Fall Preparations. Of the Raking and the Baking.

A few weekends back was the 25th annual Prepare Affair.

This year Cincinnati's non-profit construction company People Working Cooperatively coordinated around 3,000 volunteers providing assistance to low income elderly and disabled people.  This year volunteers raked leaves and cleaned gutters and helped out at 1,000 homes in the Cincinnati area.

A charitable endeavor, and more about what you can do with your own hands than how much money you can give.  It was quite stressful playing coordinator for an army of Good-Deed-Doers.  But our good deed was done by noon, with plenty of time to enjoy the gorgeous day we were blessed with.  

Ye, this is how we did procrastinate away from our own leafy mess

Then there came the hustle and bustle of Thanksgiving.  In years past we have gone hither and yon, to D's parents and to my parents, which are both hours away and hours apart.  This year my parents (and my aunt) made the drive down to us... and then slept for a goodly portion of the visit.  I'd like to call "Do-Over!" .... But (sadly) I'm pretty sure this was a one-time Thanksgiving at Casa de O-Town.   

We prepared a dinner of turkey chili and turkey soup for my parents, and a cookie plate.  But the cookies were the real stars, and no mistake.  

punkin cookies and backup tollhouse cookies

The first to disappear were the drool-inducing Brown Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies stuffed with Nutella by AmbitiousKitchen.  I did not add sea salt per her awesome recipe, and only used dark chocolate and milk chocolate chips.  No semi-sweets were added.  These cookies suffered no detriment from my subtractions.  "Enjoy," Monique says, and we did.  There were no survivors. 

By no means do I wish to deter you from making these.  They are my new favorite cookie.  They would have been a knockout without the nutella.  Here I mean to caution you.  When you are trying to delicately ball up chocolate chip cookie dough around nutella, you may suffer a Rage Embollism.  I so nearly did.  D got so enraged that he shook off his hands and stomped out of the kitchen.  The cookies are not pictured in the photo above.  (Those are the Safety Measure Tollhouse cookies that D bought just in case we were Recipe-Betrayed by the internet. ) 

Au contraire.  These cookies were perhaps the best I've ever made.

I took no photos because I was exhausted after handcrafting these Holy OmNom Grenades. (There is Recipe and CookiePorn to be found at AmbitiousKitchen's blogsite) I may not add the nutella next time I make them, but the chocolate chip cookie dough itself is strong enough to stand alone.  But as a Share-Type cookie, these nutella babies will wow your friends and enemies alike.  

The second batch, only slightly less awesome but also a new O-Town Tradition are the Iced Pumpkin Cookies from AllRecipes.  The dough is pictured above.  

These are crazy easy, and gratifying.  They smell and taste fantastic.  We will be making these again too, they are perfect for fall or whenever you want a bit more spice along with your sweet.  

We added cardamom, because we put it in everything we can conceivably put it in.  

Happy Cookie Season!

Nectar: Dinner Club

We had a different sort of dining experience recently at Nectar, in Mt. Lookout.  A piece was recently done on this restaurant in the eating-local-mag EDIBLE), and an acquaintance of ours talked them up.    

We happened upon to visit Nectar during one of their periodic Dinner Club events.  On these nights dinner is a single event with a set menu, designed around a certain theme, the menu is prepared with seasonal, locally farmed ingredients.  We happened upon them for "Products of the Hive," a dinner event designed around the central theme of honey.  

I don't know that I would have sought out goat cheese beignets in my life before this experience, but I now know that I should have.  By god, I should have.  I can't remember being more pleasantly surprised by some unassuming looking dish.  I shamed myself by not allowing the waiter to take away the table's shared plate until I'd eaten no less than three.  I blame the steroids (allergic reaction, long story).  The salad was no great shakes for me, and the dessert wasn't my thing (D loved them both though), but truly a delight was the "local poisson, " which has got to be "poissin" misspelled because I was expecting, no, dreading a honeyed-fish and instead I got this awesome, moist and flavorful wee chicken.  

