Category Archives: Cooking

Asia, Cooking, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Korea, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Wild Neighbors

The Meat Shop

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Thursday gratefuls: K55. The bus to Osan AFB. T-card. Transportation money on a debit card. Rain from Typhoon Hauikui. Seoah. Murdoch. My son. Comic books. Dressed in his uniform and off to work. Posco the Sharp. My son and Seoah’s apartment complex. CS. A convenience store. The Meat Shop. How my son cares about his squadron.

Sparks of Joy and  Awe: A well organized and easy to understand bus system

One brief shining: When boarding a city bus in Songtan, the bus stop itself tells you how far away in minutes your bus is as well as having a swiping spot that tells how much money you have on your T-card no digging  through pockets for change or wondering when the bus will be there or whether you have enough money for a fare. Civilized.

 

Went out last night for a farewell dinner for a master sergeant who worked in my son’s office. The Meat Shop. In that cluster of small shops and restaurants I mentioned across from the main gate for the base. Slices of meat in a long row of glass covered cases. Pork. Ham. Galbi. (beef cut in small pieces). Sausages. Pork belly. Some marinated in soy sauce, others in a barbecue sauce. Vegetables like bok choi, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes. Rice at a separate station. Lots of small saucers and plates and bowls. Linoleum and several long tables.

An odd decor which featured a Klimt print, muscle bound scantily clad women, tiled surfaces with faces on some of the tiles, a Korean calendar, lacy paper on some of the shelving.

Back at the table every four chairs had a gas burner and a large griddle tilted downward toward a grease pit. Cut out the chef. Make the guests cook their own meal. A very typical Korean spot. Hot Pot the same. Galbi, too.

Seoah has her own opinions about how meat should be cooked. Wielding scissors, also so Korean, she cut our meat into smaller pieces, turning them with chopsticks. A loud and boisterous evening. Lots of beer and meat. Very American yet with a strong Korean stamp.

 

Seoah and I took a taxi home because my son  had to walk all the back across base to his car. When we got home, Seoah went down the CS (convenience store) and the dry cleaners. I sat down on a stone bench to wait. My hip was sore for some reason.

While I waited, the towers of the five tall apartment buildings in the Posco the Sharp complex rose above me. Lights on in random windows. A slight mist in the air. Cars came and went from the parking garage directly across from where I sat. Hissing in the recently rained on streets.

Delivery motorcycles avoided the automated gates and turned into the garage. Not busy, a late evening pace of movement. Folks returning from work. Going out for a meal or to a club. Ordering food for delivery.

Thought of Shadow Mountain. The Lodgepoles and the Aspens. The Mule Deer and Elk. Bears and Mountain Lions. Black Mountain across the way. This spot where I sat was as far away from Shadow Mountain as I could get. Urban. Gentle slopes. City streets. Constant movement of cars, buses, taxis, motorcycles. People living high off the ground stacked on top of each other. Lights blinking and fading, suddenly appearing.

Yet, I liked this, too. I also realized how it fooled the eye. Yes, every one lived one above the other, side by side, yet each apartment was an individual home. Folks here did not live their lives with each other, rather they lived their lives in their own versions of home, still separate from each other. Not like, say, a small village where Seoah grew up.

Sure on any day you’ll run into way more people here than I do on Shadow Mountain, but the number you know? Probably about the same, given the usual differences between introverts and extroverts.

I could live like this. But I don’t want to. I prefer my own house, my wild neighbors, the Rocky Mountains. Still, at another point in life? Maybe.

 

 

Asia, Cooking, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Korea, Travel, Weather +Climate

A Babette’s Feast of Sushi

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: The gym. A workout. Rain. Typhoon Haikui. Sushi place. Lunch with Seoah. Tripping the circuit breaker. Murdoch. Soil, a classic Korean novel. Kate, always Kate. Jon, a memory. The USAF. Osan AFB. Sim cards. Smart phones. Computers. Zoom across the waters. From Songtan to downeast Maine.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Humid Korea

One brief shining: That lunch with Seoah yesterday first came miso soup, kimchi, pickled onions, water cress, seaweed packages, creamed corn (I know.), then udon noodles in soup, after that a large serving platter of sashimi, beautiful fresh Salmon, Tuna, translucent Fish, a buttery cut, all thicker than U.S. sashimi slices, later tempura a sushi roll and a dish of Fish entrails.

