Much Tastier than Prairie Hay, Thank You Very Much!

While we were in San Diego for my Grandmother's funeral, The Feared Redhead and I decided we'd like to go back down there for vacation, so we can visit when we have more time and aren't there to bury anyone (the reason for both our visits since leaving). One resolution I made while there was to stay in closer touch with my family. Towards that end, we plan on throwing a barbecue for my family, to be hosted at my cousin's house.

In preparation for said event, I decided to try my hand at making bacon and beans. Baked beans, pork and beans, ham and beans -- beans are a common staple in every part of the US. And they go well with barbecue. Because this was practice, I made a huge batch. They were delicious, but be aware that this makes enough beans to feed an army if you decide to try the recipe.

Bacon and Beans
2 lbs pinto beans
enough water to soak said beans and keep them covered once soaked
1/2 lb bacon
1/4 of a large onion or 1/2 of a medium onion
2 clove of garlic
1/2 cup molasses
1/4 cup honey
1 6 oz can of tomato paste
1-2 tbsp salt
1 tbsp paprika
1 tsp ground oregano
1 tsp ground cumin
2 bay leaves
dash cayenne

Soak the beans overnight (at least 8 hours, I soaked these for 24). Strain beans, saving soak water. Cut bacon into 1 inch long pieces. Chop onions and mince garlic. In a 4-quart dutch oven, heat bacon over medium high heat until it starts to sizzle. Add onions and garlic. When Onions soften, add the beans, honey, molasses, tomato paste, and enough soak water to fill to just below the lid. Add in paprika, oregano, cayenne, cumin, bay leaves, and salt to taste. Heat to a boil, lower heat to medium low and continue to boil for 10 minutes. Cover and place in a 275 degree oven for 6 hours, stirring occasionally.

Serves everyone.

Antici..................Pation!

STILL waiting to hear from the Culinary Arts Program regarding my application. Sure, feel free to borrow my mind, I'm about to lose it anyway.

Virtually From the Horse's Ass's Mouth

Thanks for the Memory to Emily at It Comes in Pints? (Boy, they're just EN FUEGO today!), who links to this cool chatbot, Ask Chomsky. I did, and just couldn't resist asking:

Me: How does an advanced degree in linguistics make one an expert in diplomacy?
Chomsky: How should I know how it does.

Just "Plane" Stupid

Thanks for the Memory to Emily at It Comes in Pints?

When one views the modern mainstream media from a certain political perspective, and one notices the omission of certain stories or details of stories, it is easy to reach the conclusion that said media have an agenda: that they hold to a certain political and philosophical viewpoint; and that they select the stories and images to be presented to their audience in such a way as to paint their own beliefs in a positive light, and that of their opponents in a negative.

But Hanlon's Razor dictates that we never presume malice in an individual's actions if those actions can simply be attributed to stupidity. And while I am firmly of the belief that the media have been self-incrimination to the point where simple stupidity cannot explain their actions, and said action seem convincingly evident of malice AND stupidity combined, on occasion, they do present me with anecdotal evidence in support of a pure stupidity theory.

Case in point:

Emily points us in the comments to her entry to this fawning article from People, an interview with Tom "Caligula" Cruise and Katie "Deer in Headlights" Holmes. In the first sentence of the article, the writer, Clint Brewer, writes, "It was a scene straight out of a Tom Cruise blockbuster: the hero in the cockpit of a 1944 P-51 Mustang fighter plane, a beautiful girl on the tarmac, and the roar of the jet's engines as it tore across a Mojave Desert sky."

Most of my beloved readers are well-versed in the history of the US Military and its more famous weapons, and will catch the error in that sentence right away, but for the few of you who aren't and don't, I commend to you this URL about the North American P-51 Mustang, including photo.

If you'll take a look at that photo, a couple of things become clear right away: First of all, the Mustang is a single-engine aircraft. Second of all, it is propeller-driven. And that propeller is driven not by a turbofan (which is, technically, a form of jet engine), oh no, but by a piston engine, like the one in your car (well, nominally like the one in your car, in the same way that a Ferrari Enzo is a car, like my Ford Focus) an Allison F-series V-12 in early models, and a Rolls Merlin V-12 (yes, built by Rolls Royce, and under license by Packard) in the later, more successful models.

