Topics

(in the key of E minor)

Breathe as we go under - the deep will keep our secrets
Hear you steal my thunder - cry of the self-defeatists
Deep in my blue slumber - I dream that I don't need this
Inhale then dive under - got what I need to breathe...

The ships must be abandoned
Cling to anything that floats at all
Leave me - I'm still standing tall

Meanwhile in the windows - are candles lit for guidance
Burn away our sins, though - we're saved by what defiles us
Into the madness we go - a sweet mix of art and science
Make the earth our widow - and see what it means to die...

The ships must be abandoned
Cling to anything that floats at all
Leave me - I'm still standing tall
Take my place as Captain
The band is playing as the curtains fall
Singing any song at all

Scream as we go under - the deep betrays our secrets
Hear you steal my thunder - cry of the unbelievers
Deep in my black slumber - I learn that I need this
Exhale then dive under - got what I need to breathe...

The ships must be abandoned
Cling to anything that floats at all
Leave me - I'm still standing tall
Take my place as Captain
The band is playing as the curtains fall
Singing any song at all

I got your christmas card today.

While I was hoping your outfit in the pic would be a little more revealing, the steampunk goggles were a nice touch.

And indeed, I too am excited about chimichangas.

Until further notice (or until someone else sends cookies) you are my favorite PD.com poster.

I know we had our differences, but they were never unbridgeable.

Or, at least, they shouldn't have been.

And you tried. Every time I came back to town, 3 or 4 different mutual friends would call me and ask if it was cool if you came along because you wanted to be tight again, wanted to bury the hatchet, wanted to make it good.

But I was never down for that. It was too easy, too satisfying to hold on to my pointless dislike. I never even hated you. And I really never blamed you for what you did. After a short while, I stopped thinking of it as "what you did" and realized that like every other similar situation, it was "what she did". I guess it was just a stupid way for me to hold on to the old order of things, to reinforce a hierarchy that had long since slipped into irrelevance. It was so petty and small of me, but I just wanted to make a point to you that you don't do that sort of thing to me when I'm higher on the totem-pole than you are.

A totem pole that, upon reflection, should (at best) be a lesson in the tunnel-vision of youth and more probably (at worst) a source of enduring shame for having aspired to be the king of that particular hill in the first place.

Even last year, 10 years after the "incident", I couldn't bring myself to swallow my pride and accept you back into my circle of friends with open arms. As bad as I wanted to want to, I couldn't let go of that part of me that viewed it as a loss of face. Even in the face of your condition, knowing that you wanted to make it right while you still had time, and even though I had just struggled through helping someone else do just that before they passed.

And when I moved to Oregon 6 weeks ago, I decided that the first time I was up in Seattle with more than a day to spare I would seek you out, would make room in my heart for your friendship, would take you out for beers and let you get it off your chest and we could both be cool again in each others' eyes. To be honest, when someone fights their sickness as long as you did, people start to forget that you're living on borrowed time. They start taking you for granted again, like they always did when they KNEW you'd always be around.

Freeze, I'm fuckin' sorry, man. I'm sorry I was so petty about something so ultimately meaningless and I'm sorry that it cost us years of friendship that can never be made up.

I was really looking forward to seeing you next week when I went up to Seattle. I was looking forward to dragging you out for beers with Chad and Meinert and catching a shitty punk show at Tony V's. I was looking forward to watching you clown the local crackheads and reminiscing and laughing about the time we had a sledgehammer party at Courtney's house and charged people $1 for 3 swings at your old broken-down buick. I was looking forward to being true friends again, the kind of friends that only happen when two people go through the same trial by fire at the same time.

I thought I called Chad this afternoon to tell him about Cliff Lee being traded to the Mariners.

Turns out, I called him to find out that you died today.

I'm drinking a beer in your honor, right now, and thanking you. I'm thanking you because I can be a hard motherfucker to get through to and today you taught me a lesson in humility that I will never forget. I'm glad I knew you on this earth, and I'm glad that I had forgiven you in my heart before you went, even if you never got to know it for yourself. I'm glad that, when I heard the news, I still had enough love for you to shed tears over your death. And I am as proud as I can be to have been friends with a man who fought that motherfucker for five long years and went out kicking and screaming and living life until the very end.

I loved you, and I'm going to miss the hell out of you.

See you around, Freeze.

I have, quite honestly, never found myself at a complete and utter loss before.

My last good prospect for gainful employment in Portland, which I was SURE was going to offer me the job, just called to tell me to go fuck myself. I really don't know what to do. I know that I have no desire to stay in a town that is so insular and small-minded that they won't hire someone who is extremely well-qualified because he has committed the heinous crime of not being from around here.

So...I've decided to make things even worse by asking you spags for your opinions and/or advice.

What should I do? Where should I go? What assortment of felonies should I commit on my way out of town?

Options are:

1) Stay here in Portland and try to find work here. refrain from committing acts of arson and/or poop-flinging. (note: this option is not an option)

2) Go up to Seattle and try to find work up there, where there is a chance that I will be the beneficiary of the social cliquishness instead of being excluded because of it.

3) Start selling my shit, wait for my tax return to be deposited in a month or so, and fuck off back to the islands (where there probably aren't any jobs either, but the beaches are nice)

4) Go back to Maine for one more season and try again next fall. Wear a mask all summer to avoid having to look anyone in the eye.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/12/10/new-dems-extract-big-win_n_386787.html

The compromise reached late Wednesday between pro-reform House Democrats and the banker-friendly wing of the party could significantly weaken consumer protection in states where lawmakers support tougher rules against tactics such as predatory lending and excessive ATM fees than historically submissive federal regulators.

