... some 3-1/2 stories above the Grotteaux, is a large, slightly unkempt garden that despite its unkemptness, is full of wonders. Some of these we've planned and others are accidents of birds or the wind bringing in various things. We're not so happy with the blackberry vines that sprout up here and there, hiding cleverly among plants that look just similar enough to them to give them a foothold when they're young. Others are welcome, though.

In the front yard there's an incipient meadow that was once a lawn. A couple of clumps of tiny blue forget-me-nots have established themselves there. In the back yard, seeds from planted-on-purpose alpine strawberries and Labrador violets pop up in the most unlikely places, such as between the cracks in paving or where a deck support meets a concrete slab. It reminds us how tenacious nature can be.

And for folks like us who are always trying to make art in glass, the garden offers fresh ways to see things, especially in spring as flowers bloom, flowers that we'd almost forgotten about over the winter. Take the bearded iris, for instance - a plant the Ralph for unnamed reasons doesn't care for. We'd given away most of them but a few years ago after an especially hectic season or two when we didn't really notice what was going on back there, two stands that had survived suddenly provided a show of pale blue and brown-bronze.

...works for a large institution of higher learning, and has occasion the consider the kind of studies high school students are expected to undertake. As part of her job, she works with high school teachers who create new courses that integrate academic learning with real-world skills. What we used to call "vocational education." These new courses that blend to two approaches to learning allow high school students to take courses that prepare them for careers - even, say in "arts, media and entertainment" - and learn academic principles at the same time. They can learn algebra while also acquiring skills needed to build a house or a kitchen cabinet, or pick up physics through learning how a car works.
We know what you're thinking, because we're thinking it, too - isn't that how all learning should be? But we all know it isn't always that way - too often high school is a matter of learning a bunch of facts, factoids, dates and numbers with no explanation about why a student should care. But they persist in school - those who do - because they know they need those courses to qualify for college admission. With integrated curriculum, they can get the academics and also the context. And maybe have fun and maybe make something in the meantime. They might learn to use tools, measure things, make things.
And making things is about the most fun anyone can have. That's what got us into making beads - you take a rod of glass and heat it in a flame until it melts, and then ... well, then you can make it into something else, like a necklace or bracelet, or any other sort of thing that could incorporate a bead (tapestries, quilts, dolls ... we've seen and been surprised by so many uses to which beads can be put).
It would be so easy, we often muse, to incorporate academic learning into this activity of making beads. There's obviously chemistry and physics involved. History is a natural - the story of mankind could be told, every step of the way, through beads (there's even some evidence Neanderthals made and wore primitive beads ). So then you've moved from recorded history to paleontology, anthropology ... throw in the psychology of adornment while you're at it.
When you think of it, linking book learning and real world learning is something that should never have been necessary, because if we'd really been thinking, they never would have been separated in the first place. But it's interesting to see we're rediscovering it.

1 pound fresh salmon fillet
About 1/2 cup soy sauce
3 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
Optional:
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon fresh chopped ginger
roughly 1/2 cup of dried tea leaves
about as much rice

Place salmon in a dish big enough to hold it flat and marinate in the remaining ingredients for 10 minutes or so, while preparing the smoking pan.

Choose a baking or roasting pan, or heavy skillet that will 1) stand up to direct stovetop heat and 2) fit the fish. Tear off enough aluminum foil to cover. Add the tea leaves and rice to the bottom of the pan and cover with the aluminum foil.

Serve with something like steamed rice, a greenish vegetable and a good, crisp white wine (or, this being salmon, a light red is good, too. Hecksakes, try 'em both! It's the only way to find out.)

