Vertical is critical!

A photo from July 4, 2010 with old friends.

I know I’m getting old when:


I cry at lots of dumb, nostalgic things that would never have made me cry before. I cry watching “Field of Dreams” and “A League of Their Own” and I don’t care for baseball!

I’m sure that nothing tastes good anymore, certainly not the way things used to taste. My first pizza and my first fast food hamburger were fantastic, of course.

I miss friends and family a lot, when I haven’t missed them for years. (Editors Note: This does not include my immediate family as my oldest son just pointed out to me. My kids and grandchildren are always in my mind.)

I drive a black Cadillac.

I worry about an assortment of things I never worried about like tripping and falling (immediate) and do not worry about acid rain, recycling etc. (Long term)

I keep getting shorter, going from 6’3” to 6’ ¾”.

My feet keep growing, and it’s beginning to scare me. I am considering wearing the shoe boxes!

I have resigned myself to these facts:

I said the other day in the Father William post: All my fantasies of running off with teen queen’s on motorcycles have faded!

I will never become rich.

I will never change careers.

I will never become a movie star, or even a celebrity.

Some of my ailments will never improve.

I now believe that he who wins is he that is still breathing.

Vertical is critical!

Coffee

I drink a lot of coffee. Way too much I’ve been told, but I intersperse coffee with diet soda plus alcoholic drinks usually, in the evening. This is, as you can see, not a healthy lifestyle choice. Alas, it’s mine.


My old friend Ken Davids who I mentioned I believe in my John Updike obituary, is the founder and editor of Coffee Review, a great place on the web to learn all about coffee and its many nuances. It’s way above me but a good spot to view. Go to http://www.coffeereview.com/ and enjoy yourself.

We mostly bought coffee for the last ten years from Fortino’s grocery store where we would grind it ourselves and had a chance to mix various blends. After many years it became boring and seemed to lose its aura. The solution was a simple change to Starbucks, the easy choice. We all go to Timmy’s (Tim Horton’s) in Hamilton of course, as it’s their home. However, I always would go to Starbucks when I had a chance.

I said that the price was no object, and I forgot about the $7.99 a pound at Fortinos and went to $15-$20 a pound at Starbucks. This has lasted for two years, and one day, bitching about the cost, I ran out of coffee and it was early in the morning and I had to go somewhere and buy something and there was no Starbucks open that early around here.

I drove through Tim Horton’s and bought a 13 ounce can of their coffee. I have to admit it, I have been buying it for the last few months and it’s cheap ($6 for the can) and good.

So, to my good buddy Ken Davids, I’m sorry. I’m sticking with Tim’s for a while with an occasional Starbucks thrown in if I’m in the neighborhood.

http://www.coffeereview.com/

Bad Things Come In Threes

I was in a store today and was waited on by a woman I won’t ever forget. She said, out of the blue, “It’s one of those days. Remember how bad things come in three’s?” “Sure,” I said, “well this morning my husband’s van died, and then my Uncle got blood poisoning, and he’s ninety!. And the third is that my doctor said I better go and make funeral arrangements for myself, as there is nothing more they can do for me!”


I tried to make light of this statement, but discovered she wasn’t kidding. She has some form of rare eating processing problem, developed after forty, by both the woman and her brother. Her brother is on death watch, in hospital, at sixty-six pounds, and she will be following him.

After this we went about our business, and I was left holding the bag. She will die and I’ll never forget the conversation.

What’s the answer? Should I have delved into this strangers personal life (I guess I already had) or ignore her pleas? Why had she chosen me (actually she had chosen my wife and me)? Did she do this with everyone? Am I not accepting death as part of life? I will die and so will you but I don’t talk about this to strangers.

Immediately after telling us this story she said, “Oh, by the way, we’re redecorating the place.”

You are old Father William.....

This is not the story I expected to write today, but that one will wait for tomorrow. I know this begins to sound like a broken record because I bring it up so often, but growing old sucks! Especially when everyone knows it! If I could grow old in secret I’d be happy to, but doing it publicly is what’s bad!


Today’s big deal happened after I left my car to be worked on at the body shop after “Not Another Accident” that I posted on Thursday, August 19. (In case you haven’t read it scroll down and find it.)

I had the appointment at 1:00 p.m. figuring it would take about an hour and I could go and get lunch. I walked by Pizza Hut, Burger King and landed at Wendy’s, my usual fast food of choice. I decided to get a large chili, baked potato with sour cream and chives and a small diet coke, a usual “almost healthy” lunch for me. The woman behind the counter added it all up and said, “I’ve given you the seniors soft drink so there’s no charge and the total will be $4.96 please”. I was stunned!

1. I never knew such a thing existed.

2. Wendy’s had stopped seniors discounts.

3. I never asked for one!

I was assured by the very nice woman that they have replaced the discounts with seniors coffee and soft drinks now, and I didn’t ask for the details. Why me? What had I done? How did she know I was a senior?

I am ruined! All my fantasies of running off with teen queen’s on motorcycles have faded! I am old!

Later on today: I walked into Shoppers Drug Mart to pick up some cold medicine and it's the last Thursday of the month, their seniors discount day. I never even thought about it. The woman behind the counter gave me a 20% discount and I never asked for it! It's hard to complain about discounts but please.......


You are old, father William... by Lewis Carroll 1855


You are old, father William," the young man said,

"And your hair has become very white;

And yet you incessantly stand on your head

Do you think, at your age, it is right?



"In my youth," father William replied to his son,

"I feared it might injure the brain;

But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,

Why, I do it again and again."


"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,

And you have grown most uncommonly fat;

Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door

Pray what is the reason for that?"



"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,

"I kept all my limbs very supple

By the use of this ointment one shilling a box

Allow me to sell you a couple?"



"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak

For anything tougher than suet;

Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak

Pray, how did you manage to do it?"



"In my youth," said his fater, "I took to the law,

And argued each case with my wife;

And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,

Has lasted the rest of my life."



"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose

That your eye was as steady as ever;

Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose

What made you so awfully clever?"



"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"

Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs!

Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?

Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs.

War and Peace

I have been downloading audio books for many years. When alone in my car I seldom listen to music or the news, I am usually listening to the book of the week. I always travel with 10 to 15 novels at my side, ready to listen at a moments notice. These are legally downloaded from the Hamilton Public Library, not some file sharing deal. I have been able to listen to most of the books I’ve ever wanted to read, including most, if not all of Charles Dickens, most, if not all of Jane Austin plus a ton of unknown mystery books, “who done it’s” that have been available to me.
I believe most libraries provide such a service and while in the beginning they didn't provide books that would work with IPods, now they have a variety of formats which will work. I choose to use a Creative Zen, my second one, and I keep music on my IPOD. I listen when ever I’m alone in the car, and I take the player in with me when I'm eating lunch alone, and use earbuds. I always am delighted to eat and listen and it makes for better company than many lunches I’ve shared.

