Chestnuts roasting

Neglected blog, getting dusty and cobwebbed. The house seems unnaturally quiet tonight. Just this morning, it was full of house guests, Austin friends who'd come for a too-short visit. Among the highlights, we stoically stood in line for Giacomo's in the freezing cold and were rewarded by tender calamari and delicious pasta. Maybe that's Giacomo's secret. Their dishes are liberally sauced with both anticipation and triumpth (one dines under the covetous stares of those still in line). We all survived our visit yesterday at the Museum of Science (apparently along with all families in the greater New England region). It was fun sharing Boston with friends (despite the sub-zero wind chills).

And now. Time to get back to the everyday. I'd meant to post this earlier, but didn't have a chance. Ever since first sighting them at Russo's, I'd wanted to roast chestnuts. For some reason, I'd never had them in Austin. I don't recall ever seeing them available, although I'm sure they must have been sold at Central Market. But roasted chestnuts. Ahhh...they're redolent of an old-fashioned winter. Buying them from vendors with carts. Wrapping your hands around their warmth in your coat pockets. And of course, "chestnuts roasting on an open fire." What could be more vintage holiday?

So here they are. Thanks to Magdalena for the instructions.



How to Roast Chestnuts:
- Preheat the oven at 375F
- Cut an X on each chestnut. Place them on a cookie sheet. Do not add anything to them.
- Cook for approximately 25 minutes.
- Check one for doneness. They'll be done when they're soft, but not dry.
- VERY important step: when they are done, place them in a bowl, cover with a tea towel, and leave for 10 minutes. This step ensures that they will easily peel.

Verdict? The recipe worked perfectly. Unfortunately, no one liked them, but me. As for me, I didn't love them. Instead, they brought back some wispy memories of Korean roasted chestnuts. The moment felt positively Proustian with chestnuts playing the madeleine's role. Now in defense of roasted chestnuts, I admit that we ended up buying the chestnuts from Whole Foods, not from Russo's as instructed. I was too terrified of the frenzied pre-holiday crush at Russo's. Next year, I'll buy Russo's chestnuts and try again.

In search of zinc

Don't you hate it when you have a vision for a space and are unable to source the specific item you need? Years ago, I was on the hunt for billowing dupioni curtains. Nothing to be had other than luxe couture items that were zip codes away from my budget. A couple of years later, dupioni curtains became ubiquitous, found in every mail-order catalogue and suburban mall in America.

Now, I'm on the hunt for zinc wall shelves. Or copper tray shelves. Or any shelves that would look at home in a potting shed. I did find this 19th-century bucket bench with zinc-covered center shelf. This goes a bit too country, and I think that it was an item that had already sold at auction.



Oh, and I need the shelves for the basement bathroom. Why does one want potting shed shelves in a bathroom? Well, it stems from our IKEA Domsjo farmhouse sink.




We'd bought it for our old kitchen. When we moved, I decided I needed a larger kitchen sink. So the Domsjo has been lugged from Austin to Boston and now resides in our attic. It struck me the other day that the Domsjo would be a perfect fit for the basement bathroom. The bathroom is steps away from the walkout door so the Domsjo could double as a mudroom sink, perfect for dirty or chemical-laden washups. With its orange seventies wallpaper (lavished on every surface including the ceiling) and budget motel vanity, the basement bathroom is overdue for a makeover.

The Domsjo sits on the sink cabinet so we won't have a traditional vanity. Instead, wall shelves, in particular zinc wall shelves, would be functional, fit the narrow space, and continue the outdoorsy, unexpected vibe. Because we're using a kitchen sink, I have to be careful of what else to put in the room. For example, stainless shelves might look as if we'd accidentally stuck part of the kitchen in the bath. Very traditional bath cabinetry might negatively accentuate the sink. So to harmonize with the farmhouse sink, I'd like a dark uniform slate floor and potting room shelving. The sink base will be painted an earthy green/putty color.

The one positive to my fruitless search are the wonderful web sites I've discovered.


zinc Pottery Barn lanterns on Katy Elliott's wonderful blog


zinc kitchen island/buffet at Mecox Gardens

Alas, though they referred to zinc-covered materials, none of them had what I need. So...zinc shelves anyone?

A steamy day after Christmas

I'm spending my day after Christmas in a swimsuit bottom and t-shirt. Not exactly the way I'd pictured myself clad on a New England winter day.

Ahhh...a post-Christmas holiday, you think. Or a day at a spa, courtesy of a generous gift-giver?

Not quite. I'm spending some private time with the newly found love of my life. And it's not a mid-life crisis fling. He's little and hard-bodied. He's quite a cheap date (only $55 at Costco). Yes, he does take some time to recharge now and again, but who doesn't? His name is Wagner. Wagner 905 power steamer. And boy, is he steamy. He sailed effortlessly through my first little test, easing off one wall of decades-old wallpaper (and a layer of plaster too...but the steamiest affairs all have unintended consequences).

So here I sit. On the floor of my shower. Steaming away years of old, beyond-hope caulk and grossness.

And all that steam isn't bad for my pores either. It's a spa vacation, DIY-style.

Our first Boston Christmas

Our first Christmas here in the Boston burbs was a white Christmas. My very first. It was lovely. After the semi-controlled frenzy of present opening in the morning, we headed out to test our new snowshoes and sleds at a nearby golf course.

The snow on the main sledding hill was pretty worn down, but there was enough snow on a smaller hill to be fun for my sledding novices. They swooped down and clambered up over and over and over, cheeks rosy with cold, faces beaming. My husband, who has edged reluctantly into his forties, flew down the little hill like a child.

And I've discovered something wonderful. Snowshoeing. The rhythmic crunch in the cold hush, the smooth movement. I've missed running so much since my knee surgery. Running used to be my meditation, my heartbeat my mantra. This is the closest that I've come to that feeling of peace. And as a low-impact, no-torque activity, it's perfect for my crummy knees.

And after all of the snowshoeing and sledding and tramping about, the afternoon ended appropriately with a snowball fight. A snowball fight in which we demonstrated why none of us would ever make it to the major leagues. Heck...the minors...or even a competitive Little League team. But despite (or maybe because of) our incredibly terrible aim, it was fun all the same.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

Problem of a canine kind

Did you know dog pee freezes?

Yeah. I guess I did too. But I never thought it would pose a potential issue.

The dog pee doesn't just seep into the ground and vanish. No. Not when it's always freezing. And when you have glittering, pristine expanses of white snow, those little frozen puddles and streaks of yellow really catch your eye. And not in a good way.

We'd shoveled our walkways and sidewalks like good citizens. We have enormous mounds of snow lining these walkways. Apparently, doggies do not enjoy plowing through the cold stuff to do their business. Because on our sidewalks and along some of the berms (from neighborhood male dogs), we now have frozen little ponds of pee. Lovely.

Further, we normally let our two shelties out in front. Our backyard is only accessible via the basement walkout or down the frozen deck steps. Since one dog is aged and crippled, it had been easier to let them out front. We're going to have to rethink this. Because now, we have yellow splotches right outside the front door. That just doesn't say "welcome in," does it?

The things I'm learning.