WHAT WOULD I EAT ON MY BIRTHDAY IF I COULD GO ANYWHERE AND EAT ANYTHING?

I was thinking about this yesterday while on my walk. What would be my ideal day of eating?

Restrictions I place on this concept are that the list has to be compiled from my actual dining experiences and also, cannot involve a restaurant that no longer exists. This means, the food trucks of LA are out for lunch and I cannot include either of my 2 favorite LaJolla area restaurants for dinner - each of which have long since gone away.

Also, we'll need to set the rules of physics, time and space aside -- such as the time it takes to travel between places, and the fact that if you eat well all day, you may not be hungry for dinner.

It is an interesting question and one that certainly makes for good thought during a 3 mile pre-breakfast walk. So to Sue, I say, save up your calories - you're coming along with me. Here is what I came up with.

First Course

Let's start the day slowly, with coffee and pastry. The pastry - a morning bun from Tartine in San Francisco. "I'll take that pastry to go", and then zip over to that little spot in Milan by the train station, where you drink your caffès (espressos) while standing and mingling with the local residents and shop owners.

Second Course

Next would be something a little more substantial -- and a return trip to the San Francisco for a smoked salmon sandwich from Capt'n Mikes Holy Smoke, at the Ferry Building farmer's market. The alder smoked salmon is served on crusty sourdough with cream cheese, heirloom tomatoes, capers and some red onion for crunch. To go with it, I'll grab some fresh squeezed orange juice, maybe a few local ripe plums and a cup of black french roast coffee.

Lunch

The lunch choice was probably my biggest challenge. I've had so many great lunches, and there are many choices, local to me in Philadelphia, that excel in their areas but don't impress me as ideal celebration spots. I mean, is there a better sandwich than a cheesesteak from Chink's or Tony Lukes? A more satisfying meal than the no. 12 Pho from Pho 75? How about the pork sandwich with sharp provalone and broccoli rabe from Denics? But these are somehow, not special enough.

I've had great, more sophisticated lunches from XIX, Tinto, LeBec Fin. But sophistication doesn't seem the right ingredient for the day. I'm thinking more like the former group, but also more spontaneous, more current - more like street food, but not too local. Unfortunately, since my rule was, that I had to have experienced it, that leaves out all of Southeast Asia, much of Mexico & South America - all of which seem to be ideal. It also leaves out the Border Grill lunch truck, one that has that foreign flare and is on my list of things to target in the near future.

...so my choice then, is not so much a compromise, but a third approach: I think it is going to be Texas BBQ - from the City Market, in Luling, TX. Some brisket, some ribs, a sausage. I can smell the smoke!

White bread, raw onion, pickled jalapeno on the side and a local soda to wash it down.

A piece of pie - pecan, banana cream, coconut - with a scoop of Blue Bell ice cream and a glass of milk for dessert. And if they run out of pie at the City Market (something that happens every day), I know a place near Abilene.

Late Afternoon Snack

Easy one. Paris. A small city park with adequate foot traffic for people watching. A warm, sunny October afternoon. A bottle (or 2) of Burgundy, a baguette from the nearby boulangerie, several cheeses.

Afterwards, a quick jaunt over to Chestnut Hill Coffee for a macchiato. And then a nap.

Dinner

The second toughest choice is dinner, for similar reasons as lunch - too many good options to choose from and too many different approaches, too many places I want to try but haven't yet. I was almost going to choose The kitchen table menu at Charlie Trotters, in Chicago, because it is an incredible meal, but I think I prefer something with a younger feel, with higher energy, a lively bar area for drinks and appetizers, a place with fresh ingredients and grilled meats.

So, it is back to the West coast, to Santa Monica for the Border Grill (yeah, the lunch truck people - and now you know why it's on my lunch list). I think I will make a dinner out of an extended happy hour.

And with the 8 hour difference between Paris and LA, I just might be hungry and sober again.

And after all of this, I think I will be satisfied (that is of course, unless they have a slice of coconut lime pie on the menu).

WHEN ON THE ROAD, ITS ALL ABOUT THE FOOD

It's not really, but it is. In so many ways, food is how we relate to each other, how we experience local life, the reason/excuse/facilitation (your choice) for interacting with others, for learning. For satisfying our needs, our desires. Food is a source of pleasure, pain, disappointment, amazement.

Is there anything else that we look forward to constantly - at any age?

And so, here is the list of restaurants from my trip to COLORADO and CALIFORNIA (in order of appearance), along with a few impressions...

Au Bon Pain (PHL) - it's almost a tradition to grab a pecan roll before the flight

Peet's Coffee (PHL) - weak coffee of dubious quality and taste. At least it was less acidic than some but still, I threw most of it out.

Suki Thai (Boulder) - reasonable bowl of pho-like soup intended to fix the damage of the plane ride and fortify me for what was to come. Later in the week, I found their chicken pad thai tasty in spite of the way it was made. It went very well with Wild Turkey 101 10 yr.

Lee Yuan Chinese Cuisine (Boulder) - TOO MUCH mayonnaise and TOO LITTLE (as in none) Grand Marnier in the eponymous shrimp & walnut dish. Also, how fresh were those walnuts? None the less, Bob's asian noodles were pretty good. 

Carelli's (Boulder) - Three people ordered fish and chips (sweet potato fries, no less). Although F&C would be nice, NOT FROM AN ITALIAN RESTAURANT. Fighting the majority, I ordered veal parm. All to go because Bob was feeling too weak.

Black Pepper Pho (Boulder) - my first banh mi - it was good if not dummied down. The roll was perfect.

Big Daddy's Bagels (Boulder) - egg bagel and free wifi. All-day heartburn was not on the menu but came at no extra charge.

El Indio (San Diego) - overrated and overpriced and now inhabited by so many tourists. Still, when I popped out of the rental car lot and noticed I was on India st., I had to grab a couple tasteless tacos before driving to the hotel.

CPK (LaJolla) - to me, the original CPK. Always crowded and walkable from the hotel.

Girard Gourmet (LaJolla) - the best little local nothing fancy place in LaJolla. Went for the cinnamon rolls and wound up eating breakfast. Enjoyed talking to Bridgett and the owner. I helped them understand what SCRAPPLE is.

