Music and Cats

Over 18 months have passed since the Black House, the Queen Anne landmark at 222 West Highland Drive, was demolished by its remarkably insensitive new owner. Just recently, a sign went up on the site advertising a future development. The philistine who had the gall to tear down one of the most prominent historic houses in the city is planning to build four luxury condos on the site. While the developer has hired one of Seattle’s fine architecture firms to design the project, I don’t think much of the sketch shown below.

According to the web site, the asking price for the “warm shell” of the smallest condo (1800 s.f.) will be $1.95 million. That’s more than was paid for the Black House. And a “warm shell” is only the walls, roof and mechanical systems (electrical, HVAC, plumbing) of a building; that $1.95 million (or higher) will buy a raw concrete floor slab, no kitchen cabinets, no plumbing fixtures (though the water and waste lines will be in). You’ll have to hire your own contractor to finish out the interior of the condo.

Really, which of these would you choose?

This evening, my morris dance team gathered in West Seattle for a little impromptu dancing. The scubadivers and fishermen at Seacrest Park weren’t very interested in our admittedly esoteric English folk dancing. After a few dances, we drove up to Hamilton Viewpoint, where the crowd (mostly late-teen/early-twenties guys smoking questionable “cigarettes”) was even less friendly, honking their car horns and turning their radios up loud when we danced. Hmmm. Perhaps we should stick to more popular or touristy locations, where we aren’t seen as intruders.

View from Seacrest Park, West Seattle, 7:45 p.m.

On my way home from West Seattle, I decided to stop by Kerry Park, a few blocks from our house. As I’d expected, the park was packed with locals and tourists alike. Couples picniced on the grass, while the crowd from a small tour bus snapped photos of Seattle in one of her best-known poses. And who could blame them? With the solstice only a week past, the sun is setting to the northwest, its last rays lighting Mt. Rainier’s north face.

View from Kerry Park, Queen Anne Hill, 9:00 p.m.

As an architect licensed in Texas, and a member of the American Institute of Architects, I must take continuing education classes each year. Recently, I logged 7 1/2 hours of this year’s requirement at a seminar on multi-family housing.

I spent a day in a downtown office building boardroom with about 100 other architects. In between sessions on Washington condo law (glad I brought my coffee), working with local jurisdictions’ design review boards (wished for more coffee), the impact of the new building code on high-rise residential towers, and the differences - pro and con - between infill multi-family housing in Portland’s and Seattle’s downtowns (finally, presenters who told good jokes!), I had time to observe the folks who were attending the seminar.

The men in the room wore more stylish clothing and nicer shoes than you’d see in a random sampling of men on the street. A couple of the younger renegades sported black t-shirts, but we’re talking $75 silk-blend tees from Nordstrom’s, not your black Hanes Beefy-T. Their interesting assortment of facial hair was, without exception, well groomed. They had really good haircuts. They had that look, the male architect look. I can’t tell you all of what it is, but I grew up around it, and I know it when I see it. Paul’s hung out with me (and my architect father) long enough that he can spot it, too. Interestingly, that ‘architect look’ is something that women architects don’t have. Perhaps that’s because we women have a wider variety of fashion options to begin with, or perhaps it’s because there are so few of us.

Of the 100 or so architects in the room, I counted nine women. (Fewer than that - perhaps five or six - were people of color.) The age range of the attendees was mid/late-30’s to mid-60’s. Other AIA continuing ed. classes that I’ve attended have had higher proportions of women and people of color, many of whom have been younger. Why was this seminar’s attendance different? Many CE seminars address practical topics that young practicioners need to learn, and for which their employers are willing to pay: accessiblity, waterproofing, and the like. This seminar seemed to be aimed at those higher up the architecture firm food chain, the managers and principals. (Since these folks are licensed, and AIA members, they’re also required to get those continuing ed. hours.) Sadly, the group of architects at the seminar was an almost perfect representation of the demographics of my profession at this level.

A 2004 white paper on diversity from a group of young architectural professionals provides this information:

The data tell the story. In architecture schools across the country, 40–50 percent of the graduates are female. In the profession, women make up 33 percent of associate AIA members, only 11 percent of the AIA licensed membership, and just 20 percent of all registered architects. People of color comprise 19 percent of associate AIA members, only 6 percent of the AIA licensed members, and a mere 11 percent of all registered architects.

(A note of explanation: While the AIA is the professional organization for architects, one may be a registered/licensed architect without joining the AIA. Licensed architects may become AIA members; associate AIA membership is available to those working in architecture who are not yet licensed.)

But I don’t know that these data tell the whole story. Women have been graduating at these rates, or higher, since I graduated from architecture school over 15 years ago. Given graduation rates, the percentage of registered architects who are women should be higher than it is. Somewhere along the road from school to licensure, many women are choosing a different path.

A couple of weeks ago, Viv at Seattle Bon Vivant announced this month’s Is My Blog Burning? with the following:

… I had a few ideas for my theme: Tutti Frutti was one. This idea involved just dishing out anything that involved fruits, any fruit. The second option was something that reflected my own philosophies about food. Slow Food would be the theme. Cooking or baking with locally sourced ingredients or artisanal products–whether meats, cheeses, wines, etc–from any country or region in the world

This option was geared towards promoting one of my passions, Farmers Markets, by encouraging other bloggers to visit their local markets and come up with an entry that utilized any product of combination of products purchased from a local farmer or that could be found at a neighborhood farmers market.

The third option was Eggs. I could not make up my mind about my theme but I knew I had plenty of time to decide between these three options.

In the end, Viv chose Eggs as the theme, but I thought Why not all three?

What to do with a triple theme of eggs, fruit and local products? Make clafouti, of course! This eggy French dessert studded with cherries seemed like just the thing. While I’d heard of clafouti, I had never before tasted or baked one. However, I love baked pancakes, and clafouti seemed like the same sort of custard/pancake hybrid. It’s the height of cherry season in Washington, and I’m making regular stops at the Alberg Farm truck to buy luscious Lamberts and, this weekend, burgundy-black Bings. These cherries, from a farm just the other side of the Cascades, had been off the tree fewer than 2 days when they went into my oven. (Eggs are sold at Seattle Farmers’ Markets, but I didn’t buy mine from a local farmer. I do buy Washington eggs, from uncaged hens fed hormone-free, vegetarian feed, but that’s all that I can tell you about them.)

This recipe is a variant on Julia Child’s clafouti recipe, found at Chowhound. I contemplated the traditional French method, in which the cherries are not pitted before baking into the clafouti, but I decided that the inconvenience while eating wasn’t worth any slight improvement in flavor or appearance.

Cherry Clafouti

3/4 cup milk
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons almond extract
1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons all purpose flour
2 cups pitted sweet cherries
butter (for baking dish)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly butter a 3-4 cup shallow baking dish (or a couple of smaller dishes).

Place first five ingredients in a blender. Cover and blend at top speed for 1 minute. Pour about half of the batter into the buttered baking dish(es). Spread the cherries over the batter. Pour the rest of the batter on top of the cherries, and shake dish gently to level.

Place clafouti on the middle rack of the preheated oven. Bake for 50-55 minutes. When done, the clafouti will be puffy and lightly browned, and a knife inserted into the center will come out clean. Serve warm.

If you read the recipe at Chowhound, you’ll see that I dropped a step or two. I reduced the amount of sugar by half, as these perfect cherries had no need of additional sugar. That recipe called for vanilla extract; I’m embarassed to say I’d run out, but I love the flavors of cherry and almond together.

The clafouti was much like a baked pancake, but better - an almond-flavored, slightly sweet, custardy matrix surrounding sweet, still-firm cherries. Our dinner guest, who has had clafoutis in France, deemed it perfect… and was very pleased that I’d pitted the cherries.

UPDATE: Since my first clafouti was such a hit, and it’s still cherry season here, and we’ve had friends over, I’ve made two more clafoutis in the past couple of weeks. I’ve made slight recipe adjustments each time; here’s the most recent (and my favorite) ingredient list:

1 1/4 cup milk
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
3 eggs
1 tablespoon almond extract
2/3 cup ap flour
2 1/2 cups pitted sweet cherries (or 1 1/2 cups cherries + 1 cup blueberries, or…)
butter (for baking dish)

With the gorgeous sweet cherries that we’ve been getting, there’s no need for additional sweeteners; I may omit the sugar altogether the next time that I bake this. And yes, the amounts are scaled up by about a third; the recipe I used the first time just didn’t make quite enough of this yummy treat. This recipe nicely fills my 4-cup baking dish, and will make 4-6 people very happy.

This morning, I scooped Sasha up in my arms for a bit of bird-watching. Kneeling on the trunk beneath our bedroom window, I rubbed his belly while we looked for birds. No sparrows in the side yard, no pigeons on the roof of the building next door. Sasha cackled halfheartedly, as if his noise might summon a bird or two. Nothing. I petted Sasha’s ears, and he purred, and rested his head on my arm. Bird watching is not only about the birds.

As I stood to walk away from the window, a flash of color caught my eye. A hummingbird zipped into view, turned, and hovered a foot away from the glazing. I had a perfect view of pale cream belly, taupe head and wings, and flashes of red on the underside of its - given the coloring, probably her - tail. Sasha was unimpressed; perhaps his kitty brain did not identify this seemingly stationary creature as bird. I, on the other hand, was transfixed, and delighted. I wondered, could she see us, or only her own reflection in the glass? Several long seconds later, she turned 90 degrees in place, hovered a moment more, then was gone.

Sasha is still at the window, watching for birds. While I may keep him company again later, I’ve had my bird for the day.