Love: The version of gazpacho created by Verjus, a lovely 3-story restaurant tucked away behind the Palais Royale, run by two ex-pat Americans: Green garden tomato and chili foam, with chunks of heirloom tomatoes and a masa cake. It was maybe the culinary highlight of our recent Paris trip.
Like: The beautiful children's clothes at the equally beautiful Bonpoint store on Rue de Seine. I only wish they made adult sizes of some of their pieces.
Stella in her Bonpoint shirt
Discovery: The simple, casual pleasure of a warm summer evening picnic along the banks of the Canal St Martin - a bottle of rosé from Le Verre Volé and pizza from Pink Flamingo, who give you a balloon when you order and use it to find you along the canal to deliver your pizza.)
Obsession: The Galerie de Paleontologie et d'Anatomine Comparée and the Galerie d'Evolution in the Jardin des Plantes. Dead animal heaven for those of us into taxidermy and bones.
Complaint: That my normal, everyday life doesn't involve stopping at Bon Marche's Grand Epicerie de Paris for groceries for dinner, then a quick Metro ride to an apartment in the 6th, complete with big windows and herringbone wood floors. Oh, and Sundays spent in the Luxembourg Gardens watching Stella play.
Love: My lovely and amazing father, Terence Evans, aka T, who passed away quite suddenly a year ago this Friday. I've got a pretty big hole in my life and my heart now, and am only just beginning to comprehend the finality of the loss. The best way to fill the void is to remember, so I love it when my friends who knew him bring T up, and the old stories and memories are trotted out.
Like: The orange movie theater marquee letter I bought on etsy and keep in our kitchen as a reminder of the great man.
Discovery: My Sopranos- and Green Bay Packers-loving guy's-guy of a dad had a softer side. One compelling piece of evidence: his deep love of David Lean's epic romance-cum-historical drama Dr. Zhivago. (T might have appreciated The Selby's recent train trip from Paris to Shanghai on behalf of Louis Vuitton, which involved many days in Russia, a more glamourous version of the horrible train ride Zhivago and his family take as they flee Moscow for a cottage in the Urals.) The Selby Part 1The Selby Part 2
Obsession: T was a Democrat through and through, but he couldn't help but find constant amusement in Howard Dean's self-destructive 2004 Iowa Caucus election night speech. Dad bought a novelty "Scream the Dream" bottle opener which plays the meltdown speech every. single. time. you. open. a. bottle. The opener, still going strong, is my fondest inheritance and makes me smile whenever I use it.
Complaint: With T gone, and my mom moved to Seattle, where my sister lives, I miss Milwaukee. It's strange to no longer have a place or family to return to in the city you grew up in and visited regularly, for decades. When will I ever see its (modest) skyline and lovely lakefront?
When will I walk through Lake Park then down to the lakefront, looking at all the big houses on Terrace, Wahl and Lake Drive along the way?
When will I catch a movie at The Oriental Theater? Bowl and drink next door at Landmark with Admiral Ackbar (David) and Big Sal (Erich)?
Count mullets and mesh shirts in the crowd at Summerfest?
Eat greasy but delicious Mexican at Conejitos or a burger and frozen custard at Kopps?
Go to that antiques store I liked in the Third Ward?
Spend an afternoon at my beloved Milwaukee Public Museum amidst the dioramas?
Love: Good salt. It just might be in my genes. My parents had a small cabinet in the kitchen of their old house that literally contained only salts. My mother had taped a note to the inside of the cupboard door that read "Try to cut back on salt." I always laughed whenever I was home and saw the note, as "don't have a salt cabinet" seemed an overlooked, easy step toward achieving that goal. But I digress. My new favorite is Jacobsen Salt from Oregon. It's - slight eyeroll - hand-harvested sea salt. But it's lovely sprinkled on just about anything - from a grilled New York strip steak to a scoop of vanilla ice cream with dark chocolate sauce - as a finishing touch.
Like: The Hour, a 6-part BBC mini-series from last year which I made my way through last week, and which returns later this month for a second season. At its heart is a triangle that includes a very un-McNultyish Dominic West, Ben Whishaw (quite possibly the skinniest man in Britain), and the smart and beautiful Romola Garai. Set in the Cold War London of 1956, I found myself agreeing with The New Yorkers' assessment: "With its casting, its look, its unfolding mystery, its attention to important historical events, its sexiness, 'The Hour' hits every pleasure center."
Discovery: Persian cucumbers - the small, sweet variety which is becoming easier to find in more stores. My friend Josh turned me onto them, and to David Chang's quick pickling method, found in the Momofuku cookbook. Slice a bunch of Persian cucumbers, toss with 1 T sugar and 1 t kosher salt, let stand for five minutes, and you've got perfectly seasoned crudites.
Obsession: Stella McCartney's uniforms for the British Olympic Team. I love how she used graphic elements from the Union Jack in a modern way, making the Brits the best-outfitted athletes in the games.
Complaint: I'm piling on: but when did Apple stop thinking differently?
