Episode 15: Nature's Bounty

Last week, a manatee was spotted loitering where our river flows into the Hudson. That is, a place one quarter-mile away, only 50 minutes from Times Square. Last month, a moose spent several days browsing around a farm 15 minutes north of here, 60 minutes from Grand Central Terminal. A man was taking a stroll in the next town last June when a coyote attacked his dog. Eagles and peregrine falcons land in the trees outside our windows. At various times, woodchucks, wild turkeys, rabbits, chipmunks, racoons, and copperheads have taken up temporary residence on our shy acre, and, of course, deer use our flowerbeds as salad bars. All within an hour of the Empire State Building.
Optimists simply observe that nature is always with us. I harbor a darker premonition: the animals don't think we're going to be around much longer.
They're moving back.

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"You know that look women give you when they want to have sex with you? Neither do I."
- Steve Martin

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DID YOU SEE THESE?
A Company With A Heart
Northwest Airlines provided a tip sheet to employees they fired. It listed 101 ways for their former associates to save money, now that they were out of work. Among these were "Rent out a room or garage" and "Shop in thrift stores", but the winner was, "Don't be shy about pulling something you like out of the trash."
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Power of the Comma
During testimony in the recent Enron trial, the Journal News provided this headline for a story about one defendant's testimony:

"Skilling denies cheating,
lying in 2nd day on stand"