Santana's (Yucca Valley) - In california, the burrito is the proper animal... no rice, no BS. Just meat or meat and beans - long stewed and flavorful meat. And a few options: guacamole, pico de gallo. Pour the salsa on as you eat it. The carnitas burrito was a tasty work of art, at least a pound and a half, and accompanied by 4 salsas, fresh made chips, beers - it took me until 12:30am to finish it. But the Phillies won, so it was all a lot of fun.

Sam's Pizza (Joshua Tree) - Anyone going here for the pizza just doesn't know better. Come here for the INDIAN food (asian, not western US - but you already knew that). Excellent !

Pappy and Harriet's (Pioneertown) - a honky tonk kind of place with live music only a few miles form the Yucca Valley. You can read the mixed reviews created from very subjective experiences that people get from the place. I don't know why you'd eat here, although it has a nice wood smoke smell when you enter. To me, what I found is what I expect from a place like this - lots of stuff on the walls and ceilings, character, dark, age, mid 30ish blonds in blue jeans behind the bar, somewhat insulated, but pleasant enough if you try to be cool and act local. Others at the bar, some wrapped up with their crowd, others easy to talk with. Overall, a hugely positive experience for me, especially when I was asked if my band was local ...but something not to be guaranteed at other visits.

JT Country Kitchen (Joshua Tree) - I feel like I discovered this place 20 years ago. Simple, small and good. The kind of place you can walk in and tell the waitress you want what he has (pointing to another table), and be told by the other diner what good taste you have. Don't miss the fresh made salsa for your huevos rancheros.

Japengo (LaJolla) - expensive place across the plaza and connected with the Hyatt in LaJolla that attracts many of the wrong kind of people - sales & marketing nitwits on expense accounts that order Miller Lite. The secret is happy hour - with a good selection of $3 pints (Fat Tire, Sierra, Guinness, Stone IPA and locals like Karl Strauss, etc.). AND FANTASTIC sushi... like the $5 Hawaiian roll: a California roll (west coast style, with real crab in a salad style), topped with spicy tuna, the mandatory toasted sesames, and a little ponzu sauce. Eat & Drink for 2 hours for under $30.

Barry's Pizza (HOU) - I'm in HOUSTON, so how come I CAN'T FIND ANY BBQ AT THE AIRPORT? As Eddie Pry would say, cheeze-o-wizz !!! I have to have a slice of pizza ???  a $5 slice of pizza, no less ???

ANATOMY OF A TWO POINT FIVE HOUR WAIT AT THE AIRPORT

I planned to be here at SAN, at 8:30, not 7:08.

It all starts with an early WAKE UP. Plan: 6:00am. Actual: 4:56am. I was showered, dressed and had moved my car moved from a parking spot up the street to a spot directly in front of the Hyatt by the time my iHOME alarm and my CELL phone alarms went off at 6:00.

PS - overnight self parking at the hyatt - $24. Parking on the street - free.

Planned HOTEL DEPARTURE TIME: 7:30am (7:15am for additional allowance). But I'm up and the news on TV is recyling. Sportscenter is out of the question because the Phillies lost yesterday. Let's go... actual departure from the hotel: 6:45. This included 2 attempts by the checkout guy to print a room receipt... still not showing a zero balance. I give up. What will the accounting department say?

I gassed the rental car up last night, so no station stop. San Diego airport is a straight shoot down I-5 from the Hyatt. Still, allowing for rush hour traffic and the expectant rains, I planned for a 30 minute ride to the Enterprise rental car drop off by the Washington street exit - one I've never been to before, I felt the 30 minute allowance was the right number.

Actual time to drive from the Hyatt, complete the drop off, including a brief survey of my satisfaction, be on the shuttle bus and heading toward the airport: 13 minutes.

The rest follows suit. Planned time to shuttle to the airport and CHECK-IN with Southwest: 30 minutes. It took 10 minutes.

So here I am at 7:17am, sitting at Starbucks with a double espresso, typing this. Two and a half hours before my 9:45 flight.

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EPILOG: Obviously, it is a different world now and we plan out our airport trips to allow for the security and other delays. But back in the mid 80s, it was different - and I still look back in disbelief at one incident and that I am a legend for.

I had a 7:00am business flight out of Philly. I left my house a little before 6:00 (I am about 30 minutes from the airport not counting parking). I will say I did not do this on purpose. Making matters worse, traffic was not cooperating and I started taking alternate routes, somehow winding up at Broad and Pattison avenues, in south Philly. If you are from Philly you know where this puts me... not too close to the airport. It was 6:25am.

Ignoring the posted speed limits and a few red lights, I somehow got to the airport and by 6:50, I was in full gallop, running through the terminals to the gate - where they were getting ready to close the door. It was a sweaty few minutes in my seat, but I made the flight.

This is one of the reasons, I allow myself plenty of time these days.

Final note: The mid 80s was also a time before OJ Simpson did the "if the glove don't fit, you must acquit" court scene and was pimping for Hertz. He had a famous commercial where he ran through the airport, conveniently dropping off his car and catching his flight on time. Everyone referred to this as my OJ Simpson moment.

COCONUT LIME PIE

This pie is my answer to the question, 'What is your favorite pie?'

It is unbelievably good. 

It is a pie I first tasted at a restaurant in LaJolla, CA about 20 years ago. The restaurant was called Epizote - after the earthy herb used in certain Latin-American dishes. It was one of the places to be for great Southwest food, and a restaurant I always looked forward to dining at when I traveled to LaJolla for business. Unfortunately, after many great years, the restaurant is no more. It changed owners and devolved into a disappointing mess - before finally having the courage to change names.


But I digress... It was on a beautiful night in February, when I sat on the open air rooftop patio, with a view of the Pacific and with space heaters providing some added warmth, that I applied my Johnson & Johnson expense account to a dinner that started with a top shelf margarita and ended with a slice of coconut lime pie. I didn't know what it was at that time, only that its name sounded good. But after tasting it and calling home to tell my wife how good it was, it became my holy quest to understand what it was I ate - and to find the recipe.

