    "Eating, drinking and carrying on..." -- Adelaide Brennan
Drink! Drink! Calm yourself, Father Jack ... it's just the Drinks Special in this week's New York Times Dining section. (Thanks, Vidiot!) Read about one of my favorite topics, the resurgence of rye whiskey with a tasting as well; the sad lot of the bartender who invents new drinks that nobody wants to try, and then brave the waters of the Pernod and pomegranate "Cosmopolitan", renamed as The Stray Dog (hmm), The Love Unit (I dunno, Crow...) and the Horseradish Pomegranate Margarita (eww); then move on to sipping high-end tequilas by the snifter; then have a look at the idea of going overboard with the "no drinking during pregnancy" thing (and there's apparently no proof at all that an occasional glass of wine while preggers causes any harm). Drink up! [ Link to today's entries ]
Budino di pane saporito con guanciale, formaggio Taleggio e funghi porcini. Or, if I got the Italian right ... Savory Bread Pudding with guanciale, Taleggio cheese and porcini mushrooms. You're gonna wanna make this.
This is the best savory bread pudding I've ever made. Well, he's right, of COURSE. Via Tom Tomorrow, who said that "[a]nyone who's spent any time reading right-wing blogs already understood this to be true":
That last bit especially is no big surprise. [ Link to today's entries ]
I'm fat. Well, I hope this is a temporary situation, but we've had a very filling weekend. It's rabbit food for me for the next few weeks. We did our (in)famous Second Thanksgiving on Sunday, in which we have friends over and let it all hang out, foodwise. I contributed an old-fashioned Kentucky country ham from Col. Bill Newsom and family, topped with the famous New Orleans root beer glaze, as well as a couple of side dishes. I did Dubliner Mac 'n Cheese again (third time in a week!), and instead of a dressing I made a savory bread pudding with frozen/fresh and dried porcini mushrooms, Taleggio cheese and guanciale. It was a new, experimental recipe of mine, and it was staggeringly good, if I do say so myself. There was also a tray of Wesly's famous Bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with Parmigiano Reggiano, a recipe he got from A.O.C. restaurant in West Hollywood and for which our guests clamor (the bacon from Neuske's, and some of the best anywhere), Opelousas Yam Crunch, roasted Brussels sprouts (which were fabulous), cream sage biscuits (which are amazing, and just three ingredients -- flour, cream and sage), a tray of various salumi (including pepperoni, Genoa salame, sopressata and cappacola) with insalata Caprese and a pesto sauce, cranberry-orange relish ... and a bunch of desserts too. Banana cheesecake with fudge topping, Rocky Road cake, chocolate marshmallows, a panettone, and fortuantely we didn't get to our idea of dipping little Snickers bars in batter and dropping them into my new deep-fryer. I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving(s). (*urp*) ... excuse me. They're not that hungry, really. After the above description I feel embarrassed to post this, but I will because it makes me angry enough. Is this a joke, or a travesty? (Given this awful, awful administration it's the latter, and just one of many.)
Yeah, it'll be news to the 35 million people who go to bed hungry that our government no longer considers them actually hungry, perhaps because they're tired of being compared to third world countries and repressive dictatorships in areas like hunger, press freedom (where we rank at #53, with countries such as Botswana, Croatia and Tonga) and number of executions, including execution of minors (where we rank alongside Iran, Saudi Arabia and China). I truly despise these people. "If this isn't civil war, I don't know what is." The President and the National Security Advisor still say Iraq is not in a state of civil war. The people who are actually there beg to differ. Michael Ware, reporting from Baghdad, outside the Green Zone: Ware again, on how the president, the ambassador to Iraq and the generals are "divorced from reality": Ware: "The debate about whether or not this is a civil war is fueled either by the luxury of distance -- those who aren't here living on the ground -- or by the spin of those with a political agenda to deny its existence." We did this. [ Link to today's entries ]
"As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly."
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I hope today is Here's a little bit of Thanksgiving cheer, the (in)famous episode of "WKRP in Cincinnati" featuring Mr. Carlson's legendary WKRP promotional turkey giveaway, in three parts. Part 1: Part 2: Part 3: Oh, the humanity! [ Link to today's entries ]
The long goodbye. Goddammit ... I'm really tired of my heroes leaving us this week. One of the world's great filmmakers, one of America's greatest artists and one of my own top two or three favorite film directors since I first became aware of cinema as art -- Robert Altman has died at the age of 81. 