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Undercover Dress Code
It came to the attention of the head of the Federal Air Marshall Service - five years after its corps of field agents increased from hundreds to thousands - that it might be a good idea to examine its dress policies. As of September 1, 2006, officers are permitted to wear clothing that allows them to blend in with the casual herd back in economy class.
Until then, male agents were required to wear suits and ties, be clean-shaven, and have neatly trimmed hair. Women had to wear blouses and skirts or dress slacks. At least they didn't have to paste signs on their foreheads.
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Breakfast in Istanbul
This is a foodie's favorite season, when the farmers' markets are full to bursting with the freshest, most flavorful produce of the year. It recalls for us breakfasts on the roof terrace of our hotel in Istanbul, looking down upon the Blue Mosque on one side, the Haghia Sophia on the other, and Topkapi Palace and the Sea of Marmara just beyond.
The meals were light buffets of a far healthier sort than the three pounds of cholesterol we think of as the traditional American or English morning meal. Ringing our plates were quarters of sweetly acid tomatoes, slices of cucucumber, juicy figs, fragrant chunks of feta, musky black olives, and chewy bread spread with honey and jam. Scented tea, not thick Turkish coffee, was the beverage. Try it. Change is good.
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When You Have A Minute
Google the word "failure". Guess the Number One entry. While you're at it, Google "geezerwisdom", too. Numero Siete with a bullet!
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Geezer's Indispensible Pans & Paens
In theaters: Scoop is Woody Allen's followup to last year's pretty good Hitchcock homage, Match Point, which also starred the bodacious Scarlett Johansson. This is supposed to be a lighthearted murder mystery romp. On the contrary, the dialog is appallingly leaden, with Allen resurrecting schtick that was old when The Ed Sullivan Show was young.
On the other hand, run out to catch Little Miss Sunshine, an indie roadtrip comedy about a family that pushes disfunctionality to its outer limits. Alan Arkin is a drug-snorting, exceptionally horny grandfather, Greg Kinnear is a failed motivational speaker in denial, and Steve Carell is his suicidal gay brother-in-law. The mushy stuff is kept to a minimum.
Similarly satisfying, but quite different in tone, Boynton Beach Club brings together such veterans as Brenda Vaccaro, Len Cariou, Sally Kellerman, and Dyan Cannon in a comedy about retirees in the land of sun and hurricanes. They mourn their losses, pretend they aren't far closer to the end than to the beginning, go on the make, and mostly just get on with going on. Clearly not targeted to Hollywood's preferred demographic, it will be appreciated by those of us who now see 50 in the rear view mirror.
On DVD: Don't, even in a moment of desperation, rent Cache (with an accent on the "e"). Full of endless silences and long shots that don't budge for many minutes at a time, this is the kind of arty, opaque exercise that helped to bury French cinema in its decades-long slough of despond.
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Discomfort Food
Ferran Adria has a lot to answer for. The mega-star Catalan chef holds court at his restaurant El Bulli in the village of Roses off Spain's Costa Brava and in his laboratory near Barcelona. Yes, his lab. Adria (reverse accent on the second "a") closes the restaurant for six months a year to fiddle endlessly with foodstuffs so he can bring never-before-seen or -tasted edible creations to his slack-jawed but monied patrons. It was there he came up with foams, which amount to flavored air extruded atop ingredients with which they may or may not have any commonality. (He says he doesn't do foams anymore, but he has infected his devotees, who have scattered across the developed world like ants on spilt cream.)
So are diners and restaurant reviewers subjected to such combinations as eel with crystallized violets, braised snails in basil-chicken mousse, pork belly with kecap manis and Thai chilies, and avocado rolled in corn nuts and wrapped in - wait for it - cotton candy. Not infrequently these are served with instructions on exactly how to eat what is on the plate. Pre-school for grownups.
At a recent dinner spotlighting the cuisine of Catalunya (Catalonia), food writers and other influentials were seated at tables at the bottom of the soaring atrium of the Guggenheim Museum in New York. It was a suitably grand environment in which to take on the cuisine of four honored Catalan chefs imported for the occasion. All of them were Adria acolytes, it appeared.
Much of what was served turned out to be riffs on traditional Catalan dishes. There were many courses, but the starter was characteristic. One of the simplest and most satisfying of Catalan appetizers in pa amb tomaquet (pan con tomate in Spanish). A thick slab of bread, often day-old, is toasted or grilled. It is lightly rubbed first with a clove of crushed garlic, then with the cut side of a very ripe tomato. Olive oil is drizzled over, perhaps a pinch of salt - very tasty and simplicity itself.
At the Guggenheim that night, we were served a small rectanglar plate with a four-ounce glass balanced at one end. Atop the glass was an ultra-thin wafer of toasted baked product; in the glass was a measure of tomato water (not nearly as thick or nourishing as V8); on the open end of the plate was a long bead of fruity olive oil, accompanied by a sprinkle of sea salt. Pa amb tomaquet, deconstructed and virtually tasteless.
This is food as fashion, food as art, food as technology, but not food as food. It can't be surprising that meatloaf and macaroni-and-cheese now appear on the menus of serious restaurants, nor that The New York Times recently heralded the renewed popularity of pigs in a blanket at chic Manhattan and Hamptons receptions. Can green Jello molds with miniature marshmellows and shredded carrots be far behind?
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TURKEY MEATLOAF
This is close enough to Mom's version that you won't begin to miss the fat or calories - promise.
Serves 4-6

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, peeled and chopped
1 sweet red pepper, trimmed and chopped
1 medium carrot, peeled and chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
One-half teaspoon hot red pepper flakes, divided
Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
2 eggs, lightly beaten
One-quarter cup chopped fresh parsley
One-and-a-half pounds ground turkey
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1 cup Japanese Panko bread crumbs
1 cup catsup, divided
One-half cup balsamic vinegar, divided

Pre-heat oven to 425 degrees.
Heat the oil in a12-inch frying pan. Add the onion, sweet pepper, carrot, garlic, half the hot pepper flakes, and salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5-6 minutes. Set aside and cool.
Whisk the eggs and parsley together in a bowl large enough to hold all ingredients. Add the turkey, Worcestershire sauce, bread crumbs, one-half cup catsup, and one-quarter cup balsamic vinegar. Add the vegetables when cool enough to handle. Mix with your hands until all ingredients are evenly distributed.
Lightly oil a metal baking pan. Mold the meat and vegetable mixture into an oval loaf. In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining catsup, balsamic vinegar, and hot pepper flakes. Brush this mixture over the whole meatloaf.
Bake the loaf for about one hour, or until a meat thermometer inserted into it registers 170 degrees. Allow the loaf to cool for 5-10 minutes before slicing.
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Episode 14: Grumps and Gaffes

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"I don't feel old. I don't feel anything until noon. Then it's time for my nap." - Bob Hope
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CRANKY OLD CROCKS
*Despite his lifetime in politics, the ever-sanctimonious Senator Joe Lieberman, 64, revealed an incomplete understanding of basic democratic principles. In delivering his non-concession speech following defeat in his Connecticut primary, he whined: "For the sake (of) our state, my party, and our country, I cannot and will not let that result stand."
A day later, echoing Vice President Darth Cheney, he called the election result a "victory" for extremists.

