Art Chick Shtick

yes! it's Bret from Flight of the Conchords on lead ukulele!!!

While I pack my bags for another adventure-filled summer in Woodstock, I leave you a musical interude for those who share my love of hip-hop and ukulele:

Under the Sea (in Warwick)

"unquestionably genuine"(inspired by a sailer's valentine) 24 x24 x 4, mixed media on cradled birch--vinegar paint, vintage mother of pearl buttons, vintage silk velvet, vintage game piece, ephemera, hand-stitched

 

When I heard that Jen O'Connor's spring event would have the theme "Under the Sea" my first thought was base my work on one of my favorite-favortite poems--Romance by Robert Louis Stevenson:

I WILL make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
I will make a palace fit for you and me,
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.
I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,
Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,
And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white
In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.
And this shall be for music when no one else is near,
The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!
That only I remember, that only you admire,
Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.

<<Red Vevet Cake (vintage silk velvet)

Are Jennifer Lanne and Nicole Bowen adorable or what? 

The final painting (it's very large--like 36 x 48 or something like that--on cradled birch) was inspired by another poem and sums up my feelings of longing and fear of the sea--years ago I lived in Connecticut on a property directly on the beach.  As much as I loved watching my children play on the beach I was also constantly vigilant and cautious of the hurricanes and stormy weather.  A real love/hate relationship...

O Captain! My Captain!
By Walt Whitman'

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

                         But O heart! heart! heart!

                            O the bleeding drops of red,

                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

                         Here Captain! dear father!

                            The arm beneath your head!

                               It is some dream that on the deck,

                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

                            But I with mournful tread,

                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

Jen has these paintings now so please ask her if you would like to see details--many of the larger pieces are on cradled birch--there are LOTs of fancy paint techniques so if you want to know anything feel free to email so I can explain. The hand-stitching is not just on the surface so these are quite a bit more labor intensive and quite honestly I'm pooped so I'm not going to paint or sew or anything for the next week while I get the household ready to head back to Woodstock.

And now you'll have to please excuse me while I brag about how cute my kids are--check out David's prom pics:

 

GRASS: Apparently It's All About Anarchy

Let me clear something up--it's not simply that I don't care for grass as I so glibly announced in the prior post. 

My vigorously non-competative nature begs me to clarify that I am, in fact,

POLITICALLY OPPOSED TO LAWNCARE.

It's true--I do try to keep it a secret because if word got out really, what would the neighbors think

I live in Marysville, Ohio--home of Scotts Lawncare.

There's a sign posted for all who enter this town proclaiming, "Marysville, Where the Grass is Always Greener."

A few years ago I thought my neighbors won the Publisher's Clearing House prize-thing--at 4 a.m. the street was lit up with camera crews, helicopters, etc--they were filming a commercial because their lawn was so gd fantastic.

That sort of thing makes me ill.

I'd take a sandy beach anyday--or a big pile of leaves.

Here's a quote from one of my favorite websites:

Why nationalized lawn care?

Studies show that the rich have large and beautiful lawns, while the poor often have no lawns or small lawns of poor quality. This is patently inequitable and unjust, and can have traumatic effects on self-esteem and social growth. The Federal Government must step in to ensure that every American realizes his or her right to have the self-esteem that only a thick, green lawn can provide.

Further, we see strong evidence of social injustice in means of providing lawn care. Rarely does a rich man provide lawn care for a poor family, but the poor are often found serving the rich in providing lawn care. Low-paying jobs in which the poor serve the rich include service activities such as mowing lawns, raking leaves, weed removal, and chemical lawn treatment. Social justice demands rectification!

Okay, enough about grass--I'm going to go watch re-runs of Pinky and the Brain and fix homemade pierogis to protest Saint Patrick's Day--

Na Zdrowie!

earthangels TAG

1) I do not like grass.  Although I love being in Woodstock, I'm only there for the trees.  I try not to look down. 

2)I LOVE hiphop and love to bump when I'm driving.  I drive a Landrover because of the Bose system with the doubled-up base.

3)On the subject of music, if I weren't a painter I would probably want to be an opera singer, although apparently being tone deaf could prove challenging.

4)I'm an ice snob.  I drive over an hour twice a week to get Sonic ice. I'm addicted. True story.

