Sunday, April 25, 2010
Abood
I am having a helluva lot of fun with Abood. Do you think he is real? I was thinking of implicating him in a UJA plot to assassinate King Abdullah, but I am afraid it might get him shot if he is real. Thoughts?
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Look ma, I'm bloggin'
Jackson, how sweet of you to get me a blog. I love the color, and it seems to fit just right, if not a little snug.
I actually love giving dinner parties and serving something I've never made before. It's a great adventure. We had about fifty people over for the Sukkah of Aloha lunch. We had a menu all planned out. It featured a chicken kabob with pineapple, onion, peppers and tomatoes, served on rice. This kind of dish will work if you make it, cook it right away and serve immediately. It does not work if you make it in advance. The acids in the pineapple turns the chicken to mush. We discovered this after having served several people. They all thought I was an expert chef so they assumed if they didn't like it that it was their fault. So we had this big problem. What to do. A hundred kabobs with mushy, disgusting chicken pieces on it. I took them all into the kitchen, pulled everything off the skewers, threw away the chicken, and mixed everything with the rice, making a tropical veggie rice dish. Everyone thought it was on purpose.
If you really want to blow your dinner guests minds, next time go to Costco, and get a prime rib. The easiest thing in the world to make, but nobody makes it. Too big, too pricy for a family, but not for a large dinner party. And it is soooo yummy. People only get it when they are in a fancy restaurant, usually in Vegas or someplace like that. Modern California cuisine eateries don't have prime rib on the menu. Very unPC. The last time I served it I went out and bought one of those huge long knives for carving. It worked great, the guests loved it, and we had fabulous leftovers.
Things are mellow at Casa Here. Mia and I are just about done with The Prisoner of Azkaban, the third Harry Potter book. As soon as we finish it, Mia gets to see the movie. Very exciting, and we still have four books to go. Some of her friend have seen all the movies, but haven't read the books. And some of her friends are not allowed to have anything to do with Harry Potter, either because witchcraft is the work of the devil of the movies are to scary for first graders. They're not scary if you've read the books first with your daddy, know how it ends, and then watch the movie with your daddy. Chico is a bit provincial.
Purim is this week, the girls have been making groggers and hamantashen.
So thanks for thinking of me with the blog...I'll try to keep up.
In the Beginning
The original plan for the The Scenic Route blog was to be a convenient format for emails to you. But like Topsy, it just grew. As there were more readers it became general and I have largely avoided personal stuff which would get me in trouble.
So I created this new blog to achieve the original purpose.
Yesterday I had an actual dinner party.
It was, as things so often are, convoluted. The original plan was to have a dinner party here. In order to keep people from weaseling out on the invitation I invited them a month in advance. In the meantime I rented the large side of the house to a bunch of construction workers from San Luis Obispo who are working as contractors for Amtrak. So now I had a bunch of people invited and no place to serve them dinner and conversation.
So I changed the invitation to my springing for dinner at Lalime's in Berkeley. It would cost some major bucks but the alternative was to rescind the invitations which I was not going to do, and I wanted to have the dinner party, bucks or no bucks.
Friday afternoon I realized the contractors had not come back. No pickups, no sounds, nada. Whereupon I realized they had gone home to SLO for the weekend. So I called and wrote everyone, changing the invitation back to dinner here.
This was a bit morally dice-y since technically I was having a dinner party in someone else's house. But on the theory of 'no harm no foul' and 'what they don't know won't hurt them', I did it anyway.
But then I was stuck with making dinner for seven. I went to my usual tactic which is to make things so simple there is no way to do them wrong. I raided Trader Joe for groceries and Trader Joe in return raided my credit card.
I got small-but-thick filet mignon steaks, small romaine and red romaine lettuces, pignolias, grape-size tomatoes (is it odd that grapes have gotten bigger and bigger and tomatoes smaller and smaller?), toasted sesame oil, redskin potatoes, boxes of butternut squash soup, baguettes, cream cheese, lox, blueberries, heavy cream, and TJ's house brand 'Moon' wines - Old Moon Zinfandel, Honey Moon Viognier, some other kind of moon Chardonnay, and so on.
I put the 6 foot folding table in the entryway, with a white paper tablecloth and candles on it, and put chairs around it. From past disastrous experiences of thinking everything could be done at the last minute, I started at 2 for a 7 o'clock dinner. I was right to do it too. It is amazing how long everything takes. Tearing up the lettuce for the salad and tossing in the tomatoes and pinenuts takes time. Slicing the baguettes and putting cream cheese and lox on them takes time. Opening the wine in advance to let it breathe takes time. Setting the table takes time. Even putting the store-bought soup in a pot and the potatoes in another takes a moment. Putting the blueberries in big tumblers with sugar and heavy cream takes a moment and putting them in the refrigerator takes a moment. Preheating the gas grill takes time. All the while I had to keep in mind where the contractors had their food in the refrigerator so as to minimize or even conceal the disturbance.
