Coffee Talk

Coffee has been a part of my life for thirty years, and a key element of my morning ritual for the last fifteen years. In college and law school. as well as during my first years of working, my just-in-time approach to mornings did not allow time for extravagances, like breakfast. It was basically alarm; get up; shower; get dressed; leave. I would have my first cup at school, or the office. I had the original Mr. Coffee at home, or in my dorm room throughout this time, but I really only used it on weekends, or when I would switch into full on study mode, which, sadly, was not that often.

Mr. Coffee had one button: on. You filled up the reservoir with water, loaded the basket with a paper filter and some coffee grounds, and flipped the switch. If you forgot to turn it off, you were left with a residue of burnt coffee at the bottom, and 10 minutes of scouring with soapy water.

But it worked. When I moved in with Worldwide in 1995, I took Mr. Coffee with me to my new job at the Federal Circuit, which, unlike my previous employer, did not have a coffee station. I kept I on all day, and had a cup on my desk at all times when I was in the office. When we decided to move to Macedonia in 1997, I gave it to a colleague. For all I know, it may still be working, 35 years on.

Worldwide had a fancier, more attractive model, which took over as the household workhorse. Living with her, I also discovered the appeal of a more laid-back approach to morning, with time for NPR, the Washington Post, and morning coffee, which I welcomed into my new life.

It was in Macedonia that things started to get complicated, a trend that continues to this day. Knowing that our coffee maker wouldn’t work in the 220v world of the former Yugoslavia, we bought a French press, an elegant glass vessel with a plunger for extracting every bit of flavour from the beans. It was a disaster. I don’t know if it was the grogginess of the preparers, the fine grind of the coffee in a country where everyone drank their brew Turkish style, or the particular model we selected, but something was always going awry. From grounds in the coffee, to several incidents in which the plunger somehow popped the top of the press, sending boiling water and coffee grounds all over the kitchen, the French press just couldn’t get the job done, so we broke down and bought a simple German model, which got us through our two years there. We also found a local merchant who would grind it “kako espresso,” and that helped. Plus, every office had a “coffee boy” and every meeting included a beverage, so there was no shortage of coffee in our life from 1997-99.

When we returned to DC, we lived for a while with the old machine, and then, for our new house on Albemarle Street, I bought a grind and brew model, which would grind the beans and then slide them down a chute into the filter for brewing. I began setting the clock, soon discovering that this model, which we named Millicent, took forever to brew a pot. But, for the most part, that didn’t matter, as I could set it up the night before, to be ready at the appointed time. It was only when we had to make an unanticipated batch that there was a problem, and we soon grew to love hearing the high-pitched growl of the grinder, as it did its thing, knowing that our superfresh brew would soon be awaiting us downstairs.

Millicent lasted about a year, before she stopped working. I think that I was secretly delighted, because this allowed me to trade up to a newer grind and brew model, which we did. The new model, instead of a sort of chute to transfer the beans from grinder to basket, had a swinging, spring-loaded basket, that went from its starting point below the grinder, to its resting place above the coffee pot with a satisfying “whack” sound. That worked until we left for Cairo, and another 220v life.

Not making the same mistake as Macedonia, we bought a simple coffee maker. Although the sporadic electricity supply, meant that the timer was not useful, I would still prepare the water and grounds the night before, so that the first person up needed only to flip the switch. I also found a wonderful coffee merchant in Dokki. Although my boss encouraged me to only buy Yemeni beans (Moka is the port city where Yemeni coffee was shipped from back in the day—get it?) I found a darker roast (from Tanzania, I think) that was more to our liking.

When we returned to the U.S., the grinder on our second grind and brew soon stopped working, and I decided that it was better to “componentize,” to keep separate grinders and coffee makers, thereby reducing the cost of failure, as well as having an item that was designed to do only one things—my contempt for unitaskers aside—which would, I posited, increase its reliability.

So, after a couple of hours of research, I bought a Cuisinart model, with a built-in reservoir and a tap-like dispenser, and a burr grinder from the same manufacturer. I would grind the beans the night before, and set the coffee maker for 5:30. This worked great, until the grinder stopped working, but luckily it was still under warranty, so I was able to exchange it for a new one. When the replacement stopped working after about the same period of time, I was unable to exchange it, as, apparently, the terms of sale were structured such that I did not get a new warranty along with the replacement, which was instead covered under the old warranty, i.e. guaranteed to work for one year from the date of purchase of the original model, or, in this case, for two months. So I’m back to grinding my beans the old fashioned way—at the supermarket, and at least for now, I think that I will continue to do so until the technology changes, or I’ve forgotten the worst of this lamentable history with coffee grinders.

The problem now, though, is that the fancy Cuisinart has developed a couple of problematic tics. For no reason that I have been able to discern, it will occasionally do one of two things: the reservoir will not hold the liquid, meaning that one is confronted in the morning with, instead of a fresh pot, a lake of coffee on the kitchen floor; or upon dispensing the first cup, the tap will not shut off, meaning one has to—drip by drip—sit by the machine and gradually fill up a carafe or a thermos.

