In Time All Things Haunt Us

I spent most of my childhood living a significant distance from my grandparents, and do visiting them was a big deal. A few times, my family would scrape up the money for me and my mom and later sister to fly to San Diego. When we'd leave, my grandmother would see us off at the airport. Invariably, I would begin singing "LEavin' on a Jet Plane", and my grandmother would cry. But being a kid, I didn't know they were real tears, so I'd encourage her to cry louder and keep on singing.

Now I'm getting on a jet plane, but she's the one who's leaving and I'm the one with tears in my eyes.

I won't be posting until we return. In the meantime, thank you to all my readers who have bothered to post their condolences, and please don't forget this little blog is here.

Mon Dieu!

Thanks for the Memory to The Llama Butchers.


Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

I might end up having to root for the Miami Dolphins

At least it isn't Oakland.

Upgrading Food

For obvious reasons, my head just hasn't been into blogging the last few days, and the last thing I expected to be doing was recipe blogging. But I made an interesting discovery last night that I thought you'd all enjoy.

One of the things we had to do last night in preparation for tonight's trip to San Diego was clean out the fridge -- there was stuff in there that would have been fine for a few more days before we ate them if we were home, but would have spoiled while away for 6 days.

One of them was a buffalo tri-tip that I had thawed Sunday before receiving word of my Grandmother's worsened condition. I decided to do my best with it and make my buffalo (not Buffalo) Steak Sandwiches. The problem is, the grill has been in hibernation and wouldn't fire up. No problem -- I used our electric griller/Pannini maker/Waffle maker. I know, the meat doesn't get that smokey quality, but here's what you can do that's almost as cool:

This variation on the recipe requires an electric grill or a grill pan -- something with a solid surface and raised grill lines, not an open wire grill.

First, start with a good dry rub. I'd recommend 1/4 cup turbinado sugar, 1/4 cup kisher salt, and herbs and spices to taste. I use cumin, cayenne, parika, ground sundried tomato, ground Mexican oregano, mustard powder, onion and garlic powders. The dugar is important for later.

Let the meat stand for about 2 hours before cooking it. Rub the skillet or griller with olive oil and cook the tri-tip to taste (IMHO, if it isn't pink, it's burnt). While the meat is resting, deglase the surface of the griddle with 1-2 tbsp of red wine and 1 tsp of balsamic vinegar. Allow the deglaze to reduce, take your sliced ciabatta bread and lightly drizzle the cut surface with olive oil. Place face down on grill. Cook for 1 minute or until the bread is hot and has soaked up some of the reduction. Continue on with the rest of the original recipe.

Travel Plans

TFR and I will be attending my grandmother's funeral in San Diego. We leave Eugene on Wednesday right after I get off of work, and our flight leaves Portland at 9:20 PM, arriving in San Diego at 11:44. We fly home on Monday night, leaving San Diego at 8:40 PM and arriving in Portland at 11:10. We'll spend the night at the SIL's and drive home Tuesday morning.

The trip will be a bittersweet thing. This is our second trip back to San Diego since we moved to Oregon, and both times it was to bury someone -- first my dad, now my grandma. We'll have plenty of time to visit with old friends, which will be nice, but ultimately will remind us of how lonely we are -- we have not yet cultivated any real, active friendships in the five years we've been here. And from the last trip, I remember that being in a place where one used to live has an odd quality to it, a familiar strangeness -- "I remember all this, but I'm not part of it anymore".

The River Jordan Is Muddy and Cold

My sister just called. My grandmther passed away peacefully last night at 10:59 PM PDT.

My deepest thanks to everyone who has kept her and our family in their prayers ofthe the past months. Please continue to remember us as we go through the process of bidding her farewell.

Bittersweet Morsels

Bitter: My friend Vic's sister Star is not log for this world. Go offer him your support.

Sweet: Spoke with the Program Cooddinator fro the Culinary Arts program today. She said I could expect some word on my application by the end of April. Based on what she saw of my application, she doesn't see why the chef instructors would need to bother with an interview before accepting me.

Bitter: I spoke with my sister yetserdasy. My grandmother's breathing is labored and rapid, and they expect her to go very soon.

Bittersweet: My brother-in-law is out of the hospital and recovering, but he is still having some problems and needs further prayers.

I'm Born Again, There's New Grass on the Field

It's Opening Day!

