First and Foremost, The University of Georgia Football Bulldogs beat the holy hell out of the hated Auburn War-Tigers. Thus defeating Auburn and Florida in the same season for the first time since 1982. To put that in perspective, the last time that happened, I was 5, and we lived in Ft. Lewis, WA. At that point, I referred to The Dawgs as "The Red Bay Packers" -- what can I say, they had the same helmet? That was the same year my mom came home to find me goose-stepping around our living room table and chanting "Iran, Iraq and Ronald Reagan" - so, the more things change, the more they really do stay the same.
Regretably, I did not make the trip to The Classic City to see the game -- only the second game in this series I have missed since 1997, and the first in Athens since 1995. It is consistently the best and most fun game on the schedule, win or lose.
Instead, I wore all black in my dad's den and drank Bloody Mary's and took phone calls, and cranked music. A fine time, but a far cry from the heady days of years past. Time marches on.
Also this week - I helped get Gov. Richardson of New Mexico on the ballot in Alabama, picked up a new client, made Smoked White Chicken Chili, and probably a bunch of other stuff that I can't really remember, or is just as not interesting as whatever else I am babbling about.
Check back for my musings on The State of American Letters, and the Love-Hate relationship sports fans have to domination.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Boulliabased!
Though I never envisioned this as a cooking blog, I guess that's where most of my creativity is manifested these days. This recipe is derived from my mom's Clam Spaghetti recipe, and this may be one where I have surpassed her.
When I lived in New Hampshire, it was freezing cold for the first six months, and I didn't know a soul aside from the schmucks I worked with. So, I would crank music and drink drinks and cook food that was reminiscent of warmer climes.
For some reason, this became my go-to dish, probably because it was easy, and prepared mainly in one pot, with another for cooking noodles.
I started freelancing, and adding ingredients that I thought would compliment the flavors in the basic dish. I really hit my stride with the receipt of a La Creuset Dutch Oven, but only because it got me thinking of one-pot, stock type dishes. This becomes almost a boulliabase, and even gets better when you let it get cold and semi-congeal.
Heat the pan over medium-low heat for about 5 minutes.
Take a 1/4 stick of real butter, and cover it with about an equal amount of extra virgin olive oil. (Basically, coat the bottom of the pot).
Chop up a single tin of anchovies. Add to pot. Crush some garlic, and finely chope 2 shallots, or half a red onion. Add to pot. Take 2 filets of sole or tilapia and sear on both sides. Allow to stay whole, but make sure the garlic, etc doesn't get dried out or burnt under the fish.
Add 4 cans of chopped clams, with juice, half a bottle of clam juice, and 2 empty clam cans full of white wine (whatever you like to drink, because the added bonus here is, you get to finish the bottle while cooking and with dinner.) Let simmer on lower heat for about 10 minutes.
Add 2 cans of canned mussels with juice, a package of any type of chopped mushrooms that you like, and a whole bunch of coarse chopped parsley. Crack a ton of black pepper over the top (or as much as you need) squeeze the juice of a whole lemon, and simmer again for another 5 minutes.
I have taken to cooking the noodles to almost al dente, and the draining and adding to the pot to finish cooking.
Serve with good bread, a lot of parmesan cheese -- I use the green Kraft can, I shit you not, it melts the best into a dish like this -- and whatever wine you haven't knocked back.
It's great on a freezing night because its warm and soup like, and great in the summer because of the fresh seafood and light flavors.
Enjoy!
When I lived in New Hampshire, it was freezing cold for the first six months, and I didn't know a soul aside from the schmucks I worked with. So, I would crank music and drink drinks and cook food that was reminiscent of warmer climes.
For some reason, this became my go-to dish, probably because it was easy, and prepared mainly in one pot, with another for cooking noodles.
I started freelancing, and adding ingredients that I thought would compliment the flavors in the basic dish. I really hit my stride with the receipt of a La Creuset Dutch Oven, but only because it got me thinking of one-pot, stock type dishes. This becomes almost a boulliabase, and even gets better when you let it get cold and semi-congeal.