My latest audio book find is by another favorite author, Susan Orleans (she of Orchid Thief note), and it is more absorbing that a case of Pampers. It is The Life and Legend of Rin Tin Tin, and who could resist a story about America's *- no, actually, the world's - favorite canine.
Sometimes while torching into the wee hours of the morning I have a faithful dog curled up near my feet (a dog who has learned to endure the occasional hot nugget of flying glass and the smell of too-hot fur.) Whenever ol' Houdini isn't there, faithfully standing watch, it is nice to have the tale of another great canid in my ears to help while away the hours whilst I blow more vessels.
I am only about halfway through the book, but it is a fascinating insight into not only the Rinty story, but Orlean's many informational bank shots, intellectual spur tracks and sidebars keep it alive. Just last night I was hearing her (in her own voice, btw) describe the "Dogs for Defense" program that the United States created to recruit American dogs for the war effort in 1942, which yielded tens of thousands of unwitting volunteers. It would be difficult to picture many Americans today who would willingly give up their family pet in the interest of, well, much of anything.
I am certainly looking forward to find out who wins!

* In the verrrrry first Motion Picture Academy Awards (now known as simply "The Oscars") in 1929 the actor that received the most votes for Best Actor was - wait for it - Rin Tin Tin. Rinty was unfairly denied the award some say, due to the Academy's Homonid-centric prejudice. Orleans is out to remedy that.

.... for his kindness. Recently, when we were visiting some dear friends on the surface, near Mendocino, they insisted that we pop in on GlassFire studio, just up Highway 1 from their place. It was a nice, spacious gallery and hot shop (that's glassblowerese for 'where ya blow glass') with their wonderful wares on display. (Check out the jellyfish pendant lamps, wow!)
I was on a quest for some large chunks of cullet (more glassblowerese for 'glass that ya haven't blown into anything just yet') for a project for our local Boy Scout District Camporee (Herms District). It seems that our upcoming Camporee (Scoutese for 'competitive outdoor skills events') won't be allowed to have a wood fire for the evening's Campfire, owing to some gov't agency rules relative to the event site. So, in conjunction with The Crucible's Flame Wizard Peter Kropf (Life Scout late of a troop in New York), a propane-fired blaze, using large chunks of clear glass instead of just plain rocks is being developed. Believe me, one of these things blazing away in the dark is most hypnotizing, and will provide terrific illumination for the various skits, songs and other entertainments that the Scouts provide for their amusement.
Well, it seems that Buster had suffered a minor misfortune or two with his furnace, and he had all the cullet that we could possibly want, and kindly offered it to me. A couple of hundred pounds of broken glass later, Buster had a clean porch and the gratitude of the Scouts, and we were weaving our way up Hwy 20 toward Willits, with the back end of the car riding just a wee bit lower.
Many thanks, Buster!

Hopland's Bluebird Cafe provided us with a lunch to remember on the way home. The Deborah had a Bison Burger, while I chowed down on my first ever Elk Burger. The chef should be praised for including a horseradish mayonnaise, which really tied the whole thing together (like Lebowski's rug!) The potato salad was quite good, but left me no room for some of The Bird's apparently famous pie (several people came in announcing that they had made the pilgrimage 'just for the pie'.) Next Time!

We returned to our Downtown California digs to find a pair of goldfinches at our front feeder - a first!
Meanwhile, our lone free-range feral chicken * in the front continues to patrol, keeping the place worm and insect-free.

March 10, 2012
(this entry begins here)e)