Melissa Bean of Illinois and her fellow members of the New Democrat Coalition -- who have collectively accepted massive amounts of money from the financial services industry since 2008 -- temporarily blocked the landmark financial regulatory reform bill from hitting the House floor on Wednesday.

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

so I finally got our juicer out of the box today. had a few pounds of red grapes sitting around that weren't getting eaten and decided to make some fresh grape juice for a healthy treat.

got the juice all juiced, and had a bunch of grape pulp left over. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away, but what the hell can you do with grape mush?

so, here's what I ended up with:

grape mush (about 2/3 of a cup)
1/4 cup cane vinegar
1/4 cup spicy brown mustard
1/4 cup honey
1 tbsp ground cumin

beat together in a large bowl until it was a fairly uniform mixture, then added:

2 small stalks celery, sliced thinly on a bias
half red onion, sliced thinly
4 radishes, sliced thinly
half a zucchini, sliced thinly along the bias into rounds, then halved to make thin half-rounds
1 can garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained

tossed this until everything was coated with the grape-mustard dressing, and let it sit for an hour.

added 4 oz. of good sheep's milk feta, crumbled (but not too finely) and tossed it lightly (you don't want to cream the feta)

took some fresh bibb lettuce leaves (endive would probably work even better) and spooned a couple spoonfuls of the salad mixture into each lettuce leaf (use the smaller inner leaves of a head of bibb, as they make nice lettuce cups)

served alongside pan-fried fresh rockfish filets (barramundi or mahi-mahi would work well too) with curried garlic aioli.

yum.

I've got the balls to openly post my address here.

anyone who wants to send an xmas card is welcome to do so.

anyone who wants to send a dead hooker, used socks, old newspaper, or any other fucked-up thing you can think of is also welcome to do so.

I'm not afraid of y'all.

4933 SE Tibbetts St.
Portland, OR 97206

Now, should any of you decide to come knock on my door, it would be wise to inform me before hand, since I keep a very large and very loaded gun handy at all times. I'd hate to accidentally shoot one of you.

Unless you're Durko.

from the Atlantic article "Khalid Sheik Mohammed and You" by Andrew Cohen
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200911u/prosecuting-sheik-mohammed

If you are upset about the Obama Administration's decision to bring al-Qaeda leader Khalid Sheik Mohammed to New York for a federal civilian trial, and you are looking to blame someone, go straight to your bathroom and look into the mirror. You have no one to blame but yourself.

You sat passively by for years while President George W. Bush and conservatives in Congress (both Republican and Democrat) ginned up one unconstitutional set of military commission rules after another. You didn't pay attention to the details of the Detainee Treatment Act of 2005 or the Military Commissions Act of 2006 or the major Supreme Court cases that told you the due process rules in place to try the terror suspects at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba were unlawful. You wanted revenge and retribution, even at the cost of justice and fairness, and, so long as the men you were (falsely) told were the "worst of the worst" were on a foreign island and away from you, you were fine with it.

For years, you didn't raise your voice and tell your elected officials that you welcomed a fair trial for the detainees under military rules. For years, you didn't demand that the detainees have lawyers, or access to some of the evidence against them, or meaningful appellate review, or protection from abuse. Either you didn't have confidence in the evidence against the men, or the application of the law, or you believed that America would somehow be rendered diminished and vulnerable by giving people like Mohammed more justice than they deserve. When the White House and the Congress reluctantly followed the letter but proudly not the spirit of the Supreme Court's rulings in Hamdan or Hamdi or Boumediene you just changed the channel and moved on with your life.

You were still so angry, so righteously angry, at what happened on September 11, 2001, that you just couldn't or wouldn't deal with the details. In good faith, you reckoned that the best and the brightest in Washington would figure out a way to get the job done, processing and prosecuting and sentencing the guilty efficiently and consistent with our nation's ideals. You delegated the job. You vaguely remember former Justice Sandra Day O'Connor's quote that "war is not a blank check for the president when it comes to the rights of the nation's citizens," but you didn't object when the White House and the Congress consistently presented that blank check to be cashed at the expense of people like Mohammed.

When learned scholars told you that the vast majority of terror suspects on Cuba had nothing to do with anti-U.S. activities, you turned the page. When you first heard about the torture of terror suspects you said, "Good," until you saw the pictures at Abu Ghraib. You had doubts then, perhaps, but not enough of them to demand of your representatives any sort of formal inquiry into our nation's torture policy. You didn't read the torture memos. You didn't read the International Red Cross's seminal report. You didn't want to know what Bush-era lawyers like John Yoo and David Addington and Jay Bybee were up to. To you, they were brave soldiers of the law standing on the parapet protecting you from guys like Mohammed.

But now it's happened. As an indirect result of your inattention, and as a direct result of the strength of our Constitution and the concomitant failure of its political and legal stewards, one of these dark, sinister men is coming to Manhattan, to a courthouse just blocks from Ground Zero, for a federal civilian trial. The tabloids already have turned this mortal man into a monster. The very same politicians whose failed compromises stalled the tribunals in Cuba for nearly a decade now suddenly are projecting their own failures upon the federal courts. Suddenly the so-called rule of law isn't good enough; suddenly it's the federal judiciary and federal prosecutors who are inept.

