"The food in China is remarkable and so much more varied than what you get in Chinese restaurants in the U.S." So says the Journal’s Alan Paul, writing on the ex-pat life in China.
This is his intro to getting cooking lessons prior to his family’s departure from the country. However, my eyes kind of froze when he was talking about the penis restaurant and I found it hard to move on to the actual lesson.
The foodies may be less imaginative than I and able to proceed on with concentration to the dumplings and the chopping of the meat.
Wonder how long it'll take for one of those specialty restaurants to open in New York or LA?
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Magoo vs. Droopy
Okay, there's a round at happy hour riding on this one:
Does Rep. Barney Frank (D - Mass.) look more like Droopy Dog or Mr. Magoo?
Friday, December 5, 2008
Act II--enter three clowns
God bless Richard C. Shelby, R-Alabama. He refused to swallow any of the faux-contrite ersatz-sincere Kool-Aid offered by the Gang of Three at yesterday’s repeat engagement of loser automakers vs. the US Senate.
He pointed out the blindingly obvious (to everyone except Ford, GM and Chrysler): “The firms continue to trail their major competitors in almost every category necessary to compete.” And the automobile tycoons would be the first to trumpet that if you can’t compete you shouldn’t be in the business.
As for their vaunted “see—no corporate jets, we drove here in the cheapest-ass pieces of crap we can produce, which we ordinarily wouldn’t touch outside of a Vegas car show but which we’ve foisted off on the car-buying public, whom we consider the biggest suckers in the universe, except for their legally-elected representatives” stunt…Shelby inquired, “Did you drive or did you have a driver? Did you drive a little and ride a little? And secondly, I guess are you going to drive back?”
After being utterly shocked two weeks ago when just showing up at the Capitol and saying they need $25B or they’ll start putting millions out of work didn’t result in Congress immediately depositing the money in their offshore accounts, they’ve coughed up (under duress) “business plans” on how they’d spend this money differently than they’ve spent the billions they’ve gone through in the past couple of years.
I’ve not had a chance to really look at them—not that I expect these alleged plans to contain any more actual, you know, substance than they think they absolutely need to show to get their mitts on the dough.
Ford’s now saying they don’t need a loan—just a line of credit. (Which they’ll tap into faster than boiled asparagus when they think the media scrutiny is lifted.)
GM is seriously pathetic: now their story is that if they don’t get $4B before month’s end, it’s curtains. But the $4B won’t be enough, actually; they’ll want another $4B in January, a total of $12 in “loans” and a $6B line of credit.
Now, I’m not an MBA, but saying $4B isn’t enough to get them through the next three weeks doesn’t inspire a great deal of confidence in their ability to manage their way out of a Gucci bag.
What also disturbs me is their assumption that they can spread any amount of manure around and have everyone believing they’re in the Garden of Eden.
(Well, I suppose the precedent has been established—it worked for AIG, Citicorp and Bear Sterns. They coughed and the Treasury handed them a $700B box of Kleenex.)
For the moment, it looks as though the Senators are displaying more backbone than they’ve done in the past. I really hope this lasts. I don’t like being the victim of extortion, whether it’s the thug in the hood or the CEO in a hybrid.
He pointed out the blindingly obvious (to everyone except Ford, GM and Chrysler): “The firms continue to trail their major competitors in almost every category necessary to compete.” And the automobile tycoons would be the first to trumpet that if you can’t compete you shouldn’t be in the business.
As for their vaunted “see—no corporate jets, we drove here in the cheapest-ass pieces of crap we can produce, which we ordinarily wouldn’t touch outside of a Vegas car show but which we’ve foisted off on the car-buying public, whom we consider the biggest suckers in the universe, except for their legally-elected representatives” stunt…Shelby inquired, “Did you drive or did you have a driver? Did you drive a little and ride a little? And secondly, I guess are you going to drive back?”
After being utterly shocked two weeks ago when just showing up at the Capitol and saying they need $25B or they’ll start putting millions out of work didn’t result in Congress immediately depositing the money in their offshore accounts, they’ve coughed up (under duress) “business plans” on how they’d spend this money differently than they’ve spent the billions they’ve gone through in the past couple of years.
