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

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Sunday, March 06, 2005

Patrice died a few weeks ago. I had only met her once, briefly, at her friend Val’s house. Val was my neighbor then, and my bartender, though she since has moved and I have quit going to bars. As the end neared, Patrice’s friends urged her to go to a studio and record a few songs and playing her guitar. Her voice is magic, reminds me of Joni Mitchell. Val and a friend brought over a CD with Patrice’s studio takes to have me burn them to a regular CD. They wanted to play her songs at a memorial service for her. It was short work, the originals had been mastered well, I don’t know by whom. I put a painting by Toulouse-Latrec on the label along with the track list. It seemed appropriate for the spirit of this person I had never known. There were many tears as we all listened to each cut.   Val asked me what they could do me in return. The personal satisfaction was so great that I wanted nothing. But Val gave this birdseed to Liz to deliver to me. Hot bird seed to discourage the squirrels, not that much different from cacahuetes oaxaquenos I guess, but for birds. Birds are oblivious to the Scoville scale; they just don’t have the receptors for capsaicin. It’s an old home remedy, of course, to prevent squirrels from digging up tulip bulbs by sprinkling pepper on the ground over where they’re planted. Our friends the birds have propagated peppers by eating them and pooping the seeds out randomly, in measurable circles diminishing from the point of consumption, or wherever it is that birds poop other than the hood of my car. They have helped give us a culinary treat, so I put the hot seeds in a feeder that is not squirrel-proof to return the favor.   I’m going to keep that feeder filled with these hot seeds, and maybe taste a few of them myself. They look pretty good.   Patrice was a victim of AIDS. It is not the first time that I have been personally touched by this soulless disease. It takes good people, complex people, people who are more emotionally and morally advanced than the folks who ritualistically condemn them as morally inferior. There I’ve said that. We need more people like Patrice - though I only know her voice - not less.   8:55:22 PM    comment []

Once in Japan, partying with the engineers there (IOW karaoke), we had an elaborate multi-course meal between acts of ritualistic musical self-degradation. One of the engineers asked me if there were any truly American foods. I thought a bit and said, “Yes. Buffalo wings.” They had a small conference and ordered something. What we got was “Buffalo tongue,” thin cured slices to grill on a hibachi. The tongue (more popular there than here) was probably not from a buffalo, but then again neither are the wings (that did throw them a bit though, probably extending the time of their intense conference by a minute or two).   So I’ve made two attempts so far at cacahuetes oaxaquenos, spicy peanuts from a roast in garlicky olive oil with powdered hot peppers. I didn’t like the way the pepper powder caked up on the peanuts, but they were tasty. Yesterday I had an inspiration. Why not try preparing them like Buffalo wings – use butter instead of olive oil and Texas Pete hot sauce instead of powders. I used 8 oz. butter and a cup of Texas Pete, bringing the sauce to an emulsified bubble before throwing in the nuts. It took closer to 30 minutes than the 15 of the original recipe and even then the peanuts were not quite crisp enough, so I roasted them in a warm oven (225F) for another hour – on paper towels to absorb the excess butter. They are not as spicy as I would like so next time I’ll use Tabasco. I call my new concoction “Buffalo Nuts.”     7:54:28 PM    comment []