 

This was the Babette’s Feast of sushi. The food kept coming on the little serving trolley. The smiling waitress unruffled as she sat down dish after dish. I quit before the sushi roll and the Fish entrails. Full. Seoah ate on. Not much in the way of carbs, mostly protein and vegetables.

The restaurant had a second story perch over the same ro (street) on which Seaoh and my son’s apartment building sits. A delightful time with Seoah talking and eating, sharing. Making more memories together. Due to rain we took a cab both ways, oddly the same cab driver both ways.

 

Got back to workout routine. Treadmill and resistance. In a room of eight treadmills I had one to myself until a Korean man came and chose the one right next to me. An American would have chosen one in the rank of treadmills facing the other direction. We ran together for a bit.

In the weight room were three buff middle-aged Korean women and an older Korean man. I felt slightly self-conscious as the only old guy, only white guy, and the only one lifting lighter weights. Got over it. I know my weight lifting, my lower body work with the exercise ball, planks. Did shoulder presses, chest presses, concentration curls, flys, crunches, plank, dips, and squats.

Felt good to get back in the gym. My body had been feeling sore and I am demonstrably weak. I can cure most of that with regular gym time here and back home. Our bodies are meant to move.

 

Jet lag is in the past. Normal bed time. Up at 5:30-5:45. Joe gets up around the same time. He checks up on baseball, other sports. We talk a bit. He gets ready and leaves between 7 and 7:30 in desert camo with the oak cluster of a Lt. Col. prominent. Sand colored boots.

 

It’s the end of the rainy season here but typhoon Haikui has pumped up the cloud systems, sending more and more water over Seoul, Osan, and most of South Korea. The Mountains on the way to Okgwa and Gwangu over the weekend looked like Jungles with Vines overgrowing road signs, Trees green and healthy and numerous.

Looking forward to the cooler and drier weather of September. Cool back home, I noticed.

 

Cooking, Denver, Politics, Sport, US History

Nuggets Win!

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Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Michelle. Bond and Devick. Investments. Cold Mountain. Chinese Rivers and Mountains poetry. Acting. Acting class. Character study. The Hermit. Tarot. Herme. Neon. Water. Air. Earth. Fire. The comfort of my home. Black Mountain Drive. Brook Forest Drive. Evergreen. The detour. The Elk herds that cause Elk jams. Black Bears. Rummaged trash bins. Travelers. Tourists. A bit of each, I guess. Plant Stems. Tree Trunks. Sturdy. Allergens. Air purifiers. Cast iron skillets.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The four elements

One brief shining: How often the Sun emerges after the darkness of night casually including us in its energy giveaway, how often the Moon rises after the brilliance of the Sun and bathes us in its soft reflected light, changing from tiny sliver to a full lantern then waning and disappearing only to return again and again, how often the stars dance a slow gavotte as our Earth turns and rushes around the Sun, how often we fail to notice them.

 

Ah. A good day. Cardio. Two sets of resistance, feeling my muscles respond. Chorizo and home fried potatoes, an egg for breakfast. A Rockfish sandwich for lunch on Bread Lounge multi-Grain Sourdough. Frozen Mango chunks for desert. An apple and chunky peanut butter for supper. Organizing Cold Mountain poems, information on the MIA’s Jade Mountain, the Hermit card of the Tarot Major Arcana. Building my character.

 

How bout those Nuggets! A gentleman’s sweep over the Heat in 5. First NBA title for Denver. Such a difference from the Twin Cities with the Timberwolves, the Cubs simulacrum Vikings. The Denver Broncos. The Avalanche. Superbowl and Stanley cup winners. Though. The Twins brought home two World Series titles while my son was young. And the Rockies may not reach that goal by the time he’s old. Sports. Not really my thing, but still… Fun. And, yes. F1. Basketball. So.

 

Say you’re a defendant in a Federal case. Say you’ve stiffed lawyers your whole life. Not to mention contractors and probably the lunch room lady at school. Say you had a first court appearance tomorrow. Say available lawyers looked at your payment record and the case against you and said no I don’t think so. What then? Yes, what then, Donald?

