Over the summer, Josh and I dined at Blue Ginger, an Asian fusion restaurant owned by the adorable Ming Tsai, who you may also know from one of his PBS Shows, Simply Ming.
Photo from Ming.com
Among the many culinary delights we experienced was a homemade ginger ale, which immediately sparked our interest. Please stifle your chortles. We may be 70-year-old retirees in the bodies of attractive, svelte, twenty-somethings, but you're the one reading a blog about it.
So anyway, today on yet another wintry, wet weekend, we decided it was finally time to try our hand at a homemade ginger ale. We followed this recipe, reducing the portions a bit to accommodate two people and a limited ginger supply:
3 strips lemon peel (about 4 inches each), yellow part only
1-1/2 cups (about) sugar
3 quarts chilled club soda
Ice cubes
So first, you must peel and chop the ginger.
Then, you add the chopped ginger to the water and bring to rolling boil, then turn it down to continue simmering for 10 minutes. Play Farkle while you wait.
Add sugar and then stir CONSTANTLY for 15 minutes.
Strain the mixture, let it cool, and then pour it into a vessel. Store in the refrigerator until cool. Can be kept for a week.
Over ice, mix with club soda in a 4:1 ratio.
Result: HEAVEN ON EARTH. Much less sweet than canned soda, full of authentic, spicy ginger flavor, and you can ratchet the amount of ginger syrup up or down depending on what you prefer. I would also like to point out that I think this would be excellent with gin and mint in the summer. Please plan to come by and have a drink with me.
Despite popular belief, Josh and I have not limited ourselves to travel only within Massachusetts, even if this exploration has dominated most of our travel time as of late. The weekend before Christmas, we drove up to North Conway in New Hampshire, to explore the offerings of the Granite State. Josh knows this area well, and served as an excellent tour guide, shuttling me to all the most stunning natural wonders and satisfying culinary treats. Here are a few highlights.
1) Lodging. We stayed at the 1785 Inn, named so because the original part of the building was built that year. Talk about charming. You can choose from rooms with or without private bathrooms and/or views of Mt. Washington in the distance. With simple furnishing and cozy beds, the rooms stay partly true to the 18th century and are free of televisions (but with indoor plumbing, electricity and Wifi!). The walls are thin, so you'd best hope the neighbors next door are quiet. Wonderfully though, there was no noise from the restaurant downstairs, which brings me to my next point....
The restaurant. It's highly ranked and well known in the area for its exceptional menu and unusual offerings. The wine lists boasts hundreds of choices, and if the $500 bill in your wallet is troublesome, you can easily dispose of it here on a single bottle. We started with elk sausage, cooked rare and served over shitake mushrooms and cheddar cheese. Our main courses were more traditional-- veal cutlets and bacon-wrapped beef tenderloin, but if you wanted rabbit or venison, you could get it here. The dessert menu features flaming cocktails (lit on fire tableside), and the bar across the hall had dozens of warm winter booze-infused coffee and cider drinks. Happy Holidays indeed!
2) Food about town. I could not write about this trip with any sort of journalistic integrity without telling you that we ate ourselves silly. I never imagined the White Mountains to be an outstanding food destination, but there's certainly an abundance of excellent meals to be had here. One recommendation would be ribs at the Red Parka. Now, when traveling with a Boston-accented companion, you might assume he is saying "Red Parker" but indeed, the name refers to the winter jacket. We dined in an old caboose and devoured the best ribs I've ever had.
And a note on the drinks about town... carding is not really a thing in the Granite State. Either my crow's feet are growing more prominent, or they simply do not care to enforce drinking laws. I think it's the latter-- we were in the Live Free or Die state, after all.
3)Sights and hikes. Josh, in all of his innocent wonder, is slowly trying to turn me into a lover of snow and winter weather, and this trip marked a serious transition. When properly attired, a hike in the snow really does hold a magic all its own. We visited Diana's Bath, a beautiful rocky waterfall in Bartlett. Afterward, we went on a longer hike on trails nearby the Willey House, another local landmark. In 1826, the nearby Saco River began to rise, and the family left the home to escape. Then they were buried in a landslide and the house ended up being untouched. Woopsie Daisy.