*In a televised Senate hearing, Hillary Clinton, nakedly attempting to distance herself from her own continuing support for the war in Irag, called for the resignation of Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, 74. Summoning every ounce of indignation in his being, the Bush regime's best argument for a mandatory retirement age stormed back with, "Oh, my goodness!"

*Former civil rights leader and congressman Andrew Young, 74, had a new gig, shilling for Wal-Mart. In the course of his duties, he gave an interview to an L.A. reporter in which he compared his employer favorably to the Jewish, Arab, and Korean storekeepers who had long "ripped off" black neighborhoods, "selling us stale bread and bad meat and wilted vegetables". He later claimed to have been quoted out of context.

*Nobel prizewinner Gunter Grass, 78, having assigned himself the highest available moral ground since publication of The Tin Drum in 1959, revealed that he had served with the Waffen SS in WWII. When the predictable storm of condemnation and charges of hypocrisy rained down on him, he replied, "It is surely an attempt by some people to make me a persona non grata."

Indeed. People are offended when the man lecturing them for fifty years belatedly comes out of the closet to reveal that he served the most evil cause of the 20th Century. Several noted authors came to the defense of Grass, apparently in the conviction that the pursuit of art and virtue surpasseth niggling concerns about truth. Coming clean had the result many critics believed was the point of the revelation - the 150,000-copy first printing of his latest book sold out in a couple of weeks.

*Morley Safer, 75, wrote to the Travel Section of the NY Times to complain that the writer of an article about Ukraine had failed to mention that the Nazi death camp Janowska had operated there. "Travel writing may have its place at the outer limits of journalism," he sneered, "but one would expect just a soupcon of history to intrude on the traveler's happy-go-lucky meanderings."

This, from a man whose public identity is as narrator of effete featurettes on 60 Minutes about British eccentrics and French winedrinkers. (He apparently felt no pressure to mention the Shoah when he was reporting about the health benefits of drinking clarets from Bordeaux.) He's in his 36th year with the program, paid an obscene salary to stroll around pleasant landscapes and read from cue cards, while the real work is done by teams of producers, researchers, writers, editors, cameramen and sound operators. Travel writers don't have that kind of help.

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A guy is walking along a beach in California. Finds a lamp half-buried in the sand. Rubs it. Genie pops out.
"Sire, I can grant you one wish. Anything you want."
"Really!" the surprised man says. "Okay, I hate flying. Build me a bridge to Hawaii."
"But sire, that is over 3,000 miles. Isn't there something less difficult you might want?"
"Okay. Have the Jets win the Super Bowl."
"Your wish is my command. Will that be two or four lanes?"

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CLUELESS IN BOSTON, WITLESS IN NORFOLK
*Governor Mitt Romney apologized for calling the Big Dig a "tar baby" at a Republican money-raiser in Iowa. He said he didn't know the term has been construed as a racial epithet.

*On the campaign trail in Virginia, Senator George Allen pointed to a dark-skinned South Asian-American taking video of the event. "Give a welcome to Macaca, here," he said, smiling, presumably unaware that the word refers to a genus of monkey. In some contexts, it is also a racial slur. He repeated it at least three times.

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"ITALIANS NEVER WEAR SHORTS"
So were we advised by a writer in Food & Wine magazine shortly before our departure for our three-week dream vacation in Venice. Wanting to blend in to the degree possible in a city where every native has tourist radar activated within thirty meters of any stranger, we left the shorts at home. The sandals, too, just to be safe, and any clothing that wasn't black, beige, or grey.

