Monday, January 11, 2010

Absinthe Makes the Heart Beat Faster, Cheri


It's a romantic conceit, of course, a vision as imaginary as it is unobtainable. Living in a Parisian garret occasionally crosses my mind, devoting my hours to creating something lasting from words, and perhaps gaining a French lover or two along the way.

The aim is to find any place a couple of levels above the street, because I'm not sure about the supply of garrets. One big room would be best, with floor to ceiling windows, preferably with a view of something louche - the rear of a boudoir or the window of a rich man's pied-à-terre so I could write about the women coming and going.

My bed would be big and low. It would live in the style of a loft, half-way between the main floor and the ceiling. A short flight of stairs - a ladder, really - would give it the feeling of being the top bed of a set of bunks. The fun of watching women climbing up would be worth the small awkwardness.

The pace of the day would be strictly French. (Hopefully) morning sex upon waking. Coffee and croissant for le petit déjeuner, then writing. A little yoga around noon, followed by lunch with a friend. Wine, to loosen my Protestant mind. A little more writing.

With good planning, a lover would arrive around a cinq heures, to indulge that most sophisticated Parisian scene; the cinq à sept aka love in the afternoon. We'd share dinner, perhaps eating out, perhaps cooking for ourselves, all the while watching for goings-on across the street. Material for writing is what I'm here for, it's not a vacation. On weekends we might head out, to a wine bar or for some absinthe.

My heart grows fonder at the thought.




Miss Paris from here. [link]

Edited for greater pomposity.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Fun with bacon!

I'm hosting a cookie swap today, so while I'm waiting for everyone to arrive I thought I'd post the recipe I made. I've been wanting to play with bacon in a dessert for some time now, and I figured this was the perfect opportunity!


Everything's ready to go, so we'll see how everyone likes them!



Maple Toffee Oatmeal Cookies w/Bacon
adapted from Baking Bites
Yield ~24


1c white whole wheat flour (or WW pastry or AP flour)
1/2t cinnamon
1/2t baking soda
1/2t baking powder
1/4t salt
1 stick butter (I use Smart Balance 50/50 Omega sticks)
1/3c brown sugar (not packed)
1/3c maple syrup
1 egg
1c old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2c toffee bits
1/2c diced brown-sugar bacon (~5 slices, depending on the variety)

Preheat oven to 375.

Line baking sheet with foil (for easy clean up) and place a cooling rack on top of the foil. Place 5-6 strips of bacon on the rack. Sprinkle with 1-2T brown sugar and bake until bacon is crispy. Cool, then dice. You'll want ~1/2c for the cookies.

In a small bowl, stir together first 5 ingredients (flour through salt).

Cream together butter and sugar. When light and fluffy, add maple syrup and egg, then continue beating until well combined. With the mixer on low, slowly add in the flour mixture. Then add in oats, toffee and bacon and mix well.

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Scoop cookies onto cookie sheet a few inches apart. Bake 8-12min, depending on the size (1T size cookies will take ~10min, larger cookies will take longer. Cool on a wire rack.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Novelty Slut



Are you a novelty slut?

In case you're unsure, this is how you'll know.

-> you think conventional wisdom is something your dentist deals with.

-> you understand airport fiction isn't a type of book, it's the security people.

-> reading a newspaper is for between mouthfuls of fish.

-> 'professional sport' is a joke without fencing.

-> you think even fencing is rigged.

-> hardback books are back because Kindle is already so last Christmas.

-> on a date, you've said: "Okay, I'm bored now."

-> travel to China beckons, but your heart lies in Prague.

-> you end up going to Montana.

-> the idea of meeting someone special sounds tedious.

-> friends can last forever, but

-> lovers should make you want to come again.

To her place or his, that is.






Pic from here. [link]

Reid Speed might be a Novelty Slut. [link]

Hat tip to Pink Squirrel for the idea.

Friday, January 8, 2010

Friday Fluffer - Foot Massage



I know of few greater pleasures a man can give to a woman than a foot massage. Memories of ex's eyes rolling back in their heads and coos of encouragement reinforce my understanding of this as a great form of foreplay.

Men know this, but few of us take the time out to make an event of it. It's my New Year Resolution: give more women foot massages.





And here is the definitive guide to the politics of massaging other men's wives' feet.









Photo from here. [link]

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Depression




Suffering from some kind of post New Year blues reminds me how debilitating depression is in relationships. Real, diagnosed, clinical depression and its many variations I'm talking about, not the passing sub-par-ness everyone catches from time to time.