 

America, the land of the free and the home of the brave. Feels like satire doesn’t it? And that makes me sad. I love our country, our experiment with liberalism, with the expansion of individual freedom while maintaining a sense of nationhood. I love our willingness to take in the huddled masses yearning to be free. When we do it. I love our insistence that all are equal before the law. I love our regional differences, accents, cuisines. I love our Mountains and Plains and Rivers and Streams. I love our rich Soil and all of our Wild Neighbors. I love my family and its deep roots here. I love the cities and small towns.

Yet. We have these deep and lasting scars, don’t we. Slavery. The genocide of the First Nations. Our abandonment of working class families. Our treatment of women and those of differing sexual orientations. Of Jews and Catholics.

We have a history filled with good deeds and bad. We are not the Great Satan nor are we the savior of the world. We’ve done well and we’ve done poorly. We’re human. We’re all trying in our own way to live in a country we can be proud of. Realizing that is an important first step in moving beyond our current impasse. More to come.

 

Cooking, Judaism, Myth and Story, Sport, Travel

Worth the Journey

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Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Monday gratefuls: The Rains. The cool nights. The Spanish Grand Prix. Those Nuggleheads. Max Verstappen, a phenom. Royal Gorge Railroad. Another rail journey with Tom. Israel trip becoming complicated. A bit. The Great Sol breaking up the gray Sky with Light. Brother Mark photographing his time in Hafar. Looks like a Nebraska small town with sand and Muslim architecture. Oh, and Arabic. Travel. Korea. A busy June. Life’s picking up its pace for me. And, why not?

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cool nights

One brief shining: Tried to figure out a way to make Chicken tenders edible so I got out the tenderizer and smacked them a couple of times each, put a poultry brine in a gallon Ziploc and stuffed them in, let them sit in the fridge for a couple of days, put chorizo to cooking in my cast iron skillet, added the drained Chicken tenders and some cut up cooked potatoes, a short time for the Chicken tenders to heat through, then plated them with the potatoes and some collard greens.

 

Turned out well. The chorizo spiced up the bland Chicken tenders and the smacking and the brining plumped them up. Not overcooked, seasoned. A good meal.

Ate it while watching the second half of the Spanish Grand Prix. Max Verstappen drives to the front of the field from the pole, builds up enough of a lead to ensure that a pit stop won’t cost him his position and starts lapping the field. He makes it look so, so easy. Yet he’s so far in front of the best drivers in the world, the perfect union of man and Red Bull machine. Red Bull has won all of the Grand Prix’s so far this season, Sergio Perez has won two and Verstappen the rest. Dominance. It won’t last though. In a sport as demanding as Formula 1 it never does.

 

Looks like I may be in Israel on my own for five days before the group tour starts. I plan to fly in on October 27th, check in early to the group hotel. If a group trip to Petra happens before the trip, I’ll be on that, too. If not, more time to experience this ancient city. I love being on my own, wandering where I want, finding this and that, meeting locals, eating street food or in out of the way restaurants. This will be my first time in the Middle East, a place I studied extensively while in seminary and has been constantly present in my life since Joseph deployed to Bahrain, Mark started teaching in Saudi Arabia, and Kate and I joined CBE.

With me on this journey will be memories of New Testament stories like the Mount of Olives, the sites of Jesus’ crucifixion, burial and resurrection (The Church of the Holy Sepulcher), the garden of Gethsemane-that stained glass window in Alexandria First Methodist where my family sat all those years-as well as the Dome of the Rock where Muhammed landed after his night journey and then ascended to heaven. Jewish inflections too. The first temple site is coterminous with the Dome of the Rock. The wailing wall. The holocaust inspired push to create a contemporary homeland for the Jews. So much else of which I am ignorant.

Not to mention the crusades. A key focus of medieval piety. And early anti-Muslim bigotry. Lots of historical streams running this through this one spot on the globe.

Worth the journey.

 

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Entheos

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Beltane and the Mesa View Moon

Monday gratefuls: Curiosity. The Ancient Brothers. Mark and Dennis. Coming May 23rd. Yet more Rain. Even more swollen Streams. Ancientrails as a life project. Tom and his time with Charlie H. Bill and his time with Bella. Mark and his time at the gym. Anytime Fitness. My treadmill. Marilyn. Ginnie. Josh. Jane. Kat. A banker. Vulcan Centaur.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rocket Scientists

One brief shining: A beautiful woman with a long braid dangling over her t-shirt down to her space themed spandex had, on the back of the blue t-shirt an outline of the Vulcan Centaur rocket, on the front ULA and I asked, I’m too ignorant to know but is that a real rocket ship?

