Random Thoughts for a Sunday

Dan Brown doesn’t care if I think he’s a lousy writer. And I do think he’s a lousy writer. I’m not alone. This article from the London Telegraph shows why, by dissecting 20 of Dan Brown’s worst sentences. And if anyone figures out what on earth Brown meant by “her precarious body,” please let me know! While you ponder that mystery, you can also play with Slate’s Dan Brown Sequel Generator. Plug in Major League Baseball for an especially good laugh.

If that depressed you, try visiting The Manolo’s Shoe Blog for something that will make you smile.

Finally, you can never have too many cats. Or too much bacon.

Mmmm, Bacon!

God made bacon because he loves us and wants us to be happy.

Yes, I’m still an agnostic. Don’t be such a literalist — the point of that statement is obvious: bacon is wonderful.

I made spaghetti carbonara for dinner last night, and it reminded me of how much I do love bacon. In a normal week, I stop at having three strips of it at breakfast on Saturday, but that’s just because I also love my arteries and don’t wish to clog them any more than I already do.

The wonderfulness of bacon has made the news in a number of ways recently. For example, a 115-year-old woman enjoys bacon regularly. If it’s good enough for the oldest person in the United States, it’s good enough for me! Of course, she has forsworn alcohol, cigarettes, and sex. Hmm. I’m not a smoker ….

Speaking of alcohol, the Brits have shown that bacon sandwiches cure hangovers. Thanks, British scientists! That is most welcome information.

Closer to home, an undisclosed location near San Francisco was the site of the recent Bacon Camp. I love this article because it mentions bacon-flavored dental floss, links to a recipe for bacon ice cream, has pictures of bacon sculpture, and shows buttons with amusing bacon-related slogans. Missing, however, was “bacon is a vegetable,” which appeared on a t-shirt in the most recent season of Top Chef.

Finally, would Chocolate Bacon Cupcakes have won a challenge on Top Chef? Maybe, maybe not. But if you want to try them at home, here is the recipe. I’ve had a peanut butter cupcake with bacon bits in the frosting, and it was awesome. I wonder if chocolate would be as good. Maybe I should make these and find out.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Eating Heaven, by Jennie Shortridge

Who wouldn’t want an Uncle Benny in their life? He was warm, funny, generous, and attentive to his nieces when they were little girls, and he remains that way now that they’re adults. They needed someone like Uncle Benny in their lives when they were small, because their father was a grumpy, cold-fish sort, and their mother was self-absorbed and somewhat neglectful. So the Samuels girls continue to love Uncle Benny, and when he becomes terminally ill, food-writer Eleanor Samuels — the protagonist of Eating Heaven — moves into Uncle Benny’s home in order to care for him. Isn’t that nice? Except Uncle Benny isn’t really an uncle. He’s the man with whom their mom had a prolonged affair, or so the girls suspect.

The truth about Uncle Benny is a prominent and intriguing subplot in Jennie Shortridge’s story about Eleanor’s journey of self-discovery. And really, this book is about who we choose to love, why we choose to love them, and why we sometimes love people in spite of what we know about them. (I especially like that last part, because I’ve always thought the “in spite of” test was the best indicator of true love.)

I’m a new fan of Shortridge’s. I don’t know if she’s written anything else, but I’ll be looking into that. I thought her characters had great depth, her plotting was excellent despite a few too many coincidences, her sense of place vivid, etc. Having watched my father’s final days last May, I was particularly taken with her descriptions of dying — it was as if I’d given her a checklist of symptoms and behaviors that she then incorporated into a narrative. On another note, with Eleanor being a food writer who cooks quite a lot, there are some of “her” recipes at the end of the book. I like that — if your characters are going to keep going on and on about how great the spice cake is, give me the recipe for the spice cake!

So this book comes with a strong recommendation. As for animal lovers, there is an animal character, a cat named Buddy. Shortridge uses Buddy to amp up the tension a few times, but animal lovers shouldn’t worry about reading this book, which, in keeping with the purpose of this blog, I am declaring SAFE.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Garlic and Sapphires, by Ruth Reichl

Last year some time, a woman Dave works with had her wig fall off of her bald head while she waited for a Metro train. To the astonished child nearby, she blithely chirped, “cancer survivor!” before glaring at a gawking adult who should have known better than to stare. And this is the second thing I thought of while reading of Ruth Reichl’s entertaining account of her time as the New York Times food critic.

