Olive Oil on Bread, Rollerblading, and Roseanne

Rollerblading.

I still do it.  I have skated over 21,000 miles.  I'm still trying to get a feel for the trails here in South Florida, and I have to say skating here could be better.

When you build a path that is due East/West and due North/South, you're going to have one direction that you are with the wind on your back, another that it is in your face.  Just the way it is when the winds come off the ocean pretty predictably.

But, it's here, and I'm in paradise, and I can skate.   So I do.  Push myself with a heart rate that feels like I am slacking if it is only at 160, and I have seen it peak over 200.

Sounds excessive?  Maybe.  If you hear "He went while he was skating" just think "He went doing something he loves".

It wears through wheels quickly, and since you can't really find proper racing wheels easily these days since the sport died around 2003...

(Hey!  Where did everyone go?)

The idea of going to My Favorite Skate Shop is done.  I didn't like paying $6 a wheel when I would have to replace 2 after two workouts and I'd do 4 workouts a week.

I know... blah blah blah.  It's safe to say that I easily have more skate parts in Wilton Manors than any other place in town.  That box has enough bearings to last into the next millennium and it's packed solid with replacement wheels of five different sizes.

I had this conversation with myself without realizing I was actually vocalizing it the other night.  I was sitting on the couch half watching Roseanne trying to write in her basement and commiserating with her character that no matter how good it is, sometimes you just can't do what you love. 

Then I realized I was having that conversation with someone in the house.   Writing can be hard.  You hit a writer's block and you need a topic.  It's what others call A Muse, but I am not really good enough for a Muse. 

"Why don't you write about Olive Oil in restaurants.  You always complain about that and you haven't had a good Rant in a while".

Nobody really wants to hear about that.

You see I have a major problem with being presented a small dish of olive oil and sometimes herbs or balsamic vinegar with the implication that I'm expected to put it on a piece of bread. 

First off it looks like something I drained from the crankcase of my Jeep. 

Who ever got the idea that it is oh so very wonderful to dip a piece of bread into a puddle of motor oil and yard sweepings needs to sit over there in the corner with their face pointed into the wall.  Now, just wait, I'll go get my baseball bat and re-enact a scene from The Godfather.

No.  Just no.  Not ever.  Bring me the butter.  period.  Unsalted if you have it, Salted if you don't.  If you don't have butter, take the damn bread away.

I actually said the motor oil comment in a posh restaurant once.

Excuse me, but do you have any butter?
"Sorry, No."
Then can you take the bread away?
"Sorry, No."

She sniffed and spun around on her heels and left.

I think she may have had an idea when I insisted on our leaving a pointedly small tip.  I haven't been back.  I won't go back.  Rudeness is never an option in business or in clients.

I don't care if you personally think it's the best thing on your sliced bread since sliced bread.  I don't care if it is trendy.  No.  Just, No.

The idea of sticking a piece of bread into a "Fine reduction of balsamic vinegar, herbs and spices, and extra virgin olive oil" leaves me cold and a side order of wanting to lose the last particular meal I was fortunate enough to eat.

Yes, I understand it is a first world problem.  There are people starving, even in the same city I am in.  There are more important things to concern yourself with than someone's affectations.  But, in a restaurant, I know somewhere there is butter.

Bring it or the waitress's tip dies.

Is it old school?  Last Millennium?  So very last century?

Who the hell cares, bring it.  It's called Service.  Not Motor Oil on a plate.  I'd rather eat that push-wheel off the back of the skate than put that glop on a piece of a baguette.

"So why don't you write about that?  I would love to hear about it!"

No, it would just sound like a rant about how food trends are annoying and distracting from the actual quality of the preparation and the food itself.

"But why not?".

We will see.  Let the mind roll and see what spills out.  It was exactly what I was saying to the TV.  Write what you know, you will get something better out of that than if you forced yourself to write to someone's affectations about what you should or shouldn't do.

That whole controlling thing.  People don't want to be controlled, especially when they are paying for the privilege of it all.

Just like a little porcelain bowl filled with Fine Herbs, Spices, Extra Virgin Olive Oil, and a Special Balsamic Reduction.

I'll take whatever the chef's got for butter, please.

Thanks.

