Many Rock Musicians Are Excellent Cooks, I’ve Found
1. August Wilson - Having caught Phylicia Rashad on Tavis Smiley’s program recently (a rerun from last year), I was enlightened to the powerful works of August Wilson. Until this point, I’d only remotely heard about August Wilson as being some sort of writer. In my ignorance I didn’t know he was a playwright and I also didn’t know exactly how much impact his work has had on modern literature. I’m in the midst of reading Joe Turner’s Come and Gone, the second book of Wilson’s “Century Cycle,” which is set in Pittsburgh during 1911. The dialog has been so entirely engrossing that I find myself reading the play from the beginning of my lunch hour at work straight until it ends without a blink or a pause. August Wilson’s style is as captivating as it is almost depressing to a point. I’m sure that I’ll be dedicating more thought and space on this blog to August Wilson and his works.
2. Borax – You know you’ve seen that jackass Billy Mays and his Oxiclean all over your tube, especially if you’re watching programming geared toward women. You know when you buy that stuff, you’re basically buying what Borax already does but spending about three times as much, right? I get a box of Borax for just under three bucks and my laundry comes out brighter, smells good, and I can use that shit to clean just about anything. Some Borax and lemon juice ‘ll do the trick – and it’s really all natural! I love my 20 Mule Team.
3. Backing up hard drives - Why does backing up your hard drive make you feel like you’re a new person? I got a new 250GB Passport and I’m right in the middle of backing up my photos and music. I feel like I’ve figured out the secret to life! How strange.
4. Never get food from a strip mall French café - While watching Alton Brown make crêpes last night, I instantly started fighting a massive craving for them. I decided that today we’d get lunch at a French café nearby. Yeah, the café is part of a shitty SoCal strip mall, but I’ve gotten a decent mocha cappuccino and croissant there before. What the hell, the owner’s last name is French, so there was a remote possibility that she is actually French. My girls each got a Nutella crêpe, and I got a strawberry one. Theirs was good, mine was so-so. Mine would’ve benefited from having a nice thin layer of strawberry jam instead of just being naked with sliced strawberries on the side. Kim ordered a croque-monsieur, a rich, cheesy and creamy broiled ham and cheese sandwich. Of course, all she got was a fucking pan-grilled ham and cheese without all the French decadence and deliciousness. Typical.
5. Excellent Italian Greyhound - The sound that Steve Albini pulls out of Shellac’s latest recording makes me shiver. The sound approaches aural perfection. Jesus H. Christ.
Like I was saying before. Albini is one of those rare engineers that use the process of capturing the sound as an individual instrument within itself. It’s pretty astounding.
[...] Kim, my dear wife, and I have a standing argument concerning croque monsieurs – embellished French ham and cheese sandwiches. It boils down to this: open-faced or no? She’s a firm believer of the closed and I think open-faced is better. I’m not sure exactly which is traditional, or if there is a traditional preparation (knowing the French, there must be). Nonetheless, it’s a bone we pick with one another over the love of food. It’s fun. And we’re bored like that. Of course, I ordered the croque monsieur (at a mere $6.95) which, by the way, came to me served open-faced. Score one for Cas! A side note: the croque monsieur Kim ordered here in San Diego was closed (and not good…). The sandwich took a few moments to show up at my table and for good reason: everything is made to order at Ken’s. So, it wasn’t par-cooked and then given a once-over under the broiler. The sandwich was immediately appealing with the ham covered in cheese, all resting upon a slice of Ken’s country levain, and garnished with some fresh greens. Again, my sense of smell was attacked, but this time by the whiff of thyme (which sat under the ham, so as to not get burned) and the blue scent of the Gruyère cheese. I indulged immediately. The slices of ham were thin, smoky, and salty. The béchamel sauce, which made the sandwich moist and oh so comforting, was not heavy – a good thing. The Gruyère was aromatically strong yet acted like a perfect foil for the salty ham – it provided the balance for this delicious sandwich. The levain was delicate and crusty all at once. It is certainly true that Ken is a perfectionist, if this croque monsieur was any true indicator. Upon finishing the sandwich, I was left content. I almost felt like smoking a cigarette – and I don’t smoke. [...]