Cool du Jour

I just got this crazy ass idea! In order to get myself to consistently post stuff on cooldujour, why don’t I do at least one thing every week? And hey, Friday is as good a day as any, usually better. Of course, this Friday, for me, is homework night. There are two birthdays I should be attending this weekend. Instead I’ll be spending my evenings in the basement, moping. For the most part it’s because I can’t drink right now, and as immature as it may seem, I don’t want to hang out with drinking people while I sip on San Pellegrino. Capice? But I’ll use homework as an excuse. Besides, I have no time and plenty of homework and there are only two weeks left in the term. Next weekend should probably be dedicated to finishing and studying.

Anyway, because I, like so few people in the world, love music, Friday’s will now be dedicated to it. At least until my attention span lapses.

Introducing the Lionheart Brothers, a band from Norway that’s gaining attention in the UK, but probably has only been to SXSW a few time and is relatively unheard of. Big cred points for an obscure band for me!

Unfortunately, their new stuff doesn’t do as much for me as their old stuff. But in general what you have is a Stereolab-ish band with male vocals. Very lush, wall-of-sound-ish. And very nice.

What makes me sad about the new stuff compared to the old stuff. Well, the old stuff was more like Swervedriver, and the new stuff is more Brian Wilson. Both good comparisons, but Swervedriver rocked. The new stuff sounds sweeter.

Stumble It!

It’s my balls! Shaving my balls! HAHAHAHAHA!

Okay, not really.

The trend in men’s hygiene seems to suggest that by 2010, we’ll be expected to use ten-blade cartridges with three lubricating strips tossed in there for shits and giggles. The whole thing will be the length of your nose and cost ten bucks per cartridge.

And the question is, do five blades mean a closer shave?

Well, I stopped at two-blade cartridges because I’ve always been cheap. But instead of rising up the quantity ladder, I’ve gone in the quality direction. Not all the way, mind you. I won’ t be buying a $200 straight razor anytime soon.

N0, my happy medium is the safety razor.

I got this one last week, and so far I love it. It ran me ten bucks and the top folds out like the roof of a missle silo, so I can change the double-edged razor, made famous by rock and fucking roll something or other.

Yesterday I picked up some “beard lube” (yep, it’s actually called that) and some of the best razor blades available (made in solingen, where the best german cutlery is born). In total, my shaving supplies cost less than a five blade setup, and the ten blades I bought for eight bucks should last me more than a year. They’re supposedly that good.

Not being much of a collecter, all of a sudden I’m interested in hanging a bunch of safety razors on a bathroom wall. Weird.

But not as weird as it would be if I really was shaving my balls.

There were a few times I worried I was ruining Pants’s birthday barbeque. I mean, here was the actual barbeque grill—the same new stainless-steel grill I’d assembled two days prior—now resembling a giant, terrifying orange flower of fire, in full bloom. I suppose it woulda made more sense to worry about the garage Merritt designed and built by hand catching fire, or the fence we share with the neighbors (though that would save us the trouble of tearing it down in a few years…). It’s not that I wasn’t thinking about those two structural and more important factors, but the flames weren’t licking at the garage, and the fence…well, I wasn’t thinking about the fence. Mostly my mind was on the fact that friends would start filing into the backyard, maybe in minutes, and I’d started a raging oil fire on a breezy day. On Pants’s birthday barbeque day. Damn!

The initial idea was at least sound, if the results were less than stellar.

The new grill came with cast iron grates. And I decided they needed seasoning, not unlike a cast iron pan. So after trying to daub on some olive oil, with little success and far too little patience, I decided I would submerge the grates in oil, and heat the oil.

It’s easy with a pan, because a small pool of oil in a pan does the trick. But these grates…I wanted them coated and cooked in oil.

The problem was, I was busy with other preparations as well, and didn’t watch the pan full of oil.

As Alton Brown said on “Good Eats” last night, always keep an eye on oil being heated. I didn’t.

I suppose it’s a good thing this all happened outside. It was a solid lesson for future consideration, and it didn’t end with our house turned into a pile of rubble and ash. But it did distract our household for about a half hour.

Most people know that you should never try to douse an oil or grease fire with water. Doing so sends a plume of steam skyward, and the steam holds tiny drops of oil, on fire, skyward with it. That’s how you burn down a house right there.

