tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25381307388216635542024-03-08T16:20:37.438-08:00LECTORI SALUTEM!The continuing saga of an intrepid Wisconsinite and newly-moved Madisonian, exploring his new home... with some foodie goodness and some political/religious observations thrown in to boot.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-51969780646117534342009-12-06T12:35:00.000-08:002009-12-06T13:04:56.132-08:00Lombardino'sIt was another who finally drove me into the dining room of <a href="http://www.lombardinos.com/">Lombardino's</a>. Another who left me... unsatisfied. One who promised me greatness but provided only mediocrity, her only consolation was that, while she would not satisfy me, at least there was a lot of her. Cold comfort. <br /><br />Actually, it's more along the lines of melancholy. I actually don't like writing negative reviews. It's a little too easy to find a fault and magnify it with clever language. One <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdzqTGmEcZE">dirty fork</a> should not doom a restaurant. We can all giggle evilly while we circle a perceived flaw like sharks sniffing blood, tearing down someone's hard work and dreams for the sake of... what really? Entertainment? I wonder how many otherwise good restaurants have gone under due to the deadly combination of a less than perfect execution and a snarky reviewer gunning for readers or ratings? It was my review of <a href="http://parintachin.blogspot.com/2009/08/benvenutos.html">Benvenuto's</a> that drove me to Lombardino's. <br /><br />I left Benvenuto's wanting to go somewhere I'd like. Somewhere I'd been looking forward to for a while. I was just starting to make plans when the opportunity suddenly blossomed like a botanical ninja. Due to a small scheduling snafu, my Bride and I found ourselves off work on a Tuesday evening, with money in our pocket and nothing much to do. Our thoughts moved quickly, consensus was reached and we darted off to Lombardino's. <br /><br />I am incapable of reviewing an Italian restaurant without invoking thoughts of the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0115678/">Big Night</a>. For those who have never seen, it is about two Italian brothers, Primo (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001724/">Tony Shalhoub</a>) and Secundo (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001804/">Stanley Tucci</a>) who are trying to run an authentic Italian restaurant while across town, their competition, Pascal (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000453/">Ian Holm</a>) runs a far more mediocre but predictable and popular restaurant. I promise that if you watch it, I'll stop talking about it... okay? Throw it in your Netflix queue. Once you have seen it, you will understand when I say this: Lombardino's is what would happened if Pascal's restaurant was taken over by Primo and Secundo. <br /><br />Like a table-side flambé, there is not a little kitschy showmanship in Lombardino's décor. Front and center to this is the miniature model of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trevi_Fountain">Trevi Fountain</a> that greets you from its Plexiglassed, squatting spot by the entrance (I've yet to see it turned on but I notice once again that if there is any running water that isn't a toilet or a sink, people will toss coins in it). The murals of mock Italian scenes are not that different than those at Benvenuto's (as my Bride pointed out). If you asked my impression of the place after a quick whip-through of the dining room, if you told me nothing of the place's reputation or didn't let me see a menu, I might not be too enthusiastic. <br /><br />But I do know the reputation. I started hearing it within my first week of arriving in Madison. <br /><br />It's sometimes hard to trust people's opinions of restaurants (note: Including this person). People come to their opinions in their own way and in their own time, which is probably not your way or in your time. As an example, I have a friend who we shall call <a href="http://www.dtandsons.com/">Poker</a>. Over a few cocktails and delicious tobacco products one evening, we fell to discussing our favorite Madisonian restaurants. Poker esteems different things than I do. His personal taste runs to the “Big Portions/Good Value” school. He stands unimpressed with Lombardino's for exactly that reason. Lombardino's proudly chooses quality over quantity in it's ingredients and preparation. This is a choice which draws much affection from their regulars but for some, the value of the taste does not surpass the price of the food. If Poker was the only person I had listened to about Lombardino's, I would have grossly missed out. He is not the only person from whom I've heard an unkind word about Lombardino's either, but what struck me from moment one was how few bad words one heard about them. Disproportionately few. <br /><br />Of those that spoke highly, there were no urgent cries of enthusiasm, no squeals about “how much you are going to LUHV that place!” Most endorsements I heard, and they were numerous, were made in even, factual tones. “Oh yeah, they are great.” No extraneous exclamation points, no caps, no italics. Fact + Period. As if to say, “We hold this truth to be self-evident. You will find out for yourself soon enough and if you don't, no amount of fancy language was going to convince you anyway.”<br /><br />That is the kind of humble confidence that gives me a good, rock solid feeling in my gut. I knew Lombardino's was going to be great before I walked in the door and it made me feel doubly good to be right. I just had a great meal AND I have good judgment! Huzzah!<br /><br />After a short perusal of the menu my Bride and I decided to split the Calamari Fritti. Now, calamari is nothing special. It's available as an appetizer in just about every Italian restaurant in the city and I've had it done a thousand times, it's one of my favorites. I've never had it done so well. The meat was cooked to a tender and delicate texture with nary a bite undercooked and squishy or overcooked and rubbery. The light, super crispy batter was the perfect textural compliment. <br /><br />The waiter explained that the dish was one of their specialties (which didn't impress me that much) and that they cook it based on the sound it makes when frying (which impressed the hell out of me). Seems our friendly yet non-cloying waiter had actually spent some time working in the back of the house as a master of the fry-o-lated arts and had first hand experience. <br /><br />So knowledgeable and agreeable was our waiter, we bowed to his suggestion on our wine. No, I don't remember what it was. Yes, it was excellent. Yes, that annoys me. I know I've had a lot of great wine out there, but damn if I can remember any of them. Luckily, I have recently found a <a href="http://www.androlib.com/android.application.jg-entertainment-winediary-jnBw.aspx">solution</a> to such issues. <br /><br />One of the perils of offering up a review of any subject is that despite any literary skill or keen insight, you are still a limited sample size. A single instant data set does not an accurate reflection make. I often have such things on my mind when eating anywhere I'm going to scribble about later. I usually try to mitigate it slightly by making my selections as representative as possible. I look at a menu and try to find a signature dish, something that speaks to the core of what a restaurant is or wants to be. <br /><br />After a few minutes of staring at Lombardino's menu, I chose the Linguine alla Bolognese. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bolognese_sauce">Bolognese</a> is, by itself a very simple dish. It is theoretically “just a meat sauce”. But doing the simple things right can often be the hardest thing for a restaurant to do. Many an egotistical head chef with delusions of grandeur cannot be restrained from “putting his signature touch” on a dish that really should not be fucked with. My thought was that if they can do this very simple dish and do it well, mission accomplished. <br /><br />It was, superb. Meat, fat, acidic notes of tomatoes and wine, creamy cheese and comforting pasta all blended seamlessly in each mouthful. <br /><br />It's hard to speak on flavor. We've used up all the appropriate <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rYT0YvQ3hs">words</a> describing socks and hot dogs. I can fill your ears with flowery language but they would still fall short of reality. I can't say for sure that you or anyone is guaranteed to like it. All I can say with confidence is this: This is the best Italian food I have ever had and ranks high on my best all time ever list. As far as I am concerned, Lombardino's is one of the best things about Madison. <br /><br />I feel compelled to offer up another observation here, take it with as much salt as you wish. <br /><br />It feels to me that a great crime would be committed in rushing a meal at Lombardino's. If the Italian culture brings any little bit of wisdom to the world it is joy and appreciation of time. Time spent in preparation, time spent at the table. Do not do yourself an injustice by stopping off for an entrée and then trying to hit a movie. That would be a crime. Lombardino's is your evenings activity, not an element within. <br /><br />First off, do not go alone. Don't go as a couple. Get friends. At least four but eight would be better. Go early and leave your budget at home. This is not a place to pinch pennies. Not because they are expensive but because your menu selections should be governed solely by your own desires and not by your resources. Call it a gift to yourself. Call it a reward. You work hard, right? Life conspired to make the road rocky frequently enough that I can say, with no hesitation, that you deserve this. This is not an indulgence, this is not cheating or sinning. This is <span style="font-style:italic;">earned</span>... this is <span style="font-style:italic;">owed</span>. <br /><br />There, now you are hopefully in the right mindset to enjoy yourself.<br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apéritif">Apéritif</a>? Yes! In a civilized world we always start a fine meal with a fine beverage. Stimulates the appetite and clears the palate. I recommend a Dry Martini, up, stirred, not shaken, one olive (don't want to fill up, now do we?).<br /><br />Wine with dinner? Of course! What would dinner be without wine? Order a bottle. If it runs out, order another one, and another after that. You should wind up with a half a bottle left at the end of the meal so you can linger and finish it. <br /><br />Antipasta? Yes. Split it if you need to leave room but if you want one for yourself... go for it. You want to order a bunch of them and pass them around the table? Excellent idea! You're a genius!<br /><br />Entrée? If you even look at the price, so help me gawd I will fucking smack you. Get it because you want it.<br /><br />Dessert? Need you ask?<br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Digestif">Digestif</a>? Have you ever had a dessert wine while you are eating your dessert? There is nothing so wonderful at the end of a meal as port and cigars. Unfortunately, in our rather philistine, barbaric times, you are not allowed to smoke cigars indoors like a civilized individual, but at least you can still have the port. <br /><br />The point is that each coarse, each element is enjoyed together. The more elements, the more evening we have to enjoy. This is no dine and dash. Tell long stories, tell jokes... stupid jokes. Balance spoons on your nose. Make a toast. Make multiple toasts. Drink too much wine and kiss somebody. Have fun! Laugh too loud, stay too long, eat too much. The whole point is to linger because you <span style="font-style:italic;">want</span> to linger. Because you are having fun and don't want the night to end. <br /><br />That is how Lombardino's should be experienced. <br /><br />La Dolce Vita.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-69575133551180813542009-08-10T16:48:00.000-07:002009-08-16T23:05:39.577-07:00Cottage CafeVariety is the spice of life. It's an old cliché but a good one. As I was packing boxes in Fond Du Lac for my move to Madison, that little cliché served as motivation. Madison = Food Town. Ethnic grocery stores, exotic restaurants, new and interesting taste spectrum to explore and appreciate. Upon arrival, I don't think I ate at a single repeat restaurant for the first six months. I filled up on pho, curry, sushi, barbecue, gelato and pelmeni; everything I couldn't get or was not readily available before.<br /><br />Two-plus years later, I am still exploring, but my desperation to immerse myself in new cuisine has slowed from “frothing cauldron of doom” to a steady boil.<br /><br />As such, there are certain times and certain places where one does not feel... experimental.<br /><br />Cracking the top off a new restaurant is always a little daring. We all have that moment of hesitation before entering the dining room. Will the swivel-factor be overwhelming? Will I finally encounter that mythical beast - a restaurant or bar so insular, so full of lockstep locals, that they rise up as one to reject the intrusion of this audacious newcomer who dares insinuate himself into their sanctum sanctorum.<br /><br />We should all laugh at this. We should all know that it is beyond reason and that no commercial establishment has ever been anything but delighted to see a new customer walk through the door, but... restaurants... local haunts especially, can be very personal. Once one becomes a “regular,” one feels a bit of ownership and thus becomes protective in a matronly type way. I've always tried to rigidly control that particular fear and not let it stop me from venturing into uncharted waters. I have, however, often noticed my dinner and drinking companions taking ruthless advantage of my determination and bravado by casually slipping into my wake as I open a door and stride boldly forward. I guess the thought is that if they do throw bricks, they can hide behind me.<br /><br />I am proud of my daring. But daring, like any emotional force, requires energy. As much as I would like to lay claim to superhuman abilities, there are days - after a long work week especially - that I simply cannot whip up such energy. My bravado fails me, my daring slips away and I long for something simple, something familiar and something comforting.<br /><br />Yes. I have become one of those men who has “a breakfast place”.<br /><br />My father has a breakfast place. Now retired and in his 70's, he goes up there to join the crowd of other old men, sipping coffee, telling dirty jokes and discussing the latest Packer game. It constitutes the entirety of his social interaction.<br /><br />My desire for a stable, regular Breakfast Place is not actually a recent development. A few years ago and still bold enough to dream of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laksa">Laksa</a> in the morning, I stumbled upon what I hold as the greatest breakfast joint of all time.<br /><br />You may have caught me at some point going off about <a href="http://www.fdlchowder.com/">Schreiner's Restaurant</a> in Fond Du Lac. Schreiner's, that temple of scratch cooking. That marvelous, reliable, comforting and sweet epiphany of clam chowder for breakfast, perfectly cooked bacon, sweet and friendly wait staff and corned beef. I never went looking for a breakfast place, but I found in Schrieiner's a solution to a problem I didn't know I had. Many a Saturday morning, after a long hard week, when I found myself unwilling to rise, shine and make my own breakfast, I became inexorably drawn to the sweet spiritual pablum of a little commercially-produced TLC.<br /><br />Yes, let me rise, dress, slip quietly out the door and down a very short road to the warm embrace of your slightly geriatric dining room. Let your polite and immaculately uniformed wait staff ply me with cup after cup of diner coffee, slowly reviving my downtrodden senses. Let my belly be filled with perfect over-easy eggs and crispy bacon. Let there be rye toast and orange juice. Let me stroll out, refreshed and content, ready to face the day anew.<br /><br />The comfort of a Breakfast Place is the sturdy, constant sameness of the experience. I want for nothing new. I want the same experience on morning two thousand one hundred and eighty four that I had on day one. Let my mind spin in neutral. Let my guard drop, my thoughts turn inward and let a few precious moments be spent chatting casually with my beloved Bride.<br /><br />I wasn't looking for a Breakfast Place, but it's sturdy comfort charmed me into being a regular.<br /><br />Once we moved to Madison, my Bride and I spent over a year in pursuit of a new breakfast place. We sampled coffee shops, some famous local spots and some less than scrumptious options, but the search eventually petered out.<br /><br />It's hard to brain on a Saturday morning when you are half-asleep and grumpy. After a few disappointments, we didn't have the energy to beard the lion in his own den, so to speak. We settled for making our own breakfast for a long time, grabbing the occasional bag-o-bagels from <a href="http://gothambagels.com/">Gotham</a> or Panera.<br /><br />I finally stumbled upon a keeper in my various backstreet meanderings and at first, didn't believe what I had found.<br /><br />On a side street, off Cottage Grove Road in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conrad_Elvehjem">Elvehjem</a> neighborhood, wedged between a daycare center and a laundromat is Cottage <span lang="nl-NL">Café</span>. An unassuming little storefront with a big stock block lettering sign. No logo, no website... yeah, it's that kind of place.<br /><br />My first thought when I saw it? Honestly? Dive. Greasy Spoon. It's too cute to be true. It would be so cool if that little place had a friendly wait staff and great breakfast but there is NO WAY I am that lucky.<br /><br />A few months later, realizing finally how stupid that particular thought was in a classic “book-by-its-cover” kinda way, I talked my Bride into going for Breakfast and we've been in love ever since.<br /><br />The dual dining rooms are small and open. Classically appointed with the usually metal diner chairs, laminated tables, salt, pepper, tray of sweetener packs and small menus. The burble of morning conversation, old men laughing, clinking of cutlery and clatter of dishes is part of the experience. Signs of life and industry. The big bay windows looking out onto the parking lot make the room bright and airy on a sunny day. The decor is pseudo-northwoods-cabin chic with plenty of hand carved wooden black bears and faux woodsy feel. It should be chintzy, it's not. It's like your Mom's house.<br /><br />What does one expect from a diner breakfast? What is a diner breakfast? My definition is usually a big, hearty, meal for those who rarely suffer from a thick wallet. The usual breakfast fare includes eggs, bacon, pancakes and the ubiquitous, poor quality, thin, bitter, burnt, luke-warm but-still-somehow-desirable diner coffee (I still think it's about the sugar and cream... or masochism). Regional variations include the frequent presence of dark rye toast, potato pancakes and cheddar cheese.<br /><br />This is not so very different from the breakfasts served at chain restaurants. If anything, there is less variety. There is nothing rooty, tooty, fresh or fruity. The menu of some of my favorite little greasy spoon breakfast joints have a stark severity about them. Eggs: Any Style. Bread: white, wheat, toasted or untoasted or in French toast. Jams are offered. Butter is often pre-spread. Pancakes. Bacon. Sausage. Coffee. OJ. This is all that is actually required.<br /><br />So what is the appeal? What keeps us coming back time and again? What is so desirable about the same thing time and again?<br /><br />This is a hard one to explain. It's a cultural thing. Eggs, Toast, Bacon = Breakfast. It's farm breakfast. It's a leftover from our agrarian roots where fresh eggs, wheat and fat pork were in abundance. It's quick. Mama can have you a plate full of eggs and bacon in minutes and with only one pan dirty. It's flat iron food. Diners do not require ovens, broilers, fryers or even refrigerators or burners. Eggs, French toast, pancakes, bacon, sausage... all you need is a flat top griddle. I knew a place that used to keep it's coffee in a percolator on the corner of the griddle, making a standard diner coffeemaker unnecessary. You have to admire the efficiency.<br /><br />You can get a very good idea of the quality and popularity of a diner by catching a gander at that griddle. Carbon black from years of use? Good restaurant. Popular.<br /><br />Cottage Café meets these requirements and exceeds them in entertaining ways. The presence of <a href="http://www.spam.com/">Spam</a> and <a href="http://www.gomeat.com/sitecontent/bunsize-sausage/archive/2007/10/26/cheddar-wurst-smoked-sausage.aspx">Cheddarwurst</a> on the <a href="http://www.menupix.com/menudirectory/menu.php?id=730146">menu</a> struck me first. Two delightfully non-premium meats that are nevertheless extremely desirable when one is A. Hungover or B. About to attempt something Manly. The best part about the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZ6N5m8FpVg">Spam</a> is not just that it is there, but that it arrives at your table with a slice of American (pasteurized process) cheese (food) melted over the top. My first time there, commenting in surprise at this “too much of a... thing” addition, our waitress looked at me quizzically and asked “Isn't that the way your Mom made it?” No, no it isn't. Mom hates Spam, but I suddenly felt like the only kid in the neighborhood whose Mom didn't put cheese on <span style="font-style: italic;">his</span> Spam.