august nights and days

You kids keep it quiet out there!

It truly feels like the end of the summer as our nights have cooled and the days are grasping at heat straws.

Somehow on Sunday we ended up entwined in a full day of working around the house. X handled the gardening (she claimed it had been three weeks since gardening happened) and scrubbing of half the house. I scrubbed the other half and spent a good bit of the day in the kitchen doing bread, pizzas for dinner, Romesco sauce, and two dozen handmade éclairs for her workmates. As we were wrapping everything up we took delivery of a massive mahogany dining room table that Corey transported down from New England. (He built it years ago and brought it down to swap out with our mini 6-person table which he then took to N. Park Dr.) We were forced to call in reinforcements for the move being that apparently two dudes at 6’3” and 6’5” (“at a combined weight of nearly 500lbs!”) weren’t going to be able to move the behemoth on their own. No injuries, no damage.

I got the feeling last night that I wanted to wrap up August with a mishmash of music. Here you go.

Chuck Prophet (& The Mission Express) doing Let Freedom Ring!:



Brother Ali doing Fresh Air:



Mark Olson and Gary Louris doing Saturday Morning on Sunday Street:



Michael Franti and Spearhead doing Say Hey (I Love You):

timely? odds?

in session

I’m not a teacher. I have done quite a bit of instruction and training in the military and developed courseware while in the service and in civilian life; I have some idea on how information is absorbed. I have a very spotty academic record over my lifetime: strong in high school, horrible in college in the 1980s, very good in class work over the last decade. I’ve created a little ‘academic’ approach ideal that I gave to L. while she was here and passed along in less depth to some fellow (younger) students at AiW*.

What brings you this post is an e-mail about students and dropping out of school that was sent to Andrew Sullivan from a teacher/professor in California. Anything I might or could say about privilege (I had mine), economic standing, neighborhoods, family life, or learning issues would be mostly anecdotal and no doubt off base. My approach, which is mirrored in the professor’s grading process for remedial courses, is this: 70-80% of your grade is showing up. (I think 70% of life is simply showing up.) Those numbers aren’t necessarily a direct ratio to your can being in a chair, they are a combination of being present in mind and body. Trust me when I tell you that the number of students in my culinary program who routinely miss class is mindboggling: and this is an almost purely laboratory-based program. Also trust me when I tell you that my attending class record during my academic downfall was as bad, if not worse, than what I see now. I guess gray hair and wisdom help. Back to the percentages and what qualifies as “showing up”. Just for a few sentences I’m going to bypass how homework fits into this equation and address the time-and-place portion. If you’re in a class that will be meeting 30 times over a quarter (what I have right now) or 10 times in 10 weeks then your presence, the ‘attendance’ grade, can only be met by you having your sweet ass at class when it’s in session. The byproduct of that ‘attendance’ grade is that if you are there for every session of instruction, and you’re paying attention, you’ll learn the vast majority of what you need to know to pass nearly all of the assessments – and by passing I’m only talking about a number around 70%. With that 70% and your 100% attendance you’ll be just fine when a final grade is publish. (Consider a course where your grade is broken down this way: 25% from attendance and 75% from assessments [quizzes/exams]. If you have 100% attendance and a 70% average on assessments, you’re final grades is a 77.5%; that equates to a C+ on most standard grading scales.) When passing a course and moving along in an academic career is the goal than you’d be hard pressed to find a simpler method than simply showing up to class.

When homework is added to the equation then it simply becomes another cog in ‘showing up’ – a part of attendance. L. had some classes last semester that included one homework assignment every week, due on Fridays. Usually it was a ten problem/question worksheet but could have been a reading assignment that was the basis for classroom discussion (Oh! The attendance issue again). As those weekly chores were added to the grading scale there are severe penalties for not showing up: even at a 10% contribution to a final grade, if you only do half your homework then you’re dropping a half-grade from your final score by simply not showing up: turning in or doing that homework being part-and-parcel to being ‘in’ the class.

