Posted by Sarah on August 9th, 2006 — Posted in Recipes, Tea and Cookies
Apparently fig newtons were named after the town in which the dude from the cookie company later to be known as Nabisco first made them. They are a fixture of after school snacks here in the USA but less known in the UK, where fig rolls are not so popular. In an attempt to bridge the divide and better address the mid-Atlantic schizophrenic biscuit taxonomy, I have made my own version of a fig jam biscuit (”a cookie is just a cookie, but a Newton is fruit and cake” - we should have discussed this yesterday when we were having Jaffa cakes!). My new version bears some resemblance to a jammy dodger, the biscuit we’re having at the Crisis to Bliss Centre today.
Perhaps I should describe both cookies first so you know what I’m talking about.
A fig newton is square, like a flattened swiss roll, with sticky fig filling and chewy dough surrounds. Jammy dodgers are like shortbread, two circles squashed together with the red jam in the middle. Jammy dodgers (namebranded by Burtons I think) are the cheapest version of this biscuit, which has a class system even more complicated than that of the UK, in part because there is a posh French version called something like the Lunette Framboise and the German/Austrian Linzer biscuit - heart shaped and covered with icing sugar (see the note from ‘nicecupoftea’ here and photos here). Some Jammy dodgers have a cream as well as jam in the middle. I understand from surfing around the web that the fancy versions have different swirls on the surface of the biscuit and there is a debate across all classes of jam-filled biscuit as to whether the cut out in the middle should or shouldn’t show the little seeds in the raspberry jam (if raspberry and not plum). They inspire the same kind of teatime behaviour as Oreos - namely, trying to pull them apart and keep all the jam on one half of the biscuit.
Ok, so my new fig cookies are not so much like newtons as like lemon drops - i.e. you make a biscuit, squish a deep thumbprint in it, and when they come out of the oven you fill the thumbprint with some jam. Sure, I’d love to have made the fancier version, but these are quicker, and easier, and it’s more therapeutic to squish your thumb into dough than to struggle with a rolling pin and round cutter (especially when you’re baking in an improvised temporary kitchen as I am).
They’re not very sweet, which I think makes them a good counterpart to actual fig newtons or jammy dodgers which can both be a bit sickly.
1/2 Cup of unsalted Butter, Brought To Room Temperature (perhaps try shortening to make them lighter?)
1 1/2 Cups Sugar
1 Large Egg, also room temperature
1 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
1/2 Cup Softened Mascarpone Cheese (I used cream cheese)
2 3/4 Cups All-Purpose Flour
1/2 Teaspoon Baking Powder
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
1 Cup Fig Jam
some fresh figs, cut into little pieces
Beat together the butter and sugar until light. Add the egg and vanilla, and mix until smooth. Add the mascarpone cheese, and beat until smooth. Sift together the dry ingredients, and fold them into the butter mixture, mixing just until combined. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap, and refrigerate 1 hour (I just threw it in the freezer for 20 minutes). Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Line cookie sheets with baking paper. Roll the dough into 1/2 inch balls (on a floured board if you want, but I just did it by hand). Using a blunt round object like the end of a wooden spoon, or better still, your lightly sugared thumb, create an indentation in the center of each cookie. Place the cookies 2 inches apart, and bake for 12 to 15 minutes, or just as the cookies begin to color. While still warm, use the spoon to redefine the circle (not your thumb, they’re too hot stupid!), and then carefully spoon a little jam into each cookie, followed by a piece of fig, if you have it. Let sit at room temperature until the jam is set. Store in an airtight container.
Also, check out this great idea and hilarious discussion from the Half Bakery about the technology of cookie tea-dunking.