I have listened to James Joyce’s “Ulysses”, all 32 hours of it. After owning the book for more than 30 years, I finally got to hear it. I still read books, and usually fall asleep every night with a book in hand.

All this makes me remember my days and nights as a kid listening to the radio. Usually it was variety, but there were the stories, the mysteries, the sitcoms. I would wait almost religiously for my nightly special programs I heard on a radio in our kitchen. This was during the 40’s and early 50’s and it was radio’s hey day for me, even though radio was waning at the time. I would still listen even after we bought our first TV in 1952, because there were not yet many programs I wanted to see, but I could get lost easily in radio reality.

Now, my listening days have returned. I love road trips for just this reason. If I have to drive long distances I seldom notice because I’m listening. I can remember driving to Washington D.C. in 2009, by myself, a ten hour trip, and listening to two different books, one each way. I use an FM broadcaster plugged into a car electrical connection to broadcast through my radio.

Last night I started to download Tolstoy’s “War and Peace”. I had forgotten about it and when I ran across it I smiled. Will I ever listen to it, who knows? I’d like to think I will. It was however a daunting challenge. I started to download and realized the book takes 60 hours and 11 minutes to present, so the download time is significant, And sometimes there are internet hiccups.

I started the download pretty late and as it was going I was getting sleepy. Along about the 18th part (it downloads in pieces, not quite chapters but all about and hour plus in length) I was too tired to continue so I shut it off figuring I’d go back. This morning I started it up and let it run and went about my business. My wife got on the computer and told me there was a problem on #23 and she didn’t know what to do. I, of course, had forgotten all about it by then and was surprised. I went down and loaded #23 and continued. I let it load all 54 sections and I am sated!

I have about 6 or 7 new novels to add, including War and Peace, and I have to finish the novel I’m listening to or get to the end of a section so I can add and get back to where I was. I have to do all this before they expire because the downside of library downloading is the books self destruct in the computer after 14 days. You must remove them to a device or burn them on a disk in order not to destruct. They don’t hurt your computer, they simply cease to work.

They have just added “Play aways”. To the library collections, which are flash memory books, small as a cassette, where you provide the battery and the earbuds and you can take them out for a normal library leaning period.

Lord knows, I may get “War and Peace” loaded onto my MP3 player and get it listened to before I became too old to remember how to work all this equipment.

Art Decisions

My daughter is off again to Montreal on the weekend, ready for year two at McGill University. This year, she has, along with two friends, moved into an apartment. They chose not to be in the “university ghetto” but moved a bit away so they could live with “regular people” but still close enough to walk or use public transportation.


She is getting ready to move furniture, and she and her mother are driving a U-Haul truck up. Sears will deliver the mattress, box spring and frame next week. They are all (my wife and my daughters) at IKEA right now supplementing the “antiques” etc. we already have to go. Her friend left two sofas there she got from her sister who was living in Montreal. My daughter and friends have already spent a night or two there a few weeks ago as we start paying (of course) in July. It’s a twelve month lease. I’ll probably live there in May and June when she comes home, if she does. (Not really)

Her two friends are from Virginia and New York, I guess not surprisingly, as she tends to gravitate to US students. She purposefully chose not to live with music school students as she felt one was enough (her) per apartment. Her friend from Vienna, Virginia was born in Vienna, Austria, so maybe she’s sort of an American.

The art decision took me by surprise. She came to me and wanted four pieces, and asked if she could have them. Of course she could, I was flabbergasted! The fact that art has surrounded her, her whole life did not give me a thought that she would want any. Besides, sooner or later it becomes hers anyway.

Her sister is pissed! She wants it all back, at least most of it. She wants nothing to leave! It amazes me what someone wants around here. If my sister wants it, it’s mine! They clothes shop in each others closets!

Her choices are:

Will Barnet’s “Blue bike”, a large, signed, limited edition poster.



World War One - Liberty Bond Drive Poster


Andy Warhol’s limited edition 1981 poster featuring Kimiko Powers’s image.

My painting from 2001, Casper Returns, also large at 48” x 48” (This one was requested by my daughters roommate from New York, so I don’t want to ask if my daughter wanted it, but I doubt it)



Wonders never cease! I am always amazed by life!

A Dinner to Remember

I was at a meeting in Los Angeles, sometime in the 80’s, and as I came into the lobby after a presentation I ran into Marge Levy maybe at Michigan, probably before she went to Pilchuck in Seattle. She had made reservations at The Rex in LA for dinner for four people, none of whom was named. Was I interested? Of course I was, and we gathered together two others and off we went. I had no idea where we were going or what kind of a restaurant it was; only that she did say it was a bit pricey.


The dinner, as I remember, was wonderful. Pretty Woman wasn’t shot until 1990 so you can imagine the surprise I had when watching the movie and I saw them sitting at the same table (approximately) that we were, although the waiter was different, as ours was not, as far as I know, an actor. This scene includes the "escargot event"

When the bill came, some of us were on expense accounts and some were on per diam. We all received copies (at our request) of the bill. I expensed my portion as dinner for as if it were for four, it was the only way one could spend that much money for one dinner!

Pretty Woman's budget was not limited and producers could acquire as many locations as possible for shooting on the films estimated budget of $14 million. The majority of the film was shot in Los Angeles, California, specifically in Beverly Hills. The escargot restaurant called 'The Voltaire' was filmed at the Rex, now called Cicada. Cicada can be open to shoot your next film as well, they say:

Film Shoots and Photo Sessions

The Oviatt Penthouse provides a uniquely dramatic atmosphere for fashion shoots, wedding photography, commercials and feature films.

The Oviatt Building lobby and elevators, both historic landmarks of considerable beauty, are also available for location work.

Rates are determined on an individual basis, based on the length of the shoot, amount of equipment, number of participants and the degree of involvement of Oviatt Penthouse staff.

A comment in a L.A. restaurant review blog says: Rex was Italian food; Cicada is not. It is still one of the most beautiful, elegant restaurants in Los Angeles, but it is hugely expensive. Unless you're Brad Pitt or Jennifer Aniston, it's the type of place you'd go for a truly once-in-a-lifetime dining experience. I had my one-time experience a few years ago, so I don't really remember what kind of food Cicada serves. I just remember it wasn't Italian and it was delicious. I also recall that the old haberdashery shelves are still in evidence.

Another person said: the late Rex, was in a former menswear store (Oviatt Building). I think it changed hands and names once or twice after the owner died.

This was definitely a great LA experience.

Editors note, 8:30 p.m. Sunday, August 22, 2010

I just heard from my dear old friend George, who reminded me that he was there as well that

weekend. But his stories are very complex. I wrote to him and said: "As well, I write these simple

little ditties without much subtext and you do labyrinthine complexities. I like that. You always

got into these complex events, while I sat simple minded on the ground. It doesn't change and that

makes me comfortable.

Note: I may have just described myself as the Fool on the Hill, what the hell, it fits!

