La Dolce Vita...

Once upon a time, a comment was left on my blog. A comment, that after much searching, I haven't been unable to find to link to. It came from a friend of my Dad's, and it suggested that if I wanted to make some cookies, I should make pignoli cookies, an Italian confection based on pine nuts. I filed that suggestion away, and when I spotted almond paste (a necessary ingredient) on post-Christmas sale at the grocery store, I picked up a can. But in the the extreme baking burnout in the aftermath of last year's Cookie Bonanza, I let the almond past migrate to the back of the cabinet.

Now that I'm gearing up for this year's giveaway by testing recipes, I decided it was time to finally fulfill that request of so long ago. Really, I should have known better. I can't think of a single Italian dessert, other than gelato, that I actually enjoy eating. I didn't really have any illusions that I was baking these cookies for my own enjoyment, but I was at least hoping to enjoy them a little. Sadly, I did not. That is not to say that they are bad. My Italian coworker with whom I shared some of the cookies was rapturous over them. Since she's actually from Italy, I'll trust that these are good exemplars of the pignoli cookie form.

The problem is, I just don't like almond-flavored things. I like almonds themselves for snacking, but I don't like almond flavoring. I tend to shy away from recipes that call for almond extract -- the smell alone makes me ill. When I opened the can of almond paste to make these cookies, I just about fell over. I persevered, largely because the pine nuts had been so expensive and I was determined to use them. The dough, despite only having a single egg for moisture, was sticky and hard to work with, although it came together easily with the aid of a food processor. The texture of the finished product was pleasant enough -- chewy on the inside, and crunchy from the nuts on the outside. I just couldn't get over the almond flavor. So if you like Italian baked goods, you like almonds, or you like pine nuts, I would recommend this recipe. If you're like me, and only like pine nuts, I'd recommend making a nice batch of pesto instead...


Pine Nut Cookies
adapted from Martha Stewart

2 c. pine nuts
1 c. powdered sugar
1/4 c. almond paste
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 large egg
1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Process 3/4 cup pine nuts, the sugar, almond paste, and vanilla in a food processor until fine crumbs form. Add egg; pulse to combine. Add flour, baking powder, and salt; process just until dough comes together.
2. Roll dough into 3/4-inch balls. Roll balls in remaining 11/4 cups pine nuts, gently pressing to coat. Space 2 inches apart on parchment-lined baking sheets.
3. Bake until cookies begin to turn golden brown, about 20 minutes. Let cool completely on sheets on wire racks.

Never Forget...

It didn't dawn on me what today was, until I was riding the El to meet Lauren for lunch. At each and every train station, there were police officers with bomb sniffing dogs. At first, I thought, "Is there something going on in the city today? Some dignitary in town?" And then I remembered, today is September 11th. Other than a brief shiver that ran down my spine, I didn't give it much further thought until this evening, when I ran across a block of programs on the History Channel dedicated to that event. Particularly chilling for me was a documentary constructed from amateur footage shot that day by real people, spliced together to create a real-time narrative of the attack and the collapse of the towers.

What struck me, was how many details from that day I'd already allowed to slip from my mind. The papers fluttering through the air; the debris left over from people who had been going about their daily working lives strewn across the ground, interspersed with twisted metal, shards of glass, and covered in a thick grey dust; stunned onlookers wandering zombie-like through the city; all that noxious, black smoke streaming from the buildings before they collapsed. It troubled me that I had to be reminded of all these things.

I can recall exactly where I was on September 11, 2001. It was the start of my junior year of high school. I had first period gym class, and we'd been outside playing tennis, so we hadn't heard the news of the first plane hitting the World Trade Center. I walked into my second period class -- A.P. U.S. History, where the television had been left on by the previous teacher. On the screen was the image of smoke billowing from the World Trade Center. Before I had time to process it, my teacher came in, and turned off the television. I will always remember what he said as he did it: "You can hear about this later. For now, let's get down to the business of history, shall we?"

"Let's get down to the business of history." What could have possibly been more historic than watching the September 11th attacks unfold? Of course, there was no way of knowing their significance at the time. Still, in the days that followed, that flippant remark would echo through my mind over and over.

