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Oh, Just Go | A Renewal

something has kept me la-stuck and states-stuck… i’m trying to get all un-


I carried around the pictures for my new passport for two weeks.  They sat at the bottom of my purse.  The drugstore cardstock packaging taking the weight of the day’s junk that traveled to and from work.  Occasionally, I’d sneak a peek at the woman who would look back at me for the next 10 years.  It’s like I needed to get used to seeing the Me that other people see, hoping that she really was as happy as she seemed.  I was in the post office putting the packet of info, expired passport, money and photos together when I couldn’t help but place the new pictures next to the old one sealed into the book of state-sanctioned memories.  I was a little surprised that I didn’t look that much different or older.

Here’s the thing: I’m a little embarrassed that my passport expired almost two years ago.  Yes, embarrassed.  It’s like one of my big “You Are So Stuck” signposts.  I guess maybe because the reasons I put it off are manufactured by fear, fear of things lost and being afraid of just letting go.  I’ve been fretting about the how much it cost and really didn’t want to turn in the old book to get the new.  You know, flipping through it reminded me that I’d been places.  Well, I forgot to copy the pages with those beloved “You Were In My Country” stamps and waiting made it cost more, duh.  Expedite, pls.

So, now, I’m counting the days.  Not ‘til I fly, fly, fly, but until I can follow the renewal process.  We’re leaving in a month and I’m a dork with a tracking number.

Nikki♥

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Tigress’ Can Jam | Ohhh, Peaches (Sept)

summer summer fruit… it wouldn’t be summer without ’em*

Have you ever had a conversation that really would be thought of as inappropriate if overheard?  Man, these peaches could’ve gotten me into lots of trouble.

September’s TCJ produce: Stone Fruit.  I picked peaches and lost my mind fairly quickly.  Umm, yeah.  Sorry, I only put up a super tiny batch because I couldn’t stop eating them.

Seriously, I went to the farmers’ market near work twice.  I went to two different grocery stores.  All had good local peaches.  All got EATEN.

They were these big, beautiful, ripe and juicy things that wanted to be spoken of in lush, seductive terms.  Smelling so light and sweet.  All that peachy-ness dancing on air, tempting me.  My guilty hands covered in nectar.

See what i mean?  They were the best kind of trouble.  So. Damn. Good.

At the office, they were so enticing that I wasn’t surprised only a few made it home.  When I tried to explain to a co-worker how amazing they were, he started looking around for HR.

They really were the perfect example of why eating seasonally and locally is so important, at least where taste is concerned.  I decided the few peaches I had left should get the simplest treatment possible.

Gently Gingered Peaches
Adapted from the basic peach recipe in Linda J Amendt’s  Blue Ribbon Preserves

Makes 2 Pints or 1 quart

2-3 lbs of firm, ripe, unblemished peaches
2 cups of water
¾ cup of sugar
4 cups of cold water
1 tablespoon of antioxidant crystals or ascorbic acid crystals (hey there fruit fresh)
Fresh ginger coin slice (1/8th in thick) (if using pints cut in half)

Rinse peaches in cool water.

Sterilize jars and lids.

In a 4 quart pan, combine the 2 cups of water and ginger with the sugar.  Stir until sugar is dissolved over med-high heat.  Once dissolved, turn the heat up and bring it to a boil.  Boil for 5 minutes.  Reduce heat to low, cover and keep syrup hot until needed.

In a large bowl, combine the 4 cups of cold water and antioxidant crystals.  Stir until the crystals are completely dissolved.

Peeling that peach: fill a pan about half full of water and bring it to a simmer.  Fill another large bowl with ice water.  Carefully lower the peaches a few at a time into the water for about 30 seconds.  Remove the peaches and get them into the ice bath for a minute or two.  Repeat the whole thing with the rest of your peaches.

Using a sharp paring knife, carefully skin them peaches.  Cut each peach in half and remove the pit.   Using a spoon, carefully remove the red stuff  from the center of the peaches.  Umm, this might take practice or a pitting spoon.  Mine didn’t look super pretty, more gutted.  But, whatever.

Place the halved fruit in the antioxidant solution.  Don’t leave longer than 20 minutes.  Remove the peaches from their “please-don’t-turn-mangy-colors” bath.  Rinse thoroughly and drain well.

