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A dying cuisine is brought to life in today's documentary film.

Deli Man (2015)

The American jewish delicatessen is no longer with us except in some prime locations.

The big cities and, as it happens, in Palm Springs. Shermans, a local tradition. They have the photos of the "stars" ate there in the olden days.

There is a lot of culture packed into the menu and the story is told in this overly long film. And told again.

It needs editing but it is till pretty good and will probably make you hungry.

When we lived in Boston there were plenty of delis but the biggest and best was Ken's on Boylston Street.

I was a hillbilly kid from Pennsylvania who had no idea. But as a freshman at MIT I ended up in a dorm with almost all New York jews.

I learned about the food thing fast.

I have never tried to emulate the cookery and that is because the cuisine has to start from scratch. It can be done with out the Kosher designation but the traditions are critical.

Simple chicken soup is not simple in a Deli. Corned beef even more so.

The breads and baked goods even the salads are a world apart. Heaven.

The film is overly long but still worth the time for anyone who has eaten or whited they had eaten in a real deli.

No. The "deli" department in Ralph's doesn't cut it.

Labels: documentary, films, food

End of the week.

It is a day of routine events. Of all the days, Saturday is the one that has fixed routines. A meeting, a friend picks up John, I watch a weekend movie and so on.

It is part of the permanent backbone of life.

There is no condo board meeting this weekend, only one Saturday a month. So I feel free.

It is all in my head of course. I don't do anything the other days either. Or, rather, I do not have to.

But since grade school, Saturdays have had a special menu status.

When I worked as a management trainer I would sometimes work on Sunday. Never on Saturday. If things were tough, perhaps I would travel home on a Saturday. Rarely.

Today, clam chowder and corn bread. The chowder is from a can (the only good one, Bar Harbor, and this time the corn bread is made by Ralph, my grocery store. He makes superb corn bread and even more top bakery items. So why do the hard work when Ralph can do a lot better?

The chowder/corn bread has an antecedent. In Boston, Durgin Park, the old fashioned restaurant, put the corn bread on the table. Superb. That is many years ago. 1954. It still resonates. Chowder and corn bread.

Labels: food

It seems that, once again, we have been snookered by the healthy diet people.

The Case for Drinking Whole Milk

Other than being the best for dunking cookies, that is.

There will soon be a conference in our house about this.

I am ready to go back almost immediately.

The hegemony of food faddists and nutrition addicts is over. Nazis for the most part. One set of principles, one belief.

I have been through so much of this shit.

I should know better.

There is a fundamental tension in all of this. The bias against undue processing runs head on into the bias against fat, or whatever.

Labels: food, nutrition

This is fun.

Eat Up. You’ll Be Happier

I have never understood voluntary dietary restrictions. At all.

We eat everything. Sure, there are a few things that I do not like much. But I can't think of anything at the moment.

I am aware that my husband does not like some of the things I cook. (The advantage of cooking is that it gives one a preference edge) but he cleans his plate and suppresses complaint.

Sometimes I know that he grudgingly likes something he thought he did not.

We are not partial to fish. Either of us. But I know that somehow, in my body, my genes or something, that we should eat some. Occasionally. I mean the white stuff. Not salmon which of course is "red meat". Right?

I grew up laughing at food faddists. I took Food Technology in my college years. I know nutrition and its essentiality to a good life.

Now I do not disparage vegans. Vegetarians? It is a valid choice because it is possible to have a complete diet without meat. But to deny essential nutrients for some other fad approach is crazy. And self denying. And, it seems to me, masochistic.

Of course, man's lot was always to eat what was available. On the ground, in the air, under the water. We are omnivorous. Period. End of paragraph. Climax of the story.

Of course what you eat is none of my business and what I eat is none of yours. But it does make good table talk.

I would not force a guest to eat out of their comfort zone. I can do a pretty good vegan dinner. But I am willing to go only so far. There is a point where they will have to bring their own food or not eat at all.

No dairy? Not too bad. And often legit. No "gluten"? A sham and delusion perpetrated by the organic food shamans. Bring a medical certificate please.