5)I can feel my brain thinking--i'm serious!  i can actually feel different areas of my brain thinking and sometimes it actually almost hurts.  (i swear i don't make these things up)

So now i'm choosing Debrina Pratt since she's new to Earth Angels and I'm not sure she knows what she's gotten herself into!!!

My Inner Midge

Another muse to add to my list of those previous professed is MIDGE!

Cool, isn't she!

Irrational Exuberance

Since I'm back to painting and drinking way too much Red Bull, I suspect I've finally recovered from Jen's Winter Extravaganza-O-megliarama, otherwise known as The HeART of Winter.  I mean WOW!, it was pretty!!! And pretty amazing to have all of us Earth Angel-ists together--we were so noisy that Jill Weiner had to be appointed dorm moniter to keep the giggling under contol.

Back at home... the kids have been keeping me really busy--David and Jacob are having band practice at my house 24/7 and now they're both playing rugby, Sophia has declared herself a vegetarian, I suspect because Adam sustained a cracked rib from being tackled by a vegan as he put away his groceries, and Tasie has finally figured out how to get out of Puerto Rico and is now searching for errant Rolling Stones on Mustique.

And I've been house-shopping...I think I've found a good one, although since it's an abandoned mansion and I'm truthfully the biggest chicken you've ever known, I suspect I would probably not last one night there alone.  But it is really nice--and a bargain!

It's directly across the street from the Franklin Park, home of the Franklin Park Conservatory, AND it's right down the street from the Columbus Museum of Art so I can't help but think what a nice studio it would be, don't you think?

Just in case I needed to throw an all-night dance party (that happens, you know) the third floor would be just great--it really does have an orchestra pit and a ballroom--perfect for my disco ball collection!

It is a bit large--I think I could get my entire studio AND my art collection AND all my kids and animals in there:

(Bob says as long as there's a basketball court he's fine with it--I have to admire his sense of priorities)

IN THE MEANWHILE...

What has garnered my irrational exuberance is my new paintings. 

Well, to call them paintings isn't quite accurate, and the hint is they're sitting sideways. 

If we still have internet service after the blizzard hits tomorrow I will post secret sneak peak images, otherwise they're being bundled up and sent to NY. 

If you want to be first in line you might want to start emailing Jen now--she LOVES it when you guys do that!

pre-heART of WinTer

Glitter, Garniture and other Tricks

So about that freshly stripped table..

Shockingly, I ended up painting it.

I really was going to vinegar paint it but all of my dry pigments are in New York. 

So while I was paint-shopping at Sinopia I noticed they have some cool stuff in their clearance section including Iron Glimmer from Morocco.  I probably need some, afterall if you're going to use an iron oxide god knows it's always better when it's from Morocco.   

(If you have no idea what to do with Iron Glimmer from Morocco stick around because as soon as I get my hands on some pigments I'll do a demo here.  I'll do demos here occasionally as time allows.  This blogging is really cutting into my naps)

I know the table looks hideous now but just wait.

Honestly I think most of what I paint looks hideous until the final days.

Case in point:

By next week they'll look less Edward Gorey-inspired.

Frightening, aren't they.  They look like me in the morning after I've been up all night painting.

Actually it is kind of like looking at yourself in the mirror in the morning.  Well, maybe it's just me but I cannot survive without a small boudoir-type lamp in the bathroom.  I can't say enough about how much my disposition improves when the first image I see of myself is in low, chiaroscuro-esque lighting.  Try it if you don't believe me.

I'm not saying it makes you look ravishing or anything.  But looking less freaky first thing in the morning can seriously set the tone for your entire day. 

I swear I look like this if I don't do the lighting trick:

So instead of doing the final-finish paint job on the table I'm getting myself back on track with my stuff, for the HeART of WinTer show which is like next week.  I'm so seriously not ready.  As per usual.

And now it's time for make up for me then glitter and garniture for these girls...

The Benevolent Tutor...or How I Charmed Will Barnet

"It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards"             --Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

If you were actually in the right place at the right time do you think you would realize it?  I didn't realize I had been there until many years later so this post is about the importance of being in the right place at the right time. 

And I mean it's very important so listen up...

The summer before my first epiphany I spent a great deal of time wandering the streets of NYC.  Early mornings on the weekends were my favorites.  A warm bialy from Kossar's was reason enough to get up so I'd head out the door for coffee and usually would not return for hours.

