beauty beat: the only skincare regimen you’ll ever need. ever.

selfie in the WC, with my face cream and Darth.

I’ve been a big time believer in making my own serums, lotions, and potions for a long long time now (remember this and this and this?). There’s nothing that a chemically, mass-produced beauty product can do for you that Mother Nature can’t do better, and more safely, and as effectively.

And yet. Sometimes a girl craves a little luxury, luxury that she doesn’t have to create herself. Beautiful packaging. A full skincare regimen of scrub, cleanser, mask, mist, serum, and cream. No mixing and stirring like a mad amateur scientist: instant gratification. The American way.

Enter Red Flower.

I was first introduced to Red Flower in Harmony, the most amazing biodegradable bath products that grace the outdoor showers of The Harmony Hotel in Nosara, Costa Rica. Outdoor showering is my favorite pass-time. When the sun shines on your shoulders and you lather shampoo into your hair while birds are a-chirpin’ and breezes are a-blowin’, and your nostrils fill with jasmine and blood orange and Moroccan rose, something magical happens.

I haven’t tried to recreate an outdoor shower on my fire escape (but don’t think I haven’t thought long and hard about it). And it took years of walking by Red Flower’s adorable little storefront on Prince Street to finally go in, seeking out a magical experience once again. The Nature treatment collection is what I walked out with.

How can a face cream be light as a cloud and as moisture-drenching as a serum? Red Flower’s Arctic Berry Cloud Milk Cream is as creamy and dreamy as Cool Whip but absorbs beautifully, silkily into skin. I’m obsessed with its light, fresh scent (rare cloudberries from Finland pack a nutritional punch to combat hormonal imbalances), not to mention that this miracle hydrator is perfectly suited for all skin types, in all seasons.

I could wax poetic about the other amazeballs products in the Nature collection. We’ll save those for other posts. If you invest in just one RF item, get yourself some Arctic Berry Cloud Milk Cream. You won’t look back.

wednesday wisdom: this book is just pure wisdom

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RESISTANCE IS INSIDIOUS

Resistance will tell you anything to keep you from doing your work. It will perjure, fabricate, falsify; seduce, bully, cajole. Resistance is protean. It will assume any form, if that’s what it takes you deceive you. It will reason with you like a lawyer or jam a nine-millimeter in your face like a stickup man. Resistance has no conscience. It will pledge anything to get a deal, then double-cross you as soon as your back is turned. If you take Resistance at its word, you deserve everything you get. Resistance is always lying and always full of shit.

– Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

meatless monday: a meatless san francisco roundup

Delfina, SF.

I’m in my favorite U.S. city, hanging out and eating and drinking all kinds of goodies! We’re in the Salad Bowl of the country, people! Who needs meat! Here’s a roundup of some of my favorite meatless meals, a blast from the past when I once called myself (briefly) a San Franciscan…go Giants!

Huevos Rancheros from Boogaloos in the Mission. Perfectly salty beans, runny eggs, warm corn tortillas.

Potato, carrot, mushroom burrito with extra special sauce from Papalote. Add guac duh.

A late-morning cappuccino and saffron vanilla bean Snickerdoodle from Blue Bottle in the Ferry Building.

While we’re at the Ferry Building: a light lunch at Mijita: a salad of jicama, grapefruit, avocado and pumpkin seeds.

A simple spaghetti dinner at Delfina, with seasonal plum tomatoes, garlic, extra virgin olive oil, peperoncini. Sit outside if you can.

Head to the Marina. Pizza Ricotta at A16 is where it’s at: sea salt, ricotta, arugula, olio nuovo. Sit at the counter if you can.

Richmond bound? It’s Aziza for Moroccan. Couscous, fig, eggplant, chickpea, flatbread to die for.

Pretty much need to round out any day with a little somethin’-somethin’ from Bi-Rite Creamery. How about a S’more Ice Cream Pie? A little scoop of toasted coconut ice cream? Add a lemon gingersnap cookie, son.

wednesday wisdom: jabberwocky

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April is National Poetry Month, and since we’re all about the words around here, each Wednesday Wisdom will be a celebration of poetry, the forgotten art. I have a very distinct association of “Jabberwocky” to my fifth grade class at Buckingham Elementary: I had to memorize the whole thing, and was also responsible for interpreting and illustrating a Jubjub bird. Made famous in Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There, this is my first introduction into glorious nonsense, and is forever etched into my brain.

