File Under: Figure, Go. 

Well, maybe not this fence, but…

[Photo Credit: Joel Zimmer]

I’ve never read any of Tom Clancy’s books. My step father loved them and since I spent most of my high school years locked in battle with my step father (he: Republican, me: not) I just piled Clancy on top of my hate pile. Clancy died yesterday. I liked this part of  his obituary in the Times:

Mr. Clancy said none of his success came easily, and he would remind aspiring writers of that when he spoke to them.

“I tell them you learn to write the same way you learn to play golf,” he once said. “You do it, and keep doing it until you get it right. A lot of people think something mystical happens to you, that maybe the muse kisses you on the ear. But writing isn’t divinely inspired — it’s hard work.”

In Focus celebrates 123 years of Yosemite National Park. 

[Photo Credit: Ernest K. Bennett, 1952]

David Leite makes Marcella’s Bolognese. 

[Photo Via: Food 52]

“Ford in Front of Barn, Nebraska,” by Wright Morris (1947)

I can’t give it away on 7th Avenue.

The inspiration for Hopper’s “Early Sunday Morning”…

Paintings by Francois Chartier.

I simply mean it.

[Picture by Hiroshi Imai Takashi]

The Marcella tributes are pouring in. Here are a few  good ones: from Matt Fort in the Guardian, Janet K. Keeler in the Tampa Bay Times and David Sipress at the New Yorker.

Closer to home, enjoy this remembrance of Marcella from my aunt, Bis:

I first met Marcella Hazan at Coliseum Books, a store on west 57th street. It was 1978 and I had just returned from a trip to Italy with my husband, Fred. Of course I didn’t actually meet her in person, though I sometimes feel as if I did, but I did meet her through her first cookbook, Classic Italian Cookbook. I fell in love with it when I read her recipe for Amatriciana, which was the exactly the one given me by my friend Vicki, who had lived in Italy for several years. And then I saw a recipe for the Fettuccine al Gorgonzola that Fred and I had loved so much when we’d eaten it at Vini da Arturo in Venice a few weeks before.

It’s so long ago now that I can’t trust my memory as to exactly how my cooking evolved, but what I do trust is that is that Marcella’s books opened up a new way of thinking about food and cooking. I loved her very strong, opinionated voice (I’m pretty opinionated myself), and I loved the absence of unnecessary complexity in her recipes. I loved the idea that I could change the taste of a tomato sauce by choosing to make it with only one other ingredient, and then by changing that other ingredient from onion to shallot to ramp, I could make a different tasting tomato sauce each night.

In the early books she made menu suggestions for what to serve with a dish and it was from those suggestions I learned to think for myself, to make my own choices and create my own menus. She helped me to learn to trust my instincts to “use my head but [to] cook from the heart.” So cooking for friends and family became, and remains, my avenue of expression and creativity and I thank you Marcella for giving me that.

I bought her books and used them and loved what I cooked so I gave them to my family and friends. Today I don’t consult recipes as often as I used to but my books are there on the shelf, broken backed and stained, waiting to be consulted when I need them.

Marcella’s Amatriciana – Tomato Sauce with Pancetta
and Chili Pepper

The Roman town of Amatrice, with which this sauce is identified, offers a public feast in August whose principal attraction is undoubtedly the celebrated Bucatini – thick, hollow spaghetti – all’Amatriciana. No visitor should pass up, however, the pear-shaped salamis called mortadelle, the pecorino – ewe’s milk cheese – or the ricotta, also made from ewe’s milk. They are among the best products of their kind in Italy. When making Amatriciana sauce, some cooks add white wine before putting in the tomatoes; I find the result too acidic, but you may want to try it.

For 4 servings

2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 medium onion, chopped fine
A 1/4-inch-thick slice of pancetta, cut into
strips 1/2 inch wide and 1 inch long
1 1/2 cups imported Italian plum
tomatoes, drained and cut up
Chopped hot red chili pepper, to taste
Salt
3 tablespoons freshly grated Parmigiano-
Reggiano cheese
2 tablespoons freshly grated Romano cheese
1 pound pasta

Recommended pasta: “It’s impossible to say all’amatriciana” without thinking “bucatini”. The two are as indivisible as Romeo and Juliet. But other couplings of the sauce, such as with penne or rigatoni con conchiglie, can be nearly as successful.

1. Put the oil, butter, and onion in a saucepan and turn on the heat to medium. Sauté the onion until it becomes colored a pale gold, then add
the pancetta. Cook for about 1 minute, stirring once or twice. Add the tomatoes, the chili pepper, and salt, and cook in the uncovered pan at
a steady, gentle simmer for 25 minutes. Taste and correct for salt and hot pepper.

2. Toss the pasta with the sauce, then add both cheeses, and toss thoroughly again.

[Photo Via: Tampa Bay Times]

Word.

[Photo Credit: Seth Smoot via MPD]

Marcella, our hero. 

“Sketch for Ulysses” by Henri Matisse.

The best way to spend lunch. Dip over to the Museum of Modern Art and look at my favorite Matisse picture.

Jumpa talks about writing and her new novel, The Lowland.

[Photo Credit: Scott Gries]

Hey, the Yanks won last night. A spring training game in late September. Man, these kinds of games are unfamiliar, huh?

Open thread for an afternoon of interesting games–Rays and Indians are tied for the wildcard with the Rangers just one back.

Relax, enjoy the day, and listen to this old jam.

“Sweet Virginia” (Live) – The Stones

[Photo Via: Film is God]

Kurious Jorge with a J not a G. [Photo Via: evanescible]

Photograph by John Kingman.

Alexandra does breakfast.

Here’s part one of Tavis Smiley’s interview with Linda Ronstadt:

Ronstadt: Story is what’s most important. What’s your story.

Tavis: Ah, uh-huh.

Ronstadt: You’ve got to be able to make your story clear, and your story has to resonate with the public. If you don’t have a story –

Tavis: Your story or the story in your music? Your personal story or the story in your music?

Ronstadt: Yeah, your personal story. If you don’t have story to tell the public at large – you have to be able to sort of go listen, you’ve got to listen to this or I’m going to – you have to grab the public by the collar and go, “You’ve just got to listen to this, because I’m going to die if I don’t get to tell somebody this story.”

It’s just got to be bursting out of you. You can’t keep it in. It’s like ooh. Then the weird thing that turns on you is that once it gets to the listener’s ear, it should be about the listener’s story.

They really shouldn’t be thinking about my story. It’s just my job is to evoke, not to instruct.

[Photo Credit: Amy Sussman/Invision/AP]