Thanksgiving is never particularly interesting to me because I can’t remember a point in my life when I was enthused about giant turkeys and hams, and coming down with strep throat this year made it even less culinarily exciting. (Vegan chicken soup from a can anyone? I couldn’t even make pie.) HOWEVER, french toast is definitely one of those holidays-only breakfasts, and Sunday after Thanksgiving when you’ve got leftover pumpkin challah-type-bread is more than enough of a special occasion.

In my experience, the keys to really great french toast are using an originally very soft and fluffy bread (challah, babka, brioche) that is slightly stale (otherwise it’ll fall to mush the second you get it wet) and cut very thick, using more milk/cream than eggs, a very hot pan, and way more butter than I ever feel comfortable using. (It’s for special occasions. It’s totally fine. And in reality it probably adds up to a tablespoon max, but seems massive.)

Anyhow. Above: pumpkin bread French toast.  Continuing my disgusting eternal compulsive obsession with mascarpone, there’s hazelnut butter and mascarpone between the two slices, and of course it’s all covered with cinnamon and maple syrup.

silk shirt: uo
jeans: current/elliot
boots: surface to air

silk shirt: uo

jeans: current/elliot

boots: surface to air

Karen O rocking gold shoulderblades from Bijules, which are pretty much awesome. Now just to find wearable-and-affordable-for-normal-life versions incorporated into a dress… H+M, why do you fail me? Seriously haven’t been able to find any decent versions of the INTENSE SHOULDERS of the past few seasons at any of my usual cheapy stores this season yet. [via nitrolicious]

Karen O rocking gold shoulderblades from Bijules, which are pretty much awesome. Now just to find wearable-and-affordable-for-normal-life versions incorporated into a dress… H+M, why do you fail me? Seriously haven’t been able to find any decent versions of the INTENSE SHOULDERS of the past few seasons at any of my usual cheapy stores this season yet. [via nitrolicious]

Given my unnatural obsession with temp tats, I’m in love with these script ones by the renowned Scott Campbell for vending machines at Art Basel Miami, which I’m hearing is actually supposedly pretty cool.  Granted I’m usually more into wash-off unicorns, dinosaurs, rainbows, and skulls, but you have to admit these are rad. [via gnarlitude]

Given my unnatural obsession with temp tats, I’m in love with these script ones by the renowned Scott Campbell for vending machines at Art Basel Miami, which I’m hearing is actually supposedly pretty cool.  Granted I’m usually more into wash-off unicorns, dinosaurs, rainbows, and skulls, but you have to admit these are rad. [via gnarlitude]

As per Monday usual, last night’s dinner — you can tell I’m still in a fall mood and continuing my obsession with squash, shiitake mushrooms, pecans, and orzo/barley salads.  We started out with pumpkin bread crostini (ha, ha, I can give toast a fancy name too) with cherry butter, carmelized onions, and goat brie, and for dinner I made an orange-glazed chilean seabass with mashed butternut squash and a pecan-mushroom-corn whole grain orzo pilaf. Also, you know, half a bottle of a peppery Malbec. A+.

Also in this week’s experiments? Marshmallows, from scratch, which made my whole kitchen a goey, confectioners-sugar-coated mess and yielded some slightly-more-gelatinous-than-expected results, but ultimately was more or less a success. Fun fact: I went into every bodega in a 5 block radius trying to find corn syrup and confectioner’s sugar. Every single one - we’re talking mouse poop beer-and-cigarettes-and-hard-rolls-with-butter bodegas, kids, not like, organic groceires - had agave syrup and stevia, but nobody had good old Karo syrup. Which in theory is kind of awesome —  it’s great knowing I can buy spelt flour and organic unbleached tampons downstairs, and I still got all the sugary junk at Tops — but I mean, seriously.  Oh, Williamsburg.


Believe - Macha & Bedhead

Macha & Bedhead covering Cher, which somehow I’d never heard before. The autotune is completely hilarious and I think its incongruity here here (on a sleepy ‘indietronica’/’slowcore’ track circa Y2K) points out just how accustomed + oblivious we’ve gotten to hearing that on female vocals and more upbeat dance/hip hop tracks.

How many witchy gothy studded ripped black-lipstick-and-boobies-in-the-forest editorials can I post? A lot. And I’m totally okay with that. I-D Winter 09, via TFS.

Cracks — directed by Jordan Scott, daughter of Ridley Scott (who we all know directed my secret favourite Blade Runner)… and in which the love of my life Eva Green (really, read that interview, how can you not think she’s the most amazing thing ever?) plays some sort of oversexed glamorous boarding school teacher in what seems to be a lesbian-lolita-lord-of-the-flies drama of totally epic scenery, costuming, creepiness, and pretentious complexity. Though I supposed one could bemoan the lack of incestuous Parisian ménage à trois (and I doubt she’ll be cooking ratatouille in a chiffon dressing gown while Louis Garrell eats a banana in nothing but a green velvet blazer)… still looks like it’ll be interesting.

Hansel + Gretel in Vogue 2009, photographed by Annie Leibowitz, and featuring Lily Cole and, naturally, Lady Gaga as the witch. Well then!

As is the case far too often, I can’t read very much at all of Annette Pehrsson’s blog, Hymn for the Cigarettes, but I love her calm, muted, soft-focus photos. Also, she appears to have (or have access to) an awful lot of adorable kittens, which I’m not going to complain about.

brooklyn fail

You know, I started out writing this long-ass ranty intellectual post about why NY Mag’s feature on the ‘Brooklyn scene’ and the Dirty Projectors and how, like, this guy Todd P is totally changing the world got really under my skin and somehow made me kinda depressed.  Like about how they DO actually start to get to this good point they make about Brooklyn as a self-sustaining  micro-economy of NYU, Vassar, and Oberlin grads who buy 7”s and beer and all hang out at the same places and work at the same venues and play in bands and are secretly depressed about the fact that the internet and the recession meant that their jobs of being a rockstar/journalist/wealthy a+r guy at some cool-ass label/writer/artist/whatever just genuinely aren’t options that exist in the world anymore but here’s this option, seriously, to hang out and exist in this little bubble (challenge, friends: how many people in this photo do you know? point proven) that fuels itself and does feel vibrant and alive and community-ish when everything else is stagnant.

But about how despite getting to that, it’s just awkward to talk about a ‘New York scene’ in this other-y way (“let’s write an article about hipsters for the 47823th time”)… or even about how living in a moldy cheap prewar Bushwick brownstone crammed to the brim with band practices isn’t, like, ‘a big deal’ (speaking of which, anyone want one? I’m subletting my room. no, seriously.)… or my endless rant about blogs vs magazines and how even the bloggiest of forward-thinking NYC magazines seems awfully pedantic and behind things in comparison…. or just about how downright cringe-worthy and off-base that list of “40 songs that define the Brooklyn sound” was and why for some reason that made me really, really sad about the death of media and the music industry and Brooklyn and THE WHOLE UNIVERSE or whatever, all at once.

Then I realised that, yes, sometimes the only appropriate reaction is snark and between that and, natch, the comments on the articles themselves (“The sound of right now? I’d suggest a quick use of the fact-checking machine called google…Some of the songs are from 2006 and 2007. That’s like 4 lifetimes in indie-band terms.” or “This list seems as telling a commentary on contemporary journalism as it is Brooklyn’s music scene…. Yeah… Brooklyn… we get it. What else.”), I got nothin’.

Sigh.

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