If you give it to her she will use it

In Field of Dreams the voice says, “If you build it, he will come”. I have carried this over to new ends and said, “If you give it to her she will use it”.


My youngest daughter, who hates to be mentioned in these pages and usually is, is a great baker. I was always a pretty good cook, and early in my life I learned to cook and taught my boys to do the same. When I was married to my second wife she took over the cooking duties most of the time, and I am relegated to a few items, eggs, Asian food, barbeque and an occasional Jewish ethnic dish that I clearly grew up with where my wife grew up with things like Welch Rarebit!

She has taught my daughters to cook and bake, and I have baked very few things in my life and they are not memorable. Sure, I can follow a recipe as good as the next guy, but I’m no natural. My daughter is. The one thing we noticed we were missing all these years was a Kitchen Aid Mixer. We have a small, hand held mixer which has been fine for most things, but when you need a dough hook, etc., you need a serious mixer. Kitchen Aid is the one to buy, and we finally did it.

On Monday last week in my story about Lothar Hoffman, I said, “I was dropping my daughters off at Mapleview Mall in Burlington, ON so they could go shopping on Sunday, and I decided to stay for a while and shop a bit, have lunch and kill some time rather than go home and have to do some pressing clean up thing I didn’t want to do in the first place, so I stayed. I shopped a bit at Sears and looked around at other stores, and off I went to the food court for a Thai lunch”.

I never mentioned that Sears had a sale on a Kitchen Aid mixer, and they kept giving me discounts, and they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. When Sears sold off their credit card business they cancelled all non performing cards (mine hadn’t been used in a few years) without telling us they did it. However, I had to reapply for the card (less than two minutes at a register) and they gave me a $10 credit. Then, when I purchased the mixer, I rubbed out a patch on a card and got another $20 discount. This was a good day to shop!

I came home and opened the mixer and it sat on the counter all week while we all were at work. Last night, a Friday night, I was asleep ion the couch “watching” television my daughter got busy. The mixer was out and had been running. We have raspberry topped brownies, and they are spectacular!

And as I said,” If you give it to her she will use it!”

Not Another Accident!

Here I was, an innocent victim of my own stupidity I guess. I went to the Optometrist’s office for my annual checkup. As you age, they tend to look at you more often. Now many of you may know from reading this blog regularly, that our Optometrist is my next door neighbor, and he does see me a lot anyway. However, this was a special visit.
My regularly scheduled visit coincided with a Special Board meeting we called at school, and while I didn’t want it to work out that way it did. This meant that I had to have my pupils dilated and go home, make dinner and go to a meeting, blind! When my pupils dilate, it’s very hard to focus, and sunglasses are a must for several hours, even in a meeting.

After driving home, stopping to pick up dinner etc., I remembered I had forgotten to pick up candy for my meeting. Ten years ago when I came here I realized they had nothing to eat at the meetings and candy was a great meeting enhancer. Most people never get candy and love when it appears at no insistence from them. Eating is not cheating when you don’t buy it! I have been known for my creative candy choices, plus a few other snack items thrown in as well.

I went to the Bulk Barn before I got to school, and parked at the University Plaza in Dundas to get my candy. I parked next to a handicapped space, and there is a bent up sign designating this space. I am basically unable to see in bright light and its 7:00 p.m. and I’m looking into the setting sun!

After getting my candy I pull forward and turn to my left to turn around and the sign is on my left and as I look into the sun I can’t see it! The back of the sign is to me. I scrape it along my right side and hear the paint peeling away on my new car and I die! The Queen Mary is wounded! What will I do!

After the meeting in sunglasses, I drove home and looked as carefully as I could. This morning I went to a car repair place and discussed it with him. He explained we can do one of two things. First we can pull off the two panels and repaint them, or we can use a small brush and build up layers of paint and in the end wet sand the finish down to even and it will look fine.

The first choice will be $1600 to $1700. The second choice will be $65 to $70. Lets see……

I started building up layers myself this evening, since I have touch up paint and am pretty good with a brush myself. My new car is four years old, so the paint is not new, and black is black (quoting the car guy), and most black car paint looks the same as most other black car paint.

I’m feeling pretty good about the whole fiasco but I have been so careful with this car after my last one looked like a bumper car when I was through. I will continue to be careful and stay away from Optometrists!

The Postcard

A postcard fell out of a pile of old pictures. It was dated October 19, 1941 and was addressed to my Grandfather’s family. It started, “Dear Cousins”.


The card was to let them know where the senders and their son were living. It let them know that they hadn’t heard from them in a long time, but that the family were in Duluth, MN. It wished them a Happy New Year.

My curiosity was aroused, so I called my Aunt Hilda, then in her 80’s, to find out who these people were. She remembered that when she was in High School, some family came to Baltimore from Western Michigan looking for work (during the Depression) and stayed with them for a while. She thinks they never found work and returned.

I used the Internet and tried the name (through phone number search) and there were two in Minnesota, both in Minneapolis. The first was not home but I spoke to his wife, who said the second number was an estranged stepmother, and not to bother. She said to call her husband at work, but that they just recently found out they were related to Greenblatt’s. However, this was the wrong family, I needed them related to my mother’s family.

The husband called me back, and while not knowing the postcard writer, spoke with his aunt and she was his niece. I called the Aunt, she called me back. Her father was the writer’s brother. The family had one son. Alas, the son had died in 1997. The Aunt was a friend of her cousin off and on in his life. He had been married and divorced, had 3 or 4 children, but she knew of no one around. His one daughter lived in Las Vegas, but when she had looked for her, she had vanished.

So does this tale. It ends with little info but a few interesting conversations. The aunt also invited me over if I get to Minneapolis.

and images of Lothar Hoffman danced in their heads.....

I was dropping my daughters off at Mapleview Mall in Burlington, ON so they could go shopping on Sunday, and I decided to stay for a while and shop a bit, have lunch and kill some time rather than go home and have to do some pressing clean up thing I didn’t want to do in the first place, so I stayed. I shopped a bit at Sears and looked around at other stores, and off I went to the food court for a Thai lunch. Afterwards, I was sent on a mission by my wife to IKEA, to get a new catalog, which of course wasn’t in stock as yet, and as they are late getting into the mail system here, so I wasn’t getting one anyway.


It was so busy and the IKEA shuffle was in full swing. This is the slow moving somnambulistic shuffle done by Sunday IKEA visitors who seem to be looking at everything. They move in a drugged stupor waiting to be moved by a Swedish vision. I was not moved and didn’t want to do this, but was interested in a $1 cone, as a treat for me for going into this madness. Don’t get me wrong, I love IKEA, just not on weekends.

When I went to find the cone in the basement food vending counter, I found my friends Will Rueter and Maureen Steuart. We sat and discussed our building and book making and printmaking for a while. As Will was telling me about calligraphy, I brought up a calligraphy story about my old friend, who called me his second best friend, Lothar Hoffman. The look on their faces was priceless, and it was altogether a bit weird. It turned out that Detroit based, world renowned graphic designer and calligrapher Lothar Hoffman was an old friend of Will’s, who he had not seen in years (I haven’t seen him myself since 1989, but that Will had a dream featuring Lothar on Saturday night and here I was discussing him on Sunday!