Now, picky eating. Not a matter of dogma. Some people have not learned to eat a wide variety of food. There is a limit. But if you want to leave what I serve on your plate, fine with me. We might just finish it for you.

Incidentally I am not mean about this. When we did have dinner guests I always asked if there were any prohibitions. I never encountered a picky eater who couldn't be seduced by something cooked well. And mysteriously.

And I can turn on a dime. Once someone came and as they entered I asked if they had any blacklisted food items. Chicken? Goddam. I was about to do a breast. A fast turnaround with some fish or other was not difficult. I keep a good supply in the freezer for just such an emergency.

It is hard to discuss this. Food choices are intensely personal in America. Because we have so many choices. Most of them bad.

The key is to have healthy raw material, as few processed as possible and simple. Boxed scalloped potatoes are about as far as I want to go for convenience. I do not worry much about the chemicals in our food. Just keep them as low as possible.

OK. This is very rambly and I am not going back to edit and restructure it.

You will have to eat what is on this plate!

Labels: food

I was brought up with scrapple for breakfast or dinner.

This would correctly nail me as a Pennsylvania boy. Specifically in the northeastern part of the State.

It is the product of farming, notably farming where there are pigs.

I am also old enough to have a father who went out to attend pig slaughter at family farms to help out. And there was always a portion handed over for our use. All of the pig people made sausages and scrapple. It is a way to use "everything but the squeal" and also to break up the monotony of eating pork chops, loins, ribs, and all the rest which will taste the same bland way unless we are creative with it.

There is no acquired faste to it. I think.

We will find out tonight. See if a North Carolina boy can handle a northern version of the uses of pig leftovers. Chittlin's it ain't.

Labels: food, Pennsylvania

More photography in a sort of nonverbal day.

We have become addicted to pistachios.

This photo is unachievable in the real world.

As one peels a nut there is no way to stop the hand from ascending to the mouth, the nut from entering the oral cavity where it is automatically chewed and swallowed.

Followed by a sigh.

I cannot imagine the self restraint that it took to gather all these shelled pistachios in one bowl.

I would guess handcuffs were used on staff and photographer. Nose push to snap the shutter.

Click on the image to bring it within life size. Drool.

Labels: culture, food

I visited my friends at Ralphs* this morning.

As in Ralphs super market.

I go twice a week religiously. Tuesday and Friday at 6AM. The agoraphobics' hour. Also the best time to get fresh produce, yak with the staff and generally enjoy the process of roaming the aisles.

There was nothing particular about today. It was so normal. Some of the customers are familiar, a nod and a faint "hi". Some staff are old acquaintances. Some short visits. They are working after all. I am shopping.

I like the guys who are still stocking the shelves from the night shift. This is an especially busy store. I hear one of their best performers, dollars per square foot. So it is a constant replenishment. Start at one end and then go back and do it again. And again. There is one guy who mostly does nothing but take care of the corrugated. It is an assembly line operation. The shelvers shelve and leave the unflattened box for him to pick up. These go in back to a baler then all is taken away.

I am chummy with the bakery lady whose sense of responsibility is so great that I dare not ask for directions to a certain item or serve up any questions. She will relentlessly leave her assigned work and finish whatever errand she sets out upon at my request.

I don't know any of the meat people. They are not there when I shop. Later, 630AM I think. But the shelf items are so complete and the selection so good that I never have to ask anyway. That would be the night staff doing its work. Not so long ago, something happened and the meat display was desolated. Nothing there. It turned out that the night crew had some emergency or other. I waited until next time.

Today was smooth sailing. I like the morning manager, Jim. He is always up for some badinage. He is their best bagger. Funny. Work your way up to the top and the customer values your bagging skills above all other. Besides we get to shoot the shit while he is doing it. The checkers love him and his talk so it is a good entertainment all around.

There would be none of this later in the day. I have gone in there and it is fucking bedlam. People wall to wall, ten checkout lanes in operation. Electronic signs controlling the crowds through the lanes.

