→ December 27, 2011
→ By

Pasta with mushroom sauce.

Amazon has Inception – which I know many of you loved – on sale today for just $8 on Blu-Ray. I liked it, but thought the film made too many sacrifices to the mainstream demands of Hollywood to make it truly great.

–

I’ve grown increasingly fond of using mushrooms as a major flavor in all kinds of dishes now that I’ve learned to prep and cook them properly. Mushrooms are high in compounds that trigger the umami (or savory) taste, which is intensified when the mushrooms are dried, while browning the mushrooms caramelizes the sugars but produces a flavor profile much more similar to seared meat than caramelized vegetables. This recipe takes advantage of both techniques to produce a rich, hearty sauce, thickened with pasta water and a little cream, for a filling side dish or a potential vegetarian entree if made with whole-grain pasta or served with some fresh mozzarella dressed with an herb vinaigrette.

(You will hear and read that you shouldn’t wash raw, fresh mushrooms because they are like “sponges” and will absorb the washing liquid. This is nonsense; raw mushrooms are already pretty well saturated, and when Alton Brown tested this on “The Fungal Saute” episode of Good Eats by weighing the mushrooms before and after washing, he found the mushrooms absorbed only a minimal amount of water. So wash them in a colander, then spread them on paper towels, rolling them in the towels to dry.)

I make the sauce for this dish in a stainless steel saute pan that can handle high heat, but I also run the exhaust fan and cover the smoke detector because I’m pushing the oil to its smoking point. High heat is key to browning the fresh mushrooms and I’m not giving that up just because the smoke detector is too damn close to the kitchen.

Pasta con Sugo ai Funghi (Pasta with Mushroom Sauce)

½ ounce dried porcini or other mushrooms
8 oz fresh cremini (“baby bella”) mushrooms, cleaned, stemmed*, and sliced
1 small shallot, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
¼ cup dry white wine
¼ cup heavy cream
1 tsp minced fresh thyme
1 pound tagliatelle or pappardelle
Grated Pecorino Romano and chopped chives, to taste

1. At least a half hour before you begin cooking, pour 1 cup of boiling water over the dried mushrooms in a heatproof bowl and allow the mushrooms to rehydrate. Strain through a fine-meshed strainer or through damp cheesecloth, but be sure to reserve the soaking liquid. Chop the rehydrated mushrooms, discarding any particularly tough stems.

2. Cook the pasta according to the directions on the box, making sure to heavily salt the cooking water, pulling the pasta when it’s still very al dente. Do not overcook the pasta. When draining, reserve ½ cup of the pasta water.

3. Heat 1 Tbsp olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saute pan over high heat until shimmering. Add a handful of sliced mushrooms, taking care not to crowd the pan – you should still see plenty of the pan’s bottom through the mushrooms – as well as a pinch of salt. Leave the mushrooms until they are nut-brown on their cooked sides, then flip and brown the second sides. Push these mushrooms to the sides of the pan and repeat the process (adding oil as needed) until all mushrooms are added and browned.

(Don’t panic when the mushrooms appear at first to soak up much of the oil in the pan. They’ll release it as the cell walls break down during cooking.)

4. Add the rehydrated dried mushrooms and cook for about a minute, adding more oil if necessary. Add the shallot and garlic and cook for another 60 seconds.

5. Deglaze the pan with white wine, cooking until the pan is almost dry, and add the strained mushroom soaking liquid, cooking until reduced by half.

6. Add the cream and simmer (do not boil) until thickened. Thin as desired with the reserved pasta water (I add about 2 Tbsp at a time, heat through, and check for consistency). You want this sauce to coat the pasta, but not to pool in the bottom of the bowl.

7. Add the thyme and season with salt and pepper. Add the pasta and cook for sixty seconds or until the pasta reaches the desired texture, adding pasta water if the sauce becomes too thick or dry. Serve with the pecorino romano and top with the chives.

Variation: Before adding the heavy cream, add one small can of diced tomatoes with about half of the can liquid and allow to reduce slightly. Omit the pasta water.

* “Baby bella” is a marketing term, as is portobello; those are just oversized cremini. To remove the stems, just pinch the stem right where it meets the underside of the cap, and gently rock it back and forth to loosen it. You should be able to pull it right out. The tips of all mushroom stems become woody and tough, so you at least need to cut off the final half inch, but I find it’s faster to just remove the stems entirely, and it makes them easier to slice.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , ,
→ December 26, 2011
→ By

Cauliflower steaks … and I Want My Hat Back.

Before I get to the recipe, I have to talk about my favorite gift from Christmas this year – one I gave, not one I received. I’m not even sure how I first heard about Jon Klassen’s book I Want My Hat Back, which has apparently spawned its own online meme, but it is one of the most clever, sneakily macabre childen’s books I have ever seen, one that my daughter and I both loved on first read. It’s about a bear who has lost his hat, asks various forest animals if they’ve seen it, and eventually realizes where his hat is, a few pages after the reader has figured it out. It’s dry and a little twisted, but also perfectly captures how kids lie even when they’re caught red-handed. I’d put the vocabulary level at age 3 or 4, but the subject matter might make 5 a better minimum age. My five-year-old daughter wasn’t disturbed, and she asked to read it again last night, which is good, because I wanted to read it to her again anyway.

