Vladimir Kagan's Blog

A Blog for Foodies!

The Importance Of Weight Maintenance

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, April 1, 2016

 

Everyone is obsessed with weight loss; I am concerned about weight maintenance. This is important for sustaining happiness. It is difficult to do under the pressure of the weight-loss movement.

These are my recommendations:

Breakfast: the eye-opener meal - very important to start the day right!

‘Firstly’ a good breakfast is mandatory. It provides you with the energy to get through the day. This is NOT a meal to have on the run. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee and bacon must fill the air to prime you for this major repast. Start with fruit and nuts to provide you with necessary fiber. For the main course, have some pre-buttered toasted English muffins (they must be Thomas’ accept no substitute). Add additional butter to suit. Alternate choice; a New York bagel. Next the choice of a ‘schmear’; jam, jelly, honey, peanut butter creamy or chunky or cream cheese. I like to add Scottish smoked salmon with a squeeze of lemon. For those choosing a more exotic fare, try English Marmite. Add eggs any style. If you are still hungry, add cereals; granola is a good source of fiber – substitute porridge, if you are an Anglo. Linger at the table, it aids digestion and allows you to dip into the jam or honey jars instead of adding sugar to your coffee. You’ll be surprised how energized you will be and ready to face the day ahead.

Nothing like a relaxed lunch with a good glass of wine

 

Lunch. Don’t neglect this. Americans tend to too often ignore this important meal. They swallow down a sandwich on the run, while the ladies tend to graze. Some even skip lunch entirely. Lunch is very important. Eat heartily and don’t deny yourself the satisfaction of a digestive glass of wine. Remember, a noontime meal is easier to digest. In some civilized countries a siesta is mandatory.

You are now primed to survive into the evening and won’t be famished at dinnertime. Don’t think of early dinner, some people eat early in time for the seven o’clock news. The news is always depressing, better to relax with a cocktail; my tipple of choice is a Vodka martini. A late dinner makes you tired and preps you for bed. It’s too late for the theater or movies. People will tell you it’s bad for the digestion to eat too much too late. Ignore that. That’s what anti-acid pills were invented for. If tiredness overcomes you, try a strong cup of coffee; I have a Nespresso machine wherever I reside just for this purpose. Go to bed and toss and turn yourself to sleep. It is subliminal exercise and you will eventually drop off into a heavenly slumber, dreaming of the day’s meals.

A well fed person is a satisfied person - happy dreams!

 

If you are still loosing weight: consult your doctor!

 

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This Blog is dedicated to my kid-sister, and fellow foodie - Tanya

New Canaan, home to classic modern.

A Walk In the Country

In Search of Modern

PART 1

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, December 2, 2015 

 

A few weeks ago, I lauded my friend Zaha Hadid.

This time I sing my praise to two Japanese architects, Kazuyo Sejima and Ryue Nishizawa of the firm SANAA. Both Zaha Hadid and SANAA have won the Pritzker Award; both are at the peak of their success; both compete for the same projects.

There is a tug-of-was between the deconstructionism of Zaha Hadid and Frank Gehry vs. the esthetic understatement of Mssrs. Kazuyo Sejima and Ryue Nishizawa. Both styles are important statements of the 21^st centuries. One is explosive, a tribute to modern technology; the other a return to the drawing board. Neither could achieve their masterpieces without the 21st Century’s new technology.

I had recently received an invitation to a luncheon at Philip Johnson’s ‘Glass House’ in New Canaan Connecticut and used this occasion to explore the newly opened ‘Grace Farms’ near by.

This is a Blog in Two Parts for you to enjoy both properties

 

Though the weather started grey and raining, it was a beautiful fall day in Connecticut. The trees were in full color and the ground covered in glistening golden leaves like a carpet.

    

A carpet of fall leaves

Our destination was New Canaan long known for its iconic mid-century modern architecture spearheaded by The Harvard Five, a young architectural cooperative back in 1949: Marcel Breuer, Landis Gores, John Johansen, Philip Johnson, Eliot Noyes and my old skiing and sailing buddy, John Black Lee. They were affordable modern houses; some two stories others ranch, nestled into the woods, often precariously cantilevered on jagged granite boulders protruding out of the ground. My son-in-law’s mother lives in one of them - A little gem perched on top of one of these boulders.

 

Early 50's houses in New Canaan designed by The Harvard Five Architectural Group

Too many of these gems were demolished by enterprising builders and replaced with hideous “McMansions” and clapboard houses that now dot the neighborhoods - all too readily visible behind the historic stonewalls so ubiquitous in this part of Connecticut. Mercifully, the town fathers of New Canaan finally came to their senses and put a stop to this destruction. Today, what’s left of these examples of mid-century modern is landmarked!

 

 

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Our destination was the Philip Johnson Glass House. A return to a landmark I had written about a few years ago in one of my earlier Blogs. The centerpiece of the property is the Glass House. Its primary purpose was for entertaining. However, behind a partition wall was a beautiful bedroom open to the sky and the prowling deer; it was for show only or the occasional privileged guest. The bathroom has a secret tunnel that leads to the real sleeping quarters some hundred feet away!

 

The Philip Johnson Glass House was a tribute to his friend Ludwig Mies van der Rohe

 

The occasion of our visit was a private viewing of the paintings by Enoc Perez; huge wall to wall, floor to ceiling paintings of Philip Johnson’s pink granite office tower nicknamed the ‘Lipstick’. The event was a discreet fundraiser sponsored by Peter Brand and his lovely wife Stephanie Seymour Brant, both great patrons of the arts. My friend Amy Lau managed to get us invitations for this event. 