In Norman Maclean's A River Runs Through It, he writes, "In my family, there was no clear division between religion and fly fishing."

The same could be said in my family of baseball. My father was a lifelong, die-hard fan of the sport. He played it in high school, college, and the Navy. He coached girl's little league softball. He announced the games for my high school. And he loved to go sit in the stands and watch it.

When I was a boy of four, he was given seasons passes to go see the Eugene Emeralds, or Single A minor league team. He'd just get settled in to watch the game when I'd want a hot dog and a pop. So he'd walk with me to concessions, buy the food, and walk back to his seat. By the 3rd or 4th inning, I'd want some cotton candy. By the 5th inning or so, I'd want to go home. My poor father never got to see one of those games through to the end.

But he did manage to plant a seed. And by the time I was a teenager, I was as devoted to Baseball as he was. And because my grandparents lived in San Diego, I'd become (and still am) a diehard Padres fan -- I was a fan back in the days of the Swingin' Friar, the uniforms that looked like McDonalds uniforms (the team WAS owned by Ray Kroc), and teams that couldn't hit their way out of a paper bag. I had the privilege of watching Tony Gwynn (one of the last true gentlemen in baseball) play out his entire career in The Murph (I refuse to think of it as "Qualcomm").

And when we moved to San Diego when I was a young adult, he got the chance to teach me all the tings about baseball that he'd always wanted to. He taught me the main reason that baseball is better watched live and in person, as opposed to on televison (a medium perfect for football but lacking for baseball) -- he taught me not to focus on the battery, but to watch the whole field. He taught me to appreciate hitting to get on base as much as the long ball. And he taught me how to keep the faith -- to not give up on your team no matter how bad things look.

He's gone now, and I no longer have someone to talk baseball with. But I have a young son, and I live just a few short miles from the field where the Emeralds play. Maybe some day....

Hollywood Mythology

Thanks for the Memory to Tales of a Wandering Mind.

Quick, a bit of word association. Which mythological character springs to mind?



Yeah, I thought "Medusa" too.

Volcan-OH!

A while back I mentioned that Clear Creek Distillery's pear Eau-de-Vie had inspired me to start working on a dessert recipe. Well, last night I got my first try at it, and may I say, with all modesty, WOW! I think I have a winner here.

As usual, I was going for something that highlighted the food products of Oregon. I wanted a thematic dish -- I wanted the name and cooking method to reflect something about the state as mucvh as the ingredients. I decided to go with a flambe dish, something along the lines of Cherries Jubilee or Bananas Foster.

What I came up with was "Pears Mazama". Mount Mazama is the mountain in whose crater Crater Lake resides. It's a big mountain, but was much much bigger before that eruption some 7,000 years ago -- she went from 11k or 12k to just over 8k today. Pears are one of Oregon's top crops -- our largest tree-produced crop, #10 of all our crops, and we are #3 in US pear production, #2 in fresh pears (not canned). So it seemed a perfect match.

Pears Mazama
Serves 2

Ingredients:
2 red bartlett or red d'anjou pears
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup sugar (I use fructose from the bulk food section -- not because of any health claims, but because its flavor matchs better with the honey)
1/4 cup water
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup pear eau-de-vie
vanilla bean ice cream
1/4 cup chopped roasted filberts
cinnamon
unsalted butter
fresh mint sprigs
lemon juice

Tools you will need:
vegetable peeler
coring device (a melon baller will do)
shallow glass baking dish
medium skillet
ice cream scoop
ignition source (especially if, like me, you are stuck with an electric stove)
Fire Extinguisher (SERIOUSLY, folks. Don't dink around when it comes to flaming alcohol!)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Ever so lightly butter the bottom of a glass baking dish. Peel the pears, and with a corer or melon baller, core them. Not: Do not halve the pears, cut them, slice them, etc. They should be whole with the exception of the "tunnel" where the core used to be. Place upright in the baking dish and place in the oven for 15-20 minutes or until the pears are soft all the way through. Place each pear in the center of a plate (for the suggested presentation, a dinner plate gives the nicest effect). Place 1 scoop of vanilla bean ice cream next to the pear. Dust the entire plate with cinnamon. If you take care to dust from directly above, the pear will create a slight "shadow" around its base that gives a nice effect.