<br /><br />Further entertaining menu options include Walleye and Eggs (it seems like such a natural Wisconsin marriage, I'm surprised I don't see it on more breakfast menus), Pork Chop and Eggs (now there is a farm breakfast), Potatoes O'Brien and Eggs Benedict. Now, hollandaise sauce might be a little <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2000/aug/12/features.weekend1">risky</a> but I don't care - it tastes good. I love that not only do they offer it on the Benedict, but as its own side. I recommend it as a topping for the walleye... SRSLY. It also illustrates another mark of a great diner. The menu offers simple fare with a remarkably thoughtful list of options. Want a side of sausage gravy? Maybe you want to put it over your hash browns or dip your fries in it? Who cares? You ask nice, they will probably do it for you. The menu is just a suggestion. A crutch for those with decision making disorder. If you can describe it to the waitress, they will probably do it for you. You could probably take this basic menu and create dishes never before seen by the eyes of man.<br /><br />These are all entertaining additions to the menu but they are ultimately just window-dressing. Tasty diversion from those two things that are key to Cottage <span lang="en-GB">Café's</span> Greatness.<br /><br />As diners and consumers in this country, we often underestimate the importance of skill in production of a good product. It's our industrial love-affair perhaps that has us pursuing “more” when what we really want is “better”.<br /><br />A fry cook may not be able to make you <a href="http://hungryinhogtown.typepad.com/hungry_in_hogtown/2006/04/liquid_pea_ravi.html">Liquid Ravioli</a> or a plate of <span style="font-style: italic;">Mousse de la Boue dans une Panier de la Pâte de Chaussures</span> (or maybe they can, you never know these days, but probably not), but a good fry cook can make you a perfectly cooked egg, every time. Over easy, over medium, over hard, sunny side up, scrambled but not overcooked... maybe a master chef in a three star restaurant making you a perfectly cooked <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sole_meuni%C3%A8re">Sole Meunière</a> might be worthy of slightly higher admiration than a perfectly cooked egg. But then again, skill is skill. Maybe the repertoire isn't quite as broad, but perfectly cooked is still perfectly cooked. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michelin_Guide">Michelin</a> is unlikely to be knocking anytime soon, but at the same time, maybe we're taking such skills a little for granted.<br /><br />Cottage Café nails it. 10 out of 10 on the breakfast scale and I am not speaking from a single visit/one-day perspective. We've been breaking our fast at Cottage Café for a few months now and can offer a few dozen visits as our data set. I've yet to have a bad breakfast. Eggs are always perfectly cooked to order, bacon always done right, not a burnt piece of toast to be seen. The menu is simple but the skill is anything but. Someone back there knows what an over-medium egg looks like and cranks it out like a machine. I wish this wasn't as rare as it is but in most breakfast joints and chains these days, if you order over easy, you are taking your gastrointestinal health into your own hands far more than with the hollandaise.<br /><br />Like a Double Ristretto Venti Half-Soy Nonfat Decaf Organic Chocolate Brownie Iced Vanilla Double-Shot Gingerbread Cappuccino Extra Hot With Foam Whipped Cream Upside Down Double Blended, One Sweet'N Low, One Nutrasweet, and Ice, breakfast eggs are one of those things we highly personalize. Everyone has “their” breakfast order, and even though diners are completely unrelated or unincorporated establishments, they share a common breakfast <a href="http://homecooking.about.com/od/classicdishrecipes/a/dinerrecipes.htm">language</a>. We all speak breakfast. If you walk into a diner in Oregon and order two eggs over easy with wheat and bacon, you will get the same thing (if the person behind the grill knows what they are doing) as if you place the same order in Maine. We're particular about it. Some people fear runny yolks, some runny whites. Some people like their bacon floppy and some burned to a crisp. Breakfast is a very personal thing and the diner that can get your particular breakfast creation right is the only easy access we're likely to have to such personal service in our adult lives. They can make your breakfast the way your Mom made your breakfast.<br /><br />Speaking of Personal Service, this leads into Cottage's second strength.<br /><br />Our waitress's name is Penny. Penny is <span style="font-style: italic;">our</span> waitress. After our second visit, we knew Penny's name. We always sit in Penny's section. I'm not sure if Penny remembers our names yet but she knows our faces and she's clever enough to fake like she remembers ;-).<br /><br />Penny is friendly. Penny is attentive. Penny keeps our coffee filled, is non-plussed by any special order, knows the menu by heart and has been working there for years.<br /><br />Penny is always good for a joke. Penny laughs readily and manages to be “happy” without being “cheerful” in the morning (which, as any pre-coffee coffee junkie can tell you, is grounds for murder in the most horrific manner). Upbeat and funny but still maintaining an appropriate level of world-weary, slightly cynical attitude that is perfect commiseration for hungry, work-weary, groggy patrons. Such an attitude takes YEARS to perfect.<br /><br />Penny IS Cottage Café for us as much as the food.<br /><br />Most of the waitresses at the Café are Penny's type. I hate to invoke the word “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Florence_Jean_Castleberry">Flo</a>” here but you know what I mean. Restaurant floor lifers. These are not the giggling, crystal-bright, easily flustered teeny-bopper servers at your local Applebee's or Olive Garden. These gals would eat those skinny chicks for breakfast and pick their teeth with the bones. They can handle more tables, sling more chow and defuse more grumpy customers than anyone. They operate with a code of customer service that corporate chain restaurants would throw a rod over. Dirty jokes and swearing are allowed. You can tell a customer to shut up, to their face, and get away with it. <span style="font-style: normal;">Cause a disturbance in the dining room and they will not escort you politely to the door.</span> They will kick you out and if you are not moving fast enough you may have to dodge flying crockery.<br /><br />But once you become a regular, once they remember your name, you become part of the place. If you are what you eat and I stay in Madison, I'll probably be 1/21st part Cottage Café in a few years. I'm a little weirded out that I, like my father, now have “a breakfast place.” I know that this is a sign that I am growing older. But, if growing old tastes this good, maybe it isn't all that bad.<br /><br />Maybe our second time there, my Bride noticed a Thank You card taped to the cash register. The card was from the family of an elderly patron who has “<a href="http://charon.sfsu.edu/TENNYSON/crossingbar.html">crossed the bar</a>,” so to speak. Cottage Café took the time to send flowers to his funeral and the family, in return, sent them a card. Expressed in the card were thanks for flowers and the line, “we thank you for the big part you played in his life and we hope there is a Cottage Café in heaven”.<br /><br />Name me another kind of restaurant where such a thing could happen?<br /><br />Name me a better endorsement than a hope that the afterlife is as good as your breakfast place?Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-64649399085321144682009-08-05T21:05:00.000-07:002009-08-06T15:49:27.040-07:00Benvenuto's<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="http://www.benvenutos.com/">Benvenuto's</a> and I have an interesting history. Despite what some Madisonians believe, their flagship store was in, of all places, my home town of little old Beaver Dam.<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Their very first store opened as my first foray in the the foodie subculture bloomed. Before the word “foodie” had even been coined. I liked food, I liked to cook, my first cuisine of interest was Italian and in the desperately mediocre world of the Beaver Dam culinary scene, I literally could not believe my luck when Benvenuto's opened. Benvenuto's then was a very, very different creature than it is now. I still, looking back, cannot believe the sheer size of their mighty chrome testicles to offer such a menu in a town so small and so inexperienced. Even today it would not go over, even in Madison (and I'm obviously right, as we shall see). </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a very <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URdCltP8rqA">Big Night</a> manner, they offered house-made italian sodas, cream pastas with shellfish (I do not think there was another shellfish dish anywhere else on any menu anywhere in BD), a communal jug of house wine to every table, regardless of whether you have asked for it, garlic olive oil and fresh foccacia for sopping and,this was my favorite, an honest-to-goodness antipasta plate with salami, p<em><span style="font-style: normal;">epperocini</span></em><span style="font-style: normal;">,</span> marinated mushrooms, cheese and olives. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">To this day, any Italian restaurant gets HUGE points in my estimation for offering an antipasta plate. For those who don't know, it's just a little snack plate of various nibblies offered in many restaurants because all the items were the rare surplus, well preserved and available year round. Salami is cured, pepperocini, mushrooms and olives are all brined or pickled and cheese is acidified and preserved by it's own process. It relates in a similar way to English “sideboard” offerings. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I like to nibble. I'm a cheese and sausage kinda guy. I credit my French heritage. I happily can and will make a meal out of snacks for breakfast lunch and dinner. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I can't tell you what percentage of my paychecks I spent at Bevenuto's those first few months but I'm certain I did my share to support their business. I hung out at the bar and drank some of my first cocktails. I knew the wait staff by name. I made a point of taking my friends there and I took great delight in introducing it to people who have never been. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I remember their food fondly. Gigantor Caesar Salads, the garlic mash-potatoes, the Foccacia, the baked alfredo pasta with Parmesan cheese. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The antipasta and the house wine were such authentic Italian touches that they couldn't last. I dined there long enough to see the antipasta plate slip off the menu. I was probably the only one that ever ordered it. It changed to a “antipasta salad” which I once ordered by mistake. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We've always had an issue with Wine in this country. Either starting <a href="http://www.ushistory.org/Declaration/related/sugaract.htm">revolutions</a> over it, or ignoring it completely. The stigma attached to wine still sends out conflicted signals. Isn't wine fancy? Aren't wine drinkers snobs? Isn't wine expensive? Isn't <u>good</u> wine expensive? The image of the cork sniffing, pinky raised, pooh-poohing wine “connoisseur” still haunts us. Wine has it's own strange language that is far deeper and thicker than any other adult beverage including cocktails and single-malt scotches. A lot of people buy into, despite their denials otherwise, the notion that drinking wine makes you look sophisticated. From the outside looking in, the language seems impenetrable, the investment steep and the company seems less than desirable. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The irony here is that, for the vast majority of the non-American wine-drinking world, the wine consumed is NOT fancy. Wine is an every day thing. Not everyone who drinks wine in France and Italy cracks open an expensive bottle at every meal, but they <i>do</i> drink wine. It is understood that there is a difference between “house” or “table” wine, what the French call <i><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/vin+ordinaire?qsrc=2446">vin ordinaire</a> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">and the stuff you whip out on special occasions or when company comes over. Table wine is not consumed out of 200 dollar <a href="http://www.riedel.com/">Riedel</a> glassware, it's probably coming out of the same glasses you drink everything from. Tell that to an American wine snob and the aneurysms popping sounds like gunfire. </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-style: normal;">We would be better thinking of wine like we think of beer. It'd be nice to drink <a href="http://www.heineken.com/global/WOH/SplashPage/SplashPage.aspx?ReturnURL=">Heineken</a> or </span> <a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/americas/02/10/ultimate.beer/">Samuel Adams' Utopias</a> on a daily basis, chances are you can't afford it and a lot of beer drinkers would look at you like a freak if you insisted that if you couldn't... it's not worth drinking. On a day to day basis, there is probably a 12 pack of <a href="http://budweiser.com/">Bud</a>, or <a href="http://www.millercoors.com/AgeVerification.aspx">Miller</a>, or <a href="http://www.pabstblueribbon.com/AgeVerification.aspx">Pabst</a> chilling in your fridge and if it comes down to “less than optimal” beer or no beer at all... fuck that, gimme a beer. As I have always said, my favorite kind of beer is the kind I don't have to pay for. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The American consumers inability to see the joys of table wine is really doing a number on their collective pocket books. I believe the average price of a bottle of wine in a restaurant is about 3 times retail price at this point, putting it well beyond my budgie and well into the selfish realms of “conspicuous consumption”. Bugger that. Give me my jug of <a href="http://www.carlorossi.com/">Carlo Rossi</a> Burgundy at my table and let me actually have a few glasses. It's not BAD wine. It's not great. It wouldn't want to drink toasts at a wedding with it, but it's fine for dinner. Do you really want to drink a delicate, refined and nuanced bottle of wine while you're forking down cream pasta with bacon? You wouldn't know the difference between <a href="http://www.montelena.com/">Chateau Montelena</a> and <a href="http://www.bumwine.com/md2020.html">Chateau Mad Dog</a>. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">My love affair with Benvenuto's ended suddenly and violently. I became privy to some disturbing information regarding a very, very poor customer service choice made by an erstwhile manager. The nature of this information was so foul that I made the choice not to give them my custom again. I have since encouraged others to do the same.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I believe quite strongly in the power of the almighty greenback and that, if you disapprove of someones business practices, your best way discouraging it is by not giving them your money. People can protest Wal-Mart until they are blue in the face, but people still shop there and that is what matters. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It has been well over a decade since I have actually gone to a Bevenuto's store and I have missed it. I decided that 10 years is long enough to hold a grudge and so, when my Bride suggested it for lunch amidst our errand running this weekend, I agreed. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Despite the many years, I looked forward to the Benvenuto's of old. I looked forward to all my old favorites. Most importantly, I looked forward to a good Italian meal. I think that is what disappointed me the most. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Given our proximity amidst our errands, we took ourselves to the north-side location. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Big tease right off the bat, one of their faux Italian theme-park storefronts was for <a href="http://www.wisegeek.com/what-is-a-salumeria.htm">salumeria</a> and the very fact that someone knew enough to paint that on the wall gave me a little thrill... which lasted just long enough for me to open the <a href="http://www.benvenutos.com/our_menu/lunch/">menu</a>. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Bevenuto's has become safe. When it came down to a choice between unique and familiar, they chose the latter. Looking at their lunch menu, my first thought, vocalized in a less than charitable tone to my undeserving bride, was that this was barely an “Italian” restaurant anymore. Nothing says Italy like deep fried fish, chicken and shrimp. I twitched every time I saw things like Jack Daniels BBQ sauce, southwest chicken salad, the satanic <a href="http://blog.ruhlman.com/ruhlmancom/2007/08/chicken-ing-cae.html">Chicken Caesar</a>, Greek salad, Cobb salad, Asian Chicken salad and, oh gawd, this one bout killed me... Cajun Grilled Pasta? This is chain food. The menu is designed to please the palate of the lunching office worker. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Now don't get me wrong, the food at Bevenuto's is still good. I had a decent salad and a nice bowl of shrimp fettuccine in a garlic cream sauce. My Bride and I left full and satisfied with the service and the food. Benvenuto's makes <span style="font-style: italic;">good food</span>. They are reliable. It's the kind of place you could go to a hundred times and never have a “<span style="font-style: italic;">bad</span>” meal. They are a crowd pleaser. Someplace safe and familiar where even the fussiest of eaters can find a pleasing menu selection. There is a place for that in the restaurant world, but that place is getting a over crowded. There are <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> many others just like it. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Compared to the rest of Madison, it doesn't stand out. It's not unique, it's not putting forth any extra effort or obsessing over fresh ingredients, new ideas or new techniques. They are not trying to reproduce the feel and the taste of Italy in any way deeper than the thickness of paint. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">My Bride and I had a rather heated debate about this. Somewhat offended at my immediate dismissal of the menu out-of-hand, she pressed me to define what, if anything, was wrong with what Benventuo's is? What is the basis for my disapproval?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Is there anything wrong with a broader, familiar, crowd pleasing menu even if wanders away from your ascribed to cuisine? Is it that my “highly refined palate” cannot be bothered by anything less that the finest cuisine available? It is not hard, I think, to come off like a snob here, pooh-poohing the business choices of a restaurant I have no financial risk in. I can sit here comfortably behind my keyboard and whing about how this restaurant is lame or that it doesn't have the exotic, expensive and obscure fare I desire or demand. It carries about as much weight as the overweight armchair quarterback cussing out his team and bragging how “he could do better”.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We have a long history in this country of scapegoating businesses, corporations and pretty much anything that can be defined as “<a href="http://www.theonion.com/content/node/29703">The Man</a>”. I try to keep this under wraps because it really isn't fair. A business employs people. It puts food in the mouths of the employees and their children. It is not a crime to make money. Isn't that what we all want anyway? Isn't the American dream to be rich and successful?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Foodies are often rather dismissive and insensitive to this, but the truth is that many, many, many delightful hole-in-the-wall restaurants doing exciting and daring new foods have floundered financially due to the uncompromising idealist vision of a chef who could not understand the balance sheet. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I'm sure that the Benvenuto's menu has morphed into it's current incarnation over time due to market pressures from it's clientèle. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In other words, it has become what is has become as a response to... us. The Consumer. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Because who we give our custom to decides what business stay and what business go. Every penny we spend on everything from cheap cheeseburgers to Wagu beef and Fois Gras dictates what kind of restaurants arise to supply our demand. Restaurateurs agonize over menus, decor, prices and location... trying hopelessly to divine the fickle, stingy and seemingly schizophrenic mind of the consumer. So many people have sunk their life savings into opening their own little restaurant, their own slice of the American dream, just to watch that dream die a slow and painful death because the drive was five minutes too long or the prices were 50 cents cheaper somewhere else. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Now, don't get me wrong, restaurants do share SOME of the blame for bad choices. As with the case of Cloud 9, where a restaurant chose to try to please absolutely everyone at once and sets itself up for failure. Some restaurants only offer safe, middle of the road, least-common-denominator fair out of fear that more exotic and experimental fare will fail to attract a crowd. Sometimes that is prudent fiscal strategy and sometimes it is just cowardice. The market is saturated with restaurants who play it safe. Despite this, however, the lion share of the blame lies firmly on our own shoulders.<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This is a war of inches... or perhaps pennies. We each have to decide what is important to us. Is money the bottom line? Is quality? Is it something else? Do you care what is local? Do you care what is imported? A Foodie, a Vegetarian, a Vegan, a Chef, a Gourmet or suburban house wife can each talk your ears off for hours on considerations from mercury content to political ramifications of wheat production.