I’ve not had a chance to really look at them—not that I expect these alleged plans to contain any more actual, you know, substance than they think they absolutely need to show to get their mitts on the dough.
Ford’s now saying they don’t need a loan—just a line of credit. (Which they’ll tap into faster than boiled asparagus when they think the media scrutiny is lifted.)
GM is seriously pathetic: now their story is that if they don’t get $4B before month’s end, it’s curtains. But the $4B won’t be enough, actually; they’ll want another $4B in January, a total of $12 in “loans” and a $6B line of credit.
Now, I’m not an MBA, but saying $4B isn’t enough to get them through the next three weeks doesn’t inspire a great deal of confidence in their ability to manage their way out of a Gucci bag.
What also disturbs me is their assumption that they can spread any amount of manure around and have everyone believing they’re in the Garden of Eden.
(Well, I suppose the precedent has been established—it worked for AIG, Citicorp and Bear Sterns. They coughed and the Treasury handed them a $700B box of Kleenex.)
For the moment, it looks as though the Senators are displaying more backbone than they’ve done in the past. I really hope this lasts. I don’t like being the victim of extortion, whether it’s the thug in the hood or the CEO in a hybrid.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Music to my ears
So, perhaps it’s time for a little light entr’ acte music, while I’m waiting to see what outrageous & arrogant stunts the Gang of Three are going to pull for this round of begging to Congress. (Because you know I’m going to have something to say about it.)
But, as it seems that no one can operate without some ambient tunes in his/her ears (I went to the Seattle Arboretum a few weeks ago & came across two guys walking together, with earbuds stuck in their ears. 1. They’re out in nature; why do they need music? 2. They’re walking together; what’s with the individual, isolating musical devices?), I’ve accumulated some streaming audio sites for your enjoyment.
I’ve actually been plugged into Pandora for the past couple of weeks. I find the format somewhat monochromatic, because you’ve got to go with either a music genre or an artist genre (I “created” an Aimee Mann “radio” & got nothing but singers who sound like her).
I’ve been listening to the Classical Christmas recently & discovered that they repeat the cuts pretty often. I had to move on to Peaceful Holidays (anything that calms me down is only good for me, my office mate & my employer) & Folk Holidays. I may even layer in Delta Blues & Traditional Folk. So there is some limitation to the selections.
I’d rather have functionality that allows me to choose a number of genres & have them randomize the streams; but this is what they’ve got.
iMusic purports to supply music to optimize the computer-using experience. They sell you packages of music designed to turbo-charge various activities. The packages include Intelligence, Creative, Energy, FitDrive, DeepSleep & WakeUp Suites. (There are also singles.)
I have absolutely no earthly notion how this is supposed to work, & I don’t notice that their sample makes me either smarter at the PC, more creative, or ready to take a nap. But, hey—have a go.
Josh Hosler’s site not only has an ever-changing Number 1 song on this date in history (e.g., 4 December for every year back to the 1890s, with audios starting in 1935—“Red Sails in the Sunset” by Guy Lombardo, if you’re interested), but it allows you to hunt out hits from specific dates. So you could work up a gift of multiple songs either in depth (as in the date & multiple years) or breadth (hits for every month of a particular year) for your mom’s birthday.
I quite enjoyed looking up the hits on various friends’ birthdays. You might find it a hoot, too.
Finally, Tropical Glen acts as a jukebox, giving you Golden Oldies—top 100 hits from 1950-1989. Additionally you can choose to listen to genres—blues, jazz, doo-wop, folk, TV themes, etc. If you’re looking for song lyrics, there’s a resource there, too.
So, take these sites out for a spin, see what you think. & if you know of others, please add to the list.
But, as it seems that no one can operate without some ambient tunes in his/her ears (I went to the Seattle Arboretum a few weeks ago & came across two guys walking together, with earbuds stuck in their ears. 1. They’re out in nature; why do they need music? 2. They’re walking together; what’s with the individual, isolating musical devices?), I’ve accumulated some streaming audio sites for your enjoyment.
I’ve actually been plugged into Pandora for the past couple of weeks. I find the format somewhat monochromatic, because you’ve got to go with either a music genre or an artist genre (I “created” an Aimee Mann “radio” & got nothing but singers who sound like her).
