Monday, November 30, 2009

Rooftop Breakfast.

In November. Like, late November. Like, practically, two days short of December.

Ravioli with sesame-seed pesto, sauteed (read: deep-fried) squash, and shallots au vinaigre

Whaaaa, I'm on a late night blog roll (muahaha, pun intended), and thought I'd show you this lovely dish I had yesterday. I looove this kind of fancy everyday food, and good for me that Johan seems to digg cooking it!

P.S. Notice how I'm getting the hang of fancy ass food descriptions? The trick is to accentuate the ingredient there's so little of you'd be more likely to forget it than actually taste it. In all honesty, the sesame-seed pesto didn't taste anything like sesame-seed, but by jolly it sounds sophisticated in a headline!

Flowers from Esther

While some people can be hostess with the mostess, Esther is the prime example of a guest with the mostess. She always remembers flowers for who ever hosts a gathering, not to mention a truckload of food:O)


Lucky, luckiest me! Look what my sweet sister sent me all the way from Denmark: An advent calendar with a present for each day of December until Christmas eve! It was a bitch retrieving it from the post office, but goodness gracious did I feel teary-eyed, home-sick and not to mention spoiled and cared for when I opened the box and found all the neatly packaged parcels inside!

I'm bringing the first five to Miami - of all places! - where I'm off to today, Monday......which reminds that I ought to get a few hours of sleep before heading to LaGuardia!

Friday, November 27, 2009


Kids nowadays! There I was going trough all the photos taken last night, and what do I come across but Esther and her friend Martine pulling a Madonna-Britney!


Thanksgiving '09 Crew

Thanksgiving seems to be a pretty good indicator of how often you wind up saying goodbye to friends in this city because they're off to other places. Of all the people here yesterday, there was only one I celebrated it with last year as well: Esther.


Thursday, November 26, 2009

Samaritans at Tomkins

At the risk of generalizing to the point of where I offend someone, I must say that I find Americans, religious Americans involved in charity programs I should specify, to be a most peculiar subcategory of the human species. I'm thinking particularly of the troupe currently standing outside Tompkins Square Park handing out Thanksgiving dinners to the homeless, a part of some religious outreach program in the city.

On most days I will say kudos to any ol' person who actually does something for the homeless, as opposed to the likes of me who tend to talk a lot about doing it but never actually go through with it. But then again there was something hilariously pathetic about the scenario I just witnessed, which made me wonder exactly to whose benefit that very food donation was: The predominantly black homeless people in need of a meal or the predominantly white middle-class people in need of giving? There they were, standing behind the makeshift buffet, all dressed in red aprons, so that, god forbid, anyone should mistake them of belonging to the party of the poor. What made it even more silly was the fact that the apron-clad do-good'ers seemed to far out-number the homeless, and on top of that fought desperately to keep their place and function behind the table that seemed most of all to serve as a physical segregation between 'us' and 'them'.

There were so many charity workers that they practically spilled out on either end of the table, and instead of you just letting some people serve and others get out there and mingle with the homeless, every single Samaritan was allotted the task of doing some utterly pointless little thing like one person holding the paper cup and one the plastic plate, another the fork, a fourth the knife. Giving it seems, feels best if it's material and someone witnesses it while you're at it.

I know I may sound cynical and, as the saying goes, I should probably keep in mind that people who live in glass houses should not throw stones - cos lord knows I'm not one who hangs out in the park on a regular basis to play chess with the down and out. But still. If you gotta give, can't you at least take into consideration what the person you're giving something to might actually be in need of something else that what you've got? Give them a plate of food, sure, everyone's gotta eat. But if you're in such excess of manpower, then let the ones in need grab their one napkin and instead, sit down on the bench with them and keep them company while they eat.

First Thanksgiving

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


I'm so pampered and spoiled with food these days, partly because Johan is a most devoted fan of Jamie Oliver's and thus works himself gradually through the naked chef's entire gastronomical oeuvre, partly because we seem to have this little battle going on in terms of who can swoon the other most with lavish appetizers, entrées and desserts. This evening I was treated to butternut squash soup with roasted sage, bacon and a side of parmesan crostini. Yesterday, it was home made burgers with the whole shabang.