And here it is... This recipe comes not from Epizote, but from Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger, owner chefs of the Border Grill in Santa Monica. I am told the recipe was featured on an episode of their TV show called, Too Hot Tamales, but I did not see it. I firmly believe it is the pie I ate - but if not, who cares. It is as good as I remember the pie to be and it provides the same sweet salvation to me now as I remember receiving at the restaurant some 20 years ago.

So to Mary Sue and Susan, I toast you! And want to tell you that I am forever grateful for this little heart clogging treasure.

COCONUT LIME PIE

crust

1 cup sugar cookie crumbs

3 cups sweetened shredded coconut

1 ½ tablespoon unsalted butter, melted

lime curd

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

3/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice

3/4 cup sugar

2 tablespoons cornmeal

Pinch of salt

6 egg yokes

meringue

4 egg whites

1/2 cups sugar

1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

Finely grated zest of 1 lime    

Combine cookie crumbs, coconut and melted butter. Press approximately half of mixture onto bottom and up sides of 10 inch pie dish, building the sides to form an edge. Reserve remaining mixture for topping the pie.

Combine 4 tablespoons butter, lime juice, cornmeal, salt and 3/4 cup sugar in large metal bowl set over pot of simmering water - or, if you have the..., cook it over an moderate open flame. Cook slowly, scraping sides of bowl and whisking occasionally until the sugar dissolves and the corn meal softens and involves itself with the lime juice (10-15 minutes). 

Temper the 6 egg yolks by pouring some of the liquid into them while stirring, then return the egg-lime mixture to the pot all at once and cook, whisking occasionally until thickened, another 10- 15 minutes. The corn meal will assist in preventing the eggs from curdling. Remove from heat and cool, either directly in a water bath or in the refrigerator (press plastic wrap onto surface if you go this route). Either way, whisk occasionally.

Preheat oven to 275 degrees F. 

Beat egg whites, cream of tartar and 1/2 cup sugar until stiff and glossy. Gently fold 1/2 of beaten whites into lime curd. Then fold the remaining 1/2 along with the lime zest.

Pour filling into pie shell and sprinkle with reserved topping, mounding from the rim towards the middle and covering evenly (or leaving the center bare, like the eye of a hurricane). Bake 45-55 minutes, until pie has risen and coconut is golden brown. (The filling should be slightly cracked and firm when pressed in the center). Cool completely. Cover with plastic and refrigerate until well chilled, at least 6 hours or overnight.


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[cooks notes: first, I apologize for the picture. I am not happy with it but didn't realize how bad it was... until the pie was gone. Eaten. Second, the picture shows a little meringue puff in the middle - I had some leftover meringue and threw it on top. In my opinion, it is superfluous, but since I had extra, (having whipped up all 6 whites with a little more sugar), I added some more to the remaining coconut-cookie crumb mixture before piling on top. Again, not necessary and somewhat of a dumb move. Not that it subtracted from the taste - just that it made the crumbs clump up and look less attractive.]

LETTER TO HELEN

Someday you will read this. Some day when you have grown and I am gone.

I never got to know my grandfather, except through a few black and white photographs. And what my mom told me about him. But I didn't want that to be the only way you knew of me. I want the words I leave and the pictures I leave to speak to you for me.

Today I want to tell you about the first time we were alone together. When I felt comfortable enough to babysit you by myself and your parents were trusting enough to depend on me.

We only had a short time together - before you fell asleep - because that is what a 5 month old girl does after her noontime bottle. But we had a wonderful hour together.

After your mom mom left for work, I was in charge. I was hoping it would go well and you didn't let me down. You were able to communicate with me - both in your own way like all babies do, but also in a strange way - one that you couldn't master yet, but you tried. You seemed to try to speak in a language you did not have yet and to relay thoughts that you could not have thought yet.

One of the thoughts you did communicate was you let me know you were hungry. So I fed you 5 ounces of your bottle, and that seemed to take care of things. And since it was a beautiful day, I decided to take you outside.

Mom mom left a couple things for me - she was making sure I was equipped. There was a towel, which I guess was supposed to serve as a blanket if you went out. So I threw it over you even though I didn't think you needed it. And then there was this conversation I remember about being careful when I pulled your long sleeve outfit over your head. I guess she thought I was going to treat you like the lawn mower or something and pull the thing until your head popped off. Silly mom mom. I didn't see a need to change your shirt. The day was so pleasant.

So I put you in you stroller, which you were mostly OK with, and we went out the back door.

We went off-road first, into the back yard, but that didn't seem like a good idea, so we turned around and went to the front yard,  parking under the big silver maple tree - until I got concerned that the breeze might knock a branch down. So we moved over a little, under the dogwood. I positioned you so the sun was not in your eyes but you could have the full view of the trees - with their green leaves so high, and the sky looking so blue and peaceful.

We had no other plan. I just wanted to let you take things in. You looked around, your blue eyes focusing on the blue sky, and we looked for monarchs passing overhead, on their flight to Mexico.


After a short time, we moved to the front porch and I pulled you out to sit with me. I showed you the planter of flowers that I grew - huge impatiens in reds and oranges and fuchsia.

I let you grab a handful because you wanted to experience them for yourself. I don't know if you realized that you were so young, that even these flowers were older than you.

You had a small yellow birch leaf in your hand for a while, which you seemed to like too. Everything was new and everything was to be learned. And I was happy to be there with you to take your hand and help you to learn.

You seemed happy. Content. We were feeling as peaceful as the September day. Of course, one of us became interested in chewing on her toes. I tried to reach my toes, but I could not. I could a few years ago... maybe I just need to do some stretching now.

After a while, I put you back in your stroller and we sat a little longer. You had a lot to say to me and you blew some bubbles too. Then after a short while, it seemed your language got a little testy - which I translated into a request for more to eat. So I fixed up another 3 ounces and fed you on the couch in the living room - the one that mom mom likes to sit at when she feeds you. You fell asleep before you finished.

I burped you and took you upstairs for a nap. You fussed for about 10 seconds and then zonked out. Over the next hour, I checked several times to make sure you were ok (because nothing was going wrong on my watch!) and sooner than I wanted, your father was here to pick you up and take you home.

Because you were groggy, we didn't say good bye. But it didn't matter because I knew I would see you again shortly.

