Late notice (my fault, not the show’s), but I’ll be on ESPNEWS at 3:40 pm EDT today, discussing Sabathia, MVPs, and playoff teams.
→ By
→ By
Q&A and a food rec.
I did a Q&A with a Miami-themed sports blog, City of Champions. The first comment is particularly priceless.
As for food … I’m not a big fan of the variety of spoiled milk known as cheese, but for some reason, cheeses from Italy aren’t included in that distaste. I recently discovered a sheep’s-milk cheese from Tuscany called, oddly enough, pecorino toscano (roughly translated as “Tuscan young sheep”), and have become a big fan. I’ve used pecorino romano for years, but as a cooking cheese, mixed into pasta alla carbonara, grated into polenta or risotto, etc. As an eating cheese, it falls short: it’s dry and slightly grainy, and extremely salty. The pecorino toscano, however, tastes like a younger romano, with a very smooth, creamy texture, and the same underlying flavor as the romano without the harsh saltiness. The taste and texture were both significantly improved by allowing the cheese to come to room temperature. A small wedge lasted five days in the cheese drawer, wrapped first in waxed paper and then in plastic wrap.
→ By
Espresso.
My cousin from Italy came to visit this week – her first time in the U.S.; we’d met her nine years ago in Italy – and paid me the ultimate compliment by saying she liked my espresso … and that it was the first decent espresso she’d had in the U.S. I’m no expert on coffee or espresso, but I’ve got a system that seems to work for me.
I’ve said in the past that you need a burr grinder to properly grind coffee. Blade grinders smash the beans in an uneven fashion, and generate more heat the longer you grind, so to get coffee ground finely and evenly enough to use in an espresso machine, you’d have to grind the beans so long that they’d continue roasting and could even smoke, and you probably still couldn’t get the grind fine enough. If you can’t afford a good burr grinder, buy your coffee ground for an espresso machine, and buy it in the tiniest quantities possible.
I use a Capresso Infinity Burr Grinder, which, at $90, is the cheapest “true” burr grinder available. (I had a lower-end Capresso burr grinder before that one, but it couldn’t go fine enough for espresso.) The Infinity works for French pressed coffee, drip coffee, and espresso, and claims to be able to go fine enough for Turkish coffee, although I’ve never tried that. On the downside, it creates some coffee dust that spurts out when you remove the plastic receptacle where the machine deposits the ground coffee, and you’ll have to give the machine a good whack to get all of your grounds to fall. There are, of course, many more expensive grinders you can buy, from Saeco, Rancilio, DeLonghi, and other brands.
For the espresso machine itself, again, I own what I think is the cheapest legitimate model available here, the Gaggia Carezza. The Carezza makes a great shot of espresso. It steams/froths milk well, but I’ve found it takes two boiler cycles to steam enough for cappuccino or a caffe latte, so the lower machine cost means some extra time investment when you’re making drinks. The Carezza is still available, but Gaggia has introduced a slightly smaller and cheaper machine, the Evolution.
I also bought a heavier tamper than the cheap plastic thing that came with the Carezza, and I use a $5 instant-read thermometer when steaming milk. That’s about it for the specialized hardware. Have a double shot glass capable of holding 2.5 ounces of liquid ready to receive the espresso out of the machine, and get your cup(s) ready for the actual espresso drink(s). I do not recommend that you use the plastic splitter that allows you to divide the espresso coming out of the machine into two cups; it’s a crema-killer.
For coffee, the most important variable is not roast, but date: Coffee begins to go stale as soon as it’s done roasting. If you can buy beans where they’re roasted on the day on which they’re roasted, you’ll get better espresso, with more crema and a fuller body. Beans sold at Starbucks were roasted three weeks before the day you buy them. For making espresso, they suck. I buy my beans at Whole Foods, where they put the roast date on the outside of the bin; if I’m lucky, I’ll get beans that are still warm. I store them in airtight mason jars, loosening the lids once a day to let out the excess carbon dioxide.
To actually make the drink:
1. Turn on the espresso machine about ten minutes before you intend to make coffee. Make sure that the water reservoir has plenty of water in it, and that the portafilter is in place but (of course) has no coffee grounds in it. This allows the metal part of the portafilter to heat up before you put coffee in it.