I like the old fashioned pace of the morning hours. No one in a hurry. No one pushing from behind. Time for thought and consideration.

* No apostrophe. Ralphs.

Labels: food, shopping

We have started a new tradition.

Every Thursday, we go out to eat somewhere medium. There are not a lot of criteria involved. It must have table service, be kind of informal and not some la-di-da pretension. We have ended up with six places: Elmers, Coco’s, Jakes, Appetito, Al Dente and Shermans. I include this list for the local interest. Or, if you visit, here is where we will end up.

Last night we went to Elmers. This is a small chain just here on the west coast, 25 locations. They have a great menu which has changed recently. We thought since last time but the waiter said five months.

I had a Ruben Sandwich.

I never noticed it on the menu before (hence our assumption it was a new item).

In any case, it is the first Ruben Sandwich I have had in many years.

The last I remember would have been at Ken's in Boston on Boylston Street.

A Ruben is sublime. Freshly grilled corned beef (shaved), white meat turkey, sauerkraut and miscellaneous dressings (Thousand Island) on thick rye toast.

To top it off I had real lemon merengue pie. Another thing I have not had in years. And this is not the old lemon pudding kind of pie filling. It is the traditional recipe. The one that uses condensed milk. The secret of a good LMP. And, of course, real merengue and not some crappy substitute.

There is some disagreement about the crust for one of these pies. Some use graham cracker. Not me. I don't like that crumbliness. And this pie was a regular crust.

Jeez. I meant to write about the Ruben but end up doing a tribute to the pie.

Well, that is Elmer's for you. Surprises around every corner.

Labels: food

Travel broadens, brings new perspectives, enlightens.

Hence it is not surprising that I actually learned something on this trip to a "foreign" country.

England (or is it Great Britain, I still do not know, more to learn) is different. Sometimes, quite different, in their ways.

I include this word, "ways", as that too came up as a new means of referring to culture and such during my trip. Broadened again.

I don't think much about people's "ways" unless they get in my way. I am curious about culture but I have mine and they have theirs. I'm OK, you're OK. I digress.

We were talking about the surprises to be had in other cultures about common things.

For example. In my friend's kitchen, I was helping myself to granola when I saw that right in front of the granola container was a 6-pack of eggs. In the open. Room temperature. Not in the refrigerator ("fridge" I think).

I stopped. I looked. Yes. Eggs. Room fucking temperature. What was going on?

I put the thoughts of correcting this egregious violation of simple hygiene and, as a guest, kept my mouth shut. A position that I am not used to. So, it is not surprising that eventually, about five minutes, I blurted about the eggs being warm and what the hell? Kindly of course.

I was set straight by the cook who has strong ideas which have been firmly set in place by good kitchen training. Basically, another culture clash but not only that, a statement of yet another American failure to keep up. A subtle competition revived around the field of egg husbandry. Is that the right word? I am struggling here.

It turns out that there is only one way to explain this. Bluntly, the Americans let a lot of shit get on the eggs in production and the Brits do not. The Americans have to clean their eggs before distribution, basically, as far as I can see, to compensate for poor or inadequate sanitation in the hen house.

I was chastened and, yet again found that just because we separated from them, well, rebelled, there are certain areas that the English (in this particular case Welsh and not the same thing by any means and don't forget it) still have over us.

Americans, Why Do You Keep Refrigerating Your Eggs?

Simple answer, because they have shit on them and we have to clean it off to avoid salmonella contamination.

And why do we have shit on our eggs? Because the farm industry turned into an industry and, as usual, took profit motive over public health.

And then, in the usual sequence, it turns out that the measures taken to clean the egg increase the probability of further contamination because the cuticle is removed. More messing with Mother Nature to our detriment.

I am not worried about this. All things considered, I would rather refrigerate my eggs anyway. Just to be sure. Besides, I hard boil all of them soon after their arrival at home and, while that is for another purpose, this tends to kill any bugs and also makes them a bit more resistant to spoilage.

Thus endeth our lecture on eggness in the UK and the US. More culture notes will follow.

