looka, <'lu-k&> dialect, v.
1. The imperative form of the verb "to look", in the
spoken vernacular of New Orleans;
usually employed when the speaker wishes to call one's attention to something.
2. --n. Chuck Taggart's
weblog,
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Déanta:
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"To announce that there must be no criticism of the president, or that we are to stand by the president right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public."
-- Theodore Roosevelt, 26th President of the United States (1901-1909), speaking in 1918
Pigs and cows.
Seems to be raining more than just cats and
dogs back home in New Orleans -- they're under severe weather watch, and
Jazzfest was cancelled today due to torrential rain and flooding at the
Fair Grounds, with hopes that it'll resume tomorrow. Ohby
wellby.
I actually like it when it rains during
Fest. It keeps the amateurs away, and does away with the typical Jazzfest
sweltering heat. Some of the best shows I've ever seen have been in the
middle of pouring rain (standing there admist sparse crowds, holding an
umbrella in a rather futile gesture, which served only to turn me into a
potential lightning rod). Of course, I don't particularly care for it
when they cancel a day.
I did get an interesting report from
Michael, though, who says that there's something new afoot at Creole's
Lunch House's stall -- the home, of course, of Creole's Stuffed Bread, The
World's Most Perfect Food:
Creole's Lunch House is selling a "new" stuffed bread this year in
addition to the original. I think the main ingredients were Italian
sausage, pepperoni, and mozzarella, which makes it disturbingly close to
a pizza roll. I tried one and it was okay but lacked the alchemistic
properties of the original recipes.
Hmm. I'll try one next time, but it's true,
there's no improving on the original.
Steve who? Miller?
My old high-school bandmate, famed jazz
clarinetist Tim Laughlin,
submits to being interviewed by Chris Rose,
demonstrating his love of music and a very good (and familiar) sense of
humor ... hey, anyone who steals lines from Woody Allen is a friend of
mine.
Tim's latest album, "The Isle of Orleans",
is outstanding and consists entirely of original compositions.
(Incidentally, the Steve Miller Band is
neither jazz nor heritage, and doesn't belong at Jazzfest.)
Let freedom ring.
Via BoingBoing: "Great headline from the
Washington Post: 'Patriot Act Suppresses News Of Challenge to Patriot Act'.
It has to do with the ACLU filing a lawsuit challenging something in
the Patriot Act, but a different provision in the Patriot Act made it
illegal for the ACLU to reveal the lawsuit."
Yeah, 'cause that provision will really
protect us from terrorists.
Eleven questions.
SF Gate's Mark Morford writes one of his
best columns yet, asking 11
questions of George W. Bush. As much as I hate to give away and
ending, here's the last one:
What will your contribution be? With what sort of divine openness and
creative energy are you choosing to pass through this world? What will you
lay at the feet of the divine besides a small mountain of dead bodies and
an oil-rich stock portfolio?
Thank you for your time, Mr. President. Enjoy your vacation.
* He tried to block the formation of the commission.
* Failing, he then appointed a patsy chairman, Henry Kissinger.
* Then he refused to testify.
* And he blocked them from getting key documents.
* Then he agreed to talk with them.
* But not under oath.
* And only for an hour.
* And only with the chair and deputy chair.
* And then he insisted on having Cheney go with him.
* And agreed to a single notetaker.
* Then he refused to grant the commission a time extension.
* Then he tried to stop Rice testifying.
* And he blocked the release of papers from the Clinton era.
* Then tried to stop the August 6, 2001 PDB being released.
* Then he flip-flopped on the extension, Rice testifying, the Clinton
papers and the PDB.
* Then he ran ads saying Kerry was a flip-flopper.
* Then he changed his mind about the notetaker.
* And then he decided to have his legal counsel along.
* Then he agreed to testify.
* But only with Cheney at his side, which is viewed as highly bizarre and
suspect by just about everybody.
* And refused to do so under oath.
* And refused to allow transcripts to be taken.
* And refused to allow television cameras or reporters or witnesses
inside.
* And in fact clamped a lock of secrecy so tight that one reporter
remarked that it was as if this meeting took place in the 18th Century.
And then, funniest all, his spokesman can say this with a straight face:
McClellan said Bush "appreciates the job the commission is doing. He
strongly supports the commission's important work." He said the president
"very much looks forward to sitting down with the commission and answering
whatever questions they may have."
<voice quality="grandmotherly">But
it's really none of our business, dear ... if they government says it
should all be secret, we should trust them.</voice> (Sorry,
lady.)
Quote of the day.
(Thanks, Sparky.)
Linus: I guess it's wrong always to be worrying about tomorrow.
Maybe we should think only about today.
Charlie Brown: No, that's giving up. I'm still hoping that
yesterday will get better.
Nat Decants: The Spirit of Cape Breton.
Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, is a
breathtakingly beautiful place. I've never been, but I'm a fan of their
music (evolved from and a sibling to the Scots fiddling tradition) and
their culture (still Gaelic-speaking, as it was settled by refugees from the
Highland Clearances, a little
bit of English ethnic cleansing around 1790-1845). My friend
Steve went a few years back, and
showed me some great pictures. It's definitely on my list of
travel destinations.
Today Natalie MacLean's ever-delightful
column is a nostalgic recollection of a trip to Cape Breton,
featuring her impressions of tasting Glen Breton Rare, North America's
only single-malt whisky.
My husband Andrew and I both order a glass of Glen Breton Rare. (Our
four-year-old son Rian has apple juice in a tumbler so he too appears to
be drinking the local specialty.) No other drink, not even wine, so
completely expresses its environment as whisky. (A wheel chart
categorizing the spirit's many aromas was developed several years before
its vinous equivalent.) I dab a spot on the back of my hand, the
traditional way of smelling its essence as it evaporates, and it makes for
a lovely cologne too. Glen Breton Rare has aromas of honeysuckle, apple,
maple, butterscotch, spice and ginger -- and there's even a hint of the
biscuits my grandmother used to bake.
The locals claim that speaking Gaelic improves the taste of whisky. But I
discover the reverse: after just three drams, I seem to be speaking my
ancient language without any instruction. Perhaps an ancestor has joined
us at the table.