The highway from Sonoma to Santa Rosa was a rare beauty, with the grass at its greenest (for the two minutes of the year that it is green) and the blooming trees appearing to have a bumper crop of popcorn. We took the 'back way' in, past Agua Caliente and Boyes Hot Springs, former home (and typical fire victim) to the infamous restaurateur Juanita Musson. Some of the ruins still stand, even after all these years. I barely could, and it was still early......
When my head finally quit wobbling, I realized that we were pulling into a parking space in Santa Rosa, home to the Russian River Brewing Company. As we were unfolding and extracting ourselves from the Sprite * a complete stranger smiled his way over to the car and complemented it, waxing nostalgic about the one that he had back in his youth (and wished he still had - a common yearning, as it turns out.) "A real chick magnet," he longingly recalled.
RRBC is a darned big enterprise, with at least one major kitchen, wall to wall pizza and coasters that have their logo on the front and "gone To Pee" on the back, so you can stand it up against your glass and be fairly sure that it will be there when you return from your Austin Powers impression.The walls, and practically everywhere else, are covered in what must be one of the most complete accumulations of beer and brewing ephemera. This alone makes it worth at least one visit. I saw some animated beer signs that I hadn't seen in at least 35 years.**
The beer list is a rather large sized chalkboard behind the bar, and I loved the way that the various brews are christened: almost all of them seem to end in "-ion": Beatification, Consecration, Supplication, Temptation, Damnation 23, Mortification, Perdition, Redemption, Rejection, Sanctification and my personal favorite name, Defenestration.
My choice for sipping while we lightly touched down was O.V.L., a Nitro Dry Aged Stout, a mere 4.4% brew, which was quite tasty and to my liking, and provided a period of relative recovery, much appreciated along about now.
A quickie sample of Temptation, while an interesting novelty,left me with the impression that Starburst had branched out into the brewing biz; a wee bit too puckery for my chops. Chug, back of the hand for a chaser, and then.....
Onward!

Quite a few other brews, enough to assure that any beer lover could find a good match, are offered, freshly created within a stone's throw. (the management does discourage stone throwing, it should be noted.)
A pleasant atmosphere on all counts, and with no hint of the vast industrial complex at hand, either in the ambience or the brew itself.
By the end of this odyssey (Odd Assay?) I felt like it will be quite some time before I can look a pretzel in the eye.

(Huh? What do you mean "they don't have eyes"....? I gotta be more careful with the bar snacks.......)

* it's comfortable, once you thread yourself in, but if it were any tighter a fit, it would have to be made of Spandex.

** and, as it turns out, they really do move! That's load off of my mind......

*** which they aptly refer to as their "Tap Room and Beer Sanctuary"

More Hopping......

Sonoma Springs Brewery is probably the smallest brewpub that you could ever find, if you could find it at all. A very small frontage, about six barstools and exactly one mash tun.
But, size isn't everything (really, compare this with Anheuser Busch's Fairfield digs in a flavor for flavor comparison....). (Funny how often this phrase has come up in my life........no, wait - it's not funny! Stop that snickering right now!)
The brewmaster, Tim, definitely knows his way around his hops and malts to produce Kolsch- and Belgian-style ales. Also noteworthy is the "New Bavaria" Roggenbier, which uses at least 35% malted rye from Germany's Bamberg region. While I don't usually give much consideration to weissbier, I must admit that the taste that I had was surprisingly good. Not too big a shock, however, as I do like my rye, either as bread or libation. My choice was the "Enchanted Forest" Black India (not so) Pale Ale, which had the sort of dark, almost meaty body that I really like in a stout-ish beer.*
The Sprite began to evidence itself as a chick magnet, altho along about now, we were finding notes left under the windshield wiper by admiring guys, too. Ok, they were mash notes for the car.....

Heathen Dinosaurs Have Invaded Downtown California!!!!

Well, ok, maybe it's not quite so terrifying; they're also known as feral chickens....

About five or so weeks ago, a couple of chickens wandered into our front yard up there on the surface and decided to stake their claim. (It appears that they do this in a fashion similar to wolves, ahem....)
While we originally thought that they were some sort of self-hybrid (ahem!) of Rhode Island and/or New Hampshires, the best we can figure, these beasts are Catalana, a breed that originated in Spain and, according to at least one source, are considered somewhat rare in North America.
Evidently still too young to assert their particular gender, these two already prompt our salivating relatives to inquire "Are there any eggs?"

Ok, junipers, actually, but about as comfortable as heath, I can assure you. This does make for wonderful cover however, where no hawk or other airborne predator can take a shot at them, and provides them with safe roosting where the more earthbound hunters would have a great deal of trouble weaving their way through the thicket to enjoy a quick bit of larceny.
I have watched some of the neighborhood feral cats eye these (apparently) delectable morsels with great interest, only to shrug off any ideas of success. You could just see it in the eyes of that orange tabby: "Yeah, I could take it down, but it would really cost me......" No pyrrhic victory today, so everybody wins.