Stay in front of the mirror for a second. What are you afraid of? What about a Mohammed trial here in the States makes you so angry? Do you think he shouldn't get the same rights as you? Okay, that's fair. But so what? The Gitmo tribunals were stalled, dead in the water, so aren't you willing to sacrifice your feeling of indignation for the quicker conviction and sentence Mohammed's civilian trial almost surely will bring? Aren't you willing to set aside your rage at his treatment for the diplomatic and political benefits America will receive from giving the guy an open trial? Don't you think that treating Mohammed and his colleagues like common criminals is precisely the right message to send to the world about terrorism and al-Qaeda? Don't you think it hurts their cause to be considered murderers and not jihadist soldiers?

Are you distrustful of the federal judiciary? Why, because you believe the dangerous lie about how judges are ruining the rest of the government's war on terrorism? Have you taken the time to look at the track record that federal prosecutors have in successfully trying terror suspects in New York? Can you name a single case where the feds lost a major terror trial since September 11, 2001? Can you name one from before the terrible events that day? Is Tim McVeigh walking around Buffalo today? Is Terry Nichols walking around Kansas? Is Ramzi Youssef back in Brooklyn or Zacarias Moussaoui out on an airfield trying to fly planes in Minnesota? Have you heard from Jose Padilla or Richard Reid lately?

Are you really worried that Mohammed will go free? Why, because O.J. Simpson went free in 1995? Do you really think that a judge and jury are going to let this guy walk? The United States in United States v. Mohammed has the biggest home-court advantage in American legal history. Not only will the government have enough evidence to convict him, it's likely that Mohammed will gleefully help convict himself. Did you pay attention to the Moussaoui trial when he proudly declared his al-Qaeda allegiance in a Virginia courtroom? Have you paid attention to Mohammed's incriminating statements made to tribunal officers in Cuba? What about all of that makes you think he's suddenly going to turn into a John Demjanjuk and deny, deny, deny it all?

Are you worried that Mohammed will try to turn his trial into political theatre? So what? The world already has heard what he and his al-Qaeda pals think of America. The world already has seen the photos from Abu Ghraib. The world knows about waterboarding. It's old news. Mohammed is just a man, and soon he'll be a defendant, and then he'll be a ranting, shrieking crazy person in court, then he'll be convicted and then he'll be sentenced. Don't be angry about it now that is going to occur. Don't fear it. Welcome it. And at the same time embrace your own role, and your own responsibility, for ensuring that it had to happen this way, at this time, and in this place.

...now you're going to have to lose a World Cup match to us as well.

I just clicked "mark all read".

Quick, someonetell me what's going on!

Really, it's not that hard. I know you don't want nasty things like "industry" and "jobs" in your fair town, but enough is enough. Yeah, you have two culinary schools here, in this supposed foodie's mecca, but let's face it - culinary school grads usually aren't good for much more than running the salad station in a real restaurant and, frankly, neither of your schools is particularly well-respected as far as culinary schools go anyway. And just because you've got an abundance of student externs and recent grads willing to work for peanuts is no reason to become shortsighted.

Sure, I want more than the $9/hr you can pay some poor WCI grad. I'm used to making $15/hr or more, but given the relatively low cost of living here and the fact that your little town is just so adorable, I'd settle for $12/hr. That means that, for a 40-hour week (since none of you seem much interested in working very hard and no one hires a kitchen position for 50-60 hours out here) I would make a little less than $500 a month more than some assclown who doesn't know how to cook a steak medium-rare because he was too busy trying to learn how to make foam emulsions like his favorite character on Top Chef. Add in workman's comp and payroll tax and all that, and I'll probably cost you about $600 more a month. Or, to put it another way, You'd have to sell an extra 2 or 3 entrees a night to cover the extra cost of hiring me. Every interview I go to I hear sob stories about sous chefs who drove customers away because they just couldn't get their shit together or couldn't be bothered to work hard enough to do things right. Do you think it's possible that hiring someone with experience and a proven track record of success might sell you more than an extra 2 or 3 entrees a night? Do you think it's possible that paying someone what they're worth and giving them incentive to succeed might in turn create positive growth in your customer base in a town that seems rife with culinary inconsistency?

In short, DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA HOW TO SUCCEED IN THE RESTAURANT BUSINESS?

It's no wonder that the food carts are so successful here. People know that that one-man show is gonna have the same good (or bad) food every time they eat there, and those guys are smart enough to take advantage of lower overhead by putting out a good consistent product for a decent price. They're probably kicking the shit out of you, financially speaking, while you fret over your inability to draw more than 20 or 30 covers a night in a space that's costing you 10 grand a month between rent and utilities. And you probably put yourself in debt up to your eyeballs to get that space and keep your dream alive.

I could help you. I could be a very reasonable and productive way for you to claw your way out of debt and out of the heap of mediocrity that seems to infest the restaurant scene here. You have access to the best and freshest ingredients in the world here, and also to some very food-savvy customers who would spend alot of money at a place that satisfied their needs. All I ask in return is to be fairly compensated for my skills and to be allowed to flex my creative muscles in a place where they will do some good.

But that's OK, Portland. You keep sitting on your hands like you've always done and worrying more about the pitfalls of success and growth, and I, like almost every other thing you should strive to keep and brand as your own, will probably flee to the relative economic and cultural mecca up north, where someone wants to take advantage of my abilities.

It's really sad, Portland. You and I could have really been something special. I'd promise to visit you on weekends, but we both know that would be a lie.

OK, so I'm as flat broke as I've ever been and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to pull off a dinner that was up to my standards, but I was wrong.