I’ve been listening to the Classical Christmas recently & discovered that they repeat the cuts pretty often. I had to move on to Peaceful Holidays (anything that calms me down is only good for me, my office mate & my employer) & Folk Holidays. I may even layer in Delta Blues & Traditional Folk. So there is some limitation to the selections.
I’d rather have functionality that allows me to choose a number of genres & have them randomize the streams; but this is what they’ve got.
iMusic purports to supply music to optimize the computer-using experience. They sell you packages of music designed to turbo-charge various activities. The packages include Intelligence, Creative, Energy, FitDrive, DeepSleep & WakeUp Suites. (There are also singles.)
I have absolutely no earthly notion how this is supposed to work, & I don’t notice that their sample makes me either smarter at the PC, more creative, or ready to take a nap. But, hey—have a go.
Josh Hosler’s site not only has an ever-changing Number 1 song on this date in history (e.g., 4 December for every year back to the 1890s, with audios starting in 1935—“Red Sails in the Sunset” by Guy Lombardo, if you’re interested), but it allows you to hunt out hits from specific dates. So you could work up a gift of multiple songs either in depth (as in the date & multiple years) or breadth (hits for every month of a particular year) for your mom’s birthday.
I quite enjoyed looking up the hits on various friends’ birthdays. You might find it a hoot, too.
Finally, Tropical Glen acts as a jukebox, giving you Golden Oldies—top 100 hits from 1950-1989. Additionally you can choose to listen to genres—blues, jazz, doo-wop, folk, TV themes, etc. If you’re looking for song lyrics, there’s a resource there, too.
So, take these sites out for a spin, see what you think. & if you know of others, please add to the list.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Haunted by the past
Well, I don’t know whether to be impressed or completely creeped out.
About 17 years ago I took a programming class at Wake Tech CC (that would be in Raleigh, NC). I haven’t thought about it for at least 15 years.
So imagine my surprise to come home yesterday & find a letter “from the desk of O. Morton Congleton” (I swear I’m not making that up—how could I?), executive director of the Wake Tech CC Foundation, informing me that “Being part of the Wake Tech family has its privileges”.
Well, who knew?
I mean, who knew I was even one of the kinfolk?
The “privilege” in this case is the opportunity to get “significant savings” on car insurance.
Now, what weirds me out here is that I’ve moved at least seven times, to two states & one foreign country, since taking that class. & this solicitation came to me directly at my current address.
The US Postal Service being what it is—how the devil did my family at WFCC track me down?
& how long do you suppose it’ll take for them to start hitting me up for alumni contributions?
About 17 years ago I took a programming class at Wake Tech CC (that would be in Raleigh, NC). I haven’t thought about it for at least 15 years.
So imagine my surprise to come home yesterday & find a letter “from the desk of O. Morton Congleton” (I swear I’m not making that up—how could I?), executive director of the Wake Tech CC Foundation, informing me that “Being part of the Wake Tech family has its privileges”.
Well, who knew?
I mean, who knew I was even one of the kinfolk?
The “privilege” in this case is the opportunity to get “significant savings” on car insurance.
Now, what weirds me out here is that I’ve moved at least seven times, to two states & one foreign country, since taking that class. & this solicitation came to me directly at my current address.
The US Postal Service being what it is—how the devil did my family at WFCC track me down?
& how long do you suppose it’ll take for them to start hitting me up for alumni contributions?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Party like it's 1933
Apparently we have a momentous anniversary to mark this week. It was 75 years ago Friday that the 21st Amendment went into effect, repealing Prohibition. Evidently (according to the man with the best job in journalism) there are Repeal Day parties planned in DC, LA, NY and other cities.
No mention made of Seattle, wouldn’t you just know.
That whole Prohibition experiment is an interesting blip in American history. The major drivers behind the “dry” movement were various Protestant sects, including sundry branches of the Baptists, Methodists, Congregationalists and Presbyterians. Women were also movers and shakers, both under the aegis of the WCTU and acting independently.
The Dries finally prevailed during World War I, and the nation as a whole came under Prohibition in 1919.