I don't remember much else about that day. The school was put on lockdown for a long time, and my history teacher tried to deliver some comforting, contextualizing words of solace. I can't remember a single one of them. I can remember sitting in my biology class, the whole class watching the television in horrified silence. Mostly, I remember not knowing if the four planes were the end of the attack, wondering if there were more hijacked planes, and not knowing where they might be headed. I remember being scared for my dad, who works downtown, calling home from a payphone to see where he was, and being completely and utterly relieved that he hadn't gone in to work that day. But that's where the memories stop. Somehow, I got home that day. We probably had dinner together as a family. I know we spent days glued to the television set, watching the coverage on CNN. I can remember that Caesar, a relatively new addition to our family at the time, could sense the tension and sadness in the air, and he stayed close to us that entire week, wanting to be held on our laps.

I knew even then that the world had changed in some fundamental, not yet fully comprehensible way. Over time, those changes have become apparent, from the obvious realities of our ongoing War on Terror and the nightmare that has become air travel, to the small differences, like the knot that forms in the pit of my stomach whenever I see a low-flying plane near the city. I think it is impossible to have lived through and witnessed the events of September 11, 2001 without being altered in some way. Watching the documentary tonight, and reliving those memories made me consider how fresh the wounds of 9/11 still are, even nine years later. Some of the details and nuances may fade, but we will always remember that day.

What kind of feelings does the 9/11 anniversary stir up for you? What do you remember about that day?

A Religious Experience - Part Four

Unity Temple
875 Lake Street
Oak Park, Illinois

For my latest installation in my series on ecclesiastic architecture in Chicago, I decided to bend the rules a little by choosing a completely unorthodox church located in a suburb. However, given the significance of Unity Temple within Frank Lloyd Wright's body of work, and his stature in the history of American architecture, I felt it was fair to make an exception, considering how close it is to Chicago.

Unity Temple is a Unitarian Universalist church, dedicated in 1909. When the congregation's original church burned down in 1905, Frank Lloyd Wright, who lived in the neighborhood and was himself a Unitarian Universalist and family friend of the church's pastor, stepped forward to design a replacement structure. The congregation had a modest budget of $40,000, and a long, narrow lot abutting a busy street. Wright's design for the new church ignored all conventions for ecclesiastic architecture. In his larger body of work, Wright sought to develop a new, modern language for architecture, and he applied that principle to a religious space in his design for Unity Temple.

Unity Temple is built completely out of reinforced concrete, poured on-site, and was one of the first buildings to employ such a technique. Although Wright's design originally fit within the congregation's budget, the unproven construction techniques called for in his design quickly caused costs to balloon, and the church took three years longer than originally planned to be completed.

The building has somewhat of a forbidding air, as there is no readily apparent entrance. To maximize the efficiency of space on the narrow lot, Wright placed the entrance in a vestibule in the middle of the building set back from the street, which divided the sanctuary on the street side, from the church community center on the rear portion of the lot.

To cut down on noise from the busy street outside, Wright employed only a narrow band of windows near the roofline. Since the parishioners would not be able to see outside, Wright employed earth tones such as brown and green in the stained-glass panels, to echo nature.

Although Unitarian Universalism has its roots in Christianity, they embrace a wide array of religious beliefs and practices. They believe in a single God, but reject the Bible as his definitive word, choosing instead to seek truth from all sources. Above all, they preach a respect for all mankind, social justice and equality, and the individual's pursuit of meaning. I've often thought that if I were going to join an organized religion, Unitarian Universalism might be for me.


The unusual multi-tiered seating arrangement devised by Wright allows the greatest possible amount of seating, given the space, while (in his mind), emphasizing the equality of the congregants. No seat is further than forty feet from the pulpit. In my opinion though, I most certainly wouldn't want to be seated in the lower level of pews, sunken halfway into the basement. It felt a little bit like a dungeon down there.

Despite the use of only a small frieze of windows in the walls of the church, the chamber was surprisingly bright and airy. This effect was achieved with the use of stained-glass skylights, set into the coffered ceiling.

