i heart the amateur gourmet

Homeslice has got it going on.
His recipe for success: humor + good food tips = http://www.amateurgourmet.com/.

picturesque

It's been about a year since I finished printing forty days in France (a black and white photo series taken in January and June-July 2004).

I spent this afternoon spotting prints and then busted out my mat cutter, mounted, and framed my seven favorites. After consulting with Z and Mrs. Z on the layout, the photos now adorn my kitchen.

I'm pleased with the results.

quotable

"No cometas el mismo error dos veces, al menos que te convenga."
-Mae West, 1893-1980, la mujer que sacó la sexualidad del dormitorio y la llevó a la pantalla

¡Gracias, Mercedes!

intelligent design

Have I mentioned that I love engrish.com?

quotable

online dating dispatch, vol. III

Giant disclaimer: I am honest to a fault and perhaps too direct. But I am who I am.

I'm a few weeks into this adventure. I've met some cool guys, and also learned a few things:

1. Smart is sexy, no matter how you slice it.
2. I don't do well with highly-NP people, even if they are sexy as hell. Think "she makes the sign of a teaspoon, he makes the sign of a wave" -- they're all concept, I'm all detail. And that does not make for easy conversation. I also have a low tolerance for extreme ambiguity.
3. Having similar interests, politics, and social values is a good start, but not enough.
4. Some people are just better online than they are in person.
5. Going dutch can be a very good thing. That way, he doesn't feel used and I don't feel guilty.
6. In order for there to be a ping-ping, it has to be mutual. Corollary: There's no chemistry if only one person has a spark.
7. If there's no ping-ping, move on. Quickly.
8. It is possible to be clear that you're not interested without being hurtful. Everyone's on the losing end of rejection at some point. But I still find it easier to be rejected than to hurt someone else's feelings.
9. I need banter, push-back, or someone with enough spirit so as not to be confused with an invertebrate, even if he is smart, cute, and reasonably housebroken. If I think I could eat you for breakfast at-will, I lose interest.
10. There's a lot to be said for making new friends this way.

full stop.

The telegram has gone the way of the Dodo. (stop)

Effective Jan. 27, 2006, Western Union discontinued all Telegram and Commercial Messaging services. (stop)

I suppose I can cross "learn Morse code" off my to-do list now.

coconut macaroons

These are Nolan's favorite macaroons. Scott asked for the recipe while still chewing his first bite. Ben liked them so much that he wasn't willing to share them with anyone except me. I thought Eric was going to rip my arm off when I took the last one a few years ago. And yes, my female friends also like them very much.

8 large (8 oz) egg whites
2 1/2 cups (17.5 oz) sugar
1/2 tsp salt
2 TBSP honey
5 cups (11.25 oz) unsweetened, shredded dried coconut. Do not substitute sweet supermarket coconut.
1/2 cup (2.5 oz) all purpose flour
1 tsp vanilla extract
4 oz semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped (optional)

In a large saucepan with a heavy bottom, warm the egg whites, sugar, salt, and honey, stirring over medium heat. When the whites are warm to the touch, add the coconut, flour, and vanilla. Continue cooking over medium heat, stirring constantly until the mixture is slightly dry and the bottom has just begun to sizzle and scorch. The mixture should be very thick. Cool. Chill until cold. (You can refrigerate this up to one week before using it.)

Position two oven racks in the center and upper part of the oven. Preheat the oven to 350F.

Form the mixture into 1-1/2 inch mounds with your fingers and space them evenly on parchment-lined baking sheets. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes, rotating the baking sheets and switching racks midway through baking so the macaroons brown evenly. Cool.

Melt the chocolate in a clean, dry bowl set over barely simmering water. When the chocolate is almost completely melted, remove the bowl from the heat and stir until it is fully melted.

• Holding each cookie by the top, dip the bottom in the chocolate, removing any excess by scraping the bottom against the rim of the chocolate bowl. Set the cookies on the plastic-lined baking sheet with the chocolate side down.
• Drizzle tops with chocolate.

Refrigerate until the chocolate has hardened (about 10 minutes), and serve.
Makes 30 macaroons.

Note: These freeze very well. Don't double-pan when baking them. Temper the chocolate by keeping it under 90F to prevent it from blooming later.
Recipe from Cindy Mushet

busy bees

As heard at lunch today:
Happy: "I don't have a free night until next Thursday."
Kevin: "Me, too."
Brianna: "I'm busy until May 2008."
Allison: "I'm booked until May 2010."
Jeff: "Yeah, I'm not doing anything tonight."

quotable

"I'm going to raise my kids Catholic, if nothing else so that they get the jokes."
-Allison Dolan

charm and unanswerable indignation

It turns out that Steven Morrissey is even smarter than I thought.

