Air time

AM talk radio can be entertaining. While driving out of Cincinnati the other day with my Dad, we were listening to a cooking themed show. The poor hostess kept telling people to call in with Thanksgiving leftover ideas and turkey sandwich recipes but instead all but one caller had a question to ask about how to prepare one dish or another.

This seemed as good as any opportunity to find out more about cheese and apple pie. So I gave her a call. I had never called a radio show before where I was going to be on the air. It was a bit odd. The producer answered the call and asked which show I wanted to be on. Then I was put on hold, but while on hold I could hear the program. Because of that I didn’t know if it was a two way street. I’m guessing they mute my line so that while I can hear the program I cannot contribute to it until they ask for me to speak up. But I wasn’t sure, so I had Dad be very quiet and had the radio turned down really low.

The hostess, Marilyn, called on me fairly quick. Dad thinks it was because I was the only guy we had heard call in, and they wanted a bit of diversity. Whatever the reason, I was glad to go so soon. I asked her in what way does cheese enhance the flavor of apple pie. Her answer was a little roundabout but this may have been for the other listeners’ benefit. First she said that cheese and apple pie is a North Eastern tradition. The way she knows of to make it is to first make the apple pie, and then, when it is ready to be served, add a thin slice of cheddar cheese on top, in place of ice-cream. Then warm it up for a little bit to get the cheese soft. She said she’s had it this way and that while it is good she prefers ice-cream on top. The cheese brings about a salty flavor and some people like the sweet and salty combination.

As I mentioned, not many people were talking about what she wanted to, but over the next hour or so there were two other people who called in wanting to comment on the cheese and apple pie combination. I created quite a dialog. The first lady said that her husband made her call to say that his grandmother always prepared it this way and that she used the saying, “An apple pie without the cheese is like a kiss without the squeeze.” Marilyn hadn’t heard that before and liked it. The next lady who called wanted to discuss her way of preparing it. Unfortunately, Dad and I were talking too loud at the time and only caught the tail end of it. But essentially the lady said that she bakes the apple pie with the cheese at the same time.

Between this blog and my radio appearance, I think a national movement may be started here.

Mr. Wiley's Winning Technique

The onset of colder weather and the looming Christmas holiday, could potentially make single girls a little less picky. During these times, single ladies may be looking for both a warm body, and somebody more special than usual to celebrate our Lord's birth. This is my theory, because I have had significantly more traffic than usual these past couple months on the two dating sites I'm signed up to. And on one of them, I basically have page that I plan on only changing if I find somebody I want to talk to first. With the exception of one, none of these girls have really been what I'm looking for, and the one was a bit too young. Actually I was surprised I hadn't seen her before, when I realized the reason being because I filter out girls that young.

I suppose this odd winter phenomenon could work both ways too. However, this is not the case with me because if it were then I would have responded to any of those numerous e-mails I received. Nevertheless, since I am certainly not attracting or winning any dates with my current approach, maybe it is time to try an alternative method.

Meet Bob Wiley. Like me, Bob can only muster a few words out from his vocabulary when he finds someone he would like to meet. This is a problem I have long sought a solution too. Observe the repetitious manner in which Bob uses only a few words. This is a simple technique and I think that with a little practice on some strangers at the grocery store I too can become quite deft with just a few words.

Momentary Lapse of Reason

How fitting that tomorrow is Tasteful Thursday. Being that tomorrow is Thanksgiving, today seemed as good a time as any for me to relate to you one personal story of thanks.

Yesterday, while walking into work, I had both hands filled. My left hand was holding my lunch and my right arm was holding my laptop which was in this satchel I have that has a belt that hangs from my shoulder. While walking, I noticed that the opening to the satchel was facing me. That's the bumpy side of it, and I prefer to have it facing out so that the flat side is up against me. But since my left hand was full, switching it around with one hand seemed to challenging to navigate. And then I had an idea. I could simply throw the satchel up into the air, and while it was up there I could grab the belt from behind and this would turn the satchel around.

