O, Juicer, Juicer, Juicer (or, why i dont want to go to organic avenue anymore)

Dear Mouse,

Namaste, from Kentucky.

A bit of local news. 

"You have to be reductive to talk about your life. Otherwise you would have to explain every single detail of your history just to try and make a tiny point." - Lila, 'O Guru, Guru, Guru' by Mallery Avidon
                           (my current project and return to THIS wonderful theatre festival!! Opening 3/22)

Just a community of like-minded individuals.

Oh my god it has taken me forever to post. It is embarrassing, and so I'm going to confess it up front: I have been slacking for none of the reasons you might think. I mean, yes I am in rehearsal for a project that is proving emotionally and mentally rigorous in the greatest of ways. It is true that at the end of the day I am left with only enough brain space to evaluate "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives" and a strong desire to go to bed at like nine thirty. It is true that I've been floating in a strangely cloistered world with ten other women engaged in beautifully intense and particular discourse about the nature of happiness, god, family,  the search for meaning in one's life, and the correct way to wrap a sari. I could easily claim I'm just way too distracted/ drained to talk about food. (As if that could ever be true.)  But really, I've had enough down time to post what I want, which is just a simple food-related discovery and isn't going to be hard to explain. AND honestly, the reason I haven't yet is that I've been SO  hung up, somehow,  on how it has to be THE PERFECT BLOG POST (funny! educational! insightful!) (Really- this from the woman who posted the marmot video), that I have for the first time given myself blogger's block - !! -  ie, have become too paralyzed to write anything at all.  WTF.

Pause to note that, once again, I may have let my character start bossing me around.

So, deep breath.

All I really want to do is just say

That I bought this ...

... and it has literally changed my life.

Accidentally deleted original photo, had to take a screen shot of instagram version,

 it's too boring to explain, it will never happen again.

Now you know - as does everyone else who has talked to me for longer than ten seconds recently -- that I have gotten really "into juicing" of late. This past Yom Kippur  I decided, mostly because you were doing it, that I would give fasting a go. But because I'm me, "fasting" was not going to mean anything so crazy as Not Ingesting Anything, oh no. I settled on a "juice cleanse" as a way of making it through the daylight hours, took myself straight to Organic Avenue and dropped let's say $27 on 3 (delicious) 16-oz juices (yep). It was so much easier than I expected that I thought, why not keep this going for five days. After I emerged from the experience energized, clear-headed, and a few pounds lighter, I was hooked, and decided I wanted to make liquid fruits and vegetables a permanent part of my diet.

I'm sure you're way ahead of me at this point, but there's at least one problem with this plan for a working actor living in NYC.  (Multiply the cost of those three juices by five....)

They say that when the mind is ready, a teacher appears.  

Just stay with me. 

About a month ago, I found myself on a Suburban Transit Bus, traveling back to the city from New Jersey. I had been to see my Fairy Godmother in a play there (a production now running in Seattle FYI), and I'd decided to take the bus back with some of the cast members. I was chatting to one of the actresses when she pulled a neat little plastic mug with a fetching handle and a gray screw-on lid out of her knapsack . It was full of an enticing and familiarly green frothy mixture.  I eyed it enviously and asked her where she got her green juice, already wondering if I could manage to justify the $9 for an OA smoothie in the AM.  Which was when she said the four words I most needed to hear: 

"I Have The Nutribullet."

I hear there is an infomercial for this product that's been in circulation for a while now, but I'd never seen it. Uninfluenced by advertising, following only her recommendation and my own intuition,  I went home that night and ordered it from Amazon, shipping it to Louisville ahead of me. When I arrived, it was waiting at my door, and it's pretty much been Love at First Blend. This user-friendly, no-mess,  petite-but-powerful blender/extractor/whatever has already paid for itself probably three times over and I am not looking back. I'm not juice-cleansing or fasting, just starting my day with one of these for breakfast. (I should note here that it's not a juicer - it's pulverizing whole fruits and vegetables, not pressing juice from them, etc.) The basic proportions are: 50% leafy greens, 50% fruits, throw in some seeds or nuts of your choice (or don't),  add water to the 'max' line, and let 'er rip. As I type, I am preparing myself for rehearsal with a delicious concoction of chopped kale, frozen mango chunks, and fresh ginger, with a little bit of cinnamon and agave syrup. It is really good. 

(If anyone has the 'Bullet, another favorite Boo recipe is: 50% baby spinach leaves, then: one small apple, 1/4 avocado, squeeze lemon, cinnamon, some walnuts, 1/4 coconut water, then regular water, blend.) 