Eh, french stuff.  Who can be expected to spell correctly, am I right?  

they sent us off with a comb to enjoy at home

They announced that their next theme event will be garlic.  I love me some garlic, so I'm tempted to try the next Dinner Club event.  It was a long evening, much longer than your normal dining experience would be, so you have to expect that that, that is, the eating,  is your entire evening.  And the price is steep, or seems so to me.  Then again, we eat in a lot.  And pricey is pretty much what one might expect from a touted "culinary event."  

 I can say I'd be interested in trying the normal fare.  I'm not one to be impressed or put off by decor, but I can say that in matters of decor, as well as in matters of general enjoyableness of the food and experience, it was the opposite of the experience we had at Cumin.  The decor at Cumin accosts the eye with its trendiness and the food made me yak in the parking lot of the nearby police station on our way home (*I was not cited for illegal dumping).  The decor at Nectar was... goats and stuff.  Yeah.  But I kept my meal, thanks, which is the way I prefer it.  

I enjoyed that the local farmer/apiarist spoke about his (newly learned) trade before the dinner.  How the bees sieve off the pollen from their catch-pouches, how many flower-visits go into making pollen.  Bees made the news in the big mysterious population die-offs a few years ago that were never thoroughly explained by science.  The apiarist told us that there have been several historical die-offs of bees in the past, not so many as to be cyclical, not so few as to be entirely shocking.  Bees are pretty special.  They got some press with that Bee movie a few years ago, but don't get their due often enough.  

I learned from that movie that bees are so un-aerodynamic that science can't fully explain how they are able to fly in the first place.  Not a great film, but I learned something.

Personally, I think its sugar-power.  After dinner I was humming on honey-energy myself.  I was so buzzed I half-expected to fly home.  

While the D's Away, the H Will ... languish on sofa, apparently

D was gone on a business trip for a week.  Oh, the plans!  The plans I had!

Alas, I caught a sickness and spent the week exhausted, eating canned soup instead of experimental home-cooked meals, watching a marathon of Battlestar Galactica with the dog while dosing myself with cold meds and wishing I had less to do at work so that I could take some sick days.  I'm much better, but still a bit run down.
And no longer home alone.  What a rotten shame.

Bobby makes me fastforward through all BSG scenes focusing on blonde Slut-bot

I was going to have this thematic week of fresh-veg meals with mushrooms and tomatoes.  A pizza.  A salad.  A fritata.  I was struck with a desire to eat fresh veg when D pulled up a bit of our lawn and chewed on it.  True story.  We were surveying the front yard, taking note of a possible bulb coming up, and at the corner of the lawn were bits of very green, long curlicuing blades.

"What is that?"  I asked.  David walked over, stooped without pausing, and ripped a handful away.

"Hey!" I complained, right before he put it in his mouth and tore off bits with his teeth.  He savored my dumbfounded expression for a moment before he let me know, "it's green onion," and offered me some.  I took it, sniffed it, and bit off a teeny cud of my own. 

By George, it was. 

What a lovely, edible surprise!  Of course, seeing as how its in the front yard by the sidewalk, it was probably peed on by all the neighborhood dogs.  I washed them before I made D a pre-flight lunch with them. This bean/tomato/onion salad was the only "cooking" I did all week.  And its not "cooked."  Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans.

Thar be green onion in thar

That's pretty much the extent of all productivity for the week.  No cooking, cleaning, dancing, nothing.

"Whut? You like what you see?"

I was well enough to spend the gorgeous St. Patty's Day at Ault Park!  If you're a Cincy local, go.  Go now.  It's a beautiful day!