   

Enrico Perez with Scott Dreving, Deputy Director of the Glass House and Amy Lau and myself

(photo Patrick McMullan)

 

Enrico Perez's striking paintings of the Lipstick Building

The Philip Johnson Compound was built in the 50’s on 49 acres of hilly wooded land. The property is a celebration in opulence; money well spent on the indulgence of beauty. Each structure is a tribute to Philip Johnson’s fertile and whimsical mind. All the buildings on the rambling property are accessible by footpath only. It is a sybaritic treat.

Age has its privilege  - I was comfortably transported in a golf cart from building to building

 

Tucked into the landscape discreetly away from the other buildings is a window-less fortress constructed entirely of bricks. Intimate on the inside with a fireplace, it has a huge elliptical opening in the ceiling that emits a glow of indirect lighting. This quite sanctuary houses Mr. Johnson library.

The library is a foreboding windowless structure (though hidden from view is a nice window into the woods)

   

Mr. Johnson's library was a place for peace and solitude

 

In a dell near the entrance to the woods is the ‘Ghost House’, designed by Johnson with his friend Frank Gehry as a sanctuary for growing Lilies. The two architects gleefully thought they had outwitted the ever-prowling deer on the property. Of course the deer outsmarted them and enjoyed munching on the succulent deer-candy flowers.   All that remained of the flowers were stems. The very ethereal look of this building gave it its name ‘Ghost House’!

   

The Ghost House was conceived as an outdoor shelter for growing lilies. It is tucked into the woods and is virtually invisible with its thin wire construction

 

A visit to the property would not be complete without venturing down the winding path through the woods to the Lincoln Kirstein tower and beyond that the bucolic pond with a miniature ‘floating’ pavilion that was Mr. Johnsons little ‘Folly”. He loved sitting there and contemplate the world.The Lincoln Kirstein Tower is an imposing sculpture, strategically placed at the edge of the woods overlooking the floating Pavilion.(it is interesting to note that Lincoln Kirstein was a good friend of my father and had Dad restore all the wooden sculpture of Eli Nadelman for a show at MOMA.)

    

 

 

Unfortunately, the beautiful White Sculpture Gallery with its subterranean caves was closed for repair. It houses Mr. Johnson’s diverse taste in sculpture from Greek Marbles to Frank Stella’s abstract constructions.

A view of the interior of the Sculpture House

 

At the top of the hill, near the ‘entrance to the property, is ‘The Monster’, an avant-garde building, created under the influence of Frank Gehry. It was the newest building on the property. Today, it serves as the welcome center for the complex.

 

The Monster guards the compound at the entrance - it is the most modernistic building on the property.

 (photo Patrick McMullan)

Almost invisible from sight with only a grass mount as a hint of something happening, is an underground bunker, reminiscent of a World War II airplane hanger. If the doors weren’t open, you’d pass it by completely. This is the treasure trove that houses Mr. Johnson’s phenomenal collection of modern art. – Three enormous carrousels of rotating panels conceal dozens, maybe hundreds of paintings to be viewed leisurely by rotating panel after panel.

The Gallery was set up for our little private luncheon

 (photo Patrick McMullan)

Lunch was a casual tête-à-tête with a group major art collectors and an interesting introduction to the works of Enoc Perez given by the host, Peter Brand. The luncheon was so hi-toned that only champagne or tea was served. I had no idea how addicted I was to my little dram of decaf coffee, and so a stop at the nearest Starbuck afterwards provided the right fix. 

TO BE CONTINUED

London - A short visit

A Nostalgic Visit To London

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, November 17, 2015

 

How does one describe a week in London, overshadowed by the recent tragedies in Paris?

Friday the 13^th took on new meaning. The shock waves arrived at a quiet dinner in an unprepossessing Indian restaurant.  The appalling news came via America. Billy, Jessica’s husbands called to ask “have you heard?” Once we turned on the ‘Telli’, the information flow went viral. CNN is macabre news reporting machine thriving on calamity. Their talking heads keep repeating their doomsday harangue none-stop.  My mother used to call it “oral diarrhea.” Thank you CNN – I am brainwashed.

 

But the subject of this Blog is Good Old London

My sister Tanya had lived there for twenty-six years. It was Erica’s and my second home for years. We both have mutual friends. This was a good opportunity to make a nostalgic visit before the Thanksgiving to Christmas holiday madness, when all our families take off in different directions.

 

Just like old times - brother and sister having a fun chat

 

First impression: Nothing has changed.  London is still a fuddy-duddy town. The plumbing is predictably archaic. After theater restaurants close their kitchens a mere thirty minutes after the last curtain fall.  Traffic comes at you from the wrong direction. Colossal traffic jams are endemic with Über cruisers cluttering the streets. When Obama comes to New York, a few lanes of Park Avenue are temporarily closed; when Mr. Mondi, India’s Prime Minister, comes to London the entire town grinds to a halt. 

That being said, the people are unchanged - lovable and friendly. An English Pub lunch is still the best bargain in town and a pint of bitters goes hand in glove with a ‘Steak and Kidney Pie’.

 

Jessica photographing our delicious pub lunch complete with pork-backs and other munchies. A half pint of bitters never tasted better with a steaming steak pie

Joe, Tanya's savvy driver

Joe has been Tanya’s driver for years. He knows the town like the palm of his hand. He wove us through back alleys and muses, barely wide enough for one car at a time and managed to thread us though London’s endemic bottlenecks.

 

London weather is always predictable, if the sky is sunny in the morning, rains showers are sure to follows. The weatherman can never go wrong forecasting “showers with intervals of sunshine.”  With Daylight Savings time, darkness descends early.  To compensate for this, the town is brightly lit with dazzling Christmas lights. You’d think the holiday was next week not next month.  Harrods is a gingerbread house lit by garlands of twinkling lights, not just for Christmas, but also year-round. It screams, “Buy – buy – buy.”