Slàinte!
Ginny gin gin.
We tried a relatively new gin last night --
Broker's Premium London Dry Gin.
It doesn't list the botanicals involved, but tasters reported flavors of
lemon zest, coriander and orris root. (I have no idea what orris root
tastes like, but I'll take their word for it.)
What it is is a bloody fine gin, not shy
with the juniper but with a complex flavor that doesn't make you think
you're gnawing on a chunk of pine bark. It was Gin of the Year
in 2003, according to Food and Wine magazine, noting its bold
flavor. It is definitely not one of those "soft" gins like Bombay
Sapphire or Tanqueray No. 10, although I like those too. It does flaunt
its Englishness quite a bit -- each bottle wears a plastic bowler hat --
but I'm enough of a friendly, 21st Century Irishman to find that more
amusing than anything else. (Now, if it had a plastic Margaret Thatcher
purse, that'd be another story.)
I whipped up a couple of Martinis
last night, in my favoured proportion of 7:1 plus a dash of orange
bitters. In deference to Wesly's taste I shook the hell out of it instead
of stirring, 'cause he really likes that little flotilla of tiny ice chips
on the surface of his Martinis. *sip* ... man, there's a lot going on in
there. The citrus and spice definitely come through, but this is no wimpy
gin -- the juniper practically slaps you in the face and challenges you to
a duel. I accepted ... and after the glass was drained and olive
consumed, considered myself the victor.
Yeah, and ketchup counts as a vegetable, too.
With a great and terrible loathing ... (thanks, Wes).
SEATTLE, April 28 -- The Bush administration has decided to count
hatchery-bred fish, which are pumped into West Coast rivers by the
hundreds of millions yearly, when it decides whether stream-bred wild
salmon are entitled to protection under the Endangered Species Act.
This represents a major change in the federal government's approach to
protecting Pacific salmon -- a $700 million-a-year effort that it has
described as the most expensive and complicated of all attempts to enforce
the Endangered Species Act.
The decision, contained in a draft document and confirmed Wednesday by
federal officials, means that the health of spawning wild salmon will no
longer be the sole gauge of whether a salmon species is judged by the
federal government to be on the brink of extinction. Four of five salmon
found in major West Coast rivers, including the Columbia, are already bred
in hatcheries, and some will now be counted as the federal government
tries to determine what salmon species are endangered.
Of course, farmed salmon is so bad as to be
actually bad for you, and its pale flesh is actually dyed pink so that
it'll look like salmon caught in the wild. And of course, instead of
listening to environmentalists and people who actually know about these
things, the Bush administration only listen to the big-business interests
who complain that the protections for wild salmon cost them
money.
Well, I hope they're all happy when there
are no more fucking salmon left.
"Computer, where is my chicken sandwich and coffee?"
When I was three years old, you could buy a
Honeywell "Kitchen Computer"
to store your recipes, which took weeks to program, cost ten grand, and
was presumably better than looking them up in your Better Homes and Gardens
Cookbook, for some reason. (Fortunately, people had a bit of sense back
then; apparently nobody ever bought one of these things.)
Of course, today one's Palm Pilot can run
lightspeed rings around this thing ...
Return to The Gallery.
The Gallery of Regrettable Food,
that is. James Lileks can be a wonderful writer, and is far better at
this stuff than he is at current affairs and politics -- his writings on
those subjects frequently make my gorge rise. Then again, the sight of
this so-called "food" makes my gorge rise as well, so I guess they go
hand-in-hand, in a strange way ...
In this round, Lileks takes on
Knudsen's Very Best Recipes from 1959.
(Not that long before I was born, but fortunately few of these dishes were
ever inflicted on me as a child. I may have had awful tuna casseroles with
cream of mushroom soup like the rest of us did, but I did grow up
in New Orleans.) Learn the joys of white food, lots of icky-looking
things drowned in cream and containing nary a grain of seasoning and high
crimes against Jell-O (like Meat Jell-O, and I don't mean a savoury aspic
either). *glorg* Check out the rest of the gallery if you can;
there have been lots of wonderfully vile additions ...
for instance, the very idea of an entire cookbook of recipes featuring
Knox Unflavored Gelatin. The mind boggles.
Revenge.
A depressing prediction
of U.S. failure in Iraq. It was unfortunately predictable,
given that we have an administration that seems to refuse to study or
learn from history, or to learn about the cultures they're invading (such
as tribal cultures who live by "an eye for an eye").
The United States is in a no-win situation in Falluja. Yesterday, fighting
increased in and around the city of 300,000, the place where four civilian
contractors were burned to death last month. Even if American forces storm
and subdue the town, it is unlikely that there will be peace there anytime
soon.
It didn't have to be this way. Had the United States taken more time to
understand the city -- a place where even Saddam Hussein ventured
cautiously -- it might have been able to avoid the current showdown. Part
of the misunderstanding can be seen in the way the Pentagon talks about
the situation in Falluja, describing those holed up there as either
die-hards of Saddam Hussein's regime or foreigners promoting the ideology
of Al Qaeda. What the Pentagon is neglecting is a third group, one that
could prove more deadly to the occupation: the tribes of central Iraq.
They are a tough lot with a long history of resistance to any outside
authority.
The world is like a ride in an amusement park. And when you choose to go
on it, you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. And
the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills
and it's very brightly coloured and it's very loud and it's fun, for a
while. Some people have been on the ride for a long time and they begin to
question, is this real, or is this just a ride? And other people have
remembered, and they come back to us, they say, "Hey -- don't worry, don't
be afraid, ever, because, this is just a ride." And we... kill those
people.
We have a lot invested in this ride. "Shut him up. Look at my furrows of
worry. Look at my big bank account and my family. This just has to be
real." Just a ride. But we always kill those good guys who try and tell us
that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok. But it doesn't
matter because: It's just a ride. And we can change it anytime we want.
It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings and money. A
choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to
put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of
love, instead, see all of us as one. Here's what we can do to change the
world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money that we spend on
weapons and defences each year and instead spend it feeding and clothing
and educating the poor of the world, which it would many times over, not
one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner
and outer, forever, in peace.
