Scenes from my Summer: Dramatic Sky

Scenes from my Summer: Nap Spot

Scenes from my Summer: Red Shoes

Scenes from my Summer: Down the Hatch

Scenes from my Summer: Fried Calamari

Scenes from my Summer: July 4th

I can dream, can't I?

The kitchen of my dreams. Conveniently located in the house of my dreams. Welcome to Clingstone.

Watch.

An Open Letter to Starbucks.

Dear Starbucks.


This sucks.


As does this.


This, too.


And, if I drank this every morning, I would weigh 380 lbs, have rotting teeth, and would be in need of a heart transplant in a few short years.

Why? Why? Why Starbucks? Why and how did you get it into your collective, over-Frappuccino-ed heads, that it would be a good idea to replace the one coffee beverage an adult might actually want to drink in the morning -- the only one you offered that was made from three simple ingredients: coffee, milk + sugar; the one beverage that was lowfat, light, and refreshing, with just the right amount of caffeine, and with no cream in it, so my teeth didn't feel like they were coated with paste after drinking it; the one beverage that didn't remind me of Yoohoo, or Bosco, or the Nestle's Quik Shakes I drank as a kid; the one iced coffee on the market that was simple, sophisticated, and peerless--

and remove it from every shelf in America.



??






Starbucks, I've heard recently that you have been closing stores, and laying off employees. Surely, the economy being in the miserable state it's in has something to do with your downturn, but I can't help but wonder if part of your downfall is due to the fact that you are also completely out of touch with your consumer. What you beanheads don't understand is, that if I want to get fat, I will go to McDonalds. If I want Guarana & Ginseng, I will go to Mrs. Greens. I come to you for coffee. Simple, good coffee. Not coffee that is 800 calories with whipped cream and chocolate syrup piled on so high that I need a special lid to contain it, and 2-inch wide straw to suck it up with.

America is getting fatter and fatter and you are not helping us by making your drinks bigger and bigger, loading them up with more and more 'stuff'. I am not 16 years old, and I do not want to drink dessert for breakfast. Nor, do I want to travel out of my way each day, to stand in line for ten minutes with a bunch of people who are equally unhappy about having to drive out of their way/stand in line, for an iced coffee that is good or bad, depending on the mood, experience, or level of hangover, of the heavily pierced barista behind the bar. Sorry Starbucks suits, but I want a consistent experience.

I had that -- of course -- before you inexplicably removed the aforementioned perfect, peerless Iced Coffee Italian Roast, from every supermarket, every Target, every Starbucks, every online resource in America, just in time for summer.

Yesterday -- after wasting more gas trying yet another out-of-the-way supermarket, and leaving both empty-handed + utterly frustrated -- I came to the sad conclusion that I will never again taste my favorite morning beverage. And so I did what I always do when things look hopeless -- I came up with a solution.

This morning I am going out to buy myself an espresso maker (not from you, of course) so I can replicate the recipe at home. And, once I do, I will be posting that recipe here for all the other spurned Iced Coffee lovers out there who are equally tired of Corporate America just not getting it. And I will happily drink it every morning, for what I am certain will cost me small change, instead of the $2.00 per can I was laying out each day. That will save me approximately $700 per year -- money that will go towards something good for me, not you.

So, in conclusion, thank you for the $700 this year, and the $7,000 over the next 10 years in savings. And, for challenging me this week in the kitchen + today on my weblog.

Have a nice day, and don't forget to get your cholesterol checked regularly -- that Grande Frappuccino you sell in your stores has a whopping 65 mg. of it!

Sincerely,
Suzanne Brown

On Year Later

...and I still miss you just as much as I did when you left us this time last year. Time to make another cheesecake, I guess.

I love you, Grams.

Gathering two of each species.

Ok. Disregard my last post. I honestly can't take another second of this--it rains constantly here. It's insane. Today the weatherman on the radio couldn't even bring himself to announce the forecast for the remainder of the week. I believe that is not only unprecedented, but a very bad sign.

Seriously, what the HELL is going on?

Believe.

It's been raining nonstop this spring, so much so, that I am beginning to wonder how people who live in places like Mobile, Alabama (ranked the #1 rainiest city in the U.S.), Pensacola, Florida (the runner up) and New Orleans, Louisiana (taking home the bronze) don't eventually lose their marbles. But then again, at least in those cities it's warm outside. Here--in perpetually grey and gloomy New York--I'm still in fleece, still tucked beneath a thick, down comforter at night (it's back on the bed after a two-night hiatus), still putting the heat on to take the chill out of the house. All this, despite the fact that summer is a mere 12 days away.

It boggles the mind.

