I'm building a book.

Dorothy Dale and Her Chums by Margaret Penrose
Copyright, 1909

I found this book at a sale that took place a few years ago at the Joslin Memorial Library in Waitsfield, Vermont. Attached was a note that read This book was just returned to us. It was purchased in 1911. This gem from 1909 was not only fun to read, it is a beautiful object.

I love books. My attraction to the written word began very early in my life. I recall my parents finding a book on cursive writing at a school book sale and bringing it home to me. I diligently sat at our kitchen table and taught myself how to write in cursive the year before the rest of the children in my grade learned the skill. I was pleased as punch. I did it all by myself, with a book as my guide. It might have been the first time I realized the power of books.

I don't know where my life would be without the stacks and stacks of wonderful and even not-so-wonderful books I've read throughout the years. So many memories, so many lessons learned, so many peaceful hours spent reading.

One of my latest projects is building a book. And yes, that includes physically building the book. In the end, I might find that locating a professional printer makes the most sense, but first I'd like to work through the steps of building at least one humble book, from beginning to end, on my own.

I'm currently in the brainstorming and research stage. I have all sorts of ideas whirling around in my head and I'll try and articulate some of them and share them with you as I move through my process.

Like the tortoise, I'll be plodding along, slowly but surely. Please be patient.

Julie & Julia Bruschetta

Bruschetta? Who cares!

I am certain that I am not the first person to try and recreate the indulgently drenched in olive oil and fried version of bruschetta prepared by Amy Adams in Julie & Julia. As I watched Julie and her husband devour those crisp slices of bread covered in olive oil, heirloom tomatoes, and basil...well...I knew a week would not pass before I gave it a go in my own kitchen.

Forget one week, I didn't even let two days pass. I was first enticed by a couple of beautifully ripe orange heirloom tomatoes at The Real Food Co. and snatched them up. Yesterday I added to my collection with some juicy and full flavored Early Girl tomatoes from the farmers market. I also found a huge bunch of basil from a Bolinas farmer with a stand I hadn't seen before, I believe it was La Tercera, but I'm not completely sure because I was too focused on the basil. The type of basil she sold was unfamiliar to me, thin stems topped by little globes of tiny basil leaves, loads of them. The nice man at the Acme Bread Co. counter suggested a Long Italian loaf of bread and it was an excellent choice, perfect for this recipe, perfect. I already had garlic, fleur de sel, and my pepper mill was full. I deviated just a smidge from what I saw in the movie by adding one small ripe fig to the mix. A fig might seem a little out of place here, but I've never heard of fried bruschetta either, so I figured, why not?

I began prepping my ingredients about an hour before I planned to eat. Step one was cutting up my tomatoes into traditional bruschetta sized chunks. To my bowl of super ripe and juicy tomatoes I added the little leaves from several basil stems and stirred it around gently with my hand. I topped the tomato basil mixture with one very soft and ripe fig cut into small pieces. Don't add any salt at this point because it will make the tomatoes release their juices and if you've selected ripe tomatoes they'll be juicy enough. Wait and add the salt at the last moment, right before you eat your bruschetta. I then placed a piece of saran over the bowl and walked to the library to return a book.

When I returned from my library walk, after thinking about my bruschetta feast the entire time I was away, I anxiously moved forward. I poured some (I wasn't shy) olive oil into a heavy bottom pan and began to warm the oil over a medium heat. I placed several slices (about 3/4" thick and sliced on an angle) of bread into the pan of warm oil and brushed the top side of the bread with the oil in the pan that was pooling up around the slices. Once I'd covered the top side of the bread with oil I moved the slices around in the pan so the bottom side could absorb more oil. I wanted this bruschetta to look as crazy good as the bruschetta in the movie. Just forget that it is not the bruschetta you know and love and move on. Fat, calories, and Italian tradition were not on my list of priorities.

Once the bread was lightly browned on the bottom side I turned it over and continued heating the bread until it was lightly browned on the other side. The bread should have that overall crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside look.

I removed one slice of bread from the pan at a time and thoroughly rubbed each slice with a 1/2 clove of garlic. Next I spooned mounds of the tomato, basil, and fig mixture on top of the garlicky bread and sprinkled it all with a bit of Fleur de Sel and freshly ground pepper.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that this meal was absolutely delicious! Yes, the bruschetta alone was my meal. It was all I needed. It will be all you need. I haven't swooned over my food like this in quite a while. I was the only one home and I'll admit to moaning out loud with each and every bite.

We are right in the middle of tomato season and the timing could not be better for a dish such as this that revolves around fresh sun ripened tomatoes. I strongly recommend giving this non-traditional and utterly indulgent version of bruschetta a try. You will not be disappointed.

* I performed an encore at about 10:30 pm, when Chris made it home from a long day at work. He happily devoured a full plate of this goodness and thanked me with a nice kiss (and a couple of bites of his bruschetta).

Choose your dinner companion carefully, this dish begs to be followed by nice kisses.

place and space

image from one of Liivian Talossa's 2009 posts

I have been admiring the work of Liivian Talossa for quite some time now. The text on her blog was not in a language I recognized, yet her photographs were so beautiful I never felt the need to understand the text. I just returned again and again to see the beautiful imagery she captured.

I've been thinking a lot about place and space lately, the way the space we inhabit influences us in a way that is often difficult to describe. Are these images so mesmerizing to me because of Ms. Talossa's relation to the equator? Is it the culture in which she was raised? Perhaps it is just her way of seeing, inexplicable, and something unique to her and only her. I may never know and that is okay.

My curiosity did prompt me to do a little research this morning and it appears Liivian Talossa is Finnish, but I have no desire to investigate further. I'll leave it at that.

I'm inquisitive by nature and I did have to dip my toe into the research pool to learn a bit about Ms. Talossa, but only ever so slightly. I'm sure her place in this world has something to do with her work, but more importantly, I don't require this information to enjoy her work.

I've been inspired to be a little less curious, let some things sink in for a while before asking questions. These thoughts took root during a visit to one of my favorite spots in San Francisco, SFMOMA's 2nd floor education area, a wonderful space. They have a mini library and furniture to lounge upon and learn about many of the artists in their collection.

While perusing one of these artist books I read an interview with Katharina Fritsch where she referenced her comfort with the unknown and how some things can't be or simply don't have to be explained immediately.

I agree and I believe it was being in this special library space that allowed me to do so.