<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There are no wrong answers to these questions, but each one has an effect... a consequence. We should perhaps consider what consequences our choices have. What kind of restaurants exist, what kind of food is offered, is up to us.<br /></p>Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-783852985261727512009-03-13T12:42:00.000-07:002009-03-13T12:56:39.353-07:00The Rules #1I am one of those cursed souls who does not accept easy explanations. They bring me no comfort. In fact, easy explanations make me incredibly nervous. When I hear people dismiss things out of hand with a “Well, you know what they say...”, the ellipsis might as well be trailing off a cliff in my mind. Maximum frustration is derived from any inference that it is one of “God's Mysteries”. I've read the Bible and in no place does it say “Thou shalt not be curious.” I understand that part of any religion is to offer an explanation for the unexplainable but this is 2009, we're well past the Age of Enlightenment and the Age of Reason, isn't that kind of thinking obsolete? We <i>have</i> answers now. Even if we don't have all the answers, we have a system for discovery. <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I want to know, I want to understand. I want answers and I know that I'll spend the rest of my life in pursuit of them. This may bring me no peace but it will certainly not be boring. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Part of figuring things out is establishing a framework of understanding. Touchstones, benchmarks, solid or at least semi-solid footholds and cornerstones from which one can anchor other theories and cling to while exploring other concepts. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Now, as an empiricist, I recognize that any attempt to define a constant in an ever changing world could be at least futile and at most delusional, but I've seen enough evidence to conclude for my own conscience that there are certain constants that can be reliably counted upon to be true. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In my years of fascination with Human Nature, I've started this tiny notepad file. It's moved with me from computer to computer, from diskette to CD-ROM to thumb drive. It's labeled simply “The Rules” and every time I come upon one of these constants, I write it down for safekeeping. I am certain that this is in no way a complete list. There are any number of them that await adequate reinforcement or the proper definition. Some of them have made the list only to be removed later as my perceptions change. A number of them have been aggregated as two or three concepts are distilled down to an underlying concept or truth. I have always thought that I'd jot these down in a book some day but I think I'll throw them out here. I've recently been inspired by Neil Gaimen's blog to get off my tuckus, start blogging again and... well, I needed a topic. So here we go. Please keep in mind that these are in no way ordered by priority or importance, except for perhaps the first one. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-weight: bold;">Rule #1: People are People</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Yes gawd help me, right off the bat I'm adding so much dignity and gravitas to my little wack-a-doo theories by naming one after a bit from the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQgfgB-vgT0">Muppet's Take Manhattan</a>. But before you click on that Facebook link, hear me out. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As human beings, we are not wired to be a society. We're wired to be a tribe. A small group of like-minded people that can be trusted. We take comfort in the tribe and when their isn't one, our mind invents one. We seek to differentiate ourselves from the everyone by identifying with a small group. Be it a job, hobby, style, like, dislike or whatever. Short people, fat people, long hair, short hair, IT professionals, foodies, Virgos, homeowners, Americans, motorcyclists, vegetarians, 3<sup>rd</sup> shifters, Europeans, Wisconsinites, white trash, blah blah blah blah. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Some of these groups are very rigorous and insular. Some can barely be said to exist at all. Often it is pressure or a threat from outside that determines how tight knit and well defined the group is. The more widely perceived and more dangerous the threat is, the tighter a group will circle the wagons. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">That sounds somewhat bad but having been a part of such groups, I don't wonder at the appeal. Within the group, drawn together for mutual benefit, the camaraderie and solidarity is euphoric. Soldiers speak of their “comrades in arms” with such fondness and I understand the sentiment. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This is the good side of the tribal instinct and this is why it worked so long as a survival trait. The mental reward for forming a group and the fact that the reward grows as the threat grows is a fantastic motivator for cooperation. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But there is a dark side to this trait as well. For as we knit ourselves together into a cohesive “Us”, everyone outside our little circle becomes “Them” and for every ounce of altruism we feel twords our beloved “Us”, it's matched by fear and suspicion of “Them”. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“<i>It was so much easier to blame it on Them. It was bleakly depressing to think that They were Us. If it was Them, then nothing was anyone's fault. If it was us, what did that make Me? After all, I'm one of Us. I must be. I've certainly never thought of myself as one of Them. No one ever thinks of themselves as one of Them. We're always one of Us. It's Them that do the bad things.“ </i>- Terry Pratchett, Jingo</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's a step down a very dark and dangerous road to set a group apart as Them. It's so natural and easily done but the forces you are toying around with are fundamentally responsible for the vast, vast, vast majority of human tragedy. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Call Them what you will, people don't like Them. Eventually, if they feel threatened enough by Them, they start thinking of ways to deal with Them. This is where things start getting nasty.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Genocide Watch.com defines the <a href="http://www.genocidewatch.org/8stages.htm">The 8 Stages of Genocide</a> and you'll find the very first stage strangely familiar.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><b>1. CLASSIFICATION</b></i><i>: All cultures have categories to distinguish people into “us and them” by ethnicity, race, religion, or nationality: German and Jew, Hutu and Tutsi. Bipolar societies that lack mixed categories, such as Rwanda and Burundi, are the most likely to have genocide. The main preventive measure at this early stage is to develop universalistic institutions that transcend ethnic or racial divisions, that actively promote tolerance and understanding, and that promote classifications that transcend the divisions. The Catholic church could have played this role in Rwanda, had it not been riven by the same ethnic cleavages as Rwandan society. Promotion of a common language in countries like Tanzania has also promoted transcendent national identity. This search for common ground is vital to early prevention of genocide.</i> - Gregory H. Stanton, President, Genocide Watch</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Now not all acts of distinction between groups lead to genocide. Let's be fair. I don't think we'll every see a World War between Blonds and Redheads. (not to say that wouldn't be cool). But everything that has later turned into War or Genocide or killing in general, has to pass through that thought process to get where it is going. It's the “gateway thought”. When you define Us and Them, death is at the far end of that thought process.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/the_blue_marble.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 434px; height: 450px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/the_blue_marble.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This is my favorite picture in the world, because, well, it is the world.<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> I'm not the only one to notice the complete lack of national borders when viewed from above. I'm also not the only person to notice how frail and tenuous our grasp on life is. Here we sit, on our little blue marble, on the shores of the galactic beach, with crushing pressure and boiling lava below us and freezing vacuum above. Our thin, thin strip of life giving, habitable space that houses all our hopes, dreams and useless conflicts. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Once you've seen this, how can there ever be a Them again? In the great cosmic sense of things, are our manufactured differences of politics, religion, culture or taste worth much of anything? Are they worth killing each other over?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">To make it acceptable to define and delineate any group makes it acceptable for anyone to do to me. It means I can be quantified and organized and walled off. Because the same thought process that defines Them decides what They should have for food, drink, opportunities or freedom. It's at the heart of segregation and war. It cheapens my life and my worth. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And so, I reject it. I reject Them. There is only Us. We. Humanity. I understand that our cultures make us colorful, but we are Humans first, everything else second. As it should be. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. </i>- United States Declaration of Independence, Continental Congress, July 4, 1776 </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>Whereas recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world, </i> </p> <p><i>Whereas disregard and contempt for human rights have resulted in barbarous acts which have outraged the conscience of mankind, and the advent of a world in which human beings shall enjoy freedom of speech and belief and freedom from fear and want has been proclaimed as the highest aspiration of the common people, - </i>Universal Declaration of Human Rights, United Nations, December 10<sup>th</sup>, 1948 </p> <p>And so, in the end, the rule is this: People is People. We are more alike than we are different. We are all human beings. Whatever our differences of culture or ideology, we are fundamentally connected by our humanity.<br /></p><p>That's a rule.<br /></p><p><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-37614996563158490872008-10-07T09:54:00.000-07:002008-10-07T14:18:22.142-07:00Doug's Soul Food<span style="font-style: italic;">"Bless this bread, bless this meat, bless this belly 'cause I's gon' eat!"</span><br />Reverend Williams, Soul Food - 1997<br /><br />I love my Mom. She is a far better parent than I or anyone deserves. She's a good friend, a reliable go-to person when help is needed and a fabulous mother-in-law to my Wife.<br /><br />But her cooking...<br /><br />Mom hates to cook. To be fair, meals in our house were never late and there was plenty of it but she was not, I'm sorry to say, a particularly inspired cook. She's got a repertoire of about a dozen dishes with maybe 8 standard everyday ones. I suspect what drove me to being a Foodie as I grew up was the constant curiosity about new food that can only come from such a limited palette growing up. When I started going out to restaurants I was immediately the one who wanted to try all the exotic places. I was forever trying to talk my friends into going for Thai food, or Indian, or Nepalese or Japanese.<br /><br />Doug's Soul Food cooks like I wish my Mom cooked. It cooks like I want to cook. It cooks like you wish your Mom cooked. On the front of the menu, along with a picture of the owners mother, is the motto, "Not Mom's, But Close!". It is humbly implied that this means <span style="font-style: italic;">they</span> are not quite as good as <span style="font-style: italic;">Mom</span>. I think the reality is closer to your Mom not being quite as good as they are.<br /><br />Like good home cooking, you will find no fancy ingredients at Doug's. There is no curly parsley on the plates, there is no exotic ingredients in the food. What winds up on your plate is the fundamentals; chicken, pork, flour, butter, salt, pepper, eggs, and cheese. You are not paying for expensive ingredients, you are paying for <span style="font-style: italic;">technique</span>.<br /><br />I make pretty good fried chicken. It's one of those dishes I wanted to conquer right from the start. I think I went through about 15 or 20 derivations of the coating, the brine, the cooking method before I settled on what is now, I think, Version 2.7. Took me two years to get that far and it's still not quite finished, the hardest part still eludes me.<br /><br />When you take a bite of nice, crispy friend chicken, especially a fried drumstick, you should be able to easily bite off a chunk that has some meat and some crispy, delicious fried coating in it (the best part of fried chicken, as we all know). What you are trying to avoid is the entire skin and all the breading sliding off the piece in one mouthful. The breading has to adhere to the skin and the skin has to stay on the chicken. This is <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> easy. Differences in temperatures, fat layers under the skin melting in the heat and providing lubricant, the wet batter, the dry batter, the fact that skin and flour don't chemically like each other and getting it all done, cooked to GBD perfection without overcooking or undercooking the meat... is a flouncing, flamboyant, flourecent BITCH. I can do it about half the time (I think it has to do with how long you leave the batter on)<br /><br />The fried chicken I had at Doug's was perfect. I took a bite and left a perfect bite sized hole in the chicken. Every bite had some breading in it till I was done. That is a damn fine trick.<br /><br />Soul Food has been in our state for a long time but I only began seeking it out after I began reading Southern cookbooks and watching Southern cooking shows. It was love at first taste. More than that. I'm starting to suspect I lived there in a past life. I fell head over heals for greens, love sweet potato pie and I'm dying to try grits (if I could find somewhere that does them well).<br /><br />My Bride an I went to Doug's on a sleepy Sunday afternoon. We were the only two patrons and enjoyed the undivided attention of the owners. Doug's does not have a large menu but it has a lot of open-ended variables such as "Sauteed Vegitables" which could mean whatever they have that day, "Cakes" which included two selections and "Pies" which included five. The protien options are BBQ Pork Spare Ribs, Perch, Catfish, BBQ Beef Spare Ribs and Southern Fried Chicken. Every meal comes with 2 sides and a starch which are cornbread (a cornbread muffin actually), dinner roll or hush puppies (little deep fried seasoned dough balls for those who have never had). The dining room is tiny, tidy and cute with perhaps a dozen tables, a counter and classy table settings with white tablecloths.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/friedchicken.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/friedchicken.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />As I've already alluded, the chicken was perfect. This is not KFC chicken. Salt and Pepper are no secret. This is good home cooking. Crispy, juicy and perfectly cooked. The hush puppies had a little kick and were another layer of crispy fried goodness. The greens were nice, tender and just bitter enough to be complex without being icky.<br /><br />My Bride ordered the BBQ Pork Spare Ribs, Mac & Cheese, candied sweet potatos and cornbread. She was nice enough to let me steal a few bites of everything (in the name of science of course).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/ribs.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/ribs.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Note, in the right hand corner of the web page, it says something about me being an empiricist? Well, that's why I have to say... this is not Barbecue. Barbecuing is a cooking style that involves the application of low heat and smoke over a long period of time. Real Barbecue is famous for taking cheap, tough pieces of meat and turning them into tender, smoky, flavorful piles of goodness and love. I do not think that Doug's has a barbecue pit in the back.<br /><br />Never the less, the ribs were tasty, tender-but-satisfying and possessed of a nice tangy sauce. No, it's not <span style="font-style: italic;">technically </span>barbecue, but it's good.<br /><br />My Bride raved about the Mac & Cheese and it was pretty damn good. I suspect some Velvetta was used, and it really did taste like something you threw together in your kitchen in a hurry, but it's the kind of home recipe that other people want a copy off. She plans on making both her sides Mac & Cheese when we go back. The Candied Sweet Potatoes were good, but she makes them better.<br /><br />Now, I'm not normally a dessert person. Restaurant desserts, especially in this new era of "Death by Chocolate with Chocolate Ice Cream, Chocolate Sauce on Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Sprinkles and shaved Chocolate with Chocolate Mouse served on a Chocolate plate with a Chocolate fork", are not big with me. I am, however, a big fan of PIE. To me, it is the one of the Ultimate comfort foods. It's my Death Row dessert. I want the taste of a cherry/apple cream pie lingering in my mouth as they throw the switch.<br /><br />Such a whore for pie am I that when it came time to decide on dessert, I took a piece of candy from the fuckit bucket and doubled down. Sweet Potato Pie and Apple Pie for me, the infamous "Edna's Lemon Cake" for My Bride.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/sweetpotato.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/sweetpotato.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The Sweet Potato pie was perfect. Soft, custardy and just sweet enough to accent the potato.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/applepie.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/applepie.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>The apple pie was excellent as well. Note the flaky crust? I couldn't help but think that a few notes could be taken by <a href="http://www.madisonatoz.com/2008/04/lmnopies.html">LMNO Pies</a>...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/lemoncake.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/dougs/lemoncake.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The dark secret my Bride waited to tell me till after we had left Doug's is that she immediately suspected that this was a doctored cake mix. Aunt Edna's cake is probably a yellow cake mix with some lemon zest, lemon juice and a sugar glaze on the outside. If you have a problem with such a thing, then consider yourself warned. If not, then good, cause it was damn good cake and I'd hate to think of you missing it.<br /><br />Doug's Soul Food is another example of a place that isn't WOW food. It's not trying to impress you, it's trying to feed you and fill you up. This is not the kind of place to take an out of town guest if you want to impress them with fancy local cuisine. But on a cold fall afternoon, after a long and wearysome day, when you just don't feel like cooking and you're maybe feeling a little homesick, stop by Doug's. It's pure comfort food done right.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-45778709849947856992008-10-03T10:11:00.000-07:002008-10-03T12:50:13.243-07:00Hookah<span style="font-style: italic;"><br />"Oh! hookah of the magic bowl,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Thou dost bring me greatest pleasure,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Who likes not thee, hath not a soul,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">And can know of joy no measure.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Thy fragrance brings me visions bright-- </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Dispels the shadows of the night."</span><br />- G. Frank Lydston<br /><br />One of the Joys Of Madison is that we have such a weird and mixed culture. The word "diversity" has recently been politicized beyond recognition so it's starting to leave a bad taste in my mouth but you know what I mean.<br /><br />We have numerous cultural enclaves and most of them have brought their food with them. Pretty much all of Asia has made the party, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2oK_trZhVdk">Ze Germans</a> and the rest of Europe are here of course, as are a general representation of our <a href="http://www.africarestolounge.com/">African</a> brethren, those crazy guys from the <a href="http://www.jamericarestaurant.com/">Caribbean</a>, and just about everyone in between.<br /><a href="http://www.medhookahcafe.com/menu.html"><br />Hookah</a> has a "Mediterranean" menu that is something of a fib. Read as having a few Greek, Italian, Lebanese and Middle-Eastern recipes with a lot of seafood and some mandatory Midwestern staples (because restaurateurs feel like people will set the place on fire if there is no hamburger on the menu... sheesh) like a Tenderloin and Shrimp Scampi. They even have a Friday Fish Fry.<br /><br />Having had the food however, I'd be willing to bet there is a Lebanese or Greek cook in the back, doing some very fine work.<br /><br />We went to Hookah on a Sunday night with our friend Jim. Jim was kind enough to treat us after I scraped <a href="http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail118.html">423,827</a> viruses off two of his computers.