BBQ and Grilling

A few months ago, I took a class at L'Ecole Academy on Pies and Tarts.  Last week I returned for another one, this time on BBQ and Grilling.  In some ways, this class was completely stupid: I have neither a grill nor a smoker (of which our chef is a big fan), so my ability to actually put any of the techniques I learned into practice is basically nil.

However, I did learn some things!  We started out, as last time, with some discussion.  We talked about the difference between types of animals, the difference between cooking working and non-working muscles, and different cooking techniques.

We prepared a spice rub; we each got to take a container home, and some got rubbed all over half a port shoulder which we started smoking for tomorrow's lunch.  The chef was finishing up the other half of the shoulder in the oven; he had gotten it started in the smoker that morning.

We grilled some chicken thighs (working muscles) to get a good sear on them, then finished them in the oven as well.  Those, along with the pork shoulder and some asparagus, were dinner.

The asparagus were delightful.  Blanched to maintain firmness and color, the asparagus were coated in Thai chili sauce for sweetness before grilling.  They were delicious!

Our final item, another take-home, was barbecue sauce.  I haven't used it yet (remember my lack of grill?), but I'm looking for an opportunity!

Seabiscuit: An American Legend -- Take 2

This story is amazing!  This horse certainly deserves to be called "an American Legend."  He was everything we could want him to be: small, with a funny gait and an overly tall jockey, and with a fighting spirit like horse racing fans had never seen.

Laura Hillenbrand is a good enough writer - not often lyrical or poetic, but weaves a yarn as well as anyone else writing today, which is made made more impressive by the fact that she's writing non-fiction and is not at liberty to rewrite the story to suit the needs of her plot.

There are a couple of particularly great descriptions of Seabiscuit near the beginning:

"The colt's body, built low to the ground, had all the properties of a cinder block.  Where Hard Tack had been tall, sleek, tapered, every line suggesting motion, his son was blunt, coarse, rectangular, stationary.  He had a sad little tail, barely long enough to brush his hocks.  His stubby legs were a study in unsound construction, with squarish, asymmetrical, baseball glove knees that didn't quite straighten all the way, leaving him in a permanent semi-crouch.  Thanks to his unfortunately assembly, his walk was an odd, straddle-legged motion that was often mistaken for lameness.  Asked to run, he would drop low over the track and fall into a comical version of what horsemen call an egg-beater gait, making a spastic, sideways, flailing motion with his left foreleg as he swung it forward, as if he were swatting at flies.  His gallop was so disorganized that he had a maddening tendency to whack himself in the front ankle with his own hind hoof."

"Horses usually sleep in numerous brief sessions scattered throughout the day and night.  About twenty percent of their daytime is spent snoozing.  Because of the size and configuration of their bodies, they suffer impeded breathing and circulation when recumbent, and as prey animals who have trouble getting to their feet quickly, they are instinctively disinclined to stay down.  As a result, the vast majority of horse's sleeping is done standing, which they can do thanks to ligaments that lock their leg joints in the extended position.  The average stabled horse spends just five minutes at a time lying down to sleep, almost always at night.  Seabiscuit was the exception.  He could keel over and snooze for hours on end without suffering any negative consequences.  While every other horse at the track raised hell demanding breakfast, he slept long and late, stretching out over the floor of his stall in such deep sedation that the grooms had to use every means in their power just to get him to stand up. . . . No one had ever seen a horse so relaxed. [A trainer] would remember him as 'a big dog,' the most easygoing horse he ever trained.  The only thing Seabiscuit took seriously, aside from his beauty rest, was eating, which he did constantly with great vigor.  He may have been an amiable little horse, but his career prospects looked dim.  He was as slow as growing grass.  He barely kept up with his training partners, lagging along behind with happy ineptitude."

Now that's a horse with character.

It's interesting that Hillenbrand rarely mentions anything about what's going on in the world outside of horse racing.  There's a little bit of it in the personal history of Seabiscuit's owner, Charles Howard, because it helps explain how Mr. Howard got where he did.  There's a little bit more in the epilogue, when she puts the racing back in historical context of the Great Depression and World War II.  This information is truly not critical to the phenomenal story of the crooked little horse, but I think it does help explain why everyone was so enamored with him.  During a time when our country's finances were in shambles, unemployment was high, and people generally felt run down, here comes this wonderful story of a champion who never should have been, but somehow was.

