- Kitchen Towel photography: Trying to capture subtle stitches (updated 2/8/2015)

Note: Click here for all of the Kitchen Towel index links.

I've been watching the sun climb into the sky all morning ... every half hour going out and taking yet another round of pictures, trying to capture the subtlety of the stitches on my kitchen towel as well as a napkin. It's time to stop trying and go with the best I've got for now.

What I didn't mention in yesterday's post was that before there was a towel, there was a napkin ...

Running stitch on cotton/linen napkin detail. Note how the lower horizontal line of stitching is "off track"

It was a test piece, worked on a West Elm cotton/linen blend napkin with DMC cotton floss. As each DMC strand ran out I began a new color, all in soft earth tones of course (and therefore equally difficult to photograph). The problems I encountered were two-fold: the machine-made hemstitching on the napkin did not parallel the warp and woof of the fabric (see the right side of the napkin) and the warp and woof were not evenly sized, making it harder to "follow the line," particularly when stitching at night.

Still, I learned a lot from practicing on this piece. Mostly that it was fun to do plain old running stitch, particularly with no real plan, end product, or deadline. I had nothing to lose except for a few hours of my time ... and since much of that time was spent sitting in the sun, that in itself was sufficient. But I also found a stitch size and rhythm that suited me, I tried out some different knots for starting and ending, and I realized that doing my own hemstitching on an evenly woven linen would be a good idea the next time around.

Upon completing the napkin (which has since become a kitchen towel), I set my sights on a pale green linen tablecloth that had been cut into before. The quality of the linen was middling, the tablecloth having been purchased for about $30 at Target many years ago (when it was used for a smaller dining table than we have now). However, it seemed to have a good hand  (what Merriam Webster defines as the "the feel of or tactile reaction to something") for its intended purpose, so I cut a piece about one inch larger all around than my favorite kitchen towel, following the weave of the linen by eye. I turned under a 3/8" hem (which is what "felt right" for the weight of the linen) and hemstitched it at about four threads per stitch (note to those who have hemstitched: I did not pull a thread because the linen quality was too poor, so I took the lazy way out and just followed the weave of the linen).

After hemming the towel, I chose eight DMC cotton flosses in colors that reminded me of the ocean, all with very soft, gray tones: light green, medium green, light blue, light blue-green, medium blue, cream, taupe, and charcoal gray. I made lines of running stitch following the weave of the fabric from the bottom to the top of the towel, choosing a new starting point and a new color for each row. Knowing the towel would get much more handling and laundering than most needlework, I chose to do a double running stitch when beginning or ending a thread.

Sadly, the pale green floss looks more like amber
and the pale green linen ground looks more gray than green.

I also drew some random circles on the linen using a compass and pencil, having seen something similar on Pinterest that appealed to me. The pencil faded away after a couple of washes ... one unanticipated advantage of making a quotidian piece that will get a lot of laundering. As with the beginning and end of each row, I used a double running stitch at the beginning and end of each encounter with the circle, which also made it more visible.

Note the bits of floss furling out at the top of the circle ...
a failed attempt at a different knotting technique.

As I worked, I decided I didn't really want to do the whole towel one way, so I free-styled. In the end, one half of the towel was dominated by closely worked vertical rows with small stitches and blank circles (which have inspired me to do a phases of the moon piece in the future), while the other half focused more on the intersections created by working horizontally in varying widths.

The happy result was not only did I get to try out different techniques, I now have a different "look" depending on how the towel is folded and hung over my oven door handle.

 

Someday soon I'll go to the camera store in Austin to get the camera checked out and then ask them how best to capture the details of color and stitching with my DSLR. But for now it's enough to show my work in progress (both the needlework and the photographic work) and move on.

