And it's a good thing. Work this week required rather a bit of brainpower. A long project that is stimulating to the sleuth in me but would likely be intensely boring in description so I won't subject you to that. Let's just say: minutia. Minutia, airplanes, parts fitting together properly.
And so now I can barely spell, and will not take long here.
As a matter of fact I had something to say but it's left me. Check the baseball standings. Be friendly to your neighbors. Have a good holiday.
M
P.S. OK, just remembered. The souffle poll. Having had three brave souls vote (thanks for visiting -- I love you), 'tis perhaps not a representative sample. Still: 66% for chocolate; 33% for lemon.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
More St. Louis TV Fame
So, Alton Brown, on his road show "Feasting on Asphalt," ate at Fast Eddies and Pie Town Stomping Grounds in Alton (with a whole fun goofy thing about the pronunciation differences), and then went on a donut tour of the 'Lou. Cool. Pie Town, not everyone knows about it I'm guessing, is in a tucked-away part of Alton near to where I lived in Bethalto. I went there rather a lot, only place within five miles making espresso. Two observations from Mr. Brown: Fast Eddies makes the only chicken wings worth eating he's ever had (that's the Chick on a Stick, BTW), and Pie Town the only pecan pie north of the Mason-Dixon line he's ever had that stands up to scrutiny. As to the donuts, that was very fun. I've looked for a list of the ones he visited but no luck so far. Definitely he went to World's Fair and Drive-In Donuts.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
We Have Taste!
Let it be known that of the five eateries chosen by Bon Appetit magazine to best represent the five iconic American foods, -- pizza, ribs, steak, hamburgers, and tacos -- yours truly has eaten at two of them. Woo-hoo. 17th Street Bar and Grill in Murphysborough, Illinois won the amazing honor of best ribs in the whole freaking U.S., M'bo being, of course, right next door to my second-home-town of Carbondale, where I lived for 17 years. Yes, we are there all the time.
Best pizza went to Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix, where of course Metal Ox and I vacationed last summer. Thank goodness for my persistent insistence that we eat there. It was truly wonderful in every way, even though they don't take reservations. They were quite kind even considering his obvious annoyance at having to wait in a separate building while I drank a glass of wine (which was fine by me) and then as we sat at the bar and watched Bianco himself craft the fabulous pizzas as we ate our own. It was, I admit, one of those times that one might have wished to be with someone who might get some enjoyment out of lingering and sampling, which MO is not into, his sensual abilities and senses being quite underdeveloped, poor thing, and him unwilling to be tutored... but I digress. I'm just glad I got to try this food-fired deliciousness.
For some reason Bon Appetit is not showing this "contest" prominently on it's web site, so I'm linking to Serious Eats in case you want to take a look.
Scorpio II is thrilled by the 17th Street development, as she has been on a quest to find the best ribs in the STL area since she's quit the vegetarian limitation. Bon appetit, Miss Girl!
Best pizza went to Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix, where of course Metal Ox and I vacationed last summer. Thank goodness for my persistent insistence that we eat there. It was truly wonderful in every way, even though they don't take reservations. They were quite kind even considering his obvious annoyance at having to wait in a separate building while I drank a glass of wine (which was fine by me) and then as we sat at the bar and watched Bianco himself craft the fabulous pizzas as we ate our own. It was, I admit, one of those times that one might have wished to be with someone who might get some enjoyment out of lingering and sampling, which MO is not into, his sensual abilities and senses being quite underdeveloped, poor thing, and him unwilling to be tutored... but I digress. I'm just glad I got to try this food-fired deliciousness.
For some reason Bon Appetit is not showing this "contest" prominently on it's web site, so I'm linking to Serious Eats in case you want to take a look.
Scorpio II is thrilled by the 17th Street development, as she has been on a quest to find the best ribs in the STL area since she's quit the vegetarian limitation. Bon appetit, Miss Girl!
Friday, August 24, 2007
Red Herrings, Dogs
I'm going to try to say this with brevity.
Regarding the Michael Vick thing. I saw some guy on FOX news the other night saying that he thought hunting was even worse than what Vick et al allegedly did to the dogs, and that therefore we should not get so excited about dog fighting in general, and we should lay off Vick specifically.
Two things: Numero Uno: Ethical evolution has to start somewhere. If we continually assert that one action is "not as bad as" or even "just like" some other action, we get no where in our development as human beings. What we should do is look closely at the action we're disturbed by, ask ourselves if it is related to another action, find the points of relationship that are relevant, look closely at those, and from that investigation consider plans of remedy. To suppress our revulsion or whatever for the initial action seems to me some species of denial, and unhealthy. Shading this FOX guy's reasoning, of course, is the logical fallacy it develops from, the old red herring that two wrongs make a right, and it amazes me that there are still people using this argument.
Numero Dos: To address the hunting issue briefly, I would only say that in my view there is humane hunting and inhumane hunting, just as there is humane animal farming and inhumane animal farming. I mean really, there is a quick death with respect for the animal, and then there is torture. Torture is always inhumane. Yes, perhaps never killing any creature is more humane, period, but the truth is we're not there yet, and it may be anyway that some of us have the physiological need to eat animals, 'cause, hey, that's how we evolved. But, is it possible that our collective ethical understanding might be at the point at which we're getting tired of torturing animals for our own convenience and entertainment? Maybe! More people are buying humanely raised and killed meat. And maybe this huge reaction to Vick's torture for entertainment of dogs is part of that consciousness raising.
