The Big Orange Splot

Our Favorite On The Media Moments

2010-02-26T13:57:00.003-05:00

Anya Horne Michelet

2009-10-14T12:33:00.002-05:00

It's been a busy year! Not much time for blogging. Anya was born on June 27th, 2009.
She's keeping us busy...and deliriously happy.

Just Married!

2008-10-05T14:27:00.002-05:00

Please can we get one, please?

2008-06-22T07:41:00.003-05:00

The Day There Was No News

2008-05-26T20:16:00.001-05:00

The Day There Was No News, originally uploaded by Pixelsurgeon.

Eerie and wonderful. The mood created owes a huge debt to the soundtrack by Ben Frost - Theory of Machines.

Suzy Hotrod.

2008-05-24T10:29:00.002-05:00

Roller Derby, originally uploaded by unklemunki.

She's got to be the greatest Rolley Derby queen ever. Without a doubt.

I'm not sure I've ever idolized a sports hero this way before. Possibly Dorothy Hamill, but maybe that was really just all about her haircut.

Ahhh, Paris

2008-05-24T10:27:00.001-05:00

ellen-paris, originally uploaded by unklemunki.

Charles drew this...

I can almost smell the basil on my parents' balcony garden!

311 to the Rescue

2008-05-05T20:53:00.003-05:00

Regarding my earlier post...

After becoming enraged about the state of our poop-covered block, I decided to call 311 to see if there was any city service I could access to help the situation. Within 2 days, there was a brand new liter basket on the corner of the street. Now, granted, there had already been a liter basket in place just across Caton Ave...but perhaps some dog owners felt that crossing the street to dispose of Spot and Fido's messes was going just too far.

Now, I might be just flattering myself, but I like to think the condition of the block has improved. Drastically.

Birth Announcement

2008-04-25T07:19:00.002-05:00

Monday morning WNYC's new morning show launches. I've been working with the team launching the show, and, as a listener, I'm just stoked to hear it come bursting out of my clock radio come Monday.

And I've decided to take advantage of this opportunity for change. This morning, and over the past 30 weeks or so, my radio turns on at 6:45 am and I snooze away until 7:30, well, sometimes later...well, sometimes A LOT later... The first time I heard The Takeaway I thought, "now THIS is going to be hard to sleep through!" It's really engaging - smart, funny, and with a wicked honest streak. So, I've decided to set the alarm earlier - to 6:00 and get up with John and Adaora (the hosts) and the plan is that I'll be up and out of the house by 7:30 - with plenty of time for going to the gym before work.

(This blog posting is part of my public accountability plan. It's sort of like when I quit smoking...telling everyone that I'd done it sure made it hard to bum smokes of off your pals after a stressful day at the office.)

It begins at 6 am on Monday Morning (April 28th, 2008) and you can hear it at 93.9 FM or if you are inclined to hit snooze for a while, you can hear it at AM 820 at the more reasonable hour of 8 am. Live stream it here and check it out here. You can hear a preview over here.

My Doppleganger Gallery

2008-03-18T11:55:00.000-05:00

The Poopiest Blog - I mean BLOCK in Brooklyn

2008-03-02T21:40:00.004-05:00

Yes, I think we have found a winner: Brooklyn's most shit-covered block. It is the Ocean Parkway access road (east side) between Church Ave and Caton Ave. The sidewalks are covered in dog poop.

Charles and I share a car with our dear friends Julie and Andrea. They live just down the street. One vehicle per 4 people seems reasonable to us. And it works out wonderfully. We have a little google map to keep track of where it's parked and we all have keys. It's a great arrangement. The only trouble is: the there is one block between us and it is the poopiest blog in the known universe.

How did this happen? Did it come to be this way over some sort of long decay of decency? Or did all etiquette break down overnight?

I do not have a dog. And I know not what I would do if I, as a dog owner, stumbled upon this block where there is no trash bin, and having already used my plastic bags for the responsible removal of messes earlier in our walking, and my dog, suddenly, seeing the - no lie - 30 or 40 piles of dog pies (some petrified, others still steaming mounds) was somehow drawn inexplicably and irresistibly to contributing his own deposit to this collection.

What's the right thing to do here? Avoid this block? Take up a resolution in the city counsel to add trash bin and curb-your-dog signs? And what does 'curb your dog' mean anyway? Isn't 'clean up after your freakin' pooch' a little more direct?

Tetris

2008-01-05T18:03:00.001-05:00

C-I-L-L My Landlord

2007-12-29T10:41:00.000-05:00

Just a quick (and overdue) follow-up post on my lawsuit with my ex-landlord...

To eliminate all suspense, let me just say, I won.

Now, let me add all the weird stuff.

At some point, after my judgement was awarded - after it became overwhelmingly clear that he wasn't going to pay (notice of his lawsuit against me was a small tip off), I took my award to the City Marshall. With the help of the current tenant, I had discovered where the sleezebag in question was cashing his rent checks.

It took some time for the City Marshall to get the court to issue an order allowing her to seize his assets on my behalf. And during this waiting time I'd call up and ask some variant of the question "what is the hold up here, people?!?" So one day, I'm hanging out on hold with the snippy clerk at the city marshall's office, and I decide to google the SEL (that's Sleezeball Ex-Landlord). Now, beats me why I decided to do this. I'd googled him before. But this time, here's what pops up:

A press release about his arrest.

I love the internet. It takes me all of about 14 minutes to locate the full details of his crime, to read his attorney's letter to the judge pleading for leniency, to learn that he's got a trial coming up.

The scoop: it turns out the SEL was involved in gang related activity. He committed eight counts of identity fraud -- which I think means that he made fake passports on a home computer -- for an Eastern European gang dealing in stolen cars, drugs and - get this - a violin.