—

As for this peculiar side dish, I got the idea from the most recent issue of Bon Appetit, a magazine with which I’ve had pretty mixed results over the years. (The original recipe does include a useful photo if you can’t picture a cauliflower steak.) I’m just finishing a free subscription I received because my wife bought me one of their cookbooks as a gift, and the book included a coupon for a free year of the magazine, but I won’t be renewing because their recipes don’t work well and the magazine seems so much more focused on eating out (and expensively) than on actual cooking. Anyway, the idea of a cauliflower cut vertically into large steaks appealed to me, but I changed up the sauce to something that I thought better suited the mellow, slightly sweet flavor of well-browned cauliflower.

To cut the ‘steaks,’ start with a whole head of cauliflower and trim away all green leaves while leaving the stem intact. Standing the head on its base, make a small mark with your chef’s knife in the center of the top of the cauliflower, and then make similar marks at least ½” in either direction, enough to cut four slabs from the head. Anything less than a half inch won’t hold together when cooked; too much more than about 5/8” and you’ll only get two steaks that won’t cook through before the outside burns. You can cut the remaining florets and brown them with the steaks, or save them for another use (like soup).

This sauce is tangy, but contains no heat; you could also roast a hot pepper, like a red jalapeño, and add it to the puree, or finish the sauce with a few drops of red chile oil.

Cauliflower ‘Steaks’ with Roasted Red Pepper sauce

1 cauliflower head, cut as described into four steaks
2 red bell peppers
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1 Tbsp sherry vinegar
salt and pepper to taste
2 Tbsp olive oil

1. Roast the peppers on all sides under a broiler, about 40 minutes total (turning as needed), until well charred. Throw the garlic cloves on the same sheet pan for about ten minutes to soften and brown slightly. Set the garlic aside.
2. Place the peppers in a bowl and cover with foil for ten minutes to allow the steam to escape the peppers and separate the flesh from the skin. Remove the charred skin, the stems, and any seeds, saving the liquid from inside the peppers.
3. Place the peppers, garlic, pepper liquid, and sherry vinegar in a bowl or cup and puree with an immersion blender, or puree in a food processor. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper and set aside.
4. When the peppers are done, set the oven to bake at 400 degrees. Heat a large saute pan or skillet over medium-high heat.
5. Add 1 Tbsp olive oil to the skillet and heat until shimmering. Add two of the four cauliflower steaks and cook one and a half to two minutes until nicely browned. Flip the steaks carefully with a spatula (place your hand on the cool side to flip without splashing the hot oil on yourself) and brown the alternate sides. Remove the steaks and any stray bits of cauliflower to a rimmed sheet pan, add another tablespoon of oil to the pan, and brown the other two steaks.
6. Roast in the oven for ten minutes until you can easily pierce them through with a paring knife. Remove, season with salt and pepper, and serve on a bed of the roasted red pepper sauce. Finish with a drizzle of an assertive, peppery olive oil if desired.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , ,
→ December 24, 2011
→ By

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011 film).

I rate John Le Carré’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy among the best suspense novels I have ever read, a wordy but incredibly tense spy novel from 1974 that borrows from the great detective novels of thirty to forty years prior. Hearing Gary Oldman was set to play the lead in the first adaptation for the theaters was exciting and worrying, not so much about Oldman but about how well such a dense book could be adapted to the two-hour constraints of the modern cinema. The worry was needless, as the adaptation, while dispensing with much of the detail of the book, is extremely faithful to the novel’s plot, and one of the most intense smart films I have ever seen.

(I have not seenthe six-hour BBC adaptation from 1979, starring Sir Alec Guinness as Smiley, so I can’t offer a comparison – and, given the differences in duration and thus most likely in pacing, perhaps I’m also not hampered by the comparison either.)

The four words in the film’s title refer to codenames for five* senior British intelligence officers, one of whom is a Soviet double agent, referred to as “Gerald” in the book but only as “the mole” in the movie. As the movie opens, we see a botched operation in Budapest that appears to leave another British agent mortally wounded, after which the head of the unit, known only as “Control,” and senior agent George Smiley (Oldman) are sacked. Several months later, after Control’s death, Smiley is approached by Oliver Lacon, the civil servant who oversees MI6, the domestic intelligence agency known colloquially as “the Circus” (for Cambridge Circus, where Le Carré has located MI6’s offices), to lead an off-the-books investigation to identify the mole. Officially retired, Smiley recruits the young Peter Guillam, still employed by MI6, and one other retired agent to find out how Budapest truly went awry, what happened in Istanbul with rogue agent Ricky Tarr, and to ultimately set the trap into which the mole will walk.

*The fifth is Smiley, who is absolved from guilt when the investigation begins, while the name “Poorman” is used for the remaining suspect.

Oldman plays Smiley with tremendous understatement, especially in comparison to roles like Stansfield or Sirius Black, very much in keeping with Le Carré’s Smiley, who, even when beset by inner turmoil, rarely lets it reach the surface, and prefers to conduct his interrogations as the facilitator rather than the aggressor. This is a film of absent looks and tense pauses, with Smiley setting up the pins for others to knock down. Whether this is Best Actor nomination material or not depends largely on performances I haven’t seen by other actors, but its subtlety might mask its degree of difficulty to the point where voters overlook how key Oldman’s performance was to the film; his one great scene, reimagining a conversation with a briefly captured Soviet agent in Delhi several years previously, nearly explodes with Smiley’s emotional turmoil (and the symbolism of the purloined lighter), yet never quite boils over. One can only imagine the American remake, what with smashed lamps or over-the-top profanity or whatnot.

Aside from Oldman, the cast reads like the leading British actors were all fighting each other to get parts in the film, resulting in some powerful performances by big names in modest roles. Colin Firth appears as the caddish Bill Haydon; Ciarán Hinds (perhaps known best as Albus Dumbledore’s brother in the last two Harry Potter films) is underused as Roy Bland; John Hurt, as Control, is apparently morphing into Ian McKellen; Stephen Graham (of Snatch and Boardwalk Empire) has a critical cameo; and Benedict Cumberbatch (who plays Sherlock Holmes in the current BBC series starring that character) is even more critical as Peter Guillam, as tied up by internal demons as Smiley yet less able to restrain them. Even Tom Hardy, as Ricky Tarr, the one character who shows substantial emotions in the film (crossing the line into the pathetic, a deviation from the literary Tarr), manages to avoid sliding into the melodramatic.

The pacing of Tinker Tailor is outstanding, a direction set in the opening sequence, where the screenwriters have heightened the tension by putting the blown operation first. I remembered just enough of the book to follow the story without trouble – I actually remembered the codename of the mole, but not his actual identity, so I wasn’t sure of the ending until the big reveal. However, if you haven’t read the book, the film doesn’t waste much time with explanatory material, and it might take you a few scenes to figure out who’s who and what exactly is under investigation. The flashback scenes aren’t that clearly delineated from the present-day investigation, since they only go back a year or so and can’t be distinguished with hair and makeup. Karla, the fanatical KGB super-agent who never appears in the film except in flashbacks where only his torso is visible, also never receives any sort of introduction before characters begin referring to his existence. We lose some of the backstory of the four suspects, but it’s less necessary in a film that revolves around Smiley and the unraveling of the intrigue, rather than, say, the psychological motivation of the traitor.

The upside of the lack of long-winded explanatory passages is that the film drops you right in the heart of the action, grabs you by the throat, and spends two hours daring you to breathe. And yet there are no cheap, mass-market gimmicks to turn a taut, intelligent spy novel into a mainstream action flick; the furthest it panders is the occasional bit of inserted humor, or the on-screen death of a character whom I think was merely presumed killed by the Russians in the book, but nothing that changes the plot itself, which is ideal as the plot is the book’s greatest strength. (Connie Sacks’ one laugh-inducing line, while funny, is hopelessly out of tune with the rest of the movie, unfortunately.) Deviate from the details if you must, but when the plot’s the thing, leave it be, and the screenwriters – one of whom died at age 49 of cancer before the film was released – did just that.

The only real issue I had with this adaptation is the ending, where the final exposure of the mole’s identity is cut quite short, replaced with a series of wordless scenes set to a recording of “La Mer,” a great song that seemed forced here in a film so reliant on silence through its first 120 minutes. I could have done with less of that, especially the final flashback to the agency holiday party, and more with Smiley confronting the turncoat. It was an average finish to an otherwise plus film, one I’d gladly see again to watch for details I missed because I was so engrossed in the plot.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , ,
→ December 22, 2011
→ By

Top Chef, S9E8.

Notes from the episode where we see that Heather is indeed like a detuned radio…

* The conversations in the car were a little odd, but if Heather wants John Besh, she may have to fight Chris C. for him.

* Quickfire: I’m not a big fan of these mid-challenge twists. What are we measuring here? It feels like we’re just trying to create more drama. They could have just taken three tweets up front and said: Do a bacon hash with one ingredient added by a competing chef. Is that any less compelling to watch?

* Why not do something crazy with bacon in this challenge? I can’t get over the chefs here who looked at the bacon traditionally. You know the nine other chefs are likely to think traditionally, and you have to figure there will be some changes as the challenge goes along.

* Is sriracha an ingredient, or just a condiment? I don’t know, but this is hilarious anyway. I didn’t think this was such a dick move on the face of it – I think you could get away with using a small amount, just enough to produce some heat, without letting it overpower the dish. Maple syrup, which Lindsay gave Chris C. in return, seems much more likely to assert its presence in unwanted ways. (And I say that as someone who will, when your back is turned, drink maple syrup out of the bottle.)

* Chris J. used twitter as the verb instead of tweet. He fails the Internet.

* Quickfire results: Loved the idea of Sarah’s burrata stuffed squash blossom (and so did Hugh), but I was surprised to see it was among the worst dishes. Beverly is in the top three, so the editors show Heather’s face, of course. And Paul is so clearly ahead of the rest of the pack it’s not even funny. He’s cooking on another level. This thing has to be his to lose right now.

