ultimate failure

I've played a bit of Ultimate in my youth - circa early 1980s when I was young, in shape, and could run forever - and in the summer of 2007 when I played here in the WAFC novice league. The difference between playing at 18 or 19 when the game was pretty wide open and at 42 when the game has developed more strategy and planning was amazing. I hurt, literally hurt (ribs, toes, shoulders, etc.), for six months after the season finished and wondered if I could manage to get myself in better shape to play again. I haven't. I would like to play again next year but I have a bit of challenge getting back to even 2007 shape. We'll see. Anyway, what brought this up was a video I saw from the 2010 World Championships in Prague...an amazing catch. I have a few from my days that I thought were comparable to anything that could be done but I was just kidding myself. These guys are Open/Pro teams and their skills are way beyond anything I ever accomplished. This catch, at least the video (there may be some legendary catches not caught on tape), is the most awesome catch I've ever seen.

I came home today to discover another Vitantonio Belgian Waffle iron on my doorstep...I know, this is my fifth. (In my defense, I've given two away as gifts.) One of my double-barreled setup lost its legs about a year ago and even as I've managed to survive waffle mornings, I wanted another. I actually snagged this one for $9.99 on eBay which is some kind of record - I've lost out on bidding wars that hit $35. X laughed at me as I unpacked it and added it to my countertop that includes the KitchenAid K4-B mixer: two things no longer produced that kick some serious kitchen ass. She might wonder about me but amidst her laughter at my peccadilloes, she opened up a package that contained four extras belts for our new vacuum cleaner...who's crazy now?

An update on school: we are doing "sandwiches" in Garde Manger this week and I've followed up on the plan put out there earlier in the week. I'd planned out my time today to get both the rye and white bread made in class so they'd be ready for tomorrow's plating (note: we had loads of bread delivered on requisition for sandwiches but I still wanted to do as much from scratch as possible.) Having moved through breads in B & P I was ready to redeem myself from week 1....as if. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, the ovens in this kitchen (my first course in this fourth set-up) are absolute crap. My breads went into a '375' degree oven that only heated to about 225; something I discovered when I went to check my 'finished' rye about 25 minutes later. That doesn't work...if you must know. Both loaves has no rise and were basically wasted from perfectly well-proofed dough. I've break this mother yet....

Hey to all.

t

replaceable

Just in case you think, for one minute, that a place in this place is secure, consider this: I chucked both my immersion blender and the full-sized blender into the bin over the last week. I had an old Proctor-Silex immersion blender and I'll say one thing for it, and one thing only; it's the best immersion blender on Earth. You don't need crappy attachments, bowls/glasses to blend in, or any other junk to be happy - get the Proctor-Silex. That's it up above - a newer version than my decade old gem - get it. Trust me. (My impatience on purchasing will be evident, momentarily.) It's also plastic so it's good for teflon; and it's one piece. Don't buy into the two-peice construction myth. Think about it this way: I can give you something that is one piece or something that's two piece. What do you want? Aside from a hot bikini it's the greatest mystery of life. The important trait of the P-S, or any other immersion, is the size and placement of the openings. After mine finally busted after the eleventy-billionth batch of soup I headed to Target (source of my previous purchase) but they didn't stock it any more so I grabbed what I'll dubbed the piece-of-shit Oster immersion. Absolute junk. The holes were too small to puree anything so you had to do the dreaded 'tilt'. Granted, after a few tilts go bad and you have hot soup all over the stove and your sweater you get a little better but it's such a pain. Eventually, after about a month it melted and met it's potential - the garbage. After my dearest very subtly requested split-pea soup for dinner I realized I was in the shite with no blender. (The full-size, and not doubt related, blender hit the trash after I attempted to round out a batch of romesco last weekend - seriously, it was rotor blade carnage about The Hilltop.) I couldn't find a new P-S so I went with the Cuisinart which has a better opening system around the base (blender base), is one piece, and plastic vice metal construction. It worked much better this evening than the trash Oster but it's not the same. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to order a new gold standard online, mostly due to laziness, but I'll keep you updated on my findings. Is this more than you needed to know?