Gothamist had this to say about my SEL's crew

The police and feds busted a crew of Eastern European criminals yesterday who operated out of Brooklyn. The
Daily News calls them "Stringfellas" because one of their schemes was to sell a stolen Stradivarius violin and "then rob the buyer." That would be an ambitious but classic (no pun intended) cycle of crime: Claim to sell stuff only to pocket the cash and then take the object back for another "sale" - we just like that coveted musical instruments would have been used in the deals. The feds had been watching the gang, which dabbled in extortion, drugs and weapons trafficking as wells as stolen IDs, for over a year. The Brooklyn US Attorney said, "No effort will be spared to ensure that criminal groups like the Greenpoint crew do not gain a foothold in our communities." But there may have been someone in the NYPD who helped the gang (many gang members hung out at the Europa Club, which is near the 94th Precinct).

From the letter to judge from his attorney:

You see, the demon alcohol made him do it.

So, here's what happened: he pleaded guilty and was fined $10,000 and sentenced to serve 5 months at Ft. Dix. After release, he'll have 5 months of house arrest and then he'll have 3 years of probation. He's not allowed to own a gun. On January 7, 2008 at 2pm he must report to prison.

I learn all this, and then a few weeks later, I get the check in the mail from the City Marshall. Not only did I get the award in full - plus fees -- but there was interest. About $200 more than I expected. And then, a few days later, I meet the SEL in court for his suit against me. I'm amazed - he's on time, alone, and has not a shred of a case to support his claim. The arbitrator asks "Do you have pictures or anything?" and the SEL replies: "Oh, yeah, I had pictures, but they were on the computer...and..well...you know." The arbitrator replies dryly "Oh, I know." At one point, the arbitrator asks me "Wait - to clarify - did you get your deposit back?" I reply "Actually, yes, with the help of the City Marshall. I got it a few days ago." The arbitrator looks surprised. He says "Really? How does that work? Did you have to pay the City Marshall? I've never met anyone who was actually able to get their deposit back."

It didn't seem necessary to bring up the criminal record. A week later, I had the verdict: I won.

While there was, in my case, no reason to resort to violence, I do, nonetheless, given all the delay and frustration of this whole process, empathize with the sentiments of that classic Eddie Murphy poem:

Dark and lonely on a summer's night.
Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord.
See a doggie. Do he bite?
Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord.
Slip in his window. Break his neck.
Got no reason. What the heck?
Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord.
C-I-L-L my land lord!

Yoga Is All the Rage...among the undead

2007-11-06T23:21:00.000-05:00

from my friend Jason...a fantastic book publicity stunt.

Brooklyn Bands Unite to Create Megaband/Cult

2007-08-29T06:15:00.000-05:00

On Letterman, Feist got all their friends out to play back up singers - that's Grizzly Bear and The National and my fave, Nicole Atkins, in those white outfits and forearm warmers. (Um, forearm warmers? Must be the con of the month at American Apparel.)

Jury Duty

2007-06-27T11:21:00.000-05:00

Returned from Africa to find a my jury summons in the mail.

This is getting ridiculous. I have spent more time in Brooklyn courts in the last six months than, well, than I have in the gym, regrettfully.

So far, it's 12:22pm and I've been sitting here since 8:30 am along with a few hundred of my fellow Brooklynites, listening to lists and lists of names. Mine has yet to be called.

Fingers crossed that the trend continues.

Wrong and Write

2007-06-22T06:33:00.001-05:00

You can also watch it HERE if it's not loading right on my site. (I just watched from Big Orange Splot and the sound was off -- but that's just the magic of the internet...if you go to this link, it'll work a little better.)

48 Hour Film Fest

2007-06-22T06:04:00.000-05:00

I highly reccomend that you watch this film. It's called "Wrong and Write" and it was created by the production team know as Double Stunt Double for the 2007 48 Hour Film Project!

Written, filmed and edited between Friday June, 15 and Sunday June, 17.

Required Elements:

Character: Tetley Fairfax, writer
Prop: Conference badge
Line of dialogue: Well, if you must know, my father told me.

I attended a screening of films for the 48 Hour Film Fest on Wednesday night and this was, BY FAR, the best film shown. Aside from it being the only one with consistently good techincal quality, it had the best script, best performances, and was the most coherent -- so many others were meandering scene after scene leaving the audience somewhat in the dark about the meaning or direction of it all. Now, some might argue that my opinion should be seriously discounted as my boyfriend, Charles, is one half of the Double Stunt Double team and produced, wrote, and directed this film. But perhaps not. Perhaps I've already accounted for that bais, and even so, it was DEFINITELY the best of the bunch. That's what I say. His work clearly rose above - even assuming that I'd like it more than the others. We now wait to see if Double Stunt Double will win any awards or advance on to the next round of competition which would mean making another 48 hour film in September, with the winner of that round taking home a $10,000 award.

Making Like a Tanzanian Devil

2007-06-03T09:55:00.000-05:00

Just a quickie post to say: if you are looking for me, well, I've skipped town. I'm in Tanzania until June 16th -- although it'll take me until the 18th to make my way home to Brooklyn.

I'm intending to blog about my adventures over here if you wanna see what I'm up to.

I say 'intending' because since my arrival here on the African continent I've come to realize that things take time. Especially online. A single webpage may load for hours. And access may not be all that easy to find.

This morning (or rather TODAY as this errand took hours!) I went into 'town' to try to buy some plane tickets -- but learned that the airline I hope to fly on Friday is cash only. What may be a prudent business decision for them sure is inconvenient for me. But in exploring my options I learned that if I hire a driver and rent a 4wd jeep, I may save $70 or so -- and although it'll take me 18 hours longer to reach my final destination (I'll have to pick up an all night ferry to cross Lake Victoria) -- I'll get to cross the Serengeti and see the Ngorongoro Crater. I can think of worse ways to spend 18 hours.

I've been Sued!

2007-05-29T07:36:00.000-05:00

It all started when I moved out of my apartment in Greenpoint, over a year ago.

