Resolved: after a lifetime of distractions, I have decided to settle down. I have whittled my interests down to a handful; everything else is tabled.

Why this resolution? Because this week I am being reminded of a crazy year I had not too long ago. This year, things will be different: I am determined to stick with one large project. And just a wee handful of little ones.

A couple of years ago I got it into my head that I should try a different kind of hobby. I was then cooking several nights each week at l’Etoile and I developed a true interest in the small farms and wineries that stocked the shelves of the restaurant.

Wouldn’t anyone in my place decide to set up a nonprofit and advertise on the Net their services for taking small groups to France on an exploration of wineries, cheesemakers, distilleries and the like?

I did. Field to Table was born, with a staff of one – me. I was the trip planner, the driver, the idea person and the accountant. I even wrote out all sorts of legal disclaimers to preclude gross liability in case I messed up. Not that it would have helped.

In the end, I made three trips to France (Provence, Alsasce and Brittany) before I understood that my life was spinning out of control and I had to put a stop to some of my extracurriculars. Ceasing parenting responsibilities wasn’t an option and I like my law teaching job just fine. Field to Table closed doors after a mad year of trekking through vineyards, farmlands and some damn good country inn-cooking places on the continent.

But nothing really ends. One cheerful group that traveled with me to Provence remained quite bonded. Indeed, the trip, which could have ended with us killing each other in the cramped little minivan that I drove along obsolete and hilly backroads, actually resulted in lifelong friendships. I’m going to spend a long week-end with one of the Provence couples that lives in the Bay Area (family obligations require that I pop into Berkeley for a bit this month). They’re foodies, both of them and so postings about Things That You Eat will be part of Ocean fare once more.

Of course, having left New York in a total rain shower, having arrived in Madison to a drizzle, I am this week heading out to downpours in the SF area. Could someone pull some strings and help get rid of the clouds that are hovering over my days right now?

Field to Table memories: if it's Tuesday, it must be Aix... 

The aesthetic pleasure of noise, clutter and discomfort

Those of us who love coffee shops have a habit of groaning about how inadequate they are in New York. You get to the point where you are willing to buy stock in Starbucks just so that there would be more of them in the city and, even more importantly, that they would be larger, so that you could indeed count on sitting down to drink your coffee.

But it is not to be. In NY, my latte addiction either has to be treated at home (though drinking it in private is like downing shots of vodka in the bathroom; these are activities that demand companionship, or at least a murmur of voices in the background), or it has to be a commodity purchased on the run.

I wish I had taken photos of all the people I'd seen drinking their espressos while biking, roller-blading, walking.

In Madison, the problem is of a different kind. Oh there are Starbucks alright. And Ancoras and Victors and Steep and Brews, plus a host of newish babies on State Street. Many are large. Did anyone else think we were getting a Taco Palace of some sort when the new Starbucks went up on University?

Inside, our coffee shops are just too comfortable for words. We have plush chairs, tables, Wi-Fi, we have fireplaces, and newspapers loosely scattered. There are always a few people, but not so many that you could not get a seat at a table.

So why is it that sometimes I think back nostalgically to the inadequate coffee scene in New York? That I smile when I recall my impatience on Sunday as I stood with my paper cup, waiting for the oblivious idiot to get up and gather his trash from the dirty table, so that I could grab his chair and rest for a minute?

Dear New York, I miss you…

I am back in Madison. It took twenty minutes to drive home (I live about as far as you can get from the Airport). I miss New York.

The same rain that fell in the city this morning, created a slick surface here, in Madison. And my windshield froze over. And why am I driving anyway? People should not have to drive every day of their lives.

I got home and found that no one had broken into my house. The mail had accumulated in the mailbox at the curbside. No one had gone through it looking for checks and other good stuff. It’s eerily quiet here. I checked my email and answered all those wonderful wonderful people who wrote nice things in my absence.

Then it became horrendously quiet. Great! I have work to do!

I miss New York.

At this very minute, I would like to take a walk and pass places like this.. 

(When I am not driven crazy by it) I miss the pace most of all... 

yeah, little city horse, I miss you too... 

In New York: Monday morning

Today, the city returns to its workday insanity and I return to Madison. Next month, when I am in New York again, the saffron color will be a memory and nothing more.

I have never (before) much liked Central Park, at the same time that I found it to be an idea with genius written all over it. A New York without it would be a city without a heart, without air, without sun, without the seasons leaving a mark.

But this week-end, I loved the Park -- for its community, for its banter (“it is saffron,” no, “it is orange vomit”), for its love of art and love of hating art. People came out and commented outside of New York as well. Friends and strangers wrote emails and blogposts, there, too, sharing something of themselves (who would you want to spend your days with – someone who saw saffron and community, or someone who saw vomit and plastic-coated dirty laundry? Or, who saw no reason to comment at all?).

Just one last look at the ripple of saffron on a rainy Monday morning. It sent a ripple through the city, alright. And the world watched, for once not repulsed by our audacity as we let Christo do his thing, boldly, brilliantly.

black umbrella, bleak morning, saffron path 

In New York: Sunday in the park

Today I felt Central Park measured up to my beloved Lazienki Park in Warsaw. It was a day of play and promenades, always against the saffron banners.

Certainly there are critics who feel compelled to knock down the Gates art project. One reader wrote to me and said: "but it's sooo last century!" Maybe. But my reaction is closer to that of a New Yorker, an older woman who stood next to me on the Terrace of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and said: "This is a real happening! I cannot remember when we have had one of those, it's been so long. The measure of its success? That people came and got engaged. Just look at the crowds that are filling the park!"

Swinging up to an orange gate 

In the far northern corner of the park, mud football against a sea of orange

everyone is climbing rocks to get a better view 

Shadows... 

monster shadows! 

gray and yellow 

flying! 

From the Terrace of the Met: orange troop formations. 

In New York: instant makeover!

I am deeply appreciative of emails that came following my Gates posts of the last two days. Hearing from those who are professionally engaged with the arts was especially cool.

I should admit that I am a very basic poster. I do not work with the photos at all (except to crop out some irrelevant edging). And though I toyed with the idea of doing serious photography back in college years and even took a darkroom class or two, to learn what the hell happens behind closed photo-printing doors, photography went the way of so many other careers I have considered and put aside for one reason or another.

So I was thrilled to get an immensely kind pat on the back from someone who has made a career of photography for several decades now and who liked my photos enough to do some basic tricks to improve their lighting*.

I feel like I’ve just gone to a spa for a professional makeover. I like the results so much, that I decided to do a “before” and “after” post. As you can see, it’s worth getting into basic photo-shop technology. I’m sold.

* The makeover was done by Rick Lee. Many thanks!

BEFORE No.1