Traveling for business is like stepping into a parallel universe where I don't have to do my own housekeeping; I get free copies of USA Today; and I eat in restaurants daily. I have to say that USA Today has gotten better since I first started reading it, intermittently (i.e. on business trips) years ago, but I digress: I'm here to talk to you about restaurants.
This trip has actually been very good for restaurants. Last night, I had the best trout ever. It was cooked to perfection--not under, not over--and served with just the right amount of garlic butter, and with a side of vegetables and really good home fries. It was a universe away from the mediocre trout I had in West Virginia (at Panorama or whatever it's called) a couple of weeks ago--which was both the most expensive trout ever and the "cheapest," in the sense that they only served half the fish. But let's stick with really good trout for a minute, because Rasika deserves a shout-out in that category.
How did I become a trout connoisseur? As a pescatarian, my choices at restaurants can be pretty limited, and trout is a good, sustainable choice for seafood. I don't like to order food that I can make well myself, and most fish fits into that category. Unbelievably, the restaurant where we had lunch today--which is the restaurant at the hotel (we were in a hurry)--offered a boca burger for $10. I guess they get credit for being honest and not even pretending it was a homemade concoction, but how do you get away with serving a pre-frozen veggie burger, much less charging that much for it?
We went to Chilis for dinner (we had more interesting choices in Colorado Springs, and I suppose we'd have plenty of choices had we had the energy to venture into downtown Denver, but we were, are all exhausted), where I had a very good black bean burger and a "shot" of dessert. All week, I've been thinking, I would order dessert if it came in reasonable portions. I want a little bit of something, not a massive dose that's going to make me sick. I'm averse to throwing away food, especially, but not exclusively, when I'm paying a fair amount for it, so I don't like to order what I can't finish. Rather than get a gynormous piece of cake for $6-$8, I'd love to get a few bites for $2-$3. So far, only Chilis has come through in that category.
On the same note, until last night, I'd been ordering appetizers all week, and they were plenty. What does that tell you about typical portion sizes?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Thursday morning roundup
Once in a while, the Onion comes out with an article that's not that much of a stretch.
And once in a while, a Times article contains an enormously obvious "ya think??":
David Rohde's escape and epilogue.
And once in a while, a Times article contains an enormously obvious "ya think??":
“The way we manage the global agriculture and food security system doesn’t work,” said Kostas G. Stamoulis, a senior economist at the organization. “There is this paradox of increasing global food production, even in developing countries, yet there is hunger.”I'm being facetious-- it's great that that statement is being published, and it's an excellent article.
David Rohde's escape and epilogue.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Wednesday morning roundup
A friend of mine has gone this route. My mother's leagues away: she's never wished disease on me, for example.
Oh, South Carolina politicians, you guys are AMAZING!
David Rohde's Part IV, in which, among other things, the Taliban terrorize villagers, and Mr. Rohde stays sane, maintains an illusion of control, through routine tasks like cleaning.
Oh, South Carolina politicians, you guys are AMAZING!
David Rohde's Part IV, in which, among other things, the Taliban terrorize villagers, and Mr. Rohde stays sane, maintains an illusion of control, through routine tasks like cleaning.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Phone call
I knew it was really windy out (in Colorado Springs) but I decided to go for a walk, as I'd been inside most of the day. Half an hour or so in, my cell rings. I hadn't brought my charger along, so I'd been keeping the phone off; I turned it on in case a coworker called with a change of plan for meeting up for dinner, but it was mom that called.
A.: Hello?
Mom: Can you talk, or are you driving again, as usual?
I don't usually drive, nor generally answer the phone when I do, but I'll make sure to drive even less so as to be more available to take mom's calls.
A.: I'm not driving; I'm walking and it's very, very windy.
Mom: Well, we were out... Sunday? Was it Sunday, or was it yesterday? Was it Sunday?
Pause
I think it was Sunday. V., was it Sunday?
A.: Mom!