In a medium skillet combine the honey, sugar, water, and vanilla. Bring to a boil over medium heat, allowing the water to boil off. When the remaining mixture begins to caramelize, stir in the pear brandy. As soon as it comes to a boil, ignite it and pour over the pear, making sure as much of the sauce as possible gets into the core hole. when the fire dies out, sprinkle the pear and ice cream with chopped filberts and garnish with a mint sprig.

Immigration Quote Quiz

Who said this"

"In the first place we should insist that if the immigrant who comes here in good faith becomes an American and assimilates himself to us, he shall be treated on an exact equality with everyone else, for it is an outrage to discriminate against any such man because of creed, or birthplace, or origin. But this is predicated upon the man’s becoming in very fact an American, and nothing but an American…There can be no divided allegiance here. Any man who says he is an American, but something else also, isn’t an American at all. We have room for but one flag, the American flag, and this excludes the red flag, which symbolizes all wars against liberty and civilization, just as much as it excludes any foreign flag of a nation to which we are hostile…We have room for but one language here, and that is the English language…and we have room for but one sole loyalty and that is a loyalty to the American people."

(Bold text added by me)

If you want to cheat, the answer is at Stix Blog, but I challenge you to give it the college try first.

In-Fidel-ity

Thanks for the Memory to Blogfather Rusty via Naked Villainy.

Could it be true? Could Fidel Castro be dead?

If he is, I think we should lift the embargo before his body cools. Send a message to the people of Cuba: You aren't our enemy, he was.

A Public Self-Serving Announcement

The Feared Redhead has worked in the spa industry since before we were married. She started as an esthetician, she was a massage therapist. Throughout her career, one of the thorny issues has been tipping. Both jobs provide services that are traditionally tipped. But in recent years, the popularity of giving gift certificates to spas has put a dent in this.

So ladies (and gents -- you never know), here's a , well, tip, if you'll pardon the pun:

Massage therapists, estheticians, hair stylists, and cosmetologists should be tipped. Apply the same standards you would for a meal in a restaurant -- a percentage of the cost of the service, adjusted for the quality of service received. A three dollar tip on a service that takes an hour of intensive work, and requires a license that must be studied for, sometimes for years, just ain't gonna cut it, and furthermore communicates the wrong message -- either that you don't know what you're doing, or you thought the facial sucked. And no, effusive praise is not an acceptable substitute. In fact, when you gush about the facial and THEN stiff her, that actually hurts WORSE. And if you're receiving the service courtesy of a gift certificate, don't assume the cost of the certificate included gratuity. It probably didn't, and what's more, the front desk staff are usually not even allowed to broach the subject -- with you OR with the purchaser of the certificate. So ask. And if the answer is, "No, it did not", well, then...

Thanks for listening.

Above and Beyond

Thanks for the Memory toLMC at The Llama Butchers.

The first Medal of Honor of the Iraq war, and in fact the first for any conflict since Somalia, has been awarded posthumously to Sgt. First Class Paul Ray Smith. The Wall Street Journal Opinion Page has an excellent account of the action for which he received the Medal. Here is the official citation:

The President of the United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress, March 3, 1863, has awarded in the name of Congress the Medal of Honor to

Sergeant First Class Paul R. Smith
United States Army

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty:

Sergeant First Class Paul R. Smith distinguished himself by acts of gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty in action with an armed enemy near Baghdad International Airport, Baghdad, Iraq on 4 April 2003. On that day, Sergeant First Class Smith was engaged in the construction of a prisoner of war holding area when his Task Force was violently attacked by a company-sized enemy force. Realizing the vulnerability of over 100 fellow soldiers, Sergeant First Class Smith quickly organized a hasty defense consisting of two platoons of soldiers, one Bradley Fighting Vehicle and three armored personnel carriers. As the fight developed, Sergeant First Class Smith braved hostile enemy fire to personally engage the enemy with hand grenades and anti-tank weapons, and organized the evacuation of three wounded soldiers from an armored personnel carrier struck by a rocket propelled grenade and a 60mm mortar round. Fearing the enemy would overrun their defenses, Sergeant First Class Smith moved under withering enemy fire to man a .50 caliber machine gun mounted on a damaged armored personnel carrier. In total disregard for his own life, he maintained his exposed position in order to engage the attacking enemy force. During this action, he was mortally wounded. His courageous actions helped defeat the enemy attack, and resulted in as many as 50 enemy soldiers killed, while allowing the safe withdrawal of numerous wounded soldiers. Sergeant First Class Smith’s extraordinary heroism and uncommon valor are in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself, the Third Infantry Division “Rock of the Marne,” and the United States Army.