It was catastrophic. Instead of purifying the country, as was the prohibitionists’ expectation, it spawned a new age of crime and gave industrial-strength gangs and the Mafia a foothold in American life.
In addition to the criminal aspect, it strained the country’s law enforcement resources greatly at the same time it eliminated a major source of income in the form of excise taxes.
All-in-all, it was a really boneheaded idea, a prime example of what happens when you let True Believers get hold of the government. (True Believers are those who are convinced they have the one, direct conduit to the Almighty. They can come in religious, ideological, political, fashion, health or culinary flavors. Because they have the inside line to the godhead, there is no room for compromise, which is anathema. We’ve seen how well this has played out in both the national and international scene for the past seven years.)
(There are still pockets of Prohibition in the country, although they’re shrinking. One that I really crack up about is that Jack Daniel’s is distilled in a dry county of Tennessee. State law requires that there be a certain critical mass of voters in order to repeal prohibition there; and the population of Moore County isn’t large enough to qualify.)
Well, but enough of all that. Although Felton’s suggestion of the “Commodore Bedroom” makes me gag, I still think we should all commemorate the event. Returning to common sense from idiocy should always be celebrated.
You’ve got a few days to prepare. Make the most of it. You can even drink to the repeal of Bushism.
No mention made of Seattle, wouldn’t you just know.
That whole Prohibition experiment is an interesting blip in American history. The major drivers behind the “dry” movement were various Protestant sects, including sundry branches of the Baptists, Methodists, Congregationalists and Presbyterians. Women were also movers and shakers, both under the aegis of the WCTU and acting independently.
The Dries finally prevailed during World War I, and the nation as a whole came under Prohibition in 1919.
It was catastrophic. Instead of purifying the country, as was the prohibitionists’ expectation, it spawned a new age of crime and gave industrial-strength gangs and the Mafia a foothold in American life.
In addition to the criminal aspect, it strained the country’s law enforcement resources greatly at the same time it eliminated a major source of income in the form of excise taxes.
All-in-all, it was a really boneheaded idea, a prime example of what happens when you let True Believers get hold of the government. (True Believers are those who are convinced they have the one, direct conduit to the Almighty. They can come in religious, ideological, political, fashion, health or culinary flavors. Because they have the inside line to the godhead, there is no room for compromise, which is anathema. We’ve seen how well this has played out in both the national and international scene for the past seven years.)
(There are still pockets of Prohibition in the country, although they’re shrinking. One that I really crack up about is that Jack Daniel’s is distilled in a dry county of Tennessee. State law requires that there be a certain critical mass of voters in order to repeal prohibition there; and the population of Moore County isn’t large enough to qualify.)
Well, but enough of all that. Although Felton’s suggestion of the “Commodore Bedroom” makes me gag, I still think we should all commemorate the event. Returning to common sense from idiocy should always be celebrated.
You’ve got a few days to prepare. Make the most of it. You can even drink to the repeal of Bushism.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Cooper's legacy
Well, drat! Seems that instead of my fruitless trek to Leavenworth, I could have gone to Ariel, WA, this past weekend,
Why would I want to do that, you ask?
Why, because they have a D.B. Cooper festival every year on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Who knew?
NPR reported on this today, & I have to say it sounds like a lot more fun than Leavenworth was, even if there had been brats & Glühwein. The Cooper look-alike contest alone would have been worth it.
Well, I’ll just have to put it on my List for next year. It’s not the Doo Dah parade, but then, this isn’t Pasadena, so one must make allowances.
Why would I want to do that, you ask?
Why, because they have a D.B. Cooper festival every year on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Who knew?
NPR reported on this today, & I have to say it sounds like a lot more fun than Leavenworth was, even if there had been brats & Glühwein. The Cooper look-alike contest alone would have been worth it.
Well, I’ll just have to put it on my List for next year. It’s not the Doo Dah parade, but then, this isn’t Pasadena, so one must make allowances.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
We'll always have Beaujolais
Okay, I’m sure everyone has a little Beaujolais nouveau in his or her past. I recall some of the snobby hoopla of the 90s, although the only time I succumbed was at a pub outside Newport, Gwent., about ten years ago.
