21
December
2019
Tags: Boston, Holiday
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Our Holiday Stroll 2019 ~ Part Two

[Continued from here.]

Kira wasn’t due at work until 11:30, so we had some of the morning to get a head-start on grocery items for dinner. I would make a risotto while she was at work, and an easy side vegetable, all of which would be ready when she came home at the end of the day. At the entrance to the nearby Whole Foods Market, I contemplated getting a little Christmas tree, so swept up in the season did I suddenly feel, but Kira wisely steered me back into reason. 

We ambled our way along Massachusetts Ave and stopped at the hardware store for light bulbs. Apparently I’m the only one who knows how to change them in the condo. Not unlike the way I’m the only one who knows how to launder bath towels. Or clean out the refrigerator. Ahh, digression… not becoming for the holidays but I don’t really care. 

Arriving at the Newbury Street TJ Maxx, it was time for Kira to head to work, while I worked on our matching holiday outfits for a fun photo opportunity later in the day. If you can’t be silly and stupid and carefree during the Christmas season, when can you do it? I’m hellbent on finding that out. 

Kira had been cold the night before, and the small throw that had sustained us in the fall was but a trifle of a thing that was more for decorative purposes than real warmth. I examined similar throws in similar scant sizes before deciding to make the trek to HomeGoods in Downtown Crossing to find something more substantial. We needed a real blanket to see us through the winter. 

I found a fuzzy one in muted shades of gray and white, with a mottled snowflake pattern, along with a big pillow in gray and white plaid, overlaid with embroidered snowflakes. After a few more shopping stops later, it was time to head back to the condo and begin dinner preparation. There is something gratifying and rewarding about cooking a dinner you are sure someone else will appreciate and enjoy. 

Passing through Copley Square, I paused at every tree, and made a quick stop at the Lenox Hotel. It brought back happy memories, and the scent of the lobby reminded me of birthdays and joy and love. Sometimes the day provides enough warmth and light to last through the night. 

Before I started the long stir-crazy stir-fest that was risotto, a cheeky photo shoot to send some blog traffic stats into overdrive. Modeling the latest in ridiculous holiday garb, I tried out this Ralph Lauren nightshirt, a smaller version of which I had on hand for Kira. Those pics yet to come… As for these, here’s some wisdom I mentioned earlier in the day to Kira, “Christmas is not about being sexy.” 

I stand as testament to this. 

In the words or sentiment of Jesus (the reason for the season), I turned the other cheek. 

{To be continued…}

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21
December
2019
Tags: Boston, Holiday
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Our Holiday Stroll 2019 ~ Part One

For our 9th Holiday Stroll (or thereabouts), Kira and I turned it into an extra-long weekend, and it still went by much too quickly. The Boston sky was deep blue when I touched down on a Thursday afternoon. The forecast was for a little bit of everything – the typical Northeastern challenge posed by our variable weather patterns. I made the most of the waning blue, as rain and wind were due nearer the end of the weekend.

Arriving with a batch of Mexican wedding cookies, but not much else in the way of culinary provisions, I made a last-minute decision to try out a grocery-shopping app which promised delivery in about an hour. This would be a super-casual weekend, both in activities and dining options. Neither Kira nor I were up for anything very fancy this year. What we yearned for more than anything was comfort and warmth, and I thought back to a simple dish of creamed chicken over toast and butter that my Grandma had made for us when we were kids. It was a basic roux of butter and flour which I punctuated with some fresh garlic and herbs, but otherwise stayed true to its rustic simplicity. Kira helped dissemble a rotisserie chicken and dinner was soon on the table as the temperature dropped outside. 

The holidays candles were lit, emitting their pine fragrance and recalling winter forest scenes that could have been real or imagined, a trick of memory or wish. Christmas spirit slipped into the condo like Santa through the chimney. I kept one eye on the fireplace when I wasn’t peering outside.

On the street below, the fountain had been drained, but decorated in boughs of pine and Christmas lights. I’d never seen it done up like that, and it made for a much happier visage than the bare and waterless feature which will see us through most of the winter. 