* So I had a brief, mostly facetious Twitter conversation with Hugh Acheson last night about whether Grayson is pretty, or just “Top Chef pretty.” One thing that I keep noticing is that she looks very different in the confessionals than she does in the cooking clips – like she’s put on weight since the show. I also noticed that Sarah looked much prettier in the older photos where she had longer hair. This stuff really doesn’t matter, but I keep noticing it.

* On Patti Labelle: I don’t care what song you sing, if you sing like that, you have my attention.

* Elimination challenge: Cook a dish inspired by the person who inspired you to cook. Granted, I’m not a professional chef, but I’d have a hard time with this because I wasn’t really inspired by someone’s cooking, but simply by the need for one of us to cook when I was in grad school, and with my wife exhausted every day from teaching preschool, shouldn’t it be me? I don’t cook the kind of food my mom cooked when I was growing up, and while my professional pastry-chef cousin has been a huge help to me when I’ve had cooking questions, I first learned to cook from outside sources like Good Eats and Joy of Cooking.

* Quick thoughts on the dishes: Chris J.’s steak looked blue (as in too rare) on my TV, and really dude, A1 sauce as an ingredient? … Heather’s spaetzle looked awesome, but the fear of the pressure cooker despite the different protein seemed out of nowhere. Loved Patti delivering the snark on her dish … I worried Sarah’s sausage-stuffed cabbage was too simple, but it did sound amazing (and obviously was), plus once you read the recipe you can see how complex it really is with sausage wrapped in kale wrapped in cabbage … Paul didn’t get in the top three but I still feel like he’s way ahead of everyone else with his skills and his vision … Beverly was surprisingly elegant here with her Korean short rib, so regardless of what Heather says, it seems clear the Bevster can make Asian work for her … Chris C. claiming he was “hoping the judges wouldn’t notice” makes me think he’s never watched the show. They always notice. Anyway, he’s starting to remind me of Kenny the “Preppin’ Weapon,” who could clearly cook but came up with these convoluted dishes where he sank a good idea under three more elements … Edward’s bibimbap without the stone bowl was genius in its presentation, in the contrarian move of going vegetarian, and in incorporating a ton of umami-packed elements on top of the crispy rice. Absolutely going to try that at home … Grayson apologized for her dish! Weak. Anyway, you can’t waste meat in front of Tom, and the dish seemed horribly dated … Ty-Lor, who also has apparently never watched Top Chef before, fried chicken tenders in duck fat. He had me at “fried in duck fat.” Anyone else notice a lot of peaches in dishes this season? Was it a bumper peach crop in Texas? … Lindsay’s trout spanakopita seemed clever, although I’m not a big roe fan; looking at the recipe now I can see why the butter sauce would have overwhelmed the dish, which wasn’t clear to me from watching the show.

* I’m sure Tom comparing Heather to Beverly at judges’ table was just a coincidence.

* Anyway, good riddance to bad rubbish with this elimination. I can’t help but think there was a racial component to Heather’s bullying of Beverly, and I think we’ll see some smartassery from Heather when Beverly shows up in Last Chance Kitchen. Speaking of LCK, great to see Nyesha start fulfilling my prediction that she’ll hold that jacket for a while, and to see her articulate her dislike for Heather and carry it out by executing a dessert for the win.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: ,
→ December 15, 2011
→ By

Top Chef S9E7.

Recapping another episode of Top Chef: Waterworks…

* Quickfire: This episode of Top Chef did not include a Quickfire, replacing it with an infomercial for some brand of tequila.

* I don’t like tequila – you know my spirit of choice (great book, by the way) – although I use agave nectar every morning in my tea, so it’s not the plant; I get a lot of smoke flavor from tequilas but no brightness to balance it out, although I’ve never had a fine sipping tequila like the 1942 used in this episode. Given the choice, I’d go for bourbon (like Ed), which at least has some sweeter notes to balance the char. So I don’t envy the chefs.

* Ty may have won, but Chris C.’s dish – raw oyster with tequila tapioca pearl and sea salt air – screamed “final three” to me. He’s going to push the envelope every time out, and he has the execution skills to pull it off. But what the hell is sea salt air? “Hey, I put some air around the dish for you” (with magical hand movements). Or maybe he bought it from this guy.

* Did Sarah put tequila in the risotto, in place of the wine? I may have missed that, but I would understand the criticism of the pairing in that case. Otherwise, I’m with Hugh on Tim Love’s views on an essential Italian dish.

* Elimination challenge: Working in teams of two, cook an assigned game meat for a table of judges and chefs who specialize in cooking game. I’ve had quail and duck, but don’t think I’ve had any of the others (venison, boar, elk, squab a.k.a. pigeon). Slightly surprised there was no rabbit, but perhaps that’s not game enough?

* Yeah, I’m sure that’s a total coincidence that Heather and Beverly were paired up. I understand that some drama is necessary given the format, but there’s organic drama (just from the pressure of the competition) and then there’s artificial drama (from putting the mildly racist chef with no self-awareness on a team with the emotional Asian chef). Someone pointed out on Twitter that other chefs should have stepped up to confront Heather over her bullying, but other than one attempt by Grayson, no one really did. I understand that confrontation can have its costs, but the long-term costs of doing nothing are higher – especially if you eventually have to work with her.

