April 18, 2007
All hail Allan Sherman! Even in Norway!
Must have been an American. Seriously, can you imagine a Norwegian searching for this?
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April 17, 2007
The vodka at lunch didn't hurt any either, I'll tell you.
Thank you for your kind remarks and good wishes!
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April 13, 2007
I am going out for lunch and I am going to apply, internally, a great big extra spicy Bloody Mary. Or maybe even two. I am certain that after ice, vodka, applied internally, is the best thing for me.
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We left the club that had the courts a couple of years ago and believe it or not, NOBODY else anywhere near our little city has courts except them! And they are a little too far away from where we live now for us to go there anymore.
Today we are touring a club not far from us, with a much larger pool and pool service, something the old gym didn't have. Dan says unless we see something we don't like, we are joining there.
But they only have tennis courts, not racquetball courts. 
Sorry you got hurt. Hope it's all healed now. But damn it, I'm envious too! Racquetball is the most fun I've ever had playing a sport. And I'm good at it, too.April 02, 2007
This is why, on the eve of Passover, this story out of England is so troubling:
Teachers are dropping controversial subjects such as the Holocaust and the Crusades from history lessons because they do not want to offend children from certain races or religions, a report claims.A lack of factual knowledge among some teachers, particularly in primary schools, is also leading to “shallow” lessons on emotive and difficult subjects, according to the study by the Historical Association.
The report, produced with funding from the Department for Education, said that where teachers and staff avoided emotive and controversial history, their motives were generally well intentioned.
“Staff may wish to avoid causing offence or appearing insensitive to individuals or groups in their classes. In particular settings, teachers of history are unwilling to challenge highly contentious or charged versions of history in which pupils are steeped at home, in their community or in a place of worship,” it concluded.[an error occurred while processing this directive]
However, it was concerned that this could lead to divisions within school, and that it might also put pupils off history.
I gather it is offensive to Muslim children to learn about the Holocaust. It is easier, I suppose, to close your eyes to a truth than it is to be forced to confront it.
This Passover, I choose to remember. I choose to remember that Jews were once slaves in the land of Egypt. I choose, moreover, to remember that on the first night of Passover in 2002, a Palestinian homicide bomber walked into a Seder and killed 30 people, many of them survivors of the same Holocaust that has now become too sensitive a subject to teach to the children of that bomber's co-religionists.
I remember.
Tonight, I will tell the story of Passover again to my children so that they too will remember and they too will be part of an unbroken chain of recollection stretching back 5000 years.
I will also spare a thought, a grateful and hopeful thought, that those men and women who stand ready to protect us and all the other Passover Seders taking place tonight are bored out of their minds.
Peace, my friends.
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March 23, 2007
*No. 3 for the Battle of White Plains
*No. 2 for Taking Things for Granted
*No. 2 for stupid celebrity comments
*No. 1 (!!!) for Oggi, Oggi, Oggi, Oggi
*No. 2 on the mighty Ghurkas
*And No. 1, in Argentina, for "matrimonial part" definition
All in all, I have absolutely no idea what to make of all of this.
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What am I missing by sliding past 39? What am I going to do when I do actually get to 40? Have I somehow contrived to deny an entire year of my life? I wonder, can you do that? Can you decide that the year doesn't count and thus, by fiat, make it go *poof* and disappear? Truthfully, so far, 39 has been filled with exceptional stresses -- my mother's cancer, the firing of a nanny, the Viking Bride re-inventing herself as a stay at home mother, becoming a partner at my firm, dealing with a huge fall out at an organization I am a member of (I never really wrote about this and am probably not likely to, let's just say it approached the highest levels of suckitude) -- but does that mean I should deny it exists? I suppose I really shouldn't, should I?
Besides, what could the hurry possibly be to get to 40? Sure, I am going to throw a big party (jointly with the Viking Bride) but, truth be told, I don't really like to throw parties that much.
Maybe it is because I feel my body creaking and aching more after the morning workout. Maybe that's why I am rounding up -- because my body feels like it is at least 40 years old, if not a few years more.
Either way, I have to stop this.