Now, THERE was a pub. Huge fireplace that had probably been in operation for about two centuries. Frequented by locals. Nothing pre-fab about it. On the nights I had to stay over at Newport, I’d haul out past a couple of other pubs, because I knew that I’d get good cooking—not that ghastly crap that most pubs serve (let me just say that anything involving a microwave is not going to be good to eat in a pub setting)—relaxed atmosphere & a decent glass of wine or pint of bitter.
The first time I went there (I wish I could recall the name) happened to be Beaujolais nouveau week or night. The staff were dressed like they just came from Pigalle, & the menu revolved around the wine. Without doubt one of my best meals in more than three years in Britain.
But I digress.
The third Thursday of November has come & gone, & the Journal’s wine team have pronounced this year’s offerings drinkable or better.
I’m sure you’ll be relieved to learn that the banana, anchovy & metal tones are down this time round. As for the greed—well, perhaps the global economy has been a splash of cold reality for the wine industry. (I wish the same would happen to champagnes.)
At any rate—I pass this on as a public service. Anything to brighten up your winter & provide respite from the seasonal madness.
Santé.
Now, THERE was a pub. Huge fireplace that had probably been in operation for about two centuries. Frequented by locals. Nothing pre-fab about it. On the nights I had to stay over at Newport, I’d haul out past a couple of other pubs, because I knew that I’d get good cooking—not that ghastly crap that most pubs serve (let me just say that anything involving a microwave is not going to be good to eat in a pub setting)—relaxed atmosphere & a decent glass of wine or pint of bitter.
The first time I went there (I wish I could recall the name) happened to be Beaujolais nouveau week or night. The staff were dressed like they just came from Pigalle, & the menu revolved around the wine. Without doubt one of my best meals in more than three years in Britain.
But I digress.
The third Thursday of November has come & gone, & the Journal’s wine team have pronounced this year’s offerings drinkable or better.
I’m sure you’ll be relieved to learn that the banana, anchovy & metal tones are down this time round. As for the greed—well, perhaps the global economy has been a splash of cold reality for the wine industry. (I wish the same would happen to champagnes.)
At any rate—I pass this on as a public service. Anything to brighten up your winter & provide respite from the seasonal madness.
Santé.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Froehliche weihnachten
Since I’m ethically opposed to contributing to the post-Thanksgiving shopping excess of my fellow Americans, I thought I’d do a bit more exploring of the Evergreen State this weekend.
I’d wanted to spend a week in Berlin, partly because I love a good Weihnachtsmarkt; but also to finally see the place. However, for the second year in a row (last year it was installing new windows in the house) even I could see that my finances wouldn’t sustain the expenditure.
(Although, damn, I so miss walking around in the cold, wearing so many layers I look like the Michelin Man™, a mug of Glühwein in one hand & a bratwurst in the other, being utterly dazzled by the displays of, well, everything from really gorgeous ornaments to complete schlock. For some reason I don’t even go ballistic at the crowds; they just seem right in that setting.)
Well, so, no trip auf Deutschland, again, but it turns out that there’s a town on the other side of the Cascades called Leavenworth, which has been an honest-to-Gott ersatz Bavarian village since 1962. In addition to their annual Oktoberfest blowout they advertise a Christkindlmarkt & I thought, well, why not, & schlepped out today.
I was so intent that I even braved the Stevens Pass (elev. 4057 ft.). I say “brave” because, being a fourth-generation Californian, I don’t do snow. My first experience driving it it resulted in rolling my car. (Not spinning, a 360° roll.) It was, of course, raining, & I kept a close watch on the outside temperature. It got down to 35°F, & I didn’t like all that snow piled up at the side of Route 2, but I persevered.
Took me a skosh over two hours to get there. I parked the car & prepared to get into the holiday spirit.
Imagine my disappointment, then, to discover that the “Christkindlmarkt” consisted of about 15 booths in the town Festhalle (like a community center with Alpine murals painted outside). Quite the folkloric focus, too: the traditional kettlecorn, Silpada jewelry—made you feel absolutely gemütlich.
Not.