I'm very excited about this. And I'm aware that I might sound like I've joined a cult or something. But is it really that? Or just a community of like-minded individuals who may have stumbled on some useful knowledge that they wish to pass on to others, and if so, is there anything inherently wrong with that?

Ok, back to work.

Can't wait for your visit! 

Love,

The Boo

When Life Gives You Self-Rising Flour...

Dear Mouse,

Ah, spring.

"When birds do sing Hey ding a ding ding/Sweet lovers love the spring" -As You Like It

"Why should a woman cook? So a man can say, 'My wife makes a wonderful cake' ... to some hooker?" - Joan Rivers

It's April. (Freezing, freezing April.) And that can only mean three things: Home, Spring and Birthday Cake! Specifically, your birthday cake! Yes, Home is where the Hart is... and, also, the bag of self-rising flour that I shipped home from Kentucky ... and also a tub of frozen, pink, leftover Magnolia-Cupcake-Recipe-Icing that I made months ago and totally forgot about! Score.

The Magnolia Cupcake recipe, in the form of a two-layer cake, has been my go-to Birthday confection since I first made it for you a few years back. The recipe is ALL about excess--two kinds of flour (self-rising and regular), four eggs in the cake, two boxes of confectioner's sugar. Each time, try as I might to use all the frosting, there is always a significant amount left over (and you know I like me some frosting).

The bag of flour is another story. I'd had it shipped it from Kentucky along with some other baking staples, partly because shipping was free, partly because I couldn't stand to waste it, and partly because I had formed a sort of perverse sentimental attachment to it. It had been, well, meant for someone else's birthday cake. And, well, the night before I was to make it, the idea of "baking" got replaced with "throwing a jealous tantrum in the parking lot" ... and it never happened. (In my defense, it was the Spring Equinox. Also, I was provoked. My point is, no cake. I did stop short of giving him the bag of flour with a candle stuck in it as I'm pretty sure that's a fire hazard oh god it's all so embarrassing let me redeem myself with a dessert recipe.)

Here's the cake I just made for your birthday celebration tonight! Isn't it PRETTY?

OK, 'attractive'? "Striking"? Whatever, it'll taste good.

It's kind of a 'Magnolia-Light" version (HA). Since I only had enough frosting for the top of the cake (rather than the usual all-over and between-layers), I improvised with a strawberries-and-whipped-cream filling. I think the restraint makes for a more Spring-y, hopeful, romantic dessert. I can't wait to try it.

Though now I think of it, this would be perfect for that "pie in the face" comedy sketch we've been working on...

Now, of course you might say it's a bit headstrong and impatient and dare I say perhaps irrational and impulsive to post a recipe before it's been tested, and to that I say,

"WHAT THE @$&(*??? WHO THE #(%^$@ IS SHE? HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?????!!"

Happy Birthday! Recipe Below.

Love,

The Boo.

The Boo's Magnolia-Style "Sweet Lovers Love the Spring" Birthday Cake

FOR CAKE:

1 1/2 Cups Self-Rising Flour

1 1/4 C Regular Flour

2 sticks (1 C) butter

2 C sugar

1 C milk

1 tsp vanilla

4 eggs

Preheat oven to 350. Mix the flours in a small bowl, set aside. Cream butter, then gradually add sugar and beat until "fluffy". Add eggs one at a time, beating after each. Add the flours in THREE parts, alternating with milk and vanilla; mix each time just enough to blend; do not overbeat. Pour it in two round greased cake pans (I used Pam baking spray; yes I did). Bake 20-25 min until a knife comes out clean. COOL - for the love of Mike - COOL them COMPLETELY before attempting to frost.

While cakes bake, make icing...

FOR ICING (I've halved the full recipe here)

1 stick (1/2 C) butter, softened

3 or 4 C (i'm gonna say 1 box) confectioner's sugar

1/4 C milk

1 tsp vanilla

Place the butter in a large mixing bowl. Add 2 C of the sugar and then the milk and vanilla.

beat until smooth and creamy, about 3 to 5 minutes. Gradually add the remaining sugar, 1 cup at a time, beating well after each addition (about 2 minutes), until the icing is thick enough to be of good spreading consistency. To your taste; you may or may not use all the sugar (though if you like magnolia cupcake icing, you will). If desired, add a few drops of food coloring and mix thoroughly. (Use and store the icing at room temperature because icing will set if chilled.) Icing can be stored in an airtight container for up to 3 days. (NOte from The Boo: It CAN be frozen and then brought back to room temp before spreading).

...and whipped cream filling:

strawberries, several

1 C heavy cream

1 tsp vanilla

a bit (1/2 tbsp?) powdered sugar if you have it

Beat it til it's whipped cream. Slice a bunch of strawberries, thinly.

