Saturday, July 24, 2010

Subway Signs: Clark St 2/3 Stop

Subway stations strike me as the most interesting venues for public art. What has, by unknown civil engineers, architects and administrators, been considered "universally appealing" is often... puzzling. Take the Clark 2/3 stop, for example. I've always been fascinated by the floor pattern in the corridor between the elevators and the stairs down to the platform, and spent many an hour (seriously) mentally searching for the rhyme or reason to the pattern. I could never figure it out. What is the relationship between the different shapes and colors??



After taking these photos today, I think I see something -- in each vertical row (if you're looking in the direction of the second photo), the red circle slowly moves from bottom to top to encroach upon the comfortable union of the triangle and square. Zounds, have I cracked the code?

On Eating Utensils / Form & Function

A while ago, Chef K brought home a little present for me -- a specially designed espresso spoon by coffee company Illy that he'd gotten from work. As you can see from this picture, it's completely flat, supposedly all the better to stir with.



I couldn't help but think this little bit of innovation was completely unnecessary. Chef K protested, "But you don't need the spoon part!" Yeah, but... what if you want to taste what you just stirred? And if it's just a stirrer, why is the end shaped like a regular spoon?

This in turn got me thinking about utensil design more broadly, and how its evolution has been shaped by not only what we eat but the very culture of how we eat -- how we sit at a table (or don't) and consume food, who we do it with and what we like to do while we're eating.

Roland Barthes famously proposes, in Mythologies, that utensils developed in a necessary and inevitable way from the specific foods eaten by specific cultures, and that such innovations are characteristic of those cultures. Thus, "aggressive" cultures in the West "naturally" created sharp implements -- forks and knives -- to spear and cut their food, while in contrast, the "delicate" cultures of the East developed chopsticks to gently separate and caress theirs. It's a poetic theory, but suspect not only because it essentializes foreign cultures but because it takes without questioning the age-old idea that form follows function.




Henry Petroski, on the other hand, argues in The Evolution of Useful Things that form does not follow function in any straightforward way, that necessity is almost never the mother of invention. Rather, desire, whimsy and, importantly, failure, more regularly dictate the twists and turns of design evolution. This would certainly seem the case when we look at the Illy spoon/stirrer.

The basic forms of the knife, fork and spoon have remained relatively unchanged for the last two centuries, even as the implements with which we cook have multiplied exponentially and grown ever more microscopic in function -- these three items (varying sometimes only by size) have continued to be our sole dining companions, while in the kitchen, we now work with not only ladles and tongs but spaghetti spoons, apple corers, avocado slicers and melon scoops.

As new culinary fashions arise -- molecular gastronomy, for example -- how will these basic eating utensils change? Are fork and spoon adequate to taste... foam? What are the best utensils to sample tiny, pulverized pieces of food, or will new ones need to be created? What will they look like -- and will they stay long in our tableware lexicon?

Revisiting the Frying Pan

A long, long time ago, in my wild days of youth (just kidding), I went to the Frying Pan once or twice. All I can remember is that it was really packed, all the time, but hey, during the summer it's hard to beat a two-story barge floating in the Hudson, with a 360-degree bar and the sunset in the background.

A couple days ago, Andrew, a fellow intern at Martha Stewart, where I'm working this summer, suggested we go for happy hour someplace close by. "How about the Frying Pan?" I guess it'd been so long since I'd gone that I didn't really have any idea where it was. Imagine my surprise when I realized it's right across the highway from Martha HQ -- we have the perfect aerial view from the West windows!

Despite the horrendous crowds, it didn't disappoint. Andrew and I sat at a tiny table on the Northern side and had a couple beers looking back toward the city (that's our building there below) -- and at one point, some kayak polo players. It was a beautiful summer evening.



Weird Street Art aka Why I Love New York

Seen on the streets of NYC recently...

Crocheted bike, Essex just above Delancey, July 18:


Asphalt and broken glass, unused bit of street just east of the York St F stop, July 22:

Cherry Season

In Chinatown last week, I just couldn't resist buying these beautiful Rainier and Bing cherries. (The Bings were OK, the Rainiers were amazingly sweet and crisp.)



Who doesn't love this time of year, with all the raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, cherries and currants, at the markets and on the streets?

Cooking on Orange Street: Lemon Caper Chicken Pasta


Here's a quick, easy dinner we cooked up this past week when we got home late and didn't feel like ordering takeout:

Ingredients:

4 chicken thighs
A smattering of veggies like red pepper, (leftover) spring garlic, onion, scallion
1 can chicken stock
2 lemons
1 bottle small green olives
1 bottle capers
1 tbsp cornstarch
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Brown small chunks of chicken thigh meat in a large pot and remove quickly.
2. Saute the vegetables, except scallions, until softened.
3. Add chicken stock, olives and capers, then the browned chicken.
4. Add lemon juice.
5. Cook down stock for about 20 minutes, adding cornstarch to thicken sauce.
6. Add scallions and immediately serve over rice or pasta.

Cooking on Orange Street: Chinese-Style Boiled Peanuts

I've been looking forward to doing this post for a while. Boiled peanuts are something we absolutely love to make in the summer, thanks to an accidental discovery in Chinatown last year.

It's not uncommon for street vendors to sell roasted peanuts, but fresh peanuts are different. Just take a close look -- fresh peanuts are moist-looking and often a little dirty, like they've just been dug up from the ground. Some are even a bit green. Most unexpectedly, fresh peanuts have a vegetal, legume-y smell, like peas or beans. It's startling, for something we usually see so hard and brown.

There are a lot of recipes out there for boiled peanuts, especially Southern-style (I've yet to try), but here is what we do:

Ingredients (all measurements approximate):

2 lbs fresh peanuts
2 oz salt
1 tsp whole black peppercorns
2 whole star anise

1. Wash the peanuts of dirt and drain.
2. Place peanuts in a large pot and fill with water until peanuts are almost completely covered.


3. Add seasonings and bring to a boil (below, the star anise).


4. After boiling for 2-3 hours, remove from heat and place in fridge overnight (about 8 hours).


5. Shell and enjoy!


The result is addictive -- the taste savory and meaty, the texture soft. You can actually use a very similar seasoning mix (with a little sesame oil and rice wine) to make Chinese-style braised beef or pork (my all-time favorite dish), or even "tea eggs" (a traditional Chinese snack made from hard-boiling eggs in a mix of tea, salt and anise).

Just for kicks, check out this little peanut -- looks like a man! A reminder that peanuts, when not sorted in a factory, are varied and idiosyncratic: