11.7.2021 – aubergine labneh

aubergine labneh
courgettes freekeh tahini
salsify trompett

It is the Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw, a fugitive today from the PC police I am sure, who famously said that Great Britain and the United States were, “two nations divided by a common language.”

On Mr. Shaw I have always wondered about his name.

I have so often heard him referred to as Bernard Shaw that I came to beleive that he had one of those hypnnated names, thusly George Bernard-Shaw.

Checking the Wikipedia this morning, come to learn, he was known as Bernard Shaw, “at his insistence”.

So there it is.

Now if I could take the time to look Ralph Vaughn Williams (Rafe?? Vaughn-Williams), BUT I DIGRESS.

Also, going online this morning I see that there is some question of attribution of the quote with some folks leaning towards Oscar Wilde and some to Winston Churchill.

I never had any doubt.

I knew it was George Bernard Shaw because George C. Scott, in the title role, in the movie, Patton, quotes BGS.

I am sure you all know the scene.

The old British lady’s lap dog scares Patton’s pit bull, Willie.

I endorse the sentiment that we here in the States and the Brits both speak English of a sort.

Of a sort.

I knew a news director who always demanded that when we showed video of Prince Charles, he should be closed captioned.

But today I want to expand the thought.

Not only separated by a common language but by a common desire to eat.

Readers of this blog will not be surprised when on a Sunday Morning I again turn to one of my weekend checkmarks of reading the Guardian’s Blind Date feature.

Two people are set up on a Blind Date at a London Restaurant and then fill out a questionaries’ on their experience.

It is a harmless bit of fun in a dark world.

Along with a review of the date is a link to the Restaurant where the couple met.

It is worth the click to check out the restaurant and look at a London menu.

I have to ask, WHAT ARE THESE PEOPLE EATING?

Today’s blind date met a a place called Sidechick.

It’s a chicken place.

Too bad one of today’s daters was vegetarian.

But not too worry as Sidechick’s website states, “We specialise in the juiciest, most delicious cuts of Roast Chicken & freshly cooked vegetables.”

Pretty safe here.

No worries.

Chicken and veggies.

Could there be anything easier?

I mean lets call the Colonel!

But keep reading the menu.

Under starters you could order bitter leaves.

Bitter leaves with ricotta, pickled pumpkin, walnuts!

NUMMIE NUMMIE as my grandson Jaxon might say.

Lets order up some bitter leaves MOM!

Then there is the chicken.

Half or whole chicken with choice of marinade.

Chimichurri, Piri Piri or Za’atar.

MMMMMMMMM.

Finger lickin good!

And finally, the vegetables.

The vegetable dishes at Sidechicks are a mix of Aubergine, tomato compote, labneh, breadcrumbs, pecorino cheese, Pearl barley, wild mushroom, bone marrow, Grilled celeriac, salsify, trompette, kale, Braised courgettes, freekeh and tahini.

Words or foods I recognize seem to jump out of this list as if they were written in neon.

Other words or foods have the aura of being written on a chalk board.

Some faux fancy faux food designed to make me realize how un-faux I am.

I know I know, you say tomato I say tomato.

It brings to mind the old Andy Griffith Show episode where Deputy Barney Fife is mystifeid by a menu so he just points at various items.

The gag is revealed when he is brought a plate of snails.

The thing is Ol ‘Barn was looking at a menu in French.

This menu is in English.

I might order braised courgettes with freekeh and tahini just because it would be so much fun just to say that out loud in a restaurant.

Ahhhhhhhhh well, we all got to eat.

I remember an interview with the wonderful Julia Child.

She was asked, “Do you ever go out and just get a Big Mac?”

Ms. Child hesitated and smiled, tucked in her chin and said in that marvelous accent that can only be described as Julia Child’s accent, “Well … I prefer the Quarter Pounder.”

11.6.2021 – welcome or threat, a

welcome or threat, a
sympathy for the future
hankering for past

What will tomorrow bring.

Why did yesterday have to be left behind?

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Maybe yesterday was as good as it gets.

I like to read the books of Bernard Cornwell.

