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United States, North Carolina, Carrboro, English, Paul, Male, 56-60, All Music, All Food.

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Monday, March 17, 2003

Cook's anti-war stance wins ovation Ladies and gentlemen, meet the next prime minister. Regime change, like Mister God himself, works in mysterious ways. 8:35:13 PM    comment []

Where’s my cleavage, you OAF !   First of all, it is good that V is back. It has been so long since she last tended bar at the ‘dillo that I don’t even recall her assigned blog pseudonym. She had back surgery and has had to wear an upper body cast for six months now, even tonight as she brought me Yeungling until the keg blew.   Yesterday, when Our President concluded his thing we’re not supposed to call a “war council” in the Azores with embattled ally Tony Blair and some guy from Spain who isn’t from La Mancha, he said that today would be a “moment of truth.”   “That will be refreshing,” was my first thought, but when today really happened, I heard he was going to send an ultimatim to his archenemy Saddam Hussein via national television in the evening (which is much cheaper than placing a person-to-person phone call, except on weekends). My first thought was “OhMyGod.dll, what music must I put on my CD player to cast away the strange and troubling missive this time?”   On impulse, I settled upon A Tribute to John Hartford – Live from Mountain Stage. Not as dark as Mahler, but still containing a seed of mortality. A sharing of love for someone who gave his life and soul to the music he loved, even as his imminent departure made the moment more bitter than sweet. That will do.   So now I’m listening to to the Jamie Hartford Band do Who Cut Your Heart Out and I’m diggin’ it.   BTW, I can say with some authority that the Tonkatsu Jerky marinade recipe I posted the other day is a keeper. It does it just right, as I suspected on first taste. It hits you right up front with a burst of Tonkatsu/garam masala sweetness then lingers a while with the heat of the chili sauce and lip-smackin’ goodness of garlic, which fades out slowly like Hey Jude.   Oh - now my secret love, Gillian Welch (don’t tell Liz), is singing In Tall Buildings, unintentionally rendered more profound by the events whose date I will not mention.   When MF, bless her taste buds,  went up to the bar for her 11th slice of Tonkatsu Jerky, V tells her, “If you ever need a body cast, make sure a woman does it. Look, where are my boobs? It’s all one straight line across my chest. Jose did that and I don’t blame him because he didn’t want to ‘get familiar’ while he shaped it, but Christie didn’t have any qualms about it and she shaped it around the middle too. This just isn’t natural.”   I suppose I should end this missal dismissal with a philosophical musing like “Even in the darkest moments, there is lightness if not light itself,” but that would be condescending and overbearing at the same goddamn time.   It’s just another day, and not a bad one. Look on the bright side, Spain was neutral in World War II, we're making some headway.   So now John Hartford is singing In The Heart Of The Cross Eyed Child, with a nice fiddle break. The music seems to flow from his voice to his fingers with no noticeable break. It was a unique gift he shared with us.   So, summing it all up now, I guess it's okay to pay some attention to the man behind the curtain; but, if you're ever in Jonestown, ignore the guy who tells you to drink the Kool-Aid - he's a fookin' psycho!   8:08:15 PM    comment []

Less successful was the Carciofo alla Guidea. I'd hoped my strategy of leaving them in until the olive oil temperature made it back to 375, after the initial plunge. That was too long. It also took a lot more olive oil than I had imagined. That will be kept for the next attempt, or maybe for making confit. The artichoke preparation for this is slightly tedious: removing the outer leaves, trimming the inedible tips, and finally digging out the choke. Since the are soaked in water, they are first placed in room temperature oil and that is brought up to medium heat (about 250F) for about 20 minutes so the water evaporates off. Then they are cooled and drained as the oil reheats to 375F. The recipe I had said the second time in the oil should be until they open up. Next time I'll pay attention to that. All was not lost with these. Liz and I split one and though some of the leaves were burned, many were just crunchy like potato chips with tender chewy little green nibs where they attached to the heart. The hearts were perfect. 5:29:01 PM    comment []

The tonkatsu jerky is translucent, like the first batch made with pork. 5:09:36 PM    comment []

Yesterday I was hunting daffodils to shoot, but found this instead. 7:11:59 AM    comment []

What Do You Want Of Me? From Man of LaMancha Lyrics by Joe Darion Why do you do the things you do? Why do you do these things? Why do you march through that dream that you're in -- Covered in glory and rusty old tin -- Why try to be what nobody can be And what do you want of me? What do you want of me? Why do you do the things you do? Why do you do these things? Why do you rush at the world all alone -- Fighting mad battles that aren't your own -- Why do you live in a world that can't be And what do you want of me? What do you want of me? Why don't you know that you're laughed, at wherever you go? But I ... cannot laugh with the rest ... and why, I don't know ... Why do you do the things you do? Why do you do these things? Why do you batter at walls that won't break? And why do you give when it's natural to take -- Where do you see all the good that you see -- And what do you want of me? What do you want of me? 1:49:19 AM    comment []