GALFROMDOWNUNDER UPOVER

A WHILE back, I organized the odd thanksgiving for NYC transplants and itinerants, aka “orphans.” Turkey with all the trimmings beckons from inside... Well, there must have been a lot of subsequent adoptions because this year, beau and I found ourselves to be the only orphans without invites in town. So we decided to do as the rent-stabilized might and the rent-controlled do, and seek out some turkey action at a local diner. But to work up an appetite, why not bookend a Thanksgiving meal with a bit of New York starchitecture, conveniently served hot and happening along the Highline?  See that gobletty thing wedged between the buildings? That's  Thomas Heatherwick’s "Vessel ," a honeycomb-like structure made of interlocking staircases, soon to be populated by thousands of bodies, aka the gum-chewing, selfie-snapping public. Like Calatrava's Oculus , it looks like it's elbowing for room in a subway car between those adjacent towers, but that'

Want to work in food? You can spend thousands of hours, dollars and brain cells going to culinary school, only to discover you'd rather be on THIS side of the swinging door. Or, you can hustle yo'self a gig as a prep chef, a "try before you buy" if you will. Here's my blow-by-blanch account of going from waitressing to commis-cheffing and back to being an appreciative diner.  The action takes place in a far, far west corner of a kitchen in Ireland...   More tasty reading: "Doing the Dishes in County Kerry" Part 2 My Cheap'n'Choosy food blog One wonders in this place Why anyone is left in Dublin, or London, or Paris Where it would be better, one would think To live in a tent or hut With this magnificent sea and sky And to breathe this wonderful air Which is like wine in one's teeth John Millington Synge From the wall at the Barracks History Centre, Cahirsiveen, West Ireland ~~~ "YE

Pictured above: With author and Japanophile Harris Salat and his book "Japanese Hotpots: Comforting One-Pot Meals" - music to a busy bachelorette's ears A month after returning from Japan , my obsession with it continues. Not only did I spend a good 60 New York minutes (= 10 outer-borough minutes?) browsing a book about Geishas in  Takashimaya , pleaded a Japanese friend to bring over some  cute cat-shaped dust-collectors , trekked across town in driving rain to eat  okonomiyaki  at Otafuku, and indulged in a few other things I'd rather not mention ...  I invested $22 to attend the Japan Society Hotpot lecture . I say "invested" because any casual Googling of the words 'japanese hotpot' or 'nabe' will reveal a ton of easy recipes and how-to you really don't have to pay for. Basically, cut up whatever you want, heat stock in a large casserole pot - preferably iron or clay - put the two together, and close the lid. $22

Last post I wrote something "a society with a fascination with the minutiae of life is one you will never cease discovering." This is one example of minutiae. I found this miniaturized "curry rice meal" at Kid Robot in Soho, NY, day after getting back from my 3 week Japan trip. Oh how I wish I'd made it to geek central, Akihibara , where you can find wierd stuff like this and more. That's a definite for next time. It struck a chord because I learned curry rice is a staple of Japanese urban families - basically a just-add-water flavor cube of riotously tasty curry paste, that you team with veges, meat and rice in no time flat. I ate this at Richard and Haruyo's house in Nagoya. And on the United flight coming over. The little red pot has a real wooden knob. The lid fits perfectly and has a certain weight to it despite this whole thing being about an inch diameter. The ladle 'scoops' the curry nicely. You can remove the ladle from the sco

I've just posted some multimedia about this intriguing, outspoken and let's face it, super buff Aussie social activist, Peter Melov: MOVIE: Peter Melov Live Food Cooking Class - 3-part video showing us how to make his signature chocolate balls, loaves and not fishes Photo Gallery of the class Melov's credo: Coconut! "A medium chain saturated fat that is understood by the human body." However, he is adamant his cooking is really just to sweeten people up for his real message, that of social awareness about the sinister politics of the food pyramid - and what he believes are the lies and propaganda we ingest along with bad food, thereby supporting big Pharma, conglomerates and other organizations that feed the need for greed. "My family think I'm crazy," he says. His family are medicos and apparently "obese, got acne, health issues ..." I met Peter after eyeing off his caco-nib-studded chocolate balls at the Bondi Junction weekend market

In living the life as a professional nomad – a very pleasant term for a homeless person with a laptop and a nice change of clothes - I apparently stumbled over the border of decorum, and fortunately a friend stopped me in my tracks. Let me explain. I get hunger attacks – the kind of sugar low that some small, highly strung women complain of. Sometimes I don't honor the call of the calorie. I suffered dehydration while crossing the Yucatan in Mexico in 2004, not because of lack of water, but lack of sufficient calories to balance my electrolyes. It's called "not looking after yourself." Hey I gotta eat! I arrived at the Berkeley Bowl Market right on closing time, Dec 24. I locked my bike, bolted past the doorman and made a bee-line for the brown rice sushi-to-go just inside the door. The doorman yells, "Miss! Miss! We're closed!" so loudly and emphatically I imagined big men in blue overalls hoisting me by armpits out into the parking lot. I was forced t