Neither of these are pleasant to deal with first thing in the morning, I assure you, but they happen infrequently enough that one is inclined to cope with it, or to think that this time, whatever attempted remedy—decalcification, coarser grounds, smaller quantity of water—has succeeded. But thus far, the problems have always come back, and I suspect they always will, until we move on, as we have done so many times before.

This long, sad tale is a metaphor for the explosion of technology over the last twenty years. So many things have made our lives better during that time, but not without cost. Every innovation in the home seems to bring with it either increased stress or agonizing heartbreak, whether it be a computer that cannot be rid of pop-up ads, or a hard drive that suddenly no longer has those five years of family photos. I’m not sure what the future of coffee making in our house holds, but precedent suggests that anything beyond the simplest mug carries with it the risk of minor annoyance. Perhaps more satisficing is called for. Maybe good enough is actually better.

What I've Been Watching

I think it’s important to be familiar with pop culture—to have some idea of what everybody is talking about, reading, watching, listening to and buying. It means I can find something to talk about with almost everyone, and that I have a little better understanding about today’s world. As people get older, there is a tendency to dismiss novelty out of hand; I want to fight that, but I’m lazy at heart, so I try to do just enough to get by. Story of my life.

I have different levels of interest in the various forms, depending largely on the investment of time and money required for passable fluency. With pop music, for instance, it’s worth letting the Gs control the radio when I’m driving them to school, or cheer practice, or tae kwan do, or play rehearsal, or lego club, or piano lessons, or dance class, or birthday parties, or playdates, as it facilitates a familiarity with all of the new hits; enough that I can stick to NPR or college radio when I'm alone.

With books, I’m generally not as willing to read whatever sits atop the New York Times bestseller list, partly because I don’t enjoy fiction as much, and also because I don’t find the time required to read Think Like a Lady, Act Like a Man—and I use this purely for exemplary purposes, not because there is anything particularly undesirable about this book (the first one that actually came to mind was $%^# my Dad says, but this is a family blog)—is worth the utility of having read it. I am no doubt wrong in this approach at times, and I often enjoy books I'm given that I would never otherwise read; but, as Daniel Kahneman tells us, we need these "heuristics" to get us through the day.

I am also finding myself less inclined to see the summer’s blockbuster movies of late. I have been so disappointed by big movies over the last few years that I have practically given up on them altogether. They seemed utterly lacking in credible stories, and I invariably found myself walking out of the theatre thinking “Really? That’s the best you can do with unlimited resources? And people love it?” Maybe this will change as the Gs cross into the land of PG-13.

With television, I just can’t bring myself to check out the new shows, unless there is a significant level of buzz generated first, an approach that invariably rules out starting fresh with something. Worldwide has been faithfully watching Downton Abbey and Mad Men, and while the former is not my cuppa, the latter seems like it ought to be, and I can think of no good reason not to be watching it, so I think that I may begin Season 1, once a place on the schedule is available.

My routine, on nights when there isn’t a game on, is to spend an hour or so with the television after everyone has gone to bed. All of the shows that I’ve been watching—with the exception of the Wire, which Sarah pressed on me the first day I arrived—are available for streaming on Netflix, which I have been generally pleased with, except for weekend nights, when the quality is often spotty.

Having missed 2005-2009, most of these shows are a little older, and, as I catch up, I may have to rethink our current policies regarding HBO and Netflix. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend all of them, but they were of sufficient quality that I stuck with each to the end.


The Wire ****
Best HBO program ever (I don’t think it’s fair to call it a TV show, due to the commercial free broadcast and mature content, but I did initially consider calling it the “best show ever”). Beautifully written and acted, the show brilliantly captured the hopelessness of growing up in the inner city, the vibe of working in local politics, on the police force, or in a newsroom, and the humor maintained by all kinds of people trying to live their lives as best they can, “boats against the current, borne ceaselessly back into the past.”

Firefly **
This Joss Wheedon project has a devoted cult following, and I was intrigued by its premise, combining aspects of Buck Rogers and Robin Hood. But I found the stories a little boring, and the camaraderie among the ragtag crew, each with his or her own specialty, a little force. Nice to see Ron Glass working, though. I guess Blood on the Badge must not have panned out.

Battlestar Galactica **1/2
I was excited by the reboot of this series, which I didn’t watch in the 1970s. I think it raised lot of interesting points about humanity, in the context of an entertaining battle between people and alternatively sexy/scary robots, but, as the series progressed, I felt like the writers were using the plot device of [character] is secretly a robot a little too freely.

Friday Night Lights ***
As a sucker for shows that involve teens or sports, this one had me at hello. But it was well written and acted, nicely capturing a number of different family dynamics, and the realization or abandonment of a host of teenage and grown-up dreams, not always in the manner expected. So don’t despair, Taylor Kitsch. You do have to live with the ignominy of John Carter, but you’ll always have Tim Riggins. Texas forever.