Here's his Oct 2004 statement urging American voters to vote for John Kerry for President:

With all my heart I urge people to vote against George Bush. Jon Stewart would be ideal, but John Kerry is the logical and sane move. It does not need to be said yet again, but Bush has single-handedly turned the United States into the most neurotic and terror-obsessed country on the planet. For non-Americans, the United States is suddenly not a very nice place to visit because US immigration officers — under the rules of Bush — now conduct themselves with all the charm and unanswerable indignation of Hitler’s SS. Please bring sanity and intelligence back to the United States. Don’t forget to vote. Vote for John Kerry and get rid of George Bush!

Apparently, he's always been a bit of a politico:

Morrissey has always been outspoken and is known for never holding back when disparaging political leaders he does not approve of. His most famous enemies have been The British Royal Family, former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, current Prime Minister Tony Blair, and current US President George W. Bush. Morrissey's first solo album, “Viva Hate,” included a track entitled “Margaret on the Guillotine,” a tongue-in-cheek jab at Prime Minister Thatcher. British police responded by searching Morrissey’s home and making him the subject of an official investigation. Many of the officers were said to be embarrassed at the absurdity of the situation, some even asking for Morrissey's autograph. Not to be outdone, Morrissey’s follow-up single included the B-side “Such a Little Thing Makes Such a Difference,” whose lyrics end with a caustic “Leave me alone, I was only singing/You have just proved again, most people keep their brains between their legs.”

2245 dead. how many more?

The state of the union? We're totally fucked.
Now that that's out of the way, here's my favorite story to come out of last night's non-event:

Capitol Police arrest antiwar activist Sheehan
In her blog, Sheehan wrote that her T-shirt said, “2245 Dead. How many more?” — a reference to the number of soldiers killed in Iraq.

She said she had one arm out of her coat when an officer yelled, “Protestor.”

“He then ran over to me, hauled me out of my seat and roughly (with my hands behind my back) shoved me up the stairs,” she wrote. She was then cuffed and driven to police headquarters a few blocks away.

“I was never told that I couldn’t wear that shirt into the Congress,” Sheehan wrote. “I was never asked to take it off or zip my jacket back up. If I had been asked to do any of those things...I would have, and written about the suppression of my freedom of speech later.”

Note: A republican congressman’s wife was also removed for her ‘Support the Troops’ shirt.

When did the Bill of Rights stop being applicable to citizens sitting in (of all places) the Capitol ?
Amendment I - Freedom of Religion, Press, Expression.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

on a clear day, you can see forever

Last night, The Red Fox Room included its share of regulars, crooning the standards. And it made my heart glad to see the really old guys get up there and sing.

But my favorite moment was when the nervous 20-something indie rock girl got up, summoned a piercing voice that I couldn't believe was inside her, and belted out "On a clear day, you can see forever."

I must not have been the only one to appreciate it, because as we left the nearly empty bar, my favorite old guy (in his Mister Rogers sweater and glasses) finished the night with the same song.

aubergine and artichokes

My lips are stained a lovely shade of purple (aubergine, really) and my mascara's smudged in a way that only happens when I laugh so hard that I cry.

Both are occupational hazards of spending quality time over wine (and sharing some stories, of course) with a woman more precious than rubies. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's my very own bel amie, Allison.

Can't wait 'til we do stats homework over wine and artichoke dip again ...

random thought for the day

I've often thought that if I had a cat, I'd name him Mao.

tu n'es pas sérieux ...

Another half-assed thought on the subject, courtesy of mon ami Bayjamean:

quotable

"Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway."
-Unknown

getting my learn on

After two trips to the airport (courtesy of Aloha airlines and Hotwire.com) and breakfast at Ortega's this morning ...

Ophy: "So what are you up to today?"
H: "I have an insane amount of reading and homework to do this weekend."
Ophy: "Home-what? I'm so glad I'm done with grad school."
Diana: "Me too."
H: "Thanks."

paris daily photo

The antidote to my previous post? ParisDailyPhoto.



Also available:

• Bristol (England)
• Buenos Aires (Argentina)
• Cedar Key, FL (USA)
• Dijon (France)
• London (England)
• Manila (Philippines)
• Rome (Italy)
• San Francisco, CA (USA)
• Toulouse (France)
• Trier (Germany)
• Trondheim (Norway)

when work is a four-letter word

Check out Low morale ::: presents Radiohead.

bite me

After eating dinner with my dad at Rancho's, I headed to Shooters to support my friend Edgar, who was DJing there for the first time. Remembering how good it felt when my friends showed up back in my dj esoterica days, I got there early and pretty much stayed on the dance floor. By 11:30, the place was packed and I had decided that it was time to call it a night. Ten minutes later, I was still dancing to a set that included "Panic," "It's a Sin," and "Let's Dance."