Following studies in Berlin, Munich and Essen, Lothar Hoffmann graduated with a degree in Graphic Design before immigrating to the US in 1964. He has worked for major Detroit art studios and taught courses at CCS since 1972. Hoffmann has lectured and conducted workshops in New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Austin, Madison, Pittsburgh, New Orleans, Toronto, Ottawa and other cities. His work has been published in International Calligraphy Today, Lettering Arts in the 80s, 60 Alphabets, 3:16 and many other publications. His work has been exhibited widely throughout the US and in 11 foreign countries, including Russia, the UK, Israel, Japan and Germany. Hoffmann also served as chair of CCS' Graphic Design Department from 1984 to 1996.

In 1984 Lothar wanted to go to San Francisco to see a calligraphy show and he asked me as Dean of CCS in Detroit, to find money to support his venture. I told him I’d find the funds if he made a formal request in calligraphy so that in the end the request would be worth as much as the request would grant. You can see here a copy of that request, which was funded.

Alien Invasion

Last Sunday I wrote “Chariots of the Gods”. I said,


“When I first saw these petroglyphs I was astounded. I was climbing a bit of a mountain in New Mexico when I came upon “ancient spacemen” and I was amazed! These were well known pictures but seeing them first hand made
believer out of me.


All this relates to the photographs I have included here. These drawings have been appearing all over my neighborhood within the last week. I was excited but concerned by their presence, because it foretold, I thought, of alien behavior in my area.


On Friday I received a notice, by letter not by telepathy, and it states that the city is going to resurface our street and repave our sidewalks. It seems the aliens were city workers and surveyors, plotting out some construction and not aliens plotting out my being abducted into space, a truly unique experience.”


Now, a week later, I think it is aliens! Look at what they’re doing. It’s worse than crop circles! It’s this way when I leave for work and changed again when I return. It may be the end of the world, or at least it indicates new pavements!

IDOLMAKER

I love this movie! Idolmaker is a 1980, amazing film that is the story of a ‘50’s Philadelphia-based rock 'n' roll starmaker. Ray Sharkey plays Vincent Vacarri, who takes a couple of raw young kids (Peter Gallagher and Paul Land) and molds them into teen idols. Tovah Feldshuh plays Brenda Roberts, love interest and all around girl Friday.


If Gallagher and Land seem to be clones of Fabian and Frankie Avalon, then you've gotten the point. Vacarri comes off as both maven and monster: He gives his boys everything they need professionally and everything they want personally, but it's subliminally clear that his interest is purely mercenary. It is gripping, beautiful and worth watching at least once a year.

All through the film we see the truth revealing itself, and in the end it is abundantly clear that Sharkey is, or would like to be the Idol. The Idolmaker is a brutal exploration of the creation, manipulation, and destruction of teen idols and their audience in the late 1950s and early 1960s.

Fathers Day Cookoff

In 1994 or '95, I entered the Calgary Herald’s Father’s Day BBQ Recipe Contest. The requirements were that you enter a favorite recipe and include a statement about being a Dad, or a letter from one of your kids (I think) about your being their Dad. My girls being young, and my boys being old and away, I chose to write the letter myself. I also made up a recipe, and I am good at this stuff. I knew what to write and what kind of recipe would catch the judge’s attention. I wasn’t sure I could win (I didn’t), but I thought I could get to be a finalist (I was).


In my letter I wrote:

On Being a Dad


I may not be the best, nor the smartest, but I may be one of the most experienced Dads around. My children include three wonderful sons, all grown up and away. Cliff, 31, lives with his wife in Washington, D.C.; Brian, 29, lives with his wife in Chicago and Josh, 26, lives with his girlfriend in San Diego. My two wonderful daughters are too young to write this letter. Rosie, 3 and Lilly, 1, live with us in Calgary.


I have had the opportunity to raise children as a very young father and as a very old one. The times may be different, the gender has changed, but the thrill and the pleasures remain the same. While a person may be known as many things; their vocation, their profession, their volunteer activities, I think of myself foremost as a father. I’ve had so much experience.

My recipe was designed for this contest so it would spark the judges imagination by its title more than its ingredients.

Rum and Coke Pork Ribs (Cuba Libre Ribs)

3 lbs. pork ribs

3/4 cup Coca Cola (or any cola drink)

3/4 cup Dark or Medium Rum (Southern Comfort ,Scotch or Bourbon will do)

1 1/2 Tablespoon Molasses

1 1/2 Tablespoon Honey

1 1/2 Tablespoon Maple or Pancake Syrup

4 Tablespoons Soy Sauce

3 Cloves Crushed Garlic

1/2 Teaspoon Cinnamon

1 Teaspoon Salt

1/2 Teaspoon Pepper

Marinate ribs in the refrigerator 3-4 hours. Put in a baking pan, with marinade, cover with foil and place in a preheated oven at 400 (F) for 45 minutes.

Place on BBQ grill, sprinkle with paprika, salt, pepper and cinnamon, and grill for 15-20 minutes to finish.

Serve with the following dipping sauce:

2 oz. cola

2 oz. rum (or other whiskey)

2 T soy sauce

3 T catsup

1 1/2 t rice vinegar

1 1/2 t sugar

1 T honey

1 T syrup

1 T molasses

1 T cornstarch

2 T water

heat and stir dipping sauce until it thickens. Serve with ribs.



There we gathered, a ragtag group of fathers and mothers and children on a nice, bright day in Calgary. We had a bunch of hot grills, our ingredients and off we went. We each made enough for about four persons, and we had a sort of time limit to complete.

There was a woman and her female friend in the contest, and they were an illegal entry. The woman lied about her husband being away and unable to make the Barbeque, as she was overheard by me discussing this with her friend. He was away, but he had no idea how to cook, it was a ruse to get to win the top prize, a $1,000 Weber Barbeque. This was unfair, and as we had the chance to taste all the contestants food, there were better items in the contest (better than mine for sure) but given presentation skills (not a guy thing), she won the day.

The losers all got cook books and an assortment of barbeque tools, so it was a fun day. I can no longer remember the winning entry, but someone made an incredible Hawaiian dish that won on looks, in a very Hawaiian setting, and there was a big, stuffed hamburger that was fantastic.

My ribs are good, but served on a plate with sauce and salad, they were not “show stoppers”.

I did resent the winning entry (I know you know) but saw no advantage in making a big deal about it until now, as all involved may be gone, or certainly will never see this page, although I stand by my assessment.

Tokyo Train

I was hoping to take the bullet train from Niigata to Tokyo, but it did not run at that time. I was hoping to take the bullet train anywhere, just to experience the rush of the 100 mph train, but it did not happen.


