One Truth For All

We did a lot of cooking this year, because we had three Thanksgivings in a row.

It started out on Tuesday with an early stinky-fish day (when the stinky fish man comes to the house with a box of fish for good boys and girls).

That's Noel picking bones out of the whitefish.

For Wednesday we made Noel's potato gratin. The secret is you deep-fry the potatoes first.

For Thursday I made two pies:

Apple crumb, and

*yawn* pumpkin. The pumpkin was by request; I rarely make it because I find it boring. Though I did get a recipe the day after Thanksgiving for a pumpkin pie with a pecan-pie topping which sounded much more interesting. I also hardly ever make pecan pie because it is so sweet.

The crust decorations are little crust cutters from Williams-Sonoma. The set has a leaf, an acorn, a pumpkin, and a turkey.

The fancy cutouts require a bit more attention lest they burn, but I think they made the pies look very fancy. And the chasm in the pumpkin pie was easily hidden with whipped cream.

Here's something I did recently: signed up to be a marrow donor. I'd like to say I did it for all kinds of altruistic reasons: generosity, caring, that sort of thing. I mean, I've been an organ donor since I got a driver's license, my family knows my feelings about that and agrees with me that if any part of me is useful after I stop needing it, take it away, doctors.

And I have genetics that reach into central Asia, which is where the banks have limited matches and are always looking for more. Maybe I could say I joined the registry because they needed me.

But I really did it for selfish reasons. I'll never meet anybody who gets my liver, or my heart, or my corneas with their superhuman vision. But if you donate marrow, you might get to meet the recipients. You might get to meet their families. They will have your blood inside them (their blood changes to your blood type!).

I hope I never need to go to the marrow registry. But I also hope that the swabs I sent in last week are a match for somebody, and I can help save a life.

(And yes, I do give blood, but that's a totally selfless donation. I wanted to do something a little more selfish, too.)

My mother asked me if I was knitting the socks shown in the last post. I'm not, but I designed my own pattern based on some of the things I've been learning from the sock books I'm reading.

This is the first of the pair. I used the toe I like most, which turns out to not work so well with a Turkish sock design. The central motif (that looks like a weird spider; I have the sock tipped over so you can also see the side pattern) is called pervane, which means a moth that flies towards light. The word for a wool moth is actually something else entirely, which should tell you something about Turks.

The side pattern is a pair of variations on themes and ideas that come up often in Turkish sock knitting, though actually the curved lines I put into this design are rare. I was happy to start reading Betty Harrell's excellent (and again, out of print) Anatolian Knitting Designs, which is written by somebody who both spoke Turkish and spoke directly to the knitters. She also concentrated on one specific cultural group, Sivas women in an Istanbul shantytown, so in her book the same pattern does not have eighteen different names. When I make a scan of the appropriate page, I can also show you what the actual elma -- apple -- pattern looks like.

That book has a lot more detail on the development of patterns and how they go together on the sock. I'm nowhere near as relaxed about perfection as the villagers are, though, so I spent a week fiddling with the details of my design in Photoshop, making a perfect chart and resolving all the weird intersections of patterns. Definitely a first-world problem.

Anyway, in a couple of days of knitting I've gotten halfway up the foot on the first sock, and things are moving along rapidly. I've also learned why Turkish socks are structured the way they are. The common square Turkish toe, made from a strip of fabric knitted up and then stitches picked up to add two more sides works well with the usual structure of a front, side, and back pattern that each end up on their own needle.

My next challenge is to learn how to spin the proper yarn for socks, which turns out to also be the proper yarn for knotted-pile rugs, as they used the same stuff.

I discovered something fascinating last week, just by accident.

Noel and I take a weekly Turkish class, and I often have knitting with me to work on until class starts (at which point both brain and hands are actively engaged in the class). Anyway, we got onto the subject of Turkish socks, which are sort of notorious there in the same way that those foam cheese heads are famous here. Our teacher said, "we call them baklava socks."

And then it clicked for me. I have Anna Zilboorg's very fine book Simply Socks (also published as Fancy Feet). In it there is a pattern that confused me, because it is called "apple," but it looks absolutely nothing like an apple.

Look:

That's a photo of one of a pair of lovely socks knitted by Flickr user hiddimaus, and that big central diamond pattern there is the "apple" pattern. (The Ravelry project page for these socks is here.)

Now, Turks know their apples.

This is Noel next to one of many many enormous piles of apples we saw while driving around in the countryside. No Turkish peasant would be at all confused about what an apple looks like. And other patterns that are meant to look like things like dogs or knives or mustaches actually kind of look like the thing in question. So why is the pattern called "apple" when it so obviously is not an apple?

