Hold the Figgy Pudding

You can pretty much peg the date just by looking in our office kitchen. Right after Thanksgiving the trays, boxes and bins of sweets, cookies and nuts start getting delivered by clients and vendors. People are starting to make goodies at home and bringing in the practice batches or the cookies from the cookie exchange that they didn’t like.

Yesterday at 7:30 a.m. there was a tray of nearly 50 cupcakes and a big plate of cookies put out on the table. At 11:30 one third of them remained untouched. And that’s how you know it’s about 10 days until Christmas. We’ve had nearly three weeks of this stuff and we just can’t take much more.

Any other time of the year, a tray of cupcakes would be gone before the person who brought them could hit “send” for the mass email announcing their arrival. Now those emails are treated like spam, deleted without opening or blocked if the subject line includes “holiday treats in the kitchen”. As rapidly as we are expanding our own personal inner storage spaces, we still can’t keep up with the suppliers’ delivery schedules.

I have a worse problem because I ate three pounds of latkes a couple nights ago and I’m still recovering.

Doesn’t anybody give booze anymore?

It’s the most unhealthful time of the year
With our bellies all swelling
And everyone telling you "Cookies are here"
It's the most unhealthful time of the year
It's the crap-happiest season of all:
With junk food at our meetings and so much we’re eating
That we can’t recall
It's the crap-happiest season of all

The Mathematics of Hanukkah

The biggest problem the Jewish people in the U.S. have is a matter of numbers. Perhaps it stems from being a minority that has been further reduced by assimilation - and when you combine assimilation and minority you get asymmetry.

The asymmetrical Jewish issue manifests itself most notably in packages of kosher hot dogs. Kosher hot dogs are simply the best tasting, but that’s a subject for another day. The problem with them is that they come 7 to a package. The buns are 8 to a package. Since 7 is a prime number, the least common multiple of 7 and 8 is 7 X 8, or 56. You have to serve 56 hot dogs to make it come out even. To use them all, we could have a big BBQ in the back yard, but that will never happen. Why? Because Jews don’t have backyard BBQ parties.

The other asymmetry problem affects only 8/365ths of the year, at Hanukkah. To light the candles for all eight days, including the shamash candle, you need 2 + 3 + 4 + 5+ 6 + 7 + 8 +9 candles. To sum a series of numbers from 1 to n, the formula is ((n+1 * n) / 2. In this case, since there is no 1, the formula is (((9+1)*9)/2 )– 1 = 44. These can be neatly packaged in several ways. Go to any store that sells them and you will find rectangular boxes with 4 rows of 11 nestled together, or alternating rows 5,6,5,6,5,6,5,6 or 7,8,7,8,7,8 (one extra, just in case) or in some triangular box configuration. (The 5,6 or 7,8 are from Shlamiel, Shlamozzel, Hanukkah Candles, Incorporated). Any of these will work, so what’s the problem?

Look at all those different styles of candles! There is no freaking standard size! The same thing goes for the candleholder parts of your Hanukkiah.
You get your candles home and they are either Olive Oyls that are just too skinny and flop over, or they are Popeye arms on steroids and you have to carve the bottoms to make them fit.

If you go buy socket wrenches at Home Depot, there are standards so that you know the wrenches you buy will fit the nuts that exist in the world. Okay, you have to buy metric and SAE to be sure you are covered, but the point is, standards exist for wrenches and nuts. For Hanukkah candles and menorahs, not so much. There is no Bayit Depot to go find compatible symmetry of candles and holders.

Do you know how many nit-picky, detailed laws and procedures are in the Torah? Precise steps are written for how to prepare a sacrifice or wear clothes or any number of things (probably an irrational number of things). Beyond the Torah, there are specific rules on how to ensure that kosher hot dogs are kosher. So, could there be a rule that says you put eight hot dogs in a package or you standardize the candleholders and candles for Hanukkah? Eh. I guess God did not find this important.

Of course, there is no standardization of spelling for Hanukkah, so what was I even thinking?

I am sure Rabbis have considered the candle/candleholder issue and there is a reason, which comes to us through interpretation of the Torah. I should ask next time our Rabbi comes over for a backyard BBQ party.