When cakes are cool, gently remove from pans. Set first layer on the cake platter. Spread whipped cream thickly across center. Arrange strawberries in single layer. Gently place second cake layer on top the strawberries. Go to town with icing, all over top of the cake and if you wish also around bottom layer (but leave center visible; the whipped cream and berries peeking out look pretty.)

Good Bye, KY, Well It's Time To Go

Dear Mouse,

Wah.

Is this ever going to get easier?

* There's a lot of pictures in this one. Kick back. Also, ponder the miracle of how I lost 6lbs while consuming everything you see here.*

the french fries at this tiny truck in Old Louisville, where there's barely enough room to order, will change your life.

Strawberry Rhubarb a la Mode at the Homemade Ice Cream and Pie Kitchen on Bardstown Road.

This guy got the chocolate cherry pie.

"You know..." said Dennis as we walked home from my reality-check final music gig in Louisville (ie; no money, no audience, no stage, and NOT part of, say, this groovy, well-publicized, beautifully run festival that has spoiled me here) "I am really depressed right now."

He didn't mean my gig (oh, I also had to follow a guy doing magic tricks). He meant the fact that Humana is drawing to a close. We're in the middle of the big final Industry Weekend, which is very exciting, and then we close tomorrow, which is kinda hard to believe. Only one more performance of this epic, beautiful, challenging play, and the end of a life-changing, messy, exhausting, highly rewarding, two months.

"Vintage Bourbon". That's the name. $75 a bottle. Tastes like butter on fire.

There is always, I suppose, going to be after-show crash, but this one I can already tell has the potential of being a larger black hole than most. Last night we were all out at a regular spot, the Old Seelbach Bar of the Hilton, to mark the first night of Industry Weekend 2. Amid the buzz and celebration, we settled into our first round, smiled at the wave of colleagues pouring in ... and then one of our number actually put his head down on the table and wailed,

"I dont wanna go back to New York!!!!!"

R to L, The Mother! and friend CM, at Lynne's Paradise Cafe, where you should go for brunch and parking lot shenanigans like this.

That is, if you can't get into TOAST on Market.

Yep. How did we get here? I never thought I'd say it, but I'm really gonna miss Kentucky for several reasons. One is, of course, this gig... but there are others. The QUIET. The SPACE - !! Even the most casual restaurant takes up, like, a whole building. You can stretch your arms out on the sidewalk and not hit anyone. The Victorian houses in Old Louisville.

The 'Pink Palace' is haunted.

Porches! Porch Swings! Magnolia trees! The private "Womens Gym" at the Y where I never have to wait for a treadmill. The $3.50 glass of Maker's Mark at Freddie's Bar around the corner. People who say hello in the elevator and chat with you at the grocery store. Servers in restaurants who cheerfully offer- offer!! - to split your party's check nine ways, every time! I've actually started saying "Yes, Mam" and "No Sir" while making eye contact. I've grown used to standing on my balcony every morning, coffee in hand, while listening to music and gazing out over the city to the Ohio River.

And of course the theatre. The enthusiasm and support and professionalism and multiple venues and dressing rooms and light plot and staff and fog machines and trap room I could go on but let's get to...

...the really important things about Louisville, such as:

I have now been to this delicious, Brooklyn-style teahouse restaurant three times in one week.

It is NOT to be missed. AND rumor has it it's actually coming to Brooklyn.

for bourbon bread pudding...

or "roadkill stew", featuring venison.

'corn pone' and incredible braised greens with bacon on the side.

and, of course, delicious, beautifully presented tea, which i normally dont give two s*ts about. Not pictured but also tried: the "smokey chai" served in a glass jar with a handle.

Behold: the Maple Frosted Bacon Donuts at Nord's Bakery. I walked FOUR miles round trip before an industry matinee to get these. Reserve the day before because they sell out by 7AM.

Next door at Sunergos' Coffeeshop, the cute hippie barista recommended the Costa Rican. I was in no way prepared for how FREAKING DELICIOUS this coffee was. Smooth, nutty, mellow, but, like, for real, and not like when people usually use these words to describe coffee and it just tastes like coffee. Amazing. Drink this coffee.

Hm. Am I forgetting anything?

Pulled Pork Tacos at Doc Crow's on Main, where you should go before or after a show at ATL. O'Shea's next door: also not too shabby. Great bar, good bison burger.

OK I think that's it for now. Was it all rosy? No. Do I have any cautionary notes? Yes. Don't get pizza in Kentucky, and under no circumstances should you ever, EVER drink this:

... which was presented to me as "whiskey", which it surely is not.