Louie ***
Until recently, I was only vaguely aware of Louie CK. This show, like the early Seinfeld in conceit—a story interspersed with standup—but nothing like it otherwise, is at times, funny, poignant and pathetic. A very economical 23 minutes, though it can be a little vulgar.

Here Comes the Arctic, There Goes the Arctic

Special report on the Arctic in this week’s Economist. The region has warmed twice as much as the rest of the world over the last 60 years, mainly due to the replacement of ice with darker coloured land water (which, for all you Jeopardy buffs, is known as the Albedo effect ).

Like most changes, global warming has some projected winners too. The region hosts an estimated 13% of the world’s undiscovered oil, and 30% of its natural gas, and a more temperate Greenland holds promise for mining and agriculture. To say nothing of the fabled Northwest Passage (Northeast, if you’re going through Russia), which is now navigable for 4-5 months per year.

Last year 34 ships made this voyage, compared to four the year before. But it will be at least a decade—due to the shortness of the season, the cost of ice-breaking ships and the unpredictability of the crossing—before container ships are following this route. Once they are, though, the Suez Canal, which brought Egypt $5 billion dollars last year, may not be so popular, and Somali pirates will be wondering where all the boats went.

The report concludes by calling the Arctic a textbook Tragedy of the Commons, as the costs of global warming are so widespread. That makes a tax on carbon emissions—widely believed to be the most sensible response—as unlikely.

What's in Your Kitchen?

I love kitchen gadgets; they offer the dual benefit of allowing you to do work better and more efficiently—to effortlessly slice potatoes into chips, or to flip a giant piece of fish without incident. At the same time, I am mindful of the advice of William Morris, which I learned via Gretchen Rubin:

Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful. 

At the same time, I think it’s important to dwell on the concept of utility, and to weigh the beauty of something against the cost of keeping it, or its similarity to other objects. Just because the purpose of something is known and employed doesn’t necessarily justify its occupation of valuable real estate in the kitchen. As an article in Slate extolling the virtues of wooden spoons points out, “You have a mango pitter. It’s called a knife." And how many pictures of your children are too many?

About eight years ago, we were having lunch in Port Townsend WA. The exact details are a little hazy, but, for some reason, the then much-smaller OG and I went across the street to check out a kitchen shop. We were admiring a “turkey lifter,” basically a two-pronged utensil that would facilitate lifting the bird out of the oven and on to the carving board. Having just recently cooked a giant turkey, I could easily see the value of such an implement. The proprietor of the shop, which was virtually empty, came over to close the deal. “Those are great.” She said. “Does it have any other uses?” I wondered. She paused, and sighed: “No. It’s a bit of a unitasker.”

I put it back, but the OG fell in love with the word, and, for the next few weeks, whenever I was doing something in the kitchen, she would ask me if the equipment I was using was a unitasker. It made me rethink my values somewhat, and I decided that a unitasker would have to satisfy a very strict standard before being granted residency—balancing the importance of the task, against the size of the footprint and the viability of an alternative method. So a coffee maker easily passes, and a meat thermometer and popcorn popper slide through; but an apple corer does not, to say nothing of that beautiful food dehydrator.

I think everyone has known the pain of opening a drawer full of stuff, knowing that most of the contents are not a meaningful part of their life, and then closing it after finding (or, as is often the case, failing to find) the implement sought. I don’t know if unitasker is a word (Microsoft suggests it isn’t), but it seems like something we should all be mindful of nonetheless,

Herbaceous D

That's rosemary and mint at the bottom right, with thyme behind.
The basil is at left, in front of the oregano. The hole in the middle
was supposed to be cilantro. Better luck next year.

I don’t have the urge to garden, and sotto voce, I don’t think that fruits and vegetables from the backyard taste better than those from the farmers market, or even from the grocery store for that matter, with the possible exception of tomatoes, and the beautiful, but always disappointing strawberries from Florida and California.

On the other hand, I do believe that fresh herbs generally taste better than dried or frozen, and for that reason, I’ve always thought about growing some at home. I did plant some basil when we lived in DC, and I enjoyed having it around, particularly for pesto, always a favourite, especially with the vegetarian set, and perfectly suited to be served on the side, should certain diners prefer their pasta tout simple.

Our yard, can most flatteringly be described as a woodland garden, although that is not the term a writer from House Beautiful would probably choose. We have finally succeeded in removing all of the ivy in the back, and Worldwide has labored to fill in some of the front with grass.

There is a sort of a curving path from the porch to the street, and alongside this, at the front of the yard, which receives the most sunlight, I dug up a piece of land about 10 feet by 10 feet, in sort of a u-shape, bounded at the open end by some larger stones and the drainage ditch at the front. After turning over the earth, I made a border out of some of the many field stones that have sent our lawnmower to the shop on numerous occasions, and added some store-bought top soil and a layer of compost from the bin in the backyard.

