"Whooo... are... you?": Breaking bread with a dead little friend

Few things make me feel so productive, so 19th-century pioneer woman, as when I'm eating my own recipes off of my own pottery. I can look down at the table and think, "Yup, I made everything you see here. Everything!"

Maybe it's a Stewart thing, or maybe Martha and I really are related. I don't know, but at times, I'm almost tempted to take up welding so I can make my own silverware. Or glass blowing. Or heck, even wood shop--I'll make the table itself.

And if I could grow my own produce, that would be really something. But alas, New York can only be so accommodating. Good thing we have several excellent farmers' markets for all the fresh, local greens we can handle.





On a recent farmers' market trip, I noticed--across a crowded stall, with the love theme to West Side Story softly playing--the bok choy looking fresh and tasty. I'd always dismissed bok choy as a stir fry veggie in the past, and never really gave it a chance. (I like my veggies raw.) But, seriously, what a totally boss-looking veg it is. With that light green stalk and those hearty dark green leaves. I was charmed to the gills.

So, like the wanton hussy that I am, I brought the bok choy home with me immediately, eager to get things started.

I put together a marvelous raw bok choy salad. Very simple too. The details:
Chop several bundles (bunches? stocks? heads? herds? murders?) of bok choy--five huge ones if they're in season, or 15 late-September dinky ones. For the dressing, whirl up equal parts (I used 1/4 cp each) olive oil, quality soy sauce, and about 3-4 cloves garlic. Mix well, serve on your own handmade pottery--yes, yes, I am a show off--and enjoy.

One very important detail: wash the bok choy thoroughly. I had hurried through this step, and realized so when I reached the bottom of my dish. Laying there, drowned in my garlic marinade, was an--admittedly very lovely--revolting, and quite dead caterpillar.

I my first reaction was a series of little gags, like a cat with a hairball caught in its throat. So nasty! Then I mused on all the worse things that might have happened.

1. Finding a half-eaten caterpillar at the bottom of the dish

2. Taking a hearty bite into something squishy and distasteful. Extracting it to find a well-chewed-but-still-recognizable caterpillar.

3. Finding several caterpillars

I don't know whether to include "Actually swallowing a caterpillar and never realizing it" on the list. I'm not convinced that a) that's worse and b) that doesn't already happen to me on a regular basis.

Oddly enough, this episode didn't turn me off of bok choy. On the contrary, if those tasty little things are endorsed by the caterpillar, who is nature's leading connoisseur of leafy greens, then they must be good.

(By the way, the bases of bok choy look like green roses when you cut the stalks off. Ah bok choy, the smarmiest gigolo in the garden.)

I would do anything for love ...but I won't do that

Gift giving can be a tricky thing when you're an artist. You might set out with the best intentions of making someone a really lovely, personal, one-of-a-kind gift with your own two hands. But then things happen. The piece could turn out really uninspiring:


I'm not sure whether or not I started out this piece with the intention of giving it away, but once I saw it come out of the kiln, I knew it was going nowhere.

"Ug, what man would want you now?" I spat out, looking it up and down with all the contempt of a disappointed stage-mom. What I thought would be metallic and speckled, turned out dark and heavy. Utterly disqualified. I wouldn't want it out there with my name on it. It's blog material, but nothing more.

But let's say now that the opposite is true. You might end up with something just amazing. This little pot surpassed my expectations so far that I hardly recognized it in the end.


I certainly didn't expect all the variations in color and texture. It was, I kid you not, a single glaze--applied it thick in parts and thin in others. So I was expecting some subtle nuances here and there. But wow. This trapped a ton of carbon.


I kept turning it around on my banding wheel, looking at it from every angle.


So how could I ever give it away? I don't know who would appreciate how rare a ceramics phenomenon we've got going here. Glazes are often so unpredictable. When they come out as delightfully surprising as this, it's a miracle.

Then there's a sappy romantic in me that says: Giving away something that's so precious to you personally is such a a beautiful expression of love, it really doesn't matter if the person you're giving it to 'gets it.'