This, despite my doubts. Years before, I was in a bar in the Spanish town of Calaceite lecturing my wife about local preferences in clothing. Spanish men never wore shorts, I pronounced. Too effeminate. The words had barely dribbled from my mouth when a farmer, as burly and macho as they came, whipped aside the beaded curtain at the door and strode through...in Bermudas.

I kept an eye out for Italians in shorts. There weren't many, it was true, but there were some. More common were men in cropped pants, stopping just below the knee, what we used call pedal pushers. One man I spotted was clearly a hard-driving executive on a brief holiday. His graying hair was closely cropped, his face sharply angular, his jaw dark with the requisite three-day growth. He carried a laptop and was bellowing into his cellphone, barking orders at a no-doubt cowed subordinate on the other end. I wondered what muffled satisfaction the unfortunate recipient might enjoy had he known that his boss was decked in capri pants, flip-flops, and a Disneyland Tokyo tee-shirt.

Further observations:
*Our breakfast almost every morning was taken at a cafe in Campo (Plaza) Santa Margarita. It was unfailingly comprised of freshly squeezed orange juice, cappuccino, and a croissant (which the Italians call brioche). We bought our daily Herald Tribune at a stand a block away. An agreeable hour was spent watching children going off to school, matrons walking their dogs, and vendors setting out their displays of vegetables, flowers, and fish. Tourists were relatively rare here in Dorsoduro, a largely residential sestiere of the city. Each cappuccino cost us 3.25 euros. Until after two weeks passed, that is, when the price dropped to 2.25. They knew us now. It's no secret turisti pay more than natives in Italian restaurants. Hang around long enough, though, and the prices drop to near-local levels.

*Venetian women of a certain age dye their hair shades of crimson not witnessed in the natural world, almost as invariably as their grandmothers once cloaked themselves in eternal black. One female observer-author calls it "menopausal red."

*Tourists flow and eddy in unending swirls and torrents through and around Piazza San Marco and the Rialto Bridge, subjecting themselves to $100 rides in flotillas of gondolas while being serenaded by operatic versions of "Volare". While Venetians are courteous and usually friendly toward visitors, they can't help but be annoyed by their huge numbers, often inappropriate dress, boorishness, and ignorance of history and custom, especially when impeded in their journeys from home to work to social event.

So it may be understandable how one tour guide expressed his feelings while leading his charges over the Accademia Bridge. His colleagues customarily carry umbrellas or small flags above the bobbing heads as rallying points for their distracted troops. This man held aloft a toilet brush.

*Imagine our tobacco-free delight when we learned that Italy not only had recently passed anti-smoking legislation, it was actually being observed! This, in a country where the art of slipping around laws and ordinances is an admired skill. Even at outdoor tables, where the law doesn't apply, smokers made a point of holding their cigarettes at their sides and blowing smoke away from other patrons.

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SGROPPINO
While in Venice, we were introduced to this delectable liquid dessert. It goes well with almost any cake or tart, and is delightful all by itself. (The "S" might be silent. Then again, it might not.)
Serves 4

2 cups lemon sorbet (the white, not yellow, variety), softened
2 tablespoons vodka
One-third cup prosecco (a sparkling Italian wine from the Veneto region)
4 tablespoons half-and-half or light cream

Chill 4 champagne flutes or smaller, similarly-shaped glasses. Place all ingredients in a blender and pulse until smooth. Pour into glasses and serve immediately.

Episode 13: Summer By The Sea

Why is this woman smiling?

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"The secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a good ending, and to have the two as close together as possible."
- George Burns
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GODLINESS ON PARADE
While celebrities hog the High Holy Ground - Mel Gibson and Tom Cruise rampant on their elevated fields of faith - others also labor mightily in the vineyards of the Lord.

*The United States Senate, evidently finding time on its hands during the dog days, has purchased a 27-foot-tall cross on a municipal park in San Diego. By federalizing the monument, they mean to protect it from a 17-year legal assault by a local athetist who keeps muttering something about separation of church and state.

