Baggage

Someone left this awesome bag with a free cat
tower in it outside their house. I probably shouldn't
have picked it up. But hey, free cat tower!

Moving. The word itself is action- a shift, a change. Pushing forward means shaking the cobwebs off my suitcases and examining the clutter that's crawled into the corners and crannies of both my physical and mental spaces.

My current living setup is cosy and beautiful. I've been beyond fortunate to live in a gem of an apartment in the heart of Over-the-Rhine. It has the nearly unheard-of trifecta of being affordable, having a washer and dryer in the unit, and best of all... storage space.

Space for my bike in the shed in the courtyard. Wrap around shelves and drawers in the kitchen, concealing all the dishes and contraptions for creating. A huge bookshelf that came with the apartment that holds treasures both literary and artistic. Not one, but two closets in my bedroom, with additional space to store tubs utilizing the high ceilings, besides. Three years here means I've accumulated some neat treasures. And a lot of unnecessary crap.

Over-the-Rhine is a living scrapbook of memories, people and experiences. I've had the great fortune of collecting a number of awesome people in my life, and we've done some pretty crazy and amazing things for and in this little collection of streets.

Walking down Main Street brings a trove of memories springing unbidden to my mind. Every glance out the window is colored with a hundred different stories - days and nights spanning the heights of community, joy, love down to the depths of my bleakest moments (remember the time I recommended walking down the street at 3am bawling one's eyes out as a way to ward off people bothering you? That actually happened.)

It's been a blessing and a curse to have done a chunk of my growing up in this tiny neighborhood. For the group of thirty or so people that have been in my life for years, there really are no secrets. You've seen me at my absolute worst, and celebrated with me at my best.  It's been an incredible little ecosystem to discover my identity. To try new things. To passionately advocate. To help out - and also hurt, however unintentionally.

I've been making trips to Goodwill, clearing out the physical stuff that's piled up in my life. This weekend I went home and went through all my childhood things - deciding what to take with me and what to keep for the future. The Franklin recycling facility will be full of old report cards and choir programs.

It's time to decide what gets to stay, and what gets to go. I've carried around guilt, anger, sadness, grudges, from past hurts and experiences. There are too many small trinkets from various places that worked once, but now are taking up space I no longer need to fill.

I am leaving this city for something new, with someone new. I am dropping this bag, amongst all the others, off at the curb. Each filled with lonely nights, terrible mistakes, overstepped boundaries, blown budgets, poor caloric choices, impulsive decisions, hurtful words, confused actions, meaningless connections. So many bags in the rooms of my heart, filled with memories quietly bubbling away.

There’s no room for them anymore, in my overstuffed brain, in my filled to bursting heart. It’s time to cut them loose – the icky, sad, crusty parts of my time in Cincinnati. There’s simply no space in my life for festering wounds. The good things - people, memories, times - of course, will be packed up along with my other beloved treasures before I hit the road. 

As I pack my bags and start to fill boxes, there is a freedom – I get to choose what comes with me and what gets left behind. A new start in Baltimore begins with a cultivated heart. I have apologies to make, and grudges to release. OTR, you’ve had all of me. I’m only taking the good stuff. 

Anywhere beside you is a place that I'll call Home.

Today marks eight years, three months and nineteen days since I moved to Cincinnati. Little did I know I'd become besotted with the city, pouring my heart and soul into loving the people and advocating for the region more than most my age. I'm a Cincy guru - giving advice, recommendations and history lessons (oftentimes unsolicited) to anyone who will listen. I've had the opportunity to participate in building a community, in making a home and a name here.

Why on earth would I leave?

One year, six months, and twelve days ago, the third season of the OTR Kickball League began. Team Losantivillians welcomed a new member - a guy who, I later learned, was my neighbor in OTR. The fire escapes of our apartments faced out onto the same street. Nearly a year after that game, I started dating this neighbor of mine.

We enjoyed a great summer full of trips to the park, ball games, pies, and learning more about each other. In September, the unthinkable happened. He got a new job, in a new city - an offer too good to pass up. I had a choice to make.

Baltimore with him is better than Cincinnati without him. 

this is the harbor.