Add peaches to the hot syrup.  Over medium heat, let the peaches cook for 3-4 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Remove the pan from the heat.

Add ¼ cup of hot syrup into each jar.  Pack the peaches, cut side down,  into the jars, leaving a ½ inch headspace.

So, ummm, I, apparently, stopped here thinking that was, you know, it. I covered the peaches and added the ginger to the jar.  Checked for air bubbles and processed in the hot water bath.

Well, that wasn’t it.  Here are the rest of Linda’s directions.  I’m about to eat my peaches that I put up and start over.

Place a sieve over a medium saucepan and line the sieve with 3-4 layers of clean, damp cheesecloth.  Strain the syrup through the cheesecloth.  Over med-high heat, quickly bring the syrup to a boil.  Remove the pan from the heat.

Ladle the hot syrup in to the jars, covering the peaches and leaving ½ inch headspace.  Using a bubble freer or a plastic knife, remove any trapped air bubbles.  Hold the jar up and check from the bottom for any air bubbles trapped under the fruit.  If necessary, add more syrup to maintain headspace.  Wipe the jar rims and triads with a clean, damp cloth.  Cover with hot lids and apply screw rings.  Process pint jars in water bath for 20 minutes, quart jars for 25 minutes.

I think the last step will stick now that I’ve typed it for you.  Woo-hoo.

TheNikkiBits: Well, you saw the reading comprehension part isn’t really my strong suit when it comes to recipes.  I kinda just want to finish.  Looks like I know what I’m having for brekkie in the am.  Wait, why did I just envision a bit of good vanilla ice cream volunteering to be the bed for that peach dream?  Oh, and I’ve already sipped a little of the syrup that was left over.  I can’t wait to get a little licka to go with it.  I might even try to rock a ginger peach soju cocktail this evening.  Mmmm…. Yeahh…

What’sNext: Back to the Farmers’ Market on Sunday to see if there are more yellow beauties to behold and be canned.

Nikki♥

*does anyone remember that commercial?

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No Shame | My Own Private Twilight

I realized as the bus passed and her face on its side caught my eye that I have some questionable cinematic loyalties.  My disdain for Twilight’s immense popularity got put in check when it became clear that my heart raced a little faster as the letters on the poster ticked the OMG box.  A new Resident Evil.  Milla! Milla! Milla!

Years ago, I was clicking aimlessly looking for something to still my hand and mind, when I came upon some cable channel that figured out a new way to steal a couple of hours of my time, repeatedly.

(Sci-Fi+Action-y+GunsandZombies) x MILLA + 1/8 CausticMichelleRodriguez vs. TheMan/TheSystem/TheCompany =  Fun Times!

So, I watched.  Kinda liked.  And watched, again.  Kinda loved.

Are we talking 5stars on Netflix?  Come on, now.  No.  I don’t expect a “cinematic tour de force” from Resident Evil; I expect a good time.  Have they even all been that?  Well, actually, no.  But it’s the possibility that it could be as good a whole as all the kick-ass elements that sucks me in.  I guess in some ways I just want the first five minutes of the Matrix repeated in different ways with different people for 90 minutes.

I dig the Resident Evil series.  I just do.  I want to see some girl kicking zombie tail and going after “The Man” for causing the destruction of,  you know, errything.  Unless there is something so disturbing that it makes me uncomfortable and it unwatchable, besides Ashanti*, I’m in.

This thing I have for Resident Evil, is it Twilight tent and sleeping bag love?  Enough to spend days in line for tickets or something?  Ummm, I don’t do that.  Or let’s be clearer, the last time I slept out for tickets Prince hadn’t changed his name yet and he could get me to do anything.

It’s funny how I start to overthink the fact that I just like something.  It’s as if scary fun can’t be enough and I’ve got to slag the object of my affection a bit in the process.  How can I have “No Shame,” yet still be trying to save face?

Let me watch the trailer and get hyped again.  brb.

That worked.

Yay!  Resident Evil: Afterlife is playing at The Arclight.  We haven’t talked about how  really special I am about where I’ll venture off into the darkness, have we? Maybe later.

Tonight, I’m going to finish watching Architectures 5 and maybe, Un Prophète with the director’s commentary while sipping on yuppie Night Train aka Two Buck Chuck.  But, for real, can it be Friday?  Now.