The point being that to refer to the P-51's roar as being that of a "jet's engines" is doubly incorrect. Had Mr. Brewer bothered, a simple Google search could have provided him with the information. Do I think that Mr. Brewer hates the military, or P-51 Mustangs, or the memory of the North American Aircraft Company? No. But it is obvious that he is uninformed, and furthermore, lazy. Unfamiliar with the simple nuances of aircraft design (nuances that seem frighteningly obvious), he chose to simply equate "airplane" and "jet", and either missed the distinction himself, or trusted that his readers would do so. In either case, this is irresponsible and stupid, but not malicious.

However, I would offer one caveat to any journalist who might stumble upon my humble blog: falling back on Hanlon's Razor may exhonorate you regarding your motives, but it doesn't exactly commend you regarding your skills.

Your Weekly Dose of Steve Taylor Lyrics: Installment #1

A couple of weeks ago, I reminisced on being a fan of Steve Taylor, a Christian pop musician from the 80's and early 90's with a satyrical twist to his lyrics. I also commented on how those lyrics from two decades ago seem even more germaine today. So I decided I'd start sharing them with you, one song at a time, in whatever order seems most appropriate. I hope to make this a regular feature.

This week I was struck by how many of my fellow bloggers have been registering their annoyance with the owners of hybrid cars -- particularly Prius'. It brought to my mind a recent, hilarious episode of South Park in which the "Smug" of too many hybrid owners threatens South Park and, in fact, the country. This in turn led me to ponder the lyrics to Steve's song "Smug", from his 1993 album Squint:

Strike this little pose
Chin up in the air
Lips together tightly
Nostrils in a flare
Now look like you care
Very nice!

Practice in the mirror
Brushing back a tear
Very sincere
A promising career could begin right here at home
If you've got that smug...
That smug...

chorus:
Hey mama hey mama lookee what your little babies all have become
Hey mama hey mama don't it ever make you wish you'd been a nun?
Vain and fickle, were we weaned on a pickle?
Is it in our blood?
Rome is burning
We're here turning smug

Strike another pose
Power politics
Swallow their conventions
Get your power fix
We love to mud wrestle
We love to be politically Koreshed

Practice that smug
Post it like a man
One part Master Limbaugh
Two parts Madame Streisand
Now pretend you're in a band
My, my, we're looking smug
Very very very very

(chorus)

All you smug-starved millions in the thick of the search
Welcome to our church
Whatcha wanna solve?
We can help you evolve from merely self-righteous
To perfectly smug

Strike the proud pose of our country club brethren
Friendly as a tomb
Fragrant as the bottom of a locker-room broom
Now what's the matter?
Hey...get off your knees...that part don't come 'til later...
God will not be pleased...

(chorus)
Hey mama hey mama lookee what your little babies all have become...
Rome is cooking
My, we're looking smug

Birthday Meme

Thanks for the Memory (and the meme) to Ken S. at It Comes in Pints?

This is the latest Meme going around, and it's a cool one. Go to Wikipedia, and look up your birth date (excluding the year). Then list three interesting historical events that occurred on that day, two births, and one death.

Here's what I learned about my birthday, June 5th:

Events:

70 - Titus and his Roman legions breach the middle wall of Jerusalem.
1783 - The Montgolfier brothers publicly demonstrate their montgolfière (hot air balloon).
1968 - U.S. presidential candidate Robert F. Kennedy is shot at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, California by Sirhan Sirhan. (He dies on June 6). (This one I knew, since it's the same year as well -- my dad heard the news in the hospital waiting room.)

Births:
1723 - Adam Smith, Scottish economist and philosopher (d. 1790)
1850 - Pat Garrett, American Western lawman (d. 1908) (For those who don't know and don't care to follow the link, Pat Garret killed Jesse James Billy the Kid. I knew that, duh. Thanks to Ken S. for pointing out the goof.)

Death:
2004 - Ronald Reagan, former President of the United States (b. 1911)

Link Love

I finally got around to doing something I've intended to do for a while: Updating my blogroll. For the past couple of months I've been reading some new blogs, and it's time I give credit where due:

Fiddle Dee Dee
GroovyVic is a mom blogger from back east. Her blog is a humorous mixture of commentary on politics, parenting, and Vic's obsession with Ewan MacGregor.

It Comes in Pints?

Ken S. is a frequent commenter on this site, and it's time I returned the love.