So we tried to smother the flames with baking sheets, and the fire snuck through every cranny allowing oxygen. Three or four baking sheets ruined.

So we tried baking soda. Pants suggested this. Typically, this would work, if we had, say, fifteen pounds of baking soda to pour on it. No dice. The two boxes poured onto the flames actually created this wicked bubbling action and a different, yet no less furious, display of fire.

Merritt brought out a large sheet of tin foil to try and squelch it again. The foil curled right up into a ball. The fire was very hot and the tin foil seemed to almost revert to liquid form.

So we brought out the fire extinguisher. It was very much like, and had the same effect as, the two boxes of baking soda. Makes me wonder if they put baking soda in those things. Same effect.

We were all at our wits end at this point.

And people were coming soon. We got the lid of the barbeque shut again. I should note that we tried shutting the lid before, but it’s far from air tight.

Anyway. I ended up shooting some water through the holes left open in the lid, and the whole thing cooled and stopped burning. Thank friggin Golly.

So, in a partially enclosed environment, water kinda worked.

But seriously folks, don’t try that at home.

In the end, the now christened grill got cleaned up and now I owe Merritt some cookie sheets and a big ol’ Calphalon baking pan. Other than our household, no one was any the wiser, and Pants’s birthday barbeque went off without a hitch.

But I was humbled…by the purifying flower of hell’s belching fury!

Thank the gods Matto hadn’t made it over early. He probably would have pointed out that one of the methods used to put out the oil well fires in Kuwait was to drop explosives down into the source. That would have been messy.

I’m starting to think that it’s all too possible that the negatives will outweigh the positives regarding the proliferation and use of cell phones and other wireless microwave technologies.

Read this article in the UK Independent.

First there’s the cancer. Finnish researchers suggest that those who use a cell phone more than 10 years are 40 percent more likely to get a brain tumor. I know it will take four or five decades for research to be conclusive, but I’m also not willing to be a lab rat.

And now European researchers suggest that radiation from cell phones could be part of what has caused well over half the world’s bee population to die off. Again, this is very inconclusive. The research states that “holding a cell phone next to a bee hive causes bees to abandon that hive, thereby killing all related bees and destroying that hive entirely” and that’s their basis for making the claims. I don’t know of many people who’d go hang out near bee hives and hold cell phones up next to them, so I don’t see that particular claim as being referential. Plus, this seems to be a somewhat sudden occurence, and it’s not like we woke up yesterday with cell phones all over the world. I think something else is going on here.

but I hardly use my phone, so it’d be very little sweat off my brow to get rid of it. and that fact right there suggests that I probably won’t be terribly susceptible to a brain tumor any time soon.

And yet, I do find it threatening. Seriously folks, don’t use your cell phones too much. It can’t be too good for you regardless.

I picked up three CD books from the library yesterday, for an alternative to music and public radio on the way to and from Chico. I’ve never listened to audio books before, but I suppose, having listened to the aforementioned public radio enough, it shouldn’t be so foreign to me. I mean, if you listen to OPB and have never caught This American Life, you’ve been missing an amazing program. Speaking of which, I haven’t heard it in a while. Is it still on? I guess it is. I should make a point of knowing the times.

Anyway, if there’s ever been a program to help attune me to audio books, it would be that one.

Because I didn’t have to time to put a hold on any books, I had to grab what I could find at my local Milwaukie branch library (Clackamas County Chain). Here’s what I found.

The first book to land in my paws–William Faulkner’s The Sound and The Fury. I’ve been trying to start this book for years, but it’s never the right time or mood or whatever other excuse. Yes, it’s a weighty book, simply because it’s considered to be one of the most important pieces of American literature. Not something to be taken lightly. Read by someone called Grover Gardner. Makes me wonder a bit–are there revered audio book readers out there?

The second book to catch my eye was Nick Hornby’s A Long Way Down. Hornby is the guy who wrote High Fidelity. I understand it’s about four suicidal people who meet at the same suicide rooftop spot at the same time–hilarity ensues, etc. Customer reviews are up and down on this one, but chances are it will make a fun listen. Like I won’t have to hang on every word.