Everything's fallen into place. It's the right decision - a hard decision, to leave the people and home I know so well - and scary, to drop everything and try something new.

My new job is a mobile office - I can work from home in Bmore just as I was in Cincy - and come back every so often to check in. We found a new apartment in a neighborhood that could be Over-the-Rhine's big brother. Fell's Point is historic, renovated, and stuffed to the gills with bars, restaurants, shops, live music, parks close by, and even a little market a block away. To the left is the harbor. To the right is the market. The farmer's market sets up in the square literally fifty feet from the front door.

Snow much fun in Baltimore

 So far, my impression's of Baltimore has been pretty good. People are friendly, there's lots to see and explore. It's a (relatively) inexpensive, water facing, industrial town - about as Cincinnati as the East Coast gets.

Guys, I need to discover what's left of me - my personality, brand.. whatever-  when Cincinnati is taken out. I'm afraid there's not much left over - and that's the part that needs building up. I hope this next chapter will do just that.

So now you know - a lot of you already knew - but it's happening. It's really happening. I'll be unpacking more feelings in subsequent posts, but please know this:

We'll be back.

So. I have 65 days left in Cincinnati. Time to make them count. Wanna hang out? Get a drink? Do something crazy or meaningful or have a chat or make a pie or get dinner or lunch or breakfast or dance or sing or laugh or watch a movie or play games or ANYTHING at all? Let's not put it off. Get in touch.

Rounding the Corner, Headed for Home

I did it! Kinda. In 24 weeks, I made 18 out of the 20 pies listed by the New York Times as the "Twenty Pies to Make this Summer."

It's no longer summer. But not all of them were pies. I'd say that evens things out a bit.
Between Midpoint Pie and now I made three last desserts:

Butter Pie

A Butter Pie, to which I added cranberries, chocolate chips, and pecans. This was taken to a Friendsgiving at Sarah's house, which was super delicious. It would very sugary and rich, to no one's surprise. But I rocked the crust out!

A Pear-Pomegranate Pie. This got made twice, because it was THAT good. The crisp pears and the pomegranate molasses was consumed at two additional Thanksgiving celebrations. I used the Smitten Kitchen's All-Butter Crust for this recipe, and made a lattice top. It was beautiful - probably the crown jewel in my quest.

I was all proud of myself for making 18 pies, but while coming up with this post realized I'm a dummy who can't count - I had missed the Mixed Berry Almond Crunch Crumble! So on December 23 I scraped together everything I had in my kitchen and came up with this dessert, which was very, very good- and got eaten in a bar during a concert. A tip: drain frozen fruit before you bake it. Why didn't I do this before?!

Two pies remain: an Apricot and Almond Tart, and a Rose-Scented Berry Tart with Almond-Shortbread Crust. But screw those pies. No way. I'm done.

Pear Pomegranate Pie

Why I am not making the last two pies:

1. They are not pies. they are tarts.

2  They will collectively take over 8 hours to make (including chill time)

3. French butter, apricots, frangipan is expensive

4. Pretty sure I’ve gained five pounds and eating pie has contributed to this

5. My last two pies were easily some of the tastiest and had the prettiest/best crusts. Mission accomplished.

6. I DO WHAT I WANT, NEW YORK TIMES. I refuse to be guilted into completing a faux contract filled with desserts that weren’t even pies to begin with.

Top 10 best pie moments:

1. Deep frying peach pies for my streetcar friends

2. Pie-stravaganza!

3. Diner - en - Blanc tart - most complicated and super pretty - I couldn’t believe that not only did it turn out, I didn’t drop it on the way to the picnic

4. Grandpa’s pie - probably one of the last desserts he got to enjoy before he died. Also, sister bonding time is awesome.

5. PIENADO. most fun group outing. 

6. Brown Butter Nectarine Cobbler/Lumenocity was fun to share with strangers and the easiest/tastiest to make

7. Giving away berry crumble at a rock concert the day before Christmas Eve.

8. The first crust I made that didn't fall apart - Plum Crostada

9. The alone time I got to spend working out complicated recipes

10. Spreading sweet dessert goodness amongst lots of friends, family, and strangers. 

Pie Superlatives:

Best pie-eating spot: Washington Park

Worst pie: Lazy Sonker. Not a pie.