Here is a movie I took of you earlier that day. I call it your swimmy movie. You looked just like your mom looked when she was learning to crawl almost 35 years earlier. It's hard to express all that this makes me feel but I think someday you'll experience it yourself and understand.

MC CARTHY PARK IS MELTING IN THE DARK - 200 DAYS AT VICTORY FIELDS

It could be 400 days. I'm not counting; only making a guess. Regardless, "all the sweet green icing's flowing down"(1)

The fact is that as far back as I can remember, each day has been made up of a chorus of growling trucks and the constant movement of dirt. They take the dirt from one pile and move it to another pile.

And when the trucks back up, they "beeee-beeeee-beeeee-beeee-beeeee..."

Except of course today, Monday August 16, when at 7am, chainsaws announced the start of activity.

I did not live during the great depression and the upturn that followed it, but I'm thinking that perhaps this storm water retention effort and the reconstruction of McCarthy Park, at the eastern end Victory Fields is our modern day WPA project.

100 days... 200 days... 400 days... Greater sieges took much less time.  The Boxer rebellion of the early 20th century culminated in a 55 day siege on Beijing. This siege on McCarthy Park has the stamina of a marathon man, making the Boxers look like wusses for not lasting longer.


They wrote a song and made a movie about the Boxer rebellion. It was called 55 Days At Peking - starring Charlton Heston, Ava Gardner and David Niven.

Maybe it's time for the sequel.

In this modern remake, the steam shovel driver will be played by Charlton Heston in a reprise of his role in the original movie. He's dead, you say? Did someone finally pry that gun from his cold and twisted hand? (or was that his "cold, dead hand"... "twisted" being his form of logic?)

No matter, I think we can still use him in the movie. Maybe we'll add some mystery as his body tumbles out of a dump truck along with a load of dirt.

David Niven must also reprise his character of Sir Arthur Robinson. He can even keep the name. I hope he isn't dead too or wasn't killed in the original move - though, it is so easy to picture that happening, isn't it.

Anyway, in this movie, I want David to play the role of a beleaguered engineer. He was assigned to design a hole in the ground but somehow, he screwed that up - by overcomplicating the design, and by being in over his head to begin with. Now, 300 days into the effort, with the project over extended and over budget, he is on the verge of being attacked by the township board members (playing the role of the Boxers). Throughout the movie, we follow Arthur (David) through his daily roles and watch with building tension as he develops - first, a plan - then a truly creative and genius new plan - one that reframes the storm water retention project as a government incentive program - a project that keeps workers working - almost perpetually, in this downturned economy. Not only does he put down the insurrection of the Whitemarsh Board of supervisors, but in doing so he allows them to spin the effort for their own glory.

A win-win-win effort !!!

In the end, everyone lives happily ever after. The destroyed landscape eventually returns, although all of the trees and rabbits and groundhogs that were hurt in the making of the film, remain dead.

The residents also eventually adjust to the lost mountain of dirt that they had become accustom to. They once again hear the normal sounds of the summer day - mostly traffic, but occasionally, a hawk. And lastly, they all gain a new (albeit false) sense of security that their houses will not flood in the future.

Picture the final scene of the movie similar to the final scene from The Magnificent Seven. In it, we see the engineer Arthur Robinson, who has avoided many forms of death, taking up house with one of the neighborhood widows whom he has fallen in love with (a subplot to the movie). Looking over the retention pond - a "magnificent" hole of his own making - he mumbles something about, "in the end, only the farmer have won". This of course, makes no sense to the movie, but continues to portray the mental illness that led Arthur down this path.

Cue the sunset over Victory Fields.  I'm... (as Harry Kalas used to say) outta here !


(1) a famous line from the song, "MacArthur Park" by Jimmy Webb

ARCLIGHT

acrylic painting
14 x 22.65 inches

gessoed fabric on aluminum

august 19, 2010

new art by Christopher Pronchik

The string of numbers visible to the right, upper center are the first 10 digits of the Fibonacci sequence. This sequence (with fewer elements) appears a second time, upside down, but largely obscured. The dimensions of the piece roughly conform to the golden ratio, PHI (1.618...). The white logarithmic spiral is an approximate representation of a mathematical shape called the Golden Spiral.

Rather than add additional explanation for these bits of mathematics - which to be honest, are fading from my own abilities to understand and explain - I direct you to the following wikipedia article. The article provides some nice description but also more than a dose of the arcane mathematics that underlie it (and which may remove all beauty from your consideration of the terms).

God willing (meaning, my focus, maintenance of interest, and other factors), this is a prototype for a series of pieces that together will comprise an n x n matrix (n TBD) of meta-elements, currently envisioned and given the working title, "The Rutgers Collective".

(C) 2010 Christopher Pronchik. All rights reserved. No copies, whether whole, partial or digitally manipulated may be used without written permission of this artist.

PHOTOGRAPHY

This photograph has not been retouched except a slight adjustment of exposure (because point and shoot cameras do not allow sufficient control when taking the picture).

This image is not the result of cutting and pasting. It is not computer generated nor a trick, nor a product of Photoshop manipulation. The object pictured was in its natural setting. However, the picture was taken with a flash - which created an overexposure/underexposure situation, elevating the contrast beyond what would be seen with the naked eye under ambient light conditions.