Last year, I planted basil, oregano cilantro, rosemary, chives, mint, lavender and thyme from seedlings. All thrived without much attention from me, except for the cilantro, which died, and the basil, which needed lots of watering. Plus--and this is another reason for sticking to herbs--the many foraging deer won't touch anything with a strong taste, so there is no need for unsightly fences or cages.

This year, I started with older, bigger editions of the oregano, rosemary, lavender, chives and mint, all of which handled the Piedmont winter without complaint. I planted some more basil, including a shorter leaf, Greek variety, as well as some cilantro from seed, two jalapeno plants, some sage, lemon verbena (which I bought by accident) and something called “bee balm,” which our neighbor—a retired professor who seems to spend all of his time on his flower garden—had given us, no doubt secretly hoping that we might be inspired to spend a little more time on backyard beautification.

All have done well, except for the cilantro, which apparently can’t stand the heat (this is the empty spot in the middle). I picked the first jalapeno--which the BG and I would check carefully on the way to the bus stop in May--last week, and there is another one coming. I also planted some onions, using the roots of a batch of spring onions from the supermarket. No maintenance to speak of, beyond the occasional can of water or weedpul: I'd venture less than 10 minutes/week. 

I use the chives in twice-baked potatoes (another vegetarian favourite), and the oregano, thyme and rosemary have come in handy where you would expect them to (the rosemary is a particularly nice complement to roast chicken). The mint I like to use in ice tea, mixed with green or black tea bags. I’ve made one cup of lemon verbena tea as an evening beverage for the BG, but have yet to use it for anything else.

It was nice to be able to fulfill Sarah’s request for a handful of basil as a pizza topping for a convivial dinner last Saturday night, and I make pesto about once or twice a month, I guess. I always keep almonds, pecans and walnuts in the pantry, so I usually use those, rather than the traditional pine nuts. I also tried this recipe substituting sage for the basil, and I was ok with the results, although Worldwide did not care for it.

Pesto

Using a food processor, make a rough paste out of 2 cups basil leaves, 1/3 cup nuts, 2 cloves peeled garlic and ½ cup grated or shredded parmesan. Add ½ cup of olive oil, process again. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Update
Did I mention the deer? This mother and daughter were checking out the pickings in the back yard at lunchtime today. Smallest fawn I've seen since we moved here.

Big D in the Gym

Over the last decade, I’ve made it a habit of trying to work out three times a week. In DC, where there was a fitness center in my building, and in Cairo, where the CSA was at the end of our block, I got closer to 5X/week, but generally, family and work responsibilities made this more difficult when the opportunity was just a little less convenient.

In the CHill, the YMCA is about a ten minute walk from our house. When I was working in Raleigh, I tried to get there twice during the week, either on the days I was working from home, or, if I was driving in, I could get in a quick workout after dropping off the OG at school at Eight, and be at my desk by 9:30, which didn’t raise any eyebrows. And I’ve also been a regular Saturday morning visitor, armed (eared?) with the new edition of Wefunkand the podcast of Shields and Brooks, which, if I put it on when I walk out, is just finishing up as I walk in the door (I can’t bear the relentless coverage of the presidential campaign, but ten minutes/week seems about right, especially at this time.)

Well, the reduced gym time, compounded with the increased access to delicious food and the burden of advancing age, has added a few pounds, and, now that my term with the court is finished, I’ve been going every day except Sunday. My routine focuses on a blend of weights and cardio, and is based on the following principles, almost all of which I got from Marty Gallagher, who, sadly, doesn’t seem to be blogging anymore. He put training, especially with weights, in context for me, first with his Washington Post articles, and then with his blog; and he was always quick to respond to my email questions about whether something was a good idea or not, or how I might shake up my routine. A summary of his Purposeful Primitive approach is here. I used it to come up with the following basic workout principles:

• The 3 essential elements of fitness are diet, cardio and weights;
• Free weights are better than machines
• Push yourself during cardio
• The two most important exercises are the bench press and the squat
• Exercises done standing up are better than those done sitting down

I try to do only one weight training exercise per workout, followed by twenty minutes of cardio, except on Saturdays, when I’ll do both squats and bench. I’ll do two sets of bench exercises per week (moving every 6 weeks or so from 3 sets of 3 repetitions to 3 sets of 5 to 3 sets of 8, to 1 set of 1, trying to either increase the weight, or the number of reps from the previous time (doing only 1 exercise means I don’t really need a journal and can keep prior stats in my head). Right now, after about 4 weeks, I am finally able to complete 3 full sets of 8 repetitions with 165 pounds (2 minutes rest between sets), so I’ll bump it up to 170 next week, and see how that goes. When I feel like I've plateaued, I'll move to 3x3.

I do 50 deep squats with 105 pounds. Given the shape of my body, I’m not as concerned with the size of my core as I am with my scrawny chest and noodle arms. This is also why I don’t do deadlifts, which would appall Marty, but my focus is more on body tone than brute strength.