Healthiest pie: Pear Ginger Crumble

Farthest-away pie: Cherry-almond crumble (sang happy birthday to Katy in England)

Least healthy pie: toss up between Butter pie (added chocolate chips) and tarts (SO MUCH BUTTER)

Total pounds of butter used: 6

Total pounds of sugar used: 5

Pie participants: over 50

Best filling: Plumb Chutney Crumb Pie/Peach Pie

Prettiest Pie: Fruit Tart/Raspberry Hazelnut Tart

Ugliest pie: Pear Ginger crumble

What Did I learn?

Patience. Planning. How to roll out a great crust (keep it cold, use lots of flour). Adding savory herbs to fruit is really tasty. Pears are hard to find ripe. French butter is a thing that exists. Recipes are annoying but sometimes necessary. Dessert is best when eaten with friends. 

Cincinnati: You can happen here

This is an encouragement - to anyone who's ever wanted to make a difference. 
You can do it here. Chase your dream. Tell us about it - we'll help you achieve it - every step of the way.

Four years ago today, I was a wide-eyed college senior experiencing her first taste of activism. Issue 9 loomed over Cincinnati's future, and I joined a group of people overflowing with passion and optimism about our city's future. We phone banked. We knocked on doors. We wrote blog posts, tweeted, and explained to anyone who would listen that Cincinnati's future depends on an interconnected transit system - that we deserve to step up as a city and start the process of rail transit in town. I met people that night who've led to some of my most lasting friendships. We ran all over town, celebrating a new Mayor, a new Council, and a victory at the polls. Two years later, we did it again.

When given the opportunity, I'll gladly talk til I'm hoarse about the reasons why Cincinnati is amazing. It goes so far beyond the chili and the ice cream, the silly rivalries and local culture. The secret to the city is this: if you're willing to roll up your sleeves, you can create amazing things here. I can't think of many other big cities where I can chat up my government leaders at the local coffee shop. I've watched friends run for office, open bars and restaurants and breweries and companies, create amazing events and experiences from not much but connections and hard work - because in Cincy, we're small enough to make a difference, but big and connected enough to help you reach your dream.

I've been pretty quiet this election season about candidates, issues and opinions. This is because I'm lucky enough to be serving as the treasurer for Cincinnatians for Progress - the issues PAC that formed to defeat the crazy rail ballot amendments four years ago. We're not allowed to publicly endorse candidates - and since my name is all over the mailers and radio ads showing up in mailboxes and airwaves informing the city about the Streetcar project, I haven't felt super comfortable posting a list.

But I will say this: tomorrow I'm voting for the people I know will continue to listen and work for the good of all my fellow Cincinnatians. Those who have worked together, who've put out big, bold plans to keep Cincy moving forward, and who aren't afraid to take stances on tough issues. Obviously, supporting the streetcar doesn't hurt. The ballot issues this year are to help out the Library and the Zoo, two of our greatest assets. (The streetcar will eventually connect these two places!) There's another one (Issue 4), designed to dismantle the city's pension system.

Voting may not seem like a big deal to some, but it's our right (AMURIKA), and our duty as informed and engaged citizens. And unlike big elections where you might feel your vote is minuscule, local election turnout is low - your vote and voice really will count here. So go ahead - find out where you vote - and please, please, go do it!

Mid Pie Music Festival

Maybe you noticed, but it's been a minute since I posted about pie. After sailing through number fourteen, I realized that maybe all the butter and sugar was getting to me, and took a break. A ten day break. And by break, I mean cleanse. By cleanse, I mean I did the Advocare 10-Day Challenge with my gym (the best ladies gym in the Cincinnati area. Go check out Bella Forza Fitness! No, I'm not getting paid to tell you about this!)

These meal was super healthy, easy, and cleanse-friendly!

The Advocare system is a series of various weight loss supplements and workout enhancers. I figured I could use the challenge, and so for 10 days I had no sugar, no processed food, no alcohol (!), no mushrooms, fried food, or dairy. I ate five small meals consisting of complex carbs, fruit, veggies, lean meats, and nuts and beans. I kicked up the workouts - using the Spark supplement helped a lot, especially because I don't ingest much caffeine. Deprivation kinda sucked... but the feeling of accomplishment after was worth it.