Labels: agriculture, culture, eggs, food

We are back to normal.

Sort of. To the extent that things are ever normal here.

Our daughter Lisa has gone back home to Northfield MA.

We had a great time together. Always do.

I took a huge nap today. Not because I was tired out or even missed any sleep while she was here but it is an adjustment which requires a bit extra sleep to resume life's rhythms.

I know. That sounds like bullshit. But it is not. For me. Sleep is the great cure and regenerator. Sadness can be salved, intentions can be resharpened and, as it happens, routine can become re-engaged.

I watched a movie, you knew that. I am making dinner for two. Back to the menu list, a hundred twenty separate items in rotation. A system always works for me.

Sausage, this time the real pork kind, on mashed (modeled after bangers and mash from England) and a side of peas with pearl onions. A salad.

And prep for tomorrow. Fruit to be thawed for my yogurt and fruit morning. This alternates with the egg and apple sauce days.

Blah blah. See? I am boring again.

Labels: food, routine

One element of the new chapter in our lives is to go out to eat more often.

Not that we couldn't do that with Booker here but we didn't. And the places we could go were limited. Outside dog friendly.

The time for outside is over.

It is too hot tonight to sit in the air which we would do, dog or no dog. From now until maybe October it will be all inside.

Fortunately, the snowbirds have flown. So there are plenty of tables.

Last week we went to Shermans, a favored deli and tonight, Panera. A chain that is pretty good and hardly seems like franchised food.

It is a nice thing to do and while it does not displace the mourning, which is actually lightening, it is something new and different from our routine. A benefit.

Labels: food

An enduring fable is that eating some foods will help you resist cancer.

Most of these fables are just that. There is some but little support for any of the most favorite of these.

Mostly there is confusion and, here, the subject is discussed at some length.

An Apple a Day and Other Myths">

What does seem to be clear is that if you are fat you are more inclined to cancers but if you are fat you are inclined toward a lot of other shit that you should be worried about.

I am a long time skeptic of the cancer scares. I studied food technology when I went to engineering school and that involved a lot of horrendous trudging through the science of bio chemistry and the like. I never used any of it. But it did help me develop a good shit detector.

The news business can rely on the gullibility of people around scare stories and half assed researchers are more than willing to provide the bits of information that become half truths.

Anyway. I eat mostly what I want and I try to control my weight. I do not worry about caffeine or any of that. I ignored the thing about smoking for years and finally quit but the rest of it still doesn't get to me. I am 77 working on 78. I have lucky genes and a pretty good lifestyle.

I don't want to flaunt it. I could come up with the big C tomorrow and then some doc would sagely point out that I shouldn't have eaten all those pistachios I have been scarfing down lately.

They are good, incidentally. Damn good. I have never bothered with them ever before but they are a new experience. And mostly you do not have to use a nutcracker.

Labels: food, health

I really like young adult novels. It is a genré which is getting more recognition. Mostly because some very good writers are working in this area and the readership almost requires that the fiction meet the standards of full force adult literary fiction. I just finished a great book called Will Grayson Will Grayson by John Green. Will Grayson is two kids. One upper case, the other lower case, who are the protagonists and they will meet each other somewhere near the middle of the book and play a part in each others' lives through a third character who is probably the real protagonist, a huge gay guy named Tiny Cooper. Cooper is a character's character. He knows the Graysons because the upper case Will is his straight best friend. The lower case will is a gay teenager who he will meet as a result of a failed date/meetup. Will's, not Tiny's. Mostly these are teen struggles with self and the various kinds of love. Straight Will has a girlfriend who is more of a friend than a girlfriend. What's the deal? They do not know. But they find out. Lower case will, the gay one, has a gay on line experience only to find that, well, it ain't what it seems. Tiny is exuberant and big in every aspect of his life. He must figure out how he can find love and why having 16 love affairs may not be the best way to find real love. The book does not flinch from looking at the end of relationships, best friends, boyfriends. Everyone helps everyone else and it is a nice time. I got this because of the gay content but it isn't much focused on that as most YA adult books are not these days. The gay aspect simply becomes a part of the social fabric like anything else. A thread. And that is the way we always wanted it. Now it is here.