<br /><br />The establishment is broken up into a bar area where you can smoke cigarettes and a dining room that has it's own bar area, where you can't smoke cigarettes but you can smoke the restaurants namesake, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hookah">Hookah</a> or water pipe. There are about a dozen tables as well as a room full of cocktail tables/couch/settee groupings more suited for drinking and smoking than food. It's a very casual environment, a number of small TV's are set around, the booths are very Buddha friendly and admitted my large belly with comfort.<br /><br />Since Jim was paying, we took relentless advantage of the bar service (to be fair, with Jim's urging). It is thereby that I can report that the Bartender/waiter (it was Sunday) mixes a very solid Martini. I give it about a 6.5 out of 10. Good for a restaurant. I also appreciate that they served their drinks in smaller 5 ounce glass. I don't equate quantity for quality in a cocktail and I think a smaller drink is more refined and responsible. Now a days places serve with 8 or 12 ounce cereal-bowl-on-a-stick glasses that make a "three martini lunch" a trip to the ER for alcohol poisoning.<br /><br />I had the Shawarma plate. Shawarma is one of those dishes for me where once it is spotted on the menu, all debate has ended.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Hookah/shawarma.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Hookah/shawarma.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I love food I get to assemble and I love being able to eat with my hands (much to my Bride's Dismay sometimes). It's just more tactile and involved. Being able to tune up my little wraps of pita bread, meat, veg and condiment till I had a perfect mix of spicy, chewy, cool, creamy, rich and tangy... it's more fun than just shoveling food into my maw.<br /><br />My Bride had the Mediterranean Pizza. She is a food-whore for anything with tomatoes and feta cheese involved.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Hookah/medpizza.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Hookah/medpizza.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>To Quote My Bride, <blockquote>"<span style=";font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;" >I loved the tanginess of the artichoke hearts in combination with the rest of the toppings. And as a lover of feta cheese, I especially appreciated how there was a nice, healthy dose of it. It's so frustrating to order something that says it includes feta and then have there be so little that you can't even taste it. Not an issue with this pizza at all."</span> </blockquote>The food, like the drinks, was solid. This is not lay-down awesome fare, this is not WOW food. This is just good food, flavorful, and just exotic enough to be interesting. The flavors are not everyday, but they are not so challenging that I couldn't eat them every night.<br /><br />I get nervous not saying a place was EXCELLENT or FABULOUS or INCREDIBLE these days. People can be so dismissive and unappreciated of nuances. Not every restaurant is El Bulli or the French Laundry and gawds help me I don't want them to be. There is a place for every level of restaurant in this world and no matter what, someone out there will appreciate it.<br /><br />Hookah is a great, casual, repeat restaurant and that is a rare thing in itself. I get the distinct feeling that I could go to Hookah 1000 times and never have a bad meal.<br /><br />Now, food aside, after we finished our meals, the real star of the show made it's appearance.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Hookah/Hookah.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Hookah/Hookah.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>I am a man who enjoys his tobacco products. There are few tobacco products out there that can be lit on fire and inhaled that I have not tried.<br /><br />Before you begin with your healthy admonitions, let me add that I did successful quit smoking a few years ago and that now, apart from the occasional stress smoke at work and those shrinking few occasions when I find myself in a bar where smoking is allowed (now done mostly for nostalgia), I have cut myself down to the occasional pipe.<br /><br />I possess a beautifully carved Meerschaum Calabash pipe and quite simply, life without some sublimely delicious pipe tobacco on occasion is not worth living.<br /><br />I had, however, never tried a Hookah before, much to my shame.<br /><br />As a pipe smoker, I was incredibly dubious about the idea of "flavored" tobacco. The idea of "Mint Mohito" flavored tobacco reached into the very base of my brain, clamped onto my fundamental core of cynicism and pulled HARD. In my mind, flavored tobacco is for blunt smokers and rave kids. Real tobacco has exotic names like Burley and Latikia, Black Cavendish, Golden Virginia.... not Watermelon.<br /><br />I thank my Maker and good sense that I knew enough to let the more experience one in our party, Jim, make the call... and he made a beeline straight for the Mint Mohito.<br /><br />Hookah tobacco is rolled in flavored molasses and is roasted by the application of small charcoal sticks rather than burned directly. combined with the passage of the smoke through the bubbling, water filled base of the device, it produces THE mildest smoke I have ever had. Great gasping lungfuls of the stuff could be inhaled with no discomfort in the least, all to the merry bubbling of the great glass tower which added a fantastic aural element to the experience.<br /><br />Every tobacco product has it's own particular idiom. Cigars are best smoked after a meal and when you have extended time to relax. They are strong and flavorful as they need to be to reach your palate after it has been blasted senseless by a long period at the table. Conversation over cigars is permissible but are best suited to long winded old men as they require a minute of constant puffing to keep them lit, every few minuites, allowing you to speak your piece and retire into smoky consideration while your companion speaks theirs.<br /><br />Cigarettes are best for short, excited conversations and debates. Something with a little more energy. They stay lit, but end quickly, allowing for the repeated act of theatric, incandescent relights. They also add weight and style to expansive hand gestures as they trail smoke or can be stubbed out firmly to punctuate the end of a sentence like a flaming ember for a period. The glowing inhalation, the puffing of smoke in long thin streams, short coughing gouts, sudden explosive bursts or slow, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgxltDbSDec">erotic</a> swirls are all within the smokers repertoire. Ultimately, cigarettes are unsophisticated, rough and rude... but that's why we like them.<br /><br />Oh, and they give you cancer, don't forget that part.<br /><br />Pipes are unsuited for any conversations whatsoever. Beyond the occasional guttural grunt or short, one-word responses, one must puff rather constantly to keep ones pipe lit. This may sound like a detriment until you realize that pipe smoking requires you to be silent. Pipe smoking is best suited to silent reflection, away from other human interaction. A moment of self-indulgent solitary pleasure. And pleasure it is. There is no more flavorful, robust and potent way to take tobacco than by a pipe.<br /><br />Hookah's are social creatures. To me, the idea of taking a Hookah by yourself is somewhat absurd. The passing of the pipe, the anticipation, the shared experience and shared pleasure add up to a very jolly, bubbling, social experience. I strongly recommend trying it before our Nanny State takes away all smoking privileges from us, it's poor, untrustworthy children.<br /><br />In summation, Hookah is a fabulous casual experince that will not disapoint. It might not blow you away, but it will not disapoint. But do not go just for the food. Go for the social interaction in a comfortable enviroment... and the hookah.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><em></em>Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-39250323428250874942008-09-29T10:21:00.000-07:002008-09-30T08:23:56.883-07:00The Malt House<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Malt%20House/Bar%20Room.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Malt%20House/Bar%20Room.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">To everything there is a season,<br />a time for every purpose under the sun.</span><br />- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.</span><br />- Much Ado About Nothing, Act 2, Scene 3, William Shakespeare<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">There is a time for being ahead,<br />a time for being behind;<br />a time for being in motion,<br />a time for being at rest;<br />a time for being vigorous,<br />a time for being exhausted;<br />a time for being safe,<br />a time for being in danger.</span><br />- Tao Te Ching, Chapter 29, Lao Tzu, Stephen Mitchell translation.<br /><br />When I was a young and angry man, I liked quite different things than I do now. I appreciated fast cars. I listened to fast music. When I went out of a weekend, my main desire was to put myself in the vicinity of pretty girls, loud music and a reasonable amount of peril. Like many people that age, I didn't want to actually lead a dangerous life, I just wanted it to look like I did.<br /><br />I have never been a BIG fan of bars or clubs, but when I did choose to go to one, it was usually loud, raucous and hopping. A lot of people like bars like that. A vast majority of people in fact. When they go out, they want their drinks cheap and their music loud. The kind of bar where one can easily get drunk and stupid. Thoughts on quality of drinks or conversation are tertiary at best. It actually makes me wonder about the state of our social society when we apparently seek to avoid talking to people by frequenting establishments where the music is to loud to hear people talking.<br /><br />As I grow older, what little love I had for the loud bars has evaporated completely. I'm a Words Man, a student of the human condition. I make my way via my command of the language and my love of it. When I go out for social time, good conversation, that lost and elusive creature, is my ultimate goal. The enthusiastic exchange of ideas, the verbal sparing of a debate, the ebullience of a discovered shared interest, these are my bread and butter. All it takes is one loud band or one <a href="http://www.thedailypage.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=41872">overblown DJ</a> to ruin a wonderful evening.<br /><br />And so, I began that search, years ago, for a quiet social venue where one may interact in a meaningful way with ones fellow humans. Luckily society has invented such institutions already. They call them "Taverns".<br /><br />Actually, they call them any number of things. Pub, lounge and saloon are also used. The nomenclature is pretty hazy but in general, if you say "neighborhood bar", most people understand what you are talking about.<br /><br />If that still doesn't do it for you, let me define the species.<br /><br />In general, the creature will have most of the following traits: Dark wood, low lighting, bartenders with personality, above average drinks, lots of accumulated memorabilia and/or items of interest and a fierce local following who will happily bus tables and make a bouncer unnecessary (may the gawds help the stranger who bows up in a neighborhood bar, few things are more embarrassing than explaining to the cops that you got knocked the fuck out by a 65 year old ex-marine swinging a barstool).<br /><br />Such establishments, once you have summoned enough testicular fortitude to brave the swivel factor, pissed a territorial circle around a bar stool and made the scene enough to earn the title "regular", are a refuge, a Sanctum Sanctorum and a home-away-from-home. I have been lucky enough to find such an establishment once in my life, and, unfortunately, I left it behind in FDL when I came down to Madison.<br /><br />It's been a year and a half and I've used what little free time and free fundage I have to scour the city in search of a new watering hole.<br /><br />There have been any number of failed attempts. Madison is a big city and has a lot of wonderful and not-so-wonderful establishments. Many of them are still in the running for my go-to bar but recently I found someplace that lept to the top of the list in very short order.<br /><br />The Malt House was, for many, many years, the <a href="http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qn5302/is_20070928/ai_n24424266">Union House Tavern</a>, legendarily a waystop for Union soldiers on their way to <a href="http://www.secondwi.com/fromthefront/2d%20wis/1861/camp_randall.htm">Camp Randall</a> for training and deployment in the Civil War. When Madison's East Side was the hub of Madison's industrial commerce, Union House was a beloved neighborhood bar whose fortune and fate became inexorably tied to the East Sides eventual decline. With the death of it's last owner, Earle Erhart, this local landmark boarded up and locked it's doors after 150 years.<br /><br />But, Dear Reader, what may seem like a sad story is only the turning of a chapter. The only constant our weird and wonderful world offers is change. So it was that out of the ashes of an abandon Madison Icon, grew the dreams of a man named Bill Rogers. Bill is the head of the local <a href="http://www.mhtg.org/">Madison Homebrewers and Tasters Guild</a> and in the old, boarded up tavern, he saw history and possibility. I didn't get a chance to meet Bill, but I'm looking forward to spending some time with someone who is probably Madison's #1 Beer Geek.<br /><br />My trip to Malt House started with the <a href="http://www.thedailypage.com/isthmus/article.php?article=23746">Isthmus article</a> and that familiar queasy feeling in my stomach. "A reasonably quiet place where you can sit and talk" you say? "150-plus bottles and 18 tap beers" you say? "Best whiskey bar in town" you say? All this and more adds up to potential. I love the historical backround of the place, I love the spirit of the owner. I have been known to do a little homebrewing myself so I love that it's one of our own running the place. Nobody knows beer like a homebrewer. Someone who loves beer enough to want to go through the laborious and smelly task of making it at home? There breaths the soul of a true Beer Man. I also love me some Whiskey. Irish Whiskey for preference (since it is THE BEST).<br /><br />Potential like this makes me profoundly nervous. For every chance a place has to get something right, they also have a chance to doubly fuck it up. First because it's bad, second because it could have been so good.<br /><br />And so, it is with great trepidation that I made my first visit to Malt House on a Friday night a few weeks ago.<br /><br />The revitalization of the Near East/East Washington area is still an ongoing project whose future is still <a href="http://www.thedailypage.com/daily/article.php?article=7657">unsure</a>. But, while this is not the best neighborhood in Madison (yet), it's weaknesses can also be it's strengths. I'm not sure if they tore something down next door to the Malt House, but they managed to get themselves a nice BIG gravel parking lot.<br /><br />One of the things I hate about going to bars downtown is having to figure out where to park so I love me a nice big parking lot. I also hold that a big lot with no overnight parking restrictions is going to lead to a much safer clientele. If someone has had one too many they are far more likely to take a necessary cab home if they know that their automobile is safe and secure and someplace they can easily return to tomorrow.<br /><br />I was suppose to be meeting My Bride and Lisa Who Eats Paste there at 11pm for some post-work relaxation but the ladies were dragging hindquarters and arrived in their own sweet time. This suited me however as it gave me an extended period in which to peruse the establishment and take in the setting.<br /><br />I suspect quite strongly that former regulars at the Union House would barely recognize their old stomping grounds now. A thorough cleaning, refinishing and redecoration plan has left the interior cozy, strategically lit and comfortable. A large crew of enthusiastic conversationalists were gathered around 3 or 4 tables pushed together and were creating a pleasant background babble that I enjoyed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Malt%20House/Beerboard.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Malt%20House/Beerboard.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />150 beers does make for a daunting menu, 90 some whiskeys doesn't hurt either. Luckily, I'd been wanting to try a glass of Redbreast Pure Pot Still 12 Year since I'd first heard of it, so I got to indulge myself. At 6 dollars a glass, this delightful artisanal beverage is a very affordable luxury (and it was excellent, fiery with a lovely butterscotch aroma and a mellow finish). I sat and nursed my whiskey while chatting with Jaquie our charming bartendress.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Malt%20House/Jaquie.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Malt%20House/Jaquie.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />From Jaquie, I learned a few entertaining facts about the establishment. Apparently the cleanup was quite a production. Many old men had smoked many cigarettes while enjoying many years of tasty beverages at the Union House and the walls and floor tiles were stained a deep nicotine yellow. The walls were scrubbed and painted but the decision was made early on to leave the famous antique bar in place, along with it's etched glass bar mirror displaying the historical Union House logo as something of a anchor to the bar's historic past.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Malt%20House/Unionhouse.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Malt%20House/Unionhouse.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Everything else in the bar has been redone. New fixtures, lots of tables and a truckload of exotic beer memorabilia covered the walls. The new barstools met the comfort test for my overlarge buttocks and the ladies reported the bathrooms on the girls side to be clean and comfortable. What music there was came from some kind of computerized electronic playlist that seemed to be hitting a lot of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Police">The Police</a>'s greatest hits at a tolerable backround volume that one could easily be heard over.<br /><br />I eventually switched from Redbreast to <a href="http://www.lakelouie.com/default.htm">Lake Louie</a> Warp Speed Scottish Ale which was <span style="font-style: italic;">sublime</span>.<br /><br />Between the fixtures, the lighting, the crowd, the selection, the facilities and the parking, this bar has all the great fundamentals. While it has no kitchen, no grill and thereby no food, it does permit patrons to order in from any of the local establishments who deliver. As such, we ordered ourselves some dinner from another new Near East institution, <a href="http://burritodrive.com/mainpage.html">Burrito Drive</a>. Jaquie was even Janie-on-the-spot with a pile of paper plates and napkins to make our meal easier.<br /><br />Now, those who know me also know that I have a deep and profound love of a good cocktail. A good mixed drink is a rare commodity in this town and honestly, the Malt House, from what I saw, is not <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> place to get one. Normally, I would complain about this but really, I don't think it would be fair. You might not be able to get a great <span style="font-style: italic;">mixed</span> drink at the Malt House, but that doesn't mean you can't get a GREAT drink. 150 beers and a massive selection of Whiskey, Rum, Scotch, Gin and other exotics means that you will find something that you like, one way or another. Gawds forbid I'll just have to content myself drinking my way through their massive selection... damn my life is hard.<br /><br />In the end, this is a comfortable, well appointed establishment with a proud history, profound potential for the future and a very solid foundation in both product and purpose. The Malt House is the kind of place you can call home; a catylyst in the lives of its patrons and regulars. A place where jokes will be made, tales will be told tall, eyes will meet across the room, friends will be greeted after long times apart and if they are lucky, a new chapter in the history of this place will be written.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-11872463782717743332008-09-01T10:22:00.000-07:002008-09-01T16:04:53.716-07:00Cloud 9 Grille<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Cloud9/Pride.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Cloud9/Pride.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />From the minute I walked in the door, I wanted this place to succeed.<br /><br />Madison is growing out in all directions, looping around lakes and bureaucracy. Like all things in the natural world, it does not grow symmetrically. In some places you find dense clusters of shops, houses or parks, while other stretches are Ikebana-like exercises in empty space. The East Side is like that. Thousands of houses, huge tracts of residential neighborhoods and Sweet Fanny Adams for good local restaurants. Don't believe me? Head east off of Stoughton Road, out into the frontlines of Madison's War Against The Countryside, you will see for yourself. When I moved here over a year ago, I spent my lunch hours driving around the east side getting a feel for the land. The thought came to my head spontaneously, "Damn, this place needs a restaurant, or a bar, or a coffee shop." I'm not the only one. I've heard a number of Eastsiders complain that you've got to drive across town to get to "the good stuff".<br /><br />So here we find, beyond Stoughton Road, beyond <a href="http://www.sprechereast.com/">Sprecher</a>, beyond even the Interstate, boldly striking out on the front lines, within sight of the retreating Cornfield Army, Cloud 9 Grille.