New French Doors, Temporary "Step"

In case you’ve forgotten what the old cement porch looked like, here it is.

Old Cement Porch

In the process we also put in a new kitchen window and while I would have liked it to be even bigger than it is to really maximize our view of the property, I had to stay within budget and order a simple replacement window that supposedly was a few inches larger.  On the outside of the house, it doesn’t look that much bigger, but it’s centered and guess, what, the windows actually open!  How cool is that?  (Really, when you’re doing a house renovation of this magnitude, you’re just happy that anything works.)

New Kitchen Window

On the culinary front, I decided to try a new bread recipe, baguette to be precise, from the late labor leader Albert Shanker. Since I had been using a New York Times recipe for years that I wasn’t particularly fond of (the dough was always really gooey and difficult to work with), I thought it was time to not only try something new but hopefully  more manageable, too.  I also wanted something that I could make in our toaster oven (the one that doesn’t toast) so thought making “mini baguettes” might be feasible.

I made the dough beforehand and brought it up to the house.  I let it sit, then cut it in half and tried to fashion each half into something that resembled a baguette shape but in reality looked like a hero.

Baguette....Sort of

I popped each loaf into a baguette form and put it in the toaster oven.  Since I was afraid that “misting” or throwing in a cup of water to give it the steam effect the bread would need to make it crunchy would cause my toaster oven to catch on fire, (or maybe even the house), I added a metal drip pan filled with about half a cup of water and put it in the oven.  It appears that this oven is afflicted with the same problem as my oven on Long Island — one half of the oven cooks faster (and hence darker) than the other half! This meant, one baguette turned out darker than the other. I let them cool a bit and while the desired crunchy top was achieved, I thought they could have spent a few more minutes cooking.

Homemade Bread!

With the bread we had a simple lunch of marinated white anchovies (thanks for the gift Mom!).

Spanish Anchovies

And some burrata, tomatoes, and a few leaves of basil I managed to steal from the garden.

The basil is the only thing here from the garden...

It’s just then I realized our contractor had taken off the front of the house, too!

Red House Gets A Face Lift!

Now even though I was attached to the old “look” of the front of the house and the columns, the scale was all wrong, not to mention the fact that it was actually about to collapse from all the rot! (Really, I was always terrified whenever anyone was actually standing under that part of the house!)

The Red House

We did keep two of the columns though and are trying to think of something we could do with them.

Lovely Red House Column...

21 windows to be precise, that we had to purchase from a big box store because we knew that a) they would come in with a manageable price, and b) would be able to arrange some financing, too.  Should I mention our local big box store was actually our only option since big box store #2 was nearly an hour away?

It started around Easter (think April!) when I made an online appointment for someone to come out and give me a window estimate.  A guy came out to measure all the windows and while doing so we talked about food, The French Laundry  (as in the restaurant, which begs the question, why?), and French existentialists.

I’m not making this up.

He gave me his card, and told me he would send me numbers.  This was a Thursday. Being a city girl, by the time I was back in my office on Monday, I wanted them.  I got nothing.

A week later, I still got nothing.  Finally after a bunch of emails back and forth and a couple of phone calls, the “French existentialist measuring guy” decided he had to send out another guy, presumably a “real” guy, aka, the guy who would actually do the window installation.  This meant of course, that everything had to be measured again.  Hence, the WTF reaction.

Since I know it’s difficult to get everything I want quickly up at the Red House, I’ve decided if nothing else, this adventure has taught me to be patient.  Originally, when I was writing that sentence I wanted to say “a tad” patient.  As in a little. Except that one of my best readers, that would be you Dad, kindly informed me the other day that I use that word way too often when I’m writing.  So, going forward I will perhaps have to resort to saying it in what in the old days used to be referred to as a foreign language, but is now called LOTE.  Hence, if I wanted to say “a tad”  in Languages Other Than English, I could choose “un peu,” if I was feeling particularly French at the moment, “ein bisschen” if German was my thing or, “piccolo,” if I was pretending to be Italian.

