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I have been on a real Stella Parks kick lately and that combined with my lifelong inability to settle on a granola recipe meant that I tried her buttermilk granola. It is super good, though not exactly what I am looking for. I think one thing I have learned is that I don’t care as much about clumps as I am supposed to. They are written about as if they are the holy grail of granola recipes but I kind of don’t care if I have clumps. Anyway, hers does have clumps and some nice light crispness and tang thanks to a buttermilk soak. The recipe is definitely worth trying, but a little too fussy to be a regular in my kitchen. I want to be able to just dump a bunch of stuff in a bowl and run. Also maybe I hate dried fruit? The quest continues.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about thinking. Specifically about how it feels like there is no longer the time and space to do the hard work of thinking. The speed of the internet has it all coming at us quick and we’re developing these fast triggers responding to things before we have even had the time to think them through. Tavi Gevinson touches on this, and a bunch of other important ideas in her latest editors letter on Rookie.

• Whatever you need to do to create that space for yourself, do it this year. Do it now. Fight the new pace of thinking designed to keep us in Facebook fights and make Facebook more money. Resist getting so wound up by every story that you accelerate off a cliff into apathy. Lengthen the circuit between a candid thought and your anticipation of how it will be received, a circuit constantly shrinking in fear. Try your ideas out with people you are not desperate to impress, so there’s less ego clouding your discussion.

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I was super late to the party, but the My Dad Wrote a Porno podcast is officially the funniest, stupid/dirtiest, most wonderfully British thing I have ever heard. For the uninitiated, three friends read aloud and discuss a series of erotic novels that one of their dads wrote. Few things have brought me more laughs in these dark times.

Alice Levine is one of the three friends and (for me) the star of the show. She also happens to be a food and “lifestyle” writer and along with business partner Laura Jackson works under the moniker Jackson & Levine. The two have hosted pop-up dinners, written for magazines, and designed a capsule collection for Habitat. They also published their first cookbook Round to Ours (great title!), which is super good-looking, if a little toothless. But you gotta love that bizzarro Pennsylvania Dutch cover!

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Curious about the dining basics available through Year & Day. Simple, good-looking and (sort-of?) reasonably priced. I especially like the shape of their tumblers, which can be hard to make feel special. I was into the matte black flatware but it seems like hand washing is probably best for them and who wants to worry about spots.

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Alicia Kennedy writing about loss and oysters is some peak food writing, in case you missed it back in November: The First Time I Ate an Oyster

*****

Kim Severson covers Medieval times like only she could. It lead me to some truly bonkers reviews for Medieval Times.

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We tried KP! Toffee (no idea what is going on with that exclamation point) on our last trip to Madison, Wisconsin. It might have been the best toffee I have ever eaten. I ended up ordering a bunch for holiday gifts. The milk chocolate is where it is at.

When we were in Los Angeles in November my friend Emily took us to Moon Juice, Amanda Chantal Bacon’s deathstar. The excursion was kind of a joke and kind of not. Emily knew how much I loved reading about Amanda Chantal Bacon (see: this, this, this, this, this, this).

I think there are multiple Moon Juices, but the one Emily took us to was in a strip mall. I wasn’t expecting that. In retrospect I don’t know what I was expecting, but Moon Juice is basically just a juice store in a strip mall, which we have in Chicago. But because this was Amanda Chantal Bacon’s strip mall juice store I felt like I was a part of something bigger than me.

The woman behind the counter had very beautiful skin and hair. Like she was made of better materials than what was available when they made me—or else this Moon Juice stuff really works! She seemed normal and was friendly. Not too friendly. I’d call it appropriately friendly. We took a really long time to order because I was overwhelmed by the options. I’d never seen so much stuff that had been activated. And you just know how much better things are when they are activated, you can seriously feel it. I found myself reading a lot of labels because they promised me a lot and I love promises. I learned that sugar is an allergen. read more+++

Astier de Villatte’s Snoopy

One of my favorite ceramics companies honoring the greatest comic strip of all-time.

Amaro Angeleno

We spent a good chunk of November in California visiting friends and family and came home with a bottle of this citrusy amaro. Perfect in a spritz, which we served for Thanksgiving this year(prosecco, citrus juice, amaro—cold!).