<br /><br />As a Foodie, I'm very judgmental when it comes to restaurants. I read too much into decor, waitstaff, plating, bar glass, lighting, sound system... even the choice of silverware. So please, Dear Reader, take my assessment with a grain of salt. Opinions vary, tastes vary, moods vary. No one person's pronunciation is going to encompass a restaurant <span style="font-style: italic;">in toto</span>. At most, I can hope to offer you a perspective. A piece of the picture, but not it's whole. Accept this, too, as default for future restaurant reviews. Always remember, I may be full of shit.<br /><br />The picture above is the sign that greets you as you walk in the door. Right there, in your face and unapologetic. This is not a motto, this is not a catch phrase, this is a declaration of War. Whoever started Cloud 9 has come to the understanding that long term financial stability and profit comes from being, not an restaurant, but an <span style="font-style: italic;">institution</span>. You must weave yourself into the fabric of the neighborhood in such a manner as to make yourself inextricable. When Eastsiders want to step out for dinner, they should think to themselves... "I don't have to drive all the way across town to some fancy place downtown or on the Westside, I can just go to Cloud 9." When Dad wants to watch "the game," Cloud 9. When Mom wants to go out for drinks with the girls, Cloud 9. When the family wants to go out for dinner, Cloud 9. When the office crew needs someplace to go for drinks or a party, Cloud 9. A restaurant that has accomplished such a feat, (examples <a href="http://www.fdlchowder.com/">1</a>, <a href="http://www.10best.com/Appleton,WI/Restaurants/Best_Restaurants/Victoria%7Cs_Appleton_WI_BID_59941/">2</a> and <a href="http://www.ellas-deli.com/">3</a>), enjoy success, stability and are sources of pride for those involved and in charge. It's something of a Restaurateur's wet dream - to be the owner of a famous local restaurant.<br /><br />Cloud 9 is aiming high and I would honestly love to see them succeed, but so far is not so good.<br /><br />Cloud 9 is following along in the long tradition of other Sports/Fusion/Brewpub/Cocktail/Wine/Supper Club/Family/Bar/Grill/Steak House/Restaurants out there. From the Vegas wall mural, to the Moulin Rouge posters, the movie posters, Rat Pack pictures, the multiple flat screens displaying the latest Nascar race and the Cowboys/Viking game (which nobody, as far as I could tell, was watching), the Bowling and Golden Tee video games, the mandatory gas fireplace, the pub tables, the cocktail table/settee groupings, the dining tables, the booths, the wine racks, the cocktail glasses, the large tap beer selection... Cloud 9 has obviously swerved into the short-sighted, never-successful "Let's Make Everyone Happy" plan. Like so many places before it, in a good-hearted attempt to do everything, they won't be able to do one thing well.<br /><br />This is seriously one of my biggest pet peeves. After watching so many other restaurants before it fail horribly, yet another business owner thinks "I'm different!" "I'm special!" "What hasn't worked for thousands and thousands of other businesses will work for me!"<br /><br />Now, don't think that by any stretch I'm saying that Cloud 9 is not well-appointed. I didn't dislike a single thing about the decor. It was obviously put together by a restaurant professional. The view, blessed by a fantastic Wisconsin sunset while we ate, is to freakin' die for. I was seduced by Sinatra (or, more accurately, <a href="http://www.sirius.com/siriuslysinatra">channel 75</a>) playing in the background (attention restaurateurs, this is an auto +10 in my book, just so you know). I liked the low key lighting, the chairs were comfy and the whole place is laid out in zones to give it a more intimate feel. But this is nothing that any of us haven't seen before. This was pretty much every play from the modern restaurant playbook. This is a Catalog Restaurant. Everything from the floor tiles to the ceiling lights is ordered direct from a restaurant supply house. It's not an act of creation, it's an act of shopping.<br /><br />What makes a neighborhood a neighborhood is its uniqueness. The streets are like whorls in a fingerprint. Environment, economy, history, culture and amenities combine to give every neighborhood a special formula that is as unique as the individuals that inhabit it.<br /><br />What amazes me is how someone can live in a neighborhood and not understand that, especially in Madison. We've got very strong, very distinct neighborhoods, full of pride in these parts. For someone to open a "neighborhood" restaurant and not understand that is honestly... a little thick.<br /><br />I could note that I've seen every single piece of decor in another restaurant at another time. I could note how much the place reminds me of TGI McFunsters or Granite City or even Applebees. But the best argument for Cloud 9's insipid reality is <a href="http://www.cloud9grille.com/menu.shtml">the menu</a>.<br /><br />Cloud 9? Who are you? Why should I choose you over so many other restaurants in this town? You are a restaurant after all, if a very confused one, and it all comes down to your food. What do I brag about? What do I drive across town for? When someone comes to visit, what do I say to them when we go out to dinner? "Hey, we gotta go to our local, they have got THE best.... " what?<br /><br />Let's have appetizers! Are your buffalo wings better than Hooters or BW3? Are your mini bacon-cheeseburger better than the ones at <a href="http://www.applebees.com/Menu_Starters.aspx">Applebee's</a> or <a href="http://www.menupix.com/madison/menu.php?id=730169">Damon's</a>? Are your Nacho's or fried calamari better than the ones I can get from any other restaurant (and their dog)? Homemade potato chips, that's kinda original, but <a href="http://www.menupix.com/madison/menu.php?id=730157">Crave</a> does it too.<br /><br />Salads? From the mind-numbingly ubiquitous Iceberg to the old, old, old standby Caesar... at least it's not a <a href="http://blog.ruhlman.com/ruhlmancom/2007/08/chicken-ing-cae.html">Chicken Caesar</a> (though I'm sure you could get it if you ask).<br /><br />The rest of the menu suffers from the same personality disorder. Jambalaya? Really? I'm going to go to a Sports/Fusion/Brewpub/Cocktail/Wine/Supper Club/Family/Bar/Grill/Steak House/Restaurant for Creole food? Seriously? I'm sure you've got a New Orleans expat tucked in the back there that makes this, this and only this? Enchiladas? With all the great Mexican places in town, you're going to field this? Oh, I know there are those dinner parties that can't agree on where they want to eat. Some people want steak, some people want Mexican, some people want Italian. So the thought is that they can come to your place and it'll make everybody happy, right? WRONG! <span style="font-weight: bold;">Fail!</span> Anyone who wants Mexican in this town is probably used to places like <a href="http://www.casadelara.net/">Casa De Lara</a> or <a href="http://www.laredosrestaurant.com/">Laredo's</a>. You really think your half-assed, afterthought dish is going to satisfy? Take a stand Cloud 9! Focus! Pick a thing, do your thing and do it well! When people can't make up their mind what they want to eat, you don't say "we'll make what you want," you say "don't worry, you'll like what we make!"<br /><br />The absolute capper to this is their risotto.<br /><br />Real <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Risotto">risotto</a> is a thing of absolute beauty. When it's done correctly, when it is properly <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Al_dente">al dente</a> and <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://italianfood.about.com/od/creamyrisotti/r/blr0894.htm">mantecato</a>, it is one of the most wonderful, simple culinary treasures you should ever be so lucky to have. It is also very hard to make, not from a cooking standpoint, but from a restaurant standpoint. Risotto is notoriously finicky. It requires constant attention which is a demand that no dish can make in a professional kitchen. It's done when it's done and there is no ingredient other than hourglass sand that can change that. Italian restaurants that serve Risotto usually have schedules on the menu. Basically warning the diner that if you want the risotto, you have to wait till a certain time every hour, giving them the option of delaying their order so everything comes out at once. Risotto is not a side dish, it's not a starch filler. It's not like Americans think of noodles or rice with Italian or Japanese food, risotto is the centerpiece.<br /><br />So when I see risotto on the menu at Cloud 9, my heart first leaps, then sinks.<br /><br />It might be real risotto, but it's reheated. They have relegated this most sublime of comfort food, this legendary exotic and interesting crowd-pleaser to the realm of a side dish.<br /><br />Attention Cloud 9 patrons, if you'll look to the left of the restaurant, you'll see greatness passing by... please wave. So close but yet so far.<br /><br />If this place made real risotto, they should have people standing outside, holding signs that read "Check it out, REAL risotto!" or "Holy Fuck! Risotto!" But no, it was slapped unceremoniously on the plate like a scoop of lunch lady mashed potatoes (which I had, BTW). It was okay, but reheating is not kind.<br /><br />All of this criticism has probably led you to think that I didn't like the restaurant. But here is the mind-blowingly stupid part... the food, was good.<br /><br />Just because the place don't know who or what it is, don't mean the crew can't cook.<br /><br />Not only was the place well appointed, our waitress was an excellent example of the species, both kind and considerate. She unabashedly warned us that due to a sudden busy spurt, the kitchen was in the weeds when we sat down. I appreciate that, rather than cover it up or try to make excuses, she was very upfront and matter-of-fact.<br /><br />We started off with the White Cheddar/Sweet Corn fondue.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Cloud9/Whitechedderfondue.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Cloud9/Whitechedderfondue.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Good temp, good texture, good taste. My Bride has her own spin on our dinner over at <a href="http://www.pithytitle.blogspot.com/">Insert Pithy Title Here</a> and we are in agreement regarding the sharpness of the cheese. Melting cheese makes it lose flavor. This would have benefited from a sharper cheese. It also should have come with a bottle of hot sauce. Cloud 9 obviously only has one fryalator<b> </b>that they use for everything because the homemade tortilla chips tasted like Friday fish-fry. I actually enjoyed that, it reminded me of some tasty childhood bar food, but others might not be so kind. All and all it was delicious. But it was also cheese that you ate with deep fried food, how was that ever going to be bad? It's not particularly inspired. It follows in the current tried-and-true restaurant trick of fatting foods up, but hey, sometimes that's not a bad thing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Cloud9/Ribeye.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Cloud9/Ribeye.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />This was a damn good steak. I asked for Medium Rare and that is what I got. Honestly, I wish that wasn't a big deal, but it is. So many other places couldn't find medium rare if the cow was alive and giving them a play by play as it cooked. That speaks to someones <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brigade_de_cuisine"><i>grillardin</i></a>. Note the mashed potatoes... kinda lunch lady ain't they? They were good, however... fatted up with butter and cream as you would expect.<br /><br />I don't want to mention dessert, 'cause... I ate it, and I shouldn't have. It was teh awesome.<br /><br />Afterward, we retired to the bar where an indifferent bartender poured us a pair of grossly overpriced rail drinks that were adequate, but hardly worth the price. 7 dollars for a <span style="font-weight: bold;">rail </span>cocktail is <span style="font-weight: bold;">way too much</span>. I can get a beautifully muddled Mojito at <a href="http://jademonkeylounge.com/">Jade Monkey</a> for 5. Come on folks. I know the bar is where a restaurant makes its money, but remember that neighborhood places have to be reasonable. Remember, repeat business. Your prices should be on par with other local establishments and Jade Monkey is packed. Take a lesson.<br /><br />This was a good meal. It was good food made by a skilled crew which makes this all the worse.<br /><br />I have nothing to recommend this place that I can't say about so many other places in Madison. They are not special, they are not unique. The food was good but nothing stood out. The menu said nothing. Nothing in particular anyway. They don't speak for Sprecher or the Eastside. If someone put me on the spot and asked me what Cloud 9 has that nobody else does? I got nothing.<br /><br />Maybe an identity crisis.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-88719477100368157122008-08-30T20:26:00.000-07:002008-09-09T04:29:16.216-07:00I Love These Guys.<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fKK933KK6Gg&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fKK933KK6Gg&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Jamie and Adam are on my hero list. Part and parcel proof that Geeks and Engineers are the masters of the modern age. Stick around to the end, the high-speed shot is incredible.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-45710240739832999392008-08-16T16:58:00.000-07:002008-08-26T20:26:52.410-07:00Sun Prairie Corn Festival<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/colonelcorn.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/colonelcorn.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I hate corn. <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As an educated Foodie, I can talk your ears off for hours about the destructive effects of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monoculture">Monoculture</a> and evils of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/High_fructose_corn_syrup">High Fructose Corn Syrup</a>. I can expound on the health and economic effects of cheap, unhealthy Corn Fed, <a href="http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C06E5DB153BF932A05750C0A9649C8B63">feed-lot</a>, <a href="http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/meat/industrial/">mass-produced cattle</a> that makes up 98% of the beef we consume<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monoculture"></a> and is a leading contributor to our countries unhealthy diet<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monoculture"></a>. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It is, however, not Corn's fault that it has been misused so. For whatever our current tribulations, many good people have made good livings with Corn and in the <a href="http://www.sunprairiechamber.com/wisuncoc/doc.nsf/doc/event_sweet_corn_2003.cm">City of Sun Prarie, Wisconsin</a> they take a weekend every year to celebrate the joys of Corn. Sweet Corn to be exact, and while I may hate Corn for its many crimes, tasting bad is not one of them. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So this morning around noon, my Bride and I locked, loaded and headed out around the beltline to Sun Prairie, one of Madison's most popular little suburbs and probably the biggest. As the years have gone by, I've watched Madison sidle slowly up to Sun Prairie like a batch of spilled pancake batter creeping across the counter top. Once the Eastside stores made the salmon-like upstream LEAP across the interstate, it was only a matter of time before Sun Prairie was assimilated like a cheesecake buffet under the baleful gaze of a fat Borg. Right now I think one single, nervous cornfield stands between the two cities. Soon they will mate like a pair of raindrops and Sun Prairie, like Fitchburg and Monona, will loose some of it's identity. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But for today, Sun Prairie was out on display, freaks, geeks, soccer moms, Nascar dads and everyone else who isn't so neatly looped up by a demographic, all with the air of the usual convivial Wisconsin charm. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I love fairs. I love the idea of fairs. I loved our county and city fairs as a kid. I lived in a small enough town where, while I didn't know <i>everyone</i>, I could count on running into a number of peers. Parental supervision was lax (beer tent), mischief was in rich supply and there was an understanding amongst my peers that with a little co-operation, mischief levels could be exponentially increased with very little effort. The Carney's were fair game for cheats and tricks because we all knew damn well that they were trying to trick us. Use a cork gun to knock over a pack of cigarettes that the operator will not show us or turn around huh? Of course it's weighted and of course nobody will mind if one of us nips home, grabs their BB pistol and with the virtue of a little timing and coordination, we managed to strip the nice gentlemen of several worthless stuffed animals before he cottoned on. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Beer was snuck, tickets were stolen, gates were circumvented, rooftops were accessed and any number of bases were gotten from any number of girls in cornfields, backseats and underneath bleachers. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So I still get a little thrill from fairs of any kind these days. I found myself wishing that we went at night instead of mid-day. Once the sun went down, it's so much more fun. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The centerpiece of the Corn festival is, of course, The Corn. $1.50 an ear for you Wimpy McPussypants, 6 dollars for a boat of 8 or 9 ears, unshucked, steamed. I shudder at the idea of anyone eating 8 ears of corn by themselves (I also shudder at what that would do to their digestive tract), so my Bride and I split one. They must process a few thousand people through the line and therefore have something approaching a brigade system in place to cycle people though. First you meet the nice Corn Ladies who grab freshly steamed ears off of a conveyor belt and hand them out a boat at a time to hungry corn seekers. </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/cornlady1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/cornlady1.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Afterward, you spend a few seconds testing your pain thresholds while you attempt to shuck the steaming hot corn before crying like a little girl. Then it's off to the Butter Girls...</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/buttergirl.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/buttergirl.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>If there is anything about the Sun Prairie Corn Festival that deserves the attention of the nation (or at least that part of the nation that is in possession of a, shall we say, trumpet and skittles), it is this. I don't know the history behind this. I don't know if this has been done in other places, but I really do have to take my hat off to the <span style="font-weight: bold;">undoubtedly </span>male genius who had the idea of using all the cute, female, high-school seniors to perform the ever so efficient and convenient act of seasoning your delicious cob of sweet corn by rubbing it around in a tray full of butter.<br /><br />I could write fifty pages a day for the rest of my life, and not cover all the innuendo you could derive from just... that... picture. I leave the final word on the subject to my Bride, who, settled at our picnic table afterward, thanked me for not being "That Guy."<br /><br />"What do you mean?" I asked, bewildered.<br /><br />She replied, "Thank you for not going up there and saying something like, 'Hey Baby, ya wanna lube my cob?'"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/cornporn.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/cornporn.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The fair offers up a lot of local, currently fashionable crafty booths for your shopping pleasure, the usual retinue of carnival rides and food alongside the food offerings by local civic and fraternal groups. After stuffing ourselves on corn, we both wound up indulging in a post-corn snack, corn-dog for me (it's an addiction) and fried cheese for my Bride. We also treated ourselves to some <a href="http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail73.swf">Real Fruit Smoothies</a>. Honestly, we didn't need the fair food to make it a fun day and I left wondering what kind of freaks go to a Corn Festival and DON'T eat corn.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-1016758592907090762008-08-12T19:37:00.000-07:002008-08-12T19:46:45.211-07:00A Well Done Repast...Quite often, I have found myself wishing, “Why couldn't I have been born Rich instead of Beautiful?”. Despite my stunning callipygian <span style="font-size:100%;">physique</span>, I am often found wanting for those nice stacks of hundreds that others use to heat their houses with.<br /><br />Though, honestly, I don't ever want to be “Rich”. Rich, to me, sounds frightening. From everything I've ever been able to see, it makes people crazy, and not the normal kind of crazy, a contagious crazy that affects them and is transmitted to the people close to them. Very few I have seen have been able to resist this virulent strain of silly and my hat is off to them. Me, I'd rather not take the chance.<br /><br />As such, I have made it a lifelong project to seek out the best in life with little or no price tag. They say the best things in life are free... that's somewhat true. Sitting around, laughing with a group of friends after a long hard day at work is a very, very satisfying feeling. Doing so while whipping across the water in a million dollar yacht is probably more fun... or so I suspect. But it's not so much more that I feel like I'm missing out. In the strange, analytical lobe of my brain, I figure it breaks down :Me (50%) + Friends (25%) + Beer (10%) + Hard Days Work (10%) = 95% of the fun. Environment and amenities add about 5% onto that equation. Let's be honest here, even a yacht can't make up for crappy beer.