However, I was going to be on the train from Tokyo to Narita, the airport, and all I needed was a ticket. The “people in charge of me” knew better than to send me off into the wilds of Japan without a way to maneuver. I was not able to read or speak the language, and I was a guest, so they felt the need to handle me.

People put me on the train at Niigata after long goodbyes, and I was met at Tokyo and put on the train to Narita. All this happened fairly smoothly. The greeter was told, I am guessing, to look for a very large, scared American who looked lost and that was me!

The man in charge was concerned that I get a first class ticket and was unable to purchase one himself for some unknown reason (at that time). He apologized and gave me money. I had no idea how much he gave me but it was enough to pay for this first class seat, given no bullet train. He apologized for the money, which didn’t offend me at all. He said the conductor would give me a ticket, I’d just pay him. Then, at the last minute, he ran back to the train to tell me there was no first class seating on this train and he was very sorry. I would have to sit on a regular seat for and hour plus, something I do all the time. But, I assured him that was fine and I was very happy in the situation.

The train took off and I waved goodbye to my temporary host and we were off to Narita.

The conductor came by in about twenty minutes and asked, I guess, for my ticket. I handed him the money the guy had handed me. He looked at me, he looked at the money, he asked a question and I couldn’t answer. He realized I was an idiot, and laughed, as did I, and he reached into his bag and worked around a bit and gave me what looked like four or five hundred dollars change! Now it wasn’t really that much, but it was substantial. It ended up being about $75 US, the difference between the first class and the coach fares. I was amused, felt quite wealthy and had to deal with the moral dilemma, do I tell my hosts and send them back the money?

Having thought about it for the last 17 years or so, I don't think I will!

McCartney

This is hardly a show review, it’s a love fest! I could not have had a better concert experience. What can I say about Paul McCartney? We’re the same age (I’m six months older), he looks better than me and is in better shape, but I appreciate him so much! I enjoyed listening, singing and participating in the music that runs through all our lives. It’s been the background of everything for so long we don’t even realize all it means to us, or at least to me.

My wife and daughters were with me, as we have been together for Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Springsteen, The Who and now McCartney! I feel that I’ve passed on the culture to my kids, and feel better for it!

It took getting the tickets on line, hoping for good seats, getting out of work early with everyone and driving to the train station in Burlington, ON. We made it with twenty minutes to spare, and even in a rain storm, the heat was a bit oppressive.

The train to Toronto was nice, and we sat on the second floor and it was great. We arrived at Union Station with an hour and a half to spare, which was fantastic as we could find a place to eat dinner. It took a bit of looking, as the close restaurants were all full due to the concert. This was the second night of two sold out shows.

It was a sweaty run, but we got to a great place, the Loose Moose, nearby, and had dinner. The Air Canada Centre is attached to Union Station so no outside walking was actually required but, we wanted a dinner in a place with seats, not a hot dog on the streets.

We were back and in our seats by 7:30, the start time. However, at 8:00 they started a slide show, a kind of running graphic which ran for thirty minutes, a nostalgic kind of thing, and then they came on.

The band (there are five of them) were on for three hours without a break and sounded every bit like the Beatles and Wings and themselves and were fantastic. Paul never even drank water that I could see! I can’t imagine he can remember all the words and the music, but he does. He is funny, cute. Playful and charming and we all loved the show.

The play list for Toronto was:

Monday 9th August, Air Canada Centre, Toronto

1. Venus and Mars / Rockshow

2. Jet

3. All My Loving

4. Letting Go

5. Got To Get You Into My Life

6. Highway

7. Let Me Roll It

8. The Long And Winding Road

9. Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five

10. Let ‘Em In

11. My Love

12. I’m Looking Through You

13. Two Of Us

14. Blackbird

15. Here Today

16. Dance Tonight

17. Mrs Vandebilt


18. Eleanor Rigby

19. Something

20. Sing The Changes

21. Band On The Run

22. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

23. Back In The USSR

24. I’ve Got A Feeling

25. Paperback Writer

26. A Day In The Life / Give Peace A Chance

27. Let It Be

28. Live And Let Die

29. Hey Jude

Encore

30. Day Tripper

31. Lady Madonna

32. Get Back

Second Encore

33. Yesterday

34. Mull Of Kintyre

35. Helter Skelter

36. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band / The End

When it ended, we ran out of the Centre, ran into Union Station and had four minutes to make the train, which we did. The next one was an hour away so we were motivated.

Our chariot was waiting and off we went to home, where I finally got to sleep at 2:00 a.m.

What a great night!

Always remember, "And, in the end, the love you take/ Is equal to the love you make."

Chariots of the Gods

Wikipedia says:


Chariots of the Gods? Unsolved Mysteries of the Past is a book written in 1968 by Erich von Däniken. It involves the hypothesis that the technologies and religions of many ancient civilizations were given to them by space travelers who were welcomed as gods. These ideas have been largely rejected by historians and scientists

The types of evidence von Däniken cites can be categorized as follows:

The tomb of Mayan ruler Pakal (603-683 CE) in Palenque, Mexico. Interpreted by Daniken as depicting an astronaut in his spaceship.

The existence of structures and artifacts have been found which represent higher technological knowledge than is presumed to have existed at the times they were manufactured. Däniken maintains that these artifacts were produced either by extraterrestrial visitors or by humans who learned the necessary knowledge from them. Such artifacts include the Egyptian pyramids, Stonehenge, and the Moai of Easter Island. Further examples include a medieval map known as the Piri Reis Map, allegedly showing the Earth as it is seen from space, and the Nazca lines in Peru, which he explains as landing strips for an airfield.

Statue from the late Jōmon period (1000 - 400 BC) in Japan, interpreted by Daniken as depicting an alien visitor.

Interpretations of ancient artwork throughout the world as depictions of astronauts, air and space vehicles, extraterrestrials, and complex technology. Däniken also describes elements that he believes are similar in art of unrelated cultures.

The Nazca lines (200 BCE - 700 CE) in Peru, interpreted by Daniken as landing strips for alien visitors.

Explanations for the origins of religions as reactions to contact with an alien race, including interpretations of the Old Testament of the Bible. According to von Däniken, humans considered the technology of the aliens to be supernatural and the aliens themselves to be gods. Däniken asks if the oral and literal traditions of most religions contain references to visitors from stars and vehicles travelling through air and space. These, he says, should be interpreted as literal descriptions which have changed during the passage of time and become more obscure. Examples such as: Ezekiel's revelation in Old Testament, which he interprets as a detailed description of a landing spacecraft with angels in the likeness of man. Moses and the directions 'God' gave him to construct the Ark of the Covenant, which is assumed to be a communication device with an alien race. Lot and his extended family being ordered by human like 'angels' to go to the mountains, due to the destruction of the city of Sodom by God. His wife looked back at the possible nuclear explosion, and falling "dead on the spot". Däniken attempts to draw an analogy with the "cargo cults" that formed during and after World War II, when once-isolated tribes in the South Pacific mistook the advanced American and Japanese soldiers for gods.