 

Christmas lighting to cheer up the early evening

 

My old friend, David Suratgar, as chipper as ever

The Westbury Hotel in Mayfair was perfectly located for the ladies to go shopping and me to visit the galleries around the corner. Gracious top-hatted doormen who can conjure up a taxi in minutes guard the Hotel entrance.

 

The hotel is home to a superb little Japanese restaurant, Tsukiji Sushi, which can hold its own against any fancy eatery in town. I made the mistake of dropping in at lunchtime with a visiting friend from Belgium, only to be turned away by a supercilious maitre D’ asking if I had a reservation – “DON’T YOU KNOW IT’S LUNCH TIME? WE ARE FULLY BOOKED!” who would have guessed!

However, everything in life has a purpose and we ventured into a most discreet restaurant decorated with wine bottles in glass coolers reaching from floor to the ceiling. The décor was subtle with the rich wood paneling finished in a deep shade of rosewood. Polite waiters and waitresses escorted you to your choice of tables. There were plenty of tables to choose from, as the only visible patrons were two tables with elegant Chinese patrons. We needed no reservation. It was so expensive that no self-respecting English man could afford it. The food was superb. Every dish was brought to the table with a prepared script recited by the wait-staff. It was worth the price of admission. The restaurant: Alyn Williams of Bond Street.

 

This gastronomic painting was my Foie Gras - the modest chocolate fondant took 20 minutes to prepare

 

Our hotel had recently embarked on a modernization program– a big mistake. The original rooms had an old world charm, a little shabby gentility but lots of closets, old fashioned bathrooms, ample lighting with crystal lamps and silk shades, drapes reminiscent of a Fortuny print. By contrast, the remodeled rooms were ‘moderne’ decorated with mirrors and inadequate lighting, bathrooms were fitted with the latest ‘English‘ toilets, (they were antediluvian) bathtubs with glass shower doors that only partially enclosed the tub so they permitted water to soak the towels, clothing and flood the floor (there were no hooks to hang anything). The Brits are talented designers when working in the genre of Christopher Wren, but fail miserably when it come to modern.

Finally –Architecture: London has radically changed, not for the better.  Monstrous shards of glimmering glass reach into the overcast skies. It is a litmus paper for the experimental flim-flam by the world’s leading architects. Norman Foster’s ‘Gherkin’ is no longer the tallest oddity on the horizon, but still looks like a pickle. Much of the architecture borders on weird – modern is not an English idiom.

   
 
   

Imaginative or just weird architecture along the Thames

 

Having moaned so seriously about my beloved England, there continues to be one praiseworthy constant, the LONDON TAXI!  They are the best in the world – both vehicles and drivers! It takes three years of studious studying to pass the test; the drivers are responsible for their car’s appearance so they are meticulously clean. The cars can turn on a dime, the passenger cab is commodious with jump seats to accommodate the four passenger legal limit but there is room for more.  The luggage space is generous and accommodates my walker, my wheel chair and four pieces of luggage.  Handicap access is thoughtful with handgrips at every possible location.  Finally, the passenger entrance provides a retractable platform for wheelchair access. There is one caveat: THEY ARE STAGGERINGLY EXPENSIVE!!!

 

Highlights of the week: 

• We were invited to Christies Auction House to watch a sale of ‘Chinese Jades and Bronzes’ selling at extravagant prices, all to Chinese bidders on the phone.  

All the audience was Chinese except for a handful of visitors

 

• A visit to the new Carpenters Workshop Gallery on Albemarle Street featured one of my Serpentine sofas. In the spring they will be launching my limited edition bronze furniture (See a preview of the designs in my new book VLADIMIR KAGAN on page 240 - 241)

My Serpentine Sofa is in good company with a Wendell Castle chair  and lighting by Nacho Carbonell

 

• While Jessica and my sister went shopping and did their cultural thing by visiting the  Ai Weiwei one-man exhibition at the Royal Academy, I perused showrooms and vintage galleries that featured my designs.  It was fun walking in unannounced and discussing the authenticity of my designs.

 

 • There were endless teas and dinners with old friend. One noteworthy discovery was a small Italian restaurant run by a bevy of adorable Italian daughters called ‘Pizzicotta’ in Kensington on High Street.

 

• A delightful lunch with Zaha Hadid in her new Gallery at 101 Goswell Rd, her private museum until she can move it into the abandoned London Design Museum she had purchased a few years ago. The Gallery is a collection of her far-reaching diverse work.  There were exquisite models of her newest buildings, (Buck Roger’s dream cities from the 50s come to life), her unique sculptured furniture, cars, boats, shoes, handbag – Zaha leaves nothing untouched. Each item bears her unique signature style. Zaha is a genius.  

A jovial lunch with Zaha and a selfie by Jessica

test-driving one of Zaha's sofas or is it a love-seat?

 

Zaha's Louis Vuitton handbag

   

A concept car and the staircase in Zaha's gallery

 

A display of Zaha's high-rise building concepts

   

This a "molten glass table" carved in clear acrylic

 

A concept model for an architectural sculpture

Me telling Zaha that she should make her seating more comfortable - ha ha!

 

 

• A visit to Wallpaper Magazine, who likes my work and me. Their creative director Sarah Douglas is as pretty as she is bright. Look for future collaborations. 

 

• Commuting toward the eastern reaches of London is quickest done by boat.  A half hour high-speed ferry up (or is it down) the Thames to the Isle of Dogs. 

     

I love bridges - especially their underbelly 

We were invited for an English tea by our friends Michael and Jenny Barracloughs. Though Michael is a medical doctor, he has a dual degree in architecture and has spent most of his life dedicated to turning the Isle of Dogs from a wasteland into an attractive habitable place. There are low-rise residential buildings occupied by young families and often their parents who were the original occupants of the island.

