In the morning I got up about 7, before Andrea, and I left at 7:50 to catch the 38, taking a blackberry pie with me — perhaps the best crust I’ve ever made. I used some of the non-hydrogynated shortening last night because I was out of the trans-fat-free Crisco, or close thereto. The crust was flakey, nicely browned, light … and tasty. Damned good.
I might make an apple pie for Friday. Perhaps for my colleagues. That or a lemon-poppy bread or such.
Once in the department I got to work, talked to Mark about M’s Incomplete turning to an F by way of administrative error or sloth, and tried to avoid smelling the damned fine pie. I acquired two episodes of Bleach and organized some comics.
I taught.
I took the pie along and cut it into 16 equal slices, which was a chore, when you think about it. You’ve got to take a quarter, and cut that into four. At the edge each slice is a mere inch or so. Everyone said they liked it. It’s sort of like bribing my students … well, except that I’m not. Shouldn’t it go the other way? Them providing an apple or such?
After class I returned upstairs. I talked to Lynn. I talked to Helena. To Elliot and to Stella and Mike. I left, went to town and rued the day I put on the new shoes, which I got from Walmart and at that time seemed to fit. They hurt. They were new. They were not softened or stretched or whatever. Big toes, heels, soles … all in pain, but it will get better. It always does.
After turning down a panhandler or two I arrived at Fair Trade and got a fritter and coffee from the lady who runs/owns the place. We talked a bit about fritters, and she mentioned that she used to make her own (you use a pot of hot oil for deep-frying) as well as bagels, which you boil. The next time I see her there I should ask whether she has any special tricks. I’m enough of a regular that I am recognized; certain baristas know what I’m going to get, but even the rest know that I “belong.”
I eventually ended up at the middle table at the front window and did some people watching while I wrote. A double-wide stroller pushed by an attractive blonde in jeans with a cream-colored sweater paused along with a slightly older woman with three terriers. A mother, father, and 2-year-old daughter stopped to encounter the dogs. Three police arrived and escorted (hauled?) a 5’10” or so black male from the back (bathroom) to the street, where he was attended by paramedics, for at the Peace Park (irony!) he’d been in a fight and had his face smashed in. I took a picture.
I wrote.
Then around 4:20 I left and headed to the CHAZEN for Jost’s lecture, but on the Mall I ran into Lee Urbanski, who was there for the book sale at Memorial Library, and we talked about hand-helds, and attaching a USB or similar barcode reader to scan the ISBN, go online, and compare prices for the book in question. I saw Julie come the opposite direction, in search of coffee. Lee and I split, I went to the CHAZEN, and when I arrived in L160 Julie arrived and we got seats together behind Mark Louden and Charles; behind us Jack and Claire sat.
The talk itself was magnificent, although it failed to answer what I consider a critical question. Jost set out to answer, was Nazi Germany a “utopia”? Answer: not really. But the question is, if you’re posing the question, why? Are there those who claim it was? I would say, yes, there are, and he never addressed those positions. I think that would have both strengthened and contextualized his presentation.
On the way out I ran into Kim Coulter, who invited me to her post-PhD-celebration party in May. She defended in December but will “walk” in the spring. We talked and made it together to State and Francis. Then I went to the bus stop, where I saw Regina, and we took the 6 together until she got off at Paterson. I got off at Ingersoll, but not before talking with Julie a bit; she was also on the bus.
At home I cooked two chicken breasts what I call “Alton Brown style,” which is actually an adaptation of his season 1, episode 1 steak method: 30 seconds per side on highest heat on the range, then 2 minutes per side in a 500 degree Fahrenheit oven, then allowed to cool and stabilize. Season with kosher salt, pepper, and canola oil. I also use a bit of cooking wine/sherry and hot pepper sauce.
Damn that makes great chicken.
Really.
Juicy, a great exterior, easy to cut with the fork, and, while thoroughly cooked, tender and juicy. I also fried/steamed some broccoli and pea pods and carrots in vegetable oil with salt and pepper sauce. A good meal.
I watched Lost — “spoilers” follow — in which Locke’s father breaks his back by pushing him from a window (8 floors up?), which tells us how lock became paralyzed. When Ben said, “Bring me the man from Tallahassee,” I was expecting Locke’s father, so, like last week’s “twist” with Ms. Australia I was expecting the plot elements.
I do not like feeling smarter than the writers.
I have a huge ego. I’m pretty sure that I am as smarter or likely much smarter than the writers. But it’s one thing to be smarter than a writer; it’s another thing to be smarter (in 45 minutes vs. weeks of production) than a team of writers, but whenever I figure things out, whenever I know what’s coming next, almost word for word, I feel smarter than the writers, and while it’s great for my ego it’s not great for my viewing experience.
Still, the episode progressed the plot so I’m not complaining.
In terms of music I’m into “N,” past Neil Diamon, Nick Cave, Nina Gordon (fun) and such to Nine Inch Nails; I’d say I’m 50% through their stuff. Thereafter I have 700MB of Nirvana, as I like to call it.
Tonight I cracked open by bottle of Gnarly Head old vine zin, which Richard and Amy recommended. At Riley’s it’s about $11 but at Woodman’s I should be able to get it for $9 or $10. It’s good. It has a peppery bite but a good deal of fruity sweetness. It can really hit you on an empty stomach. It’s beyond what I usually pay for wine but now and again? In any case, really quite good, and clear step up from $6-8 bottles, and comparable to that $15 Seven Deadly Zins, which is a good, good wine.