And I think that is all I'll say because if I told you what it was that you were looking it, it would destroy the image.

photograph (C) 2010 C.Pronchik

AFTER THE DELUGE

Some of them were dreamers

And some of them were fools

Who were making plans and thinking of the future

With the energy of the innocent

They were gathering the tools

They would need to make their journey back to nature

While the sand slipped through the opening

And their hands reached for the golden ring

With their hearts they turned to each other's heart for refuge

In the troubled years that came before the deluge

Some of them knew pleasure

And some of them knew pain

And for some of them it was only the moment that mattered

And on the brave and crazy wings of youth

They went flying around in the rain

And their feathers, once so fine, grew torn and tattered

And in the end they traded their tired wings

For the resignation that living brings

And exchanged love's bright and fragile glow

For the glitter and the rouge

And in the moment they were swept before the deluge

Now let the music keep our spirits high

And let the buildings keep our children dry

Let creation reveal it's secrets by and by

When the light that's lost within us reaches the sky

Some of them were angry

At the way the earth was abused

By the men who learned how to forge her beauty into power

And they struggled to protect her from them

Only to be confused

By the magnitude of her fury in the final hour

And when the sand was gone and the time arrived

In the naked dawn only a few survived

And in attempts to understand a thing so simple and so huge

Believed that they were meant to live after the deluge

Now let the music keep our spirits high

And let the buildings keep our children dry

Let creation reveal it's secrets by and by

By and by

When the light that's lost within us reaches the sky

Before The Deluge (c) Jackson Browne 1974

MAN TRADES SISTER FOR INVITATION TO THE CHELSEA CLINTON WEDDING

Lafayette Hill, PA
July 29, 2010

What started as a joke on Facebook has turned one man's pointless sarcasm into a once in a lifetime brush with power and fame, when Christopher Smith (not his real name) received a last minute invite to the Chelsea Clinton wedding. The ceremony is to be held this Saturday at a secret location, under a tent at the former estate of John Jacob Astor IV in Rhinebeck, N.Y.

"Yes, I did make a wise crack on my facebook page, saying how excited I was, and eventually offering to trade my sister for an invitation to the wedding after my "friends" started responding with their own "witty" remarks. But I was only kidding.

Then out of nowhere, the thing went viral on the internet.

The next thing I know, the secret service is in front of my house and it all wet crazy from there."

It is not clear how a Facebook comment could go viral, but Chris has his own theory.

"My guess - [it was] probably a joke by one of the big brothers looking over my shoulder, you know, the government guys that read everything that's posted everywhere."

When asked to give more details about how the secret service delivered the invitation... what kind of interaction took place, Chris revealed very little.

"I don't think I can say. I mean no one ever said it was top secret - in so few words. But I asked the one guy how this happened and only explanation I received was, 'Shut up asshole or you'll be in Afghanistan quicker than shit through a goose.'

I have to admit, I am a little confused about that response, and the analogy -- so it could be that I was not hearing clearly. I mean, with all these oversized extras from 24 in my living room, the dark glasses, the black SUVs out front, it was very surreal and overwhelming."

But what about his sister?

"To my surprise, they made me stand by my offer. I was forced - and I am not using this term lightly - forced to sign a paper about giving up my sister, Lana. None of this seems legal but I heard later from a neighbor of hers that a set of black Cadillac Escalades showed up at her front door and whisked her out. Apparently, there was some kicking and screaming.

But honestly, her life was becoming too quiet and routine. So kicking and screaming aside - which I'm sure, was more a show for the neighbors - she probably finds this to be a blast... an opportunity for a new direction in life.

I'm sure her kids will be OK. If they even notice."

I guess the only other question for Chris is, did he accept the invitation.

"Well, I said OK, so I guess at this point, I'm going to have to attend. It's too late to go shopping for gift ponies or soccer teams, so I guess I'll just put a check in a card. Any idea how much I should give them?"

IT WAS A SMOKED TROUT KIND OF MORNING

Open-faced Smoked Trout Breakfast Sandwich (elements listed from top to bottom)

Fine herbs, sea salt, cracked pepper

Capers and diced onion (sweet or purple onion if you have it)

Tomatoes with a dash of Tabasco

Flaked smoked trout (I smoked mine with hickory on a Webber grill)

Cream cheese (plain or a veggie cream cheese spread)

Toasted italian bread (the bread in the picture is a Tuscan bread from Metropolitan bakery - use another bread of your choosing or a bagel)

I enjoy mine with a cup of deep black French Roast coffee or orange juice.

Recipe: EGGLESS BLUEBERRY BUTTERMILK PANCAKES

We will get to the recipe in a moment but first, a few thoughts about pancakes, eggs and the conspiracy therein.

Look, I'm no Alton Brown, so I can't go on about the hemoglobular binding of egg protein to flour glutens, which eliminates a certain chewiness while creating a more cake-like consistency - and thus defines why panCAKES must contain eggs.

Instead, I wonder about a world without their inclusion.

And after making a few batches of eggless pancakes, I began to question what they were doing in them all along. Here's what I discovered(*).


In the early 19th century, America was an agrarian economy. Farms were plentiful and most included a coop or 3 of chickens. Before long, there were too many farms and too many chickens laying too many eggs. The country literally began to stink from wasted production around the same time the price of eggs plummeted. Exacerbating this excess was the lack of options for what to do with eggs.

To remedy this situation, the American Egg Marketing Board was formed in 1836. One of the first things it did was to develop a series of new recipes to increase the use of eggs, along with a marketing campaign for improving the image and perceived value of the egg. For the first time in history, Americans were told of "the incredible edible egg". The egg was referred to as "God's perfect breakfast" and "Manna from Hanna" - Hanna being the icon/mascot of the AEMB.

Many recipes in the collection were the standard fare of the time such the Omelet, Sticky Pudding, Cheese Souffle but were amped up to require the use of more eggs. The 2 egg omelet became the 5 egg omelet. Sticky pudding became richer. Souffles became taller. America was well on its way to leading the world in waistline size and arterial congestion.

Other recipes were grabbed from around the world for inclusion. Eggs Benedict came into vogue for the first time in America. (aside: Most people believe that Eggs Benedict was named after Benedict Arnold because of its soft texture and yellow runny middle, but is is now widely believed to have been originated by the Benedictine friars in the mid 15th century.)

The AEMB also created its own recipes, one of which is considered its pièce de résistance: the "Boxer's Breakfast" - a full dozen eggs in a glass with squirts of hot sauce and worsteshire - the precursor of what Rocky Balboa consumed in Rocky I, the movie.

But the Board wished to go beyond the normal range of gathering and inventing. It had to tweak. And so it added eggs to mixed drinks, forever modifying the Pisco sour and the Ramos Gin Fizz. And more to the point, the AEMB added eggs to several long standing recipes for ice cream and yes, pancakes !

Betty Crocker did her part to foster the reliance of eggs by cementing them as standards of Americana, first with the "Betty Crocker Cooking School of the Air" in 1924 and then with the publication of her cookbook in 1941. Conspiracists believe that the AEMB was the genesis for the fictitious Betty Crocker, pointing to the fact that the daughter of the first AEMB President was named Betty and that she had a dog named Crockett (after Davy Crockett, of course).