Stove Top Pizza Definitely Is Worth A Try

In my quest for making a pizza better than the run of the mill pizza shops that we have here, I have tried many recipes.

Just search this blog for Pizza, I'll wait.

You see, all the bits and pieces are here but they've not quite come together yet.

My oven also doesn't have a proper pizza stone.  Oh, I've tried them a number of times, but they always shatter.  A Pizza Steel, a thick slab of steel over 1/4 inch thick heated to over 500F, will be tried when I find one.  But the oven barely makes it to 500 as it is.

The hotter the oven, the better the pizza.  Proper Wood Fired ovens reach 800F.  Melting of Lead happens at 621F.  My oven?  Struggles to get past 450F.

So I have tried different recipes.  The water in South Florida does something weird to my dough.  Or rather Pat's Pizza Dough Recipe.  I've used it since around 1995 or so, and it makes an incredible bread.  Rolls, Pretzel Rolls, and Sesame Rolls are three of the things I use it for.  But the water here... not so good for pizza crusts.

I have used filtered water and that helps get a crispy when toasted crust that I was looking for.  The next time someone comes down from the Philadelphia area, please come back with a gallon of local tap water?

So I experiment.

In this case, the experiment worked.  It's made a better crust than I have made since I moved down here.  That Cracker Crisp crust that you want in a Thin Crust Pizza?  It's definitely possible.

Mind you, the recipe needs refinement.  As I list it below, the crust is a little underdone.  It probably needs 12 minutes in the second stage of baking - after you open the vents on your skillet.  It certainly could benefit from a quick couple minutes under the broiler to give you a nice layer of caramelization on top.   Cooking a Pizza in a skillet means that the toppings (Cheese, or otherwise) will be hot and gooey, but a different texture.

If you do try this, you will understand.

And do try this.  It went together in less time than it takes to cook a frozen pizza from the supermarket.  It took me 20 minutes from scratch ingredients to slicing it up.  That means that you have a very dangerous recipe here once you figure out all the wrinkles.

If you are really observant, you'll notice that the stove is still on in the above picture and set to "3" - Medium Low.  My stove has numbers from Low, 1 to 8, and High.  Medium is "5".  Your stove may vary, but this is typical for an electric stove in the US.

This recipe is adapted from the video below and a host of other references online. 

But this is how I did it this past weekend:



Stove Top Pizza

Ingredients:

• Crust
• 1/2 cup Self-Rising Flour
• 1/2 cup Plain Flour
• 2/3 cup luke warm water
• pinch of salt
• 1 rounded teaspoon dried yeast
• 1 teaspoon honey 
• Olive Oil to grease the pan

• Toppings - 
• 4 ounces "Pizza Cheese" 
• at least an ounce of Parmesan, (My Preference)
• 10 fresh basil leaves split between the sauce and the top
• 1/2 can of mushrooms 
• 7 ounces of Pizza Sauce (give or take)

Process:

• Prepare the ingredients in a COLD and oiled skillet with heavy and seal-able lid.
• The Skillet should be 12 inches or 28 CM.
• Add all ingredients for the crust in the greased skillet until a slightly sticky dough is formed.
• Spread the dough evenly on the bottom of the skillet to form your crust.
• Add toppings to the pizza crust.
• Turn on the burner to MEDIUM.
• Place lid on the skillet and make sure vents are sealed.
• Now that the burner has warmed up, place the skillet with the completed pizza on the burner.
• Cook the pizza for 5 minutes with the vents sealed.
• At the 5 minute mark, open the vents and cook the pizza for another 10 minutes at MEDIUM LOW
• The pizza should easily separate from the skillet at this point with a spatula.
• Check the bottom of the crust for your own personal preference of "toasted", more time will be needed if it is not brown enough.

The video that inspired me to make this pizza is missing some answers to some questions, but it is included below.

How About a Mango Lassi With Breakfast?

This is one of those things that I do pretty much all "Mango Season", but I do it without even thinking it's odd.

It's also something that I had been doing without realizing.

There is a recipe, but I understand that everyone has their favorite.  Mine is sweet, savory, and leaves a warmth on its way down but nothing really overpowering.

