Some people have a garden...I have a modern day totem pole

Some people walk out their front door into their garden.

Stepping just outside my condo last night, I walked into this:
It used to be a tree. Now it's. Well, what is it? What is something that uses more staples than a tummy tuck, yet somehow works to bring together the heavy-metal, the lonely singer-songwriter, and the lone Seattle hip-hop artist? All on one hole-ridden pillar of marketing crap?

It's like a modern day totem-pole, telling a story of Capitol Hill's music and livelihood.

And, it's a place where your bike can rest.

Hell Has Frozen Over: My Local Garden

(Image compliments of boys life)

This is something I wrote a few months ago as I watched two men garden in the little pea patch that sprouted up this year a block from my house. I read it this morning and felt hope that spring is really only a (baker's) dozen weeks away.

Men in glasses
Orange and black
Soothe their snapping peas, question infestations
Soak up the energy of their sun-spotted soil
Salvage strawberry starts

Men in khakis
Bleached and crisp
Head to bed early just wake at six a.m. to coax
Walla walla sweets into crackling brown bags
Laid gently, forever, to rest

“Organic?”
“Flowering?”
“Can I look?”
Wired minds burrowing into nature
Like pastors into Big-Booked doctrine
Ready to fry ‘em up in bacon grease
As hell cools and freezes over.

The "Good Enough" Gift

I'm not a seeker of perfection. I used to be, and it didn't work out so well. Perfection requires no true courage, or hope, or raw and vulnerable connection. The psychologist, D. W. Winnicott, wrote that a mother does not need to be perfect, she just needs to be "good enough."

For me, giving a wonderful gift usually seems to meet 2 criteria:

1. It is something intentional and personal for a specific person (in other words, they are delighted by the gift, but equally as happy that you know them so well).

2. It is something I enjoyed shopping for or creating (in other words, the process of giving was a gift to me as well).

I had this "good enough" gift experience yesterday when I found a present for a dear friend at Sugarpill on 10th & Pine.

A modern day apothecary, walls are lined with salts, herbs, teas, and tinctures customized for customers. An old-world remedy shop with a modern aesthetic.

(Photo compliments of Only in Seattle)

I was standing at this salt wall, thinking of the fact that my friend is Italian and an avid foodie. She'd like salt, wouldn't she?

The stores nurturing owner, Karyn Schwartz, came and asked if she could help. As I described my foodie friend - an Italian who used to live in Seattle but does not any more - she directed me to two items that fit the bill beautifully.

1. A flaky, translucent Italian sea salt. A taste of my friend's heritage.

2. A blackish salt that smoked over 7 Northwest wood planks for 2 weeks, leaving them smelling like a smoky Seattle bonfire. A taste of my friend's old home.

I left thrilled that this, indeed, was a good enough gift.

SPUN

I threw a quarter in my pocket and stepped out for a walk.

The quarter is for the handful of Mike & Ikes I'll find at either Utrecht or in the Value Village on 11th. (I'll admit that I hold a bit more trust in the cleanliness of the candy machine at Utrecht, but coin-candy-machine users can't be picky, can we?)

Up on 10th I happened to see that Flora & Henri is having a closing sale, and almost decided to buy a full wardrobe of imported linen for my future child. The saleswoman told me not to fear, they are not leaving but are simply focusing online - they'll retain a by-appointment-only space downtown.

A peacock front-button dress on sale at Flora&Henri.

I walked up to 14th just to peek in the lace curtains at Spinasse and happened upon a little boutique I've never been in before: Spun. Teeny and warm, I was happy to take off my mittens for a minute and peruse the goods. Conscientious artist collective: jewelry makers, beauty products, and fashion designers all offering organic goods with simple design.

Photo compliment of Seattlest

Some of the jewelry was gorgeous, although I admit I was not taken with many of the 100% organic clothes.

I was struck, however, by 2 things:

1: The absolutely gorgeous wood & iron furniture pieces around the shop. The cheery-cheeked woman who was managing the shop said everything was for sale, was completely affordable, and could be custom fit to your house. The designers name is Mike, at MM Builders, and the furniture is made under his concept "Marian Built." Using cast iron wheels and reclaimed wood, he does what Restoration Hardware is doing but at a much-better price point. I want to see more of his work: especially old rolling doors.

Photo compliment of Seattlest

2: No nonsense cards from "the Raven & the Writing Desk."

I'm always impressed by the creativity birthed on this hill between two waters.

Canon

I must begin with ***

*** I struggled with whether to add the following addition to my "Curate Seattle" list. I have a very slight interest ("crush" is too strong) on this brand new place. Not head-over-heels. It's like the movie "One Fine Day:" not great acting, at times annoying, and not even that unique of a storyline, but for some reason I still really like it. It ends and I either want to go hug someone or watch it again.

Like the following recommendation, it certainly isn't winning any Oscars any time soon, but it will leave you in a great mood.