 

Yes. She answered. And I was working on it until I quit my job a year and a half ago. What was your area of expertise? Vibration and acoustics. Oh. I see. Not sure why I keep running into engineers. But I do.

CBE is amazing. All these smart people. This was at the Dismantling Racism class yesterday afternoon. Looked up the Vulcan Centaur and it’s been under development since 2014. Supposed to fly for the first time in July. Had a setback a month ago though with a second stage explosion during preparation for a launch.

The class has gotten better. Taking a mussar approach to the work. I like it for the inner work though I chose an opponent for my practice this week. Four areas of possible practice each week: with HaShem (God), with Self, with a fellow, especially a victim of anti-black racism, or with an opponent.

My practice involved an e-mail to a person with whom I’ve had long standing differences. Sent it last night and got a reply this morning. A sweet one. Maybe there’s something to this approach. The middah this week is kavod, or honor. Honoring self and other. The theological idea is the all made in God’s image trope. Said another way, we’re all human, all riding this blue spaceship our only home together with all the other critters and plants. Honor it all.

 

During the Ancient Brothers session on curiosity I identified curiosity as my defining characteristic. And naming what I call the valedictory lifestyle. As a valedictorian myself I’ve occasionally become curious (see!) about what happens to others who graduate first in their class academically. Turns out usually nothing spectacular. Sure a lot go into academics. Some have successful careers in business or the sciences.

But usually no stars. No one off achievements. No amazing inventions. Why? Because we’re generalists. We easily get sidetracked by something new and shiny. If purity of heart is to will one thing, we’re not at all pure.

I call them enthusiasms. My enthusiasms can last a long time. Religion has turned out to be the longest lasting, but inside that broad category I’ve been all over the place. From existentialist atheist to Christian to Unitarian-Universalist to Pagan and wanderer with the tribe. There’s a piece of each of these, often substantial pieces that remain intact within me. All somehow glued together with Taoism.

There’ve been many others. Art, my twelve years at the MIA. Politics, lasting almost as long as religion, but again all over the place in terms of action. Islam which I studied after 9/11. Horticulture. Cooking. Heating with wood. Beekeeping. Dogs. World travel. F1. Science. Tarot and Astrology. Cinema. Acting. Writing. Getting degrees. Tea. Korean and now Spanish. Oh, and one that actually has been lifelong, reading. Not sure when I learned but I’ve never ever stopped. Buying books, too. To feed the habit. I’ve dabbled in painting and sum-e.

Enthusiasms in my life are more than dabbling but less than enough to gain full mastery. But I must admit it’s been, is being, a hell of lot of fun.

 

 

 

 

Acting, Colorado, Cooking, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hermitage, Jefferson County, Judaism, Mountains, Mussar, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Writing

The Time Has Come To Cross

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Spring and the Mesa View Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Luke. Leo. Rommertopf. Psilocybin. Younger friends. Tal. Character study class. Murphy and Pete. Kat. My son and his wife. Their furry one. Snow. Melting. A Mountain morning. Sunlight on the Lodgepoles. The Snow that stays on the north side of my house. That Mule Deer Doe.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The threshold. *reposted the O’Donohue quote

One brief, shining moment: Liminal spaces, third spaces, often overlooked, undervalued, yet the Dawn and the Dusk, the doorway and the window, the death bed, the coffee shop, the neighborhood bar, churches and synagogues, neither home nor work, neither light nor dark, neither in nor out, neither life nor death, points of transformation, places where we can practice being another version of ourselves, meet people we would not otherwise know, thresholds between this life moment and the next, or between this life and what comes after.

 

I’m an old man. Been a lot of places. Experienced weirdness. I identify with the Grateful Dead’s: what a long, strange trip it’s been. Yet these last few days have left me marveling at what’s happening.

Now that I’m writing about it, I think it may have begun to crystallize when I spoke with my son last Sunday. Be spontaneous, he said. Go for it. Take the trip. We had been discussing my trip to Korea and the trip to Israel.

And, I did. I raised my hand. Yes, I’m going with you. I’ll be there in Jerusalem. Not an hour later.

Dismantling Racism class, a mussar approach came next. Mainlining my past with talk of injustice, the struggle, la lucha. Going down old pathways with new folks, from a new perspective.