I replaced a broken glass window (from when my ex accidently locked me out of the apartment), my mom patiently filled and painted the picture-frame holes on the walls, I hired a housecleaner even after I'd fully cleaned the place -- all to make sure that I'd get my deposit back.

My ex was actively disinterested in pursuing the deposit...fine. His choice. But this left me with the responsibilty and, presumably, the cash. Oh, but how elusive the cash has been!

Did the walk-through with the landlord and he promised to send the full deposit. After 4 months and no sign of it, I sent him a letter threatening legal action. Then he sent me a letter saying that he had painted and refinished the floor and as a result, he didn't owe me anything.

But the part that burned me, was that he suggested that I'd only paid half and that was in touch with my ex about his portion. Which he wasn't. (The other part that burned me was that this landlord had been so cheap, so hostile, and so disrespectful while I lived there...and clearly he believed he could take advantage of me.)

Following The Rules as set out by the Attorney General's Office I following the following steps.

1. Invited Sleezeball Ex-Landlord (heretofore to be referred to as SEL) to mediation at Atty Gen's Office

2. Submitted full documentation of my claim to the Atty Gen and sent SEL a binder full of the documents

3. After AG's office reviewed my case and SEL's response, they referred me to Small Claim's Court, noting that this dispute was a matter for 'judgment.'

4. Filed small claims suit.

5. Showed up for hearing -- no sign of SEL.

6. Made my case before an arbitrator who issues a 'default judgment.'

7. SEL, getting notice of the judgment in the mail, files a motion to dismiss the default judgment.

8. Back to court for the hearing before a judge on vacating the default judgment. Judge buys the SEL's story that he didn't get notice of hearing but does not buy his sorry-ass story that he's having a 'family emergency' tonight and is not ready for a hearing on the merits of my claim. We go to see the arbitrator.

9. Made my case before an arbitrator - SEL offers lame-ass defense.

10. I WIN the case. Get a judgement for my full deposit plus interest!

11. As instructed by the court I try to 'contact judgment debtor' to collect. I call the SEL 2 times and I send the SEL a lovely blue card on which I have written in big letters: TIME TO PAY THE JUDGEMENT.

12. I wait 30 days.

13. I begin trying to collect the judgement. The law entitles me to seize his property. But this is a long and involved process.

14. Step One: call a NYC marshall -- she instructs me that I have to find his assets first, before she can seize them. To find his assets, it's back to small claims court -- for the 3rd time.

15. Oh crap. Bad news. I go back to court and realize that I have messed up. In my initial filing I put the SEL's first name in the last name space and last name in the first name space -- as a result, I have a judgment for someone who does not exist. So, step one: petition the court to change the cases' caption -- that's the little Ellen vs. SEL part which looks like Ellen vs. LES part right now, but I'm trying to fix that-- acknowledging that this is just a simple clerical mistake.

16. File motion for amendment to caption. (This means sitting in a courtroom for 2+ hours for the judge's signation and a trip to the post office for a certification of mailing AND then a trip back to court to file the proof of service and then AGAIN a trip back to court tomorrow night for the actual hearing on my petition to correct his name.)

17. MEANWHILE: I get a notice from the court that SEL is now SUING ME for the painting and refinishing of his floor. $2600!

Umm? Didn't we already do this? Doesn't the law go like this: "The landlord must return the security deposit, less any lawful deduction, to the tenant at the end of the lease or within a reasonable time thereafter. A landlord may use the security deposit: (a) as reimbursement for the reasonable cost of repairs beyond normal wear and tear, if the tenant damages the apartment"

And didn't the court ALREADY DECIDE that he did not have a case for "cost of repairs beyond normal wear and tear" and that I did not do any "damages" to "the apartment"?

With all the trips to court, etc., etc., this is already feeling like Groundhog Day.

Here's what I think will happen:

1. I'll go back to court tomorrow night to change his name.

2. Thursday, I'll get an 'information warrant' for the DMV (to see if he owns a car which I could seize) and his bank (to see if I can freeze his assets until I can collect.) I'll mail these warrants and in a couple of weeks, I'll get a response.

3. Then, I'll take these responses -- proof of his assets -- to a city marshall. They'll then try to collect.

4. That should take a while.

5. THEN I'll go BACK to court on June 21 and show them my judgement for the first case and tell them that a second case on the same matter is wholly inappropriate and is, in effect, an attempt to appeal the decision of the arbitrator.

6. I suspect I'll win that case.

7. Sometime, then, months and months later, the marshall will succeed in seizing my judgement PLUS some big fat fee for her work in collecting it. Hopefully, in the end, it'll cost him an arm and a leg.

After all this, I wonder, was my ex right? Should we have left the place trashed -- with a broken window and dirty bathtub?

EVEN AFTER ALL OF THIS (which should be about 6-8 trips to small claims court, standing in line at the post office multiple times and so so much aggreivation) I think, no. There is a way to behave in the world. With respect and taking responsibility for one's actions and even in dealing with sleezballs, I take pride in that I have behaved well. I did the right thing. And hopefully, this will make the SEL think twice before behaving like a SEL with some other tenant.

Plus, I've learned a ton.

Do you remember when I was a vegetarian? I don't.

2007-04-17T21:30:00.000-05:00

Start to finish, Fette Sau is a perfect concept for a restaurant. I think I am in love.

Fette Sau means, I am told, fatted pig, as in "Come on over. We'll roast the fatted pig and drink some bourbon." It's a restaurant opened in a former auto-body shop and it's brilliant. Food's decade and simple...I tried (and can recommend) pork shoulder, ribs, pastrami, pork belly and (yes -- it's true) pig tails.

