Author Archives: HomeandTable

This is Repurposing

CRAFTSMAN

Bret Cavanaugh’s scavenging verges on hoarding. But the things he’s crafting from that junk are remarkably original. And now, with the debut of his first furniture collection, he’s poised to redefine modern design, too.
By Scott Edwards

 

IMG_4792_VZ_LR

The furniture featured here, with the exception of the platter at the bottom, is part of Cavanaugh’s Trophy Series. Top: Cavanugh may not be the tallest guy around, but he carries a big chainsaw.

I’m not clear. Where is your workshop again?

“Do you know the Wine Hut?”

Got it now. Thanks.

There are still some addresses where GPS will betray you. Bret Cavanaugh’s workshop is one of them. Then again, mine could have led me right to his front door, and I’m still not sure I would have realized I’d arrived in the right place. It resides among a ramshackle storage facility just north of Frenchtown, New Jersey, where the storage units are old shipping containers. But even that conveys a degree of orderliness, which would be misleading.

I pull in, then back out, prepared to go where, I’m not sure, when Cavanaugh waves me down from behind an old, mostly-dismantled Toyota pickup that sits in front of his workshop.
Cavanaugh is wearing a T-shirt, shorts that extend below his knees and construction boots that are laced up well above his ankles. All of it is covered with blotches of stain and/or paint. As are his stubbled face, his arms and his hands.

He’s been here, in this space, for the last three years, but he’s been working on the property, on and off, since he started getting serious about making furniture, about 10 years ago. The front room is a large, wide-open setup that still manages to feel crammed with loose-end materials. It’s also where his tools and machines are, most of it relatively organized by contrast.
Cavanaugh leads me to the back, through a salvaged-wood door of his own creation, to a much smaller room that he’s using as a showroom for the time being. It’s furnished, mostly, with a few large pieces from his Trophy Series, which he crafted specifically for the International Contemporary Furniture Fair at the Javits Center in May. He devoted himself to the collection for the better part of the last two years, and he’s just now, in late June, beginning to reclaim his life.

I’m having trouble digesting what I’m seeing, and it’s not just the suffocating heat. Everything I was exposed to up until this point indicated this was some sort of salvage yard. But the furniture in this room is right on the leading edge of modern—polished metal, sharp angles, abstract forms.

Cavanaugh is a compulsive scavenger. (And a bit of a hoarder.) Thus, the seven 40-foot shipping containers of his own, all filled to their capacity, clustered around the outside of the building. When he was starting out, it was the cheapest means by which he could source his materials. Along the way, it somehow became his signature.

“A lot of the stuff that I have comes with a story,” he says. “That’s kind of my thing.”

There’s an ingenious coat rack made from a bucket of crank arms he found on the side of the road and lithograph frames embellished with driftwood in an Etsy-ish riff. His is not a modern-farmhouse aesthetic. He’s not sanding, painting and reissuing. To call that repurposing against what Cavanaugh’s crafting is gross negligence.

That stuff, though, stands among but separate from the Trophy Series, his first collection crafted entirely from scratch. Still, the dining table, armoire, dresser and chandelier are clearly the next phase in the evolution of the same resourceful craftsman. The intricacy of the designs and the unorthodox juxtaposition of materials attest to a thoughtful, intensive process.
“What I try to do is make diamonds, make these pieces that are memorable but that capture something in somebody. Make them feel something,” Cavanaugh says. He talks quickly, his eyes widening and narrowing with his cadence. “I think 99 percent of people, even if they know furniture, they don’t know the depth of it.”
Not his, at least.

 

The Swiss-Army furniture maker

Cavanaugh doesn’t obsess over wood. (He’s got about a dozen logs behind his shop, and he plans to install a sawmill soon, but that has more to do with control and cost-efficiency than any kind of reverence.) Nor is wood his only medium. Or even his primary medium.

He grew up in Lambertville, NJ, around an antique car garage, built motorcycles for fun in high school, studied machinery, leatherwork, metal fabrication and welding. He also worked as a chef. (He built his own food truck.) And all of that experience and knowledge is applied regularly, often within a single piece of furniture. In fact, that’s what holds his attention, which is no easy task.