His Sharpe Series is a great way to learn about the war in Spain against Napoleon.

I have reread these books several times.

The Last Kingdom or Saxon Stories are absorbing enough though after 13 books its hard to not start flipping through the battle scenes to get to the character narrative.

Not meant as a criticism but I find myself reading through the books and hitting some passages and that scene from the movie, ‘Amadeus’ comes to mind when Mozart plays a short piece of music written by Antonio Salieri after just one hearing.

Young Mozart picks his way through the first couple of bars, squints off into the middle distance and mutters, ‘The rest is just the same, isn’t it?”

Cornwell’s Warlord Chronicles are an interesting take on the Arthurian Legends and Arthur as a reluctant hero.

I think Mr. Cornwell is a bit hard on Christians but I think I can discern between his take on Christians as portrayed in the life Galahad and professional organized religion as portrayed by everything else church related in the three novels.

Also the in depth examination of the old ‘norse’ ways does tend to make me uncomfortable but I take the long road here as I know who historically wins this argument.

Some of the best scenes are the also repeated in the Saxon Series, where the folks come across Roman ruins of villas, baths and bridges.

They look over the ruins and say, “how did they do this?”

Knowledge can be lost so easily.

I hate to think what happens to the modern library without electricty.

The great libraries prior to 1900, those wonderful, vast reading rooms like you see in Univ of Michigan Hatcher Library or even the Grand Rapids Michigan Main building were all designed to use natural lighting from windows.

The roofs were giant skylights.

The floors were thick translucent glass.

Then came Tom Edison and electric light.

Much like how it took the Wright Brothers 3 hours to get the engine on the first Wright Flyer running the morning they invented flight so they actually invented flight delay first, Tom Edison wired America with power but he also invented the power outage.

ANYWAY, the three books tell the story of Arthur once again.

And you can’t tell the story of Arthur with telling the story of Merlin.

Throughout the three novels, Merlin has a line.

Wyrd bið ful āræd. 

Fate is inexorable.

Tomorrow is coming.

Yesterday is gone.

Time and tide sweeps the beaches twice a day here.

How can anything not be new?

That might be welcome news.

That might be a threat.

We ate out last night ate one of our favorite local restaurants.

We like it as it good, local and somehow holds the line against charging resort area prices.

I would say its cheap or at least cheaper.

Last night they had new menus.

Not only new menus, but new dishes.

We searched the menu for our favorites and with the help of the waitress we came close.

Close but not the same.

Throughly enjoyed our dinner.

Wistfully, a little part of our brain, wanted our favorites back.

We understood the need for a fresh menu.

We had sympathy for the future.

We had a hankering for the past.

Wow.

All we wanted was dinner.

Wyrd bið ful āræd. 

######

Adapted from the book, The Architecture of Happiness (2009, Vintage Books) by Alain de Botton, and the passage:

However, there might be a way to surmount this state of sterile relativism with the help of John Ruskin’s provocative remark about the eloquence of architecture.

The remark focuses our minds on the idea that buildings are not simply visual objects without any connection to concepts which we can analyse and then evaluate.

Buildings speak – and on topics which can readily be discerned.

They speak of democracy or aristocracy, openness or arrogance, welcome or threat, a sympathy for the future or a hankering for the past.

What Ruskin is quoted as saying is:

‘A day never passes without our hearing our architects called upon to be original and to invent a new style,’ observed John Ruskin in 1849, bewildered by the sudden loss of visual harmony.

What could be more harmful, he asked, than to believe that a ‘new architecture is to be invented fresh every time we build a workhouse or parish church?

According the The New York Review of Books, this is “A perceptive, thoughtful, original, and richly illustrated exercise in the dramatic personification of buildings of all sorts.”

What I find irrestible in reading Mr. de Botton is his use of language.

I get the feeling that if you made a spread sheet of all the words, adverbs and adjectives used by Mr. de Botton, you just might find that he used each word just once.

Neat trick in writing a book.

If I knew how to do that, I would.

11.5.2021 – make ready, lose count

make ready, lose count
of scoops small step of faith
great start but no notes

My day starts the night before around 10:30pm.