Mom: Anyway, we were out driving. There was this street called Valentine Street. It was a side road. You know where it was--near Auburn...
Mom goes on for a good three minutes while I'm trying to figure out what her point is. Did she see a really neat turtle? Did she buy something, about which she would like me to write a complaint letter, hence the level of detail (day, street name?)
Mom: It was not only a side road, but there was also a stop sign.
Oh, no. I sense a car accident. Meanwhile, my hand--the one holding the phone--is freezing. I hope she doesn't think I'm taking notes. Not just because I took notes for four hours today for work. I mean, she's my mother. But I'm in the middle of the street, in the wind, without a pen.
I'll summarize, although part of me wants to continue telling the story the way mom did, in order to provide a negative example, i.e. how not to tell a story. For example, don't keep the listener guessing as to what you're talking about, unless suspense is warranted. Anyway, a very elderly person rammed her car around in the middle of the street and hit my parents' car. There was a witness who attested that it was totally the other person's fault, and provided contact info. Mom, inexplicably, called her insurance, to be told she had a $500 deductible.
A.: Why are you even calling your insurance company? It wasn't your fault. Your insurance company has nothing to do with this.
Mom: Exactly!
A.: Did you call the police so they could do a report?
Mom: No...
A.: You should have called the police! Then you wouldn't be dealing with this. But never mind now. I'd call or go to the police tomorrow and ask them how to proceed. I don't really know. See if your having a witness will help.
This went back and forth for another five minutes: what could the police do? I don't know, but they could probably tell you what to do. Finally, I told her my hand was freezing, which was true. In fact, my fingers are still thawing. At first, typing was a challenge. Anyway, mom accepted that, although she sounded annoyed that I didn't want to stay on the phone and keep having that conversation with her. Or perhaps that I didn't offer to write a letter about the situation. In any case, I went on with my walk. Which was beautiful. I've never been an I'll-sleep-when-I'm-dead person, but I'm definitely of the I'll-be-warm-when-I'm-dead mindset. The colors here are gorgeous, especially by the (sadly very dry) river, and the time of day and partial cloudiness made for an even more beautiful effect. Anyway, dinnertime. Cheers.
A.: Hello?
Mom: Can you talk, or are you driving again, as usual?
I don't usually drive, nor generally answer the phone when I do, but I'll make sure to drive even less so as to be more available to take mom's calls.
A.: I'm not driving; I'm walking and it's very, very windy.
Mom: Well, we were out... Sunday? Was it Sunday, or was it yesterday? Was it Sunday?
Pause
I think it was Sunday. V., was it Sunday?
A.: Mom!
Mom: Anyway, we were out driving. There was this street called Valentine Street. It was a side road. You know where it was--near Auburn...
Mom goes on for a good three minutes while I'm trying to figure out what her point is. Did she see a really neat turtle? Did she buy something, about which she would like me to write a complaint letter, hence the level of detail (day, street name?)
Mom: It was not only a side road, but there was also a stop sign.
Oh, no. I sense a car accident. Meanwhile, my hand--the one holding the phone--is freezing. I hope she doesn't think I'm taking notes. Not just because I took notes for four hours today for work. I mean, she's my mother. But I'm in the middle of the street, in the wind, without a pen.
I'll summarize, although part of me wants to continue telling the story the way mom did, in order to provide a negative example, i.e. how not to tell a story. For example, don't keep the listener guessing as to what you're talking about, unless suspense is warranted. Anyway, a very elderly person rammed her car around in the middle of the street and hit my parents' car. There was a witness who attested that it was totally the other person's fault, and provided contact info. Mom, inexplicably, called her insurance, to be told she had a $500 deductible.
A.: Why are you even calling your insurance company? It wasn't your fault. Your insurance company has nothing to do with this.
Mom: Exactly!
A.: Did you call the police so they could do a report?
Mom: No...
A.: You should have called the police! Then you wouldn't be dealing with this. But never mind now. I'd call or go to the police tomorrow and ask them how to proceed. I don't really know. See if your having a witness will help.