One of the great, lost, lamented movie theatres for me was the Gentilly Orleans, on Gentilly Boulevard in New Orleans. By the time I got to it it had become an art and repertory house, and that's where I received my Altman education, along with the Prytania Theatre uptown. That's where I saw what was then his newest film, 3 Women, and it absolutely mesmerized me. I devoured everything of his I saw, and I even appreciated films of his that received critical drubbings. (I felt empowered, however, by the then-film critic of the Times-Picayune, whose Top Ten Films of the Year list was always topped with whatever Altman film came out that year; I think her name was Laura Vincent, but I don't quite recall.) I even liked Quintet, and a few friends and myself may have been the only ones; I even built a Quintet board and we played the game! (It's a pretty good game, too, without the murders, that is.) I've had some friends who've worked for him, and I'm insanely jealous. From everything I heard, he ran a great set, and was wonderful to work with. Bob Altman gave me many wonderful gifts over the years, including some of my all-time favorite films. Here's everything of his I saw, and the list makes me boggle. That Cold Day In The Park. M*A*S*H. Brewster McCloud. McCabe and Mrs. Miller. Images. The Long Goodbye. Thieves Like Us. California Split. Nashville. Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull's History Lesson. 3 Women. A Wedding. Quintet. A Perfect Couple. Popeye. Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean. Streamers. Secret Honor. Tanner '88. Vincent and Theo. The Player. Short Cuts. Kansas City. Cookie's Fortune. Gosford Park. A Prairie Home Companion. Pretty friggin' amazing. I've got some holes to fill, and I'll fill them soon. Thanks for everything, Bob. I think we'll be watching some of your movies this weekend. Mícheál Ó Domhnaill tribute. I'm not sure if any of yis will be near your radios or computers on Thanksgiving evening, but I'm preparing a musical tribute to Mícheál on "Down Home," which I hope you'll tune in to as you're digesting your turkey, before your tryptophan comas kick in. It'll feature some extremely rare material from the Celtic Folkweave album Mícheál recorded with Mick Hanly in 1973 after Skara Brae and before The Bothy Band which was never released on CD and is very hard to find on LP these days. I'll also play some Bothy Band material, some of his duet work with Kevin Burke, some Relativity tracks and maybe even a Nightnoise track or two. The program will also feature a set of rare recordings by Planxty as well, so if you're a fan of Irish music tune in this Thursday, Thanksgiving evening, from 7:00 to 9:00pm Pacific Time (9pm Central, 10pm Eastern, 0300 GMT) locally at 88.5 FM, and on the web at KCSN.org. [ Link to today's entries ]
Oh no. I read some shocking and sad news over the weekend, and it made me feel even worse in that it happened four months ago, and for some reason I didn't hear about it at the time. 
Mícheál Ó Domhnaill, one of Ireland's best and most preeminent traditional musicians, formerly of Skara Brae, The Bothy Band, Relativity, Puck Fair and Nightnoise, died in a fall at his Dublin home on Saturday, 8 July, 2006. He was only 53. If there was one other band that would be the equal or near-equal of Planxty in its influence on Irish music in the latter part of the 20th Century, it would be the Bothy Band. Their unbelievable energy, drive and ferocity set them a bit apart from Planxty but they had no less respect and devotion for the tradition, while bringing it to a younger audience, setting it in marvelous arrangements and playing the old music the excitement and modernity of a rock band. The band consisted of Mícheál (whose name is pronounced MEE-hall O'Donnell) and his sister Tríona Ní Dhomhnaill (TREE-na nee GHunn-ull), Dónal Lunny (who had recently departed Planxty), Paddy Keenan, Matt Molloy (currently with The Chieftains for the last 27 years) and Kevin Burke (preceded by Tommy Peoples and briefly, Paddy Glackin). They were legendary for the energy they brought to their performances and the even greater energy they brought to their on-the-road lifestyle of revelry. The group unfortunately burned itself out after a few years, but left behind five astonishing records, three studio and two live. An obiturary in the U.K. Herald notes quite accurately that Mícheál has left behind "a priceless legacy of traditional music."
