Cat piss and books

"I think there's a cat here"
"It smells like there's a horde of them"

Indeed it did, for other than the general squalor of the lieu, the first thing that assaulted the senses was a stinging, clinging miasma of concentrated feline urine.

This place sells cookbooks?

Books, yeah, there's a lot of them here - all somehow related to cooking, although I'd expect a few cat lore tomes hidden somewhere in the dusty aisles. This was the right place, a culinary-only used book store somewhere in the urban gumbo of greater Los Angeles. We learned about the place while looking for a book in our favorite bookstore - out of stock, but maybe we could try...

There are about five cookbooks that I'd like to find, and there's nothing better than finding a $40+ cookbook gleaming on the shelves of a used bookseller, it's original price slashed to affordability. Sometimes the books are a bit scribbled in, with helpful notes from their former readers giving the books a sense of history. Most often, they were just unused gifts in pristine condition.

I inquired about a recent book, not expecting them to have it.

"We don't have that," the book purveyor stated flatly, then turned back to whatever she was doing amid stacks of clutter.

"How about...?"

"No, we don't have that either."

"Where would you have similar books?"

"Over there," she pointed. Apparently she was too comfortable to actually move.

So I walked the aisles, scanning for titles of interest. Ah, there's something by Claudia Roden. $35.00. But... this book is $40.00 new, untainted by constant immersion in the cloying fumes of cat urine. Back it went. Ah, something on mezze... with another almost-new price. I tried another book, one that I'd found at a regular used book store, sans eau de chat. Double what I'd paid.

Fearing that the eau de chat would soon impregnate our clothing, our hair, the very pores of our skin, we left.

We thanked the bookseller on the way out, stifling any comments about litter boxes and odor removers. There was no reply as the door shut with a wood and glass clank, sealing off the store from the clean air outside. We took deep breaths, bookless.

Simple recipes for famous blogs

Apparently, there are blogs about things like simple recipes, motherhood, I don't know what else. Making LED powered endoscopes... and all of them get thousands of hits per day.

This blog, however, is different. It lurks in a tiny back room of the Internet lit by a 4 watt bulb (usually turned off ), in a box in the back of the closet behind the fake flowers from the Easter party and a forgotten case of one dollar wine given for Christmas by a now distant friend, covered with cat hair, dust and spider tracks.

Someone told me about the guy who makes enough money on a simple recipe blog to travel around the world. The author probably even built a McMansion with a huge kitchen, all from doing a blog.

I'm not even sure what a simple recipe is. Is it something that highlights a main ingredient of excellent quality, only adding things to showcase its flavor? Maybe it's something that comes from simple cans of simple things (simple as long as nobody reads the ingredients on the cans). Things that can sit on the shelf for years until called into action, simply. Then, there are all kinds of "simple"mixes. They tend to have more ingredients than something you'd do yourself in almost the same time, but there seems to be a common belief that mixes are simple.

Some recipes are intrinsically simple: grilled oysters, roast chicken, fried eggs... Others are not. Of those, some seem simple but aren't and others are complicated no matter how you look at them.

This blog is about the experience of attending chef training. Apparently, it's just not as fascinating as a simple recipe like 1/2 can of tomato paste, a dash of dried oregano, a bit of basil, some garlic powder, dehydrated onions, 1/2 a can of chicken or beef stock, salt and pepper poured over microwaved pasta. That's just not what chef's school is about. We'd say fresh, fully ripe San Marzano variety tomatoes, fresh basil, dried oregano, sautéed onion, minced garlic, salt and pepper. We might even make the pasta from scratch, too. So, which do you think would taste better? If I were really being simple, and had a corporate sponsor, I'd just tell everyone to microwave brand X Italian Pasta Sauce and never mind that stuff lining the can might be carcinogenic.

As to that endoscope... I'm thinking it uses actuators, multiple CCDs for stereo imaging (CCDs outside the tube) and yes, LEDs for light. Make the thing thinner, easier and faster to use than what's out there now. It would all be in one tube, and additional instruments for biopsies, etc. would run up it if needed via micromotors. If anyone answers, I'll draw a picture. Although I have to admit that I don't know much about the things other than what I could find on the net.