There is nothing to today's film. This is Martin Bonner (2013) is so understated that it seems it is hardly there. I almost ditched it at the last minute after reading some reviews. But something told me. And I am glad that I stayed. Nothing happens and everything happens. A man gets out of prison, two men meet, one supposedly a counsellor, who it turns out is in his first job. A kind of failure. The other an ex-con. Twelve years for vehicular homicide. After they meet, they get together every once in awhile. The counsellor, Martin Bonner, is really second string. There is a "mentor" but he is a christer and doesn't really connect with the ex-con who needs a friend. Just one will do. The ex-con's daughter shows up for the first meeting after 12 years. Bonner is asked to come along. He does. The first meeting is very awkward and almost would not have happened without Bonner. That is about it. But everything happens. Friendship. Fatherhood, daughterhood, new starts both from lost paths only different. It is a wonderful, small, tiny film with all kinds of loose ends (intentional) and we get to sit and watch. I loved it. I would even watch it again. A 4 out of Netflix5.

Today is turkey, a full breast. Roasted this morning. We eat a lot of turkey. I have tried all the forms. It is not the most convenient animal to prep. But I will get maybe 6 meals out of it. The whole breast, roasted. No additives. I debone it. It tastes fresh no matter how long it is frozen. Kind of a mess but very worth it if I mentally underwrite it as 6 meals. Turkey. Breast. Forget the legs and thighs.

Labels: books, films, food, gay life, young adult lit

John got back home from Italy last night.

Booker and I went to pick him up.

We had a nice reunion. I think maybe Booker figured that he would have to deal with only one dad for the rest of his life. He was quite relieved to find this was not true.

I was relieved too.

I had done pretty well until last Friday when I got "aimless". A euphemism, I think, for lonely. Or missing my love. In any case, I just let the feelings roll and sat and read and read and sat and then somehow that phase got over and I was into anticipation and excitement.

The flights were faultless and we picked him up just as expected.

In the new car which he had never seen.

It passed muster. He has it out there now.

We had a short tutorial this morning but there is not that much that is new or unusual and what there is, as in all properly designed devices, is easy to figure out by simple trial and error and intuitive action.

I can't say things are back to normal yet. I made meat loaf today so that it could age into tomorrow and also be enough for six times.

Tonight, without thinking, I set up for American Chop Suey. Pasta. What was I thinking?

Not that he had any of that while he was away.

He seems happy about it.

It is different.

American, after all.

Labels: Booker, food, home, travel, Volvo

Things are shaking in the super market business.

I see some changes at my local.

I am going through some changes myself.

I recently left Stater Brothers, a "local" chain for the closer, bigger and better, Ralphs. Really Kroger masquerading as a local chain. Super super. But not too super.

I made the move because of some vague understanding that things were not up to snuff at the old place. Problems with outdated merchandise and then shortages of critical items. Produce not quite as good as it used to be.

My impression was that they were trying to lower costs and it was showing. Not in good ways.

A huge employee turnover was a symptom as well. New faces, not too smart clerks. Obvious personality conflicts. Not good when the help knocks the store, management or other workers.

The new place is loaded with products. It has a two tier private label line with an upscale set of products that I really like because they are new-ish and very good quality.

There is also a difference with the "privilege card" system. Staters made a thing about their lack of one but I quit believing their story. Ralph's prices can be astonishing. The yellow tag system is not unique but they are moving the deals around all the time. I do not shop on price but there it is in front of me. Irresistible not to get engaged with it. Again, the private label stuff is amazingly less money than the branded.

I have not seen the electronic stuff but they do have the self checking. I don't go for it actually. But it does siphon off the other customers who do use it. The one or two or three item folks, which I rarely am. I am not actually a candidate for self checkout because the space wouldn't hold all my items.

We do have this though. QueVision.