Nikki♥

(*Sorry, Ashanti.  See Resident Evil:Extinction)

Since I’m feeling all open, I’ll admit to my other head-scratcher and publicly pout about the ones that did me wrong.

Another Questionable Allegiance & A Couple of Painful Betrayals
Underworld: Yes.  Period.  Umm, Hi Kate.  Can you tell Bill I said, “Hey?”

Alien/Aliens: Nothing exists in my world post-Fincher.  And that one hurt.  Alien vs. huh?  Seriously, why?  And please don’t even think about a prequel.  Please.

Hellraiser: After Pinhead In Space aka Hellraiser IV:Bloodline, I got off that ride.  So did the everyone else.  Hello, Direct-to-Video.

Mission: Impossible to get me back into a theater.  Wait…  Did you say Simon Pegg?

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No Shame | I’ve Cried BoyBand Tears

i can explain

I cried at a New Edition/Bobby Brown/Al B. Sure show.

Ummm, yeah.  The girls around me thought I was all boyband overwhelmed.  Naw. General Admission.  A couple thousand girls packed together trying to get some dude’s attention.  I was being pushed and, hello, had nowhere to go.  Oh, and I was having problems catching my breath.

Of course, the crying made the breathing thing worse.  I thought I was going to DIE.  No, really.  I thought I was going to die alone at a New Edition concert.  Die surrounded by girls who thought I was hysterical in anticipation.  Like I couldn’t wait for Ronnie, Ricky, Ralph and ‘nem* to be thrusting mightily towards me.  Umm, no.

Maybe it was those furrowed brows of pity that got me to stop hyper-everything-ing.  Cause at some point, stuck in the middle of the coliseum floor, I figured I might as well enjoy myself in the swell.  I sang along to every word of every song on Heart Break like every other girl there.  Okay with not knowing where I’d be standing once the music stopped.

I went to many a rock show after that and dudes in the pit had nothing on those chicks.  Those girls taught me to hold my own.  They taught me well.

Nikki♥

*Sorry, Mike & Johnny.

♥:Wait.  You do know this story is like 20 years old, right?  Not ashamed, but, ummm… I want to be REAL clear…

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Tigress’ Can Jam | My First Tomato (August)

oh, i like this…


I’m canning on the road this month.  I packed up some *new* jars, the Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving from LAPL, a small bottle of commercial lemon juice and headed to West Hollywood.

I was really excited that this month’s produce coincided with my trip across town to Chez P+K.  It’s the first time I’ve gotten a chance to put up something homegrown from the backyard.  The backyard on the other side of the kitchen window.  Pam’s plants were producing aplenty.  I was all giddy knowing that she was setting aside some freshly plucked off the vine for me.  And my goodness, they were beautiful .

Oh, yeah.  I have new jars.  Non-Weck jars.  Surprise.  I knew that I wanted to can some of Pam’s tomatoes and leave them as a gift.  So, just to be super safe, I thought it might be a good move on my part to expand my jar-i-sphere.

I’d been looking through lots of canning books for recipes.  Simple, easy, SIMPLE recipes.  I really got into the Ball section on tomatoes.  I appreciated that the hefty section had the recipes separated by process, water-bath and pressure canner.  Thoughtfully explaining the use of commercial lemon juice to ensure proper acidity for water-bath canning, as well as, talking about all that separation anxiety.  It made me feel really confident and comfortable about what has probably been my easiest canning experience to date.

By now, you should know my middle name is “Can’t-Leave-Well-Enough-Alone.”  I did go off-book adding a fresh herb instead of the dried used in the Herbed Tomato recipes a few pages later.

Tomatoes Packed in Water

Umm, from the Ball Book…

Tomatoes
Commercial Lemon Juice
Kosher Salt

Prep your canner and sterilize your jars.
Wash those pretty tomatoes.
Set a pot of water to boil.  Set up a bowl of ice water.
Working in small batches, make a small X in the bottom of the tomatoes.  Put them in the boiling water for 30-60 seconds or until the skin starts to crack.
Place the tomatoes in the ice bath and peel off the skin.
Core the tomatoes.  You can leave them whole, halve or quarter them.
In a non-reactive pot/saucepan, add a layer of tomatoes.  Just cover with water.
Bring to a boil over medium-ish high heat.
When it begins to boil, lower temperature and cook for 5 minutes.
In the quart jars, place 2 tablespoons of commercial lemon juice. 1 teaspoon of salt.
In pint jars, add 1 tablespoon of commercial lemon juice and ½ teaspoon of salt.
Fill jars.  Use cooking water to top off tomatoes.  Leave a ½ inch of headspace.
Process 40 minutes for pints, 45 for quarts.