Canon: whiskey & bitters emporium and I share an archeological urge to dig into classic cocktail culture. We are clearly not alone, as this trend has swept the country and Seattle over the last few years.

(Here at home, think Spur, Tavern Law/Needle & Thread, Bathtub Gin, Zig Zag, Knee High Stocking).

This newest joint has a few features that are worth experiencing.

Taking over Licorous's old spot on 12th Avenue, Canon put some pre-prohibition memorabilia up on the walls and filled the shelves with old and new liquors to tempt every inkling. Things that made this place intriguing and creative:

1. The Vermouth Experiment: For $12 I got to try three rye manhattans, one with Dolin,

one with Chinato, and one with Punt e Mes.

In the bottom of each glass were these deep red, dense marinated cherries (imported from France for $200 a jar, according to the waitress), which I wouldn't share with anyone for even $5. Seriously, I asked the waitress to bring extra so others could try because I wouldn't part with mine.

2. The Hanky Panky (gin, sweet vermouth, and fernet) was served in an adorable personal-sized medicinal glass bottle wrapped in a handmade logo.

3. Cocktail books from the 20's and 30's were stacked on the bar, tempting me to keep ordering and learning.

Although I daydreamed of little tweaks to service and decor, I sincerely appreciated their passion - the details to the beverages and cocktail experience - that are necessary to continue grow my knowledge and appreciation for all the little details that make a great drink a truly great drink.

How wonderful that cocktailing is a skill worth learning - something you can enjoy in your 2o's and on into your 80's.

The Seattle Popsicle Truck

Tell me one of your favorite sounds as a kid was the popsicle man.

That tinny music coming round the corner, getting louder and louder, giving you, me, and our friends just enough time to run inside for quarters from mom or grandpa. The popsicle truck would come into view and we would huff and run to be the first in line for the red-white-and-blue rockets, or maybe a fudgesicle.

Sitting outside on Capitol Hill the other day I had a genius idea...I think you'll agree it's brilliant.

An adult popsicle truck.

That plays really great summer music - like The Roots or Musiq Soulchild, or pretty much any R&B from the early 90's - and drives around Capitol Hill giving out real, organic, fruit juice popsicles to the hipsters in their cut-off-denim shorts. Maybe the Popsicle Driver even doubles as a DJ and customers can request songs.

Maybe you can get on the popsicle truck social media page and request a specific song when the truck is coming around your corner!

I imagine the truck being about this big:

But having B&W speakers and much better branding:

I'm imagining the list of flavors printed on the side of the truck now, co-created with Seattle chefs of course:

Peach, Tomato & Basil

Grapefruit, Cucumber, & Cilantro

Lemon & Black Pepper

Pineapple, Lime & Ginger

Mango, Meyer Lemon & Thyme

Blueberry & Terragon

Something co-conspired with Fran's Chocolates of course.

Blackberries from San Juan Island.

You get it.

Would you want this truck to come down your street? Let me know what you think.

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!

Not your "Gas Station Cherry Pie, best if sold by Aug 1998"

I am so thankful that my pregnant friends have cravings! How else would I have discovered the most incredible Coconut Creme Pie this side of the Mississippi?

High 5 Pie.

Right up on 12th. It opened this past year in it's own little space, although the pies have been served at Fuel Coffee for a few years now. The Trace Lofts couldn't have found better tenants --- High 5 Pie and Tavern Law.

"Happy (drunk on gin and pastries) Neighbors, Happy Landlords" I always say.

I know Seattle's been on a pie kick for a while now. But this pie is different. The crust on this coconut creme pie was ... well. Let's just thank our lucky Seattle stars for this spot.

I mean, these aren't the cherry-filled little pies my dad would get at 7-11 on roadtrips:

They come in slices, bags, and on sticks:

And you can even head home with goodies in adorable rolling-pin totes:

FLAVORS INCLUDE:

Apple Egg & Cheddar Egg/Bacon/Cheddar Cherry Almond Peanut Butter & Jelly Coconut Cream Banana Cream Veggie Pot Pie

Potato/Dill/Cheddar Key Lime Peach Lemon Shaker Vanilla Cream Broccoli/Cheddar/Mushroom Peanut Butter & Chocolate Chicken Pot Pie

Marionberry Frito Maple Blueberry Ham & Gruyere Caramel Pecan Spinach Feta Chocolate Cream Savory Beef

A Perfect, Bitter Stocking Stuffer

This year, I am all about the small things. (Think: "stocking stuffers" of life). They might not be the biggest packages under the tree, but they often bring the most pungent joy. And these little, beautiful, things happen all over Seattle.

Watching my nephews open their gifts early in Issaquah.

A great phone conversation with a new friend in Belltown.

Scoring 250 points in skeeball at King's Hardware in Ballard.

