FeedMe

Herb's Spicy Neighborhood

The simplest of questions erupted into a loooong thread. Here's my answer.

There's no one right answer, it has to do with how we think.

I keep cooking spices in one area, organized by color, since color and flavor are related. The green herbs (e.g. marjoram, thyme, oregano) are in one neighborhood; yellows (garlic, onion powder) live in another; reds (chiles and chilis, for instance); browns have their neighborhoods. I'm not a strict segregationist, however, and there is some court-ordered busing. Blends are classified by what seems right -- usually it's clear.

 

Baking spices are another shelf -- nutmeg, cinnamons, vanilla, etc.

 

And size matters. Some bottles are too tall for their neighborhoods and have been tall-shamed into the corners, outside the lazy susan.

 

The system isn't strict and apparent the way alphabetization is. Though, even alpha has its issues. Is Minced Garlic an M or a G? Is it Ancho Chile or Chile, Ancho? And I have a lot of trouble with alpha because if I have a flavor in mind, I might want to find neighbors — e.g., I think chile first, then narrow down to Chipotle vs Ancho vs Cayenne vs Aleppo vs a peppery blend.

 

Non-herb, non-spice items are interlopers. For instance, xanthan gum and baking powder are in a completely different area but Cream of Tartar is right there, hanging with the spices. I think he's just a bad boy and everyone is afraid to challenge him.

 

The disadvantage to my color and functional categories is that, while it makes sense to my brain, others using my kitchen might be confused. But my foodie / chefy friends get it immediately, so I guess I have a cook's brain.

The BBQ Test

I had plans to meet some friends for lunch at Armadillo Willy’s, a Texas BBQ restaurant. This appointment was set a few weeks before my experiment as Temporary Vegetarian. 

I considered, for a moment, changing plans but decided this would be part of the experience. Now, I love barbecue. I mean, I really love barbecue. How would I deal with the temptation? And for that matter, is there anything at Willy’s a vegetarian can eat?

The online menu showed me that one of their salads is vegetarian. I ordered that, with a side of sweet potato fries. 

Win!! The salad was fresh and cold, with corn, a few crispy croutons, romaine and iceberg, and was topped with a sliced, grilled portabello mushroom. This salad was so good that I would order it even if I were not the ordering as a vegetarian.

And oddly, the barbecued delights everyone else was enjoying didn’t bother me at all. The biggest surprise in this experiment is that so far, on Day 11, I haven’t felt deprived at all.

 

"Eat a LOT"

As a foodie, I had to smile at this bit of advice from Marcus, the person whose presentation started me on my vegetarian journey:

If I could offer one piece of advice based on my transition, it would be to eat LOTS of food, especially fruit that you enjoy. Do this before you find yourself hungry. The hungrier you let yourself become, the worse the food you will crave. 

Eat LOTS of food. I think I can do that.

Ra pa pa pum

I have a tradition of declaring Ra Pa Pa Pum day — the first day each year I hear that song — you know the one. Yes, that one.

Well, this year, it's today. Wrapping presents, playing some tunes and there it was. This version is by (ready for this?) Bing Crosby and David Bowie. Not their best work. 

Little-Drummer-Bing-n-Bowie

Spell Czech

If you see a typo here on FeedMe — or if I am just wrong about something (could happen!), please do e-mail me. I appreciate being corrected. When I was young, I remember my Mom telling me that people for whom English is not their first language always appreciate a correction. I do, too. Otherwise, how can we learn?

I am reminded of a favorite poem:

I have a spelling checker.
It came with my PC.
It plainly marks four my revue
Mistakes I cannot sea.
I've run this poem threw it,
I'm sure your please too no,
Its letter perfect, in it's weigh,
My checker tolled me sew.

-- Pennye Harper

The Secret Easter Bunny

My mother reminded me today about how we used to deliver Easter baskets. I had all but forgotten.

A few weeks before Easter, my mother would call the school nurse, Mrs. Robinson, and ask for names of local families who were especially needy ("You couldn't do that today," she sighed). Over the next few weeks, she would corral my brothers and me and we would make Easter baskets from milk cartons she had saved. We'd decorate eggs. We'd make Jell-O eggs from hollowed-out egg shells, by filling them halfway with one color of Jell-O, chilling, then topping them off with a second color. We made cupcakes, each decorated with the children's names. A little paper hat, ruffled collar, and glued on nose made a "clown egg." She made sure each basket was identical so children in the family would all get the same thing.

Very early on Easter morning, we would drive to their homes and drop off the Easter baskets.

