I’ve updated the Roam + Eat page to include all the new places from our latest trip to Texas, plus some I previously forgot, meaning it now includes every single good place to eat I know in the Lone Star State. Only 49 to go … just kidding. But I will try for a couple more updates as the summer goes on, to fill things out a bit!
As we near the end of Me-Made-May, it seems like a good time to share some thoughts about sewing, empowerment, and body image. Although I get a huge boost of self-sufficiency when I’m wearing the clothes I made, I actually don’t think much about sewing as it relates to how I feel about my body. Except for when I’m making pants. I originally wrote these thoughts as part of a proposed series on the Colleterie, which didn’t get off the ground, but it seems a shame not to get them out into the world. I thought about a lot of this again just recently when I was working on my trousers.
I’m lucky that when I was growing up, my parents always stressed that I’m just fine the way I am. I’ve never had a really negative image of my body. But I have always had trouble finding pants that fit at all, or were remotely comfortable. I would describe my figure in a nutshell as small and pear shaped. When I’m good about exercise, my thighs get firmer, but they don’t exactly shrink. In fact, in High School, when I was doing lots of power yoga every week, and in the best shape I’ve ever been, I just about gave up wearing pants altogether. It wasn’t worth it; they were just too uncomfortable. I have a vivid memory of sitting in class wishing I could just grab the top thighs of my jeans and yank upwards, and that the seams would pop down the sides, releasing my legs. I never actually tried it, but after that I stopped wearing jeans.
Since then I’ve explored my style, how it relates to my body, and to how others see me, through my sewing—starting with long skirts. As you know if you’ve read this blog for a while, I’ve also been working on and off for years on pants that actually fit me. It wasn’t until I was making the purple pair that I realized how much not being able to find clothes that fit or flatter could affect my conceptions about my body. Those purple pants aren’t perfect, but they show off my shape and are comfortable—a miracle to me. When I’m standing in front of a dressing room mirror and no pair of pants I try on looks good or feels right, I think that encourages me to feel like I need to change, like my body is not right. I was fairly amazed at how, looking at my legs in these new me-made pants, it was so much easier to say, “I love my body! It’s so cute and curvy!” It’s not my body that needs to change—it’s the pants. From my hair to my thighs, I’ve had the best experiences with my body when I realize not only that I can’t change something, but that I shouldn’t be trying to change it, that the beauty the universe gives me is for me to embrace and to work with, not to fight. And I can only do that if I’m willing to think outside the box, to take the time and develop the skills I need to get what I really want and need.
To me sewing, and making anything, is all about empowerment. Since I sew, I can break free from the consumer culture that gives me limited choices, while at the same time encouraging me to find fault with everything, in order to sell me more cheap stuff. Sewing is a way out of that cycle, and also a way in to a deeper and better understanding of my own body and taste, my personality, my unique self. Perhaps the best part is that this kind of freedom is available to anyone who wants it, anyone who’s willing to can their own jam or sew their own jeans. Let’s go get it, people!
Revised and updated with new photos and text (and drawings I found in my sewing class materials), this tutorial is now better than ever! Feel free to grab a fabric scrap and some thread and follow along.
If I had to name the single most useful hand sewing stitch I know, it would probably be the backstitch. I love it for repairs, for sewing in zippers, and for anywhere I need the control and flexibility of hand stitching with a hard-wearing stitch.
When you think of hand sewing, you probably think of running stitches, like the ones below. The needle dips into the fabric and comes up going in the same direction. You can make several running stitches on the needle before pulling the thread through, and the thread slides easily through several running stitches at once.
In a backstitch, the thread loops around itself, which makes the stitch much…
View original post 287 more words
For some reason, this spring I’ve been craving the fresh new foods that come with the changing season, much more than I normally do. The strawberries in my yard are nowhere near making fruit yet, but a few weeks ago, the strawberries in the market were suddenly glorious. A strawberry out of season tastes Ok, but when they’re actually ready, ripe and fully red, full of sweet juice that seems composed of the very flavor of renewal and new growth, they are magical things to eat. I was immediately obsessed. Another good thing about food in season is that it’s bountiful, and therefore on sale, and I pretty much stuffed as many fresh ripe organic strawberries into my gullet as possible. I also came up with this recipe, the first one in a while that I’ve invented without looking anything up or searching for ideas. So:
Lightly shred about a handful of lettuce (I like red leaf or butter lettuce) per person.