- Quotidian cloth: Kitchen Towel mending and making

My frustration level is rising as I try repeatedly to get decent photography of my running stitch kitchen towel. The main problem seems to be that the colors of the needlework and ground linen are too subtle by half to be captured by the camera (which is why I like them, of course). Less subtle colors photographs just fine, as this patched repair on a worn towel shows. The patch is 1 1/8" high by 7/8" wide, indigo dyed cotton on a linen-cotton ground photographed in indirect sunlight, and the colors are true.

By way of contrast, here is one of the "better" shots of the cotton on linen towel details which almost gets the color right, but still leaves much to be desired. There are dozens more shots taken over the past few days that aren't even close to usable and the photo editing programs just make a bad situation worse.

I suppose there could be some sort of contemplative lesson to be learned from the photographic challenge, but it escapes me at the moment. In any case, also to be answered is the question Don asked when I first began the project:

"Why a kitchen towel?"

After all, what gets less respect, more abuse? Why spend the time and effort to hemstitch a towel, then add to it the creative energy of choosing stitch patterns and colors, deciding on stitch length and the width between rows of running stitch? Why bother with something that will ultimately disintegrate? Indeed, once the towel was finished, I had to keep reassuring Don that it was okay to use it. But from the start, the answer was obvious to me:

"Because of all the things I could make, this will be a a day-to-day presence during the meals that are such an important part of our lives. We will be able to touch it and enjoy it up close, not just peer at it imprisoned behind glass on a wall." 

In other words, because it is quotidian.

Now if I could just take the pictures to make that manifest ...

- J and G at the beach (2013)

For whatever we lost (a you or a me)

It's always ourselves we find in the sea

                                                        e e cummings

 (From The Random House Book of Poetry for Children, p.112)

- Carolina Dreaming: Flannel photo album

When we got back from the Outer Banks last June, I was already dreaming about returning 51 weeks later. But since our little ones would hardly remember the beach, let alone who was there, I decided to give them a tangible way to look forward to seeing each other again.

The text was created on Word ...

and printed along with the pictures on a commercial color photocopier.

All the photocopies were coated front and back with Mod Podge to make them reasonably water-resistant (but certainly not water-proof).

The pictures and text were cut out and arranged on flannel pieces cut approximately 5.5" x 11" for the interior pages and 6" x 12" for the covers.

The carefully collated pictures and text were attached using the zig-zag stitch on the sewing machine (after some testing to determine the best stitch length and width).

Then the individual interior and cover pages were stitched together with two runs of zig-zag stitch. Cover stock was slipped into the gap between the pages to give them some body, after which they were trimmed to size with pinking shears.

The last step was sewing the interior pages onto the cover pages.

The books were completed in September and have held up to the tender mercies of the toddlers depicted therein. 

Now all we have to do is count the days until we get back together in June. I can't wait!

- Newfangled Birthday Bites: Almond cake balls go decadent

It's really, really hard to bake for someone like Paul, who slam-dunks incredible meals on a regular basis ... but I tried. My idea was to create cake balls, but made from scratch rather than using cake mix and prefab frosting. And not too sweet. With a few different varieties. Of course I decided to do all this the day before needing them, leaving no time for experimentation. In fact, as I'm writing this, the cake balls newfangled birthday bites are in the chill chest and I'm hoping they'll be ready to transport by 6:00 tonight (in 4 hours).

But I'm getting a little ahead of myself. This all began with yet another adaptation of the Smitten Kitchen Petit Four Cake (which is itself an adaptation ... stealing like an artist to make Austin Kleon proud).

Almond Cake

6 ounces butter (1 1/2 sticks)

1 cup sugar

1 tsp. vanilla

3 eggs

1 cup all purpose flour

1/3 cup almond flour

2/3 Tbs. baking powder

1/3 cup whole milk

Cream butter and sugar. Beat in eggs and vanilla. Alternate flours and milk (2 rounds of each), but don't overmix.Spray two 6"x2" round pans (Wilton makes them and they are fantabulous), divide batter between the two. Bake at 350 for 25 minutes. Put on wire racks to cool.