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Posted by Sarah on August 9th, 2006 — Posted in new media art, curating
The Crisis to Bliss Centre yesterday had invited facilitators Jon Thomson and Alison Craighead leading a discussion about balancing art, life and work. They posed a question for discussion: how can artists who make art which doesn’t sell earn a living? Our guests presented their ideas - ranging from thriving from the network/ living off the inspiration and exchange of energy flows with colleagues, to interfacing with the commissioners of public art (one way for new media artists to earn their keep), to being wary of the ‘ladies who lunch’ art collectors who seem to want to buy into creativity and eccentricity as a lifestyle choice. There were some comments about the context of San Jose and the Silicon Valley, and the difference between working in Europe and working in the US in terms of artists’ partnerships with telecommunications companies or the technology/engineering/science industry. The differences between artists earning a living in academia (teaching/research posts) in the USA (where apparently, artists have teams of graduate students to help realise their projects) and the UK were also highlighted. Interestingly, I think this has a parallel with a discussion taking place in the symposium, about the balance between the branding of the newly launched San Jose ZeroOne festival, which will be a biennial event, and ISEA (now in its thirteenth incarnation). ZeroOne needs to build a new audience and a sustainable future, which means woo-ing the local industry partners, such as Adobe, which they have clearly done a terrific job of, and it seems the support is at a remarkable level. What that means for the independence of ISEA is unclear, but at least it is being talked about. Anyway, I digress.
There were some other points made at the Crisis to Bliss Centre about balancing art and life, and I’ll just list them briefly here:
Ken Gregory and Jon Thomson spent some time about installing and maintaining interactive kinetic art installations. They agreed that even when you build in self-monitoring devices, triggers and alarms, to alert the gallery staff that a component needs replacing or a routine needs enacting, they don’t always work, or aren’t always paid attention to. Jon suggested simple things, like having a remote desktop set up and a USB webcam to do diagnostics from afar. Ken said that he balanced art and life by adopting a kind of nomadic existence - organising residencies in the cities where his exhibition is being shown, so that you are on hand to fix the work if needed, and you have a chance to make local connections as well as make new work.
Today Saul Albert and Wojciech Kosma from The People Speak will be on hand to facilitate our engagement with some interactive games and voting systems concerning the economics of the new media field and gauging the depths of our personal investment.
It’s really hot outside here in San Jose, so come to a cool refuge and have a cup of tea with us.
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Posted by Sarah on August 8th, 2006 — Posted in Crisis Management
After attending the North American premiere of Ryoji Ikeda’s C4I I spent some time talking to artists and curators at the opening launch party and it’s now apparent to me that people understand the Crisis to Bliss Centre as a place where they might be able to discuss and refine their understanding of new media art, as much as define their own individual practice. i.e. Why does new media art have to be so loud and cause a kind of acoustic shock? [The logic being that repeated exposure to noisy installations/performances/screenings might bring about some kind of personal crisis. Ask me about this again after the Survival Research Laboratories performance on Friday]. I think this impression of our role here is great, and I’m more than happy to oblige. Artists have commented to me that contrary to Jon Ippolito’s earlier comment, they need the Crisis to Bliss Centre more than the curators do. If only to recharge after an intense production period and get their receptive faculties oiled and creative juices flowing again.
Today Thomson&Craighead are going to facilitate conversations about keeping a balance between art and life, online and off (a kind of pastoral care for the community) and last night Patrick Lichty asked me a relevant (perhaps unanswerable) question that focuses this discussion: how can one introduce (or merge?) the different facets of one’s personal/professional/artistic/academic/goofy/hobbyist life and still maintain credibility? In other words (and not to sound pretentious, but just to make Patrick’s point, albeit badly), will the people who know me as the co-editor of CRUMB still respect me in the same way once they know that I’m here baking cookies each day? [Isn’t it an indulgent waste of time when there is art to see and symposia to go to?] Will the people who know and enjoy my baking find it odd that I’m being so public about it in this professional context? [Am I trying to curry favour with my curatorial community by feeding them gingersnaps?]. There’s a further twist to this potential crisis of confidence: when one ‘audience’ or group of people knows one aspect of your practice, but only virtually/online and not in the flesh (i.e. do people know Patrick Lichty rides around campus on a 5 foot long skateboard?) - how do you manage [or do you?] their impression and understanding of your role, your talents, your reputation, when they meet you in person and discover all the messy ‘real’ things about your life? Like you’re a lush at openings. Like you’re terrified of public speaking. Like you can’t read a map or follow directions.