Petroglyphs (also called rock engravings) are pictogram and logogram images created by removing part of a rock surface by incising, pecking, carving, and abrading. Outside North America, scholars often use terms such as "carving", "engraving", or other descriptions of the technique to refer to such images. Petroglyphs are found world-wide, and are often (but not always) associated with prehistoric peoples. The word comes from the Greek words petros meaning "stone" and glyphein meaning "to carve", and was originally coined in French as pétroglyphe.

The term petroglyph should not be confused with pictograph, which is an image drawn or painted on a rock face. Both types of image belong to the wider and more general category of rock art and Petroforms, or patterns and shapes made by many large rocks and boulders over the ground, are also quite different. Inukshuks are also unique, and found only in the Arctic (except for reproductions and imitations built in more southerly latitudes).

When I first saw these petroglyphs I was astounded. I was climbing a bit of a mountain in New Mexico when I came upon “ancient spacemen” and I was amazed! These were well known pictures but seeing them first hand made a believer out of me.


All this relates to the photographs I have included here. These drawings have been appearing all over my neighborhood within the last week. I was excited but concerned by their presence, because it foretold, I thought, of alien behavior in my area.


On Friday I received a notice, by letter not by telepathy, and it states that the city is going to resurface our street and repave our sidewalks. It seems the aliens were city workers and surveyors, plotting out some construction and not aliens plotting out my being abducted into space, a truly unique experience.

Norman's Story

Norman said, “My dumbest blunder was…..

Susan Sontag 1966

I met Susan on a Saturday night while a small group of campus bar friends were party hoping. She was in the group and we sort of pared off talking, maybe dancing. I hadn't especially focused on her until after the parties, and bars were open to 4 AM in NYC on Saturday nights back then. She and I wound up in a booth at Columbia's beloved West End Bar and Grill, just the two of us. I then noticed she was hot looking and we seemed to clicking (in my mind at least). We babbled for awhile, just small talk probably about the parties or about some mutual friend...nothing deep, political, nor philosophical I'm sure because I was still out of my element intellectually at that time...still am re: my wife.

“That was fun”, she said “We should do this again. What’s your name?”

I told her. “What’s yours?”

“Susan”.

“Susan what?” I asked.

“Sontag.” She said.

“That’s familiar” I thought. “Are you related to a Sidney Sontag?” Sidney was a fraternity alumnus.

“No”.

We drank and talked trivial small talk. She was fun. She gave me her phone number, and for some reason showed me her driver’s license as if to prove her name. I had always meant to call her for a date, but West End life was spontaneous and there was always another new interesting person…….

I wrote to Norman and asked, “in light of Susan Sontag's sexual preference and her age (born in 1933), how was it possible to imagine yourself fixed up with her?”

This has been bothering me.

“Given the times, she may still have been in the closet, but I have to ask. She did come out in the early 70's. She was, however, a Jewish girl and that may have been enough!”

Norman replied, “I was born in 1939, she in 1933, so in 1962-63 she was in her late 20's, or turning 30...the height of her sexuality...and I a cute young, bright (a perception attributed to people at Columbia U.) Jewish lad. I was prime meat for a girl searching and trying to figure out her sexuality.

Or, she had no sexual interest in me but found me a harmless feckless pal to bop around with. Either way I was stupid to let the opportunity pass.”

For those who haven’t a clue, here’s the Wikipedia version:

Sontag, born Susan Rosenblatt, was born in New York City to Jack Rosenblatt and Mildred Jacobsen, both Jewish. Her father ran a fur trading business in China, where he died of tuberculosis when Susan was five years old. Seven years later, her mother married Nathan Sontag. Susan and her sister, Judith, were given their stepfather's surname, although he never formally adopted them.

Sontag did not have a religious upbringing. She claimed to have not entered a synagogue until her mid twenties.]

Sontag grew up in Tucson, Arizona, and, later, in Los Angeles, where she graduated from North Hollywood High School at the age of 15. She began her undergraduate studies at Berkeley but transferred to the University of Chicago in admiration of its famed core curriculum. At Chicago, she undertook studies in philosophy and literature alongside her other requirements (Leo Strauss, Richard McKeon and Kenneth Burke were among her lecturers) and graduated with an [Artium Baccalaureus] A.B. She did graduate work in philosophy, literature, and theology at Harvard with Paul Tillich, Jacob Taubes and Morton White et al. After completing her Master of Arts in philosophy and beginning doctoral work at Harvard, Sontag was awarded an American Association of University Women's fellowship for the 1957-1958 academic year to St Anne's College, Oxford, where she had classes with Iris Murdoch, J. L. Austin, Alfred Jules Ayer, Stuart Hampshire and others. Oxford did not appeal to her, however, and she transferred after Michaelmas term of 1957 to the University of Paris. It was in Paris that Sontag socialised with expatriate artists and academics including Allan Bloom, Jean Wahl, Alfred Chester, Harriet Sohmers and Maria Irene Fornes. Sontag remarked that her time in Paris was, perhaps, the most important period of her life It certainly provided the grounding for her long intellectual and artistic association with the culture of France.

At 17, while at Chicago, Sontag married Philip Rieff after a ten-day courtship. The philosopher Herbert Marcuse lived with Sontag and Rieff for a year while working on his book Eros and Civilization.[8] Sontag and Rieff were married for eight years throughout which they worked jointly on the study Freud: The Mind of the Moralist that would be attributed solely to Philip Rieff as a stipulation of the couple's divorce in 1958. The couple had a son, David Rieff, who later became his mother's editor at Farrar, Straus and Giroux, as well as a writer in his own right.

The publication of Against Interpretation (1966), accompanied by a striking dust-jacket photo by Peter Hujar, helped establish Sontag's reputation as "the Dark Lady of American Letters." Movie stars like Woody Allen, philosophers like Arthur Danto, and politicians like Mayor John Lindsay vied to know her.

In her prime, Sontag avoided all pigeonholes. Like Jane Fonda, she went to Hanoi, and wrote of the North Vietnamese society with much sympathy and appreciation (see "Trip to Hanoi" in Styles of Radical Will). She maintained a clear distinction, however, between North Vietnam and Maoist China, as well as East-European communism, which she later famously rebuked as "fascism with a human face."

Sontag died in New York City on 28 December 2004, aged 71, from complications of myelodysplastic syndrome which had evolved into acute myelogenous leukemia. Sontag is buried in Montparnasse Cemetery, in Paris. Her final illness has been chronicled by her son, David Rieff.

Porn stars with bad eyesight that have radio controlled cameras eliminating cameramen.

This is one disgusting commercial! First of all, it’s only toilet paper. Secondly, who the hell cares? Some guys sat around a room and dreamed up, or used focus groups to find a “disease” that we all could relate to with toilet paper.
The truth is, I can’t relate to this. I have never had a problem that I can remember and I know I’ve never seen such a problem because I would definitely remember this one.

