Bidding Adieu to the Hotel Sterling

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the Hotel Sterling and the possible demolition it faced.  To much of my dismay, it seems the Hotel will in fact be demolished due to its continued dilapidation.

It may be odd to you that I feel so strongly about the Hotel considering it has been vacant and moldy in the years I have known it.  But, on my diurnal walks throughout the Wilkes-Barre City strip, I found myself glancing up to that great skyline with the beauty of that building directly in my view. Without the Hotel, I feel that when I return to the city it will not hold the remnants that once was.

I remember a specific room in the original (and last remaining) part of the building, one which I never had the chance to photograph.  It was circular and an interesting shade of red, which in its glory days, may have been more blood-red than pink.  To be honest, the times in which I ventured into the Hotel have been at night when even I was sure the wrong sound or ghastly touch would have been enough to make me wet myself.  I was human after all.  Yet, I love the thrill of being scared because it makes me feel as though not everything in life is of schedules, but risk and sometimes even consequence.

However, to my luck as well as any of those reading this blog, most images can still be seen in large respect and appreciation for Tom, an amazing photographer and preserver of history.

Since its construction, Hotel Sterling has managed to outwit (because yes, this building is more like a person than a structure) forces of nature including (but not limited to) Hurricane Agnes in June of 1972.  As seen below, this photograph was taken following the aftermath of Agnes. Even after the uncontrolled catastrophe of wind and torrential water, the Hotel stood.

Today, however, the Hotel is up against a force of nature that is the worst of all.  I am talking about companies who say a lot but do nothing.  Companies such as CityVest who propose “saving” the Hotel only to find their funds have dwindled and shockingly, even considering all the time they have labored (both physically and mentally) to bring forth a stabilized version, there is no way it will be resurrected to its former glory.  Quite a strange predicament being that the company had years to realize the Hotel’s rebirth would never come to fruition.  Another act of totality strikes again, as I am sure the unanswered questions that so many locals had will continue to be evaded with hope that one day the dissent will die down.  Fat chance, as this company managed to drastically alter the skyline that has existed since 1897.  But, that may be in large part due to ulterior motives to have the Hotel destroyed to build a new structure(s) that will serve as a parking deck or another building named as the replacement that will never be.

As an alumna of one of the schools, I can tell you that parking is unnecessary.  If you need a car that badly, live off campus and park in the comfort of your own driveway or street-way.  In the alternative, ride your bike to work/school.  After all, Duckie Dale was such a hunk and exercise never hurt anyone except Tony Little, who may have gone a wee bit overboard.

Humor aside, my feelings about the destruction of the Hotel have not changed.  I hope that the protests will continue and that someone in the last fit of hope will come through and find a way to save Hotel Sterling.  Though I am optimistic, I also know not much more can be done.  As another holiday fast approaches, now only two weeks away, I know that instead of dying eggs and in the interim, dying my hands strange colors, I will instead spend what will most likely be my last visit to Hotel Sterling.

We’re Just Your Typical Addams Family

I grew up somewhat unorthodox than most of the children my age.  As a wee one, I clung to the peculiar and somewhat offensively disgusting things that most young girls my age detested.  This included (but was not limited to) mud, fishing, eating live worms (for dares, of course), wearing my father’s flannels and never knowing jeans outside carpenter pants, and failing to ever apply make-up, hair products, or tweezers to my then Peter-Gallagher-like-eyebrows until the end of high school.  It was no wonder that I did not enter my first relationship until nearly age 20.

Most of my life I spent as a free-spirited, yet unworldly tomboy.  I did not care for boys, barbies, or dressing like a girl.  Rather, I found myself running around my house in boy’s hammie-downs and spending nearly every Friday night watching a movie with my father.  However, my first idol was my brother.  Carl is nearly four years older than me.  He was a rebel much before I could even use the word with such candid excitement as I do these days … I am a loner, Dottie, a rebel.  Nonetheless, he taught me much of what I know today, and thank goodness for that as I owe him not only my superior music knowledge, but also my sick, sad, twisted love for horror.

Here I am below celebrating Halloween festivities after the hours my father spent on our gruesome Griswaldian display.

Today, my friend Jamie asked if I had seen the film, Hobo with a Shotgun.  Normally I would have said yes, as it was certain knowledge that he and I had seen almost every single campy, dark, and disgustingly creepy movie.  However, I had not seen the movie.

“It’s right up your alley.  Horrible and campy.  You would love it,” Jamie said.

“Who is in it?” I asked.

“Rutger Hauer,” Jamie replied.

I thought to myself, ah, my love, Rutger, how I have missed thee.