Since then, time and our perception of eggs have changed somewhat. And although we view eggs in a different light today, most of the same recipes exist exactly as they were.

Now on to my recipe, my advocacy for less eggs in the kitchen.

Eggless Blueberry Buttermilk Pancakes

1. Start by adding as much flour as you want to a bowl - as much as you plan to eat. The standard pancake recipe calls for 1 cup flour, so I will list the ingredients from that point of reference. However, I used 1/3 cup today for 3 - 7" pancakes, and adjusted everything else accordingly

2. For each cup of flour, add:  (Be sure to mix the dry ingredients together before adding any liquids)

    1 tsp. baking powder

    1/2 tsp. baking soda

    1/2 tsp. salt

    1 Tbl. sugar

    1 Tbl. light tasting oil (like canola, NOT like olive or peanut)

    Dash of vanilla extract (only the real stuff, please!)

3. Add enough buttermilk and mix until you have a medium thin batter. Technically, this is about the same amount as the amount of flour that you used, but because this recipe makes a chewier pancake, I tend to make my batter thinner.

4. Add blueberries.

From this point on, make them like you usually do... big, small, silver dollar size, whatever. If you don't have blueberries, add strawberries or bananas. If you are using bananas, add walnuts - and for a real treat, add some chocolate chips too.

NOTE: The brilliance of omitting the egg is more than the caloric and cholesterol savings. It improves the taste of the blueberry by not clouding it. It also opens up a freedom to make only as much as you want. No leftover batter that turns green after 2 days. With the traditional recipe, you had to futz with the egg if you wanted to make less than a full batch - try to divide it or reduce the ingredients but increase the ratio of egg in the batter. Now, when you go eggless, everything becomes infinitely and easily divisible.

OK, maybe "infinitely" is an exageration.

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PS - if this seems too inexact for you, please loosen up. It's hard to screw up a pancake recipe as long as you are close. A little more baking powder, a little less sugar, less salt or oil, more liquids, thicker, thinner - it all works. Conventional wisdom says to not over mix the batter. i.e., leave some lumps. I don't subscribe to that, but you can.

(*) And when I say, "discovered", it should not be taken in the same sense as most people do - to come upon something for the first time, perhaps previously research and written by some expert, and presumably, factual in nature. Instead, I mean it in the way of discovery through vision and invention - what some might call, fanciful fiction. Or maybe not. After all, last night while watching a program on The Discovery Channel, "Through the Wormhole", I mused out loud that perhaps scientists are having trouble unifying theories of forces because GRAVITY is not a FORCE. i.e., that it does not exist in itself but as a result of other things. And then TODAY, I read the same thing in the N.Y. Times. Weird??? Absolutely. Will tomorrow's paper include eggless pancake recipes and information about the AEMB? Quite possibly.

A JOURNEY THROUGH THE PAST

Credit Neil Young for the title. Credit my obsessive compulsive note taking for the following.

While sorting out some pictures in iPhoto, in my latest attempt to reach the highest order of organization obtainable on Earth, I needed to establish a date for for one of the photos. This led me to pull out one of my binders of information - binders that one day will be a challenge for my daughter as she sorts through my belongings. I call them my day journals. They are a random and somewhat spontaneous collection of thoughts, observations, plans and souvenirs - collectables from everyday living that reflect my thinking, document my projects, my dinners, and basically, anything that catches my interest. These journals paint a picture of my life better than anything I could tell you.

However, because I was born with the consistency gene turned off, these binders are quite haphazard. Sometime detailed to a psychologically dysfunctional level; other times deficient of things that when looking back, I ask HOW could I NOT have written that down? It drives me nuts. And one day, it will drive my daughter nuts.

But it will also provide some amusing insight, should she have the time to look through them.

In the 1993 folder, I found the answer to my question. The snapshot was taken on August 20, 1993, during an extended business trip that took me from Colorado to San Francisco to LaJolla. Two baseball games, lot of driving miles hotels and restaurants. However, more interesting than the fact that I could answer my original research question was the set of notes I found. Notes that I made while on the trip. It was my way of remembering what I did and what I experienced.

Here are a few of the best form the list:

The no-armed man was from Boulder, CO.  -  WHAT could this possible mean ? This is some kind of David Lynchian code, I believe.


Terry Mulholland told me he's ready to go this weekend  -  Terry was a pitcher for the Philadelphia Phillies. I have no memory of talking to him, but I did attend a Phillies game in Denver.


Had a non-verbal conversation with Harry Kalas  -  This one I remember strongly. In fact, it was the subject of a former posting of mine.


Joey went out with the mother of "Annie",  Andrea McArdle  - Joey is my uncle Joey. I forgot about this nugget that was passed on to me by Joey's sister, my Aunt Helen. It was Aunt Helen that I was visiting in Boulder. She loved her brother and was always bragging about him, trying to impress me of this man I never really knew. I never knew Joey because he died young, shot by some jerk outside the bar that he owned in Philly.


A small bag of cookies was waiting in my room and the bed was turned down  -  I was on a business trip in SF and staying at the Mandarin Oriental. Five nights on the 33rd floor in one of the classiest hotels I've been in, in one of the most beautiful cities in the US. I can still remember the cookies. The next night, I got extra cookies. There is another note that says I left the maid a $10 tip.


"Michael, I wonder if you could bring my car up?"  - Yes, I actually wrote this down. I guess I was pretty impressed with the services at the hotel.

"I have about 5 minutes before I pass out. If that happens, pour some sugar in my mouth"  -  This was said to me about 3 minutes before I started asking every stranger I saw, if they had a piece of candy on them. Danny was a diabetic guy that worked with me. We were on a cable car, heading to dinner. We found some candy.

Freeway accident on 101-S ramp, the car nearly flew OVER me  - Holy shit! This memory has been erased from my brain. It must have freaked me out that I escaped.


The LaBrea Tar Pits are the pits! Nothing but a flooded tar quarry... but I did get some LaBrea tar on my shoe  - makes me wonder where I was walking.