* That said, the whole format – where the entire losing team goes home, regardless of who contributed what to the dish – sucked. Sending Nyesha home because she didn’t check on Dakota seems awfully weak, especially since we’re watching another team with one chef trying to micromanage the hell out of the other.

* Also, was it just me or was there a huge disconnect between the comments about the venison during the meal and Tom’s comments at judges’ table? Tom called it “a little undercooked,” and one of the guest chef-diners said it was “a little blue.” At judges’ table, Tom said it was severely undercooked. I don’t know which was right, or if this was editing weirdness, but the inconsistency was shocking, and all of their other comments about Dakota and Nyesha’s dish were positive. Hugh wrote it was “UNDERDONE” in his blog, so perhaps the diners’ comments were off.

* Back to Heather – this season’s official Top Chef Villain™ – does she understand that Asia is a continent with maybe a hundred different cuisines? She keeps using “Asian” as if Asia is a small city outside Rome. Even within east Asia there are enormous differences between cuisines, and if she’s had any kind of formal culinary education, she should be aware of that. She reminds me of my grandparents’ generation, where “Asian” cuisine meant Chinese take-out, and sushi or pad thai were simply unheard of. Meanwhile, Beverly tells an even sadder backstory than Whitney’s, one equally deserving of praise for her ability to overcome it.

* Back to Grayson again – nice to see someone finally acknowledge that abasing yourself in front of the judges doesn’t work. Stand behind your dish. Admitting failure before the judges is just inviting them to send you home.

* LCK: First time this really felt necessary, since Nyesha was ousted under dubious (in my view, at least) circumstances. And it seemed like she cleaned up, despite being thrown by the use of cactus in the challenge. I think Nyesha could go on some kind of run here and make a legitimate difference whenever she’s allowed to re-enter the competition.

* Final three: Still Paul and Chris C. and then a big dropoff to everyone else. I had Nyesha in the third spot, but with her out I think it’s Edward over Lindsay to round out the top three. I wouldn’t exclude Heather here just for her personality, but I think her carping over “Asian” cuisine says something about her limitations as a chef, and limited chefs typically don’t win on this show.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: ,
→ December 14, 2011
→ By

Wednesday discussion: Your travel shortlist.

A reader asked me on Twitter if I had any restaurant recommendations for Madrid, to which I responded that I’ve never been there but would love to go – it’s on my travel short list. (And then a few of you said it’s dirty and overrated, so … maybe not.) Anyway, I thought some more about what my travel short list would look like and how it would be interesting to compare them.

Quick rules: These have to be cities or countries you’ve never visited, but would love to go to if money and time were not factors. You’re not obligated to say where you’re starting from, but if you’re not in the U.S. it might help to point that out. (Most of you know this, but I’m in Arizona; my list would be the same if I was still living in the frozen tundra.)

I’ve been to Europe a few times, so some obvious destinations like Italy or Paris aren’t on my list. I’ve been to 46 U.S. states, and to the three biggest cities in Canada, so my list comprises almost all destinations outside of North America.

  • Amsterdam. And all over the Netherlands, really – I read about Maastricht years ago, shortly after the currency accord was struck, and it just sounded like an incredibly cool European city like the major tourist spots without the hassles of size.
  • Prague. I was obsessed with Eastern Europe as a kid, probably because it seemed indefinitely off-limits under communism, and when I went to Budapest it didn’t disappoint (although my wife found the architecture depressing). Prague would be my next stop, especially with its rich literary history.
  • Dubrovnik. A walled city on the Adriatic coast? sign me up.
  • Buenos Aires. I’ve never been across the equator, but this would be my first choice with its strong European influences and large quantities of meat. I had a near-miss with Buenos Aires in 2004 – had a trip scheduled with a friend who had free tickets and needed someone who could get by in Spanish, but we got nearly three feet of snow the day before we were scheduled to leave and had to cancel the trip. I’d love to go to Chile or Ecuador as well.
  • Istanbul. But not Constantinople.
  • Melbourne. I wouldn’t say no to Sydney, of course, but Melbourne sounds like it has more of the vibe I like in cities in food, the arts, and a slightly more manageable size.
  • Memphis. I’ve been to Nashville, twice, neither a particularly good experience (mostly because of that awful hotel), and to Chattanooga once for a few hours, but never to Tennessee’s BBQ capital.
  • Bologna. Speaking of food capitals, this is the food capital of Italy, but despite two trips to Italy I’ve never managed to hit Bologna.
  • Hawai’i. Almost certainly the next one I’ll cross off this list.
  • Dublin. Not just for the Guinness. But for the Guinness, definitely.

That’s not to say I’d turn down a free trip to Munich or Athens or Tokyo, but those are probably the ten I’d most like to visit. Now it’s your turn…

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: ,
→ December 13, 2011
→ By

Write More Good and Edwurd Fudwupper Fibbed Big.

So The Bureau Chiefs, the geniuses behind the Twitter account @FakeAPStylebook (and now @FakePewResearch), sent me a copy of their first book, Write More Good, earlier this year. It’s almost all fresh material rather than a compendium of tweets, combining a fake writing stylebook with a fake self-help book for would-be journalists. And it is hilarious, especially since I do write for a living.