Heat the pan over medium-low heat for about 5 minutes.
Take a 1/4 stick of real butter, and cover it with about an equal amount of extra virgin olive oil. (Basically, coat the bottom of the pot).
Chop up a single tin of anchovies. Add to pot. Crush some garlic, and finely chope 2 shallots, or half a red onion. Add to pot. Take 2 filets of sole or tilapia and sear on both sides. Allow to stay whole, but make sure the garlic, etc doesn't get dried out or burnt under the fish.
Add 4 cans of chopped clams, with juice, half a bottle of clam juice, and 2 empty clam cans full of white wine (whatever you like to drink, because the added bonus here is, you get to finish the bottle while cooking and with dinner.) Let simmer on lower heat for about 10 minutes.
Add 2 cans of canned mussels with juice, a package of any type of chopped mushrooms that you like, and a whole bunch of coarse chopped parsley. Crack a ton of black pepper over the top (or as much as you need) squeeze the juice of a whole lemon, and simmer again for another 5 minutes.
I have taken to cooking the noodles to almost al dente, and the draining and adding to the pot to finish cooking.
Serve with good bread, a lot of parmesan cheese -- I use the green Kraft can, I shit you not, it melts the best into a dish like this -- and whatever wine you haven't knocked back.
It's great on a freezing night because its warm and soup like, and great in the summer because of the fresh seafood and light flavors.
Enjoy!
Thursday, November 1, 2007
The reason the Shock of Recognition Post is incohernet babbling
Is most likely because it, like everything else that is posted on here will be stream of consciousness rambling. The deeper reason is, by the time I got around to writing writing it, I remembered the subject, but not the actual inspiration, or shock of recognition.
It came from an interview by David Chase about the ending of The Sopranos. The interviewer was asking him about all the interpretations of the final scene, and that one in particular focused on The Last Supper.
His response was illuminating for anyone that seeks to create original art. He said that certain things are so ingrained into your psyche, that subconsciously they can creep into your work. I find that premise to be pretty cool. It's like Dylan saying that his songs are out there in the ether, and he channels them. It speaks to all matters of inspiration.
So, you know, there's that.
It came from an interview by David Chase about the ending of The Sopranos. The interviewer was asking him about all the interpretations of the final scene, and that one in particular focused on The Last Supper.
His response was illuminating for anyone that seeks to create original art. He said that certain things are so ingrained into your psyche, that subconsciously they can creep into your work. I find that premise to be pretty cool. It's like Dylan saying that his songs are out there in the ether, and he channels them. It speaks to all matters of inspiration.
So, you know, there's that.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Gators, Gators, How'd you like to BITE MY ASS?
I would be remiss if I did not post something about The University of Georgia Football Bulldogs' unlikely victory in Jacksonville this weekend. This bugger had the makings of another classic Georgia debacle -- bad play calls, bad playing, and the crowd giving up on an outcome they have seen all too often, especially in Jacksonville, a place where *cliche-o-meter* The Dawgs were 2-15 since 1990, coming into this game.
Well, it's 3-15 now, bitch! And, in a reverse of what we have all seen too many times before, Georgia came out strong, and confident, and finally did what I have been calling on since Week 1 -- used Knowshon like you would use Jerry Rice in Super Tecmo Bowl -- get him the ball on EVERY play. While I am aware that Massaqoui and Bailey finally making clutch catches, and Stafford finally (mostly) making accurate passes had a lot to do with it, the day belonged to the young sprite from Jersey Crankin Dat Solja Boy for 188 yards. His spin move for 8 yards on the first drive was my first indication that this game might be different from the usual outcome -- something about the grace, precision, and spontaneity of the move was an indicator that this team had, as they say "A Lotta More."