Cooking Up Reform

Devon Henderson, a mischevious, always-smiling 5-year-old, was born with chronic hunger. His mother, Sharon lost her job last year and no longer has restaurant insurance. Devon's father walked out when Devon was born and never sent any money for support. Now Sharon cannot afford to provide Devon with the full course, restaurant meals he needs. “I’m giving him over-the-counter snack foods,” she says in a soft voice. “I don’t know how long that will sustain him.” When asked how she manages to afford the snacks, she looks off toward her bedroom, then quickly down at the floor. She doesn’t respond.
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President Obama addressed Congress yesterday and again urged them to pass food reform. “Twenty million Americans are without restaurant insurance and unable to get entrees, much less full course meals when they need them. We cannot let that continue. Every American has a fundamental right to affordable meals when he or she becomes hungry,” he stated. Repeating his campaign promise, the President emphasized that the controversial provision for public meal tickets should be a part of whatever bill is passed.
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Sharon Henderson spent four years at graduate school to get a degree as a cosmetologist, with a specialty in nail treatment. As a result of the recession, she was laid off from a highly paid position as an executive toenail cleaner. Sharon has an interview coming up for a job prescribing antipsychotic drugs; it’s an unskilled, minimum wage position, but one which would restore her restaurant insurance. “I will work for food,” Sharon murmurs, choking back tears, “but Devon’s chronic hunger is a pre-existing condition and will probably not be covered. It’s not fair; he can’t help being born that way.”
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Republicans responded to the President’s message, saying that they would not support “the socialized meal policies” the Democrats are proposing. Senate Minority Leader, Mitch McConnell (R-KY), said, “This is not ‘reform’. We currently have the finest restaurant chains in the world and the highest rate of hunger satiation for those who use them. Some have pointed to Canada as an example of a successful government meal system. The facts are that, in Canada, people going to restaurants are given pagers and forced to wait in cramped lobbies, or even outside, until they are called. In many cases people needing food must make reservations far in advance.

“If you get hungry in some place like China, you are afraid to go for treatment. Who knows what is in the food over there. Our free market system has allowed our chefs to develop complex meals; they are created for the rich, but eventually make their way to the mass market. The liberals want to turn us into a Communist collective, forced to line up at food cooperatives for government handouts. What’s more, the President’s food reform bill would force hungry people to go before government diet panels and face assisted dieting.”
*********************************************************************************
Some critics of the current system say it is not the restaurants or the chefs who need reform. “It the insurance companies,” explains analyst, Dale Martin. “ Their top people have lost sight of their mission and purpose. Insurance used to be the business of small mutual farms who would collect premiums from members and then use them to buy food for the unfortunate members of the group who fell victim to hunger. They provided against the risk of a devastating starvation. Now insurance conglomerates are all about investing and profit. They invest in the food banks and trade in ‘toxic food stuffs’, which are chopped up, mixed with filler, blended and sold as byproducts and flavor derivatives. The insurance companies, reluctant to part with their profits, reduce allowed services or institute prix fixe meals. That’s why we have a shortage of chefs and sous chefs in this country.”

Sharon Henderson has similar complaints about the services she was able to get for her son when she did have restaurant insurance. “One chef told me to give Devon 100% Angus beef, but the insurance company would approve only generic ground beef. They told us that they would not pay for emergency cafeteria visits but that I should take him to a drive thru or a mall food court if he had sudden hunger pangs. They wouldn’t let us try alternative Eastern food preparations. They said they were not proven. Supposedly Chinese food just temporarily relieve symptoms and an hour later you’re hungry again.” Sharon said she is considering “home cooking” despite the penalties for preparing recipes without a license. But her main hope is that President Obama’s Food Reform Act passes. “I’ve not even worried about those panels the Republicans talk about. I mean, sooner or later we all have to diet.”

Puffs Plus Blows

For some people it’s chicken soup, for me it’s Vicks® VapoRub®. I don’t remember getting any particular healing food when we had colds. I remember lying in bed with Vicks® VapoRub® on my chest – the soothing vapors rising up to my nose as I read selections from our box of Little Golden Books®. So comforting, and yet not. There was something irritating too… a fly in the ointment, so to speak.

My mother would take a scratchy old washcloth and safety pin it to my PJs. Or sometimes she would stuff a few cheap, scratchy Kleenex® facial tissues in there. The point was to keep the VapoRub® from staining my PJs but the items used seriously detracted from the overall sensory pleasures of the VapoRub®.

You know what I like? I like Doritos®, or one of many other brands of tortilla chips. I like the plain ones. Sometimes I spread them on a plate, put shredded cheese on top and microwave them to make delicious nachos. Do I like nacho flavored Doritos®? I do not. Cheese powder is fine for Cheetos® brand cheese doodles. Doodles by themselves have no flavor; they are a vehicle for the powdered imitation cheese flavored product. I have nothing against powdered imitation cheese flavored product; nothing is more American than that. Nevertheless, I don’t like the powdered imitation cheese flavored product on my tasty Doritos®; it muddles the salty chip taste and ruins the texture. And I would never confuse the combined product with actual nachos.

My sister just told me that she likes Puffs Plus® with the scent of Vicks®, which are facial tissues infused with lotion and, obviously, the scent of Vicks® VapoRub®. The “scent” of Vicks® is like imitation cheese flavored product. It does not benefit the tissue. If I want cheese on a chip, I want cheese on a chip. If I want lotion on my nose or I want Vicks rubbed into my chest so the scent wafts up my nostrils, that’s what I want. I don’t want an imitation flavored tissue.