While the cakes were cooling, I assembled my additions for six different flavor combos: 

 

 The ingredients on the left were destined to be paired with a chocolate ganache coating. From the lower left:

• Drambuie, espresso powder, and chopped hazelnuts for "After Dinner Bites"
• Seedless raspberry jam, almond extract, and almond meal for "Petit Four Bites"
• Cocoa and chipotle powders for "Hot Chocolate Bites"

The ingredients on the right were to be enrobed in sweetened Mascarpone cream. From lower right:

• Cinnamon, vanilla, and colored sugar crytals for "Mardi Gras Bites"
• Tequila, Cointreau, lime (zest and juice), and Outer Banks Sea Salt for "Margarita Bites"
• Barbancourt (Haitian rum), nutmeg, and toasted coconut for "Island Bites"

I whipped 16 ounces of Mascarpone with 8 ounces of heavy cream and divided it into six small bowls, reserving a small portion for the Mardi Gras Bites (to be explained later). The cake was likewise divided into six equal portions. From there is was a sequential operation of crumbling cake, mixing additions into the mascarpone, and gently combining the two, while holding back about 1/3 cup each of the flavored Mascarpone to coat the Margarita and Island Bites.

It was especially enjoyable working out how much of what to add to each batch, as I sampled my way through the process using most of the teaspoons in the flatware drawer (over a dozen). The resulting cake combos were shaped into five walnut-size balls per flavor and packed off to the freezer in a parchment-lined Pyrex dish.

While the the naked birthday bites chilled out, I tested out my first cream coating with some plain mascarpone and cream, half and half, confectioners sugar, and vanilla for the Mardi Gras Bites (I didn't want to use the cinnamon filling in this case because I wanted the sugar crystals to show up on the cream). Dipping the chilled bites in the vanilla Mascarpone cream was a little dicey and I didn't make quite enough so the coating was a bit thin. But I soldiered on, placing each bite on a metal cooling rack and then sprinkled them all with King Cake green, purple, and gold sugar crystals.

The Margarita Bites went better, with a larger batch of lime/tequila/Cointreau/confectioners sugar/Mascarpone cream topped with a pinch of salt. The similarly upsized batch of nutmeg/Barbancourt/confectioners sugar/Mascarpone cream on the Island Bites was dusted with toasted coconut. At which point everything went back in the freezer again.

Since the remaining three batches were all to be topped with chocolate ganache, I glugged about 1/3 cup of heavy cream into a medium-sized mixing bowl, then thought the better of it and doubled the amount. One minute in the microwave on high and 8 ounces of Ghirardelli 60% cacao bittersweet chocolate chips later, I was whisking my way to a glossy ganache.

The remaining bites were quickly swirled through the ganache using some old fondue forks and given different toppings to make them identifiable: coarsely chopped hazelnuts on the After Dinner Bites, finely ground almonds on the Petit Four Bites, and a sprinkling of chipotle and cocoa powders on the Hot Chocolate Bites.

Then back in the freezer yet again whilst I tackled this blog post to keep me from peeking too often ... which worked, up until now. So I just checked and the ganache-coated bites have firmed up nicely ... the mascarpone bites not so much. Uh oh ...

What's worse, the ganache-coated bites are more than a bit too big to fit in the nifty little cupcake liners that I got to put in the egg cartons that I'm using (they're brand new, unused egg cartons, btw). So much for my attempt at upping my presentation skills.

Fortunately, the Mascarpone cream bites are a little smaller, so I get to use the liners after all ... which is a good thing because the cream coating is a bit soft. By George, I think I'm going to pull this thing off!

Note to my future self:  If I'm going to use the cute egg cartons again  I'll definitely have to down-size the bite-size. As for the flavor profiles, the jury is still out. News at 11 (well 10 actually ... we're on Central Time). 