And no, I can't see that this is happening because Vick is black. That argument just seems silly to me. As silly as the same argument was when it got tooted all loudly in the O.J. trial days. I, personally, am really tired of seeing awful people treated like heroes, and football seems to be a really active sphere for that sort of thing. Personally I hope Vick never plays ball again.
Regarding the Michael Vick thing. I saw some guy on FOX news the other night saying that he thought hunting was even worse than what Vick et al allegedly did to the dogs, and that therefore we should not get so excited about dog fighting in general, and we should lay off Vick specifically.
Two things: Numero Uno: Ethical evolution has to start somewhere. If we continually assert that one action is "not as bad as" or even "just like" some other action, we get no where in our development as human beings. What we should do is look closely at the action we're disturbed by, ask ourselves if it is related to another action, find the points of relationship that are relevant, look closely at those, and from that investigation consider plans of remedy. To suppress our revulsion or whatever for the initial action seems to me some species of denial, and unhealthy. Shading this FOX guy's reasoning, of course, is the logical fallacy it develops from, the old red herring that two wrongs make a right, and it amazes me that there are still people using this argument.
Numero Dos: To address the hunting issue briefly, I would only say that in my view there is humane hunting and inhumane hunting, just as there is humane animal farming and inhumane animal farming. I mean really, there is a quick death with respect for the animal, and then there is torture. Torture is always inhumane. Yes, perhaps never killing any creature is more humane, period, but the truth is we're not there yet, and it may be anyway that some of us have the physiological need to eat animals, 'cause, hey, that's how we evolved. But, is it possible that our collective ethical understanding might be at the point at which we're getting tired of torturing animals for our own convenience and entertainment? Maybe! More people are buying humanely raised and killed meat. And maybe this huge reaction to Vick's torture for entertainment of dogs is part of that consciousness raising.
And no, I can't see that this is happening because Vick is black. That argument just seems silly to me. As silly as the same argument was when it got tooted all loudly in the O.J. trial days. I, personally, am really tired of seeing awful people treated like heroes, and football seems to be a really active sphere for that sort of thing. Personally I hope Vick never plays ball again.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Soufflé, Faire des Progrès
Finally, progress on the soufflé front. Last night, soufflé class at the Viking Cooking School. What fun! Five participants, two men, two other women, me. Two chefs -- both kind of cute, by the way, which doesn’t hurt the experience at all. This class is part of their “Cooking without a Book” series,
But here’s the real goods: I asked head chef about the problem of my soufflés rising only in the center (see the photo below, left) and he had the solution instantly: I wasn’t giving the mixture adequate foothold to climb the sides of the dish!
I watched him as he buttered each dish (he used individual ramekins), then coated each in either sugar, cocoa, or bread crumbs (depending on the recipe), paying close attention to the coating of the dish sides. This addition of texture is the scaffolding that the soufflé climbs as it rises. Voilà.
You see, I have so far tried making only one kind of soufflé, a cheese, from, if you’ve forgotten, Julia Child’s basic recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking. She does say to coat the sides of the dish in butter, then parmesan cheese, yes. But she gives no explanation beyond that. Really, I thought this cheese coating analogous to adding flour to a cake pan’s coating, and I didn’t really pay that much attention to it. Also, I used parmesan I grated myself, and so it may have been moister and less fine a crumb, if you will, than it would have been if I’d bought it already grated.
Another tip: wipe the edge of the dish clean of butter/crumb/whatever, so that it doesn’t climb that last ¼ inch or so. This will help it not overflow the dish.
And so. That information alone was worth the price of admission. Never mind that we had three soufflés to devour: Grand Marnier, Cheese and Spinach, and Chocolate, with accompanying sauces, a lovely appetizer of parmesan and artichoke (way better than the usual artichoke concoctions I’ve previously had thrust upon me), and all the wine, basically, one could drink, which in my case was three glasses. All of this while drinking good wine, seated comfortably in a big kitchen, watching pleasant looking men prepare delicious food in an instructive manner. Gee, if I can do this regularly maybe I don’t need to find a husband after all, since such a scene is indeed part of my dream of the perfect relationship. Of course, I don’t get to kiss the chef-instructors after they feed me. A considerable down side. A man who can cook for me then kiss me? Me want. Que sera.
So I’m hoping to go to their pastry class, part of the Without a Book series, for I can use a little help with my crust confidence level, and this one is all about crust.
Maybe you want to take a class, too? Maybe we can go together? Here’s the url – scroll down for the schedule: http://www.vikingcookingschool.com/hc-cgi-bin/hc?templ=new_vcs/calendar.html&store=37.
But here’s the real goods: I asked head chef about the problem of my soufflés rising only in the center (see the photo below, left) and he had the solution instantly: I wasn’t giving the mixture adequate foothold to climb the sides of the dish!
I watched him as he buttered each dish (he used individual ramekins), then coated each in either sugar, cocoa, or bread crumbs (depending on the recipe), paying close attention to the coating of the dish sides. This addition of texture is the scaffolding that the soufflé climbs as it rises. Voilà.