Each chapter covers a different area of journalism, some on specific sections of a newspaper, others on fundamentals like grammar or not getting yourself sued into oblivion. (To wit, the glossary entry on Scientology is simply “Our legal department informs us that Scientology is just swell.” Although the entry on Clear Channel – “see: Skynet” – might ruffle some feathers.) Freed from the constraints of 140 characters per joke, the writers stretch out to entire paragraphs before returning to 140-character jokes in the form of bullet points and glossary entries, although the book is surprisingly short on footnotes.

If you’ve read the @FakeAPStylebook feed, you know the writers (there are many, or just one with many personalities) can veer from crude humor to subtle satire from one tweet to the next. That style worked better for me on the printed page, which surprised me, but the constant careening between styles of humor kept me off balance the way an episode of Parks and Recreation does. The section on how to write about global warming, for example, includes bullet points about how your editor is going to put a picture of a sad polar bear next to the article, how you are obligated to mention in an article on a climate-change conference that it is currently cold somewhere in the world, how you should quote pundits who criticize celebrity activists who drive SUVs, and “We’re not saying not to mention cow farts when talking about climate change, but, dude: cow farts. That’s hysterical.” (Followed by a table of suggested “storms of the century names” that reminded me of this e-card.)

The sports chapter was, of course, a particular favorite, including thoughts on dealing with angry fans on the Internet, followed by references to Mario Mendoza, Darko Mlicic (RIP), Gerry Cooney, and, for no apparent reason, jai alai. The book is loaded with references to films, literature, and historical figures and events that more than once sent me to the computer to figure out what I’d missed. And the unconventional format means that if you didn’t like (or get) one joke, just keep reading, because there are ten more on the same page. It’s less a labor of love than the fruits of frustration for journalists who have seen journalism from the inside and are still undergoing intensive therapy to try to forget it.

–

If, however, you’re looking for something you can share with your little one(s), I just bought another of Berkeley Breathed’s children’s books, since Mars Needs Moms! was such a hit with my daughter. (Too bad the movie got such awful reviews.) This one, Edwurd Fudwupper Fibbed Big, isn’t as sentimental as that book, with more outrageous humor and hints of the snark that made Bloom County such a big part of my 1980s memories.

Told by Edwurd’s little sister, Fannie Fudwupper, Edwurd Fudwupper Fibbed Big is the story of a little liar who spins some pretty tall tales until, one day, he breaks a ceramic pig dear to his mother and, rather than taking responsibility, comes up with an elaborate fib so big that the Army and Air Force get involved, as well as some sort of space monster whose head is as big as the Earth and who has an eye on the end of his nose. These unforeseen consequences (piled on an earlier, funnier fib) lead to a surprisingly sweet resolution as well as a lesson on lying – I think. The meter and wordplay seem like a cross between an homage to and parody of Dr. Seuss, while the exaggerated drawings call to mind the best Bloom County Sunday strips.

–

And, of course, my wife’s Etsy shop, featuring earrings and necklaces she’s designed, remains open for business. Enter coupon code “TWELVE” to get 12% off (note: entering “FIFTY” will not have the analogous effect).

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , ,
→ December 13, 2011
→ By

Dallas eats.

From a culinary perspective, this had to be my most successful winter meetings since Las Vegas in 2008, which isn’t exactly a fair fight since Vegas is something of a food mecca. But Dallas had quite a bit to offer even with my restriction that no meal take place more than 15 minutes’ drive from the Hilton Anatole.

I’ll start with the one place I hit twice, Zaguan Bakery on Oak Lawn Drive, just under a mile and a half from our hotel and on my way back to Love Field to fly home. Zaguan is a South American bakery, featuring pastries, sandwiches, and other dishes from all over that continent, including one of my favorite foods on the planet, the arepa – a thin cornmeal pancake, here sliced lengthwise and stuffed with the fillings of of your choice for a deliciously sloppy sandwich. The slow-cooked beef was whole (I believe brisket) rather than ground, producing a much better texture, and while it comes with a mildly spicy red sauce it’s elevated by fresh guacamole. As good as the arepa was, it was topped by the cachapa, a thick pancake of cornmeal with fresh corn kernels mixed in for a crunchier, sweeter wrap around the same choice of fillings (like an omelet); I had the cachapa with chicken, white meat cooked in a similar sauce but without the depth of flavor from the beef. Both sandwiches are served with plantain chips that you can upgrade to maduros for $0.99 (do this). There’s also a big display case full of sweet pastries that merits a return trip – I only tried one, the alfajor de chocolate, a linzer tarte-like cookie with chocolate frosting between two shortbread cookies with a chocolate glaze on top, not too sweet with a perfect crumbly texture.