Update: the consensus winner was the Drambuie/Espresso/Chocolate/Hazelnut combo

- Quotidian Cloth: Patching jeans boro-style

My first attempt at sashiko stitch,
a Japanese mending technique also known as boro

I've always been fascinated with words ... from the eclectic to the esoteric. Consequently, curiosity led me to Google "a lover of words, " where I found myself to be a logophile.

So when I was thinking how best to present my exploration of slow cloth, I recalled the little-known word "quotidian" from the gentle, quiet time I spent attending a Quaker meeting in Williamsburg. One of the books in their library was a book by Kathleen Norris entitled The Quotidian Mysteries: Laundry, Liturgy and "Women's Work."  I've just ordered a new copy to refresh my memory on all she had to say, but this quote from the back cover of the book is telling:

"Our daily tasks, whether we perceive them as drudgery or essential, life-sustaining work, do not define who we are as women or as human beings. But they have a considerable spiritual import ..."

My trusty Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition (a high school graduation gift that has survived six moves in 40 years) defines quotidian as:

"occurring every day ...belonging to each day ... commonplace, ordinary"

Which has everything to do with the slow-cloth-style of needlework that has occupied my attention of late. Not wanting to make yet another picture for the wall, I wanted to explore running stitch, sashiko, boro, and darning by making and repairing things that would be used every day: kitchen towels, cloth napkins, patched jeans, darned socks. And in so doing, I re-discovered a contemplative practice that had long eluded me.

To be continued ...

- Granola redux: Coconut oil vs. olive oil (revised 8/27/2015)

 

One of the first posts on this blog included a recipe for Garrison Trail Granola. Since 2009, it has had a place at our breakfast table on an almost-daily basis. Its unique blend of oats, olive oil, maple syrup, and an every-changing combo of raw nuts and seeds made a perfect accompaniment to Greek yogurt. Until ...

Don had a pain in the gut that he self-diagnosed as an overdose of nuts and seeds. So those got tossed out of the recipe. But oats alone proved to be a bit bland, so we added Sunridge Farms Organic Five Grain Cereal Flakes from the Central Market bulk bins to the mix. Better.

Somewhere along the way, I spotted a granola recipe that touted brown sugar so I tried adding a quarter cup to spark up the flavor. Nice.

Then our Unio olive oil ran out ... and we couldn't get anymore ... anywhere. This was a major turning point, as the other olive oils we tried just didn't cut it. So I went out on a limb and tried coconut oil. Oh my my ... yes!

However, the addition of coconut oil was not a one-and-done ... I found out the hard way that there is coconut oil refined to the point of tastelessness (to be avoided at all costs) and then there is coconut oil that is "unrefined, expeller pressed" (much, much better). Kinda like olive oil, actually. 

If I had any doubts about the wisdom of using a saturated oil (even though in relatively small quantities), they were dispelled by recent news reports of a medical journal article debunking the "sat fat is bad for you" myth.

Bottom line: the recipe has now morphed to the point of unrecognizable. So without further ado, here is the new and improved version:

Cascade Trail Granola

1 lb. five-grain rolled cereal (uncooked)

9 oz. (1/2 container) old fashioned oats (not quick oats!)

1 cup raw coconut flakes (the bigger the better)

1/2 cup unrefined coconut oil

1 cup maple syrup (Grade B if you can find it)

1 1/2 tsp. Kosher salt

2 tsp. vanilla extract

1/3 cup light brown sugar
Optional: 1/2 cup pasteurized egg whites for added protein

Combine cereal, oats, and coconut flakes in a large mixing bowl. 

In a small, microwave-proof bowl combine coconut oil and maple syrup. Microwave for 1 minute on high. Whisk in salt, vanilla, and light brown sugar (and optional egg whites).

Pour oil/syrup mixture over cereal/coconut mixture and stir until evenly coated. 