You see, I have so far tried making only one kind of soufflé, a cheese, from, if you’ve forgotten, Julia Child’s basic recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking. She does say to coat the sides of the dish in butter, then parmesan cheese, yes. But she gives no explanation beyond that. Really, I thought this cheese coating analogous to adding flour to a cake pan’s coating, and I didn’t really pay that much attention to it. Also, I used parmesan I grated myself, and so it may have been moister and less fine a crumb, if you will, than it would have been if I’d bought it already grated.
Another tip: wipe the edge of the dish clean of butter/crumb/whatever, so that it doesn’t climb that last ¼ inch or so. This will help it not overflow the dish.
And so. That information alone was worth the price of admission. Never mind that we had three soufflés to devour: Grand Marnier, Cheese and Spinach, and Chocolate, with accompanying sauces, a lovely appetizer of parmesan and artichoke (way better than the usual artichoke concoctions I’ve previously had thrust upon me), and all the wine, basically, one could drink, which in my case was three glasses. All of this while drinking good wine, seated comfortably in a big kitchen, watching pleasant looking men prepare delicious food in an instructive manner. Gee, if I can do this regularly maybe I don’t need to find a husband after all, since such a scene is indeed part of my dream of the perfect relationship. Of course, I don’t get to kiss the chef-instructors after they feed me. A considerable down side. A man who can cook for me then kiss me? Me want. Que sera.
So I’m hoping to go to their pastry class, part of the Without a Book series, for I can use a little help with my crust confidence level, and this one is all about crust.
Maybe you want to take a class, too? Maybe we can go together? Here’s the url – scroll down for the schedule: http://www.vikingcookingschool.com/hc-cgi-bin/hc?templ=new_vcs/calendar.html&store=37.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Apophenia
"Apophenia is the spontaneous perception of connections and meaningfulness of unrelated phenomena. The term was coined by K. Conrad in 1958 (Brugger)." -- The Skeptics Dictionary
Spontaneous. As opposed to looking for. Ran across apophenia over the weekend in William Gibson's Pattern Recognition. Googled it, found that many sources, probably including (though I'm not sure yet) he who coined it (Conrad), really mean it -- the "ia" part -- as an illness, as in the "ia" in "paranoia," where of course "ia" is the Greek meaning state or condition, and a condition is a bad thing to have, a state, a bad place to be, in current usage, I suppose. But don't get all in state about it.
Which is all, of course, perception (back to the definition). The word perception, recent-modernly, has come to facilitate the put-down. As in, "Well, that's your perception." This being a corruption of the use meant for it when psychotherapy introduced it to us as a way to acknowledge one another's moments in the world without giving up our own ("I hear that you perceive me to be saying that I dislike you, but in fact I am trying to say that I dislike the toothpaste you leave on my blow dryer every morning.") but has been corrupted into a sly responsibility deflector ("You may think that I am yelling at you, but that's just your perception" -- said in a very loud voice; or gaslighter ("I didn't wink at that woman. You perceived that I winked" or "Footsteps upstairs? There are no footsteps. That's only one of your perceptions"), so that "perception" begins to mean "crazy," rather than "the act or faculty of apprehending by means of the senses or of the mind."
Online Etymology Dictionary - Cite This Source perception 1483, "receiving, collection," from L. perceptionem (nom. perceptio) "perception, apprehension, a taking," from percipere "perceive" (see perceive). First used in the more literal sense of the L. word; in secondary sense, "the taking cognizance of," it is recorded in Eng. from 1611.
In this manner the word "perception" itself has been corrupted. One could interpret the Skeptics definition above through that lens, and thereby grok the connection between Conrad's concept and assholes using the psychological meaning to deflect one's attention from their assholedness or lying.
I like these two definitions of "perception" from dictionary.com:
1. the act or faculty of apprehending by means of the senses or of the mind; cognition; understanding.
2. immediate or intuitive recognition or appreciation, as of moral, psychological, or aesthetic qualities; insight; intuition; discernment: an artist of rare perception.
Now, noting the introduction of "intuitive" into the mix, we move to the obvious "feminine" flavor of this apothenia idea. From there it's not hard to see how the concept is undermined. But I like Gibson's character Cayce (pronounced Case; a woman), for her job is apothenia. She is hired by branders to intuit "cool" -- to see emerging patterns of commodifiable, well, whatever. Fashion, music, habit. Even deeper than that, Cayce can "sense" whether or not a logo is going to make it for a company simply by gaging her body's reaction to it. One could argue that this is a form of apothenia,even though the logo response is not to a currently available, concrete pattern, but rather to the potential pattern (that would emerge if the logo were dissemenated), or to a pattern underlying a current but sub-whatever (liminal, terranean) pattern of connections (since in some theory all potentials are current). Perhaps a sensing of connections that could lead to a discernible pattern (even if that pattern is discernible only to the apothenetic -- apotheniod?). Which plays pretty naturally into themes or questions of Time, which are there, too. As in the discussion of the possibility of changing the past. All of this is pretty spot-on to some New Physics stuff, of course, and why we love Gibson even beyond his ability to, as the Princess said on Friday, "grab you around the throat" with his story telling.
He really does write women well. I am going to be thinking a bit about this. Maybe get back to you on it.