This went back and forth for another five minutes: what could the police do? I don't know, but they could probably tell you what to do. Finally, I told her my hand was freezing, which was true. In fact, my fingers are still thawing. At first, typing was a challenge. Anyway, mom accepted that, although she sounded annoyed that I didn't want to stay on the phone and keep having that conversation with her. Or perhaps that I didn't offer to write a letter about the situation. In any case, I went on with my walk. Which was beautiful. I've never been an I'll-sleep-when-I'm-dead person, but I'm definitely of the I'll-be-warm-when-I'm-dead mindset. The colors here are gorgeous, especially by the (sadly very dry) river, and the time of day and partial cloudiness made for an even more beautiful effect. Anyway, dinnertime. Cheers.
Tuesday morning roundup
In David Rohde's Part III, the Taliban transports kidnapped journalists around Pakistan in broad daylight to shoot a video. Then they sleep under Hannah Montana blankets, and alternate between trying to convert Mr. Rohde and making him sing.
Is everyone composting? Because you should.
How well-meaning activists--especially those who can't deal with the nuances of reality--can be part of the problem. When it comes to a way forward for Darfur--rather than raising awareness--I'd listen to the guy whose first language is Swahili, and whom Alex de Waal believes in, over the celebrities, any day.
The founder of Human Rights Watch writes that the organization has lost critical perspective in its Middle East coverage.
Is everyone composting? Because you should.
How well-meaning activists--especially those who can't deal with the nuances of reality--can be part of the problem. When it comes to a way forward for Darfur--rather than raising awareness--I'd listen to the guy whose first language is Swahili, and whom Alex de Waal believes in, over the celebrities, any day.
The founder of Human Rights Watch writes that the organization has lost critical perspective in its Middle East coverage.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Monday night roundup
Really, Thailand? It didn't occur to you that this billboard was in really bad taste?
While we're on the topic (of Hitler), a North Carolina church will celebrate Halloween by burning books.
When seemingly innocent vanity plates go wrong.
While we're on the topic (of Hitler), a North Carolina church will celebrate Halloween by burning books.
When seemingly innocent vanity plates go wrong.
The dude just doesn't learn
Nor do I, I suppose, since I continue to be amazed at his lack of learning. Things had been good, as they usually are when either or both of us makes oneself scarce. I'd hardly seen him during the week, and he was away all weekend, to walk in, conveniently, just after I started an episode of "Mad Men" (this month's whole netflix subscription went to watching the first season). We said hello, asked about one another's weekend. In and of itself, the following exchange wasn't offensive.
RM: All packed and ready to go?
A.: No, I'll pack tomorrow morning. Less wrinkling.
RM: I realized you'll be away the whole work week. I thought, "I'll miss her!"
A.: You'll have Gracie.
Later, I took out the trash, and moved two empty V8 cans and an empty pudding cup into the recycling bin.
This morning, I came downstairs, exchanged 'good mornings' and took to making my breakfast. He went about gathering his work stuff. Then he just stopped and looked at me, so I stopped what I was doing and looked up. He said goodbye and wished me a good week; I did the same and continued about my business. I could see that he was positioning himself to approach me for a hug, so I made a point of not turning to look at him or acknowledge him in any other way. It worked: he left.
Now why would he think I'd want to engage in a hug with him? Honestly. Some people never learn.
RM: All packed and ready to go?
A.: No, I'll pack tomorrow morning. Less wrinkling.
RM: I realized you'll be away the whole work week. I thought, "I'll miss her!"
A.: You'll have Gracie.
Later, I took out the trash, and moved two empty V8 cans and an empty pudding cup into the recycling bin.
This morning, I came downstairs, exchanged 'good mornings' and took to making my breakfast. He went about gathering his work stuff. Then he just stopped and looked at me, so I stopped what I was doing and looked up. He said goodbye and wished me a good week; I did the same and continued about my business. I could see that he was positioning himself to approach me for a hug, so I made a point of not turning to look at him or acknowledge him in any other way. It worked: he left.