Since I mentioned it in passing, and a good friend on Facebook, Emilio, said that it brought back memories, I  thought that I'd expand here.

You see, I love mangoes.  We're deep in the peak of Mango Season at this point.  There are two pound fruits falling from the trees all over the place and I simply walk past, pick them up, and say "Oh, there's breakfast!".

But how do you eat them?

I was scooping out 10 ounces of Mangoes and serving with 1/2 cup of plain yogurt on top.  That works with Bananas and other "fleshy" fruit like Strawberries or melons of various types.

Then I got bold and dusted it with cinnamon.

I realized I was onto something that I deeply enjoyed at an Indian Restaurant and thought I should look deeper into it, and perhaps formalize it.

So here's the recipe for my version of a Mango Lassi:

Ingredients:

• 10 Ounces of ripe Mango Chunks, frozen.
• 4 ounces or 1/2 cup of plain unsweetened yogurt.
• 1/2 teaspoon ground Cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground Turmeric (optional)
• 1/4 teaspoon ground Coriander Seed (optional)
• 1/4 teaspoon ground Ginger (optional)
• 1/4 teaspoon ground Cloves (optional)
• 4 (more or less) crushed Ice cubes
• Optionally sweeten with honey, sugar, stevia, or not at all.  I don't.

Process:

• Slice Mangoes into chunks and flash freeze on a cookie sheet in your freezer.
• Add to the blender all ingredients.
• All spices are to taste, and as such, they are all optional.
• Turn on blender until everything is mixed thoroughly, the ice is chopped, and the drink is smooth.
• Add a tablespoon or so of water and re-blend if the drink is too thick for you.

Serve in tall glass.

Calorie count is 215 (or so) for the entire recipe using non-fat unsweetened yogurt and no sweetener.

The Train Set

The Train Set

A mother was working in the kitchen, listening to her five-year-old son playing with his new electric train in the living room.

She heard the train stop & her son saying........''All of you bastards who want off, get the hell off now, 'cause this is the last stop! And all of you bastards who are getting on, get your ass in the train, cause we are going down the tracks.''

The horrified mother went in and told her son, ''We don't use that kind of language in this house. Now I want you to go to your room & stay there for TWO HOURS. When you come out, you may play with your train, but I want you to use nice language.''

Two hours later, the son came out of the bedroom & resumed playing with his train.

Soon the train stopped & the mother heard her son say, ''All passengers who are disembarking the train, please remember to take all your belongings with you. We thank you for traveling with us today & hope your trip was a pleasant one.''

She hears the little boy continue, For those of you just boarding, we ask you to stow all your hand luggage under your seat. Remember there is no smoking on the train. We hope you will have a pleasant and relaxing journey with us today.''

As the mother began to smile, the child added, 'For those of you who are pissed off about the TWO HOUR delay, please see the fat cow in the kitchen

An Orchestra In Albuquerque in July

A travelling orchestra had planned on being in Albuquerque in January and Minneapolis in July. However, their manager got the dates wrong and the group ended up doing a three-day run in an outdoor theater in Albuquerque in the middle of the July heat. The event was exhausting and by the third night, everyone was just hoping to survive one more concert and move on.

During the last song - Beethoven's Ninth - the bass players in the back of the orchestra hatch a plan. There's a bit in the middle of the song that's all violins and flutes, surely they won't be missed. They decide to sneak out to the bar next door for a drink, 'just to keep hydrated.'

They stay a little longer than they should have, and drink a lot more than they would have, when one of them realizes that they are going to miss their entrance. The ring-leader of the group tells them to not worry, as he had the foresight to tie the last page of the score down with a bit of string. It will take the conductor a while to unite it, which means the concert will stop and they can sneak in. They drunkenly congratulate him for being so smart as they stumble back to the theater.

Meanwhile, the conductor is in a bind. The very energetic end of the piece is coming up and his bass section is missing. The violinists are working up a sweat trying to keep up in the heat when suddenly the first violinist faints from heat exhaustion. This is the last straw for the second violinist and she faints too. The bass section begins stumbling in not so subtly as they are knocking people, instruments, and chairs over. To top it all off, someone has tied down the last page of the score as he is desperately trying to flip the page.