With drawings of butchers' cuts on the walls...the most extensive whiskey and bourbon selection I've ever seen...and custom-made brews poured from taps made of mallets and butcher's knives...BRILLIANT! The aesthetic is genius. And while pulling off a sort of a haute-industrial DIY look the vibe is laid back, very accomodating and casual. No small part of that casual atmosphere is the fact that it is an exclusively counter service joint. You amble up to the counter and pick out some smoked meats served by weight with sides of burnt-end beans, german-style potatoe salad or sauerkraut. Bravo.

I'll be back.

Fette Sau
354 Metropolitan Ave., Brooklyn, NY 11211
nr. Havemyer St.
718-963-3404

Hawaiian Pancakes

2007-04-08T09:27:00.000-05:00

The New York Times recently reprinted an recipe for David Eyre's Pancake -- a recipe from 1966 which, over the last 40 years, my mother has served her 7 children and husband with frequency and to great applause. In turn, I have served it for many friends. I was happy to see it reprinted...and Amanda Hesser is right to praise it...but if anybody tries the chicken savory adaptation please tell me if it's an improvement upon the original. I just can't imagine that it is. I admit that my nostalgia and affection for the original recipe may have cemented my mind fully shut on this topic.

With thanks to The Food Section blog- I'll repost some photos and comments:

David Eyre’s Pancake
Adapted from Craig Claiborne

1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup milk
2 eggs
3 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon sugar
confectioner’s sugar (to taste)
fresh lemon juice (to taste)

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the milk, eggs, flour, and tablespoon of sugar. Melt the butter in a 12-inch skillet or ovenproof dish. Pour the batter into the pan or dish and bake for 20 minutes or until the pancake puffs up and turns golden brown (as seen in the photo above). Sprinkle with the confectioner's sugar and lemon juice. Watch it quickly deflate (as seen in the photo below) and serve immediately.

Serves two to four (depending on your will power).

RISE AND FALL The David Eyre's Pancake, in its puffed out state straight from the oven (above) and doused with lemon and sugar before devouring (below).

A few other posts about this pancake:
Orangette with a dutch baby pancake
Serious Eats
And some picky person on chowhound wants salt. Figures.

Mermaid in Tribeca

2007-03-24T08:31:00.000-05:00

I feel like her. Shipwrecked in this city. I miss the ocean.

Tsui at Luna Lounge

2007-03-24T08:27:00.000-05:00

My boyfriend's band had their first gig this week at the Luna Lounge. That's him, behind that gorgeous british racing green drum kit. I freakin' love being with the band.

My Kitty's Bowels

2007-03-24T08:14:00.000-05:00

Moose has a condition called 'Mega-Colon.' These little kitten sized clumps of impacted stool are causing her (and me) great distress. I think I'm going to invest in stock in the pharmaceutical company that produces Enlose (tm), because, from what the vet is telling us, we're gonna need a lot of it.

The Man of the Year

2007-02-19T11:28:00.000-05:00

I've been on a kick lately: live events with some audience participation. It's the zeitgeist, I suppose. In the last year, I've started a blog, I post my personal photos on flickr for the world to see...perhaps these theatrical adaptations are just riding some sort of user-generated boon. Time crowned 'you' as the man of the year and so 'you' has been getting a lot of work lately. However, not all live events encouraging audience participation are the same.

Point Break - Live! Is sheer genuis. The main conceit is a damning condemnation of Keanu Reeve's performance in that early 90s action-film idiocy : every performance a 'Keanu' is picked from the audience to read his lines from cue cards. The show lampoons each absurd (or homoerotic) plot point to brillant effect - using the actual script from the movie augmented only with some stage directions from the cue card holder or director. For those of us who had fondly remembered this film as a lowpoint in cinema history (it's sort of 'Endless Summer meets 'Bonnie and Clyde' - or Bobby and Clyde -- it's a cat-and-mouse cop-and-surfer/bankrobber film), it did not disappoint. Although my boyfriend, Charles, had not seen the film, he enjoyed it nontheless - knowledge of the film is not a prerequisite. Anyone can appreciate writing this good: "That's Bodhi. They call him the Bodhisattva." or "If you want the ultimate thrill, you gotta be willing to pay the ultimate price."

Saturday night, we attended the 'Buffy the Musical Sing Along.' Yeah. From Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Now, this portended to be some sort of Rocky Horror midnight show where people dress up and dance and sing along. Now, I adore Buffy. The show was genius. But this 'tribute' was, to me, only a dilution of and distraction from watching really clever hour of tv. The effect of watching some really bad look-a-likes prance around under a movie screen was not in any way an improvement upon the original. And there is something really weird about having the movie theater response experience 'conducted' from a podium. I could be completely wrong, but I imagine that Rocky Horror developed in an emergent way -- with audience responses rising up and becoming tradition, rather than dictated by a 'creator'. I left the theater feeling resentful of the augmentation.

If only I had such tricks!

2007-01-27T10:32:00.000-05:00

My friend, Laura just had a dream about me.

Pink Parrot

My friend E. discovers a way to attract an extraordinarily rare bright pink parrot. There is only one known specimen of the bird left in the wild. She lures it to perch on her shoulder by placing a hazelnut, a brazilnut, a baby carrot behind her ear. Victory! The parrot perches!

Jewelry shaped like molecules

2007-01-20T09:51:00.000-05:00

Just saw this on Boing Boing:

Made With Molecules jewelry: earrings and necklaces with charms in the shape of important chemicals, such as caffeine, estrogen, chocolate, serotonin, GABA... Also available: testosterone boxers and oxytocin baby onesies.

Link

(via Making Light)

Freaking sweet. I want some oxytocin. And dopamine.

Someday This Will Seem Funny

2007-01-18T22:55:00.000-05:00

I share a car with my friends Julie and Andrea. It works out great. Mostly.

Julie has been working one day a week in Staten Island, which, turns out is insanely annoying to reach from Brooklyn using public transportation. And I don't use the car in question hardly at all during the week, and then only occasionally on weekends. So, we arranged that she'd use the car during the week. The upside for me is some help on the insurance and maintenance costs as well as some help with moving the car for street cleaning. The upside for her is not having to take three trains to get to the staten island ferry and then board a bus and so on and so on.

So, a couple of weeks ago, I park the car. Julie calls and I tell her where I'd put the car. It's tuesday am, and the street cleaning is on thursday am. But, no worries, Julie needs the car on Thursday, so she'll pick it up on her way home on Wednesday night.

Well, on Thursday Julie phones and she's standing on the street right at the spot where I'd told her the car would be - 4th Ave. and 10th Street -- and it's 1:30 in the afternoon and there is no sign of the car. She sees the street cleaning sign -- which I'd failed to mention since she'd told me she was picking it up on Wednesday -- and assumes the logical explanation: the car has been towed.

I begin searching for the car. It's not in the online index for towed cars. The people at the navy yard tow lot growl at me when I call to ask questions. Following the instructions on the city of New York website, I call my local police precinct. When, after 6 hours, there is no sign of the car, the police instruct me to file a missing car report. I'm totally bummed and stressed out and as I'm leaving my subway station on the way home this horrible, horrible realization slowly descends over me: I didn't leave the car at 4th and 10th. I left it at 3rd. I'd forgotten where I'd parked the car.

Good news, right? Well, almost. I call Julie, and then Andrea, to beg forgiveness and I learn that Julie has had to borrow another friend's car to get to Staten Island. Except, here's the rub, she gets to that car and finds it has a dead battery. So, she flags down a kind motorist for a jump, and drives off to Staten Island where she knows that after a full day of work she will return to the car and find it has no charge in the battery and she'll need to get another jump. I feel awful.

And then, here's the kicker: I get home and the doorbell rings. It's the police. They want to see me about the stolen car?

(God, when I told this story, right after it happened, my friend said 'it'll be something funny to write about in your blog.' But I gotta say, it's still not funny.)

A karmic post-script: exactly one week later,Julie calls and this time the car really has been towed. Somehow, though, I'm totally prepared and the news doesn't even make me wince.

I amble off to the Tow Yard, full of smiles and giggles. I even take pleasure in surprising the ornery tow yard staff with my friendliness and affability. I see how grateful they are when not merely do I forgo yelling or complaining, but I actually *thank* them profusely. I commiserate with one woman about how rundown the infrastructure of their office is and how unjust that is considering what a major player they must be in the economic engine of the city. The guard even compliments my outfit after I ply him with smiles and kind words. My sunny outlook is only brightened by encountering their sullen faces. It's like a challenge. I'm so up for it.

The Passing of the Ramen Master

2007-01-09T19:48:00.000-05:00

Momofuku Ando has died.

He leaves behind a legacy of grateful college students. He was the creator of Nissin's Ramen Noodles.

A few years back, I spent my birthday at the Ramen museum in Shin-Yokohama, Japan. A spectacular place which chronicles the glory days of the wartime noodle shop. A weird concept...like having a soup kitchen museum from the glory days of the depression. And I had a real scare there: I thought I'd accidentally eaten horse. That's right: horse. You see, you order your meals from vending machines -- they give out little tickets with conji characters on them and you hand that ticket to the noodle-master. It was only after rolling the dice and picking a button to push (i don't read or speak any japanese) that I found the english translation. What was in my bowl was described as "wheat noodles with pork, chicken, fish cake, egg, seaweed, horse, mackerel, and mushrooms". Only later did I figure out that it was probably 'horse mackerel' not 'horse' and 'mackerel.' This whole thing went down in the context of my brand-new return to carnivorism. Avoiding meat while traveling in Japan seemed too daunting and I finally had to give in to the fact: meat tastes good.

Anyhow, Momofuko Ando was the man to dehydrate those noodles and invent pre-packaged ramen. Genuis.

Ramen Shop Radio, of course, is my nom de radio. Named not so much for the pre-packaged kind as the shop where one can find the hearty bowl, variously populated with meats, veggies, and the aspirations of a chef and connosieur. My radio operation was to be my own Tampopo story, I thought.

Momofuko Ando, I believe, thought that a realiable stovetop version would be even better than the neighborhood noodle counter. I disagree. But I respect the dedication and productivity of such an industrious industrial mind.

Mission: Bouillabaisse

2007-01-03T07:59:00.000-05:00

At the last minute, Charles and I decided to have a New Year's party. And I decided to make Bouillabaisse. You know, bounty of the sea in a pot? It’s ambitious, sure, but I like a challenge. Oh wait, did I mention that I had 20 people at my house for New Years’? (See previous sentence about appreciating difficulty.) Besides, I needed some help kicking 2006 into a bloody pulp and how better than to serve something so decadent and yet simple. Besides, there is something practically re-incarnating about seafood. Something about eating food native to that chaotic premordial global amniotic fluid: the ocean. It's resorative.

First step: call Travis. Travis is my partner in BBQ-NYC and when he’s not riding me about how many paper plates I’ve purchased he’s working as a fishmonger at Central Market in Austin, Texas. Travis sketched out a plan for me. It had a few parts. And all the parts had parts. But, here goes, I will attempt to recount them.

Basic Ingredients
7 lb red snapper bones
3 lbs tilapia
2 lbs cod
2 lbs flounder
1 dozen little neck clams
4 lbs mussels
1 lbs baby octopus
2 lbs red potatoes
3 lbs carrots
2 lbs yellow onion
1 fennel bulb
1 head of celery
3 red peppers
peppercorn
saffron
garlic

Step One. Fish Stock

What every good fish stock needs? Fresh veggies and fish heads. Check and check.

Charles and I had made a b-line to Fairway for 7 lbs of fish bones. We went with the Red Snapper bones…yes, for this venture I checked my marine-conscience at the door. Or, quite nearly. I didn’t abandon all responsibility to the sea, but compromises were made.