Get on your knees tonight, thank God for men like Sgt. Smith, and then ask Him to comfort this hero's family.

Another Attack of the Clones

Back in my high school and early college days, I was a huge fan of a Christian musician named Steve Taylor. Steve was a former Youth Pastor whose music was a blend of terchno-pop, with some early attempts at rap (very bad from a rap point of view, but very clever for the day). Taylor's forte, especially early on, was satire, and he was unafraid to poke fun at hypocrisy within the church as well as at secular society. The title song from his first album, I Want to be a Clone, challenged the idea that Christians had to conform to the expectations of their peers in order to be good Christians, and included the line, "If you wanna be one of His, you gotta act like one of us!"

Over the years, he did mellow a BIT, and turned his critical eye toward the mirror, producing much deeper and more thoughtfulk lyrics on albums like I Predict 1990, Squint, and the collaborative effort under the band name Chagall Guevara and their album of the same name.

Lately I've been reflecting on some of his earlier, more biting work, and have been surprised when I realized that while the music is severely dated, the lyrics are frighteningly timely some 25 years after they were release. Three in particular have come to mind, so I'd thought I'd share them here (Lyrics found at Leo's Lyrics):

Whatcha gonna do when your number's up?
From the album "I Want To Be A Clone"

Sally's into knowledge
spent her years in college
just to find out nothing is true

She can hardly speak now
words are not unique now
'cause they can't say anything new

You say humanist philosophy is what it's all about?
You're so open-minded that your brains leaked out

chorus:
Whatcha gonna do when your number's up?
time to lay diplomas down
(time to lay your money down)
whatcha gonna do when your number's up?
and you're buried six feet underground
spent your life looking out for number one
pride'll come before a fall
whatcha gonna do when your number's up?
were you thinking
that was the end of it all?

Harry's a civilian
wants to make a million
so he keeps on pluggin' away

Money is eternal
like the Wall Street Journal
yes they're gonna make him happy someday

Grabbin' for the gusto
gonna hit paydirt or bust
where's it gonna get you
when you bite the dust?

(chorus)

Buried in your psyche is the shadow of a doubt
You're so open minded that your brains leaked out

Bad Rap (Who you tryin' to kid, kid?)
From the album "I Want To Be A Clone"

Now L.A. hip and N.Y. chic
been dancin' lately cheek to cheek
while Midwest good ole boys like me
should all be playing catch-up, see

Subscribe to the Village Voice in throngs
and guess who gigs at Madame Wong's
well drop your pens and pant designs
and drop six words in your open minds

Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
to the Hollywood school
teaching everything's cool
who you tryin' to kid, kid?
to the Greenwich mockingbird
who has gotta have the last word
got your head together now?
got a way that's better now?
who you tryin' to kid, kid?
(say what, bad rap, uh huh)

You save the whales
you save the seals
you save whatever's cute and squeals
but you kill "that thing" that's in the womb
would not want no baby boom

Good, bad, laugh and scorn
blame yourself for kiddie porn
convenience is the law you keep
and your compassion's ankle deep

Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
wrap it in a fine philosophy
who you tryin' to kid, kid?
but your bottom line still says "me me me"
got your head together now?
got a way that's better now?
who you tryin' to kid, kid?

You'll march if all the streets are full
a two bit closet radical
no time to check the end result
expedience is your catapult

Convictions make your skin to crawl
you act like you're above it all
you say faith is a crutch for a mind that's closed
you guzzle your crutch and shove it up your nose

Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
to my left wing band with their head in the sand
who you tryin' to kid, kid?
to the "might makes right" playin' chicken (delight)
got your head together now?
got a way that's better now?
who you tryin' to kid, kid?