Turkey - got an 8.5 lb juvenile turkey from safeway. a little over $6 with my safeway club card. Brined it overnight in a mixture of cane vinegar, brown sugar, salt, a few bay leaves, a quartered serrano pepper, and a little chili powder. Stuffed a cut up fuji apple and a cut up celery stalk into the cavity. Roasted it at 450 for a half hour then larded it and turned it down to 325 for the rest of the duration, basting occasionally. Came out very moist and very flavorful. Lucky for me, RCHGF llikes the white meat and I like the dark meat so we don't have to squabble over it.

Mashed potatoes - Pretty basic. boiled some russets until they were cooked through, drained off the water and mashed them with butter, cream, and lots of salt, pepper, and garlic powder.

Pan gravy - I make mine without flour since RCHGF has a gluten allergy, but you'd never know the difference if you tasted it. I also roasted the neck and heart, then diced the meat from them and added it to the gravy. If you don't add the giblets to your gravy, WAYSA?

Brussels Sprouts - I had a couple bags of frozen brussels sprouts in the freezer from when they were on sale at Safeway. Defrosted and drained them. pan-roasted some slivered garlic until it was just browning, added some diced up ham and let that brown a little, then deglazed the pan with some apple ice wine that I had on hand (cider would work just fine, if you intend to try this at home). Added the brussels sprouts to the pan and let them simmer for about 10 minutes, then added most of a pint of heavy cream, some black pepper, and some ground clove and nutmeg. Let that cook on medium high until the liquid in teh pan has reduced to a nice thick cream sauce. This turned out awesome, I would highly recommend this recipe to anyone who likes brussels sprouts.

Cranberry sauce - from a can. not bad for a store brand, though.

Traditional Virgin Islands Sweet Potato dressing - so goddamned good. I (mostly) followed a recipe for this one, so I'll cross-post it here from the facebook page I found it on, http://www.facebook.com/notes/us-virgin-islands/thanksgiving-tip-how-to-make-virgin-islands-sweet-potato-stuffing/178834634906 .

3 pounds sweet potatoes
6 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoon butter
1 medium onion, minced
1/2 stalk celery minced (optional)
1/4 medium sweet pepper minced or 6 Puerto Rico sweet peppers
1/4 teaspoon thyme
1/2 cup tomato sauce
1 teaspoons parsley
Dash pepper (black)
3-4 tablespoon brown sugar
1/4 - 1 cup milk
1/4 cup raisins
2 eggs

METHOD

Peel potatoes; boil in salted water, drain and mash.

Preheat oven to 325°F.

While potatoes are boiling, warm frying pan and add oil and butter. When oil is heated add minced onions, celery and sweet pepper. Cook over a low flame until tender. Add thyme, tomato sauce, parsley, black pepper and sugar. Cook for 3 minutes.

Add mixture to mashed potatoes and mix thoroughly. Add milk, raisins and eggs. The mixture should be a little moister than mashed potatoes. If not moist enough just add a little more milk and butter.

Pour in a greased flat-baking pan; bake in preheated 325°F oven for 45 minutes to 1 hour. Top should be golden brown when done. Good for stuffing turkey or chicken.

I made a few modifications: left out the sweet pepper and tomato sauce, used a 1/2 cup of ketchup instead to account for the sweetness of the peppers. also, I didn't have any raisins so I used Craisins instead. This turned out to be the best part of the meal in both my and RCHGF's opinions.

Apple Pie - RCHGF is making this as we speak. She makes awesome pies, so I'm sure it will be awesome.

Overall, it turned out to be a perfect amount of food for 2 people to gorge themselves on and still have leftovers for a couple of days. We also gave our pet rat, Ratimus, some turkey and gravy and he basically shat himself with glee.

Happy Thanksgiving, PD-tards!

...proceed to flag as spam any job listing on craigslist to which I reply by sending a resume?

...

...which is why, ITT, you try to talk me out of joining the National Guard.

GO!

Have any of you seen the blazers' alternate jerseys this year?

THEY SAY "RIP CITY" ON THEM. FUCKING WANT NAO!!!!

Seriously. It takes talent you can't even imagine to burn top ramen.

I've sent out probably 50 resumes in the last 2 weeks, both via email and in person, and spent 2 weeks wondering why NOBODY would call me back. I'm talented and exceptionally qualified with a work ethic that would make a japanese salaryman cry.

then, a few minutes ago as I sat down in front of my computer, I noticed that the open window was the one with my resume on it. Something looked wrong.

I put my fucking old phone number on my resume.

I am sofa king

Well, not technically since I am an only child, but my best friend who I have literally known for my entire life (our parents were smuggling partners in the 70's) just had his first kid (that he knows about).

Welcome to the world, Jack Charles Linkey.

...that PBR is now nothing more than Budweiser made "cool" for asshole hipsters, you should know that I saw PBR Lite in the store today.

ECH,
knew it was over years ago, the first time he saw PBR in a bottle

That's why I'm not at all hesitant about allowing you to gaze on the glorious visage of my new 70's porn beardstache.

Any seismic activity which occurs tomorrow will in no way, shape, or form be my fault.

...it turns out that me and Hoshiko are gonna damn near be neighbors.



world = fuxxored.

seriously, I didn't know we were suffering from sticky thread deprivation.

Now that I know, I'd be happy to sticky every single fucking thread in Apple Talk, since that seems to be what's needed.

