spitfist vs. a thousand beers

i had a wild weekend. on friday night my new band played our first show. we played at a bar i used to frequent (we're talking five nights a week here) a couple years ago and it was fun. i think. i mean, we got through a case of beer and a twenty sixer of vodka before we got onstage so it's all a little hazy. people said it was good and we partied at my place till six am so, success?

side note, farkus/little titus/dude from postal was there! i can't remember if he caught our set or not but this picture is soooo worth whatever embarrassing things i said to him. b actors are the best!

i do it to freak out the squares

i made pizza last night. it was delicious. the last time i started from scratch was, well, a little bit of a disaster. the dough didn't rise, was too crunchy and (although my old roommate was a chef) we had to eat it with forks because the toppings were too heavy. this time i bought pre-made dough from the bakery in kensington market so i wouldn't have to deal with yeast and rising and all those bread terms i don't understand.

i rolled the springy, whole wheat dough with some cornmeal because we were planning on using a pizza stone for the first time. so many rules with those things! put it in the oven cold, let it heat up sufficiently, dust it with cornmeal/flour to prevent sticking and then try to slide a sloppy, dressed pizza onto it without ripping the dough, spilling the contents or touching any part of the burning hot oven. suffice it to say, i started the pizza on a plain, old cookie sheet and once the crust had firmed up a bit, transferred it to the stone. it worked! it tasted better than takeout and we demolished the whole thing in no time. i even made the sauce from scratch and it was easier than i anticipated.

i can't wait to make it again with crazy toppings that will inevitably freak out the squares. that's like, my motto for food now. phil and i were joking about having a dinner party and providing kraft dinner with hotdogs for anyone who couldn't handle our tastes. you don't like brains and sweet breads? eat this cold, boxed pasta! you're scared to try pig's face? here's a hotdog: eat the anus! sissy...

fuckload of finger foods for friends

we had our first dinner party this weekend. sure, we don't have a dining room table or enough plates to serve everyone at once but that didn't stop us! we made a fuckload of finger foods for friends and it worked out splendidly.

we were woken up by our new internet provider. we had an "appointment" scheduled for 12-5pm. they showed up at 9am. whatever. at least i got a chance to watch 'french food at home'. laura calder is so sensual in her cooking and i generally feel like i can make everything just as well as she does... if not better.

after several attempts to connect our computers and phones to the new (fibre optic!) connection we spent the afternoon in kensington market trying to plan the menu. we wound up with a whole lot of cheese, meat, bread and basic vegetables. i organized a cheese plate, smoked salmon hor d'oeuvres and plated food as phil fried up parmesan tacos to stuff with steak and arugula, grilled some smokey chicken for bite size club sandwiches and marinated tomatoes for a goat cheesy bruschetta.

we ate, drank, listened to records and had a really fantastic time. for me, the highlight was laura's recipe for french slab (think a silkier version of flourless chocolate cake). i whipped up some vanilla creme and topped it with blackberries. i ate it in, like, two bites. shit was delicious... especially with a plethora of cheap merlot, a thousand beers, hazily rolled joints and dirtbag friends to share it all with.

time tested techniques

the bf and i made dumplings for the first time this week. we bought the wrappers in chinatown awhile ago but couldn't agree on fillings. we settled on some ground pork (only .83 cents a pound, by the way) and ramped it up with traditional chinese spices. neither of us could figure out how to form the wraps into cute little dim sum-y packages so phil used his ravioli techniques and i just sort of rolled them around until parts stuck to other parts. they were really delicious, if a little ugly, and i got a chance to witness phil's masterful spoon-over-spoon filling forming tactics. he's like an encyclopedia of time-tested techniques and he always knows the reasons behind them. i may have to remind him who people are over and over but he'll never forget anything anthony bourdain has told him. ever.

antique barns and vintage appetizers

we ventured out of the city to visit phil's parents this easter weekend. they surprised us with a flat screen television (we have been watching an old 13" tv/vcr combo) and some weird products from the states. the thing i was most excited about, however, was all the antique markets surrounding peterborough. i found a lot of total scores (read: vintage pyrex, wood crates, mason jars, juice glasses, buffy figures (?), cookie cutters, rusted out ricers and hand mixers) in a barn with an enormous novelty rocking chair out front. i ate my weight in deviled eggs and roasted lamb. we bar-hopped small town pubs, played 90s simpsons pinball and watched on-demand satellite tv (just like the celebrities!).

we're getting ever closer to finishing our apartment. the wood crates went in the kitchen in lieu of drawers, we hung our letterpress tray and metal alphabet in the bathroom and the glass jars we found in phil's parents' cold cellar have invaded our shelves forming a unified, reflective front. the hilarious part? i haven't unpacked all my clothes, yet, i've arranged and rearranged my mason jar collection about thirty times and can't stop searching craigslist for the perfect counter stools. speaking of which, anyone know a way to get around "US only" shipping?