Maybe this writing women so well is partly due to, as with Cayce, his willingness to let them have their femininity in the way it is real -- as in making spontaneous connections and drawing meaning from seemingly (under the patriarchal, linear model) unrelated phenomena. This, rather than expressing themselves through the questing after A Man or A Child or A Toilet To Scrub or, as is the current fashion in how women are perceived in the world, Someone To Screw. Yes, believe it or not, there is more than one way for women to push against what's expected of us. Not surprising that, in a world still fashioned more than not by The Patriarchy that we'd be manipulated into believing our best defense against oppression is to engage in sex with as many men as possible, or take our shirts off in crowds as often as possible. Gee, I wonder who would have thought that up? And besides that, it has now become so commonplace, this perception of women as collectively embracing our inner sluts and therefor quite ready all the time for sex, if the man is just attractive... I mean hot enough, that it's just boring already. And yet another way to remove from us -- just as effectively as putting us in the kitchen permanently (and I don't mean the professional kitchen) -- our three-dimensionality. Another boring expectation based on stereotype, just like becoming a housewife was expected and boring and repressive when I was growing up. Fogetaboudit. Anyhow, in a word, Cayce is neither hyper- nor a- sexual. Neither a ballbuster nor a pushover. Neither obsessed with her looks nor unaware of them. Neither kittenish nor manlike. Imagine. She just is. And for that alone, WB, I salute you. Never mind the rest of your genius, which I'd all but forgotten the specific channels/nodes/depths of, given I hadn't really read you since grad school.
Maybe there are manners of liberation that would benefit us a bit more than being hypersexual, which is just another way to be on call for men, not really all that different in the end than being on call to make coffee or iron the clothes or whatever (well, except that sex is a lot more invasive and risky than making coffee)? Ya think? Maybe a way, like, say, honing our faculties to make discrete connections between seemingly unrelated objects/events/memes and to intuit our environment's trends, fault lines, directions; use that together with some logic and thereby get an edge on, well, everything, but in such a way that we could actually, like, maybe improve things rather than dismantling and dissolving them?
Think about this: to discern patterns is a priori to put things together.
Hmm, I wonder who might be threatened by that?
Spontaneous. As opposed to looking for. Ran across apophenia over the weekend in William Gibson's Pattern Recognition. Googled it, found that many sources, probably including (though I'm not sure yet) he who coined it (Conrad), really mean it -- the "ia" part -- as an illness, as in the "ia" in "paranoia," where of course "ia" is the Greek meaning state or condition, and a condition is a bad thing to have, a state, a bad place to be, in current usage, I suppose. But don't get all in state about it.
Which is all, of course, perception (back to the definition). The word perception, recent-modernly, has come to facilitate the put-down. As in, "Well, that's your perception." This being a corruption of the use meant for it when psychotherapy introduced it to us as a way to acknowledge one another's moments in the world without giving up our own ("I hear that you perceive me to be saying that I dislike you, but in fact I am trying to say that I dislike the toothpaste you leave on my blow dryer every morning.") but has been corrupted into a sly responsibility deflector ("You may think that I am yelling at you, but that's just your perception" -- said in a very loud voice; or gaslighter ("I didn't wink at that woman. You perceived that I winked" or "Footsteps upstairs? There are no footsteps. That's only one of your perceptions"), so that "perception" begins to mean "crazy," rather than "the act or faculty of apprehending by means of the senses or of the mind."
Online Etymology Dictionary - Cite This Source perception 1483, "receiving, collection," from L. perceptionem (nom. perceptio) "perception, apprehension, a taking," from percipere "perceive" (see perceive). First used in the more literal sense of the L. word; in secondary sense, "the taking cognizance of," it is recorded in Eng. from 1611.
In this manner the word "perception" itself has been corrupted. One could interpret the Skeptics definition above through that lens, and thereby grok the connection between Conrad's concept and assholes using the psychological meaning to deflect one's attention from their assholedness or lying.
I like these two definitions of "perception" from dictionary.com:
1. the act or faculty of apprehending by means of the senses or of the mind; cognition; understanding.
2. immediate or intuitive recognition or appreciation, as of moral, psychological, or aesthetic qualities; insight; intuition; discernment: an artist of rare perception.
Now, noting the introduction of "intuitive" into the mix, we move to the obvious "feminine" flavor of this apothenia idea. From there it's not hard to see how the concept is undermined. But I like Gibson's character Cayce (pronounced Case; a woman), for her job is apothenia. She is hired by branders to intuit "cool" -- to see emerging patterns of commodifiable, well, whatever. Fashion, music, habit. Even deeper than that, Cayce can "sense" whether or not a logo is going to make it for a company simply by gaging her body's reaction to it. One could argue that this is a form of apothenia,even though the logo response is not to a currently available, concrete pattern, but rather to the potential pattern (that would emerge if the logo were dissemenated), or to a pattern underlying a current but sub-whatever (liminal, terranean) pattern of connections (since in some theory all potentials are current). Perhaps a sensing of connections that could lead to a discernible pattern (even if that pattern is discernible only to the apothenetic -- apotheniod?). Which plays pretty naturally into themes or questions of Time, which are there, too. As in the discussion of the possibility of changing the past. All of this is pretty spot-on to some New Physics stuff, of course, and why we love Gibson even beyond his ability to, as the Princess said on Friday, "grab you around the throat" with his story telling.