*From its headquarters on the far side of the Moon, the Kansas State Board of Education last year instituted classroom challenges to Darwin's Theory of Evolution, implicitly endorsing "intelligent design" as a viable alternative. Board member and retired teacher Connie Morris said she did not believe in evolution. "It's a nice bedtime story," she elaborated while turning logic on its head, but "science doesn't back it up."

*A new book, Divine Intervention: Jesus or Jefferson? declares that America's founding documents - the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Federalist Papers - are the Lord's Final Testament, thereby superseding both the Bible and the Koran. Author Stanley Kimmel Kesselman is a Republican candidate for Congress from Los Angeles.

*An audit of the expenditures of the St. John Roman Catholic Church in Darien, CT has estimated that $1.4 million was diverted into the private accounts of the Reverend Michael Jude Fay. Among its findings: Father Fay admitted secretly using $1,500 a month in church money to lease a Manhattan pied-a-terre. He spent $140,000 of church money eating in restaurants. The priest declared that $515,000 he withdrew from parish accounts went to "parisioners in need", but at least $380,000 of that amount wound up in his personal accounts. And, Father Fay and a friend by the name of Cliff Fantini bought a condo in Fort Lauderdale together with $257,000 in church money. Father Fay's whereabouts are unknown.

*The NYC Health Department has recommended that infants not undergo oral-suction circumcisions after babies in Rockland County, NY were infected with herpes. In a practice observed by Hasidic and ultra-Orthodox Jews, the mohel - a rabbi who conducts the ceremonial bris - uses his mouth to suction blood from the wound when the foreskin of male babies is sliced away. It's called a metzizah bi peh. If the mohel has oral herpes, the incurable disease can easily be transmitted to the infant.

*Gregory A. Boyd is no leftie. Pastor of an evangelical megachurch in Minnesota, he's against abortion and homosexuality. But he had enough of requests from parishioners to speak in support of conservative causes and candidates. He delivered a series of sermons in which he said, according to the NY Times, that "the church should steer clear of politics, give up moralizing on sexual issues, stop claiming the United States as a 'Christian nation', and stop glorifying American military campaigns." Out of 5,000 church members , he's lost about 1,000 so far.

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TRAVEL TIP
Where's the safest place on the plane?
In the back.
Why not the front?
That's where the mountains are.

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PESTO CHICKEN & PASTA alla TUCKg
There's no such thing as an original recipe, but this is as close as Geezer has ever come to creating a new dish. The pasta, pesto, and cheese soak up moisture quickly, so save a cup of the pasta water and be prepared to add more olive oil at the end. Keep this recipe in mind when there's leftover cooked chicken in the fridge.
Serves 4.

Olive oil for frying
1 medium yellow onion, cut in half, and cut into thin slices
1 sweet red (bell) pepper, cored, seeded, and cut into narrow vertical slices
1 sweet yellow (bell) pepper, cored, seeded, and cut into narrow vertical slices
2 large garlic cloves, peeled and minced
2 chicken breasts, cooked, and cut with the grain into narrow slices
1 pound long pasta
1 cup prepared pesto (but with more to add if necessary)
Quarter to half-teaspoon hot pepper flakes (optional)
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Freshly grated Parmesan cheese (or similar), to taste
Fresh basil leaves for garnish

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil for the pasta. Add the pasta and stir. Meantime, in a large skillet, bring olive oil to a light sizzle. Add the onion and pepper slices. When they start to go limp in three or four minutes, stir in the garlic. When the garlic starts to turn golden, add the chicken strips. Stir and toss to heat through. If the pasta is not yet ready, cover the skillet and remove from the heat.
Cook the pasta until one minute shy of the time recommended on the package. Dip out a cup of the water and save. Drain the pasta, but do not rinse. Add the pasta to the skillet and toss with the other ingredients. Add the pesto, pepper flakes (if using), salt, and pepper and toss and stir thoroughly. If the combination seems dry, add a bit of the pasta water. Toss.
Remove the contents of the skillet to a serving bowl or platter. Drizzle with olive oil and grate the cheese over all. Garnish with basil leaves.