But what drives his designs is an ability he’s devoted no time to cultivating.

“I have a photographic memory, and I can mimic things really well,” Cavanaugh says. “That’s basically a huge portion of my skillset.”

He watches someone do something once, twice maybe, and he can put it into practice. That’s not to say that he’s an immediate expert; just a faster learner than most.
The bio on Cavanaugh’s Web site describes him as a “Hunterdon County native,” which struck me for some reason, probably because I’d never seen it phrased as such before.
“I think it was an important thing to say, as far as the tradition of the furniture,” he says.

Do you connect with that?

“Yeah. I connect with it a lot,” he says. “I have Phil Powell’s table saw in there. I have his lifetime collection of sea glass. I’m going to cast it into a table soon. And I have a couple of his tools.
“I get a lot of inspiration from Paul Evans and Phil Powell. They didn’t have any questions about what they were doing. They just did it. They didn’t look for any outside opinions.”

 

Living with his furniture
“This,” I say, “is the longest you seem to have stuck with anything. Does that mean you’re a furniture maker?”

“That’s a good question. That’s a really good question,” Cavanaugh says, slowly with the first sentence and slower with the second in that manner that it’s evident the observation is just occurring to him. Which surprises me, in turn, because we spent the previous 20 minutes talking through his plans for tomorrow, for the next few months and, potentially, the next few years. Don’t let the half-dozen shipping containers loaded with other people’s junk fool you. Cavanaugh knows what he wants and how to go about it.
“I’d like to do a food thing again,” he says. “And I’d like to design and build houses, modern spec houses, the same way I build furniture, with a hundred different materials and a hundred different finishes.”

You should probably build one for yourself first.

Turns out, he recently came across a home in nearby Milford that he could see making his own, retrofitting being a shorter path than building from a blueprint.
“It’s an industrial building. It looks like a house on the outside, but inside it has these 18-foot ceilings,” he says.

If he moves forward with it, the home would double as a showroom. He’s already plotting his first piece of furniture. Cavanaugh walks over to a corner of the front room where he’s amassed quite a collection of the rectangular shells for those old freestanding phone booths. “Where else do you see bent metal like this?” he says. There’s even more on the other side of the room. In all, there are probably 20 of them. His plan is to make a Herman Miller-style, wall-mounted shelving system with them. He’s going to weld them together, line them with mahogany shelves and affix doors to some. He wants the backlit strips across the top that say “phone” to light up again, too.

An homage, but very much a Bret Cavanaugh original.

All photos courtesy Bret Cavanaugh / Andrew Wilkinson

A Study in Restraint

GRASSROOTS

The Doylestown Food Market’s annual dinner pays homage to the growers at the heart of its mission.

By Kendra Lee Thatcher

To me, the only thing sexier than a classy crowd of farm-loving, loca-gastro-vores is a classy crowd of farm-loving, loca-gastro-vores dripping in sweat.

Saturday’s relentless heat index of 106 was no deterrent for the Doylestown Food Market’s supporters, who gathered around communal tables under tents at the Bucks County Audubon Society’s Honey Hollow preserve in Solebury for the market’s annual farm-to-table dinner, proceeds from which help support the cooperative grocery.

Responsible for the night’s menu were twins Keith and Kevin Blalock. Keith is the chef at PA Soup and Seafood and Penn Taproom, both in Doylestown. Kevin is the chef at Lookaway Golf Club in Buckingham.

The star of the cocktail hour was a decided underdog, given the stylish offerings. The Dublin-based Sole Kombucha’s watermelon lime kombucha mixed with Rushland Ridge Vineyard’s Trimonette was a refreshing respite from the stifling night.

Mushroom risotto croquettes and horseradish-crème filet mignon toast points were passed around. I stood at an out-of-the-way high top and took it all in—honey-colored beams crisscrossing in an architectural web above a fluid, mingling group.