He really does write women well. I am going to be thinking a bit about this. Maybe get back to you on it.
Maybe this writing women so well is partly due to, as with Cayce, his willingness to let them have their femininity in the way it is real -- as in making spontaneous connections and drawing meaning from seemingly (under the patriarchal, linear model) unrelated phenomena. This, rather than expressing themselves through the questing after A Man or A Child or A Toilet To Scrub or, as is the current fashion in how women are perceived in the world, Someone To Screw. Yes, believe it or not, there is more than one way for women to push against what's expected of us. Not surprising that, in a world still fashioned more than not by The Patriarchy that we'd be manipulated into believing our best defense against oppression is to engage in sex with as many men as possible, or take our shirts off in crowds as often as possible. Gee, I wonder who would have thought that up? And besides that, it has now become so commonplace, this perception of women as collectively embracing our inner sluts and therefor quite ready all the time for sex, if the man is just attractive... I mean hot enough, that it's just boring already. And yet another way to remove from us -- just as effectively as putting us in the kitchen permanently (and I don't mean the professional kitchen) -- our three-dimensionality. Another boring expectation based on stereotype, just like becoming a housewife was expected and boring and repressive when I was growing up. Fogetaboudit. Anyhow, in a word, Cayce is neither hyper- nor a- sexual. Neither a ballbuster nor a pushover. Neither obsessed with her looks nor unaware of them. Neither kittenish nor manlike. Imagine. She just is. And for that alone, WB, I salute you. Never mind the rest of your genius, which I'd all but forgotten the specific channels/nodes/depths of, given I hadn't really read you since grad school.
Maybe there are manners of liberation that would benefit us a bit more than being hypersexual, which is just another way to be on call for men, not really all that different in the end than being on call to make coffee or iron the clothes or whatever (well, except that sex is a lot more invasive and risky than making coffee)? Ya think? Maybe a way, like, say, honing our faculties to make discrete connections between seemingly unrelated objects/events/memes and to intuit our environment's trends, fault lines, directions; use that together with some logic and thereby get an edge on, well, everything, but in such a way that we could actually, like, maybe improve things rather than dismantling and dissolving them?
Think about this: to discern patterns is a priori to put things together.
Hmm, I wonder who might be threatened by that?
___________________________________________________________
Here's an interesting woman who has taken the word for her scholarly/professional use:
http://www.apophenia.com/.
Friday, August 17, 2007
FCC Kindly Clarifies
No, not the Federal Communications Commission (don't we wish they'd be more clear, and fair, and less inclined to OK monopolies, etc.). Instead I mean my friend as referenced in yesterday's post. Here are the other rolls we had at Wasabi, and their contents, from her own keyboard: "Jeff's Roll" (white tuna, seared tuna, black tobiko, sesame oil, cucumber, avocado, and soybean paper), "Shogun Roll" (Deep fried lobster salad, tobiko, asparagus, cucumber and avocado. Served with sweet wasabi soy broth), & I think the "Rasta Roll" which had tuna (and maybe crab) with mango and jalapeño."
The Princess is working on this side of the river today and tomorrow and is going to sleep over, thus saving herself the drive home and back again. Nice. Company. Nice company. Perhaps I'll make a quiche. I can stop by the garden and see if I've got any tomatoes to toss in it. God knows I've got the basil.
For my mom's birthday tomorrow I'm going to put together her all-time favorite Lemonade Cake. I've not made it before, but my god it looks so simple. I think, were it up to me, I would make it in a cookie sheet rather than a 9 by 12 pan. I haven't had it in a while, but it seems to me the sort of thing that would benefit from thinness. I'll try that another time, when not making it for mom. She won't be pleased if it's not as she expects it. Anyway, basically it's just a yellow cake with frozen lemonade added in place of some of the liquid, then glazed with a frozen lemonade and confectioner's sugar glaze. How hard can that be? I got her An Inconvenent Truth, to go with the DVD player Gemini got her for Mother's Day. She earlier expressed an interest. Also, another NYT crossword puzzle book. Had to resist getting her novels. In the past five years I think I've given her at least 30. Happy Birthday, Momsey.
The Princess is working on this side of the river today and tomorrow and is going to sleep over, thus saving herself the drive home and back again. Nice. Company. Nice company. Perhaps I'll make a quiche. I can stop by the garden and see if I've got any tomatoes to toss in it. God knows I've got the basil.
For my mom's birthday tomorrow I'm going to put together her all-time favorite Lemonade Cake. I've not made it before, but my god it looks so simple. I think, were it up to me, I would make it in a cookie sheet rather than a 9 by 12 pan. I haven't had it in a while, but it seems to me the sort of thing that would benefit from thinness. I'll try that another time, when not making it for mom. She won't be pleased if it's not as she expects it. Anyway, basically it's just a yellow cake with frozen lemonade added in place of some of the liquid, then glazed with a frozen lemonade and confectioner's sugar glaze. How hard can that be? I got her An Inconvenent Truth, to go with the DVD player Gemini got her for Mother's Day. She earlier expressed an interest. Also, another NYT crossword puzzle book. Had to resist getting her novels. In the past five years I think I've given her at least 30. Happy Birthday, Momsey.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Wasabi or I Love Mr. Sushi? Guess Who Wins.