Why Your Grocery Store Is Installing Military Cameras

I have seen those signs and had no idea what they were for. Another thing which does not apply to me normally as I only shop before there is anyone else in the store and there is no waiting. Period.

Oh, the people. Obviously competent. Interested. Friendly. On the job. They know the layout cold.

The checkers are fast, fast, fast and even at my early time the manager who is stationed right in the center of the checkouts helps bag. And s/he talks and banters with the workers and the customers. Very nice energy. They are proud of their store and they show it.

The staff on duty in the morning is enormous. Some are just at the end of their shifts but there are others starting. There are very few aisles without "help".

I don't shop for anything else anywhere any time. I have John to do a lot of this. I use online.

But the groceries? I am the cook. I love to wallow in the store and I grew up in supermarkets. Even worked there. My Dad was a lifer with A&P. I know a good one and I know a not so good one and will go in that good direction every time.

Labels: food, shopping

I have had to cut back on the cups of coffee I drink and what time I drink them.

"Aha"! I can hear you say. "That didn't take long, did it?"

No, it did not.

I had not had any coffee for about five years. Then I decided to try it again and to do a good job at it I got a new beans grinder and bought some beans. I also drug out my old Krups maker.

All is well now except the "need" to have too many cups in a day.

I have had to, first of all, stop drinking any coffee after 9AM. The caffeine effect lasts 12 hours and I was having funny repetitive short cycle dreams early in the night. See? I quit at 9AM today and I am yawning. But I will have a coke. Diet. One third of a cup.

OK. Adjustment made.

I would like to say that I am drinking less in the AM but I am not. The period from 3AM to 9AM, 6 hours uses up six cups. I get high. It is OK so far. What the hell. I will taper though, I think. I get a bit giddy by the time I go to a Meeting or have an 8AM visitor, my standard. Maybe someone should drape a wet blanket over me so I can get settled. No one has yet.

Now, on the equipment. Also an increasing "need". Progression.

The Krups machine just sucks.

It is a clunk. It works fine but it over heats the coffee so I turn the hot plate off and we drink the coffee cool to cold or out of the micro-wave, a short burst.

It also gets very dirty fast, somehow. It is white. Maybe that is it. And a matte finish which holds the stain.

And the pots. The handles come apart. In your hands. The tops are held on by these teeny tiny tits which break as you can't really keep the top open all the way. Or maybe they are supposed to do that. I doubt it.

So to the coffee sites. So many. Surveys of best makers.

Divided opinions here but it turns out that three machines keep emerging from the scrum. One is one or another of the KitchenAid brand. Another is the company that started out making cookware, Calphalon.

The third, and the one I went with, is made by the Japanese company that made my rice cooker. Zojirushi. Specifically the Zojirushi EC-BD15BA Fresh Brew Thermal Carafe Coffee Maker.

This little baby has no hot plate. You put in water and coffee grounds. That works the conventional way. But the coffee flows into a thermal pot which is said to hold the coffee hot all day long. Well, I only need it until 9AM.

It is on its way. It does have a shiny stainless steel finish. Which I do not like. But I am good at wiping that down. I would rather have brushed or enamel but no dice.

It will match the grinder. Black, shiny stainless with fingerprints.

Labels: appliances, food

I have slowly drifted into being sick of all the greens and salads we have.

Well, mostly the dressings. Leaves are leaves.

For a long time, we have used the Paul Newman line of dressings, convinced, I suppose, that Paul himself had something to do with each bottle or, perhaps, that his charity for kids was worth some dressing for.

It isn't bad stuff. Middle of the road.

But suddenly they were not OK.

I was in the store the other day and was exploring "toppings" for dressings. Dry toppings.

This had started when I was inspired to make a Cobb salad. I had bought one when I was in San Diego. I had forgotten how good they were. A little on the too much fat side but what the hell.

So, when I went to gather the ingredients I found an old item "bacon bits" which can be real bacon or not or even turkey. But there are also other dry toppings!