The first drive (9 rushes) was capped by a diving stretch to barely get the ball across the plain, and *controversy* -- the entire team mobbing Kno as he celebrated. Not the team on the field. THE WHOLE TEAM. 70 kids out there whooping, and letting the fans, of both squads, that they came to play to day. *Another cliche alert* -- it was the sort of defining moment that makes a team a team, and the celebration, coupled with Mark Richt's unbridled joy at it, and some better play calling and inspired play, helped to carry the day, and God willing, should galvanize The Dawgs for a stretch run in which they are suddenly back in the hunt for the SEC East Title, and likely only playing on team that has any excuse competing with them (Auburn) and another that is dangerous but on the downslope (Kentucky).
The last time we won in Jax, I was actually in attendance for the first and only time. I had been kept from attending while in school (money) and after school by the seasonal nature of my job working political campaigns -- kind of hard to take off the week before an election to go to a football, even if it IS The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party! But, on that eventful day, we had more than locked up the election -- for a Democrat, in South Alabama during the high flying Republican gang rape of 2004 -- when my candidate came in and announced that having outraised his opponent nearly 300 fold, and was at 60% in the polls before we even started advertising, and damnit, he was done raising money, and for me to get my ass on the road for that little game over in Jacksonville.
I called a buddy and the convo was something like "You still got a place for me to crash? "
"Yep"
"You still got a space on that bus?"
"Yep"
"Well, pull your socks up, I'm hitting the road."
the drive from Mobile to anywhere is god-awful boring and eye droppingly long, but the one across the entire panhandle of America's flaccid penis was almost too much. I detoured into Georgia (a state always feel more comfortable in the confines of) and made it to St. Simon's Island in just a hair under 10 hours.
The next day was one of those you can barely even imagine, yet alone get to experience. The Bus ride was full of crazy old ladies making up ditties to bash the Hated Gators, including one I took for the title of this post, and lots and lots of booze.
I don't remember much about the game, except that it was humid enough for me to take off my oxford cloth button down and watch most of it in my White Tee, with Dr. Geyer and Raz Drugley.
My most vivid memory, though, is walking out and relishing the abject disgust and sadness of the Gators in all their jean shorted and sleeveless shirted glory, and the matching joy and relief of Bulldog Nation. I walked alone back to the bus, a weird ecstasy-style smile and warmth basking over me, just soaking it all in.
I imagine this year's Dog fan feeling even better, as in 2004 we beat Ron Zook, and this year we took out Urban Meyer, The Defending National Champions, ghosts of Georgia past, and to hear Vern Lundquist tell it during yesterday's broadcast, the mightiest offensive weapon in the history of college football: Tim Tebow.
Well, Vern, TEBOW WEARS JEANS SHORTS, and Stafford and Knowshon now KNO what it takes to win in Jacksonville. I don't expect to lose there again while we have the two of them.
WHAT'S THAT COMIN DOWN THE TRACK?
IT'S BIG, IT'S BAD, IT'S RED AND BLACK!
AIN'T NOTHIN' FINER IN THE LAND
THAN A DRUNK OBNOXIOUS GEORGIA FAN!!
GO DAWGS!!
Well, it's 3-15 now, bitch! And, in a reverse of what we have all seen too many times before, Georgia came out strong, and confident, and finally did what I have been calling on since Week 1 -- used Knowshon like you would use Jerry Rice in Super Tecmo Bowl -- get him the ball on EVERY play. While I am aware that Massaqoui and Bailey finally making clutch catches, and Stafford finally (mostly) making accurate passes had a lot to do with it, the day belonged to the young sprite from Jersey Crankin Dat Solja Boy for 188 yards. His spin move for 8 yards on the first drive was my first indication that this game might be different from the usual outcome -- something about the grace, precision, and spontaneity of the move was an indicator that this team had, as they say "A Lotta More."