My point? Who knows, but it makes perfect sense to me. Why? Well, my Baking and Pastry class – when we are in the kitchen every class sessions – is 30 class dates over ten weeks. Our final grade is based on 2.5% for each class session: showing up, in the correct uniform, on time, and participating. That’s 75% of the final number and if you attend even 28 of those 30 classes (and get the aforementioned 70% on assessments) then you’re a lock for a B+ (87.5% - I won’t do the math again). Even with this knowledge from our syllabus and first night in class, at least half the class will end up with grades lower than what they think they deserve and will try to corner the instructor and ask why they didn’t get an A. And finally, any additional work you do beyond showing up, paying attention, and turning in your homework is simply a benefit and additional ammo if you are looking for a higher grade. Can you miss a class? Sure, but if you do, you’ll have to do twice as much work – based on that miss classes percentage – then you would have had to do if you’d simply showed up.

I’ve gone on long enough. If you got all the way to the end, and read the linked letter, then you’ve shown up and you get an A.

t

*AiW being the Art Institute of Washington. And, the shorter version of my speech is this: “Show up to class, dude.”

spinning angel

Something that I’m not well versed in is cake decorating. I should probably bring that down to a more basic level and say cake frosting – I’m not sure that decorating and frosting are the same things. We’re into cake week at school and I’ve done more buttercream icing prep than I already care to do: Italian buttercream, Swiss buttercream, buttercream buttercream. We’ve done three cakes to go with the buttercreams (and tonight’s ganache): high-yield yellow, orange chiffon, and carrot. Last night was the turn of the yellow with the Swiss buttercream: third-ing the cake and icing it back together in two rounds of mess – it visits the freezer in between sets. We got the full demo on the cake wheel from our instructor who can knock out a perfectly iced cake in about two minutes; we each had our previously baked stumps of cake and buttercream for experimentation. What an unholy mess we created at our team table (of four). You’ve goy spinning of cake plates, eyeballing measurements, dropping of icing, angles of the spatula, more angles of the spatula, keeping your elbow up, spinning of cake plates, scraping, edging, freezing, and repeating. Oddly enough, even with the mess the four of us did alright for a first go-round. Believe me, this was no Duncan Hines yellow cake with tub frosting slapped together for Little Jimmy’s 4th birthday party. Tonight we do the carrot cake and orange chiffon. I promise pictures.

I’ve been pining for a bigger cutting board at home and came across a couple at Eastern Market that craft beautiful handmade boards from Virginia trees. I mentioned this in passing at pizza night a few weeks ago and Corey immediately decided he’d just make me one – being a carpenter-type and all. After some interrogation about patterns, sizes, styles, etc. it appears he’s ready fashion a monster that goes about 55 (!) lbs., just in case anyone is thinking of stealing it. Along with that, or a weekend before, he’s transporting down their dining room table from the great North and installing it in our house whilst taking our 6-person miniature and using it at N. Park Dr. Apparently, and I’m not yet a witness to The Beast, it might seat 10-12 and weigh nigh on a quarter ton. I’ve been put on alert to have neighbors ready to carry this thing because there “ain’t no way two humans can do it.” This should be quite interesting.

I’ve just been called on a mission to stop by home with food for our guest to cook for he and G. tonight. I’ll be in class and X alerts me to her endless work evening. She tells me to get some ‘chops’ and potatoes and Peter will cook them right up for the two bachelors. “What kind of chops? Bone in?” I reply. To which her riposte was a subtle and to the point, “Fuck if I know.” Love that gal.

Adieu.

battles

I was going to kick off the day with some talk about empty Chinese apartments for sale but I’ve moved along. Apparently, there are about 200 million vacant.

