Leandra Medine's Blog, page 684

Is It Happy Hour Yet?

For argument’s sake, let’s say it is. What’s more? Here’s a recipe to get your family drunk on life, high on cranberries tomorrow and/or through the rest of the weekend care of Wright Kitchen’s Brittany Wright.

Sparkling Cranberry Rosemary Cocktail

(Recipe makes 1 drink)

1 oz. cranberry vanilla bean vodka

½ oz.  rosemary simple syrup

½ oz. fresh lemon juice

Champagne, chilled

Rosemary sprig

Combine cranberry vanilla vodka, rosemary simple syrup, and lemon juice in a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake until chilled, strain into a champagne flute. Top with chilled Champagne and garnish with a rosemary sprig.

To make the rosemary simple syrup, you’ll need:

1 cup sugar

1 cup water

3 rosemary sprigs

In a small saucepan combine the sugar, water, and rosemary over medium high heat.  Stir often until sugar dissolves, bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer for 15 minutes.  Remove syrup from heat and allow it to fully cool.  Pull out rosemary sprigs and pour the syrup into a container.

To make the cranberry vanilla bean infused vodka, you’ll need:

2 cups fresh cranberries

½ cup sugar

½ vanilla bean, scraped

750ml vodka

In a small saucepan combine cranberries and sugar over medium heat. Cook until the sugar forms a syrup and the cranberries are about to pop. Add vanilla beans and pod to the mixture and allow it to cool. Combine the cranberry mixture and vodka into a clean airtight container then set in a dark spot for 2 days, up to 3 weeks.

See Brittany’s persimmon crepe recipe here and read about why it’s important to cook for the season here.

The Thought Process of Enduring a Thanksgiving Meal

This year, I will not overeat.

Hahahaha. Just kidding!

I kind of want to wear that burgundy wool mini skirt with black tights and a pair of black boots but I also know that there is a high likelihood I will be incapable of sitting down in a chair after that third helping of my grandmother’s stuffing. If my memory serves me correct, the last time I ate Thanksgiving dinner at her house, I ended up sprawled across the floor for three hours before I got back up and finished the pumpkin pie that my brother brought. That was so much fun.

It gets stuffy in that apartment. I should bring a t-shirt. And elastic waist band pants.

I can’t believe I haven’t been to her house in three years for this dinner. I wonder how my cousin Lara is doing. Did her husband get fatter? Is that even possible? I wonder if he found a job yet. I’m not even going to ask. But maybe I should. Nah, it’s not my business.

Should I hide the desserts I’m bringing so he doesn’t eat them?

You can be such an asshole sometimes, Leandra. Why do you even think these things?

I wonder if Sasha is bringing her daughters. The new one is cute, the older one is a fucking diva. I will put money on her asking for, like, truffle oil or something, Again, Leandra, asshole. She’s five years old. Stop.

I am so excited for this meal. Thanksgiving has to be one of America’s greatest gifts to its people. Obviously, though, there stands the question of what it means that we celebrate our having driven indigenous people out of this land to establish a free democracy. Hypocritical or what?

I wonder if I love this holiday with so much conviction because it feels like the only one that I can participate in culturally. The Jewish ones immunize me to Easter and Christmas and ours kind of blow because they always require such a dense dose of guilt. There’s never not the element of synagogue, or prayer, or something that stands as a prerequisite to the meal. Maybe I should go to the gym before we head to dinner. I need a bikini wax, too, though. I should probably have a drink before I get — oh! That’s a decent idea. Maybe I have a glass of wine, walk over to the bikini wax place and then head up — wait, they must be closed. That’s relieving.

Why do we eat turkey on Thanksgiving. I should look it up. Actually, I should have a conversation and try to figure it out without so immediately resorting to Google. Considering there will be all of two English speakers at dinner, though I’m probably being ambitious here. I wonder why my grandmother even makes this meal. We couldn’t be less American if we tried. Where did she learn to make stuffing? I didn’t even know she knows what a marshmallow is.

So I’m probably just going to wear vintage Levi’s with this new striped tunic. There is a 0% chance Sasha won’t make a corny-ass joke about how stupid I look. Her mom will chime in too. And then they will ask who makes my shirt after telling me I look like a waiter and I will say Céline. Per usual, they will both retract their statements, say “ohhhh, very nice,” and I will roll my eyes. Of course, it’s actually J. Crew.