Rachel Gropper Mobile from Field & Florist

My friends Heidi and Molly opened the coolest shop in Chicago this year. Their main racket is growing the best flowers in southwest Michigan, where they have a farm. But this summer they opened a shop where you can get both their flowers as well as the most perfectly curated selection of gifts. They sell my favorite Hasami porcelain and these super rad mobiles from Chicago’s own Rachel Gropper.

Trust Women Patch

100% of proceeds go to Planned Parenthood. Because fuck this shit.

Postalco Wallet

Because my last wallet lasted me 14 years, I felt like I could spend a lot of dough on a new one. After months of research, I decided on this beauty from Postalco. I love it. It feels good in the hand and has all of the compartments I want. Also, Gen X green.

Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders

I read a lot of good books this year but looking back this was the book that really stuck with me. Saunders long ago established himself as a genius and this really confirmed his place as one of America’s great writers and thinkers. Heady and hearty.  read more+++

I keep thinking about my long-standing feud with Madonna. It began in 1993.

The previous year Sinead O’Connor (one of the most underrated musicians of all time) performed on Saturday Night Live as the musical guest. At the end of a moving cover of War by Bob Marley, she famously held up a picture of Pope John Paul II, tore it into pieces, looked into the camera and commanded: Fight the real enemy. It was, as you can imagine, controversial. It was also, for teenage me, the best thing I had ever seen. O’Connor used her platform to call attention to the sexual abuse rampant in the Catholic church and covered-up by its leaders, though few people understood that at the time. read more+++

• Marshmallow Crispy (Perfection)
• Yellow Birthday Cake
• Cinnamon Bun
• Dunkin’ Donuts Mocha (These taste exactly like those sugar wafer cookies that come in packages of Strawberry/Vanilla/Chocolate)
• Choco Chip
• Peeps
• Fruity Crisp
• Waffles and Syrup (Impressive flavor engineering!)
• Coconut Thins
• Cookies and Cream
• Red Velvet
• Salted Caramel Thins
• Key Lime Pie
• Pumpkin Spice
• Jelly Donut (I am still confused by this one—it doesn’t taste like jelly or a donut)
• Blueberry Pie (Fruit flavors are always the least successful)
• Firework (This is so low on list mostly because it was such a dumb idea)
• Caramel Apple (Is there anything worse than artificial apple flavor?)
• Swedish Fish (Absolutely vile)

*I know some are missing, these are just the ones I tried and can remember. Who can keep up?!

We don’t have the dough for a big vacation this summer, so we’re spending time doing what we love: exploring the Midwest.

We just got back from a long weekend in Galena, Illinois and Mineral Point, Wisconsin. Both towns are in the Driftless region of the Midwest, an area (primarily Wisconsin, though it also includes a bit of Illinois, Iowa, and Minnesota) that is known for its natural beauty and unique topography. The landscape  is a result of it having been untouched by glaciers when they were last moving over much of the rest of the region. The material (silt, sand, gravel, boulders) that glaciers leave behind is called drift, so the region is driftless.

Despite having spent almost all of my life in the Midwest, I had never been to this particular corner of it and was overwhelmed by how beautiful it is. A rolling agrarian landscape dotted with farmhouses and cows and sheep. Ridges and river valleys. It reminded me of central England, and at times even of Iceland.

We started our adventure in Galena, a 19th century (former) port town that has been beautifully preserved. At one time the Galena surpassed Chicago in population and importance, but now the river that once brought steamboats and trade to Galena is reduced to a stream. The former glory of the city is evident everywhere, and in fact the town seems to be experiencing a bit of a new kind of glory. The charming curved main street that followed the form of the river has now been turned over to tourists, which means it is mostly fudge shops and places that sell flavored olive oil or hand-painted signs that say “Live, Laugh, Love” or something. Businesses seem to be booming judging from the lack of vacant storefronts on main street. I might not go to Galena for the shopping, but the beauty of its natural landscape and well-preserved architecture has me eager to return.