I don’t expect Jon and Alison to have an answer to this, but they might have a strategy for balancing work and play productively.
Yesterday the Crisis to Bliss Centre was visited by an art therapist in training [who had a wonderfully specific question which taxed the minds of all the practice-oriented researchers and doctors in the room - lots of thinking off-the-grid (not just outside the box) was necessary]. We’ve invited Jo to come back and administer some therapeutic art activities to our drop-in crowd if it helps her research.
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Posted by Sarah on August 8th, 2006 — Posted in Reference
We’re here in San Jose and the CRUMB Crisis to Bliss Centre is up and running. Today we’ve had oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and Carol’s Peach Kuchen (an old family recipe). So far the crises seem to be about information/logistics. Not so much about knowing your way to San Jose, but knowing your way around San Jose.
So our most pressing concern is making sure stressed out curators and artists can find our centre and take advantage of our baking!
We’re in the VIP Suite of the Convention Centre. No you don’t have to be a VIP to come.
The easiest way to find us is to find the Hilton, on Almaden Blvd., and walk straight through their lobby into the Convention Centre and then look up, way up. You’ll need to take either the stairs (ahead of you but behind a door) or the elevator (also ahead of you), but there is a sign.
If you come into the Convention Center through any other door, walk past all the exhibit halls to the Almaden Concourse where there is a Starbucks. Then the same deal re elevator or stairs applies.
We’re here from 3-6, and the invited workshop facilitators will be here from 4pm each day.
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Posted by Sarah on August 4th, 2006 — Posted in Recipes, Tea and Cookies
So a little further investigation over breakfast suggests that not all gluten-free flours are created equal, and here in the gourmet village one can procure good ones (not so easily available in the UK). More good news, my lovely host Debra Pughe has annotated her gluten-free peanut butter cookie recipe to make it even better. Here it is:
• Preheat oven to 350 degrees
• Mix these together:
1 cup melted butter
¾ cup brown sugar
¾ cup white sugar
2 tsp vanilla
1 cup peanut butter
2 eggs
• Pre-mix these dry ingredients together:
1-1/2 cup gluten-free flour*
¼ cup corn starch
1 cup almond meal
¾ cup sliced almonds
2 tsp baking power
• Add the dry ingredients to the butter/sugar/egg mixture
• Roll the dough into round balls, then roll in sugar (in a small bowl)
and lightly press them down on an ungreased cookie sheet [I like the fork imprint myself]
• Depending on altitude, bake 20 – 40 minutes until brown [this seems really long to me]
• Cool on cooling grills for 10-15 minutes then put in airtight container
(makes 7 dozen cookies!)
* you can make up your own gluten free flour mix by combining: 2 parts rice flour, 2/3 parts potato starch flour, 1/3 part tapioca flour.
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Posted by Sarah on August 4th, 2006 — Posted in Recipes, Crisis Management, Strategies, curating
I’m not sure where the last few days have gone, but I think they’ve gone in transit as I now find myself in the right state (geographical, not mental) for the workshops. There are certainly crises afoot - lost luggage, missing printer technicians and late publicity chief among them - but I am consoled as I am in a house with a wonderful library and even more wonderful red and white 1970s kitchen. I think that snickerdoodles might have to be the cookie I find time to bake tomorrow, though as my host is allergic to wheat, we’ll have to come up with a gluten-free version (tip to bakers: don’t bother with gluten-free flour, just use ground nuts or other forms of flour - buckwheat or spelt, for instance). For some reason, making gingersnaps (snickerdoodles) slows my racing mind down - it must be that half hour in the fridge (the dough, not my head).
I’ve noticed that we’re not the only ones worried about stressed out, overworked producers this summer - Wired magazine has got a pull-out how to live, work and play supplement which is sure to be good take-a-break reading in the Crisis to Bliss centre.