A heavy workout on Monday. Another heavy one Wednesday. Where I was left shaky, feeling off. My resting heart rate actually increasing. Worried me. Made me feel vulnerable.

On Thursday I had breakfast with Alan, catching up. Then my massage and Thursday mussar. Where Rebecca and Leslie both kissed me on the head. After mussar I encountered Luke and Tal outside the synagogue. Tal told me the next acting class was going to be character studies. Sounds good to me. Ready to continue expanding.

On Friday I went to sign up at Anytime Fitness. With Dave, the 65 year old manager. Quite the talker. Where you from? Raised in Indiana. Really! Where! Alexandria. Anderson. Muncie. I know them. I was raised on the southside of Chicago. But we moved to Calumet. Ah, I said. Da region. He laughed. Right. My brother worked in the Calumet mill.

Not sure how the conversation veered to his life as a battery salesman working out of Madison, Wisconsin. His alcoholism, cocaine addiction. 25 years sober, he said. 43  years here. Instant deep connection. In the program. Lifers.

A thick, muscular young guy walked past. Clayton, Dave hollered. Clayton, meet Charles. 43  years sober. Clayton’s got 109 days. Clayton and I fist bumped.

A strange but instant fellowship, wrought by inability or unwillingness to contain appetites. Then, to wake up. See another way. And walk it. With others.

Went back home. Clicked on a zoom link. First time with the Dream group. Dreamers and dreams. The dream of of the White Tomb. Realizing the threshold had come to meet me. People on the call from Santa Fe, England, the Netherlands, Conifer, Evergreen.

Then. Later that day. In the desert of the afternoon hours. Feeling aimless. Projects around the house winding down. No Dogs or humans to care for. More hours than I needed.

Next morning. Off to Aspen Perks to have breakfast, begin my re-read of Why Liberalism Failed. Maybe see Kat. She was there. She smiled when she saw me, came over and squatted down. What  you reading? I showed her. I don’t agree with all of his arguments, but it’s a powerful read. She looked at it. Yeah, I have a Steven Hawking book like this. I put it down. Take it up. Well, I’m trying to really understand this guy’s arguments. So I’m doing something unusual. Rereading.

Ate my chorizo and scrambled eggs. Read Deneen. Got up to go. A tall man, maybe 50’s, sitting with an older man, closer to my age. Hey, I was wondering. What ya reading? I showed him the book. Gave him the two minute version. He reached over to shake my hand. Murphy. Matt Murphy. This is Pete. I want to have some time to bother you about that. What do they call ya? I told him. See you next time I come in maybe. We’ll talk.

Went over to Safeway. Picked up the Chicken, Carrots, Potatoes, Pearl Onions, Garlic for the Rommertopf Chicken. Back  home I did the prep. Soak the Rommertopf. Peel the Pearl Onions. Cut up the Potatoes. Slice and quarter an Apple. Stuff it in the Chicken. Put butter and Garlic under the skin of the breast. In the oven.

Luke came and stayed for three, four hours. Leo sniffing around. Finding things.

Can you feel the threshold moving toward me? I sure can. Definitely time. Gonna discuss a ritual with Rabbi Jamie, Tal.

 

*”At any time you can ask yourself: At which threshold am I now standing? At this time in my life, what am I leaving? Where am I about to enter? What is preventing me from crossing my next threshold? What gift would enable me to do it? A threshold is not a simple boundary; it is a frontier that divides two different territories, rhythms, and atmospheres. Indeed, it is a lovely testimony to the fullness and integrity of an experience or a stage of life that it intensifies toward the end into a real frontier that cannot be crossed without the heart being passionately engaged and woken up. At this threshold a great complexity of emotion comes alive: confusion, fear, excitement, sadness, hope. This is one of the reasons such vital crossings were always clothed in ritual. It is wise in your own life to be able to recognize and acknowledge the key thresholds: to take your time; to feel all the varieties of presence that accrue there; to listen inward with complete attention until you hear the inner voice calling you forward. The time has come to cross.” John O’Donohue in his book, To Bless the Space Between Us.