By this point, Lara’s husband will have indubitably finished all the cakes. Plural. My dad will be yelling in Turkish to my grandfather about the stock market and my grandmother will be yelling, too, telling my grandpa that if he doesn’t put his hearing aid in, she is going to throw him out. My mom will probably be in the kitchen for most of the night, revealing herself only every 20 minutes to remind us that she’s there. My brother will tell me I look like a chicken. My husband will laugh. My uncle will ask me to put him on “the Man Eater” blog while my other brother tries to convince me that he should intern, with pay, for me.

I will never be so simultaneously elated and depressed for a night to end.

6 Jokes to Fill the Awkward Thanksgiving Silence

You love your family. You love them and are so excited to see them. You can’t wait to hug your grandma and source sweaters from your grandpa, to hang out with your cousins and play with the older one’s babies even though you can’t remember if their existence makes you a great aunt or second-something, once removed.

Inevitably, though, you’re going to hit that wall of familial-overload. It might come right after the first round of Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone’s had way too much to eat, and you’re all sort of reclining in your chairs when uncle Bill — hopped up on all the marshmallows he secretly popped when the kitchen was left unmanned —  goes ahead and asks one of the very questions you’ve been dodging:

1) “Are you seeing anyone?”

2) [Applicable only once you are seeing someone and he or she is seated next to you] “When are you two gonna get hitched?”

3) “When are you going to get a job?”

4) [Regardless of whether you have a job or not] “So, what are you doing with your life?”

There is only one way to answer this genus of question and that is to deflect. I learned this by watching my older cousin, who would turn the tables and ask, in the general direction of all the men in our family, “Who’s gotten their colonoscopy this year?”

You can try that. Or, you can memorize a few of these gems and keep them in your back pocket to recite any time you find yourself at the receiving end of an unwelcome query.

Halfway through a first date, go to the restroom and shave off an eyebrow to see if they're paying attention.

— Jason Lastname (@JasonLastname)

I've got 99 pilgrims and I'm thankful for each one. So blessed.

— Jason Lastname (@JasonLastname)

"Sir you have an outstanding balance"
Thank you so much

— dan mentos (@DanMentos) November 10, 2014

Probably my favorite hotel named after an Oscar category is Best Western.

— Elle Oh Hell (@ElleOhHell) November 14, 2014

I wish the statue of liberty had had a good friend that could've talked her out of bangs.

— Elle Oh Hell (@ElleOhHell) November 12, 2014

Good thing you put a swing in your birds cage he's probably on that thing like
"MAN THIS IS WAY BETTER THAN FLYING"

— Sad Turkey (@sad_tree) August 18, 2014

Who cares if they in no way pertain to the questions asked? That’s the point. Deflect, distract, then make a beeline for the couch. (Pecan pie?)

A special thanks to Man Repeller reader CJKeys for her @JasonLastname recommendation. We’re always looking for tweets-that-disctract, so if you have some, let us know in the comments.

Three And a Half Outfit Ideas to Steal This Thanksgiving

How in the good name of glazed skin is one to be expected to think about what she will wear come the world’s best holiday when there are more urgent and significant things, like stuffing and marshmallows married to sweet potatoes and catching your flight, or the long car ride home (podcast suggestions are this way), to think about?

Allow me to creative direct.

In the event you’ll be attending your grandmother’s and as far as you can tell, she still thinks it’s 1932, which would mean that sneakers are indefinitely banned and tweed coats are the only truly respected option, make like subject A, locate a knee length jacket, pair it with a pair of shorts (you are young and you are free, dammit, so if your legs feel like they need attention, it’s your civil duty to give it to them) and knee length boots that will be digestible by the standards of said grandma’s unwritten rules.

Carry a small purse and let her bask in her stories of yore, when women didn’t need huge bags to carry all their belongings because they had men to do that for them and yadi yadi ya.

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If you’re going to dinner at a fashion friend’s place, live on the edge, forget the rules, and pair white on white, like subject B, to acknowledge your understanding that Labor Day means nothing in the scheme of style. This decision will also speak to the impressive level of confidence you maintain in your ability to keep a Thanksgiving meal in your plate, or your mouth but definitively off your clothes. Good on you.