Add 1 small or 1/2 large grated carrot per person.
Add grated radish, about half as much as the carrot.
Add sliced strawberries, as many as you like, I suggest a lot.
For the dressing:Put about 4 Tablespoons of plain fresh goat cheese in a jar.
Add heavy cream up to about the top of the cheese.
Add 1 Tablespoon good quality balsamic vinegar.
Add a pinch of salt, and stir together (a small whisk is great for this).
Add a little water, stir, and add a little more, until the dressing reaches the consistency you’d like. Taste and adjust seasonings.
This makes a fair amount of dressing, enough for about 6 people to have salad, and maybe find some other things to spread it on.
Lightly crush 1 cup of walnuts (I just do this with my hands).
In a skillet, melt about 1 Tablespoon butter over medium heat.
Add two teaspoons of maple syrup, one teaspoon of brown sugar, and a large pinch of salt. Stir until the sugar is dissolved, and then add the walnuts. Stir until most of the coating is on the nuts rather than the skillet. Let cool.
If you run out of time, this is also good with un-candied walnuts or pecans, although these lightly candied ones add a really nice touch.
Sprinkle the nuts on top of the salad, and let each person add the creamy dressing as it’s served.
Now, if only I can find some fresh peas …
Hello, all! I’ve been keeping up with my pledge for Me-Made-May’14; wearing, and drawing, and working on some sweater. You can see some of my sketches and sweater progress on Flickr. I think it’s fun to check out the whole MMM’14 group and see what everyone is wearing.
Also, in case you missed it, my thoughts for sewing/dressing in May were on ‘So, Zo …’ this past week! Along with a bunch of other people’s from around the world. One thing we mostly seem to agree on: spring is a time for layers, and a good pair of pants! Check it out …
Happy Sunday!
So, after talking about these tops last time, it’s time to talk about the pants! They’re more of a trouser style (which is good since folks on both sides of the pond can agree what “trousers” means, right?). I bought this fabric last summer at Nob Hill Fabrics in Albuquerque. I wasn’t 100% sure about it for trousers, but it looked promising. In truth, I am not 100% sure about it for trousers now. But, after the untimely demise of my fantastic purple corduroys (so sad!) I really needed a new pair of pants nice enough to wear at shows (in public where I am supposed to look somewhat professional, or at least not like a bum off the street). The odds of my finding a pair to buy that fit and that I like are close to zero, so I pulled out the blue fabric.
While I was cutting it, something pretty cool happened. As I looked at the back waistband pattern, I got a sudden flash of insight: this piece is trying to take in too much curve, and it would be much better as two pieces, with a seam in the middle as well! So I traced it into two pieces which matched the existing width at the bottom of the waistband, and took in a little more at the top. If you do this, don’t forget to add seam allowances to the edges at the new seam! This approach fit the shape of my body so much better that I ended up doing the same thing on the front, so that I now have four waistband pieces instead of two. A step forward in fit.
This is the next evolution of the traced from-existing-pants-and-extensively-altered pattern I used to make the grey pair. The main problem with those is that they are a little tight around the crotch seam, especially when I sit down.
I will say that I’ve gotten a lot better at diagnosing what needs fixing in the fit of my trousers in the last year or two. At first, the fact that every part of the fit affects every other part made it nearly impossible for me to tell what I should change. But now, after fitting a few pairs, when I try some on I can feel which seams need more or less fabric in order to be comfortable and fit my shape. So I already knew (from wearing the grey pair) that I needed to let out the front inseam a fair amount. I wanted to cut the fabric outside of the pattern to make sure I would have enough in that area, so I decided to trace with thread the outline of the pattern. That way I’d be able to see where my new seam is in relation to the pattern, and transfer my changes back to it for next time (I can always add more paper to the pattern using this method). This worked great, I could see right where the pattern line was as I worked on the fit.