As I was starting this blog post at 2AM, Dennis sent me this email, which I think says it all (and which I think might also be haiku):

Write something in ur blog
About the kentucky fried sadness I feel

I hope I've done so. Goodbye, KY ... But first, one more party and one more show. Moon ON.

Love,

The Boo

Cheeseburger, Kentucky

Dear Mouse, 

Hello and Happy New Year from Louisville KY!!!

So this is where I've been since Christmas, working on this show, learning to play bass in high heels, and living in a big apartment that has both a microwave and a dishwasher. No, I'm not in The Future, just in Kentucky! Where, by the way, it is COLD. WTF. I thought this was The South.

I'm slowly discovering the city. You don't really want to live here without a car, but I've managed to cajole my way into a few rides to places that like this one:

Yes, Mouse, the birthplace of the cheeseburger.  (Sure, there's some debate about this... how many people, after all, probably had the idea at the same time to slap some cheese on their favorite hot sandwich? But, hey.)  There you have it and there I had lunch yesterday. A few of us, guided by a listing in RoadFood, headed over after a promotional performance in a local record store (maybe the last of its kind: real vinyl, racks of CDs, the works). It was a cold, grey, and rainy 3PM and we had just rocked our way through Alice Cooper and the Rolling Stones; perfect cheeseburger conditions.

And, as it turned out, a perfect cheeseburger.

Kaelin's, est. 1934,  greeted us warmly and sat us at a big square wood table in high seats that left my short legs dangling above the floor. This had an instant regressing effect on me and caused me to go old-school and order a Bacon Chee. As you know, I haven't had one in YEARS. (Wait, am I lying? I might be lying.) 

 I went with pepper jack, which is ubiquitous in these parts. (So is mayo, which I forgot, but I managed to get rid of it.) I was  impressed by the real, thick, chewy slice of bacon though dismayed for a moment when I saw no pink inside my burger.  ("How would you like that cooked?" does not happen at this joint, though I didn't miss it.) The taste/texture -- slight char, perfect firm/softness - reassured me.  Otherwise, all was as it should be: white rings of onion, tomato slice, lettuce leaf, a couple of pickle slices, and a toasty bun. When they ask you if potato chips are ok or do you want fries, don't be a fool. The skinny fries are crisp-tender (ha!!! don't I win something for using that?) and hot when they get to you. 

 Also, the burger - and this is a real point win with me - was the right size (no wimpy 'patty' but still fits in your mouth without a forklift), AND it did not slide around or fall apart. It maintained the well-constructed bite all the way through. In short, the Burger Abides, Mouse. The Burger Abides. (Louisville is also the birthplace of Lebowski Fest. Moment of Silence.)

One after another great hit from the 80s played softly the whole time we were there, which if you're me is a true meal enhancement.  Sodas come in big red plastic cups with straws, and, in accordance with local custom, the minute you hit the halfway mark you receive a new, full one to put next to the first. 

As an appetizer, our table shared a heaping plate of fried pickles, a local delicacy that I still can't quite believe exists. I took a picture, but my aim was so affected by the salt corroding my body that it came out blurry. We're talking sandwich pickles, the green-yellow ridged circles that come in a jar ...  battered and fried til hot and crispy. The waitress put the plate down and pointed to a small saucer of white that came with it. "Horseradish - Ranch sauce." Then, with a shrug, "A lotta folks like 'em with ketchup". She exited, leaving me to wonder if it made me cooler to eat the sauce or not. I went with it, because fried pickles are maybe the one thing I don't want to put ketchup on. I ate about six of them before I gave up. You know how I adore pickles, so it pains me to say that they are Just. Too. Salty for me. Maybe the heat brings it out...? I think I'll probably go with the Fried Green Tomatoes when I return.

We never got to the Derby Pie (a pecan pie/chocolate chip cross-breed) or the Biscuit Pudding with Bourbon Cream for dessert (we did, after all, have a second gig that night). So I'm going to have to take the GC - from whom I received frequent, hungry texts during this meal - back for a test run.

Located ironically on 'Speed Avenue", I noticed as we slowly plodded back to nap between shows.

The second gig was in a swanky museum/hotel/restaurant/bar which everyone kept reassuring me "is just like New York!" I look forward to eating there, but for now I'm pretty excited about the native culinary gems of Kentucky. More to come.

Love, 

The Boo.

PS. Incidentally, along with the microwave and dishwasher, I'm getting used to having my instruments transported/set up for me between shows by our fabulous crew. When I get back to NY, you can have this job.