4) Adventure Before a reluctant return home on Sunday, we headed to Gorham, NH to snowmobile. I'd never been and was quietly unconvinced that this was a very interesting activity to be doing. BUT WOW IS IT FUN. We rented a double, and took turns driving, although I was more than happy to spend most of my time in the back seat. More snow coated the ground there, only about 20 minutes north from where we were staying, but it made for some good snowmobiling conditions. I was rather alarmed by the lack of instruction by the guide ("This one's go, this one's stop... see you back here at 1pm"). But alas, Josh knew what he was doing, so we were able to take in some stunning mountain views, spot fresh moose tracks and generally enjoy the day without incident.
5) The Ultimate Winter Wonderland Adventure at NestlenookFarm We went on a horse-drawn sleigh ride, led by two horses (complete with jingle bells) through wooded paths lit by lanterns. It was pretty much the most charming thing ever.
There you are, young Pip, standing among the holiday lights, shivering in your patched jacket, and wondering what you can buy with a single sixpence. This is the season of giving, after all, and you want to celebrate too. What's a pauper to do when everything seems so desperately out of reach?
Don't despair, my peasant! I have several excellent gifts in mind that even you--yes you!-- can afford. We've gotten too caught up in trying to Keep Up with the Joneses to stop and appreciate the beautiful simplicity of a thoughtful gift. It's your turn to snap your social circle back to reality.
1) The gift of music. I can hear the bumpkin chorus chime, "But Miss Catherine, we can't afford fancy guitars, or iPods, or even a harmonica." I know that, bumpkins! But you can afford to make handmade instrument using a shoe box, rubber bands, and other found objects. And you know what? This is considered classy! Even Martha Stewart does it (and who can blame her, someone had to fill that jail cell with light and love through the art of craftmaking). This art form is not just for kids either; a determined pauper can create something truly lovely. Observe:
2) What about the gift of life? And of course, the question that naturally follows
is, "What is the cheapest kind of life I can buy?" The answer is:
minnows. Tiny little fish. In case you can't read the price tag in the picture because you're unable to afford glasses, it says 13 cents. Thirteen
cents! Grab a mason jar, fill it with some water fresh from the well, and you'll provide your loved ones with endless hours of natural wonder. Added bonus: if times get tough, your buddies can fry these suckers up or use them as bait on the next group turtle hunt. Truly a gift that keeps on giving.
3) I don't mean to talk down to you, Pip. You're not destitute after all, just on a budget. But in trying to be strict with your finances, it's important to know when to say to when. At some point, that sixpence will be spent, and you'll have to get extra creative with the remainder of your Christmas gifts.
Have you heard the term "found objects"? Now, this is what people these days are calling what used to be known as "junk" or "trash." But in the era of the Great Recession, these terms have been re-branded to mean "delightful quirky things we find in trash receptacles and re-purpose." The very rich and privileged use this trash to create art, but you're just a second-class scalawag, so get off your high horses and choose something more within your reach. I'm wondering if you'd consider fashioning a shoelace necklace?
If you're not following exactly what I mean by found objects (and really who could blame you), use your wide peasant hands to navigate yourself to Wikipedia like the rest of the world. Or, read this article about a woman who basically followed my advice to the letter by opening a shop full of other people's rubbish. That, Pip, is called living the dream.
The important thing to remember is that you're capable of anything, young professional pauper. Don't let your empty pockets get you down. He who is truly blessed by the spirit of giving will find ways to be generous no matter the circumstance. So get out there! You might be too skinny to be considered jolly, but try belching out a few ho-ho-ho's to lighten the mood. Pet a reindeer! Eat a cookie you find left on a plate, any plate. 'Tis the season!
We've all had that moment, when Amazon recommends something to you, and you feel two very conflicting emotions. On the one hand, you are offended by this item they so confidently said you would like. On the other hand, you wonder, how does Amazon know me better than I know myself? How does Amazon know things about me that I don't dare utter, even to my BFF?
For example, once they suggested I read a book called, "If I am Missing or Dead: A Sister's Story of Love, Death and Liberation."
And I was like, wait, huh? Why on earth would they think I would enjoy something like that? That sounds horrible and very specific.
But then I read it and was captivated. So Amazon, of course, continued to lead me down a path of dark and disturbing memoirs, a path that I followed without question somewhere from 2006 to 2009. In my defense, I think a lot of Americans were on this same path, and let's blame Oprah because she pretty much just sucks anyway. I mean, when you start hosting a show called Life class, indicating to viewers that you are the teacher of EVERYTHING ABOUT LIFE, you need to order yourself a case of humble pies, and then lie down and take a nice, long nap. Take a nap, Oprah.