It would do us good to sympathize with the conductor and put ourselves in his shoes. From his vantage point, he begins to realize that:

• There are two out, at the end of the ninth
• The score is tied
• And the basses are loaded.

Hey! Can A Dog Get A Little Privacy Here?

We've got an evening ritual around here.

I eat first.  My house, My rules.   That's fine because having a beta dog, my boy Rack wouldn't have it any other way.

After I finish or at least put a major dent into the plate, I call Rack over and start to feed him.   He's always eaten slowly, painfully slowly.  Rack the McNab SuperDog (TM) is afraid of his own shadow.

We describe it as he's aspiring to be at the edge of the pack, close enough that he can see it, but far enough away that he won't get snapped at by the alpha dog.

I may be that alpha dog here, he certainly treats me like it.

I have to shake the bowl at him, tap the bowl, make sure that the food is properly hydrated with hot water, and hope that he doesn't hear a thunderclap less than 10 miles away.

No, I am serious.  No closer than 10 miles.  If it is any closer, he shuts down, begins to shiver and walks off.  It's not a pretty sight.  He really is that fearful.

So while I'm prodding my dog to finish his dinner, I'm listening closely to the conditions, trying not to knock anything off the plate, and for crying out loud just don't sneeze!

Now that we've got food in both of us, I rinse the bowl and my plate off.  It's a delaying tactic.  The longer it takes, the more likely he's going to go do his business back in the yard.

He's getting ready since he's sniffing at the back door as I scrape the last bit of sauce from my fork or my spoon.  Not alpha enough to dare staring me down, except in rare circumstances, I catch him looking at me through the corner of his eye.

I guess at this point he'd be doing the potty dance if he could.

"Gotta go?"  I ask.  "Back up!" to get him away from the door, I then remove the locking bar and the lock from the sliding door.

"Come on, Rack, Let's go!".

I step through and Rack darts past.  Once the pressure is relieved we move onto the next step - the dance around the pool.

Assuming that it's quiet, there aren't any trash trucks over at the Shoppes, or thunder out over the Everglades or the Bahamas, we start charging around the pool.

Throwing my arms wide, I start to run around with him.  He loves that.  Figures that he's part of the pack.  We both get winded eventually, although he's faster than I am.




At this point he starts sniffing again with a purpose.

Along the hedges on the East side of the property is a triple fence.  The property line, the wooden fence on the far side, and hedges and ornamental fences on my side.  It creates a couple dens, nooks, crannies, and small spaces that I can't get into.

On the other hand, Rack loves it.  He walks through it regularly.  If I don't watch, he's going to end up having a den behind my hibiscus and it won't be easy to get to him, let alone get him out if I need to.  This being Florida, there could be all sorts of critters back there too.  It's not exactly the best idea to let him go into the hedges since that is a prime location for nasty bite-y creatures.

But there he is.  Before I can stop him.  He squats.  I catch him looking at me.  Through a layer of wooden slats, a couple ruellia flowers, and the stand of hibiscus, I see one lone eye.   Dark brown.

I am being accused of being a Peeping Tom.  It as if to say "Can a Dog get a little privacy for a change?".

I follow after this dog for three miles a day.  Stuff my pockets with plastic bags of questionable strength.  Tested at home with pressurized air from my own breath, I make sure there are no leaks before I use it to pick up anything that I wouldn't want to touch.  We walk all over town.

So why are you hiding behind the hibiscus and the fence to get privacy, Now?

He comes out of the fence looking all proud of himself.  Chuffed.

We've got time to do a couple more laps around the pool.  I throw my arms out and say "Play!" and we start running like crazy people.

I guess all is well with the dog world after all.  He's running around two pounds lighter.

"Water?" Rack looks up and trots to the door.  I guess all's done out there.  What he did was to make the backyard safer for us and less of a habitat for wild creatures by leaving what he did by the fence.

Dog Logic.  I'll leave that there.  Keeps the iguanas away and it will fertilize the hibiscus.

Avanti in Pompano

In the TV Series Sex and the City, it is said that New York City is a place where models run wild on the street and you can actually see them.

In South Florida, Classic Cars run wild on the streets, and you can actually see them.

The other day when I rolled into the parking lot at Pompano Airpark, I saw this cherry beauty.