Over the years, we would hear stories about these mysterious baskets. People would ask neighbors and relatives but no one knew who the secret bunny was. One time, my brother Arthur was confronted by a class mate who said she knew he was the Easter Bunny. She was up very early, saw a car drive up, and saw Arthur drop off the basket. Arthur reported back to Mom that he had to "lie" to keep our secret.

We also heard about a family who woke up to find colored eggs and parts of cupcakes all over their yard. It seems their dog had a wonderful Easter that year.

As I've grown up, I have discovered a lot examples of how unusual my parents were. She did this kind of thing naturally. She was teaching her sons to be giving and to honor other people's holidays and traditions, and giving us a way to participate in Easter.

At the time, it all seemed unremarkable. As kids, we have nothing to compare to. But now I know, I was raised by Marion Rubenzahl, the Secret Jewish Easter Bunny.

Edmund Pseudoscientific

As a science-minded boy growing up on a farm, I depended on mail-order for scientific tools and toys. The most coveted source was Edmund Scientific (or as they now call themselves, "Scientifics Online"). Even as an adult, I order from them still. I have been their customer for more than 45 years.

I was surprised to read a thread on Facebook, posted by Skeptical Inquirer, in which John S. Duckering, another customer, objected to their inclusion of a Ghost Meter in their present offerings. He said, "A reputable scientific products company selling Ghost Meters?! What in hell are you doing? With the pandemic of misinformation promulgated by paranormalists, spiritualists, Creationists, seers, and other quacks and con-artists, Edmund Scientifics is also jumping on the lunatic band wagon?! ... You thoroughly disappoint me!"

To the company's credit, Tim Burns, a brand manager at Edmund, replied, openly explaining that customer objections are leading him to rethink their policy. He later agreed to Mr. Duckering's request for permission to share the thread. He sais, "...I realize now that this is offensive to some the Edmund Scientific customers, people with very strong scientific sensibilities who look to Edmund for products that promote critical, empirical thinking, and real science as a hobby. I am currently rethinking my decision on this product line. I apologize for the offense."

Impressive. I am writing Mr. Burns to express my disappointment as well, and to support his willingness to rethink the policy, in public. I haven't found a direct e-mail address, so I used snail mail — letters (on paper) are a great way to be noticed in the electronic messaging era.

If you would like to write one, here's the address:

Tim Burns
Brand Manager
Edmund Scientific and X-treme Geek
60 Pearce Ave.
Tonawanda, NY 14150

Ra pa pa pum

I have a tradition of declaring Ra Pa Pa Pum day — the first day each year I hear that song — you know the one. Two years ago, it was at Starbuck's in November. Last year, it wasn't until December 21, in a commercial for some new movie. This year, it was tonight, background music on some show. I didn't even notice the song right away, but Kathy pointed it out (same as last year, actually). She heard it a few says ago and says it counts. Not likely, dear.

The worst part is that damn song sticks in my head (the way it's getting stuck in yours right now).

This year, Ra Pa Pa Pum day is November 20.

Cherry Season

The cherries are everywhere. These are from my tree, which was especially bountiful this year:

 

It's a mad race between me and the squirrels and the big fat robin. I left a lot in the tree, hoping I may get a few as they ripen. 

Mr. Lizard

Click to see much larger

The dog's interest in a corner of the yard alerted us to Mr. Lizard in a flowerpot. About 8 inches long, he's the biggest we have seen here.

Hours later, he was still there and it occurred to Kathy that he was stuck. Yup, he couldn't climb the glazed ceramic walls. So we watched him slowly die.

No, kidding (and on Earth Day. I'm bad. Oh, wait that was yesterday. Tasteless joke, now ok.). So she released him.

But the slightly sad news is that in the leaves was another lizard who had met the same fate but quite some time earlier.

Foods I Won't Eat

I like to say there are only five things I won't eat. They are: lima beans, okra, eggplant, blood sausage, and I forgot the other one. But truthfully, I'll eat any of these. Just not my first choice. The point being, I will eat just about anything.

Or so I thought, until I saw this lovely list of the ten strangest foods. Don't follow the link if you have a weak stomach.

And for what it's worth, I would eat any of these, except 5, 3, and 2. So I guess the new line for me is that there are only five things I won't eat: lima beans, okra, eggplant, blood sausage, 5, 3 , and 2.

And lime Jell-O. That's just disgusting.

