W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> Moi, Toi, et VoI: February 2008

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

The Scoop.


I dropped off the cupcakes and bars yesterday morning at the offices of the Arthamay Show (which incidentally is next door to the Tyra Show). Arthamay's assistant said she was researching the country's best cupcakes and The Canary was an obvious choice because of all the great press we'd gotten. (O.M.G.) (O.M.G!) (O.M.G.!!!!!!)

So....Arthamay was scheduled to sample the wares at 11 am E.S.T. after her taping. The show is going on hiatus for a week, so it may be a bit before I hear word....

And that is the story. I am totally and completely flattered that Arthamay would even consider putting my food into her mouth and just to get to that realm is an achievement. Too bad I can't put a sticker on my sneezeguard that says "Arthamay sampled our cupcakes!"

So...I must wait.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Yes Fucking Way.

I am driving to New York at 6 am and hand delivering a fine selection of cupcakes and bars to the studio of The Arthamay Ewartstay Show tomorrow.

Rapustina and I spent pretty much the entire day making perfect cupcakes (including lemon peel and spumoni, both of which she is particularly interested) and cutting and selecting perfect brownies and bars. Rasputina made four batches of buttercream until we had the absolutely perfect shiny white batch.

"This one or this one?"
"If we move that marshmallow a little to the left it'll be perfect."
"This one or that one?"
"That M&M is kind of crushed but the potato chip looks good."
"I think she'll like the pina colada."
"Yes, put it next to the peanut butter for good contrast."

It was certifiably insane on our parts, but we're talking about impressing Arthamay Ewartstay here. No amount of fastidious obsession to detail is too much.

I am wearing my tweed pencil skirt and yellow and grey argyle sweater.

Wish me luck!

Friday, February 22, 2008

And Just When I Thought All Was Lost...

Arthamay ewartstay's people call to summon my cupcakes. For Arthamay to sample between 11 and 3 pm shootings this Tuesday

I'm so happy I may cry. Seriously.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

I Have Just One Thing To Say.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Little Trouble, Big Chinatown.

Yesterday I went to New York to have lunch with Shana Maidel, whom I haven't seen in like a million years!

I took the Chinatown Bus which is always an adventure. For those of you other-than-East Coasters, the Chinatown Bus is a cheap albeit slightly unreliable mode of transport between the Chinatowns of Boston, New York, Philly, and DC. For only $20 roundtrip you can be ferried between Philly Race Street and New York East Broadway at your own peril. But for $20! Hell!

I mean, geez, the bus only got pulled over once for doing 75 in a 55 zone on the Jersey Turnpike. The driver thought it was hysterical! Ha! A comedy of errors!

Upon our early arrival, I trotted up to SoHo and met Shana Maidel at Balthazar for a most lovely lunch of French Onion Soup and the Balthazar Salad. Not to mention the two glasses of hermitage that I had. (One for me, and one for Shana Maidel who is up the stick! Mazel Tov!) We looked like the co-chairwomen of Argyle Lovers of America because we both were wearing our j.Crew argyle sweaters.

However, we narrowly avoided looking like two escapees from a Scottish sanitarium. When I was getting dressed that morning, I grabbed my yellow and grey argyle v neck and then changed my mind and put on the blue argyle cardigan, which was a small miracle because Shana Maidel happened to be wearing the grey and yellow argyle v neck. We averted disaster. Phew.

We discussed a myriad topics: divorce, babies, mortgages. We are so in our thirties.

And then I walked back to deep Chinatown and hopped on the bus back to Philly. There was an incident on the bus involving people screaming at each other in a Chinese dialect and a man being physically thrown off the bus. But whatever. $20!

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Bulletpoint Bitchin'. Cause I'm Too Tired to Write Complete Paragraphs.

I am starting to unravel again.

  • I've worked every day except for one Sunday (when I did my taxes) since I've gotten back. I am utterly exhausted. And there is little end in sight with the Flower Show coming in two weeks.

(At least I've got a reprieve on Monday to take the Chinatown bus up New York on Monday to have lunch with Shana Maidel at ye olde stomping grounde, Balthazar. Yay!)

  • Staffing issues yet again forced me to send someone else to the alternative bridal expo that we had a table at while I spent the day at The Canary running myself ragged. And I'm working another full day by myself tomorrow.
  • I want to sell this stupid business. I have no life. Being the Owner is a very isolating experience because there is no one you can turn to to just make the damn decision for once. I'm sick of it. Seriously sick of it.
  • It looks like I won't get my beautiful house back after all when this divorce stuff is all said and done. I'm heartbroken about that.

I am going to drink wine now.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Not In My Neighborhood.


After watching the shoe shine guys next to our shop for almost two years, we have finally figured out that they are bookies.

I'm not kidding. In this case, I wish this was just my vivid imagination taking control for a juicy blog post.

For two years, we've watched the shoe shine guys hootin' and hollerin' about The Cowboys, The Eagles, The Giants, etc. etc. We've seen them fanning themselves with a wad of money, sotto voce "Eagles! Broncos!" as you walk by. We've seen the lingerers...waiting to get their shoes shined? We've seen the fights and the screaming (and the escort out by security) that inevitably happens every three days or so.


Cute cupcakes with little organic rosebuds and sugar sparkles. Pretty pink and green cakes that look like your stellar baker grandma baked just for you. Chocolate chip cookies for chrissakes. You can't sell chocolate chip cookies right next door to a bookie.