At 10:30pm, I get the coffee maker set up to make coffee the next morning.

I am a coffee nut but a strict orthodox coffee nut.

I will enjoy a Starbucks or any other boutique coffee or latte or cafe au lait.

I will put up with the strange arrogance of vente, grande and whatever else I have to say when I want to order a small coffee with milk.

I will go so far as to say that the best cup of coffee I ever ordered was the Ho Chi Minh City at Cafe Amico in Suwanee, Georgia.

Best cup of store bought coffee anyway.

When you get right down to it, it all tastes the same after the third sip.

I have used the kuerig.

I think we have owned several.

But, dog gone it, I want a pot of coffee.

For a real orthodox coffee nut, the test is not the specialty coffees but the daily coffee in the pot at home.

I know I have quoted this before but in the book of short stories that led to the play and movie, “Life with Father,” Clarence Day describes a breakfast with his Dad.

A breakfast with bad coffee.

Mr. Day, Jr., writes:

At breakfast, Father would put down his coffee-cup in disgust and roar:

“Slops! Damn it, slops!

Does she call this confounded mess coffee?

Isn’t there a damned soul in Westchester County who knows how to make coffee but me?

I swear to God I can’t even imagine how she concocts such atrocities.

I come down to this room hungry every morning, and she tries to fill me with slops!

Take it away, I tell you!” he would bellow to the waitress.

“Take this accursed mess away!”

And while she and Delia were frantically hurrying to make a fresh pot, he would savagely devour his omelet and bacon, and declare that his breakfast was ruined.

When I first read this story years and years ago I felt I understood just what Clarence Day, Sr., meant.

If my morning coffee isn’t ‘right’ (no need for the word just here, not ‘just right’ just ‘right’) then the rest of the day is in jeopardy if not gone.

I like to say that God created the heavens and the stars and so separated the Day from the Night so there would be morning.

I like to say that God created morning so there would be coffee.

The Bible says we are created in God’s image.

Therefore it can be said that God must have a nose.

If God has a nose, God can smell.

Note the many verses in the Bible that describe sacrifices making a pleasing aroma.

Grilled lamb or steak with clouds of savory smoke drifting up to Heaven.

If there are pleasing aroma’s in Heaven then they must have coffee there.

I told you I was orthodox in my beliefs.

My day starts then when I get the coffee maker set up the night before.

For such a important part of my day tomorrow I can be cavalier about how I go about preparing the coffee maker.

It would make sense that I have a precise regimen that I follow with exactitude but, being me, I don’t.

The brand of coffee is not carved in stone.

I switch from time to time.

Sometimes just to change.

Sometimes based on price.

Sometimes based on availablity.

Right now I am using Café Bustelo.

I don’t worry about the water.

It doesn’t bother me that it will sit all night.

I guess it’s going to sit all night somewhere.

Here in the low country of South Carolina there are water towers so the city water delivery system IS based on gravity.

But the area is dotted with GRAVITY ASSIST PUMPSTATIONS at ground level to make sure water can make it up and into the multi story apartment buildings.

Then the filter goes in place.

Then I measure out the coffee.

I am making eight cups.

I will have 2 or 3 in the morning following the ‘endless cup’ method of continually warming up a cup of coffee.

My wife will have cup.

And then later that day I will make up a large iced cafe au lait with the leftovers.

There was a time when it was thought I should limit myself to a single cup of coffee.

So I did.

After I went out and bought the biggest cafe au lait mug I could find.

It was like carrying around a punch bowl.

To make eight cups of coffee takes 8 level scoops of Cafe Bustelo.

This is where the fun happens.

With everything that is riding on this simple act I cannot tell how often I lose count.

I hear a noise.

I think of a noise.

I think of something.

I look back at the TV.

Something happens and I am standing there with a scoop in one hand, can of coffee in the other, staring into the coffee maker and wondering … 5 … 7… 3?

I look at the coffee already in the filter and there is really no help to determine mass versus measurement from the size of the pile of coffee.

Then the descision.

Dump it out and start over which is the safe way.

The sane way.

Or roll the dice.