That's when I turned around and was nearly face to face with a goth boy. He was smiling, holding a beer, and not a bad dancer. He said "hello" and I didn't move away. He seemed friendly, but not smarmy. He told me his name, asked mine, and made smalltalk. That's when things got weird.

He said "I like your neck."

Thinking I must have misunderstood him, I said "I'm sorry?" and leaned my ear closer to him.
Instead of repeating himself, he bit me.
That's right. He bit my neck. WTF?!

I backed away, more amused than angry, and asked him how old he was.
He tried to be coy and said "how old do you think I am?"

I responded with "I asked you a question: how old are you?"
He said "26."
I then said "but obviously not old enough to know better than to do that to a complete stranger."

I walked away, said "goodnight" to Edgar, and then made a clean getaway.

I've been going to clubs like these for nearly a decade and have never met a goth quite so bold. I'm also fairly certain that I don't put out a vibe that says "bite me." (At least not in the literal sense.)

Thankfully, he left no marks. Freak.

the daily cass

Cass is keeping a photo diary for each day of 2006.

This photo was taken on Jan. 14, before we headed to the SuperDiamond show. I have no idea why Nolan, Cass, and Diana chose the props they did -- I was just finishing my drink. But I suspect that Nolan's monkeyriffic prop may explain why he was so popular later in the evening.

monkfish, vol. 5 in a series

This fun article triggered the latest dispatch in my series of run-ins with monkfish. It brings me to five references in four months (two in January alone):
My Week as a Waiter
By FRANK BRUNI
Published: January 25, 2006
IT'S 7:45 p.m., the East Coast Grill is going full tilt and I'm ready to throttle one of the six diners at Table M-8.

He wants me to describe the monkfish special. For the fourth time. I hoarsely oblige, but when I return yet again to my riff on the apricot lager mustard, which comes right before my oratorical ode to the maple pecan mashed sweet potatoes, his attention flags and he starts to talk to a friend.

Does he mistake me for a recorded message, paused and played with the push of a button? Doesn't he know I have other tables to serve?

stripping over my words

Diana's post on butchered idioms (courtesy of her former boss Renaud, a Frenchman) is hilarious.

Read the Renaudisms and learn what "Did you wake up on the wrong side of the foot?" and "You can't teach a monkey a new face" mean.

Topic	Renaudism
Finality of numbers	"It's not that those numbers have to be set in marble."
Phone Tag	"I'm sorry that we keep playing tag phone."
Kissing up	"I don't need you to lick ass."
Getting to the point	"We need to cut to the chest."
Bad mornings	"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the foot?"
Non disclosures	"You can't look at that because you haven't signed the DNA yet."
Unappealing jobs	"What would repeal you from this job?"
Renaud's brightness	"I'm not the sharpest tool on the shelf."
Training	"You can't teach a monkey a new face."
Leaving for the day	"I'm about to quit the building."
Talking about others	"I wouldn't talk in your back."
Sucky jobs	"My friends have dead hand jobs."
Picking your battles	"Don't kill the hand that feeds you."
Go ahead, make my day	"Be my guess."
Tripping over my words	"Stripping over my words."
It strikes me that...	"It strikes my mind that..."
Probability	"Shoot fish in a pond."
That's a relief	"That's a large weight off your stomach."

working up the nerve

Decisions, decisions: do I share this factoid at tomorrow's Toastmasters meeting or not?

Sex helps calm nerves before public speaking
Full sexual intercourse offers the best results, psychologist says
Updated: 2:53 p.m. ET Jan. 25, 2006
LONDON - Forget pretending you are talking to one person or concentrating on a single point in the audience — having sex is good way to calm nerves before giving a speech or presentation.

But Stuart Brody, a psychologist at the University of Paisley in Scotland, said it has to be full sexual intercourse to get the best results.

He studied nearly 50 men and women who recorded their sexual activities for two weeks and analyzed its impact on their blood pressure levels when under acute stress, such as when giving a speech.

Brody discovered that the volunteers who had sexual intercourse were the least stressed and had blood pressure levels that returned to normal more quickly than people who engaged in other types of sex.

But people who had abstained from sex had the highest blood pressure response to stress.

Even after taking into account stress due to work or other factors, the range of responses to stress were best explained by sexual behavior.

“The effects are not attributable simply to the short-term relief afforded by orgasm but rather, endure for at least a week,” Brody told New Scientist magazine said on Wednesday.