But I got it all done with time to spare. All the while hoping the contractors wouldn't show up unexpectedly. How embarrassing would that have been? Having seen Patty and Nancy do it, I was glad to follow their example by checking that the wine was OK by hoisting a few as part of the dinner preparation.
Even thought there were only seven of us (three couples and me) I set eight places. When asked about the eighth setting I said it was for Elijah. Originally it was to have been for Junie but she summarily dumped me a week or so ago because I wouldn't marry her nor live with her. Which makes her about the 37th woman to do that. So I went through the charade of pretending she might come and setting a place for her. In fact it really was for Eliyohu.
The guests were the Fellmans, the Schrogins, and the Rimlers, none of whom knew one another. Of course the first thing they each wanted to know about each other was their jobs and status. Len Fellman teaches math at Alameda Community College. Which makes him sort of a professor but not really. Toviah teaches elementary school. Maxim Schrogin is a general contractor who designs and subcontracts remodels for homes and small businesses. Which makes him sort of an architect but not really. Karen Schrogin is tall and smiles a lot but I was in the kitchen when it was revealed what she does. Walt Rimler parlayed being a fast typist and a careful reader into a business transcribing depositions and even had a few employees. Which he was slowly run out of by speech recognition software and random access sound recordings, and is now retired and living in Rossmoor. Peg is an elementary school principal. I of course am an attorney and Eliyohu is a prophet.
As I expected, Walt self-effacingly claimed not to be doing anything. I got the conversation started by contradicting him and telling the others that he had recently had a book published, a biography of George Gershwin which got a rave review in the Wall Street Journal. Unlike Len who makes a living not really being a professor, and Maxim who makes a living not really being an architect, Walt really is an author but so far hasn't made a dime at it. Why does this so completely make sense?
Everyone trotted out everything they could remember about Gershwin and the conversation went from there. Over dinner it emerged that both the Fellmans and Schrogins had been to Cuba and had the usual Berkeley things to say about it. I refrained from calling them dirty commie rats and even agreed that totalitarianism has its good side. Talking like that keeps them under the illusion that they are still young and rebellious. (Though Len has developed something that looks suspiciously like a combover.)
And that Peg Rimler and I had both lived in kibbutzim in the same months of 1977-8
No one said anything bad about the food but no one said anything good about it either. The steaks came off the grill in a range of donenesses from well to raw, which I took to be diversity and therefore a good thing. The potatoes were overcooked. Oh well. Other than that the evening seemed successful and everyone left smiling.
I cleaned up a little last night and a lot this morning. It is actually a little cleaner than when I started yesterday. People would notice if it were even slightly dirtier than they left it. No one will notice if it is cleaner.
I was to have gone photographing with Nate today at the Hall of Flowers in GG Park in the city today. It is gray and drizzly and I was tired from early morning cleaning up and potwashing, damp mopping, and so, but I was determined to go ahead with it. But Nate did not fail me. About ten he called up and lied about having to go in to work today. Sure. Right. Which was great. Not only did I not have to go, Nate was the one who got stuck with having to weasel out of it instead of me.
Today, I should mention, is his birthday. There is a birthday dinner for him and Bernaditeleh tonight a casa Nancy y Bohun. As is usually the case, Patty bought the present and I am paying half. It is a bottle of wine. Which seems weird to me because wine to me is just something to drink with dinner, not a present. But then again what do I know?
So I created this new blog to achieve the original purpose.
Yesterday I had an actual dinner party.
It was, as things so often are, convoluted. The original plan was to have a dinner party here. In order to keep people from weaseling out on the invitation I invited them a month in advance. In the meantime I rented the large side of the house to a bunch of construction workers from San Luis Obispo who are working as contractors for Amtrak. So now I had a bunch of people invited and no place to serve them dinner and conversation.
So I changed the invitation to my springing for dinner at Lalime's in Berkeley. It would cost some major bucks but the alternative was to rescind the invitations which I was not going to do, and I wanted to have the dinner party, bucks or no bucks.
Friday afternoon I realized the contractors had not come back. No pickups, no sounds, nada. Whereupon I realized they had gone home to SLO for the weekend. So I called and wrote everyone, changing the invitation back to dinner here.
This was a bit morally dice-y since technically I was having a dinner party in someone else's house. But on the theory of 'no harm no foul' and 'what they don't know won't hurt them', I did it anyway.
But then I was stuck with making dinner for seven. I went to my usual tactic which is to make things so simple there is no way to do them wrong. I raided Trader Joe for groceries and Trader Joe in return raided my credit card.