More from the Irish Times:
I'd only ever seen Mícheál perform live one time, at a performance by his jazz/trad Irish group Puck Fair with flutist Brian Dunning, which later morphed into the Celtic-jazz-chamber music ensemble Nightnoise. After seeing Planxty, it was one of my life's musical ambitions to see Mícheál play with a reunited Bothy Band, and I'm terribly sad that not only will I never see this, and more so that Mícheál is gone and none of us will hear him play again. There was a tribute to Mícheál on RTÉ radio's "Rattlebag" that's worth listening to. I'd recommend, if you haven't done so already, that you get all of the Bothy Band albums you can lay your hands on; they're all still in print. For an example of Mícheál's wonderful guitar playing and gorgeous voice, have a listen to The Bothy Band's performance of "The Death of Queen Jane", one of Mícheál's most beautiful vocal performances ever (and thanks to Richard Silverstein for hosting this). Here are a couple of wonderful video clips I found on YouTube. The first is recent, from a TG4 (the Irish-language TV network) tribute to Prionsías Ó Maonaigh (Francie Mooney, the father of Altan's singer/fiddler Mairéad Ní Mhaoniagh) who also passed away this year. Fiddler Paddy Glackin and Mícheál, who accompanies on guitarplay three reels: "John Kelly's", "The Merry Sisters" and "The Silver Spear." (Following is more chat as Gaeilge, and some more tunes from Francie along with daughter Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh and grandson Ciarán Ó Maonaigh.) Next is a rare clip of a Bothy Band performance from 1976. Mícheál is unfortunately mostly in the background on this clip, but it's wonderful nonetheless. His sister Tríona is on lead vocals for a song called "Pretty Peg," followed by a tune called "Craig's Pipes." Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam dilis. Decency prevails. In the wake of nationwide outrage and the growing list of FOX Television Network affiliates who were refusing to air it, News Corp. have cancelled their upcoming O.J. Simpson media presentations, both the 2-part TV interview and the subsequent publication of his book. Rupert Murdoch himself apologized for the affair, and for "any pain this has caused." There may be some hope for this country yet. [ Link to today's entries ]
Thanks! Well, I don't know how many folks who read this humble webblawwwg kicked in (there was one I know of, at least!), but in any case, thanks to everyone who helped support KCSN and "Down Home" during the pledge drive last night, to the tune of $1,544!! That'll go up once matching grants kick in, so there'll be a nice big wheelbarrow full of money to dump on our general manager's desk (clear some space, Freddie!). Pimming! No, that's not something dirty. In fact, I was perusing recent back issues of the San Francisco Chronicle and came across an article about Pimm's, the English gin-based "semi-sweet fruity" liqueur. Apparently the Pimm's Cup cocktail is making a comeback and is popping up on bar menus all over the Bay Area. Except for some of us, though ... the Pimm's Cup can't make a comeback because it's never been away. It's the house cocktail at New Orleans' legendary Napoleon House, the world's most civilized bar, and has been for decades. N.O. food writer Pableaux Johnson notes the irony in such a beverage being the signature drink of a bar named for (and a building originally bought for) the deposed Emperor of France: "In 1821, then-owner and former New Orleans mayor Nicolas Girod offered the building to Napoleon as a base of New World operations while the ex-emperor was imprisoned on St. Helena. After a storied career fighting British forces for Euro-domination, would the "Little Corporal" approve such an Anglified beverage?" Probably not, but it'd be fun to see the look on his face if he were offered one. The Pimm's Cup cocktail is perfect for sweltering summer days (and long nights) in New Orleans, due to its relatively low alcohol content and its nearly endless ability to provide refreshment. Napoleon House uses a fairly simple recipe: a shot of Pimm's No. 1 Cup, two shots of lemonade, fill with 7up and add a cucumber slice. The Chronicle offers a variation that I find intriguing, though ...
Ginger ale or ginger beer is the way they're made in England, and I like the idea of cutting it with soda to take out some of the sweetness. I'm gonna try this next time it gets hot. Hell, I might just try it tonight anyway, and just crank up the heater. The Cocktailian. I missed this column from last Friday, but at the time, the Professor, our cocktailian bartender, serves up a cocktail from San Francisco's Nopa Restaurant. It's called the Washhouse, and consists of fresh basil, lime juice and simple syrup muddled together then shaken with Square One, an American-made organic rye vodka. (Vodka again, oy ... I might try this, but I might also have to try this with gin so we'll get some flavor from the spirit.) That horrid, horrid woman. Judith Regan, who's publishing *. J. S*mps*n's vile book and conducting the unspeakable TV interview with him next week, has released an eight-page apologia supposedly telling why she did it: "[B]ecause she was a victim of domestic violence and thought the proceeds would go to Simpson's children." Oh, for fuck's sake. Yeah lady, his children really want to hear how he "theoretically" killed their mother and stepmother, on TV and in bookstores ... and that's only for starters.