 For me, it wasn't about losing weight, but about trying something new. I'm looking forward to continuing to tone up and push myself during workouts - ESPECIALLY because there are four pies left to my personal baking challenge!


Coincidentally, the last day of the cleanse was the first night of MidPoint Music Festival. It was fantastic timing. How did I celebrate? Pie is definitely the right answer. Surprisingly, the Pear Ginger Crumble was relatively healthy - very little sugar and (relatively) small amounts of butter - AND it's gluten free!

Larry and His Flask was the best performance I saw all weekend.

The crumble topping is made with quinoa. It was just sweet enough, and the candied ginger gave the pears a balanced kick. My sister came down for Friday and Saturday of the festival, and we enjoyed pie in between sets, alongside some fantastic Bakersfield tacos and pre-concert drinks.

The festival this year didn't have as many headliners, but we managed to find some really fun bands to jam out to. Great weather, fun friends, and the freedom to roam made for an incredible weekend experience.


Pear Ginger Crumble - adapted from this recipe

Takes about an hour to make
Serves eight

it tasted better than it looked. Promise.

Here's what you need:

• 2 1/2 to 3 pounds pears (about 5 large ones), peeled, cored and sliced
• 2 tablespoons raw brown (demera) sugar, preferably organic
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons chopped candied ginger (or 1/3 cup, if you like a kick)
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract, or the seeds from 1/2 vanilla bean
• 2 teaspoons cornstarch or arrowroot

1 batch quinoa-oat crumble topping

Here's what you do with it:

• Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter a 2- or 2 1/2-quart baking dish. In a large bowl, mix together the pears, sugar, lemon juice, candied ginger, vanilla extract or seeds, and cornstarch or arrowroot.
• Scrape the fruit and all of the juice in the bowl into the baking dish. Set the baking dish on a baking sheet for easier handling, and place in the oven. Bake 20 to 25 minutes until the fruit is bubbling and the liquid syrupy. Remove from the oven, and allow to cool if desired.
• About 30 minutes before serving, spread the crumble topping over the pear mixture in an even layer. Bake 20 minutes, or until the fruit is bubbling and the topping is nicely browned. Remove from the heat, and allow to cool for at least 10 minutes before serving.

Here's how to make the topping:

Put this in the food processor and pulse until ground - 

• 1 1/4 cups gluten-free rolled oats
• 1/2 cup quinoa flour (grind quinoa in a spice mill to make the flour)
• 1/3 cup unrefined turbinado sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• 1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon salt (to taste)

Add 6 TBS cold butter, cut into pieces and pulse until crumbly. Spread it on a baking sheet and put in the oven at 350 for 15 minutes. Store in the freezer-  is great warmed up over raspberries.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year - MPMF '13!

There are two weekends in Over the Rhine that are not to be missed. The first is Bockfest, the spring beer festival. The second is MidPoint Music Festival - a three day musical extravaganza that sends thousands of people running all over the 45202 to catch smaller, indie acts before they get big.

These events bring the city to life, and show the possibilities of what could be in store for our downtown with eventual repopulation. People stream from bar to bar, venue to venue. Armed with an all access three day pass, gangs of friends roam from show to show to try and uncover the best act of each night. We drink beer and dance our faces off. We tweet inappropriate things to make them show up on the big screen in the Grammar's parking lot. Then we go to bed and do it again. And again. It's an energy that is hard to explain, but absolutely intoxicating.

I'm lucky to have some great musical guru friends who do a lot of research and help tune me in to bands I might not recognize. The weekend before MidPoint I sit down with my computer and go through friends' recommendations, Spotify, and the funny, descriptive rundown of each band from CityBeat (Low Cut Connie sounds like The Black Keys and Ben Folds hit the road in a van that runs on bourbon and expired pork barbecue? I'M SO THERE) to develop a working schedule for the weekend.