Cooking, Denver, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Gabe at 15

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Spring and the Mesa View Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Gabe. Levi. Seyo. Benihana. My family of Ancient Brothers. Especially our brother, Tom, and his daughter Amber. Books. Magazines. Newspapers. The Atlantic. The New Yorker. MIT Technology Review. High Country News. Paonia. LBM’s. Psychonauts. BJ. Her political awareness. Radical days. Passionate nights. 5 inches of new Snow. Ice on the roads.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gabe at 15

One brief, shining moment: Three teenage boys giggling, sharing silly photos of each other on their phones, punches and smirks, cause he’s a little bitch said by one, celebrating Gabe’s 15th at Benihana, Gabe’s idea of fine dining, all while escorted by grandpa who it turns out was 15 in 1962.

 

That was yesterday evening. Gabe loves Benihana. The grill. The flash of the cooks. Who flip cut off shrimp tails into their caps and pockets. Clatter the cutlery on the huge grill, the hibachi. Cook with a certain flare but really with a weak imitation of knife work in an upscale kitchen. With ingredients purchased in bulk. And cooked to, well, let’s just say not perfection. Gabe loves the food, too.

Peeking inside the lives of teenage boys now, almost voyeurism. Three of them, one old guy. Safely ignored. Talking about friendship groups. Who’s cool, but mostly who’s not. Like Abraham who brought cookies to the teacher. Suck up. Who expected more but all he got was a thank you. Chick-fil-a. That’s where the white boys go for lunch. While the baseball boys chose a different spot.

Girls inhabited the fringes of the conversation. Still mysterious and unknowable. I tried, but she said we were friends. Yeah. I’m friends with so and so, too.

Mostly a lot of giggling, faux arm wrestling, looking at their phones, then passing them around. Shooting a closeup of somebody’s eye or hair line or ear. Texting that back to the one in the photo.

When I dropped Gabe off at his Galena street home, Jen’s house, he said, “That was fun, Grandpa. I love you.”

 

Got back to Shadow Mountain around 10. Late night for me. Especially considering I went to the Grateful Dead shabbat the night before for Kate’s yahrzeit. Today is busy, too, but daytime busy. Israel trip info at 1:30, then Dismantling Racism class starts at 3.

 

Looking forward to a quieter week. Putting all season tires back on Ruby on Tuesday. Just when we’re supposed to get our next snowstorm. It’s always a judgment call. Late April, early May. Usually a little overlap on both ends of winter. Good news is that early season and late season storms melt quickly.

 

The Ancient Brothers on reading. We read. A lot. Stacks of books. At a time. Magazines and newspaper. Some dead tree, some online. The Guardian. The Atlantic. MIT Technology Review. New Yorker. New York Times. Washington Post. A few of the books: A sampler of Meister Eckhart. Slouching Toward Utopia. Why Liberalism Failed. Talking to the Ground. The last CJ Box novel. Many, many more. Reading. I wonder if it’s an old person thing now.

Then I remember Ruth. Who reads. A lot. She once said to me, you’re the only person I know who reads more than me. Kate and Claire Strickland, Michael Banker. Also readers. Not dead yet.

Cooking

Oh. The Irony

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Spring and Kepler’s Moon

Sunday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Food. Food. Food. Colonoscopy prep. Warming Weather. A gentle Breeze. Doug. Finished. A good guy did great work at a reasonable price. Kep. Kate. Vega. Rigel. Gertie. My Colorado companions. All dead. Still here. Black Mountain clear of Snow. Snow melting in the front. Hanging around in the back. Remembering special meals with Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Food

 

Irony. Being on a colonoscopy prep day when Ancient Brother Paul chooses food as the topic. See the questions.* I’ll give you a bit of my answers.

Meal anywhere: Crispi’s. An Italian restaurant down the hill from the Hotel Internazionale in Rome. Our honeymoon. Fresh, wonderful food. We ate there everyday we were in Rome. Also included in the thought. Italian coffee and croissants in the hotel every morning.

Second place. Mama’s Fish House. Maui. Gentle breezes, windsurfers. An older Hawai’ian decor but not kitsch. Again Kate and me. So many times. The name of the fisherman who caught your fish on the menu.

Favorite food: Korean fried chicken. Sashimi. Poke salad. Rare filet mignon. Macaroni and cheese. Hot dogs. Hamburgers. These last four I have only on occasion these days.

Allergic to or detest? Not allergic to anything. I don’t like slimy foods, e.g. lutefisk. Yet I love oysters. My rule: if a human can eat it, I can eat it.