Dinner Disappointment and the Sad Face of Procrastination

Maybe you all don't fall into this same trap, and in which case that makes you smarter than I so go pat yourself on the back.  I sometimes find that I have allowed myself to be led down a rosepath by something someone says on the internet (shocking, I know).  Not so much recently, as there are fewer and fewer sources that I fail to take with a huge helping of salt.  Especially where food is concerned.  I mean, look at some of the stuff out there.  Somebody called themself a genius and put this up as a recipe, a hot dog wrapped in a tortilla.  Oh, and the hilariously mocked Rachel Ray classic "late night bacon" recipe is good for a laugh (at least, the comments are).

The Pioneer Woman has a good track record in my kitchen, and usually doesn't steer you wrong for recipes.  With sites out there like Smitten Kitchen, Savory Sweet Life, and the Pioneer Woman, with step-by-step photographic instructions, I allow myself to be lulled into a false sense of kitchen security.  I can make anything with the proper instruction, I insist to myself.  I can be a kitchen goddess. (No, I cannot)   And likewise, they wouldn't post it if it weren't good?  (Yes, yes they would)

I've been burned by this sentiment before. 

Early in our relationship I invited D, then pre-boyfriend, over for a dinner.  I wanted to make something new and fantastic rather than something tried and true and less exciting (this I came to call Mistake #1). 

I found some blog on the internets touting this stew with red wine as one of the ingredients.  It looked good in the photos and I trusted it would come out looking like the photos (Mistake #2).  And I'd had hobo stews around the campfire for years on our family's canoe trips, so it was just switching out the beer ingredient for a wine ingredient, and therefore would be so much fancier.  And when it said to use the entire bottle of wine (Mistake #3), I tipped 3/4 of it into the stewpot, tra-la-laaa, congratulating myself on erring on the side of caution. 

I don't need to tell you about my confusion at the resulting purple swamp in the stewpot.  Nor my embarrassment.  Nor my urgent, panicked arm-flapping when D arrived expecting dinner and finding instead a mystery muck that wasn't even food-colored. 

*Like eating this, but less good

I was not unduly prideful about it, no, I insisted (post-taste-test) no no, we don't have to eat this, why don't we go out instead?  Poor D, opting for what he knew to be the chivalrous approach, counter-insisted that he would eat what was prepared for him.  While I gave it up as a total loss and I think I ate some carrots out of the fridge or something.  He wouldn't hear a word against the wine stew at the time.  He didn't just fall off that cliff, he took a flying leap.  Two bowls.  After he had this relationship thing nailed down he fessed up in detail about the resulting severe stomach and intestinal distress.  Two bowls. 

Fast forward to the present day; I have redeemed myself in the cooking department since.  D didn't really need to be cajoled into trying the recipe for Eggs Florentine with Goetta that I found on the internets.  All that was required was that I began my text to him with the word:  GOETTA. 




*Here be Goetta

 Though we have merely adopted Cincy as our home, rather than being born into it, D is probably more ravenous a goetta-supporter than some Cincy natives.  He tells me that Cincy is the biggest consumer of goetta on the planet now, thanks to folks whose families immigrated here generations ago.  And yes, we've been to one of the Goetta festivals here.  Not the other one though.  Maybe this year. 

But I digress.  D is a huge fan of breakfast-for-dinner (though not of dinner-for-breakfast).  An egg casserole-type dish using spinach and cheese and a meat just sounds hard to screw up.

For the time it took to prepare on a weeknight and unexceptional blandness, I was sorely disappointed in this recipe.  Granted, I didn't follow it to the letter.  Honestly, who has 18 spare eggs sitting in the fridge?  I had surmised (incorrectly) that it would just bring out the flavor of the other ingredients that much more if there were less eggs.  It appeared out of the oven looking quite lovely and smelling great too.  But it was so bland that we had to grudgingly go through the leftovers with HP sauce, with worcestershire sauce, with okonomiyaki sauce.  Disappointing. Perhaps if I had used 18 eggs instead of (ahem) 9, it might have been good.   Although I'm inclined to think it would just have tasted more eggy.