Inside, warmth and coziness spread out around us. The wet bar was lit up in holiday splendor, its wood illuminated unlike any other time of the year. We had a holiday mocktail of cranberry and seltzer to go along with dinner. Taking our time with it – the entire weekend was still ahead – we eased into the gentle pace of things. There was no need to rush. My shopping was already complete. All parties had been wiped from our social schedule. We had a few things to prepare for the Boston Children’s Holiday Hour, but nothing too extreme, as that would also be a casual affair. All in all, it was a peaceful beginning to our Holiday Stroll weekend. 

To cap the first night off, I presented Kira with her Christmas gift – which is the reason I told her in advance to bring a big-ass carrying bag. This slow-cooker was no small box, and she’s been talking about getting one for a few years now. It was time. I’ll bring some recipes when we get together next month. But I’m getting ahead of myself, which is easy to do when you rush to tell a happy story…

{To be continued…}

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20
December
2019
Tags: Music
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Looking Up at the Stars From the Gutter

He sits alone in a bar, his beard strewn with gray, his temples ravaged by time and consternation.

His voice, raspy and rough and gnarled by years of overuse, is salve and fire.

His body has begun to break down, a state of deterioration seen less in the mirror and more in the eyes of friends.

And the eyes of the one who loves him.

She can’t save him.

Maybe he doesn’t want to be saved.

Maybe he’s beyond that.

A beautiful, heartbreaking song.

A man and a guitar.

A woman and her power.

And maybe she needs some saving too. Maybe he’s not the only one.

MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE
MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE
IT TAKES A LOT TO CHANGE A MAN
HELL, IT TAKES A LOT TO TRY
MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE

NOBODY KNOWS WHAT AWAITS FOR THE DEAD
NOBODY KNOWS WHAT AWAITS FOR THE DEAD
SOME FOLKS JUST BELIEVE IN THE THINGS THEY’VE HEARD
AND THE THINGS THEY READ
NOBODY KNOWS WHAT AWAITS FOR THE DEAD

Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga give career-defining performances in the re-re-remake of ‘A Star is Born’ and this is one for a new generation. While ‘Shallow’ got all the chart glory, and an incandescent performance on the Oscar ceremony, it is this song which moves me the most. It stands sublimely on its own too, a plaintive elegy of sorts, a prayer to someone somewhere, hoping to find something, somehow.

I’M GLAD I CAN’T GO BACK TO WHERE I CAME FROM
I’M GLAD THOSE DAYS ARE GONE, GONE FOR GOOD
BUT IF I COULD TAKE SPIRITS FROM MY PAST AND BRING’ ‘EM HERE
YOU KNOW I WOULD, YOU KNOW I WOULD
NOBODY SPEAKS TO GOD THESE DAYS
NOBODY SPEAKS TO GOD THESE DAYS
I’D LIKE TO THINK HE’S LOOKING DOWN AND LAUGHING AT OUR WAYS
NOBODY SPEAKS TO GOD THESE DAYS

There are a number of powerful and upsetting scenes in the film, and if you haven’t yet seen it but intend to, please read no further. Hopefully enough time has lapsed that a spoiler alert isn’t necessary, but just in case you’re as behind as I am, there you go.

The most heartbreaking part, for me, was the dog.

While he waits outside the garage, his owner will slip into a noose and leave this world.

That damn dog is what killed me when I saw the movie. The moment he’s waiting for him is devastating. His master, his companion, and his friend won’t be coming back. The dog doesn’t know that yet. In that window of time, before he realizes his loved one is gone, everything is still ok. Everything might still be all right.

Maybe not knowing is the only way to get through this life.