Most memorable meal: D’Amico’s Cucina in Butler Square with Kate. We’d been dating for six months or so. She leaned across the table, looked me in the eyes, and said, I make $120,000 a year. Oh.

Another one. We took the 10 hour train ride from Venice to Vienna. On a train with no food. Surprise! When we got into Vienna at 10 that night, we passed our luggage to the bell guy, and walked across the Ringstrasse to a little Viennese cafe. Red checkered table cloths. Wienerschnitzel. Spaetzl. Cabbage. N.A. Beer, Thomasbrau. Oh, so good.

Food preferences changed. Not really. I’ve added, but not subtracted.

With others: As Paul said, communion. Nourishment of the body and soul. Yet. I also love to eat alone. A good book and a meal prepared by somebody else? Yes.

Foods I like to cook: Roast chicken. Fish of all sorts. Eggs. Potatoes. Steak. Pork.

Any new foods? Not really. Oh, wait. I did have a mushroom quiche at the Plant Magic Cafe. That was pretty good. Umami.

Taste preferences: Yes. But salty if pushed.

Favorite ethnic: Japanese. Middle Eastern. Greek.

Most expensive. Ruth’s 16th birthday meal at Sushi Den in Denver. I asked the waitress to bring us sushi and sashimi she thought we’d like. She did.

Stories. Kate and I stayed in the Hotel Wales in New York City. We went to a restaurant nearby. Sitting next to us were Joan Woodward and Paul Newman. Kate kept trying to touch the hem of his sports coat. He made his own salad dressing.

Favorite fruit: Jackfruit. Blueberries. Blackberries. Raspberries off the cane. Plums. Fresh cherries.

Favorite dessert: Banana’s Oscar. Gulab Jamun. Sesame covered fried balls of chocolate. Crema. Dulche de leche.

 

 

*-If you could have any meal anywhere, what would you eat and where?
– What is your favorite food(s)?
– What food(s) are you allergic to or absolutely detest?
– What is your most memorable meal?
– Have your food preferences changed over the years?
– What does a meal with others represent for you?
– What food(s) do you like to cook?
– Have you tried any new food(s) recently?
– What tastes do you prefer, sweet, salty, savory?
– What’s the most exotic food you have ever eaten?
– What’s your favorite kind of ethnic food?
– What’s the most expensive meal you have ever eaten?
– Do you have any stories about dining out?
– What is your favorite fruit(s)?
– What is your favorite dessert?
– Is there something else you want to say about food?

Cooking, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Letters, Literature, Politics, Sport

Dogs and Cooking and Reading

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Saturday gratefuls: F1 Jeddah. Qualifying. Dr. Doverspike. Kep, pain managed. Walking taller. Cold night. Good sleeping. The light of a new day. A light yellow between the white flocked Lodgepoles. A robin egg’s blue sky above. 5 degrees. Another Shadow Mountain morning. Each day is a new life. A resurrection. A rebirth. Jon’s house on the market next weekend. My son the golfer. His wife, too. Furman. Farleigh Dickinson. No more Arizona. No more Purdue.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Mountain morning

 

So. No radiation this week. Got a call from Dr. Simpson yesterday. Radiation oncologist. Am I experiencing any difficulty in tasks of daily living as a result of my cancer? No. That’s what they wanted to know. They being the just say no team at United Health Care. Might know next week. I feel good about participating in holding health care costs down. Don’t I?

 

Dr. Doverspike came yesterday. We agreed Kep has made steady, but slower than expected progress. Probably because of the long low dose steroids. Stopped those. Now he needs to get outside, wander around. Climb stairs. Rebuild muscles. He’s still 13 of course so he’s not going back to bounding around. He’s calmer. Sleeps through the night. Eats well. A good life.

 

Cooked Salmon last night. Still finding the right temps using the induction cooktop. Found it for Fish last night. No more burning. Setting 7 out of 10. Made cacio e pepe in the morning. Cheese and black pepper spaghetti. Put a couple of Eggs on top of a modest serving. Fancy breakfast. Adding the leftover chorizo from the soup I made last week. Tasted good. Had Salmon, cacio e pepe, and mixed vegetables for supper. I enjoy cooking when I feel up for it. I always make breakfast. Usually, these days, overnight oats. Plus something else. Blueberries. Eggs. Yogurt. If I eat a big lunch, I’ll probably skip cooking an evening meal.