On the other days, I’ll do one set from a list of exercises I like, trying to emphasize variety, choosing a weight that makes the final rep a struggle:

• 1 set of pull-ups to failure
• 1x20 power cleans (pick two dumbbells off the floor and lift them over your head)
• 1x30 Modified Marvins (10 tricep extensions, followed immediately by 10 curls and 10 military presses with the same weight)
• 1x50 crunches

That’s about it. For cardio, I like the stair machines at the Y, since they are always available. I love the built-in calorie counter, because, although I know it bears little relationship to the actual number of calories burned, it is a consistent measure, and it gives you a target to aim for. I’ll start with a programmed twenty minute workout set to a middle level of difficulty, and try to raise it, each time, until I can manage it on maximum intensity. When I hit that, I’ll set a manual level of maximum intensity, and try to maintain it as long as I can. If it gets too easy, I’ll add minutes or a weighted backpack, but situational changes, holidays, vacations, injuries, etc. always seem to keep me from maxing out. Today I did 15 minutes at Level 21, and the last 5 at Level 18, producing a “score” of 661 calories burned. On Monday, I’ll try to do 16 minutes, and to beat 661. “Win, Rocky, win!”

This routine has me in an out in 30 minutes, which makes it a workable part of the day, and it’s allowed me to smooth out my body shape a little over the last decade, and to more or less maintain the same waistline, which, for me, is the best measure of fitness.  My waist was 32” in college, 33” in law school and 34.5” when I first started working out in 1992. I got it down to 32.5” in 2009, and I just fit comfortably into the 33” shorts that Worldwide had delivered from LL Bean in time for Father’s Day.  Not bad as I approach my 47^th birthday. Plus, being home alone for a couple of weeks has allowed me to go on a modified Warrior Diet, without interference to the family dynamic. I’ve been eating a serving of fruit and a smoothie for breakfast, a handful of nuts for lunch and an unrestricted dinner all week. I’ll share the results next week when Worldwide returns. But I suspect they will be minimal, since this isn’t all that different from how I eat every day. Let’s hope that the new lunch routine, while making leftover management significantly more challenging, will tip the scales.

Snackism

Childrens’ activities these days seem to universally include a “snack.” At the same time, the First Lady is crusading against childhood obesity. How to reconcile these two competing interests, especially if you subscribe, as I do, to the “a calorie is a calorie” theory of nutrition, which posits that the key to weight management is to eat less? That’s easier said than done, as almost all of us can attest, but why not “nudge” parents in the other direction, i.e. “send a snack with your child, if necessary?” Is it fear of jealousy in the snack room? Do teachers see pronounced effects of food on behavior? As someone whose cub scout meetings, baseball practices, chess club sessions, school activities, etc. did not generally involve food, I wonder. And how would teachers and children react if I included, instead of a serving of yogurt pretzels or a handful of strawberries, a note that said “My daughter does not need a snack. We will have dinner at 5:30 this evening.” Remonstrations? Tears? Ostracism? The possibilities are easily outweighed by the cost of throwing a little something in your child’s backpack. But maybe schools and activity managers need to work harder to discourage mindless eating; or maybe I should make the snack something the Gs will eat only if they need the sustenance. As the old saying goes, “if you are not hungry enough to eat a banana, you are not hungry.” That’s hard to follow when we value their daily happiness so highly.

Ah yes, the “healthy but delicious” paradox. How many parents have struggled with this, particularly in the organic, low salt, low carb, sugar and gluten free world of today? When the BG was in 2nd Grade, parents were periodically asked to send in a hBd snack for students and teachers. I struggled with this at first, but found solace in “whole grain,” which was particularly useful, given the giant sack of whole wheat flour in our kitchen from my brother-in-law’s Wisconsin mill.

Despite the whole grain flour, these cookies are probably on the starboard side of healthy But delicious. The trick is to make them small and eat them one at a time, which is really the key to the hBd lifestyle, in my view; and to run around afterwards. But they are quite good, nonetheless, and the whole wheat gives them a nice, chewy consistency (they are too heavy, though, if you don’t mix it with some white flour). I find that letting the dough sit for an hour in the refrigerator makes it easier to handle, and that rolling it into balls produces the perfect cookie shape. I also love the way my new stand mixer performs, but I don’t see any concomitant improvement to quality from its replacement of my beloved wooden spoon.

Whole grain chocolate chip cookies (about 3 dozen, at the size I roll them)

Stir together 1 1/8 cups whole wheat and 1 1/8 cups all-purpose flour, 1 tsp. baking soda and ½ tsp. salt. In a separate bowl, beat 2 sticks butter, softened, with ¾ cup brown sugar and ¾ cup sugar until creamy. Add 2 tsp. vanilla extract and 2 eggs, mixing until well combined. Blend in dry mixture. Stir in 2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips.

Refrigerate dough for an hour (or longer), then roll into superball size. Bake at 375 on ungreased cookie sheet (I like to use my silicon baking mat) 9-11 minutes, until golden brown. Cool on wire rack and enjoy responsibly.