But let’s get back to the windows.  I needed 21 windows replaced.  This did not include the attic (four) or three out of the four windows in the basement.  Why?  Well, we thought the attic windows were ok for now and would just be a waste of money, and three of the basement windows were so small (slits really covered with plywood), that they would have to be special ordered.  Those were two words I didn’t want to hear when dealing with my new windows because “special order” also meant “special prices.”

It’s now May. The “real” guy comes with the guy still pondering the French existentialists and the windows are measured again.  When they’re done, I figure that perhaps this time all the “i’s” are dotted and the “‘t’s” are crossed and surely now my window order will be expedited.

In June, we physically go to the store and at 10:30 in the morning I find myself sitting in a dark and dingy office leafing through reams of paperwork that seemingly is my window order.  We look at little drawings of windows, check the sizes, count the number of windows on the first floor and the second floor, and then tally the whole thing up with a hand-held calculator from Staples.

“Do you not have Excel?” I find myself saying to the “French existentialist measuring guy.”

When I continue mumbling “spreadsheet,” “bulk rate discount,” and “extended financing option,” he stares at me blankly, pulls out a pencil stub, and then proceeds to add the numbers up by hand.

Again, I’m not making this up, not even “un piccolo.“

I drive back to Long Island and wait some more.  It turns out the guy who is installing the windows, aka the “real” guy,  is actually a roofing guy and because of the bad weather, he is running about 3 weeks behind on his schedule.

Meanwhile, the “French existentialist measuring guy” tells me he is moving to the plumbing department.  Lucky him, all those bidets and what not!

Truly, I am not making this up, not even “un peu.”

With him jumping ship, we are assigned a new window person to help us through the process.  From the beginning, I knew this lady and I simply were not going to get along.  Why?  Because she had absolutely no sense of humor.  When the lady-who-has-no-sense-of-humor calls me, she tells me she can start installing the windows on July 5th, and that it will take about three days. Three days?  Wait, did I not have 26 windows installed in my house on Long Island in a day and a half? Ok, so that was 10 years ago and maybe they did things faster back then.  But 3 whole days?

The lady-who-has-no-sense-of-humor tries to tell me it’s because we have a “lead” issue.  Well, duh, we have a lead issue, it’s an old house. 150 years old to be precise. So even though we are putting in double hung replacement windows, the old ones, (the ones that were painted over with lead paint) need to be quarantined, then wrapped, and carted away.

We arrive at the house for the 4th of July weekend in anticipation of our July 5th installation date.  Luckily it’s not as hot as it was last year, so the fact that only half the windows in the house are operable (as in they are permanently shut) is not too painful.

It’s now July 5th. The guys who are actually delivering the windows show up first.  Except the big window, the raison d’etre so to speak that catapulted this entire window order because it was broken, is so heavy they can barely lift it and simply slide it over and lean it against where it’s supposed to go. Lovely.

The Really Big Window

The others simply get stacked in the driveway.

Is This Really How It's Done?

I then wait for the “real” guy and his crew of  installers.  Well, the crew shows up, the “real” guy does  not. There are three of them, two guys and a girl; two out of the three have only been on the job less than a month, and their previous careers did not seemingly involve anything remotely window installation-related.  Even though I am often accused of being too curious a George, I decide not to inquire what their previous careers might have entailed. Let’s just say that the female component of the crew had shaved her head and had some sort of mysterious Asian symbol tattooed on the back of it.

Day 1

The first hour or so is spent unpacking all the equipment they’ll need to do this project.  The next hour is spent isolating each and every room with sheets of heavy plastic that they seal tightly with some sort of fastening device from floor to ceiling, and then attach some sort of make-shift zipper to it so they can get in and out of what has now become a little plastic cocoon.  Then they get dressed.  Yes, dressed, not undressed.  Over their work clothes, they pull on white jumpsuits and accessorize it with scary-looking masks.  Wow, didn’t I see John Galliano do that look on the runway one year?

Then the crew starts to hang up signs.  Now these weren’t just ordinary signs, they were big, big signs labeled “poison.”  Suddenly, I had a feeling that I kind of knew how some NYC restauranteurs were feeling when they got a bad letter grade with the new safety inspection system that was recently put into place.

Poison?