As it happens, a native speaker of English (and most other European languages) may not know that in Turkish, you pluralize words by adding "-lar" or "-ler" (depending on the rules of vowel harmony that don't matter much right now), rather than by adding an "s" as we do. And for reasons that can only be full understood if you grow up with a Turk, there are a lot of words that look and sound similar that mean totally different things. So if a native English speaker looks up the word "elmas" in the translating dictionary, they are likely to stop at "elma" which means "apple," assuming the "s" just makes it plural, rather than continuing down to "elmas" which means, of all things, "diamond."

The pattern is a diamond. Elma means apple, elmalar means apples, and elmas means diamond (elmaslar means diamonds).

This is what can happen when you translate blindly with a dictionary.

We went to Russia via New York City, and because we did a nested itinerary (two separate tickets: one to New York, then another from New York to Russia), we made sure we had lengthy layovers in both directions, but extra-long at the beginning.

After all, we can always lose a couple days in New York. Even if it is a heat wave and the temperatures are ridiculous, and the hotel screws up our (prepaid!) booking and moves us across town for the first night of our stay, requiring us to haul our luggage all over Manhattan every day we were there.

We had a bunch of drink vouchers for United that were about to expire, so on the flight in I had a couple glasses of white wine. I think it was the fact that I was knitting a baby sweater while drinking that lead to the glares from people sitting around me. That, or they were spectacularly unfriendly people.

We got into JFK to find that a) the Airtrain had caught fire and we had to take a mysterious series of buses all over the place to get to the subway, b) the aforementioned prepaid hotel had messed up our room, and c) it was getting late, many decent places to eat were closed up, and what was left was either expensive or offensively loud. We had dinner in the wine bar under the hotel and then crashed.

The next day we slept in (not really, but waking up at 8am California time means waking up at 11am in New York), dropped our luggage off at the hotel for the second night, then took the subway uptown to have lunch at Shake Shack. That was pretty good, though by the time we got there I was drenched in sweat. We shared a table with two nice UMass grads, who informed us in all seriousness that when men wear red shoes, it means they are gay.

Then we went on an epic walk through Central Park, mostly towards the Guggenheim but also entirely in the wrong direction.

After a couple of hours of tromping through the park in the heat, we really, really enjoyed the air conditioning at the Guggenheim, even if much of the museum was closed off for renovation.

Then we met some friends of mine for yarn shopping and dinner. I had lobster, because in the summer on the East Coast, the lobster is amazing. And it was.

The next day we took it easy, packing up our luggage and taking the subway down to have breakfast at Shopsin's (definitely worth the schlep), then visiting a perfumery in Brooklyn, because that's the kind of odd place we like to go to. Then it was getting on into the afternoon and we headed to the airport for our flight to Russia.

At which point the heavens opened up and we were stuck on the plane, but at the terminal, for hours. At least I got a lot of knitting done, though I did drop my tiny double-point needles lots of times, and almost had to give one up for lost.

Then we were in Moscow.

We just got back from a trip to Russia with friends. We rented an apartment, marched around Moscow and St Petersburg, and saw a ridiculous number of churches. I never thought I would go to Russia, having grown up during the Cold War, but when you have good friends who are fluent in the language and know all the paperwork and details of getting around that needs doing, visiting seems more workable. As a result of never having dreamed of going there, I knew pretty much nothing about what I wanted to see, or what there was to see. My only knowledge of Russia is from reading piles of Russian literature from the 19th century (in other words, useless).

I've got piles of photos to write about, but first a few basic things about Russia:

1. The language + alphabet barrier is a killer. Unlike in Japan, in Russia there are only very rarely signs in Romanized Russian, so I spent most of my time trying to sound out words (and my grasp of Cyrillic was not so great when we arrived, either). When I was able to sound out words I was better above to navigate or figure out what things were, but that took a real, concerted effort. Many words were so long that by the time I got halfway through them I forgot what the beginning of the word sounded like. I had no ability to look at a word and know what it said. So THANK GOODNESS we were with friends who both speak good Russian and helped us get around and talk to shopkeepers and buy museum tickets. Seriously. I would not go to this country without somebody who has been there before and can speak at least a little Russian. For most people that would involve going with a tour group.

2. Toilets are... well, first of all they mostly cost money (15-30 rubles), rarely have toilet paper (you bring tissue packets with you just in case), and almost never have soap or any means of drying your hands after washing up. I should have brought a supply of wet wipes in packets for the above situation. And also because just experiencing a Russian public toilet makes you want to compulsively wash your hands all the time, since you know nobody else washed theirs.

