RantsCounterRants:  The Economics of War…

Can you guess who’s stockpiling uranium-enriched weapons?  Wired News lays it out; the US used uranium in the Gulf War and most likely will again in Iraq, if/when war begins.  Sure, uranium’s supposed to be effective in bunker-busters, but the after-effects are disgusting:

“Rokke said on-site investigators in Iraq found that 40 percent of the initial mass of the depleted uranium penetrators was converted to radioactive oxide while 60 percent was left on and around the impact area in solid form.

"Equipment contamination included uranium oxides, other hazardous materials, unstable unexploded ordnance and byproducts of exploded ordnance," he said. "In addition, other radioactive materials were detected that could pose a risk through inhalation, ingestion or wound contamination.

"Who would want thousands of solid uranium penetrators or pencils of masses between 180 and 4,500 grams lying in your backyard? Who would want any uranium contamination of any type lying in your backyard?"”

That’s 6 ounces to 10 pounds of uranium in your backyard.  Imagine your entire town covered in this stuff.  Omigod.

But none of this enters into the economic equation the Bush Administration uses when calculating the cost of war.  The previous Bush Administration didn’t either.  The cost of thousands of Gulf War vets suffering from “Gulf War Syndrome” isn’t computed as part of the overall war package; the government maintains it’s not a significant issue, although the syndrome could well be the resulting effects of exposure to radioactive material.

It’s simply more cost-effective to utilize our spent uranium fuel for bunker-busters, instead of using tungsten.  Bonus: we get rid of uranium waste without paying for long-term storage.

What about another rash of Gulf War Syndrome victims, more troops affected?  (Even more of today's troops are married with children than our troops involved in the Gulf War; there will be a larger number of victims, not just those directly exposed to uranium.)

Not part of the equation.  There’s been no conclusive link established between exposure to uranium and Gulf War Syndrome (of course, this kind of study would cost money…).

What about the cost to the Iraqi people, the innocents who’ve already been put upon by Saddam?  Should we torment them further, infants to adults, sprinkling them with radioactive waste?

Again, not part of the equation.  Not our problem.

No wonder at all that other countries despise us.  What do we care, ethics cost money; they want ‘em, they can foot the bill.

1:21:24 PM    comment []

Tactile:  Is it Japanese or Korean?  It’s all good

After Tuesday’s dinner debacle at a chain restaurant, I did make it up to my spouse with a much better dining experience, accompanied by another couple.

This backwater, suffocatingly homogeneous Midwestern town is oddly blessed with a sushi restaurant, owned and operated by a Korean family.  It’s our favorite place to eat; the food is top-notch quality, healthy (except for the deep-fried gyoza and tempura – we avoid it anyhow) and the service is exceptional.

Some dishes do have a slightly different spin, though.  While they have Japanese chefs on staff, there’s a few dishes that clearly reflect the Korean owners’ preferences.

One example is my favorite dish: chirashi.  Mmm-mmm, I can’t help it, I order it every time I go there.

Hubby is much more willing to try everything; he’s had their enormous bento box dinner, the sashimi dinner, several other equally tasty meals.  Not me, I’m in a groove – I’ve found my idea of the perfect meal and I can’t be swayed, even after seeing and trying anything hubby’s ordered.  Perhaps I’ll try different sushi for starters, but I never deviate on my entrée.

The weather being very cold here this weekend, hubby ordered the yosenabe.  It arrives at the table in a piping-hot “kettle”, a cast iron three-legged pot about 8 inches across and 6 inches deep.  It’s full of simmering miso-enriched stock and seafood, squid and octopus, shrimp, mackerel and salmon, tofu, bok choy, scallions.  Hubby and his buddy poke fun at the tofu (singing the Sponge Bob theme song, sotto voce), while hubby tucks in with relish.

It looks and smells so good, entertaining as well.  But I’m not dissuaded.  Bring on the chirashi.

I’ve ordered the Korean version; there is a Japanese version, but it doesn’t sound as appealing to me as the Korean.  (I think it's usually called hwae-dup-bab, in Korean, although billed here as Chirashi-zushi-Korean style.)  The biggest difference is a spicy dressing not offered with the Japanese chirashi.  I’m trying to find a recipe for this stuff, it’s so yummy, nearly a Korean-style French dressing.  It’s reddish like chili paste, redolent of sesame oil and garlic, punctuated with sesame seeds, slightly sweet and faintly tart, miso-salty.  If I could get away with wearing this stuff on my person like makeup or perfume, I would.

The chirashi itself arrives in a large salad bowl, itself a kind of salade composé.  The bottom of the bowl is a chiffonade of lettuce, over a bed of sushi rice dressed with sesame oil.  On the top, today’s catch: salmon, shrimp, squid, tuna, sliced thinly and julienned, raw, arranged artfully but not excessively around the bowl.  The whole is dressed with a sprinkling of flying fish roe and a chiffonade of nori.  The dressing is served on the side in a small bowl with a large spoon.

Technically, I’m supposed to pour the dressing over the entire composition, then toss briskly with the large spoon and my chopsticks.  Nope, not going to happen.  The hostess has given up on me; she laughs because I always leave the composition just so.  I coax a small amount of dressing over the chirashi and reserve the rest for dipping.

Heaven.

The soft meatiness of the tuna and salmon, juxtaposed against the crispness of the lettuce, the sweetness of squid and chewiness of octopus, the tender starchy-salty-sweetness of the sushi rice, interspersed with the tiny crunch of flying fish roe and subtlety of nori slivers.  The dressing is a little of everything the rest of the chirashi is not, piquant, spicy, lush with sesame oil.

The chirashi’s never the same, any time I’ve been there.  Sure, in general it’s raw fish over lettuce over sushi rice with dressing, but the fish is never the same.  I’ve learned to ask for ika (squid – tender, sweet) and to hold the saba (mackerel – too fishy!); the rest is a surprise any given day.  The emphasis was on salmon this visit; the previous visit there was much more octopus.  Catch of the day, I guess.  That’s part of chirashi’s charm – I’m never bored with it, there’s always an element of surprise.

But it’s not just the chirashi that makes this meal special.  We’ve been here often enough that we know the help and the hostess; they know us, offering a cold Tsing Tsao to me and Kirin to my spouse, warmed sake to our friends.  They’re willing to dish the juicy bits – who’s here tonight for dinner, where our favorite waitress is this evening – and they ask about our kids.  We rarely have to ask for a thing; hubby looks up at the waiter and he’s already there with a new beer, no words exchanged.  Buddy’s spouse looks up, and voila, more wasabi.  It’s almost like magic.  Ah, the way a neighborhood restaurant is supposed to be, friendly, inviting, a little something new now and again – good surprises, never bad ones.

So is it really that chirashi is THE perfect meal?  Of course not.  But I’m not going to change the magic one bit, throwing a wrench in the works now by ordering anything different.  I’m happily content with chirashi.

11:21:43 AM    comment []