Monday

Lunch:

Apple, Clementine, handful of nuts

Dinner:

Spaghetti with Puttanesca dusted with Pecorino

Steamed Edamame

Fresh 50/50 Whole Wheat Sourdough

Romaine Salad

This is the first year in god knows how long that I didn't watch the Oscar ceremony. I don't know why, but it just didn't seem relevant in any way shape or form. When I went to bed last night, though I lay awake for a significant time, I did not wonder once who won what. I woke up this morning and didn't think about it, nor did it occur to me to wonder at any point before class started. I still at this very moment have no interest in knowing.

I'm going to make the assumption that my lack of interest is a reflection of the fact that awards for the current crop of hollywood dreck mean little or nothing to me. I actually had some interest in seeing a few of them, and did see one or two of the nominees, but at this point I'm so disgusted with the semi-valid critical blathering I've heard this week, even on the relative intellectual oasis of NPR, that I'd rather pretend it didn't happen at all.

Yup, just kind of disgusted with the entire thing.

So, who won Best Film Editing and Best Cinematography?

In a triumphal return... Sunday

Lunch:

Oatmeal with imported french berry jam

Dinner:

Shredded Steak, seared then covered in jus and finally coated with whipped avocado

Petit Pois

fresh 50/50 whole wheat sour dough

The end of the winter is nigh, though not yet returned. The spring is almost here, but the world is still dead and the trees look useless, like overly complicated, upside down tripods. Everything seems so tentative and on-the-precipice. But when I stop and look at the quality of the light, its really unlike any other time of the year and valuable in its own right. The lack of leaves, either green or golden, desaturates the bright clear sky, which is no longer a constant shade of dirty cotton gray. The leaves that are left blowing around have a much higher degree of contrast because little else is moving in the dead landscape. And nothing on the planet will be so perceptually overwhelming as the first buds of leaves on the trees nor the little shoots that will peak out when the bulbs I hid in the ground begin to push out. in the light spectrum, they may be of meek and neutral tone, but in the seasonal drift from death to life, they display something earth shattering and word-defying! The beginning of the outdoor grilling season!

Wednesday

Lunch:
1 banana, 1 apple, handful of nuts

Dinner:
Shaved Steak with Chimichurri and Jus on the side
English Peas

There is a confusing briskness in the air. Its almost like the false resolution in the plot of a well-crafted film. The descent from the extreme, though all-too-brief, heat of the summer, to lows of 50 degrees should not occur practically overnight. But we humans love to be fooled by easy plot reversals. We can't wait to be shocked SHOCKED I TELL YOU when the temps return to their late summer funky sweaty norms. And we will call it 'New England' and shake our heads, flinging the sweat in all directions. Right before the coffee in our cup freezes right before our disbelieving eyes...

Tuesday

Lunch:
1 apple, 1 banana, many peanuts

Dinner:
Burnt End KC BBQ Sandwich (courtesy Blue Ribbon BBQ)
Collards
Cole Slaw

It has been almost a month since my last post. Much has happened, food-wise and otherwise. Most importantly, my oven broke. I have been without the ability to bake for nearly four weeks. The only other time this has happened was during the ice storm, when I was also reduced to eating what could be boiled, braised or fried on a stove top. It was a good lesson then, and it is a good lesson now (although surely I've learned my lesson and can return to the cultivated art of the gently directed heat).

I've spoken before about how soothing and stabilizing the integrated process of baking bread can be once the rhythm is developed. Every once in a while, one has to step outside that rhythm to appreciate it. Life, since the failure of a single circuit block in my Kenmore range, has swung back and forth like a drunken pendulum. Like a grandfather clock's anchor escapement trying to maintain regularity during an earthquake or an Allied bombing in Dresden. Its inefficient, it barely gets the job done and it wears itself out in the process. Its powerful mojo when you create or break a pattern. But you'll never even notice till you are ripped from that pattern out of the blue. We are as dependent on our patterns as cats, only not quite as clever.

What's a guy to do? Get that part and get back to the method and madness.

Monday

Lunch:
French Omelet with fried salt pork cubes and gorgonzola

Dinner:
braised pork ribs with BBQ sauce built from the jus and tomato and hot sauce

Tomorrow will be the beginning of nearly a week spent in New Orleans, or really, the French Quarter, since my accommodations are on Canal Street and I won't have a car. Yes, its a for a conference for my job, but there is no travel money in the department budget this year, so its all coming out of Daddy's pocket. And when travel to a place like Noo OR Lins (or 'Noo Or LEENS', but never 'Nawlins' despite everything you've ever seen in a bad hollywood film), Daddy's pockets will justify only so much work and so little pay. Daddy's pockets want a ROI.

So there will be gumbo (and booze) and muffuletta or po'boy (and beer) and oysters (and white wine) and etouffe and on and on and on. There will clean sheets and a fantastic view of the river. There will be sweating and gnashing of the teeth and mosquitoes and a sad feeling that the quarter isn't what it used to be, for good and ill. We shall see indeed, and if we succeed in attaining wifi, we might even write a word or two about it for those not able to venure into the miasma that is 98% humidity...

Sunday

Lunch:
Shaved steak with gorgonzola
Crackers

Dinner:
Ragu with ground lamb on Rotini
Sauteed Snow Peas
Chocolate Mint Ice Cream

Its been a while. Life has been a little crazy. Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes that's a great thing. Sometimes you're on the wrong end of the billy club. Sometimes, in the chain of events, something you take for granted that you re-visit nearly every day is suddenly gone and you are left looking on the shelf in askance. Patterns allow us to work safely on autopilot. And I guess the worst part of autopilot is that its easy to lose sight of that fact that important parts of your life can end up in autopilot, whether you like it or not. I bake bread every other day, but my oven broke a few days ago, and I am just now realizing how important that ritual was for me. Not just the bennie of fresh sourdough every day, but the process subconsciously kept me moving forward. Always producing the next loaf. Always finishing off the last one as I'm working on the next one. Never really cogitating on it, but always relying on it. Bedrock, tasty tangy bedrock.

Well, now I am.

I'll probably not be posting for the next week, while I'm in New Orleans eating and drinking my way from one side of the quarter to the other (blasted iPod Touch and Blogger still don't work together). Beignet, Po'boys, gumbo, oysters, Zapp's and missing the ability drink a sixer of Dixie on the street corner without getting a second glance.

Tuesday

Lunch:
Two Egg Sandwich on sourdough

Dinner:
Hickory Grilled Honey Glazed Shrimp
Hickory Grilled Lemon Thyme Tuna (with a Soy Ginger Parsley Dipping sauce)
Chocolate Dipped Strawberries