Restaurant night

One of the games we played when first moved to the CHill was a weekly restaurant excursion. Every Tuesday—and we picked Tuesday as the night we were least likely to have trouble getting a table, discovering in doing so, that many restaurants offer deep discounts on this, the least popular weeknight, for exactly that reason—one of the family would get to unilaterally and incontrovertibly select the destination of his or her choice. This was done with considerable fanfare, to the point of some entering the address into the GPS in advance, so that no-one would know where we were going until we pulled into the parking lot.

It was a good way to get to know the many fine local restaurants, and it produced a number of great family stories, like the discussion with a spunky waitress of restaurant pet peeves (one of the Gs cannot stand bare-midriffed servers (I don’t know where that came from, but have been on the lookout ever since)); the waitstaff that kept making mistakes, and then atoning for them with increasingly generous giveaways; and the BG’s unfounded apprehension about a visit to the seemingly unfriendly named “Spanky’s.”  

We unofficially retired the practice after about a year, as schedules filled up, Worldwide tired of the burgers/pizza places favoured by the younger set, and the Gs were disinclined to try anything new. In fact, on recent occasions, they have spurned proposals in favour of an at-home dinner, leaving Worldwide and I the opportunity to enjoy the also-pleasant experience of kid-free dining. But the BG has been talking wistfully of late about our visit to the Chinese buffet in Durham, so I may try resurrecting the tradition, or some form of it, in the Fall. My Top 5 family experiences, in no particular order:

• Acme
• 501 Diner
• OnlyBurger
• Peppers Pizza
• Sandwhich

These aren’t the best restaurants in town, but each, in its own way, did a good job of having something for everyone, and of making the family experience a pleasant one. That’s a tall order when you’re facing an epicure, a vegetarian, a healthy diner, and a picky eater.

Shuckin' and Jivin' with Cook's Illustrated

I have a love/hate relationship with Cook’s Illustrated. I love the recipes, the kitchen tips and the product reviews. What I don’t like is the template for recipes, which basically every article follows. The author starts out with a problem—how to make a turkey burger that’s not dry; rescuing tabbouleh, for example—and goes through a series of experiments that ends with a eureka moment and a triumphal result. For instance, in the turkey burger article from the current edition, the author tries grinding different cuts, adding a panade (milk and breadcrumbs), stock, butter and bacon fat, then baking soda and gelatin. Finally he tried a second grinding of a portion of the mixture, and then various grains and starches, before—aha—adding white mushrooms and soy sauce.

This is relatively interesting process on its own, but when every article follows the same script—then I got an idea, and it worked like a charm!—it begins to wear one’s patience. Besides, the presentation of the recipes in this scientific manner belies the many variables in the home kitchen that might affect the result. But nevertheless, the recipes are invariably interesting, and often quite good.

What set me to blogging this morning, was an article from the current issue about the “easiest-ever way to shuck corn.” Here is how it’s described:

Removing the husk and silk from an ear of corn is a chore, and a “corn de-silker” gadget that we tested proved to be a bust. But now we’ve found a better way: A short stint in the microwave and a quick shake are all it takes to cleanly slide off the corn husk and silk. The cob will heat up a bit, but the kernels won’t be cooked. 

1. With sharp chef’s knife, cut off stalk end of cob just above first row of kernels. Place 3 or 4 ears at a time on microwave-safe plate and microwave on full power for 30 to 60 seconds.

2. Hold each ear by uncut end in 1 hand. Shake ear up and down until cob slips free, leaving behind husk and silk.

  

I was intrigued by this, as one of my personal peeves is stray pieces of cornsilk that elude removal during shucking. I tried this three different times over the last two days. Here are my observations:

First of all, in the time it takes to cut off the stalk end and microwave the corn, you can shuck the ear (especially if you grew up in Essex County).

Secondly. Shaking the ear up and down produces no result whatsoever, let alone the cob “slipping free.” You have to work it out like one of those push-up popsicles. But it works, and there is less stray silk, but not none.

Overall, I’d judge it less effective than the traditional method. Could my failure have been due to this particular batch of corn? To the time in the microwave? To my shaking technique? Perhaps, but that just serves to emphasize my point about science vs. uncertainty in the kitchen.

Oh well. At least I got a blog post out of it.

Tivo

When I started working, we used to talk about our bed-to-desk time, how long it took to get up, shower dress, and get to the office. I didn’t eat breakfast in those days, and didn’t seem to get hungry until noontime. I used to go to bed on what I now consider the wrong side of midnight, and, when I lived on Capitol Hill, a short metro ride from my firm at Metro Center, I could be out of bed and into the office in well under an hour.

But, and this will sound ridiculous, something happened when I had kids. Suddenly there was an all consuming set of things to do in the morning—getting dressed, having breakfast (now the most important meal of the day for some reasson) and getting to day care. Plus, these ungrateful bundles seemed to demand constant attention—role playing games, bedtime stories, etc. I found fatherhood to be a real drag on my media time.