Saturday, February 09, 2008

One Nibble and You're Nobbled.

Apparently we are at war.

We thought we'd do something cute for the Circus by organizing an anonymous Valentine's Cookiegram for the employees of The Circus. For $2, we will hand deliver a heart shaped sugar cookie to your Circus crush, friend or loved one of your choosing on Valentine's Day.

When The Bassoonist dropped off the flier at The Cookie Shoppe today - the one that made me "get rid of" my chocolate chip cookies - Mr. Chocolate Chip Cookie himself read it, immediately got frosty and said "Are these sugar cookies? Because we sell sugar cookies. I thought you guys sold cupcakes." and walked away.

Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?

A) Does he think he has intellectual property rights to The Cookie? I mean, we're talking about fuckin' cookies here. Cookies!

B) May I remind him that these cookies are heart shaped cookies with royal icing and sparkles, wrapped in a bag and tied with a ribbon?

C) I would also like to point out that
i. he doesn't make cookies shaped like hearts with doodads.
ii. this is for Circus Employees only.
iii. this is for one day only.
iv. I am not actually making a killing off of this venture.

D) Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?

On a positive note, however, the response to the Cookie gram has been phenomenal. People are totally digging it. Some people are using it for legitimate lovey dovey purposes; others "can't wait to fuck with people".

This is going to be so much fun.

Thursday, February 07, 2008

The Black Market.

Sometimes I get so mad I just want to kick something.

The Manager of the Circus stopped by my shop to tell me that I can no longer sell chocolate chip cookies because a particular vendor, who shall remain nameless, but who may or may not have a vested interest in my sales of chocolate chip cookies, complained. And according to our leases, we are only allowed to sell stuff that is acknowledged in our particular leases. Chocolate chip cookies are a more recent addition to our menu.

But a chocolate chip cookie? Are you serious?

The guy who sells cookies, literally on the other side of the Circus, had a hissyfit about the fact that I sell chocolate chip cookies.

I could understand if someone had some signature item and another vendor started copying that, say white chocolate peanut butter oatmeal cookies with banana chunks and candied fruit, so some such. But a chocolate chip cookie? His chocolate chip cookies are soft and pale; mine are crispy and golden. Two different animals! Besides, chocolate chip cookies practically pave the streets of America! How I can sell brownies and cupcakes and other goodies quintessentially homespun and U.S.A.! but not chocolate chip cookies? Outrageous!

Fuck that shit, I said. (Excuse my French.) Put those chocolate chip cookies in the back, and when people ask if we have them, we will say we do. And we will sell them. On the sly. Much like this little ditty here.

And then I became that annoying cookie guy when I found out at the produce guy was selling Girl Scout Cookies. Tit for that. And the ugly cycle continues.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Clean Sweep.

Aside from purchasing outrageously expensive designer party dresses in foreign countries, I try and be respectful of my meagre cash flow. So, in honor of that, right after purchasing a handbag (my "puss purse") from this site. I cut up my credit card. Went at it with a particularly dull pair of Ikea scissors; the gnawing action added to the drama of the moment. It was totally liberating. And slightly depressing. Time to tighten the belt. (Did I mention I also bought a cool belt buckle from previously mentioned site too?)

But on a more chipper note, here is some fierce jangleliciousness from Minisnap. This may be my new current favorite song. (Get the double entendre yet?)

You can really hear that ukelele thingamahoosey in there, eh?

Monday, February 04, 2008

Everything But The.

After two years of talking about this brownie that was swirling around in my evil genius mind, it has finally come to fruition.

Introducing....The Kitchen Sink Brownie a/k/a The Couch Cushion Brownie a/k/a The PMS Brownie a/k/a The Munchies Brownie.

Our delicious brownie jam packed with

Whole Oreos
Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
Animal Crackers
and Potato Chips

Sellin' like hot cakes. This is Philly, baby.

Will post a pic once I remember to bring my camera to work.

Friday, February 01, 2008

Ramble On (Alt. Title: Ode to Finnegans Wake).

So I'm spending my Friday night watching My Super Sweet Sixteen on demand and drinking a 1989 Vouvray that Madame Mimolette gave me for my birthday. Where was I in 1989? Oh yeah, I was a high school freshman. Complete with requisite Docs and a necklace made of safety pins and a suitcase lock.

This morning The Bassoonist commented that it smelled like Man. I got a whiff and was instantly transported to childhood.* It was the smell of Bruce Johnson, the father of a neighbor friend. Bruce Johnson used to leave his toupee on the soup tureen on the dining room table.

A friend of mine from grammar school once said that growing up in Beverly was like growing up in the 1950s. He called me last week and told me he was probably getting a divorce. I would never join a club that wanted me as a member! Ha Ha!


I started selling Frosting Shots at The Canary. Yes, that is little plastic shot glasses filled with buttercream for a happy hour $. Little gelato spoon is included if you want to be dainty. People love the Frosting Shots. They think they are wild. I can't wait to see how they sell this weekend.

I've started thinking about the future of The Canary and am seriously tossing around the idea of selling it in two years. The thought of more executive foodie work is very appealing. Then I could wear clothes that needn't get dirty. And I wouldn't be stressing over my livelihood as much as I have the last two years. Maybe. Cupcakes for thought.

*The olfactory bulb is next to the bulb in your brain that stores memories which is why smell is such a memory inducer. See, grad school wasn't good for nothin'.