Scorpio II was skeptical. "How can you beat a sushi chef who sings Sinatra?" she implored, as I quickly agreed with, "And a catepillar roll that looks just like a catepillar?" But then, I added, everyone just keeps raving about Wasabi! She and I and her older brother have been going to I Love Mr. Sushi forever. Always perfect. Mr. Sushi is perfect. The catepillar roll has actual antenna, you see. Sprouts. Eyes of salmon roe. Lots of yummy acodaco "skin." An elegant curve to its body. Anyway....
Everyone I know has told me that Wasabi, the Washington Street sushi place, is just devine and the very very best and has no local competitor and so I have been trying to get there for, like, two years and for some reason have been stopped short by karmic impulse every time. So when Former Colleague Cook asked me to lunch the other day I suggested we meet at Wasabi.
We had the catepiller and three other rolls -- one with a seared tuna and something quite hot, one with some mango, and something with a flesh-colored skin that in texture was most like nori. Sorry, FCC was telling a pretty interesting story and it didn't even enter my mind to write these down.
They were good. But not divine. Given, I have not had anything there yet that would highlight the possible perfect freshness of the fish, and I do intend to. But as for these rolls, they were very heavy on the rice, to such a point that I felt way too carbed out at the end of the meal. There was plenty of opportunity to lead the rolls in directions other than major rice-edness, and those opportunities were lost. The rice itself was really pedestrian. A little too dry and seperate from itself, bouncing around my mouth and getting in the way of the fish and the fruit and the yummy roe. It didn't even have the kind of delicate sweetness that perfectly prepared sushi rice should have. Even that I've made at home has been more flavorful. So, what's up with that? And the atmosphere is nice enough, but again, not divine.
As to my old favorite, I Love Mr. Sushi, way out on the presently inaccessible gallactic beltway of Olive, between 270 and 170 (9443 Olive Blvd.) the rice is great, the atmosphere sweet but cramped, and everything I've had on the menu the best in town. In the pinches between I'll keep going to Sekisui (3024 S. Grand), which is close to my house, and usually has the ballgame on.
Baseball, by the way, is a lot of fun watched in a sushi bar. The chef at Sekisui is pretty into it. Does anyone know if there's a really into baseball sushi bar in town? As with a scoreboard over the bar and that, like in Bourdain's show when he goes to Tokyo and gets with the Tigers fans at the Tigers sushi bar?
Everyone I know has told me that Wasabi, the Washington Street sushi place, is just devine and the very very best and has no local competitor and so I have been trying to get there for, like, two years and for some reason have been stopped short by karmic impulse every time. So when Former Colleague Cook asked me to lunch the other day I suggested we meet at Wasabi.
We had the catepiller and three other rolls -- one with a seared tuna and something quite hot, one with some mango, and something with a flesh-colored skin that in texture was most like nori. Sorry, FCC was telling a pretty interesting story and it didn't even enter my mind to write these down.
They were good. But not divine. Given, I have not had anything there yet that would highlight the possible perfect freshness of the fish, and I do intend to. But as for these rolls, they were very heavy on the rice, to such a point that I felt way too carbed out at the end of the meal. There was plenty of opportunity to lead the rolls in directions other than major rice-edness, and those opportunities were lost. The rice itself was really pedestrian. A little too dry and seperate from itself, bouncing around my mouth and getting in the way of the fish and the fruit and the yummy roe. It didn't even have the kind of delicate sweetness that perfectly prepared sushi rice should have. Even that I've made at home has been more flavorful. So, what's up with that? And the atmosphere is nice enough, but again, not divine.
As to my old favorite, I Love Mr. Sushi, way out on the presently inaccessible gallactic beltway of Olive, between 270 and 170 (9443 Olive Blvd.) the rice is great, the atmosphere sweet but cramped, and everything I've had on the menu the best in town. In the pinches between I'll keep going to Sekisui (3024 S. Grand), which is close to my house, and usually has the ballgame on.
Baseball, by the way, is a lot of fun watched in a sushi bar. The chef at Sekisui is pretty into it. Does anyone know if there's a really into baseball sushi bar in town? As with a scoreboard over the bar and that, like in Bourdain's show when he goes to Tokyo and gets with the Tigers fans at the Tigers sushi bar?
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Dick Cheney? I Never Said He Was Stupid.