It’s probably just mental. I assume if Puffs Plus® with the scent of Vicks® had existed years ago, my mother would have just stuffed those in my PJs and told me to breathe deep. The up side is that they wouldn’t have been as scratchy.

The Biggest Loser

The TV show that I am most embarrassed to admit having watched more than once is “Man V. Food” on the Travel Channel.

Adam Richman starts out each show explaining that he is not a competitive eater, i.e. he’s not competing against other men to eat the most of one item of food. "Adam will take on the city's toughest food challenge. Whether he's devouring the Atomic Hot Wings platter in Pittsburgh, or a 13-pound pizza in Atlanta.”

Some will suggest that I object to MvF because it is too manly for me, the guy who watches Project Runway and So You Think You Can Dance. I have explained my interest in those shows and how they do not diminish my manliness; I find it hard to look away from Mario Lopez on ABDC because he is a clown, not because he is so damn cute.

Why am I embarrassed to have watched MvF? What could be more awesome than watching a man eat a 10 pound hamburger or destroy his palate with a sandwich topped by jalapenos, Serrano's, habaneros and ghost peppers?

I see no shame in MvF just because it is a show watched in sloth, one that you watch only because nothing else is on. And I see no shame in that MvF revolves around other disgraceful sins of America: gluttony and waste of food. One man’s sin is another man’s pleasure of the flesh.

Yes, MvF is food porn. The pictures ought to be scrambled on your TV. You sit down on the couch with your bag of nacho cheese Doritos and the remote, start clicking around the channels and there’s a guy with 4 pounds of cinnamon roles on his plate, about to dig in. You start to get a little aroused and all drooly. Before you know it, your Doritos are gone and your chin, your fingers and the front of your t-shirt are smeared with the orange shame of self-indulgence; you feel at peace and ready for a nap.

And there you go: That is not Man versus Food. Any implied conquest is a delusion. Man conquers food when he kills it, because by doing so he conquers Nature. And I’m not talking about taming the land and farming. Anyone can defeat a head of lettuce. It takes a man with strength and courage to bring down an animal and make it into his food; even if the guy has to hire a helicopter and take a high-powered rifle to chase down and slaughter some moose, he will do it.

Man is not challenged in MvF. Consuming the hottest peppers in the world or the biggest hamburger in Duluth is only playing with yourself. If MvF is food porn, the sex porn equivalent would be Adam sitting in his cheap motel room with a stack of Hustlers, seeing how many times he could, um, “respond” to the pictures.

MvF is not man versus food any more than ODing is man versus drugs. MvF is man against his weakness; it is food’s revenge. A real competition against food would consist of putting me in a room with 4 pounds of cinnamon rolls, a 10 pound hamburger, a few pies and a couple liters of beer and see how long I could go without consuming any of it. Man versus food is any time I get a plate of French fries and try to leave just one on the plate. (Sadly, even if the last one is undercooked, bruised and cold, I will eat it – and enjoy it.)

Someone will try and tell me that if I want to see that struggle, I should watch the Biggest Loser. No, that is a woman’s show about eating right and exercising. The only thing for men on that show is Jillian, whom we can drool over while we eat Doritos. On TBL, everyone loses weight, so everyone is a winner. Who wants to see everyone win? If “everyone is a winner” were a desired goal, we Americans would negotiate with our enemies instead of bombing and shooting them. Women would be world leaders instead of men.

Of course, that would free us men up for more couch time, shamefully manipulating the remote and conquering the Doritos.

At Least I Didn't Bust My Sack During the Game

There are a couple of things particular to the Cincinnati area that cause people to look at you funny when you say the words.

One of them is a "three-way:, which is not a sexual liaison with an extra person, it's just spaghetti topped with chili and cheese.

The other is "corn hole", which is not where you apply the corn cob in the outhouse (we use a Sears catalog) and has no unnatural sexual connotation, it is just a bean bag toss game.

When either of these phrases comes up in conversation among the locals, it causes tourists to titter like adolescent boys. But let's all try to be mature for now and get through the rest of this story.

This past Saturday my neighbor had a birthday party which included a corn hole tournament on the front lawn. The bean bags are tossed underhand and a right-hander pushes off with the right leg, flexing the foot and calf..

So, because I am old and out of shape, my right calf ended up a little sore after the tournament. Since this was beer-in-hand corn hole and we played for about 4 hours, I didn't really notice right away. Sunday and Monday, though, my calf started to really tighten up if I sat for more than 4 minutes or so.

That meant that on Monday, every time I left of my office, I was hobbling like Dr. House. It caused people to inquire what was wrong with me. Naturally, I told them I had spilled a hot Skyline meal on my leg and burned myself.

Why did I say that? Because, even at my advanced maturity level, I would rather say I had an injury from a three-way than say that I was walking funny because of a marathon corn hole session.