Holiday Fever

"Cross out of thy books/ malevolent looks/Both beauty and youth's decay

And wholly consort/ with mirth and with sport
To drive the cold winter away"

-Anonymous, 18th Century, The Boo's Favorite Carol
(Which She has Sung Loudlye of Layte in the Kitchen, for so as to Express her Holiday Spirit, and Also to Frighten the (Real) Mouse which Lives Behind the Stove)

Dear Mouse,

I am so excited. It's December!!

"Can you believe the Boo abandoned us this year to play the Knitting Factory? Let's punish her by letting her find our whole show online and then not loading properly, no matter how many times she tries to watch."

I am , I hardly need remind you, what you might call the Anti-Grinch. I am more into Xmas than any secular half-Jew has a right to be. Every year, I am as psyched as I was in the days when I steadfastly believed in Mr. Claus past all reason, and wrote the now-famous literary epic, "The Goldberg's Christmas" (without irony) for our family files. Seriously, I am useless. All I want to do is sing, buy presents, watch cartoon specials, and basically run around in Victorian getup clutching holly branches and shouting "God bless us, Every one!"

That, and, of course, eat stuff.

I feel particularly blessed right now. For one thing, I'm about to pack my bags and leave town for two months, mostly for performing-type work, which is awesome. BUT the best part is that, since I'll be gone just before and just after 12/25, it has been necessary to push some beloved traditions, well, just a bit earlier. ... thereby stretching out the holiday by a few weeks. (Yeah!!)

Take, for example, the Winter Solstice dinner I usually host for you & sundry folks at my house, round 12/21. On that date this year, I will be in Laramie, playing here & here , watching the GC in this, and lighting birthday candles in one of the tiny travel menorahs our mother bought that one time. SO what is there to do but observe it twice!

Early Fest #1: (One Week Before) Winter Solstice

Two members of our festive group were available on 12/14, and when I say festive I mean that I said "bring wine" and they EACH brought three bottles. EACH. For three of us. Which may account for the fact that I do NOT have photos to share, but I DO have a giant ceramic head filled with jellybeans (yay early gift exchange!). I also have a recipe to share that is quick and warming and may use up some Thanksgiving swag lying around. Witness: I had a can of pumpkin, some cans of chicken broth, and a butternut squash sitting forlornly in my fruit bowl. In about 20 minutes (after prep) I had Fast & Easy Winter Squash Soup.

OK yes it is from yet another Ina Garten recipe but with one key difference. You do not, do NOT need a blender, or for Lord's sake, a "food mill" (i see that in recipes all the time and just picture, like, a little edible house) to make this. Just reach in there with your wisk at the end, and mash up the incredibly tender squash until your desired consistency. I like the rough, textured result. 2 C chopped onion, a can and a half of chicken broth, can of pumpkin, 1.5 lbs butternut (peeled/chopped),1/2 C cream, salt & pepper. Saute chopped onion 10 min in a little oil & butter, add everything else except cream, cook/simmer for 20 min, covered. Uncover, remove from heat, add cream, mash with wisk. That's it. Maybe a little chopped sage on top. Make at the end of a shopping day.

Early Fest #2: Traditional Post-Xmas Bloody Mary Gift Exchange w/A-Mac, Pre-Xmas

I love this annual meal/gift exchange that you and I have with our friend A-Mac, who happens to be the mixologist responsible for the best Bloody Marys I have ever had. It usually takes place around 12th night, at her place. But this year, come that date, I'll be slapping my way through Alice Cooper's "School's Out" on a rented bass in Louisville, Kentucky. The solution? An early gift-exchange breakfast on 12/15.

We went to Alias because of its reputation for fabulous brunch and a whole menu of Bloodys that maybe would make up for the loss of the usual (as if). The "Hair of Mary", I noticed, has a double shot of vodka. Crazy! Still feeling the champagne-and-jellybean fest of the night before, I opted instead for the much more sensible option of two regular Bloody Marys.

That celery is pickled. (And you would be too.)

Bottom line, I think you agree, is that, although perfectly acceptable, the brunch is nothing to write home about. Unless, like A-Mac, you order this:

Cheese Grits & Greens. Heavenly.

Though I was glad we ordered the "KY Sausage", if only to reassure ourselves:

I'm looking forward to visiting their state.

So I leave in two days!! I'll see you at home. Expect much bloggage from the Wild West (spoiler alert: the GC has already mentioned ELK).

I'll leave you with this piece of divine hilarity I got to experience the other night in person. The unbeatable Fiona Walsh at the Irish Arts Center, as 'The Armchair Chef''. There but for the grace of god...

Love,

The Boo