2. The Carezza has three buttons: a power switch, an espresso on/off switch, and a steamer on/off switch. Unless the steamer switch is on, the machine assumes you’re making espresso, and a green light is illuminated when the machine’s boiler is hot enough to do so. (If you have a different machine, these steps may vary slightly.) When the green light is on, flip the espresso switch to “on” and open the steamer valve by turning the knob on top of the machine that controls steam pressure. I use my metal steamer pitcher to catch the hot water coming out of the valve, and I pour this into the shot glass and into the demi-tasse cups to warm them up.
3. When the boiler recovers, pull a blank shot – that is, pull a shot without any coffee grounds. This is a good time to turn on the coffee grinder and get the beans ready; I find that two scoops of beans yields enough for about 15-16 grams of grounds, which is the right amount for two shots of espresso. I’ve found it’s far, far better to use a little too much coffee than a little too little; in fact, going to 18-20 grams will almost ensure a good but imperfect pull. Always pull two shots at once.
4. Remove your portafilter from the machine, dump out any remaining water and rinse quickly with hot water if necessary. Add the ground coffee and press it down with your tamper, using about 30 pounds of pressure. I know what the right amount of pressure is now because I’ve done it for a while, but if you’re just starting out, try using a bathroom scale and pressing down on it with your tamper. Tap out any loose grounds and put the portafilter back on to your machine.
5. Put your shot glass under the portafilter. Wait until the boiler is ready and then turn the espresso switch on. You should get about 2-2.5 ounces of espresso in 25-35 seconds of brewing; I usually stop at 2 ounces, around 25 seconds when I’ve done everything right. The espresso stream becomes noticeably thinner beyond that point.
6. Wait 20-30 seconds and remove the portafilter. (If you don’t wait, the machine will “burp” and you’ll get wet coffee grounds everywhere, including up in the machine where you don’t want them.) If you’re just making espresso, you’re just about done – run a blank shot to clean the machine and that’s all.
7. To add steamed or frothed milk, turn the second switch to “on” and wait for the boiler to heat up. I leave the two shots of espresso in the shot glass to keep the liquid as warm as possible. Steaming is simple: With a thermometer in your milk, raise the pitcher until the tip of the steamer wand is touching the top of the milk. Froth until the milk’s temperature reaches 100 degrees, then plunge the wand into the milk until the thermometer reaches 160 degrees. The goal is pourable froth, and if you froth it too long the froth will become dry and spoonable rather than pourable. I’ve found this is easier to do with the steam valve most of the way open – trying to finesse it with a low level of steam produced coarser bubbles for me.
8. Turn the steamer switch off and run a blank shot of espresso. If you left the portafilter in place during steaming, wait several minutes for the pressure to dissipate before running the blank.
I think that’s it, although I may have missed a step or a detail. The product links above go to amazon.com; you can also find them at Whole Latte Love, where you’ll find buyer guides and more product information. For some coffee-making tutorials and a very active message board on coffee, check out coffeegeek.com.
→ By
Vanity Fair.
Ah! Vanitus Vanitatum! Which of us is happy in this world? Which of us has his desire? or, having it, is satisfied?
That would have to make the list of famous penultimate lines, as it summarizes Vanity Fair on its final page, number 809 in the edition I read. The book appears at #24 on the Novel 100 and #19 on the Guardian 100.
Thackeray’s magnum opus is a sort of anti-picaresque satire of pre-Victorian society – anti-picaresque because most of the “action” is decidedly dull and because the book lacks a hero, a satire for Thackeray’s unflinching looks at the hypocrisy and self-importance of both old- and new-money aristocrats. The novel’s twin centers are the kind, witless, and occasionally simpering Amelia Sedley, born to moderate affluence but with a father who is absolutely reckless with money, and her boarding-school friend Becky Sharp, an orphan with borderline personality disorder who views every person she meets as a potential stepping stone or obstacle to her rise to fortune and status. Both make questionable marriages, bear sons, and follow their husbands to Belgium where both men participate briefly in the war against Napoleon’s forces. From there, the storylines split, only to reunite towards the book’s neither-happy-nor-unhappy ending.