Now why would he think I'd want to engage in a hug with him? Honestly. Some people never learn.
Monday morning roundup
The Chinese government runs into the reality that it can't "exquisitely choreograph" events outside its borders the way it did the Beijing Olympics.
Part II of David Rohde's hostage experience.
Caleb Crain's "Bootylicious", a history of pirates intermixed with book reviews on the subject, is really, really interesting. Yes, it's also six weeks old. I'm just getting caught up on New Yorkers.
I love a good dose of retail therapy as much anyone, but maybe not as much as these people. But I have to wonder why the Post has taken to basing trend stories off of people who would have, "in the old days," bought an Audi without a second thought.
Part II of David Rohde's hostage experience.
Caleb Crain's "Bootylicious", a history of pirates intermixed with book reviews on the subject, is really, really interesting. Yes, it's also six weeks old. I'm just getting caught up on New Yorkers.
I love a good dose of retail therapy as much anyone, but maybe not as much as these people. But I have to wonder why the Post has taken to basing trend stories off of people who would have, "in the old days," bought an Audi without a second thought.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Sunday afternoon roundup
People can't stop writing about the Cold War, but the Post's reviewers love all the books. Definitely on my list is this one, about a prominent Hungarian family's experience under totalitarianism.
This is a right-on article about what really sets kids back in terms of education. I tutor here and there, and not one of the kids that has been referred for tutoring has a live-in father.
People's stereotypes can overwhelm their better judgment. I was telling someone--an extremely class-conscious someone--about the Seaport Foundation. His response was, "what, for kids brought in from DC?" Um, there are plenty of home-grown poor kids in Alexandria, actually.
This is a right-on article about what really sets kids back in terms of education. I tutor here and there, and not one of the kids that has been referred for tutoring has a live-in father.
People's stereotypes can overwhelm their better judgment. I was telling someone--an extremely class-conscious someone--about the Seaport Foundation. His response was, "what, for kids brought in from DC?" Um, there are plenty of home-grown poor kids in Alexandria, actually.
Sunday morning roundup
DC throws money at organizations that do nothing, while AIDS sufferers die.
The first installment of David Rohde's kidnapping ordeal.
Two perspectives on the thinning of fashion models.
A whole bunch of unfortunate baby names.
Heroism never gets old.
There's something slightly off about the way Bono writes, but this column has some good stuff.
For some reason, I woke up this morning thinking about Cardiff, and it was in Cardiff that I first experienced David Hockney's art.
The first installment of David Rohde's kidnapping ordeal.
Two perspectives on the thinning of fashion models.
A whole bunch of unfortunate baby names.
Heroism never gets old.
There's something slightly off about the way Bono writes, but this column has some good stuff.
For some reason, I woke up this morning thinking about Cardiff, and it was in Cardiff that I first experienced David Hockney's art.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Saturday morning roundup
Beijing denizens are breathing more easily. Residents of Russia's monotowns are hurting.
Calvin Trillin on what caused the financial crisis. BTW, the New Yorker's coverage, including that in, but not limited to, the last few issues, has been excellent (and more serious).
Another article debunks popular cougar theory.
On the topic of being"faced with... the smallest pool of compatible men," allow me to share a personal experience or two. Nothing serious. And I know--as a friend pointed out last weekend, speaking for herself, actually, as we were amazed at what some women are willing to put up with in a guy--I'm hardly in a position to talk. But I think this is interesting.
Some of you know of a friend of mine that was absolutely horrified--the horror stayed with her for months--that (a) a guy wore sweatpants to a party and (b) said guy hit on her. Her! She'd never go for a guy in sweatpants! What makes a guy in sweatpants think he could get her?? And I agree with her. But the guy in sweatpants didn't know that he was out of her league by virtue of wearing sweatpants, and sometimes it's less an issue of leagues, which imply hierarchy, and more an issue of compatibility. But the same underlying issue remains: one party sees a gaping incompatibility and the other has no clue. Like the guy that came to look at the room (who, I can tell you, would have been ten times worse than RM), who twice texted me and once called to ask me out. Well, another situation came up recently. A guy asked me out for coffee. I wasn't inclined to want to have coffee with him, but I didn't immediately decline. I proceeded to learn that he had once lobbied for the Farm Bureau. As in, "oh, you're interested in food policy? I once lobbied for the Farm Bureau."