TheNikkiBits: So, yeah.  CLWEA added fresh basil and crushed red pepper to one quart of the tomatoes with the lemon juice and salt.  The other quart got ½ teaspoon of both ground cumin and coriander.  From a bottle.  Not my first choice, but hey I wasn’t at home and I was feeling inspired.  I threw in a few black peppercorns, as well.  I had some left over cooking water.  By itself, it was AMAzing.  Fragrant, with a surprising depth.  Used it to fill out my go-to tomato and goat cheese pasta sauce.

What’sNext: Okay.  I really want it to be winter.  But, wait.  I need put up lots more jars of tomatoes, first.  I can’t wait to get home and put cumin seeds in the mortar and pestle.  I want to make chili and curries and MMMmmm…  Wow. I’m hungry and excited.  First, though, I’m going to put up a couple of quarts of tomatoes for Pam.  Simple and Plain.  CLWEA is going to be locked in a room somewhere.

While everything else we’ve done, during Tigress’ Can Jam this year, has been a fun and tasty learning experience, this really has been the month that makes better something I already do as opposed to hipping me to something new.  Ummm, Tinned Tomatoes.  See Ya!

My birthday is quickly approaching.  I think I need a food mill.  Hmmmm.  Mommy!

Nikki♥

LAPL – Los Angeles Public Library… I ♥ that place, hardcore.

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UnderTheInfluence | Dr. Albert C. Barnes

art. evokes emotion. inspires ideas. requires action.

The Art of The Steal came in the mail today.  The end credits have rolled and I’ve just pressed pause.  Seriously, my head and heart ache.  The art, that Dr. Barnes was touched by and collected, changed my life.

Dr. Barnes created a home for that art on a piece property a little less than five miles from Philadelphia that showcases an unbelievable collection amassed by just one person.

There’s a point in the film where you get to really see what Dr. Barnes wanted from his space.  He used it to teach and draw connections between art and life and people.  His wanted to educate, not just display.

As the camera pans the gallery, there are a few Modiglianis that share the same wall as African masks in a glass cabinet.  I was struck.  That moment took me back almost 20 years to a connection I made on my own that would open my eyes to so much.

In the summer of ’93, before my best friend moved to New York, we braved the crowds at the National Gallery of Art to see the paintings from the collection of the Barnes Foundation.  I stood there looking at one of Modigliani’s reclining women.

It was like I’d never seen a painting that meant anything to me before.  Never seen a painting that stopped me and wouldn’t let go.  Never one, in a town full of museums, that was so different, yet as familiar as the mostly African and African-American art that lived all over my mom’s house.

I made that connection between what was on the walls of the National Gallery of Art and what was at home.  I got that her face was like the masks and figures that I looked at every day. But, I also stood a foot from color I’d never felt so vibrant.  Layers of color that drew me in.  The tones of someone else’s skin against a couch so rich, so deep and textured. I don’t remember any other painting I saw that day.

That Modigliani that Dr. Barnes made a part of his legacy didn’t change my life in a way that made me want to be a painter, want to work in a gallery or dive headlong into the art world.  In a way, it just gave me permission.  Permission to believe in what I was drawn to and to allow myself to want to know more while feeling a little less intimidated.

After watching The Art Of The Steal, I would give that all up for the collection to have never been able to travel.  I knew back then that this was NOT what the good Dr. wanted.  I just didn’t know that it was the beginning of what seems to be one of those long cons that has played out over the last two decades.

I only hope that those folks with dollar signs in their eyes aren’t the only ones that win in the end.