Having raised some chickens some decades back, the sight of these two really stirred me, and, to my wonderment, I quickly found myself seeking out the local feed store (which I hadn't even realized was so close up there) and stocking up on cracked corn and such.
Let's face it: chickens are really entertaining to watch!

As these two are truly wild, they have not been given names, which would likely lead to their immediate demise, Murphy's Law being what it is. It would also limit my options: you can't eat anything with a name, right? **

We'll have some more updates as the story unfolds before us.

* it is said that Argentines are such devout carnivores that their idea of a vegetable is chicken....

** No hungry person will take the time to debate this, however.......

....if, every time that you went to work, if somebody recognized you, your day's efforts were ruined? Especially if your photo was posted everywhere that you worked? Disguise, maybe? Plastic surgery? Find another job?

Well, that's exactly what Ruth Reichl had to consider. Long-time foodie Reichl had just become the New York Times' restaurant critic, making her arguably the most powerful food writer in the Big Apple, if not the entire country. Being recognized decidedly affected the quality of the food and service that she received, removing any objectivity from her research.* What to do? Well, two out of the three solutions mentioned above provide the answers (but you'll have to guess which two....).

The book, whose title is taken from a T.S. Eliot poem, is the latest audio book that has been entertaining me during torch time (which has produced a lot of eyeballs, bees and flowers of late). And, of course, since torch time is in the wee, wee hours, midnight snacks are always lurking on the periphery**. Especially because Reichl treacherously salts the text with some wonderful recipes, read in great detail, darn her!

Reichl's account of her varied experiences of reviewing some of the most renowned dining establishments in the nation (and from New York's point of view, the whole wide world) are at once fascinating and repulsive, given the disparity in quality dependent upon whether the diner is from Who's Who crowd or just plain folk. Good ol' Ruth strikes a blow for us plain (but just as hungry) folk, particularly in her first side-by-side review, pitting Le Cirque's NYT Food Critic service up against the Nobody from Nowhere service. Her revelations about how some people's money is greener than others could infuriate some (I was already hot from the torch) and comfort others (like this old Socialist-leaning guy) by shedding light on it.

The author also delves interestingly into what happens when one's newly-acquired persona begins to take over. It could be scary.

When The Deborah was doing restaurant reviews *** for the Downtown California paper, we got a terrific dose of what to look for , and this book made some of those memories resonate. (Note: not every review goes well. We will always be confident that "The Old Clam House" **** will never be prosecuted for false advertising; we're pretty sure that was what they actually served us......)

In all, Reichl's third book was a most entertaining ear-read.

* Incredibly, the NYTimes would send her and her guests back to a restaurant as many as six or seven times (at over a C-note per plate!)

** of course, down here in the grotteaux, midnight is about the time that we just get goin'.....!

*** how this particular review wound up in the Orlando Sentinel - decidedly not a Downtown California paper - is still shrouded in mystery, at least to us. But go ahead and Google "Deborah Byrd Contra Costa Times" and see what bounty is yielded.....

**** don't worry, the one that we reviewed is no longer in business - in fact, they tore the building down! - and it is not this one.

February 13, 2012

Ok, take that drink now.

What? You didn't know we were playing a TV drinking game? Then you must take two drinks.

Drinking games are not for kids, designated drivers or politicians (and we wish that they would quit acting like they're playing one all the time.) They can be quite simple or complicated, although the ability to accurately follow rules diminishes precipitously after the first couple of rounds.

[ Note: the management does not, ever, under any circumstances whatsoever, endorse irresponsible drinking, especially when taking communion.... ]

The ingredients are threefold: something to drink, someone to drink it with and triggers for said drinking.
The triggers can come from just about any source that is mutually agreed upon beforehand (it could even be Trigger himself, if you're watching Roy Rogers.) We have played them with as simple a game as flipping a coin, or Liar's Poker (played with one-dollar bills) / Dice (played with that cup full of dice that you hear rattling further down the bar) or playing cards. (Boy, there are a lot of them that involve a deck of pasteboards!) *

A couple of our favorites stand out, however:

"The Antiques Roadshow Drinking Game," as featured on the television show "Frasier" (season 7 episode 7 "A Tsar Is Born.")Chug-a-lug every time you hear the word 'veneer.'