Dusk cast its evening twilight over us and, mercifully, reduced the humidity to a comfortable level. Twinkly lights and filament bulbs, strung above our tables, gave the setting a quintessential summer glow. Almost right from the start, the conversation around my table flowed effortlessly, rife with gardening advice, recipe swapping and updates on a host of other grassroots movements.

The dinner was studded with the fruits of nearby farms. An heirloom tomato salad with Blue Moon Acres microgreens. A vegan ratatouille with Roots to River squash.

And then there was the porchetta, made from a heritage breed hog raised in Lancaster. The chef placed a healthy serving atop my plate, but I didn’t budge. He looked at me. I looked at him. Our eyes dropped down to the carving board together and I asked, “Would it be weird if I requested a helping of the skin?” A wide smile spread across his face. “Are you kidding? Do you hear that crackling,” he said, as he crushed and snapped the skin in one hand. He piled several large pieces onto my plate, and finally I moved on.

The pork was not disappointing, succulent and seasoned deftly with garlic, rosemary, sage and thyme. But my table, the tent, the world went mute when I bit into the skin—crispy, caramelized, savory, fatty perfection.

The menu was not especially innovative. But, then, we weren’t soaking through our clothes in anticipation of witnessing any culinary feats. This audience and the chefs shared a fondness for the ingredients, harvested a day or two earlier at the peak of their ripeness. We were there to taste purity, which may actually be a kind of culinary feat.

The Tomato Whisperer

DIY

A perfect day for Tim Mountz is eating tomatoes in his fields from dawn to dusk. Obsessive? Maybe. But, imagine yourself in his shoes on that day. Maybe not.

By Mike Madaio

Of all the fruits of summer, the tomato may be the one I covet most. Lettuce, peppers and beans, welcome sight as they are, come on so strong. Same with the berries. It can be smothering. But the tomato plays hard to get. While I gather another armful of cucumbers to haul back to the kitchen, the tomato, still Hulk-green after a summer’s worth of sunbathing, refuses to bend to my will. Until right about now. Even then, that first ripe tomato always comes as a surprise.

All of that comes from a couple of modest plants. Imagine the depth of Tim Mountz’s fixation. He’s growing over 400 kinds this summer. For the last eight years, Mountz and his wife, Amy Bloom, have been selling heirloom seeds, produce and, more recently, scratch-made sauces from that produce at a handful of markets and online as the Kennett Square-based brand Happy Cat Farm. But, tomatoes, obviously, are his first love. Second. Second love. Amy, of course, is his first. Probably.

“The perfect day for me,” Mountz says with a light laugh, “is when I lay down in bed at night and realize that breakfast, lunch and dinner were tomatoes in the field. That’s it.

“I was working with Tim Stark out at Eckerton Hill Farm,” he says. “I had never bitten into a tomato like an apple before. But one afternoon, I had a Jefferson Airplane-like, out-of-body experience. It might have been from sunstroke or something, but it was transcendent. From that point on, I started eating every tomato I could get my hands on.”

Whether cherry-picking from a farm stand or nursing them from your own backyard plot, heed Mountz’s advice on when the time is finally right: “A tomato has to have a little give, some movement to the flesh, so you know there’s juice in there. And full color. Unless it’s a green variety, it shouldn’t have any green. Lastly, fragrance: Much of the tomato’s aroma comes from the vine itself, but the fruit has a definite fragrance.”

Now, for what to do with those lush prizes, keep reading.

Summer’s Darling

A tomato salad is the epitome of summertime eating: simple preparation, complex taste. That line savvy chefs deliver whenever prompted about letting quality ingredients express themselves? It’s because seasonal fruits and veg at the height of their harvest, like tomatoes are right now, are akin to snowflakes—no two taste the same. All that nuance concentrated in just a few bites is the essence of summer: potent humidity, parched earth, a simmering sun and a soul-affirming oomph as it all comes together on the back of your tongue.

Recipe by Yelena Strokin

Heirloom Tomato and Beet Salad

Serves two.