OK, so the ECH fall tour is back and bigger than ever. We've got ECH and ECHGF, plus two partners-in-crime who are riding to various points of the country with us. PD-ites who wish to provide free floor space or drinking companions are encouraged to do so, especially in or near the following locales:

Buffalo, NY
Erie, PA
Chicago, IL
Omaha, NE*
Denver, CO
Crested Butte, CO*
Flagstaff, AZ
Lancaster, CA*
Los Angeles, CA
San Francisco, CA
PDmuthafuckinX*

* indicates confirmed dates. All other dates and times subject to change. All dates past Crested Butte will only have one partner-in-crime in tow. All dates past Lancaster will only include ECH and ECHGF.

Reservations suggested.

don't think of it as "leaving the alliance", think of it as "establishing a tributary state and expanding the empire".

I've got an apartment in PDX, and will be leaving Maine to drive out there on october 13th.

this year's ECH Fall Tour will be brief, by necessity, but anyone on or near I-90 from boston to chicago, I-80 from chicago to SLC, I-15 from SLC to I-84, or I-84 from I-15 to Portland should feel free to offer me crash space for 2.

So I was leaving Marden's with the first brand-new pair of Jordans I've ever owned in my life when I noticed two little old ladies sitting at a table just outside the doors.

They were collecting signatures in an effort to get a proposition on the ballot to repeal the recently-passed law that allows gay marriage in Maine.

As offensive and disgusting as this would have been to me anyway, it was made worse by the fact that one of the ladies was, well, ethnic. I don't know if she was latina or mulatto or what, but 50 years ago she would have been riding in the back of the bus and drinking from a separate water fountain. And she was old enough that she may have, at some point in her life, had to do exactly that. Some people are awfully quick to inflict on others the miseries that were ,until fairly recently, inflicted on them.

As I was headed towards them to deliver an angry and hung-over rant about how their bigotry was an affront to human decency (I know there's no such thing but it makes for good oratory), I had a better idea.

I walked across the parking lot to the nearby Coffee Express stand and bought myself a large black coffee, scalding hot.

Then I walked back to the two old ladies and their table and asked if I could sign their petition.

As I took the pen and bent over to sign, I "accidentally" knocked over my cup of coffee, spilling it all over their table.

As near as I can tell, I completely ruined at least 6 full pages of signatures.

Oops. My bad.

Appetizers

Boss puts his oldest daughter in charge of the restaurant as GM

Entrees

Daughter makes it very clear that I am subservient to her, not her partner

Daughter tries to make me want to quit so that I won't be able to collect unemployment

Dessert

I find out that boss never intends to show a profit, preferring to use restaurant as a tax shelter. This makes my deal for 10% of the profits pretty meaningless.

Apertif

I don't like being played for a sucker. I decide to find out exactly how far I can push things before they're forced to fire me.

Bon Appetite!

I don't know if it's a recent development or if it just required a more removed perspective to see, but...


this place seems to be turning into a den of militant moral relativism. If I had thought for one minute that PD.com would turn into a giant circle-jerk of self-justification and rampant apologia for some of humanity's most reprehensible behavior (under the guise of "protecting the rights" of those who would seek to strip the rights of anyone different from themselves), I would have nuked it from orbit the minute I acquired it. As that is clearly no longer a reasonable or fair response, I'm gonna take my leave of this place for a while.

If for any reason it becomes necessary for me to step into a phone booth and put on my "THE MGT" costume, a few of you know how to reach me IRL.

peace out, spags.

OK, so alot of us aren't feeling so financially secure these days and probably aren't splurging as much at the grocery store as we used to. Some of us may have resorted to cheap fast food for price and convenience, some of us may be buying cases of whatever brand of canned chili is on sale, some of us might just be going hungry.

But (and I realize that's no way to start a sentence), there's no reason that being poor has to mean eating crappy food. From now on, any time I find a good sale on a commonly available protein or base vegetable at the supermarket, I'm going to post a recipe so that next time it's on sale in YOUR supermarket, you can replicate it if you want to. I'm going to try to focus on things that will give you a meal or two of leftovers as well, because this IS about being economical.

I'm not going to post pics because I'm lazy and I don't know where the digital camera is, but most of these ingredients will be familiar to you.

I bought a 6+ lb turkey breast at Safeway for 99 cents a pound. ECHGF is allergic to wheat gluten, so I didn't make stuffing, you are free to and follow this recipe as stated without the part about what I stuffed the breast cavity with. Also, add another 20 minutes or so of cooking time.

rinse the turkey breast and pat it dry inside and out.

to one stick of softened (but not melted) butter, add: pinch of sage, pinch of thyme, 1/2 tsp black pepper, pinch of paprika, 1/2 tsp granulated garlic (better than powdered because it doesn't clump), juice from 1/2 a fresh lemon.

coat the inside of the turkey with kosher salt (even if you're going to put stuffing in there). put the remaining half of the lemon that you squeezed into the butter inside the breast cavity. Dice a carrot and a stick or two of celery to a medium dice and pack it into the breast cavity with the lemon. If you have some wooden skewers, soak them in hot water for a few minutes then put a couple of them crosswise across the opening of the breast cavity to keep the veggies and lemon from falling out. Stand the turkey breast up on a roasting pan, using a few more wooden skewers for stability if needed.

grab a brush and brush about a third of your herbed butter onto the outside of the turkey breast. get it on there good. That's going to help the fat in the skin render and brown up nicely, and it's also going to give us some really good flavor for out pan drippings.

having preheated your oven to 450F, you should now put the turkey in.

after about 15 minutes, turn the oven down to 350F. Set a timer for one hour.