Jabberwocky
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought —
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

– Lewis Carroll, 1871

meatless monday: cauliflower crust pizza

yum courtesy of Eat-Drink-Smile.com

Here’s one more from my cousin’s Pinterest: cauliflower crust pizza. Have been meaning to make this for ages, and I vow to do just that, next week, in San Francisco, for Round 2 of Cookin’ With My Cuz. A regular feature here on Meatless Monday? One can only hope.

Cauliflower Crust Pizza
via Eat. Drink. Smile.

1 c. cooked, riced cauliflower
1 c. shredded mozzarella cheese
1 egg, beaten
1 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 tsp. crushed garlic
1/2 tsp. garlic salt
olive oil (optional)

pizza sauce, shredded cheese, & your choice of meatless toppings* (SL NOTE: fave toppings: cremini mushrooms, sliced green apple, parmesan, a generous squirt of Sriracha, topped with fresh arugula). 

To “Rice” the Cauliflower:
Take 1 large head of fresh cauliflower, remove stems and leaves, chop the florets into chunks. Add to food processor and pulse until it looks like grain. Do not over-do pulse or you will puree it. (If you don’t have a food processor, you can grate the whole head with a cheese grater). Place the riced cauliflower into a microwave safe bowl and microwave for 8 min. (some microwaves are more powerful than others, so you may need to reduce this cooking time). There is no need to add water, as the natural moisture in the cauliflower is enough to cook itself.

One large head should produce approx. 3 c. of riced cauliflower. The remainder can be used to make additional pizza crusts immediately, or can be stored in the refrigerator for up to one week.

To Make the Pizza Crust:
Preheat oven to 450. Spray a cookie sheet with non-stick cooking spray. In a medium bowl, stir together 1 c. cauliflower, egg and mozzarella. Add oregano, crushed garlic and garlic salt, stir. Transfer to the cookie sheet, and using your hands, pat out into a 9″ round. Optional: Brush olive oil over top of mixture to help with browning. Bake for 15 min.

Remove from oven. To the crust, add sauce, toppings and cheese. Place under a broiler at high heat just until cheese is melted (approximately 3-4 min).

*Note that toppings need to be precooked since you are only broiling for a few min.

wednesday wisdom: poem in your pocket day

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April is National Poetry Month. Tomorrow (April 18) is National Poem In Your Pocket Day. Celebrating is easy: pick your favorite poem, put it in your pocket. Share it with your friends, family, co-workers, and fellow wordsmiths throughout the day. Tweet your #pocketpoem. Download a pocket poem  for you and your kidlets. I’m going with this one by Claude McKay, because it reminds me that us New Yorkers are a hodgepodge of displaced peoples from the world over, seeking familiarity, comfort, a good piece of fruit. Will you celebrate with me?

The Tropics of New York
Bananas ripe and green, and ginger root
Cocoa in pods and alligator pears,
And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit,
Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs,

Sat in the window, bringing memories
of fruit-trees laden by low-singing rills,
And dewy dawns, and mystical skies
In benediction over nun-like hills.

My eyes grow dim, and I could no more gaze;
A wave of longing through my body swept,
And, hungry for the old, familiar ways
I turned aside and bowed my head and wept.

– Claude McKay, Jamaican-American writer

love letters to the cities we love

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Have you ever been to Boston? My first time in the city I was 18, and roadtripping with my dad through the Northeast on a college tour. We landed at Logan and headed downtown to a pub, where Dad drank a Sam Adams and we ate clam chowder at the bar and watched the second half of a Celtics game. This was November of 2000, post-presidential elections. Florida was all over the news and we watched CNN every night in hotels across New England. It was cold. Boston was dark, old-feeling, so extremely historical and American-y for this Oregon child. But it was also lively, loud, and passionate.

I started thinking about personal impressions of Boston yesterday afternoon. I had to first ensure a runner friend was safe (and continue to follow her here). After shock wears off and facts start to surface, we tend to get reflective. We think about how we know a place, as a hometown, favorite vacation, a one-night-stand, a layover. Even NYC declares its love.

What kinds of memories and feelings come up when you put a city into the context of your experiences? Love letters to a place are as authentic and powerful as a love letter to, say, an actual lover. People have been doing this for years, giving thanks for a magical moment, waxing poetic over a wonderful meal with a wonderful new friend, confessing an infuriating challenge about public transit or an overly passionate run-in with a drunken sports fanatic, crying out a tearful goodbye when leaving (by choice or not).