1 Girl, 4 Martinis

Bobgirrl is a twenty-somehting California girl whose usually apolitical blog (though she is conservative) is a sassy, sexy, smart insight into food, wine, culture, and the never-ending quest for a "Future Ex-Husband".

Wally Wonders Why

I've just found Wally's blog, but you have to like a guy who blogs about himself in the third person.

OOPS!

How could I forget Dubious Wonder?

Trouble linked to me when she ran the Carnival of Recipes, and gave my recipe high marks. She made an instant friend for that.

Well, I'm Back

Seven days ago this morning we buried my grandmother. The last week has drained me, both physically and emotionally. I'm grateful to my handful of loyal readers, both for their expressions of emotional support, and for continuing to make me feel validated in my blogging.

Wednesday the 5th sucked. There's nothing else for it but to face the ginormous levels of suckiness it exuded. Between the lack of sleep, the emotional drain of my grandmother's death, and the pressure to get everything done and get up to Portland in time to fly out, I was off my game all day, and managed to alienate a fellow blogger I once held in high regard. I shouldn't have even been reading blogs on a day like that. Then, after a stressful time finishing the packing and getting up to Portland, we flew out at 9:something PM and arrived in San Diego at 11:45 PM. By the time we reached my grandma's house in Chula Vista, talked to my mom, and got to bed, it was 2 AM. The Lad woke me up at 5:45, and I was up pretty much for the rest of the day, except for a short nap around 2 or so. I guess that means the suckage seeped into Thursday, huh?

The funeral was... I really can't think of a single adjective that fits. I guess it was what a funeral should be -- happy and sad, with the tears only interrupted by laughter as we remembered my grandmother for the amazing woman she was, and mourned our own loss. We know she's in Heaven and her suffering here is over, but we miss her presence. She was, as was said at the funeral, the glue that held our family together.

Margaret Dittenhaver (nee Bohnstehn) was a direct descendant of Daniel Boone. One of 11 children, she was born in Oklahoma, grew up in Arkansas, and came west to California during the Dust Bowl. She was never ashamed of her roots, though she made it clear she considered herself an Arkie, not an Okie. All of the children gave up school to work and help the family survive. One sister lost the use of her left hand in a dry cleaning press.

There was one bit of irony in the funeral. Only one of my grandmother's sisters, and subsequently her only daughter, was ever embarassed of where our family came from. That niece, now a minister, delivered the eulogy, and referred to my grandma as a "Southern Belle". It rankled me, and when I stood to share, at one point I found myself blurtingh out, "She was a Dust Bowl Okie!" OK, she'd have said Arkie, but after the funeral, numerous family members thanked me for adding that.

My grandmother left behind 5 daughters, 12 grandchildren, and 7 great grandchildren. All of those grandchildren remember her as a loving, nay doting, grandmother, who would do anyhting for her grandkids. And despite the fact that we live far apart and have very different beliefs and lifestyles, we are all close and love each other, in large part thanks to my grandma.

My grandma died on Sunday Night. Earlier in the day, her dog had to be put down. She was sixteen. Two days after my grandmother died, her brother died. Of those 11 kids, only one is living, and he's not long for this world. We're losing a generation, and I for one will miss them.

After the funeral, we all went over to the house of one of my aunts, just a few doors down from my grandma's (and actually, the house where my grandma lived when I was growing up. Long story) and had lunch. The mood there was significantly lighter -- plenty of reminiscence about growing up with "Marg" as a grandma, and all of our memories. I learned that the cousin I most envied for her lifestyle as a kid, envied me for mine. It was really good to be around family -- I grew up, and still live, thousands of miles from the rest of the family. I need to make sure that The Lad gets plenty of chances to visit his family. Family is important.

The rest of the visit was busy with visits to old friends, and spending time with my mom. We also took a trip to Fort Rosecrans National to visit my dad's grave, it was the closest The Lad will ever come to meeting his grandfather.

I do miss some things about San Diego -- the weather was gorgeous. But I don't miss the traffic, or the sales tax.

We arrived in Portland This past Monday at 11:15, and instead of spending the night at the SIL's, drove straight home. I took the last two of my permitted paid bereavment days to rest.

I'm still not sure I'm ready to get back into the swing of blogging. Hell, I'm not ready to get back to work and all of the drudgery of life. Despite the sadness of our reason for going, this was a mini-vacation, and it felt good to get away. But here I am.

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.