Let’s be honest, getting up early on the weekends and hitting the streets isn’t the easiest thing in the world but it was on one of these warm summer mornings that I met the man who was to be my greatest influence. 

By the way, chickie babes, we're talking like 30 years ago--and he wasn't Lewis Carroll.  I'm not that old.  Not quite. Very funny, but thank you for asking.

Back in the day (late 70's), I had absolutely no aspiration to be a painter--I honestly did not like being in painting studios or even being around painters--I was filled with total contempt and disdain--yuck!  The attitudes of the "2D" or two dimensional students (painters, print makers, paper people) were so stiff, so lofty, so linearally abstract that I found it difficult to carry on a conversation with them.  Sculptors, glassblowers and the rest of the "3D's" are generally more playful, rowdy and you know, fun. 

But I was very attracted to one painter's work and would go back to look at his work often.  One morning I was surprised to find out that the older gentleman sitting next to me was the artist himself.  He, too, was staring at the paintings, because that's what we painters do--kind of like looking in the mirror. Ah-so! Now I could interrogate him...

I remember standing close to the paintings with him, looking closely at his under-painting that was still quite visible and asking him why there was so much pencil showing?! why was the paint so thin? why? why? why? 

And he would patiently do his best to elucidate and to get me to stop making up so many rules about art! 

I was young, an ingenue!, and loved being in the city--what did I know?--I thought I knew a LOT if not everything.  His  work was a world apart from what was being shown in the hip galleries--courageously bright, bold work that everyone would emulate in the 80's. 

Except him.  And because of him, of course, me.

He made certain I kept the questions about painting coming but told me to draw--"forget about the paint for now."

And PS, I didn't paint for at least 10 more years. 

So I met with him occasionally throughout the summer.  In the warm mornings--before the galleries opened. He was always dressed casually in a dark suit--so unintentionally elegant.  I liked that about him.  If you want to know the truth I think it made me pay more attention to what he was saying. 

At the time I knew I really liked his work and he was really great to be teaching me so much about stuff I had never thought about.  But I, with my great plans for changing the world with my architectural designs, didn't exactly realize what an important person I had the good fortune to know. Perhaps he was charmed by my mid-western innocence although I suspect it may have been more that he was shocked at my impertinence on top of my general ignorance of painting!

His name was Will Barnet. Mr. Barnet.  THE Will Barnet. 

I sense his influence in my work, if not in subject then in mood, and know he is why I paint the way I do. And what my propensity for drawing is all about. And I know how really lucky I really am that somehow I was in the right place at the right time...

...even if it was only because I really like bialys. 

 

THE RUMORS ARE TRUE! my MiXed meDia Necklaces will debut at The heART of WinTer 2008

`It seems very pretty,' she said when she had finished it, `but it's rather hard to understand!'

(You see she didn't like to confess, even to herself, that she couldn't make it out at all.)

`Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas -- only I don't exactly know what they are! 

Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

Old images of my paintings are the centerpieces of my NEW Mixed Media Necklaces that will debut at the HeART of WinTer show in early February.  I don't have files of all of my old paintings but there are plenty to choose from. 

If there is a painting in particular that you would like on a necklace please get in touch with me(not likely) or the ever-more-accessible Jen O'Connor--I am willing to customize a little but I can't do true custom orders without getting nauseous...

The centerpieces are mixed media on stainless--the backs are cool papers and everything is oxidized and really pretty in that old jumbled way I love. They look like paper in the images but they're actually very,very solid--I had to go through several orders of metal to get it the right thickness--not too thin but not so heavy that give you a headache.  There are brass castings from vintage molds, escutcheons, old transit tokens and important "stuff" I've been collecting for years, semi-precious and otherwise cool stones and old czech beads, and whatever else I can get my hands on that has some kind of Bohemian chicness.  The oxidized, solid brass chains are all different styles--different lengths are fastened together with more objects d'art.  And the fasteners are mostly pretty cool oxidized copper or brass swirls and toggles but I am trying to get some others that are old and you know, just something that looks like something I would use--so stay tuned! 

Tasie grabbed a few when she was home for the holidays and reports that they're a hit at Sundance.

Obsessive Creativity Disorder: We can hardly control ourselves!

"My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage!"    --Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

Do you ever find yourself in the midst of a Obsessive Creativity Disorder -style creative frenzy and suddenly do something so bizarrely normal that no one believes you did it?  How often do you ask yourself, "What was I thinking?" 