Thackeray’s characterizations are the book’s strength. He sets Becky up as the underdog, only to reveal her as a Machiavellian home-wrecking bitch over the course of a few hundred pages. Amelia might emerge as the heroine until you realize that she’s ineffectual and weak. Even Major Dobbin, probably the one clearly “good” character among the primaries, reveals his own character flaw with his childlike devotion to Amelia, even as she takes him for granted and marries another man.
On the other hand, the satire may have been rapier-sharp in the mid-19th century, but it’s hard to fully appreciate it with little knowledge of the society he’s lampooning. I got more humor from the wordplay (with some help from the footnotes), his knack for absurdly named characters (foreshadowing Wodehouse and Powell?), and his snarky narration. If you think lines like “And the worthy civilian being haunted by a dim consciousness that the lad thought him an ass…” are funny, you’ll enjoy the humor in Vanity Fair, which is much more of that sardonic variety than of a slapstick or other laugh-out-loud style.
Next up: Henry Roth’s Call It Sleep, a story about immigrant life in the U.S. prior to World War I. It’s also on the Novel 100.
→ By
Today’s chat.
From today’s chat queue:
(2020) Glen (NYC)
“I’ve told them I’m not interested. They made up a reason to exclude me and Rob, and refused to back down when shown that their arguments were fabricated. Joining now would only increase their credibility.” – bless you for actually having convictions AND a spine at the same time .. rare combo and if Albert doesn’t win the MVP, they really just need to do away with the award
I’m posting here so that I can say, “Thanks, Glen,” and hope that he sees it.
→ By
Five songs.
Chat today at 1 pm EDT over at the Four-Letter.
I’ve mentioned before that I’m a singles guy more than an albums guy, and true to form, I bought five individual songs this week to throw on my main iPod playlist, from favorite to least favorite:
“No Sex for Ben,” by The Rapture. The lyrics are amusing, but that’s only good for one or two listens. What makes this one of my favorite songs of the year is the sound, almost like an undiscovered Prince Paul confection from Paul’s Boutique, sparse yet layered with a percussion track that jumps straight off the wax. The song is a diss record aimed at a DJ named Ben Rama who said something (maybe?) bad about the Rapture, which led the band to call for a boycott in Rama’s bedroom, so to speak. It’s pointless lyrically, although I like the like about Rama “looking like a poor man’s Arthur Baker,” which is the sort of allusion the Beastie Boys love to make – except they’ll make fifty in one song, instead of just one.
“Float,” by Flogging Molly. I readily admit to being a sucker for Irish-tinged rock or folk. I liked everything I heard from Carbon Leaf and had a soft spot for Black 47. I love David Downes’ arrangement of the traditional Irish folk song, “Dulaman,” which is a lot more listenable than the Clannad version, even if it’s far less authentic. But somehow Flogging Molly escaped my notice until I caught “Float” on WFNX earlier this week. It’s a faux Irish-folk song, sung in a Corkonian accent (although lead singer Dave King is from Dublin, not Cork), with a catchy chorus and well-orchestrated build to a stomping finish.
“Lake Michigan,” by Rogue Wave. I could have gotten this for free last fall or winter, when it was the Starbucks free iTunes download of the week, but never got around to grabbing it. I’ve long had a theory that pop/rock songs with quickly-sung lyrics, like “Lake Michigan’s” single-breath stanzas, have a higher chance of crossover success. I have no idea why this is, but I’m subject to it, as I definitely hear the appeal of the fluid, almost rotating lyrical lines in Rogue Wave’s harmonies.
“Let’s Dance to Joy Division,” by the Wombats. Apparently, “wombat” is the Australian term for “arctic monkey.” Again, it’s a one-joke song, and not even a particularly funny one, but this style of pseudo-frenetic, punk-influenced pop-rock has grown on me.
“Sequestered in Memphis,” by The Hold Steady. Pretty strong Replacements vibe here with the kind of smirking irony that works in tiny doses but gets a little old when the “Subpoenaed in Texas/Sequestered in Memphis” line is repeated as a sing-along chorus over mechanical hand-claps. The music makes the song listenable, with a sort of driving, bar-band feel, but the lyrics are just too Replacements/Bruce Springsteen, apparently part of an album-long concept about a murdered woman in Memphis. The singer’s voice reminds me of Paul Weller’s.
→ By
Chicago and Ann Arbor.