I am, after all, only 39 years old and there is a long way to go until I get to 40. I hope.
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March 22, 2007
As I have two sons, I am leaning towards the French system. The Boy Child, le fils aîné, is the older son. He shall remain the Boy Child. The baby, being the younger son, shall simply be called le fils cadet, meaning, the younger son. Fils cadet or FC, as the spirit moves me.
Anyone got anything better? I'm open to all suggestions.
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March 19, 2007
Whoa.
Thank you, in advance, for all the visits and especially for all the comments. I love the comments. I try to tell myself I write to fulfill some need to express myself but, and while that may be true, I also write because I looooove the comments, both good and bad. So, to all of my very kind and faithful readers (all six of you), let me send to you my heartfelt thanks as I close in on 100k.
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March 16, 2007
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I took one butterflied and boneless leg of lamb, about 4 pounds, and covered it with fresh chopped rosemary, fresh chopped sage leafs, crushed garlic cloves, some sea salt, cracked black pepper, and then drizzled it with olive oil. I let it sit in the roasting pan for a couple of hours.
Oven to 475 and roasting pan in for about 25 minutes. The lamb is nice and pink that way and the herbs and garlic get all crispy and yummy and the house smells wonderful.
Remove the lamb from the roasting pan and put on a warm platter.
Put the roasting pan over a burner and deglaze the pan with a very healthy amount of cognac and a little bit of water. Let the cognac/water mixture boil up as you happily scrape all the crispy bits off the bottom of the roasting pan. Sprinkle into the liquid some dried sage, be liberal with it.
Pour the accumulated meat juices from the platter back into the pan.
Take the pan off the heat and stir in some heavy cream, as much as you feel you want, really. When well mixed, pour it into a gravy boat and away you go!
I served this with a Pinot Noir, roasted asparagus (that I roasted on the bottom rack while the lamb cooked) and mashed sweet potatoes.
It was a huge success. I was so pleased with the cognac/sage/cream pan sauce that I created that I just had to share.
Happy eating!
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March 15, 2007
The song is sung in English, French and Hebrew. It is kind of odd but I really like it.
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#10 Life is sexually transmitted.
#9 Good health is merely the slowest rate at which one can die
#8 Men have two emotions: Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an erection, make him a sandwich.
#7 Give a person a fish and you feed them for a day; teach a person to use the internet and they won't bother you for weeks.
#6 Some people are like a slinky... not really good for anything,but you still can't help but smile when you shove them down the stairs.
#5 Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in the hospital dying of nothing
#4 All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.
#3 Why does a slight tax increase cost you two hundred dollars, and a substantial tax cut saves you thirty cents???
#2 In the 60's, people took LSD to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.
AND THE # 1 THOUGHT FOR 2007: We know exactly where one cow with mad-cow-disease is located among the millions and millions of cows in America , but we haven't a clue as to where thousands of illegal immigrants and terrorists are located. Maybe we should put the Department of Agriculture in charge of immigration.
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February 28, 2007
Make the bad pants stop, please. Summer cannot come too soon.
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Ouch.
The wife is feeling a bit fragile this morning.
I am, too, but for different reasons. I have to stop, and I mean it, stop playing squash with people 15 years younger than I am. It is going to kill me. I played four games this morning. I think my arm is going to fall off and when it does, it will have my right knee to keep it company.
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February 27, 2007
The Viking Bride leaves the work force this week. Her last day on the payroll is Friday. We are more than slightly apprehensive about the future, both economically speaking and in terms of her sanity as she shifts to become the primary care giver.
* * *
My mother in law is taking care of the kids this past two weeks now. I came home from work to find her standing in the kitchen with the Boy Child at the kitchen table. The yellow pages was open on the counter. I said to her: "M___, why are the yellow pages open to the bail bonds section? I come home from work and find you've just been . . . " At this point, the Boy Child, who was following raptly, contributes with an emphatic nod of his head: "screwing around". My mother in law, I am happy to say, thought that was hilarious.
