It’s about that time, you know, when the Great Pumpkin descends and showers candy and other goodies upon cute little ghouls, goblins, superheroes, a handful of witches and miniaturized versions of the walking dead. And there are larger folks, sometimes also dressed in strange attire roaming about, too, herding the little bands of the costumed from treat to treat. A few of these Halloween shepherds are happy to snag whatever funky candy that the kids won’t eat, and yet, sad but true, some of us aged ghouls are a little too sweet already.
It’s not that I wouldn’t like to make a diet of Skittles and chocolate bars, but most colorfully wrapped candy leaves much to be desired for my appetite. Of course, if you’ve got a fat cupcake or hefty wedge of peanut butter pie, that works, but, truth be told, the older I get, the more I crave the warm and savory when little spirits are indulging in a sugar rush.
So, when Mahasti was planning her visit to WBIR this morning, I was thrilled that we would be learning about a savory seasonal something that’s super suitable for sharing with big hobgoblins who might knock on your door looking for a less sugary Halloween treat: Pumpkin Soup.
For those of you who have reached your Pumpkin Spice threshold for the year, please don’t give up on us yet – this pumpkin spice will re-fire your engines and heat your endorphins into full steam. Tomato Head’s Roasted Pumpkin and Poblano Pepper Soup features a heart and head warming blend of spices with a calming and comforting dollop of heavy cream to create a treat that will revive and refresh even the most dead-on-her-feet zombie.
Mahasti’s recipe includes both Poblano and habanero pepper along with a touch of ginger. Poblanos, of course, are only mildly spicy but have a rich and warming, almost earthy flavor that’s a fantastic match to pumpkin’s also slightly earthy but buttery and mildly sweet flavor. Habanero lends some heat but, better yet, it contributes a bright personality that, with the ginger, gives an extra tingle to each mouthful of this potage.
It’s a creamy comfort that gets a fun crunch from the addition of toasted pumpkin seeds, which, IMHO, is one of the great under-sung heroes in the pantheon of snacks.
What’s particularly nice about most creamy pumpkin soup is that it’s great warm, at room temperature and cool, too – so despite the warm Halloween that we’re expecting, this soup can easily match your mood and the forecast, too. And because it’s pureed to a silky smooth texture, it’s easy to serve a dollop in a cup for a quick snack or an on the go goody for shepherds of the fast moving and ambitious trick or treaters – after all, Halloween comes but once a year and when the Great Pumpkin finally arrives – best grab it while the getting’s good.
You can see how easy this recipe is to put together by checking out Mahasti’s appearance on WBIR’s Weekend Today at this link: http://www.wbir.com/life/food/soups/tomato-head-pumpkin-and-poblano-soup/344125793
¼ cup oil
1 cup onion, diced
1 inch piece of ginger, peeled, chopped
¼ Habanero pepper
1 medium size Poblano pepper, roasted, seeded and peeled
2 cups Roasted Pumpkin
1/3 cup toasted pumpkin seeds
1 tsp salt
2.5 cups water
1 cup heavy cream
In a medium pot, over medium heat, sauté the onion in oil until translucent. Add ginger, habanero, peeled poblano, roasted pumpkin, pumpkin seeds, salt, and water. Bring mixture to a boil, then reduce heat and cook for 10- 15 minutes until ginger is soft. Puree the soup with an immersion blender **. Add the heavy cream and simmer for 5-10 minutes. Serve topped with toasted pumpkin seeds.
** Do not blend hot soup in a traditional blender; allow soup to cool and then puree the mixture. Return the mixture to the pot and bring to a boil, then add heavy cream and simmer for 5 – 10 minutes longer.
Despite my inclination to poke a little fun at the growing pumpkin spice craze, it’s actually one of the coolest food and beverage trends to come along in a great while. In fact, anything we do to give pumpkin a lift is really a kind of All-American celebration, because the great orange squash is one of those great All-American foodstuffs that predates Amerigo Vespucci (America’s namesake) by about 5000 years.
When I was knee-high to a gourd, we read about Native agriculture in the form of the 3-Sisters, corns, beans, and squash, which were cultivated together because of their symbiotic relationship: corn gives the beans a natural pole to grow on; squash has wide foliage that help product corn’s shallow root system; and beans add nitrogen to the soil which helps everybody grow.
Squash, and pumpkin in particular, have deep roots in this continent – in fact, it may have surfaced right here, close to home, in the land that provides us with a lot of culinary inspiration: Mexico.