McCormick makes one that has pumpkin seeds and stuff. Another had taco pieces and other crisp mexican things. Blue corn chips. Then another had some kind of cranberry mix. OK. I got them all.

Then right on the shelf below there was a line of dressings (the bacon bits were in the salad dressing section, not meat or spice or whatever). A line of the Kroger quality house brand Private Selection.

My gods they had everything. Well, a lot of things. I got this one and the balsamic vinagrette and the mexican ranch and, well you get the idea. Nine bottles.

Now I am working through them a day at a time. I also got "the original" caesar dressing in the produce department.

One more thing. I recently read that "chopped salad" was all the rage. You know, like Cobb salad only a bunch of other mixes.

It doesn't take long for corporate america to get the drift on something like this so I bought a few "prechopped' salads in bags. Not because I can't chop my own salad but because they put a lot of stuff in the mix (small leaves, parsley and so on) that I wouldn't bother with.

So. I came home and just dumped all of Paul Newman's products. When I am done I am done.

I made the new new new ceasar with the old old original first dressing. Pretty good. Tonight is cole slaw mix with a creamy poppy seed dressing.Tomorrow? I don't know. I am working arbitrarily from left to right on the dressings and winging it on the choice of greens.

If you shop at Kroger (ours is Ralphs) try out the Private Selection brands. They are very good.

Labels: food

A couple of weeks ago, I encountered a representative of the pistachio growers in my Ralphs produce department.

She was fluffing a standup display and I said something to which she replied something and we were off and running in a discussion of the pistachio nut.

I don't know a lot to hold up my end of such a conversation but she did.

She covers a wide territory in the desert "cities". Maybe a hundred stores.

She cited the virtues of the pistachio. Nourishing, lower fat than peanuts and good.

I took a bag.

Oh boy.

She did not say addictive.

My pistachio history is pretty slim. Not many pages in the volume.

I remember the ice cream. Maybe I had some once.

You have to open them but they more than meet you half way. They open up sort of like a clam. Not all of them. A knife is helpful if they get stuck. Maybe an oyster opener would be helpful.

They taste good. No denying..

With John's more than full participation, we polished of that first bag in jig time. So I got two more. Two because I would have a backup bag.

Now it is two bags almost ever trip to the store.

It is pretty easy to ration them because, since they are hard to open, they slow you down.

What I didn't count on is that while I don't eat many on one sitting, they are available for almost any time of day and to easy to grab a handful.

I would not say that we are truly addicted. More a figure of speech.

But they are good and hard to resist.

Be careful about talking to sales reps in the store.

Labels: food

COOK OUT

Today's film was the NYTimes Critics' Pick documentary

Entre Le Bras / Step Up to the Plate (2012)The inventor of an entire cuisine, Michel Bras, turns his restaurant over to his son Sebastien.

Gentle and peaceful as the process is, there is that nice tension between father and son which all fathers (and sons) will appreciate.

I am not a "foodie". So I don't relate much to the dishes which are the ultimate in what I think of as "toy food". I am just not interested in it. But there are a lot of interesting scenes where they do things with food that I never imagined.

It is a nice film, I am glad I saw it and good luck to them all. Nice people.

There is nothing wrong with being nice. A 3 out of Netflix5.

Labels: film, food

MORE TESTS

Went to the urologist today and he is asking me to have a cystoscopy Friday and a urodynamics test ten days later.

In the meantime, the catheter stays in and there will be no gym. No jostling.

It is a little discouraging but there is no quick pill fix.

In the meantime, I don't feel bad, I have all my faculties and life is normal. More or less.

Made chicken curry without the yogurt sauce tonight.

There is no shortcut there either.

It was dry.

So, back to the original.

We did have a new shredded mango chutney which was outstanding.

The whole point of chicken curry is to have the chutney.

When we went to the Virgin Islands every year there was a great restaurant there featuring curries.

They were served with the "five boys", meaning a five pot tray with chutney, coconut and some other stuff. No five boys here.

I remember. It was the Comanche Restaurant.

Wrong kind of Indian. Funny.

These are not the five boys either.

Labels: food, health