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Now feels like an awkward time to publish a cookbook on grain bowls. They’d become a joke in our house a while back and even lamestream food media seems to have recognized that they are over-hyped, at least as a trend. As a way of eating they remain wonderful and essential. But add them to the pile of faded cultural moments along with small plates (or maybe just having small plates explained to you at excruciating length?), “everything is better with bacon” (No, it’s not.), cupcakes, and prohibition-era cocktails. But from the trash heap of food frenzy we get to salvage the remains of what we like and incorporate them into our lives.

So maybe I am wrong and it is a good time for one more book of bowls. This one, Bowls of Plenty: Recipes for Healthy and Delicious Whole Grain Meals, is from Carolynn Carreño, one of my favorite cookbook coauthors, who is finally venturing out on her own. I know her mostly as the woman who collaborates on Nancy Silverton’s wonderful books, though her resume is long. She’s also proven herself to be a great internet pal, and she kindly sent me a copy of the book.

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Julianne Ahn makes some of my favorite ceramics at Object & Totem. She has quite a following, so things go fast. But they are worth waiting for.

Okay, okay, this is a major splurge. But after years of being curious about linen sheets my friend Grace convinced me they were worth the money. She was right. We’ve become linen converts. I find myself talking about them way more than I should. The only problem is, they’re fucking expensive. But Bryan and I had been sleeping on the same cheap cotton sheets for most of our decade-long relationship so we felt like we could justify the upgrade (I am The King of justifying upgrades). We now have a set from West Elm that we got on sale and some from Parachute. I especially love the off-black (coal, as they call it) from Parachute–it is just such a great 90’s goth color. We like them because they are cool (we both run hot) and yet have a comforting weight to them. Hard to explain, but delightful.

We Are Everywhere. For real.

DS & Durga have made it to this guide before, and I can never get enough of their everything. They recently released a line of pocket perfumes. Oil-based roll-ons that you can easily transport. They even come in the perfect felt sleeve. And as always, the graphic design on these is A+. Spirit Lamp is based on a favorite candle of theirs, described as:

• Tea service at the colonial parlor of Mme. Revere, topless psychic.
  Hot silver heated by open flame. Bohea vapours, radiant heat, milk.

These beautiful little match holders are from Evanston-based artist Julia Finlayson’s Grandmontstreet Ceramics. Each perfect little vessel holds a handful of matches and is ribbed for striking. They’re available at one of my favorite Chicago shops, Asrai Garden (who recently launched their very own web shop!).

Pillows! This pillow is great, but so is everything from Banquet Atelier and Workshop in Vancouver. I am pretty obsessed with their textile patterns and a lot of my domestic fantasies revolve around curtains for our dining room in one of their rad fabrics. read more+++

We were in Iceland for the last two weeks of May. It was the fastest I have ever fallen in love with a place. From the moment my lungs first filled with Iceland’s sea air that smelled like the earth and tasted better than anything I have ever eaten, I knew I was in love. We were explorers. We found glaciers, sea birds, volcanoes, seals, and so many waterfalls that at a certain point we no longer pointed them out to each other. We took waterfalls for granted. Iceland focuses your attention on our earth. It is hard to think about anything else. It is so big, and makes you feel so small. You are confronted with a land that didn’t have to endure humans until very recently. I thought a lot about death, but not in a morbid way. I mostly wondered why the earth isn’t enough. Why do we have to imagine heaven when it is enough for me to know that I will dissolve into a rock, a tree, an arctic tern. I am forever. I thought a lot about entering the earth, communing—sliding into the crevasse of a glacier, burrowing into ash, letting moss grow over me. Iceland does this to you, if you are doing it right. Even in Reykjavik, metropolis of 120,000 people, spring water falls from the faucet in your smartly designed hotel room. The puffin still appears. The lamb you saw grazing on a hill is served on a plate and tastes of the land you explored. It is easy to access the pleasures of Earth in Iceland. It was all we had to do.

We flew back home after Memorial Day weekend to news that everyone in Chicago had been shot. At least it felt that way, though we all know that it isn’t white people being shot in Chicago. Chicago, my troubled homeland, felt like a particularly difficult place to be. We sat in traffic. We read depressing political news. The streets smelled like garbage and car exhaust. I struggled to drink the water coming out of our tap because now it just tastes like chlorine. Bryan and I were short with each other and easily frustrated. It was an acute version of the post-vacation blues, but also something more. read more+++