Hot Dogs in Hot Water Again

MORE LEGAL TROUBLES FOR TUBE STEAKS

The Oscar Mayer Wienermobile was arrested and booked on charges of violating advertising laws in Hawaii.

The story clears up a bit of a mystery for me, explaining that the Wienermobile is "a 'bus' in the shape of a hot dog on a bun". It goes on to say that the vehicle "visited Hawaii from June 28 to July 19". It is not clear how the Wienermobile got to Hawaii or if it was travelling alone or with a companion.

Police were tipped off to the heinous crime by a vigilante group who call themselves the "Outer Circle", another group hiding its real agenda with a misleading name, pretending to be all about exposing gays when they are actually attempting to beautify Hawaii by getting wieners out of the public eye. Turns out UPI may have gotten the group's name wrong A Hawaii news source refers to the group as the "Outdoor Circle", which is gay-friendlier but, still, what the heck does that mean?

Oscar Mayer might have gotten away with their advertising crime spree if they had not boasted about their activity: "Bob Loy of the Outer Circle said the company (Oscar Mayer) acknowledges the Wienermobiles promote the company's products." I think they should have claimed ignorance. "You know, officer, now that you mention it, it does look kind of like a hot dog. I have no idea how our name got on there, though."

"The activist admitted some buses and trucks in Hawaii may carry signs bigger than the Wienermobile. 'Unfortunately, those things aren't against the law, and this is,' he said." This seems like a clear case of product profiling to me.

"The Outer Circle has written Oscar Mayer asking it to voluntarily keep the bus out of Hawaii in the future." That's ridiculous. If they are driving from California to Japan, they have to go through Hawaii, right?

As American as Lawsuits, Jersey Crooks and Cancer-Causing Processed Meat Products

A vegan advocacy group wants a New Jersey court to order Oscar Mayer, Hebrew National and other food companies to slap a warning on hot dog packages which says that eating processed meats increases the risk of cancer.

I had a number of random thoughts about this story.

Hot dogs already carry a warning label. It’s the list of nutritional information. 1 hot dog (and no one eats just one) contains 150 calories, 120 from fat and 30% of your daily saturated fats. I think your arteries will explode before any cancer cells have a chance to start on your colon.

The story refers to a “vegan advocacy group.” What do vegan advocates want? Homeless advocates would like to reduce the number of homeless people. I have to assume vegan advocates want to reduce vegancy, and therefore should be promoting meat eating.

The vegan advocates go by the name “Cancer Project”, which seems to me like they are hiding their real agenda. That’s like the national beef council going by the name … um … “Cancer Project”. What are the vegans hiding? The names Oscar Mayer and Hebrew National so high on their hit list, perhaps they have anti-Semitic leanings.

Hebrew National has long claimed that they answer to a higher authority than the US government. That authority is Conagra Foods (current owners of the Hebrew National Brand) who give orders to the government.

The lawsuit is in New Jersey. The Feds just busted a bunch of people in New Jersey, politicians and rabbis who are charged with, among other things, illegal human organ-selling. I don’t want to think there is a connection between New Jersey, rabbis selling human organs and Hebrew National hot dogs.

America has a National Hot Dog and Sausage Council. We have no national health care, but we have a National Hot Dog and Sausage Council. Okay, they are a food industry lobby, not a government agency. But at least they have the decency to put what they’re about in their name.

The reporter got some valuable quotes from random hot dog advocates, like this: "Vegans complaining about hot dogs is like the Amish complaining about gas prices," said Susan Thatcher of Irvine, Calif. No, Susan, Vegans complaining about the price of hot dogs would be like the Amish complaining about the price of gas. Vegans complaining about hot dogs causing cancer would be like the Amish complaining about gas emissions from cars causing cancer.. Hmmmm.

Once the warning label lawsuit is won, this will be the new ad for Armour hot dogs:

Hot dogs, Armour hot dogs
What kind of kids eat Armour hot dogs
Fat kids, sickly kids
Vegans have an answer:
Poor-ly - nourished kids
Kids with colo-rectal cancer
Hot dogs, Armour hot dogs
The dogs we warned about!

By the way, here's a scene from the next Seth Rogan, Katerine Heigl romantic comedy:

"Hey, would you be interested in a nice hot kosher weiner?" "Thanks, but I have a thing for pork."

Endlessly Infinite Coincidence

Last Summer, while on vacation, I experienced the musical/literary coincidence of hearing the title line in the song “I Was Looking For a Job When I Found This One” at the exact moment that I read that sentence in an unrelated book.

My recent Spring vacation now has its own musicliterary coincidence, though this is more of a stretch.

While we were in Carmel, we stumbled upon a quaint little restaurant (they really need to repair the sidewalk outside their front door). We went in to check it out and I was surprised to see, on the hostess stand of Carmel’s “most romantic restaurant”, CDs of the soundtrack from “The Endless Summer” for sale.