My experience with a bipolar woman caught me by surprise. She seemed normal, almost super-happy in the first weeks we dated, and I figured she was a winner. Later, I understood that her pendulum was at the manic end of things during that period. That explained her hyper-energy, extreme sociability and sexual aggression. Had I been better prepared, I would have recognized these behaviours for what they are. And I would have stayed away.

Heartless as it might seem, starting a relationship with a clinically depressed woman would be a bad move for me. Being generally of mild temperament and logical disposition, dealing with someone else's manic to depressive swings takes away all my energy. Because I find myself emotionally lost with someone ill with depression, my mental process suffers too, then my health. Ergo, failed relationship.

Not that I'm saying the depressed and the non-depressed can't get together. Of course they can. But it depends a lot on communication, with both people clearly understanding the way depression works. I think that plans made in advance of the extremes of behaviour help a lot, taking away much of the uncertainty for the non-depressive partner. Doctors and medication and therapy should be a part of those plans.

There are some big numbers thrown around describing the numbers of people affected. No doubt, it's a big problem. But it's not a problem that improves when another person is dragged down by second-hand depression. Knowing one's own limitations can save heartache beyond description.








Photo from here. [link]

The Friuli-Venezia Giulia Region Comes to Il Fornaio

Wedged between Austria and Slovena, the northern Italian region of Friuli-Venezia Giulia is bordered by the Adriatic Sea to the south and the Alps to the north. Reflecting a climate which can be buffeted by cold fronts, the region's cuisine emphasizes comfort food: hearty soups, polenta, charcuterie, grilled meats and fish, risotto, gnocchi, and ravioli.

To celebrate the New Year, a group of friends gathered at the Santa Monica Il Fornaio (1551 Ocean Blvd, Santa Monica, CA 90401; 310/451-7800), opposite the Santa Monica Pier, for a tasting of the Festa Regionale (January 4-17) . Along with a selection of regional dishes, we also sampled wines from the family run Tenuta Luisa winery located close to the Slovena border.

When we arrived at the restaurant, a cold chill caught us by surprise, so soup was the order of the day. The Cannellini Bean Soup (Zuppa E Antipasti) was deeply flavored with carrots, potatoes, and Swiss chard, topped with a thin slice of Il Fornaio's bread, crusted with grated Parmesan cheese. The light and fruity but not sweet Friulano (2008) made a good companion for the soup.

While we studied the menu, we feasted on a basket of delicious, fresh-from-the-oven Il Fornaio bread--the restaurant is called "The Baker" after all--with slices dipped into a small plate filled with their own extra virgin olive oil. The struggle, always, is to eat only a few slices of the bread and not the whole basket.

Although off the familiar tourist routes, Friuli-Venezia Giulia is well-known for one of its products, San Daniele prosciutto. Our appetizer was a plate composed as much for the eye as the palate (Prosciutto San Daniele e Formaggi Misti). The sweet, delicate San Daniele could be eaten by itself, each slice practically melting in your mouth.

What's fun about a charcuterie plate is the mix-and-matching that is possible. A piece of prosciutto can be eaten with a bite of a meaty Cerignola olive, or it can be wrapped around a crisp thin bread stick studded with sea salt. My favorite way was to dredge a slice of soft Montasio Vecchio in olive oil I seasoned with sea salt and pepper, quickly wrapping the cheese in the San Daniele, popping the little package in my mouth before too much of olive oil dripped off, followed by a sip of Friulano. Yum.

Reflecting their proximity to the Alps, the pasta courses featured hearty cream sauces. Usually anathema to calorie counters, a special dispensation should be made for these delicious sauces.

When there is a choice between Ravioli with Roast Duck in an Asparagus Cream Sauce (Ravioli d'Anatra Agli Asparagi), Pasta with Shellfish in a Parmesan and Tomato Bechamel (Pasticcio alla Gradese), Gnocchi with Sausage in a Tomato Cream Sauce (Gnocchi alla Friulana), or Risotto with Mushrooms and Vegetables in a Cheese Sauce (Risotto del Cansiglio), you'd want the tasting to focus entirely here and never move on.

But good sense prevailed and we sampled two of the four.

The ravioli hit every comfort note. The sauce, light and creamy, was leavened by the asparagus. The filling of braised duck meat was mixed with San Daniele prosciutto and pillowed softly inside the delicately sweet dough. Needless to say, generous amounts of fresh bread were used to collect every last drop of the sauce.