But a silver lining there was, in the wake of this culinary defeat.
(probably as a result of, let's be honest)

D has taken an interest in taking up his Alton Brown cookbook and teaching himself how to properly cook.  Which I applaud and support.  If this week's brussels sprouts were any indication, I shall enjoy my continued support of his endeavor.

In other news: 

My happy little heuchera friends kept waiting for me to bring them in to the garage (there's a window in there).  But the weather was so mild, and they seemed to do well enough so I left them.  And left them.  And when winter- real winter- finally hit, it hit with a sheet of ice.  All of the planters were frozen to the porch. 

This is the face of procrastination.

Poor guys. When D tried to pull one of the planters inside, he failed to dislodge it but succeeded in shearing the ceramic so hard it cracked.  So we actually had to leave them out there.

Even the grass froze.  

Not sure the heuchera can survive being literally (not figuratively) frozen solid.  Time will tell I suppose. 

*Crayon photo from: littlewondersdays.blogspot.com

*Goetta photo from: http://photogenicfood.com

Photos are used without permission.

*All other photos belong to me.

Circleville Punkin Show and Some Unwanted Excitement

Friday night we packed up the dog and drove to Circleville for my first Pumpkin Show (not festival, people correct you immediately if you say festival).  D had been stunned that I'd never heard of it, as I am an Ohioan by birth.  Apparently I should have, the Wall Street Journal even covered it. 

Get your gourd on

The show is hugely attended every year, and on Saturday the weather was perfect for spending the day strolling outdoors.  This past weekend was apparently the peak for the autumn leaf-viewing season.  

 

In the main intersection, there's a crowd of people that stop to gawk (as we did) at the winning entry for a giant pumpkin award.  This year's winner was 1400lbs.  D's mom tells me that people form committees for the betterment of their entry gourds, they put up tents over them so their vines don't get scorched in the summer sun, and they feed them things like milk, apparently.  

By the giant pumpkins is a gigantic gourd market, where you can buy squashes or punkins or what have you.  The selection looked great.  (But I didn't want to carry a punkin around all day)

One of the last warm fall days

Schoolchildren decorate punkins

People along the parade route go all out

Punkins, punkins, punkins

 

 

 

Crispier than expected

There are all sorts of pumpkin foods.  Pumpkin burgers, which did not appeal to me.  Corndogs with pumpkin sauce, the thought of which grossed me out slightly.  Pumpkin fudge, pumpkin brittle, and all manner of things.  Here's what we tried:

We ate the legendary punkin donuts from Lindsay's (nom)

We ate a punkin waffle, which was not what I expected

D ate fried cheese on a stick.

I ate punkin cheesecake

and I drank lots of birch beer.  lots and lots. 

I started to notice people wandering around the show with these hats.  These Davy Crockett-gone-Cutesy animal hats. D tried patiently not to judge me when I insisted on buying one of my own.  And wearing it.  All day long.  

Then he bought one to match me.   tee hee.

(There are more photos, but blogger is being buggy.  Can't seem to upload them. )

Sunday we packed up the car and the dog, and then said our goodbyes to the family.  As we did so, Dog seized the opportunity to plunder the scraps from friday night's dinner, which we had forgotten in the car.  I saw him in the front seat and ran to the car.  He was sucking down chicken bones.  We pulled him out of the car, tackled him, and I shoved my fingers into his mouth and then down his throat, trying to pull out the chicken bones, but pretty much failed at that.  Then we just looked at the dog and looked at eachother and didn't have a clue what to do. 

One of D's childhood pets was killed by ingesting poultry.  The brittle bone had snapped into a sharp point,  and had caused too much internal damage for her to be saved.  Knowing this, there was a lot of anxiety felt, not the least of which was felt by the dog, I'm sure.  He surely had no idea why we'd tackled him and dragged things out of his throat.  We spent the first twenty minutes of the car ride constantly looking in the back seat at the dog, not saying anything.  I was riddled with anxiety, and D tried to find some advice on the web.  

Is he acting normally?  Well no, but we were in a moving car and Dog gets carsick.  Does he seem to be in pain?  Well no, but again, he gets carsick and lays down looking quite pitiful.  Was that a pained expression in those doggy eyes, or a nauseous one?  It did not help the aforementioned anxiety that most things mentioned, "just wait, and if he vomits blood then..."  Wait for vomiting blood.  Fantastic advice.  We'll just wait. 

I'm more of a proactive girl, myself.  And D saw that my head was exploding, so he took some internet advice from a pit bull forum involving bread.  We stopped at a walmart and bought bread.  We fed him a few slices to either get him to throw up or to hopefully make it easier for him to pass the drumstick that had not been recovered.  Less than five minutes later the dog hurls all over the backseat (our third doggy-jackpot of the kind).  There was... so much... D fought to keep his punkin donuts down as he cleaned the backseat out one paper-towel-handful at a time.  I fought to keep my own punkin donut in place, as I sifted through the mess to try to see if the drumstick bone was in there.  It wasn't.  We piled back into the car, with D giving the dog dirty looks, and we cracked the windows.  The smell was ... yeah. 

It's now Tuesday, and he seems fine.  I still haven't seen the drumstick bone.  

I have been incrementally less concerned as the days have ticked by.  Sunday I was still anxiously eyeing him wondering if he was going to be okay.  But

Weekend Beer / Okonomiyaki Experiment

Here we are in the cooling season, and I just can't wake up in the morning.  This happens every year when the weather turns, and this year is no exception.  I've awoken progressively later each day.  This morning there was no time for a dog walk at all, which makes me feel terrible, and no doubt makes Bobby feel even worse.  I need a Clocky.

This past weekend we had a rare opportunity to take time for ourselves, in that we had no other obligations.  And so we did just that. I squeezed in a super-fun night of swing dancing at Molly's Friday night, but our greater plan was a cooking experiment/beer tasting.

Two bits of inspiration got me going.

One: The calendar in my office at work features different scenes in different Asian countries.  When we flipped over into October, there was a shot that I recognized immediately, Itsukushima Jinja on the island of Miyajima.  I've been there so many times it was unmistakable. It made me think of my old stomping ground across the pond.  Which made me think of food (because thinking of Japan always makes me hungry). 

Two: I frequent the 365Cincy Site quite often, browsing their calendar to see what's going on or what's coming up.  I came across a wine and beer tasting in Sharonville which sounded fun, and the brewmaster from Moerlein Brewmaster was supposed to be there.  Not only is this right up our alley, D is a home-brewer and it sounded like a great opportunity for him to get some pointers or compare notes.  Well.  We flushed that all down the toilet when we realized that the entry fee was $75 bucks a person.   For that kind of money we could have our own tasting. 

And so our beer/okonomiyaki experiment came into being.     

This was the first time that I finally got up the guts to try my hand at Okonomiyaki. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZebItIYWJY&noredirect=1

The instruction in this video is pretty good, only I'd add that in Hiroshima they add grated Taro root to the batter to give it a bit more body.  We found that at Jungle Jim's, as well as the okonomiyaki sauce (Otafuku, of course), and Kewpie mayonnaise (because standard American mayo is gross). I actually already had everything else in the pantry, other than the veg and meat.  We skipped the tenpura-drippings, and we did not add doritos.  I didn't miss them. 

Okonomiyaki, though requiring some prep work, is deceptively simple to make.  I was pretty proud of myself. 