For sides, I did baked potatoes (10 lbs for $1 at safeway), steamed broccoli crowns ($1.49/lb at safeway), and baked caramelized onions ($2.99/5 lb bag of yellow onions at safeway). Wash the potatoes REALLY well, cut out any bad spots, and make sure to poke them once or twice to let the heated gasses escape from inside the potato as it's cooking. Cut the ends off the onions and peel off the tough outer layer. try not to cut any deeper into the onion than the layer you intend to peel. daub a lit of the herbed butter onto the cut ends of each onion and wrap them tightly in foil, making sure the foil is sealed all around. easiest way is to wrap a square of foil around them from the bottom up and twist and pinch the excess foil at the top. Most thrifty way to do it is to cut that square of foil in half on the diagonal and use the resulting triangles to wrap two onions with the same square. this may take some practice to figure out how to do it and get a tight sealed foil globe around the onion.

once that 60 minute timer has gone off, pull the turkey out and brush some more of the herbed butter all over the outside of it. If you've got a big enough roasting pan you can put the potatoes and onions right on the same pan as the turkey, otherwise put them somewhere else in the oven now and put the turkey back in. be sure not to put the onions too close to either the top or bottom heating element if you have an electric oven.

put another 75 minutes on the timer.

I'm going to assume that everyone knows how to steam broccoli. If you don't, PM me. or ask your mom. time this so that the broccoli will be done when the turkey is.

*DING*  there's your timer!

potatoes and onions will be done, unless you have HUGE versions of either, in which case they made need a little longer.

check the internal temperature of the turkey breast with your penis a meat thermometer. You want to pull it out of the oven when it's somewhere between 170F and 175F. It will come up to or a little over 180F after resting for a few minutes. Put a foil tent over it to keep it warm while allowing steam to escape.

now the pan gravy.

in the bottom of the roasting pan, there will be some liquids and some solids. Other people will tell you to make the gravy in the same pan you roasted the bird in. those people like burnt-tasting gravy. get a clean aluminum (NOT non-stick because we're going to be using a wire whisk) saute pan and warm it up on low. take your roasting pan and hold it by the corner with one hand (and a potholder, dummy), tilted down so you can use the other hand and a wooden or rubber scraper to scrape the oils and liquids and loose solids out of the roasting pan and into a fat separator. make sure to leave anything that's blackened and burned to the roasting pan IN the roasting pan. Dark brown and viscous is good here, charred carbon is not.

let it sit a minute in the fat trap (or any wide-mouthed measuring cup), then pour non-fatty liquids and solids into a separate cup (if you have a fat trap) or use a baster with a bulb (or a spoon if you're really ghetto) to suck the fat off of the top into a separate cup.

I like to make alot of gravy, so I just use all the fat. measure it, add it to the warm aluminum pan, and add an equal amount of flour (if anyone else here is allergic to gluten or has celiac's disease, garbanzo bean flour is the best alternative to wheat flour for this application). Whisk the flour and fat together and turn the heat for the pan up to medium. allow the flour and fat to cook together until they just begin to bubble and brown just a bit. Have some chicken stock on hand, at least 2 cups. Pour the reserved pan liquids and solids into the flour/fat mixture and whisk it in briskly. It should absorb into the mixture without thinning it out any. now start pouring the stock into the mixture, a little at a time, and whisking it in. go slowly at first then you can pour a little faster, but don't dump it all in at once or the gravy won't be smooth. Keep adding stock a little at a time and whisking until you get the consistency you want and the gravy is smooth.

Everything is ready now, plate the sides, carve the turkey, and dig in!

I made sides for 4 when I made this. It fed me, ECHGF, and our two roommates and we have enough turkey left for probably 4 more hearty servings. shared between two people you'll have enough turkey for 3 or 4 meals, or 2 meals and a big pot of stew/soup.

total cost for everything used was +/- $11.

It does take a little more work than going to Taco Bell, but if you're poor you need to consume worthwhile calories, not empty ones. And an hour total prep time (give or take depending on your kitchen skills) really isn't much of a sacrifice for a few days' worth of nutritious and tasty food.

SOMETIMES I LIKE TO GO TO TACO BELL AND ASK THEM IF I CAN GIVE THEM $5 AND JUST DO A 30-SECOND "KEGSTAND" OFF THE MEATHOSE.

...ECHGF smooshed some pieces of banana tostone-style, put them on a sheet pan greased with bacon fat, put them in a 400 degree oven until they were caramelized and crispy around the edges, and served them with crumbled pieces of bacon on top.

I came.

I'm going to review any noteworthy road food I encounter in the next couple of weeks, from greasy tamales served from a roadside cart covered in diphtheria to the best italian restaurant that I have ever been to (which I am making my third lifetime special out-of-the-way trip to go eat at; it's THAT good).

We will be starting this afternoon by going to Whole Foods in Portland and spending the remainder of our foodstamp money on the most expensive piece of cheese we can find. We will follow that with dinner at the brand-new all-you-can-eat thai buffet restaurant on Congress St.

I'm getting hungry just thinking about it.

OK, so I was planning on timing my road trip so that I'd be at my buddy's place in Crested Butte for thanksgiving, only he just informed me that he now has other plans for that day, so...


I am auctioning off my services as a chef to anyone who

1) is reasonably close to my route of travel and isn't afraid to experience ECH live and in person

and

2) doesn't want to bother with cooking thanksgiving dinner themselves.

the bidding price starts at one case of hard cider and crash space for two.