* * *
A high school basketball team in NYC was suspended for the season. The school is reputed to be a tough place, although with a school graduation rate of 56%, it is above the NYC average, so the Times reported. 56% is above average? Holy crap. How is it that the NYC public schools graduate fewer than half of their students and the parents are not burning cars in the streets? Is it just that expectations are lower? How terribly sad.
* * *
I have to stop playing squash with 26 year olds. I turn 40 this year. There is a difference between a 26 year old knee and shoulder and the 40 year old version of the same. The 40 year old version hurts more.
* * *
The baby has begun to crawl and is so damn happy with himself that it is impossible not to watch him and feel delighted yourself.
* * *
A Jewish kindergarten was attacked today in Berlin. Anti Semitic graffiti was sprayed and a smoke bomb, that failed to ignite, was thrown into the building. Despicable. Utterly despicable. What brave warriors to attack a building full of five and six year olds.
* * *
The Oscars. What a load of self-referential crap. Does anyone care?
* * *
I got sucked into a vicious political fight at an organization I belong to. I learned something very useful there. Tell the truth and act only in ways consistent with your moral outlook. It makes politics irrelevant and your choices become very easy. I'm not saying take the high road at all times, just don't act in ways that will make you ashamed. That said, it was interesting to be part of an event that had not taken place in this organization for over a hundred years. It was less fun being a target for the discontented and dishonorable opposition, however.
* * *
My mother is currently in a rehab facility, more of a nursing home. Nursing homes are, no matter how hard they try to make it cheerful, horrible places. They are places where many people are put so that they can die with the least amount of inconvenience to their families. They smell bad and are always overheated and stuffy. I hope I have enough money as the years go by to make sure my parents never die in one of these places. They are the warehouses for the not yet dead.
* * *
I bought a new computer this weekend. Our old laptop has developed serious and terminal problems. My wife insisted on something new. I bought an iMac, my first Apple. So far, I am chagrined to admit, I like it just fine. How long will that last? Beats me. But so far, so good. It is kind of easy to use, although I miss the "My Computer" feature from Windows. Any way to reproduce that feature?
* * *
Ok, back to work.
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February 23, 2007
Today I mark the birthday of the Boy Child who turns four. I spoke to him on the phone as I had to stay overnight in the City last night. He sounds very grown up already. He has chosen a white cake with white frosting and a banana cream filling. Sounds like it will be a good one.
Things have been insane of late -- terrible work deadlines and pressures. Also, my mother has been hospitalized as the chemo has destroyed her white blood cell count, she is anemic, she has thrush (an infection that closed her throat) and she contracted neumonia. Just when she was ready, after a full week in the hospital, to be released, my father was struck down by the flu so she has to go to a rehab facility because she clearly cannot go home.
So, right now, the numb I am feeling is better than the frazzled I will feel shortly.
I hope you are all well and, if you are still bothering to come by and visit this sadly neglected blog, on track for good weekend!
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)> February 19, 2007
So, hasta. I'm off to run errands before catching the train home.
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February 12, 2007
Where was all of this wonderful eloquence when we needed it, though? No where. The kids, this Sunday, got to meet the Norwegian Crown Princess, ("my future queen", sayeth the Girl Child) and they were so shy they were somewhat struck dumb. The Crown Princess admired the Boy Child's Norwegian/American dual flag pin and told him that she had one of those at home, too. She seemed awfully nice. It was well worth meeting her, even if we had to drive to Queens, NY to do it. Never drive in Queens if you can avoid it. Enough said.
Now, back to work. Sorry about all the silence, by the way. Just overwhelmed and it won't get much better for some time, I fear.
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January 25, 2007
So, we are going forward without the benefit of my wife's generous paycheck and dental benefits. How bad can it be? Don't answer that.
Let the freaking out begin!
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January 24, 2007
Plov or Osh, the Uzbek version of "pilaff" ("pilav"), is the flagship of their cookery. It consists mainly of fried and boiled meat, onions, carrots and rice; with raisins, barberries, chickpeas, or fruit added for variation. Uzbek men pride themselves on their ability to prepare the most unique and sumptuous plov. The oshpaz, or master chief, often cooks plov over an open flame, sometimes serving up to 1000 people from a single cauldron on holidays or occasions such as weddings. It certainly takes years of practice with no room for failure to prepare a dish, at times, containing up to 100 kilograms of rice.