Unfortunately I had an unexpected ground meat trauma as I dug into my perfectly composed 5 inch tall burger, and thus had to start all over again, sans beef. Fortunate thing my meat-neurosis does not comprise bacon, and so I piled that on the bun instead. Yum yum.

America's Funniest

Sorry for going all youtube on you, but f*** me I laughed when I saw this clip last night. To the point where my stomach hurt and I peed my pants a little!

Tuesday, November 24, 2009


Oh jeez, this is good stuff! Will Ferrel and his toddler daughter as respectively Will Ferrel and his landlady Pearl:

The way she speaks reminds of the 'backwards talking' in Twin Peaks:)

Monday, November 23, 2009

Home Made

Candy Cause of Embarrasment

Until my dentist told me to stop eating candy full stop a handful of years ago (or as close to full stop as possible, at least), I devoured insane amounts of candy. Every. Single. Day.

When I think of it now, I'm a bit alarmed at the thought of how many unhealthy additives and artificial colorings that may have accumulated in my corpus over the years. But then I usually provide myself comfort by directing my mind towards other nice memories, such as the lack of red meat in my diet paired with a bounty of vegetables and fruit.

The incident with my dentist took place when I was 23 years of age, and while I probably still eat far too much sugary foods for my own good, I rarely crave for candy per se these days. Ice cream and cakes? Yes please. But corn syrup molded into butterflies? Not so much.

Every once in a while, however, I feel I absolutely must have it around the house. Must, must, must! I loose interest in eating it pretty quickly, but I like having it - go figure - just like I digg having a fully stocked fridge and cabinet.

The other night that pointless craving came upon me and I went to the deli to purchase the colorful little mélange above. I guess not many adults do such things (it was all strategically placed at kid level, so even I had to bend down in order to reach). Anyhow, as I unloaded my colorful collection at the counter, the guy behind the register said: "What? You throwin' an extra Halloween party?"

"Yes", I answered with a fake laugh. "You know kids! Ha ha!"

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Puffer Inferno

Here's a thought: When shopping for a winter coat it's impossible to combine these three assets:
And certainly not if you would like to acquire all three dimensions for a bargain price.

I spent a good part of yesterday afternoon searching for a winter jacket along with, it seemed, the rest of New York City and about a million or so tourists. Everyone was in the market for a "puffer", as I've just learned they're called, and hence all the high street shops were jam packed with exactly such space consuming coats. It was a regular down filled inferno.

I eventually settled on the blue one above, from Gap - a brand whose coolness has somehow been resuscitated in my mind along with many other things I associate with the 90s. Anyhow, I find it's warm and practical, plus it was cheap - 65 bucks as they had 50 % off all outerwear. The cool factor is painfully missing, of course, however, paired with scarves, gloves and hats, it might come across as out doors-y smart, which, I guess, is better than nothing.

The hunt for warm + cool, minus practical, yet at a bargain price, continues....

10 K Plan

Yesterday, over breakfast, our temporary roomie Jess was so sweet to admire me for going running on a regular basis.
"I can walk for miles and miles without getting tired", she said. "But I've never been cardiovascular fit".
After enjoying the praise for a second or two, I had to admit that I have never possessed cardiovascular fitness - despite the fact that I go running about four or five times a week.

A long time ago I read about how a certain percentage of the human population - or perhaps it was a fraction of a percentage really - are simply unable to increase their cardiovascular fitness. I don't remember the details, expect thinking to myself with glee "that's me!!! I'm one of those people!"

Since then I've attempted many times over to explain the symptoms of the syndrome I had self-diagnosed, for example as an explanation for why I don't aspire to run a marathon or why even wildly overweight people manage to outrun me on the track.

"Well", I'll try. "It's like even though the likes of me exercise regularly, we don't increase our fitness. We're not programmed for it. We lack some kind of chemical compound or something. So, it's not that I don't wanna run for five hours straight, it's just that I can't. It's like, not in my genes".