3. Food in restaurants is good but a bit bland, even for somebody who likes bland food like me. We enjoyed Georgian food (which is a little like Armenian), Assetian pies (Assetia is a region in Russia), and blini when we ate out. If you are so inclined, there were many many Subways, plus KFC, McDonald's, and Pizza Hut; we were not so inclined. Most often we ate meals at the apartment, picking up salads, bread, sausages, fish, cheese, and so on at the grocery store. We ate very well, but it would have been difficult to do so living out of restaurants (though I find this to be the case in most parts of world).

4. In June, you have two important seasons at the same time. On the one hand, the high school students are graduating and there are huge celebrations all over. We managed to be in St Petersburg for their celebration, and then in Moscow for theirs. This is a terrible time to be in these cities unless you want to get terrifically drunk and yell and watch fireworks. The drunk part can be hard though, because Moscow prohibited the sale of liquor in the city for the event. Also in June, you have the puch, which is the fluff from cottonwood trees, that fills the air. And sometimes your apartment. This is just kind of sweet and charming, except when it gets in your nose and mouth.

5. The Metro is cheap and fast and easy to use in Moscow. Buses are slow and unreliable and a bit confusing. Almost nobody uses the buses. Also, the escalators in the Metro go ridiculously fast. Dangerously so. Then you get used to it and come back to the US and all the escalators seem really slow. The Metro stations go between plain-jane platforms and ornate palaces of Socialist-Realist art. You can see them better if you don't try to do it during rush hours.

6. Most museums and churches have formalized the bribes people used to pay to take photos. You can pay for a photo pass for most places (but not all) that allows no-flash, no-tripod amateur photography. It usually costs less than $10. Also, yes, it is possible to get totally tired of looking at ornately decorated churches packed with gilded icons.

7. Russian women walk around in the most incredibly high heels in all weather and conditions. The sacrifices they are willing to make for fashion are awe-inspiring. And they're really walking in those shoes, hauling ass over several miles of park sidewalks, for example. Mad props to the Russian ladies, everybody. I suspect they could take any of us in hand-to-hand combat (maybe they wear the shoes so they have a pair of weapons on them at all times).

Simply put, my iPhone's GPS appears to be unable to figure out where I am when I want it to (when I'm at home it usually puts my location out in the estuary near Coast Guard Island; apparently I spend a lot of time on a boat. Or floating). Using it to navigate around a city with it is fraught with peril (the other day I was trying to find a small street in the Bayview -- I was only a couple blocks off but just wanted to know whether to turn right or left -- and it insisted I was in the Richmond). Even when it does by some miracle place my location roughly correctly -- say, within a block or so -- moments later my locator will jump a half mile in another direction as if I were driving a quantum vehicle.

I'm sure it's some freak thing about my phone, since this is not something my friends with iPhones complain about, but basically, if somebody were to steal my phone and download my location, they'd get a set of locations that are exactly NOT where I ever go. So good luck with that.

A few years ago I got within two rows of the bind-off on the Swallowtail shawl when Goldie, in a fit of madness, grabbed my knitting from the coffee table and ate it (nobody was home, she was anxious).

This year I decided to reknit it, since I think the pattern is really lovely.

This is also a moment to show off my new modeling dummy. It's pinnable and the height is adjustable, so in theory you could use it as a dressmaker's dummy, but I got it for modeling finished knitted and sewn things I want to photograph. So much easier than dressing up the dogs or messing with the timer on the camera.

While we're here, let me take a moment to tell you that nupps are not that hard to knit -- I find them quite fun, actually, and they really do look better than beads. The trick is to put two yarnovers instead of one, then let those extra yarnovers out when you go to purl the whole thing together.

This shawl was knit with one skein of Malabrigo lace, in "Sunset," of which there was a substantial amount left over. I didn't like the yarn, myself, but many people love it to tiny pieces and swear by it. I just don't like the feeling that the yarn might pull apart, it is so loosely spun. YMMV.

I haven't been doing very good logging of my knitting lately, or spinning, for that matter (though I've been doing less of that because when I try to spin at home I end up with cats in the wheel).

This is a scarf I've been working on, very slowly, for Noel. It's knit from the Blue-Faced Leicester I spun at the Black Sheep wool judging last year, and I call it my $4000 scarf because of how much time has gone into it. I'm about halfway done, but the pattern is very fiddly (I'm using a couple of Alice Starmore cable patterns) and scarves are inherently boring to me, so it's taking forever. I've been carrying it around in my knitting bag while I work on other things, which does not actually work to get a project finished.