3 sweet heirloom tomatoes (vary the sizes and colors)

1 small red onion, thinly sliced

1-2 small beets, cooked, peeled and sliced

2 tbsps. feta

Fresh basil

Fresh mint

Olive oil to taste

Lemon juice to taste

2 cloves garlic (optional)

Sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Halve the small tomatoes and cut the large ones into thick slices. Then, layer them on a platter, mixing the different shapes and colors in a way that looks as good as it’ll taste.

Tuck in the beets and onions, then the basil and mint. Sprinkle the feta over the entire salad. Season with salt, pepper and garlic to taste. Drizzle with the olive oil and lemon juice, and serve immediately, preferably with a baguette to sop up that beautiful medley of juices that’ll be waiting at the bottom of the dish.

Yelena Strokin is a Newtown-based food stylist and photographer and the founder of the blog Cooking Melangery.

Photos by (Tim Mountz) Matthew J. Rhein and (Heirloom Tomato and Beet Salad) Yelena Strokin

Clear Eyes, Full Heart, Can’t Lose

SCAVENGING

The art of discovery at a flea market is more about an open mind and sentimentality than it is resale values.

By Susan Forker

 

Much of the allure of the flea market for me is the potential. I draw a lot of inspiration digging through the forgotten bits and bobs piled in dusty heaps and buried in bulging boxes. I never know what I’ll find, but I’ve come to trust that I’ll find something—materials and props for my jewelry, fuel for my imagination. Here’s a sampling of some of what’s made its way home with me recently.

 

A study in artificiality

I’ve made no secret of my adoration of vernacular or found photography. Lately, I’ve been drawn to old images of pairs of people. It’s something about the dynamic—the strained admiration between sisters, the hidden tension among lovers. The story simmering behind the façade’s been preserved as much as the hollow expressions. I culled this batch together from various fleas and shops. I love their awkwardness and symmetry. I may frame them together and display them as a collection.

 

Tokens of a not-so-distant past

Who didn’t collect these as a kid? The handle-and-crank flattening machines were once ubiquitous at every carnival and tourist attraction. You can still find them here and there, but they’re not the same, and the pennies are too shiny. But the patina and texture of these are perfect. Being a New Yorker at heart, the iconography doesn’t hurt, either.

 

The mannequin becomes the art

I can’t exactly qualify this dress form as a random find. I bought it off a maker friend who’s moving. I’d been looking for a mannequin like this for some time. It’s a 1963 Wolf dress form, the cage and rolling casters still intact. I’m planning to use it as a prop and product display, but she looks right at home near the French doors in my studio. So much so that I’m finding I treasure it more as an objet d’art than a utilitarian piece.

 

Take a seat (or two)

I was set up across the aisle at a recent show from a vintage dealer who was selling this chair set. It caught my eye immediately. I thought they were movie theater seats. Turns out, they were from a grange hall. And in need of some repair, which made them surprisingly affordable—and all the more charming. That they folded up and fit in my overcrowded car confirmed that we were meant to be together.

 

Susan Forker is the owner and designer of the Doylestown-based joeyfivecents, a line of one-of-a-kind jewelry and accessories.

Photography by Susan Forker

Behind the Craft

SCAVENGING

A look at joeyfivecents’ new, locally inspired collection.

By Susan Forker

 

Last month marked an anniversary of sorts. Exactly 10 years ago, we moved our family from our Southern California home to come and settle in Bucks County. It wasn’t all that difficult a transition—my husband and I were born and raised on the east coast, and we frequently brought the kids back east to visit. Actually, I think we naturalized quite quickly to the changes in climate and culture.

In our time here, I started a small business and subsequently developed my own brand. joeyfivecents, a vintage-imagery-based line of handmade jewelry and accessories, came about a few years after the move through a leap of faith and a nod to my former career as a film editor.