With her picture plastered all over the kitchens of New York’s better restaurants, Reichl had little choice but to plop on an assortment of wigs and otherwise disguise herself in order to get the same kind of service that her readers would experience. As she changed her appearance, her personality changed as well. Dressed as vibrant “Brenda,” she became charming and cheerful. Dour “Betty” brought out Reichl’s negative side. Et cetera, through a number of different styles of hair, dress, make-up, and behavior. And restaurant people responded differently to Reichl according to which character she was. None of this surprised me, but I was totally intrigued by it nonetheless. Reichl is a great storyteller, giving depth not only to restaurants and food, but also to issues concerning her family and NYT colleagues. She also includes some of her restaurant reviews (I loved her description of Tavern on the Green) and a few recipes. I highly recommend this book.

As for the animal aspect, there are some shrimp that are boiled and some cats that sleep on the bed, but really no animal characters. So this book is SAFE for animal lovers.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Julie & Julia, by Julie Powell

Julie Powell’s account of her culinary death march through Julia Child’s classic Mastering the Art of French Cooking is hysterically funny, and you must read it if you haven’t already! I loved this book, largely because Powell never pretends to be anyone other than who she is, and she boldly asserts herself and her large personality with no apologies.

Powell starts off slowly, though, and it took me a while to feel fully engaged. That’s because Powell pretty much has to explain how she was depressed and searching for meaning in her life at the time she came upon the crack-brained notion of cooking 524 mostly complicated French recipes in 365 days (she didn’t even grant herself the luxury of a leap year). But the task, which she carried out despite a move, the East Coast power outage of 2003, insane co-workers, and a cat that decided to live in the ceiling, gave her a sense of purpose and helped her define herself. Having a loving husband who just rolled with the situation like a piece of algae in a stormy sea certainly didn’t hurt.

As for animals, no, the dog doesn’t die, but several live lobsters do, and it’s not pretty. If you are very sensitive to this kind of thing, you might want to skim or even skip the lobster chapter. Also, Powell’s brother gave her a pet snake when she was in college, and she occasionally has to buy mice for it. Otherwise, the cats are fine, and the Powells adopt a dog to celebrate her segue from blogger to author. So this book is Mostly Safe for animal lovers. Enjoy!

Random Thoughts on a Sunday

I only have about 10 book reviews ready to post, but I felt like doing something else today. So here goes!

Political yard signs. People, the election is over. Pick up your yard signs and put them away. If you still have yard signs out, you are either gloating or whining. Neither is pretty. Please, go outside, gather up your yard signs, and rake or plant tulip bulbs or something. The election is over. If you want to have Obama-Biden signs out for the inauguration, you can put them back out in mid-January. If you keep them out until then, they will fade and look pathetic, and you don’t want that. Furthermore, Santa doesn’t visit people with political yard signs still out from a November 4 election. He’s making his list right now, and I am helping him. So please, I’m begging you, for yourselves, your neighbors, and especially me: pull up your yard signs and put them away. Unless you are in an area with a run-off election, it is too late for anyone to vote for your candidates. Your yard signs have served their purpose. Let’s all move along now, and put the yard signs away. Thank you!

And who am I to be telling you what to do? I’m me, and this is my blog. If you disagree with me, go get your own blog. It’s easy. I’ll even tell you how to do it. Or, just leave your yard sign up in defiance of my decree. I don’t really care.

Here is something that will make you laugh. Who knew that Star Trek, Monty Python, and YouTube could blend so hilariously? Well, someone figured it out. Here is the proof:

 

My mom’s pumpkin cookie recipe. Need something to take to Thanksgiving? Will there be kids there? Make these, and everyone will love you. This recipe is weirdly pulled over from my recipe software.

                           Soft Pumpkin Cookies

     1/2     cup            butter – softened
  1 1/2     cups          sugar
  1            cup           pumpkin – solid pack
  1                             egg
  1            teaspoon   vanilla
  2 1/2     cups          flour
  1            teaspoon   baking soda
  1            teaspoon   baking powder
  1            teaspoon   cinnamon
     1/2     teaspoon   nutmeg
     1/2     teaspoon   salt

Cream butter and sugar in large bowl.  Add egg and vanilla, beat until fluffy.  Combine flour and dry ingredients.  Add to butter mixture alternating with pumpkin.  Drop rounded teaspoonfuls onto lightly greased cookie sheets.  Smooth tops.  Bake at 350 for 15 to 20 minutes or until lightly browned.