Don't Mess with Bacon

One of my godsons, Daniel, knows how I am about bacon and let me know about an article, in Popular Science, in which bacon cuts metal. Bacon. Metal. Fire. That boy is growing up with some proper values.

Low Salt Law

The Accidental Hedonist's Food Journal reports that "the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene has recently begun a campaign to encourage processed food companies to reduce the amount of sodium in their goods by more than 40 percent over the next decade." Not clear to me whether they are aiming to legislate, as they did for trans fats in restaurants. I hope not. Spending public funds to promote lower salt is fine with me, but making it the law is another matter. Here's the comment I posted.

Difficult question, but not new: Freedom vs. public good. I don't think the public benefit here is sufficient to tell people what they can buy and sell. But that said, I would enjoy seeing lower salt use because people are so used to overly salty foods that they can't taste it. Reducing all the salt use would make foods taste better for all. As it is, most reduced sodium products (e.g. chicken broth) are saltier than I like.

But that's just me and while I would like to see it happen, legislating it seems wrong to me. 

What do you think?

Steve Jobs: A Lesson for Strong Leaders

I posted a comment on this, but thought it merits a separate article, where others might wish to comment.

On a personal note, we all of course wish Steve Jobs the best and hope his health improves. But this is about the professional issue of how a prominent leader affects the organization's health. Jobs' leave of absence places the future of the company in question. The real question is, how could their management not have prepared for this?

Having a strong, well-known CEO is a double-edged sword. The company benefits from his fame and his "reality distortion field," which makes the company and its products into celebrities. But he is mortal and Apple has never made visible any structure to take his place. When Bill Gates stepped aside, he did so wisely and the company's direction (such as it is) was never in question. Apple (and Jobs's ego) has never allowed that. Oracle and Larry Ellison is another example. Starbucks and Dell are recent examples of companies that faltered so badly when their well-known leaders took lesser roles, that in both cases the CEOs took it back a couple of years later.

The company I work for was led by a force of nature not unlike Jobs, but he clearly and publicly had a couple of very able lieutenants. When he retired suddenly for medical reasons, they were ready. They stepped in and the company continued its course. His succession plan was an act of maturity, wisdom, and humilty that are apparently lacking at Apple and Oracle.

I expect Apple's stock will be clobbered until such time as investors see evidence that the company can weather his absence and they see if product and marketing strategy will remain as focused without Jobs at the helm.

Investors and the company management should have been considering this all along.

Duck! Coming Attractions!

I probably see 100 recipes a month I want to try. It's funny how some stick in my mind and won't go away. When I saw Mark Bittman's "ducketta" -- a stuffed duck breast version of Italian porchetta, I just knew it would stick. I don't use duck nearly as often as I would like.

Watch this space! Tomorrow is ducketta night. As it happens, I stumbled on an old episode of Alton Brown's "Good Eats" in which he prepares duck, so I will be combining the techniques. Brown brines his duck and browns it in cast iron in a hot oven. I'll be adding those to Bittman's recipe. (I always try to do my browning in the oven when working with fatty products, because stovetop browning requires grueling cleanup.)

I also like Brown's idea of using all the rendered duck fat ("gold," he called it) to braise some greens. Or I might use it to oven roast some potatoes.

Then, on Sunday, foodie friend Butch (I would link to his blog but sheesh, last time the guy wrote anything there, Webvan was still around) is coming over and we will make some home brew beer and prepare some other not-yet-identified delectable-from-scratch.

Meanwhile, we have a new puppy. That has nothing to do with food, except that his name is Sage, but heck, who doesn't love puppies?

Ra Pa Pa Pum

I have a tradition of declaring Ra Pa Pa Pum day.

It's defined as the first day each year I hear that song -- you know the one. Last year, it was at Starbuck's in November. This year, I was thinking it wouldn't happen but tonight, we were watching 30 Rock and there was a commercial for some new movie. I didn't even notice the song right away, but Kathy pointed it out!

This year, Ra Pa Pa Pum day is Dec 21.

Me on TV

A few days ago, I posted that a TV crew saw me on the street, recognized the untapped talent, and made me star of their show. Or something like that.

I found the clip online and added it to the original post. Go there, click play, and move forward  to 2:50 and there I am!

Me on TV

If you're in the San Francisco area, tune in to Best of the Bay on KRON TV, channel 4, on Saturday at 5:30 and you just might see Mr. FeedMe!