Now, the name “The Endless Summer” may sound romantic but, if so, you are confusing it with “A Summer Place”, a sappy soap opera of a film that teen girls watched while their boyfriends were fantasizing about riding waves around the world instead of their girlfriends.

I was pretty young when both of those came out – still learning about love and sex from New Yorker cartoons - but while my older sister mooned over Troy Donahue in “A Summer Place”, I developed a crush on global beaches. For a major milestone birthday I had a couple years ago, I put my “Endless Summer” DVD on repeat during the entire party.

I am not sure when we saw "A Summer Place". Our mother would not allow us to go to "Gidget" or the "Beach Blanket" films or any movies involving co-ed teens in bathing suits because Parents Magazine did not approve of them. I have digressed, but I added this in the interest of full disclosure, which is what I think Parents and my mother were afraid was happening in those bikini movies but was not.

Back to the coincidence: The Casanova restaurant was opened by Belgian, Walter Georis, who wrote the music for “The Endless Summer” along with his brother Gaston. (The surf music tradition is now carried on by Nico and Max).

Okay, we get the serendipitous music discovery, JohnnyB, where does the book part of this musicliterary coincidence referred to in your Endless Blog Post come in?

Hold on!

Upon returning from our trip, my sister put up a post about “Infinite Summer”, which challenges people to read some book called “Infinite Jest" over the Summer. Get it? “Infinite Summer” = “Endless Summer”, right? What? I told you it was a stretch.

Down In Monterey

Today we went to the Fisherman’s Wharf in Monterey, which is a boardwalk held together by a row of alternating gift shops and restaurants. You may be aware that my life revolves around food and the restaurants on the pier had clearly been informed of that. They must have had word that I was coming because they all tried to entice us into their restaurant so that they could advertise that I had eaten in their establishment.

What each restaurant had done was to set up a table with samples of their clam chowder. As we sampled each one, the person manning the table gave us a coupon for a free appetizer or a discount at the Earring Barn. They acted like they did this every day for everyone who walked by, but I’m sure it was set up for me.

Cabo’s Cafe had really done their homework. As we downed the clam chowder sample, the young woman serving it up informed me that they had 2-dollar draft beer. Seeing that she had set the hook, she yanked the line to try and pull me on board: “and we have deep fried cheesecake.”

If you have been paying attention, you remember the lesson on cheesecake: being that it is round and has a crust, it is actually a dairy pie that has been improperly named. Deep. Fried. Pie. Believe it or not, we went on to check out the other places before we went back to Cabo’s.

We learned later that Fisherman’s Wharf has a whale watching tour and sailboats and pelicans and sea lions. But cruising for clam chowder and “Carmel Corn” was enough for us. (We assume that Carmel Corn was named for the city of Carmel as opposed to being named for caramel, which it is made with).

When we returned to our hotel, we decided that we needed to make use of the private balcony and watch the sun go down. It was frigidly cold but, damn it, we paid extra for this balcony and we were going to use it. Sometimes the sun is just … really … slow. After a while we decided we had enjoyed the hell out of our balcony and we needed to go inside and appreciate our fireplace that we paid extra for.

Today we are off to Santa Barbara where we will search for a restaurant at which I can stick my feet in the sand while eating fish tacos and drinking draft beer. And, it is hoped, eating pie.

Simple Simon Met a Pieman

Before I got the job I have now, I was the controller at a manufacturing plant that made auto brakes and ABS units. During the 3 years I was there, I became good friends with my assistant controller, Brian. We formed a bond based on a mutual love for “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and a mutual dislike of our boss. Brian got out of there in 2003, a year after I did.

We’ve stayed in touch and today I went to have lunch with him at the new company he went to work for just a year ago. His company is owned by Perkins Restaurants and they make all the desserts for Perkins, including … wait for it … pies! They also make pies for Marie Callenders and various other restaurants and frozen food vendors. One of the perks of Brian’s job is, free pie to take home whenever he wants. I don’t know if he has to juggle numbers to cover up the pies he takes, but it doesn’t matter, it’s FREE PIE. Brian even gave me two pies to take home, slipping them to me from under his suit coat as he ushered me out the back door. It was suspicious but, hey, it was FREE PIE.

I know what you’re saying, “JohnnyB, how did your assistant controller end up with YOUR dream job?” Well, I figured out today that controller or CFO for a pie manufacturing plant might not actually be my dream. Wait. Let me explain.

There would be some obvious problems if I were doing the accounting for a pie factory. The CEO would constantly be calling me in and saying, “I have a few questions about some of the items on your report. Is this a smear of blueberry filling or cherry? Have you ever tried using a napkin? And could you possibly stop eating pie for one minute?"”