This year MPMF put together an interactive schedule - you can go through the lineup and select bands you want to see, and it will save it into a printable/saveable/shareable format. Super fun - go check it out at live.mpmf.com - you can check out my picks for the weekend if you need inspiration. I tend to gravitate towards upbeat, danceable music that sounds like it would be a more fun live show over beautiful (slower) music. I've got a Spotify playlist with my anticipated bands for your listening pleasure as well.

Here are my tips for an epic MPMF weekend:

• Use Twitter - the #mpmf hashtag not only allows you to search and see what bands are blowing up, at capacity/sold out, or lame, but you can also send tweets using the hashtag and they'll show up projected at venues around the festival. Pretty fun!
• Check out the MidWay - Even if you're not feeling down to drop $70 on a three-day pass, you can still participate in MidPoint fun. 12th Street will be blocked off and have free bands and cool stuff in pop up trucks (collaborating with ArtWorks!), as well as food trucks and beer vendors. Also, Washington Park will be loud enough to project beyond the barrier they put up, if you don't mind not seeing the performances.
• Ride your bike! There is, very sadly, no shuttle traveling around to venues this year - which sucks especially because there are some really good bands playing at out of the way (comparatively) venues like the Taft and Mainstay Rock Bar. If you have lights and access to a bike (or $15 to drop on a nightly rental), biking (on the street! going the correct way!) is a much better alternative to walking. 
• Have some backup bands - If a show is super popular, you might not get in to the venue if you get there a little late. Also, despite your best efforts, after drinking a few beers, walking ALL THE WAY to a certain venue might seem like a daunting task. 
• And above all - Go with the flow! Sometimes it rains. Sometimes the band you thought for sure you were going to see is already at capacity. The beauty of the pass is that you can go to ANY of the venues. Relax your expectations, and you will be guaranteed a great show and a fun experience no matter where you end up - which is the most fun part of all. 

T minus 3 days and counting! I'll see you out there!

There's Always Pie

New life motto.

This year, the changing of the seasons seemed to bring a gust of contentiousness alongside dropping temperatures and turning leaves. Ugly rants from people on all sides - blaming liberals, conservatives, entitled Gen Y-ers, Baby Boomers, poor people, rich people, Republicans, Democrats. Racism. Shootings. Even locally an embattled local race for mayor and City Council riles up neighbors and co-workers, each of us convinced we are right. Hell, in OTR it feels like Main Street versus Vine Street. East and West. New and old. Poor and Rich. Right and wrong?

It's exhausting. Reading story after story, comment after comment filled with bitter, angry words. Hatefulness directed towards our fellow humans. Participating in it makes me sad and tired and doubting humanity. Enough is enough. I beat a retreat from the buzz and bustle of an OTR weekend and got back to basics. Friday was spent solitarily chopping veggies; my kitchen's been blessed this summer by the fruits of my guy's family garden.

Homemade butternut squash ravioli with
brown butter, hazelnuts, and homemade sauce. 

There is nothing more cathartic than Dylan on vinyl, red wine in the glass, and the simple monotony of vegetable prep. Ripe, bursting tomatoes simmered slowly into sauce. Six little butternut squashes were carefully peeled, scooped, and chopped into a dice, frozen for future soups and stews. The worries of the world fall away in the kitchen.

I packed up and headed back to Indiana to see family on Saturday and Sunday. Introduced my sister and her roommate to John Prine and the complexities of homemade ravioli. Together we made a pie to bring to dinner with my grandparents the next day.

I spent Sunday morning learning the intricacies of canning applesauce from my mother. The smell of cooking apples and the rattle of the pressure cooker were an integral part of childhood - I don't even remember what Mott's tastes like. There are

There's ALWAYS pie. 

many paths to adulthood; my final step (marriage, babies, and home ownership notwithstanding) was learning how to can applesauce. I returned to Cincy with a small pressure cooker and my great-grandmother's Foley Food Mill. She ran her applesauce "for company" through twice, and loaded it up with extra sugar. Pure bliss tastes like superfine applesauce - and she was happy to see her grandbabies running around like banshees hopped up on liquid candy.