The first drive (9 rushes) was capped by a diving stretch to barely get the ball across the plain, and *controversy* -- the entire team mobbing Kno as he celebrated. Not the team on the field. THE WHOLE TEAM. 70 kids out there whooping, and letting the fans, of both squads, that they came to play to day. *Another cliche alert* -- it was the sort of defining moment that makes a team a team, and the celebration, coupled with Mark Richt's unbridled joy at it, and some better play calling and inspired play, helped to carry the day, and God willing, should galvanize The Dawgs for a stretch run in which they are suddenly back in the hunt for the SEC East Title, and likely only playing on team that has any excuse competing with them (Auburn) and another that is dangerous but on the downslope (Kentucky).
The last time we won in Jax, I was actually in attendance for the first and only time. I had been kept from attending while in school (money) and after school by the seasonal nature of my job working political campaigns -- kind of hard to take off the week before an election to go to a football, even if it IS The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party! But, on that eventful day, we had more than locked up the election -- for a Democrat, in South Alabama during the high flying Republican gang rape of 2004 -- when my candidate came in and announced that having outraised his opponent nearly 300 fold, and was at 60% in the polls before we even started advertising, and damnit, he was done raising money, and for me to get my ass on the road for that little game over in Jacksonville.
I called a buddy and the convo was something like "You still got a place for me to crash? "
"Yep"
"You still got a space on that bus?"
"Yep"
"Well, pull your socks up, I'm hitting the road."
the drive from Mobile to anywhere is god-awful boring and eye droppingly long, but the one across the entire panhandle of America's flaccid penis was almost too much. I detoured into Georgia (a state always feel more comfortable in the confines of) and made it to St. Simon's Island in just a hair under 10 hours.
The next day was one of those you can barely even imagine, yet alone get to experience. The Bus ride was full of crazy old ladies making up ditties to bash the Hated Gators, including one I took for the title of this post, and lots and lots of booze.
I don't remember much about the game, except that it was humid enough for me to take off my oxford cloth button down and watch most of it in my White Tee, with Dr. Geyer and Raz Drugley.
My most vivid memory, though, is walking out and relishing the abject disgust and sadness of the Gators in all their jean shorted and sleeveless shirted glory, and the matching joy and relief of Bulldog Nation. I walked alone back to the bus, a weird ecstasy-style smile and warmth basking over me, just soaking it all in.
I imagine this year's Dog fan feeling even better, as in 2004 we beat Ron Zook, and this year we took out Urban Meyer, The Defending National Champions, ghosts of Georgia past, and to hear Vern Lundquist tell it during yesterday's broadcast, the mightiest offensive weapon in the history of college football: Tim Tebow.
Well, Vern, TEBOW WEARS JEANS SHORTS, and Stafford and Knowshon now KNO what it takes to win in Jacksonville. I don't expect to lose there again while we have the two of them.
WHAT'S THAT COMIN DOWN THE TRACK?
IT'S BIG, IT'S BAD, IT'S RED AND BLACK!
AIN'T NOTHIN' FINER IN THE LAND
THAN A DRUNK OBNOXIOUS GEORGIA FAN!!
GO DAWGS!!
Dat Mexican Pork
This is an all purpose blog, with one contributor, writer and editor, and no readers, so I can post whatever the hey-hey-heyl I want. We made this up yesterday, and it was great:
One large hunk o' pork (shoulder, butt, a 10 pack of pork chops)
1 packet taco mix of your choosing
1-7 cloves garlic (depending on how well you like the The Stinking Rose)
1 onion
2 small cans green chiles
1 can of salsa verde
1/2 cup-1 cup of vinegar
put all of this in a slow-cooker/ "Crock Pot" and mash it on high for about 6 hours.
Eat in tortillas like a taco, with more salsa verde.
One large hunk o' pork (shoulder, butt, a 10 pack of pork chops)
1 packet taco mix of your choosing
1-7 cloves garlic (depending on how well you like the The Stinking Rose)
1 onion
2 small cans green chiles
1 can of salsa verde
1/2 cup-1 cup of vinegar
put all of this in a slow-cooker/ "Crock Pot" and mash it on high for about 6 hours.
Eat in tortillas like a taco, with more salsa verde.