For those of you who don't quite appreciate what that means, imagine he'd told me he'd once lobbied for Operation Rescue. Actually, I think that would have been less offensive.
***
Going back to one of the articles I posted on Thursday, I have to roll my eyes, again and for a different reason, at that line about how the supposed agri-intellectuals shouldn't scoff at people who want to eat at McDonald's. If anything, people scoff at me. People think there's something wrong with you when you do eat healthily. My mother is the most direct about it--if I opt not to eat something, she starts lecturing me about how I shouldn't take anything, including healthy eating to extremes. There's no rhyme or reason to her lecturing, though--she'll dish it out no matter what, because she operates under the impression that I have complicated reasons for eating or not eating everything that is possible to eat, just like she thinks that I watch every show on TV and recognize every TV personality, or watch the shows that I do because I think they're brilliant in every way.
Mom: Why do you watch this show? This show seems stupid.
A.: I'm watching it because it's on.
Mom: Who's that?
A.: I don't know.
Mom: But you watch the show.
And so on. I'll spare you the "why did he do that"/"I don't know" sequence.
When it comes to food, that conversation goes like this:
Mom: Why aren't you having any oranges?
A.: I hadn't noticed them...
Mom: Have an orange now.
A.: No, thanks. I'm not hungry.
Mom: It's just an orange.
A.: I don't want to eat anything right now.
Mom: You shouldn't take anything to extremes.
The point is, though, that mom may be the most direct, but other people say and think similar things. Consider my roommate, who got it into his head that I had an eating plan. Why does actively thinking about what you eat make some people think you're some kind of freak?
Calvin Trillin on what caused the financial crisis. BTW, the New Yorker's coverage, including that in, but not limited to, the last few issues, has been excellent (and more serious).
Another article debunks popular cougar theory.
On the topic of being"faced with... the smallest pool of compatible men," allow me to share a personal experience or two. Nothing serious. And I know--as a friend pointed out last weekend, speaking for herself, actually, as we were amazed at what some women are willing to put up with in a guy--I'm hardly in a position to talk. But I think this is interesting.
Some of you know of a friend of mine that was absolutely horrified--the horror stayed with her for months--that (a) a guy wore sweatpants to a party and (b) said guy hit on her. Her! She'd never go for a guy in sweatpants! What makes a guy in sweatpants think he could get her?? And I agree with her. But the guy in sweatpants didn't know that he was out of her league by virtue of wearing sweatpants, and sometimes it's less an issue of leagues, which imply hierarchy, and more an issue of compatibility. But the same underlying issue remains: one party sees a gaping incompatibility and the other has no clue. Like the guy that came to look at the room (who, I can tell you, would have been ten times worse than RM), who twice texted me and once called to ask me out. Well, another situation came up recently. A guy asked me out for coffee. I wasn't inclined to want to have coffee with him, but I didn't immediately decline. I proceeded to learn that he had once lobbied for the Farm Bureau. As in, "oh, you're interested in food policy? I once lobbied for the Farm Bureau."
For those of you who don't quite appreciate what that means, imagine he'd told me he'd once lobbied for Operation Rescue. Actually, I think that would have been less offensive.
***
Going back to one of the articles I posted on Thursday, I have to roll my eyes, again and for a different reason, at that line about how the supposed agri-intellectuals shouldn't scoff at people who want to eat at McDonald's. If anything, people scoff at me. People think there's something wrong with you when you do eat healthily. My mother is the most direct about it--if I opt not to eat something, she starts lecturing me about how I shouldn't take anything, including healthy eating to extremes. There's no rhyme or reason to her lecturing, though--she'll dish it out no matter what, because she operates under the impression that I have complicated reasons for eating or not eating everything that is possible to eat, just like she thinks that I watch every show on TV and recognize every TV personality, or watch the shows that I do because I think they're brilliant in every way.