My father held on to life far longer than he should have. He said on many occasions that if he hadn't been so interested in this election, hadn't been so intent on seeing whether this country had it in itself to overlook old prejudices and do what needed to be done, that he would have stopped bothering with meatspace long ago.

OK, he didn't actually say "meatspace", but you get the gist.

On saturday, he slipped into a coma. Occasional groans. Hand would twitch a bit when I took it in mine. Mouth would open slightly for the liquid morphine dispenser. Old friends came by for their last visits, hoping to elicit a ghost of a smile at the sound of their voices.

For three days I prayed to a god I don't believe in to not let him suffer needlessly and silently.

On tuesday evening, he started "blinking in" for a few seconds at a time. He'd turn his head slightly, eyes snapping into focus and staring at me intently. I raised the head of his bed enough so that if he were still seeing, he could see the TV. We sat their, his hand in mine, watching history unfold.

When they called Colorado and Iowa for you, when it was obvious that once the returns from California and Washington came in the final nail would be driven into a coffin filled with 8 years of greedy incompetence, I squeezed his hand and touched his face. "Hey Dad!", much louder than usual to try to get whatever attention he had left to give. His eyes came into focus. Hand squeezed mine back as he articulated a questioning sound.

I told him that you had won. His eyes lit up and his whole face relaxed for the first time in weeks. He looked directly at me and actually smiled.

"oh...that's GOOD."

And slipped back under.

A few hours later, he was gone.








Mr. President, you'd better not let us down.

www.historyoftheuniverse.com

seems like they do a decent job of explaining some fairly complex concepts in semi-laymen's terms.

Being a layman, however, I would like a second opinion.

1) Get all of your money

2) Go to whatever restaurant I happen to be robbing blind working at

3) give me all the money

4) eat the food I prepare for you and fucking like it

OK, it goes like this.

You can open a newspaper vending box for between 25 cents and $1.50, depending on what city you live in and whether or not it's sunday.

if you do this early in the morning, you've got access to the papers that people will be buying and reading all day.

so....why not give them some bonus reading material?

it's simple, cheap, and gives you a nearly 100% rate of your stuff being read. bonus points for doing it in an airport, train station, or bus station which may allow your propaganda to spread beyond its initially planned radius.

also, I pray that this is actually 000 trolling us and not a real person.

bunch.


of.



fucking.



DILETTANTES.

One of the most influential chefs of the past 50 years (and the best chef that I have ever known personally) died yesterday.

Jacques Richard, one of the founders of the French Culinary Institute with Michelle Bachelet, passed away yesterday afternoon after a years-long battle with cancer.

after his long and distinguished culinary career, he retired in the town in which I work (and used to live), and became close friends with my current boss, as well as being a good customer at my old pizza place. When I came back from the islands and started slinging high-end slop instead of pizza and steak bombs, he would frequently stop in to offer advice on techniques and to make sure that my style and technique wasn't being corrupted by my "impossibly pigheaded french-canandian boss" who was clearly "some sort of idiot-savant of the culinary world".

He taught me everything I know about charcuterie (admittedly still not much) and allowed me to steal a recipe for foie gras terrine that took him 25 years to weasel out of Mr. Bachelet. He taught me the easiest way to peel garlic, which kind of booze I should be drinking at a given point in my working day, and that any asshole can figure out what flavors taste good together; it's technique that separates us from the heathen masses with their hamburger helper and electric stoves.

I drank hennessy until 3:00 this morning in his honor.

Today, I request that those of you that have a love for food do the same.

RIP, Jacques. You will be sorely missed.

[Chapter One]

Chapter One

10:17 pm.

Time for something to happen.

The mean-faced bartender with the wart on his right cheek delivered another over-priced (and over-warm) draft beer. My fourth drink in this human petri dish of a tavern, in half as many hours. I took a swig to clean the film of the place's stench from the inside of my mouth, leaned back in my barstool, and lit up a cigarette.

Just waiting for the inevitable now.

10:20 pm.

"Hey asshole! I already told you you can't fuckin' smoke in here!"

This from the fat bouncer with acne around his neckline. He enjoys his job. You know the type.

"You need me to tell you again, smartguy?"

I take a big drag off the cigarette and blow it towards him. As expected, he begins to lumber over towards me.

10:21 pm.

The inevitable has arrived right on schedule.

Another drag. If I've done this right, this should be the last one that's completely tobacco. The bouncer is halfway to me. He's chosen to waste a perfectly useful hand by using it to hold a perfectly useless blackjack. This should be easy.

If, of course, this sort of work can be said to be "easy".

A huge drag as he reaches me. I hold it in for a few seconds, let him get close, and blow it right in his face. He gets enough of it in his face for it to work its magic. It's admittedly a bit of a gamble, but the odds are in my favor.

Not that many people are trained to be able to maintain their focus and fight on PCP. The bouncer coughs twice and staggers back.

"What the fuck?"

Things are going to start happening very fast now. I have just enough time to almost feel sorry for the people in here who aren't really involved, but who are going to die just the same.

Just enough time to remember that in a place like this, everyone is involved.

I hit the rim of the pintglass against the bar. Holding the jagged broken base in my left hand, I slam it straight into the bouncer's right eye. Before he can even scream, I've pulled down hard enough to drag the glass across his face to his left cheek, pretty much removing his nose.

It's an aesthetic improvement, really.

As I drop the bouncer, mangled and screaming, to the puke-crusted floor of the barroom, my right hand already has the first gun in its grip. My right hand has just shot the bartender in his right shoulder. in his gut. in his groin. left knee. left hand. He'll live long enough to answer my feverishly shouted questions, in a moment.