People who would dismiss that last bit by
saying we could never do it because there are terrorists continue to
ignore the root causes of terrorism. "Because they hate freedom" isn't
it.
Good luck getting reservations now.Restaurant magazine has come up with
its list of the top 50 restaurants in the world
(a spot on which is apparently quite coveted in some quarters), and the
one that came up on top as The Greatest Restaurant in the World ... Yountville's
The French Laundry, a place
that to this day makes me dream of the meal I had there six years
ago.
It's been closed for several months; Chef
Thomas Keller has been working on the new place he's opened in New York,
called Per Se (because he kept having to say about the new place, "Well,
it won't be The French Laundry per se ...") His original creation reopens
on May 15, and the crush for reservations will probably be worse than
ever. They take reservations two months to the day before you come in,
and we got ours after one of our party spent five hours with an
auto speed dialer, starting precisely when their lines opened at 10am.
When he finally got through, there were only 5:30pm and 10:30pm seatings
left. We took the former, and I had the greatest restaurant meal of my
life.
When I last dined there in March of 1998,
your choices were a five-course meal from which you'd select a dish from
four or five choices for each course (and they keep bringing you little
bites of things between each course, sometimes twice between each course),
or a fixed five-course vegetarian meal, which then cost $65 not including
wine. Nowadays that meal would cost me $115. The nine-course tasting
menu which then cost $95 now costs $135, and the vegetarian meal is now a
nine-course vegetarian tasting menu at the same price as the regular.
(*begin to save*)
Although it's not the kind of thing I could
afford to do often (i.e., more than once every couple of years), given the
chance I'd spend the money in a second. (I can eat very cheaply for a
good while after such a meal... a mere three bucks for three fantastic
tacos al pastor PLUS a small jamaica or tamarindo agua
fresca at El Huarache Azteca No. 1, five minutes from my
house.)
I posted this about 4-1/2 years ago, but
let's revisit the meal I had the night of March 8, 1998, during which we
were in the restaurant for over three-and-one-half hours amidst their
friendly, nurturing staff and all this food:
Bite: Salmon Tartare on a sesame cornette (cone-shaped wafer),
filled with red onion crème fraîche. (Their signature amuse bouche. It was gone in
three bites. Absolutely delightful and thoroughly delicious.)
Fish course: "Pavé"
of Atlantic Salmon with a "Fricassée" of Ronninger Farms Organic
Potatoes, Melted Leeks and Whole Grain Mustard Sauce. (It was a small
piece of salmon, maybe five or six bites, but it was the best piece of
salmon I've ever had in my life.)
Bite: Broiled Sardine topped with Watercress, with Citrus
Vinaigrette and Balsamic Reduction.
Meat course: Ris de Veau with Caramelized Cauliflower, Cauliflower
Mousse and French Winter Truffles. ("Ris de veau" is sweetbreads,
y'all. Stop grimacing, they're fabulous, with a rich, meaty flavor.
These were, predictably by this point, the best I'd ever had.)
Cheese course: "Vacherin",
with a Vol Au Vent of Cinnamon Poached Fresh Prunes and Baby Greens. (It
was a delicious soft French cheese, draped over a small puff pastry shell
filled with spiced prunes that had been poached in Armagnac.)
Bite: Tiny apple, pear and banana tartlets with caramelized
meringue.
Dessert: Best Ever Pear Sorbet, with Champagne Gelée and
Poached Pear Salad. (It was garnished with a paper-thin, perfectly
crystallized pear slice, right from the center of the pear.)
With the meal, I drank a half-bottle of 1995 Cristom Willamette Valley
Pinot Noir, Mt. Jefferson Cuvée.
I need to buy an auto speed dialer.
If memory serves me right ...
(Give up on that, bra. Memory never serves
you right.) Oh yeah, never mind.
Well, I would have said "watakushi no
kyoku ga tashika naraba", except I'm talking about "Iron Chef
America", which ran last weekend. I found an interesting-looking article
on eGullet, a behind-the-scenes interview with the show's director,
but I haven't read it yet, because I still haven't watched the shows,
which are all still safely ensconced on our TiVo. This week, sometime, I
hope.
No spoilers yet! (Although if Chef Sakai
had snapped and stabbed B*bby Fl*y in the throat, I'd probably have heard
about it on the news by now ...)
Another article from today's eGullet,
feckin' torturing me. It's this bad already, and Mary still hasn't
sent in any food porn (probably because she's too busy eating stuff in
order to generate carnalary experiences to inspire said food porn ... yes,
I just made that word up -- "carnal" (which derives from "flesh") and
"culinary". Works for me.)
I look at it this way ... if I were at
Jazzfest this week, I'd never be breaking into the 160s, pound-wise.
I might just get there this week if I'm good.
Cocktails of the day, go leor! (Galore, even!)
So a nice reader wrote in a few weeks ago
and told me how much he loved the "Cocktail of the Day" feature here on
Looka!, but that it was difficult to go back and browse through them all.
Wouldn't it be a good idea, he suggested, if I gathered them up on a
single page and archived them?
Meddling bastard! Busybody! How much work
is that gonna be?! Um, er, I mean ... good idea, O Lord! ("Of
course it's a good idea!")
So here ya go ... every single drink
featured in Cocktail of the Day is now located on the
Beverages and Cocktails
page admidst The Gumbo Pages' recipes section. I'll do my best to
create a new page for the archive for every drink I feature in here.
Browse away!
Boggles of the day.
Two links nicked from BoingBoing:
* An astounding video clip
that clearly shows President Bush wiping his eyeglasses on an unwitting
woman's clothing [while on a commercial break] during his appearance on
The David Letterman Show.
* A 15-year-old boy drew some anti-war posters that were critical of
Bush's policies, and his art teacher alerted school administrators, who in
turn called the police. The cops went to the feds, and the Secret Service questioned the boy about his art.
Quotes of the day.
These are only two of a long series, posted
by Billmon under the title "Puppet Acts".
Go there and read them all.
The Bush administration's plans for a new caretaker government in Iraq
would place severe limits on its sovereignty, including only partial
command over its armed forces and no authority to enact new laws,
according to administration officials.