• Joan Didion famously wrote “Goodbye to All That,” a sort of angry love letter to New York, when she left the city for California: I can remember now, with a clarity that makes the nerves in the back of my neck constrict, when New York began for me, but I cannot lay my  finger upon the moment it ended… 
• In her “Open Letter to Los Angeles,” artist Stacy Dacheux writes how the empty, gutted carcass of the Capitol Records building mirrored her own distress during long years of toil in the place she is desperate to love. 
• Mario Batali has the best summer meals of his life in Traverse City, Michigan, and opened his heart to the “midwest’s gem” in a love letter published by Huffington Post. 
• The Beastie Boys’ post-9/11 tribute, “An Open Letter to NYC,” recalls city childhoods: buying sneakers on Fulton Street and getting kicked out of Bleecker Bob’s. 
• A visual declaration of love, Doug Aitken’s “MIRROR” at the Seattle Art Museum has airplane hangars and Seattle skyscrapers melting into mountains and forests of the Pacific Northwest.

A little more effort to love our places, and our people, this week. xx

meatless monday: cookin’ with my cuz

My cousin Lindsey was in town last week for work. She’s such a treat. She came bearing gifts of Bay Area beans (house fave Four Barrel, the new Sightglass), Bi-Rite’s honey caramel chocolates with sea salt, a huge jar of Papalote habanero salsa, and a gorgeous handwoven scarf from India. We enjoyed the fab weather (No jackets! No tights!), drank fab wine and whipped up a fab meal together: Gnocchi with Squash & Sweet Corn, inspired (as ever) by Pinterest, adapted by us.

gnocchi goodness.

We added some Brussels sprouts, sauteed and thrown on top, to add a dash green in this dish. The thing is, you can load this up with tons of veggies and work with a very light potato gnocchi and just a sprinkle of goat cheese. Make veg your base, and gnocchi and cheese more of a garnish. Promise you won’t miss the oodles of pasta at all. Light and springy with a green salad side.

I wish I had taken a photo of beautiful Lins while she was here. Instead, enjoy this little ditty; it always gets in my head when my cuz is in town. Recipe follows. Happy Meatless!

Gnocchi with Squash, Sweet Corn & Brussels Sprouts
adapted from The Kitchn
serves 2 to 4

1 (16 oz.) package vacuum-sealed gnocchi (or fresh gnocchi)
4 tbsp. unsalted butter, divided
1 small zucchini, very thinly sliced
1 small yellow squash, very thinly sliced
1 c. sweet yellow corn kernels
2 c. Brussels sprouts, cut in quarters
2 small cloves garlic, peeled and minced
Squeeze of lemon
2 oz. soft goat cheese
1 tbsp. finely chopped flat leaf parsley
Salt and pepper to taste

Bring a pot of water to a boil. Add gnocchi and cook as directed. Drain and return to the pot. Toss warm gnocchi with 1 tbsp. butter, set aside.

Meanwhile, melt remaining 3 tbsp. of butter in a large, flat-sided sauté pan over medium heat. Cook butter until it begins to bubble and turn light golden brown, about 3 min. Add the zucchini, squash, corn, Brussels and garlic; sauté until warmed through, another 2 – 3 min.

Turn off heat and stir the cooked gnocchi into the vegetables. Add a generous squeeze of lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a serving bowl and top with small hunks of goat cheese and a sprinkling of chopped parsley.

wednesday wisdom: the iron road

giovanni pascoli.

April is National Poetry Month, and since we’re all about the words around here, each Wednesday Wisdom will be a celebration of poetry, the forgotten art. Giovanni Pascoli is an Italian poet, and one whose verses I scratched onto notecards and taped to my bathroom mirror: “Il sogno è l’infinita ombra del Vero” (The dream is the infinite shadow of Truth).

The Iron Road

Between embankments, where the cattle graze
in peace, the railroad stretches out in a straight,
dark brown line that glimmers from afar;

in the pearl sky, the telegraph poles create
another line in their aerial plot beside
the tracks, and in shrinking order, disappear.

What sort of rumbling moans and roaring howls
crescendo, then vanish, like a women’s wail?
An immense, resounding harp, from time to time,
these metal lines ring out across the wind.