I'm into the new Radney Foster offering as I type - probably the closest thing to real country that I listen to these days; and Radney's good.

Peace.

t

the gals

Here's the much desired Eva Solo freshly unpacked and then immediately secured in the Tower:

And here's the classic K-4b. Green up if you will....

xyzpdq

We were on the Metro last night and after a gentleman got off somewhere in NoVa, X turned to me and asked, “Should I have told that man that his fly was open?” An interesting question which I only pondered for a few seconds; and my answer is no. My theory is that pointing out an open fly is reserved for family (wife or girlfriend included), friends, or co-workers. It may seem a bit counterintuitive because you think you’re preventing embarrassment but the fact of the matter is that on a public train the pointing out only increases exposure. A man is hard-pressed to zip up, covertly, so just letting it slide is probably best. You also have to realize that you’re probably one of the few that might notice since we’re all standing – more than likely – and guy will be walking when he leaves the train; no one notices an open barn door when someone passed them. They’ll eventually sort out the situation with far fewer folks involved so I suggest letting it go.

Two exciting arrivals at the house yesterday: a new Eva Solo coffee carafe and a (new) classic KitchenAid K-4B mixer. This newborn Eva will represent the third in a line of Solos that I keep breaking (it truly is a lack of caring). I have new procedures in place that involve washing it while using three hands, drying immediately, and storing in a series of pillows and precious nothings. I know you’re thinking the Eva is pricey but it’s truly the best system we’ve had. The idea is simple in that the grounds don’t get crushed (French press) and they don’t actually sit on top of the water and slowly pass through, getting delayed, in the pile grounds. With the floating grounds you get full exposure, no packing, and you then pour the water out of the flask with very little coffee ground stall. Trust me, it’s the best handmade coffee and I have at least one sometimes grumpy, coffee-demanding-on-weekend girlfriend to back me up.

The KitchenAid is a different story. I’ve eyed the behemoths for years but never really convinced myself to drop $300 on one. I used Corey’s a few times when we lived on N. Park and they certainly make any number of things easier; but what I’m really talking about is pie crust and bread dough. I decided to shop around a bit on eBay and also ended up learning there’s an entire Web world of KitchenAid mixer whackjobs, and I use whackjob lovingly. Like anything else these days there are forums, question time, photos, and myriad opinions on every product ever made. The K-4B was introduced in 1944 to replace the K-4A and produced until 1962; as if I knew that off the top of my head. There are loads of people who swear by the older models, particularly the quality of the motors, to the exclusion of the newer, heavy-duty configurations; the K-4B is also a tilting head version mixer so it’ll remind my innocent youth. I finally yanked it out of it peanut packing cocoon this morning and fired it up to make sure everything was in working order. The tinned bowl, whisk, dough mixer (it’s not a hook) all seem in excellent shape and the motor sounds smooth and sweet, sort of like turning over an old, classic car. I’ll send along some photos later tonight. This entire mission reminded me of X buying a 1950s-era Singer sewing machine a few years back. I think it was $50 to haul away and then needed only a tune-up and new belt. That total cost came to something like $125 and the sewing machine repair shop guy showed great interest in either buying or stealing that warrior of a machine. The mixer ran me $48 plus shipping and it seems worth the effort.

Speaking of last night, the Eleven hit the Kennedy Center for the opera. The new season kicked off with The Barber of Seville which I place soundly at the top of my opera rankings. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t have much technical ability to review the intricacies of opera but The Barber isn’t nearly as deep and dreary as others. I’m sure there’s an entire catalog of comedy operas of which I’m unfamiliar – you know, those where no one die – so maybe there’s others to consider. We like everyone in the show and agreed immediately, post-show, on performances of Rosina (Ketevan Kemoklidze) and Almaviva (Juan Francisco Gatell). As I’ve point out to my sig-other on many occasions, theatre, opera, and live music fill some powerful place for me. Whenever I’m there I always appreciate the fact that all they players are expending all their energy and love of the art just so I can be entertained for two or three hours. Always time well spent.

I have a birthday/dinner party to plan for this weekend; I have the center piece of the meal but having trouble with the peripheries.

T