In 1932 Manchukuo was proclaimed an independent state. The last Qing
emperor was brought out of retirement and made Manchukuo's ruler, but the
state was actually rigidly controlled by the Japanese, who used it as
their base for expansion into Asia.
-- Brittanica Concise
Encyclopedia, entry on Manchukuo
Quote of the day.
"Oh my God, are you losing weight like mad,
or what?"
-- A cow-orker, to me, today. (*self-satisfied grin*)
Of course, wearing a slinky, clingy black shirt today didn't hurt. (The
nifty thing is, I now can wear a slinky, clingy black shirt, and
I've got 13 more pounds to go.
(Busy weekend, and even busier day at The
Day Job. Updates soon.)
D'oh.
I know I have no right to complain, but
Jazzfest starts today, and where
am I? Am I on the Fair Grounds? No. My ass is in a chair in my office
at The Day Job. The rest of The Fat Pack is down there, in addition to
our friends from England for whom the Hoskins Cocktail
was named, and they called to assure us that they'd refrain from having
fun in our honor ... for at least 60 seconds.
(Listening to Jon Cleary, Dr. John, Galactic
and Deacon John, and planning ahead to a big feckin' drink tonight.)
The War Zone.
Nope, not talking about Iraq today. I'm
talking about the kitchen and offices at Rocco's on 22nd,
once again featured on the new season of NBC's "The Restaurant", which I
just started watching again.
It seems that the restaurant's partners,
superstar chef Rocco DiSpirito (who begs the question, "Will he be the new
Bobby Flay when it comes to TV chef dicketry?") and high-powered financier
Jeffrey Chodorow are suing each other,
and it's actually not looking good for Rocco.
"Rocco claims I cooked the books," says Jeffrey Chodorow ... "I didn't,
but if I had, I would have been the only one of the two of us cooking at
that restaurant."
From all appearances, that seems to be the
sad truth. Rocco has spent far too much time out of the kitchen, from
constantly schmoozing in the front of the house (a little bit of which is
to be expected), to his constant rounds of television and personal
appearances. If you don't spend time in your kitchen, keeping the reins
of your operation very tight indeed, it's going to get away from
you.
To recap -- I hated the original. I thought
it had interesting premises (and a delicious villian in John Colicos), but
stupid execution. The retooled "Galactica" for 2003, however, was in my
opinion outstanding -- well-written, well-acted and constructed in a way
that helped your average early-21st-Century TV viewer truly identify with
the characters and their situation. (The scenes of the Cylon destruction of
their homeworlds was horrifying, in no small part due to how close
our world has been to destruction before, and may well be
again.)
Slightly related and mostly irrelevant
personal note -- one of my fellow passengers on my Southwest flight to
Sacramento to see Mozaik was none other than Edward James "Cmdr. William
Adama" Olmos.
"This Modern World"
was particularly good this week ... this
strip is entitled "Actionable Intelligence".
Obituary of the day.
From the
Rumors-of-my-death-have-been-greatly-exaggerated Department, this rather
interesting obit from Telluride, Colorado:
A denizen of the local coffee shops, the Free Box and the hiking trails
surrounding town, Schmidt would regale incredulous coffee bar customers
with his claims that, through molecular rearrangement, he could walk
through solid objects. Allegedly fluent in Klingon, Schmidt was also
notorious for his nude rambles on the Bear Creek Trail, much to the shock
of unsuspecting hikers and the consternation of local law enforcement
officials. He had in a keen interest in the work of Nicolai Tesla and
favored scientific and technical material for his casual reading.
Schmidt's Free Box finds were legendary, and included sartorial treasures
such as velvet capes, outrageous caps, fishnet stockings and once, he
crowed, a complete uniform from the original Star Trek series. He wore
them all with aplomb, especially to renowned cross-dressing events like
Ralph Dinosaur concerts at the Fly Me to the Moon and, appropriately
enough, to the party/wake for flamboyant costumer Robert Presley.
Only to be followed the next day by
this ... oops.
I have always heard that Telluride is a very
interesting town.
I guess it isn't just me.
Last year Flak Magazine published an
article about one particular Food Network
host, most of whom they seem to like, even though they find Rachael Ray
"unbearably cheerful", Emeril "benignly bumbling, catch-phrase spouting
and ... dangerously close to copulating with the food he preapres" and
supercook Tyler Florence "sweet and earnest". Then there's
"The Staggering Dicketry of Bobby Flay":
Host of the long-running programs "Hot off the Grill with Bobby Flay" and
"FoodNation," Flay is the successful chef-owner of Manhattan hotspots Bolo
and Mesa Grill, and a core member of the Food Network's stable of
talent.
He is also a total dick.
Bobby Flay is arrogant and unpleasant, cocky and dismissive. He isn't just
the biggest dick on the Food Network, he is the only dick on the
Food Network, and the absence of others makes his offenses seem all the more
egregious.
Flay's dicketry is never more evident than on "FoodNation," a series in
which, according to FoodTV.com, he "explore[s] cities and regions across
the U.S., examining local culinary history and character."
Impatient and bored, desultory and mocking, Flay hosts "FoodNation" like
an eighth grader who is too cool for his choir concert. He fulfills his
duties, but makes it clear that he is just going through the motions, as
if the hosting gig is some sort of court-mandated community service or the
result of a bitterly lost bet.
[...] The presence of a small studio audience [on "Hot off the Grill with
Bobby Flay," a boring, subpar, instructional cooking show] whose members
are called on to participate in the food preparation affords Flay ample
opportunity to be a dick. On a recently aired episode, after instructing a
volunteer to julienne some vegetables, Flay jeers at her inferior
knife-work, inciting the rest of the room to laugh at her expense.
Flay honed this type of social brutality during his storied appearances on
"Iron Chef". At the end of his
first battle against Japanese Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto, a smack-talking,
posturing Flay jumped triumphantly onto the counter. Standing on his
cuttingboard and doing that dorky "raise the roof" hand gesture, Flay lead
the crowd in chanting "U.S.A! U.S.A!"
All of this, but primarily the standing on the cutting board part,
grievously offended Morimoto and the rest of the Japanese contingent.