I am sure women use much more toilet paper than men, and probably are responsible for buying much more of it than we are, but still, no woman I’ve ever seen has had such a problem and no one anywhere would admit to having one. It is way over the top!

I just found this blog on the net and it seemed appropriate.

Worst Use of Coffee in a Commercial


In Coffee in Pop Media on January 1, 2010 at 6:06 pm


I just saw the latest Charmin Ultra Soft toilet tissue commercial. You know, those are the ones where the bear always has a few pieces of paper clinging to his butt fur when he wipes. I always thought they were pretty funny in a gross kinda way.


The latest one though features both coffee and espresso in a very bad way as a metaphor for coffee. They use the concept of less is more, as in less espresso gives bigger push than more coffee and less Charmin wipes up more poo than more regular toilet paper.


So the husband bear switches to espresso for more caffiene and Charmin so he doesn’t have clingons around uranus.


It’s gross on 2 main accounts. I could name more, but I’m losing my appetite as I speak. Number one- coffee should never ever be used in any way in conjunction with dark matter (poo). Number two- no type of food product should be featured on a toilet paper commercial. Yes, I know that all loo activities come from the original act of eating, but do we really need to associate the two. No, we don’t.

I tried to think of people this “problem” (made up by some ad guys I’m sure) would affect, and here it goes:

1. Proctologists

2. Porn stars with bad eyesight that have radio controlled cameras eliminating cameramen.

3. Small children in diapers with arthritic grandparents.

4. Cartoon Bears.

I have it on good authority this morning, that a friend of a friend of mine had this happen to her (a woman in B.C.) early in a relationship where the new beau told her sheepishly that she had toilet paper stuck in her butt!

OK, I guess it is possible, just its not a daily household event!

21st Century Grandpa

I watched a guy today at McDonalds with his two grandsons. He was keeping the kids busy while his daughter got food for all of them. They seemed to be an obviously upscale kind of a group, the kids were very well behaved, the Grandparent was elegantly dressed for a very hot summer day at McDonalds, and the daughter looked like the poster girl for L.L.Bean.


In Dundas, this is a very unusual look, as most of us poor slobs are just sloppily hanging around. I had on my usual baggy jeans, plain color polo and a pair of multi-colored Sketchers. Grandpa was wearing striped shorts, the kind of shiny striped material that dress pants are made out of. These were tailored shorts, a sort of Bermuda length. He had on an out of the pants shirt, but it was pink striped, shiny, and had a white collar and cuffs. This was big time dressed up lunch wear.

This guy had on two pairs of glasses, one to wear and one to hang around his neck to use for reading on top of the others. He was probably from New York and was visiting the family.

However, I digress, because this is about a 21st century Grandpa. He amused the kids, one sitting on either side of him, about 4 and 5 years old, with photos of the family. What amazed me is that he was prepared to do this on his i phone! OK, maybe it’s because I don’t have one, and I don’t really know how to do this on my phone, that I was jealous. This guy was not young, albeit he may have been younger than me, but he did know how to use it. As they got a bit antsy, he moved on to viewing web sites with them showing them weather forecasts from New York.

It wasn’t much, but it foretold a technical change in the force! The times they are a changin’

Gymkhanas, the Lodge Freeway, Big Heads and Crazy Driving - post # 401

In the early 80’s, I lived in Detroit and drove a BMW 320i. While a lower echelon BMW, in those days, and in that place, it was unique. When I visited the auto companies I would borrow a car so I would pull on to the parking lot in an appropriate vehicle. My old friend Jerry Rubin had a BMW in the 60’s, which was completely unusual and he had the only one I’d ever seen at that point.

I would roar around town, pumped up in my little Bimmer, and have a smile on my face. This car appeared after my Mazda RX7, a sort of a 40th birthday gift to me.

At some point I heard about the Gymkhana. Gymkhana is a type of motorsport practiced in Canada, Japan, the United States, the United Kingdom, Scandinavia, and South Africa. Similar to autocross, gymkhana courses are often very complex and memorizing the course is a significant part of achieving a fast time.

Gymkhana events are time and/or speed events in an automobile. These can feature obstacles such as cones, tires, and barrels. The driver must maneuver through a predetermined "track" performing many different driving techniques. What separates gymkhana from traditional autocross events is that the gymkhana requires drivers to perform reversals, 180 degree spins, 360 degree spins, parking boxes, figure 8s and other advanced skills. Drifting is also encouraged where helpful or necessary. Essentially, a gymkhana is any event featuring a starting point, a finish line and some sort of "obstacle" to get through, around, or by, all within a time limit.

I went to my first gymkhana and wanted to enter after looking over the course. I think it all took place at Chrysler headquarters but I can’t remember. It was exciting, and probably it was with the BMW, but I looked at the course, knew it was confusing to me, but figured I’d try it anyway.

I went to sign up and discovered that I needed a helmet to participate! I ran around like a crazy guy trying to borrow a helmet but knowing down deep inside that I would fail and never participate. I suffer from “big head” syndrome, a syndrome that runs through my family. My mother had it; one of my daughters suffers from it, as do I. It’s not a good “big head” problem, but a bad one. I was crushed!

I have since gone to a motorcycle shop, because they specialize in stuff for bikers, many of whom are big guys with big heads, and purchased a less than attractive helmet that fits my head.

My head redefines “one size fits all”. It doesn’t!

I now use an online company called the Big Hat Store. They say, “We decided to open our store in 1998 when we found few extra large baseball hats available for my brothers and father who like me have extra large heads! After looking throughout the country I found it was tough to find large caps and, for the few that I found, quality was lacking. Our big hats are custom manufactured to ensure quality fit and comfort. Our big hats contain more cloth and are made from a bigger die pattern than normally sized caps. Only proven fabrics and stitching are used. They're larger around and deeper (higher crowned) than normally sized hats. They will not sit on the top of your head like a beanie. Our hats look and feel good! Furthermore, we ship our hats in boxes (vs. paper envelopes and tubes) so that hats you order will keep their shape.

Our store, The Big Hat Store, is located in Troy, Michigan

http://www.bighatstore.com/

They do not sell motorcycle helmets but they have great baseball hats, etc.

I used to drive to work in those days, when I lived in Bloomfield Township, using the Lodge Freeway most of the time.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

M-10, also known as the John C. Lodge Freeway and Northwestern Highway is a state trunk line route in the US state of Michigan. The southernmost portion follows Jefferson Avenue in downtown Detroit, and the southern terminus is at the intersection of Jefferson and Randolph Street. The northern terminus is in West Bloomfield at the intersection with Orchard Lake Road. M-10 was built in segments throughout much of the 1950s and 1960s. It carried several different names before the entire route was finally officially named The John C. Lodge Freeway in 1987[2]. M-10 was named after John C. Lodge, an influential Detroiter and mayor of Detroit from 1927-1928.