First things first: mirepoix. Generally, a mirepoix is 2 parts onion, 1 parts celery and 1 part carrot, sautéed in butter. My twist: 2 parts onion, 1 part carrot, 1 part celery AND 1 part fennel.

(Note: this step is not without pain.)

.

I cooked the mirepoix until it was soft and aromatic,

I added the bones, then some leek greens, parsley stems, an entire garlic bulb, a teaspoon of Mexican saffron threads (fragrant and fine on the budget) , and 3 gallons of water.

From there, it took almost a half hour to get up to a rolling boiling
and from there it was about an hour of skimming grey and white foamy waste bits from the top. Then, I carefully strained the broth through a cheesecloth-lined colander.

It yielded about 3 gallons of very delicate and lovely broth. I cooled it and placed the broth in plastic bags and placed them in the freezer.

Next day. Party time.

I boiled a couple of pounds of red potatoes.

Meanwhile, I sautéed carrots, leeks, and peppers in butter. When just gently softened, I added the potatoes and the frozen stock. While the liquid slowly, slowly comes up to a simmer, you’ve got time to enjoy the party a little. Mingle. Have some champagne. Try a little of the fondue. (Charles made a most excellent chipotle fondue.)

More champagne, sure! Don’t mind if I do! Oh yes, and you might want to wash and chop up all the white fish. Scrub the shellfish. Have another glass of Cava, why don’t you?

Ok, now that the pot is up to a simmer, throw in the fish. A full boil? Great, toss in the shellfish and octopus, close the lid, and wait for the clams to open. Have another glass of champagne. (Oh how I wish I’d not forgotten entirely to take photos of this conclusion of my bouillabaisse! The baby octopus curled up in such a lovely way – they were delicious. And I forgot to add the cooking wine…and the fresh parsley...and the...oh well.)

And when the clams opened, dinner was served. Served with no-knead bread, of course. And it was delicious. Let’s hope it ushers in a better year. For the most part, 2006 was a catastrophe. Good riddance. I've got a feeling that 007 will be much better to me.

Getting a cold? The flu? Quick! Drink some matcha!

2006-12-14T08:14:00.000-05:00

My good friend, Karen, started a green tea company a few months ago. The sort of tea she sells in the kind used in the japanese tea ceremony...and green tea ice cream. It's a very intensely vegetal tasting tea. You can cook with it, make a latte with it, or use it in the traditional japanese way - as a post-meal digestif.

Last week, I was pretty sure I was getting sick. Achy, sore throat, tired. So, I went to bed early and in the morning, I made a thermos of hot milk and matcha tea - like a big, warm latte. Now, one of the magical qualities of matcha is the sustained release of the intense caffeine and you digest the tea. Because matcha is created from ground up tea leaves dried and then mixed with water, not just those leaves immersed quickly in water like a regular black tea, it has a much more intense caffeine.

All I can say, is that I'm better. I had a totally productive work day, not feeling at all like I had been the day before. My conclusion: Matcha saved my life. I could have taken fatally ill.

So go buy lots of matcha. For yourself. Your loved ones. Your familial holiday obligations. Go on, do it.

The No-Knead Obsession

2006-12-02T13:30:00.000-05:00

Did you catch the New York Times No-Knead Bread Recipe? I'm obsessed with it. And I've convened a posse of experimenters to try variations. I've made it now with whole wheat, with nuts and brown sugar, with Semolina flour, with boiled rice....what next? Charles' sister, Stephanie, made it in a clay pot and she said the results induced 'glee'. My friend Karen's been baking it with herbs...it's only a matter of time before she throws some matcha into the mix.

My well-baked (and I mean that in a culinary-expertise way) pal Gom pointed out that it's not much different from a regular sponge method recipe. Ok, fine, true, but I'd never before seen a sponge method so audatious as to say "Kneading? Forget it. No point. Just skip that."

Call me lazy, but the liberation from the kneading is delightful...and somehow makes me feel like experiments with this recipe can be charted in a much more scientific and less random way than other bread recipes. I'd always wondered with failed loafs in the past: did I just not knead it enough? Or did I beat it up too much. Was it me? Is it my fault?

So far, I've made 8 loaves in about 3 weeks and experienced 100% success. (Ok, sure the semolina loaf was a little tough crusted...but it would have made an incredible italien bread soup.)

Try it. And send me news of your results and discoveries.

Seismic Event Rocks Ellen's World

2006-11-28T19:07:00.000-05:00

The unthinkable happened. After nearly 4 years of complaining about the inferiority of Mexican food in New York, I return to San Francisco for my regular pilgrimage to Tacqueria Cancun only to find a vegetarian super burrito…wait for it…mediocre. It was slightly soggy – too much sour cream – and, I hate to admit, bland.

I couldn’t believe it. Here’s my usual rant -- preserved for posterity:
- Why can’t New York make a decent burrito?
- The raw materials are pretty widely available -- so the lack of a decent burrito smacks of inexplicable geographic cultural differences
- New York usually goes wrong by trying to over fill the tortilla and not evenly distributing the ingredients thereby creating segregated flavor pools in an unpleasant way
- Cancun is the best because they grill the tortilla…creating a pastry-like effect.

But all that seems, well, passé, given that I’d rather have a $2 taco from my local Brooklyn tacqueria. I’m really broken up about this. How has it come to this?

Fast, Tough and Out of Control

2006-11-19T20:38:00.000-05:00

I vaguely remember seeing Linda Carter's Wonder Woman for the first time. I remember a certain feeling of awe -- seeing this creature so strong, so womanly, so beautiful -- and sensing that something of that vaavaavoom had something to do with me...that someday I too would have hips and breasts. It made me feel powerful.

Last night, the Gotham Girls Roller Derby League held their championship derby. From the very first moment I stepped through the doors and saw the Queens of Pain slinging their badass selves around the track, I was in love. My jaw dropped, my eyes were peeled open, my heart fluttered. I'd never seen anything more beautiful. Ever. They were the hottest, fastest, coolest ladies I have ever seen. I want to be them when I grow up.