 

I’ve only got a few more books to go in the Joe Pickett series by CJ Box. Then I’m going to shift my fiction reading to the Arabian Nights. A return journey. Still working my way through Vibrant Matter. It’s a short, but dense book. Nearing the end of How to Change Your Mind. Got James Pogue’s book, Chosen Country, on the Malheur Occupation. Still following that far right thread. The newspapers and magazines help me, too. The Proud Boys and their lawyers antics during their sedition trials. An Atlantic article on political violence talking about Portland as a battleground between far leftists, anarchists, and the far right. The abortion pill debacle. Trump and DeSantis. This is gonna get worse.

If Rich is right, it may never get better. Who knows. I may own property in the sovereign nation of Colorado if I lived on another hundred years. What fun.

 

Gotta get some breakfast. Watch qualifying in Jeddah. Read the articles about Purdue and Farleigh Dickinson.

Oh. And the day has fully dawned with bright clear light falling on the Snow covered Lodgepoles. Till tomorrow.

 

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Snow Days

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Kep. Snow. Cold. Books. James Pogue. Jane Benett. Wes Jackson. Cetaphil. Great workout. United Health Care. Health Insurance. The American Medical System. CBE. Ruby and her faithfulness. ChatbotGPT, an interlocutor. This Dell laptop. My desktop. The home office, getting closer. Probate. Kate, always Kate. Her memory in foam. LL Bean. Chewy. Amazon. USPS. UPS. Lifelines in the Mountains.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dr. Doverspike

 

I’m three quarters through How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan. A good read. Learned a lot about psychedelics. Or, ethnognens. Makes me more eager to try some again. A trip to the Plant Magic Cafe and I should be able to find a guide. Learned of guides in the book. Very un-60’s, but it sounds useful to have a psychologist available on my first trip back to the interior homeland.

I recommend the book. A lot of good history of psychedelic research, of how the 60’s blew up decades that’s right decades of research with psychedelics. A cast of characters that include Timothy Leary, Al Hubbard, Ram Dass, Henry Osmond, and many other key figures in the years since Albert Hoffman accidentally discovered LSD for Sandoz, the pharmaceutical giant, on November 16th, 1938.

Pollan recounts the history in magazine article style (thanks, Diane). He also tells of his own trips after overcoming a long hesitation about experimenting with hallucinogens. The research he covers should provide comfort to anyone who would like to use these drugs but fears them because of the propaganda from the 60’s and 70’s.

Another great workout yesterday. 266 minutes for the week already. 9 hours of sleep. I feel good. Like I knew I would.

 

Friday. Well. Left this. Sitting here on my browser. And watched the Snowfall, had a Fire in the fireplace, read. Watched some TV. I took a Snow day. It was fun. Was gonna mail my taxes, run some errands, but the day was too beautiful. Still Snowing this morning. One Snow day. Two Snow days. A reason I live in the Mountains.

Although. Supposed to have my second round of radiation yesterday. Nope. United Profit Care still dithering on whether to approve it. Anova Cancer Care and United’s just say no team are in communication.

I understand the hesitation on United’s part. My PSAs are undetectable. The two mets only show mild uptake of the tracer. Could be that the androgen deprivation therapy has not yet finished working on these two and will knock them back, too. Yet. We can kill these two sites and eliminate them from my future.

Whatever transpires, I’m at peace with it. Because, how does it help me not to be? I’ll consider an appeal, sure, but is the sturm and drang worth it? Not really confident it is.

 

On Monday I had my glaucoma check and had dinner with Ruth and Gabe. I haven’t left the house since. Stuff kept canceling. Radiation on Tuesday, then on Thursday. Alan this morning. Doverspike’s coming by at 2 pm to give Kep some acupuncture and check on his progress. Still Snowing today so I think I’ll skip the trip down the hill until tomorrow. Buy a new pair of Keens and visit the Plant Magic Cafe.

I’ve enjoyed these in the house days. I can write, read. Could work on my Korean and my calculus but I didn’t. Kep and me. The fireplace. Got in my cardio minutes. Watched some movies. Cooked. I love time alone. Wouldn’t want it to be all I have, but these last three days on a Mountain top with Snow drifting down. Food in the refrigerator. A Fireplace with Wood stacked nearby. A nice vacation.