But the main reason is that I hate accounting for manufacturing. Doing inventory and cost accounting is only slightly more interesting than being an actuary or a pill bug. Even if you are making pie. Let me put it this way: I like women. I like the way they smell, I like the way they look and I like the way they are put together. But I don’t want to be a gynecologist. I don’t want to deal on a daily basis with the technical aspects of their pieces and parts and equipment .

There is one other reason I will never go back into accounting for a manufacturer. Brian and I had a terrible boss. Every quarter he would come up with some new report he needed two hours before the board meeting. He crushed morale - he was constantly telling my accounting team to stop “laughing and chatting.” He once got angry at me and smashed his fist into a computer white board, breaking the equipment. Brian and I became lifelong friends in the way that John McCain will forever be close to the men he shared a prison camp with in Viet Nam.

When I went to see Brian, he gave me a tour of the pie plant and, as I stepped onto the manufacturing floor, I had flashbacks and had to struggle to not run screaming back to the business office. But suddenly my senses were soothed and I calmed down. The plant didn’t smell of oil and metal and water treatment chemicals. It smelled like flour and butter and fruit filling. It smelled like heaven.

Still, watching pies being made in a factory is not like watching pies being made in your mom’s kitchen. My mom taught me to take the scraps of pit crust dough and make little tarts in the oven, to be topped with strawberry jam. At the factory, the scraps are dumped back into the machinery so they don’t go to waste; except, Brian assured me, the pieces that fall on the floor. “What about all these signs that say ‘remember the 5 second rule’”, I asked. “Too much chatting,” he replied.

I Am Working To Remedy This Situation

Please remain calm.

Swine Flew - UPDATED

“What’s the name of the organization raising the alert regarding the possible swine flu pandemic?”
“No, WHO is raising the alert.”

The multifarious global government reactions to the possible pandemic seem like an Abbott and Costello routine.
In Egypt they are slaughtering pigs as flu scapegoats. Please don’t tell them that the flu “combines pig, bird and human viruses”, though, if they do slaughter the humans, it would cut down on potential flu cases.

In Israel, one health minister has renamed the flu as the “Mexican flu” to avoid referring to non-Kosher animals considered “unclean”. This is not only ridiculous, it is also absurd. If eating pork is prohibited by dietary law, probably because it sickened people in Biblical times, wouldn’t labeling a disease with a porkish name make perfect Kosher sense? Oy, that Yakov! Such a meshuggahna kopf! It’s not like the word pork is prohibited. Or should we bring Litzman a shrubbery when we say the sacred name?

In Cincinnati, due to the swine/avian flu connection, our flying pig statues are being removed from sidewalks, parks, smokestacks, fountains and museums where people might come in contact with them. The Flying Pig Marathon has been cancelled as well. "The flu is a blend of avian, pig and human viruses," explained race official Cerdo del Vuelo, who asked to remain synonymous, "and our marathon combines all three, so we thought it best to cancel in the interest of safety."

In (probably) unrelated Cincinnati pork news, the owner of KT’s Barbeque is in trouble for installing a bikini-clad mannequin, named BarBe Q, outside his restaurant. He will fight to keep it because it attracts new customers, who become repeat customers after they taste the barbeque. “They come for BarBe Q, and they come again for their pulled pork,” he (might have) said. Officials vowed they would never approve his “sign” until swine flew. (5/14/09 - for an update on Kenny and Barbe, go here)

UPDATE: Breaking News from the Vatican: The Pope has forbidden the use of Pig Latin among Catholics worldwide. More as outbreak news breaks out.

Home Cooking

One of my partners walked by my office the other day carrying a pie plate. He looked at me and said, “I made some blueberry pie, would you like a piece?” I replied, “That is like me walking past your office with a bag of cash and asking, ‘Would you like a wad of hundred dollar bills?’”

My sister tagged me to write about this:

"Dancing Deer’s Sweet Home Initiative raises money for scholarships to help educate homeless women and end family homelessness. As a part of this initiative, (their) CEO, Trish Karter, will be riding her bike 1,500 miles from Atlanta to Boston, visiting family shelters in each city to raise awareness about this issue. She’ll also be recording stories from the women she meets along the way, asking them about their experiences. One question she’ll ask them are what foods remind them of home." (See more: click here.)

The food that first and foremost makes me think of home is pie. My mother was not a domestic goddess or even a Paula Dean homespun deity. She worked, sometimes 2nd or 3rd shift, and did not have the luxury of slaving away at home all day in service of my sister and me. When she had the opportunity, she baked pies. She also made some great meals: the steaming richness of creamy, homemade chicken and dumplings being dished out of her pressure cooker is my ultimate comfort food association.

Mom’s life was a pressure cooker of work and maintaining a house as best she could while making sure her two kids survived. She had to make do with what she had and “slumgullion” (a word I only ever heard spoken, so the spelling is pure guesswork), meaning a hodgepodge of whatever is in the fridge and cupboards, was often the main meal.