Well, after whizzing through that offering (considerably less interesting than the craft fair at the Methodist Church I went to a couple of weeks ago), I thought I might as well go through the surrounding faux Bavarian central tourist district.
Meinen Damen und Herren, what a bummer. The town’s primary industry appears to be kitschy shoppes & kitchier hotels. (There was one called the Bavarian Ritz. & a Bavarian-themed Howard Johnson.)
Everything in fake Alpine architecture & mock Gothic lettering. Even the Chinese & Mexican restaurants conform. It’s all relentlessly suddeutsche.
I’d wanted to spend a week in Berlin, partly because I love a good Weihnachtsmarkt; but also to finally see the place. However, for the second year in a row (last year it was installing new windows in the house) even I could see that my finances wouldn’t sustain the expenditure.
(Although, damn, I so miss walking around in the cold, wearing so many layers I look like the Michelin Man™, a mug of Glühwein in one hand & a bratwurst in the other, being utterly dazzled by the displays of, well, everything from really gorgeous ornaments to complete schlock. For some reason I don’t even go ballistic at the crowds; they just seem right in that setting.)
Well, so, no trip auf Deutschland, again, but it turns out that there’s a town on the other side of the Cascades called Leavenworth, which has been an honest-to-Gott ersatz Bavarian village since 1962. In addition to their annual Oktoberfest blowout they advertise a Christkindlmarkt & I thought, well, why not, & schlepped out today.
I was so intent that I even braved the Stevens Pass (elev. 4057 ft.). I say “brave” because, being a fourth-generation Californian, I don’t do snow. My first experience driving it it resulted in rolling my car. (Not spinning, a 360° roll.) It was, of course, raining, & I kept a close watch on the outside temperature. It got down to 35°F, & I didn’t like all that snow piled up at the side of Route 2, but I persevered.
Took me a skosh over two hours to get there. I parked the car & prepared to get into the holiday spirit.
Imagine my disappointment, then, to discover that the “Christkindlmarkt” consisted of about 15 booths in the town Festhalle (like a community center with Alpine murals painted outside). Quite the folkloric focus, too: the traditional kettlecorn, Silpada jewelry—made you feel absolutely gemütlich.
Not.
Well, after whizzing through that offering (considerably less interesting than the craft fair at the Methodist Church I went to a couple of weeks ago), I thought I might as well go through the surrounding faux Bavarian central tourist district.
Meinen Damen und Herren, what a bummer. The town’s primary industry appears to be kitschy shoppes & kitchier hotels. (There was one called the Bavarian Ritz. & a Bavarian-themed Howard Johnson.)
Everything in fake Alpine architecture & mock Gothic lettering. Even the Chinese & Mexican restaurants conform. It’s all relentlessly suddeutsche.
The shops seem to sell nothing but schlock—including the Australian one. (Why Australia & not Austria? Austria has Alps. & great coffee. You’d have thought that would have counted for more than “Gator Crossing” signs. &, BTW, there are no gators in Oz, there are crocs.)
I went into one shop, Kris Kringle, because I thought I might find something to add to my 12,673 Christmas ornaments (many bought at Christkindlmärkte in Nuremberg, Munich & Cologne). Alas, not a thing spoke to me.
So I left the town after a total of 50 minutes there. There were restaurants that advertised brats, but nowhere did I see Glühwein listed, so it wouldn’t have been right.
Well, next weekend the wineries of Woodinville have a Saint Nicholas Day deal going on, so perhaps I’ll pick up some Christmas spirit there.
Or at least a nice bottle of Pinot Gris.
I went into one shop, Kris Kringle, because I thought I might find something to add to my 12,673 Christmas ornaments (many bought at Christkindlmärkte in Nuremberg, Munich & Cologne). Alas, not a thing spoke to me.
So I left the town after a total of 50 minutes there. There were restaurants that advertised brats, but nowhere did I see Glühwein listed, so it wouldn’t have been right.
Well, next weekend the wineries of Woodinville have a Saint Nicholas Day deal going on, so perhaps I’ll pick up some Christmas spirit there.
Or at least a nice bottle of Pinot Gris.