So, I let out the front inseam until it felt comfortable, and then played around with the crotch seam and back inseam to get the look and fit I wanted. I want the trousers to show that I have a bum, without hugging it too tight, and then drop into a wide leg somewhat reminiscent of 30’s style. I got pretty close! To be honest, I may have overdone it on the amount of added room around the inseams, these feel so comfortable that they border on I’m-wearing-my-pajamas-outside. But when I put them on and sit down it’s sooo nice!
The back welt pockets are pretty sweet, yes? This is something I’ve really been wanting in trouser-style pants. I have one old pair of thrifted Gap wide-leg pants that has them, with little flaps on top too, and I love them. I almost skipped them for this pair though, just because I was running a little short on time before we left for Texas, and I really needed to get these trousers done. You know how sometimes, these decisions are made for you, just by the circumstances? Well, as I got close to finishing the fit, two things became inescapably apparent: I could not figure out any way to get the tips of the back darts to look good (hidden by patch pockets in earlier pairs), and under some conditions, you could see the line of my undies through the fabric. So, pockets it was, and since patch pockets don’t go with the trouser style I wanted … I basically just kept those Gap pants next to my sewing machine and figured out the steps from looking at them inside and out as I went. Fortunately, I didn’t hit any major snags. I have to admit, when I first tried the trousers on after finishing the pockets, my reaction was “no one told me they would look THAT cool!” I have a few tweaks to make next time, but overall, those back pockets are probably my favorite thing about this make!
I had a hunch when I went to add the pockets that it wasn’t the fabric being pulled tight that was showing my undie-lines, it was the fabric being just a little thin and just a little clingy. I was right. Now that the pockets are in, you can see that there’s plenty of room for them. Sometimes you can see a shadow from the pocket lining, but that’s much better!
While this fabric turned out fine, next time I will look for some with just a little more body for making trousers. I wouldn’t want it to be stiffer, just thick and soft enough to hold its own and skim over curves a little more.
And, did you notice it wrinkles like all get out? I swear, I pressed the trousers before setting up to take photos, but 10 minutes of adjusting the camera, kneeling by the tripod in the sun and moving around, and it was pointless. I do think that wrinkles are less noticeable in real life than they are on camera though.
Have I mentioned before that fitting and sewing trousers is a journey, not a destination? (Hint: yes.) I’m glad to get these under my belt, and to have a new pair to wear in public this spring. Happy May Day to all!
I’ve made a real effort to make the things that I really want to do (mainly creating for myself and for fun) a priority. No matter what, (unless I’m so busy I can’t think straight) if I’m home, I’m working on sewing something. And if I’m on the road, it’s knitting and drawing, etc. So sometimes it surprises me when I look back at posts here and realize that nothing I’ve made for myself for a while is visible! It’s time to catch up a little bit on sewn projects, especially with Me-Made-May’14 right around the corner.
I think I’ll talk a little bit about the tops here first (and save the pants for another post) mainly because there’s not a whole lot to say, except about the fabric. Last fall, I stumbled into the fact that a fabric store called The Fabric Store, based in Australia, had just opened a store in LA. This meant that a whole bunch of New Zealand merino knit fabric was suddenly within reasonable shipping distance of my house! And, AND they had organic merino knits, something I have been searching for, as a way to hopefully buy wool which is raised responsibly. (If any of the lovely USA-grown-made-processed yarn folks are reading this, some of you should mill some fabric!) Anyway, The Fabric Store doesn’t have direct online ordering, but if you call or email them, they will find out what you’re looking for, and send you several lovely cards of generous swatches.
What lens flare? Clearly I am floating in a sea of magical bubbles …
I chose organic merino knit in the “mushroom” color, and I love, love, love, this fabric. It’s soft, it has drape but it also has body, and great stretch and recovery. There’s something substantial about it that just says “wool” (I love wool) and it has a subtle sheen to the right side which makes it look just a little special.
