Saturday, July 2, 2016

in our little hideaway beneath the waves

I threw some baby octopus on the grill a few weeks ago and it turned out an inedible, rubbery mess.

Turning to the offspring 
(as I have learned to do in situations such as these)

 she told me to boil these little guys for 80 minutes.

In fennel seed, peppercorn, lemon and bayleaf.

And then the grill.

Brushed with a little balsamic vinegar.

They were tender and somewhat tasty, and almost good. 

I’m getting closer!

Thank you Habibeh!

Friday, July 1, 2016

cool, hot and very sweet

Had dinner with the guy in the middle the other night.

He got the lobster roll.

He also plays the living hell out of the Disney songbook.

Shreds a solo about 1:30.

Better than dessert!

you're fired

Thursday, June 30, 2016

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

remembering a fashion photographer

Bill Cunninghan died this week, 
and the fashion world is poorer for it.

He was a milliner in his youth.

Turned to photography later in life.

I met him at Ellen Backer’s apartment on east 74th street, at a party in the late 1970’s and then saw him around town over the years.

Last Summer I ran into him again, out on Governor’s Island.

He noticed I was taking his picture—-something he never appreciated—-and shooed me off with the back of his hand right after I grabbed this shot of him eating his lunch.

Another wonderful part of old New York is behind us.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Cunningham.

looming Brupset

The Brexit vote to leave the EU was unexpected because the polls indicated a comfortable margin to remain.

Voting to leave and close the borders opened Brits to charges of Islamophobia.

So they said the politically correct thing to the polls in public and then voted their hearts in private.

That’s what’s going to happen in our national election.

Educated Americans won’t acknowledge they actually want an Islamophobe in office.

So Hillary will lead in the polls until election day.

Then Americans will vote Trump in private.

It’s happened before.