A cup of peppermint tea in this nook at Roy Street Coffee & Tea on Capitol Hill

An impromptu Christmas kiss with my husband at Canlis,

(Canlis, 2010 - photo compliments Christopher Keuhl)

The sweet success of victory after a 3 day battle with port-braised short ribs

And watching the Packers lose yesterday with an avid Packer fan!

However, if I could name my most favorite REAL stocking stuffer of 2010, it might be these:

Scrappy's Bitters:

While strolling 12th Avenue on a rainy night on my (Capitol) Hill a few weeks ago I stumbled across these incredible bitters at the 12th & Olive Wine Co. It was about 9:00 at night, and I have to imagine the owner was avoiding going home or something, because he spent a good half hour deconstructing (ie: tearing apart like a wild coyote!) Woodinville wineries and then showing off these bitters.

It didn't take much convincing to fall in love with a line of hand-crafted organic bitters with flavors like celery, orange, lavender, chocolate and cardamom. What a beautiful addition to anything, be it beverage or food. I'd take a stocking full of Scrappy's any day!

Proud to be a Seattleite!

(don't you love the "world's fair" style event poster?)

I had no idea the cultural marvel of an evening I was in for when I suggested we head to Artopia on Saturday night. Sounded harmless enough: some live music, "multi-disciplinary" art, repurposed furniture and lots of dark beer. I mean, the only reason I didn't get married in that favorite old factory on Airport Way was because we thought some of our relatives might be scared by the late night carousing across the street at 9lb Hammer. I don't drink beer, but I like being with people who do.

It was a gorgeous night, and we wandered in and out of a lot of bad art shows, bored by most, laughing at the hysterical:

(It's just true.)

We peaked at Via Tribunali's street oven firing up The Non-Scotsman's favorite Seattle meal for only $5 a pizza. Heaven from the oven.

(Via Tribunali pizza)

We admired our favorite furniture-maker's lamps at Great Stuff, but things started rapidly flailing downhill about Block 4 with the local dance troupe flopping on a plastic mat, and then this guy:

(I didn't ask...)

I quickly grabbed cheap sushi to-go, and we revved the engine into the sunset, driving over to Alki for the final glimpse. A complete contrast: the suburban waterfront and campfire-song atmosphere of West Seattle. We were stuck in the traffic of the young hipsters trying to "drag main" - awesome.

(I took this from my passenger seat, too relaxed and lazy to exit the car and sit on the bench and be part of this scene myself, 2010)

On the way home, in lieu of cocktails we decided Milkshakes & Cokes were in order from Dick's on Broadway right by our house. Again, a innocent decision. However, it happened to be the Eve of the Capitol Hill Gay Pride Parade, and all of Broadway was blocked off for the festivities. Street vendors selling henna tattoos and beaded sarongs sashayed to the live music coming from behind Julia's on Broadway. Massive men in hiked skirts sang Aretha Franklin - the finale of the night.

(The dance party outside Julias)

Pulling into our garage I marveled at the cultures we had just experienced:

Georgetown garage fishnet stockings and tatted kilt-wearing artists.

West Seattle family-friendly main drag filled with marshmallow puffs.

Capitol Hill gay pride in all it's vibrant sashaying.

Proud to be a Seattle-ite!

Volunteer, Park, Cafe

(Volunteer Park Cafe, 2010)

There's a charming little cafe behind Volunteer Park at the top of Capitol Hill - aptly named "Volunteer Park Cafe." I run by it a few times a week, and every time I think, "wouldn't it be lovely to walk up here with The Non-Scotsman some morning?" This morning was that morning.

Sun bursting, little floral tributes to spring falling on us like honeysuckle lawn clippings.

(Outside in April, 2010)

The European-style cafe lives in a little house over 100 years old which was, at one time or another, a grocery and a meat market. Little nuggets of history and Seattle and Europe blend together one roughly hewn floorboard after another. A currently-empty chicken coup sits in the back yard next to vegetable beds.

(Fresh tulips in champagne flutes, Volunteer Park Cafe, 2010)

(The pastry counter beckons with warm brioche and flaky quiches, 2010)

(A fridge full of glorious champagne, Volunteer Park Cafe, 2010)

(The banquette where we warmed with Americanos and sunshine, 2010)

(The fresh fruit compote and house-made granola, Volunteer Park Cafe, 2010)

Few things do wonders for a marriage like a morning outing. Some things you may discuss when sitting by a refrigerator full of champagne at 10:30am are:

1) The advanced railway system in China

2) Your fear of failing in front of each other

3) The joy of finding dried cherries (not just raisins) in your granola

4) Deep-down actually wanting to support KPLU for $1,000 a year in order to hear more live jazz

5) The desire to throw fundraisers for friends who are adopting babies

6) How the Japanese couple next to you found this little cafe

7) When the occasion will allow you to use the cafes huge 16 person table for a dinner party

8) How important it is to actively remember, every day, that the Creator loves you

9) Woodworking classes at community college

(Warming a pale face outside Volunteer Park Cafe, 2010)