Archeologists opine that the Oaxaca Highlands (which, roughly speaking, is on the Pacific side of Mexico opposite Veracruz) were among the first places where pumpkin was cultivated – some 7500 years ago. The squash was grown for food, of course, but also for medicine, for storage (you can make nifty bowls from pumpkin hulls!), perhaps even for use of its fibrous strands for making mats. Of course we still prefer eating pumpkin to any other use – though Jack-O-Lanterns are awfully nifty, too.
Recently, as you all know, folk have also taken a lot of interest in drinking pumpkin – or at least the flavor of pumpkin or just the spices that often go with it (we vociferated about that in a previous blog post). Despite the quibbles we’ve already expressed about the craze, we remain committed to the idea of giving pumpkin its due. And since we owe this wonderful cucurbit to our friends to the south, this week Mahasti showed us all how to celebrate both pumpkin itself and its ancient home all at the same time.
Mexico, of course, is the font of innumerable good things to eat and drink, but when autumn hits the air, we’re pretty sure that champurrado is the best thing from our neighbor since corn tortillas.
Champurrado is a thick, rich drink, originally made with chocolate – it’s like hot chocolate, but thicker, richer and much more fortifying. It’s almost breakfast itself because it starts with masa harina – dried corn meal – that’s cooked with a little water and combined with chocolate.
Mahasti’s current version, though, doesn’t use chocolate – instead, she uses fresh roasted pumpkin (and plenty of pumpkin spice, too!) blended with milk.
The flavor and texture of this drink are luxurious, and, fair warning, may make your favorite latte seem a little wimpy in comparison. And it’s very easy to make at home – plus, if you’ve never roasted a pumpkin in your own kitchen, this is the perfect chance to get some practice in for pie making season and add a great fall drink to your repertoire, too. You may even throw in a little food history and heritage to your smaller helpers.
We have the recipe here below, but you can watch it happen the way Mahasti does it (with a couple fun tips, too) on WBIR by following this link:
Tomato Head’s Pumpkin Spice Champurrado
1 Tbl Masa Harina
1.25 cup cold water
pinch of salt
1 cup milk
½ cup fresh pumpkin, cooked and peeled
1.5 Tbl sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp Clove
1/8 tsp nutmeg
3/4 tsp ginger
Cut pumpkin in half, remove seeds and place cut side down in a baking dish with 1 inch of water. Bake oven in a 400 degree oven for approximately 20 minutes or until you can insert a fork into the pumpkin easily. Remove from oven, flip the pumpkins over. When the pumpkins are cool, scoop out the flesh and discard the skin. Store extra pumpkin your refrigerator for another use.
In a medium sauce pan whisk together the Masa Harina with cold water and pinch of salt. Heat the mixture over medium heat stirring occasionally for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, in a blender, blend the fresh pumpkin with the milk. Add the milk mixture and the remaining ingredients to the pot, whisking constantly until milk heats up and mixture thickens and foams a little.
Words, as anyone who has said bumfuzzle aloud can tell you, are funny. How they came to be and where they came from can be amusing when not just strange.
Consider dessert – as, of course, we hope you often do- that word comes from a French word, dessevir, meaning to remove what has been served or, easier on the tongue, to clear away the table. In fact in the third person desservir takes on a familiar form: il dessert (or he clears away). Which isn’t particularly funny if you haven’t finished your dessert before he clears it away. Sacre bleu! What a tragedy that would be.
Other folks say that the meaning of desservir is more akin to “un-serve”. Which, in dessert parlance, is the worst thought ever. Who would have a heart black enough to un-serve dessert?
Of course, no one we know, especially not the French, would un-serve dessert or take post prandial candy from babies of any age, but as we celebrate National Dessert Day it seems worthwhile to linger over our coffee and consider the vagaries surrounding the sweet spot of the meal.
I grew up in a home with lots of sweets, but not many desserts. That is to say that we rarely had a final course to the meal; cookies and milk might come later, but they were never served at the table. It was a rare and special occasion when Mom would have something sweet that we would eat together after dinner. Usually it arrived in a footed, faceted dessert cup which I have forever since associated with chocolate pudding (my favorite treat from back in the day). It was an indulgence that never got old because it never came too often – so you couldn’t get used to it or take it for granted. It was mother’s whim and a delight.
That’s why, perhaps, to this day dessert remains a completely separate experience from grabbing a quick bite of cookie. The very idea is a comfort – just think of clearing the table for a last sweet moment of communion over a bit of food that you can enjoy in small bites thus facilitating the especially fine conversation that comes from the good mood of the well fed.