Cool and ice with buttercream icing.

A Restaurant, a Cookbook, and a TV Show

I am a huge fan of the TV show Top Chef, and I was really torn between wanting Stephanie Izard and Richard Blais* to win Season 4, which ended last night. Stephanie claimed the title, and the only thing wrong with that was that Richard didn’t win as well. (Too bad he didn’t compete in Season 2, he would have blown those clowns away.) So congrats to Stephanie, and may she and Richard have successful careers making beautiful food for the rest of us. I look forward to buying their cookbooks someday, and maybe dining at their restaurants.

For a bit more info on Richard, see the comments below. And I have been misspelling his last name, which is Blais, not Blaise. Oops. I did get a lot of hits from people who made the same misspelling, so I’m keeping the tag for the benefit of the misspellers. Fellow misspellers, if you Google “Richard Blais”, you will get the info you seek. Here is the link to his website.

And the first Top Chef cookbook is out! It’s really half cookbook, half show chronicle. I recommend it to one and all.

Away from the television and my fantasies of making television food, I have discovered a new Ethiopian restaurant. If you are unfamiliar with Ethiopian food, here’s what you need to know: it’s different. It tends to be spicy, often but not always hot, and there are no utensils. You eat it by tearing off bits of ”injera”, a spongy pancake, and using the injera to pick up bits of food. Anyway, Meaza has won great praise as an “authentic” Ethiopian restaurant in the Washington DC suburbs. Dave and I were there for about an hour and 15 minutes the other night, and for the first 45 minutes everyone else in the place appeared to be Ethiopian immigrants. The food was exceptional, especially the lamb tibs, which we will definitely order again. With two beers, one salad, and two entrees, we paid about $40 plus tip, so it was also reasonably priced. I can’t wait to go back!

Does the Dog Die? A Short Review of The Language of Baklava, by Diana Abu-Jaber

The daughter of an American mother and a Jordanian immigrant, Diana Abu-Jaber writes movingly about the joys and frustrations of growing up as the eldest of three daughters. There are hardly any reverences to animals, but there is one horrifying scene that animal lovers will want to skip. Fortunately, it’s brief and really adds nothing to the overall story, so you miss nothing by avoiding the entire anecdote. Therefore, I am declaring the book Safe, but ONLY if you skip pages 12-19. That will keep you from reading anything about the bad incident. If you don’t want to skip that much, at least avoid pages 16-19. If you do that, I will recommend this book.

More below in the first comment.

Three Meals and a Bottle of Wine

I believe in cooking for one. I have never understood people who short-change themselves because they’re alone for dinner. If I am by myself, I deserve a good meal as much as if Dave is here or I have a house full of people. It takes a different kind of planning, but it’s not rocket science.

When Dave and I were weathered in, I doubled up meals I normally make for myself. Scrambled eggs with Monterey jack cheese for breakfast? That’s a no-brainer. For lunch, I made the Buffalo Chicken Cornbread I mentioned in a previous post. That recipe originated with Cast Iron Cooking for Dummies, which I still check before heading into the kitchen. But I’ve made that one my own already.

For dinner, I made gnudi. I can’t find a link to the recipe I use, but this one sounds good http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/236878 and I may try it next time. I love gnudi, and I was somewhat disappointed that cooking a “double” batch  from my usual single serving seemed to not work as well. It may have been a matter of an overcrowded pot. In any case, the gnudi weren’t as firm as usual. But they were still good.

I broke out a bottle of prosecco, an Italian sparkling wine (not champagne, if you go along with the French on that). It wasn’t as interesting as champagne or California sparkling wines, but it was pleasant enough. What was interesting was that we didn’t feel as if we’d had much to drink at all, yet the prosecco had an alcohol content of 11%.

Good Music, Bad Wine, Good Food

I just added the link for WEAA radio, which I listen to online a fair amount. WEAA is a public radio station sponsored by Morgan State University in Baltimore, which I knew nothing about prior to discovering the station. But I love the jazz they play, and they’ve broadened my horizons considerably.

For the wine and food part of this entry, see the first comment.