It seemed appropriate, when I began to think recently about expanding, that I should take a cue from my surroundings. After a concentrated workshop in the Pacific Northwest last spring and an intensive summer of trial and error, I unveiled the anniehall collection. Extoling seasonal palettes, botanical patterns and textures, influence is gleaned from what I see in the garden, like moss between the stones, and the landscape I’m surrounded by every day—algae-covered ponds, working farms.

anniehall also represents a bit of a departure in methodology. In place of vintage paper and resin, I’m using epoxy clay and colored pigments to evoke an organic vibe that celebrates nature’s imperfect beauty—and the place that helped me and my family to feel so at home so quickly.

Susan Forker is the owner and designer of the Doylestown-based joeyfivecents, a line of one-of-a-kind jewelry and accessories.

Photos courtesy joeyfivecents

How to Prep for the Super Bowl of Grilling

DIY

Much as grilling’s evolved lately, the Fourth remains a sacred occasion. So we turned to chef Max Hansen to ensure that our epic cookout pleases even the strictest of traditionalists: Dad.

Grilling’s shed a lot of its wonky etiquette over the last few years, mostly because Dad’s no longer the only one manning the Weber. Those codes of conduct, it’s clear now, were implemented to protect his place on the throne, as though he was performing black magic out on the deck, and only when he named his successor would he cough up his secrets. But now, even eight-year-olds are doing it. And we’re grilling foods that are definitely charring Dad on the inside—watermelon! snapper! He’ll come around, though. Just give him some space.

Dad, however, wasn’t all wrong. The guy treated the Fourth like it was his Super Bowl, prepping his charcoal and tools as dawn broke, standing in clouds of smoke all afternoon long, handing over platter after platter of burgers he hand-formed the night before, wieners in toasted buns (some with cheese, which he despised, but he aimed to please), perfectly pink T-bones, fatty ribs, and on and on. A coup was the furthest thought from anyone’s minds then.

So Monday, we’re going to stage an epic cookout in honor of dear-old Dad, because the Fourth, after all, is about remembering where we came from. To ensure that we do right by him, we turned to Max Hansen to show us the way. Hansen’s cooked for and alongside countless big-name celebs and dignitaries over his career, but grilling is second nature to him. He does it year-round. What’s more, as the chef/owner of Max Hansen Carversville Grocery,  he’s a walking, talking field guide to Bucks County’s markets and artisan vendors. Yup, Dad, turns out we were paying attention all along. And, thanks.

 

All meat is not created equal
This, you’re likely well aware of by now. A free-range chicken tastes a lot gamier than the factory-farmed drumsticks we grew up eating. The difference is obvious in grass-fed beef, too, and even nitrate-free hot dogs. The time to bank on that difference not being so obvious is when you’re serving a carnivore’s delight. Quality, not quantity. No amount of rub is going to salvage a Deal-of-the-Day skirt steak.

Hansen favors the Fredericksburg, PA-based FreeBird  for his chickens. Once you’ve got that bird in hand, brine it and, when the time comes, grill it over a medium heat.

For his beef, Hansen heads to Haring Brothers Country Butcher Shop, in Ottsville, and None Such Farm Market, in Buckingham. At the latter, butcher Bob Jones cuts two-and-a-half- to three-inch boneless rib-eyes, at Hansen’s request—thick-cut steaks cook more evenly, he says—from the farm’s own Hereford Angus. He prefers Haring Brothers’ burgers for their slightly higher-than-typical fat content, which helps keep them moist regardless of their doneness.

Cleaning is non-negotiable
If you don’t start the day wiping down your grates, there’s only one possible outcome: Leftover fat’s going to flare up and lay ruin to all that expensive meat. Five, 10 minutes of basic house cleaning will make life easier for you throughout the afternoon—because meat doesn’t stick to a clean grate—and allow your food to taste as you intended, not like the remnants of a stamped-out campfire.

Thick-cut veggies are your friend
This may seem obvious, too, but it’s a mistake that’s often repeated: Keep your vegetable cuts on the larger side. That way, they won’t slip through the grate, and you’ll have an easier time cooking them. Thinly-sliced or -cut veggies tend to char faster than they cook. And, just like your meats, start with the best quality you can get your hands on. If you don’t pluck it from your own garden, get it from a farmstand. And then keep the dressing simple: olive oil (extra-virgin’s overkill here), lemon juice, salt, pepper and some herbs. That’s it.