As I started recounting this unsubstantiated hypothesis to my new-found cardiovascular unfit fellow, I realized, exactly, how vague and fuzzy it all was, not least considering that I've been using it as a pretext for physical inaction for quite some years now. The heart of the matter is, I have to admit, that I don't enjoy pushing myself: The minute I feel a bit tired or find myself thinking that it's a little strenous to run, I pretty much stop. So, while I do have the discipline to go out for a run on a regular basis, I never manage to force myself to run that itty bit faster or longer.

But as of yesterday evening, that stopped. From now on I'll be chasing endorphins and other biochemicals that will make me downright hooked to exercising. I downloaded a training program, measured the distance around Tompkins Square Park, went running seven times around it and what's more wrote down all the details, black on white, with the intention of making regular increases in distance, speed and subsequent stretching exercises - sit-ups, push-ups, et al.

The objective is to be able to run 10 kilometers in an hour.

Now, for normal people, it should be feasible to be able to run 10 kilometers in something like 50 minutes after 10-12 weeks of training. However, until proven opposite, I think it's only fair that I give myself an unlimited time frame and an extra ten minutes - you know, given my rare genetic condition and all.

P.S. The little yellow thingy came up when I googled for images of endorphins!

Friday, November 20, 2009

Lego books and butcher block curves

Books are great, I find, in the sense that you can build so many different structures from them. Remember last year's TV stand? In any case, Johan used those same books yesterday to straighten out the butcher board in the kitchen after it went peculiarly curvy.

Sadly, however, it only did the trick momentarily, and now it's back to its former unpractical self.

Thursday, November 19, 2009


Johan got hurt turning off the water in the shower - so masculine!!! - and in lack of proper band aids we constructed one out of a tampon and surgical tape. In general, I'm in a very 'work with what you got mood' these days. For Halloween I decided not to buy anything at all, and simply make my eggs and bacon costume from what I had around the house. The other day, I had no pesto, and wound up making a really yummy improvised one out of Parmesan, pine nuts, garlic, olive oil, and here's the improvisational bit: cilantro.

Ideas for fun for the whole family: Bottled Beer Blind Tasting!!!

# 1600! With Pav-love to you all!

I've never really celebrated the number of posts on my blog - say the 1000nd entry or something like that - not because I didn't feel like it, but rather because I never gave it much thought to look for the spot on the publishing platform where it indicates exactly how many you've posted.

This afternoon, however, out the corner of my eye, I saw that I was about to post entry number 1600 - admittedly not a number I'm particularly fond of, but then again, I decided it should be just as good as any to celebrate - with Pavlova, to be exact. Homemade even, not by me, admittedly, but by our lovely temporary roommate Jess from New Zealand, who made it to us last night for dessert. Lucky us:O)

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


Although neither Johan or I are fans of performance art, we were lured into attending "Music for 16 Futurist Noise Intoners", part of this year's Performa biennial, because one of the performers were none less than Blixa Bargeld, front man of the German band Einstürtzende Neubaten - a band, whose existence I have to admit I was completely ignorant of until I was introduced to them this summer.

Anyhow, off we went to Town Hall to see a total of 15 performances of noise which in the beginning turned out to be surprisingly pleasant and comforting and not at all loud and tedious as we had first expected. However, after listening to those noise machines and witnessing various performers get on stage to roll around on the floor or move about in artsy ways, it did feel a little pretentious and pointless, not least accentuated by the fact that RoseLee Goldberg, the founder of Performa and supposedly a quite savvy lady at that, stepped on stage to present "the legendary" Mr. Bargeld of the band whose name she seemed unable to pronounce - let alone seemed the slightest familiarized with. "Er...can any one help me out here?", she tried after having failed at pronouncing the name of the band a good six or seven times in a row.
No one chipped in. In fact, I felt they delighted in her awkward situation, clad as she were in leather pants and a bob so perfect you'd think it was cast in plastic. Ah, the art world, so malicious you almost gotta love it.

This fella, Einar Örn Benediktsson (of the Sugarcubes) we both kind of digged. In the program it said he was known for his energetic performance and weird rantings about everyday stuff, which he lived up to in a most appealing way.