<br /><br />I offer up, as proof of this equation, my dinner last night. After a long, crappy weekend full of disappointments, my Bride and I got a last minute call from our friend Corrie who was in town and floated the idea of dinner.<br /><br />Shouldn't go, should save money....<br /><br />Bugger it, crappy weekend.<br /><br />Elements Of A Good Dinner Out With Friends.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />1.Everyone must be in the mood for or have the need for a Good Time.</span><br />Ulterior Motives are such ugly things. There is no networking, there is no kibitzing, there is no feuding or fuming. Open heart, open mind, loosen collar, crack knuckles, focus on nothing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. Good Food and an Appetite. </span><br />This is not the time for your diet. If you are going to cheat, do not cheat at 3:00am in front of the fridge where it benefits no one but you. Save your splurge for Right Now. Order by taste, order by what sounds good, what's your favorite, what you are dying to try, just don't order with calories or carbs or fat or appearance in mind. Order too much and take home leftovers, they will make you happy the next day with good memories. Also, this is not the time for fussy, fancy food. The food should be mutually accessible and non-threatening. Taking the fussy eater out for sushi is a buzz-kill. Last night we ate Russian at our favorite local eatery <a href="http://www.thedailypage.com/isthmus/article.php?article=5428">Arbat</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Liquor</span><br />I have a rant building that will explore the evils and goods of sweet, sweet alcohol. For now, let us say that I am a big believer in the social lubricating powers of a modest amount of hooch. To drink and to be a little buzzed is a pleasure. It's a pleasant, legal euphoria that one deserves from time to time as reward for hard work and BDW (Bullshit Dealt With). So long as it handled responsibly, a few cold beers are a balm to the soul. Last night we drank Baltika #2 and our mandatory shots of Vodka (it was a Russian restaurant after all).<br /><br />If you follow these simple guidelines, you will be blessed with a night much like mine. Laughter, both at ourselves and others, expressions of admiration and regard, relaxation, happiness. It's sweet, it's fleeting, but it made my weekend.<br /><br />There is no palace on earth, no four stared chef, no yacht big enough or venue fancy enough to improve upon three friends, sitting around a tiny Russian restaurant, drinking cheap Russian beer, eating Pelmeni and telling dick jokes.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-74872422028365836402008-08-10T14:38:00.000-07:002008-08-10T14:40:25.853-07:00Citius, Altius, Fortius.It is sometimes hard for a thinking human to keep their faith. As humans, we have a built in survival-based compulsion to focus on the negative aspects of life. We lap up headlines about murders, violence and tragedy and our media happily responds with more and more because, hey, it sells papers and advertising. So often do we hear such negative information that a saturation point is quickly reached (usually about the late teens) where we start thinking that the whole world is nothing but a sea of horror and bloodshed. People sometimes wallow in this cynicism and ennui for the rest of their lives. <br /><br />The greater tragedy is that they sometimes grow to like their little shells of cynicism. Hope takes effort and risks disappointment, something they fear they cannot stomach again. But in order to ignore hope, they must ignore the thousands of small victories and small blessings going on around them every day. <br /><br />In a city of 400,000 people such as I live in, on any one day in 6 months their might be a murder. Though the tragedy of this cannot be summed in words, the greater tragedy is to ignore the 399,999 other people who didn't die. People who raised children, loved one another, earned some money, built some stuff, fixed things, created things, believed in things or just held their shit together for one... more... day. Do these little victories mean nothing? How short we sell our wonderful world to dismiss this collective victory as insignificant. <br /><br />People are far too ready to believe that everyone is selfish, the world is doomed, and that there are no good people in the world. <br /><br />But today, this week, it's a little harder to do that. <br /><br />I am a round-heeled pushover for the Olympics. Whatever you may think about the origins of the symbolism, the inevitable politics that go along with any endeavor of this size, or the attitudes of some of the participants, there are so many participants and organizers who so obviously believe in the Olympic creed and Olympic ideal that it warms the heart. I sat, watching misty-eyed as the Parade of Nations, some nations with a smaller population than the seating capacity of the Olympic stadium, marched past, smiling and waving, proudly holding their flag, their symbol of national and cultural pride aloft. <br /><br />In a time when the global market is a-changin', when the UN is floundering and alliances are shifting rapidly, the Olympics are going strong. More and more smaller countries are amping up for a hosting bid. Cities like Lima and Baku in Azerbaijan, Delhi (which will hopefully spur the India Olympic movement as a country of over 1,132,446,000 people only fielded a team of 57 athletes for 302 events) and Rio de Janeiro, the darkhorse candidate for the 2016 Olympics siting the fact that South America has NEVER hosted an Olympics, ever. They've got me cheering for their bid over Chicago's bid, even thought that would be Teh Awesome. <br /><br />Even though I do, strongly believe that the concept of “Nations” is outdated and often dangerous while we are all, quite obviously, residents of the same, small, fragile blue marble floating through an unfriendly vaccum, it's fun to watch people's shift, split and mingle allegiances during these games. I've got friends who are cheering for Canada, Great Britain, Ireland, Thailand, Vietnam, Japan, Mexico, Spain and so on. I myself shall be cheering for the U.S. (obviously), France, China, Ghana, Great Britain, Ireland and any small country that hasn't won a medal yet. Especially Micronesia and Lichtenstein. <br /><br />The Olympics might not be perfect, but it's a reflection of us. Humanity is not perfect, but we're all trying to be better. We're trying to live up to our ideals and though we may not make it 100% of the time, we keep trying. We deserve credit, we deserve hope and we deserve a little satisfaction for those little victories. Maybe if we recognize our successes, it makes it easier to keep trying. Yes this is corny, but for today, for this week, I dare ya to believe it. <br /><br />Citius, Altius, Fortius.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-77832258209533735522008-06-20T00:23:00.000-07:002008-06-20T10:55:52.573-07:00The Fat TalkI'm fat.<br /><br />No, really, it's true.<br /><br />I've always been a big eater. When I was a kid, my Mom used the old Mom line "you must have a hollow leg!" a number of times and when I was a kid, this presented no problem. I spent my childhood on the back of a bicycle. As soon as I was able, I rode everywhere on my bike. I once rode from <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=Beaver+Dam,+WI&ie=UTF8&ll=43.468868,-88.830299&spn=0.103404,0.210114&z=12">Beaver Dam</a> to <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=Waupun,+WI&ie=UTF8&ll=43.64092,-88.734169&spn=0.048449,0.105057&z=13">Waupun</a> one afternoon, on a whim. Hiking, biking, swimming, climbing... anything outdoorsy.<br /><br />But... as I grew older, I spent more and more time with my computer, more time exploring academic interests, less and less time with activities. After High School I began a slow, steady... inflation. Very slowly at first. I had a factory job to start with, it kept me moving and on my feet. Later, as I started to assume more office duties and finally got myself into a design job, my ass started to spread. The kiss of death came with I took a call center position. Eight hours a day of sitting on my ass. I'm not sure, but I think I've put on over 100 pounds in the last two years.<br /><br />Now, I'm never going to be "thin". I've never considered myself good looking. My face is a riot of conflicting genetics that did <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> reach an harmonious balance, but this doesn't mean I don't like the way I look. My face is very expressive, I've got nice eyes and I can do that Mr. Spock thing with my eyebrows. It's an unfortunate trend that good-looking people tend to get a little lazy about their personality and attitude. It's not flattering. So many people are seemingly willing to put up with soooo much from them because they are easy on the eyes that they are quite often a little vapid, boorish or out and out abrasive. Me, I've got no choice but to charm people with my personality. I've worked very hard at being well spoken and clever, so I think that more than makes up for my awkward appearance. I like to think that, like a good Gourmet, I'll always be a little thick around the middle, a little jolly tummy. I think it makes me less threatening, people relax a little more, which speeds me on my way to getting to know people. <br /><br />However, I have now proceeded beyond "A little thick", beyond "A Lot Thick" and straight into "Too Thick". I know this for many reasons. <br /><br />I know this because it's becoming harder to find cool clothes. No more funny t-shirts for me, those bad boys stopped at 3x (if I was lucky). <br /><br />I know this because I have developed wicked high blood pressure. Yes I'm controlling it with medication but I never, ever wanted to become one of those people that needs pills on a daily basis. What am I going to do if the Zombies invade? They aren't about to let me run to the Pharmacy!<br /><br />I know this because I'm starting to feel... handicapped. I can't walk the distances that I used to. My mobility is really starting to suffer. I've never considered that there was any physical activity that I couldn't do and now I'm being confronted by the fact that some things have quietly slipped out of my reach while I was at the buffet. <br /><br />I know this because, over the last couple years, I've started to get... The Fat Talk.<br /><br />It comes at odd moments, but usually when I haven't seen people for extended periods. I suspect they are shocked and dismayed by how much I've ballooned up and feel the need to say something. I got it from our in-laws. I've got it from a few old friends... and I'm always torn about how to feel and/or respond to them. <br /><br />I know it's based on concern and it's flattering, gratifying, heart-warming and sweet. But what inevitably goes along with The Fat Talk is The Diet Advice... which I don't feel as charitable about.<br /><br />What I should eat, what I shouldn't eat. How to eat low fat, how to eat low carb. You should try Atkins, you should try South Beach, you should cut out soda, you should cut out meat, you should cut out bread, eat more veggies, yogurt, drink more water... blah blah blah. The basic assumption here seems to be that I don't know <span style="font-style:italic;">how</span> to loose weight, otherwise I would have already done so.<br /><br />How in the world can I explain to people that I own over 100 cook books, many of them diet books? How can I explain that I watch cooking shows compulsively, that I read food magazines, read Foodie websites and that I KNOW all the facts about food? How to tell them that I know all the tricks to eating healthy? Do they understand that I can make an awesome low fat cream sauce with a quarter of the fat, and all of it unsaturated, that is so good it'll make you want to slap your Mama? <br /><br />How can I explain that for me, food has always been entertainment? That an afternoon sitting on the couch, watching TV, is boring but a bowl of buttery popcorn makes it a treat? <br /><br />How can I explain that my Mom sucks at comforting people? She's not particularly expressive and tends to get nervous, stumble over her words and say the wrong thing... so she switched from talking to cooking when comfort was needed. That my Mom's fried egg sandwich with cheese is my Death Row dish... that nothing else means love and comfort to me like it does? That food, comfort and home are synonymous with safety and security in the deep core of my brain?<br /><br />How can I explain the number of times that I've <span style="font-style:italic;">started</span> a new diet, a new exercise regime, a new plan, a new day... only to fail, again and again till you get sick of yourself, you loose confidence, you realize how little self control you actually have and you start to dislike yourself for it?<br /><br />I know I'm not healthy. I know that what I have been doing to my body is tantamount to a slow and lazy form of suicide. Like an alcoholic, I'm killing myself by inches, but this is something so wired into my brain, so fundamental to my nature that it's like teaching a scorpion not to sting. <br /><br />Part of the battle over the last year has been realizing and defining what my relationship with food is. Realizing that in order to get this under control I need to change the fundamental approach and start as far down twords the foundation as it is possible to go. It's not easy. Doing this without blaming yourself, without adding to the self-loathing that is threatening to creep in is hard. I can't explain, dear reader, the battle that is being waged in my head, you wouldn't understand. <br /><br />I feel like I should wrap this little post up with a ray of hope. Some indication that this sad tale might have a happy ending or that this situation is on the mend... but that feels wrong. You cannot speak of the end of a battle when it has just begun, it's presumptuous. It would demand powers of foresight neither I, nor anyone else has. Only this comfort can I give, that the battle is joined and no surrender with be sought. <br /><br />Tally Ho.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-74225341264995964842008-05-21T14:27:00.000-07:002008-05-21T14:31:54.003-07:00Pillow Fight!Since I've already sullied myself by trafficking in viral videos, here's some more...<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jSbb9U6GPXE&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jSbb9U6GPXE&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />This one has the advantage of my favorite Charles Trenet song "Boum!"... what can I say, I'm feeling very French today.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-28724329410954998842008-05-16T00:12:00.001-07:002008-05-16T01:00:01.347-07:00Cambot, give me rocket number 9...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Cambot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Cambot.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I don't know if you noticed, Gentle Reader, but some of the earlier pictures I posted on this blog... sucked. Sucked like hull breach at Warp 9.<br /><br />You see, somewhere along the way, a few months ago, I started thinking to myself that it would be nice to have a digital camera. Beenie has a digital camera, and I have borrowed it on occasion, it's nice. By happenstance and serendipity, my sweet Mom-in-law got herself a digital camera from one of her many sale shopping forays. It was an <a href="http://www.svp-tech.com/dsc.htm">SVP DC-8690</a>. Never heard of them? Neither have I.<br /><br />Due to the complete lack of included manual and her less than complete knowledge of modern electronics equipment, she couldn't figure out how to make it work. So Beenie chimed in that if Mom didn't want it, she'd take it. So, Mom brought it with during her last visit and Beenie made a valiant stab at getting it to work... which she failed at horribly.<br /><br />So the sucker got passed to me. Hey! 8mp camera? Hells yeah I'll take that off your hands.<br /><br />I'm a gadget kinda guy, not even counting where I work and what I do for a living, so it took me about 5 minutes to figure out how to make it work. 5 minutes to figure out the features, the settings, the flash, where to put the memory card, how to set the timer... I even figured out how to turn it into a PC camera.<br /><br />I spent the next month trying to figure out how the flippin' hell to get it to take a decent picture. Dark and blurry baby, that's just how we roll. Every damn picture I took looked like I was in a Noir piece and oscillating about 65rpm.<br /><br />This lasted right up to my recent trip to Picnic Point to see the Morris Dancers. You may notice that the pictures I took there do not suck. This is because, after trying desperately to take ONE decent picture during the first dance, dearest Lisa (who eats paste) handed me her shiny <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Canon-PowerShot-SD1000-Digital-Optical/dp/B000NK8EWI/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=electronics&qid=1210924658&sr=8-1">Canon Powershot</a> camera to use instead.<br /><br />I imagine that this is how you would feel if you had just spent the last 12 hours rubbing sticks together and someone hands you a Zippo.<br /><br />It was all too much to bear. I couldn't go back to that crappy camera afterwards. I lusted after it, I dreamed about it, I fantasized about taking frame after frame of decent quality pictures. So finally, with a little budget dancing, I bought one. After dealing with a little muck up on Amazon's part, I bid you greet my new little Blogging helper whom I shall call <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cambot">Cambot</a>.<br /><br />This is all just in time for me to correct the FAILure of my previous post. Fisherman's stew it was again tonight, so let us do it again, this time with pictures...<br /><br />First, we fry up our fish...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/FishermanSoup1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/FishermanSoup1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Golden brown and delicious. Then we make a mass supply of crouton out of some nice Turano bread...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/FishermanSoup2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/FishermanSoup2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />We mix, we season, we give it a good spin with the boat motor and finally...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/FishermanSoup3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/FishermanSoup3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />... Voilà! I have food porn!<br /><br />Hmmm... Man, plus Blog, plus <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Canon-PowerShot-SD1000-Digital-Optical/dp/B000NK8EWI/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=electronics&qid=1210924658&sr=8-1">Elph</a>, plus web hosting... this is going to get very... graphic.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-7109476491912725452008-05-11T19:38:00.000-07:002008-05-11T20:29:45.119-07:00Food Porn: FAILGhenne over at <a href="http://thecuttingedgeofordinary.blogspot.com/">The Cutting Edge of Ordinary</a> always has the best <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Food+Porn">food porn</a>. It makes me feel like a pathetic foodie cause I haven't been cooking as much as I should be lately.<br /><br />But tonight was different. I get my inspirations from a lot of different places and tonight I was trying to reproduce something I saw on an episode of <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/show_tb/episode/0,1976,FOOD_9996_20178,00.html">Cook's Tour</a>, a fisherman's soup that involved purée'd fish, cream, a shot of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pernod_Ricard">Pernod</a> and a variety of toppings like fresh garlic croutons and gruyere cheese.<br /><br />Our local <a href="http://www.madseafood.com/">seafood</a> shop, as such a shop is quite firmly positioned to do, makes it's own seafood stock out of shrimp shells and fish bones. At 2 dollars a pint, it's a very nice local foodie resource. Now if only other local meat suppliers would do as much (hint, hint <a href="http://www.jacobsonbrosdeli.com/">Jacobson Brothers</a>). So I picked up a few pints of stock with some potatoes, albacore tuna, chives and garlic at <a href="http://www.willystreet.coop/">Willy Street</a>.<br /><br />It's actually a pretty easy soup to put together. I grilled the fish, warmed the stock, made my croutons with some slices of dense crusty bread brushed with butter, olive oil and crushed garlic, seasoned my stock with salt and white pepper (for the look), added three small diced potatoes and my chunks of fish (when they had finished grilling up GB&D), then I took the boat motor to the lot of it. Afterwards, I added a small shot of half and half. What you are left with is a very nice, thick, slightly gritty soup (the fish never quite purées all the way). I got stuck pondering the seasoning at the end. Salt and pepper added, it still needed that mysterious... something.<br /><br />I would normally have reached for my trusty can of <a href="http://www.oldbay.com/">Old Bay</a> at this point but for two things stopped me. 1. That's not what the original recipe called for and 2. <a href="http://www.pithytitle.blogspot.com/">Beenie</a> doesn't like Old Bay. I started eying up that shot of Pernod.<br /><br />Pernod is a anise tasting <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pastis">pastis</a> that is consumed on hot days, sitting outside at a cafe, mixed with ice water. Think of it like a liquorice iced tea with alcohol. I suspect it wound up in dishes like fisherman's stew because of it's pervasive presence at just about every restaurant and cafe in France. Sooner or later, some Chef (probably plastered on that very product) threw some in his soup for the hell of it and liked the result.