Hilariously, Flay lost the battle, and afterwards took every opportunity
to complain to the press that it was unfair, that his equipment was
inferior to his challenger's and that the odds were stacked against him. A
year later, he was afforded a rematch, which he ended up winning. As the
final buzzer sounded, Flay jumped up and stood on the counter once again.
In typically obnoxious fashion, he pointed out that this time he wasn't
standing on the cutting board cause he didn't want to offend
anybody. "He's so American!" the young Japanese actress on the panel of
judges tittered nervously. Morimoto just shook his head in disbelief.
Now Flay and Morimoto will be together on a
tag team battle this weekend. I do seem to remember back when I was a
kid, when "Championship Wrestling" from the St. Bernard Civic Auditorium
was on TV, seeing the organizers arrange tag team matches in which they
put two people who despised each other on the same team. I wonder if
that's what this weekend's "Iron Chef America" tag team battle will be
like. (Thanks, Ray!)
Nat Decants: A Spirited Race.
In this week's wine (and occasionally
spirits) newsletter from Natalie MacLean,
she looks forward to the first Saturday of May, which will feature not
only the Kentucky Derby but lots of mint juleps.
Yes, I know, the house is a character in
many of her stories, and her presence there and in the city is all part of
the city's character and history. But things change. It's an 11,000
square foot house in which she's now alone, surrounded by all the memories
of her dead husband. Let the woman have some peace.
Credibility.
He keeps using that word. I do not think it
means what he thinks it means. (Thanks, Wes!) William Saletan
writes in Slate:
One thing is for certain, though, about me, and the world has learned
this: When I say something, I mean it. And the credibility of the United
States is incredibly important for keeping world peace and freedom.
That's the summation President Bush delivered as he wrapped up his
press conference
Tuesday night. It's the message he emphasized throughout:
Our commitment. Our pledge. Our word. My conviction. Given the stakes in
Iraq and the war against terrorism, it would be petty to poke fun at Bush for
calling credibility "incredibly important." His routine misuse of the word
"incredible," while illiterate, is harmless. His misunderstanding of the
word "credible," however, isn't harmless. It's catastrophic.
To Bush, credibility means that you keep saying today what you said
yesterday, and that you do today what you promised yesterday. "A free Iraq
will confirm to a watching world that America's word, once given, can be
relied upon," he argued Tuesday night. When the situation is clear and
requires pure courage, this steadfastness is Bush's most useful trait. But
when the situation is unclear, Bush's notion of credibility turns out to
be dangerously unhinged.
The only words and deeds that have to match are his. No correspondence to
reality is required. Bush can say today what he said yesterday, and do
today what he promised yesterday, even if nothing he believes about the
rest of the world is true.
Allez cuisine!
I'm really, really looking forward to
"Iron Chef America"
this weekend -- the promos look pretty cool, and me little TiVo is all
primed and ready to go.
From what I've heard, they did a pretty good job with it, unlike the last debacle involving
Shatner and filmed in Vegas (a bad omen from the start). The chefs they
got that time were good (Todd English, Jean-François Meteigner, et
al)but the producers really didn't know how to pull it off, overdid
the camp to the googolth power, hired Shatner (oy) and had idiotic judges
to boot.
This time it was filmed in a soundstage in
Los Angeles (and who would I have had to have known to get into
that?! ... arrrgh), there are two real Iron Chefs, Sakai and
Morimoto, plus Mario Batali! (My hero!) Oh, and Wolfgang Puck, who along
with his chef Lee Hefter are responsible for one of the three best
restaurant meals of my life at Spago a few years back. And,
unfortunately, that smirking, arrogant putz Bobby Flay (who apparently
can cook, even though you want to accept a dish from him and them
immediately slap him). Apparently he's made his peace with Morimoto,
because they two of them battle together as a tag team in one of the
episodes. Ultimately I have to say that that's a good thing (even though
I still think he's a putz, and thought that even before his appalling
conduct during his first Iron Chef battle with Morimoto).
The role of Dr. Yukio Hattori is being
filled by Alton Brown this time (which is brilliant!), and some
other guy from the Fine Living Network is filling Fukui-san's shoes. Now
all we need is a good Ota and we're stylin'.
My must-eat restaurants list includes
Babbo in New York (which will be
sooner than later), Morimoto's eponymously-named restaurant in Philly,
and one day, if I can ever afford to go to Japan, Sakai's
La Rochelle. Ah, one
day ...
Heart attack on a plate.
Ah, but you'll die smiling.
In today's New Orleans Menu Daily,
Tom Fitzmorris talks about one of the dishes that I am not allowed to have
these days -- Fettuccine Alfredo and its cousins. It's just so feckin'
good ... and the reason? Well, a lot of heavy cream and a lot of the
undisputed King of Cheeses, Parmagiano-Reggiano. Duh.
There's another great variation for which he
gives out the recipe, and I just had to pass it along. Maybe one day I'll
be allowed to eat it again (once a year).
RIGATONI QUATTRO FORMAGGI
Rigatoni with four cheeses
What you want here is a combination of cheeses from different
animals. So you have Parmigiano (cow), Romano (sheep), Gorgonzola
(cow) or Roquefort (sheep), and Fontina (cow).
1/2 pint whipping cream
1/2 pint half-and-half
3 ounces grated Parmigiano cheese
3 ounces grated Romano cheese
3 ounces grated Fontina cheese
1 ounce crumbled blue cheese
1/4 teaspoon white pepper
1 pound rigatoni pasta, cooked and drained
In a large saucepan, combine the cream and half-and-half over
medium-low heat. Let it simmer for about ten minutes. Be very
careful not to let it boil and foam over.
Add the cheeses and whisk into the cream until the cheeses melt
completely and blend into the cream. Return to a simmer, then turn off
the heat.
Put the cooked, drained pasta into a large bowl and pour the sauce
over it. Toss with the pasta to coat.
Serve with freshly-ground black pepper to taste.
YIELD: 4 entrees or 8 appetizers.
For all my fellow WeightWatchers, an
appetizer-sized portion of this is 12 points, and an entree is 24 points
(which is two more than I get all day these days). *glerp*
Ignorance is strength.
Journalist and author Ron Suskind offers
some severe critiques
on the way the White House is managing press conferences:
For each press conference, the White House press secretary asks the
reporters for their questions, selects six or seven of the questions to
answer and those reporters are the only ones called upon to ask their
questions during the press conference, Suskind said.
This system makes it so that the president has answers already prepared
for questions that he knows will be asked, Suskind said.
Suskind also said that the White House uses intimidation to force writers
into only writing favorable stories about the administration.
"If you write something the White House doesn't like, they take you in and
say, 'If you ever write something like you did today, nobody from the
White House will ever talk to you again,'" Suskind said. "(The White House
is) pissed, and ... angry."
"I am not pro-Bush or anti-Bush," Suskind said. I am pro-facts."
"It kinda, sorta worked ... just like New Orleans."
In the wee hours of the morning, a piece of
New Orleans' history, long-lost, has finally returned ... and it'll be
useful history as well. Forty years after being torn down, the
newly-rebuilt (man, did that seem to take forever) Canal Street streetcar
line, which runs down the center of New Orleans' main drag
all
the way to City Park, finally had its maiden voyage
this morning at 3am, and the intrepid were there to be the first:
The [first] car was greeted by the standard mishmash of New Orleans
people: old and young, black and white, local and tourist, drunk and
sober, all standing around slurping coffee and noshing on beignets. They
had amassed on the neutral ground at Canal and Salcedo streets for the
better part of two hours, taking numbers for a ride to nowhere in
particular and trading life stories with friends and strangers alike.
All of a sudden, the red car rolled up. A man named Alan Drake, a
volunteer who gave out numbers because, he said, he just knew the scene
would otherwise devolve into madness, started hustling people into a line.
"Only if you have a No. 90 and below, get in line! Respect the people who
have been here for hours!" he ordered.
The streetcar ignored Drake and his line, pulling up in the middle of the
crowd. Its doors parted to reveal a police officer.
"We got no numbers," the officer barked.
For a moment, outrage spread. "Can you believe this?" snapped local public
relations professional Warren Bell.
"This is the RTA, remember?" another man griped. "They're the ones that
destroyed these things in the first place."
And of course, we New Orleanians love to
reminisce ...
Wearing his father's white Mayer Israel suit, the same one he wore 40
years ago, [local preservationist Jack Stewart] remembered the streetcar's
last roll down Canal Street [40 years ago] as "torture, like your insides
were being torn up." People crammed onto the car with dour faces, he said.
But one couple boarded carrying grocery bags and wearing smiles.
"The man pulled out these wieners and he said, 'Look at these hot dogs,'"
Stewart said, waving an imaginary sausage in a stranger's face. "When we
got back to the bus barn, Mayor Vic Schiro came out and the guy said,
'These are for you, Vic,' and he started throwing the hot dogs at the
mayor."
As y'all locals may recall, Vic Schiro
sticks in our memories for about two things: his famous quote during
Hurricane Betsy ("Don't believe any false rumors unless you hear 'em from
me."), and for the fact that when he was introduced during the very first
New Orleans Saints game to be broadcast on national television, he was
roundly booed by the crowd.
Don't forget Ed Branley's
new book about the history of
the Canal streetcar line, available at his site,
in bookstores and via Amazon.com.
I'll be home in two months. I can't wait to
ride it!
Only in Los Angeles ...
can one have an encounter such as the one
Christen Nelson had at The Grove last Thursday.
(We were at The Grove on Saturday and had a fabulous time with some
wonderful people, but didn't meet anyone quite like this.)
A Confederacy of Scammers.
Via Sean
comes the most brilliant of the let's-reply-to-the-Nigerian-419-spammers
scenarios, in which "Mrs. Wininie Mandela" gets
a reply from
Ignatius J. Reilly of Constantinople Street, New Orleans. Winnie-scammer,
may you feel the sting of the lash across your pitiful
shoulders!
And then ... depression set in.
I did have fun this past weekend (insanely
busy as it was), and I did have some rather pleasant links to post this
morning, but a not insignificant portion of the weekend was spend sinking
into a blacker and blacker funk, just by making the mistake of reading the
news. Between what may well be
the death of the last chance for peace
in Israel/Palestine and the rise in terrorism it will bring about, and
the latest compoundings of the debacle in Iraq
(see the quote below), the fact that Cheney and Rumsfeld had
already briefed Saudi Prince Bandar about Iraq war plans before Bush even told his own Secretary of State,
and finding out that Bush had made a deal (or at least attempted to do so)
with the aforementioned reptilian Saudi prince to
control oil prices before the election,
keeping them high and then dropping them before the election, thereby
hoping to help guarantee his winning it ...
It's enough to bring one closer to despair,
not only for the state of this nation but for that of the world, as never
in my lifetime.
Regarding the passing of state secrets to
the ambassador of a nation known to support terrorism, and with that
nation's ambassador agreeting to manipulate oil prices in an attempt to
influence the American presidential election, Tom Tomorrow
asks a very good question: "Why is Bush not facing impeachment
proceedings? It's a hypothetical question, I'm not actually asking for
responses, but it's not meant as hyperbole -- in any sane universe, these
would be impeachable offenses."
Quotes of the day.
The first two are lifted from Billmon --
I think more people need to see them, particularly in that
juxtaposition.
"When the fighting is over in Fallujah, I will sell everything I have,
even my home," said a resistance fighter who gave his name as Abu Taif
Mashhadani. He wept as he recalled his 8-year-old daughter, who he said
was killed by a U.S. sniper in Fallujah a week ago. "I will send my
brothers north to kill the Kurds, and I will go to America and target the
civilians. Only the civilians. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. And the
one who started it will be the one to be blamed."
Cocktail of the day.
Okay, I have a confession to make -- the
only reason I posted the Income Tax Cocktail yesterday was because of its
name, not because it's one we particularly like. (We're not really
Bronx fans; we much prefer Brooklyns, actually.) In fact, during cocktail
hour at the house, we didn't even drink one. "I'm not too excited about
that one," Wes said. "The whole gin-and-juice thing is not appealing to
me at all." So we drank something else.