Plov is or should be, Vodka free.
There are so many ways to cook plov; some say there are 200, others-1200. But the main ingredients such as meat, rice, onion, carrot and oil remain unchanged. Then the fantasy sets in: plov with quince, with Turkish pea, barberry, eggs and pomegranate. Classical plov can be light in color (sometimes cal led Samarkand plov) and dark (Ferghana). The second one is heavier, but the taste! By the way, the real men's plov only can be dark.
First peculiarity
You should never drink vodka after plov. You can drink it before, but no way after. Only green tea and such is the tradition; very sensible tradition, mind you. Because only a very healthy person can drink a 40% alcoholic drink after heavy plov. In Central Asia if not every person, then every second can cook plov. Some better, some worse. But when it's necessary to feed the whole crowd of guests for example on a wedding, you'd better call oshpaz. The work of this master will cost a lot and basically he doesn't cook himself, but co ordinates his assistants.When oshpaz goes to buy ingredients for plov, it is a comedy, which every person is ready to come and see if it is possible. I once have witnessed how one oshpaz, surrounded by the army of his assistants, was choosing rice. He slowly moved from one seller to another in the market, holding a bit of rice, smelling it, saying something to himself, and the throwing it back. All the vendors were very nervous; they were hiding something under their tents and putting something out. If oshpaz buys rice at a pi ace, then it's the best advertisement and this seller will have success in trade for some time, it is important to notice that a good plov can be made only from rice of the recent harvest, if it's from last year, then you can cook something that looks like plov.
Second peculiarity
If you have never lived in Central Asia then I need to explain what "gap" means, it's translated from Uzbek as "the talk", but it has a slang meaning - chat. However in Central Asia this word is used to define a small friendly party held for some reason or without any. And "gap" is a thing for men and usually it takes place not in the houses but in choykhonas (tea houses) or some other places. Plov at "gap" is cooked by the participants themselves and not by the master.One of my foreign friends who lives in Uzbekistan recalls how they were cooking men's plov: while the person appointed as the chief cook was preparing meat, all the others were cutting onions, carrots and Namangan reddish. The secret of men's plov is: when the cook takes out the cracklings from kazan, there is still a little bone left on cooking in the kazan. This bone gives plov that noble yellow-brownish color and the taste of real men's food. Now every thing is ready and we are ready to taste plov. The cook has to finish some magi n tricks and this is the most difficult moment. Firstly, because others will be giving him vodka to drink and if he will partakes then he will spoil the plov. Secondly, all the drinking people are eager to steal a piece of onion or meat, and he is waving with his Kapkir (skimmer) on them, yelling, that no good plov can be prepared this way.
Third peculiarity
"Oshi Nahor" - morning plov, is one of the elements of Central Asian family traditions. There are millions of guests invited and tables usually are set in the house and not in the yard. The activity takes place from about 6 to 9 a.m. New guests are seated right away on free seats by the young helpers. After three minutes you see green tea at your table and after another five-plov. But if you refuse to come to "oshi nahor" the hosts will consider that you don't respect them, in the season of weddings, you might get a number of invitations for "oshi nahor" in a day.Again, one of my American friends told me how he had four invitations. All of them were in different parts of the city. He was traveling from 5:30am and by eight he was able to pass al ready 2 plovs. At third plov he couldn't eat and was just sitting there quietly drinking tea. But someone noticed that he wasn't eating and told the master. The master appeared next to him. He was forced to eat. It was a real torture for him to think about the fourth plov, but knowing Uzbek traditions and respecting the people who invited him, he finally went there. He was forcing himself to eat fourth plov. "I thought I would die, or even that I wouldn't be able to stand up and get to the car" - says Michael. But somehow he managed to get to the car and asked the driver to turn the air conditioner on. Slowlo, he came to his work. During the day, one of his colleagues came in saying: It's my father's jubilee today and he is cooking lots of plov. Please, come to my pi ace today.
We now return to being a Plov free zone.
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