I Didn’t Mean to Be Gone, But I’m Back

There’s so much housekeeping to do around here. Being at work and internet-free for a week-plus was absolute torture. And, I can’t even claim to have done much knitting.

I have finished one thing, though:

Notice the little end? Ball join! Not me. I’ll get on it, of course, but I finished it on the subway Sunday night. I even had a darning needle on me so I was able to weave in the ends. I felt very satisfied. Making an entire garter stitch scarf is tiring. Even as you watch in horror while it grows to look more and more like something Rainbow Brite upchucked after a night of too many Jell-o shooters. I’ve toned the photo down a touch so as not to blind you.

Not days before I finally got my grubby little hands on Veganomican, I finally made the VWAV “fronch” toast. Normally, I don’t buy those $10 loaves of gluten-free bread (OK . . . slight exaggeration, but you know . . .), but I went through a sandwich desperation phase last week, which led to this:

This is as close to a reuben as I get to get. Fortunately, it’s really the kraut that makes the reuben because not having tomato in the sauce felt like it could veer into blasphemous territory. I decided not to sub anything for it and just tarted it up with extra pickle relish juice. Delicious. And the sauce dripped down my arm as it should. And even the bread made a valiant attempt to stay together (thank you Food For Life) despite the fact that many commercial gluten-free breads seem to disintegrate on contact. (FYI: the reuben is mostly Isa again. Avocado makes an incredibly Swiss sub.)

Good thing I ran out of tempeh so had enough leftover bread behind to make the luscious “fronch” toast.

I agree that chickpea flour really is some kind of magic. You’ll see what I mean tomorrow. I have all kinds of recipes to type up. I’ve been writing stuff down compliments of the Vegan Pal 2 Swap. I also want to show off all kinds of goodies. My partner was lovely, but I want to give her the attention she deserves (including plugs to her fantastic buttons) so I’m setting that into a post tomorrow where I have more time.

Fair Isle

Truth be told, because I cannot get the free version of Corel Snapfire to function on my work computer and thus, cannot change the directionality of any of my photographs, I thought I would take up space with a few fair isle images. When I mentioned to a knitter friend that I like fair isle, she sort of shuddered a little bit, and I think I know why. My mother is a teacher, after all, and I’ve seen my fair share of fair isle gone seriously wrong. I thought maybe Google would point me in the direction of fair isle that is less fair to look at. But even Googling “reindeer fair isle” was returning completely reasonable results. Nothing was as over the top or hideous as I recalled it being (which, if I am to be truthful yet again, is a bit of the trashy snow bunny appeal fair isle holds for me).

I’m going to point out that this is my WIP now. So any smack talking of example of fair isle above, should happen elsewhere.

You’ll notice I still insisted on knitting it from the bottom up. Of all places where knitting from the top down would make real sense. Ultimately, I was just too lazy to crunch the numbers before I started this one. I wanted to see real progress, preferably as early as possible. And I’m all the way to the bust already (even with so many other things on hooks and needles in my tiny apartment), so I think that strategy worked here. Of course, I neglected to bring my lavender with me to work so progress came to a screeching halt yesterday. But, at least it gave me time to pick up more yarn to complete a gift project (and, lest anyone think I am made of money and yarn, my yarn/food/entertainment budget is the same thing . . . let’s just say I foresee a lot of lentils in my future this month).

Apple Picking

I’ve lived in New York since 1998, but I’m not sure that makes me a city kid. Prior to moving to NYC, I spent a fair amount of time running through the woods in Virginia. My college friend Martha was a bit of a plant expert so we collected some edibles at least a couple of times we were in the wild. But when people say words to me like “camping” or “apple picking” they tend to laugh a little bit, as if there is something horrifically incongrous about the site of me in an orchard or in a tent. And, maybe there is, because I have pictures of the orchard and pictures of apples, but certainly none of me (none of S. though, either, and he was the one who thought this would be a good idea . . . I think he just wanted pie, because one of them is gone already).

It is things like this that make me a little sad about living in New York:

The charming side of fall:

Did I mention that I have a bit of a problem with fall? It’s nothing to do with the weather. It has little to do with what seasonal fruits and vegetables it brings (although I love/hate relationship with the first apples because nothing says welcome to nine months of apples, most of which will be substandard and mealy and sold to you by grocery stores that have held onto them months after the apple’s glory days). I mostly have a problem with fall because I will never be a winter girl, at least as long as I live in a state that has one. Or until I happen upon a vegan winter coat that is both warm and stylish and makes me want to go outside.

