A quick respite (from my homework)

I'm knee deep in homework, or a least I should be. I've just poured myself some coffee and am about to analyze some stellar spectra data for chem conference tomorrow. My coffee is a bit toasty. I left the french press to sit for a good ten minutes, probably more, while I let myself get sucked away into the pages of the Economist.

It has been a long time since the phrase 'gun-totting xenophobic troglodyte' has been written on this pages. I believe the phrase was originally coined by the author of the late 'Echoland', whose fine analysis and witty insight are sorely missed. The phrase came to mind as I was reading "The world this week", a section, compiled of short news summaries, that appears at the beginning of each week's issue. If anyone has every typified that subsection of Americana we all know and love to hate, it is these men whom I'm sure, you will well agree, are this year's gun-totting xenophobic troglodytes of the year.

From the Economist:

Three Americans, including a special-forces veteran, were jailed by a court in Afghanistan for up to ten years for waging a freelance war on terror, which involved running a private prison, kidnapping and torture. The men were arrested in Kabul after a shootout with police. Eight prisoners were later set free from a private house in the city.

If anyone would like to challenge my nomination, I urge to do so.

Damn Fool

Descartes is a circuitous twerp. That's about all I have to say after my reading of the last few hours (Meditations, II, III, and V). Perhaps I need to go back and reread some sections, but it seems that things (external to my incorporeal mind) exist because I perceive them clearly and distinctly, and that god exists because it is part of his essence to exist. Oh, and I exist because I think. The last assertion is (in a way) consonant with some of my own views, however I don't think that Rene and I share many views on ideas of existence and 'to exist'.

I think this might all be helped a bit by a good night's sleep and a fresh cup of coffee, with morning sunshine illuminating the pages of my book, but I have neither the time nor, at the moment, the will. Perhaps I am the 'damn fool.

I'm looking forward to reading the fourth Meditation.

So True

Thanks to Jedd for pointing me to pitchforkmedia. I've just spent the last half hour perusing the site during which I had an experience similar to what Jedd described. It is because of that that I entitled this post, "so true".

I was reading the top 100 albums of the 1970's and came across this description of Led Zeppelin IV (placed as #7):

We must be lying to ourselves: There is no way this album should not be #1. If my fellow PFM writers could go to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind's memory-erasure clinic and wipe out everything related to this record and band-- the radio overplay, the Spinal Tap jokes, Robert Plant asking, "Does anybody remember laughter?"-- and hear IV again for the first time, it would be at the very top of this list. Because when the riff from "Black Dog" hits you for the first time, you come face to face with God. Nothing is bigger than Led Zeppelin IV. It tears your skin and grinds away your doubt and self-hatred, freeing the rage and lust and anger of cockblocked adolescence. Listening to this album is like fucking the Grand Canyon.

After reading the top 100 list, and feeling myself a bit of a musical philistine, I proceeded to download all the free music. I've not listened to any of it, not yet, but I will. I'm fighting the good fight, trying to branch out and blaze new trails in my musical lanscape. If any of it warrants your attention, I'll let you know.

Poor Man's Corona

1 can of Pabst Blue Ribbon (or other cheap beer, but remember, freedom wears a Blue Ribbon)
1 frosted glass
1 wedge of lime

An alternate name for this drink might be something like "Wise Man's Corona", or perhaps "Corona for the not so foolish". For all of you Canadians back home, Pabst falls somewhere between Canadian and TNT. Cheap beer that tastes vaguely different from water. For an even more refreshing alternative, Pabst Light.

Julia's Kitchen Wisdom

Though there is a small cookbook by this name, this post has nothing to do with that book. It's a good book, I've owned it for a few years now, and it is one of the few cookbooks that I actually use, but the inspiration for the post came about as I was perusing the pages of "Julia and Jacques: Cooking at Home", with the eventual goal of looking up a recipe for roast chicken. It seems almost a contradiction in terms to talk of a "recipe for roast chicken" as almost all that is important about roasting a chicken cannot really be encapsulated in a recipe. The basics, some butter and maybe some olive oil, a lot of garlic and a goodly amount of salt and pepper, seem to go without saying. Would anyone really think of roasting a chicken without bgsp (butter, garlic, salt, pepper)? Many other additions are possible (lemons, sage, other herbs, onions, stuffing,...), but the only other thing that really matters, and it certainly matters the most, is how the chicken is cooked. Brown crispy skin and tender juicy meat seem like such simple things. But any who have tasted a perfectly roasted chicken and tried to replicate it themselves, know how elusive that simple delight can be. Which brings me back to the idea of recipe. The two things which matter most (earlier, I neglected the second), proper cooking, and the selection of a good quality chicken, cannot really be conveyed in a recipe. But, it's a good place to start. If all this has got you wondering, I'll outline the basics
1. Find a good butcher. Buy a fresh chicken, we'll say a three and a half pound bird.
2. Preheat oven to 425, rinse and dry the chicken.
3. Massage the chicken with butter.
As the late Mrs. Child said:
Not everything that I do with my roast chicken is necesssarily scientific. Many aspects of my method are based on my feeling and experience. For instance, I always give my bird a generous butter massage before I put it in the oven. Why? Because I think the chicken likes it—and, more important, I like to give it.
4. Salt, pepper, garlic, and whatever else your heart desires.
5. Cook the chicken.
This is where things get complicated. Should the chicken be trussed or not? To use a v-shaped rack or not (or, Julia vs Jacque, he prefers to roast the chicken on its side on the pan). So select a method, follow it a few times, and then experiment with your own variations. For example, after 15 min, Julia reduces the heat to 350, whereas Jaques reduces it to 400 after 25 mins.
6. Testing for doneness: The chicken is done when the juices run clear, no matter where you poke (breasts and under the thigh). If you're very skilled, you might just prod the thighs and drumsticks with your finger, they should be tender. I once ate turkey that was cooked to perfection using the simple finger prodding method to check for doneness.
7. Let the chicken rest for 15 mins before carving.
8. Don't forget to have a glass or two of wine while your cooking. It keeps things jovial and Julia would be happy (because you're enjoying the wonderful process of culinary creation, not because you're a lush).

I don't yet have my 'own' roast chicken method, but I'm working on it. Until then, I don't think that I'll feel complete as a cook.

I'll let y'all know how tonight's went. Kitty is preparing her own version of Mrs. Child's method.

"I think if Chopin had played guitar, he would have sounded like Lenny Breau" - Chet Atkins

I was first introduced to Lenny by a guitar playing old friend of mine. He came over to my house in sort of a state. We'd planned to head for lunch, but at that point, nothing was possible. My friend was adamant that we absolutely had to sit down and listen to Cabin Fever, an album Lenny recorded while living alone in the woods of Canada. I quickly understood why. Lenny is one of those rare guitarists who combine glorious technical virtuosity with beautiful musicality.