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Maybe you’re staying home. Maybe the party is coming to you. Maybe that party includes only a +1 or better yet, none. Dress down for the theater that is not your life but the party that indubitably is with a pair of durable overalls that leave enough room for both copious amounts of cider and solid nourishment. Do you have a pair of Gucci horsebit loafers? Wear them. If you don’t, perhaps you’ll consider them when Black Friday parades in? You can get them so cheap from The Real Real.

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And as for the aftermath of the night of many cranberries?

Jared was kind enough to lend out his comfort pants.

Three Books to Read While You’re in a Food Coma

Have you ever been so full from artisanal popcorn or high on a peanut butter cup masqueraded as a smoothie, that you couldn’t move a cat out of the line of fire if its life — and it does — depended on it?

Amelia might say you’ve been Cheese-Caked.

I say you’ve just finished the Thanksgiving meal.

It’s been three hours since you last looked up from your plate. Grandma’s hit the apple cider hard, and she’s doing that thing where she refuses to believe that Regis Philbin has left LIVE! But you’re too tired to correct her, or do much of anything else for that matter. All you want is to constrict yourself to a corner of the couch and doze off. It’s not even 7PM yet. You’re bumping through a premature hangover.

It’s okay. Here are three books that might help get you over the hump.

Texts from Jane Eyre

By: Mallory Ortberg

Ortberg is the co-creator of The Toast. The site has garnered a cult following due to its witty feminist commentary and the widely popular feature, Texts From, includes hilarious hypothetical texting conversations with famous literary and political figures.

Ever wondered how Edgar Allen Poe might fare on iMessage?

Here’s an excerpt from The Toast:

hey i’m going to be late to Kim’s thing

can’t really leave the house right now

save a seat for me though okay

is that bird still there?

no

lol what bird?

oh

yes

but that’s not the point

the bird’s fine, whatever

it’s the bells

the bells?

yeah

the bells, bells, bells, bells,

bells, bells, bells-

what bells?

from the jingling and the tinkling of the bells

what bells are in your house?

oh man what kind of bells AREN’T here

mellow wedding bells

golden bells

loud alarum bells

bronze bells

terror bells

terror bells?

all kinds of bells

the anger of the bells

the horror of the bells 

the iron bells

sobbing bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, 

bells, bells, bells, bells

okay

okay I’ll save you a seat

yeah definitely save me a seat though 

i’m for sure going to make it 

i just have to sit through the bells first

right

Texts from Jane Eyre And Other Conversations with Your Favorite Literary Characters, published on November 4th, is an expansion on the feature. The book includes smartly imagined “convos” with Teddy Roosevelt, Scarlett O’Hara and of course, the eponymous Jane Eyre.

To quote Elizabeth Gilbert, “I ate it like it was candy coated in crack cocaine.”

Yes Please

By: Amy Poehler

Amy Poehler has pulled me through some of the more traumatic experiences of life. In 2008, my counselor took my fellow campers and I to see Baby Mama after our bunk had suddenly burned down in a fire. Poehler’s Hillary Clinton impersonation on SNL settled who I’d vote for if the election ever came around and I swear, nothing subverts a menstrual mood swing like an episode of Parks and Recreation.

I know her new memoir will get you through this. Poehler delivers accounts of her improv days at Second City and SNL with her signature honesty and self-deprecating sense of humor. It’s everything you wish your mother taught you and maybe (sorry, mom) more.

Crazy Rich Asians

By: Kevin Kwan

An “oldie” but a goodie, Kevin Kwan’s fictional commentary on the lavish lifestyles of Asia’s upper class is (disclaimer) nearly impossible to put down. The novel is part Montague and Capulet love story, part rippling social satire. Clever and enthralling all the way through, the book will promptly aid your forgetting that the pecan pie you gorged on moments ago is about twenty minutes from exploding out of your ass.

Feature image on the left via I-D, image on the right via Elle Italia

If You’re Eargerly Thinking About Black Friday But Just Don’t Want to Wait

Impatience is an oft-neglected virtue that deserves attention when Black Friday is on the imminent horizon.

What tends to happen across the month of November is a string of vows in the direction of fiscal saving. Call it the shopping equivalent of food deprivation wherein, say, a cupcake lover will swear off frosting-festooned delicacies for x amount of time only to find herself having maniacally relapsed several weeks later.