So, point of the story is, you can tell how much I love you by how tightly I cling on to the handmade gift I'm giving you. If you have to wrestle it out of my hands while I wail, "No! I'll never be able to recreate it!" then you can be assured that I love you pretty darn much.

12 Days 'till Christmas...

So we have 12 days until Christmas and I'm working my fingies off on my true loves' presents. My project basket is bursting with crocheted Christmas magic.

If you're wondering who that green stripey guy is at the top of the basket, that's my piece de resistance! He's Brobee, a character from Yo Gabba Gabba, a kid's show on Nickelodeon that's quite the hit these days. (Interestingly enough, the show's creators are none other than the Aquabats. You remember the Aquabats? The ska, pop-punk, kooky band from the 90's?)

Yes, so Brobee caught my attention at first because he looked like a cinch to make. He doesn't have many colors, so I could easily make him using yarn I already had. He also has no tiny details such as whiskers or eyelashes, which sometimes don't age very well since yarn can fray. And his stocky form meant that he would be a really durable toy.

I also considered making Muno, the red cyclops guy, but ...meh. There was something about Brobee that called to me. I can't quite put my finger on it. Something about his look that I related to.

But then when I watched this video, I was sold. What a character! See if you can watch the same without:

1. Getting the song stuck in your head all evening


2. Feeling genuinely sorry for the carrots (I mean, call me a sucker, but I was sad for them)


3. Wondering smugly if there will be a "party" in his colon with that undigested chicken bone n'all

Bowling, Anne style

I think it's high time that I posted some of my work, no? I've been on a pasta bowl kick for a while. They're functional, frequently used, and they have a nice flat surface, the perfect canvas for whatever glazes and slips you can whip up.

After visiting Japan, I was inspired to start on a series of bowls with characteristic little notches on the rim. Kind of like a backwards spout. I like the outcome. With one purposeful little tweak, I'm actually giving the finger to my early days as a potter, when I insisted that everything be perfectly round and symmetrical.

Peace on Earth

Visiting this beautiful country--where nature is diverse and lush, the people friendly and prosperous--it's hard to believe that just a generation ago we dropped nuclear bombs on their land.

Who knows what the next sixty years will do to Sudan, Iraq, the Congo, the Holy Land, etc. I just hope I live to see peace and prosperity spread a little further across the world.

My heart goes out to the victims of the terrorist attacks in Mumbai, to their families, and to all of us who abhor such acts of violence.

Mr. Ose is ...so small

Being the sturdy, corn-fed, 5'9" American woman that I am, I worried that I might feel somewhat large compared to the Japanese. Surely I would tower above everyone. In my head, my visit to Tokyo played out somewhat like this:



So you can imagine my relief when my height turned out to be quite average among the men. On a crowded street, I wasn't just a disembodied head bobbing along on a river of black hair. No, no I was okay. Even in heels (which, incidentally, I couldn't believe had made it into my suitcase considering my state of mind beforehand.)

But that's not to say I felt like the daintiest pixie in the land. Oh no, most of the women were just as petite as I had imagined.

Especially the older generations

Now, I'm usually not one to recommend interesting articles from the Times, but there's an interesting article in the Times you ought to read.

It basically states that Japan is indeed going through a growth spurt. Its voice is cracking and it's starting to notice girls.

And that's more than I can say for New York. Friggin' Oompa-Loompas. I swear, when we got off the plane at JFK, they all sang the "We Welcome You to Munchkin Land" song from the Wizard of Oz.

I'm afraid at the rate things are going, pretty soon Japan will have us in a headlock and make us say uncle.

Money Talks

Meet Black Daikoku, God of Wealth, Farmers, and Worldly Success.

Coins fall out when he shakes his magic mallet. In his other hand, he carries a sack of treasure. He's depicted standing on two bales of rice, representing wealth.

I was quite impressed when I saw him at the Kiyomizu temple, Kyoto.

Of course, I really wanted him to like me (ie. grant me lots of sweet moolah). So I approached him with confidence and pleaded my cause.

Did it work? I don't know. Talk to my team of offshore accountants. Ha. Cha Ching!