This was D's first time trying okonomiyaki.  He called it "soul food," and I think that's a pretty good description.  I even found this awesome video on youtube of somebody's trip to Hiroshima's Okonomi-mura.  Makes me homesick, ::sniff::

At Jungle Jim's, we spent an hour or so in the beer and liquor department.  We came away with these:

Boont Amber Ale (my fave from Alefest, in a bottle this time)

Wychwood's King Goblin (English strong ale)

Hitachi no Nest Red Rice Ale (Belgian strong pale ale)

Southern Tier Mokah (Imperial stout)

Belhaven Wee Heavy (Scotch ale)

I am not a beer pro, I am a craft beer fan.  Trying to describe the taste of beer (or wine) in terms that extend beyond sweet/dry/heavy/light/bleh, extends me past my capabilities for description.  I find myself grasping at words that I cannot seem to find.  As though the adjectives were wee little butterflies.  Wait, that makes no sense.  

 Oh sure, when there's a description written on the label of wine/beer, informing to look out for "carmel," or "chocolate," sometimes I can find it on my palate and agree with it.  Sometimes though, they tell me "woody," or "earthy," and I respond "huh?"   Most often there is no key, though.  I can only describe things in the most basic way, and say like or dislike with any confidence.  So I leave it to people who can fake it better than I.  Fan reviewers at Beer Advocate. 

But I will say that I've never liked a group of randomly chosen beers so much as these.  Boont did not let me down, but I truly enjoyed all of these others.  The Moka was the exception, and I wouldn't buy it again.  I think it would appeal to Guinness fans.  

In keeping with the beer experiment theme, D stocked up on hops, and a vat of thick and icky-sweet smelling malt extract at a Cincy supply store called Listerman's.  He's got a scottish ale fermenting in the basement now.  A few weekends ago, while D was watching the game I cleaned up the cobwebby damp/disgusting mess in a corner of the basement, dried and painted a counter, and set it up as D's brewing station.  D has further rearranged some shelving to accommodate the giant bucket brigade and bottles and access to the utility sink. 

No before photo, but I think you get the idea

It is very important to paint over grossness

Tah-dahh!  Brew Corner!

The weekend experiment was super successful and extremely fulfilling.  Beer and okonomiyaki are a harmonious combination.  I'd have taken photos, only I couldn't find the battery for the camera.  And soon, that is, as soon as the fermentation process finishes, we'll be bottling up D's scottish ale home brew. 

Mainstrasse Antiques and an Edible Adventure : Otto's

With all we have on our plate this week, it was a bad time to catch a cold.  So I just said no.  I refused to have it. 

And it went away. 

True story. 

This past Sunday D agreed to go with me to 4th Sunday Antiques on Mainstrasse. 


Mainstrasse on a blue-skied Sunday



I always enjoy the graffiti.  Support local artists!



It was another beautiful day, and we kicked the day off with brunch at nearby Otto's.  (I would link directly to the restaurant, but their website is having trouble)

Benedict Otto's (foreground) & Brekkie Casserole (background)

Otto's is right in Mainstrasse.  It has seating outside in front and in back (and inside), and we elected the back patio. The brunch menu is quite enticing, but I chose the Benedict Otto's and potato cake.  Poached eggs are often done poorly and taste like snot.  Otto's does the poached egg proud.  It was served on a hard, herby, crispy thing which became more and more delicious as it soaked up the goo.  D had the Breakfast Casserole (also good) and the goetta (because D always has the goetta, you'd think he was born in Cincinnati he is the most staunch supporter of goetta). 

Sunlit yet shady patio

I really liked our experience here.  The back patio is nice, a bit loud, yes, because of the air conditioning unit, but I only noticed that at first.  The weather was lovely, the waiter was a nice guy who gave us some advice on where else we could look for "previously owned" stuff, and the wait for our food was appropriate.  I'd like to go back soon.  Of course, with the labor day event at the house and the dog adoption, and my birthday and the upcoming renovation projects... I think it won't be soon.  Though if we wait until the end of September for the next 4th Sunday, we'll get to try eating indoors.  Actually, I'm excited to go back, I've got my eye on a few things on the menu.  I didn't order the strawberry cheesecake french toast, but I assure you, I will soon.  On the dinner menu they have something that sounds equally fantastic, "shrimp grits."  My mouth waters with anticipation. 