I got small-but-thick filet mignon steaks, small romaine and red romaine lettuces, pignolias, grape-size tomatoes (is it odd that grapes have gotten bigger and bigger and tomatoes smaller and smaller?), toasted sesame oil, redskin potatoes, boxes of butternut squash soup, baguettes, cream cheese, lox, blueberries, heavy cream, and TJ's house brand 'Moon' wines - Old Moon Zinfandel, Honey Moon Viognier, some other kind of moon Chardonnay, and so on.
I put the 6 foot folding table in the entryway, with a white paper tablecloth and candles on it, and put chairs around it. From past disastrous experiences of thinking everything could be done at the last minute, I started at 2 for a 7 o'clock dinner. I was right to do it too. It is amazing how long everything takes. Tearing up the lettuce for the salad and tossing in the tomatoes and pinenuts takes time. Slicing the baguettes and putting cream cheese and lox on them takes time. Opening the wine in advance to let it breathe takes time. Setting the table takes time. Even putting the store-bought soup in a pot and the potatoes in another takes a moment. Putting the blueberries in big tumblers with sugar and heavy cream takes a moment and putting them in the refrigerator takes a moment. Preheating the gas grill takes time. All the while I had to keep in mind where the contractors had their food in the refrigerator so as to minimize or even conceal the disturbance.
But I got it all done with time to spare. All the while hoping the contractors wouldn't show up unexpectedly. How embarrassing would that have been? Having seen Patty and Nancy do it, I was glad to follow their example by checking that the wine was OK by hoisting a few as part of the dinner preparation.
Even thought there were only seven of us (three couples and me) I set eight places. When asked about the eighth setting I said it was for Elijah. Originally it was to have been for Junie but she summarily dumped me a week or so ago because I wouldn't marry her nor live with her. Which makes her about the 37th woman to do that. So I went through the charade of pretending she might come and setting a place for her. In fact it really was for Eliyohu.
The guests were the Fellmans, the Schrogins, and the Rimlers, none of whom knew one another. Of course the first thing they each wanted to know about each other was their jobs and status. Len Fellman teaches math at Alameda Community College. Which makes him sort of a professor but not really. Toviah teaches elementary school. Maxim Schrogin is a general contractor who designs and subcontracts remodels for homes and small businesses. Which makes him sort of an architect but not really. Karen Schrogin is tall and smiles a lot but I was in the kitchen when it was revealed what she does. Walt Rimler parlayed being a fast typist and a careful reader into a business transcribing depositions and even had a few employees. Which he was slowly run out of by speech recognition software and random access sound recordings, and is now retired and living in Rossmoor. Peg is an elementary school principal. I of course am an attorney and Eliyohu is a prophet.
As I expected, Walt self-effacingly claimed not to be doing anything. I got the conversation started by contradicting him and telling the others that he had recently had a book published, a biography of George Gershwin which got a rave review in the Wall Street Journal. Unlike Len who makes a living not really being a professor, and Maxim who makes a living not really being an architect, Walt really is an author but so far hasn't made a dime at it. Why does this so completely make sense?
Everyone trotted out everything they could remember about Gershwin and the conversation went from there. Over dinner it emerged that both the Fellmans and Schrogins had been to Cuba and had the usual Berkeley things to say about it. I refrained from calling them dirty commie rats and even agreed that totalitarianism has its good side. Talking like that keeps them under the illusion that they are still young and rebellious. (Though Len has developed something that looks suspiciously like a combover.)
And that Peg Rimler and I had both lived in kibbutzim in the same months of 1977-8
No one said anything bad about the food but no one said anything good about it either. The steaks came off the grill in a range of donenesses from well to raw, which I took to be diversity and therefore a good thing. The potatoes were overcooked. Oh well. Other than that the evening seemed successful and everyone left smiling.
I cleaned up a little last night and a lot this morning. It is actually a little cleaner than when I started yesterday. People would notice if it were even slightly dirtier than they left it. No one will notice if it is cleaner.
I was to have gone photographing with Nate today at the Hall of Flowers in GG Park in the city today. It is gray and drizzly and I was tired from early morning cleaning up and potwashing, damp mopping, and so, but I was determined to go ahead with it. But Nate did not fail me. About ten he called up and lied about having to go in to work today. Sure. Right. Which was great. Not only did I not have to go, Nate was the one who got stuck with having to weasel out of it instead of me.
Today, I should mention, is his birthday. There is a birthday dinner for him and Bernaditeleh tonight a casa Nancy y Bohun. As is usually the case, Patty bought the present and I am paying half. It is a bottle of wine. Which seems weird to me because wine to me is just something to drink with dinner, not a present. But then again what do I know?
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