– Giovanni Pascoli, translated from the Italian by Lawrence Venuti

meatless monday: reminiscing, college basketball, citrus salad

line up yer citrus. via smittenkitchen.com

On this particular Monday, exactly ten years ago, I:

1. Was a second-year undergrad at Syracuse University.
2. Wore my hair in a bouncy blonde bob and really loved corduroy pants and the frozen yogurt machine at Kimmel Dining Hall.
3. Was feverishly preparing a year-long journalism project, one of the most important of my academic career, that I was to present to my MAG 208 class the next morning at 10am.
4. Was absolutely, 100 percent transfixed by our amazing basketball team, known then as the Orangemen.
5. Was completely stressed out about that evening’s game, the Championship one, in which my Orangemen would take on Kansas.
6. Was about to experience one of the most memorable events of my life, when the Cuse beat Kansas in a buzzer beater for the history books, 81-78.

I wish very badly that I had a photo of that magical night at the Carrier Dome, where I joined thousands of other students, my roommates, and SU fans and watched the victory, live from New Orleans, on a giant screen. But picture-taking cellphones did not exist yet (and did I even have a regular cellphone? I think maybe not), and digital cameras were really expensive. I can close my eyes and remember it with great clarity, though.

I had sincerely hoped that this feeling would be repeated with a Syracuse win on Saturday, over Michigan, to take them to this evening’s Championship against Louisville. Everything is in place for that kind of magic: the team is excellent, Coach Boeheim is celebrated with over 900 wins in his career, and it’s been 10 years since they last won, and I’m a great believer in symmetry like that. But it was not to be.

I have coping mechanisms to deal with disappointments like this, because I’m an adult. And as a show of unity to my fallen champions, tonight’s dinner is nothing more than a meatless tribute (and a use for the last oranges of the season): mixed citrus salad with feta and mint. Adapted from Smitten Kitchen, inspired by Sorella‘s cara cara orange and ricotta salad from last night’s anniversary dinner with M, and dedicated to the 2012-2013 Syracuse Orange season, which was phenomenal.

citrus salad, image by smittenkitchen.com

Mixed Citrus Salad with Feta & Mint

3 to 4 tbsp. red onion, diced
4 pieces of citrus, preferably a mix of grapefruits, oranges, tangerines, & mineola
1 tbsp. red wine vinegar or lemon juice
1 tsp. smooth Dijon mustard
1 tbsp. olive oil
Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
3 – 4 tbsp. (1.5 oz.) feta cheese, chopped or crumbled
1 tbsp. fresh mint, chopped or cut into tiny slivers

Place your red onion in the bottom of a medium bowl. Nest a strainer over the bowl.

Prepare your citrus fruits by beveling the stem end of one, cutting enough off that you reveal the pith-free flesh of the fruit. Repeat on the other end. Rest your fruit on one of its now-flat surface and begin cutting the peel and pith off in large, vertical pieces. You want the fruit’s exterior to be “white”-free. Turn the fruit back on its side and cut it into 1/4-in. thick wheels, removing any seeds and thick white stem as you do. Place the wheels and any collected juices from the cutting board in the strainer over the bowl with onion. Repeat with remaining citrus fruits. (As the extra juices drip over the bowl, it will soften the raw onion bite.)

Spread fruit slices out on a platter. Scoop out the onion bits (a slotted spoon or fork does the trick) and sprinkle them over, leaving the juice in the bowl. Whisk one tablespoon of juice (this is all I had accumulated) with red wine vinegar or lemon juice, Dijon and olive oil. Season with salt and freshly cracked black pepper. Drizzle the dressing over the citrus, sprinkle with feta and mint, adjust salt and pepper to taste, serve immediately.

wednesday wisdom: charles simic

charles simic.

April is National Poetry Month, and since we’re all about the words around here, each Wednesday Wisdom will be a celebration of poetry, the forgotten art. Our first poem is by Charles Simic, one of my favorite poets ever, a Serbian-American who writes shadowy, honest verses like “Dear Friedrich, the world’s still false, cruel and beautiful” and who wrote the poem below.

Against Winter

The truth is dark under your eyelids.
What are you going to do about it?
The birds are silent; there’s no one to ask.
All day long you’ll squint at the gray sky.
When the wind blows you’ll shiver like straw.

A meek little lamb you grew your wool
Till they came after you with huge shears.
Flies hovered over open mouth,
Then they, too, flew off like the leaves,
The bare branches reached after them in vain.

Winter coming. Like the last heroic soldier
Of a defeated army, you’ll stay at your post,
Head bared to the first snow flake.
Till a neighbor comes to yell at you,
You’re crazier than the weather, Charlie.