The first counter to this new paradigm was Tivo, which combined the utility of time shifting with the VCR and a very friendly user interface. I could now put the OG to bed (she was 3 in 2002, when we got our still functioning Series 2 unit after reading a story, or watching the Wiggles, knowing that I could start the Seven o’clock Wizards game at Eight and finish up in real time without watching any commercials—a decidedly more efficient way of consumption. In fact, I think Tivo missed a real opportunity, by marketing to young people rather than harried parents. You may recall that the main Tivo commercial at the time was a young man watching a football game, who, just as the kicker for his beloved team is lining up a game winning field goal, pauses the broadcast in order to run over to the church to importune for divine assistance. In reality, sports fans have been the most inveterate opponents of this scenario, and I have read countless diatribes about how fans can’t bear to watch things knowing that the results are already known by their peers. I, on the other hand, have no problem with it, and, even when I turned on the tv in medias res (and Tivo did not do a good job of preventing this) and got a glimpse of the score, I actually enjoyed walking the cat backwards to ascertain how it actually came to be. So the core demographic for the service should have been, it seems to me, people with less control over their schedule, rather than those who thought it was cool to pause live television. I don’t have the data to back up this hypothesis, of course, so perhaps I’m missing something.

But Tivo did more than allow me to witness every grisly minute of Michael Jordan’s categoric failure with the Wizards. Counter-intuitively, it also reduced my tv watching time. One of my first actions when we installed the box was to set up season passes to the White Shadow and the A-Team, the former, a show that I hadn’t seen in years, and the latter, one that I was always delighted to stumble on when flipping channels. Now I could call these, and other gems, up whenever I wanted. But I soon found two things: that the White Shadow wasn’t as good as I remembered, and that the A-Team was not as enjoyable without the serendipitous spontaneity of happening upon it when I was looking for something to watch. Shorn of that experience, I simply stopped watching bad television, which had been my late night habit for at least a decade. I can’t say that Tivo was the only reason for that (surely advancing wisdom and maturity were contributing factors, right?) but I do think it played a significant role.

Moreover, and again, this seems like a perfectly obvious marketing opportunity that was largely ignored, Tivo allowed us to always maintain a full complement of the Gs’ favourite shows. This meant that we were never at a loss for finding something for them to watch, and did not have to spend money on dvds. In fact, until Egypt, the girls did not really understand the concept of “Let’s see what’s on.” And, until the allure of Dancing With the Stars, were unfamiliar with the idea of event television, where it is important to be on the sofa at a specific time.

We have two units today, as well as the DVR from Time Warner, which is still far more difficult to use than our ten-year old unit. Because of their age, the Tivo units cannot record any channels above 75, and they don’t record in high definition, which limits their suitability for regular season NBA games. I watch Pardon the Interruption, usually after dinner, after the dishwasher has been loaded, the BG has gone outside to play with the neighbours, and the OG has withdrawn into her chambers. I also watch America’s Test Kitchen now and again, and Worldwide and I will watch the Daily Show during lunch sometimes, although I have lately grown a little tired of the profanity and the Fox-bashing. Not that I like Fox news, I just don’t see it as a practical use of my time to think about it. Worldwide likes Mad Men, Downton Abbey, the Good Wife and a couple of other shows, and the Gs, who have unfettered access to a cornucopia of programming, watch almost nothing.

Shortly before 9 most nights, the Gs will come down  in search of a beverage and wondering if there’s a basketball game on. There usually is, but that’s another story.

Tuning In

A trip up to Hancock New York with the Gs provided me with a survey of today’s pop music. Balancing a manic desire to play the same songs over and over against my preference for no repeats, the OG did an excellent job of walking us through her music collection and responding to the BG’s requests. Pitbull, Usher, Carmen, the Wanted, Taylor Swift (“Mean” was allowed a second play) Nicky Minaj, Beyonce and Train were showcased, along with a sprinkling of Stax and Motown.

On the way back, I was looking forward to a steady stream of Econtalk and Wefunk, but the headphone jack on my phone was not permitting a steady connection to the car stereo. Having no cds, this meant I returned to the age old tradition of seeking a radio station up and down the dial, finding something utterly delightful, and then watching it slip from range. Two highlights, both of which I held onto for the better part of an hour were a fantastic playlist of obscure R&B tracks (there was absolutely no talking for 45 minutes, so all I know was it was 89.3 FM, and I can’t find any more information online) and the midday show from WXPN in Philadelphia, which demonstrated everything that a music show is supposed to be on the radio, but rarely is. The set included classic deep cuts from the Who (Another Tricky Day) and XTC (King for a Day) as well as good new songs from Florence and the Machine, and a few other bands whose names I’ve forgotten.

Not the best way to spend 20 hours, I suppose. But I got the Gs to camp without incident and myself back to the CHill in time for last night’s Game 7.