He believes that the release of the so-called “pair bonding” hormone oxytocin might explain the calming effect.

quotable

"Sometimes the majority is right ... though never for the right reasons."
-My friend Leo

quotable

"Open minds are a beautiful thing."
-Susan Guerra

zanzibar chicken

I usually serve this with couscous, carrots, and a blood orange salad.

Prep: 5 minutes
Cook: 30 minutes
Serves: 4

3 lbs chicken thighs and/ or drumsticks (chicken breasts also work well)
2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground pepper
2 TBSP olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 garlic clove, crushed
3/4 cup orange juice
3 TBSP sultanas

1. Season chicken with cinnamon, cloves, salt, and pepper. In a large frying pan, heat oil over medium-high heat. Add chicken, in batches if necessary, and cook, turning until browned, about 10 minutes. Remove and set aside.
2. Add onion to pan. Cook until soft, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute longer.
3. Return chicken to pan. Add orange juice and raisins. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 10-15 minutes, until chicken is tender.

'cause there's something in a sunday ...

As I was getting ready for work today, I searched my iTunes library for songs with "Sunday" in them.

Here's what I got:
Sunday Morning - Ani diFranco
Hated Sunday - Black Box Recorder
Sunday Girl - Blondie
Sunday Rider - David Gates
Sunday Papers - Joe Jackson
Sunday Morning Come Down - Johnny Cash
Saturday Night, Sunday Morning - Madness
Sunday (The Day Before My Birthday) - Moby
Pleasant Valley Sunday - The Monkees
Everyday is Like Sunday - Morrissey
Here's Where the Story Ends - The Sundays
Sunday Bloody Sunday - U2
Sunday Morning - Velvet Underground

weakness

I was sitting in a Long Island Starbucks on new year's day, sipping peppermint tea, and sharing the Times with Ben when I first read this article. Both of us laughed. It was my Sunday ritual, except for the company, time, and place. (Blast the non-quantum nature of these particular dimensions.)

Anyhow, I remembered that I still hadn't posted the article when a straight male said this to me yesterday: "i passed up kate beckinsale last minute for some ledger-gyllenhall man-love. aren't you proud? wait, don't answer that." (I should mention that Kate's currently starring in a vampire flick in leather pants.)

Meanwhile: Cowboys are my weakness
By Larry David (Originally published in The New York Times)
SUNDAY, JANUARY 1, 2006
Somebody had to write this, and it might as well be me. I haven't seen "Brokeback Mountain," nor do I have any intention of seeing it.

In fact, cowboys would have to lasso me, drag me into the theater and tie me to the seat, and even then I would make every effort to close my eyes and cover my ears.

And I love gay people. Hey, I've got gay acquaintances. Good acquaintances, who know they can call me anytime if they had my phone number.

I'm for gay marriage, gay divorce, gay this and gay that. I just don't want to watch two straight men, alone on the prairie, fall in love and kiss and hug and hold hands and whatnot. That's all.

Is that so terrible? Does that mean I'm homophobic? And if I am, well, then that's too bad. Because you can call me any name you want, but I'm still not going to that movie.

To my surprise, I have some straight friends who've not only seen the movie but liked it.

"One of the best love stories ever," one gushed. Another went on, "Oh, my God, you completely forget that it's two men. You in particular will love it."

"Why me?"

"You just will, trust me."

But I don't trust him. If two cowboys, male icons who are 100 percent all-man, can succumb, what chance to do I have, half- to a quarter of a man, depending on whom I'm with at the time?

I'm a very susceptible person, easily influenced, a natural-born follower with no sales-resistance. When I walk into a store, clerks wrestle one another trying to get to me first. My wife won't let me watch infomercials because of all the junk I've ordered that's now piled up in the garage. My medicine cabinet is filled with vitamins and bald cures.

So who's to say I won't become enamored with the whole gay business? Let's face it, there is some appeal there. I know I've always gotten along great with men. I never once paced in my room rehearsing what to say before asking a guy if he wanted to go to the movies.

And I generally don't pay for men, which of course is their most appealing attribute.

And gay guys always seem like they're having a great time. At the Christmas party I went to, they were the only ones who sang. Boy that looked like fun. I would love to sing, but this weighty, self-conscious heterosexuality I'm saddled with won't permit it.

I just know if I saw that movie, the voice inside my head that delights in torturing me would have a field day. "You like those cowboys, don't you? They're kind of cute. Go ahead, admit it, they're cute. You can't fool me, gay man. Go ahead, stop fighting it. You're gay! You're gay!"

Not that there's anything wrong with it.

(Larry David appears in the HBO series ''Curb Your Enthusiasm.'')