In the risotto, the sauce had been absorbed into the grains of rice. By comparison with the ravioli, the effect was almost austere but the effect was no less luxurious. The risotto melted in the mouth, with thin slices of wild mushrooms and fresh vegetables providing added flavor to the sweetness of the rice.

With both courses we had the Pinot Grigio (2008), a crisp companion perfect to contrast with the pastas' richness.

For protein, the region looks both to the mountains and the sea. Shrimp and Spaghetti in a Marinara Cream Sauce (Gamberoni alla Busara con Spaghetti), Wild Sea Bass with Mashed Potatoes and Spinach (Filetto di Branzino alla Greca), and a Mixed Grill of Chicken, Sausage, Lamb, and New York Steak (Carne Mista alla Brace).

Choosing the sea bass, I would have happily just eaten the mashed potatoes and sauteed spinach with cherry tomatoes, capers, Kalmata and Cerignola olives. They were that delicious. The sea bass had no trouble competing with such formidable accompaniments. Moist and sweet, the skin turned into a crisp confection that dissolved in my mouth. The Friulano was a bit too fruity for the dish and the Pinot Grigio too crisp, so we switched to the Sauvignon (2008) which had just the right amount of lightness and full flavor.

Outside we could see people leaving the Santa Monica pier, their coats pulled tightly around them, so although we were well-satisfied with the meal, we decided to take another moment and relax in the warm comfort of the restaurant and share the regional dessert.

A small cake topped with ice cream came to the table. The Italian name, Tortino di Mele con Gelato al Rum, was certainly a mouthful. But we were so busy eating the cake, we didn't bother practicing our Italian. To our simple American tastes this was a great version of a Fruit-Nut Cake. And the rum raisin ice cream was as good as it gets.

For more posts about Il Fornaio's Festa Regionale check out:
Grilled Vegetable Couscous Salad
A Tasting at Il Fornaio, Santa Monica--Trentino-Alto Adige
A Trip to Italy is Just Around the Corner at Il Fornaio--Calabria
Il Fornaio Heads South to Campania for May's Regionale
Il Fornaio Heads North to Lombardia
Abruzzo at Il Fornaio, Santa Monica

Quicksilver



In another of my wanderings through the periodic table [link], I started contemplating a post about Mercury - or Quicksilver as it was called in times past.

Quicksilver is a liquid metal at standard room temperature and pressure, the only one. It's useful in all sorts of industrial applications, from medicine to gold mining. It is also extremely toxic.

If you have ever seen a beaker of mercury, you know how fascinating it is. The shine and look grab your attention. It moves kind of like water but not really, and has the colour of silver - highly polished shiny silver that reflects everything around it as it sits there and trembles.

Even a small volume is heavy, confusing the brain to begin with. Lift up a quarter-full beaker and the question marks fly out your ears. Your body and brain do not understand how a liquid could have this heft. Pour some onto a non-reactive surface (glass or iron) and you see the pronounced meniscus, the curvature at the edges of the sample. And with the slightest provocation, the blob of mercury will split into a bunch of rivulets, baby dribbles of silver running with gravity this way and that. Then the rivulets turn to blobs, sitting there, waiting. Gravity likes playing with an element with such a high atomic number.

So here's my metaphor: I think negative emotions can be like Mercury. We start with a beaker of them, all contained by the glass. Then one day something happens, and a little spills out. The liquid metal runs downhill as fast as it can, seeking the lowest point. That's the nature of everything subject to gravity. So we of course go chasing after the Mercury, because it's kinda funky, and all shiny and unusual. It's interesting to see how it reacts to the world.

But then we find that chasing Mercury and getting it back into the beaker are two different things. We can't just scoop it up, because some will inevitably escape. It's decidedly tricky to vacuum or sweep back into one spot, for the same reason. It's the damnedest stuff. The more we try to contain the spill, the more divided and hard to keep track of it becomes.

We manage to collect some of the Mercury in, say, a dustpan, but not all of it is there. So we have to keep going back to find the missing blobs. Suddenly you see shiny specks of Mercury in the carpet, or between the floorboards. Now you realize that you're unlikely to ever completely retrieve it, to put the entire amount you started with back into the beaker.

Then it hits you. Shit. This stuff is poisonous. Hell, what do I do now? I wish I'd never started fooling with this gear in the first place.











Photo from here. [link]