Because it is more than nourishment, and follows essential eating, dessert contributes to the feeling that life is good. Whenever I feel discontent or worried about the budget or the Jones’ new car, I remind myself that in the grand scheme of things I’m a rich man. I have food daily and dessert often.
Dessert’s pretty special at The Tomato Head – it’s made with the same care and careful selection of ingredients as everything we serve. And, thanks to the delectable work of Flour Head Bakery, our dessert case is almost an embarrassment of riches, and one that’s accessible, too. What good is a wealth of sweet stuff unless you can share it? We take pains to make sure that our vegan and gluten free options are as appetizing to the eye and as scrumptious to the tongue as every other treat we serve. And, as a general rule, we’d never un-serve dessert – we’re just good like that.
Happy National Dessert Day! Be sweet to someone you love – or even someone you don’t: a little sugar goes a long way…
I can’t pinpoint when I first heard the phrase, “the good life” bandied around in marketing efforts. I certainly and vividly recall the first time I heard Martha Stewart say, “It’s a good thing,” and I’m still uncertain about how I feel about that. I remember the first time I was aware that the “good life” was a thing to be considered and discussed. It was a college seminar on a book called “The Fragility of Goodness” that mentioned a concept called Eudaimonia – which is one of those 50 drachma words that folks like Aristotle favored, the kind that you and I have to explain as we translate. It kind of means the good life, but it’s more about human flourishing. At any rate, if you think about it too much, you may want a drink to facilitate your own flourishing.
Still the good life, this Eudaimonia, as I learned, is a many splendored thing. To have it you have to have moderate control over some parts of the uncontrollable – say, shelter from the storm – and you also have to have people, good people. My mamaw used speak of good people (which sounds like a collective noun, but usually refers to a single person), and I think she meant someone who you could trust, who had a good moral sense, and who didn’t beat the kids more than what was necessary to avoid spoilage. You know, salt of the earth kind of people.
A good life, true human flourishing, that is, involves intimate interaction with these good people. And since we know how challenging it can be to find good people and harder still (for some of us, at least) to be good people, we’re also pretty certain that the good life involves intimate interaction with good beer. And when you find good people making good beer, well that’s one of modern life’s truly fantastic flourishes. And it seems to us that that’s what craft beer ought to be about.
This month we’ll celebrate Good People who make good beer in Birmingham. The Good People Brewing Company has been in business since 2008, producing a line of quality craft beer that reflects their drive to give folks at home the same kind of complex, mind-altering beer experiences that they, co-founders Michael Sellers and Jason Malone, had while traipsing around overseas after college.
Although growing, the brewery has maintained a fairly limited distribution area concentrating on their home state and parts of our own, which is pretty neighborly in a good people, love your neighbor kind of way. The beers are beautifully canned with eye-catching labels that keep things light – after all, mamaw might remind us, Good People don’t take themselves too seriously.
The brewery produces 5 year round brews, 4 seasonals, and intermittent one-offs.
We’re very happy to have their first Saison/ Farmhouse Ale, Urban Farmer on tap. It’s “…a unique blend of saison yeast strains, which lend flavor and aroma characteristics of grapefruit, pineapple, orange zest, earthiness and spiciness.” And it’s a good way to usher in the last leg of 2016.
We’ll be featuring different beers at each location, so make a point to visit both Market Square and the Gallery to get a comprehensive view of this brewery! We’ll offer selections for Good People’s very good line-up:
Pale Ale: The flagship brew balances the subtle caramel tones of 2-Row & 5 Specialty Malts with just the right amount of hops. Complex and versatile, it’s good anytime, anywhere for any occasion.
IPA: This unfiltered, dry-hopped IPA packs a copper-colored aromatic punch. Herbal and earthy hops take center stage, tempered by light caramel flavors. Crisp and refreshing, it’s a hop lover’s dream.
Brown Ale: Sweet without being cloying, our Brown Ale delivers a hint of nuttiness that plays nicely with a healthy dose of hops. The mildest offering in our lineup, this classic brew hits the spot every time.
Snake Handler: Dangerously drinkable, this Double IPA brew is a spirited celebration of all things hoppy. Aromas of pine, citrus, flowers, spice, pineapple, and grassiness complement a biscuit and caramel backbone. Hands down, our most requested beer.
Coffee Oatmeal Flavored Stout: Known to fans as C-O-S, our Coffee Oatmeal Stout delivers a big coffee taste followed by a wallop of Willamette hops. Complex and flavorful, amazingly sessionable. Good after a meal.