Is that chicken... safe?

Today, we were supposed to strike a blow against intolerance by eating chicken in a specific chain. Yes, we would smite those who dare criticize the establishment's adamant stance against gay marriage. Those intolerant leftists who dare oppose Liberty must be shown that hate will not be tolerated.

I didn't go there. I was afraid. Terrified, even.

How could I be sure the chickens themselves were straight? There's no proof. They probably arrive frozen in a box, cut up, with only the USDA telling us they're physically safe to eat. But, are they morally safe? OhmyGod! That could have been a homo-filet! It could be full of, of... I don't know, really, but I'm certain that if I ate even a tiny bit, things could happen. Potentially contagious things. Things that would spread insidiously through the American genome, subtly altering our DNA, destroying family values, taxing billionaires, changing our thought patterns, messing with our gonads. This could destroy the American Way of Life!

80 ingredients. Chemistry degree preferred.

Someone gave us some "bear claw coffee cake". Someone, I suspect, who does not know I'd rather not stick the output of several chemical factories in my face and call it food.

The package contained one gooey, sticky, and very puffy long roll liberally decorated with some kind of icing. It  was light, as it should be with both yeast and chemical leavening agents working to puff it up. It was also light in the flavor department, lacking that rich, buttery, flaky quality punctuated by a bit of almond crunch that people used to associate with bear claws.

I imagine that anyone buying these things is not too worried about flavor. Nor are they likely worried about toes.

Bear claws normally have toes. They're just cuts in the dough, but still. This thing had none. Not only was it chemical-laden, it was toeless, too.  Maybe adding "coffee cake" to the name eliminates the need for toes, but still. Couldn't they call it "almond coffee cake" and skip the ursine references altogether?

I'm starting to think that "coffee cake" is a synonym for "flavorless things dunked in coffee so you don't know they're flavorless." Therefore, anything with this term in its name is automatically suspect. But that's another topic. Back on subject!

A toeless bear claw! Imagine! Someone actually bought the thing. What were they thinking?

Wait. Many people must buy the things, or they wouldn't be there in the supermarket, arriving daily to sully the image of Danish pastries. No toes, little flavor, wrong texture, yet purchased no doubt by the thousands by people across the nation whose taste buds have gone on permanent holiday.

Really, though. What's with this toeless thing? This is America, dammit! We could put a man on the Moon, but we can't put toes in our bear claws? What has happened to our once-great nation? Can nobody find a cost-effective way of toeing bear claws in a factory?

Have we degenerated so much that we don't even know that bear claws have toes?  Has this puffy toeless tribute to chemically-dependent foodstuffs become the new bear claw norm? Have we become a nation of sheep, passively herded by multinational agro-corporations in whatever culinary direction they choose?

Does no supermarket shopper remember that these things were invented by chefs proud of their craft, who carefully crafted simple, natural ingredients into something truly worthy of eating?

Yet, some do remember. The craft of Danish pastry is still taught in cooking schools. My textbooks list eleven or thirteen ingredients for bear claws. Their formula uses laminated, or folded dough to create zillions of layers alternating butter and yeast-leavened flour. Well, maybe only about 512 layers, but still that's a lot. This is done by sealing a block of butter into the dough and then folding, folding, folding. Each fold creates more layers - the same technique used for croissants. The result is heaven. Puffy sheets of dough that practically float in the air, backed by a rich, buttery flavor. Real almonds, butter, sugar and egg for the filling.

Bear claws I would eat:
(yes, they would have "toes"!)

bread flour
sugar
instant dry yeast
salt
butter
eggs
milk
almonds (almond paste)
cake flour
apricot glaze

(optional: almond extract, vanilla extract)

These are the ingredients used in the industrial strength bear claw coffee cakes
These things had eighty ingredients, unless I missed a repeating ingredient that threw off the count.

