Klosekraft

Presenting Geraldine

My last finished object for 2007.

Started: sometime between Nov. 1 (when I mentioned having drafted a pattern) and Nov. 14 (when I showed the first progress photo)

Finished: Oh, let's say Dec. 28.

Yarn: 2/4 Donegal wool from Webs, less than a 1 lb. cone

Needles: #9 for the body, #8 for the ribbing

Size: about 39" around

Degree of happiness: pretty high. I can tell already that I'll wear it a lot but if I could snap my fingers and make the change, I would make the armholes less deep.

It's an extremely versatile sweater. It looks good with jeans and a t-shirt:

It looks good with a vintage leather dress:

It looks good while twirling disaffectedly in a party frock:

And in case you were wondering if my fishnets matched my fingernails, the answer is yes:

Random Friday

I have a handful of photos on my desktop, all of which I was apparently planning on posting about at some point and never got around to. So in the interest of cleaning up my computer and also giving anyone (else) stuck at work something to look at — the internet has pretty much dried up — here they are:

I literally stopped and stood, slack of jaw and furrowed of brow, when I saw this sign on Broadway in Saratoga. Why? Why?

I'm pretty sure this is from Impulse. Very interesting construction possibilities.

Rachel Denny.

Me with my Oma. Apparently, I was a very serious little bunny. It can't have been easy to project that kind of gravitas whilst wearing the jauntiest bow in the history of Halloween. Although maybe I just didn't want to smudge my whiskers.

Completely gorgeous necklace by Natural Historie.

This was in the running to be the new face of the blog, but lost out because I hadn't gotten around to moving the plastic bins out of the background.

Blast from the past

I had a conversation recently with a couple of people about the first cookbooks we remembered using as kids.  These, which I was delighted to snag from my mom over Christmas, were mine:

They're pretty good books, actually, with sections on techniques and safety, nutrition and manners. And both feature boys and girls about equally.

I made stuff out of them all the time, including this completely awesome bunny salad.

One of the books has a lot of fantastic illustrations:

While the other has mostly photos:

(And, yes, I did make those pink elephant meringues.)

In the section on a year of cupcakes, most of the months involve cutting up gumdrops and assembling them into a black cat for Halloween or a shamrock, but check out February:

A hatchet! On blue snow! I assume it's for Washington's birthday because of the cherry-tree-chopping thing and that the snow is blue for, like, patriotism, but it's a little weird, right?

One thing I never made, even though I totally wanted to, was the Ghost Cake With Flaming Eyes. I am suddenly so tempted to throw a super-campy dinner party making only dishes from these cookbooks. I really might have to. Soon.

Recently finished objects

Socks for my mom for Christmas (note still-living houseplant):

Gretel
Started 12/17, finished 12/22
Two strands fingering-weight wool held together, #5 and #7 needles
I followed the instructions for the regular beret, neither fitted nor slouchy. However, I didn't bother checking my gauge and it was tight enough that I got a fairly fitted hat anyway. I don't mind -- I like it. The only change I made to the pattern was to skip the tubular cast-on. I just couldn't be arsed. I don't think it makes a difference in a dark color like this, but it would be a nice touch if it showed more clearly. It was fun and relatively quick to knit and the pattern itself is nicely done. I'll most likely make this again, slouchier next time and maybe tubularly cast on.

You can better see the details in this shot, in which it is being blocked over a plate which is balanced on a vase. It just occurred to me that I could try re-blocking the hat to make the body of it a little bigger. I finished and blocked it at my mom's and I know that her plates are significantly smaller than mine. I may give that a shot this weekend.

Klose kids collaborate in kitchen

I went to my brother's restaurant with my mom, oh, Saturday night, I guess. He had added some new dishes to the menu since my last visit and I was all excited to try his bolognese — because I loves me a good bolognese — when my sister-in-law came over to the table and said that Geoff had created something special just for us. And because I am, as we say in New England, wicked smart, I figured that it would be impolitic to turn down the extra-special special for something off the menu.

And the special was very delicious (stuffed veal, roast potatoes, glazed heirloom carrots), but a couple of days later, I was still thinking about that damn bolognese and how good it probably was. So I called him up before he came over on Christmas Eve and asked him to put a few spoonsful of it in a ziploc or something so I could taste it.

He did me one better by bringing not only sauce but also some fresh pasta dough to go with it. And last night, after I got home and watered my poor, parched plants and took a shower with my own shampoo and good soaps and lotions, I rolled out the dough.