Avanti.  The last automotive remnant of the old Studebaker Car Company.  There's still a husk of the

company left doing leasing or some such nonsense, but their cars are long gone.  Their last year was 1966 when the last car rolled off the production line in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada.  March 16, 1966.

The Avanti was never a common car, although someone near us in New Jersey had a gold one well after the company went away.  5800 roughly were built total.

You or I will probably never drive one, and maybe it should just be that way. To find one on the road these days is the automotive equivalent of the holy grail.

When I rolled my Jeep in next to it, I parked far enough off from the car so as not to spoil the shots.  You just don't see these things in the wild.

I was That Kid that every neighborhood has even to this day.  I could recognize cars as a wee brat and tell you make and model with the high accuracy that only a child's OCD could manage. 

When we were older, my sister and I would be taken places by our cousins.  They were the ones responsible

for igniting my own Motorhead spark.  We'd stick our heads inside the cars and ooh and aah at the speedometers that crept well over the more pedestrian 120 MPH of Dad and Mom's Buick.  Muscle cars of that era had speedometers that were well over 150 MPH. 

Meanwhile I have a Jeep Wrangler.  It's never been over 80 and I can't say I've ever found the need to go faster than that.  Aerodynamics of a brick but I'll get there.  You may not, but I will, even if I have to take him off road.

Squatting down in the parking lot I got these few pictures for friends who appreciate the art of automotive design like I do.

I know of someone who will be firing off an email to me any second demanding full sized copies of these, and I'll just send him here.

A Cashew Tree Is Born

We have been through this once before.

We tried it last year and I guess I am the cause of it failing.

You see, all these pots in the backyard by the pool are there for a reason.  I propagate "interesting" plants so that they can go into the gardens.

Anyone with the right conditions can do it, anyone with a green thumb has at least thought of it.

With all the three irrigation zones we've got, it makes it easy.  Put a pot out there on Zone 3, where it will get a daily gallon of water delivered directly to the roots without any extra  help from me.  Stick a seed in the pot.  Step away from the pot.

We did that last year.  Then I got started putting other things with it.

You see, a baby cashew tree does not like having its roots disturbed. 

It was joined by Japanese Yew.  Some of the Japanese Yew took root and it's doing well in the hedges on the other side of the yard. 

Where a little is good, a lot is better, right?  I stuck so much Japanese Yew in that pot that it was hard to find the cashew tree.

It gave up.  "You win" and dropped its leaves.   I babied the stick that was left and a few leaves came back, then it gave up again. 

This May when the Cashew Fruiting Season happened, we got three more cashew fruits.  They're an

interesting thing.  Orange or Yellow when ripe, they have a clean and almost astringent flavor to them.  The seed is on the bottom, and that is what we all recognize as those wonderful Cashew Nuts that we pay a premium for.  Cashews are expensive, relatively, because they need some special handling to get rid of the poisonous outside skins.

After all, the cashew nut grows for the benefit of the plant, not mankind.

So who knows what the cashew will bring, but it has started to toll for me.

Well, not me specifically, but I'm sure we'll find a place for it in the yard if I don't kill it with kindness.

Spider On Art

I have always noticed Public Art.

I will say that in this case it's a welcome art installation that works exceptionally well at night.  Art that Functions is a difficult dance to do well.

In front of Gables Wilton Park on Wilton Drive, there were once these blank spaces.  They begged to be filled.  Someone there decided that the thing needed was some lights.  Lights are great in Urban or Suburban environments, you never know what you will find.

Broadly, or what may find you.

They had the idea to put up light boxes.  Big rectangular boxes to break up the lines of the columns of the buildings.  Something to add to the aesthetics of the place while shedding light on the night.

Sure, they could have just put up a couple lights on a pole but where's the creativity in THAT? 

Instead of having just a big white block in front of the building that would detract, they filled it with what reminds me of holiday wrapping paper or perhaps wallpaper.  It isn't rigid geometric lines, there is some texture and irregularities to it to keep it interesting, and the "wallpaper" is crumpled a bit.  The crumpling added a certain something to it to catch the eye as you walk by at 5:25AM, or whenever you are in the area.