When it arrived, I was in desperate need of a few more long sleeve tops for winter, so I made a simple T-shirt style first. In this fabric, my pattern (the same one I used for these tops) is just the tiniest bit tight/clingy (you can see my cami straps, which is not my favorite thing) but boy, it is a terrific layer for winter. And spring—I’m wearing it as I type this!
The second shirt I made just a little more complex, using another pattern that I copied from one of those lucky thrift store finds with fit and style I love. In an ongoing experiment to see if I can get knit shirts to more closely follow, and still flatter, my shape, I tried dividing the pattern into princess lines in back, so that I would have two extra seams to add width over the hips. If I do this again, I’ll curve the lines more so that they come in at the waist, and then out again, yes?
And I have fabric leftover! Somehow, despite an earlier failure to squeeze one uninterrupted long-sleeve knit top out of one yard, by careful placement and a somewhat generous cut, it looks like I will get 3 tops out of 3 yards of this. I was debating maybe dyeing the last top’s worth, until Bryan mentioned that he liked the way this color looks with my skin. That settles that—I’m looking forward to making another style, same color, this coming fall.
I wore this exact outfit, new top and pants, on both our way out to Texas AND my flight back. It’s just really versatile, comfortable, and perfect for the varying temperatures of spring. More about the pants coming soon!
So, you guys know I love Me-Made-May, right? This challenge was a major motivator for me to start really building a handmade wardrobe, especially two years ago, the first year I had this blog and the first year I took part. Last year, I upped my challenge to wearing two me-made garments every day through May, which was great and gave me a kick in the bum to make at least one thing I had been thinking about for quite a while, but it didn’t have quite the feeling of realizing new things about what I make and wear, and opening up new horizons, which the first year did.
This time, I’d like to bring back a bit of the self-discovery element. Also, documenting my MMM has been a challenge, we’re usually on the road during much of the month, and it can be hard to find a time when Bryan and I are both not busy to take a picture. Plus, I am always looking for ways to bully myself into doing more drawing, just practicing drawing … so I’m going to keep a mini visual journal (pictured above) for May. I’m leaving the exact format of what I’ll put in it purposefully vague, to see how it works out, but it will definitely include drawings of clothing, words about what I wore and thought, etc. I’ll photograph and post at least some of what I put in it on Flickr and/or here.
And, about the sweater. I’ve had this particular soft blue silk and cashmere cardigan since I started traveling with Bryan. I got it at a clothing exchange/naked lady party right before we left that first summer, so really, it’s held up amazingly well, that was 10 years ago (egad—really?) and it’s been an indispensable summer wardrobe item that whole time. I’m wearing it at left, in a pic from MMM last year. It doesn’t have another summer in it though, the fabric under the arms and around the cuffs is totally shot.
I do have some light blue yarn, which has been in my stash longer than I care to remember, and it occurred to me that, in the spirit of making my own, I could knit a replacement sweater. It won’t be exactly the same, in fact I would like the style of it to be a little more interesting, but it must have the following characteristics, which I figure are key to indispensable-ness: soft, lightweight, cardigan (easy to layer), washable (at least by hand), go with most of my wardrobe. I’m thinking of starting with the Talamh pattern (links to Ravelry).
Here is my official pledge for Me-Made-May ’14:
‘I, Tasha of Stale Bread into French Toast, sign up as a participant of Me-Made-May ’14. I endeavour to wear as many me-made and handmade items each day as possible, minimum of two, for the duration of May 2014. In addition, I pledge to keep a wardrobe journal for May, and to share it via flickr/blog. And finally, I will knit on, and attempt to finish, a much-needed sweater during this month!’
If you’re thinking about taking part, I definitely encourage you to do it!
My dad’s mom and her sisters grew up in Texas. I remember a few bluebonnet-themed items decorating her house in Abuquerque, but when I was a kid I’d never been to Texas in spring, and I didn’t really get it (although I totally love the lupines that grow around Flagstaff. Coincidence?). Many of my second cousins and cousins once-removed still live here, and most, if not all of them, are willing to host us when we come through, which is truly a blessing of Texas-sized proportions (I’m joking about it, but I’m also truly and eternally grateful).