Can't understand those Christians
so you type us all in stereo
they're hypocrites
they're such a bore
well come on in
there's room for one more

So now you're mad
who is this guy
to bake us all in one big pie?
you think I care
forget it, hon
you've just been shot
with your own gun

Meat the Press
From the album "Meltdown"

Meat the Press

In a ninety-floor Manhattan address
lives a watchdog called the National Press
and around his collar's written the line
"The Protector Of Our Hearts And Minds"

Hark! Hark! The dog will bark
and we believe this hierarch
but read between the lines and see
this dog's been barking up the wrong tree

Meat The Press

When the ratings point the camera's eye
They can state the facts while telling a lie
and then watchdog shows to the viewers at ten
he's a bloodhound with a pad and pen
can't pin the blame--he's out of reach
just call the dog "His Royal Leech"
we held the rights for heaven's sake
'til we gave this sucker an even break

Meat The Press

When the godless chair the judgment seat
we can thank the godless media elite
they can silence those who fall from their grace
with a note that says "we haven't the space"
well lookee there--the dog's asleep
whenever we march or say a peep
A Christian can't get equal time
Unless he's a looney committing a crime
listen up if you've got ears
I'm tired of condescending sneers
I've got a dog who smells a fight
and he still believes in wrong and right

Meat The Press

Hmmmm....

Good News

Thanks for the Memory to Blogfather Rusty. American hostage Jill Carroll has been released. More over at The Jawa Report.

Crossing Fingers

I received a postcasrd acknowledging the receipt of my application to culinary school and informing me I meet minimum requirements. My application is under review and I may be called in for an interview.

I'm excited that the ball is rolling, but a bit nervous. I got my hair cut last night, trying to prepare to make a good impression. The waiting is the worst part.

Mr. Bush, Build Up This Wall!

I got a little Linky-Love from the Nakedly Villainous Maximum Leader today. He offered his perspective on our immigration conversation. I'm one hundred per cent in agreement with everything he says in the post. But we did disagree on one topic, one neither of us mentioned in our posts -- the importance of a border fence/wall.

I'm all for it. As Maximum Leader points out, the debate over immigration reform is moot if we cannot enforce any present or future immigration laws. The current debate on immigration is too focused on what to do with illegals already here, and not enough on how to keep them out in the first place. To control immigration, we must control our borders. A physical barrier to the unfettered crossing of the border is a good start.

Not everyone agrees. Kathy the Cakeater went so far as to call it a "B.C. tactic", comparing it to Hadrian's Wall or the Great Wall of China. She goes on to say that such a wall "won't do anything to actually solve the problem of WHY Mexicans want to cross the border, but will only force the illegals to find another way to get across...."

But as I argued in the earlier post, yes, to a certain extent, it will. The title of that post was an allusion to an amusing children's song, one I hoped someone besides Maximum Leader would catch. The song presents a conundrum similar to the one we face with illegal immigration -- a series of problems where the solution to each one presents another, until the solution to the last problem presents the singer with the first problem. And again, that's what we're facing with immigration. Kathy argues, and I acknowledge, that we need to solve the problem of WHY Mexicans (and others, for that matter) want to cross the border". But that problem will never BE addressed so long as they are able to do so with relative ease. At least not where it needs to be addressed -- in Mexico. Why fix what's broken when you can just move north where things still work (for now)? Mexico has discarded its poor, and now they are discarding Mexico. The only way they will ever fix Mexico is if they STAY in Mexico, and the only way that will happen is if we make it easier and more worthwhile to do so than to simply jump ship and head north.

Maximum Leader did raise one objection that is valid and important enough to address. But I believe it is more of a caution than a deal-breaker. And that is the pitfall of assuming that a wall is sufficient to secure our border alone. And on this we are in agreement. Like him, I believe that it is also vital that we beef up the Border patrol: more personnel; better training; better equipment; better "Watching Their Six" policies; robust, response to any physical attack on Border Patrol Personnel; and an immigration policy that is a bit stiffer that the current revolving door that is a source of so much frustrartion to BP agents.

Comparing a modern border wall to Hadrian's Wall or the Great Wall is as superficial as comparing Iraq to Vietnam, or worse. For a far more recent example of a wall, Kathy might have looked to Israel. Since the construction of their wall, suicide attacks in Israel have dropped sharply. If done right, a wall is still a valuable tool in providing security to a nation.

Pop Quiz

Eight questions, open book -- all answers can be found in Johnny Cash's music.

Name that person:

1. Who broke jail about a dozen times?
2. Who grew restless on the farm?
3. Who's with the sherrif every day?
4. Who won't answer any more?
5. Who would join right in there?
6. Who was swinging a laughing little girl?
7. Who's quite a lady?
8. Who's faces were gaunt?

Mike Check

Hmmm.... yup, comments seem to be working fine.

Just checking.