Thursday, April 9, 2009

as the crow flies.

On the locavore front, I made ricotta last week. What a complete non-event. Put a gallon of milk in a pot with a little lemon juice and salt, heat it up to 195 degrees, spoon the curds into cheesecloth and hang it to drain for awhile. Ta-da - two cups of fresh ricotta. (Yawn.)

Mozarella seems like it will be more dramatic - all the pulling and stretching and forming of balls. But I can't picture fresh mozarella without tomatoes, so I'm stuck until summertime. (Oo - Summertime - does anyone remember Moonpools and Caterpillars? Kimi has the most incredible voice.)

On the house front, I thought I'd share my crows with you. Crowe was my maiden name, so crows have been gifts in the family forever. I found a vintage bronze crow sculpture once that was a promotional piece for Old Crow Bourbon and gave it to my older brother, and found a pair of handmade cufflinks featuring crows as a gift for my younger brother.

I've got this rack of hooks - I have no idea where it came from, but now it's in the master bath, which is all black and white and grey:

And some of our best friends gave us this beautiful crow bowl that they found at an art festival - it's definitely got a craftsman feel and fits the house perfectly:

We love it so much we keep it on the plate rail in the dining room, so it's one of the first things you see when you come in the house.

Some superstitions say they're bad luck - but apparently they can be symbols of good luck, too. They were even released at weddings in pairs to see if they flew off together or separately, foretelling the couple's fate (seems verrrry risky to me to pin your future on something so completely random...).