As far as the athletic competition goes, it was a blow out. The Queens of Pain thrashed the Manhattan Mayhem so thoroughly that it was an embarrassment. Suzy Hotrod OWNED that match. The final score was something like 140 to 55.

The halftime show was a burlesque stripper: a Marilyn Monroe look-a-like named Bob. We watched the kids – of which the audience was full – wondering what they thought of this display. Even stripped down to her fringe bikini, she seemed somewhat superfluous – by no means more visually stimulating than the girls with the kneepads and fishnet stockings. But something of the momentum of her actions -- removing glove by glove, stepping from her dress -- I became worried for the kids. Worried that they'd be confused. Worried that they'd be worried about what would come next.

They problem already knew. They probably weren't worried at all. They probably only wanted the leather-clad zipper-mouthed gimp cheerleader with the whip and paddle to come back with his 'SUBMIT' sign and usher the girls on wheels back onto the track. Faster, faster, go go!

The Permanent Revolution

2006-11-18T08:46:00.000-05:00

Trotsky is staying with me.

It's final.

Apologies, yes, this is yet another posting about my cats.

I told Moose, 'You may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you.' And then asked her to understand that while she's the alpha kitty of my heart, he is the alpha of our home, and that means we need to cast off bougeouis trappings and build a proletarian democracy here. Together, we will enjoy a worker's playtime. I know we can succeed where all other attempts have been corrupted.

Trotsky: As Murderous as Stalin (Almost.)

2006-11-10T12:28:00.000-05:00

Again! This morning, I'm working in the living room...my nose deeply down to the protools grindstone...and after a few hours I notice my cat acting a little strange. He's clawing the chair I'm on and eagerly dancing around. Glance to my right, and there it is: a dead songbird. Throat slashed open. Lying on the ground. Feathers strewnlike bread crumbs tracking back across the trail of its entrance. It was, no doubt, carried in by Trotsky, my sweet, cuddly, charming little murderer.

So, I've closed the screen in my window. He's under house arrest now. But I fear he will kill again. It's his nature.

Let's Hear it for Interns!

2006-10-29T08:30:00.000-05:00

Closing today is the fabulous Dale Chihuly exhibit at the New York Botanical Gardens.
Selected photos and video from the exhibition are available on this website.

In his glasswork, Chihuly uses organic, yet otherworldly shapes. While I loved the Chihuly pieces, I found them to be most enjoyable the best when they didn’t compete against the far-out flora.

And while many, especially the big floating glass figs did sort of outshine the amazing lotus plants, they did make me look twice at the big serving tray lilypads. Are those for real? Wow. Cool.

I couldn’t help but wonder, how did he make all of these amazingly intricate molded glass sculptures? There’s only one way: interns. Lot’s of ‘em. He’s clearly a man after my own heart. And some people think that’s immoral. Personally, I’d take a medieval trade apprenticeship over higher education any day of the week. But that's just me.

Oh, yes we did

2006-10-28T16:57:00.000-05:00

RadioLab took the Silver Award home from the Third Coast Awards for this .

We were particularly happy to have Eric Gordon at the Awards with us. It meant a lot to me that Eric has felt this story to be an extension of his love for Ella Chase. I'm just so relieved that we didn't disappoint him. If only Marina had been there! She was much missed!

Genius. Evil, evil genius.

2006-10-25T13:09:00.000-05:00

Ok, I use MS Word and Excel. Daily. And while I have my beefs with the business practices of their profoundly powerful corporate creator, I don’t think that Microsoft is all bad. But it is with no small amount of shame and trepidation that I recommend this. It’s a ad. Sure. But it is also a really smart move for Microsoft because, well, it’s just undeniably creative. And Apple is usually the house fav for quirky creative types, right? Go watch Episode One -- A Rare Condition -- and see if you don’t agree. Smart money well spent by Microsoft. But don’t worry. Nothing’s changed. I’ll still pirate their software and I refuse to feel guilty about that.

p.s. I totally want to be a Racoonicorn for Halloween. But I think I'm going with 'Mad Cow' this year. More on that later.

New Sheriffs in Town

2006-10-11T21:35:00.000-05:00

What Ira Glass said at the PRPD conference in September about my showRadio Lab.

Damn.

Sinking Approval Ratings on Presidential Job Performance -- One Implausible Explanation Debunked by Stewart

2006-10-09T10:34:00.000-05:00


Jon Stewart seems to be the only man in American actually LISTENING to what the president is saying. He's DEFINITELY the only one trying to hold him accountable for what he says. Brilliant, hilarious, and ultimately, depressing.

Brooklyn, errrr, Beukelen.

2006-10-09T09:35:00.000-05:00

This weekend Open House New York let us take a peek inside some of the private places in New York under the guise of arcitectural review.

We were astonished.
That's Pat and Chris, my aunt and uncle, astonished.

We got to go inside the Williamsburg Savings Bank at One Hansen Place.

An amazing place. A cathedral with a gold-inlaid mosaic to mythogize the founding of Brooklyn. Ok, as the dutch say, Beuklen.

Now, I love the convenience of online banking, but I realized as I poured over the incredible stone and iron detailing, my banking fees give nothing back to me. It used to be that your fees paid for these incredible structures, and the jobs of your neighbors. Today, I'm lucky if Citibank tosses me a flash animation every once in a while.

Things sure have changed here in Beukelen.

Mmmmountain goats

2006-10-02T08:06:00.000-05:00

Good lord.

If you see a listing for Jeffrey Lewis, Christine Fellows , or The Mountain Goats , pull out your wallet and hand the venue as much money as necessary to gain entry to a show.

The Prove It Lost and Found

2006-09-30T07:22:00.000-05:00

It's beginning to be autumn, here in Brooklyn. Charles and I went out on Wednesday evening to a local establishment, Sample.

