Moondog, he live! He tall!

Now resident at Hard Working Movies.

Yeah, that kind of rich

R station, 4th Ave and 9th.

B O O !

S p r i n g t i m e     S u r p r i s e

50 best blocks in Brooklyn.

well,
are they?

Dear diary, where I been?

No where much.  Where the weak are eaten, mostly, and a quick trip to DC.  Lota been to Sundance and back.  Been working working working.  Floundered in the midst of a half dozen books and finally pulled myself out by the bootstraps of The Sense of an Ending and Flaubert's Parrot.  Have been enjoying some home made vermouth a la Yvette can Boven and been slicing the bresaola.  Almost bought an electric slicer but settled instead on the big honkin' Victrinox Forschner hollow edged knife.  And I have a pork belly working, too.  Burned last year's seasonal stalks and saw that the bulbs and mint and a few other early-risers are saying hello.  Saw in the times today that I'm three years younger than Cindy Sherman.

 

Bresaola, phase 2

Glistening, but about as firm as a well done piece of meat, the bresaola emerges from two weeks of curing in salts and herbs.

The, washed & dried, it sits on a rack for 2 or 3 hours, before hanging to air-dry for the next three weeks at maybe 60 F/

Start sharpening those knives.

 

Giddyap! Rider Rebellion.

Coteghino Fasciato (Spiced Pork Sausage or Cotechino Boiled in a Wrap)

A nice piece of coincidence: one of the books we bought ourselves for Christmas is an extract translation of Pellegrino Artusi’s 1891 opus, La scienza in cucina e l’arte di mangiare bene (The Science of Cooking and the Art of Eating Well), published now as Exciting Food for Southern Types, by Penguin, and in it is what I’ve transcribed below, which I read last evening while still digesting the D&G’s New Years Day dinner feast of the cotechino that we made last Friday.  (Long sentence!)

Coteghino Fasciato
(Spiced Pork Sausage or Cotechino Boiled in a Wrap)

 I will not pretend that this is an elegant dish, but rather one for the family, and as such it does the job perfectly well, and indeed you could even serve it to close friends.  Speaking of close friends, Giusti says that people who are in a position to do so, should occasionally invite their close friends to get their mustaches greasy at their table.  I am of the same opinion, even if the guests will probably proceed to speak ill of you, and of how they were treated.

Skin an uncooked cotechino weighing about 300 grams (about 10 ½ ounces).  Take a large, thin cutlet of lean veal or beef weighing between 200 and 300 grams (about 7 and 10 ½ ounces), and pound well.  Wrap the cutlet around the cotechino, tie it all up with twine and put on the fire in a saucepan with a bit of butter, some celery, carrot, and a quarter of an onion, all coarsely chopped.  Salt and pepper are not necessary, because the cotechino contains plenty of these ingredients.  If you plan to use the sauce on a first course of macaroni, add some slices of untrimmed prosciutto or some bacon.  When the piece of meat is browned all over, pour in enough water to cover it halfway, and throw in some little pieces of dried mushrooms; simmer slowly until completely cooked.  Strain the sauce, but add back the mushrooms, then use the sauce, along with cheese and butter, to season the macaroni.  Serve the cotechino as the main course, keeping it wrapped in the cutlet but removing the twine, and garnishing it with a good amount of its own sauce.  

It is a good idea to thicken the sauce for the pasta a bit with a pinch of flour.  Put the flour in a saucepan with a bit of butter, and when it starts to brown pour in the sauce and boil for a while. 

A side dish of carrots goes very well with this dish.  First boil the carrots until two thirds done and then finish cooking in the meat sauce.

Cotechino

10 pounds of cotechino made yesterday @ D and G's for New Years Day dinner.  Woof!


steve.lewis@farawayhills.com. thumbtyped

Chris Hedges, OWL, the human amp

I've been lazy or busy or both and haven't made my way up to the park for close to a month.  I watched this earlier this morning and I started wondering what it might feel like to be part of the chorus.  There's the juice of it, the usefulness of it.  There's also the message, which you might or might not agree with, but you still deliver.

Well, we didn't have a tree this year...

... so we lit the street-found Harmony baritone uke.

So, Macinwi wants to play the uke...

... and I've been thinking of great three and four chord songs that might help.  A little Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain?

Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain
recorded by Willie Nelson
written by Fred Rose
 
C
In the twilight glow I see her
G7                      C
Blue eyes cryin' in the rain
 
As when we kissed good-bye and parted
  G7                   C     C7
I knew we'd never meet again
 
F
Love is like a dying ember
C             G7
Only memories remain
C
Through the ages I'll remember
G7                      C
Blue eyes crying in the rain
 
 
Now my hair has turned to silver
G7                       C
All my life I've love in vain
 
I can see her star in heaven
G7                      C   C7
Blue eyes Crying in the rain
 
F
Someday when we meet up yonder
C                          G7
We'll stroll hand in hand again
C
In the land that knows no parting
G7                      C
Blue eyes crying in the rain
G7                      C
Blue eyes crying in the rain

Wreath, home from market

steve.lewis@farawayhills.com. thumbtyped

The Lost Memory of Skin

I've just read Russell Banks' book...

Bike sync

More, nice, synchronicity.  Within two days of getting back from Amsterdam I finally gave into the itch and bought a Dutch bike Reasoning was somewhere between wanting the old sore back to be able to ride in an upright position, and just plain old wanting.  The urge was there after the last two trips, but this time it was overwhelming.  So, from Rolling Orange in Cobble Hill, home came, I don't don't know, what shall I call it?  Mr. Bike.

(Baguette not included, stardust-embedded tires glowing very nicely at this angle.)

So early yesterday morning Mr. Bike took me for a ride and we found a 20 block detour to the bakery on the corner.  Leaving the bakery I realized I had dropped one of my gloves along the way - old buff leather work-gloves.  Sigh.  I'd had them a long time, and really liked using them for riding.  Wella.  So, back home, and wouldn't you know it, I pushed Mr. Bike into the yard, and there on the ground,  right where I'd started out from, was glovey!

Well, that made me so happy I decided to photograph it and Mr. Bike and go right inside and post about them.  But when I got inside, there was a better surprise.  Raymond had forwarded mail from Larry, and it started like this:

We just went for a bike ride - to the India border and back, about 6 km each way (although it didn't seem that long).  The very nice hotel manager loaned me his brand-new cycle, and they managed to get another for Parsu Ram.  It was good exercise (although I couldn't beat PR at racing as I could last time! old age is creeping up).  Anyway, the border is alive with all sorts of activity, a lot of it probably illicit.  It was a nice straight shot on the highway but the usual traffic, bullock carts, rikshaws, big smoke-belching trucks, etc.  We had some tea at one of those highway-edge shops, looked filthy but tea's not such a risk I hope due to necessary boiled water...

 ... and goes on to describe "innumerable adventures, not always but mostly good adventures."

Coffee table

A coffee table in the lobby of Hotel Roemer.

Amsterdam / Stew sync delayed realization

We returned from Amsterdam Thursday late afternoon, and Friday we aired ourselves out on 5th.  Sitting outside a cafe a livery car stopped for a light, and looking out the back window was Stew.  Wasn't until this morning that I remembered Stew's Amsterdam connection: Passing Strange. 

Streetfighting in Amsterdam

steve.lewis@farawayhills.com. thumbtyped

I'm so dizzy...

 Was in Fish's Eddy at lunchtime yesterday, and on the radio...

#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
#------------------------------------------------------------------------------##
From: Brian Scherer

Dizzy - Tommy Roe


D   G   A    A

D     G   A     A      E       A          B         B
Dizzy,          I'm so dizzy, My head is spinnin'

        E         A         B       B
Like a whirlpool, it never ends

          E         A         B       B
And it's you girl, makin' it spin

                  F        Bb        C
You're makin' me dizzy


F                  Bb
First time that I saw you girl

   C               Bb               F
I knew that I just had to make you mine

     F               Bb
But it's so hard to talk to you

       C              Bb                F
With fellas hangin' 'round you all the time

C                                Bb
I want you for my sweet pet, but you keep playin hard to get

A                G              A
Goin' Round in circles all the time

REFRAIN


Verse 2

I finally got to talk to you
And tell you just exactly how I felt
Then I held you close yo me and kissed you
And my heart began to melt
Girl, you've got control of me, 'cause I'm so dizzy, I can't see
I need to call a doctor for some help


REFRAIN

Repeat twice, first time in F (F, Bb, C)  then in G (G, C, D)


I hope this is closer than the trash I submitted before (at least the
lyrics are).

R. Brian Scherer
Eli Lilly and Company
rbscherer@lilly.com

Lewis Klahr's The Pettifogger: Collaging the crime

Guardian article with images from Lewis' latest film, and Lewis' comments on them.  Lewis Klahr's The Pettifogger: Collaging the crime – in pictures.

If only Sid had had a ukulele...

Macinwi wants you to know about Amanda Palmer.  Anthem!