I was in Lafayette yesterday with my brother, his wife, and my mother, visiting from New York. We say a TV crew outside the Yankee Pier, recording what turned out to be the opening segment for an episode of Best of the Bay. Host Janelle Marie did the "Let's go inside" bit (though ironically, they weren't going inside — those segments were recorded on another occasion — and laughed about the lobster door handle, which she called the lob-knob. (I want one.)

We talked a while and she asked if we wanted to help introduce the next segment on pubs. I am not a TV guy but what the heck? Suddenly there I was introducing Alameda's best pub.

See it here. My segment is at 2:50:

Bacon Loves Me

I love bacon.

I know, everyone does (many vegetarians will cheat for bacon). But I mean, I really love bacon. And, sniff, I think it loves me, too. It seems to follow me around. Or maybe it's stalking me.

You read about the bacon chocolate my friend John gave me. There was an earlier bacon thing and the bacon comic. Then, along came this:

Now, I find: "For the Love of Bacon," a bacon blog. Some serious baconage for bacon fans, including this great bit of graffiti work by another bacon fan:

How can anyone be miserable in a world that has bacon.

Debakey Dies

Dr. Michael Debakey (pictured at right, at age 85) died today, at age 99. He invented the coronary bypass. He performed one on my father. This is the story of how that came to be.

Dad's second heart attack occurred while he was getting an arteriogram, as part of the one-year followup, after his first attack. If you're going to have a heart attack, NYU's cardiac care hospital is a pretty good place to do it.

The doctors wanted to do a bypass. My mother, noting that insurance allows a second opinion, asked a cousin who was in medical school who was that best cardiac surgeon in the country. "The doctor who wrote my text book is pretty good," said my cousin. It was Dr. Michael Debakey.

Most people would seek a local doctor for a second opinion. We weren't rich or famous or well connected, but I don't suppose Mom thought twice about seeking the top name.

Mom wrote two letters: One to Debakey and one to his then-rival and former partner Denton Cooley. A few days later, the phone rang. It was Dr. Debakey. "Will you consult on my husband's case?" she asked. He would. She had them NYU send the records. 

A few days later, he called again and advised a triple bypass. I don't suppose she thought twice before she asked, "Will you do it?" He would. They talked for a while and he asked if she had any questions. She said no, and he said, "That's because you don't know what questions to ask," and he answered all the questions she did not know she had. They were on the phone for an hour and a half.

A few days later, we were in Houston. It was July or August, as I recall. Not a good time to be in Houston. Hot, very hot, and shirt-wringingly humid. I remember that spending hours waiting in a hospital was not so bad, since it was air conditioned.

Debakey put my Mom in the hospital. He was talking to her in his office and noted she did not look healthy. She is allergic to tobacco smoke and was suffering from days in the waiting room, with the families of Debakey's 60 patients. He had her admitted for treatment.

Debakey was 69 when he did my Dad's surgery. His patients filled a floor of the hospital. My mom recalls he did 21 operations that day. He did about 100 a week. His team prepared and closed each patient. By 1992, he had done 50,000 surgeries. "Man was born to work hard," he said.

He also played hard. I recall someone pointing out a blue Mercedes in the parking lot. It had a baby seat in the back. "That's Dr. Debakey's car." His wife was 34.

My Dad, shown here at a much younger age, also believed man was born to work hard. He survived another eight years, one of many thousands who benefit from Debakey's work. Debakey's patients included at least three U.S. presidents and dozens of celebrities and world leaders. Celebrities were no different to him: "Once you incise the skin, you find that they are all very similar," he once said.

And one of the great men Dr. Bakey worked on was Harry Rubenzahl. Because my mother didn't hesitate to think that the doctor who took care of presidents would be the perfect choice to take care of her husband.

Behind the Politician

Did you see Hillary's emotional moment? I never saw the actual video, I just read the reports. I wanted to see the real thing:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EahseKxvBoc

Reporting about an emotional response can't capture it. If you haven't seen it, please do. A rare look past the public persona into what drives a public figure.

It's easy to be cynical about our political system but I think most politicians are motivated by real caring and a desire to make a better world. It's true for the few I have met (except Darrel Issa who was a bigger ass in person than he is in public.) I think that in order to withstand the hurdles of major politics, one has to have extraordinary motivation, which means either a deep caring, or a needy ego, and I prefer to think there are more of the former than of the latter.

If a Blog Falls in the Forset and No One is Listening....

(From one of my favorite strips, Pearls Before Swine by Stephan Pastis.)

Yes, and McCartney Had a Band Before Wings...

A woman in her 20s at work commented on my tie. "It's a Jerry Garcia," I told her.

