Blue Velvet Sectional

Well, it's here.  As soon as the jack-o-lanterns have turned to mush and the poppy is off my lapel, it's Christmas season. Normally, this is where I up my butter intake to truly heroic levels, but I think I will try to limit my intake this year. That being said, I present to you below a   wicked  chocolate cake recipe, and it's vegan!  No eggs, no butter (just a bit of canola oil), but yes, there's sugar and flour.  This is  adapted  from Mollie Katzen's children's cookbook Honest Pretzels .  It doesn't need icing, but if you add some buttercream,   Stella McCartney  will hate you. Vegan Chocolate Cake In a glass 8 or 9 " square pan, mix together  1 1/4 cup flour 1 cup sugar 1/3 cup good cocoa 1/2 tsp salt 3/4 tsp baking soda Make 4 dents in the mixture- 2 big, and 2 small. Pour into the dents  1 cup water  1/3 cup canola oil 1 tsp vanilla extract 1 t...

The Red Rooster, in Harlem.  And no, you don't need to be a girl to be a Friday Night Girl! How have I not posted anything about my beloved Friday Night Girls before?

Jean-Luc's ancient vines. Merlot grapes,  Paul Giamatti was wrong!! In the past 8 years, I have visited Champagne, in France (twice), the Chianti/Brunello region of Italy (three times), Napa Valley in California, and most recently,  we went back to France for Bordeaux.  Do you see a pattern here? It looks like I plan my vacations at the  LCBO.

This book is desperately needed by some of my neighbours. We celebrated on Sunday, so on actual Thanksgiving,  I went to the only grocery store open in the area, to pick up a few things.  So, it seems, did everyone else in the city.  The parking lot was full, cars were illegally parked everywhere, and when we left, there were cars stretched around the block trying to get into the lot.  In the store, there were people buying the whole nine yards- turkeys, potatoes, veggies, pumpkin pies.  I have a grudging respect for people who don't plan their Thanksgiving dinners until noon the day of; it's absolutely the opposite of someone like me.

People watching from Les Deux Magots I am about to make a controversial statement- one that may cause some of you to question my sanity: I like Air Canada.  I'm sorry, but it's true. I've never had a problem with them that wasn't weather related, and they've never lost my luggage (I check only on the way home).  Yes, the flight attendants are as friendly as diner waitresses working the midnight shift, but as long as they bring me Diet Coke when I need it, I'm cool.  Frankly, I am not one to want to sing Happy Birthday to my fellow travelers anyway (sorry, West Jet). The planes are new, the TVs plentiful, and the food is, well, free. When we flew to Paris last month, it was on old familiar AC 880, which we've taken several times before.  We got to the airport too early, of course.  No bags to check (truly, you don't need to check luggage.  I've done 2 weeks in Europe no problem, though I suspect traveling to a cold climate would pose problem...

Bemelmans Bar You don't have to be a high class hooker to love a good hotel bar. Herewith, Lori's Rating System for a few places where drinks cost more than you ever imagined they could: New York: Bemelmans Bar, Carlyle Hotel Drinks: I had the Champagne flight, and my friend had the Carlyle Punch, I believe. Very nice. The flight had a sparkling red, which you don't see every day. Ambience: Low lights, great jazz, stunning decor. Lots of facelifts and fur coats, but that's half the fun of being there. Free Munchies: Top notch.  Olives, too! Restroom: Clean and classy, no attendant Other: Bemelmans is a legendary New York establishment.  The interior, by, yes,  Ludwig Bemelmans , is a standout, but the vibe was fun, not snobby or douchy. A great night out. Champagne Bar at the Plaza Drinks: I actually had one of my favourite drinks here.  The Imperial Plaza was outstanding, but for $26, it ought to be. Ambience: It was the afternoon, so it was...

People are endlessly surprising.  I just wish it wasn't so often because they  totally fucking suck. The day I started at my current job, while giving me a tour of the office, my boss stuck a yogurt in the fridge.  When she went back for it a few hours later, it was gone.  Apparently this had been happening on and off for the past year, but the Yogurt Thief was about to go into overdrive, and was about to steal the wrong lady's yogurt.

This is not evening wear. Last Friday we went to the 21 Club for a pre-theatre dinner, and then on to the Belasco Theatre to see Neil Patrick Harris in Hedwig and the Angry Inch .  The dinner was amazing, and NPH blew my mind (I now have a serious crush on him, but we'll deal with that later). Afterwards, we stopped by  The Modern for a late drink.  Sounds like a classy evening out, right?  Well, almost.