Slate.com has done me a favor and posted a piece on Rep. Alan Grayson; aside from my mother and her dog, he may be the only thing I love about Florida. In fact, I think he might represent her down there in the 8th District. I have a longer history with Grayson than most after seeing him work a courtroom in the Custer Battles whistleblower/false claims case involving the CPA in Iraq. Grayson represented the whistleblower in the case and made quick and decisive work of Custer Battles. The Eleven had a ‘court date’ back in 2006 where we watched a portion of the trial – particularly a debate on, and then, the closing arguments – at the U.S. District Court in Alexandria. Grayson eventually showed up again in 2008 when running for the House in his adopted home state of Florida. Grayson’s a progressive Democrat who wrassled away the primarily Republican seat during the onslaught of the 2008 elections. Grayson is pretty much what I want to see in Washington from my side of the issues: I may not agree with everything he supports but I do support most of it. And, he just rolls in, kicks some teeth around, and moves on to the next issue. We’ve long wanted a Dem to show that ability and now we have him – hopefully for many, many years. You ask about his elitist background? Well, here it is…it might help. Man, I hate smart people who earn lots of money. Elitists. If you have a problem with his education and successes then I question your judgement.

Of course, the picture above is how we remember him when he ambled into the courtroom way back in 2006. I want him to go back to the beard and cowboy boots but I guess you have to tidy yourself up if you’re going to represent Walt Disney World.

half baked

I’d say that one-in-four or one-in-five of pizza nights don’t quite work out. Considering that this number translates to a once-a-month, and easily forgotten, failure it hasn’t caused too much misery on The Hilltop. The kids’ pizza is always fine because their bits are a standard set of meat and olives (and mushrooms, of late). The problem is with the weekly veggie offering that can end up as a mismatched mess, or more likely, too dry. What I’d been doing over the last month or so is to take things like stuffed peppers and enchiladas (separate weeks) and constructing them in pizza form. What I realized last night, while eating, was that I should have taken the idea a bit further and into this week. I went with baked eggplant (rosemary, s & p, smoked paprika) over pesto, mozzarella, mushrooms, and garlic. I topped it with a Jarlsberg-like cheese (I actually wanted a Gruyere but failed…) and olive oil: in the end it was way too dry. That kind of cheese with the breaded/baked eggplant didn’t work well – I should have gone the route of turning it into an eggplant parmesan pizza and doused it all with a nice red sauce. Lesson learned.

About a year ago we had the big protest on the Mall. I was working at the LOC on that Saturday and was humbled by the roar of stupidity. I know that sounds harsh but it should be. Riding in on the Metro that morning with that shopping bag of whackjobs may have been the most telling review of American in 2009 (and now 2010). Until now: I was wrong. Enjoy this from DCist.com.

t

hey snakeface! you the devil.

My blog-cation is over. Even though it wasn’t planned, nor announced, for some reason I didn’t have much to pass along during the blast of mid-August weather. Everything’s been quite well here, I’m through my mid-terms, and the final weekend of summer is on the horizon.

Let’s see if I can summarize my positions on the political events of our day.

Build a mosque wherever you please. It’s private ground, it’s a house of worship (a community center with a mosque in it, really) and that right is protected. Any further engagement is folly. If you really want to know why there’s nothing more to say on the matter I refer you to this educational video (please forward to the seven-minute mark): you don’t engage them.



Freedom of speech means you can say whatever you please without government interference. It doesn’t mean you can say whatever you please and not expect backlash from the market, your bosses, and people who don’t like you. A very simple concept.

I think that covers most of it. We can all relax now.

As August wraps up, and a three-day weekend is on the horizon, I’ll spend a portion of the week gathering up all my canning needs and getting ready to do tomatoes next weekend. Last year I ended up with about 25 quart jars from 50 lbs of tomatoes and that didn’t even get us close to riding out the winter. Then again, that took about 12 hours and I’m not sure I’m up for two full days of canning. If nothing else, I’ll manage at least as many as last summer. We’re also awaiting some fig bonanza that one of X’s coworkers has promised from his tree. We may need to drive down with a pile of egg cartons and pluck them ourselves: a fig jamboree on the horizon.

L. may have crossed into Canada by now for a month-long, get settled, and sort out living and school vacation. I believe they’ll make one more round-trip to Omaha in October to gather up remaining items. I’ll talk with her tonight and sort out status and location.

I’ll have some more updates after pizza night…

t

sing along

I have a lot of stuff rolling around in my head.