Well I did this. It fell right to the concrete ground below, making what would otherwise be a very satisfying thud. Actually, I didn't even really throw it up so good. The computer is a little heavy and it's awkward trying to throw it up it into the air by the belt. From a distance I imagine it would have looked like I took it off my shoulder and threw it directly onto the ground with a little flourish.

When I got the computer into the office, it didn't boot up. Then with the help of a co-worker I realized that one of the two parts that connects the monitor to the computer looked funny. So I poked at it and found it had been dislodged and clipped back into place. And then my computer turned on. The problem now was that moving the monitor caused funny behavior. Some positions put it into hibernate mode, and other positions would turn the entire computer off or on.

I took it into the computer store and they said it would cost me at a minimum $85 and take 2 to 6 weeks. That was no good so I took it back home. It still worked, I just couldn't move the monitor. Well last night I got back on it, and found that it worked pretty good. I was able to adjust the monitor pretty well and it didn't once abruptly turn off on me for the couple hours it was on. So I'm thankful that God had mercy on this brainless wonder.

Digging For the Roots

My sister decided to go to the dentist the other day. When I went after so many years, I was told I had 6 cavities. Despite the impressiveness of my diagnosis, when she went after so long she was told she had several cavities and needed a root canal. The poor thing just cannot seem to find good health.

On Wednesday she had her appointment. Mom stayed the night on Tuesday at her place so she could be with Brittany for the "operation". "Operation" is the term Brittany used to describe the root canal to me. My Mom however was in the room when my sister said this to me, and disagreed that this was an "operation". She didn't have to say anything else, we all knew this meant, "let me tell you about some 'operations'." And she's right, what has been done to my Mom makes root canals seem about on the level of clipping your fingernails.

Brittany got all drugged up the night before, and I gave her a call pretty late because I wanted to talk to her while she was high as a kite. But this time the medication she took didn't have any hallucinatory effects. I think she's had her wisdom teeth out and for that she did have some rather strong meds. Apparently, after the surgery Mom found her in her living room having a two-way conversation with one of her plants.

Despite the fun attitude I was taking to this, I was a nice brother and wished her a very successful and pain free "operation". Unfortunately this was not to be. During the operation Mom, who was in the waiting room, started hearing some commotion. Then someone came out for her. One of Brittany's kidneys was flaring up. Even though it's been over a year, Brittany still has 3 kidney stones, and at the moment she thought one was about to pass. They did everything they could to make her comfortable but ultimately they just had to wait until the pain subsided. The entire "operation" took 5 hours. At one point someone came and offered my Mom juice and cookies. Brittany too was given some snacks.

The next day I gave Brittany a call and found her to be her regular self. She said that her face was rather swollen though, and said it looked like she gained two pounds. However, her natural chubby cheeks do to a marvelous job hiding the majority of the swelling.

Not Like Mom Makes

"An apple pie with the cheese, is like a kiss without the squeeze." This disturbing 19th century saying has been the subject of many discussions of late. A few weeks back I made an apple pie, and came across this frightful quote. Asking around I found a few people had heard of the notion but none that had actually tried it. Wanting to see if I could make a "traditional" pie I did not add the cheese. But still puzzled by the idea of adding cheese to apple pie, this Thursday past I decided to make another one. Turns out I had extra apples and crust so instead of potentially ruining a whole pie I decided to make a small apple fritter type dish and add the cheese. Also I made sure to cut the apples into smaller widths this time around. See, the last time I made my pie, while the crust came out absolutely amazing, I didn't know how to cut the apples into proper sizes. I thought they should be nice and varied in size and shape, and at least a good bite. So they were rather thick, and did not cook through very well. Fortunately, I have a good group of friends who promptly informed me of this terrible blunder and how I can make sure to not let this surprising lack of common sense mistake ever happen again.

While I'm on a bit of a tangent, now might be a good time for another tangent. I asked a friend of mine who like to cook what her impressions are of adding cheese to apple pie. She said that the cheese has many similar properties to meat, and that adding it to the pie should make it more savory.

Savory:
1. Appetizing to the taste or smell: a savory stew.
2. Piquant, pungent, or salty to the taste; not sweet.
3. Morally respectable; inoffensive.