Michael has made certain that not all the island be built on and managed to preserve 60 acres of land for a park not devoted to Cricket Pitches, but to a working farm for city kids to feel and enjoy the county. Some 50 years ago, when Michael and Jenny built their cantilevered house over the Thames opposite Greenwich, they were the only occupants on the island.

 

The view from Jenny and Michael's house: Greenwich and the Cutty Sark

Michael and Jessica standing in front of a World War II Ack-ack gun that helped save most of London from the German bombings.

Jenny and me clowning around at tea - I'm trying on one of her exotic necklaces as a head decoration

 

• No trip to London is complete without Jessica perusing the Portobello Market. She chose a rainy Saturday to discover hidden treasures. Rain obviously doesn’t deter the English – the market was filled to the hilt.

 

 

   

Farewell at the Westbury -Tanya and 'Issy' her friend - Joe our driver, and the friendly top-hatted doorman

 

 The week evaporated into a kaleidoscope of events.  Now back in New York I’m trying to decipher them for your entertainment.

 

 

 

Halloween in Nantucket

Halloween

It aint what it used to be

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, November 1^st  2015

 Welcome to my Halloween party!

 

Halloween used to be a gentle holiday for children. Dress-up funny; wear a mask, a jester’s hat. ‘Trick or Treat’ was a sweet opportunity for the little ones to collect candy. No one ever put you to the test of “trick”.

It had its origin in Celtic folklore and morphed into the Christian world as a festival of fall. It was a celebration.

 

Not anymore.

 

It has become a vehicle for protest, free speech, and political correctness. The Gay community has embraced it, as it’s own holiday to express their affection for each other. Fine. But their parades, originally colorful and creative have deteriorated into tasteless nudity.

 

The New York Times did a front-page article entitled:

 

Halloween Costume Correctness on Campus:

Feel Free to Be You, but Not Me

 

"SEATTLE — Pocahontas, Caitlyn Jenner and Pancho Villa are no-nos. Also off-limits are geisha girls and samurai warriors — even, some say, if the wearer is Japanese. Among acceptable options, innocuous ones lead the pack: a Crayola crayon, a cup of Starbucks coffee or the striped-cap-wearing protagonist of the “Where’s Waldo?” books.

As colleges debate the lines between cultural sensitivity and free speech, they are issuing recommendations for Halloween costumes on campus, aimed at fending off even a hint of offense in students’ choice of attire. Using the fairly new yardstick of cultural appropriation — which means pretending for fun or profit to be a member of an ethnic, racial or gender group to which you do not belong — schools, student groups and fraternity associations are sending a message that can be summed up in five words: It is dangerous to pretend.”

 

 

With all this turmoil, the debates about cultural appropriation – where is there to escape to? - My safe-haven away from all the mayhem is Nantucket! 

 

 

A sweet costume parade meanders up the cobbled Main Street, children and parents dressed in every fantasy costume imaginable. A dog dressed as a lion, another as a tramp, tiny toddlers barely able to walk rejoice in the handout of the candy: all are happy, cheerful. It is over within the hour. Daylight savings still was hanging around (today it would already be dark).

 

My youngest granddaughter, Ondine the "angel"

     

 
   

Ondine with her mother, Wendy and me

        

I go home with my friend Betsey, to put the final touches on our costume party: “Funny Hats or Masks” Our friends trickle in and we enjoy a congenial evening in front of the fireplace, a pre-curser of winter holidays still to come.

My Halloween Party

   

The mystery guest: Is this a man or a woman? Hint: It is carrying a pocket-book

 

My friends Chris, Tessa, Suzy (she fooled us all), Greta

   

The most creative masks: Audrey Sterk and Floyd Kellogg

 

  

The witches gather in my living room

   

In 2013, I had written an earlier lament about Halloween.

 If you’ve missed it, below a reprint.

 

HALLOWEEN BLOG 2013           

 

I am not a Scrooge, but I have never liked Halloween... In many ways its has always had a cruel twist... trick or treat in New York meant more trick than treat... razor blades in apples, beating up with chalk bags; intimidation... the treat on the street often meant money. I have always shunned the event until one year I spent Halloween in Nantucket. There it was truly an event for the children with an adorable parade up Main Street, parents and kids dressed in fun costumes, shopkeepers providing candies and cider... Trick or Treat became a treat. It softened my heart and I have ever since wanted to celebrate this Holiday on the island... and last week I did!

 

In my bombastic way, I decided to throw a party for my adult friends and their progenies... (Grandfathering had never been my favorite sport, though when the "bratlings" reached adulthood, they became quite compatible human beings.)  With the encouragement of my young friends, I brazenly set out to do a party. This had always been my wife, Erica's, domain. In those early days these parties were restricted to six to ten year olds... to my horror, the kids cut loose with no holds barred. I tried to shrink from these affairs, disappearing into furthest corners of my apartment.

 

Now, I was about to follow in her footsteps, treading where I had never dared go. A costume party! Marissa, my delightful right hand assistant baked ham, turkey, pigs in a blanket, hot dogs and lots of candy; my friend Tessa created spider's webs all over the house, Betsey put the finishing touches on the food decorations and kind Angelica stood by in the kitchen to make sure there were no food fights. I cut out paper shopping bags for spooky lantern and remembered the black lighting from Erica's days. To accommodate kids, I set the party for 6:30 (I am never ready by 6:30 and this was no exception) 'cept guests didn't care... they arrived with kids in tow straight from the Main Street Parade. Musicians dutifully brought their instruments including Lucy with her bass fiddle, everyone took my invitation seriously and came in costumes... The rest is a picture story. It was a party for the books.  Encouraged by its success, it was only a dress rehearsal for next year's jamboree! 