This is a pair of gloves I knit up over a couple of weeks. I've been playing around with glove design and while my experiments were interesting, I finally just decided to just use a pattern, at which point it went much faster. I still need to weave in the ends on the right glove, and sew the buttons on, but they're pretty much done. I got the yarn at Madrona this year, and it is a much nicer colour than it appears to be in this photo. I like knitting gloves, and I have some nice orange yarn I will probably use for another pair, though not with the button detail.

This is my second go at the Swallowtail Shawl. Goldie ate a big hole in the first one I made several years ago, while I was working on the edging. This one is going much faster and I am keeping it well away from animals. The yarn is Malabrigo Lace, which I really don't like at all, because it feels too soft. I know it has its own strength but I dislike feeling like the yarn I'm using might not survive blocking. I love the colour, though.

And last night I decided to play around with the Turkish cast-on, which is a seamless round cast-on for toe-up socks. I have several balls of Knitpicks Essential sock yarn a friend gave me, so I'm going to make a pair of knee socks. Since I'm going to Sock Summit in July, I felt like I should knit a pair of socks (I knit one pair when I was a teenager and was not enthralled). So far so good, and the cast on was nicely fiddly, but I am kind of dreading the dull expanse of the leg. I am liking theses little 4" needles, though; they are a lot easier to handle on small projects than 6" double-pointed needles. I bought a whole set of them from Knitpicks a while ago; I don't think they sell them any more.

The reason for all this productivity is that a month or so ago I spent some time organizing my piles of yarn (I inherited a bunch of yarn recently), and I hate having piles of unused materials hanging around. I decided that I should actually sit down and work on knitting projects more often to use up the yarn, and oddly that has meant I've been finishing projects rather faster than I was before (I'm not sure how that works, really). I want to use up an entire bin of yarn this year, but we will see how that goes.

We've had several celebrations in the last month. I thought I'd share some photos from some of them.

The second weekend in November we flew to Minnesota for a surprise birthday party for my in-laws. Noel's parents were born within two days of each other, and they were both turning 70, which is a pretty significant birthday. With the help of an old friend, we tricked them into coming to a restaurant where the three kids and I were waiting to surprise them.

They were very surprised and a great time was had by all.

There's the family all together: Joanne (the family friend who helped coordinate it and managed to keep the secret perfectly), Lynn, Anne, Michael, Sandy, and Noel. In front of the restaurant.

The next day, the weather gave them another surprise birthday present, which was several inches of wet soft snow. My sisters in law immediately got stuck in the driveway while going shoe shopping.

The next weekend, A Verb for Keeping Warm had their store-warming party, a big celebration of their fancy new location in a real retail space. I'm a big fan of Verb, and next weekend I'll be teaching a class there on the physics of spindle spinning.

They had this awesome cake, made to look like a bundle of fiber in their "Thai Iced Tea" colourway.

Then it was time to plan for Thanksgiving. I started by taking out the traditional turkey mold.

I love this mold, but unfortunately I can only justify using it maybe once or twice a year.

I modified my last pumpkin pie turned into cake recipe to make it spicier (it tasted a little bland even to me, which is pretty bland indeed), but I didn't like how the cake came out of the mold. So the next few days were spent on experiments and then truly deconstructing the idea of cake.

But you'll have to wait for the big reveal on the final product, because the day before Thanksgiving is also a holiday in our house; it is Stinky Fish Day. Noel stays home from work and the Stink Fish Fairy (the Fedex guy) brings the special package from my family:

It's a big package of fish and bagels from Zabar's.

A good time was had by all, though not everybody got some fish. (The dogs traditionally get the skin from the whitefish, though, so there was a happy ending for them, too.)

For Thanksgiving dinner we brought the potatoes and the dessert. We re-imagined the potatoes as a trifle, layered with hash browns at the bottom, then purple mashed potatoes, then potato gratin, then white mashed potatoes, then purple again, then a piped layer of mashed potatoes beaten with extra cream to make them pipe better.

The deonstructed deconstructed pumpkin pie turned into layered pumpkin desserts: the bottom layer was a circle of pumpkin cake soaked in ginger syrup, then a ginger-fig filling, then a boiled sugar frosting, then another layer of pumpkin cake, a layer of whipped cream, and a little miniature bundt cake top. It was kind of over the top, but it worked OK. Too bad I was totally stuffed from eating an entire turkey drumstick before we got to that course.

And by popular demand, I made Charlotte's peanut butter cup cookies, all six dozen of which were devoured or squirreled off by the other diners (and since we have two cake's worth of trimmed pumpkin cake bits to eat, this was not a problem).

Of the three things we made, I was most impressed by how fun it was to pipe potatoes.

This week I will make the mincemeat filling for our Christmas pie. We're having friends over and baking a ham (or two). There may be piped potatoes involved.