Unity Temple demonstrates a unique fusion of Wright's Prairie School emphasis on flatness and horizontality with the traditional sense of verticality found in most holy spaces. Common to nearly all ecclesiastic architecture is a sense of reaching towards the heavens, which Wright realized by creating strong vertical lines. The presence of natural light at only such a high level also naturally draws the eye up. I thought this effect underscored Wright's mastery in this design, as he managed to evoke a traditional sense of heavenly awe, while staying true to his style and employing purely modern, original forms.


Sadly, although Unity Temple is a treasure of modern architecture, a National Historic Landmark, and a nominee to UNESCO's World Heritage list, it is also falling apart. In 2009, the National Trust for Historic Preservation named it to their list of the country's 11 Most Endangered Historic Places. The church is currently raising funds for a multi-million dollar restoration, to which Mom contributed twenty dollars, plus the change from our entrance ticket sale. As you can see in the above photo, the interior concrete is crumbling and falling. Lights are either burned out, or missing entirely. Water seepage in the roof is threatening a collapse, and panels have been nailed all over the ceiling to prevent pieces from falling down into the building. It was truly a disheartening sight, and one can only hope that they will be able to raise the necessary funds to prevent this architectural masterpiece from becoming another victim of the Great Recession.

Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect...

As part of my ongoing series on historic Chicago churches, I decided to visit Unity Temple, a Unitarian Universalist church designed by famous Illinois architect, Frank Lloyd Wright. The church is located in the suburb of Oak Park, where Wright lived, designed, and earned many commissions for private residences. Since I would already be trekking out to Oak Park to visit the church, and because Mom had agreed to tag along to keep me company, I decided to add a walking tour of Frank Lloyd Wright homes to the agenda for the day. Thankfully, it turned out to be a perfect day for a good walk -- sunny, but slightly brisk, and not too windy. I found a decent-looking tour online, printed it off, and we were on our way.


Frank Lloyd Wright was born in Wisconsin in 1867. After studying to be a draftsman, he moved to Chicago in 1887 in search of work, in light of the ongoing building boom that resulted from the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. He worked at a few different firms before finding steady work with the firm of Adler & Sullivan, whose work informed the development of Wright's own style. Wright broke out on his own in 1893, and in 1898 he relocated his studio to his home in Oak Park, Illinois, site of many of his commissions. Wright's personal life was marred by constant controversy, but his development of the Prairie School of architecture led to his being named the "Greatest American Architect of All Time" by the American Institute of Architects.

Frank W. Thomas House, 1901

Although not Wright's first home in the neighborhood, the Thomas home was the first home that Wright designed for Oak Park that was distinctively Prairie Style in its sensibility. There is a definite emphasize on horizontal lines, prominent use of geometric stained glass, and the exterior of the home was done in stucco, an innovation of Wright's. This was my favorite house on the tour.

Arthur B. Heurtley House, 1902

The Heurtleys were local socialites, and their home was designed with expansive interior spaces for entertaining, along with a large patio for receiving guests. The variegated brickwork is designed to be harmonious with the tones of the surrounding landscape. Obvious in this design is the trademark emphasis on horizontal lines and flatness that Wright saw in the Midwestern terrain and wanted to capture in his architecture.

Edward R. Hills House, 1906

The Hills home is actually not a Frank Lloyd Wright original. Instead, Wright was contracted to perform an extensive remodel of the home. Ultimately, his plans were so ambitious that very little was left of the original home, save its frame, and the resulting structure is distinctive of Wright's emerging Prairie Style.

Nathan G. Moore House, 1895

This elaborate home was Wright's first independent commission in the town of Oak Park. The complicated pastiche of medieval, Moorish, and geometric themes demonstrates Wright's early quest for a unique style. The influence of his former employer, Louis Sullivan, is evident in the elaborately carved geometric panels. The original home burned down in 1922, but Moore commissioned Wright to build a replica of the destroyed original.

Walter H. Gale House, 1893

The Gale home is part of a trio of houses on Chicago Avenue known as the "Bootleg Houses," as Wright took the commission for them while he was technically still working for Adler & Sullivan, who forbade their employees from taking on personal projects. Although the house is fairly traditional in structure, the use of natural, unfinished materials was unconventional, and foreshadowed Wright's assertion that buildings should echo and compliment their surroundings -- a primary tenet of the Prairie School.