Accordingly, foods that remind me of home include instant mashed potatoes topped with Campbell's cream of mushroom soup, peas and tuna fish. Tuna is a versatile dish if you are willing to eat it, for example, atop Franco American spaghetti (pre-Spaghetti-O’s), as we often did (and loved it). Our tuna of choice, by the way, was Chicken of the Sea, which Jessica Simpson restored to prominence 30 years after my Mom ceased providing the bulk of their market share. Mom also introduced us to peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwiches, Ritz Crackers dipped in blue cheese dressing and other delights; I’m thinking Sue and I ought to put together a cookbook.

I am also reminded of home by coffee shop meals like those we had at Stacks. Mom left us money and we walked to the coffee shop to buy our grilled cheese or hamburger dinners. We were the original latch key kids and I also fondly remember the meals we made for ourselves - Swanson TV dinners in the oven or Kraft Dinner on the stove with real fire, because microwaves (“radar ranges”) existed only in Disney’s House of the Future”. I also loved to make myself Jell-o instant chocolate pudding … at least until “the mixer incident”.

One day, home alone, I put the milk and pudding mix in the bowl and applied the hand mixer, only to discover that the it was not plugged in. Carefully resting the mixer on the bowl, with the beaters in the unmixed pudding, I stuck the plug in the socket. The chocolate pudding stains never came out of the t-shirt I was wearing that day and I don’t recall if Mom ever got them completely off the ceiling, walls, floor or appliances in the entire kitchen.

I can’t watch Bill Cosby’s Jell-o commercials and, when I think back on the trauma induced by that hand mixer hurricane of pudding, I am in need of comfort food. I close my eyes and go to my happy place, surrounded by Mom’s cherry pie, pumpkin pie and mince meat pie. And sometimes I crave the Swanson’s chicken pot pies she whipped up for us or that I cooked for myself. Even though we were sometimes home alone, Mom made sure we had a home and plenty of food. It’s not as easy as pie, but let’s try to make that a reality for everyone.

(PS I'm supposed to tag some people to also get out this message, but I won't - so Cali, Andy, Scarletviralgo, Skye, Unfinishedrambler and other Humorbloggers - you are all on your own.)

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

Passover ended at sundown today and we had pizza for dinner, as Rabbi Bar Toli instructed, "You shall eat it (the Passover reprieve) with tomato sauce and cheese."

We used to bake up a homemade pizza, which was delicious but disappointed Allie - she always wanted Papa John's. Naturally we forced her to have the homemade because we hated her and were always looking for ways to cause her misery.

Allie was unhappy with pretty much everything about Passover. She loved (still does) pasta and bread. "Why does Passover have to be about bread?" she whined, "Why can't it be about pork chops?" We still haven't told her that Passover doesn't really exist: that we conspired with millions of people all over the world to create a "religion" we called "Judaism" just so we could invent "Passover" and make Allie go a week without spaghetti and garlic bread. We hate her that much.

Karen and I like bread also, and 8 days without it gives us serious cravings. I have friends who say they like matzah. I like it too, but when it is the only choice, you realize that it is dry, tasteless crackers. So we are ready for celebratory pizza when the big day comes.

Since Allie is away at college, we don't have to make the nasty homemade stuff and we decided to go out - but not for Papa John's, since their crust is more tasteless than matzah. We went to La Rosa's to get their pan crust pizza. Pan crust because after 8 days of crackers you don't want the thin crust.

Our pizza arrived and we took big, delectable bites of real bread. But something was not quite right. The pan crust was flat and doughy. Our waitress explained that sometimes they get a batch that just doesn't "fluff up". The bread did not rise. We were experiencing the 9th day of the bread of affliction.

I know. It's karmic payback for all the suffering we put our daughter through.

So let it be written, so let it be done - and hurry up, for God's sake

So, when we left off, we were preparing for Passover. The original Passover preparation involved smearing lamb’s blood on the doorpost and making special preparations for eating dinner prior to travelling, as God commanded “Now you shall eat it in this manner: with your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it in haste.”

The lamb’s blood was a marker for the Angel of Death so that he would pass over the Hebrew’s houses and slay the first born in only the Egyptian’s houses. When I was 10, I had a paper route and I was able to find my customers’ houses without benefit of blood markers, but the God of Biblical times was a bit over the top. (Any God who uses cutting off a bit of penis as a contractual covenant obviously favors the dramatic gesture).

The blood smearing is one of those elements of the Passover origins that we forego these days. What with lambs being scarce in the ‘burbs and the concerns about food borne illnesses, it’s just as well. We also don’t make much of a deal about the shoe-wearing or loin-girding, which is basically just preparing for dinner as if company was coming: putting on a belt, shoes and something nicer than that t-shirt with the pit stains (“and tuck it in, for God’s sake"). As for eating with your staff in hand, that would seem to contravene eating in haste, as having two hands free would seem more efficient. But who am I to question?