WHEN I WAS A CHILD THEY TRIED TO FOOL ME
SAID THE WORLDLY MAN WAS LOST AND THAT THE HELL WAS REAL
WELL, I’VE SEEN HELL IN RENO
AND THIS WORLD’S ONE BIG OL’ CATHERINE WHEEL
SPINNIN’ STILL
MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE
MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE
IT TAKES A LOT TO CHANGE YOUR PLANS
HELLA DRAIN TO CHANGE YOUR MIND
MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE
OH, MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE

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20
December
2019
Tags: Holiday
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Hambone Holiday Hullabaloo

It’s been a year for new traditions, and so far I’ve managed to accomplish three of the tentative plans proposed here. Each has been enjoyable enough to make me want to keep them going next year. We shall see. While I like the idea of keeping some of these close to my vest and close to my heart, the Holiday Hambone Saratoga Stroll with Suzie will get a little recap here because it gives us a dose of Bob’s Trees, Broadway, and the Cock & Bull. Three holiday favorites that found fruition, and a few new twists, on one single Saturday in the early part of December.

Suzie and I had been contemplating a Christmas excursion – possibly a movie and dinner, but those had been done to death before [see ‘Into the Woods’ and ‘Mary Poppins Returns’] so we both wanted something a little different to christen our first official Hambone Holiday tradition. It was so-named because of something once written in a high school yearbook, the origin of which remains foggy to me, but Suzie may remember because we seem to have switched off in the who-remembers-what department.

We decided on a Saratoga Stroll of sorts, which harkens to something Andy and I had done a number of years ago after taking in a matinee of ‘Auntie Mame’ on the big screen. Sadly, no such magic was playing at the cinema that day, so we focused on shopping and mocktail stops, and a last-minute decision to pick up a Christmas tree that would prove to be an unexpected highlight of this season.

Saratoga is magical at any time of the year, but it puts on especially impressive plumage around the holidays. I took us to a favorite haunt that offered incense and stones and all sorts of spiritual stuff. Suzie brought us to her favorite tea shop, which also had honey and beeswax in the back.

We stopped for some sparkling water at the Adelphi Hotel, because the only thing better than a hotel lobby and bar is a hotel lobby and bar during the holiday season. It was an especially frigid day, and any opportunity for a break from the wind-whipped streets was a welcome respite.

Charm and whimsy populated every store as they tend to do around Christmas, bringing back childhood memories, or echoes of such memories. How much is really remembered and how much is conjured by us wanting to fill in the missing pieces to make everything pretty where once it wasn’t? Suzie kept the deeper thoughts at bay as we browsed the bookstore and found gifts for her kids.

As the light drained from the sky, and the moon appeared overhead, it was time to head to Bob’s for the Christmas tree. Along darkened backroads we drove, traveling along some of the same routes that I took to high school oboe lessons. They curved and wound treacherously, with a couple of dangerously-sharp turns – a fitting symbol for a journey back in time.

Appearing like an oasis, Bob’s Tree Farm was a patch of light – the recent snowfall lending it a legitimate winter wonderland feel. The frightful weather, usually a constant whenever I end up picking out a tree, was in full effect as the wind deepened and the temperatures dipped. I could not manage to warm up.

We made a hasty and quick selection, then hustled to the office to pay, after which a friendly gentleman tied it on to the top of Suzie’s car. Having lost a tree off the roof once before, I probably should have been more concerned about it, but Suzie worried enough for both of us, taking it extra slow. My attitude was much more of a sigh and a shrug. Let come what may to this tree and this holiday season. My mind was already on dinner and warming up by the fire at the Cock & Bull.

Framed in icicles, the entrance was resplendent in seasonal beauty. Inside, a fire crackled as we were led to our table a few steps above the main dining room. Cavernous yet cozy, the wooden barn exuded warmth and conviviality. It provided the perfect atmosphere for serious talk and serious laughter, something that only Suzie brings out in our all-too-infrequent get-togethers.

Our lives are so different from the days of carefree Christmases on Locust Avenue. We were only children then, but those years felt more meaningful than these, and maybe they were. Coming back in bits and pieces, the memories, if we really thought about them, weren’t perfect, but our innocence was.

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19
December
2019
Tags: Holiday
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A Pink Car For Christmas

Pretty in pink, this automobile ornament was something I found after the season ended last year, so this marks its debut on our tree. These exquisite works of glass are pieces of art, and therefore a little more than their plain and/or plastic relatives. That means it has taken us a few years to amass a collection that actually fills out a tree. Luckily this year’s Balsam fir is a tad smaller than previous incarnations, so we should be able to load it up richly. The holidays call for such excess.