I also recently surfed across this interesting post about the impetus to curate and its good and bad points on a blog run by Fatima Lasay in the Philippines.
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Posted by Sarah on August 2nd, 2006 — Posted in Uncategorized
Admidst discussions about changing the venue to somewhere that will garner more footfall traffic, we’ve made a change to the schedule of the workshops. Jon Thomson and Alison Craighead’s workshop on balancing art and life will now be on Tuesday. The People Speak’s workshop on the financial crises at play in the new media field will be on Wednesday. The rest of the week remains unchanged. Please tell all your colleagues to come, to make it worth our artists’ time, and to save me from wandering the streets of San Jose giving away cookies (somehow I think I’ll be doing that anyway).
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Posted by Sarah on August 2nd, 2006 — Posted in Recipes, Crisis Management, Strategies
Friends of mine in Newcastle might remember the day I invented a new cookie - the knackeroon. I was trying to make Nigella Lawson’s Pistachio Macaroons. In part because the green colour is so awesome. In part because they remind me of Paris. In part because my nut-allergic sweetheart was away. In part because they are another entry into what I can only call the mid-Atlantic schizophrenic biscuit taxonomy (they have the same name as a cookie you know and love in North America, but are nothing like it. The Canadian macaroons that I know and love are full of coconut and are pyramid shaped chewy nuggets, kinda like ‘Mounds’ the chocolate-covered US version of a UK Bounty bar. You still with me?). My pistachio macaroons became ‘knackeroons’ because I completely knackered the recipe. Botched might be a better description for you North American readers. And did so because I didn’t own electric beaters.
Nigella calls them ‘cookie-bliss’.
Ingredients
For the macaroons:
1/3 cup or 3 ounces pistachios
3/4 cup confectioners’ sugar
2 large egg whites
1 tbsp sugar
For the buttercream:
1/4 cup or 2 ounces pistachios
1 2/3 cups confectioners’ sugar
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
2 baking sheets, lined with parchment paper
Preparation
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Grind the pistachios in a food processor along with the confectioners’ sugar (this stops them turning into an oily mess), until as fine as dust.
[this part went just fine, I have a little Braun handmixer with attachment perfect for grinding nuts]
Whisk the egg whites until fairly stiff, but not dry, sprinkle the sugar over and whisk until very stiff.
[this part I had to do by hand as my mixer isn’t right for such a job, and they just wouldn’t go stiff. I think at some point I switched bowls in an attempt to make the process easier, but the new bowl had a drop of water in it, thereby ensuring the whites would _never_ stiffen]
Fold the whites into the pistachio-sugar dust, and combine gently.
[frustrated, I didn’t fold gently.]
Pipe small rounds onto your lined baking sheet, using a plain 1/2-inch nozzle.
[Given the mixture was runny, I didn’t see much point piping, I just spooned it on]
Let them sit for about 10 minutes to form a skin.
[Figuring they were knackered anyway, I didn’t bother letting them sit]
Then put in the oven and cook for 10-12 minutes: they should be set, but not dried out.
[Surprise surprise, they ran all over the tray and into each other. Those that I had spooned first, had, amazingly, formed a bit of a skin, and so hadn’t collapsed into a pool of sticky nutty goodness as much as the others. I immediately wished I had let them sit.]
Remove from the oven and let cool, still on their sheets, while you get on with the filling.
This is simple work: grind the nuts and confectioners’ sugar in the processoor as before; then cream the butter and continue creaming as you add the nut dust. Make sure you have a well-combined soft buttercream. Then simply sandwich the macaroons together.
[Simply? Oh sure. If your macaroons aren’t fused to one another, cracking and crumbling all over the kitchen!]
Like the vomitous green gooseberry and cream Victoria Sponge cake (I’m sensing a pattern, or personal flaw, the culinary equivalent of not having a green thumb), the knackeroons looked a total volcanic mess, but tasted delicious. I decided that if I gave them away in poor packaging I could pretend to my friends that they had been damaged and crumbled in transit and then no one would know what they were supposed to look like and would focus on the taste; in the end, no such deception was necessary.