Pretty sure the word was "liar." So here he is, telling the truth about Iraq, though way back in 1994. Check it out.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
And in Our "Christian Country" the Judgement Increases
Two really gross pieces of news:
1. Vet's Funeral Canceled Because He Was Gay
Church Says Homosexuality A Sin
http://www.local6.com/news/13880376/detail.html
and
2. AT&T censors Pearl Jam, then says oops
Band says lines cut include ‘George Bush find yourself another home’
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20201788/
On (1): Pretty sure Mr. Jesus wouldn't be behind it. He didn't hang out with tax collectors and prostitutes for nothing, man. There was a point to all that. WRITE THIS CHURCH and TELL THEM HOW YOU FEEL: http://www.churchunusual.com/address.html
On (2): If I'm not happy with how this all turns out, Pa Bell, I will drop my contract with you as soon as it runs out (what a crock, anyway, these contracts!). WRITE AT&T and TELL THEM HOW YOU FEEL: http://www.corp.att.com/contact/forms/inquiries.html
1. Vet's Funeral Canceled Because He Was Gay
Church Says Homosexuality A Sin
http://www.local6.com/news/13880376/detail.html
and
2. AT&T censors Pearl Jam, then says oops
Band says lines cut include ‘George Bush find yourself another home’
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20201788/
On (1): Pretty sure Mr. Jesus wouldn't be behind it. He didn't hang out with tax collectors and prostitutes for nothing, man. There was a point to all that. WRITE THIS CHURCH and TELL THEM HOW YOU FEEL: http://www.churchunusual.com/address.html
On (2): If I'm not happy with how this all turns out, Pa Bell, I will drop my contract with you as soon as it runs out (what a crock, anyway, these contracts!). WRITE AT&T and TELL THEM HOW YOU FEEL: http://www.corp.att.com/contact/forms/inquiries.html
Thanks Again, Flannery
Here's a paradox:
1. Karl Rove has resigned. That's good. He is an incorrigible liar and relentless imperialist.
2. On Sunday, Jeanette, in her sermon, quoted Flannery O'Connor as saying, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd." Karl is odd. But it's not the truth that makes him so. Because he's a liar. But wait. Maybe it is the truth that makes him odd, but in a way different from what O'Connor meant. You know that spooky feeling one gets around a person who is into not telling the truth, like, as a manner of living? In that way, the truth is making that person odd because it's hidden, and so there's this icky opaque veneer over everything? Do you feel me? Others are odd, though, because the things they say don't sound like what most people are used to hearing (i.e., The Usual Propaganda). I think that's more like what O'Connor meant. Yes? Anyway, me loves it and is putting it on me email signature.
The heat is relentless, too. I had a second heat-related illness episode, and I think that unless I can manage to get this thing behind me my future fighting crime on tropical islands is limited. Which sucks. I'm serious. But one worries about all the old people and all the homeless people and the world just getting hotter and hotter. One tries not to be sad about it all, but alas.
Thank God for the bits of love and happiness that come one's way. The bits and the showers. The luckiness. The droppings off of juice and cookies; the invitations to sudden salmon and steak. The unexpected kirs royale (like courts martial?). Did you know that in Monaco all subjects are given a residence from His Highness? Next life, may I please be born a subject of His Serene Highness Prince Albert Alexandre Louis Pierre, Prince of Monaco, Marquis of Baux? Do you know how really pretty it is there? You see, this is what confuses me: Those who would damage the earth, can they not see all its beauty? Do they not know that without beauty there is no life? I just don't get it.
1. Karl Rove has resigned. That's good. He is an incorrigible liar and relentless imperialist.
2. On Sunday, Jeanette, in her sermon, quoted Flannery O'Connor as saying, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd." Karl is odd. But it's not the truth that makes him so. Because he's a liar. But wait. Maybe it is the truth that makes him odd, but in a way different from what O'Connor meant. You know that spooky feeling one gets around a person who is into not telling the truth, like, as a manner of living? In that way, the truth is making that person odd because it's hidden, and so there's this icky opaque veneer over everything? Do you feel me? Others are odd, though, because the things they say don't sound like what most people are used to hearing (i.e., The Usual Propaganda). I think that's more like what O'Connor meant. Yes? Anyway, me loves it and is putting it on me email signature.
The heat is relentless, too. I had a second heat-related illness episode, and I think that unless I can manage to get this thing behind me my future fighting crime on tropical islands is limited. Which sucks. I'm serious. But one worries about all the old people and all the homeless people and the world just getting hotter and hotter. One tries not to be sad about it all, but alas.
Thank God for the bits of love and happiness that come one's way. The bits and the showers. The luckiness. The droppings off of juice and cookies; the invitations to sudden salmon and steak. The unexpected kirs royale (like courts martial?). Did you know that in Monaco all subjects are given a residence from His Highness? Next life, may I please be born a subject of His Serene Highness Prince Albert Alexandre Louis Pierre, Prince of Monaco, Marquis of Baux? Do you know how really pretty it is there? You see, this is what confuses me: Those who would damage the earth, can they not see all its beauty? Do they not know that without beauty there is no life? I just don't get it.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Alarmism 4 me 2
I don't know. Isn't it just a little intimidating when weirdo anarchists squat on your blog? Just a little? How do I know it's not my crazy ex-husband, Ken, who told such egregious lies about me when he was divorcing me, who had me followed by PIs (boy, I bet that was an exciting gig for them), and just basically defamed and terrorized me in the hope that he could coerce me into "paying him back the money he spent courting me." Right. Me: grad student single mother. He: Mr. Richie Rich childless don't have to work unless he wants to guy. And like courting comes with guarantees. And like, if you hadn't harassed my daughter into fearful tears or been a generally abusive horrible person once we got married? Anyway, didn't happen. Coersion of me didn't work. It tends not to. He had to go off along his deluded, lying, creepy way. How much money did he waste on attorney's fees trying to get revenge on me for leaving him? Point being, he's just obsessively psychotic enough, I know from experience, to create some web page to frighten and harass.