White Velvet Cutouts. The Champagne of sugar cookies. I can't even tell you how many batches of these cookies I have made.  I got the recipe from a Seventeen magazine when I was probably 13 years old.  I have been making them ever since.  They are great for so many reasons: they hold their shape when you bake them; they're a bit tart, thanks to the cream cheese; they're soft, but not too soft; the tangy glaze is a perfect counterpart to sweetness of the cookies.

Watching 60 Minutes was a Sunday night family ritual growing up- after dinner, we would settle in the living room to watch Mike Wallace rip some corrupt official a new one,  and I would dream up excuses for Monday morning for why my homework wasn't done.  Another family TV ritual is one I continue alone now, as I don't know a soul who is remotely interested in joining me to watch my not-so-secret shame,  40 year old  Columbo reruns. Come on, Peter Falk was adorable, right? All Columbo episodes end with exasperated killers confessing as the only way to make Peter Falk shut the hell up and stop pestering them.   Peter Falk was a fine actor, and adorable, in his way. His rumpled look actually holds up much better than than you'd think.  The 70s were a particularly cruel decade to men- hello, leisure suits and polyester! - and my GOD, the haircuts!  Columbo had great guest stars. One of my favourite episodes starred the crazy handsome a...

Best. Drink. Ever.  Bar Hemingway, Paris (excuse the terrible phone photo.) I'm heading to New York the first weekend in August.  I've gone at the end of the month a few times, for the US Open, and to say goodbye to my beloved Shea Stadium, but this is the first time I have gone in the dead of summer with no specific event planned.  Well, except for seeing Neil Patrick Harris in Hedwig - can't wait for that.  I'm such a fatalist that I actually worry he'll fall off his platform shoes and hurt himself before I get there.  Keep it together for 4 more weeks, NPH!

Elaine:  "I will NEVER understand people." Jerry:  "They're the worst!" If, like me, you have ever had to utter the sentence " Excuse me, but could you not clip your toenails on the bus? ", you might understand my frustration with my fellow human beings.  A casual observer of this blog might go away thinking I'm an irredeemable misanthrope, but that's not (entirely) true. Yes, during the average day, I scold strangers for various offenses, but it's only because, well, let  George  explain. The thing is, though I sort of hate people, I love humanity, if that makes any sense.  By any criteria, we really are the worst- millennia of religious oppression, warfare, tribalism, sexism, and yet... look at all the good stuff! Some guys with crappier tools than you have in your garage built this. Respect.

The Tenement Museum, Orchard St, New York A few years ago, I moved into a brand new condo on a sweltering August 1st.  When I arrived with all my stuff, my landlord told me that the A/C wouldn't be ready for another month.  Surprise!  I lost my mind.  You would think I was being told I'd be without running water for a month.  I naturally started crying.  That night, I combed the city in search of cheap fans. I yelled at my landlord to knock some money off my rent.  It was a tiny condo with not too many opening windows, and that place was humid bordering on fetid for the month.  It was a nightmare.  Well, compared to my usual environment of perfectly comfortable.   In retrospect, I am aware that I did overreact.  Yes, I was sweatier than I cared to be for the hottest month of the year, but come on .  This was a prime example of what the nauseating but sort-of-right-on hashtag First World Problems describes. I visite...

Cute enough to deserve my Kate Spade plates. Well, actually, it was for a friend's birthday, but  World Pride  is happening here in Toronto, so it seemed doubly appropriate.  I used  this  Duff cake mix, and I'm pretty happy with the results. (Fun Fact- I can't get on the Duff website from my office- apparently they think I'm looking for porn when I'm looking for cake mixes.  Great.)

Do you think a recent lottery winner lives here? In my last office, we had a guy who ran the lottery pool.  He diligently collected money every week from a sizable group of people, but not me. I buy maybe 2 tickets a year, if it occurs to me.  Any more investment than that feels like burning money.  This man talked about it incessantly, especially if there was a lot of money at stake.  In Canada, the jackpots don't get as ridiculously huge as in America, but every now and then, they'll hit 20-40 million dollars.  The good thing, though, is that lottery winnings are not taxed in Canada, so if you win $40 million, you get a cheque for $40 million. And this poor schmuck was so sure he'd win.