My editor Chris Sprow and I went for high-end Mexican on the first night of the meetings at La Duni, a very well-reviewed restaurant over on McKinney. The fresh guacamole appetizer was big and more chunky than smooth (I prefer this style, although I think it’s a matter of taste), with diced onions, cucumbers, and serrano peppers. For the meal, I went with the slow-roasted lomo sandwich, primarily because the restaurant has its own bakery and I can’t turn down fresh bread – in this case, Pan de Yema, a sort of South American brioche that, unfortunately, came out very dry, saved only by the avocado and Manchego in the middle along with the roasted pork. It came with yucca fries dusted in paprika and spritzed with lemon juice, perfectly fried (good thing, as undercooked yucca can kill you); but we also grabbed a side of maduros which were just as perfectly cooked, almost candied while maintaining some firmness inside. Sprow ordered enchiladas con pollo and cleaned his plate so fast I thought he’d eat the napkin too. I don’t care that much about ambience or décor but we both noticed how cool the place looked. One weird thing: They have valet parking … and the valet just pulled the car into the space right next to the front door. I’m pretty sure I could have done that myself.

Il Cane Rosso was the site of the first of our misfit-writers outings – I can’t tell you how much fun these dinners were, even beyond the food – over on the east side of Dallas, serving pizzas cooked in their wood-fired oven at 900 degrees. The house salad was fresh but overdressed; the Caesar, on the other hand, was one of the best I’ve had outside of the garlicky heaven you’ll find at Strip-T’s in Watertown, Massachusetts, although Il Cane Rosso does use anchovies in their Caesar dressing (which isn’t traditional). The pizzas had a great crust (they use imported 00 flour) with the correct amount of char on the outside and high-quality meats among the toppings, although their fresh mozzarella melted more like the low-moisture find you’d get in a grocery store. Of the pizzas we ordered, the prosciutto e rucola, with prosciutto crudo, arugula, and mozzarella, was my favorite. I only tried one of the three desserts we ordered, the zeppole, smaller than the kind I’m used to getting on Long Island but with the right crisp exterior and soft, yeasty interior. They had a solid selection of local beers, and the server (who also gets points for being an Arcade Fire fan) was knowledgeable about the beers and the pizzas. We ordered a substantial amount of food and everyone had at least one drink; with tip, the total ran just $35 a person.

The second group dinner was to Lockhart Smokehouse, in the Bishop Arts District. Lockhart brags “no forks needed,” although I’d call that a slight exaggeration; the brisket was insanely tender with the best outer bark I have ever had on any kind of smoked beef. The smoked sausage, from Kreuz Market in Lockhart (near San Antonio), was fair but didn’t have the same great smoke flavor as the brisket. They smoke food over local post oak, which is apparently common in Texas but isn’t a wood I’ve encountered anywhere else. My fellow writers gave positive reviews to the ribs, the jalapeno sausage, and the smoked chicken. I did try the baked beans but tasted all heat and very little smoke. Sprow’s contribution to the blog follows:


Beware of meat.

Back to solo dining: Tei-An is a Japanese soba house in the Arts District with a slightly peculiar menu mixing traditional Japanese dishes with plates more tailored to the American palate. I went with a soba dish, figuring I should go with something I couldn’t get just anywhere, short green soba noodles served hot with chicken in a mild curry-like sauce (too mild to really be curry, I think). The dish was solid, very filling thanks to the noodles but touching on bland, and the dish came with four mayo-heavy California rolls as a free side dish. The soba noodles were very well made, but just lacked flavor; maybe I ordered the wrong thing, but at a soba house, shouldn’t the soba dishes blow you away?

I ventured out for one breakfast, at Craft Dallas, another outpost in Tom Colicchio’s growing empire. The short rib hash with two eggs any style was a small disappointment, given Craft’s legendary 24-hour short rib dish; the short ribs themselves were fine, but the hash was sitting in a fancy bowl with a very salty sauce on the bottom, and the (perfectly) poached eggs ended up running into that sauce.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
→ December 12, 2011
→ By

The Master and Margarita.

I don’t often re-read books, primarily for the reason that there are too many books out there I have never read and would like to, but also because a second read never quite stimulates the mind the way the first read does. The narrative greed isn’t the same when you remember every major plot twist, no matter how skilled the writer. The fun in encountering some clever turn of phrase, or pun, or imaginative element is lost the second time around as well. For those reasons, I’d avoided a re-read of Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita for years, fearing I remembered too much to enjoy reading it again, even though it sits atop my personal ranking of the top 101 novels I’ve read. It’s almost exactly twenty years since I first read Bulgakov’s masterpiece, and I’m relieved to report it held up well against the expectations of my memories of the book, perhaps aided by the fact that I read a different translation this time around.

Bulgakov was a state playwright under the Soviets, but was himself an anti-communist who suffered under the repressive regime that refused to publish many of his works and denied his request to emigrate to a country where he could practice his craft freely. This novel, completed over the last decade of his life and published more than 20 years after his death during a brief thaw under Nikita Khrushchev, destroys the communist regime while also mocking the oligarchs who flourished through their obeisance and outright cowardice. It’s wickedly subversive, and yet often so subtle that I’m surprised the Soviets saw it for what it was – or were willing to publish it after they understood its true intent.

