coney island of the facts

early in the day on air a reporter reports from the little Syrian farming village of Tremseh where some people killed a lot of other people in the struggle for democracy I guess that’s what it looks like hey chant it now in whose streets maybe not ours he is done with his report and as though on cue the program host well she really was on cue it's not as though anything she says meatball the bear got evacuated from Glendale this morning what a way to start the day in a headspin hope the bear is ok thanks meatball for helping me stop imagining body parts in the back room of a farmhouse in Syria for helping me keep my priorities straight right now my priority is getting through the day headspin or not well there is no or not it’s just spinning let’s face it but think about how spun out meatballs head must have been I wandered out of the woods into civilization and this is what it looks like these people are fuckin crazy send in the tranquilizer guns call in the airlift but please don’t drop me off in Tremseh

ps

dessert for meatball:

fig, lebneh quenelle, coffee-chile-cardamom-chocolate, pistachios

pick-me-up

I made a trip to Costco today it’s always a risky proposition because they don’t stock anti-depressants in the obscenely bulky amount that one would have to down all in one gulp in order to avoid the sinking feeling that sets in as soon as you set foot in there and I would have needed a second massive dose when I approached the register with two small items in hand all I had was a roll of parchment paper and a piece of cheese I felt so horribly inadequate almost as though I were doing something improper buying so little I did not feel like one of the Joneses at that moment and you know I like to keep up and it gets me down when I fall short I didn’t even have a goddamn cart let alone 40 lbs of breakfast cereal or the largest box of crackers in the history of distorted food production systems I told the cashier no thank you I did not need a box for my items I got out of there in one piece maybe two but in the freeforall parking lot was swamped with a sadness that bulk xanax could not combat even if they sold it and they should because it might be that the act of purchasing itself would do the trick if the fuckin pills didn’t do anything then I went home and worked on this composed salad I will keep working on it until it’s good and then present it to you ladies and gentlemen the post-Costco anti-depressant summer fruit and feta plank

sharpening the knives

knives were on the to do list I took them to Pasadena farmers market dramatic against the cloudy mountains at 8 in the morning why would anybody live down here when there is such an up there in those clouds our village is not in the mountains it is in the valley it is not agricultural it is urban and its people somewhat unskilled we don’t know how to split wood a few of us and sadly I don’t count myself among this number though I know I got it in me far fetched as that may sound considering I grew up on a country club know how to grow blueberries or butcher a pig everything is delivered on a platter silver or styro it don’t matter our village is not in the mountains nor near Hama nor surrounded by ghosts or rebel forces who have all sharpened their knives too the shit is going to come at that village in the clouds from all sides best of luck telling the good from the bad the oppression from the democracy the coin doesn’t even have two faces it has a single face so don’t bother to flip it no matter how it lands it‘s going to come up throat-cutters the man at the market did a top notch job with the sharpening I cut myself already almost not really just flayed a little sliver of fingertip skin back when I was wiping the blade it was careless oversight quite frankly nothing to write al-Qubair about dear body part let me tell you I know exactly how you feel a letter wouldn’t get through at this particular juncture anyway all I am trying to do is make a little dinner with a very sharp knife and there are terrible pictures flitting before me in thought having read the reports and listened to some handwringing on national public radio who are we kidding well ourselves what the fuck are we doing well we are trying to go about our business and make dinner why and I can’t imagine it is only me that is struggling with this conundrum has it become so difficult to go on as if nothing was going on as though the face of the world were not boiling over to just portion the fish as if it will turn up endlessly beneath the knives to throw up our hands as if we all belonged to the UN to hold back tears when I think of the old city of Damascus the shops shuttered and everyone in there and in al-Qubair and in the whole world well at least a few people waiting for something else terrible to happen avid readers of blog I wish I had better news for you but I won’t

what no food pictures

another night-in supper almost finished, all the bowls of springy risotto with a pea leaf tarragon spring onion garnish and the duck leg braise that one had its own nod to spring and to labor intensive product with a fava bean salsa verde those dishes are washed and dried and stacked and the salad plates they're all cleaned up too sorry there are no pictures of anything take my word for it the salad had shaved fennel and slivers of meyer lemon and bright green castelveltrano olives and anchovy vinaigrette and the dessert almond pound cake and harry's strawberries and runny whip all over it all gone all that's left to do is the laundry and eat the one leftover pint of seascapes not necessarily in that order

roast, from memory

a partial menu from Monday's "night in" dinner, with special guest Molly Stevens, she was in LA working her new book, "All About Roasting," though not every dish as you can see had a roasted element that would have been overkill dessert for instance was a simple pear tart with walnut frangiapane and the salad nothing roasted except for some meyer lemons which went pureéd into the vinaigrette, the whole thing was a blast and sort of from the past, Molly and I met long ago in Reagan's 80s when we both lived on a post-hippie vegetable farm in central Vermont before she began a long tour of cooking-related training and work and finally landed in LA almost 30 years later and it was great to have her in the kitchen for this dinner, she has expansive food knowledge and skill and enthusiasm and the roasting book is super-solid and action-packed thankfully it does not fall into the trap of some food writing that coaxes us all down memory lane with stories of grandma roasting a hunk of something on Sunday nights or uncle jimmy's delicious roasted chicken that someone ate as a kid every fourth of july and has been trying to recreate ever since she started cooking or that unforgettable spit-cooked lamb I ate with some bedouins in a windswept tent so many years ago what a crazy night all that's all well and good and food can certainly take us to those places but not everything has to be a trigger-happy memory-inducing madeleine now does it well what about these other pictures from the evening then