Sunday Papers

Seeing lots of signs opposing fracking has got me to thinking about energy lately. I’m hard pressed to articulate our current energy policy beyond tiny investments in renewable energy and small subsidies to the purchasers of hybrid cars. This seems misguided given the geopolitics of the Middle East and the current explosion of natural gas production in the US. The Times helps out today with an editorial, as well as an Op-ed piece by Daniel Yergin, whose book I’ve considered reading. The editorial cites a recent report from the International Energy Agency, which concludes that fracking is preferable to coal from an environmental standpoint (a gas-fired plant admits half as much carbon dioxide as a coal-fired one). Yergin shows how the balance of oil production is shifting home, and suggests that the Administration is starting to embrace the benefits of this boom.

All of this suggests a better future, where cleaner power plants produce all of our energy and electric and gas-powered vehicles turn us into a net oil exporter again. With Dallas returning to the airwaves, this seems like a viable scenario, unless JR’s scheme to crush the competition succeeds, as it usually does.


Also noted

Kristof on the tragedies in Sudan and Syria. It seems morally wrong to sit idly, even if the history of intervention is not looking so great right now.

Animals get breast cancer too, like to get high and suffer from neuroses. We can learn from this.

Friedman on the choices offered young Egyptians in the upcoming presidential election; 622 or 1952?

The significance of Exxon Mobil in the world. Echoes of the East India Company.

Song of the Day

Little ditty, about waking up Ev.
Fighting writer's block--check the kitchen clock. Oh well, whatev.
Evie gonna be a 4th grade grad,
Me I'm a lunchbox-packing, lyrical dad.

So let it rock, Let it roll.
Let me go upstairs and tell you it's time for school.
Hold on to 4th grade as long as you can.
Changes come around real soon and we head off to camp.*

* This part appears in the middle of the song, so I did not follow the lyrics exactly. But I do so enjoy rhyming "roll" and "school" in my best rock star voice.

Hibisquitous

Meetings in foreign countries invariably include a drink. In my four years in Egypt I drank a lot of ahwa seder (bitter coffee) as well as yansoon (anise tea), which became my signature beverage. I also grew partial to karkadeh, hibiscus tea, which can be served hot or cold. I don’t much care for the hot version, but the cold beverage is delightfully refreshing, and the dried flowers were available all over Cairo. I used to buy mine from a small spice shop by the Dokki metro, on Tahrir Street, near my office.

For our lunch at G-Lo’s 80th birthday, I toyed with the idea of making an agua fresca—some sort of light and fruity beverage—to accompany the carnitas. Looking for recipes on the Internet, I learned that hibiscus (Jamaica in Spanish) is also widely consumed in Mexico. At a local tienda in Carrboro, I spied what looked like the dried flowers in an unmarked bag among an assortment of dried peppers. Thinking they were what I wanted, but confused as to why they weren’t with the other coffees and teas, I asked the guy sweeping the floor if they were hibiscus. He looked at me uncomprehendingly, and said “Jamaica.” So I knew I had found what I was looking for.
 

I haven’t tried the recipe in the video below (and I’ve forgotten my Cairo recipe), so I’m not sure how accurate the proportions are. But you just simmer the flowers and sugar for awhile and then strain and cut the tea with cold water. Sweetness is a matter of taste, anyway, so the amount of sugar that suits you may vary. I’ll try it as soon as I’ve finished my pitcher of green tea with mint from the garden (thank you Morocco) and let you know what I think.

Sunday Papers

Plenty of good stuff in the paper this morning, complemented by the BG’s design and my rendering of perhaps the first ever blueberry, coconut, chocolate chip waffle—a rousing success.

Mixed reactions to a life sentence for Hosni Mubarak. It’s  unclear how this will affect the presidential candidacy of his former prime minister. Still a few chapters to be written in this story and the ending is impossible to predict, though many are trying.

My favourite nutrition writer on salt: its linkage with poor health outcomes is not as certain as people believe.

Hagiographical review by Al Sharpton of the new James Brown biography. Here’s mine: “Not the nicest cat, he seems to have sacrificed relationships, money and health at the altar of success. Ran his band like a despot, but he made it groove like no other. Endorsed Nixon, smoked PCP every day in the 80s.”

Apparently Fred Astaire was not the star of the Austerlitz family. I had not heard of his sister, Adele, until today.

32 innovations on the horizon. Is sous vide the new microwave?

Don’t go to the doctor unless you’re sick. Despite everyone having an anecdote to disprove this theory, the statistics are compelling. According to Nassim Taleb, the best way to hasten a man’s death is to give him a personal doctor.

Smoothie update

The BG's vegetarianism means that iron is a concern, while Worldwide's globetrotting means exposure to exotic fruits. Thank Amazon.com and our neighbourhood Mexican market for the two latest additions to the smoothie bar: iron elixir and passion fruit , which Worldwide has enjoyed in Africa, Asia and the Caribbean. A teaspoonful of the former contains 44 mg of elemental iron, enough to keep the three smoothie drinkers in the family supplied with our daily requirements. And the taste is undetectable inside the delicious grapefruit-lime flavour of the passion fruit.


Today's special is iron-fortified blueberry-passion fruit.