Divide mixture between two cookie sheets and place in a 225 degree oven for 2 hours.  Every 30 minutes, remove the pans from the oven, turn the granola with a metal spatula, then return the pans to the oven on opposite shelves to ensure even browning. Cool completely after baking before storing in a sealed container.

Note: I've recently discovered Coombs Family Grade B Maple Syrup and their website has a "Where to Buy" link.

A Note on Nuts and/or Seeds

If you miss having nuts and/or seeds in your granola, by all means add them in. However, since Don is avoiding them these days, I make a separate batch of nuts for myself. 

Nana's Nuts (revised 8/27/2015)

1 lb. raw cashews 
1 lb. raw almonds
1/2 lb. raw pistachios

Rough chop the almonds and cashews, then combine with pistachios in a large bowl.

1/2 cup grade b maple syrup
1/4 cup unrefined coconut oil 
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp vanilla extract

Nuke the maple syrup and coconut oil for one minute on high. Whisk in brown sugar, salt, and vanilla. Pour over nuts and stir until coated.

Prep two cookies sheets with parchment paper. Spread nuts evenly.

Bake at 225 for 2 1/2 hours, being sure to turn the nuts every 30 minutes so they cook evenly. 

BTW, aside from being a great addition to granola, a small handful of nuts makes a great snack.

- Go Out In the Yard and Play: Hauling rocks the easy way

Being an inveterate reader as a child, I often heard my mother say "Why don't you go outside and play?"

"Why?" I would wonder. To this day, I need to be motivated to put down the book, stop stitching, get out of the kitchen, or finish the latest blog post and get outside. But this week, with the belated arrival of spring weather and our new gardening toys, it hasn't taken nearly as much coaxing to get me out the door.

Our latest garden project has been creating a new front walk to replace the paving stones that were moved to the end of the driveway (Rock 'n' Roll). As you can see, their departure left behind a fair mess.

Don arranged to have 3 cubic yards of decomposed granite delivered by Gardenville, then he began the heavy work of digging out the buffalo grass sod and relocating it to bare patches in the lawn.

His reward? Once the path was cleared  and the granite was laid in, he got to use his new tamper ...

while I kept busy hauling rocks from the floodplain to edge the path. In the past, that meant bumping a wheelbarrow up and down the east trail ... hard work and not much fun.

I figured there had to be a better way. Now Carl Sagan once said "They laughed at the Wright Brothers, but they also laughed at Bozo the Clown."  Indeed, Don mostly laughed when I told him my idea for an alternative to the wheelbarrow. 

I can't claim credit for the idea, which was suggested by one of our tree trimmers (who also seemed to be exceptionally good at taking the path of least resistance). However, I'm pleased to report that I got the last laugh: $15 for a plastic cement mixing tray at Lowe's and an old piece of rope resulted in a modern-day sledge that is actually fun to pull over hill and dale. It fairly skims over the rocks and roots that used to stop the wheelbarrow dead in its tracks. And I'm getting a seriously good workout since I can manage far more trips than ever before.

I also get double-duty out of each round-trip by cutting out prickly pear cactus along the way to the floodplain ...

Note the yard stick scale: the tray is about 2' x 3'

then depositing the water-laden cactus pads on one of the three new compost piles along the east trail (there are three more compost piles closer to the house ... we're big into turning yard waste into black gold). While cactus pads will reroot themselves if left in contact with the ground, we have found that burying them deep in live oak leaves (next week's project) ensures that they decompose instead, although the process takes at least a year.

In the end, thanks to the new tamper and stone delivery systems, Don was able to finish the new front walk in just a few days. The decomposed granite base is far better (read safer) than the old hump-backed paving stones ever were and the firmly tamped surface should keep any granite from being tracked into the house. Now on to the oak leaves!

- Needling details: Close up views of the family sampler

I ended yesterday's post with my latest family sampler, then realized I neglected to include detail shots. Having seen both good and not-so-good needlework photography online, I decided to rig up a light box. What appears below is as much about my photography learning process as it is about the needlework.