Enriched bleached wheat flour
(wheat flour, niacin, iron, thiamine mononitrate, riboflavin, folic acid)

Water
Sugar
Palm oil
Almonds
Whole eggs
Yeast (how does the yeast survive in all this stuff?)
Soybean oil
Dextrose
Mono and diglycerides
Invert sugar
salt
canola oil
whey
wheat gluten

Enriched wheat flour
(niacin, iron, thiamine mononitrate, riboflavin, folic acid. Again.)

Corn flour
Guar gum
Artificial flavor
potassium sorbate
dried egg white
sodium steryl lactylate
natural flavor

Bleached enriched wheat flour
(niacin, reduced iron, thiamine mononitrate, riboflavin, folic acid. Again.)

Calcium propionate

Leavening
(sodium aluminum phosphate, baking soda, aluminum sulfate, fumaric acid, monocalcium phosphate, sodium acid pyrophosphate)

Dried egg yolk

Calcium disodium EDTA

Annatto

Vitamin A palmitate
Sodium bicarbonate
Sodium acid pyrophosphate
calcium sulfate
polysorbate 60
Citric acid
Xanthan gum
Wheat starch
Silicon dioxide (A.K.A. sand)
Sorbitan monostearate
soy lecithin
Cornstarch
Dried whole egg (already got the yolk & white, so why not the whole thing this time?)
Modified food starch
Enzyme monocalcium phosphate
Ammonium sulfate
Azodicarbonamide (ADA)
Beta carotene
Datem
High fructose corn syrup (had to be in here somewhere, didn't it?)
Stearic acid
pectin

caramel color
(contains sufites, Water, Sodium benzoate, Citric acid) No actual caramel was used, apparently.

Nonfat milk powder
Vitamin E

Vegetable shortening
(palm, canola and/or soybean oil)

mono and diglycerides (can you ever have just one of these?)
polysorbate 60
TBHQ - preservative
agar
cellulose gum
ascorbic acid (good old vitamin C)
L-cysteine
natural and artificial flavor
sodium hexametaphosphate
sodium benzoate
propylene glycol (not to be confused with ethylene glycol)
mono and diesters of fatty acids with BHT as preservative (my favorite ingredient here, really sounds chemical, and there are preservatives for things that don't themselves sound very appealing!)
Calcium acetate.

Contains: Wheat, Milk, Soy, Egg, Almonds. (how did those things get in here?)

The Expert

"Am I bothering you?"
The Expert's bored eyes swing around.
"Yes. I'm an expert and a genius. Nothing you possibly ask me could possibly be of any interest."
"Oh. So you can't recommend a great wine under ten dollars that goes well with flounder?"
"Of course I can. I'm an expert and a genius".
"So?"
"You're interfering with my pose."
"The wine? Which one, please!"
"Yes." He grabs a random bottle.
"Drink this".
"What's it like?"
"It's white."
"So, why is it good?"
It was too late. The Expert had already walked away. Someone Important just arrived.

________

August, 2012. 
Not a single crappy hit. Maybe I should have said "naked expert" or "stark naked porn star expert". But then you'd have to wear special protection just to read this.

The Thirteen Little Words of Boredom

The food writing seminar named thirteen Boring Food Writing Words to be avoided lest someone would think you an untalented hack. Pretty impressive. George Carlin only got seven. Out of about 171,476 words in active use in the English Language, these thirteen gained this distinction. So, here they are. Please try to stay awake.
delicious, good, nice, tasty, bad, went, yummy, small, beautiful, great, very, many, big

I pity these words. I think that it's up to the writer to make any word interesting. It's like art. How you put the colors together is really what makes a painting interesting, isn't it? So, a challenge: can these words be used to write something entertaining? You be the judge.

+++++

My companion and I arrived at the table after twisting our way through a maze of tables and booths arrayed in a random pattern. The decor was Early James Bond. A mixup of rustic farm and secret Evil Scientist laboratory. The hostess looked just like Judy Jetson, reinforcing the effect.

It was my first night out with Lizzy after meeting at a noisy Yipe event two weeks earlier, and I was starting to realize that some people are much different in a group of loud, intoxicated people than they are solo and sober.

"Welcome to Comfort Eats, part of the big, happy family of AgriBusinessHoldings! My Name is Wendy and I'll do my very best to make you happy tonight!" the waitress squeaked as she arrived at our table, full of energy.