All that remains now is keeping an eye on Dad. A smile’s coming, but he’s not going to be obvious about it.

 

Another World, a Short Drive Away

ART

A preview of the summer’s most promising museum exhibits and events (for families and adults).

Right about now, the summer’s starting to lose a little bit of its glow. I mean, it’s still summer, so even the below-average days are better than February’s best effort. But the humidity’s inching up and the kiddos are already showing signs of malaise. The answer is a little deviation. Endless freedom goes from exhilarating to boring real fast. But when you pepper it with brief, unexpected episodes, they have a way of renewing everything around them—and you. Which is why the museum is our favorite Plan B year-round, but especially come the dog days. Nowhere else can you travel so far so fast. And, really, these exhibits are way more engaging than The Legend of Tarzan or Jason Bourne. —Scott Edwards

 

Art Splash | Today through September 5

Philadelphia Museum of Art

“Groundbreaking exhibit” means nothing to a child, unless, of course, there’s actual ground-breaking involved. But, in this case, they’ll never need to know that what they’re seeing and doing is enlightening them. This summer’s edition of Art Splash is being dedicated to a kid-friendly exploration of the art museum’s Creative Africa exhibit. There are tours aimed at kids as young as three—and, on two special occasions, parents with babies in tow—and an exhibit-inspired craft studio and daily storytelling.

 

Summer Nights | Wednesday through August 24

Bucks County Children’s Museum

Aside from having free run of the interactive exhibits for an extra couple of hours every Wednesday, the New Hope museum will also be hosting a series of family-minded activities. First up: “Make It Take It Craft Night.” Next week: “Picnic Night.” You bring dinner, and the museum will supply the Nina’s Waffle Bites. What kid wouldn’t jump at the chance to spend a night (part of one, at least) at a museum? Thanks to Ben Stiller, we all now know that after-hours is when all the interesting stuff happens.

 

Unguarded, Untold, Iconic | Opens July 16

Michener Art Museum

This isn’t only about piquing the curiosity of some young, dormant imaginations. Yours could use some challenging, too. Start at the Michener, with Exton photographer Steve McCurry’s intimate-verging on-unsettling introduction to the humble Afghanistan that’s too often lost in the news of the latest explosion or uprising. These images—some new, some instantly identifiable—cover McCurry’s countless trips to the country over the last few decades, trips spurred by the unrest we’re familiar with, but his experiences hardly mirror the coverage.

 

Happiness, Liberty, Life? | Through September 18

Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts 

When the Democratic National Convention ambles into town July 25, it’ll feel like the culmination of an overdrawn, overwrought process. But, of course, it won’t be. We’ll still have over three long months to wade through. Is this what democracy has always looked like? In short, yes. But, for a more interesting answer, check out Happiness, Liberty, Life?—a tongue-in-cheek play on “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”—which scans the long, contentious tradition of political discord in this country and its thought-provoking, often-funny expression through the arts.

 

A Material Legacy | Opens July 30

“Naomi and Her Daughters,” 2013, Kehinde Wiley, Nancy A. Nasher and David J. Haemisegger Collection. ©Kehinde Wiley Studio. Courtesy Princeton University Art Museum. Top: “Afghan Girl,” 1984, Steve McCurry. ©Steve McCurry. Courtesy Michener Art Museum.

Princeton University Art Museum

If you’ve been pulled in other directions over the last few years, A Material Legacy is an ideal reintroduction. The collection features some of the fastest-rising artists in the world—Kehinde Wiley, Anish Kapoor, Kara Walker, Sol LeWitt. Nearly every piece was made in the last 10 years, most of it in the last seven, so by the time you’re done, you can consider yourself all caught up. Fear not. There won’t be a test. The real reason to see this show is to remember why you fell in love with contemporary art. (Hint: It’s a far more inspiring way to confront the world’s issues.)

Dark and Stormy

FASHION

Men, haven’t a clue what to wear this fall? Follow Nature’s lead.