Add another measure or two of coffee and hope for the best.

Even though this has immense bearing on how my day will go this is the usual route that I choose.

I say to myself ‘Well, it is either going to be too strong or too weak, but there it is.”

I close up the coffee maker.

Put the coffee away.

I go to bed wondering, what will I pour out in the morning.

As I type this I think BOY AM I DUMB.

So here is what bothers me.

Once in awhile I make the worst miscalculation and the coffee is weak,

This is the worst.

Slops!

Slops! Damn it, slops!

And it can’t be fixed.

Sometimes the coffee is way to strong.

I stay with the idea that the coffee is strong enough if you dropped a dime into coffee and you can’t see the dime at the bottom of your cup.

Why you would drop a dime into your coffee, well, I digress.

My brother Tim told me that with my coffee, the dime dissolves.

Then there are those mornings.

Those mornings when I know the night before, I messed up and guessed how much coffee to put in.

And the coffee that morning is not too weak, it is not too strong.

The coffee is right.

Just right.

When that happens, my day starts with this thought.

THIS IS JUST RIGHT, BUT HOW MUCH COFFEE DID I USE?

Oh gosh.

11.4.2021 – wavy surf song sounds

wavy surf song sounds
floppy floappy sowop swish
sparkling fizz sizzles

I like how many of the words in this haiku were thrown out by spell check.

Listen to the sound of waves.

What words do you here?

I had to make mine up as the words didn’t exist.

On the one, I am sure most readers or wave listeners would agree with me that the words just aren’t there.

On the other, time, tide and waves have been around since day 1 on the schedule and we haven’t come up with words yet?

There is an old Jewish fable or midrash I think there were called when God and Satan are arguing in the Garden of Eden about how smart Adam might be.

God says to prove it, he will ask Adam if he can identify all these new animals.

God calls up Adam and says to him, “Adam, what do think this rabbit is?”

And Adam says, “That is a rabbit.”

Another version has an Angel whispering the animal names to Adam.

My point is if we, the human race, got some help describing animals, why not with waves?

Where are the words?

What are the words?

I certainly hear the sounds.

Part of a series based on an afternoon spent at the beach on Hilton Head Island.

I wanted to see if I would be ‘inspired’ by what I saw, by what I heard, by what I smelled, by what I tasted, what I felt emotionally and what I felt tactilely.

Some turned out okay.

Some were too forced.

Some were just bad.

Some did involve some or all of those feelings.

As far as it goes, I guess I was inspired by by what I saw, by what I heard, by what I smelled, by what I tasted, what I felt emotionally and what I felt tactilely.

Click here for more Haiku in the BEACH category —

11.3.2021 – wrote her name upon

wrote her name upon
the strand, but came the waves and
washed it away

Adapted from the sonnet, Amoretti LXXV, by Edmund Spenser.

This is one of several haiku I got from this sonnet.

Edmund Spenser (1553-1559), according to wikipedia, was an English poet best known for The Faerie Queene, an epic poem and fantastical allegory celebrating the Tudor dynasty and Elizabeth I. He is recognized as one of the premier craftsmen of nascent Modern English verse and is often considered one of the greatest poets in the English language.

In 1595, Spenser published Amoretti and Epithalamion. This volume contains eighty-eight sonnets commemorating his courtship of Elizabeth Boyle. In Amoretti, Spenser uses subtle humour and parody while praising his beloved, reworking Petrarchism in his treatment of longing for a woman.

Spenser used a distinctive verse form, called the Spenserian stanza. The stanza’s main meter is iambic pentameter with a final line in iambic hexameter (having six feet or stresses, known as an Alexandrine), and the rhyme scheme is ababbcbcc. He also used his own rhyme scheme for the sonnet. In a Spenserian sonnet, the last line of every quatrain is linked with the first line of the next one, yielding the rhyme scheme ababbcbccdcdee.

But you knew that.

Here is the full sonnet.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
‘Vain man,’ said she, ‘that dost in vain assay,
A mortal thing so to immortalize;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likewise.’
‘Not so,’ (quod I); ‘let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name:
Where whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.