Bearded Lady: This light-bodied wheat ale marries a Weizen Glass hint of hops with a whisker of tartness for a subtle citrus flavor. Silky smooth and refreshing, it’s the perfect tonic for 5 o’clock shadows, seven days a week.
Good People is a pretty good beer choice for contemplating all the mysteries of the good life. I can’t be certain precisely how it will affect your human experience, but, at the very least, I suspect your conversation will flourish – and, ahem, that’s a good thing.
The third time, they say, is a charm, and if that’s the case, then Ruth Allen should have a spectacular showing on the walls of the Tomato Head. Ruth’s work captured Mahasti’s eye during a visit to Big City Bread Cafe in Athens, GA. Mahasti recalls that, “there was a really cute artist studio in the back. It was closed, but we peeked in the window and saw some really cute whimsical clay pieces and some of the ones that really stood out turned out to be Ruth’s. When we went into the Café, they had her art on their walls. Her work is so colorful and pure it immediately caught my attention, so I spent most of my time at the bakery walking around looking at her work. “
Ruth brings a fascinating technique and vivid eye for color to her work; this particular exhibit will be no exception, and Ruth expects that we’ll see, “Birds, deer, a rabbit, some tulips, and something strange…” all in a variety of sizes of acrylic and mixed media on canvas.
Although she’s painted a variety of subjects over her career, many of Ruth’s strongest images come from the animal kingdom. “I have always loved animals, flowers and nature,” she says, “I am usually drawing and painting about my love of something. If it’s not love, another strong emotion. It’s a way of communicating…maybe something for which I have no words.” It’s almost ironic, then, that, at times, she seems to capture fauna in an illustrative way, almost as if they were mid-speech in some fascinating adventure.
The shape, line and color of Ruth’s work create a distinctive form – in fact, many of the comments that she hears refer to the singularity of her painting. But Ruth isn’t conscious of pursuing a particular style. Instead, she says, “I take in a lot of visual images via Instagram and curated quite a collection of inspirations during the beta testing days of Pinterest. My influences are many. It still comes back to love. If I love someone else’s work, it can’t help but be reflected in mine, but I do try to be aware of that when it’s happening. So, I confess my loves for artists like Michael Banks and Lauren Marx, who are the most prevalent influences lately. Not that I am anywhere near their league!! Still, I have a great love for what they are doing.”
Ruth’s training came from a gifted teacher, but she says she “did not study art in college though, as much as I wanted to. I let some life events kind of derail that idea… I’m really just doing something I love and sharing it in whatever way I can.”
As her exhibit clearly demonstrates, the path of the artist doesn’t always follow an academic course, but Ruth is adamant that, whatever you do, if you have a passion for art, you ,“Never, never give up. Never stop. When anyone, including your parents, tell you that you cannot make a living doing your art, just know that you can’t really live without doing it.”
You can see for yourself now through November 6th while Ruth Allen’s exhibit hangs in the Market Square restaurant. The show will move to the Gallery location November 7th at remain there until December 5th.
Perhaps it’s best if you’re sitting.
The shock may be too much for you – but fear not, there is a warm and fuzzy place that we can help you find, one that will make it all better, so stay with us…
Perhaps it will come as no surprise to you that there is an actual Pumpkin Spice Day. The autumnal flavor seems to have taken over our world in a way that Frank Herbert fans will understand. (Nerd alert!) Like the mélange spice/drug of the planet Arrakis, also known as DUNE, Pumpkin Spice is everywhere now. It has even reached Little Debbie, and I suspect that Collegedale (the home of the snack cake giant) is covered in a fine dust of suspicious, orange tint.
But what may strike you as odd, perhaps even somehow wrong and wickedly disturbing is that where there is Pumpkin Spice, there may not be actual Pumpkin. I know, I know – it’s a terrible thought, and it’s one that leaves me reeling and wondering what will be left of the real and the natural order of things. When the very air is full of spice, when it infuses our lattes, fills our cereal bowls, and even clings to our almonds without a trace of the Big Orange Squash that single-handedly created the spice’s fame, well, the Great Chain of Being has broken into more pieces than Humpty Dumpty. And the world seems less right than before.
“But, but…” you sputter in shock, “Pumpkin Spice delights are often orange! Surely, surely that’s from real pumpkin!” Alas, that most delightful of all the colors, orange, is often simulated by the addition of annatto and paprika.
