At Barcamp Philly this last weekend, I noticed the sign you see above in the restrooms of the University of the Arts, where the conference was being held. I appreciated the reminder, however they would have been far more effective, had the soap dispensers beneath them contained any soap at all.

In other news, I did an interview with a reporter at KYW on Friday about buying local for Thanksgiving, canning and some of my favorite holiday recipes. This morning, I started getting emails, messages and Facebook notes from friends and family, saying that they’d heard me on the radio. I have no idea how much of the interview has been airing, but all 24 minutes of it is available online (I imagine that my parents are the only ones who will want to listen to this straight through, but who knows). Links to the recipes I mention are here.

I’ve waited until the last moments of this Thursday to post here. I’ve got so much I’d like to write – about being a helper to a woman who fell at the corner of 18th and Walnut last night, making a dinner out of leftovers that was more satisfying that the original incarnation, the beauty of well-seasoned cast iron pans – but I am simply out of brain power at the moment.

I wrote about making cranberry jelly tonight over at Food in Jars, and a new grocery store on East Passyunk Ave. earlier today on uwishunu. And, if you’re in the Philly area and listen to KYW, consider tuning in tomorrow around 9:30 a.m., as you’ll hear me talking about buying locally for Thanksgiving (I may also squeeze a brief plug in for my cranberry canning classes).

Growing up, my parents had different styles of teaching the operating rules of life to my sister and me. My mom took a more nuanced approach whereas my dad was more direct and straight forward about communicating the tenets he wanted us to absorb and make part of our way of operating in the world. I’ve come to live with what they taught in a similar way. My mom’s life lessons are just part of who I am. My dad’s exist in a different place and live in bold letters in my head. Here are a few of them…

• If you take your shoes off in the living room, tuck them under the coffee table so that other people don’t trip over them.
• Turn off the light when you leave the room (after one warning, we owed him $.25 a lamp)
• When taking the trash out, the job is not complete until the bag has been replaced.
• Clean up as you go while cooking.
• Do not leave trash around the house (particularly candy/gum wrappers), they will appear in your bed if they’re found outside an appropriate receptacle.

and, most importantly

• Life is lived within a series of communities. Always be aware of your impact on the community around you. This starts with your home community and extends in ripples out into the world. It is of particular importance when you’re driving. You must be aware of how your actions effect the people around you.

As I’ve approached the age at which I’m considering/planning on having kids myself, I am increasingly impressed with the way my parents raised me and I hope to do a similarly able. We shall see (thankfully, it’s not an issue at this time).

(As I was writing this list, I realized that I wrote something similar for Father’s Day a few years ago. I may be running out of ideas).

Earlier tonight, I went with Scott, Becky and Eric to see Jonathan Safran Foer read from his new book Eating Animals. It’s an exploration of the choice he made to become a vegetarian, while his wife was pregnant with their first child. He said that he was compelled to look at his eating habits as he anticipated parenthood, because he’d soon be called upon to make decisions for another being.

He read briefly from his book, primarily from a section that poetically details his foundational childhood food memories, many of which took place around his grandmother’s kitchen table. I connected with this part, being someone who’s spent a great deal of time examining the roots of her own food/eating aesthetic, and the many woman in my family who played a role in shaping it.

After that, he moved into an hour of question/answer, which didn’t hold me in the same way as his writing. It’s not that he isn’t a personable and engaging speaker. And to be honest, I essentially agree with the thesis of his argument, which is that the factory farming of meat is an un-humane and unsustainable practice in this country. Yes, we eat to live, but we also eat for pleasure. And in our culture, where food in plentiful, it’s impossible to separate the practice of eating from the receipt of pleasure. Every bite can’t simply be a political act. It also has to be a joyful one.

Now, I’m not saying that we have to eat lots of meat because it’s the only source of pleasure. There is so much food that can be deeply delicious and pleasing that contains no meat at all. I just believe that you can’t talk about food without at least touching on the subject of pleasure and satisfaction. To me, it’s an empty discussion without that factor.

(Just to be clear, I buy the best meat I can. I haven’t personally bought factory farmed meat in at least a year, so I’m deeply on board with the idea that if we eat meat, we need to ensure that it’s the most humane we can get).