In the early 80’s, coming down the Lodge from the ‘burbs into Detroit, there was an unwritten race going on. It was unscored, no names were given, but cars would race each other until they left the freeway to get to work. I hadn’t noticed it until I got the Mazda, and it continued when I had the Bimmer, but it was always on the Lodge. All sleek, expensive or two passenger cars were invited by no one in particular to participate. You got the picture the first time as you drove along and were silently challenged by someone. A Corvette would drive up next to you at 60 or 70 miles an hour, rev his engine and take off like a bat out of hell! If you had a normal car you just assumed these were individual crazy drivers, but there was an insane pattern to all this. Different cars would appear at different times of the morning and roar, weaving through heavy rush hour traffic getting there jollies in the mornings. It was you out there with the occasional Ferrari, Lamborghini or more normal Corvettes and Mercedes.

It was not safe but it was one hell of a lot of fun. Also, in the morning, we were probably all sober, and that way there were less accidents. I wouldn’t do it today, but in hindsight, it is nostalgic.

Politicians and Palaces Chicken Kiev

In 1974 I was invited to a dinner as part of my duties as Associate Director of what was then called UICA, the Union of Independent Colleges of Art, since then expanded to AICAD and including most of the independent art schools in North America as well as foreign ones.
This dinner was at the Governors Palace in Santa Fe, NM. Originally constructed in the early 17th century as Spain's seat of government for what is today the American Southwest, the Palace of the Governors chronicles the history of Santa Fe, as well as New Mexico and the region. This adobe structure, now the state's history museum, was designated a Registered National Historic Landmark in 1960 and an American Treasure in 1999.

Included at the dinner were the Presidents of all our Art Schools, our staff, the Governor and Mrs. Bruce King of New Mexico and Mrs. Montoya, wife of the Senator from New Mexico at that time. Also included at the dinner were local dignitaries and friends.

There was music, wine and a wonderful dinner served, as I remember, at a very large table set for 20 plus guests.

My dinner companion was an oil heiress; this was the best description I can come up with as her name I probably forgot at the time. She seemed distracted, and was treated by friends as a person with a problem. The problem may have been drug or alcohol related or some other mental problem but when you have heaps of money, you become interesting as opposed to crazy. She was accompanied by a gentleman who was out of “Central Casting” as a Latin Lover type (this may be a generous view) but he kept her happy and it seemed that was enough to solve everyone else’s concerns. This has little to do with the story but it sets the scene.

She sat on my left and the main dish was chicken Kiev, a tasty deep fried chicken breast stuffed with herb butter. When one cuts into the succulent morsel and cold air hits the hot butter strange things can happen. When our heiress cut into hers, a stream of butter took off and went straight up from the chicken and made a lovely arc in the air and landed on my left thigh! The very hot butter caused me to scream and jump up in the air, scaring our heiress to death but it all subsided and I was able to sit down, mop my pants (it missed my crotch thank God) and she apologized and I apologized and we all went on an finished dinner while I also surreptitiously rubbed my very sore thigh.

I seldom admit to wearing anything made of double knit fabric, but in the 70’s it was normal. I was wearing a pair of tan, double knit pants I used when I traveled, and while double knot did not wrinkle much, and washed easily, it did not do well with grease stains. I had no choice but to dump those pants in the hotel trash later that evening, and sadly said goodbye to them. I replaced them the next chance I got, and expensed the pants on my expense account, as a necessary business expense.

From Easy French Food:

According to French history, this dish was invented by the the Frenchman Nicolas Appert (1749-1841), a masterful food manufacturer, who is also, and perhaps much more significantly, credited with developing the technique for canning foods.

He called his dish les côtelettes de volaille and it was also known as chicken supreme. The name chicken Kiev didn't appear until New York restaurants wanting to woo a Russian clientele began using it to designate this butter stuffed chicken breast.

Herb Butter

In the freezer section of the grocery store here in France, we can buy a roll of butter that has been mixed with herbs and garlic. It is great stuff to have on hand for frying steaks, topping vegetables or rice, or even as a spread for breads. If you can find a similar product, it should work fine in this chicken Kiev recipe.

If you make your own herb butter, which is absolutely delicious, you may like to make extra to have on hand for other uses. It should be fine for at least a week if kept in plastic wrap in the refrigerator.

Deep Fat Frying

I have a genetic thing against deep fat frying, but I went ahead and tested this chicken Kiev recipe using this method and it came out just great. My family was smacking their lips and begging for more. However, given my disposition, I tried it in the oven as well, and while there was a little less smacking and longing glances in the direction of the kitchen, it was quite delicious.

You may be concerned, like I was, that the butter is going to leek out of the chicken as it fries. Not to worry. The flour, eggs, and bread crumbs form a good seal on the whole thing and nothing leeks. Do follow the directions though and allow the breaded rolls to chill in the refrigerator for a while before frying.

________________________________________

Poulet à la Kiev

Prep time: 30 min - Cook time: 20 min

For the herb butter:

• 8 tablespoons butter, softened

• 2 cloves garlic, finely minced

• 2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley

• 2 tablespoons finely chopped tarragon

• 2 tablespoons finely chopped chives

• 1/4 teaspoon pepper

• juice of 1/2 lemon

For the chicken:

• 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

• 1/3 cup all purpose flour

• 1 egg, beaten

• 1 cup fine bread crumbs (you may need more)

• Canola oil for frying

1. Begin by preparing the herb butter. Mix all of the ingredients together in a small mixing bowl until thoroughly combined. Some of the lemon juice may remain separate from the butter. Mound the butter on a piece of plastic wrap and mold into a log. Cover completely in plastic wrap and refrigerate until hard.

2. Meanwhile flatten the chicken breasts by wrapping them in plastic wrap and hammering them with a meat hammer or a rolling pin until they are about 1/3 inch thick. Don't mangle them - just get them on the slender side.

3. Prepare three shallow bowls for dipping: one with flour, one with the beaten egg, and one with the bread crumbs.

4. Remove the hardened butter from the refrigerator and slice into eight equal portions (each piece should be a little less long than the chicken breast is wide). Place a piece of butter towards one end of each chicken breast and then roll the meat up tightly round the butter. Tuck in the edges and any stray bits as you roll. Press firmly together.

5. Dredge each chicken roll thoroughly in flour, then egg, and finally in bread crumbs. Be sure everything is well coated. Place the chicken rolls on a plate and refrigerate for 1/2 hour before frying.

6. When you are ready to fry, add oil to a depth of about 1 inch to a sturdy deep pan. Heat the oil to 375°F. Carefully add the chicken rolls one at a time. Fry for about 15 minutes (exact cooking time will depend on the size of your chicken rolls) turning as needed with metal cooking tongs to completely brown the chicken on all sides and cook throughout.

7. Drain rolls on absorbent paper and serve immediately. Watch out when you cut into these as the butter is likely to squirt out.

Makes 4 servings.