It’s easy to understand, even if it hurts the head to ponder; in much of processed food, it’s flavor or the simulation thereof that matters most. Actual ingredients be damned, as long as it tastes right, looks right or is at least close enough, then all is well. You may know people who actually prefer the fakers – like that strange group of folks who prefer the taste of banana Popsicle to the taste of an actual banana.
Okay, so that’s unfair – pumpkin spice is a real enough mélange of nutmeg, clove, cinnamon, ginger and allspice, but on its own it’s really just spice. It could be spice cake spice, molasses cookie spice – heck, it’s only a couple of ingredients away from being garam masala spice. We need pumpkin to make it right.
We’re not trying to rain on anyone’s parade or throw shade on your seasonally affected flavor favor. Far from it – we have a safe place for you at the restaurant, a place where Pumpkin Spice lives in harmony as it should with the Great Pumpkin who is real and present in every bite. For this national day of observance, this Pumpkin Spice Day, we have Pumpkin Spice Morning Rolls that will warm up your nose and your heart for a full day of spiced remembrance. We’ll also have Pumpkin Spice Cupcakes to sweeten all the memories that come with the smell and flavor of this sweet squash and spice blend – memories of home baked treats and family gatherings where paprika stays safely on the deviled eggs.
Happy Pumpkin Spice Day – come and see us.
Today is a good day to reflect on one of the finest parts of Tomato Head – past and present; from the very beginning of our journey all the way through today we’ve attracted a lot of interesting people – not just the folks eating at our tables but also the many fine people who work to put the goods on those tables.
Today is National Food Service Worker’s Day, which strikes us as both a day of celebration and gratitude.
It doesn’t matter what aspect of life, whether you’re putting together a sports team, casting a play, or assembling a band, finding the right group of humans who share your passion, your values, and your own brand of common sense can be a Herculean labor – and finding all of those qualities in a group of people that you actually like to be around is a stroke of luck. And yet for going on 26 years, Tomato Head has been inordinately fortunate in terms of having a team from the kitchen all the way to the front door that’s caring, considerate, hard-working and pretty groovy, too.
So we want to say thanks!
If you’ve ever worked in a restaurant, you know that the job comes with more challenges than meet the eye, and that it takes a lot more effort than just slinging hash on a grill or dropping it off at table 15. From the kitchen and dish room to the bar and the patio, too, the work requires a keen set of eyes, mad skills in multi-tasking, diplomacy out the wazoo, and a really good pair of shoes.
Thanks in part to the great proliferation of cooking shows, there’s a little more appreciation for the demands of life in food service than perhaps once there was. Still, it’s a tough job that comes with its fair share of difficult experiences. So today, perhaps you’ll consider joining us as we make a point of saying thanks a little more clearly and a little more often.
Of course, we’re not encouraging our guests to get up and hug the kitchen manager after every meal – I suspect we’d be looking for a new kitchen manager if that were the case. But, if you think of it, an extra thanks goes long way to helping anybody feel better about the day and what they do with it.
The passing of summer always makes me sad – not for the end of sultry days and blinding sun, of course, but for the end of market days and backyard harvests, of warm tomatoes and sweet corn. Even so, I am made equally happy for the first sweet smell of autumn when I find it in the air of some cool September morn carting the promise of cooler days and warm cider. But September is a teasing month, and those wafts of fall give way to still sultry, sunny afternoons that surprise me like a sudden slap.
It’s the contrast of these transitional days that make me think of Pablo Neruda.
If you don’t know Neruda’s poetry, it’s worth a trip to the library, particularly if you’re a food lover. Neruda, a Chilean poet and the winner of the Nobel Prize in 1971, wrote a wide variety of verse including some fabulous odes to food. My college roommate introduced me to the haunting Ode to Salt and, my favorite of all, the joyous Ode to Watermelon:
the lips, the tongue:
we want to drink
the dark blue night,
the South Pole,
the coolest of all
the planets crosses
the round, magnificent,
It’s the promise of autumnal breezes juxtaposed with the last cruel rays of sun that make me thirsty above all things and bring to mind my favorite line of the ode, “we want to drink/ waterfalls”. And so I go in search of the melon, clinging to the sweet spot of the sunny season even as I grasp the joys of transition to the days of football fields and the first taste of fall flavors.
It’s an awfully romantic way to describe a food obsession, I grant you, but that’s just how I roll.
But that transition, particularly in terms of flavors isn’t always jarring – in fact, it’s harmonious in our kitchen. That’s because when our thoughts run to tailgating we find that watermelon sneaks into many of our considerations of game-day nosh. And one of the best ways to assuage all the feels that fill our hungry heart is to incorporate melon into dishes. It keeps the flavor in our minds and mouths and makes for some pretty clever eating, too.