We went a little overboard and brought home twenty-six pounds of apples. In case you’re wondering, six pies barely made a dent in twenty-six pounds of apples.
In fact, they barely made a dent in thirteen pounds, because this is what is left from one bag of jonagolds:

And here are some of the pies:

This one has a sweet crust and crumbled snickerdoodle dough on top. Yummy and sweet, appropriate to the jonagolds. I even snuck a special cheesecake one in the mix (although I haven’t cut into it yet).

And now I really need something other than apples because, as good as they are, my stomach and tastebuds are crying out for something different.

So Little to Show for Myself

I went to Boston for a wedding. This is not Boston, though. These are a bunch of stumps off the side of the ferry in New London, Connecticut. I took this picture because I was trying to pretend that I would like the idea of living in Connecticut. Truth be told, I’m not so sure, but I’m afraid that by next year I may not have a choice. It’s nice to have a standing room offered by someone who is not related to me (sorry, Mom and Dad, but there’s a reason we continue to get along . . . I think it is called 3000 miles). I, of course, have still not finished the gift. Which is lame. Especially as you only have a year post-wedding to give the gift before you become a total tool. And as I have a birthday blanket that is two years overdue I’m a little nervous. I should probably start working on the new bride’s baby blanket now, too, in the event that she becomes “with child” anytime in the next five years.

It’s a rare thing to go to a wedding and be able to eat as a vegan, but most of the food at this one was. (OK. It’s also rare for me to go to weddings, but that is another story.) The bride even made sure my allergy-ridden self was covered. I received a lovely grilled vegetable terrine served over lentils studded with artichokes. Lentils are my second-favorite legume, right behind chickpeas and slightly ahead of cannellini beans. I probably wouldn’t normally take pictures of food at a wedding reception, but  food porn somehow felt appropriate given the crowd.

Sadly, last Thursday’s dinner/Friday morning’s breakfast is a little blurry, but oh so good. I might post the recipe for these chickpea-butternut squash fritters soon after I finish with some last minute tweaking. They were particularly lovely with a pomegranate-balsamic reduction. I’m usually too lazy to do reductions, but when I had dinner at FreckleFoot’s about a month ago or so, she reminded me just how good they can be.

There she grows. Remember this? It’s the huge granny square that will be flanked by normal-sized granny squares. Truth be told, it’s a little wonky, but I’ve only been crocheting since April or so, so I’ll do my best not to be too hard on myself. I’m kind of excited because this is a blanket I actually get to keep unlike all of the other soul sucking blankets (sorry to friends and family who shall be receiving blanket gifts . . . they’re lovely and appreciated usually, but they are evil, easily-abandoned crafty endeavors) I have made and am currently making. Although, goodness knows if I’ll have a bed to put it on soon, since I have a bad feeling I’ll be crammed into a tiny room in Connecticut come December. (I’ll speak more of this lately, but if I take the time right now to contemplate how badly my NYC/Brooklyn roommate search is going, I might crawl into what space is left beneath my cubicle.)

Oh. And I’m also patiently waiting on the recipe for this lovely creation:

I was kind of sad to learn that the lovely chickpea cutlets in Isa’s upcoming Veganomicon that everyone has been discussing for ages live and die by gluten. But Isa has more than brought it. Chickpeas and tempeh = love. I can’t wait to make this.

I’ve Been Doing Stuff. I Swear!

I read a book. For non-knitters (although I can’t imagine there is a non-knitter reading this), this might be a confusing point to make. But knitters understand. It’s not that I can’t knit and read at the same time. I can. I cannot, however, knit and hold a book and that is a problem. I would go to craigslist for an official reader, but I could only imagine what sort of perv that would uncover. It was a good book, too. It was first recommended to me by my painter friend, Kent Peterson, when I went to his gallery opening at the ‘temporary Museum. They were showing a series of his drawings, The Red and Black: Drawings As If I Were Blind, which came about when he went blind in one eye and was afraid he might end up as blind. As a painter, this scared the heck out of him, so he blindfolded himself and worked up a nice series of drawings.

The Red & Black: #21