing I'll be doing for a while.  Free for us, but $650 a ticket, normally.)  Of course I wanted the Jimmy Choo's I saw at Holt's, but really, $695 for black pumps?  I wish I were in the financial bracket where that was considered, well, not insane, but alas I am not.  My next dream was for a pair of Cole Haan Carma pumps, but I tried them on a few months ago and I can barely walk in them, beautiful though they are.  They're also $298 in the US, so probably over $350 here.  S2M is all about saving money these days, so I tried on a dozen pairs of pumps before finally scoring at, of all places, Town Shoes.

These Calvin Klein pumps have gel insoles, and the bottoms are cushiony rubber.  They're not just classics, they're actually comfortable!  at $140, still more than I should have spent, but they will be in style forever, so I'll recoup the money, I figure.

In the same vein, this article in the Times is really relevant and pretty funny.  I will continue my efforts to try to save money.  I know most of my attempts will be abject failures, of course, but let's see how I fare.

I Need A New Excuse!

I always thought that being left-handed was great, but I also thought that it was why I was, and continue to be, a klutz.  According to the Washington Post, being left-handed accounts for some of my verbal "skill", but it's not the reason I have permanent bruises on my shins from repeatedly walking into my own coffee table.

Take last night.  First, I poured some couscous into a measuring cup, then I opened the cupboard above the counter.  A bag of dried cranberries fell out and hit the cup of couscous, sending the little granules all over my kitchen.  Then I attempted to put the carton of milk back in the fridge without taking my eyes off of Family Guy, so I missed the shelf and the carton hit the floor.  As I struggled to clean up this sticky, pebbly mess, I let loose with a barrage of expletives that would have made John McCain cringe.  Anyone who happened to be in the hallway of my apartment probably thinks I have Tourette's.  Hell, sometimes I think I have it...

My point is, I had always thought that I was destined for a premature, if humourous, death because I'm left-handed.  Turns out, I'm just clumsy.  That's just so ordinary...

Mildred Pierce, R.I.P.

Went to Oasi last night, for a preview of the restaurant opening in the space that used to be Mildred Pierce and The Cookworks. Made me want to barf to see the part that had been The Cookworks turned in to such a generic club space, with all the obvious design tricks- white-painted brick walls, pointless videos projected on the walls, and the same music you hear everywhere.

The restaurant part was nice, though. My main aesthetic concern with restaurants is the lighting, and this place had cool fixtures and subdued, flattering lighting. (I hate feeling like I'm in a giant tanning booth when I'm eating an expensive dinner.) The banquettes were upholstered in a subtle neutral stripe, and there was a mix of dark and light wood.

The menu was intriguing, and no more expensive than any other new restaurant in town. (That's another trend I hate: exorbitant pricing as a marketing gimmick.) There's an extensive wine list, with a bafflingly large selection of both reds and whites from Greece. I'll definitely go back for dinner, but I'll mourn the passing of Mildred Pierce, and look forward to Mildred's Temple Kitchen!

SPAM, A LOT!

Oh Dear God...

Le Cordon Bleu

I am dying to go back to Paris.  I want to take more courses at Le Cordon Bleu.  In 2006, we took one demonstration class- The Market Tour.  A chef and interpreter haul you around Paris, to farmer's markets, and other highlights like Poilane bakery, Le Bon Marche, and other stores I can't remember right now.

  We bought lots of delicious local produce, meats, and cheeses, and the chef served it all to us for lunch, while telling us the provenance of what we were eating.  The fresh, local butter pictured below was so unbelievably flavourful I can't even describe it.  When you come home and have butter from Loblaw's,  your taste buds want to cry.

Then, the class began.  We took notes and asked questions, and the chef made something simple- cod with a butter sauce of some kind, potatoes, and a dessert that was flambéed, (naturellement), and of course made it all look Tres Français.  It's only November and I've got Cabin Fever here in boring Toronto.  It's gonna be a long winter...

Another Picture of the Cupcakes

Sandy helped me with the little Obama logos.  Cupcakes are vanilla Barefoot Contessa flower cupcakes recipe, and the chocolate frosting is a recipe I haven't given to anyone, though it's out there in a very fine celebrity cookbook.  Of course it is made with real 70% cocoa solids chocolate, not cocoa powder.  Cocoa powder is for amateurs.

Obama-Rama

America had a great night on Tuesday, and so did I.  Had about 15 people over to watch the election returns.  Happy that we had a result at 11PM, though I was prepared to stay awake all night if I had to.  What the hell, I did it in 2000...

Served some good food.  Made pulled pork in the crock pot.  I'm sure my neighbours appreciated my searing the pork shoulder at 7AM, but it adds so much flavour.  Made the standard Barefoot Contessa dips that I have been doing forever, and the prosciutto and cheese palmiers.  I'm thinking it's time to retire those options, and come up with some new things to impress my guests next time.  So I'll be trolling cookbooks and trying some new things.

Less Shopping, More Blogging

I can't believe I just used "blog" as a verb.  Surely I am too old for that.  In any case, since the economy is in the crapper, I might as well write instead of run up my credit cards.  I have been living like a junior Rockefeller on my vacations, and it's time to pay the piper.  If the piper is Visa.