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19
December
2019
Tags: Food
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From the Mouths of Elves: What Once Was Hard Now Is Soft

This recipe popped up on my Instagram feed, or maybe it was FaceBook – what’s the damn difference these days? Big brother is always listening. He hears everything. In about two seconds I’ll get an ad for ‘Big Brother’ if that’s still a television show. Wait and see. Anyway, I digress. (But just in case, Tom Ford Tom Ford Tom Ford…) This is a cookie post, since it’s cookie season, so let’s do this, Cookies. (Try reading the word ‘cookies’ a couple of times and focusing on it – sounds ridiculously weird, right? Any word will do that if you give it enough time.) So many digressions… I wonder why I don’t want to write this post and give you the recipe…

Perhaps it’s because this one was a mixed bag for me. The beginning and end result worked out well enough. These are mint chocolate cookies – bite-sized for easy popping into the mouth – and they have a unique texture of crunch (thanks to the granulated sugar and crushed peppermint candy coating – as well as the weird batter). They taste decent enough too, and I suppose that’s the main goal. It’s just that I had a major issue with the dough once it was refrigerated.

The recipe, as copied exactly from ‘The Incredible Egg’ below, indicated it’s all right to refrigerate the batter overnight. This turned out to be a godsend, as I’d forgotten I had plans one evening just as I was finishing the batter. I covered it and set it in the fridge then went on my merry way. “Chilled dough is easier to handle” they said…

The next morning when I went to assemble the cookies, I could barely cut through the dough. I’m not a weak person. I’ve been doing push-ups. Maybe even a plank or two. But this batter was solid as a rock. Spoons were being bent in service of coaxing some out. I chipped away at it until I had enough to form a ball, and it became slightly more pliable with the heat of my hand, but my God what an ordeal to struggle for each and every cookie, and I was seriously dismayed about what kind of cookie would result from such a mess.

Surprisingly, their consistency changed upon baking. What once was impenetrable suddenly became moist and slightly chewy. What once was hard now was soft, as if these cookies had shot their wad and were languidly drooping like a drained dick. 

After rolling them in sugar and a couple of crushed candy canes, they gained a gleam and crunch that added to their interest, and the final product was a cookie unlike any I’d ever made before. (And I have made at least three different varieties of cookies in the last ten years alone.) As well as they went over, I don’t think I’ll be doing them again. That dough is just too difficult. Nobody has time for a difficult dough. Life is difficult enough; we don’t need the batter to be. But just in case you want to give it a go, because there’s a good chance I did something to fuck it all up, here’s the recipe. 

ELF’S BITE-SIZED CHOCOLATE PEPPERMINT CRINKLES
2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1-1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
2 cups granulated sugar
1 12 oz. pkg. chocolate chips, melted & cooled
3 EGGS, room temperature
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp. peppermint extract
1/3 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1/4 cup crushed peppermint candies or candy canes
1/3 cup granulated sugar, for rolling

 

DIRECTIONS (please note VERBS and ACTION words in bold and capitalized, because this recipe is demanding!)

MIX flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and salt in large bowl.

BEAT 2 cups sugar, cooled melted chocolate, eggs, oil and peppermint extract in mixer bowl on medium speed until blended. Gradually ADD flour mixture, beating on low speed until blended.

REFRIGERATE, covered, until firm enough to shape, about 1 hour or overnight.

HEAT oven to 350°F. MIX powdered sugar and crushed candy in small bowl. Work with 1/3 of the dough at a time, keeping remaining dough refrigerated. SHAPE dough into 1-inch balls; roll in granulated sugar first and then in crushed candy mixture. PLACE 2 inches apart on parchment paper-lined or ungreased baking sheets.

BAKE in 350°F oven until lightly browned, 8 to 10 minutes. COOL on baking sheets 1 to 2 minutes. REMOVE to wire racks; cool completely.