My Netflix queue is another matter-of-fact declaration of my very limited interests and a source of significant shame when viewed by outsiders. Every movie is about American gluttony, drug addiction, or kidnapping. Occasionally, something more reasonable pops up, like Parenthood to indicate that I'm not a unabomber in the making. I love family dramas! And I consider the cast of Parenthood alongside Laura Linney in the realm of knowing All Human Emotions.
I digress. The problem is that once Amazon and Netflix know you like something, they think you'll like everything in that category forevermore. I would try to deny it, but in describing two of my favorite childhood movies to Josh, I realize that I've long been drawn to dark themes.
For example, has any other nine-year-old loved Spike Lee's Crooklyn like I did? It's a movie about growing up in Brooklyn in the 70s, bursting with both a rocking soul soundtrack and blistering commentary on black culture and family drama. Why did I connect so strongly to this film? We don't know. Everyone forgot about this movie, but you should watch it because it's awesome. Trailer here:
Another movie that everyone else forgot about is The War, starring Kevin Costner and a young Elijah Wood. It takes places in the south in the 70s and tackles racism, abuse, poverty, and the Vietnam War, which where all themes I felt compelled to educate myself about as a third grader in white suburbia.
I watched both of these movies almost as much as I watched "Little Women", which is to say more than one million times.
Have Amazon or Netflix ever offended you? Were you drawn to strangely serious, adult themes as a young child? Tell me more in the comments.
Since the first installment of Great Expectations was published a few months ago, I've received dozens of requests for more advice. You were all so grateful for the tips about how to eat on a budget, but you let me know loud and clear that there are still more metaphorical fish for the young pauper to fry as he navigates these tough economic waters. (They have to be metaphorical fish because the real ones are still swimming somewhere around $10 a pound and that's outside our budget!)
So today, my peasants, I'm providing some housing advice because, let's be honest, you've looked under a bridge or two and wondered what it might be like to live there if you can't pay your rent next month.
Regarding furniture: You don't actually need any. You're not on HGTV. Coffee tables are really just vehicles for artfully-displayed detritus. Chairs for guests are unnecessary because you can't afford to entertain. I'll allow you a mattress, maybe a couch, and a table so you can maintain some level of dignity when you eat your Spaghetti-Os out of the can. Lamps are allowed because reading is important so your brain doesn't rot. A pauper must pull himself up by his bootstraps, and you'll need smarts for that, kid.
But what else do you need? Stop shopping for framed art, knick-knacks and other luxury items like baking pans and wooden spoons. Live within your means for one hot second. Once the sharp stabs of self-pity wane, you'll realize Lazy-Boys are merely ostentatious displays of weak moral character.
"But Catherine," I hear the Bumpkin Chorus chime, "you allow me to have a mattress and lamps, but I can't afford any." Young professional paupers must be resourceful, and if your eyes are open and your ears are listening, you'll soon realize that your more monied friends have furniture. In fact, they have so much of it, they want to give it away to you! Be humble, bumpkins, and gratefully accept what you are offered.
On the subject of utilities: I'd suggest you think twice before approaching that thermostat in the winter months. We've become so soft! Put on a second pair of pants, a couple of sweaters, and a winter coat, and I'm sure you'll find the indoor temperatures of your tenement much more agreeable. Drink some tea, an inexpensive drink known for its warm, healing properties. Perhaps you've heard of it. If you feel you're suffering overmuch, consider the research which indicates cooler temperatures may be good for you.
Furthermore, appreciate the riches you do have. You are an employed professional! Take advantage of the heat, electricity, and water at your workplace. Work an extra hour or two at the textile mill. By the time you get home, you'll be too tired to worry about creature comforts. Curl up in your pile of rags, blow out that kerosene lamp, and look forward to a brand new day.
The neighborhood and what it offers Young Pip: Just because you're 25, have a professional wardrobe, a real job, and nearly $4 to spend on lunch, doesn't mean you're too accomplished to dog sit, mow lawns, or water Mrs. Spielman's beloved houseplants. These jobs aren't for just for 12-year-olds anymore, and it's about time those seventh graders started to feel the pinch of the recession anyway. Offer yourself proudly as a more qualified, mature alternative to Timmy from down the street. You could be out there making money, so step out of that boarding house and look at the economic opportunity around you.