Friday, November 28, 2008
T plus one
You know, every December since, well, since I can remember, the retail industry has wrung its collective hands and lamented that this year the cash registers will be empty except for the occasional raggedy moth flittering out... And every year has been better (sometimes much, much better) than the last.
There were even a few when rabid parents haven't put one another in hospital while fighting for the toy must-have (remember Tickle-me-Elmo? How about Cabbage Patch Kids?).
But I wondered how things will be this year, what with even the children of banking and auto CEOs having to cut back on their expectations (probably from 3-carat D, F1 princess cut studs to 2-carat F IF marquise cut; or only two weeks at Gstaad instead of four).
So, since I live within walking distance of a mall, I took a stroll down to Bellevue Square this morning, around 0800. Now, keeping in mind that Macy's had been going strong for three hours at this point, and the rest of the mall was opening up at a speed of knots, the mall didn't seem that full to me.
There were people, of course; and plenty of them. Just not cheek-by-jowl, which is what you expect on Black Friday. (Not that I've been in a mall on the day after Thanksgiving for, well, since the 80s; but I have watched the occasional news report in that time. And reporters at the airport the day before and reporters at the mall the day after Thanksgiving are as predictable as the sun rising in the East.)
I was pondering this as I left through the parking garage (it had started to rain, quelle surprise, so I wanted to stay covered as much as possible before hitting the open streets). And there the folks in SUVs and Lexus sedans restored my confidence: there was a lot of honking and fist-pounding on steering wheels.
Ah, the holidays are indeed upon us.
Sidebar:
I went to brine my chicken yesterday and realized that all of my big pots are packed away in the shed. Along with the file folders with my brining recipes. (Trying to find the carton that contains them is just a non-starter. The packers marked boxes "bags" when the contents might have been shopping bags, purses or gift containers. God only knows which of the approximately 80 unopened cartons might hold those folders.)
Fortunately, it was a small chicken and I managed to get it into a four-quart pot with the brine.
And thank God for the Internet, because all I had to do was Google "Chez Panisse brine" and up popped about 47,173 references.
But, um: those file folders? They also contain all my candy recipes. So those of you who are expecting the 17 types of candies I gave last year are going to have to recalibrate your expectations.
I'm just sayin'...
There were even a few when rabid parents haven't put one another in hospital while fighting for the toy must-have (remember Tickle-me-Elmo? How about Cabbage Patch Kids?).
But I wondered how things will be this year, what with even the children of banking and auto CEOs having to cut back on their expectations (probably from 3-carat D, F1 princess cut studs to 2-carat F IF marquise cut; or only two weeks at Gstaad instead of four).
So, since I live within walking distance of a mall, I took a stroll down to Bellevue Square this morning, around 0800. Now, keeping in mind that Macy's had been going strong for three hours at this point, and the rest of the mall was opening up at a speed of knots, the mall didn't seem that full to me.
There were people, of course; and plenty of them. Just not cheek-by-jowl, which is what you expect on Black Friday. (Not that I've been in a mall on the day after Thanksgiving for, well, since the 80s; but I have watched the occasional news report in that time. And reporters at the airport the day before and reporters at the mall the day after Thanksgiving are as predictable as the sun rising in the East.)
I was pondering this as I left through the parking garage (it had started to rain, quelle surprise, so I wanted to stay covered as much as possible before hitting the open streets). And there the folks in SUVs and Lexus sedans restored my confidence: there was a lot of honking and fist-pounding on steering wheels.
Ah, the holidays are indeed upon us.
Sidebar:
I went to brine my chicken yesterday and realized that all of my big pots are packed away in the shed. Along with the file folders with my brining recipes. (Trying to find the carton that contains them is just a non-starter. The packers marked boxes "bags" when the contents might have been shopping bags, purses or gift containers. God only knows which of the approximately 80 unopened cartons might hold those folders.)
Fortunately, it was a small chicken and I managed to get it into a four-quart pot with the brine.
And thank God for the Internet, because all I had to do was Google "Chez Panisse brine" and up popped about 47,173 references.
But, um: those file folders? They also contain all my candy recipes. So those of you who are expecting the 17 types of candies I gave last year are going to have to recalibrate your expectations.
I'm just sayin'...
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