As for how the pie turned out, I don’t know. Since I had the apple fritter type dish I didn’t really need the pie so I gave it to a friend who was having his wife come in this past weekend on military leave. The apple fritter wasn’t something to present to others. This time around I used Granny Smiths and Pink Ladies. Unlike the Granny Smiths the Pink Ladies are very juicy. So juicy that I thought I could just pour some flour on top of them and it would get absorbed during the baking. This did not happen and instead I just got warmer flour out of the oven. I also added the sharp cheddar. I felt I added quite a bit of the cheddar but I couldn’t taste it when I tried the fritter. I added a lot more for one of my serving and it was too much. Or maybe it was the appropriate amount but I didn’t like it.

But because I didn’t really know what I was doing I felt my apple fritter could only be classified as inconclusive. In town there is a restaurant that makes a grilled cheese sandwich that has Granny Smith apples in it. So yesterday I decided to go there and get one to go.

While I was there I got to talking to the head clerk who happens to be French. After placing my order I asked him if he had ever heard of apple pie being served with cheese. He was so distraught by the notion that he almost seemed offended by the question. “Absolutely not! Never! No, there are many varieties of apple pie, I know, I’ve had them. No!” “Sir, (please spare my life), I have only heard of this recipe I’m not actually promoting it.” “If anyone tells you that apple pie has cheese then you bring him here and I will set them right.” “Well, the reason I’m here is because you serve grilled cheese with apples. So if you make grilled cheese with apples, doesn’t it make sense to make apple pie with cheese?” “No. Absolutely not. We make it that way because we think after many tries that it tastes the best. But you don’t put cheese in apple pie. There are many types of apple pie. . .” He then proceeded to tell me all about them. And I learned that the French stereotype about their attitudes on food is correct. He walked me out the door continuing to talk without taking a breath (much like this sentence) that you do not add cheese to apple pie, and that it must be a Great Britain invention, but their food is so awful that it doesn’t mean anything, and I should bring anyone who says otherwise to him. This Frenchmen was so passionate about this that I think he found adding cheese to apple pie to be the exact opposite of the 3rd definition.

I took the grilled cheese home, and was ready to eat but it was a big event. My parents, who happened to have called me while I ordering it, decided they wanted to hear my live impressions. And my impressions were that it was fantastic. It was delicious. My only problem was that it was a little sweet, which made it more like a tasty large snack to me rather than a meal. I think it’s because in addition to the apple slices they also add a fig spread which added a good bit of sugar. But yes, overall the grilled cheese was amazing, and I don't even like figs. And the apples only made it better. So maybe an apple pie with cheese could be very good, if only I knew how to make it better.

Finally, in case you are curious, here are the ingredients used to make the grilled cheese that I had: Danish Fontina and Fiscalini cheddar cheese, Granny Smith apples and fig jam on grilled Challah.

Mixing Generations

In town there is a place for salsa dancing that is meant for beginners. Despite their being a large showing and earlier hours I rarely go. This is because I am not a very smart person. I decided to go last night because I knew a few of the other students in the class I'm taking were going to be there too and it would make it really easy to ask someone to dance. I also went because there was one girl in the class I took an interest to, and I made sure to be very charming to her friends as a way to get closer to her.

So I went and sure enough the five of them were there. Right away I asked one of the girls, Annie, to dance and struck up a conversation with her. She lives in town and has a full time job as an English teacher as a second language to international students. This was rather interesting to me. First I wanted to know if she works primarily with one ethnicity or several. She said she works with students from all over the world. So then I asked if she speaks any other languages and she said German and a little sign language. That surprised me a little bit. I know from movies that when you take a foreign language at something like a community college usually they take the immersion approach where the teacher only speaks in that language, but it sounds so difficult to me. I realize this is how babies learn but I still think it sounds hard.