But yesterday I came home to my tiny red cabin in the woods, huddled over, my shoulders up to my ears as usual, when this small angel wing sculpture--a gift from my dear friend, Bethanne--caught my eye. Cold, wet, cranky + bemoaning the loss of the season, I saw the word 'believe' peeking out the flower box by my front entrance. And suddenly, I didn't feel so miserable anymore. Because those seven letters that spelled out believe, reminded me that it's not the warmth of the sun, or the blueness of the sky, or the length of day that makes life wonderful. It's everything else in the world that give us joy, makes us who we are; things like family, friends, home, faith. There are many things in this world that I believe in--a few which I have listed below--but more than anything, I believe that one day soon, the sun will shine again. And that, I am most certain, will be a truly glorious moment.

I believe in...
My friends + family America Summer Blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream Stopping to pet dogs God Vacations Respecting elders Loving children, not spoiling them Exercise Being independent Cooking Growing a garden Being fearless Creativity Laughter as the best medicine Splurging Heroes Not judging a book by its cover Forgiving people Flip flops Well-worn jeans Everything in moderation Hanging the flag Reading Being yourself You're never too old Salt air Respecting privacy Clotheslines Thin crust pizza Frye boots Feather pillows Running after the Good Humor Truck A favorite sweatshirt Thanking a soldier Being grateful for small things Living each day to it's fullest The power of a sunny day

Here I Am.

My dog did not use my keyboard as a chew toy (sidenote: I don't even own a dog, but if I did, it would be most certainly a fugly, slobbering bulldog named Mugsy), nor have I fallen ill with the porcine flu that has been oinking it's way across the tri-state area. I'm not trapped under a massive piece of furniture, the result of a spring cleaning effort gone horribly, horribly wrong. For you sci-fiers in the audience, rest assured that I've not been adbucted by aliens, possessed by a demon, lost my brain to flesh eating zombies, or had every last drop of my Type A blood drained by some red-eyed feral creature of the night.

Yes, I'm still here, in my tiny red cottage by the river, alive and well, and finally--after the longest and most miserable winter and spring imaginable (by New York standards, at least)--coming out of hibernation. The windows are wide open. The down comforter just came off of the bed. It's safe to wear shorts without risking hypothermia. My shoulders are not up to my ears when I walk outside. And best of all, the produce at the farm is starting to inspire me.

With summer comes more energy + creativity. I feel the stagnation of winter sloughing away. Time to start cooking again. And writing.

It's good to be back.

Love,
Suzanne

Personal Note: Satisfied, Scooter Boy + ewiz2?!


SPRING FAVA BEAN DIP (Print Recipe Card)
2 cups fava beans, cooked, cooled with shells removed (you can use frozen fava beans if you prefer)
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 clove crushed garlic
Salt + Pepper to taste
Shaved Pecorino Romano (optional)
Pita Bread cut into wedges (toasted if you prefer)

Place fava beans, olive oil, lemon juice and garlic in a food processor or blender and process until smooth. Add salt and pepper to taste. Garnish with shaved pecorino romano if you desire. Serve with pita bread wedges.

Makes 2 servings

Good Stuff.

Inspiration for a Rainy Monday

One for the Road.

Enjoy.

KEY WEST BREEZE (Print Recipe Card)
1 oz coconut rum
1 oz light rum
1/4 oz key lime juice
1/4 oz pineapple juice

Lime wedge or slice of pineapple for garnish (optional)

Place all ingredients in a cocktail shaker with cracked ice. Shake well, strain into a chilled cocktail glass, then garnish with a lime wedge or slice of pineapple. Find the nearest sunset, remove shoes, + enjoy.

Makes one cocktail

Birthdays, Bikini's + (empty) Bank Accounts

Today it is a glorious 72 degrees here in New York, and all I can say is, it's about freaking time. Winter has long overstayed it's welcome here in the Northeast (it was flurrying!!! last week) so this little spike in the mercury is a welcome change. Alas, it won't last very long--Sunday's forecast is for more gloomy weather and another dip back down into the 40s. On top of the indignity of having to continue to wear wool/remain pale and pasty, this tax year was an especially bad one for me. Wait, I take that back--did I say bad? Sorry, I meant, catastrophic; I owe Uncle Sam in taxes what many Americans earn per year. When my accountant asked me if I had any questions for him, I replied by asking him if he had anything that got rid of nausea.

Oh, and I turn forty-five on Monday.

But, true to my nature, I am rolling with all of this. I don't believe I have cancer, and I am typing this entry with two working hands, and am about to make my way over to the fridge for a beverage on my two, very sturdy, working legs. I currently have a roof over my head that doesn't leak when it rains, and a car that gets me from Point A to Point B in both a fun and reliable manner. My belly is not grumbling, and there are no holes in my clothes (well, except in the knees of a few pairs of jeans, but I like them that way). I have family + friends who I can rely on for both love and laughter, and when I wake up in the morning, I rise not with a sense of dread, but with a sense of peace. The glass--for now, at least--remains half full.