 

 

 

 

 

The Caleb & Vladi's Cooking Show

Patty Cake, Patty Cake, Baker’s Man

Bake me a cake as quick as you can!

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, September 27, 2015

 

"Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man", "Pat-a-cake", "patty-cake" or "pattyc", "Pat-a-cake", "patty-cake" or "pattycake" is one of the oldest and most widely known surviving English nursery rhymes."

   

What are the two of the most important gifts that the Jewish people have bestowed upon their Christian neighbors (other than the Bible and the Ten Commandments???)

 

Answer: Bagels and Chopped liver

  

This is an ecumenical Blog with my friend Caleb Cressman (not Jewish) teaching Vladimir Kagan (Jewish) how to make New York Style Bagels and in the same  show, Vladimir reciprocates with a lesson in making chopped liver into a sexy cognac laced paté.

 

 

Some of you will recognize Caleb as the accordion player in the Coq Au Vin Band.

 

 

Caleb’s Bagel recipe

Ingredients:

1 kg flour. I use King Arthur all purpose.

50 grams of sugar

25 grams of salt

11 grams of yeast

Mix these together

Add a little less than three cups of water.

 

Preparation:

Mix

knead for five or ten minutes

Let rise for an hour

Separate into 110 gram balls.

Now shape the dough balls into bagels by getting a hole in them and flattening slightly. Be creative.

Let sit for ten minutes.

Now throw a few at a time into the big pot of boiling water you put on at the beginning of this process. But first add a few table spoons of sugar to the water. This give the bagels a nice sparkly sheen. Flip the bagels after about 45 seconds to boil the other side. Scoop out of the water and let dry a bit on a counter. Paint side with an egg wash made from one egg white mixed with a teaspoon of water. Sprinkle on your toppings of choice and bake in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes.

 

    

 Kneading the dough and shaping the bagel's hole. This looks easy, but it "aint" (See my results below)

My friend Betsey's and my attempt at making bagels on our own. We labelled them "Really Ugly Bagels by Vladi) and hope to market them. P.S. they really tasted delicious!

Vladi’s chopped liver recipe Chicken Liver Paté (borrowed from Jacques Pepin's cookbook. "Everyday cooking with Jacques Pepin)   Ingredients: 1 Pound of chicken livers 2/3 Cup thinly sliced onions 1 Clove of garlic, peeled and crushed 2 bay leaves crushed 1/4 Teaspoon thyme leaves 1 Cup chicken broth 2 Teaspoons of salt 1-1/2 Cups (3 sticks) butter, softened Freshly ground pepper 2 Teaspoons Cognac or more! 1 envelope unflavored gelatin for aspic   Preparation: Place the livers, onion, garlic, bay leaves, thyme, broth and 1 teaspoon salt in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, cover and cook at a bare simmer for 7 or 8 minutes. Remove from the heat and let the mixture sit for about 5 minutes. Take out the solids with a slotted spoon and place them in the bowl of a food processor with metal blade. Be certain to fish out the bay leaves as they do not chop up smoothly  (Reserve and strain the liquid to make the aspic) Start processing the liver, adding the butter piece by piece. Finally, add the second teaspoon salt, the pepper, and a generous splash of Cognac process for 2 minutes so that the mixture is very creamy and completely smooth. Pour into a mold and refrigerate to set and serve.  To preserve freshness and give a professional look to my paté,  I make an aspic. (this is the fun part of the process as it makes me look so professional.) Aspic: Boil up the remaining broth and residue from the liver. Add the bag of unflavored gelatin and stir frequently to dissolve the gelatin. Next, beat a raw egg into a froth and stir it into the boiling liquid to clarify it. Once the broth is clear, strain it through a sieve lined with a layer of paper towels. Allow to cool but not harden, then pour it slowly over the cooled paté. Make certain not to melt the underlying paté with the liquid aspic.   There's nothing like a little handwork mushing the ingredients into the pot   Stirring the ingredients over a simmering stove Testing livers to be certain that they are still pink inside adding just a dash of salt into the Cuisinart pouring the smooth pate into ceramic bowls   If the Pope  had visited NANTUCKET, he would surely have enjoyed our joint effort!   ****   This memorable event was recorded for posterity on video by my friend, Joanna Hay, who some of you will recognize as the nibbled-fingered violinist in the Coq Au Vin Band. These photos are out-take from her documentary film. I know it will make Caleb and me stars on the cooking network!    Joanna Hay is a documentary filmmaker and a superb violinist             Epilog: Kneading Bagel Dough is infinitely more work than chopping liver in the Cuisinart!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Flight of the Snowbird - A Farewell to Florida (part 1)

Reflections on a Little Treasure in South Florida

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, April 26, 2015

 

 

I Have just returned to frigid New York after spending the last month in balmy Florida. The next few Blogs are my recollections of what I have left behind.

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Barreling down a six-lane highway on route to Ft. Lauderdale or Miami, you hardly think of exiting in Delray Beach for a visit to a Japanese garden. It has always been on my back-burner until I needed some entertainment for visiting friends and family.

 

 

A Japanese garden in Florida? With lakes – pagodas - topiary trees - Bonsai trees - Koi fish? A respectable Japanese restaurant topped off with an irresistible gift shop? … All this is available just six miles off bustling I-95 in the hinterland of Delray Beach!

 

The Morikami Museum and Japanese Gardens, is one of Palm Beach County’s most treasured cultural attractions. Located in a tranquil natural setting, its 200-acre park features nature trails, pine forests and picnic areas. The gardens reflect major periods of Japanese garden design, from the eighth to the 20th century. According to the garden’s designer, Hoichi Kurisu, each sequence of gardens is intended to express the character and ideas of a counterpart in Japan. As you follow its swirling pebbled trails, each garden flows seamlessly one into the another to becomes a paradisiacal landscape.

