Urban Woodsman: Since when did cool guys grow heirloom legumes and butcher pigs?

I have this gem of a book. My friend, Blake Lown, gave it to me a few years back when we were sure the world was coming quickly to an end - or maybe it was just the last semester of college. Anyway, it was called:

It really did tell you everything you'd ever need to know:
how to buy a horse, build a fence, attract hummingbirds, build a stone wall, and raise chickens.

Which brings me to last night:
Two bartenders were arguing last night over the real way to make a traditional Old Fashioned for my date, the Non-Scotsman. Funny that perhaps one of the newest spots on Capitol Hill, Artusi, was up in arms over how to make something the oldest way.

All that to say I read this article in GQ today that made me literally laugh out loud. The author, Mary H.K. Choi, is wondering why, for the past four years, "city-bound American men have been eating like yeoman farmers and dressing like Wild West oil prospectors." Basically, why is everyone wanting to go back in time so badly?

(Photo compliments of New York Magazine)
As quoted in GQ: "[…]

In fact, everyone on the cutting edge of culture seems to be yearning for simpler times that we’re too young to feel nostalgia for. If we aren’t subconsciously battening down the hatches for Armageddon, why are college-educated men learning to raise and butcher pigs? What’s up with techy guys cultivating rooftop gardens because heirloom legumes are cool? Men who live in Brooklyn, both Portlands, and Austin are studying the arts of pickling, canning, and skeet shooting. We’ve got grown-ass men with jobs learning how to make candles, for (C*#%$) sakes. Goodnight, moon.


Choi doesn't specifically reference Seattle in her article, but all she really needs to do is walk down 1/18 of Ballard Avenue (think: Bastille's rooftop garden) or on Cap Hill between Pike & Pine (enter bearded bartenders at Tavern Law, butchers next door to pickle-topped Sitka & Spruce).

Damn, I love this city!


White Space

I'm wondering what I would do with more "white space" these days?
Happily empty, gorgeous and blank space.
Space and time.

Energized by the fact that its whole life is ahead - so much potential - so much room.

I think what I'm trying to say is that I want to move.