All of that was a while ago and it has had time to settle into the environment.  Florida itself has acted on the art but it has remained remarkably stable in the punishing UV that we have here.

The environment has been moving in.  We live in an area that if you drop a seed, it will grow, and wildlife lives here with you, despite whether you like it or not.  Coyotes in Boca Raton, Iguanas blocking toilets, Black Racer Snakes in the garden, Cuban Brown Lizards on the windows, and Geckos keeping down the pesky mosquitoes that are everywhere.

I could do without the mosquitoes, truly.

In the case of the big orange square, er, rectangle, a large spider has made it its home.  There's just enough of a gap in front of it that a spider had strung a web there for the last week or so and is getting visibly larger each day.  Spider, go eat those bugs!

I'm sure someone will squeal at it and either knock the web down or worse, but for now it greets the day with eight legs, eyes, and who knows what else doing its spidery business, decorating art for all passersby.

Add a Little Sweetness to Your Life, Have Some Mango Truck Nuts

Every so often you see something that makes you stop, scratch your head, and laugh like a fool.

I couldn't stop thinking about just how South Florida this was.

A bag of mangoes hanging off of a trailer hitch on the back of a Lexus SUV sitting behind a waterfront apartment in Wilton Manors, Florida.

So lets deconstruct that.  I will anyway since I'm still amused at the sight of it all.

It was taken in Wilton Manors, Florida just two miles from the beach.  Pretty South Florida to me.   Add to it that we're just about as central a location as you can possibly get.  Travel time to Downtown Fort Lauderdale can be as little as 10 minutes, and we're by time about the same distance from West Palm Beach and Miami's respective downtowns.  It's a little further to West Palm Beach but the roads are better heading North.

Now, that whole Truck Nuts thing?  It's a more redneck affectation - you generally don't see them hanging off of anything that isn't a pickup truck.  I have seen them on a random Jeep, but normally it's an F150 pickup truck that has been through a few miles.  A Beater.  Someone who wants to shock you. 

Why a shock?  Trucks generally don't come from Factory Equipped with a pair of day glow testicles hanging off the back so it's a bit of a sartorial mistake.

Doesn't harm anyone, but it is a bit weird.  My truck has bigger balls than you do or something equally Juvenile Mindset.  For the record, my Jeep's Trailer Hitch doesn't have anything on it at the moment.

This was a Lexus.  Mind you it wasn't exactly a new one, but it was a Lexus SUV.   So the idea of putting truck nuts on the back of a Lexus is a show stopper to begin with.

Now, it really isn't a pair of truck nuts.  It's a bag of about a dozen ripe mangoes.  Folks who have mango trees generally are trying to find a place to put all the fruit at this time of year.  A mature tree can easily put out about 100 pounds of fruit.  A large child or a small woman's worth of fruit.  It all ripens within a month of itself.

Some of that fruit can get big.  I have personally picked one mango that weighed more than 2 pounds.  That would be a full Kilogram for our Metrically Aware readers.  (Hello!)

You have to keep after your trees because a mango falling from 32 feet in 1 second is going to hit you in the head at about 27 miles per hour.  2 pounds hitting you at 27 MPH/43 KPH could be fatal.  So pick them before they fall.  The ones you don't get will roll out into the street and get mashed into the pavement or eaten by ants in short order.

Now what are you going to do with 100 pounds of fruit?

You can only make so much Mango Jam, Mango Bread, Mango Chutney, Chunked Mango, Caribbean Honey Spiced Chicken with Mango, and my own breakfast today, Mango Lassi.  Make too much and your eyes will roll back into your head in a sugar shock and you'll swear off them for the rest of the year.

I made 12 jars of Mango Jam and canned 9 of them.  If a storm knocks out power, we will have plenty of sweet Mango Jam to trade with the neighbors to have with their Peanut Butter sandwiches.

When September comes, My Dear Sister will probably get one.

(Hi Pat!)

That's how you get rid of your extras.  Some folks will sell a "Homer Bucket" full of Mangoes online.  The going price is around $10.  

But that's not what happened here.  A neighbor of this truck owner was gifted a bag of them and they were left to amuse me as I walked past.

In front of the little apartment house, next to the river that surrounds the Island City of Wilton Manors, deep in the heart of South Florida.