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18
December
2019
Tags: General
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The Wonder of Woody, The Magic of Movies

Currently making his cross-country way back to the Northeast, Woody Woodbeck is returning to his hometown (and mine) to engage in a multi-pronged heroic enterprise: taking care of his mother and reopening the shuttered cinema in Amsterdam.

I vaguely remember him from school; he was a grade younger and back then age was more of a divider than almost anything else. More memorable were his on-air turns for Fly 92.3, followed by his successful move to California where he would end up producing a number of Bravo shows. One on of his visits, I ran into him in the old Barnes & Noble bookstore in Colonie. He was kind, mentioning something I had written and being extremely generous with his praise. I was more in awe of him and the way he had charged out of Amsterdam to follow his dream.
We are all rooting for this hometown hero to make good in the place from where he came, and anything that touches Amsterdam touches my heart, so I’m definitely pulling for him. This is one instance where we can actually have an impact, as he’s set up a GoFundMe page to tackle the lift of reopening the cinema.

There’s a lot going on around the section of Route 30 where the cinema stood, so it’s rather a shame that we don’t have a place to see movies anymore. Driving to Albany or Schenectady is a lot to ask, especially in these nastier months to come. Having a cinema right there would make dinner and a movie an Amsterdam event again. Our hometown deserves that. Here’s the full story in Woody’s own words:

Growing up in Amsterdam, NY had its ups and downs but the one thing I remember is a very large sense of community.  Everyone knew everyone, lots of family ties, and love for the events that brought everyone together. The city was first founded in 1885 but has a history dating back to 1710.  Currently the city has about 20,000 residents and sits along the Mohawk River in Upstate NY. This city has an abundance of history and was once home to Cabbage Patch Dolls and Coleco. Needless to say it’s a city with some character.  

I got a job working at the movie theatre when it first opened as “Norma Jeans” in 1995 and the theatre was booming.  The lines around around the building front and shows sold out weekend after weekend. The atmosphere there was something special and once again I had a new blended family in my life.  Though I was in radio at the time, working at the theatre sparked the want to work on a larger platform of entertainment. It was truly something special. After graduating in the Class of 1999, a lot of us went our own ways but somehow when something brought us back together…we were like family all over again.  I moved to California to pursue a dream of working in Television and have always been supported by my hometown. Since moving to California, I’ve been back and forth to visit and whenever I came home it was like I hadn’t left. Familiar faces, tremendous spirit, and lots of love & support. 

Just a few months ago, my mother had a massive stroke after having a double knee replacement and I flew home immediately to be at her side.  While home, the outpouring of love that my family received was tremendous. People came to our aid, offered up rides back and forth to see her since my mom doesn’t have a car, making meals for me, etc.  It was truly something special and still is. Over my multiple trips home there was something I kept hearing from everyone I saw; “Did you know the theatre closed? We really miss it. We have to drive pretty far now to see a movie and there really isn’t much else to do with our families locally.”  

So I decided to post a picture on social media in front of the theatre asking the question; “Should I reopen this theatre?”  The post instantly went viral! We’ve been on the news, radio, newspapers, etc. Everywhere I went after posting that picture, members of the community came up to me showing their support to me reopening the theatre.  So that’s what sparked this journey. In addition to moving back to NY to be closer to my mom and help take care of her as she isn’t set to make a full recovery from her stroke, I want to fight to reopen the theatre for our community.  To some the theatre may not seem like much but to this community it means something much more. 

So let’s do this together.  Please spread the word, share the link, encourage a conversation and of course….MAKE A DONATION TODAY!  Thank you in advance. Much love from myself and Amsterdam, NY! 

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18
December
2019
Tags: General
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A Banner Year for Berries

Something in the summer and fall must have set the ideal conditions for ornamental berries, as this December there was a proliferation of all sorts – beauty-berry, holly-berry, almost every berry. They came into their own and set the sky aflame when suspended in mid-air. In the photos here, I believe it was a hawthorne tree that provided the dramatic fire vs. sky scene.