I’m not projecting.

While just before sale season, the supposition is that the spending-strike goes into effect with the intention of coming out on top like a lion eager to burn holes through its pockets, there is the question of what happens to the impatiently virtuous shoppers in the interim. Do they lose it? Make poor decisions as a result of the self-inflicted blockade? Break their vows several days too early only to find that when discount day finally comes, the load has already been blown?

Amuze (as in, the artist formerly known as the Internet’s best kept sale secret) has seemingly been able to quell that gaping-though-prematurely burning fire for the unwilling-to-wait with its selection of deals so good, they could conceivably put Howie Mandel out of a job. Case in point: a pair of grey suede Saint Laurent sneakers that went up this morning, down to $185 from $680. A white cropped Tibi sweatshirt, down to $95 from its original $365 and, of course, one should not forget any of the presently photographed spoils: a polka-dot Valentino Va Va Voom bag (a shoe sale for the brand is currently in effect, too), Judith Lieber’s ambitiously encrusted flower pot, one gold Lanvin blazer and enough Balenciaga footwear to give you whiplash.

Of course, there is a chance that you do not suffer from the symptoms of overeagerness. Maybe you come from the school of thought that is built on the very tenant that good things come to those who wait. And maybe, too, you’re right. So if you do plan to wait until Friday, you can rest assured that all discounted merchandise on Amuze will be further reduced and offered with free shipping (but only through Monday).

Ka ching! Happy birthday! Tofurkey!

Shot by Charlotte Fassler and Krista Lewis; written in partnership with Amuze

Does Using Chapstick Perpetuate the Need for Chapstick?

So the rumor goes, the more Chapstick (lip blam?) you use, the more you need.

But is it true? According to my lips, sometimes yes and sometimes no. This month, for example has seen my mouth feeling relentlessly dry regardless of the inordinate amounts of Balm dot com I smear across them. Last month, however, two simple strokes of the same ingredient could have nipped any lip flakes in their respective buds. So what is it — Chapstick: good for chapped lips or bad for chapped lips? This inquiring mind wants to know.

Original image via Spur magazine

Stories for The Ride

If you’re traveling this week, or simply want to hear a good story, I’ve culled a handful of my favorite podcasts for a Thanksgiving mixtape. Until last year, the idea of storytelling conjured hokey old men or exhausting dinner companions. I never associated the word itself with good storytelling until I happened to download a few podcasts before a flight. Since then, it’s like I discovered a secret world in which Nick van der Kolk, Ira Glass and Roman Mars unfurl endless, fascinating and exceptional content. And it’s all free. So, I’m sharing it.

First up, a story from Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich at RadioLab.

RadioLab: You Are The Judge (From Black Box)

“The Piddingtons” was a hugely successful BBC radio show in the 1950’s, which featured guests providing Syd Piddington with information, while Lesley Piddington — radio-ing in from a diving bell or aiplane — would miraculously recite it. The couple never revealed if the performance was telepathy or a parlor trick, not even to their grandson Jesse, when he learns of his family’s showbiz history as an adult. Still a mystery 60 years later, Jesse and the guys at RadioLab try to figure it out.

This American Life: FIASCO! 

This American Life is the standard-bearer for storytelling radio. The first act of this episode relays the saga of a small-town play gone awry; I’ve never heard Ira laugh so much in an interview. The second act features a short story in the form of a well-intentioned villager’s unusually relatable testimony about his potential role in the destruction of his village. The third act is a cop’s account of taking on a squirrel in the name of chivalry. 

Strangers: Big Jim and Smokey Joe

Lea Thau’s “Strangers” focuses on human encounters and the surprises they hold; Thau’s a masterful producer and former Director of The Moth. Big Jim and Smokey Joe takes a second to hit the meat of it, but it’s interesting throughout and it pays off.

Snap Judgement: Bandoola (From The End of The Line)

It’s 1945 in Burma, Japanese Imperial forces are invading, and teak harvester Bill and his favorite elephant, Bandoola, are charged with leading an evacuation of elephants and refugees on foot to the safety of India. I love this story.

Love+Radio: The Pandrogyne

Nick van der Kolk’s Love+Radio is a standout for me. It’s definitely unique, and kind of feels like the first time I heard Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back,” which is to say I’ve never heard anything like it, I’m sure it’s influenced by sounds and shows far outside my knowledge base, and it took me a minute to fully fall in love. The Pandrogyne is a bizarre and wholly endearing love story. If that one doesn’t do it for you, check out Sesquipedalian or The Wisdom of Jay Thunderbolt. Fun fact: Nick van der Kolk’s “About” page used to have a picture of

99% Invisible: Heyoon

99% Invisible is consistently delightful. It’s focus is design, the “99% invisible activity that shapes our lives.” This story delves into the rumors and truth behind a seemingly mystical and definitely off-limits hangout outside Ann Arbor. The kids call it Heyoon.

Bonus show:

The New Yorker Fiction Podcast: Nathan Englander reads John Cheever, The Enormous Radio

As for me, I’ve got at least six hours in the car on Wednesday afternoon. Any suggestions?

Image via The Edit and iPhone Image Shot by William Eggleston

The Chatroom: Jenny Slate

If you’ve ever contemplated a lentil as a hat, or whether you’d prefer to ski using toe nails from a man or hang glide on a Dorito, there is a fair likelihood that you are familiar with a series of viral YouTube videos in which a tiny shell wearing pink sneakers, aptly titled Marcel the Shell with Shoes On, shares his microscopic lament and offers sound life advice.

Since inception, Marcel the Shell has been spun off into a children’s book. And its narrator and part-brainchild, the ineffable Jenny Slate and most recent subject of Man Repeller’s The Chatroom has seen success to mirrors Marcel’s. Best known for her recurring stints on Parks and Rereation, House of Lies, and Kroll, Slate’s most recent creative endeavors include a film that premiered at Sundance called Obvious Child and a role on the FX series, Married.

Though her policies on Internet-use are more liberal than those of the previous Iris Apfel’s, she maintains that due to its vastness, the Internet can be fairly intimidating. Thankfully, this doesn’t inhibit the multitude of anecdotes she generously shares on the proper way to wear a thong, what it really means to “boot up” a computer and a Y2K impulse piercing.

Watch, laugh, learn, discuss.

Beyoncé’s 7/11 Actually Succeeds in “Breaking the Internet,” It’s Just: Why?

Kim Kardashian attempted to win the Internet earlier this month when she allowed Paper Magazine to publish nude photos of her for their December “Break the Internet” issue. For at least three days — a century in Internet speak — her name was on the tip of every digital tongue across the web. But the conversation shifted swiftly and definitively on Friday, when for the second time in one year, Beyoncé practiced unorthodox proceedings and utilized social media’s democracy to drop a single and accompanying music video without providing context.

Since Friday, Beyoncé’s “7/11″ has garnered upward of 20,000,000 views on YouTube, which is impressive but not unpredictable when considering the star’s clout. What is unique, however, is the actual video, which is effectively a three and a half minute selfie that appends a 15-word song, which will at best become a club hit and at worst, give your mother a headache.

She’s on a terrace, wearing knee pads, acting jovially in a sweatshirt that reads Kale across the front. She’s spinning in a chair and then she’s in a bathroom. She wears full-coverage granny panties with the same demure austerity that she does Givenchy couture (worn under a sweatshirt) and though she’s conceivably goofing off, sometimes with her friends-cum-back-up dancers, other times with a Christmas tree as her leading back-up dancer, the assumption is that whatever we’re seeing has been conceptualized deliberately and marketed for public consumption.

Here’s the thing, though: this semi-crude selfie video, when held up against the highly produced and incredibly styled videos that are typically indicative of a Beyonce production, could theoretically make a much larger statement about the way in which we consume digital entertainment.

Maybe in 2014, it’s no longer really about achieving the most beautiful, or rehearsed “shot” so much as it is making sure that your point is conveyed unflinchingly and clearly.

The video in question, which commanded parallel engagement and enthusiasm vis-a-vis it’s fancier siblings, seems like an old-school nod to creative substance (solid dance moves, a human necessity to connect with, or experience celebration) that is being propelled by the proliferation of technology in a way that is nostalgic but fundamentally only available to be tested as a result of progression. This video stands as an interesting case study on the topic of over-saturation and what that concentration leads to. If it does, in fact, drive the generation of minimalism, does that mean we’re entering the age of modernist digital content?