Roll It, Pat It

For the past year, I have been swearing up and down that I was going to make pita bread.

A whole year.

I would say it, and think about it, and never do it.

It seemed daunting.

It has pockets, for flip's sake!!!

A loaf of bread, no problem. But bread with a pocket?

Not gonna happen.

Until it did.

A friend of mine made it and swore it was super easy.

He was right.

I've been making it all summer.

I've even got my young apprentice trained.

(He rolls surprisingly round circles for a three year old.)

So easy a kid could do it.

Who knew?

xo

The Handsome Work

Way back in May, on a particularly gray and rainy day, I spied a sad faced little boy staring out a rain-streaked window at the sandbox he so longed to play in.

And an Aunt simply cannot have a sad faced Nephew #1.

So off to my studio we went.

He had been saying for ages that he "had to make Moma (his curious and adorable name for Grandmom) some earrings."

I suggested a necklace for Mommy, too.

So we worked through the day, picking just the right flowers and putting them in just the right arrangement. I took over the tedious bits, attaching the clasps and the wires.

I handed over to him a stack of paper and a rainbow's worth of markers and paints.

He worked for hours on cards and pretty paper for wrapping, silent and serious.

Only once did he look up at me , declaring,

"Aunt Heather, you do the pretty work. And I do the handsome work."
Yes, little dude, you sure do.

xo

Ice Ice Baby

It is hot here.

So very, very hot.

In an endless quest to find delicious and refreshing ways to stay cool,

last week I found myself sprawled across a fan-blown chair, trolling around Pinterest,

looking to find just that sort of relief

(the delicious and refreshing sort).

I came across this recipe for Meyer lemon sorbet, and decided to give it a whirl with the non-Meyer lemons sitting in a bowl on the kitchen counter.

And while staring, transfixed by the four simple ingredients spinning around and around inside the ice cream maker, I got the idea to add in a fifth:

vodka.

Brilliant.

Cool.

Delicious.

Refreshing.

How about you? What are your secrets for beating the heat when the mercury goes up to Oh My God degrees?

It's blistering out there, folks. Stay cool.

xo

Sail On, Sailors

The week before Christmas was secretly spent toiling away with newspapers, paintbrushes, a needle and a thread, until the wee hours. Inspired by Ann Wood's beautiful paper mache and vintage textile boats (and following her detailed tutorial), I set about creating little ships for my nephews.

Two layers of high school and college sports scores from a shore-area newspaper (so as not to cover the boats with any bad news) were glued and smoothed down, and covered with paint. Green for Nephew One, blue for Nephew Two. It was, unbelievably, a first go at paper mache.

Masts and yards were fashioned out of bamboo skewers, soon to be joined by sails made from sewing basket scraps. My vintage button collection was pillaged for the rigging.

Through some great miracle, the S.S. Boys were ready to sail by Christmas morning.

Sail on, Sweet Boys.

xo

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye

Monday afternoon in the kitchen. The sunlight is slanty and warm, the way it should be in October. Listening to White Ladder: at one time overplayed; a decade later, a near forgotten gem.

Pulled from a dark shelf in the basement is a large jar full of vodka-drunk lemon peels and the frozen juice of the 18 lemons they once housed. My hands cramp at the memory of the peeling and the squeezing, 36 lemons in all.

Sugar is dissolved in water. Three liquids strained into the largest bowl I can find, mixing and mingling and becoming one. The bowl is near to overflowing, and I begin to wonder if there are going to be enough jars, or even enough shelf space in the cool dark of the basement.

Ladling the liquid into the largest jar, I can't help but note that it looks a bit like chicken broth sitting in the bowl, but that it warms the body in a wholly different way. Remembering an early morning somewhere between Rome and Naples, visiting a ceramic studio and sampling the homemade limoncello. Remembering giggling at the knowledge even then that we would always remember that morning in Italy we had limoncello for breakfast, drunk more from the travel and the adventure than the early morning booze. Snapping back from my daydream just in time to prevent the discarded lemon peels from going into the compost, lest there be drunk squirrels running around the yard.

Jars filled and sealed, and returned to the shelf in the basement to spend the next six weeks becoming mellow. A retreat, a sort of spa for cocktails. A new way to view an otherwise dark and dingy space underneath the house.

Tomorrow, more juice to thaw, more sugar to dissolve, and more jars to fill. There were thirty six lemons in all. I think I'm gonna need a bigger jar.

xo

Someone's In The Kitchen...

I spent a bit of much needed time this weekend with two very dear, long-time friends.

The first bit of time was spent with my Maude, my dear and trusty mixer. We haven't been spending much time together these past few hot and sticky months. It felt good to be back, measuring flour and breaking eggs. Even if turning on the oven did cause me to wilt, ever so slightly.

