While we’re on the subject of candy, I thought I would highlight some of my favorite mints — Choward’s — that until this very moment I always believed to be called Howard’s. I don’t really like the taste of these, even the much-adored violet ones (I think they taste like dish soap), but I am enamored of the chalky embossing and the subtle pastel colors. I was actually on a quest for another type of mint, with an even better shape and history, but have come up empty-handed on every front. Never pondered it deeply, but just imagine how much fun it would be to design candy. Oh the possibilities.
This morning my friend Patty sent me a link to a food blog that I had never heard of. So, like any good student of the web, I scrolled through, clicked links and basically enjoyed what I saw. Just when I was about to get back to work, I happened on this beast. This is the world’s largest gummy worm. Measuring well over 2 feet in length, weighing in at a mind-blowing, tooth-rotting 3 whole pounds and putting you way over your daily intake limit at 4000 calories!!! It’s positively scandalously vulgar. But, what fun to receive this on February 14th from your beloved instead of that typical heart-shaped chocolate thing. For more info go here.
Moving is the pits, but there is an upside to all the dusting and wrapping and packing: unearthing forgotten treasures — things you thought were lost or disposed of in the last move — and remembering the history behind those objects. Here are three little packets of pure pigments I bought many years ago on a stopover trip to South Korea. I remember going into that little art shop with the ulterior motive of asking where I could find a good lunch spot. I speak no Korean and the store owner spoke no English. But, somehow, I managed to convey my request. Before I knew it, he had summoned his boyish assistant and, in a lengthy description, instructed him on where to take me. What ensued was a scene out of a film: running down long alleys, in and out of tunnels, up and down stairwells. At one point we even passed through a store, front entrance to rear exit. Finally, thrillingly, I ended up in a tiny, windowless, wood-paneled restaurant. Few meals have been better than that one.
A few days ago I got word that Simon Monk, whose work I featured here not that long ago, has put out a limited edition of archival prints of his “Secret Identity” paintings. The secret identity references the real-life names of familiar and beloved superheroes from our collective past. I’m not ashamed to admit that my highest personal admiration goes out to Peter Parker, aka Spiderman, even though for anyone who read the first post about Simon’s work, you’ll know that Speed Racer was the manboy who stole my six year old heart away. Anyhoo, I really love this series, along with Simon’s other work. It is subversive and funny, technically compelling and even a titch sad. So, even if you aren’t in a position to buy a print, please do check out his site.
Not too long ago, my friend Theresa, a graphic designer, took a class in the art of the pointed pen style of calligraphy. Copperplate, to be specific. While I am impressed by proficiency and dexterity (both of which she possesses in the extreme), I am always more captivated by the process. The practice pages she showed to me one night over dinner won my heart. She very generously lent them to me. I hate to have cropped them, but the format here on Mrs. Easton isn’t well-suited to the landscape image.