She wore a yummy, tight-fitting uniform that left little to the imagination, it went from her shapely calves, over her delicious thighs, climbing upward in an eye teasing ascent that culminated with a view into her limpid blue eyes. Great. Lizzy noticed. Note to self: jealous type. Got to wear sunglasses. Dark ones.

"Uh, nice uniform," I stammered. My prospective friend noticed, too. So far, the "comfort" concept was not working well.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Wendy replied, "The designers wanted us to look high tech, like AgriBusinessHoldings, yet also have an earthy Farmer Bob feel." She leaned over and whispered, "I think a lot of this food actually is vat grown from genetically modified algae, but it tastes delicious. So really, most ABH employees don't actually work on farms full of smelly fertilizer and are more Mr. Wizard than Farmer Bob - but the uniforms still rock."

I wondered if the CEO looked like Dr. Evil, but somehow resisted asking.

"Good. Well, I think we're ready to order," said my companion, "I'll have the small plate special. They really are small, aren't they? I don't want anything big, and the last small plate I had could have fed very many hungry people. It was not very tasty, either. Kind of like something that never grew in the earth or saw the sun. I gave them a really bad review at Yipe, where I'm an 'eleet'. One star. My review was so bad that the owner sent me a crazy rant, but I published that too and now he's probably very sorry he wasn't nicer to me"

"Wow. Well, the small plate special is a Good choice, and you should be able to give me a whole six stars. It's that good! They're very small. Minuscule, even," Wendy said with a smile. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the Big Bad Juju Ribs with a side of Diabolical Sauce and Suet-Fried Potatoes with crunchy salt, please".

"Beautiful! That's one of my favorites!" Wendy squealed, bouncing in a manner that earned me another smoking look.

"And anything to drink?"

"I need a YummyGreatBigBeautiful MegaBad Martini," I said. "Make it a double," I said.

"I'll have water. Lots of ice," hissed my date.

"Excellent! I'll get that order in and be right back with your drinks," Wendy exclaimed, adding a swing to her bounce as she departed.

"Nice," growled my companion.

This was going to be a long dinner.

+++++

Yes, this is a piece of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone or anything is purely coincidental. I don't even know anyone named Lizzy, and the vat-grown food is still in the testing, pre-production stage. Your children will probably eat it, though.

Smile, dammit!

Smile when you eat that!

"Why aren't you smiling? Don't you ever smile?" the woman seated across the table accused, piercing me with a rather hostile stare.

My first reaction was to look behind me. Nobody. After all, this woman had not spoken to me all night. My second reaction was WTF? My third was that this was probably something I deserved for not reserving earlier and as a consequence getting seated among total strangers.

After a good fifteen seconds of my best "deer in the headlights" impression, ideas began to emerge. Tactics and suitable responses flashed through my mind. Was she serious? Joking? Mad? Was this a case of HAFS (Hate At First Sight) and was I the target?

"Excuse me? I didn't quite get that," I answered. An attempt to both verify that she was attacking and give her a chance to restate the question in an nicer way.

"I said, 'Don't you ever smile?' Are you a happy person? Are you ever happy?" she blasted. So much for the theory that it was an awkward attempt at conversation rather than some kind of attack.

"I'm not smiling because my mouth is full", I ventured. Just to test the waters. Something neutral, non-agressive. Maybe defuse the situation.

I pondered. Did she have a sense of humor herself? Was she a happy person herself, or merely seeking advice to this elusive state?

"You're not smiling!" she continued. "Are you happy or not?".

"Actually, I find it very hard to smile when a total stranger is attacking me. Not what most people would consider a smile worthy situation, is it?". A warning shot across the bow. Another chance for her to develop some kind of manners.

At this point, the gentleman to her right jumped in, "That's not an attack. That's just a way of starting a conversation." He apparently had a tenuous grasp on the definition for hostile conversation starters.