Ann Sather is a small Chicago chain known, with good cause, for its cinnamon rolls. I went to the 70-year-old Ann Sather restaurant one El stop south of Wrigley Field (it’s right outside the Belmont station off the Red Line) before the Under Armour Game on Sunday for breakfast. The cinnamon rolls – two constitute a single side order – are very good, with a soft dough that’s somewhere between cake and brioche in texture. The cinnamon-sugar-butter filling was heavy on the cinnamon (good), although it tasted a bit like cheap cinnamon (not good, but, in their defense, it’s cheap). Every egg plate comes with your choice of two sides, and two cinnamon rolls constitute one side, so it’s a pretty good deal. I went with two eggs scrambled, which were prepared without the slightest adulteration from salt; the hash browns “well done” (my waitress’ suggestion), which means they have a crisp brown crust that breakfast potatoes should be required by federal law to have; and the “Swedish potato sausage.” I asked my waitress what that sausage contained and was told pork, veal, and potatoes, and that “it’s pink.” I’m thinking, okay, pork sausage usually has a pink hue to it, but what came to the table was dead pink in the center, and in my book, that’s raw. I didn’t eat them. That platter plus tea came to about $11.50 before tip.
In the mini-mall attached to the Renaissance Hotel on West Wacker is a fast food-ish place called Wow Bao which I really had to try. I’ve had authentic Chinese dumpings – both bao zi and xiao long jiao zi – in Taiwan and in the U.S., and I think they’re out of this word, particularly the latter kind. Bao zi are giant puffs of a simple yeast dough usually stuffed with a meat filling and steamed; the texture of the dough is very soft, almost pillowy. Jiao zi are smaller dumplings with a thinner dough and a higher filling-to-dough ratio; the fillings are juicier and part of the experience of eating one is getting the burst of liquid that comes with the first bite. (Think of jiao zi as a Hershey’s Kiss: the dough is the foil wrapper and the filling is the chocolate. That gives you a rough idea of the construction, at least.)
Anyway, Wow Bao serves enormous bao zi for $1.39 apiece or $7.99 for a six-pack; I tried several kinds, the barbecue pork being the best if a bit too sweet, the whole wheat with edamame being the worst with an overpowering taste of scallions, and the chicken and curry also scoring well despite perhaps a lack of authenticity. I highly approve of their homemade ginger ale, which tastes like … ginger. One big negative was a poor ratio of dough to filling, which, since the dough on most of the dumplings comprised only white flour, meant for a bit of a food coma not long after I ate.
Shifting locales, I’ve been remiss in not writing up Zingerman’s Roadhouse in Ann Arbor, Michigan, from my trip to see the Tigers and White Sox last month. The fried eggs were cooked flawlessly (over medium) while the thickly sliced bacon was excellent and also correctly cooked. The grits … well, I’m not a huge grits fan, but these were pretty good, with a fair amount of salt in them. Not as good as even mediocre polenta, of course, but good for grits. The big bonuses for me: real tea; and a small plate of donut holes for us to try, obviously just fried and out of this world, as just-fried donuts usually are. There were five of us there and the waitress was absolutely hellbent on splitting the check for us – she wouldn’t take no for an answer – but I suppose that’s better than the waitress who takes your order and disappears for an hour.
→ By
Wait, what?
I’m not sure who’s doing gymnastics announcing for NBC – Al Trautwig? – but he just dropped this doozy:
Chen Yibing doing one of the most difficult things in sports: Winning when everyone thought you would.
This would be true, if everyone was high on LSD and started picking extreme longshots to win. But usually if everyone thinks you’re going to win, it’s because you’re really likely to win.
→ By
Famous last lines?
Was asked this in chat today:
(51) j (rh)
klaw-couple weeks ago you answered favorite literary first lines. how bout favorite last lines?
I have to say nothing came to mind right away, but I was reminded of it by the last line of my daughter’s new favorite movie, Mary Poppins, spoken by Bert: “Goodbye, Mary Poppins, don’t stay away too long.”
Anyway, two of my nominees:
Catch-22: The knife came down, missing him by inches, and he took off.
1984: He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother. (Yes, technically two lines.)
So I’ll open the thread to everyone. Need help? I did, and found this list of 100 “best” last lines.
→ By
Chat today.
As usual, 1 pm at the Four-Letter. I expect to do a chat next week too, but not the final week of August.