Left hand has a gun now, too. I'm over the bar. Last 3 shots in the right-hand gun go to the first two people in the room who try to pull heat. Reload?

uh-oh.

There's a sawed-off shotgun under the bar.


A whole lot of people are about to die very quickly now. The lab-engineered chemical compound I just smoked (based on a mix of PCP and methamphetamine) has me firmly planted in Matrix-vision Land, taking my time to efficiently slaughter my targets, all of whom look as though they have been slowed down to one-eighth speed, like a bad dub recording.

I must look like a God to them.

This is almost too easy.

If, of course, this sort of work can be said to be "easy".

It's almost charming, how quickly and savagely my employers will abandon the very concepts they believe in enough to wage eternal war over, in the name of advancing the very cause they subvert by employing people like me. I used to wonder what drives them, but as I've come to know them a little better, I've realized how truly unfathomable their motives are.

10:23 pm.

The only two living people in the place are me and the bartender. He's on the floor, clutching his ruined genitals in his ruined left hand.

Time for a friendly little chat.

Get the fucking sauce.

or don't get the fucking sauce.

I don't care.

but I will pull your eyeball out with a pair of tongs, batter it, deep fry it, and serve it with horseradish sauce the next time you order your fucking sauce on the fucking side.

enjoy your meal.

dispose of the idea that sous vide is an acceptable way to cook meat or I will come to your restaurant and skullfuck you on the hostess station in the middle of a friday dinner rush.

TIA.

1. Shit that you can't afford
2. Shit that our bar back found in the road
3. Every bullshit story you ever told
4. These nuts
5. Your face

ECH,
can't wait to see you all here

When you return to the well-worn care of the dirt
and replenish the "God", the land, the earth...
I still see you in the wildflowers
Sometimes I lay in you and stare up at the sun for hours.

...to myself to post the recipe for the rack of wild boar chops with champaigne-cream gravy that I made for Superbowl Dinner.

OK, get this:

(serves 3-4)

1 lb. fillet of hake or similar firm-fleshed white fish (thicker fish is better; haddock or pollock would work better than flounder or sole)
One medium yellow onion
One shallot
rind of one small (or half a large) lemon
two strips thick-cut bacon or 2 oz. diced pancetta. DO NOT use regular thin-cut bacon. or I will cut your face.
one stick salted butter
one pint heavy cream
sea salt
black pepper
dried tarragon
dried thyme
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
1 cup cream sherry
1/4 cup pulp-free orange juice
parsley

rinse and dry the fish.

melt 1/2 to 2/3 stick of butter in a saucepan over very low heat. finely grate the shallot and add it to the butter, along with the grated lemon rind.

once the butter has just begun to bubble, add a pinch of tarragon and a pinch of thyme. stir and let bubble for one more minute, then remove from heat and add two pinches of black pepper and a pinch of sea salt. stir again.

spoon a couple tablespoons of the butter sauce into a glass baking pan. put the fish in the pan, then pour the rest of the butter over the fish evenly so that it is coated. cut the onion in half top to bottom, then cut into VERY thin half-slices (if they're too thick they won't brown in the oven). arrange onion slices in pan around fish, but not covering fish. put 6 or 8 dots of butter around the pan on the onions. preheat oven to 350F.

chop the bacon crosswise into thin strips. render bacon in a pan on low heat until crispy. remove from pan and place on paper towels to drain. pour most of the bacon fat into the pan with the fish. Put the fish in the oven. Should take about 20-25 minutes to cook, depending on thickness.

turn heat up to medium-high and deglaze the pan with sherry, then add the OJ. Reduce by half. Add two big pinches of black pepper.

turn heat down to medium-low and begin whisking in the cream slowly. Once all the cream is whisked in, add the cayenne pepper and turn the heat down to low. Allow to reduce while fish is cooking. Sauce should reduce by about 1/2.

once the fish is done, cut portions and plate in the center of a deep plate. arrange the pan-fried onions around the top and bottom of the portion. Spoon sauce over fish and drizzle over onions. sprinkle the bacon crisps over the fish and chopped parsley over the onions.

serve, enjoy, and expect congratulatory blowjobs from other impressed diners.

OK, so here's what I whipped up for breakfast this morning. It's fucking WIN.

amounts to make TWO servings. If you're a loser who wakes up alone, cut amounts by half.

6 large eggs
1 large shallot
4oz. cold-smoked salmon, roughly chopped
2 large tbsp. bearnaise sauce (make your own if you can, if not try to find it in a jar instead of using powdered mix)
2 tbsp. flying fish roe
chopped parsley to garnish

remember to do this in two batches (or in two separate pans at the same time). you can put one on a plate in a warm oven while the other is cooking so they can both be served warm at the same time.

julienne the shallot and lightly caramelize it in a separate pan. whisk the eggs in a mixing bowl with a little salt & pepper and a splash of milk. add the shallots (make sure they've cooled to room temperature) and continue to whisk.

get a large skillet hot and put a little oil and butter in equal amounts in it.

add the roughly chopped cold-smoked salmon. as soon as it begins to turn opaque around the edges, pour in the egg mixture.

cook on one side until bubbling and slightly browning, then turn to finish. the idea is to treat it as a sort of pan fritatta.

transfer to plate and put one large tablespoon of bearnaise in the center of the fritatta. sprinkle the flying fish roe over the fritatta and garnish with chopped parsley. enjoy!