Frank Lloyd Wright's Home and Studio

Wright lived with his family in his Oak Park home from 1889 to 1909, when he abandoned his family, eloped to Europe was illegally wed to a married woman while he was still married himself. The resulting scandal decimated his American career for years, although he was eventually able to stage a comeback. Today, the home serves as a museum to Wright's work, and a visitor's center to people interested in his work in the area.

I found the brief walking tour to be an interesting insight into the evolution of Wrights' style, and a truly pleasant way to spend an afternoon. I'm not sure I would want to live in a historic home, and have tourists standing outside my door snapping photos of my house constantly, nor would I want to live in a building designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. None of these homes, except for Wright's, are open to the public, but my experience with most other Frank Lloyd Wright buildings is that they tend to be dark, due to the narrow rows of high windows, and claustrophobic as a result of the low ceilings that Wright favored to emphasize horizontality in his interiors. Still, even though I wouldn't want it for myself, it was nice to take an afternoon to appreciate his aesthetic.

In closing, I ran across the following quote while I was researching this post, and I just wanted to share it with you:

"A doctor can bury his mistakes but an architect can only advise his clients to plant vines." - Frank Lloyd Wright

We've Only Just Begun...

In a city as large as Chicago, one should seldom be at a loss for entertainment. There were, in fact, several things that I considered doing with my holiday, including the Taste of Polonia festival, where I would have found pierogis and other Polish treats, or visiting another church on my list. However, after being out and about the previous two days, I was overcome with the desire to stay home and nest. After all, it is now September, which means that December is a mere three months away, and that can only mean one thing -- it is time to start workshopping new cookie recipes for the 2010 Cookie Bonanza!

Although last year's Ginger & Lemon Cookies were well-received, since they occupy the citrus cookie spot in my assortment, and I am ambivalent about citrus-flavored baked goods in general, I couldn't help but wonder if there was something better out there. So when Mom passed along an article she had seen in the Trib for orange-flavored cookies, I decided to give them a whirl. The original recipe had some odd suggestions that I couldn't bring myself to trust, so I altered the recipe slightly, and was reasonably pleased with the results. Glazing the cookies hot out of the oven keeps them moist, and concentrates the orange flavor. I'm still not convinced by the idea of mixing fruit with my cookies, but if you like orange, you should consider giving these a try...

Orange Delight Cookies

adapted from the Chicago Tribune, July 30, 2010

Dough

1 1/2 cups light brown sugar, firmly packed

1 1/2 sticks butter, softened

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

3 cups flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup milk

1 teaspoon vinegar

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

zest of one orange

Glaze

1 cup fresh-squeezed orange juice, about 3 oranges

3 cups powdered sugar

zest of two oranges

1. Sift flour, baking powder and salt together in a medium bowl. Mix milk and vinegar in a cup; stir in baking soda until dissolved.

2. Beat brown sugar and butter in large bowl with electric mixer until smooth and creamy. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. Beat in vanilla.

3. Alternate adding flour and milk mixtures to the bowl. Beat until smooth. Refrigerate dough 3 hours.

4. Whisk together orange juice, sugar and zest for a glaze.

5. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Roll rounded teaspoonfuls of dough into balls; place on parchment-lined cookie sheet. Bake until lightly browned on bottom, 10-12 minutes.

6. Dip warm cookies into the glaze; set on cooling racks to dry at least three hours.

The Friendly Confines...

To commemorate the end of summer this weekend, I took my friend Mireya and her brothers to one last Cubs game, our third together this year. The Cubs are totally out of the running this year, yet again, but it was a gorgeous day, and the game was a fun way to spend an afternoon absorbing some of the waning summer weather. The Cubs had gone into the game poised to sweep the Mets, but somehow, they managed a complete collapse instead. The Mets had three innings in which they scored five runs, and in the fifth inning alone, the Cubs threw 50 pitches trying to get the Mets out. It was a long game, but at least the weather was cooperative, and Mireya bought me a couple hot dogs to thank me for the tickets. All in all, it was a fairly idyllic end-of-summer afternoon spent with a good friend, the Cubs' loss aside.