"The Independence Day (the movie) Drinking Game". Have a belt every time that someone recognizes something in the film that was lifted from some other film. (This, BTW, is the only reason that I can think of to watch this film.)

"The Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet Drinking Game." This one is a real enduro, as Branagh apparently didn't leave out so much as a single couplet when he made this film. This gentlemanly game requires that all parties quaff heartily (careful, here; remember that this one is hours and hours long!) when a line of dialog has found its way into general use (or the Cliche Hall of Fame). An enhancement is that a drink is also taken at a cameo by an uncredited famous face (take your pick: Robin Williams, Billy Crystal, John Gielgud, Gerard Depardieu, Charlton Heston **, Jack Lemmon- this list goes on and on.) If you really want to get hurt, try the Mel Gibson version, and have a wee dram every time that Gibson opens his mouth.

"The California's Gold Drinking Game." This one was offered up to us by a glass beadmaker colleague Warren Newberry, who nominates the word "juxtaposition" as the trigger. Others have nominated "get a shot of this Louie," and every time that he turns someone's statement around into a question. Go ahead, try it and see what kind of shape you're in after half an hour of Huell Howser's narration. We do so love this show.***

Carl Reiner's "Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid" may or may not count, as it is made up largely of footage lifted directly from older film noir stuff. Might be a good challenge game: challenge other players to name what film a scene was lifted from, and if they can't - drink.

After all this fun, you just might want to visit our "Where The Sunshine Meets the Moonshine" entry........

* The earliest Drinking Game that I can remember (from my long-ago childhood) was a board game called "Pass Out," altho I have never, ever played it. It is clearly an ancestor to the Fabulous Furry Freak Brother's "Feds and Heads," which I have played, from what I hear. No drinking was involved, however.......

** Heston' performance as the Player King is, without reservation, his finest, bar none.

*** This Just In: Howser has a role in the latest Disney remake of "Winnie The Pooh"!

... Bruce Sedley was more than a legend in his own time; he was several: WWII veteran, Disk Jockey, Professional Noodnick, Ventriloquist, Inventor and Kiddie Show Host (more than once!)
(You can find a lot of the details in Sedley's own words here.)

If you grew up - ok, if you're old enough (some of us never do grow up, exactly) - in the San Francisco Bay Area you might remember him as "Sir Sedley," on KTVU, with his cast of puppets hosting reruns of The Three Stooges. I really can't think of a better way to blow a late afternoon (after knocking one's self out in the 4th grade all day) than watching Moe & Gang clobber each other's brains out (unless it was watching "Chillers from Science Ficton" on KGO-TV, but you had to be sneaky: Ken's mom didn't want us to get scared by seeing some giant tentacles devouring the Golden Gate Bridge. It was cool to watch Moe poke people in the eyes, but those monsters, boy, watch out! (This likely became some of the inspiration for our work, y'think?)

If you're a little older, you might remember him as "Skipper Sedley," hosting reruns of Popeye cartoons on KRON-TV (to compete with the Mickey Mouse Club) before Art Finley was christened "Mayor Art" and took over the duties. Sedley's ship was known as the "Kron-Tiki".
(Hey, if you're really old, you might even fondly remember "Brother Buzz," which would mean an entirely different thing today....... we'll talk about "Crusader Rabbit" another day.)

Sedley was also instrumental (in many ways) in getting Oakland's Children's Fairyland off the ground in the mid-1950s, and was the inventor of the "Talking Storybook," with Fairyland in mind. Such devices (and their 'Magic Keys' shaped like an elephant, or whatever) later became a fixture in zoos and parks all across the nation and beyond.

We'll miss him.