For some reason, I’ve never quite cottoned to the idea of growing berry bushes for ornamental purposes, mostly because the payoff and the show came at the tail-end of the season. By that point I needed a break and the long slumber of the garden was a welcome rest. That’s one reason I don’t think I’d fare well in a monotonous climate without room for dormancy. A spell off is necessary to recharge the batteries, to realign what’s important. And to refresh all the energy needed to create all these berries. Making fruit is one of the most draining things a plant or tree can do.

In Boston, there are a couple of beauty-berry bushes in the Southwest Corridor Park that have matured in the last few years, and their gorgeous showing of bright purple berries in October is delightful to behold. I’m still not quite in enough adoration to reserve space for them in our yard, but having them in Boston is a treat. It’s the same sort of home-away-from-home planting that gives me great enjoyment from afar – like a magnificent magnolia tree, or a clump of spiderwort in full bloom. Glorious to see in their brief show, but not worth the majority of time they spend simply taking up space and storing up the energy needed to put on such a show. For now, I watch from a distance.

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17
December
2019
Tags: General
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Diva Triumvirate

Cher was just in Boston.

Celine Dion was just in Albany.

And Madonna was just in Philadelphia.

I missed them all.

And I’m ok with that.

This is a brave new world.

How to survive without the aid of an icon?

Follow me and I’ll show you the way…

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17
December
2019
Tags: Holiday
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Preparing the Way for The Children & The Uncles

This coming Saturday marks a mix of old and new holiday traditions. The 5thAnnual Boston Children’s Holiday Hour takes place in the afternoon, and at five years old it’s getting a little long in the tooth, particularly since some of these children are now teenagers. There are a few new twists as well, including the addition of some of my favorite family members for the very first time. Andy and the twins are scheduled to join in the fun, much to the excitement and anticipation of our other guests, and much to my relief because this has been a difficult couple of months. Having some family present for this gathering, especially these three, may see me through a fragile time. 

I’ve assembled our stockings by the fireplace mantle with care, and hung a dramatic curtain to create a little jewel box of privacy, dividing up the space into an even more intimate lay-out and providing a little nook for anyone who wants or needs a moment of quiet and privacy. (Assuming I’m not occupying the space, curled into a fetal position and whimpering on the little couch hidden within. I told you it was a dramatic curtain.) Just kidding. Everything will be fine. Children are very forgiving. 

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16
December
2019
Tags: General
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A Very Grand Recap

While winter approached, Steve Grand kept this website warm and toasty with his new line of underwear, Grand Axis. Enjoy these promotional photos that went along with it, and then have fun clicking on the links of this double week of recaps, since some may have missed last week’s. 

It began in hot form with this shirtless holiday hunk post. 

My #TopNine were pretty evenly parsed between my ass and my junk. 

A last-minute plea for Tom Ford, in case you still haven’t gotten me anything for Christmas.

Turkeys gathering. 

And we wonder why people get bent out of shape at this time of the year.

Contemplating loss during the holidays. 

Yoga & the workday.

The casket that almost got away.

A conversation among owls at midnight.

Fuck yeah I’m in therapy. You would be too if it happened to you.

A melancholy holiday moment. 

As Kira and I celebrated this year’s Holiday Stroll (easily my favorite holiday tradition that’s still intact) we took a look-back at the ones that came before. 

My baking evolution continues with this batch of biscotti. 

One of these posts I’m going to do ‘The Twelve Days of Ass.’ Until then, you only have this. 

The week ended, or began, as so many have ended and begun, with a linky Madonna post to celebrate the eventual return of the Madonna Timeline. 

Hunks of the Day included Dwyane Wade, Neil Jones, Mike Colter, Louis Ferrigno Jr., and Ronan Keating.

 

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16
December
2019
Tags: Madonna
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Madonna Random Play

The wonkiness of Spotify aside, my simple shuffle method from iTunes works wonders in selecting the next Madonna Timeline entry, and for the next one I’m going to give you a behind-the-scenes look at the process of how I randomly go about selecting the next song. When it’s time to write a new timeline, I’ll open up iTunes, choose Madonna, and shuffle it until I hit the most recent timeline entry. In this case that’s ‘Medellin’ – so let’s go there now.

