Aug 282008
 

Another of Taste of Scandinavia’s irresistable desserts is this dense, flourless chocolate cake, topped with chocolate ganache and garnished with chocolate shavings and turtle icing. I did eat this the instant I thought I no longer needed it as a model.

Here is another reason I love Edna St. Vincent Millay. She has such spirit:

Intention to Escape from Him

I think I will learn some beautiful language, usless for commercial
Purposes, work hard at that.
I think I will learn the Latin name of every songbird, not only in
America but wherever they sing.
(Shun meditation, though; invite the controversial;
Is the world flat? Do bats eat cats?) By digging hard I might
deflect that river, my mind, that uncontrollable thing.
Turgid and yellow, strong to overflow its banks in spring, carrying away bridges;
A bed of pebbles now, through which there trickles one clear narrow stream, following a course henceforth nefast —
Dig, dig; and if I come to ledges, blast.

Sinful Chocolate Cake, 5×7, oil on canvas, $110.00 USD

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 Posted by at 1:06 pm
Aug 232008
 

First I’ll tell you about the Torte: This Oh So Feminine Confection is made of “layers of Scandinavian sponge cake, filled with the finest rasberry jam and gourmet pastry creme.” Then it is “wrapped with real almond marzipan and garnished with a marzipan rose.” It is absolutely gorgeous. I may have to paint it again.

I found it on a trip to northern Minnesota last weekend with my friend, Andrea. We were taking an unintentional detour, a typical mishap when I’m driving. In the midst of Starbuck’s withdrawal, we ran across the Taste of Scandinavia Bakery, chock full of the most glorious desserts. What a find! I so wish that it wasn’t five hours away! (For those within range, we found it on Hwy 96 between 35E and 35 W north of the Twin Cities.)

On a more meditative subject, I’ve been enjoying Patricia Hampl’s memoir on perception, art and life as conveyed in European paintings of the Odalisque (harem woman) in her little book, Blue Arabesque. She describes so well the feeling about time we have as innocents and how we inevitably take a stunned look backward at how overscheduling has changed and narrowed our faculties:

“But just when did time, that diaphanous material, fray into rush? The way I imagined it, woolly minutes had once streamed across an eternity of spun-silk nanoseconds, piling up into hours that wove themselves into the voluminous yard goods of days that, in turn, got stitched into weeks and months. Wasn’t that how it once was — the heavily embroidered yesteryears folded away in the scented armoires of the seasons and consigned to the vast linen closet of the ages where the first tensile thread of our story on the planet emerged from the bobbin of history? But just when in all this warping and woofing — or maybe how — did time cease to be a treasure and turn, instead, into the fret of the drive time commute?
…Anyway, gone: the long looking of slow days, the world ordered inwardly by seeing, the act of unbroken private attention that was an expression of integrity, clasping imagination, making sense, making “vision.” What happened to this heritage of perception? When did our autobahn existence subvert the inner rhythm beating along the pulse and risk the loss of sensation? When did we forfeit leisure? Even our food is fast.”

So true.

Princess Torte, oil on canvas, 5×7, $110.00 USD

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 Posted by at 5:47 pm
Aug 072008
 

There may be a poem about cheesecake somewhere, but unfortunately (….or perhaps fortunately!) I don’t know one. So, lacking a poem that relates to my painting, I have every excuse to post one by Shakes- peare. (Did you know that Peter O’Toole knows every one of Shakespeare’s Sonnets by heart? Why don’t I have a brain like that?)

LVI

Sweet love, renew they force; be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but today by feeding is allay’d,
Tomorrow sharpen’d in his former might.
So, love, be thou; although today thou fill
Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness,
Tomorrow see again, and do not kill
The spirit of love with a perpetual dulness.
Let this sad int’rim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
Return of love, more blest may be the view;
Or call it winter, which being full of care,
Makes summer’s welcome thrice more wish’d, more rare.

Turtle Cheesecake, 6×8, Oil on Canvas Board, Sold

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 Posted by at 11:10 pm