I also found out that her sister, who was also there, is best friends with the girl I was interested in. Hopefully you're catching the past tense in these references. Eventually I danced with Annie's friend Rachel. Now Rachel I believe is in public accounting. She mentioned she started dancing on and off since her first year of grad school in 2001. So Rachel is a few years older than me. She then said Annie's sister and her friend were still in school at a nearby smaller town and were 19. Come again? 19? Well that just won't do at all.

But at least the dancing part was fun. I got to practice all the moves we learned in class and had some nice people to do it with.

Cuban Cigars of Pop

Yesterday I found myself in a bit of a surreal situation. I was traveling to a little town out in the country that I had not been to before. This little town which essentially consists of one main street with some houses built around it, has a children's consignment store where people come and sell off the clothing their children either no longer fit in or no longer want. And in this consignment store there is a soda shop that sells glass bottles of soda. The town is only a short drive away so I decided to go and check it out.

On the way I passed by two interesting landmarks. The first was a sign that pointed towards a State Park. At this point something jogged my memories. I think maybe five or six years ago I had been at that State Park. I remember it for two reasons, the good company and the water snake I saw which I didn't like very much at all. Being in a situation where you think you've been somewhere but aren't exactly sure is always interesting. It takes on one of those odd qualities where it feels familiar but you aren't entirely sure why. Maybe a bit like the twist in 'The Shining'. Well I wasn't here to start wielding an axe, I was on a mission for fancy pops so I kept driving on.

As I approached the town I passed by what only could be described as a shack made out of metal rather than wood. The building was essentially a rectangle with a roof, with a gravel 5 car parking lot, with no driveway, right off the 55 MPH road. It had a sign that said 'Fine Quality Meats'. Driving by I noticed there was one car in the parking lot, and I figured despite the appearance of the building maybe it actually is open for business. Now don't get me wrong here, I like the old run down restaurants. The Mom and Pop restaurants that only care about how your food tastes. It's just that this place looked so run down that had there been no cars there I would have thought it was long out of business.

Driving on I found my pop shop. And sure enough, the clerk had pops covering an entire side of the shop. Many I recognized either from local grocery stores or Friar Tucks but there were several I had never seen before. For example, there was one called Mary Jane which is made from passionflower. I bought one but haven't tried it yet. So I spent a good bit of time walking up and down and looking around. I noticed I was the only one in the store, but it was also only 3:00 so I am hoping the business picks up at other hours.

I ended up with 6 bottles and asked the clerk if she ever got Pepsi products. She said she's tried but it's not easy. She thinks there are laws in effect that prevent it from being shipped from Mexico where it is glass bottled to here in the states. I'm not too sure about that though. I know, for example, that there is a gas station in North Carolina that sells Mountain Dew in glass bottles. She thinks the people selling it must have connections. It makes me laugh though, I had no idea a glass bottle of Pepsi could create such a fuss.

Leaving the little town I drove by that shack again. This time, ten minutes later, their little parking lot was nearly full with people walking in with empty coolers. So I had to do a U-ie and stop on in. The place is how you're probably imagining it. A few refrigerators, a big wooden table, and a guy wearing an apron that was white but now is red. I picked up 2 lbs of shredded BBQ pork and a pound of ground round. The BBQ pork was $7, and the beef was about $2.50. I was very happy with the prices. The butcher said all the meat comes from local farmers, and so I was doubly happy to be directly supporting them. When I got home I tried the BBQ pork. It was great.

The question remains however, soda, pop, or soda pop, which is it? I like pop and grew up with pop. As kids there was one guy who said soda, and it really irked me. Everyone else was saying pop, and I kept thinking he was only saying soda in order to sound more like a grown up and thereby more like a leader in order to have some sway over the rest of us. Where I'm at now it's sort of a mixed bag but I think most people tend towards soda. I use soda pop when I'm feeling especially childish or purposely want to make myself sound less adult like. It has it's uses, but generally I stick with soda or pop.

Para bailar la bamba

'La Bamba' is not a song I generally listen to when it is on the radio. Maybe it's because I couldn't understand the words, or didn't care much for the beat, but it's never been one of my favorites. But today I find it stuck in my head. I like Cal Tjader's version, and you should go here on a separate tab and click play on one of the available titles and read on while it's playing.