Exhibit A of why I am not a restaurant cook:

It kind of looks like the U.S. if you squint. Which was totally my plan all along.

I sliced it all up with my pizza cutter.

And cooked it.

And it was everything that I had thought it would be.

I'll have to see if he's willing to share the pasta recipe. The sauce was delicious, but I make good sauce too and I'm more interested in great fresh pasta. It turned out much, much better than any I've ever made, even with my spazoid rolling, and I want to know the secret. I have a sneaking suspicion that that  he'll tell me to take whatever recipe I've been using and triple the egg yolks, but maybe there's more to it.

I really like these desolate, wintry landscapes.

No fresh snow while I was up at my parents', but there was plenty on the ground already. Of course, it was 40 degrees and raining the day I has planned to go snowshoeing, but I managed to get out for a walk at least once a day otherwise.

Over the river and through the woods

Have a lovely holiday, everyone. I'll be back next week.

Itchy fingers

It seemed like all of my current knitting projects were at annoying stages this weekend, so I said screw it and cast on for some more.

I've been planning to make Gretel for a while now. I only have a couple of handknit hats and want some more — and better — ones. The yarn is two strands of fingering weight wool tweed that I've had for a million years.

And I started Licorice Whip in the handspun thrums that I was trying to offload the last time I was selling  yarn. No one wanted it, but I didn't mind because I actually do really like it, just didn't know what to do with it. This is a pretty good yarn/pattern match, I think. It'll make a good knock-around sweater. I'm a little concerned that I'm going to run out of yarn, but I'll worry about that later. I can't remember exactly how much of it I have. It might be fine.

Close-up of the fabric:

The stars have aligned

I had been planning to talk about this today anyway, Leonard Lopate's Taking Things Seriously photo project, in conjunction with this book. Anyone who wants to can take part in the project by uploading a photo of an item that has particular significance to them and telling its story. I'm not sure what object I'm going to use; there are a few in the running.

From the publisher's site:
We all have something in our lives that while not obviously valuable, is displayed as though it were a precious and irreplaceable artifact. Inquire about the object's provenance and you'll likely be treated to a lively anecdote about how it came into your host's possession. Keep digging, and you might even crack the code of what the thing really means.

Taking Things Seriously is a wonder cabinet of seventy-five unlikely thingamajigs that have been invested with significance and transformed into totems, talismans, charms, relics, and fetishes: scraps of movie posters scavenged from the streets of New York by Low Life author Luc Sante; the World War I helmet that inoculated social critic Thomas Frank against jingoism; the trash-picked, robot-shaped hairdo machine described by its owner as a chick magnet; the bagel burned by actor Christopher Walken, moonlighting as a short-order cook. The owners of these objects convey their excitement in short, often poignant essays that invite readers to participate in the enjoyable act of interpreting things. You'll never look at the bric-a-brac on your shelves the same way again.

And this is my horoscope for today:
Material goods hold special meaning for you today, but not in the way you might think. It's not about shopping for the next best outfit or techno gadget -- it's about sentimental value assigned to inanimate objects. Something you've been holding on to has a great deal of meaning for you, and you should consider passing it on in order to add a new meaning to someone else's life. This gesture of sharing something from your past will bring you a lot closer to someone who will be a part of your future.

Custard

I made a batch of baked custard this weekend, which is really easy and really delicious. It turned out well, very smooth and light, none of that nasty scrambled-egg texture that you get sometimes. I added the hot milk to the eggs very slowly, maybe a couple of tablespoons at a time in the beginning, and incorporated it entirely before adding more, which made a big difference. The only other trick, I think, is to stir continuously from before you start pouring the milk until after it's all in.

The mixture was very foamy from my zealous whisking and, interestingly, the foam on the top of the ramekins turned out lightly crackly after baking, to the point that Zoe asked if I had made a sugar crust for it.

Baked Custard
from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything

2 c. milk, cream or a combination
1/2 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. nutmeg, divided
2 eggs, plus 2 yolks
1/2 c. sugar
pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 300. In a small saucepan, heat milk, cinnamon and half the nutmeg just until steaming. Whisk eggs, sugar and salt until pale yellow and thickened. Put a kettle of water on to boil. Add hot milk to eggs very slowly, stirring constantly. Pour into ramekins. Sprinkle with reserved nutmeg. Arrange in baking dish and pour boiling water to within an inch of the top of the ramekins. Bake for 30 minutes, or until custard is just set. Eat warm, at room temperature or cold.

Pretty ramekins all in a row:

This was the first time that I grated my own nutmeg. Rather satisfying, I must say.