One of the reasons I doubt the complete authenticity of the Passover story is that I don’t think that any Jews could prepare for a hasty departure, at least not the Jews I know. When we visit my in-laws in Florida, any trip is preceded by a fifteen-minute discussion of who is actually ready and who has been waiting for whom and whether somebody has the coupons for the free meal and whether you need a sweater in the restaurant.

You know that the Jews in Egypt went through something like this:

“Wait, I have to go to the bathroom. Did all of you kids go? I want to make good time crossing the desert – we’re not stopping to let you pee.”
“You’re not driving the cart after four cups of wine.”
“Sadie, where is my belt and my shoes?”
“Do I wear them? Find them yourself. I’m trying to make bread for the trip. This is not going to have time to rise, you know, Mr. ‘we must leave ‘ere midnight’. What kind of person goes out in the desert at this hour?”
“Where is Sharon? She is always late.”
“I can’t find my good staff.”
“Did you smear the lamb’s blood?”
“I thought you did it.”
"Uh, oh. Where is Seymore, our first born?"

And so on.

In the end we had a good Seder, once we found the silver and the “good” glasses and enough nice serving platters. We spent a pleasant evening, reading and discussing the haggadah, drinking our four cups of wine and eating a wonderful dinner. We wish you all a Happy Passover and/or Happy Easter.

This is How I Got Lured Into Accounting

(Dilbert home page)

Pie is the perfect food. Pie can be sweet or savory; pie can be made with meat, fruit, vegetables, and dairy foods (cream cheese pie is often misunderstood as "cheesecake").

Pie is American, as in "baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet" (though pie will never go bankrupt and leave hundreds of thousands without jobs).

Some people like birthday cakes but my daughter and I always have birthday pie. Pie is perfect for any occasion - well, there is one unfortunate exception.

All hail the power of pie. I pledge my life and fortune to thee. (Which is how I lost my fortune).

Ground Hog Day

Ground hogs, made into hot dogs or pizza topping or a bacon explosion, become leftovers on the day after the Super Bowl. If you open the refrigerator and see the shadow cast by the leftovers blocking the refrigerator light, you will have six more weeks of salsa and chips.

The significance to the shadow on ground hog day is that, according to the Greeks, the shadow represents the sins of the soul and those are washed away by sleep, which is induced by continuous overindulgence in the beer and food prepared for the Superbowl. You may be doomed to wear your sins like a spare tire wrapped around your waist as a sign to all of the sin of gluttony. Or maybe that's just me.

I believe the Monday after the Super Bowl should be a leftover exchange day. Everyone should bring their leftovers to work and trade so at least you get some variety in your six weeks of follow up gorging.

For more about ground hog day, see Humorbloggers

Food Bowl

We usually go to a friend's house to watch the Superbowl and everyone brings food. The week before the game I start thinking about what to bring that goes with the teams playing. Sometimes it's easy: When the Bears were in, I made Chicago style hot dogs. For New England I made seafood chowder (clam chowder plus crab and scallops).

Indianapolis presented a challenge. The only "traditional" Indiana food I could find on the internet was a pork tenderloin sandwich. Wow, what's as boring as a pork tenderloin sandwich? - oh, I know: Central Indiana. So it's perfect.

This year we are having people at our house for the game. It was just after Arizona beat Philadelphia that I started thinking about the menu. I was rooting for Arizona - for Kurt Warner and against Philly - so I was happy they had won. Then I realized that Philly cheese steaks were now off the menu. Damn! There are some good Arizona foods, but cheese steaks, mmmmmmmmmmmmm.

So we started watching Pittsburgh and Baltimore. Somehow, as much as I hate the Steelers, I root for them against Baltimore. "But," my wife argued, "if Baltimore wins, we can have steamed crabs. Crab cakes. Crab salad. Crab dip. What foods go with Pittsburgh?"

Well, there's...uh...steel cut oats? Check the internet again. Here are traditional Pittsburgh foods: the Clark Bar, the Klondike Bar, Heinz ketchup, and any kind of meat sandwich with fries and cole slaw shoved into the sandwich. So now I am rooting for the Baltimore crab. "Come on, Crab Cakes! Smash those Clark Bars!"

Right now it's 13 - 0, Pittsburgh. I'm thinking of having pierogies.

(I think there may be as much controversy about spelling pierogi as there is about Hanukkah)

Have any suggestions for the menu? Put them in the comments. Thanks!

This is Serious

No jokes today. America's most critical institution is in a financial crisis. They are trying to repackage their poorest products and find buyers for them. When will the government step in and bail out Hershey's, who can't afford to put cocoa butter in all of their chocolate candy? Without adequate real chocolate supplies, what will we consume to make us feel better about our life savings being lost in bank failures? What are Obama's and McCain's plans to save the chocolate industry? Start demanding answers! Get out and Choc the Vote!