Mom: Why do you watch this show? This show seems stupid.
A.: I'm watching it because it's on.
Mom: Who's that?
A.: I don't know.
Mom: But you watch the show.
And so on. I'll spare you the "why did he do that"/"I don't know" sequence.
When it comes to food, that conversation goes like this:
Mom: Why aren't you having any oranges?
A.: I hadn't noticed them...
Mom: Have an orange now.
A.: No, thanks. I'm not hungry.
Mom: It's just an orange.
A.: I don't want to eat anything right now.
Mom: You shouldn't take anything to extremes.
The point is, though, that mom may be the most direct, but other people say and think similar things. Consider my roommate, who got it into his head that I had an eating plan. Why does actively thinking about what you eat make some people think you're some kind of freak?
Friday, October 16, 2009
Awesome Daily Show
An excellent full episode of The Daily Show. Here are some highlights:
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Doubt Break '09 | ||||
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| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| You've Got Fail | ||||
| ||||
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Jennifer Burns | ||||
| ||||
Friday morning roundup
Between this and this, I may just drive home for the holidays. That way I also have the flexibility to go home if (when?) my mom pulls some of her finest antics.
Maintaining moral authority and telling people how to live their lives means not doing stuff like this.
Maintaining moral authority and telling people how to live their lives means not doing stuff like this.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Phone call
A.: Hello?
Mom: Where are you?
A.: Home.
Mom: Then what's that noise?
A.: I don't hear anything.
Mom: There's a noise.
A.: I don't know.
Mom: Anyway, that plant that you had--that I also have... ours is thriving. Some of our other plants are having a harder time, but that one's just fine. When exactly did you take it in for the winter?
A.: I don't remember, mom. That one died a while ago.
Mom: Well, about what time of year did you take it in?
A.: I don't know. It was over a year ago.
Mom: Roughly when?
A.: I DON'T KNOW, MOM! I don't remember.
If I don't remember something, how is repeating the question is going to help me remember? Why are you calling me at 9pm to ask me the same question three times?
Mom: Where are you?
A.: Home.
Mom: Then what's that noise?
A.: I don't hear anything.
Mom: There's a noise.
A.: I don't know.
Mom: Anyway, that plant that you had--that I also have... ours is thriving. Some of our other plants are having a harder time, but that one's just fine. When exactly did you take it in for the winter?
A.: I don't remember, mom. That one died a while ago.
Mom: Well, about what time of year did you take it in?
A.: I don't know. It was over a year ago.
Mom: Roughly when?
A.: I DON'T KNOW, MOM! I don't remember.
If I don't remember something, how is repeating the question is going to help me remember? Why are you calling me at 9pm to ask me the same question three times?
Home cooking
I just think fast food is overrated in terms of efficiency, as well as nasty. But I didn't stop eating at McDonald's because it was disgusting-- I always knew it was disgusting. I stopped eating at McDonald's when I read "Fast Food Nation" and came to understand its impact on the food system. The Atlantic comments and Mark Bittman responds.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Wednesday evening roundup
Really? People are saying that? What decade are we in?
Tom Philpott calls out the Gourmet haters.
Personalized cakes gone wrong.
This doggy baked goods phenomenon is getting old. By the way, there were doggy bakeries in Berkeley Springs (WV).
I finally got through the rest of the Times Magazine food issue. The parts I was going to read, anyway; I could give a $hit about Jaime Oliver. Mark Bittman has a brilliant idea to revolutionize food shopping, and I can't wait to read Jonathan Safran Foer's new book.
Having bought a waffle iron this weekend, I'm very excited about these whole grain waffle recipes. Of all of us, I came away from the Apple Butter Festival with the most unrelated stuff (i.e. the waffle iron and a Mark Bittman book, both from yard sales).
Gag me...
And in case you're up for an exemplar of human dignity and decency:
Tom Philpott calls out the Gourmet haters.
Personalized cakes gone wrong.
This doggy baked goods phenomenon is getting old. By the way, there were doggy bakeries in Berkeley Springs (WV).
I finally got through the rest of the Times Magazine food issue. The parts I was going to read, anyway; I could give a $hit about Jaime Oliver. Mark Bittman has a brilliant idea to revolutionize food shopping, and I can't wait to read Jonathan Safran Foer's new book.
Having bought a waffle iron this weekend, I'm very excited about these whole grain waffle recipes. Of all of us, I came away from the Apple Butter Festival with the most unrelated stuff (i.e. the waffle iron and a Mark Bittman book, both from yard sales).
Gag me...
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Moment of Zen - Krispy Kreme Burger | ||||
| ||||
And in case you're up for an exemplar of human dignity and decency:
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Chesley Sullenberger | ||||
| ||||
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Tuesday evening roundup
Can you really argue that a neighbor's clothesline is why one's house went into foreclosure? BTW, I LOVE my gas dryer-- it's super efficient, dries in a very short time.
This is particularly relevant as some very educated yet shortsighted people try to assign to leftist regimes a monopoly on systematic human rights abuses.
Another columnist takes on the tipping madness. Remind me to tell you about some seriously slow restaurant service over the weekend.
Compare and contrast: food consumption.
Compare and contrast: nepotism.
This is particularly relevant as some very educated yet shortsighted people try to assign to leftist regimes a monopoly on systematic human rights abuses.
Another columnist takes on the tipping madness. Remind me to tell you about some seriously slow restaurant service over the weekend.
Compare and contrast: food consumption.
Compare and contrast: nepotism.
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Apple Butter festival
Even though apple butter is yummy, it wasn't the highlight of the weekend. I'm not sure what was-- too many really fun elements to narrow it down. There was the actual hot springs, from which I emerged with an unfamiliar sense of inner calm. So much that I was still at peace hours later, after that bout of horrendous restaurant service I'd alluded to in an earlier post (not to mention some interesting restaurant entertainment, in the form of a local who shared his medical history with his table, and the rest of us, as his voice carried throughout the restaurant). We ended up at that place after failing to find appealing options in town. Another local, of whom we'd asked directions the day before, warned us against a pizza place that had stolen his house (he lives in a van). "Stay away from them," he said. "They'll nut-rub your food." When he told us he was local, P. suppressed a "really??" It was the nose-ring and strung-out hippie look, complete with the drum tossed over his shoulder, that didn't quite fit with the rest of the town.
Not an hour had passed upon arriving at Owl's Nest, the cabin we'd rented for the long weekend, that an "Idiocracy" reference emerged. Gatorade came up, and I naturally thought, "it's what plants crave!" It wasn't until the next day that I (almost) got a chance to reference Zoolander in the course of playing Taboo. Since I almost did, I got to actually do so by talking about how I almost did, and then Alex further enabled me: what was the underwear reference in Zoolander, he asked? I got to talk about the walk off! I LOVE the walk off! Of course, that would not last as the most memorable board game moment. See, Allen composed a poem. More accurately, a very bad example of one, that had me literally ROTFLMAO.
Owl's Nest wasn't just a catchy name: owl paraphernalia abounded, to be discovered by the hour. Owl imagery adorned mugs, hot mitts, wall decorations, cutlery... you name it. The place also had hideous faux-wood panels. We loved it.
But now it's back to work.
Not an hour had passed upon arriving at Owl's Nest, the cabin we'd rented for the long weekend, that an "Idiocracy" reference emerged. Gatorade came up, and I naturally thought, "it's what plants crave!" It wasn't until the next day that I (almost) got a chance to reference Zoolander in the course of playing Taboo. Since I almost did, I got to actually do so by talking about how I almost did, and then Alex further enabled me: what was the underwear reference in Zoolander, he asked? I got to talk about the walk off! I LOVE the walk off! Of course, that would not last as the most memorable board game moment. See, Allen composed a poem. More accurately, a very bad example of one, that had me literally ROTFLMAO.