One shock of recognition runs the whole circle 'round
The 'interesting times' in which we live make for many moments of bizarre connection. If you are at all like me, you tend to pride yourself on knowing the most about certain subjects, and sometimes get a hardy chuckle at your less in the know friends and acquaintances attempts to tell you about things new, impressive, or noteworthy.
That dude you work with who told you last week about Wilco and the commercials? CHUMP. The dude who discovered an author you've been reading for years? Schmuck.
The mirror of this phenomenon is when unlikely people either know more than you about a subject, or share your love of minutiae found within the culture at large.
Like at lunch on friday when one of my client's accountants busted out with "The 4 year, 4 album run from 1968-1972 of The Stones is unmatched in rock history." which led to a conversation about The Last Waltz, and the accountant and another coworker marveling at my revelation that they served the entire crowd Thanksgiving dinner before the show.
This phenomenon reveals itself in strange ways now that companies keep tabs on everything we do, and giant computers analyze our purchases to attempt to get us to buy more stuff. I am unsure, and possibly agnostic on whether this is a good or bad development.
This morning I got an email from Amazon suggesting that since I had, in the past, purchased both Terry Frei's "Horns, Hogs and Nixon Coming" and David Maraniss' "They Marched Into Sunlight," "First in His Class," and "When Pride Still Mattered" that I might want to pick up "Third Down and War to Go" by Frei, with a foreward by Maraniss. And, what if I told you could also get 34% off? Is that something you might be interested in?
Now, while I am sort of freaked out by giant corporations and Cray 3X-1 computers knowing the inner workings of my likes and dislikes better than I do, I also got a pretty good book out of the deal.
I swear there was a larger point to be explored and expounded upon, for now I will just say that if we get into a discussion about authors, understand I know more about the works of David Maraniss than you do, and that Amazon knows more about both.
To my friends Ben Burgess, Chris Krauth, and Bob Bland, I beat the odds wagered in my first post, so Baby, I Love You, but please Fuck Off.
<>D
That dude you work with who told you last week about Wilco and the commercials? CHUMP. The dude who discovered an author you've been reading for years? Schmuck.
The mirror of this phenomenon is when unlikely people either know more than you about a subject, or share your love of minutiae found within the culture at large.
Like at lunch on friday when one of my client's accountants busted out with "The 4 year, 4 album run from 1968-1972 of The Stones is unmatched in rock history." which led to a conversation about The Last Waltz, and the accountant and another coworker marveling at my revelation that they served the entire crowd Thanksgiving dinner before the show.
This phenomenon reveals itself in strange ways now that companies keep tabs on everything we do, and giant computers analyze our purchases to attempt to get us to buy more stuff. I am unsure, and possibly agnostic on whether this is a good or bad development.
This morning I got an email from Amazon suggesting that since I had, in the past, purchased both Terry Frei's "Horns, Hogs and Nixon Coming" and David Maraniss' "They Marched Into Sunlight," "First in His Class," and "When Pride Still Mattered" that I might want to pick up "Third Down and War to Go" by Frei, with a foreward by Maraniss. And, what if I told you could also get 34% off? Is that something you might be interested in?
Now, while I am sort of freaked out by giant corporations and Cray 3X-1 computers knowing the inner workings of my likes and dislikes better than I do, I also got a pretty good book out of the deal.
I swear there was a larger point to be explored and expounded upon, for now I will just say that if we get into a discussion about authors, understand I know more about the works of David Maraniss than you do, and that Amazon knows more about both.
To my friends Ben Burgess, Chris Krauth, and Bob Bland, I beat the odds wagered in my first post, so Baby, I Love You, but please Fuck Off.
<>D
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
First Post
The title is taken from a line in Goodfellas that sums up my feelings these days.
We'll see if I can't develop this a little more in the ensuing days, weeks, and months.
That said, I'd give 10-1 this is my last post
We'll see if I can't develop this a little more in the ensuing days, weeks, and months.
That said, I'd give 10-1 this is my last post
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