After all of this “setting up,” it was time for a cigarette break, and then it was time for lunch.  Lunch took 45 minutes.  Do you know anyone who still takes a 45 minute lunch break anymore, because I don’t!  By the end of the day (think 4:45 to be precise), they had managed to install five windows.  Five.  All upstairs.  That took them roughly 6.5 hours.

Day 2

The next day they actually show up an hour earlier, but also only install five windows and leave an hour earlier than the day before. (I know the math on that even confused me.)  At this rate I figure, it may be next summer before the project is done.  Ok, so this math I get.  It was supposed to be a 3 day job but they are averaging five windows a day which technically means they still have two full days to work.  Um.

Day 3

The third day, the lady-who-has-no-sense-of-humor is suddenly standing in my bedroom.  Unannounced.  I look at her and figure that perhaps she’s lost, so I ask her sweetly, “Can I help you?”

Now it’s not like I’m getting undressed or anything; I’m minding my own business, writing checks actually, but she is just standing there IN MY BEDROOM.  She proceeds to tell me that she realizes one of the windows was measured wrong so they need to order a new one, oh, and the basement window never made it onto the truck when they did the delivery, either.  She couldn’t tell me this on the phone?

Day 3 turned out to not be a particularly good day because after her departure, I got involved in a very long and boring conversation about the big window. The big window, you see, was not only really heavy, the crew wasn’t quite sure how to actually install it.  They decided a phone call to “the big cheese,” aka the “real” guy who would know was in order.

I sighed.

Two Weeks Later

The “real” guy and his crew were supposed to come this morning and install the big window, with the other two they had to re-order to be put in later in the month. At 10:30 a.m., the lady-who-has-no-sense-of-humor calls to tell me the window guys are running “late,” and they should be here closer to noon. The clock on my computer tells me it’s now 2:48 p.m.

So, if nothing else here’s how the windows that are installed look.

But here’s the thing.  Even if these double-hung vinyl replacements last 50 years (which they won’t), they will still never look as charming as the ones  that have been leaning against the back of the barn forever and ever. Not even “ein bisschen.”

Lovely

When we opened the door of the Red House, we were pleasantly surprised by the beginnings of our new kitchen.  Gone were the ugly burnt beams and in their place, a lovely in-the-works vaulted ceiling with new beams holding the room from collapsing in on us.

Even though it was late and we really wanted to have dinner, we walked around the space and “oohed” and “aahed” like little kids marveling at how different the room looked.  We also thought the replacement of a regular old window with a nice octagonal window was really neat, too.

New Kitchen Beams

Another View

In the morning, bright and early with the sun beating down on the meadow, I caught a glimpse of the beginnings of a garden, my new friend Natalie had started for me.

The Beginnings of a New Garden

Natalie (and her husband Greg) spent much of the previous week removing a large patch of sod (in the rain no less), raking the earth and coming up with a design idea of what should be planted where.  Luckily, she’s not only creative but appreciates using found objects as much as I do.  Consequently, she was able to take some hay we found in the barn as well as a couple of old railings and use them as accent pieces.

Flowers and Stepping Stones for a New Path

I love what she’s started for us and can’t thank her enough for helping me start my first vegetable and flower garden up at the Red House.  Her own blog, http://gardenspot-natalie.blogspot.com/ is sweet, too.

Before I came up to the Red House this weekend, I had already decided I would try to make pizza on the grill since last summer’s attempt resulted in a charred, inedible mess.  This time I was prepared.  I dug out my pizza stone and decided that I would roll out the dough on the stone, then put the stone on the hot grill, before the cheese or any other toppings were added.

Now, I realize this is ass backwards; the stone is supposed to be piping hot to cook the dough but I figured this would be the easiest way and would circumvent me having to try and transfer dough from one board (wooden) to another (stone) without it falling apart.

Pizza Fixings

So I rolled it out, put the dough on the stone, put the stone on the grill, added my tomato sauce and cheese, stole some basil leaves from Natalie’s newly planted garden and viola — Pizza on the Grill!

Grilling the Dough

The Pie!

I will admit it wasn’t the best pie we’ve ever had, the crust was still a little bit too doughy but we’re getting there!  After all, I have all summer to perfect this technique and experiment with different toppings, too.