When Wes and I read this article this morning at our respective jobs, unsurprisingly the first word that popped into both our heads was this one: Bullshit. He and I were pretty much of the same mind on this one, but I'll relay his words:
And horseshit. And chickenshit. And all the nuances of meaning of the aforementioned scatological slang terms. Regarding the final quote from the above article, Steve said in email this morning, "O.J. didn't confess, he'll do his 'penance' on the golf course and the only thing I can imagine that's been amended is his checking account. So does this mean that she's going to pay off every guy who ever dumped her? Should Bernard Kerik expect a check in his mail?" Awful, awful, awful. Interesting side note: Bill O'Blather-- er, Bill O'Reilly joins me and almost everyone else in outrage over the impending broadcast, and adds this disclaimer: "Shamefully, the Fox Broadcasting Unit is set to carry the program, which is simply indefensible, and a low point in American culture. For the record, Fox Broadcasting has nothing to do with the Fox News Channel."
Sorry, Billy me boy. You're all the same slime coming out of the same cesspool. [ Link to today's entries ]
Pledge drive! Yep folks, it's that time o' year again, time to support your favorite public radio station! In this case I hope that your favorite or favorites include good ol' KCSN, where Your Humble Narrator has been spinning discs for over eight years now (my, how time flies). Find out why Los Angeles magazine named KCSN "The Best University-Sponsored Radio Station" in Los Angeles! (Funnily enough, there was no mention of that Santa Monica station.) Broadcasting with digital HD Radio technology and streaming worldwide via the web, KCSN is truly eclectic when other radio stations only say they are. If you already know how good the station is, please consider becoming a supporting member. I especially wouldn't mind if you became a supporting member tonight during my "Down Home" shift, so call (800) 795-5276 ... that's 1-800-795-KCSN (easy to remember), or else you can pledge securely via the web. A basic membership is $50 (and take a KCSN license plate frame, CD wallet or baseball cap as our gift to you), supporting $88.50 (and take home a KCSN t-shirt or sweatshirt), but we particularly like pledges of $120, for which I've got a little something extra for you. I've got a nice little goodie bag of CDs put together ...
Not bad, eh? You can take home one of those CDs for a pledge of $65, but the better deal for you AND us is to take all five of 'em home for less than double that. Such a deal! Help great radio keep being great! Pledge to KCSN! The poor Martini. It's gin and vermouth, people. How hard can it be? Very, apparently, particularly once the word "martini" with a small m got co-opted to mean any kind of alcoholic drink that's served up, with an eye-popping array of often ghastly ingredients. This sad and nasty-tasting side to the otherwise excellent cocktail revival has finally pushed New York Post writer Brian Niemietz over the edge:
Yes, thank you Uncle Jesus. I know, it's bacon. How could anything bacony be bad? But just look at that picture. It looks vile. It makes the vodka (vodka, ugh) look like formaldehyde. I think they may have gone too far even for me. But this is just the beginning ... look at the list of drinks proffered later in the article, and said list perfectly illustrates what's wrong with most cocktails today. A few of them look okay, but mostly it's the typical overly-sweet, candy-like crapola or truly bizarre combinations. (Vodka, black pepper and Tabasco in a salt-rimmed glass? Feck!) Now, if you want to try a more reasonable bacon Martini, our friend Michael has had moderate success by making a standard, proper Beefeater Martini, shaken until you can practically skate across the surface on the flotilla of ice chips that form, and garnish it not with an olive but with a half-strip of perfectly crisp bacon. It manages to impart a nie, subtle, smoky bacony flavor to the drink and remained surprisingly crisp until the drink was gone, unlike the soggy, bloated-looking preserved pig carcass part that's seen in that picture. Gick. [ Link to today's entries ]
I quite literally could not believe what I was reading. This morning Steve sent around an email item that I thought at first was from The Onion, and then I thought, "Okay, The Onion has crossed a line here ... not only is this not funny -- at a |