Consider the case of Watermelon Salsa. At first, you’re thinking of the spice and heat and how odd that might seem with our beloved sweet fruit, or perhaps you know about the secret and sacred flavor connection between tomato and watermelon – if you do, you know that this salsa makes perfect sense. The tomato at its finest is also a sweet treat, full of the same waterfalls that our friend Pablo imagined. So it’s never hard for us to imagine a dish of salsa with watermelon in it – somedays, it’s hard to imagine salsa without it.
For any doubter’s out there, we’ll show you how it works right on your own TV – if you’ll tune in to WBIR’s Weekend Today, on Saturday morning, Mahasti will be making Watermelon Salsa just in time for when football time in Tennessee really heats up.
Try it, you’ll like it – even more so if you’re reading aloud a bit of poetry – like you do before college football games, right? Or perhaps not – but you’ll be feeling it – maybe even just a bit like this….
Jewel box of water, phlegmatic
of the fruitshops,
of profundity, moon
You are pure,
rubies fall apart
in your abundance,
to bite into you,
to bury our
in you, and
our hair, and
Thanks, Pablo – we feel you!
Tomato Head’s Watermelon Salsa
8 cups watermelon, diced
1/3 cup cilantro, chopped
1/2 cup onion, diced
1 large jalapeno, diced about 2 Tbls
1 tsp salt
2 Tbl fresh lime juice
Cut Watermelon in half, then cut into 1 inch segments. Lay each segment on cutting board and carve out the flesh. Cut the watermelon into ¼ inch cubes and place in a medium mixing bowl. Add chopped cilantro, diced onion and jalapeno along with salt and lime juice. Mix everything together with a large spoon until all the ingredients are distributed evenly.
Serve as a dip with Tortilla chips. Also makes a great salsa for topping your favorite fish tacos or black bean nachos.
When you take a look at Cynthia Tipton’s artwork, you may find that it’s looking back at you.
Cynthia is, as she puts it, a jack of all trades, so it’s difficult to pin her down. If you visit her studio, you might find her occupied teaching a figure drawing class, or even knitting, but what may catch your eye, and keep it, are the portraits that hang about the walls and sit on easels. For the next month, though, many of these will hang at Tomato Head Market Square in Tipton’s exhibit, “Discord and Rhyme.”
Two of the most notable of these portraits feature the nearly iconic faces of Scott and Bernadette West. Both are engaging works of art, vibrant and almost pulsing with the energy of the subjects. In fact there’s so much life in them that one might think that they were looking back.
Cynthia likes to paint people, but, she says, she’s really interested in more than just a pretty face: “I love painting people, always have. Usually I have some understanding of the person that interests me enough to paint them…. I’m really trying to capture their essence, some part of their personality other than the stoic kind of portrait. “
That interest moves through the paint and across the gulf between canvass and viewer – whether it’s Bernadette West’s kind and colorful gaze or a young girl in the midst of some emotional fit – the paintings speak through eyes as well as through the tilt of the head, the subtle lines of lips and cheek.
Although it’s easy to classify her as a portrait artist, Tipton isn’t comfortable with that mantle, she says, “I’m a portrait artist, though I hate saying that – it doesn’t quite say what I do. So, perhaps, Painter of People?”
But it’s not just the eyes and attitude of faces that seem to look back at you in her work. A verdant landscape with its life and changing color also seems to peer back – perhaps it’s the sense of a breeze stirring in the leaves, or the movement of light over the greenery.
But the exhibit only touches a small portion of what Tipton does to fill her life with beauty. As she said, “I’m a little bit of a jack of all trades. I’m also in the Foothills Craft Guild for fiber art. I’ll be teaching a class on that at the KMA in the fall. I knit and felt – generally every year I set up at the Farmer’s market Holiday market and sell my knitted stuff.” She also buys and sells vintage jewelry and turns some of her art work into smaller pieces, decorative pieces that you can find in the gift shop at Broadway Studios and Gallery – just across the street from K-Brew.
“Discord & Rhyme” an exhibit of oil on canvas/board by Cynthia Tipton will be on view at the Market Square Tomato Head in downtown Knoxville from September 5th thru October 2nd. Cynthia will then exhibit at the West Knoxville Gallery Tomato Head from October 3rd thru November 7th.
You’ll want to stop in see the work for yourself – or, perhaps, let yourself be seen by it.