When you've grown up riding combines, taking back roads to Grandma's and other details of life in or near the country, the Rye Pecan Pie we unveiled for my grandfather Sunday afternoon tastes like home. Two sticks of butter and enough brown sugar, molasses and corn syrup to sink a ship envelope the tastebuds like a soft, billowy-bosomed hug from Grandma herself. It's adapted from Diner, a restaurant known for their fried chicken, in Brooklyn. It called for a springform pan, but that wasn't available in my sister's college kitchen - an 8x8 cake pan worked just as well. It took a while to make - but I'm learning that these good things do. Katy, Kayleigh and I sat up, talking and playing cards, waiting patiently through all the steps of the pie.

Love you, Grandpa.

Grandpa loves pecans. He always has a bag of them and shells them on Sundays when he's cheering on (or verbally lambasting) his football teams. Before I left for college we had Sunday dinner every week at their place without fail for the better part of ten years. He's been an important part of my life - instilled  in me a love of trains and respect for hard work and doing things right at an early age. He's not doing so well as of late -  coming home and seeing him was definitely the right call. I returned to Cincinnati with a slightly sunnier outlook. If worse comes to worse, I'll blow up my tv, throw away my paper, move to the country, and build me a home. 

Rye Pecan Pie, from this recipe.

Serves about 12
Takes 2-4 hours.

Here's what you need:

FOR THE CRUST:

• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 1 1/2 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 1/2 pound cold unsalted butter, cut into dice
• 1/2 cup ice water, more as needed
• About 5 cups dried beans (for baking)

FOR THE FILLING:

• 5 eggs
• 1 1/4 cups light brown sugar
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 1/3 cup molasses, dark or unsulfured
• 1/3 cup light corn syrup
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 3 tablespoons rye or bourbon, not more than 90 proof
• 2 cups finely chopped pecans
• 2 1/2 cups pecan halves

Here's what you do with it:

• Make the crust: In a mixer fitted with paddle attachment, combine flour, salt and white sugar at low speed. I used the food processor. Add butter and mix until pea-size lumps form. Raise the speed to medium-low and add 1/2 cup ice water in a slow, steady stream, mixing just until dough holds together. To test, pinch a small amount of dough. If it is crumbly, add more ice water, one tablespoon at a time. Shape dough into a ball and wrap it loosely in plastic, then roll it into a disk. Refrigerate at least one hour, or up to 3 days, before rolling. (Dough can be frozen for up to a month.)
• Open a 10-inch springform pan, flip the bottom over so the outside surface faces in, then close. This will make removing the pie easier when it is done, by preventing the dough from sinking into the pan’s crease. OR use an 8x8 cake pan, well greased with non stick spray. On a lightly floured surface, roll chilled dough into a circle 16 inches in diameter. Lift it and let it settle into pan, fitting the dough down into the edges. Press the sides firmly against pan and pinch around the top rim. Trim dough with kitchen scissors so it hangs over the rim by one inch, reserving excess. Refrigerate in pan until very cold and firm, at least 45 minutes.
• Heat oven to 400 degrees. Prick bottom of dough with a fork. Lay a piece of parchment or wax paper in pan, then a piece of aluminum foil. Fill foil lining with dried beans to top of pan. Bake 15 to 25 minutes, until the sides of the crust have set and turned a light golden brown. Remove from oven and lift out the beans, foil and parchment. Patch any holes with reserved dough, pressing firmly. Bake 10 to 15 minutes more, until golden brown. Let cool at least 30 minutes before filling.
• Fill the pie: Heat oven to 325 degrees. In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, brown sugar, melted butter, molasses, corn syrup, vanilla, salt and rye or bourbon. Place baked pie shell, still in the pan, on a sheet pan. Gently pour in the filling. Sprinkle chopped pecans evenly over surface. Working from outside in, arrange pecan halves in concentric circles, without overlapping, until entire surface is covered. (Use only as many as needed.)
• Bake 50 to 60 minutes, just until filling is firm and a wooden skewer comes out clean when inserted into center. (Do not worry if the overhanging crust becomes very dark brown.) Let cool completely. Use a serrated knife to saw off all overhanging pie crust. Carefully remove outer ring of pan. Slice with a large, very sharp knife and serve with whipped cream.