I have a dream of some project that will marry up some of my favorite songs to some of the art here in D.C. Consider it a podcast kind of thing that can be downloaded for viewing on your computer or added to your iPod for walking around town and thinking of me. It’s probably something that’s too big to get engaged in but I’m going to give it a try. It manifested itself while I was watching It Might Get Loud, a documentary with Jack White, The Edge, and Jimmy Page talking about guitar-ing. It’s a long(er) story of how it developed in my head and that’ll have to wait until I have a good go on the project.

We had dinner last Friday night at the Greek Taverna with the CorKat and enjoyed an outdoor table. They have a trellis (?) / deck cover that has wine grapes growing on it so I inquired about stealing a bunch to start a natural bread dough starter at home: just flour, water, and grapes. The grapes provide the local fungus that gives the starter its lift/yeast but you have to give it three or four days of growth to get it rolling. I’ve been feeding it each morning on the way out the door (30g of flour and 30ml of water) so I suddenly feel as if there’s a dog I must walk each day. I’ll give it another four or five days before making a first loaf and then work/feed it on and off to keep it alive and happy. (It can be refrigerated for two or three days at a time without feeding.) I’ll keep everyone updated because this is surely something that will slide you onto the edges of your seats.

I have my B & P midterm tonight and tomorrow with not much worry: brioche, biscuits, chocolate chip cookies, pie, and yeast rolls. We’ll prep everything tonight and bake tomorrow night. What’s that you say? No laminated breads? Correct. You can’t really ask four-week-in ‘bakers’ to rack out croissants and pastries at a mid-term. My team will do just fine. Did I tell you that we did ballotines and galatines in Garde Manger last week? Don’t see that everyday…

The homestead is still quiet, sans children, so our evenings are at peace.

I could open up a pile of rage at these days’ events but I’ll hold it in for now.

Who needs it?

t

hit run miss

Hit: Getting tickets to see the Avett Brothers in Baltimore in October.

Miss: Adopting some virus that knocked me out for about 36 hours from Tuesday night to early Thursday morning. X took care of me while I stayed home yesterday; temperature taking in the morning, water, tea, lots of ibuprofen on the counter.

Hit: Winning the Avett Brothers lottery after purchasing my tickets and getting bumped from eighth row, right side to front row, dead center.

Miss: Two nights of Baking and Pastry. Truth be told, I didn’t have a whole lot of interest in making apple pie on Tuesday night so I sort of bailed out; virus took me last night.

Hit: Two evenings of not doing much but The Eleven hanging around in a very quiet house with only our time invaded by two ‘cats’.

Miss: Our planned visitor who missed the flight in London and has rescheduled for a few weeks later.

Last Sunday night we had the cabal of visitors over for pizza night and my idea of a stuffed pepper pizza had mixed results (go figure?). This month’s Saveur has stuffed peppers on the cover – as if a Saveur with Greek food as the main topic wouldn’t attract – so I decided to do the roasted/stuffed peppers and actually put them on the pizza over a white sauce, olive oil, and about 2 lbs. of wilted spinach. I came across one of the smaller farm stands at Eastern Market on Sunday morning that was selling some beautiful red and green peppers so I pounced on about a dozen for my experiment. I know a bit about capsicum, I’m no expert, and these looked perfect for the job: I didn’t take pictures and I haven’t looked them up so simmer down. They were a good size, they smelled hot/sweetish, and I had a good feeling about them throughout the roasting/stuffing stage. By the way, once they were done – prior to the pizza being made – they were held until the last 6-8 minutes of pizza cooking time and then dramatically (?) placed onboard. What I ended up with was a pile of stuffed peppers that were too spicy for what I intended. The fix? X pointed out that if you just squeezed out the filling onto your slice and set aside the pepper guts then you got just the right amount of spice, all the stuffing, and your head didn’t explode. I immediately seized on this idea of giving the customer a colorful, spicy, and participatory pizza for their enjoyment. Problem solved. Tasty across all categories once my devilishly genius idea was set in motion…or discovered.

t