paint under my nails, tofu in my belly, chefs in my ear

it's great to have someone to cook with. i've had roommates who were never around, didn't eat vegetables or just hated everything i wanted to make. phil and i have the same taste in food (except, of course, when it comes to mustard and raw onions. BARF!) and we've been cooking up a goddamn storm this first week of living together.

i stole a couple recipes from other blogs, he pulled out some of his staples and i completely improvised energy bars for the first time, ever! it's always scary to just wing it in baking (it is a science after all) but everything worked out. i'm excited, too, about all the new techniques he's introducing me to. we just discovered an existing cable hook-up in the living room and while daunting, distracting and devious (i haven't had cable in at least eight years) the food network is ruling my life. martin picard, food jammers, diners, drive-ins and dives and, hell, even michael smith are consistently in the background while we cook, eat and paint shelving (more on that next week). here are some of the things we ate so far... and evidence of alli$on being a crazy (fun) person.

i've accidentally slept on the couch for three nights

we moved. we're in. we're fucked... ok. not really. sure, i've been wearing the same clothes all week because everything is packed or dirty, we have more knick knacks, usb cables, picture frames and original nes games than we know what to do with but it's coming together. i found a great canadian version of a vintage eames chair for ten bucks yesterday and we're having a dining room table custom made to our specs in the next couple months. my computer isn't unpacked and we won't have internet at the new place for awhile yet (food pictures are piling up) but i should be in the full swing of things soon. hold tight!

in lieu of our home cooked curries and decadently delectable nights eating out, here are some pictures (i know, i know, i hate when people just repost pictures of shit instead of personally creating pieces too. afterall, i've said it before and i'll say it again: the way that most people utilize tumblr is a fucking joke.) i've been drooling over for the last couple weeks. white walls! white furniture! kitchen accessories on display! it's like a little mini design orgasm with every gleaming picture.

* stolen from desire to inspire, apartment therapy and emmas design blogg.

why do i have so many empty bottles of jager?

moving is a weird thing. it forces you to look through all the embarrassing shit you've collected, clothes you've grown out of and dust you've neglected to vacuum from under your bed. while i was throwing garbage into bags and keepsakes into boxes i tried to tally up how many times i've done this. i think it's my thirtieth move. that's fucked.

in six years i've evolved from living out of backpack to having more books, cameras, movies and kitchen gear than i know what to do with. (ok, ok, i know what to do with all of it: hoard, display, stare, love) i've decided that i no longer need to cart around empty booze bottles, broken skateboards, childhood stuffed animals, band shirts i haven't fit into since high school, movie tickets from dates with exes, every piece of furniture i've found on the street, etc.

you remember that time you had a house party and in a drunken, coke-fueled stupor you just had to bring out your grade eight valedictorian plaque, childhood home videos, pictures that prove your high school haircut/flatchestedness and onesie your mom took you home from the hospital in in an effort to, i don't know, entertain your bored friends? yeah, well, i've done all those things and it's over! i'm ditching the baggage, losing the junk and giving away the unopened promo cds i only acquired because they were free in the first place. it's a stacey mccool sale and none of you are invited. well, unless you regularly hang around outside my apartment waiting for me to throw boxes labelled 'free' into the night. in which case, look up! i'm all nekkid on the third floor... just playin'. i'm at work. sicko.

the paint got in my blood

i can't 'no-bake'. i don't know what's wrong with me or my recipes or my patience but everything comes out a slop! i tried no-bake chocolate macaroons the other week and chocolate pie last night and it all ended up in grossness. well, that's not true... it ended up a delicious slop i had to eat with a fucking spoon and not at all what it was supposed to be.

does anyone have a tip for me? am i too impatient, constantly shaking the pie plate to see if the gelatinous goo has formed into something biteable or does everyone have this problem? either way, i suck.

in other news, we signed a lease (and, of course, ate at the black hoof [bacon jam! sweetbreads! tongue!] to celebrate). the bf and i have been busy painting, cleaning, removing, shelving, taping, sanding, filling and planning. i'm totally exhausted. we should be fully moved in by the end of the month so expect a shitload of before and after pictures, outrageous dinner parties and maybe even our first big fight. i know, i know, it's been four years - i think we're safe too.

the story of me: one (josie grossie)

i'm sitting here trying to recall high school. the formative years of my adulthood are but a faint memory. i'm looking through pictures of faces i recognize and names i've forgotten. i can't remember what classes i took, who i sat beside, my teacher's name(s) or what time the bells rung but i can smell that favourite blue plaid, feel the crunch of saran wrapped shitty weed in my jean pocket, hear the snicker of clear skinned seniors and clean nosed achievers. i probably hated you in high school: you probably made me feel like shit without knowing i existed.

the four, long years were spent bouncing between the quintessential loner (for me: robin tunney in empire records) and a try-so-hard-to-fit-in-you-stand-out rebel (lindsay weir, anyone?). angst! fear. rebellion! tears. i would never, ever do it again. the bad poetry, awkward attempts at romance and complete social ineptitude that encapsulated my life is not uncommon among teenage girls: i know this and i feel for you. stick it out, try not to get knocked up and hold onto your journals... you'll laugh at them in ten years. right before you set them on fire.