Owl's Nest wasn't just a catchy name: owl paraphernalia abounded, to be discovered by the hour. Owl imagery adorned mugs, hot mitts, wall decorations, cutlery... you name it. The place also had hideous faux-wood panels. We loved it.
But now it's back to work.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Food rules
Some of these food rules that Michael Pollan has gathered are great, some are 'eh,' and one just pisses me off: "Never Eat Something Pretending to Be Something Else," with veggie burgers as the first example.
Excuse me, but why does meat have a monopoly on being an acceptable ingredient for burgers? Aren't burgers basically the form-- a patty? Then why is it more "natural" to ground up a cow into that form than do the same with soy, or wheat germ and vegetables? And what makes you think your real burger isn't a "chemical concoction" (with antibiotics, at that). Talk about being self-righteous while not knowing what's in your food.
By the way, I generally agree with the principle of eating "real food." I just don't think that veggie burgers are less real than meat.
***
One of the rules offered in the comments was to leave your food rules at home when you're a guest, which is a 'yes and no' issue as far as I'm concerned. I won't leave my vegetarianism at home, nor will I-- as one of the agreers to that comment wrote--eat dessert or anything else if I'm full. It doesn't take a lot to convince me to eat dessert, but I think it's rude to expect someone to force-feed herself out of politeness. I do think it's rude to not try things just because you generally don't like them, and I think it's rude to pick food apart (I've had parties where I've served, say, smoked salmon on crackers, and people will pick the salmon off the crackers, which in my book implies barn-raising). But as a host, you shouldn't take yourself so seriously that you're hurt when someone won't eat something. That's just absurd.
Excuse me, but why does meat have a monopoly on being an acceptable ingredient for burgers? Aren't burgers basically the form-- a patty? Then why is it more "natural" to ground up a cow into that form than do the same with soy, or wheat germ and vegetables? And what makes you think your real burger isn't a "chemical concoction" (with antibiotics, at that). Talk about being self-righteous while not knowing what's in your food.
By the way, I generally agree with the principle of eating "real food." I just don't think that veggie burgers are less real than meat.
***
One of the rules offered in the comments was to leave your food rules at home when you're a guest, which is a 'yes and no' issue as far as I'm concerned. I won't leave my vegetarianism at home, nor will I-- as one of the agreers to that comment wrote--eat dessert or anything else if I'm full. It doesn't take a lot to convince me to eat dessert, but I think it's rude to expect someone to force-feed herself out of politeness. I do think it's rude to not try things just because you generally don't like them, and I think it's rude to pick food apart (I've had parties where I've served, say, smoked salmon on crackers, and people will pick the salmon off the crackers, which in my book implies barn-raising). But as a host, you shouldn't take yourself so seriously that you're hurt when someone won't eat something. That's just absurd.
WTF?
So, one of my gate contractors copped an attitude when, upon receiving his exorbitant estimate and realizing that he was giving me a price for replacing the entire fence in my back yard, I assured him I was only interested in the 16 feet of gate--currently falling down--that immediately needs replacing. He said he wouldn't "halftail it" because the whole thing will need to be replaced eventually and said "sorry he couldn't help" me even though I was just seeking clarification, rather than turning him down. But it's pretty audacious to offer a price for a lot more than I want to get done, and then be a prick about it, so he's out.
Two are coming by this morning. One just tried to friend me on Facebook (which, in my case, would entail getting me to join Facebook, and if I've resisted when friends have invited me, why would I join to "friend" a contractor?
Two are coming by this morning. One just tried to friend me on Facebook (which, in my case, would entail getting me to join Facebook, and if I've resisted when friends have invited me, why would I join to "friend" a contractor?
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