Favorite places: Paperie + Pen

I’ve been eyeballing Paperie + Pen (7550 W. Fairview, Boise) since it opened last year but didn’t step inside until yesterday, when my husband dragged me there to improve my stabby, snowmelt-induced mood. And thank God. It’s like Anthropologie had a baby made of stationery.

It’s the kind of place that makes me wish I were getting married now instead of 10 years ago, that sad no-man’s-land before Pinterest or the revival of retro fonts or metallic foil or ridiculously twee forest illustrations. I love ridiculously twee forest illustrations. Paperie + Pen has a well-edited selection of wedding invites, brides of Boise, and you should definitely go there to see them. I’ll be the thirtysomething in glasses at the other end of the store, consoling myself with a haul of heavy-stock notecards you won’t be able to afford for another seven to nine years. There are benefits to age.

I picked up Fig. 2 Design Studio notecards, Rifle Paper Co. notebooks, and a sugar • paper gold-foil card on Tiffany-blue paper. All well priced, all gorgeous and feminine, all completely useful and stylish. Paperie + Pen has a huge stock of office paper products in the back of the shop, but I got too distracted by the Sharpie selection to pay them much mind.

Stop in next time you’re trudging down the experiment in congestion that is Fairview Ave. It’s an unexpected bright spot in an otherwise gray area.

Anjelica Huston wrote a great book. You should read it.

If you’ve been around me for the past three months you’ve heard me talk (ad nauseum) about how much I loved, loved, loved Anjelica Huston’s autobiography “A Story Lately Told.” I highly recommend it as an audiobook; she reads it herself, and her accent still has vague traces of her Irish upbringing. The whole thing is just really wonderfully done. So many characters pop up: There’s her father, of course, the director John Huston, along with Peter O’Toole, Bob Richardson, Joan Juliet Buck, the Berensons — on and on and on. Her mother, the ballerina Enrica Soma, is a haunting, lonesome presence throughout the book. The passages about her are among the most heartbreaking.

She’s a fantastic writer, she’s led an interesting life, and this volume didn’t even cover the Jack Nicholson years. Word is the second volume will come out this year.

I love old photos of her. Here are a few of my favorites.

Minnesota is for shoppers

The first pair of moccasins were a necessity. The second, not so much.

I was in Minnesota, on the north shore of Lake Superior, on the way to my husband’s family cabin on Lake Poplar. And there they were: the nicest pair of navy blue leather Minnetonka moccasins, nestled on the rack at Tom’s Logging Camp outside of Duluth. I tried them on and they fit perfectly.

They were followed up a week later with a traditional brown suede pair from Joynes in Grand Marais. Very soft. A moment of weakness when I saw they were on sale.

I have a thing for well-made brand, especially if they’re from the United States (or Canada, for that matter). I have a deep devotion for all things Pendleton, for example. All of my frying pans are Griswolds. We have Hudson Bay Blankets that keep us cozy in the fall and winter. And then there’s Duluth Pack.

Duluth Pack (not to be confused with Duluth Trading Post) is more than 100 years old. They started out with – and still specialize in – knapsacks for canoeing trips. You can get them in more sizes than you’ll know what to do with; the hard-core gear is in their standard military green, which somehow doesn’t really fade with age. We saw a lot of people coming back from the Boundary Waters while we were in Minnesota, and all of them had Duluth Packs. They’re just standard, good gear.

But, like a lot of great old brands, they’ve branched out the past 10 years or so. A few years ago I saw their Leather Haversack and coveted it, but I just didn’t want to spend the money. On the way back down south, we stopped at the Holiday in Duluth and I bought a scratch-off ticket and won $100. About 20 minutes later, the Haversack was mine – and it has rarely left my side since.

I take this thing with me everywhere. It can fit my iPad, my notebooks, my phone, my wallet, my pens – and there’s a place for all of them. It is impervious to water. I’ve always received compliments on it, but I’ve noticed that they’ve really started to come in since the Haversack has started to get a bit beat up. It just keeps looking better.

I dropped it off in Duluth for a repair (they’re guaranteed for life) and picked up a new Market bag in oiled canvas. It’s been a nice stand-in purse, but it will soon become the most indestructible grocery bag in the history of time.

Of course, you don’t have to be in Minnesota to enjoy all of this stuff. Just remember the next time you’re about to plunk down some money for a fast-fashion find: How many more of these am I going to buy before I decide I want something that’s going to last?