Usually that draws a smile but she looked like she was thinking.

"You don't know who Jerry Garcia is, do you?" I asked.

She hadn't.

"The Grateful Dead," I said.  "You've heard of them, yes?"

"Yes," she said. "I took History of Rock and Roll in college."

OK, I am a dinosaur now.

What's in Your Refrigerator?

Alton Brown of Good Eats challenged people to share a photo of their refrigerator. Kind of an urban anthropology project, I suppose.

I just opened the door and shot:

(Click for full-size)

Turns out it has some interesting things in it right now.

• In the door, see the squirt bottle? Good Eats homemade cocoa syrup! The Hershey's bottle two shelves down also has the Good Eats cocoa syrup in it.
• Unfortunately you can't see what's next to it -- a jar of Good Eats caramel sauce.
• Bottom of door -- the unlabeled beer bottles are my homebrew.
• Top shelf: The two tall jars have homemade plum jam.
• Next to the plum jam is some Good Eats cashew butter.
• Third shelf: Next to the milk is a cheesecake -- from New York! I was in New York and brought home a genuine New York cheesecake (as opposed to what people here on the West Coast call "New York cheescake" which is decidedly not the same.
• Next to the cheesecake is my Butter Butler. Laugh if you want. Turn the handle and it squeezes the butter through a slot at the end, forming a perfect ribbon which softens or melts quickly.
• Below the cheescake is a plain white package -- which contains a pastrami and corned beef sandwich from New York's Carnegie Deli which is THE best deli on planet Earth. Really. I had half the sandwich on the flight home.
• Three cartons of eggs? I bought a dozen, not knowing I had a dozen and a half at home.

Geek Peek from the Past, continued

I had a few friends who replied regarding this article. Thought I would add their two cents here.

> Linda: This is great...ah, the simpler times. I particularly like the ad just below
> yours: Help to care for Fancy Show Poultry. Must like chickens.
>
> I also love the 3 bedroom ranch house (with paneled walls!!!!) for $125/mo.

I loved the "must like chickens" line. There were a lot of chicken farms in the area -- and my Dad had one of them. My brothers and I got to collect eggs after school each day and tend to other chicken-generated organic products.

By the way, that phrase, "running around like a chicken with its head cut off" is true. Not so much running, really, but moving around in all directions -- ok, guess that is more than you city slickers wanted to know.

Two friends asked about the church notices. "I guess all the listings about Temple activities are on another page, huh?" said one. Especially noteworthy since they know I'm Jewish. Well, in Neversink and Grahamsville, there were maybe three Jewish families. No black families and very few of any other non-European ethnicity.

This took one friend by surprise, given that this is the Catskills, which he thought had a zillion Jews. Which is true -- but only in the summer, when a third of the population of New York City came up to either vacation in the Catskills or to work in the resorts. There were regular Jewish residents but most were in the towns -- Liberty, Monticello, Middletown. Towns without sidewalks and street lights were pretty WASPy.

Geek Peek from the Past

This is interesting on several levels. To me, at least.

In 1968, I was almost 16 and already a major nerd.

I think it was my mother's idea that I place a classified ad in the local newspaper. Now, you need to understand what "local" and "newspaper" mean in this case. "Local" was a small, rural community in Sullivan County in upstate New York. We had under 1000 kids in the local school -- and that's K-12. The "newspaper" was weekly, 8 pages, and mimeographed (if you even remember what that was -- it was before photocopiers, let alone inkjet).

The ad asked people to donate their dead electronics (think vacuum tubes, folks) gear (meaning TVs and radios, pretty much).

The interesting thing is that in this tiny farm community, people responded and I soon had 25 or 30 television sets. A couple of them still worked. I got one or two more to work and the rest became parts.

What I find interesting is this. First, the blast from the past and this little glimpse into small town, 1968. Second, the memory of how people responded to an opportunity to help some geeky kid. And third is a sales and marketing lesson, that it works to ask for what you want in an unusual way that captures people's interest. 

The fourth point was how this clipping came to me: The miracle of the Internet. On this, the downside of the Internet "bubble," maybe a lot of us forget that the Internet was and is a transformation in how people reach people. In this case, a guy named Keith Carlsen, a classmate of my baby brother's, began finding and contacting people from the area. He found me via the Internet and has been sending me scanned material from class yearbooks and such. He e-mailed me this clipping.

Sometimes, when we siliconheads get caught up in the technology, it is good to remember that in its shining moments, technology is about people.

This is the full back page of the August 14, 1968 Townsman.