But it was well worth the wilt, for the time spent with Maude was time spent making a cake.

A cake baked for my dearest of friends, a friend who has been there for so long, she can still remember a smoky afternoon when baking was something I did so infrequently that I thought waxed and parchment papers were the same thing (they're not). A cake made to celebrate, with my dearest of friends, her new home, and a beautiful new chapter in her life.

xo

Babycello

One Sunday, back in mid-April, an early morning phone call came from my sister, saying that this would be the day Nephew number Two would be making his appearance. Breakfast and a shower happened, my bag was packed in preparation for a possible long night with Nephew number One, and then.....

I'm not very good at waiting. I paced a bit, fluffed some pillows, stared at the phone.

I needed a project. A small one, one that could be quickly abandoned, but something meaty enough to really get involved in.

I decided it was the perfect afternoon to make limoncello. Zesting a half a dozen lemons would kill a nice chunk of time. And, since it was baby day, I'd call it babycello, and we would toast his tiny self with it once it was ready.

So I gathered together my lemons and sugar and vodka, grabbed the zester, and the phone rang. Baby time!

My little project would have to wait for another day.

I picked up where I left off a few days later.

Lemons were zested and drowned in vodka, and the little jar was placed on a cool dark shelf in the basement.

Every morning for the next six weeks, right after turning the coffee maker on, I went down and shook my little jar.

After six weeks in the dark, I brought the little jar up into the bright daylight of the kitchen, drained my zest, added some simple syrup, and back to the basement it went for a two week rest (apparently, it's very taxing turning into a delicious Italian digestivo!).

Once my little cocktail had finished its rest, into the freezer it went.

If you've never had it, there's nothing quite like fresh made limoncello.

I first had it (very early in the morning) in a ceramic tile studio in southern Italy.

I'd had limoncello before, but never like that.

And from then on, I only wanted to have it like that:

fresh, smooth, and perfectly lemony.

So thank you, Nephew number Two,

for providing me with the need for a simple project while I waited for you to be born.

Cin cin!

xo

May Queen

As I mentioned I would be doing, and as a means of explaining my sporadic posting of late (and my neglect in responding to your comments- I'll be catching up on that later today!), last Saturday I packed up a carload of lovelies and brought them out to the May Fair. This was my first time participating in the fair, but, as a long time spectator, here are a few things I know to be true:

1.The May Fair packs a major crowd. This year's estimation was around 50,000 people.

2. Without fail, the fair is always held on an unseasonably hot day. This year saw humid temperatures hugging the ninety degree mark.

3. The unseasonable hotness almost always sparks a storm.

Knowing that final fact did not keep me from saying, often and loudly, "There's no rain in the forecast. I'm not bothering to make walls for the tent. I'm not even gonna bother getting plastic tarps. I mean, what are the chances of a storm popping up out of nowhere, with absolutely no warning?" The answer to that one, my friends, is 100%.



Hooks, trays, mosaic pendants,
 and sewing box treats all finished and ready to be packed for the show!



The storm was at least kind enough to hold off until 20 minutes before the end, and lasted only about half that long. And once I was as sure as I could be that everything was as protected as it was going to be, I've gotta say, those chilly sheets of rain that added a new layer of wet to my already sweat-soaked body were most welcome.

Tables all set up lovely and waiting to be shopped!

Also most welcome were the fraction of the 50,000 or so people I encountered throughout the day. There were of course friends and family, distant friends checking in through sweet texts, and lots and lots of fabulous new faces.



Thank you, dad, for all of your help.
And for saving my beloved banner from taking a direct rain hit!


Now, the returning lovelies have been unpacked, the table covers have been laundered, and minor mends have been made to rain-torn displays. Everything is lying in wait for the next big show, while I turn my attentions to a complete shop revamp and a very special custom order that I will be sharing with you all very soon.

Happy June to you, Dear Readers!
Rabbit rabbit ;)

 



Misguided Angel

When it comes to birthday cakes, the members of my family are all creatures of habit. There's my sister and her carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, my brother-in-law and his white cake (out of a box) with white icing (out of a can), my dad with his pumpkin pie (in June), and my mom with hers from the bakery department of the grocery store, with sugary frosting flowers. And, just like the rest of them, every time January rolls around, I put in my request for an angel food cake.

Funny thing about angel food cake- it's my hands-down favorite dessert, but I rarely eat it at any time other than my birthday. I hold it in high regard- a cake to be eaten only on the most special of days ;)

I've also never made an angel food cake. I mean, I've made one from a box mix, but anything that lists a cup of water as it's only added ingredient hardly counts. And since I had all of those egg whites left from the crème brûlée, I figured I'd give it a whirl.