This is what we drank -- a surprising
combination of ingredients, a gorgeous, peach-like color and an amazing
flavor. Unsurprisingly, it's a Dr. Cocktail creation, culled from Gary
Regan's The Joy of Mixology (always head to one's cocktail library
or to CocktailDB when you're looking
to try something you've never tried before; you almost can't go
wrong).
Combine with ice in a cocktail shaker or mixing glass; stir for no
less than 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Twist
the lemon peel to express the oil onto the surface of the drink;
garnish with the peel.
It's really, really good. Ah, that amazing
alchemy of mixology strikes again. There was a bit of controversy in the
book with regards to this drink's preparation -- Gary advocates that this
drink should be stirred, as it's made entirely with clear liquors. Doc
shakes his, saying something about being a savage and shaking everything.
Wes chimed in that he prefers his drinks shaken as well, as they're colder
that way. I decided that this one might benefit by being a few degress
warmer, to let the complex flavors develop, and I stirred. That's my
recommendation.
Guinness, in fact, is lower in alcohol, calories and carbohydrates than
Samuel Adams, Budweiser, Heineken and almost every other major-brand beer
not classified as light or low-carb. It has fewer calories and
carbohydrates than low-fat milk and orange juice.
Incidentally, those "major-brand" American
beers that are classified as "light" or "low-carb" ... I wouldn't
pour them into a potted plant. I love my plants more than that. *
Another pint, please!
The other, other white meat?
In Louisiana they've been trying to get
people to eat nutria for a while now,
primariliy to thin them out because of the incredible damage they do to
our coastal wetlands. They even got Chef
John Folse, one of Louisiana's finest, to prepare a multi-course meal
with nutria meat. Supposedly, it's good eatin'. Most people I know take
one look at a nutria and say, "It's a giant rat," and decline.
Now some folks think we've got a
once-in-17-years opportunity for more so-called good eatin' ... they'll be
chomping down on the cicadas
that are due to rise from the earth in buzzing hordes next
month.
Cicada-eating has a long history on this continent. The original
inhabitants ate them. The current population is less enthralled, or maybe
less hungry. Either way, some people are trying to revive human cicada
consumption.
Jacques Tiziou, a Frenchman-turned-American who lives in a tree-fringed
colonial in Northwest, will gather as many as he can, eating a few
right away and saving the rest for later. Silver-bearded and gentle of
disposition, he speaks in accented English that makes even bugs sound
irresistible.
Tiziou offers a guest two ways of consuming a few of the cicadas he still
has in his freezer from 1987, the year of their last emergence in the
Washington area. Some he sautes, leaving them enrobed in parsley and
butter. And some he presents plain, black things about as big as the top
half of your pinky, wingless but still leggy, on a little white saucer.
"You're going to grab one and put it in your mouth alive," he says with a
twinkle in his eye. "You have to."
Er, no.
A good question.Josh Marshall asks,
"In the last six weeks, how many documents has the
Bush administration declassified for the exclusive and
explicit purpose of attacking a political enemy?"
In a parallel universe far, far away (that has MSNBC)
November 10, 2004
CHRIS MATTHEWS: Thanks for coming to "Hardball", Publius. I love
your blog. Well, Bush has just won in a landslide, and you of all people
voted for him. Republicans love him. Democrats love him. The world
loves him. How did Bush pull it off?
PUBLIUS: Well, Chris, I think Bush obviously got a lot of capital
for his response to 9/11. He calmed us. He took out the Taliban and sent
fifty thousand troops into Tora Bora to finish off the top al Qaeda
leaders (which is a lot more than Rumsfeld wanted). But all that's a
familiar story by now. What really solidified my support for Bush was the
path he chose to take in early 2002, after the Afghanistan war.
As we now know from various insiders who have since left the
administration, there was a fierce internal battle within the White House
during the spring of 2002. Bush was faced with a historic choice. He
could concentrate on strengthening America, or he could concentrate on
strengthening the Republican Party. On the domestic front, Rove and
others were putting a lot of pressure on Bush to use his 9/11 capital to
create a new Republican majority and punish Democrats. He wanted Bush to
ram through a new round of tax cuts and make the war on terror a
distinctly Republican issue. On the foreign policy front, Wolfowitz,
Cheney, and Rumsfeld were clamoring for a war with Iraq. They also wanted
to free America from the constraints of the UN and world community. Rove
immediately sensed the political possibilities and he joined the hawks in
pushing for the war too. What won my absolute support, Chris, was that
Bush had the courage to tell them all to go to hell.
You see, Bush had a different vision than the ideologues. 9/11, he said,
changed him. It changed his entire outlook on life. He saw that he had
been given one of those rare, once-every-hundred-years opportunities to
unite America and channel its collective energy toward making the world a
better place. Thus, even though he lacked the expertise of the people in
his cabinet, his instincts were telling him that 9/11 presented an even
greater opportunity than Rove was offering. It offered something more
than partisan gain. It was one of those rare existential moments when a
single individual has the power to change the world for the better. So,
rather than moving to the right and squandering that once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity, Bush moved to the center. After 9/11, Bush decided to stop
being a Republican president, and start becoming an American president.
And just look at what followed.
Cocktail of the day.
I expect a lot of us might need one of these
tonight. Or six. If it seems familiar, it is -- it's basically
a Bronx Cocktail with bitters added.
Shake & strain, serve in a cocktail glass. No garnish.
Pour me another one ...
We're smarter than they think.
An Associated Press poll shows that American
prefer balancing the budget to cutting taxes,
by a margin of nearly 2 to 1...
... even though many believe their overall tax burden has risen over
the last three years.
As the nation's tax deadline of April 15 approaches, people's lukewarm
feeling about tax cuts may be influenced by a belief that recent cuts
haven't helped them personally.
Half in the poll, 49 percent, said their overall tax burden -- including
federal, state and local taxes -- had gone up over the past three years.
That's almost four times the 13 percent in the poll who said their overall
taxes had gone down.
"Every time you turn around, there's a new gasoline tax, more property
taxes, a library tax -- because they don't have enough money," said Tom
Artley, a 52-year-old supervisor at a manufacturing plant in Williamsport,
Pa. He was referring to increasing financial problems faced by many cities
and states.