Passed a cop on I-405 around LA. I was doing 75, the cop was only doing 70  - This was back when 55 was still the speed limit. I remember thinking what the hell, this is LA. It's what you do out here.


SURVIVED LA  -  this was one of my last notes. It did not refer to the accidents or the tar pits or playing chicken with the cops. It refers to the fact that it was freeway shooting season in Southern California.

Here's the picture that took me down this road today. Maybe I won't try to explain what is going on, but I will say that I love it.

GRADUATION DAY

I think you would agree that life is an ongoing school of higher education. And so with that concept in mind, I would like to report that It is graduation time again for me.

I have wrapped up another multi-year matriculation by finding my way through the usual maze of obstacles.  I have conquered the challenges through a combination of hard work, applied experience, hands on learning, and my usual penchant for cramming. The fact that I still cut classes occasionally is something I guess I'll never outgrow.

Let's say that I majored in Organizational Management with minors in various Liberal Arts. There definitely was no science involved in the curriculum, nor logic, and very little math - at least none within the formal classwork and lecture programs. 

There were two courses that left big impressions on me. One, which I did not expect to have to take again, was a 5 credit course on "Destructive Management Practices". This course spanned 2 semesters and presented a comprehensive review of both proven practices and classic technique, along with some new twists on old techniques. These were referred to collectively, I believe, as "NEO-nonsense".  Probably the single best nugget from this course provided me with a profoundly new perspective and a more complete understanding of how many ways optimism can be torpedoed or a discussion can be ground to a halt through the delivery of a well intentioned, but totally destructive response. In this course, we resurrected the NON SEQUITUR and the OFF TOPIC RESPONSE, using both with abandon.

The second course was an oldie, but a goodie: "Power Building thru Information Management" - a practice that I thought was abandoned somewhere in the 70s. What was great about this course was not only the demonstration that a once dead practice could be revived again, but that it could be merged with other neo-nonsense techniques to completely leave the unsuspecting in a dumbfounded state. I learned from a Machiavellian master ! However, I got a C in the course.

And, as in my previous post graduate studies, I left the program early.

It was not my intention when I started to end up in this multi-disciplined program, nor was it my intention to leave early. I came in with a different major in mind, and a very simple expectation for what I would learn. At that time, more than 3 years ago, I was fresh and wide eyed, expectant and positive. But as the years wore on, so did my patience, resolve and finally, interest in the original subject. Even now, I feel so worn down that I am completing this paper without emotion, in a purely perfunctory manner. 

Looking back over the years, the frustrations mounted like the build up of plaque in one's arteries - an insipid sort of destruction where damage builds quietly and gradually, until at some point, the disease overcomes the body's ability to combat it and if left untreated, causes a vital breakdown. In my case, I really felt the buildup in quantum fashion. Looking back, I can point to 3, 4, maybe 6 discrete events that deposited a scaly calcification onto my vital passages. 

But I did survive, because in my case, I did something about it. I graduated.

So let's not seem too negative. I came away a more learned man. Sometimes my learning was delivered in the same negative fashion that my dad employed, but the learning came none the less. Graduation is a time for celebration and moving on; of wrapping up and looking forward to the next challenge. Both of which I plan to do in about 60 minutes from now.

MAN EATS FROG BURGER LOVEBURGER

...or maybe it would be better said as, "Man eats the loveburger at Frog Burger."

As the menu plainly says, the "Love Burger" is a hamburger served between 2 grilled cheese sandwiches.

And lest you think this is some kind of playful, suggestive wording, a culinary slight of hand, or a product that utilizes a newly invented, custom designed grilled cheese, let me spell it out again: What you get is 2 whole grilled cheese sandwiches (like mom makes) with a hamburger sitting between them.

Your eyes look at this and tell you something is wrong, until they see the large, flowing spill of "special sauce" coating over the burger and behaving like a dressing on the underside of one of the grilled cheese sandwiches. It is the only thing hinting that the haphazard pile of food is designed to be that way, and you need to pick the whole disjointed pile up and get your mouth around it. A slight hint.

The burger was reasonably good but the experience was not outstanding. Part of the problem (I believe) is that it was cooked over a moderate heat. There was no crust on the meat nor any noticeable charing, and it was cooked to a uniform, medium doneness. But the bigger problem was that the two grilled cheese sandwiches make their presence felt - more of a statement than any normal hamburger bun could. An aggresively distracting and unharmonious statement.

The special sauce was OK but it was lost in the affair. I'm a ketchup guy anyway. I think of "special sauce" as something that has a self important air about it, but has no business calling itself special. It's precious, but not interesting, and certainly not assertive. Now, as I write this review, it is only a distant, non-impressionable memory.

The milkshake however, was outstanding! It might be considered pricey at $5.50 but the way I look at it is, I have no problem spending $5 for a beer, so why not for the rare ice cream treat. I ordered the black and white. Made with Bassett's vanilla ice cream and a long pump of a good chocolate syrup, it was swirled with on old fashioned blender to be thick, heavy and creamy.

As you can tell, this was not a small meal. I am a person who is well within his ideal weight and could easily make a lunch out of a single grilled cheese sandwich or a 4 oz. hamburger, this burger of love (and I cannot stop thinking that it is 1969 again) was a challenge to eat. It was like eating 4 lunches at one sitting, never mind the milkshake.

But as they say (more or less), "...on this day of man vs. food, man won".

Frog Burger is Steve Poses summer happening on the front lawn of the Franklin Institute. Hanging under a tent, it's like an overgrown backyard grill that doesn't quite seem like it should be there. Even getting to it was through a somewhat indirect path.

Frog Burger is not a destination place but it is worth a stop if you are in the area. But remember, it is at the Franklin Institute, so picture science-kid-o-rama in family and bus-load format. Service is pleasant but the process is not real fast. Reasonable for made to order food burgers but slower than many. Again, I think the temperature of the grill is a factor.

For me, I might try some of the other items on the menu, but as for the Love burger, it's one and done.

WEDNESDAY MORNING, SIDE YARD

It is difficult to stay focused on yard work when you love nature and photography.

a visitor

silver maple seedlings

UP IN THE AIR - RECALLING LIFE ON THE ROAD THROUGH THE MOVIE

They got it right !