Scanned image created on our HP Photosmart 7520 printer.
Except for cropping, the image has not been altered.

This is a cropped version of the scanned image, which doesn't show the colors as accurately, even after editing.

This was photographed using the light box, then brightened, straightened and cropped in the photo editor.
The pictures that follow have varying degrees of brightening and cropping.

This detail of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse was cropped fairly tight.
Note the hemstitching on the right.

The cropping on the UT Tower is even tighter.
Longhorn fans please note the "1" in the windows.

This is the tightest crop, close enough
to see the French knot on the
top of the Montauk Lighthouse,
but the details are beginning to blur.

Back stitched dunes, double running stitch oat grass on top.
Note how the pale green of the grass is hard to see.

A closer view, including the waves and sea gulls

Queen stitch cookie ...
same blur with the tight cropping.

Border stitch details: satin stitch
large cross stitch with smaller stitches
on the arms, more satin stitch.

Eyelet stitch lettering (red), cross stitch (green)
and double running stitch stems with straight stitch flowers.

Some final notes: the ground fabric is a 42-count linen (42 threads per inch). In the future, I may include a measure of some kind to indicate relative scale. I also need to photograph the same image at different times of day, with different lenses, and with different kinds of lighting, particularly to see how it affects color. I'll try all of the above (and whatever else I can think of) in a future post on my slow cloth adventures.

- Sampling life: A family in stitches

I want to take yesterday's story back a bit to my brief sojourn at the needlework shop in Williamsburg's Merchants Square. While I was there, I did finally begin to create my own needlework rather than relying on kits. This piece hung in my parents' home for over 30 years.

A 25th anniversary sampler designed for my parents and stitched in 1978

Detail of the house where I grew up: 15 Fairview Avenue, East Williston, NY

Once I began developing the needlework program at Colonial Williamsburg in 1980, my focus shifted to making authentic reproductions of 18th-century needlework. Kathleen B. Smith (who is still in business) was a major contributor to my success, putting me on to appropriate linens, silks, and worsted wools hand-dyed using authentic 18th-century methods and materials. The only needlework I have that dates from that period is this canvaswork pincushion, made with her worsted wool (which is still available on her website). 

The colors are as bright and true today as they were 30 years ago. 

Stitch detail

Sadly (in retrospect), CW soon promoted me to a management position where I was responsible for all the textile-related crafts: spinning, weaving, millinery, wigmaking, and tailoring. While the promotion meant more money, it left me with far less time for research and needlework. After having our first child, I realized I couldn't be a good full-time manager (which was what I had become) and have enough energy and enthusiasm left over to be the kind of parent I wanted to be. So I left to become a full-time mom and made needlework on commission to earn some extra cash.

That didn't work out so well either. After a year or so, I returned to the library world part-time, got my degree, and proceeded to develop a new career. Every so often I found time, particularly during vacations, to do needlework. But I was no longer satisfied with copying any one person's work exactly, whether in kit form or as a reproduction. As my parents' 40th anniversary approached, I began another sampler, this time with historic sampler design elements culled from many of the books in my personal library.

Silk on linen, begun in the late 1980s

The acorns and birds are worked in double-running stitch on the 3rd row
and cross stitch over one thread on the 6th row.

In order to work the details on Adam and Eve, each stitch
covered one thread of the 34-count linen (34 stitches/inch)

Close-up detail

This deer from an 1598 English sampler will be recognizable to
anyone who has ever browsed through books on historic needlework.
The Latin phrase roughly translates to "Time flies when you're having fun" ...
a wry self-commentary on the fact that the sampler took over 10 years to complete

That was then, this is now. My most recent sampler, made after I retired from librarianship last June, took mere months to complete and awaits its rightful place on the wall.

Seeking the next best thing to try, my Pinterest searches inspired an exploration of slow cloth and a return to the simplest needlework: running stitch. To be continued - - - - - - - - - - - -