Upon first opening it up, I have to get through a number of songs before reaching the most recent, and they come up randomly. For instance, in this road to ‘Medellin’ we hit the following:

‘Bad Girl’

‘Hollywood’

‘Ghosttown’

‘Crazy’

‘Hanky Panky’

‘Thief of Hearts’

‘Living For Love’

‘Sorry’

Then up popped ‘Medellin’, which means the first unchronicled song after this point is the next Madonna Timeline entry. Let’s see which ones we have to get through before a new song is determined:

‘Candy Shop’

‘Beat Goes On’

‘Into the Groove’

Oh damn, we hit a new song already.

‘Waiting’ from the ‘Erotica’ album.

Oh well, you’re gonna have to wait for it, because this was supposed to be a long-ass holding place.

 

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15
December
2019
Tags: Bulge, Shirtless Male Celebrities, Underwear
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Steve Grand Selling Underwear

Steve Grand has made a number of splashes here over the years, starting out with some modeling shots and then revealing a multi-faceted and multi-talented artist beneath the pretty packaging. His take on this Christmas chestnut will go down as one of the most beautiful renditions of an overdone song, while his penchant for sporting a Speedo has made him a favorite for more superficial reasons. Now he’s hawking a line of his own underwear ‘Grand Axis’ – a genius move that should shift a number of units of these beautiful styles. (I’m also a big fan of the name and logo.)

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15
December
2019
Tags: Tiny Threads
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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

A little of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’ goes a long way.

Why didn’t anyone think to stop at half a dozen?

Or at those slow golden rings? The song stalls there anyway.

Plus, most of those gifts are utter nonsense. If my true love gave me any of that crap he’d be gone before we got to three French hens.

And what the hell is anyone going to do with eight maids-a-milking? I don’t drink that much milk in a year.

#TinyThreads

 

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15
December
2019
Tags: Food
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Calm in the Crunch of Biscotti

Patience in cooking is something I’ve gradually learned to appreciate over the years. There was a time when baking something twice or using more than one pot was a deal-breaker as to whether or not I would try a recipe. I loved to cook – to an extent – but anything that went beyond those ridiculously stringent standards was not for me. Leave the twice-baked potatoes to Dolores. Let Diana do the biscotti. If you need the dough to be chilled before you can bake it, give it to Andy. I just didn’t want to be bothered.

Now that I’m getting older (as we all are – yes, even you) I’ve come around to appreciating these steps in cooking, particularly in baking, and I find that they are calming. It appeals to my Virgo nature to follow instructions in precise ways, to take one step at a time and appreciate and enjoy every methodical pause along the process. There is a certain peace and tranquility in faithfully executing a recipe, a sense of satisfaction at every marker on the way. The simple sifting of dry ingredients, for example, a step I’d omitted as frivolous for years mostly because I didn’t want to wash the strainer, now feels like an integral and worthwhile action, not only for providing consistency and removing hard, unwanted clumps or detritus, but also for the mental conditioning of completing a smaller task in service of the grander scheme. Such little accomplishments build upon each other, and when you break life down into these smaller chunks, almost anything can feel surmountable.

Biscotti is one of those recipes I’d never wanted to try because you had to bake it twice. It was also something I’d never gotten into until recent years, when my palette could appreciate the strong texture and subtle, not-too-sweet flavor. The recipe I used called for dried cranberries, another addition, like raisins, that I’ve gradually come around to in my old(er) age. There were sliced almonds too, accentuating the almond extract that gave it a traditional biscotti flavor (at least, the biscotti I tend to favor). The only slight snag came with the stickiness of the batter. Though I’d floured my hands as instructed, it did little to mitigate the difficulty of working and shaping the batter into two long logs. I opted for one larger loaf, which spread out slightly more than expected when baked. That made for larger slices, but also for more impediments in slicing them after the first bake.

(There was more room for cracking and breaking, and I need to figure out the best time to cut – I tried just as soon as they were cool enough to touch, as guided by the recipe, but it felt a bit too soon.) These are the little nuances that come with practice, and such imperfections are the best way to improve. It’s a good lesson for me.

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