Watching Up In The Air was like watching a home movie of my travels when I was in that club. Not THE multi-million mile club, but the one that is more common to frequent travelers - people that commute to an office by plane instead of car. I commuted to places like Chicago, San Diego,  Albany GA and Peoria, IL. I was in every air, hotel and car rental club there was. For a time, I was a road warrior.

One big difference between the movie and my life is that when I traveled, I did not look like George Clooney. And there was no Vera (or should I say, Alex).

See, we barely look alike (that's me on the right).

All those tips in the movie for choosing which security line to get into, according to who's in front of you -- folowing the Japanese gentlemen or other savvy business travelers and not getting behind the old people -- are all truisms. What ARE some people thinking when they pack? Well, we all know that answer.

Wearing slip ons... a good tip, although I don't always follow it. Actually, it wasn't long ago that that you only HAD to remove your shoes if you wanted to be sure to avoid setting off the metal detector. In those days it was not mandatory. So I would wear converse sneaks and glide right through. I thought they went well with my suit. Made me look like a rebel. Or at least, like a seasoned, intellectual traveller. Never had a problem - not due to shoes, anyway.

However, I often had a problem. I was the one pulled aside "at random" to be wanded; for a full baggage check, a frisking, to have my corkscrew confiscated. When I received my boarding pass (before check-in at home was doable), I would find a bunch of red SSSSS on it. As in SECURITY SEARCH. "Random", I was told, over and over.


In reality, this is me walking through O'Hare in 2003, between terminals B and C. George definitely got the look right !


Accumulation of miles was what it was all about. Not for any targeted trip, but some large number. When I first started flying, I did have a goal of gaining enough for a free trip to Hawaii for 2. But then after you make that number and keep flying, it's all about the accumulation. I was never anywhere near George (or should I say Ryan) in terms of miles, but I have flown enough to have gotten to the moon. I top off in the mid 300 thousands (373,587 to be exact). That is actual miles, not airline points - which are much more due to various bonus situations. 

If the number seems too low to elicit the kind of identity I have with this movie, it is because it was not until later in my career that I became a traveling consultant, and so a lot of it was concentrated between 2000 and 2004. I would still be at it today I had not exceeded how much crap I could put up with, business wise.

I thought Ryan's job in the movie was pretty cool. My wife disagrees. But I saw it exactly how he saw it - as an opportunity to take something bad and do the best with it for others... show leadership and professionalism while providing information to help a person through the transition - but also to provide a wake-up call in some cases where the employee got too comfortable and lax. I went through a job loss - it was my choosing as I refused a relocation. But it was no less scary to be on the outside, maybe even more so, because it was my choosing. I reinvented myself and enjoyed a very satisfying second career.

Comparing again, I had one up on Ryan - and it was a big one - because I had a home and someone who loved me, to come back to each time. Another reason why there was no Alex.

But like Ryan, I belonged to every club (that was reasonable to belong to). Did you ever fill out a survey where you were asked which airline club you were a member of? I get them every now and then, and I check them all. Except for Alaskan Airlines... who would fly them?

I was Hertz #1, I have an Avis Wizzard number, National Emerald club. I had access to the USAir and United lounges. Once I spent a couple hours with Counting Crows in the United Lounge at O'Hare. Of course, we simply sat next to each other and respected our mutual privacy. And elevated status.

They used to welcome me by name at the hotels and bump me up to the suite on the 17th floor of the Wyndham in downtown Chicago. The welcoming gift each week included Tanqueray and a bowl of fruit, sometimes, Rainier cherries.

My cards gave me access to the Hyatt Regency level and the Marriott executive level. And when they no longer did, I knew the back doors.

One of the weirdest moments in the movie for me was the scene where the 3 of them crash a vendor reception at the hotel by picking up someone else's badges. I did that more than once. I swear. Ask Sue. I got her in one time too. It's just another way to add excitement to what can become a very droll routine of dining and drinking.

And I thought I was in a VERY small club with that prank, but there it was in the movie. So maybe it's not so exclusive.

I hope I don't sound snooty, or privileged. It's really not like that. I am very humble and caring. This was the perk for a difficult job that a lot of people wouldn't take. It is just a matter of making the best of something. Problem is, once you receive the extra attention, however impersonal and inauthentic it is, it becomes addictive.

And like any other addiction, when it is over - when it is the morning after - there is a price to pay. Because the hell of being preferred is that the devil has coated it with a thin layer of candy and it only lasts as long as you pay for it. There is no allegiance beyond what you continue to buy on a yearly basis with the dollars you spend for travel (or more correctly, your company and its clients spend). 

And when the day comes that it is over, there is a slow but relentless pain as the elite levels expire, one by one. 

Instead of being paged when you are bumped to first class, you become nameless and you board in zone 6, following all the families with strollers and oversized carry ons that will fill the overheads before you board. Worse, you watch your former compadres board ahead of you, and then you walk past them, sitting in 2A, 3B with their first drink already half consumed. You squeeze down the aisle past 6C and 8D as you head for 17F or worse still, something above 25 or one of the true hells on a plane - a B or E seat.

I went through some painful withdrawals in 2005 and 2006. It's still not totally gone - the pain, I mean. I still do expense reports when I travel, not for reimbursements or for tax purposes, but for a need I don't understand - or as I say, to help me understand what the trip is costing my company - I mean, myself. 

I do my best with all the inside knowledge I've accumulated, but there is only so much you can do without buying your way back into the amenities that the club provides. And do you know how ridiculously priced it is when you have to pay for it yourself ?!

Such is life. 

So, maybe you'll see me on a plane someday, looking less than thrilled in coach. I'll be the one sitting with 2 drinks and a selection of mixed nuts, coated with a very fine sea salt. Nuts which have been placed in a small glass or ceramic bowl, pretending to be the ones you get in first class. I'll have my laptop with a movie going, or a set of Bose noise-cancelling headphones on while I read. And unless I was able to score the exit row, I'll be very cramped but looking as comfortable and zen-like and as I can in spite of it all. Feel free to say hi. I'd love to make a brief but limited and inconsequential acquaintance with you.