I was surprised to discover a century-old connection between Japan and South Florida. In 1904, Jo Sakai, a recent graduate of New York University, returned to his homeland of Miyazu, Japan, to organize a group of pioneering farmers and led them to what is now northern Boca Raton. With the help of the Model Land Company, a subsidiary of Henry Flagler’s East Coast Railroad, they formed a farming colony they named Yamato, an ancient name for Japan. Ultimately, the results of their crop experimentation were disappointing and the Yamato Colony fell far short of its goals. By the 1920s the community, which had never grown beyond 30 to 35 individuals, finally fell apart. One by one, the families left for other parts of the United States or returned to Japan. All that remains on the map is Yamato Avenue – exit 00 on I-95. (Now I finally understand why the Japanese Name!)

 

 
 Me. the eternal tree hugger, on my scooter, scouting out the trees

Every tree and shrub has been carefully "topiaried" - they look like grown-up Bonsais

And this is the real "mcCoy" - a beautiful Bonsai forest

 

 

 As most of you know, I love bridges... here are two charming examples

 

The garden is full of beautiful flowers

  

A heron in search of lunch - the Koi fish were too large for his appetite

   

A dipping fountain - water drips into one bamboo stem which slowly tilts to empty it into the pond below

 
  

A walled garden is enclosed with elegant glazed tiles

 

 

...and then you come out into a wilderness waterfall

You can rest assured that there will be one of these Japanese lanterns in my garden this summer!

++++++++++

Addendum from my daughter Jessica's I-phone photos

I love this guy because he reminds me a bit of me!

   
 

 

 My design motto "When in doubt, dress it up with a bit of red" 

 

Jessica and I doing a selfie - me tootling on my scooter

 

The Gardens are named for George Morikami, who over the years gifted all the land to the town of Delray Beach. The Museum offers a plethora of cultural events, but it was my leisurely stroll through this tranquil garden that has inspired this Blog.

 

 

An Easter Message

Spring is Sprung

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, April 5, 2015

 

It is Easter weekend and it looks as though spring has finally sprung.

 

I am a snow worshipper… but if I say this to my family, who have endured the severest winter in many years, I had better duck…. shoes, pots, snowballs and glowers will fly at me.

 

 I am visiting my daughter Jessica in Connecticut and she had promised me snow was still on the ground… and sure enough, when I arrived on Thursday night, clusters of snow were still obstructing the driveway.

   

There is something special about the lingering winter with its barren trees. Light penetrates unobstructed through the forest.  A spring wind makes their tender stems dance like a synchronized ballet. And in spite of the severe winter winds and snows, there are still some trees with leaves clinging to their branches. Why?

 

Friday was a cheerless day with intermittent downpours; the pond was still covered with a layer of ice and rimmed with snow. A winter chill was in the air. Cold was everywhere, inside and outside of the house. There were rude noises about the fu-----ing snow. I bundled up in a blanket. In spite of the glum weather, I went to work trying to concentrate on a design project.  Nothing creative flowed onto the paper.

 

But, oh what a difference a day makes! Saturday I woke to a brilliant orange sun trying to penetrate through the shades of my bedroom, a promise of a break in the weather. By the time I got up, the ice on the pond had started to melt and at the end of the day, it was gone. A walk through the garden revealed clumps of snowbells, crocuses and daffodils pushing through the melting snow. Spring was definitely on its way. Finally, sitting on the deck after dinner, nothing says spring more than the ear-splitting cacophony of lovesick tree frogs in search of a mate!

    

In a few days, even before a single leaf appears, the forest will take on a pale, fuzzy, green hue. It is the start of nature’s metamorphoses from its winter sleep into a brilliant new awakening. It may last only a few days before all hell will break loose. The trees and the earth will explode with all their might. Trees will burst with new leaves; the earth will part for ferns and flowers to emerge. The energy is almost palatable. Buds will burst open; pussy willows will morph into delicate flowers, forsythia bushes will paint a bright yellow everywhere, magnolia trees will bloom even before they send forth a single leaf. Spring at last!

 

What a joy to be a witness to this marvel.

  

P.S. Alas, while we had no Easter egg hunt in Connecticut, Jessica provided a plethora of candies that needed no hunting.

 

 

 

Home at Last

 

 

Remembrances Of Switzerland

Bits and Pieces

 

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, March 23, 2015

 

Mission accomplished…. . Having dealt with two major losses within one year, my sister desperately needed a change of pace. It took me two months to convinced her to come with me to sunny Palm Beach.

 

LOOKING BACK

Two months in Geneva was too long – two months was not enough. No matter how you slice it- you want more – you’ve had enough.

 

It took time to slow my engine down. Coming from hyper paced New York City to placid Geneva I learned to move at a snail’s pace. You open your eyes to see things you’ve missed.

 

NATURE

Take the Plain Trees. Plain trees are particularly suited for city planting, as they don’t shed bark! Instead they peel as they grow, shedding paper-thin bits of their outer skin, giving the stems a freckled look. They are ubiquitous in every city. In New York, they are primarily pissoires for dogs. In Geneva they take on certain majesty. For one thing, they are pollarded*. This process gives the trees abundant energy to rejuvenate during the winter and burst forth with clusters of branches and leaves that form a dense umbrella for shade. As their growth is stunted vertically, they develop impressive trunks, some as much as three feet in diameter. The pruned stubs of the branches are knurly and picturesque (or gross, however you look at them).