I was born in 1986, and though still quite the young one when the film came out in 1992, I later bought the film on now archaic VHS, and watched it until eventually I knew the screenplay by heart and no one would watch it with me.  I have since then learned to keep my knowledge of film quotes inside my head, unless of course it is in my favor.  It was in that movie that I first met eyes with Mr. Hauer, the stunning but evil vampire Buffy (Kristy Swanson) was set to dispel forever with the help of Sir Donald Sutherland (also another favorite of mine).

In transitioning back to Jamie, I wondered why I had not seen it.  I remembered the trailer in anticipation of Grindhouse, but never took the time to delve further into seeing the actual film.  As an assignment of sorts, this weekend I plan to finally watch it thanks to the streaming capabilities of the internets.

I have so many films that I have loved throughout the years, many of them involving doom, zombies, vampires (without sparkles), loom, werewolves, psychological thrillers from the original King Hitchcock, and despair.  After all, I had loved the gore since I could remember.  In fact, when I knew I wanted to be a writer (age 8 to be exact), I started writing screenplays.  They were horrible of course and never managed to spread to even the tenth page, but I knew I loved something and wanted to do that for the rest of my life.

If I could, I would be a film critic but only focus on horror, suspense, and psychological thrillers.  Sadly, someone already landed that gig.

Jamie reminded me so much of my childhood and even my recent undergraduate years.  I was still that same creepy little girl who took more to decapitation and zombie survival plans than dates at the local bar.  I decided then to compile a list of my favorite horror, campy-horror, suspense, and psychological films, which no matter how horrible, have many great feelings attached.

The Cut: (Nearly hundreds in that vault of mine, but here are ones that come to mind.)

1. Shaun of the Dead

2. 28 Days Later

3. The Gate

4. Fright Night

5. Poltergeist

6. Dead & Breakfast

7. Last House on the Left (Original and remake)

8. City of the Living Dead

9.  Evil Dead

10. Creepshow

11. Psycho

12. Ghoulies

13. Underworld

14. Night of the Creeps

15. Texas Chainsaw Massacre

16. The Blob

17. Killer Clowns from Outerspace

18. The People Under the Stairs

19. Buffy the Vampire Slayer

20. Dracula 2000 (I love Johnny Lee Miller, give me a break.)

‘Sugar gets what she wants…when she wants it!’

In the world of baking…sugar reigns supreme.

While this post may not be about tantalizing movies full of many bodacious women, this is in fact about sugar, one bodacious baker, and her comically small kitchen.

Today marks a special night.  A coworker and friend will sadly be leaving the company we work for and venturing off to law school.  While the action is certainly not unexpected, most of us cannot help but feel a sense of loss for a great mentor.  Though he will be nearby, and hopefully still in touch, it will not be the same without him.

In honor of his great escape, I promised to bake (as I usually do for most occasions) his choice sweet.  The last time I made lemon bars, he seemed to love them.  At his request, I have upped the ante and added my own twist to the beloved Ina Garten recipe.  Though I do not even have cable, when given the chance to watch the Barefoot Contessa on Food Network, I do.  I just love her calming demeanor and attitude.  She also uses real butter and sugar, always a plus in a world of people obsessed with the caloric index.

In the past, I felt that the lemon zest when combined with the lemon juice was all too overwhelming for those not into tart desserts.  In order to come to a delectable medium, I only used four lemons for the zest and with those lemons, squeezed every last drop from their bodies.  The amount of lemon juice was slightly under one cup (which Ina’s recipe calls for) but certainly enough in my opinion.  I also added cinnamon to the filling; not too much, but enough for an added zing.

The recipe is quite easy and takes just over an hour to prepare and bake.  I always chill the mixture overnight to ensure the best cutting in the morning.  I can only hope that everyone in the office enjoys the bars for our end of days celebration.

Here are some photos from the progression of the lemon bar process:

 

Here I am making the dough for the crust and clearly not wanting to have my picture taken.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The lovely crust.  I am old-fashioned so I generally bake everything from scratch.  This includes my design techniques.  I use chopsticks and have, in the past, used ceramic tools to make pie crust designs as well as cake patterns.  Most people have many tools/instruments around their home which can be used for this purpose.  Allow the crust to bake for 15-20 minutes.  I prefer when the edges are slightly darker than the whole.  This ensures that the lemon bars can be cut as neatly as possible.

 

 

 

 

It does not look quite delectable yet, but it will.  I do not recommend placing this in the oven if you have small children, Saint Bernard puppies, or excited partners running around the kitchen as it is pure liquid and will not taste nearly as great off the floor.

 

 

 

 

 

Process complete!  Kermit the mitt seems to love them already.

I allowed the lemon bars to cool for about 15 minutes prior to adding the powdered sugar.  Generally, the sugar is more for garnish but it adds a certain sweetness to the tart dessert.  I tend to be somewhat liberal with the amount of powdered sugar, but ultimately, it is the baker’s choice.  It is best to place the lemons bars in the fridge to cool overnight.  Once again, this will ensure that the bars can be cut without much mess.