I've had a lot of mediocre food since we've moved.  It's great to enjoy my food again. 

With full bellies we walked over to the antiques market.  It was lively without being overcrowded. 

4th Sunday Antiques Market

Who wants a monk salt shaker?  Well we all do, obviously. 

I LOVE THESE CHAIRS.  I should have bought these chairs. 

The vendors seemed nice.  I only bought one thing, one thing which I am (quite evilly) contemplating keeping, even though I actually bought it as a gift for a friend. There was old jewelry and clothing, vinyl, furniture, toys (including *the* evil monkey), stained glass windows, just all sorts of things.  I love to peruse the old-style jewelry, knickknacks, and books. Not necessarily to buy. 

My husband forbade me from buying this parrot.



Well gosh, the cats could use a giant carousel...

 

Please, somebody, give an elephant a home. 


I just like old stuff.  And handmade stuff.  And stuff that doesn't look like everyone else's stuff. 

 

I also think looking at these things just naturally makes me look backward in time, something I do on occasion as a swing dancer, but it also makes me look back in life.  All of the elder relations in my family passed away too young, quite a long time ago.  I miss them, and wonder what conversations we might have had if only they had stuck around a few more years.  Certain objects or visuals are indelibly tied to my memories of them.  I always think of Irene when looking at old jewelry and roosters, because of all the roosters made of seashells that roosted in her kitchen.  I think of my Busia when I see old religious art work, or ceramic knicknacks, especially birds.  I feel the same when I sit down to watch Have Gun Will Travel with D.  I think of my dziadzia, a lover of all cowboy serials, and wonder how my grandfather and my husband would have gotten along.  Or maybe they're on my mind lately because of the recent scare with D's grandmother. 

Anyway!  Back on topic.  I had a good time at the antiques market.  I think I'll go in September as well.  We didn't go to the Cleopatra exhibit (yet) because D wanted to attend Aikido practice instead.  So while he was at practice I went to Duck Creek Antiques, something I've wanted to do for ages, but their hours make it impossible to go unless its on a Saturday or Sunday. 

Here it is

"Who da Pole?"  "I am, I am the Polish one." "No, it's a beer... nevermind." 

This place is totally worth a visit.  Even if you don't buy a thing, or if you don't like knicknacks.  It's good for a browse because they have godawfully expensive things that are still fun to look at, like Rookwood Pottery, giant chinese lions, and things that you could conceivably afford, like old Japanese obi fabric from the Showa era, mod furniture, old vintage advertisements, old beer steins, and more.  Some antique places are real junkholes, but this place has some nice stuff. 

I bought some Christmas presents (starting early! mwahahaa!), and I bought a purse for myself for six bucks.  This in itself is almost beyond belief.  I am a nightmare to shop for, as anyone who has tried might attest.  I almost always hate the clothes, shoes, and especially the purses that I'm willing to pay for). 

Have been working around the house, and more to do on the trench and yard before the guests descend en masse for Labor Day.  Even so, I hope to make time for the Cleopatra Exhibit, in this its final days.  And, not to shirk my responsibilities too much, but this Saturday is the City Flea, in downtown Cincy.  It's the last flea for 2011, 10am to 4pm. 

 

This elephant lamp is at Julie's Inspiration Consignment Shoppe in Mainstrasse, the shop the waiter introduced to us. 

Here is some press for the City Flea. 

Chock full of finishings and an Edible Adventure : The BBQ Revue

This past weekend was another busy one.  We went to Oakley After Hours, which was kind of a let-down. i don't know what I was expecting, but I was a bit underwhelmed.  It didn't seem that much different than turnout at Oakley Square when there wasn't an OAH going on.  Soo....  The weather was great though. And I ate ice cream, so all is well. 

 

It wasn't what I expected, not that I can articulate what I expected exactly, but it was nice to just be outside and people watch.  Just to hang around and take a leisurely look at the town I live in.  People seem nice. Lots of young families, it seems.  Joggers.  Lots of dogs out for walks in the late summer evenings.  When you're not occupied with going from point A to point B, you can better take everything all in.  I like what I see though.  A friend once told me that so few people ever look up in life.  And so I often do when I'm looking at a building for the first time.  Some of these old touches on buildings, just these tiny embellishments, are a pleasure to see.  

We also did some work Saturday, and now have basically finished off the office for now.  We've made even more trips to 1/2 Price Books and have another Goodwill Box, and we've thrown away a mountain of old papers.  With the help our new friend, Roomba, this room looks so much better. 

bleh, the original dingy yellow

Suspicious grunge that I washed off the walls

Painted in Manhattan Mist

With a ton of crap from the apartment

Not perfect, but a hundred times better

Looks much nicer from the hallway

And we've made space for our little treasures

Because so much room was taken up by books, even after we've taken four boxes to 1/2 Price.  The shelf with the red boxes contains my collection of Post-Apocalyptic Literature.

Now we both have enough space to work!

We can walk in the office without twisting, hopping, or otherwise contorting, which is a vast improvement.  And now a lot of our old books have ceased to gather dust, as we set them free (to 1/2 Price, where they will indubitably not be free) to be loved again.  I'm really fond of this space, as I could never work in the old office because my desk was right next to the catbox.    

 

Yesterday we emptied out the apartment, scrubbed it down, and handed over the keys. Originally I had fantasized about letting a cleaning service handle it, but in the end we are much to cheap for that.  Taking my last looks at the old place was kind of sad.  I loved how the light came into the window in the morning, softly filtered by the tree.  Our balcony was loved by our cats, who don't understand why we don't let them out anymore.  And it was our first shared home, D and I and Yuuki, and then Max was miraculously returned to us.  Two years.  Man the rent was expensive.  D told me what we spent in total after living there for two years.  I can't repeat it.  It boggles the mind.  But we are finished with the apartment, and its like a weight has lifted.  I'm so thankful that that is over.   

 

We ended up being able to conclude the move-out inspection too, because they'd already had the place pre-rented.  Which means we probably are off the hook for next month's rent.  Which is just perfect. So we are finished with the apartment, and now have no need to ever return there.  It's unreal, because this move has been the most prolonged and annoying one I have ever experienced.  But being at home is wonderful.  Of course now we have a zillion home reno projects to do.  

On the way home we went to a local restaurant that we had often passed by.  We'd been curious about it because, well, there's a giant pig out front.  What's not to like?  

BBQ Revue

It was quiet when we went, although it was about 5pm so it was rather early for the dinner crowd.  It was a decent place, low key and reasonably priced, with a piece or two of conversation-inducing pig-inspired artwork.  We did like the painting of satan fiddling behind a massive pig about to attack frightened villagers.  At least that's what I got out of it.  Anyway, it was kind of like City Barbecue though D likes it better.  The people behind the counter were nice and patient with us first-timers as we umm-ed and uhhh-ed.  The mac and cheese was good, the beans were awesome.  The sauce is not my preference.  Peppery and smokey, which are good things.  I myself like a little more molasses or vinegar.  But that's a matter of personal preference.  But we had a pretty good experience, and we'll likely go back.  :)

And in closing, I have some sort of allergic reaction on my arms and stomach.  It's been getting worse and migrating, despite my best attempts to quarantine the spots.  I called around to five different physicians this morning, and only two offices accepted new patients, and one of them couldn't get me in until October.  But actually the office staff and the doctor were very nice, so its all turned out all right.  And I got some steroids to help me fight off my reaction.  I'm still super itchy though.  Trying to be patient and hoping the steroids finishes off all the red-and-itchiness.