But I think the lesson I learned in inventing knackeroons, is that if, when you get to the middle of a project, you think it is going horribly wrong, don’t rush all the subsequent steps in order to get through it as quickly as possible (perhaps for that old adage, ‘if you can’t stand the heat in the kitchen’, the answer shouldn’t be ‘get out,’ but ‘wait a beat. cool down. keep going.’)
[A note on the source of the recipe:
So it turns out there are weird copyright laws about reprinting recipes, but if you change them, or introduce them you can claim them as original. So this one is officially “excerpted from How to be a Domestic Goddess by Nigella Lawson Copyright© 2001 by Nigella Lawson. Excerpted by permission of Knopf Canada, a division of Random House of Canada Limited. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.” I didn’t get said permission. And by excerpted I think they mean ditching Nigella’s intro, and moreover, putting in North American measures - cups instead of grams - and namings - confectioners sugar instead of icing sugar. So now you know.]
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Posted by Sarah on August 1st, 2006 — Posted in Reference, Types of Crises, new media art
Trawling around for more evidence of the crisis I’ve found the following articles (some pdfs):
Trebor Scholz on the Crisis In New Media Art Education: http://molodiez.org/crisis_nmae.pdf
Myself on the Crisis in Presentation of new media art in the UK (I’d forgotten about this one) http://www.metamute.org/?q=en/A-Crisis-of-Presentation
Charlie Gere on the Crisis in the Archive: http://www.hatii.arts.gla.ac.uk/news/gerelect241104.pdf
Jay David Bolter et al., New Media and the Permanent Crisis of Aura. Convergence, 2006. 12: 21-39. http://www.interfacekultur.au.dk/da/nyt/bolter/
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Posted by Sarah on July 30th, 2006 — Posted in Crisis Management, Strategies, Types of Crises
Less than 10 days til the start of ISEA and I think I’m looking more and more like that woman on the Understanding Stress book cover (sans cigarette), though I’m feeling pretty confident that curators out there have plenty of ideas as to how they might like to be comforted and find bliss in their practice if indeed they have lost it - everything from engaging in life drawing and street improv theatre, to having a citizen’s advice bureau where the public dispense advice about what new media art is and what the job of a curator should be (maybe we can rope Germaine Koh’s volunteers into this as part of her project for ISEA).
There are a few other curatorial crises that have been identified (and boy, am I getting sick of the term crisis, but I suppose we’re stuck with it now). Michelle Kasprzak suggested two other key problems for new media curators both of which are in need of interventionist clinics: repetitive strain injury, and the fact that you can’t be critical in public. To the first, I’d say drop in on Thursday the 10th and exercise your wrists play ping-pong with Caitlin Jones. To the second - and this one is indeed a worry - I hope that the workshop on balancing art and life might help us figure out why this is the case, if not Sandy Stone’s workshop on keeping on the critical edge and avoiding assimilation, scheduled for Friday the 11th.
It was Simon Pope’s suggestion that we teach new media curators how to watch out for ’scope-creep’ as a better way to balance their lives with their work. Problem is, I’m not sure how we do that. Perhaps someone has an idea for a scope-creep alarm application we can install in our browsers, that goes off when we have too many windows open or have surfed too far from the task at hand? Code on a postcard to the VIP suite please.
I am realising there are tools, strategies, props, books, websites, and even artworks (such as Greg Garvey’s Automatic Confession Machine) which might relate to the crisis centre as a whole but there are others which relate solely to particular tense points a curator of new media art encounters, such as the one on economics, which The People Speak workshop on Tuesday the 8th will address. I’ll do my best to sort these out as we go along. It’s useful to know the general, but it’s more productive to be acquainted with the specific. And no, that’s not one of the fortunes you’ll find in the CRUMB fortune cookies.
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