I went with the loaf pan version, since it called for the amount of egg whites I had handy. I've never had much luck with egg whites...this time was no exception. It seems to be a bit lacking in that light, fluffiness that makes an angel food cake so...angelic. Guess we'll have to call it a chubby cherub cake.

Angelic or not, this little cake elicited no complaints.

Have a light and fluffy day, sweets!

xo

I'm Burning For You

It's so simple, really. Some eggs, cream, and a bit of sugar. A little whisking, a little simmering, and a little while in the oven.

And then there's the bit with the blow torch. How is it possible that it has taken me this long to make a dessert that involves a blow torch?

Have a delicious day, Sweet Readers.

xo

Hangin' Around

Ahh, springtime. A time of open windows, line-dried linens, and re-organization projects. It's that last one that's been keeping me happily busy in the studio, creating a few new Pretty Hooks to place upon the shop's virtual shelves. I know I've mentioned it before, but it bears repeating: I love organzing things, and I love coming up with pretty ways of organizing said things. That's how the Pretty Hook was born ;)

Once it had been decided that some new Pretty Hooks were in order, supplies were quickly gathered. There were plenty of pretty papers and paints and my favorite part, the power tools, but one crucial ingredient was looking seriously low in numbers. Seems my stash of vintage hooks and knobs had dwindled while I wasn't looking. So I "hmmed" and "ummed" for a bit, and waited for a solution to strike. The solution presented itself in the form of little wooden knobs, the sort of which you always seem to have laying about in junk drawers and supply bins in the basement. Yes yes, little wooden knobs! They could be painted to match the wooden part of the Pretty Hooks! Little wooden knobs indeed would do very nicely.

I must say, I'm rather pleased with the way the little wooden knobs turned out. They're like a softer version of their brass knob cousins...a bit more rustic, more charming. I think I'll make some more!

Have a clever day, lovelies!

xo

Some Like It Hot

The other day, my very pregnant sister called and informed me that the baby told her he'd come out if I made her some brownies. "Oh yeah?" I said. "Yeah." Ever so loving, sisterly back and forthing ensued. Around the time I finally cracked, she informed me that she wanted them spicy. "Spicy?" I said. "Spicy." And how, exactly, did she propose I go about this? She proposed thusly: "You're Betty Flipping Crocker. Figure it out." So figure it out I did.

The ball's in your court, Sister. I delivered the brownies. See what you can do about delivering that Boy.

(Have a spicy day, darlings! xo)

Punky's Dilemma

The other morning, I got up, put an English Muffin in the toaster, and, nothing. It wouldn't toast. I moved it from counter to counter, outlet to outlet, nothing doing. It seemed the toaster had toasted its last piece of toast. Bummer. It was a good toaster, with a special Pop Tart setting that, most of the time, kept the Pop Tarts from bursting into flames. And I really wanted that muffin.

I was left faced with a dilemma. I enjoy the instant gratification provided by a toaster, so there was little breakfast fare on offer that didn't require toasting. I'm not a morning person, and I don't cook, so actually making breakfast was out of the question. That left cold cereal, which is normally relegated to a pre-yoga or late night snack. It'd have to do.

Now, the obvious thought, "gonna have to get a new toaster", never crossed my mind. Nope. Instead I was wondering what to eat for breakfast the next day. So I made granola. One tasty base, limitless breakfast options. No toaster required.

xo

Little Pieces

I can think of few things more dainty and feminine than a fine bit of china, dotted sweetly here and there with little pink flowers. And I can think of no starker contrast to such sweet dainty-ness that a cold concrete basement floor, Iggy and the Stooges playing loudly in the background. However, that is exactly the scene I plunked myself right down in the middle of, armed with tile cutters and a devilish grin.

You see, the devilish grin was because I had big plans for these old plates. I had a new use for them, one grandma could never have imagined while serving Sunday dinners upon them. Nope, no longer would they be used to eat off of. Uh-uh. These plates, well, these plates were about to become accessories.

So, after a day with my trusty cutters, Iggy, and a good amount of tile adhesive, and another morning with my old friends Grout Bucket and Sponge, I had me some lovely new pendants. All that was left to do was add a bit of chain and some pretty what-nots, and then, just like that, grandma's old china has been turned into a little special something that can now be worn.

 Have a fancy day, my dears!

xo

A Little Bag O' Buttons

I love to organize things. Like, really, really love to organize. And organizing done in a pretty way? Swoon. Recently, it seems some of my little crafty this and thats have gotten a bit out of control, and could do with a bit of organizing. And, since I had a few of these:

and whole bunches of these:

I figured I'd make myself this:

Cute, no? Now...off to put things in a proper place!

xo