 *Pollarding is a pruning system in which the upper branches of a tree are removed, promoting a dense head of foliage and branches. It has been common in Europe since medieval times.

 

Pollarded plain Trees on Geneva's streets


 Roses in the famous flower clock on Lake Geneva

In Geneva one could take the time out to smell the roses.  They grew prolifically along the paths of the Lake. No more! Eco minded Genovese, have found that the fertilizer required to keep them in bloom was polluting their lake. (American communities take note!)

 

PEOPLE WATCHING

Girls: I am an expert in observing beautiful ladies. While the rest of the world worships blonds, Geneva is the Mecca for lovely brunettes.

If Genovese ladies take to the bottle (hair dyes, that is) they seem to prefer auburn tints to blond.

 

ARCHITECTURE

Swiss industrial buildings are a joy to behold. Drive along the well groomed Swiss Throughways and you’ll see gems of contemporary designs; not just box architecture dressed with surface graphics, but factories thoroughly innovative from the ground up.

 

A modern factory outside of Bulle in the Swiss Alps

 

(While in my last Blog I lamented new developments as the desecrators of the countryside. Here are some buildings that I admire.)

You might not think of the Swiss as particularly colorful, but I have found beautiful use of color in their modern architecture.

In downtown Geneva, I discovered an exciting new bridge that crosses the Arle. A feast for the eyes.
 

The Bulle bypass

The Swiss have always been master tunnel and bridge builders. Driving into the mountains, the small towns along the way have built impressive bypass roads and tunnels that move congesting traffic out of their picturesque main streets. Their costs are extravagant, but the Swiss are long-range planners

 

ROOFS AND CHIMNEYS

On my daily walks, I noticed things often overlooked while driving. I became enthralled with Geneva’s turn of the century buildings; their gabled roofs and the amusing chimneys that grew out of them.

     

 

Geneva has managed to bury its unsightly telephone wires. The wiring is neatly packaged in decorated junction boxes.

 

TRANSPORTATION

Geneva can boast the most Eco friendly public transportation system. All their buses and trams are clean air electric. The bi-product: a spider’s web of electric wiring overhead… but their trams and buses are streamlined and modern. All silently gliding through the city.

 

MOUNTAINS

I could not leave Switzerland without my ‘Ode to the Mountains.’ This is where I find peace and happiness. It is where Erica and I “sat out” 9/11 when all flights were canceled to the USA; It’s where we skied, summered, brought up kids, and recharged our batteries. It is the home of fondues and aged mountain cheese. In the springtime, the air is perfumed with freshly spread manure (an aroma that is an acquired taste) and in summer, there is nothing like the smell of fresh-cut hay.

 

 

A photo out of the picture window above and my sketch below

 

 

This is the end of my Swiss sermon (But I already have my return ticket.)

 

And now back in the US of A… It has been a hoot entertaining my sister in the Florida sunshine. She has just returned home to her beloved dogs, refreshed and well rested.

 

Clowning around with the family in the Key Lime Restaurant in Lantana, near Palm Beach

Left to right: Matt, Isabelle visiting from England, Vladi, Tanya,  Gigi in front, in back: Capt. Hook, Vanessa and Olivia

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Valentine's Day

The Spoiling of Vladimir Kagan

Copyright Vladimir Kagan February 14, 2015

 

Syb-a-rite
Noun
Plural noun: sybarites

A person who is self-indulgent in their fondness for serious luxury
Synonym: hedonist, sensualist, voluptuary, libertine, pleasure-seeker, epicure, bon vivant, bon viveur

A Sybarite was a native of Sybaris, an ancient Greek city in southern Italy. Sybarites were stereotyped as seekers of pleasure and luxury, and "sybarite" and "sybaritism" now connote such sensualism.


The Sybarites never had it so good!

I came to visit my sister and console her after the loss of her husband, David. Two weeks, perhaps three… who would have guessed that I would still be here almost two months later? For someone who thrives on activity and diversity, this could have bordered on insanity; incarceration in a sanitarium. No one stirs in the house until 10 am

But, why get up at 7 or 7:30, my usual “rise and shine” hour, when we get to bed closer to one-thirty or two? My wake-up call is the muffled sound of the steel security blinds being electrically retracted to allow the morning to penetrate. My room has a picture window overlooking a wooded landscape and a grandly restored turn-of-the-century mansion. Each morning I am greeted with a different setting; one day covered with a blanket of white glistening snow, the next brilliant sunshine, all too often though, the day is a gloomy gray with a thick cloud cover with no chance of burning off. Consequently, the occasional bright sunshine is a special treat.

 

Breakfast at 11, lunch at 2:30, tea at 4 and dinner always after eight… and often considerably later. Breakfast can be served in bed or on a small table in the library overlooking a bucolic winter scene. We face east and west so there is never a time of day when streaks of sunlight, if in fact there is sunshine, cannot penetrate the rooms.

Lunch is set out on a beautiful dining table capable of sitting fourteen but graciously set for five or six depending on who will drop in unannounced. The table is always replete with fresh flowers. Like most of the furniture in my sister’s house, the table is early Kagan vintage, beautifully preserved and loved. That alone makes me feel at home.

 

None of this would be possible without my sister's devoted staff: Espy who hails from Peru and Albano from Portugal - my Gloria in the middle is from Serbia

And then there is my sister’s loving attention. Need a manicure? The next day a delightful Spanish lady turns up to trim my nails: feet and hands. Feel stiff? - A charming Swiss masseuse appears to ease the pain. Need a haircut? you don't go to a barber, she takes me to her coiffeur.