And, despite the fact that I am about to empty my bank account and hand a big burlap sack of money over to our spendthrift government, it's not stopping me from hitting the road for a little birthday adventure next week. I've not been on a vacation in a really, really long time, and I've decided that now is as good a time as any to go someplace warm, and tropical, and delicious. A place where I can live in a bikini and flip flops, and spend most of my day sipping rum-based drinks, while listening to Bob Marley. At least that's my grand plan at 5:39 on this Friday afternoon. If I veer off course, and happen to find myself on some other wacky adventure along the way, I promise that you'll be the first to know.

Until then, have a wonderful week.

Love,
Suzanne

Susan Boyle.

Watch.

Joy + Clotheslines

Last night I had dinner with my friend Terry, and, as I have found to to be the case when I spend time with a woman as opposed to a man, we spent very little time discussing topics like work and the economy, more time chatting about the things that give us joy in life--things like family, and friends, home, health, and faith. After dinner, I hugged Terry goodbye, and as I walked to my car I realized--despite the fact that I had just wolfed down a lamb T-bone large enough for a caveman--I felt lighter. I felt lighthearted. For suddenly I realized that I had grown up to become a woman who makes decisions in life that are not about money or material things, but rather simple joys. I thought about the upcoming summer and what I am most looking forward to, and I was happily surprised that I could not list one thing that had a price tag associated with it. Instead, the things I long for the most are to hang a clothesline for the first time in years, to sit in a big old tire tube on a lake with a gin and tonic in my hand at the end of a long day, to grow a really fabulous vegetable and herb garden, to plant a preposterously large row of sunflowers, to string up a hammock, and to barbecue as much as humanly possibly.

I know the economy sucks right now, but I have to admit that I am almost relieved that we as a nation are returning to simpler times. There is no shame in living leaner, appreciating things we've in the past taken for granted. I for one, cannot wait to sleep under sheets that have been kissed by the sun and a warm summer breeze, and to wake up to a big vase of sunflowers smiling at me from my bedside table.


SCENTED LINEN WATER
From my book, Summer: A User's Guide

Infuse your linens with the sweet summery scent of flowers or herbs. Spray onto your sheets and pillowcases before ironing to add a soft scent, spray onto sheets to freshen up the bed between washings, or use as a lightly-scented room spray.

Spray bottle (sterilize with boiling water before using)
10-20 drops (or more, depending on your preference) of an essential oil. You might try lavender, peppermint, rosemary, spearmint, rose, jasmine or any other summery scent.
3 ounces non-flavored high proof (80+) vodka
25 ounces distilled water

Pour the essential oil and vodka into spray bottle and shake well until it is thoroughly mixed, then add the distilled water. Shake well before each use.

A Word About Unhappy, Miserable People (UMPs)

It never ceases to amaze me that in a world where there is so much to be grateful for (giggling babies, dogs riding with their heads sticking out of car windows, cancer-free lives, democracy, chocolate cream pie, Seinfeld repeats, Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World", The annual hotdog-eating contest at Nathan's in Coney Island, Blue Man Group, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, the smell of fresh-mowed grass, sunrises, sunsets + everything in between), there are certain people that still plod through each day angry + miserable, bemoaning their fate and blaming others for where they've landed in life. I call these folks UMPs (short for Unhappy, Miserable People), and they never fail to inspire awe in me with the lengths they will go to try to make you an UMP as well.

I'm sure you know a few UMPs yourself--let's face it, we all do. There's one lurking in every office, every gym, every neighborhood, and they just love to chip away at you with their UMPiness, hoping to wear you down so you become as bitter as they are. Well, I have news for you UMPs of the world (and you know who you are!)--there is a little thing called gratitude + it is a super force field against your UMP-Rays. As a person who wakes up each morning filled with gratitude that I am here to enjoy another day, grateful for the simplest gifts I've been given and am allowed to witness (please reference list above in paragraph one re: babies and chocolate cream pie) I pity you for wallowing in your Unhappy Misery.

Readers, with tomorrow being the much loathed back to work day (and thus, an UMPs favorite day to wreak havoc) make a commitment to be grateful for the gifts you've been blessed with. Moving forward, start each morning by sending a thank you out into the universe; do it from bed, or in the shower, or on line at Starbucks, or in rush hour traffic...but do it. I promise that you will become happier and more peaceful as a result.

Of course those grumpy UMPs won't stand a chance, as they are rendered powerless in the face of true joy and contentment. Yes, yes, it's sad that they choose to fester in misery rather than soar with happiness, but the way I see it, that simply means there's more chocolate cream pie + peanut butter cups for us.

Scenes from my Spring: Blooms!

Look who just woke up!

Scenes from the Beach: The glass may have been half empty...

...but the belly certainly was not.

Scenes from the Beach: NO, NO, NO

No fun allowed.

Scenes from the Beach: Nathans Famous

Salty, nitrate-filled goodness.

Weather Update

I just heard on the radio that it's going to be 28 degrees tonight.

The flip flops are staying in the bag.

Mother Nature can just kiss my ass.