As with Atlantic fishing in The Perfect Storm, Hillenbrand writes not just to communicate the story of Seabiscuit, but also to teach the finer points of horse racing.  It's fascinating stuff.  I learned what the heck an impost is, what it's like to be a jockey, what's required to cool a horse after a race, and how the strange relationships between owners, trainers, and jockeys plays out.  Did you know that horses running in some of these races are going nearly 50 miles an hour?  Holy hell, that is fast!  I've never even ridden my bike that fast, and that has wheels!  I also found interesting the difference in a horse's ability between a "sprint race" at 1 mile and a "distance race" at 1-3/4 miles.  In humans, where a sprint is 100 meters and a distance race is 26 miles, the difference of 3/4 of a mile seems trifling.  But I guess when you think that they're doing it at highway speeds, it puts it into some measure of perspective.

If you've already seen the movie or read the book, or aren't concerned about spoilers there's some great video footage of Seabiscuit racing some of the key races here and here.

For a final parting shot, I looked around on the internet and found this fantastic picture of the Biscuit, oddly from some little kid's report on animal heroes:

What a great shot.

Brooklyn, U.S.A. -- And a Little of New Jersey, Too.

Hello again!

I've had so many adventures since my run and near-lockout on Saturday!  I spent the rest of the evening getting oriented, putting together a calendar of potential activities, and contacting friends in the city to see when they were free

Sunday morning I headed out early to get some groceries and other provisions.  I stopped by Target for a few household necessities, and then did my best to buy healthy food at the healthy food store so E would be proud!  It was a muggy, overcast day, but I went for my run anyway.  I've noticed a couple of things while I've been out jogging and touring around.

First, people here seem to walk on the left, Continental-Europe-style.  It's not that the sidewalks are so crowded that they just walk wherever there's space.  This is true even early on Sunday mornings; the sidewalks were wide open.  There are few other people.  Everyone walks to the left.  Maybe they're all French?  Unlikely.

Second, the reused plastic bag is a big deal here.  I think the reusable bag in general is a big deal because often people need to take a lot of stuff with them when they leave for the day.  Maybe you need to take lunch, an umbrella, a change of clothes for the gym, etc.  But for some reason the grocery store plastic bag has cornered the market here, where in other cities it's probably more common to see a large purse, messenger bag, or reusable canvas bag.

There is an enormous Mardi Gras-esque West Indian Carnival in Brooklyn on Labor Day, and I'd heard from a couple of people that the whole thing is completely insane, and if you're not of West Indian or Caribbean descent, you should just get the hell out of Dodge.  I did.  Here's how:

Sunday night, I went with my friend L to see Fuerza Bruta in Union Square.  Prior to seeing the show, I wasn't quite sure what to expect.  Now that I've seen the show, I'm not quite sure how to describe it.  It's some combination of acrobatics and performing arts, with a bit of audience participation added for good measure.  It was super high-energy, although L pointed out that the pacing of the show seemed to be a little off.  Each segment when on a little to long and dragged the energy level down a bit, when the lights and the music were still flashing and pumping.  It seemed a little incongruous in some way, but the show was still really interesting.

I spent Sunday night at L and J's place in Jersey City, but not before stopping for a most delicious and most desperately needed cherry vanilla malt from Torico's.

Monday morning, Labor Day, started out with a strong coffee from Dames Coffee, and then we were off for the day to Cape May, NJ.  It was overcast and incredibly muggy, but at least not miserably hot out.  Cape May is an adorable town, exactly what you'd expect from a Mid-Atlantic seaside vacation spot.

We spent some time at the beach (sorry for my dirty camera lens - it was windy and impossible to keep clean), and wandered in and out of shops, avoiding the one powerful but brief rainstorm of the day.