Or, how do I know it's not one of those icky guys I went out with from eharmony before I got tired of that silly scene? (See Rules for a First Date With Me)
And even if it is just what it looks like, which is quite likely, this cyber-squatting, that's bad enough. And anyway, I don't intend to stop until they are gone on their icky way as well.
They were gone yesterday afternoon, then back again this morning. I contacted all sorts of Federal agencies, the company their domain is registered with, the FBI, everyone I could think of. So we'll see. Again, I can only say that they are not very cyberpunk if they have to steal from someone like me. Pussy-boys.
Oh, and here you go: enjoy looking at unphotogenic, chubby me as I prepair to win second place in the pie contest! : http://www.claytonfarmersmarket.com/piecontest.html
And, if you wanna, you can see if you see me or the pussy-wannabe-punkettes when you go to my catering blog: http://unseenorchard.blogspot.com.
Chuse.
Or, how do I know it's not one of those icky guys I went out with from eharmony before I got tired of that silly scene? (See Rules for a First Date With Me)
And even if it is just what it looks like, which is quite likely, this cyber-squatting, that's bad enough. And anyway, I don't intend to stop until they are gone on their icky way as well.
They were gone yesterday afternoon, then back again this morning. I contacted all sorts of Federal agencies, the company their domain is registered with, the FBI, everyone I could think of. So we'll see. Again, I can only say that they are not very cyberpunk if they have to steal from someone like me. Pussy-boys.
Oh, and here you go: enjoy looking at unphotogenic, chubby me as I prepair to win second place in the pie contest! : http://www.claytonfarmersmarket.com/piecontest.html
And, if you wanna, you can see if you see me or the pussy-wannabe-punkettes when you go to my catering blog: http://unseenorchard.blogspot.com.
Chuse.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Squatting on Tiny User Blogs is Not Punk, Punk!
Wow. Just as I thought I was having a happy birthday, I go to post my fabulous second place win at the Clayton Farmer's Market pie baking contest on my Unseen Orchard site, and low and behold there is some b-hole squatting there! Someone who claims to be cyberpunk! Guess what? If you're really a cyberpunk, Mr. Big Time, you would squat/hijack/hack somewhere BIG, somewhere EVIL, like Halliburton or whatever. Not on my little site! And I already have cards out with the URL on there, for my budding private cheffing biz. How ugly! What a sissy-boy! And just try to find a way to report this to blogger or google. It's not so easy. Message: read William Gibson. Ask yourself if he or his characters would think that squatting on a single mom's blog that she is using to try to give people info so that she might, I don't know, be able to help her kids go to college, ask yourself if they would think that was in the spirit of the genre/philosophy he created, for God's sake. So, Mr., you are not punk. Punk does not attack the small and weak. Pussy-boy, is you have any balls then go hack into some deep pocket's site. Go head, I dare you. What? What? Too scary? Makes you want to keep hiding in mommy's basement forever? That's what I thought. On the other hand, you could vacate my blog and we could have peace.
Though, here is an odd little matrix intersect point: At the party on Sat. Princess and Beat Poet and I played a teensy madlibs game which P designed from -- wait for the Theramin rif -- Neuromancer.
In better news, We Girls had a pretty fun time at my B-day party on Sat. night. I put too much vermouth in the Shrimp, and the sauce tasted better the next day, but I don't know that I've had better corn on the cob since I was a kid and got it out of my great-grandpa's garden and ate it half an hour later. This was great corn, from the Clayton Farmer's Market. My pie winnings included $25 of "market money," which I spent on a dozen ears of corn, a gorgeous fresh chicken, and some of that delicious lamb meat I usually get at the Tower Grove market. Princess brought some yummy potatoes with pine nuts, Beat Poetess a lovely white Bordeaux, and Chef some raw veggies and dip. Thank you, girls, for celebrating with me.
Metal Ox came by and gave me a Freda Kahlo doll. How can that be bad?
Scorpio 1 took me out to lunch on my b-day, then for dessert. I don't know what's wrong with S2, but she really wasn't very kind. Kind of hurt my little feelings, she did.
So, happy and sad. Good and bad. What else is new? Love and peace will prevail, even if it takes till death.
Love,
LB
Though, here is an odd little matrix intersect point: At the party on Sat. Princess and Beat Poet and I played a teensy madlibs game which P designed from -- wait for the Theramin rif -- Neuromancer.
In better news, We Girls had a pretty fun time at my B-day party on Sat. night. I put too much vermouth in the Shrimp, and the sauce tasted better the next day, but I don't know that I've had better corn on the cob since I was a kid and got it out of my great-grandpa's garden and ate it half an hour later. This was great corn, from the Clayton Farmer's Market. My pie winnings included $25 of "market money," which I spent on a dozen ears of corn, a gorgeous fresh chicken, and some of that delicious lamb meat I usually get at the Tower Grove market. Princess brought some yummy potatoes with pine nuts, Beat Poetess a lovely white Bordeaux, and Chef some raw veggies and dip. Thank you, girls, for celebrating with me.
Metal Ox came by and gave me a Freda Kahlo doll. How can that be bad?
Scorpio 1 took me out to lunch on my b-day, then for dessert. I don't know what's wrong with S2, but she really wasn't very kind. Kind of hurt my little feelings, she did.
So, happy and sad. Good and bad. What else is new? Love and peace will prevail, even if it takes till death.
Love,
LB
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