<br /><br />Riding the indecision pony, I finally decided to give it a shot and made up a test batch in a coffee cup. I only added a little dribble, swirled it around the cup a few times and poured it out before adding a ladle full of soup. The Penod smell was so overpowering that I couldn't taste the soup through the smell for the first two bites. Finally my nose settled down and I managed to concentrate. It's different. Anise is peppery and kind of exotic tasting. It made an interesting undernote to the soup and seemed to complete the dish in a somewhat obtuse way. I wound up adding a cap full to the final pot, in retrospect, I probably could have thrown in a whole ounce.<br /><br />The final product looked <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> good. Big bowl of creamy soup with a few toasted croutons floating on top with some shredded gruyere cheese and some snipped chives to garnish. I served it with a big pile of croutons and extra cheese to add as you went along. It was BEAUTIFUL.<br /><br />I remembered about halfway through my bowl that I wanted to take a picture.<br /><br />Fuck.<br /><br />Soooo... you'll have to trust me that it was mighty. Beenie is half passed out on the love seat after finishing her bowl. This one definitely goes on the "do it again" list.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-67923067709449091762008-05-06T16:44:00.000-07:002008-05-06T16:47:18.717-07:00I love the whole world... boom de yadda, boom de yadda...<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8ZPTryHq3ag&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8ZPTryHq3ag&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-55149611147327395272008-05-01T23:21:00.000-07:002008-05-02T06:39:45.013-07:00It is now, officially, Spring.Fair reader, let it be know that it is officially Spring. The Morris has been danced.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris1.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It is almost impossible to explain to someone why I woke up at 3:30am this morning, dressed silently and slipped out of the house in the pre-dawn dark to drive out to <a href="http://lakeshorepreserve.wisc.edu/visit/picnicpoint.htm">Picnic Point</a> with my old friend Lisa (who eats paste), where we hiked for 20 minutes through the twilight just to watch a "silly" folk dance. Trust me, I've tried. I took almost devilish delight in making my strange explanations to friends and co-workers just so I could see the odd, dumbfounded look on their faces. "You're gonna do what? Why? What kind of dancing?"<br /><br />In case you are wondering, and I know you are, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hSa50uLSwk">Morris Dancing</a> is a folk dance that was old when Shakespeare was still writing. It involves a "side" of six dancers whose dances are performed with oak sticks that they beat together in rhythm or long white handkerchiefs that they wave about as they go. The best part, however, are the bells they wear strapped below their knees which jingle in time with their steps. It's rather comforting to know that when you attend these events, you will never have to worry about a Morris Dancer sneaking up on you. Traditionally, the most important dance of the year is done at sunrise on May 1st, the old first day of Spring. If the Morris is not danced and if nobody is there to watch it, Spring will not come. This is very true.<br /><br />I am a reasonable man and an empiricist. I believe in truth, fact and evidence, but I also believe that if the Morris is not danced, and someone is not there to watch it, the seasons will not change. I believe this because their has to be an exception to the rule. I believe this because everyone should believe in something that isn't true, if for no other reason than as an exercise. I believe this because "A little madness in the spring is wholesome even for the King." I believe this because cynical bastards are inevitably drawn to whimsy and absurdity to ease their soul.<br /><br />I'm not a particularly big fan of folk dancing. I'm a big fan of folk music, but not dancing. I am, however a big fan of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_Pratchett">Terry Pratchett</a>, whom I consider something of a inspiration and teacher. I am particularly a big fan of his books <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reaper_Man">Reaper Man</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wintersmith">Wintersmith</a>, in which Morris dancing feature quite prominently. I have also been know to have custom with some of the more benevolent Old Gods when it suited my purpose and I do believe that respect should be paid. While I am nominally a philosophical Taoist, I think that all agrarian religions should stick together somewhat and I do consider myself a "pagan" under the blanket term. Besides, I love a good party and I've been wanting to drag my ass to a May 1st morning Morris dance since I first found out about <a href="http://www.oakapplemorris.org/">Oakapple Morris</a> five years ago. Now that I live in Madison, I figured I really have no excuses.<br /><br />After a few wrong turns and a quick, lakeside cartographic consult, we found the parking lot and spotted Morris Dancers in their spring plumage heading up a darkened path. We grabbed our flashlights and with my trusty <a href="http://www.kinglaoghaire.com/site/lyrics/song_301.html">walking stick</a>, we headed up the path onto Picnic Point.<br /><br />After about 20 minutes of hiking and a few breathless moments we arrived at the end of the point to find folks already gathering and a fire already burning in the ring. It's right about there that I started wishing I'd brought some bakery items to share.<br /><br />We were greeted warmly by Oakapple's accordion player and her ever-so-lovable puppy Angel. We spent a few minutes talking to everyone as we waited for the sun to rise. Somewhere in there, Lisa (who eats paste) got talked into keeping a leash on Angel. Hardly a horrible task for such a sweet puppy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris3.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />There is something really rather gratifying about being up that early in the morning. I've always been a sunrise person (though more from working on third shift than anything) and you could not ask for a more beautiful setting than a tiny spit of land, out in the middle of a beautiful lake, campfire burning, sun rising, a beautiful panorama of the capitol buildings in the background.<br /><br />Finally, at the appropriate time, the dancing began.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris9.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris9.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There is something so wonderfully absurd about Morris dancing. What can you say about a dance that incorporates such characters as the "Fool" or "Betty", which is a big hairy guy wearing a lovely pink dress...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris2.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />.. who danced his way back...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris4.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />...and forth through the dancers without getting smacked by a big oak stick,<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris%205.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris%205.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />... and a "Hobby", which is usually a horse but, given that this is Wisconsin, around here, it's a cow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris6.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris6.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I have always suspected that it's so much more fun to DO than to watch. But it's the absurdity of the whole affair that drew everyone together. "Here we stand, in the cold, at 5:30 in the morning, watching a bunch of people with bells on, waving handkerchiefs in the air." It's at that point that you realize that there is NO WAY for you to look cool doing this, so you stop trying, relax and enjoy yourself all the more for it. The funny part was watching the morning joggers running up the path, into the clearing, looking around with a puzzled expression and running right back out again.<br /><br />After the side had completed their performance and received their meet of applause, we settled in for the traditional May 1st activity of gilding the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maypole">Maypole</a> (with reminders by me of what a Maypole supposedly represents, I just can't help myself, I'm 12.)...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris7.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris7.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />... with musical accompaniment.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris8.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/morris8.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Afterwards we gathered around the fire for some traditional semi-bawdy folk songs and the burning of the "winter witch" as our symbolic last goodbyes to Winter. Then we headed out, having earned, as it were, our breakfast.<br /><br />On the way home, denied my breakfast companion by the cruel march of time and the demands of corporate America, I stopped off for a breakfast bun and a bottle of juice before returning home and seeking my bed. As I walked across the parking lot, I couldn't help but be drawn to the sound of birds chirping. It seemed the sun shined a little brighter, the air was a little sweeter and the breeze a little warmer. Inside, I had to stand behind some poor, hectic executroid who was stressing about the dietary content of his decaf macchiato. I had this terrible urge to drag him outside, point at the sky and remind him... It's SPRING. Relax. Take the day off. Go fishing, go hiking, go sit in the grass with a six-pack and get drunk.<br /><br />It's Spring, after a long winter, and today the world is full of potential.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-80839955872107485872008-04-25T10:46:00.000-07:002008-04-25T11:08:09.603-07:00Can't stop the signal...Okay, that's enough of the foodie doom-and-gloom prophecies. Let us return to lighter fare.<br /><br />Speaking of fare. May I present to you with my newest culinary creation.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Concoction.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Concoction.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Creamy Satay Ramen with Tea Marinated Hardboiled Eggs<br /></span><br /> Ingredients:<br /><ul><li>1 package Ramen Noodles</li><li>2 Tbls Peanut Butter</li><li>2 Tbls Evaporated Milk</li><li>1 Can of French Cut Green Beans</li><li>2 Tea Bags</li><li>1 Egg</li><li>Salt</li><li>Hot Sauce</li></ul>Bring approximately 3 cups of water to boil in small saucepan. Add teabags and several healthy pinches of kosher salt. Leave teabags steep for 2 minutes and remove. Gently place hard boiled egg into boiling tea and leave for 3 minutes. After three minutes, remove from heat, place egg on counter and allow to cool. Reserve boiling liquid in screw top container. Once egg has cooled, peel and return to cooled tea. Marinate egg in tea for 8 hours.<br /><br />When ready, bring two cups of water to boil. Add 1 pack Ramen noodles. Boil until soft and add included flavor packet. Cook for one more minute and remove from heat. Add 2 tablespoons of peanut butter and stir until melted. Add 2 tablespoons of condensed milk. Open can of green beans and drain. Pat dry with paper towel and place on small pan in toaster oven for 5 minutes or until lightly roasted. Add beans to noodles and stir to combine. Split tea marinated hard boiled egg and place on top. Add hot sauce... liberally.<br /><br />Take picture. Eat while playing Stronghold: Crusader.<br /><br />How does it taste you ask? Not bad actually. Apart from the lack of coco-nutty aspect, it tasted pretty much like satay sauce. The eggs didn't absorb as much flavor as I'd have hoped but the were salty and tangy and not bad.<br /><br />Why you ask? Because while I did not have any weird food cravings this week, I've been dying to COOK SOMETHING. I'm a foodie, gawds damn it, and puttering around in the kitchen is one of my chief pleasures. Can't stop the signal Mal, can't stop the signal.<br /><br />I expect to receive my <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michelin_Guide">Michelin</a> star any day now.<br /><br />-Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-49964176601005830552008-04-24T10:35:00.001-07:002008-04-24T11:35:51.217-07:00Many hands make light work...One of the things that I have always wholly believed is that with the right tools and preparation, one <span style="font-style: italic;">could</span> feed oneself very, very cheaply with the offset of some effort and planning.<br /><br />Let us take our two dollar budgie here as an example. 10 dollars a week. Okay, maybe for the first week I live on Ramen and hot dogs and manage to squirrel away two dollars. Next week, as annoying as it is, I do the same. Eventually I have the $4/$4.50 necessary to buy a small fryer chicken. I throw that bad boy in the stock pot and make a basic chicken stock. I meet out the meat from the bird in, as Dana puts it, chicken McNugget sized portions, just enough to add a few shots to my Ramen. This might last me a week, saves me from having to buy eggs to put in my Ramen so I spend some money on in-season fruit, past it's prime, at the Farmer's market. I take it home, oven dry it and make it last for a few weeks.<br /><br />Let's extrapolate further. Let's assume that I actually have some start-up capitol to set up housekeeping. I buy pickling jars and a pickling crock. I buy canning equipment and a pressure cooker for storing long term. I set up one of <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/recipes/recipe/0,1977,FOOD_9936_31151,00.html">AB's drying rigs</a>. I have enough land for a large kitchen garden and the skills necessary to take my once-a-year surplus of fresh veggies and turn it into canned goodness I can eat off all year.<br /><br />You can go further than this. Maybe I live out in the country and I have enough room for a small chicken coop. Maybe I've got a .22 and a keen enough eye to bag a rabbit on occasion. Maybe I've got enough firepower to go deer-hunting and part of my initial purchases included a chest freezer. I've got meat for a long, long time if I bag a deer or two every year. Maybe I've got enough land to raise goats, or sheep, or cows, or corn. Maybe I've got a sustenance farm and other than the occasional outlay for exotics (assuming I can't trade for them), I spend Sweet <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=fanny+adams">Fanny Adams</a> on food.<br /><br />In the opposite direction, I've been doing my eating this week with the understanding at the outset that I can boil my water, toast my bread and store my food without risk of spoilage. How would my diet have changed if I didn't have a fridge?<br /><br />I don't think I'd be eating hot dogs as they'd probably be a little funky by now. My eggs would no doubt be a little suspect as well before the end of the week. Maybe if, like many less developed countries, I had a market I could go to where the food was fresh, sold out daily and able to be purchased in small quantities. I.E. Can I have one egg and two crap hot dogs to go please?<br /><br />In this country though, we don't have that. You <span style="font-style: italic;">must</span> have a fridge, don't you? Even a little one? My local big box has got a tiny 1.7 cubic fridge for $59.00.<br /><br />Ever been on vacation and walked though a <span style="font-style: italic;">quaint </span><a href="http://www.alpha-random.com/pics/vietnam-food-market.jpg">food market</a> where they have their food in stacks. Know why they are like that? Because either they have no refrigeration or they do and none of their clients do. We forget what a financial boon having a refrigerator is. Compared to a lot of places, everything in America comes in bulk and if you've ever taken a finance class, you know, it's always cheaper to buy in bulk.<br /><br />But let's go further than that. I did my shopping this week with the understanding that I'd have a stove to cook on. Not only a stove, but a fancy toaster oven to toast my bread when plain PB&J got dull.<br /><br />How would my diet have changed when I had no place to cook? No ramen, no eggs (unless I wanted to pull a Rocky Balboa and drink em' raw... blech). I could still have my PB&J, unless I had no fridge then that jam might not last to long. I'd probably be living out of a can, eating pork and beans with a spoon. Even then I'm counting on the fact that while I did not have a stove to release the caloric content of my food, the canning company did.<br /><br />Of course, I could always light a fire but it'd have to be outside, no fireplace. It's also illegal to light a fire outside just about everywhere in Madison, so I'd be pretty screwed. I can see it now, huddled over a campfire, pot in hand, Ramen in the other, busted like Benjamin Bunny. Only man every arrested for Ramen heating.<br /><br />This, of course, leads me to wonder how homeless people eat. I've been in Taco Bell on State Street when one of the <a href="http://www.inside-voices.com/">Family</a> came in with cup full of change to cash out for the evening. He walked out with a pretty decent haul, couple bean burritos, a few tacos and a big cold soda that he made his first order of business and walked out happily slurping on. Probably cost him two or three dollars.<br /><br />In our country, we've got mass marketing, mass production and mass distribution to keep the price low. How is Ramen so cheap? Because they make millions of packs every day in totally automated plants and are tied into the global food distribution market. Every grocery store, even the ethnic groceries, carries Ramen. It's a staple. It has to be there. How is McMeat so cheap? Says it on the sign when you drive in, over one Trillion sold.<br /><br />What you spend on food is highly dependent on where you come from and what resources you have available to you. In America, we've got a lot of resources and for many, many reasons, both good and bad, we should be aware of our surroundings. What lies beneath us, in support and what lies before us... in wait.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-78357430277062591562008-04-22T23:11:00.000-07:002008-04-22T23:44:13.687-07:00Day 1 down the hatch...{burp}This is not hard. Nor is it by any means starvation rations. It is, however, boring.<br /><br />I started out the day with a big bowl of oatmeal. Big, big I tells ya. 1 cup of dry weight oatmeal, a shot of evaporated milk mixed in with the water and I got about 3 cups of oatmeal in return.<br /><br />It was bland, it was nasty and the texture sucked. I'm so used to my lovely <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/recipes/recipe/0,1977,FOOD_9936_17138,00.html">Overnight Oatmeal</a> that these bland flakes were a pretty nasty shock. Ah well, I threw some sugar and some of my strawberry jam in the bowl and I managed to choke down about half the bowl.<br /><br />Before leaving for work, I scarfed down both my hot dogs and buns, mostly because I was running late and it didn't require much cooking. Unfortunately, I forgot to add some kind of mustard to my shopping list and was stuck eating plain hot dogs... blech.<br /><br />I ate my apple at work and when I got home I didn't even try to eat TWO packs of Ramen. One pack, egg and flavor pack added and I'm happily full.<br /><br />This is too much food. It's bland but it's not tasteless. My oatmeal isn't as good as I'm used to but it's still oatmeal, just more than I'm used to eating. I'm used to eating my favorite <a href="http://www.hebrewnational.com/pages/products/franks/reduced_franks.jsp">Hebrew National</a> dogs. My .99 cent dogs still tasted like hot dogs, just not as much. Ramen is still Ramen and it's not a punishment to have to eat a bowl of deep fried noodles with an egg mixed in.<br /><br />It makes me wonder about how much we pay for our food. I know there is probably a huge difference in overall quality between my .99 cent loaf of bread and the whole grain white I'm used to buying. You can feel it when you pick up the loaf. It's mostly air. But how many other items that we buy are artificially increased in price? We live in a free market society and while I'd like to think that food companies charge what the food it worth, I know better. Companies charge what the market will bear and they do plenty of research to find out what that number is.<br /><br />A lot of people I know are full bore into the Organic movement. They think that eating foods with an Organic label on them is going to keep them healthy and live longer. They will happily shell out 25-40% more for an item that is "Organic".<br /><br />Me, I think the trick is to keep your ingredient list down. My bread should contain flour, yeast maybe eggs, some water and salt. Nothing else if possible please. That is my idea of healthy.<br /><br />My Organic adherent friends would never be caught dead in places like Aldi. They'd mumble something about hormones, preservatives and chemicals. But things like, flour, eggs, sugar? Is it really so different across town at <a href="http://www.woodmans-food.com/">Woodman's</a>? Is organic flour, eggs and sugar really that much better for you, is it worth that much more?<br /><br />We live with a lot of superstitions about food and, like any fanciful flight away from reason, it makes me nervous. We can see a time now when our cornucopia may finally start to run dry. What would people do in this country? Would we cling blindly to our fears or finally, after many many years, take a more practical look at what we eat and where it comes from.<br /><br />To be honest, as bland as my food is, it think <a href="http://cookingatcafed.blogspot.com/">Dana's</a> suffering a lot more than I am. Plain white rice? Good lawrd. Drive on up girl, I'll split my Ramen with ya.