When you do decide you’ve had enough of stuff that breaks, I suggest you take a look at Minnesota.

My trusty Haversack. 

Summer is fading fast

Flowers from the Boise Farmers Market.

Late-summer farmer’s market salad

We headed out to the Boise Farmers Market this morning with a vague plan to make dinner with whatever we found there. We were in luck: Each produce stand was bursting with perfect, juicy tomatoes, sweet corn, and — this is always the best — smoky roasted peppers from Peaceful Belly.

Here’s the salad I made with what we bought. It’s super easy; just chop, squeeze, and stir.

Serves 2

10 cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 large avocado, cubed
1 ear sweet corn, shucked
4 roasted anaheim chiles, roughly chopped
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped
Fresh juice from one lime
Salt and pepper to taste

Add all ingredients to medium bowl and mix gently to coat in lime juice. Refrigerate for one to four hours before serving.

Note: You could do a finer dice on everything (minus the corn) and serve with tortilla chips. Maybe add more tomatoes.

Have a gin & tonic. It’s good for you.

Slate says so.

I Will Never Make Pizza Dough Again

And not just because I’m terrible at it. It’s because you can buy completely fresh, perfect pizza dough at Guido’s downtown.

You ask for pizza dough, and they ask you when you’re going to make your pie: In an hour? Tomorrow? Three days from now? Then you get your dough based on your timeframe. (I’m assuming the dough is in various stages of the rising process.)

You take home this smooth, puffy, alive dough — resting on top of a pool of pale-green olive oil — in an unassuming styrofoam container.

One ball of dough made two medium-size pizzas. At $3.18, Guido’s makes it hard to make a case for Boboli.

The Only Way to Make Beer Better

This plus this and that equals good.

The final, brutal days of summer call for a remedy beyond the scope of mere air conditioning. The symptoms — persistent ennui, miserable sweating, consistent dry mouth, the sudden violent thoughts toward the lawn mower — cannot be assuaged by the traditional pale, icy beer. You need relief that cannot be found in a plain bottle straight from the fridge.

No. You need to supercharge your beer with some lemonade.

It’s not a new idea. You can find the same drink by other names: A shandy (made popular here by Leinenkugel’s refreshing Summer Shandy), or a clara, which is the Spanish version. There’s also a Mexican twist with limeade and beer that’s kind of approximated by Bud Light Lime.

We’re going to refer to our version as a clara. A word of caution: You’re going to look at the recipe below and think, Why can’t I just use pre-made lemonade? STOP IT. Trust me. It will be too sweet and won’t have the restorative power that comes with the perfect blend of tart acid and alcohol.

Here’s what you’ll need.

• Beer. I like Tecate for a clara.
• Simple Syrup. Here’s a recipe. It takes almost no time and can be stored for about a month in the fridge.
• Lemon juice. Don’t cut corners. Bottled juice tastes sad. This is a happy drink.

Step 1: Put your beer mugs/glasses in the freezer.

Step 2: Make your lemonade. This version is like concentrated lemonade; there is no water to dilute it. You’re really going to want to do this to taste. I like tart lemonade, so I use about 1 part simple syrup to 3 parts lemon juice. Mix in a jar and keep it on hand.

Step 2: Grab your now-frosty mugs out of the freezer. Fill your glass about 1/3 of the way with lemonade, then top with the beer of your choice. Mix very gently. Consume until refreshed.

Now, obviously, you can play around with this. You may like a sweeter lemonade, or you may want to tweak the lemonade-to-beer mix — but there is no going back once you find your own golden ratio. The dying days of summer will never seem as bad again.

Hello again.

Remember when I used to update this blog regularly? Me, too! Let’s catch up on what’s happened since then: Twitter cult favorite Kasey Anderson got into a heap of trouble. I went through about four bottles of these. I got my own hipster glasses. I drank a whole bunch of these. And these. And definitely some of these.

I’ve missed rambling on about the random crap that I like. If you like to read about the random crap that I like, too, check back here soon.

The Funniest Thing I’ve Seen All Week

Kasey Anderson is a musician who is, hands down, the funniest person I follow on Twitter. Today he was on a plane with a famous (infamous?) passenger. Please read from the bottom up. You can follow Mr. Anderson here.