At 19, when most of us were figuring out how many days in a row we could get away with wearing the same outfit (two in the summer, five in the winter), Nick Torres was opening his own tailoring shop, Beyond Bespoke, in Midtown Manhattan. Even then, he already had years of experience under him—he’s a third-generation tailor.

The tailors in New York City who are willing to make house calls end up with some very influential publicists as loyal clients. Nick’s pinned up the likes of Kim and Kourtney Kardashian and Chrissy Teigen and John Legend. But he’s too modest to name-drop without some insistent prodding. Nick, now 30, doesn’t consider the celebs, A-list or not, to be his sustenance anyway. That would be the guys, young and clueless and older and misguided, who fill up his 12-hour days with consultations. His tack: Bring them along gently.
Since we’re not paying customers (yet), we told him he could be more forthcoming. —Scott Edwards

There’s a summer suit and a winter suit. Is there one for fall, too?
NT A fall suit’s less about the fabric since it’s a transitional season. Look for darker colors—shades of olive and brown—and maybe a small pattern. It should go without saying at this point, but make sure it’s a slim fit. Then pair it with a great trench coat.

Speaking of patterns, keep us ahead of the curve; what’s going to blow up this season?
Plaids and checks are going to be big again. And heather gray’s going to emerge as the signature color of the fall of 2016.

What are you most looking forward to wearing come the first hint of cooler temperatures?
A brown blazer that I just made. It’s got killer brass buttons and a removable hood.

A Better Back-to-School Plan

ORGANIZED HOME

Some simple moves now will spare you from 10 months of escalating aggravation.

By Laurie Palau

 

You’re forgiven for not noticing them here in the throes of camp season, or before you bolted out of town, but those blinking lights on the horizon, they belong to a school bus. Don’t tell the kids. Let them splash and run with abandon. Their day will come. But ours has arrived.

You’d think back-to-school prep would get easier in this digital age, but the backpacks only grow bigger and fuller as the school years pass. Before their contents explode all over your kitchen table, establish an order while you’re easing them—trying to, at least—back into their routines.

Reload ‘em. All those essentials—notebooks, pencils, folders—buy them now, and not just to cover their immediate needs; stock up for the entire school year. It’s never going to be cheaper. While you’re at it, try to anticipate their long-range needs—poster board, glue sticks, copy paper—and stockpile that stuff as well.

Hook ‘em. The sight of backpacks hanging across kitchen chairs or slung onto counters gradually gnaws at me until I finally detonate right around Thanksgiving break. Install hooks near whichever door they use most. It’s not foolproof, but shouting “Hang them on the hooks!” is a better solution than shouting “Get them out of here!” And, if it takes, it’ll spare you some headaches in the morning, too.

Corral ‘em. Kids are no different from us. Designate a corner the home classroom and they’ll be that much more productive. Make sure it’s out of the way (read: no TV in sight) and quiet. There should also be plenty of room to stow textbooks and ongoing projects.

Mobilize ‘em. Nothing says all that storage needs to assume the form of fixed shelving or desk drawers. Get creative and construct an art caddy that’ll stash all their supplies. The easy portability may even encourage them to dip into it just for fun. Either way, it’ll allow you to tuck it wherever it’s convenient.

Excuse ‘em. Kids are the world’s cutest kleptomaniacs. For no apparent reason, they’ll arrive home with someone else’s Minions lunchbox, jacket or pet turtle. Install a small basket right beneath the backpack hooks to keep them within easy reach for when their rightful owners come calling. The faster you can get them in and out, the less explaining you’ll have to do.

Laurie Palau is the owner of the New Hope-based simply B organized, a home and life organization service.

Be a Tourist in Your Own Backyard

BOOKS

Sure, you know where to eat, drink and be seen around Philly. But what do you really know about the city you call home? Irene Levy Baker and her lengthy bucket list are happy to show you around.

By Scott Edwards

Baker’s Philly field guide was 25 years in the making.

