Art + Kids = Good

Last night at the dinner table, three year old Iain said: "remember when we went to the Murakami show?" I don't know what made him think of Murakami while eating chicken burritos— especially since we saw ©Murakami over six months ago at MOCA—but, no matter. I'm continually amazed at how much a kid can take in and remember; I swear my little guy has a photographic memory, particularly for all things visual. He's seen a lot of art in his short life, but evidently he loves Murakami as much as mommy. I remember defending the ©Murakami exhibition to a colleague (is the term "colleague" even used outside of academia?) and this got me thinking about how academics and critics can kill the entire experience of art. There is no shortage of scholarly debate surrounding the merits, of lack thereof, of Murakami, and although I've read quite a bit of it, I can't say that it's made me more or less an appreciator of his work. For me, debating the merits of Murakami is a bit like agonizing over the nutritional value of the world's most delicious cheesecake. The consumption of perfect cheesecake is much too pleasurable to even consider fat, calories, et al, so why bother? Experiencing a Murakami exhibition is wildly, visually delicious, it makes me happy, and his total over-the-topness transcends the intellect and cuts straight to the heart (like most good art). Even a three year old could tell you that.

Heat Wave Necessitates Major Popsicle Consumption

It's pretty much too hot to do much of anything right now. Triple digits outside (unseasonably warm for the usually temperate Central Coast). My indoor thermometer is registering an uncomfortable 90.5 (no air conditioning in our little house on account of the usually temperate climate). Just about the only thing I can do under the current conditions is consume massive amount of popsicles. Hey, I'm cooling off for two.

Reading Mark Bittman's fabulous food blog has got me thinking about making my own popsicles: fun, much more affordable, and healthier. Just yesterday I was completely ripped off by Trader Joe's when I spent $2.59 on a box of Soy Creamy Orange Vanilla Bars. When I picked up the box, I noticed it was suspiciously light, but in my popsicle mania, I failed to read the "contains 3 bars" text. Okay, so maybe 86 cents is a small price to pay for the supposedly healthy soy-based version of a dreamsicle, but I was still miffed to open the box and find only three lousy popsicles. I simply must put a stop to store-bought popsicles and go into home production. Now to find the perfect popsicle mold and begin my culinary experimentation.

Crazy Type

This crazy, intricate collaged type by Oliver Barrett at Go Media is simply amazing. I was just at an award's banquet for students in which one of the speakers advised them: "Maybe you should go somewhere lame, like Cleveland. (as opposed to the usual destinations of S.F. and L.A.)" Californians tend to think that the entire of middle of the country is a complete wasteland—and it can be, in winter. But, evidently, there's some pretty hot design coming out of Cleveland. Maybe it's not so lame after all.

Inspiration: Cornerstone Gardens

Recently, the family and I took a little trip north to visit the most wonderful friends who live in a ridiculously well appointed, surprisingly kid-friendly Eichler house and cook a constant array of glorious food made with super duper fresh local produce. Mark and Paul, you're the best hosts ever.

And because they're the best hosts ever, they introduced us to the fantastic Cornerstone Gardens in Sonoma. The gardens feature magical—often interactive—garden installations, for lack of a better term. A great destination for kids, grownups, garden enthusiasts, art lovers and those in search of inspiration. And, because it's Sonoma, there's wine tasting of course (just a side benefit).

Kitchen Adventures: Ricotta

my very own homemade ricotta: yum!

Last week I read an article in the NY Times about how Suddenly, Ricotta's a Big Cheese. Ever since, I've been fantasizing about that bland creamy delicious blank palette of a cheese that is ricotta. Naturally, I had to try the seemingly simple recipe for, I kid you not, homemade ricotta.

I can proudly report that I did a load of laundry and made cheese before 8:00am this morning. Making soft cheese is a bit like printing black and white film: simultaneously chemical and magical as one waits for something to emerge from a swirling liquid mass. I loved watching the steaming curds bubble to the surface of hot milk while that little red line on the thermometer climbed to 175 degrees. The process is indeed simple:

Pour 2 quarts of whole milk and 2 cups of buttermilk into a heavy-bottomed pot. Cook over high heat, stirring frequently; scrape bottom of pot occasionally to prevent scorching. When mixture is steaming hot, stop stirring; wait and watch patiently until mixture reaches 175 to 180 degrees on a candy thermometer. Curds and whey will then separate.

Immediately turn off heat and gently ladle curds into a sieve lined with 4 layer of cheesecloth. I have to admit that this is the first time I used cheesecloth for its namesake purpose.

When all curds are in sieve and dripping has slowed (about 5 minutes), gently gather edges of cloth and twist to bring curds together; do not squeeze. Let drain 15 minutes more. Untie cloth and pack ricotta into airtight containers. Refrigerate and use within one week.

Truly amazing: fresh cheese in the time in takes to consume one's morning cup of coffee. I'm thinking Greek yogurt is next.

Fresh ricotta recipe adapted from the super suave Michael Chiarello's "Casual Cooking." Michael, I dig your Napa style.