Posts Tagged ‘French’

Sometimes a Pepper Mill

Tuesday, September 1st, 2009

pepper grindersThere is no reason in the world for me to have this many pepper mills. Of all the mills that have come my way, the one that works the best is the one in black plastic from Ikea.

I’m no fan of the company, but this peppermill has good ergonomics and produces a nice even grind every time. Unlike the other mills, it doesn’t constantly come out of adjustment, since the top does not screw on, it slides on.

Lots of people collect salt and pepper shakers. That’s a whole different ball game. Although some of mine have matching salt shakers, I have no excuse for accumulating all these pepper mills. At least I haven’t spent much; except for the black Ikea model, I got them at yard sales or Goodwill. (Horrible blog confession: I don’t always remove the peppercorns.)

The largest pepper mill I own is just under eighteen inches. You can get a three-footer at saltandpeppershakerword.com. And no, it’s not a phallic thing, it’s my quest for a perfect pepper grinder thing. Although anybody that grinds his pepper with a 36″ pepper mill…

Unfortunately, it is getting harder to find peppercorns in bulk packaging. Some supermarkets only carry the little plastic bottles of peppercorns with the grinder built in. This is lame, worse than disposable razors. And compare the per pound price of the peppercorns in these flimsy grinders with the bulk peppercorn price. Yes, a total rip-off.

Stephanie thinks I (we) have too many pepper mills. But she is a salt freak. She once took a continuing ed class about salt.  When my brother went to Paris this spring, she made him promise to bring back a container of Le Saunier de Camargue, Fleur de Sel.  Fancy salt like this is often served in a salt cellar.

Belle de Paris

Friday, August 14th, 2009

Astra 3-speed city bicycleI find it hard to resist bicycles, and the Astra has more than its share of irresistible features, including the color, the gearing, the chain guard, and the frame style and material. To think I almost passed it up for the silly reason that I already own eight bikes and have no need for another! I uncovered the Astra at the secret giant charity tag sale.

Twice a year I make a pilgrimage to the secret giant charity tag sale. It’s secret because I never wanted my competition to find out about it, so I only spoke of it in the vaguest of terms, if at all. The giant sale is held once in the spring and once in the fall.

It’s down over there in New Jersey. It starts on a Friday, but if you know someone who works for the organization, you can get a special pass and show up on Thursday—along with a surprising number of other people who know someone and also have a special pass for Thursday. The only catch is, you pay 25% above the marked prices. The idea of course being that you—and the surprising number of other people—are getting a shot at skimming the cream off the top.

The sale is held on a huge open field. There is parking, and gathered toward one end there are enormous tents, each one crammed with stuff. There’s the Furniture tent, the Sporting Goods tent, the Lighting tent. There is a tent called the Bon Ton tent, full of all the stuff the organizers consider the creme de la creme. It’s a bit nerve-wracking, racing through the Furniture tent hoping nobody with good taste is over in the Lighting tent yet. Sometimes I have a friend with me who cases out the tent that I’m not at, putting everything she suspects I might want to buy into a protective pile until I arrive from the other tent to make the final calls.

The first five or six times I attended the giant secret charity tag sale, I came away with my extended van full of cream—lots of cool and funky furniture, lighting, art, and various and sundry other goods. Even with the extra 25% tacked on it was always a good deal. But my most recent trip, this spring, was comparatively barren: a great pair of vintage bronze lamps with a Turkish flavor, a reel mower with turquoise handle and yellow hub caps, two aluminum lawn chairs circa 1955, and two bicycles, including the Astra. (I sold the other one, a Windsor, right away.)

I would like to say the color of the Astra is chartreuse, but apparently I would be wrong. According to Wikipedia, there is a whole chartreuse thing involving the web and color inventions, and the color of this bike is actually more of what they call yellow-green:

Displayed at right is the web color yellow-green, a dull medium shade of chartreuse.

Before the X11 web colors were invented in the mid-1990s, the color term yellow-green was used to refer to the color that is now designated as the web color chartreuse (chartreuse green) (i.e., the color halfway between yellow and green on the color wheel), shown above. Now, the term yellow-green is used to refer to this medium desaturated shade of chartreuse

Sometimes the Internet is helpful.