Mireya was sad that I ended my winning streak -- previously, the Cubs had won every game I had attended. For my part, I was mostly relieved to not have to hear the "Go, Cubs, Go!" song for once.

After the freezing cold of the game against the Nationals in April and the rain during the Cross-Town Classic in June, I was happy to finally get an afternoon at the Wrigley with perfect weather.

The siblings Rodriguez.

A Religious Experience - Part Three

St. Paul Parish Church

2127 West 22nd Place

Chicago, IL

This weekend, I had my first companion in my ongoing pilgrimage through the highlights of Chicago's religious architecture -- my mother. We'd started off our day in Oak Park at Frank Lloyd Wright's Unity Temple, but I have chosen to hold off on blogging about that for the moment, in order to strive for some sort of balance in representing religious denominations. On our way home on the El, Mom was inquiring about some of the other churches on my list, and I was discussing St. Paul, a Catholic parish church in Pilsen. She pointed out how easy it would be to get there from where we were, so we switched train lines near downtown and headed southwest to Pilsen, a predominately Mexican neighborhood.

St. Paul had caught my eye for a number of reasons while I was researching the various outposts of Catholicism in the city, but it was a good thing that I was not alone when I went to visit, because I managed to get us lost on the way there. Ordinarily, I pride myself on my excellent sense of direction, and often put in charge of navigation during my world travels, but somehow, I managed to get totally turned around in my own city. All I have to say in my defense is that we decided to go there on the spur of the moment, and if I had planned in advance I would have googled the surrounding streets, as per my custom, to make sure I hadn't walked too far. Despite Mom's misgivings, I misguided us about two blocks too far west, but luckily, she straightened me out, and we finally found it.

However, when we did manage to locate the massive brick structure, we arrived to find a wedding party departing the church. Not wanting to intrude, we ended up perching ourselves on a planter across the street, waiting for them to complete their photographs and leave before we entered. When they finally boarded their limo, however, a church worker came out to lock up. We hustled across the street and begged for a few moments to glimpse the inside, despite her protestations of the church being closed. Clearly, St. Paul is not much of a tourist destination -- the woman looked at us like we were crazy for wanting a look at the interior. But we had not come so far, gotten lost, and waited so long to be turned away. I managed to snap a few quick (although, sadly, not very great due to poor lighting conditions) photos while the lady waited.

St. Paul was dedicated in 1899, and was designed by Henry J. Schlacks, a local architect who had worked with the firm of Adler & Sullivan before striking out on his own. The congregation (composed primarily of German immigrants during the 19th century), commissioned the design after their original building was destroyed by fire. As a result, the parishioners were keen to avoid a similar disaster in the future, so they turned to Schlacks, who coincidentally held business interests in the fire-proof building materials industry. His design was consequently entirely composed of brick and terra cotta, leading to the church's unique distinction of having been built entirely without nails -- an oddity that earned the church a mention in Ripley's Believe It Or Not!

Due to the church's unique design, no contractor would provide a bid for its cost, insisting that they would only work on a time and materials basis. The congregation balked, and opted to build the church with their own hands -- a decision that makes more sense in light of the fact that many German immigrants had backgrounds in construction and masonry. Given the height of the building, it's hard for me to imagine volunteering to work on it's construction. It just goes to demonstrate the power of religious devotion.

The sun was not in my favor for exterior photography, and I actually got a better picture of the back of the church than the front. The tremendous pitch of the roof accentuates the sense of verticality present in the design.

The interior of the church is also mostly composed of brick and terra cotta, but the severity of the materials is softened by ornamental mosaics, commissioned from Venice and shipped to Chicago to be installed. They were truly quite lovely, it's too bad the dimness of the nave made them difficult to photograph.

A detail of the decorative brickwork.

Despite (or perhaps because of) the comedy of errors that ensued in trying to visit it, I enjoyed my visit to St. Paul. It was a charming building; my only regret was that there was not more time to enjoy and capture its unique beauty. In light of our difficulty in locating it, I am fully prepared to pronounce St. Paul a true hidden gem.