"I'd like to retire in the next five years," Artley said. "It's scary for
people like me who are going to be living on a fixed income."
Even when it comes to federal taxes, most in the public don't feel their
taxes have gone down over the past three years. Twenty-five percent in the
poll said their federal taxes had gone up during that time, while 43
percent said they had stayed the same.
Among those most likely to say their taxes had gone down were the
wealthy and investors.
As I pointed out in a comment yesterday, the
tax cut has certainly been a boon for two very wealthy men --
George W. Bush and Dick Cheney.
In 2002, Bush paid about 31 percent of his ~$856K of adjusted gross
income; in 2003, he paid 28%. Cheney made out like a bandit -- in '02 he
paid 29% on an income of $1.2 million, and last year paid a mere 20% on an
income of $1.3 million. (Why is my tax rate higher than Cheney's?)
Yep, those tax cuts sure worked ...
War analysis.
Today's NPR "Morning Edition" featured an
interview with retired Gen. Barry McCaffrey (commander of the 24th
Mechanized Infantry Division during the 1991 Persian Gulf War) and
retired Lt. Gen. William Odom (director of the National Security
Agency from 1985-1988). It's a remarkably reasoned and informed analysis,
and is a highly recommended listen.
McCaffrey says the United States entered Iraq with a "grossly anemic"
military force and probably will need a United Nations-led military
presence for a transfer to succeed. He says it probably will take a year
or two for Iraqi institutions to be built and security and stability to
come to that country. "I can't imagine why they would think that
soveriegnty for Iraq on 1 July ... it's being almost brooded about as,
well, it's symbolic, it doesn't make much difference. On 1 July, some
political leader is the legal representative. What happens to our
contractors on 1 July? Are they subject to arrest by Iraqi police? I
think the political situation is very tricky, and inadequately thought
out."
Odom says the U.S.-led war to oust Saddam Hussein has had the unintended
consequence of making Iraq safe for terrorists and other anti-U.S.
movements "and they're breeding them rapidly."
These guys might just know what they're
talking about, ya think?
Out of town, out of touch.
(Thanks, Wes!) Fred Kaplan writes in
Slate about a bit of testimony yesterday that made my jaw drop when I heard it.
CIA Director George Tenet testified that he received a report from the FBI's
Minnesota field office that an Islamic jihadist, Zacharias Moussaoui, had
been taking flying lessons, saying he only wanted to learn 747s; the
flight school and the field office found this very suspicious. Tenet was
briefed in August of 2001, and was asked if he mentioned this to Bush at
one of their frequent morning briefings.
Roemer then asked Tenet if he mentioned Moussaoui to President Bush at one
of their frequent morning briefings. Tenet replied, "I was not in
briefings at this time." Bush, he noted, "was on vacation." He added that
he didn't see the president at all in August 2001. During the entire
month, Bush was at his ranch in Texas. "You never talked with him?" Roemer
asked. "No," Tenet replied. By the way, for much of August, Tenet too was,
as he put it, "on leave."
And there you have it. National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice has made
a big point of the fact that Tenet briefed the president nearly every day.
Yet at the peak moment of threat, the two didn't talk at all. At a time
when action was needed, and orders for action had to come from the top,
the man at the top was resting undisturbed.
[...] Roemer asked Tenet if he brought up the Moussaoui briefing at that
meeting. No, Tenet replied. "It wasn't the appropriate place." Roemer
didn't follow up and ask, "Why not? Where was the appropriate place?"
Perhaps he was too stunned. He sure looked it.
(On Wednesday evening, after the hearings, a CIA
spokesman called reporters to tell them Tenet had misspoken: It turns out
he did brief Bush in August 2001, twice -- on Aug. 17 and Aug. 31.
Assuming the correction is true, it doesn't negate the point. The first
briefing, which the spokesman described as uneventful, took place before
Tenet learned about Moussaoui. The second occurred after the president
returned to Washington.)
The official story about the PDB is that the CIA prepared it at the
president's request. Bush had heard all Tenet's briefings about a possible
al-Qaida attack overseas, the tale goes, and he wanted to know if Bin
Laden might strike here. This story is almost certainly untrue. On March
19 of this year, Tenet told the 9/11 commission that the PDB had been
prepared, as usual, at a CIA analyst's initiative. He later retracted that
testimony, saying the president had asked for the briefing. Tenet
embellished his new narrative, saying that the CIA officer who gave the
briefing to Bush and Condi Rice started by reminding the president that he
had requested it. But as Rice has since testified, she was not present
during the briefing; she wasn't in Texas. Someone should ask: Was that the
only part of the tale that Tenet made up? Or did he invent the whole
thing -- and, if so, on whose orders?
The distinction is important. If Bush asked for the briefing, it suggests
that he at least cared about the subject; then the puzzle becomes why he
didn't follow up on its conclusions. If he didn't ask for the briefing,
then he comes off as simply aloof. (It's a toss-up which conclusion is
more disturbing.)
Quite.
Quote of the day.
"I'm proud that I live in a country where
witnessing two hours of bloody, barbarous torture in gloating detail is
considered indicia of religious piety, whereas a mere second gazing upon a
woman's breast is cause for outraged apoplexy."
Artisanal bread.
Part two of Bruce Cole's series of essays on
artisanal foods is about bread ...
"not dat bread! Da good bread, like-a you grandmother make!"
Artisan bread does not come in a cellophane bag, twisted shut with a shiny
gold tie, and labeled with the words wonder, health, pride, earth
goddess, or (gag) Parisian.
Artisan bread does not contain calcium that can improve children's brain
function and memory. (You think I'm kidding?)
Artisan bread is as hard as a brick when it's a couple days old, unless
you have a fancy bread box to store it in, which might extend the shelf
life another day or so. In other words, no preservatives.
Artisan bread contains these mysterious and magical ingredients: flour,
water, salt, and wild wild yeast.
Artisan bread is usually gone from the shelf by about 3 p.m.
New Orleans' history, long-lost, has finally returned ... and it'll be
useful history as well. Forty years after being torn down, the
newly-rebuilt (man, did that seem to take forever) Canal Street streetcar
line, which runs down the center of New Orleans' main drag