– Charles Simic

april spotlight on: muladhara (root) chakra

The next seven months will be dedicated to the study of each of the seven chakras. Chakras are centers of prana (energy, life force) that align down the spine and correspond to vital points in the physical body, including nerve endings, arteries, and major organs. Brush up on the meaning of the seven main chakras here, and take this quiz to find out which of your chakras are under-active, overactive, and which are perfectly, beautifully balanced. 

Working with the energetic body can be a highly mysterious, highly rewarding experience. When you integrate an energetic practice with your physical yoga practice, a deeper understanding of Self will come to you. The union of the physical, spiritual, mental and emotional bodies (which, lest we forget, is the true essence of yoga) is our objective; unblocking stuck, stagnant energy is the method.

image courtesy of Fit Yoga Magazine.

Starting with Muladhara Chakra, or the Root Chakra, makes sense. We’re working from the ground up, instilling a strong, stable foundation, a connection to the earth. Muladhara is all about rooting and is associated with our basic needs for survival: food, water, shelter, family, and the material world. Muladhara governs our relationship to our physical body and its issues, and on a very archaic level, our territorial needs.

At its best, a balanced Muladhara Chakra gives us feelings of being grounded, confident, secure, and able to sufficiently relate to others without feeling threatened. You trust others and yourself, but have a strong sense of realism and discernment. You live in the present and have a wide field of perception. You’re earthy.

An under-active Muladhara might lead to feeling insecure, nervous, full of anxiety. You live in your head and let thoughts, memories and feelings (particularly negative ones) overwhelm you.

An overactive Muladhara creates greed, selfishness, and materialistic tendencies. The mind gets obsessive about possessions and keeping staying secure, particularly financially. Even though you have a strong sense of self and your place in the world, you might not be grounded enough to take responsibility for your actions.

So how do you work with Muladhara to balance it out? On a practical, physical level, focus on standing asanas in your yoga practice, particularly poses like Tree, the Warriors, High Lunge, and Triangle, all of which require a strong foundation in the legs and hips.

When meditating, visualize red, Muladhara’s healing color. Draw your focus to your tailbone, the base of your spine, and see that pulsating wheel of vivid red. Also visualize the element earth, and think of heavy forms of earth: clay, lava, and coarse, nutrient-rich dirt. Think of the very best aspects of earth: grounding, strengthening, focus, dignity, trust, balance. Manifest these qualities in your yoga practice, then take them off your mat and into your life.

wednesday wisdom: the rising

via pinterest.

One day
your soul will call to you
with a holy rage.
“Rise up!” it will say …
“Stand up inside your own skin.”
Unmask your unlived life …
feast on your animal heart.
Unfasten your fist …
let loose the medicine
in your own hand.
Show me the lines …
I will show you the spoor
of the ancestors.
Show me the creases …
I will show you
the way to water.
Show me the folds …
I will show you the furrows
for your healing.
“Look!” it will say …
the line of life has four paths –
one with a mirror
one with a mask,
one with a fist,
one with a heart.
One day,
your soul will call to you
with a holy rage.

–Ian McCallum, English guitarist & poet

meatless monday: grilled cheese is a dangerous kind of meatless

murray’s cheese bar did it up right with a “secret cheese blend” (buttery) and smoky tomato soup (image via serious eats).

This weekend was The Big Cheesy, an annual competition of local restaurants, food trucks, and cheese mongers, to create the world’s best grilled cheese. The ever-humble sandwich of childhood lunches (who doesn’t remember sliced cheddar on buttered bread served with a side of Campbell’s tomato soup?) has come a long, long way. And yes, taste-testing grilled cheese sandwiches for an hour was as amazing as it sounds.

A few of the meatless standouts from the lively throwdown: Sons of Essex did a version with gruyere, goat cheese, and parmesan blend, and added some sautéed mushrooms and arugula. Say Cheese busted out a clever concoction of Swiss, gruyere and parmesan on sourdough, with a schmear of homemade French onion soup compote (they also did a dessert grilled cheese: S’mores on a sweet brioche). Tom Colicchio’s ‘wichcraft did a simple, unassuming fontina and mushroom number that was so perfectly crunchy and gooey that I had to go back for a second sample. See all the competitors’ here.

Looking outside at our wickedly nasty Northeast “spring” (whipping winds and, natch, snow), a little grilled cheese and tomato soup lunch sounds about right for today. Here’s to recreating a classic. xx

wednesday wisdom: old wisdom & new wisdom