For a more thoughtful discussion on this issue, go read what my friend Joy (co-author of the recently published cookbook Almost Meatless) wrote last week.

It seems to me that this is an incredibly poor choice in company name. Because who says, “I’d like my onions to be as flavorless as possible. Yep, that’s right, give me the bland ones.”

One can only imagine that it’s the family’s name. Otherwise it’s just ridiculous.

In the midst of making french toast, prior to updating my veggie list, with a stalk of Brussels sprouts in the background.

Best Kettle Chips ever! Smoky, tangy and with that classic kettle cooked flavor. It took everything I had to keep us from eating the whole bag in one sitting.

I left work early today and walked down to the new Foster’s store on 3rd Street. I went to take pictures for work and then afterward, Scott and I had plans to meet up to grab some dinner and see the new Coen brothers movie, A Serious Man. I found I had some time to kill between the time I finished shooting the store and meeting Scott, so I found myself wandering around Old City.

It was the first time in years that I had the opportunity to wander that area of the city without purpose. When I initially moved to Philly, I would often find myself with wide swaths of time that needed to be dispatched. On a Friday night, I’d leave work without purpose, choose a direction and walk for an hour or two. I’d explore new neighborhoods, meander down alleys (of course being careful and avoiding streets that gave me wiggly nerves) and eventually make my way home. I was lonely, but it was at least better to be out among people than to just sit at home alone and watch TV.

As the months past, I made more friends and my life started to happily fill. I let those solitary walks drop away. But being out there tonight, even if just for that hour, brought that period of time sweeping back into the forefront of my consciousness. Recalling it, I felt fondness for that era, when I was just at the beginning.

When I was in senior in college, I found a massive Le Creuset pot at a thrift store for $10. It was bright yellow and I was instantly smitten with it. I remember trying to talk my small town thrift store into discounting the price, but even they knew what they had (so what if the enamel was a little bit chipped?). I used that pot whole final year of school, making beef stews and pasta sauces in its room interior, all the while feeling like a real cook.

After school was over, I moved home for a few months, just until I figured what was next. What turned out to be next was a move to Philadelphia, in which I entrusted all my worldly belongings to the Amtrak cargo service (a great way to ship large items from sea to shining sea for very little money). The pot was too heavy, so it was left behind. I promised it that I would be back for it, and my sister took it with her to the house she shared with friends in Portland’s Ladd’s Addition neighborhood. Sadly, when that housing situation finally broke up, my old pot was badly burnt, and the lid was missing entirely. Knowing just how much enameled cast iron cookware cost, I mourned that piece but good.

These days, I don’t find myself mourning the demise of that pot as fervently as I once did, as I’ve discovered that getting married has been the cure for this girl’s Le Creuset woes. The stack you see above represents my cook pot array and I’ve also got a handful of other pieces in different shapes and sizes.

Lest you think our friends and family showered me in hardware, I must admit that the top three pots have been mine for awhile. The very smallest pot at the top of the stack once belonged to my mother. It is the only remaining piece from the set of Le Creuset that her Aunt Doris gave her for her wedding back in 1970. Unfortunately, she learned the hard way that cast iron enamel doesn’t take kindly to regular bleachings.

The orange pot one level down was part of a lot of vintage Le Creuset/Descoware I bought on eBay about a year ago. I don’t know exactly why I did that, but I do so love that little vessel. Next down is a more modern 5 1/2 quarter that Scott bought me for Valentine’s Day the first year we were dating (actually, the pot you see there is a replacement. The first one was flawed and Le Creuset replaced it under their limited lifetime warranty). Nothing says love like heavy duty cookware. Only the bottom two have been a result of getting married. But that doesn’t make me love them any less.

I do believe I am now set for life when it comes to cookware. At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself to believe.

You may have noticed that there’s been more activity on this blog in the last few days than in the whole previous month. That’s because it’s NaBloPoMo, the month during which people all across the world commit to post on their personal blogs every day for 30 days straight. Thing is, I haven’t actually signed up or actually promised to anyone that I’m doing NaBloPoMo. But I’ve been wanting to post here more, and this seemed like as good a time as any to do it.

So here I am.

Expect more tomorrow.