When 100 Things to Do in Philadelphia Before You Die, the latest installment in the expansive series by Reedy Press, dropped earlier this month, it was the fruition of over 25 years of near-constant research by its author, Irene Levy Baker.

See, she started working at the Philadelphia Convention & Visitors Bureau a few weeks after moving to the region by way of Pittsburgh—which she arrived at by way of Durham, Richmond, Kalamazoo, Cincinnati and Youngstown. There, she was charged with showing travel writers around, most of which were likely as familiar with the city at that point as she was. Travel writers have a reputation for being a bit cynical. The constant wining and dining, it tends to feed a sense of entitlement. So whenever they displayed an unguarded interest, Baker took note. And she never really stopped.

Baker’s book hits all of the familiar pulse points—Zahav, La Colombe, World Café Live—but it also describes the means to access a Philadelphia that’s hiding in plain sight, full of nuance and character. In that way, it’s a field guide for locals even more than it is for tourists. Sure, you live here. But, at some point, that stops being a reason and becomes an excuse.

 

Have you done all 100 things?
ILB No, because I’m not ready to keel over. I’m leaving one thing out just to protect my health.

 

What’s that?
When you read it, you can guess.

 

What’s the 101st item on your list?
[Laughs.] I actually wrote 105, thinking that my publisher would maybe not like one or the other.

 

So give me one of them.
The Ritz-Carlton Philadelphia, at holiday time, serves the richest, most wonderful hot chocolate you’ve ever had with a little wooden box with shot glasses full of shaved chocolate, and sprinkles, and peppermint and gingerbread that you can use to dress your hot chocolate. And you have it in that grand lobby. I had to cut that as a stand-alone piece, but I found a way to work it in with something else.

 

I’m giving you a theoretical day to show me around your Philly. What are we doing?
[Baker asks me to tell her a bit about myself. I grew up in the area, I tell her, went to college in Philadelphia, then lived in Old City for a couple of years.]
Let’s start with breakfast at Metropolitan Bakery. We’re going to grab it and eat it in Rittenhouse Square. Then we’re heading down to Philadelphia’s Magic Gardens, which is an art installation by Isaiah Zagar made of broken tiles, pottery, found objects. It’s almost like you’ve walked into Oz or Hogwarts. And then we’ll walk around the neighborhood, because you’ll find his mosaics on walls all around South Street. Afterward, why don’t we go on a mural arts tour? They’ll explain to you how these murals transform a neighborhood. And the great thing about the tours is they’re divided by neighborhood, so you can do them again and again. Then, let’s have lunch at Reading Terminal Market.

 

I’m always on board with that.
You can never be tired of it. And then we’re going to head to the Mutter Museum. Have you ever been?

 

No. And I can’t think of a good reason why.
You were waiting for me to take you, obviously. If you can handle that after lunch.

 

Good point. But I’d rather go after lunch than before.
It is equally disturbing and amazing. We’ll see the wax mold of conjoined twins Chang and Eng [Bunker], whose autopsy was done there. We also have to see the collection of swallowed objects, which will make you cringe.

 

I already am.
Assuming the timing works out, let’s do an architecture tour from there. This is one of my very favorite things to do. And let’s do it in Old City, since that’s where you lived. They’re often led by retired architects. They will walk you down streets you’ve walked by every day, and they’ll point out things that you’ve never noticed before. By then it’s going to be getting dark. We’ve had a pretty packed day and you’re going to be worn out, so let’s head to Spruce Street Harbor Park. Heaven on earth. You’re going to get a beer at the beer garden and relax in one of their multicolored hammocks.

 

If you say so.
And then we’re going to play chess on one of the giant game boards.

 

I can endure all that walking knowing the day’s going to end by the water, nursing a beer.
I wish I had two or three more days to give you.

Baker will be hosting launch parties September 15, 6 p.m., at McGillin’s Olde Ale House in Center City and Sept. 22, 7 p.m., at Open Book Bookstore  in Elkins Park. She’ll also be signing copies of her book Sept. 10, 7 p.m., at Main Point Books  in Wayne. For a full schedule, go here.

Photo courtesy of Reedy Press