Around 11:30 this Friday I went out salsa dancing. It's a disgusting time of night to be doing anything but unfortunately all I have to work with. But this time there was a girl from my current set of classes, and we danced for about and hour and a half. It was a mixed bag. She definitely wanted to dance and had no problem saying as much. The problem was I was having troubles, as always, remembering the moves from class. That and there was this really good guy, possibly an instructor, there who would ask her to dance occasionally. And she looked incredible, dance wise I mean, which made it difficult for me because here she goes with this pro and now she's got to come back down to my level again. Now, she is technically probably around my level, after all we are in the same class, but she can follow a lead and that made all the difference between dancing with me and dancing with the pro.

Close to 1 I started getting a vibe that she was either no longer having as good a time or possibly getting sleepy and was ready to quit. So I took that as my time to say goodnight. Here I had a bit of a dilemma. It was 1 and I didn't think her friends were there anymore. So I thought maybe I should see if she wanted me to walk her to her car, assuming she would be leaving too. But she stuck me as a bit of an independent who was already grumpy about something, and I didn't want to come off as trying to be more than a social aquaintance, so I decided against it. Now I wish I had anyway because it was simply the right thing to do. Well we have our last class this Wednesday so I'll see her then and get a new reading on her.

I noticed that around 12:30 the bar started filling up. The girl I was dancing with said the music had started at 9:30. I just do not understand why people have to start things so late in the day. 9:30 isn't too bad, but it only works if you have a partner because no one else is there then. I guess this or a wedding (traditionally the Bamba is a wedding dance between the new husband and wife) is what is needed "para bailar la bamba"

Every Vote Counts

Last week I won the Halloween Costume Contest where I work. There were 19 votes cast for 5 costumes and I received 13 of them. Yay!

This week we had a chili contest. I have never entered before, but I was sort of in the mood for chili and figured this was as good an excuse to make it as any, so I gave it a try. Making chili is a bit of an art. First off you have to decide which kind you want. For example, you could go real crazy and make an all white chili with chicken and white beans. But I wanted to go more traditional with just beef and red beans.

There are many kinds of beef at the grocery store. There's ground round, chuck, sirloin, and extra lean. I went with ground chuck. And as for the beans I made it with two types, light red kidney beans and red chili beans.

Making it wasn't too bad, as I had a recipe both written down and somethings I wanted to try in my head. It isn't too hard following a recipe all you have to do is simply what your told. Add a can of tomatoes, add a can of beans, add 3-4 teaspoons of salt, add an onion. Uh-oh. That was 3/4 a teaspoon of salt. I had accidentally misread the amount of salt. I realized my mistake right away and tried my best to scoop it all out, but the damage was done. After I cooked it all up and tried it, the salty taste was definitely present. Still it wasn't inedible and I rather liked the after taste, despite it not being like the way Mom makes it, so I decided to enter it in the competition anyway.

There were three other entries in the competition. Two of them I did not care for. Others may have but they weren't for me. But the fourth one was quite good. In fact it tasted like Mom's. And now I had a problem, because I didn't think it would be right to vote for mine if I preferred anothers. So I went back up and got another helping of each. But I couldn't make up my mind. I really did like mine, but I couldn't decide if I liked it more. Then I started doing small samples of each, like at an ice-cream deli. Hmmm, I've never heard of deli being used with ice-cream before but I like it. In the end I decided that mine was a bit too rich for me and that I would only want it in small quantities, whereas the competition was timeless. So I voted for it.

Then the votes were counted. Since I didn't vote for mine, I didn't think I was going to get very many. But then they called out a vote for it, then another, and another, and another. I got four votes in total. And those other two I didn't care for trailed me. So it was between me and the one I vote for. I could barely stand the anticipation of finding out. But soon enough the competition received it's fifth vote and finally it's sixth. I had lost. But then I did a little math. If I had voted for myself and not the winner then he would have only gotten 5 votes. And I would have gotten 5 votes. And we would have tied for first!

So let this be a lesson to us all. Every vote counts.