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-6993607396125354152008-04-21T19:13:00.000-07:002008-04-21T20:47:09.168-07:00Why we have fat poor people...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/10dollarfood.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/10dollarfood.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>Breakfast:<br /><ul><li>10 Servings of Oatmeal (1 cup dry volume, 5 cup total) .57</li><li>1 can of Evaporated Milk .69</li><li>40 Tablespoons of Sugar .40</li><li>10 Teabags .22</li></ul>Lunch:<br /><ul><li>2 Hot dogs per day, 8 Hot dogs total (only 8 in a pack) .99</li><li>2 hot dog buns per day, 8 hot dog buns .75</li><li>1 loaf oat bran bread, 10 slices, one PB&J per day. .50</li><li>Store Brand PB, full jar $1.29, expect to use about half. .64</li><li>Strawberry Jam, $.99, expect to use about half, .99</li></ul>Dinner:<br /><ul><li>10 packs of Beef Ramen, 2 per day. 1.20</li><li>5 Eggs .54</li><li>3 cans green beans 1.17</li></ul>Snacks:<br /><ul><li>5 Apples 1.43</li></ul><span style="font-weight: bold;">Total Cost: $10.09 </span><br /><br />(I shall make up for the .09 by not eating a PB&J one day, or skipping some other food, there is to much anyway, read on.)<br /><br />Observation number 1: <a href="http://www.aldifoods.com/index_ENU_HTML.htm">Aldi</a> is CHEAP.<br /><br />Obviously the plan changed a little at the grocery store. I must have been quite the odd sight, wandering around the store with my notebook, calculator and pencil behind my ear. Occasionally uttering sotto voce expressions of delight or disbelief. Aldi knocked just about half the cost off my original shopping list. They did not have a very good selection but apparently you have to be there early to get a crack at the cheap white bread. They had about a dozen bread racks stacked up empty. At .50 cents a loaf, I suppose I'm not surprised. It was rather odd for me to actually be paying attention to the specific price of what I was buying. Around Casa Pari and Beenie, we usually do our shopping about once a week and we buy whatever is necessary. We've long ago weaned ourselves off of big ticket items, i.e. no steaks, no ducks and no fancy organic food. Since we buy only the cheap stuff, we don't really look at the prices. Like people who can cook, we buy a lot of raw ingredients and very little prepackaged food. I think I'll be eating more prepackaged food this week than I have in years.<br /><br />Observation 2: This was not hard.<br /><br />If I thought I could stomach a simpler diet, I could have easily gone down to a dollar a day. I wound up being so shocked at how cheap this all was that the thought struck me to see how <span style="font-style: italic;">much</span> food I could eat on $2 a day. So after a little menu re-work, I realized I could quite easily pile it on. I was worried about going hungry and now I'm thinking I'm going to have to add some time to my afternoon walk. Here's the caloric breakdown. Breakfast - Oats: 380, Sugar: 144. Lunch - 2 Hot dogs: 380 2 hot dog buns 220. Dinner - 2 Packs of Beef Ramen and one egg: 838 calories. Total: 1962 calories. You may also notice that I've got hot dogs AND PB&J for lunch. After buying everything else, I found out I had enough for a jar of PB, a jar of jelly and a loaf of fancy whole wheat bread at .99 cents. I'm also eating TWO packs of Ramen at night, a feat I've never accomplished before (that's a lot of damn noodles!).<br /><br />That's the basics, I didn't add the green beans and the apples. What concerns me about this kind of meal is the almost complete lack of fresh anything. I put apples and veg on as an afterthought, but the veg are canned green beans, not something you'd choose unless, like me, you were determined to have some vegetables in your diet. The apples were the most expensive thing on the menu at $1.43 for 5 apples. I think this illustrates, anecdotally but still, that a person of limited means in this country is probably not going to starve, but this kind of diet is not exactly the healthiest thing in the long run.<br /><br />I'm so not looking forward to eating this stuff all week. I have promised myself pie on Sunday.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-36107244789694428522008-04-18T10:48:00.000-07:002008-04-18T12:43:15.346-07:00Let's see Rachel do this trick...First off, if you're not already reading <a href="http://cookingatcafed.blogspot.com/">Cookin' at Cafe D</a>, you should be. Dana is a fellow <a href="http://goodeats.dyndns.org/">Briner</a>, and the kind of hardcore foodie that I aspire to be.<br /><br />Recently, Dana blogged about a challenge that had been put to her. Someone suggested that, in our country, where food is plentiful, it might be educational to see <a href="http://cookingatcafed.blogspot.com/2008/04/how-other-half-lives-eating-on-2-dayor.html">how the other half lives</a> by eating for a week on a poverty diet, specifically spending only $2 a day on food.<br /><br />Like a good Briner, Dana also posted about her concept on <a href="http://goodeats.dyndns.org/viewtopic.php?t=37580">the board</a> where it received the usual share of curiosity, skepticism and commentary. A general theme seems to be that this is not going to give one any piercing insight into the life of poverty stricken cultures due to the difference in overall economy, lifestyle and amenities. i.e. to get the full affect, strip down to a pair of ratty pants, bare feet, a ratty shirt, go sleep outside and beg for your $2 a day.<br /><br />I, however, am not quite that skeptical. I have an economical bone in my body. I think it's an interesting experiment in efficiency and penurious budgeting. I expect to gain some perspective on the nutritional content of a poverty diet and the price per calorie in this country right now.<br /><br />It also serves to give me a perspective on a very non-archetypal dietary regimen. In our country, we still lust after the kind of meals our parents and grandparents wanted. We want the big steak and potato meal and with todays food prices and distribution, even the moderately poor can afford some semblance of that kind of farmer/working man meal that was meant for people who were far more physically active than we are these days as a whole.<br /><br />Much of the rest of the world exists on the "Big pile o'starch/ little bit of flavoring" meal. Rice and fish, shrimp and grits, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fufu">Fufu</a> and stew, Polenta and sausage. Much lower fat, often much higher in fiber and very high in carbs.<br /><br />So I've decided to join Dana in her little culinary experiment. She's going to running from April 21–25 while I'm going to be running for my next working week: April 22-26th.<br /><br />Here are my parameters for the exercise:<br /><br />I will only eat $10 worth of food all week. This includes breakfast, lunch, dinner and any snacks. I will turn down any windfalls or office treats and consume ONLY what I have alloted. I will allow myself the use of two condiments, my trusty bottle of hot sauce and Kosher salt (though little should be needed).<br /><br />I'm going shopping on Monday for my supplies and I'm going to spend my $10 up front. I'm actually going to spend more than $10 in the long run because I can't get individual servings of some of the items. Example, I'm buying 1 dozen eggs but I'm only eating 5 of them. I'll provide pics of what $10 of food looks like.<br /><br />I've spent some time this afternoon doing some "pre-shopping" with <a href="http://www.peapod.com/">Peapod</a>. My initial menu is actually not to much of a stretch. I don't actually see myself getting that hungry in the long run.<br /><br />It's not horribly original though. For five days I'm going to be eating the same thing every day for breakfast, the same thing for lunch and the same thing for dinner. 3 meals for 5 days and honestly, that's being generous. There are cultures that only eat one food type, 3 meals a day, all the time with the occasional treat to break up the monotony.<br /><br />My diet will be (hopefully, I haven't shopped yet and I may have to change things on the fly):<br /><br />Breakfast: Tea, Sugar, Oatmeal w/ butter and sugar (There ya go Dana, no coffee but still get my caffeine)<br />Lunch: Peanut Butter Sandwiches.<br />Dinner: Ramen Noodles w/ egg and mixed vegetables.<br /><br />Price wise, using Peapods pricing. (which is high as I plan to buy this stuff at our local ethnic and <a href="http://www.aldifoods.com/index_ENU_HTML.htm">Aldi</a>.) Per Peapods pricing, I'm over by about $6 bucks. I'm hoping Aldi or Yueh Wah's is cheap enough to bring that down to ten or else things will have to be cut. Peapod does have a nice "price per unit" or "price per ounce" feature that lets you know what you get for your money and made conversion easier.<br /><br />So, my initial list looks like this:<br /><ul><li>5 teabags at .04 each - $.20</li><li>Quaker Old Fashioned Oats - $4.39 per can, 30 servings. I'll be eating 14 servings, or about 2 servings for breakfast. 14 servings means about $2.20 of oatmeal for breakfast.</li><li>5 Packages of Ramen Noodles .20 cents each - $1.00</li><li>1 loaf of cheap white bread. $1.09</li><li>1 jar of store brand peanut butter - $2.39</li><li>1 doz Eggs - $2.39, using 5 eggs - $1 (I'm cracking an egg into my Ramen noodles to add protein and calories.)</li><li>1 lb of butter $4 - using one stick - $1 (I'm throwing a tablespoon of butter into my oatmeal in the morning for extra calories)</li><li>2.69 for Sugar, using 30 tablespoons = $.54 (SUGAR ADDICT. 3 tablespoons in my tea, 3 tablespoons in my oatmeal)</li><li>Evaporated Milk, 12 oz can, $1.09 (Added to my oatmeal and perhaps to my tea).</li><li>5 Red Delicious Apples - $3.95 (I'm hoping Aldi has some cheap apples, this is where I start going over budget. I threw them in because, looking back, I realized I'd be facing scurvy if I extrapolated this base diet for over a month)</li><li>1 bag of frozen broccoli - $1.69 (Again, vitamin C, fiber, vitamins for adding to my bowl of Ramen.)</li></ul><br />Total at Peapod prices: $16.15<br /><br />Now the question becomes, can I bargain shop my way under $10.00?<br /><br />Some of these things, like the sugar, butter and evaporated milk may seem like unnecessary splurges to some. But I take umbrage with that. The food, <span style="font-style: italic;">has </span>to taste good. One may hear cries of "toughen up sucker, drink that tea plain, eat raw oatmeal ya big pansy" but that goes against the whole nature of cooking.<br /><br />For many, many centuries before the rise of the medical profession, the person who had the biggest day to day impact on your physical health was the person doing your cooking. Via boiling, roasting, frying or infusing, their talents in the kitchen or around the fire were the secret to unlocking the caloric and nutritional content of the food you ate. In an age when the majority of illnesses were either caused or exacerbated by malnutrition, whoever first figured out the use of calcium hydroxide to soften corn to nixtamal is probably one of the worlds greatest heroes. She probably saved BILLIONS from starvation with one little cooking trick.<br /><br />The cooks second big trick was to make food palatable. After a long hard day of work, you wanted your big strong boys to clean their plates. More calories taken in meant more energy that meant more work done tilling fields, building walls, digging wells and more security for the tribe, village, town or city. If all you've got to eat every day is a bland, starchy staple (which is pretty much what EVERY culture starts with), you get to the point where you are sick of it. Have you ever eaten unleavened bread plain? Or dry rice for every meal? Or sat and ate half a loaf of bread with no butter or other lubrication? It's dry, mealy and no matter how hungry you are, you get to the point where you just can't choke down another bite. If your cook can do something, ANYTHING to make that stuff taste a little better, you'll bless them and you'll probably eat more. In my mind, it's that trick that really invented cooking. It's what turned a plain pot of bland beans into sublime <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cassoulet">cassoulet</a>.<br /><br />So yes, my food has to taste good. If I'm stuck eating it and I have the means within my budget, I'm gonna do it.<br /><br />Rant gland temporarily spent, we return to the topic at hand.<br /><br />I shall keep you updated, sweet reader, as I go along. I imagine <a href="http://cookingatcafed.blogspot.com/">Dana's Blog</a> will also be updated with lots of tasty observations as she goes along.<br /><br />Already I'm looking forward to a big steak the Sunday after I finish.<br /><br /><br /><strong class="story" align="justify"></strong>Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-29338149412679265402008-04-14T17:17:00.000-07:002008-04-15T18:01:24.761-07:00Filling what is empty and emptying what is full...<span style="font-style: italic;"><br />When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough;<br />When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow;<br />When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air,<br />Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!</span><br />Excerpt from "The Ent and the Entwife", J.R.R. Tolkien<br /><br />There are few things better at blowing the winter cobwebs out of your head than a spring breeze and a fast flowing stream. I've been spending my last few Mondays, wandering through field and wood in an effort to raise my spirits through the cunning use of endorphins. Today I was lucky enough to spend walking through the most beautiful place in the world, <a href="http://www.dnr.state.wi.us/org/land/er/sna/sna1.htm">Parfrey's Glen</a>.<br /><br />I meant to go out <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/">Geocaching</a> today, and indeed, I did bag a few caches along <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Highway_113_%28Wisconsin%29">Hwy 113</a> between Madison and Baraboo. I even got to take the <a href="http://www.dot.state.wi.us/travel/water/merrimac.htm">Merrimac Ferry</a>... check it out...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Parfrey3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Parfrey3.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Parfrey4.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Parfrey4.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />All of this, however, paled in comparison to the final destination of todays wanderings.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Parfrey1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Parfrey1.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>You have never met a merrier stream than that which flows through the glen. It runs and tumbles down the length of the trail as a constant and steadfast companion. It laughs, sings and babbles it's way along. Here a small run splits off in search of new rocks and logs to leap over, giggling. Here it flows back together to hold hands as it vaults over a mighty boulder with a charging yalp and rush.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lostartisans.org/Parfrey2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.lostartisans.org/Parfrey2.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />You wish this picture had sound...<br /><br />Right about where I took this picture, the sun was filtering though the pines, bright but not bright enough to be hot. The trees sheltered the wind and there is this amazing tree that is bent in such a way as to make the perfect seat on the ground with my back at just the right angle for lounging. It even had good lumbar support. I sat, smoked my favorite pipeweed and listened to the stream at play. I even took a nap.<br /><br />Taoists make frequent use of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wu_wei">water analogy</a> and indeed, I've learned a few things from the <a href="http://acc6.its.brooklyn.cuny.edu/%7Ephalsall/texts/taote-v3.html#78">principle</a>. If you can forgive me for waxing rhapsodic for a second, I will say that in this little stream, I see the truth of it and more.<br /><br />By the way, if you're all busy with your lives and your works or are locked in an office or factory, I'd just like to point out from one who has seen green grass pushing it's way up through the last of the winter snow, spring is here. Though the end of the glen was deep enough to shelter a few inches of dirty snow, the green ferns are pushing their way up and getting on with the business of the season. It seems to me that the spring has been delayed so long that green is now built up as a flood behind a dam or like a eager dog straining at it's leash. Even though the nights are still cold, the pressure has built up too much to be restrained and what I saw today was the cracks finally starting to spurt. I think our first warm night will let loose a great diastolic thump so loud we'll probably be able to hear the sap flooding up the trees into the air.<br /><br />Also, as a good pagan, I'd also like to remind all of you more straight-laced and parsimonious folks out here that this is the time of year to allow yourself at least a few moments of levity and abandon. Drink some wine, think about naked people, eat some rich and unhealthy food with no guilt in your soul.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A little Madness in the Spring<br />Is wholesome even for the King,<br />But God be with the Clown --<br />Who ponders this tremendous scene --<br />This whole Experiment of Green --<br />As if it were his own!</span><br />- Emily Dickinson<br /><br /><br />-Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2538130738821663554.post-14083550574907047002008-03-24T09:15:00.000-07:002008-03-24T14:16:32.272-07:00Bloggy BitchingIt is the natural state of human beings to be dissatisfied. There are those that maintain that it is the ultimate force of evolution. <br /><br />Say I win the Amazing Lotto Lucky Super Jackpot Bonus Raffle and first prize is a brand new <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McLaren_F1">McLaren F1</a>. I promptly loose my mind, running around, pumping my fist, yelling and screaming... utterly lost in a sea of ecstatic euphoria that I have acquired, for free, such a fine automobile. For the next few days, I'm floating on a cloud of happiness, spending every spare second not working, eating or sleeping with my new baby. Either driving it, showing it off to friends, relatives and (when I run out of everyone else) anyone who I can pin down long enough to tell them ALL about it, even rubbing it with a diaper. <br /><br />But no matter how much I may wish otherwise, sooner or later, I've told everyone, taken more than my share of pointless trips into the countryside and talked about my new car till I'm blue in the face. Finally, it's time to go back to work, get on with life. It's still fun, getting in the car every day to go to work, driving it on the weekends and answering the occasional "Hey Pari? How's the new car?" question with a big grin and a thumbs up... but eventually, I find myself driving to work, all the way there, thinking about <span style="font-style:italic;">something else</span>. Life intrudes and the thrill starts to fade... fade... fade into the backround. Eventually, even the neatest car becomes... just another car. On occasion I may be reminded how awesome my car is (like having to drive a rental or somesuch), but for the most part, compared to the happiness I felt when first winning my car... the thrill is gone. <br /><br />That is life... it sucks but it's true. We get used to things. We adapt, whether we want to or not. <br /><br />Now, it's not ALL bad. We don't just adapt to good things, we're good at adapting to bad things as well. We get over stuff. Eventually we return to the background, baseline state of the human mind.<br /><br />It has, however, been noted that the baseline state of the human mind seems to be that of vague dissatisfaction. The feeling that, no matter how things are, they could be better. The grass may be green, but over the fence there, I'm sure it's a few shades greener. <br /><br />What a wonderful, horrible trick.<br /><br />A feeling that pretty much ensures that the human race will never be able to sit still. That we will constantly be pushing and pushing and pushing to improve our standings and surroundings.<br /><br />"Dammit, I'm sure the Henderson's grass is greener. That's it, I'm going to invent a new fertilizer... and a new breed of grass... and a new irrigation system..."<br /><br />Guaranteed progress at expense of a sense of accomplishment or satisfaction. Good for the species, not so hot for the individuals involved. <br /><br />It is to this particular trait of human nature that I credit the over prevalence of Bitchiness that tends to pervade the blogosphere.<br /><br />When there isn't much else to talk about in the day-to-day world, too often, people seem to fall to complaining about the littlest things in lieu of content. <br /><br />When I started this blog, I promised myself that I wasn't going to spend my time bitching about every little thing. I will not focus on the daily dissatisfactions and petty whining. I won't invent things to complain about and I will try to keep my posts on the positive or at least neutral side on average.<br /><br />One can, and should, fight this annoying trend of human existence with the liberal application of stalwart philosophy and self-confidence, something I've worked very hard at for most my life. This becomes increasingly difficult, however, in the face of the LONGEST winter I can remember, more setbacks than I would care to blog about, a stressful job, a crappy shift and the fact that lately I just can't seem to find anything fun to do to cheer me up. <br /><br />So if you are wondering why the content is starting to slack a little bit... take heart. I do have plans for this blog and you will hear more from me... but these last couple weeks have sucked like a hull breach at Warp 9. I'm trying to stay positive but, if I don't have anything nice to say... I'd just rather not say anything at all.Parintachinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05701216747900344858noreply@blogger.com0