I thought of more typical openers. Hello, my name is... I'm afraid we weren't introduced. Have you been here before? Do you know the chef? How did you like the cassoulet? What do you think of the new astrological sign? What do you think of raising chinchillas in a hot climate? What do all those doors hanging from chains over there do? Do you prefer solid rocket boosters over mixed liquid propellant and oxidant from a reliability, service and pollution standpoint? Why did they have to kill the linear aerospike?

She left no room for an answer, repeating her basic question insistently.

Silence arrived, permeating the table with quiet tension.

"Well, tell me a joke. If it's funny, I'll laugh."

She frowned.  No joke, funny or otherwise fell from her lips. Not the answer she wanted, apparently. Also a fail on the question about her own sense of humor or lack thereof.

"Aren't you happy? Don't you enjoy your job? Are you always that miserable?" she continued.

"I'd smile if I had a good reason." I answered, fixing her with my best Old West stare, "and this isn't one."

Her companion, who I'll name Blue Shirt, asked what I do for a living. My response - that the answer would be complicated so I'd rather not say - didn't help. I had a reason -  it could potentially escalate the conflict to include the couple seated to my right, since they had just won some kind of free televised landscape based on a list of items that they wanted. So, I said that answering the question would probably lead to more frowns than smiles.

He accused me of being a lawyer. I denied the accusation. I said I'd tell the nice guy next to me, if I was going to tell anyone (he already knew anyway). Blue Shirt figured I was lying, frowned, and left the table.

The woman, tenacious as a starving mosquito in springtime, pursued her happiness question. So I answered if she meant always, sometimes, when  properly medicated...?". None of this elicited even the merest flicker of a smile on her face. Instead, her frown deepened. My HAFS theory gained force.

She refused to develop her question further, choosing instead to remain silent and scowl. Maybe she thought I was serious with my answers. Maybe when I did laugh, she thought I was mocking her. I had no idea.

So, I explained to my left-hand dining partner exactly why I'd leave frowns. It's because if we treated food in restaurants like we treat landscape design, there would be a lot of unhappy diners. Plating would be done by listing objects. By this reasoning, a dish could be peanut butter, chocolate truffles and caviar. No relation between ingredients would need to exist. Yet, this is exactly how landscape design is treated, and throwing it together in a televised rush job only reinforces the trend. Unlike a bad plate, a landscape lasts a long time. Bad meal planning could lead to some wincing and a vow never to return to the offending restaurant. Yet haphazard landscape design, where a collection of things are thrown into a back yard and trimmed out with lawn and shrubs is almost universally accepted.

We talk about sustainable food, local food, slow food, healthy food, organic food. Yet when it comes to landscapes we mow the water-thirsty lawn with two stroke engines that spew pollution. We fertilize them with chemicals that run off into local rivers. We treat them for all manner of blemishes, unleashing even more chemicals into the environment. We don't catch runoff so that it can get back into the soil. Plants are typically selected without thought of their compatibility to our soils and climate. Native plants that provide habitat don't fit into the "always lush and bright green norm" so they're little used. Irrigation systems aren't correctly programmed. We don't think of landscapes as a form of art - although presentation is one of the first things taught in cooking school.

Checks arrived. People prepared to leave. The woman eventually shook my hand, saying "Nice to meet you". I smiled. She didn't. I couldn't help the smile. Blatant hypocrisy always makes me laugh. Blue Shirt never returned. Mustache declined his dessert and left. I learned that he allegedly owns a competing restaurant, with which the smile obsessed woman is also involved. Not a place I want to try after this experience!

I walked over to other tables and talked with friends. We laughed. We smiled. We compared recipes. The evening ended well.

So, if you read all this, you may ask what's the point? The first point is that five people seated around a table probably heard that the woman and her companions are associated with a specific restaurant. I doubt that their opinion of her was favorable, and I'm not so sure about their opinions of her companions. These opinions are now associated with their restaurant. I for one don't want to go there and get dissed by some crazies (again). Another point is that randomly seating people together can lead to stranger situations than one might expect. Lastly, if the food and service are good, the host restaurant still gets a good recommendation despite strange social situations.

I suppose I should add that this is but my recollection of the events and conversation. It's not like I taped all this, although I definitely felt I was in some kind of sitcom.