Sophie and I cleaned out the armoire in the room-formerly-known-as-the-dining hall.  I'm not saying that this doesn't happen often but this is the armoire Joe Thomas was found in--alive--after he had been missing for three or four days.

--insert image--

In another highly controversial act, something else as equally uncharacteristic occurred:

--insert image--

I stripped the paint off a table.  True story.

Understand that this is groundbreaking.  Ornate Bavarian dinner plates, full services of silverware, centerpieces and requisite food is more likely to be painted on the table top than to have something colorful removed.

Babette's Feast has been on my mind for the past week--possibly fueling some sort of Gustavian fantasy where my life suddenly becomes cool, ordered and serene.  And my upholstered furniture is all professionally linen-covered and frumpled. 

Professionally frumpled.  Now that's some kind of goal.

And the wood furniture is stripped and waxed or painted a rainy Scandinavian grey.

Is there a possiblity that I have Seasonal Affective Disorder and I'm secretly getting depressed?

Who am I kidding?  I think I'll get Bob to finish stripping it so the surface is even.  And then maybe I'll vinegar paint the table top next week. 

Something more vivid and compelling than grey.

Last month at the Country Life Gallery in Warwick, NY, I had a conversation with Cheryl Kuhn about grey--it's her favorite color!

and PS, Joe's armoire is now filled with paint and I donated the armoire's former contents, a bunch of the fabric and yarn, but I'm not giving up my stash of Noro...never!

The Original Orange, Curry & Cardamom Smart Cookie's cookie recipe

What a nice, cozy, rainy day.

I'm so thankful the kids are finally back in school.  I mean really--I'm being honest here.  David, Jacob and Sophia are back with their friends, Tasie is in Utah figuring out how to look good while snowboarding, and Adam is home from Seattle...and back to ignoring me as per usual.

Today I have decided I am immoderately fond of anything with cardamom so let's bake cookies!  The cardamom thing hits me about once a year then after that forget it--the smell really becomes nauseatingly sweet and bitter like old perfume.  The cardamom thing has something to do with sweater-weather.  Sweaters have somehow mysteriously scattered themselves everywhere while the cookies are baking. My serger is on the kitchen table and I'm making black cashmere leg warmers for Tasie--extra long.  She says she's freezing but has learned to make a new Chinese soup so she's happy...and cozy, too.

I don’t want to make any rash generalizations, but it seems that every time I eat cardamom I feel different--like I'm in a psychadelic cardamom-influenced creativity abyss.  Has anyone else experience this phenomenon?  I think I'll call this one into Art Bell...

The Original ORANGE, CURRY & CARDAMOM SMART COOKIE's cookie recipe

2 c unsalted butter at room temperature
1 1/2 c baker's sugar
1 tsp curry powder and a pinch of salt
3 tsp cardamom
3 1/2 c flour
1 orange-worth of grated orange peel 
1 c chopped pecans...or almonds but I like pecans
1 c confectioner's sugar to roll the cookies in

Cream butter and 1 1/2 c sugar and spices in a small bowl. Sift flour and salt. Slowly add dry ingredients to mixing bowl.Stir in nuts and orange peel.

Form 1 tablespoon of the cookie dough into a ball.  Bake in a pre-heated 350 degree oven for at least 15 minutes but no more than 17.  Let them cool a couple minutes then roll the warm cookies in the powdered sugar.

If you can't find baker's sugar just use confectioner's sugar.

<<<My good friend and fellow artist chick, Bonnie Taylor Talbot, owns the original one and only SMART COOKIE painting. 

FOLLOW UP TO POST:  I, uh, didn't make dinner because I ate so many cookies!!!  (everyone survived)

the heART of WinTer

It could happen to you: Learning the Graceful Art of Balancing in High Heels

This painting's title was something about entertaining the neighborhood kids but I think everyone knew it was about a lot more than that.  Part of my job is of course entertaining the kids, if not the neighborhood, but what I'm constantly working on is the little issue of priorities and balancing eveything that's going on in my life.

I was going over my game plan for 2008--I mean that's what we're supposed to do while the football games are on, right?  Dick Blick always has a big sale on canvases in January so I was looking at how many I bought in 2007 so I could come up with a rough idea of how many I should buy.  Since Sephora also has a way to check your past online purchases I checked there and found that I had bought more at Sephora than at Dick Blick!  Of course I feel I had to since I really can't paint without that Urban Decay glitter liner!  That's gotta be a priority, right?

My number one favorite purchase from 2007 was the pair of brown velveteen Betsey Johnson platforms with the 6 inch heels. (From the Betsey Johnson outlet--not paying retail makes them even better) I wore them to the NY International Gift Fair so I was taller than Debbee Thibault--but she's still thinner and so cute!

So my questions is, Do things from Sephora and the Betsey Outlet count as art supplies?  I don't mean for tax purposes because I'm not talking dollar ammounts but in terms of balancing things in my mind I'm wondering how much these things affect the kind of art we do.  What are art supplies?  What would happen if I bought my studio shoes at oh, say L.L.Bean for example?  How would my work be affected?

Think of where you do your work--I have two really fabulous studios (one in Woodstock, NY and the other here in Ohio) but I spend more time painting in bed in my "chamber of inspiration" ( I had to think of someway to convince Bob that it would be a good idea for me to paint in the bedroom). 

Do you work at the kitchen table?  I LOVE painting on the kitchen table with all the kids running in and out--but my paintings get really BIG and chaotic-looking.  My work is seriously affected by the decision to make my painting comfyness more of a priority than how much paint I get on the bedding.  Painting in a big studio or in the kitchen of chaos versus painting in my bedroom is like the difference between shouting and pillowtalk or between singing loud and out of tune versus telling secret little stories.  I honestly like doing both, not that everyone appreciates the singing nor the occassional wad of gesso on their stockings, but the effect on my work is tremendous so it had to be a priority.

I'm not sure when and how this all started but it works so in terms of priorities and balance I think for now I'm going to stick with my current routine:  get up early, pour a glass of ruby red grapefruit juice followed by a red bull, spend way too much time in the bathtub and even more time putting on my makeup (applying mascara is like my time to meditate--it really centers me).  Get dressed like Miss Mary Mack and grab the high heels.  Take the kids to school, make a pot of tea and get to work.

If I don't do these things I don't feel like myself.  I end up taking a nap and wearing bunny slippers.

True story--what's yours?

Serge-O-Mania!

It's sweater weather in Ohio and I have to say, I really have great sweaters. Well, let me rephrase that. I have fantastic recycled cashmere sweater things. About .5% were actually purchased at retail, the rest were rather surreptitiously "acquired."

I'm a fiend about finding cashmere at thrift stores--and Columbus, Ohio has some of the best thrift stores ever for cashmere sweaters.  January is the prime month for new cashmere sweaters--you wouldn't believe how many people get them as holiday presents and then donate them--totally cool by me.

So I've been trying to use up my stash so I'll be ready for the onslaught of new old sweaters. I'm terrifically OCD (Obsessive Creativity Disorder) about sorting and storing them--I kinda think I like the hunting and gathering more than the actual sewing.

Last year I was all about felting which is, of course, now so-ho-hum-so-last-year. And the felting thing can be rather disgusting if you start with raw fleece.  Please don't send me hate-mail if you're a member of some national sheep herding association--there is no denying that picking "natural material" ( aka poo) out of a fleece is anything buy tedious  and time-consuming.  It's just gross--sorry.

Alright, so now it's time for Serge-O-Mania! 

I (finally) got a new Husqvarna overlock machine for my birthday--and I was completely enthralled until I found out that this company that prides itself in high quality Swedish manufacturing and engineering was actually importing their overlock machines from China.  I mean that really, really wasn't what was represented when we went to purchase it so after a week of complaining I gave up and sat down to sew.  Even if you don't know how to sew you can make things with a serger--they're so fast and fun!

(I'll post the pics  and finish the tutorial as soon as I get my camera to function properly--or maybe they just look better in person.  Or maybe I just think they do...)

Penmanship and Spenerican Script

Since I did not take opera singing lessons like I wanted to this year I'm going to try something a little more practical for my new year's goal--I'm learning to learn to control my handwriting (it's HUGE!) and learn Spencerian Script!

(and as soon as I master my new camera I will insert some examples of my work...)

Aromatic Bitters recipe

Aromatic bitters are on my list of great passions--preferably sprinkled into a glass of iced sparkling water. 

As something of an elixir junkie from childhood, my taste for bitters can probably be attributed to my mother's affinity for gin.  It began with the ever-present, funky, forbidden little bottle that lived in the refrigerator...that of course I, being a somewhat mischievous child, couldn't resist.  Campari came later and the true love affair blossomed. 

Making homemade bitters is a good signal to the start of the holiday season--it's right up there with making fruit cake but smells better. Let's start with the bitters since they take at least a month to brew...

1/2 pound Seville orange peels--chopped

2 cups vodka (something decent)

2 tsp Cardamom

2 tsp Caraway

2 tsp Coriander

Plus any assortment of herbs/spices you want to try--I've tried peppercorns, lavender, cinnamon and ginger

Basically you just put it all in a jar and let it seep for a month--shake it every day or so.

Strain the alcohol into jar and put the orange peel etc. into a saucepan.  Crush the seeds and cover with about 1 cup of water.  Simmer for a few minutes.  Pour this stuff into a jar and let it sit for a couple days.  Strain the liquid into the alcohol jar and discard the peel etc.

Let me know if you try this, especially if you try any interesting herb combinations.

If this all too complicated you can buy some interesting flavors at Fee Brothers.

"Le mieux est l’ennemi du bien.”--voltaire

"Le mieux est l’ennemi du bien.”

–Voltaire’s Dictionnaire Philosophique (1764)

(literally "the best is the enemy of good")

Maria Muldaur--"must-know" info

My sister, Amy, told me I was wrong about the Maria Muldaur post and that I should mention that I was not the only one involved with tantalizing the school with our dance routine.  I was actually in 6th grade--noted because one of my dance partners, Rosemarie Bommarito, had real boobs.

Maria Muldaur, along with Rhoda Morgenstern, had a serious impact on my personal development.  My father still considers it somewhat a personal miracle that I didn't try to catch a Yugoslavian freighter to Morocco when I was in high school.

I still think I look like her--if you kinda squint and don't think about it too much.

Here's the lyrics to Midnight at the Oasis:

Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Shadows paintin' our faces
Traces of romance in our heads
Heaven's holdin' a half-moon
Shinin' just for us
Let's slip off to a sand dune, real soon
And kick up a little dust
Come on, Cactus is our friend
He'll point out the way
Come on, till the evenin' ends
Till the evenin' ends
You don't have to answer
There's no need to speak
I'll be your belly dancer, prancer
And you can be my sheik

Tagine cooking: Roasted winter vegetables & Fried lemons (recipe)

I'm in love with a material object and it's not what you think-it's my tagine.  A Le Creuset Kiwi Tagine--it's terrifically lovely and a classic design albeit not terrifically authentic but I don't care.  It's just beautiful and I feel like Maria Muldaur when I use it. 

(She's the chick who recorded "Midnight at the Oasis" when I was in 5th grade.)

(and PS I can still do the dance routine I performed at our school's talent show...circa 1974.  True story.)

Let's get cooking...

1/2 c olive oil

8 cloves garlic kinda smashed

8 shallots cut in half

3 bulbs fennel quartered

1 smallish pumpkin--cleaned and cut into large-bite-sized chunks

2 eggplants--also cleaned and cut into large-bite-sized chunks

1 T chili pepper flakes

1 handful dried apricots

1 handful golden raisins

1 can organic chick peas

a good pinch of saffron

2 T cumin

2 T paprika

2 cans or 1 box chicken stock

1 large handful parsley &/or cilantro--chopped

course sea salt to taste

Preheat the oven to 375.  Sprinkle the pumpkin, fennel, shallots, garlic and eggplant with olive oil.  Put the fennel in the oven first and roast for 10 minutes.  Add the pumpkin and eggplant and roast for an additional 10 minutes.  Next add the shallots and garlic and roast for another 10 minutes.

Heat a large saucepan and add olive oil and spices to make a paste. 

Add the stock slowly to the paste to make a sauce and cook down until it thickens.

Next add the chickpeas, apricots and raisins to the sauce.

Put the roasted vegetables in the tagine and pour the spicy chickpea sauce over it.

Cook over a slow heat for 10 -15 minutes

Adjust the salt and pepper. Add the chopped parsley and coriander just before serving.

Serve with chermoula and fried lemons.

Fried Lemons:  Slice lemons into 1/4 inch slices and dust with cornstarch and flour (mixed 1:1).  Pan fry in olive oil.  Throw some fine salt and chopped parsley on top.  Yum.

On my list of not-quite-must-haves:  an aqua tagine