Bulgakov’s masterpiece is a sly satire of communism and Russian life under that political and economic system in Russia between the world wars, told via multiple narratives that all collide across time as the book concludes, with the one common thread among them coming in the person of Satan himself. The devil, calling himself Dr. Woland, appears in Moscow with his retinue – comprising Behemoth, an anthropomorphic cat; Azazello, an ugly stout man with flaming red hair; and Koroviev, also known as Fagot, a sort of chief-of-staff character who always wears a checked jacket and pince-nez (apparently an allusion to The Brothers Karamazov) – to reveal the baseness of the privileged classes under communism. Bulgakov’s Satan is not quite the Satan of the Bible – in some ways, he’s a forerunner of Tyler Durden, causing mayhem to provide meaning to a deadened life in a repressive society – just as Bulgakov’s Yeshua ha-Nozri, betrayed by Judas and crucified under Pontius Pilate, is not quite the Biblical Jesus.

The titular characters, while central to the novel’s themes of freedom, cowardice, and redemption, don’t appear until roughly a quarter of the novel has passed. Bulgakov opens the scene with a discussion between the poet Ivan Homeless and the avowed atheist Berlioz, only to have their talk interrupted by the appearance of a strange foreigner, Woland, who endeavors to show Berlioz that the devil does, in fact, exist, with a gruesome demonstration. This begins a chain of events where Woland and his retinue take over Berlioz’ apartment and hold a “seance” at a local theater where they dazzle the people with magic tricks that have hilarious consequences for the greedy audience members. The master, meanwhile, first appears in a sanitarium in conversation with Ivan Homeless, telling the story of his arrest by the secret police for his authorship of an anti-communist novel about Pontius Pilate, and how that arrest separated him from the love of his life, Margarita, for whom Woland has a special plan in the greatest scene among many in this complex novel.

Cowardice is the most explicit theme of The Master and Margarita, even though I think Bulgakov’s ultimate intent was to expose the emptiness of the Soviet state. Pontius Pilate, in a story that Woland begins telling but that the master completes in his novel-within-the-novel*, knows that the decision to pardon a common criminal over the peaceful philosopher Yeshua ha-Nozri is the wrong one, but given more than one opportunity to try to change that decision, he does nothing more than make a perfunctory request that his superior reconsider it. The master, while implicitly condemning Pilate’s own cowardice, exhibits some of his own, giving up on his life and his art when confronted by a seemingly invincible State that threatens to “disappear” any who threaten its sovereignty or integrity.

*That bit of meta-fiction gives rise to the most famous line from the novel, Woland’s response to the master’s lament that he burned the manuscript for the work that landed him in an asylum for its seditious nature: “Manuscripts never burn.”

Those disappearances are the subject of frequent allusions in the novel, in oblique references to the secret police and in Woland’s habit of moving people around the country or in transmogrifying them into other forms, such as the vaguely porcine man who becomes a flying pig. These fantastical elements were a major part of why I fell in love with the novel when I first read it at age nineteen – I hadn’t seen a classical novel deviate so far from the typical constraints of realistic literature; the most fantastical elements I’d come across were the coincidences that populated great works written before the last half of the 19th century. I didn’t know it as magical realism at the time, or even understand it as a literary technique – I think I just associated it with science fiction or fantasy novels – but Bulgakov’s use of it has to be one of the earliest such examples in literature, along with the works of Franz Kafka, much of whose work was published during the time Bulgakov spent writing The Master and Margarita. What better way to satirize a totalitarian state than through Satan exercising a similar disregard for human life, property, and individuality, alluding to a religion that the state sought to extinguish?

This is a remarkably rich, inventive novel, decades ahead of its time, socially important, funny, outrageous, and a tremendous pleasure to read.

Some stray thoughts:

* I first encountered the book in a class taught by Professor Donald Fanger (now emeritus) at Harvard called “Comedy and the Novel.” How good was that class? Six of the eight novels we read are on the Klaw 101, as is the book he told me a few years later was the unofficial ninth title he couldn’t squeeze into the semester, At Swim-Two-Birds. It was, by far, the best class I took in college, and the one that has had the greatest influence on me after the fact.

* I just discovered that there’s a graphic novel version of The Master and Margarita available, as well as one for Kafka’s The Trial. I’m curious how the illustrator handled Woland’s retinue – Bulgakov’s descriptions are quite vivid, but while Woland and his crew are somewhat anthropomorphic, they could easily turn into monsters without straying far from the original text, which I don’t think was Bulgakov’s intent.

* I’ve become slightly obsessed with spotting possible influences on J.K. Rowling, including A Dance to the Music of Time and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. I might add The Master and Margarita to the list for the magical realism elements involved in Apartment #50, especially those elements that appear in the chapter “The Great Ball at Satan’s,” which seemed to show up all over Hogwart’s.

Next up: I’m way behind on writeups, having already finished Richard Hughes’ A High Wind in Jamaica and moved on to Haruki Murakami’s After Dark.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , ,
→ December 10, 2011
→ By

Saturday linkcopia.

My wife has been designing jewelry for a few years, just making gifts for friends and family, but she’s decided to branch out and sell some of her work online. You can see her earrings and necklaces on Etsy under Candyluminous Designs. They make great Christmas gifts for the ladies in your life.

—

It was a busy week in Dallas – I have a food post coming, because I really ate well – so here’s all the content I generated, linked in one place. First, reaction pieces:

This week’s chat, including my thoughts on the Ian Stewart/Tyler Colvin trade.

Podcasts:

Other stuff:

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: