Tag Archives: pottery

It would’ve looked better with a flash.

23 May

Oh. I also made the bowl, bitchez.

Tonight I had a “clean out the fridge” dinner that ended exceptionally well. So well that I felt compelled to post it on Facebook, jot down the recipe (so I don’t forget it in a drunken stupor) and snap a photo of it with my phone before eating. Wow. Pretty ambitious for a Monday, don’t you think?

Anyway, here’s the recipe, straight off the press, as I remember it.

Clean The Fridge Stuffed Pork Chops

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Butterfly pork chops.

Prepare five bowls:

  1. Diced arugula drizzled with lemon juice.
  2. Freshly grated parmesan cheese. Maybe a few cubes of mozzarella if you have it on hand.
  3. Whisked egg white.
  4. Bread crumbs (salted and peppered).
  5. Diced rehydrated sundried tomatoes seasoned with dried basil and oregano. (Or, you can totally substitute tomato pasta sauce with basil – but go light on it.)

Stuff each porkchop with arugula, cheese, a dollop of tomato “sauce,” then pass through egg whites and bread crumbs.

Top with any shredded parmesan that is left. The more, the better.

Bake uncovered for about 55 minutes on 350 on a rack. You can also put asparagus (with olive oil, parmesan and salt) on the rack for the same amount of time.


Don’t tug too hard or you’ll destroy it.

18 Apr

Who wants a phallus for Christmas?

At pottery this weekend I asked Jill to demonstrate how she pulls and attaches a handle to a mug.

I’ve been trying to do it during open studio without guidance, and as a result, my handles have come out looking bent, uneven and generally like they won’t stay on for a single dishwasher cycle.

As always, Jill made it look easy. But even in the hands of a lesbian, the process of pulling a handle also looked – well – dirty. You basically have to keep pulling on a piece of clay until it gets long and smooth, shaped much like a… nevermind.

As Jill was demonstrating this technique, she said, “Now be careful when you go to attach it. You want to keep pulling on it to work the clay, but you don’t want to jerk it off.”

Then, because she’s awesome, she caught herself and – as if she were Beavis’s seventy-year old grandmother, said, “Heh-heh. Don’t jerk it off!”

And that’s why I like pottery.

I wish everyone kept it this real. And blunt.

17 Apr

Some of the students in my pottery class are getting hyped up for the annual student show. I’ve attended it before (as a purchaser, not a potter), so I’m familiar with the set-up, but I didn’t know what the process was behind it.

Apparently students who want to participate have to sign up, volunteer to bring some food, and then stick price tags on their stuff. I’m not participating, mainly because I’ve been focused on smaller pieces, but also because I don’t have a ton of stuff that I think is purchase-worthy. Even so, it’s been fun watching other students starting to freak out about it.

Remember the guy I referenced a few weeks back? Of course he’s participating, so yesterday I enjoyed hearing Jill (the owner) trying to coach him in (what I assume is) an attempt to avoid a train wreck with an audience.

“I have two pieces of advice for you,” she told him. “First, a lot of new students get really excited and hyper. They have a lot of nervous energy and they’re kind of spastic. Try not to be that way when there are people here. They won’t buy your shit and you’ll probably break something.”

“What’s the second piece of advice?” he asked, dismissing the first offering.

“Pricing. Don’t price anything ridiculously low – like a dollar – but generally you should probably price a bit lower than you think — you want your shit to sell.”

“It’s going to be hard to price my stuff,” he began explaining. “I mean, I look around and it’s just not similar to anyone else’s pieces. It’s really unique.” (I looked up and saw what looked like an assembly line of bottles coming off his wheel, remarkably similar to the pieces created by the person next to him.)

Jill must’ve done the same thing, because she said, “Easy with the ego, pal. Your shit isn’t that different.”

Amen. That’s probably sage advice for a lot of situations.

When I say “cow vagina” I mean it as a compliment.

28 Mar

My pottery studio has “open studio” time on Sundays when students can come in to make-up a class or put in some extra time on a project. Since I missed my usual class on Saturday, I bounced into the studio yesterday to work.

One person there was part of the work-study program, where you work in the studio in exchange for wheel time and clay. He seemed somewhat new to the arrangement because he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be doing while we were working. So he talked. And talked.

The guy ran his mouth at an unprecedented pace, and everyone started making eye contact that seemed to say, “Who IS this guy?”

Here’s how he warmed up…

Dude: Some people say that form follows function and the shape of your pot is more important than the color of your pot, but the color IS the form, so it’s the most important piece.

Someone Else: I want some of what he’s smoking.

Dude: It sounds like exactly what I said!

Someone Else: Pure bullshit?

And for our glazing edification, he then took the conversation here:

Dude: I never like using the “Red Mamo” glaze. It’s unpredictable.

Someone Else: Really? I’ve had no problems with it.

Dude: Yes. The last time I glazed a piece with it, it came back looking like someone had ejaculated on it.

Stunned silence. I want to ask if he’s ever had a piece some back with a turd in it, because I can totally imagine someone taking a dump in his bowls if he always talks like this. But I refrain.

Dude: Let me tell you, you can’t even GIVE AWAY a bowl that looks like someone has ejaculated on it.

Studio Lead: No bodily fluid talk, please! From here on out, it’s only Animal, Vegetable or Mineral if you need to make a comparison.

And then the kicker, which I am not embellishing even a little bit:

Dude: I’m learning two words in every language.

Someone Else: Wow.

Dude: Yes. In Japanese I know XXX and YYY.

No one says anything because we don’t care.

Dude: The one is “hi” and the other one is “cow’s vagina.”

Everyone is smirking and trying to ignore him.

Dude: Because apparently in Japanese if you want to tell someone they are the bee’s knees, you tell them they’re the “cow’s vagina.”

I’m pretty sure he’s learning his words from Ron Burgundy.

You’re funnier when I can hear you. (TWSS!)

13 Mar

At pottery this weekend, Jill was demonstrating how to make a teapot lid so it is sized properly and doesn’t fall inside the pot after it’s fired. As she worked with it, she explained, “You need to make sure it’s a bit bigger than the actual hole it’s going to cover.”

Then, grabbing a trim tool, she started to point at the circumference of it, “This is probably going to shrink by 15%, and if it does, it will fall right out of the hole.”

I was only half-listening from a few wheels away, but I was dialed in enough to hear the only guy in the class say, “That’s what she said.”

I couldn’t help but smile. I whip that phrase out frequently, but rarely have I had a set-up that perfect.

Unfortunately, Jill didn’t hear him, so she said, “What’d you say?”

He repeated himself, “That’s what she said.”

I’m not sure if it was a hearing thing, a sexual-orientation thing or a generational thing, but she again asked him to repeat himself.

“Oh, never mind,” he told her, clearly embarrassed for a simple one-liner to have required such notice.

And in that moment, I was reminded of something I learned years ago: say it loudly the first time. The more you have to repeat something, the more your confidence sags. This is doubly true when it comes to humor.

Even if it was funny when you started, it won’t be when you’re done beating your punchline to a pulp. Unless the whole point of your schtick is the mumble itself. In which case, you should take a lesson from this guy: