I wrote 680 words yesterday for a book section that should probably only be about 200. Felt like I was just getting warmed up. Spent the next two hours exploring self publishing options for a 10-13k word stand-alone, John Thorne-style chapbook expansion.
We had this discussion last week as we hemmed and hawed over what new show to start. I casually, half-joking, said we should watch BSG again.
Husband, galvanized: I would TOTALLY do that.
Checked streaming platforms we already pay for. No dice. Cheaper to buy secondhand DVDs than to stream.
“Neurons don't play Doom.”
“Yes they do, Otto. They just aren’t good at it.”
I moved to Philadelphia to work at the Mütter. This was mid-1990s when Gretchen Worden was the curator/director. There was no fancy soap lady soap on a rope at the time, but Gretchen would’ve loved it. I would buy one; I’m not sure if I would use it.
Oh, I’ve already been hunting and saw the pub date and price, so I figured it was a limited run that remains popular. The French part I gleaned. I can work with French. I’m not fluent, but I can read a book at my own pace. Also, I love a niche food book.
I didn’t know this one. Last time I was in Canada, “buy Canadian” and “Look for the leaf” messaging was (understandably) pervasive, but also: “Yes, I will. That’s part of why I’m here.” Happy to add another Canadian book to the list for the next visit (because these trump tariffs: ooph).
If you’re up for a deep dive into poutine’s (still somewhat recent) history that addresses those mid-century curds, Lamothe’s book is a fun read: bsky.app/profile/mbro...
Handwritten recipe for horchata (Mexican-style with rice, not Spanish/de chufa)
It works with cassia, but if you have proper canela, that’s what to use. I don’t always have piloncillo on hand, so the dual sugars (add when blender is running) are a workaround and make for slightly simpler prep. And the timing is loose; 4 hour soak is fine, but so is letting it go overnight.
Woodcut illustration of a wolf attacking a person
“Whatsa matter? Wolf got your throat?”
Ground rice and canela draining in a strainer
Cheers to sleepy last night me who ground rice and canela in the blender and left it to soak overnight so that sleepy morning me can have horchata.
Bingo. Wolves are amazing, beautiful animals. I could watch footage of them for hours. But in the U.S., the word tends to summon precisely these sorts of memetic kitsch, undercutting the whole majestic beast angle.
Great Wold Lodge is such a better name. That’s evocative, almost brings shivers, a hint even of a time-is-meaningless lodge where hunters might spend the afterlife.
Great Wolf sounds like something air sprayed on the side of a panel van.
mustard clown MMXIX @markydoodoo sometimes i put ranch dressing in my coffee. i call it a hidden valley latte and it's disgusting
Were I to hazard a guess: it’s meant to get people talking online.
Think of it less as “WTF are Americans eating?” and more like the Christmas special-edition foods in UK supermarkets—hovering somewhere between a gag (er, joke, rather) and a cry for vitality.
Recipe header that reads: Banoffee "Ice Cream" Cake VG/GF
Me every single time I see this on a menu or in a cookbook: “Very Good/Girl Friend. Yes. Naturally. That makes perfect sense.”
My pleasure. It’s a seemingly simple thing that most cocktail bars and a lot of home. Ethanol enthusiast could bang out with gear already on hand.
Oh! I see. No, the lollipop lifts off the lemon, leaving it behind on the jigger. It’s a real, although rudimentary, lollipop. Stir it in your drink if you like or, as I did, simply snack on it. Japanese cocktail bars do a lot more little food dishes—otashi—than their American counterparts.
Cocktail garnish in progress. Lemon sliced just off center so that it’s slightly less than half of a full lemon resting on a metal cocktail jigger. Sugar has been melted on the surface of the lemon with a bamboo cocktail skewer across the top.
So this was a cool presentation I haven’t seen in the US. Bar Logue, Shinjuku,Tokyo.
Lemon hemisphere rested on a jigger. Sugar sprinkled over its cut surface. Hit it with the torch. Caramel. While it’s still liquid, place a bamboo skewer on the caramel. Wait. It hardens. Lemon-caramel lollipop.
Taccia fountain pen on a stand, its cap off to one side
I stopped in Itoya (Ginza, Tokyo) to look over pens. Six floors of stationery gear. This one with a lacquered stingray finish I really liked. Then saw the price (about $1800 US) and thought “Oh, no, I don’t.” Got a new Lamy and half a dozen inks instead.
Graduate school. Professor of a seminar was talking tech, used fountain pens as outmoded tech nobody uses anymore. Writing right next to him I stopped cold, fountain pen in hand. Class laughed. Heard about expense, though, so I use a few Lamy Safaris as my usual fountain, maybe $25-40 per.
Sometimes 2 blows in flight. And I’ve left one in a breast pocket 2 or 3 times over the years, then tossed shirt and pen together into the wash. Either way, a mess. Still, for everyday note-taking and longhand, I’ve been buying those by the dozen for ages. And if I do fly with some? Plastic zip bag.
I was going to say that you started it, but perhaps I did.
“I’m the Steven Seagal of stepbrothers.”
“The who?”
“Oh. Right. Skilled. Uhhh…ummm…got it. I’m the Bruce Lee of—“
“Say no more.”
Haha. “What’s that over there” is such a perfect fumble. That’d be my brain trying to yoink me out of a situation it got me into. I’m far more chill about it now, but that first summer was a wild ride.
The San Diego variant is that we have loads of adult entertainment talent. Local industry, like pharma or defense. When I lived in Philly, if someone seemed familiar, it was probably because we actually had met somewhere. In San Diego? If I can’t quite place a familiar face, I let it slide.
In LA years back. Antique store. Clerk: “Have we met? You seem so familiar.” Nope. Another time, high-end furniture store clerk: “We’ve met, haven’t we?” Nope. Yet again, clothing shop: “I’ve seen you in something, right?” Ahhh! It’s LA-specific fishing/flattery eg “Are you an actor I should know?”
The details themselves seem so old-fashioned. I don’t hear about living polymaths who manage to do so much.
Well. Maybe Dan Farber.
Same. Though I have no emeralds to sew into my coat hem.
World-class mustache, too.
I don’t know that I’ve ever been chased out of a country, but, hey, the hour is late and we’ll see how things go.