Nikki♥

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Tigress’ Can Jam | Linda’s Gingery Watermelon Pickles (July)

yeah… this has been a weird one…


As always, I was soooo excited to do this month’s canning.  When I first read that we were entering the cucurbit world, I got all goofy about it.  It wasn’t even hot enough in LA to fully enjoy the refreshing goodness of watermelons, but I was buying and eating.  And the canning of the rind was what I wanted to do.

I liked both Linda Ziedrich’s The Joy of Pickling and Bryant Terry’s Vegan Soul Kitchen recipes for the rind, but couldn’t decide between them.  Then, things got complicated.  Well, the discussion of race in the country and under my window took over.

I started avoiding my rind and avoiding this post.  I’m not sure if I’ve ever shied away from eating watermelon in diverse company, but I wasn’t finding the nuanced, fun way to talk about watermelon, race and my canning of the lovely rind.  The week started getting heavier than I expected.  Then, it just got away from me.

I’ll come back and update over the weekend with more.  I think I’ll be on the other side of this.

Gingery Watermelon Pickles
adapted from Linda Ziedrich’s The Joy of Pickling

1/8 cup pickling salt
2 cups of water
3 cups of rind

syrup
1/2 lemon, thinly sliced
1/2 cinnamon stick
1/4 teaspoon whole cardamom seeds
1/4 teaspoon whole cloves
1/2 inch piece of fresh ginger sliced
1/2 cup of water
1/2 cup of white wine vinegar
1 cup of sugar

Hellllllo! Eat your watermelon down to the rind.  Pink, be gone.  Removed the green skin.  I used a veg peeler.  Cut up your rind into bite size pieces.  In a bowl, dissolve the salt in 2cups of water.  Add the rind and let it soak for 6 to 12 hours.  I let it soak overnight.

Drain and rinse the rind a few times.  Then, in a non-reactive pot, cover the rind with cold water.  Bring the water to a boil, then let it simmer for 5 min.  Drain the rind and set it aside.

Make a goody pouch from cheesecloth.  Tie up the spices, ginger and lemon.  Add it, along with the water, vinegar and sugar to the pot.  Bring it to a boil, then lower the temp to let the syrup simmer for 5 minutes.  Now, don’t forget to stir, stir, stir.  When the syrup is ready, take it off the heat and add the rind.  Let it sit in the syrup for 12 to 24 hours at room temp.

Prep and sterilize 3 .25L or 1/2 pint jars.  Bring the rind and syrup to a boil.  Then, turn down the heat and simmer until the rind is translucent.  Remove the goody pouch.  Fill jars and water bath process for 10 minutes.

NikkiBits: Linda’s recipe calls for a whole lot more watermelon than I’ve got space for or will carry.  So I’ve tweaked it with my old math skills, but kept it a little heavy on the lemon.

What’s Next: I’m in love. That’s good, right?  Okay, I’m always in love, but whatever.  Next, I need to make Bryant’s Citrus & Spice Pickled Watermelon Rind.

So.  Right.  This weekend.  Let’s maybe revisit this thing.

Nikki♥

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Seen | Ehhhh… Tagged

yeah… the first kind of speaks for the rest…

I heard a bite in a graf doc a few years ago that stuck with me.  The guy said once you notice it, you’ll realize it’s everywhere.  Ummm, okay.  Can the good stuff be everywhere? Or can we not do the new school in the neighborhood?

I don’t know what I feel anymore.  I guess because I see a LOT of it.  We don’t really have pieces around here.  It’s a bunch of tagging, a bit of stencil and old post office stickers.  Some of it is really interesting.  Most of it… eh, not so much.

Nikki♥

The Doc? Bomb It

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The Shoulds | Hiding From The Sun

of course there are things I should do…

The older women in my neighborhood could give a master class in deflecting rays.  From umbrellas and visors to hats and shade stalking, they stay covered.  I should take notes, but I can’t seem to even remember my sunglasses.

Yeah, I’m still not that LA.

Nikki♥

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Mmmm Hmmm | That Jerk Chicken

it’s been a week since we met…

I WANT MOOOOOORRREEEEEE!  Oh, and the watermelon soaked in soju.  Ummm, yeah.  Nice.

As you can see, I’m back on the bird.  Kinda scary cause I was on the bone, too.  I have never, evah, sucked on a chicken bone in my life.  Lawd, the jerk seasoning was kinda worth the awkward moments after.

Nikki♥