It was late, I was jet-lagged, and I'd just finished recording my first event from a new series of debates that I am producing for NPR called Intelligence Squared U. S.. And as the weather was in that in between place -- not summer, not fall -- while I'd worn a jacket in, I hadn't remembered it on the way out.

I remember later, and Charles, in a very kind and chivalrous way, returns the very next night to reclaim my lost jacket. Little did he know what sort of barkeep had kept an eye on my jacket.

He walks in, goes up to the bar and describes the lost item: a light weight black jacket, zippered front, two pockets with flap covers. The barkeep, let's call her Psychotic Fashionista Barkeep, or PFB for short, tells him that while, yes, she does have a jacket answering to that very description which someone left the previous evening, that his description is not sufficent. She wants names. Make and model.

The phone rings. It's a very confused Charles who hands me over to PFB. I describe the jacket and she explains to me that my description is missing the key element: the fashion label. I tell her that I haven't a clue, that in fact, the jacket was a recent hand-me-down from my older sister. And there we remain locked in a bizarre dialogue: PFB clearly believing that she is protecting a jacket for it's rightful owner, vs. me, the rightful owner, trying to suss out if she is on the level. She tells me it is from a very exclusive label. That, in fact, there is only one boutique in Manhattan. That she had two frenchmen as customers that night and what if it belongs to one of them? "Did they call and tell you that they'd lost a jacket with the exact physical characteristics of the jacket you found?" I ask. "Well, no." She admits. "Why don't I come down and see if it's mine," I offer. "No. You have to know the label. If you see the jacket, you'll just want it, it's just so nice." Thanks for the complement to MY JACKET. True, it is nice.

In my imagination, I follow her home from work. She unlocks the deadbolt and throws the door open. The door swings into an enormous stack of hundreds of lost umbrellas. She drops her keys down on the table, next to the display rack of sunglasses she's aquired from all those forgettful happy hour customers who arrived at her bar in full sun. She goes to her desk and sits down at the computer, checking her ebay store to see if any of her used designer jackets have sold.

The following evening I went over to Sample myself and picked up the jacket. My sister Jenny had furnished the label: Facconable. France. Yes, she'd furnished the label along with her remarks about regret at giving fine boutique clothing to a sister who clearly 'didn't know from T.J. Maxx.' PFB greeted me -- and I was reunited with my jacket (which, by the way, had my public radio conference schwag pen in the pocket). "I'm so glad it's yours. I wanted you to have it." "Right." I think. She sure didn't act like it. And poor Charles for having tried to do something kind and gentlemanly for me, only to be met with her suspicions and unnecessary protections! "Well, my sister will never give me another hand-me-down...because of the whole label thing." "I just didn't want to give it to the wrong person." PFB explained. Ok, plausible. Fucked up, but plausible.

We Won!

2006-09-28T11:00:00.000-05:00

Hooray! The Third Coast Audio Festival Awards have been announced. Can I just give a HUGE kudos to Marina Cole for making this story happen? She's the best reporter and private eye that I know. Too bad that's not her day job. Rock on, Marina. This award is for you.

This Broad, Abroad.

2006-09-27T04:40:00.000-05:00

I’m profoundly lucky. The nice Saudi’s over at Citibank decided to let me charge up some plane tickets to join my mom in Gozo, Malta. Where in the huh?, you ask. Southeast of Sicily and just north of Tunisia, these little limestone rocks pop out of the Mediterranean. There are 3 main islands: Malta, Comino, and Gozo. Carved out of the rocks are churches and armories, bridges and houses, drawn from a bland palette of sand, beige, taupe, buff, camel... a soothing mosaic of uniformity separates the cerulean sky and the azure sea.

I’ve come to dive while my mom takes swim lessons from Steven Shaw. The fish life is pretty limited, the coral seems to be a mere memory covered in algae, yet the limestone makes these incredible structures – caves and archways and tunnels – and with the light pouring through these structures, it is stunningly beautiful. And I do see some pretty amazing things: cuttlefish, octopus, sea horses, huge amberjacks hunting.

Walking around the island, one is stuck by a funny paradox. The population on Gozo is tiny. And yet, every three blocks, there is an enormous church.

The history is one of invasions and oppression...which turns out to be the perfect fertilizer mix for growing religiosity. Saint Paul, on his way to trial in Rome was shipwrecked here. And the story goes he performed miracles and was bitten by a snake and yet did not fall ill. Then he went to Rome for his beheading. What follows next are about a thousand years of being taken as slaves and ruled in turns by Arabs, Normans, Castilians, and finally Turks. But then, these guys show up, clad in steel, boot the Turks off the island and take over. They were knights. An order of medieval crusaders called the Sovereign and Military Order of the Knights Hospitaller of St. John of Jerusalem, to be specific. And here’s the weird part: they never left. To this day, the Knights are around. What’s more, they are a nation unto themselves. They mint their own currency. They have diplomatic relations with over 70 nations. I’ve no idea how you’d spot them, I suppose they’ve updated to gortex armor by now.

Care to see a few photos?.

That can of paint.

2006-09-22T11:45:00.000-05:00

"My house is me and I am it. My house is where I like to be and it looks like all my dreams."
That's the refrain from The Big Orange Splot, written and illustrated by Daniel Manus Pinkwater.

I was raised by this mantra. And, if you accept a very loose definition of "house" I'd say it still holds true. Today, my house is my community, my relationships, my apartment, my career, my way of being in the world. I've never been one striving to look like all the other houses on the block.

Here we are at this, my inaugural post on my initial blog, and I am wondering, why the hell did I pick the name 'Big Orange Splot'? I guess I've recently been struck by how that chance occurance...that bucket of paint dropping on your head...might just be the perfect opportunity to express your true dreams.

If that makes no sense to you, then go out and get yourself a copy of the damn book. Or come over to my place and we'll stay up all night drinking lemonade under my baobob tree and talking about your dreams.