A selfie at the hairdresser 

The cook in the kitchen prepares divine meals, but my sister is an inveterate chef and cannot stay out of the kitchen. Her soups are to die for! The cuisine hovers between healthy and Asian, neither of which catch my fancy… but never mind, Tanya gives me a free hand to shop for my favorite food: “Schweinerei” – pig food: sausages, salami, jambon cru, prosciutto, cheeses galore and crispy fresh-baked bread… And of course after dinner chocolates. Have I gained weight? Of course not. Ha ha!

My favorite "Pig" food

To ease my anticipated tedium, Tanya wisely assigned Slavica Rnjak, better known as Gloria, to entertain me; keep me out of trouble and definitely spoil me. (Not in the biblical sense), But pampered I am. Every morning my clothing is carefully laid out – color matched from head to toe. It helped that my departed brother-in-law had a closet full of the finest polo shirt with Hermes labels; cashmere sweaters from Italy, and sweat suits in every color imaginable. My sheets are changed every other day… new linens bring new colors. The chest of drawers, now assigned to me, was originally built by my father, one of my earliest designs dating to the mid-forties. The drawers are carefully organized and tidied daily… open one and it looks like a display at Saks 5th Avenue or any high-class men’s haberdashery.

                                                    These photos don't need a caption!

I have a desk bigger than any in my homes in America. I have two screens for my computer to keep me in touch with my office and monitor new design development. I sketch, I scan, I write Blogs… why bother to come home?

She invites friends for fun musical evenings -Fabrizio Chiavetta is a concert pianist, who plays magnificent accordion... here is is playing both at the same time

When Tanya's daughter Vicki arrived from Milano, we went straight out for a great steak dinner... Do you see the family resemblance?

Polly Hering, Tanya's devoted daughter, who lives in Geneva,  at  Art Expo

 

We go out for lunches - Tanya makes certain that I have a pretty girl as my guest: Nadege Chambrier studies environmental engineering in Lausanne - Albano and Gloria joined the fun 

some afternoons are so sunny and warm that I can sit on the balcony and do designs

A frigid walk along Lake Geneva with "ice fences" created by the freezing name of lake fish dish in genevaspray

The reward for a frigid walk; a delicious Peche de lac lunch with my friends Marion and Jullius

A twilight stroll along the lake

On one of our cultural outings: a visited to the Fondation Martin Bodmer that houses a World class book collection. the exhibit space is purposely located underground not to obstruct the magnificent view of the lake. The Swiss architect  Mario Botta did a sensitive design inserting a modern structure into an historic landscape

 

How do I keep fit in such a sybaritic environment? It’s not easy. Gloria and I take walks in the neighborhood and photograph chimneys, iron gates, old buildings and gnarly trees. Friends take me walking along the lake. Geneva has diverse museums to visit on gray days. I have found a superb trainer who makes me crawl on the floor and works on my abs. When I do finally leave here, I will surely have the much treasured six-pack stomach muscles Arnold Schwarzenegger is so famous for!

Doing my abs in the gyms with my  trainer

Vladi the tree huger can't resist an ancient tree

And finally: a clear sign to curb your dog!

 

 

 

Thinking of you!

 

 

Happy Valentine to all my girlfriends 

See you stateside…sooner or later. 

A little Weekend Excursion

A Visit Across The Border Into France

BOUTIQUE BOTANIC

 

Copyright Vladimir Kagan February 1, 2015

 

 

This Blog is not going to be Earthshaking, but my life in Geneva has taken an introverted course. Trivia becomes important and so I will entertain you with an afternoon’s outing.

 

France is only minutes from my sister’s home. The border is unmanned but if you cross it as a foreigner, you’d better have your passport… just in case.

 

Gaillard is a none-descript town on the other side of the border. It is a bedroom community for a lot of foreigners who work in Geneva but can’t afford its housing.

 

A selfie with my friend Gloria at the entrance to the Boutique Botanic

  A

        Magnetized plant holders for the refrigerator

 Tanya’s favorite destination is Boutique Botanic – a supermarket for all things creepy, crawly, swimming or that fly. If it grows in the garden, on a terrace or in a pot, it is a gardener’s heaven. When Tanya gets into the doldrums, this is her destination.

    

Things Creepy crawly that live in the water

Bug eating flowers                        Friendly flowers

Bonsai trees - not the best I've ever seen - but good for starts

 

My sister Tanya with her adorable dogs - two miniature poodles and a chihuahua 

The mission: Buy dog food for her three adorable little yappy dogs; get some pots for repotting her plants; pick-up a fish or two for her aquariums. Yesterday she was the mid-wife to 13 guppy babies. It took her three hours to help the mother-fish through her ordeal. If ever there were a fish veterinarian, Tanya would qualify. She massaged the mother’s tummy until one by one they popped out into the fish-world. It is important to separate these babies from the mother and the adults in the tank as they are cannibals and consider their offspring’s a great hors d’oeuvre.

 

 

Thousands of fish and coral aquariums

Thai fighting fish in prison - if you put them into the same tank they'll kill each other

 

But I divert: Tanya can never pass a birdcage without acquiring just one more tiny member for her aviary. Selection is a delicate process; watching their flight, ferreting out the weak from the most energetic and prettiest.

      

Birds galore


...and for decorating your shelves there is an entire menagerie

Tanya's great friend, Isabella, choosing greens for the salad

An amazing selection of raw honey

On this visit we bypassed, the mice, hamsters, turtles, guinea pigs chinchillas, and rabbits. However, we selected a few more must-have fish for the aquarium, chose two pots for her plants and to fill the balcony, selected one more tree. I nearly forgot to mention: attached to this Nature Emporium is a grocery store selling only bio-foods. (None of which looked appealing to me) but Tanya stocked up a week’s supply…I longed for a French Crepe Suzette… not available at Botanic. But we did make them at home, loaded with sugar and flambéed Grand Marnier… not bad for an afternoon’s outing.