L and J chatting in the sand

Then we found the miracle of miracles in West Cape May: a joint shop that sold homemade organic ice cream called Bliss (I had two scoops: cinnamon clove and honey orange creamsicle) and a restaurant called Good Earth Organic Eatery, where L and J got their dinners.  I had roasted squash, a taste of smoky vanilla ice cream (which had not been an option when we made our purchasing choices), and a delicious honey lemon green tea.  Next door was the Seaside Cheese Company, where I got some bagel chips, blueberry stilton, and wine-soaked pecorino.  What a dinner!

Words of wisdom from a Cape May fence post.  Smart, those fence posts.

And then, the long drive back to the city.

What I'm Reading Now -- Winter's Tale

This book is a group effort.  I've adopted Dad's habit of reading a book that is somehow related to a place to which I am traveling.  Mom loves loves loves Mark Helprin, and she and I have traded emails (which is now officially no longer hyphenated) about his historical novel Winter's Tale.  A couple of weeks ago, a copy arrived in the mail for me.

It's a bit of a doorstop and I'm a slow reader, so we'll see how much I can get through while I'm here.  If I can make maximum use of my time on public transit, hopefully I'll at least make a decent dent in it!

Goal #36

Goal #36: My Google Maps

Eons ago, I started making a Google Map of some of my favorite places around the Lou.  Things got busy and I gave up after about, um, 10 minutes.  I want to get going on it again!

Recap of Goal #35: I managed to get my documents backed up before I left town and dragged my computer halfway across the country.  I did not, however, back up pictures or music.  I was short on time and those are big files, so I had to prioritize.  I'll get back to them, though, hopefully as soon as I get home, since I'll have so many more pictures!

Brooklyn, U.S.A. -- Welcome!

Folks, today I am embarking on a great adventure.  I'm moving to Brooklyn.

Okay, actually I'm only visiting for two weeks, so perhaps it's not a great adventure.  But it is an adventure!  Especially since I almost locked myself out an hour after I got here - no cell phone, no one to call even if I had one.  Luckily it turned out I was wrong.  But for 20 minutes or so, I was pondering what it would be like to live on the streets in Brooklyn for a few days!  Whew.  (And if I had had to live on the street, I would have been without my trusty sidekick Radar, who is back home with T.)

There's not much today write about today and I don't have any pictures, but I'll be back periodically with better stuff.  I went for a jog today and found myself in Prospect Park, which was a nice change of pace (heh, literally), from the crowded sidewalks.  In addition to bikers, joggers, and the NYPD, the park was filled with vaguely hungry-looking skinny people wearing skinny clothes.  Yes, definitely Brooklyn.

Not feeling like risking locking myself out again so soon, I raided E's fridge for dinner.  I managed to put together a surprisingly tasty sandwich with hummus on one slice of toast and avocado on the other, piled high with cucumber slices, apple slices, and some sauteed Swiss chard.  And wine!  She has wine.  Skinny people aside, Brooklyn is A-ok! (Is there a Wikipedia page for everything?)

St. Louis, Meet Isaac

52 Weeks of Dresses -- Week 40

Otherwise titled: dress fail

Last night I went out to dinner at Meadowbrook Country Club.  I had never been there before, and it's lovely.  We even lucked out and were able to enjoy the hurricane-free evening under an outdoor fan, and it wasn't too hot.  Then I had Fudgsicles (yes, plural - I will leave it at that) for dessert, which are every bit as wonderfully, almost-like-the-real-thing satisfying now as they were when I was five.

What I forgot to do, however, was take a picture.  This is not me:

However, it is a pretty close approximation of my outfit, nude pumps and all.  The only obvious difference is that my dress had a deeper cowl neck.  I looked good, and  you'll just have to take my word for it.

Ugh.

Sometimes it can be a chore to remember that there are, in fact, good things.  But I try.

What I'm Reading Now -- Seabiscuit: An American Legend

I have a confession to make: I've already seen the movie; I know how it ends.

But I've been meaning to read the book version of Seabiscuit for a couple of years, and my desire was renewed when Laura Hillenbrand's new book, Unbroken, came out last year.  (Yes, even still, it has taken me this long. And it's an audiobook! The hits just keep on coming.)

But finally, I will hear the story of the little horse who could.