The gearing is rare. It’s three speeds, a common configuration. But 97.5% plus of all three speeds use internal hub gearing, and 99% of all internal hubs are Sturmey Archers. This bike has a three-speed freewheel and a Huret derailleur. (I made up those percentages, but for all intents and purposes, they are spot on.)

The truncated chain guard is cute. It says Belle de Paris. Which clashes  with the decal on the down tube, which says Tour de France. In this particular case, I think we have to believe the chain guard.

The frame style is called mixte. It’s a step-through design, with a very sloped top tube like a ladies’ or women’s bicycle, but, in a classic example of the sometimes arbitrary and arcane ways we humans categorize things, it is not a ladies’ or women’s bike.

Mixte is a French term, and it translates as unisex. To differentiate it from a regular old girl’s bike, a mixte has an extra set of seatstays—frame tubes that run from the seat tube to the rear wheel dropout. While most mixte stays are straight, the Astra’s extra stays have a stylish bend to them. Traditionally, American men do not  acknowledge mixtes’ unisex status, while European guys are allowed to ride them without it threatening their masculinity. Caveat: These are the same European guys who think nothing of prancing around the beach in Speedo bikini bottoms.

The mixte style is useful for riding around town. If  a basket or a child is on the back of the bike, it’s easier to step through the frame rather than swing a leg over from the back. And the kid doesn’t have to duck her parent’s leg all day long.  Mixtes are catching on the last few years here in the states, with both boys and girls. Part of that popularity is due to Grant Petersen, a guy legendary for starting anti-trend trends in the bicycle industry, championing everything from steel frames to wool jerseys to fenders to long reach brakes. His company and several others now offer custom-built mixtes, and the price for vintage frames is going up. (Hot tip: Petersen’s latest rummage through the old bicycle parts bin has brought the bullmoose handlebar to the surface. I spotted one on an old Peugeot mountain bike the other day and almost offered to buy the bike on the spot as an investment for future profit on eBay.)

Now if Bike Snob NYC would just develop a MixteDex, we could all speculate on used mixtes and still sleep at night after checking the market.  Bike Snob, bike culture’s H.L. Mencken,  rode to fame on his PistaDex, an index that tracks the popularity of fixed gear riding by calculating the average sale price of Bianchi Pistas on craigslist. The MixteDex will be a harder formula to develop though, because mixtes don’t have a ubiquitous, lowish end, currently manufactured bicycle model like the Pista to establish a base line with.

The frame of the Astra is made of aluminum. That’s also not so common in a 1970s city bike. You can see the dull gray alloy showing through where the dull medium shade of chartreuse, aka yellow-green, is wearing off. Not many bikes can pull off the shabby chic look like the Astra. Add it all up, and it equals irresistible—and nine bikes fighting for my attention.

Falsewood

Tuesday, August 11th, 2009

faux bois square cement planterI’m no Francophile but when you’re discussing the potential sale of a pair of concrete planters textured to look something like bark it helps to casually throw out the term faux bois.

Not only does it give you a certain Madison Avenue panache, it rhymes with foie gras. Other fluent French phrases of mine include Je voudrais une chambre avec une salle de bain si’l vous plaît, and Allez Bobet!

Transvestite prostitutes often enjoy yelling this phrase at cyclists zipping by their working locations in the Bois de Boulogne park in Paris, in homage to the great French bicycle racer of the 1950s. (Just to be clear, I know this because I’ve been one of the cyclists zipping by.)

Fortunately, despite my acquaintance with the French language, I did not close the sale on this particular pair of fake wood cement planters. They join a decent number of other planters in my possession, none of the faux bois variety. I don’t consider it a collection but a nifty way to landscape a small property.

My latest aquisition is a large green one found on trash day while I was visiting the Jersey Shore. It’s made of some kind of fiberglass material. Probably came from Tar-zhay. It looks good with pink geraniums in front of a house painted dark brown.


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