This year, we are here a few weeks earlier than in the past, and maybe it’s the time and exact place, or this may a good year for them, but the bluebonnets are out of control, and the paintbrushes seem epic. Driving between Houston and Austin, the roadsides were positively covered with rolling blankets of flowers. I mean, in profusion, like heaping mounds of cream-topped blueberries in the median and on the hills. The only problem was finding a place to stop where we wouldn’t be flattened by oncoming traffic. Finally I spotted a road that dead-ended beside the highway. We got off and parked there. Bluebonnets smell really good, too. And there were a LOT more of them at McKinney Falls State Park outside Austin, where we spent the night.
I didn’t realize until last year in the Smokies how much we kind of miss out on spring in Flagstaff. I’m not saying anything against my home town, and usually, I’ll take a few daffodils and some warmer weather and be perfectly happy. No need to do so in central Texas though, these guys have the bustin’-out-all-over, leafing trees in all shades of green, aforementioned brimming-over wildflowers kind of spring, which is exotic enough to me to make me want to pull over and take photos.
Happy spring ya’ll!
Bryan took this one
Remember when I posted about how to make French toast, and the “failed” orange sauce I had tried making to go with it? Well, it wasn’t that bad in the end. In fact, at least a few of my friends really liked it. Ever since then, I’ve been thinking about different approaches to marmalade, and how that sauce, which seemed like it was going to be a total waste of time and effort, did actually come together, and with a little more time and effort, become something good. Here I send out a silent (yet public—interesting) prayer to the universe that I will one day say the same about all the things which that sauce represented to me on the first of this year.
Anyway, orange marmalade:
It’s really just a combination of orange peels, juice, and sugar (and usually pectin to thicken it for canning). My New Year’s orange spread had all of the pith inside the peel, and all of the membrane around the orange slices, still in it too. I just washed & sliced the oranges (discarding the ends), pulled out the center strings of pithy stuff, chopped the slices to get out the seeds, and put them in the food processor. I added the juice of a couple more oranges, and some sugar to the pot, and started boiling it on the stove. For a while, it seemed like a kind of bitter, barely cooked orange goo … and eventually I realized that I was going to have to add a lot more liquid, and a lot more cooking time, and some more sugar. All the pithy parts of the orange needed to absorb a LOT of liquid in order to cook down, more than I wanted to juice oranges for, so I started adding water. After that, all it needed was time—a couple of hours of simmering on the stove. Check on it periodically, adding more water and sugar to taste as necessary, until all the parts of the orange are tender enough to eat on toast, and the sauce tastes as sweet as you want. The result has a full, whole-orange flavor—some of the bitterness remains, but you get lots of other flavor elements as well. At the time, I didn’t feel like taking a picture of the finished whole-orange sauce, but it comes out mostly opaque and pale orange, with darker bits of peel mixed in.
I’ve made a quick kumquat marmalade using a similar method. Kumquats have a lot of seeds, so be sure to chop them in quarters and check each one for seeds before putting them in the food processor. They don’t have very much pith or membrane at all though, so you can cook them fairly quickly into some tasty preserves. Just add juice and sugar and boil them on the stove until you get the consistency you want.
On the other end of the cooked-orange-peel-and-juice spectrum from the whole orange spread is a quick thin sauce we made quite a lot a couple of years ago, because it’s awesome on crêpe. It’s mostly orange juice, with just the thin outer peel grated into it. Save a little fresh juice, and put the rest in a small saucepan with the peel. Add sugar to taste as you go, and boil until it thickens somewhat. Add the reserved juice back in when the sauce is done, it brings the brightness of fresh orange to blend with the more mellow cooked flavors.
And of course, you could use other citrus. You could blend them. You could add honey, or a different juice, or another sweetener you like. You could cook it thick or thin, add pectin, can it, freeze it … At first I was going to wait to post this until I had tried a few more variations, maybe one somewhere in between these in terms of how much pith is in it. But the more I thought about it, the more ideas for different marmalade I thought of, and it seemed pretty silly not to just put this idea out there and let you all do whatever you want with it. It might be a fun way to wait for spring.
Tasha Miller Griffith 