Finally, the third book is the one I’m most excited about. A short while ago Merritt and I rented the movie “Everything is Illuminated,” and I loved it. Thought it was a great film. Turns out it was written by this kid in New York. I can call him “kid” because he’s six years younger than me. And already turning out great books. Or at least I know that “Illuminated” not only was made into a movie, but gathered acclaim from such people as John Updike, Joyce Carol Oates, Salman Rushdie, Isabel Allende and more. So I’m looking forward to hearing his new book Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, even though I understand the book itself is meant to be read with the eyes, due to interesting composition (including a flip book at the end of the print version).

I’ll let you know how it goes.

It’s been a while since I’ve been down to Chico, which is where I went to college. Still plenty of good friends down there. I’m looking forward to hanging out with my parents for an evening, and hoping the weather gets nice. So far it looks as if we’ll be enjoying 60 degree days and maybe some rain. Which could be a pain in the butt, since we’re going for a wedding, and the wedding’s being held outside. Reception, too.

Unlike Portland, weather is way more predictable down there. Probably a good idea to take our Oregon gear with us. Raincoats, umbrellas, sweaters. bummer.

Ten years ago today I was looking forward to graduation from Chico State and moving to Portland. Yes, as of about August, it’ll be ten years in this dear city, my adopted hometown. Five more years and it will eclipse Arcata as my true home. I consider the place I’ve been the longest to be “where I’m from.”

So it’s been about nine years since I first stepped foot in Nicholas Restaurant, by far one of the best holes in the wall in our fair city. Arguably it’s one of the best restaurants, especially for those of us who want little to do with fancypants gourmet places–with their pricey decor and trendy nature. Even the best chefs in town kick back to good old simple food–be it taco cart fare or snappy hot dogs or perfect pizza.

I make it a point to eat at Nicholas at least once a year, partially out of an intense instinct to eat food that somehow transcends nutrition, delivering dashes of nirvana by way of a magical lentil soup. The food somehow remains consistent in spite of decades of employee turnover and unwavering popularity. I suppose the small room helps. It’s a delight knowing I can return to the same euphoric dining experience time and time again. Mind you, nothing’s ever perfect. Sometimes a recipe will waver here or there. And the “dirt pizza” has shrunk over the years. But generally things have remained the same. The price has never jumped much, that I’ve noticed, and the quality’s been consistent.

I only wish I could say the same of the Delta, a longtime favorite on SE Woodstock and 46th.

Long, long ago, when the Delta was a one-room storefront cafe with a tiny kitchen and a barbeque out the side door, the food was plentiful and reasonably priced, as well as perfectly-cooked and delicious. It had been a few years since my last visit when Merritt and I dropped in for a visit a few weeks back. We were looking for inspiration in cooking southern style sides for our friends’ wedding. What we found was inspiring all right. We felt inspired to cook much better food than they did at what used to be Portland’s premier southern food outlet. I don’t know if the place changed hands recently or if the expansion and consistent crowd allowed the old owners to do some laurel-resting, but things have really changed for the worse.

I had the fried chicken. It was overcooked and the flavor was unimpressive. The mashed potatoes had a consistency similar to the accompanying gravy, and after a few bites it all melded into a liquid mess. Those two things alone made the experience a foul one. But there were still more things to try and observe! Merritt’s mac and cheese was bland and runny. Her pulled pork was okay, though. I can’t quite remember everything we had. I think the cauliflower casserole was fine. But ultimately it was a bland experience.

The prices have gone up noticeably, while portion sizes have gone down. And corn bread is no longer free. Cheap, but not free.

It’s the little things, you know, that can set you off. But I knew beforehand of the price changes and new cornbread policy. It was really the quality of food that let me down.

Portland has a plethora of southern food places these days. There’s just no excuse for raising prices and dropping the quality.

I don’t think I’ll bother going back there again, barring the usual social gathering for a friend’s birthday or something. Bit of a bummer.

But we’ll always have Nicholas.

Now this is sweet! I might have to take some time to figure this one out. I’ve wanted some kind of lap steel or pedal steel for a while. Good times. Do they make lap banjos?

Make Your Own Lap Steel Guitar

Merritt and I were driving home from Mt. Hood Meadows yesterday… It was a great day. Sunny in the morning, nice and clear on the mountain. Not many people up there. I guess the nice weather has changed peoples’ recreation modes. Understandable. Until we were actually out of the parking lot and going up the chairlift, I didn’t think there would be any snow left. We got in six runs before the place started shutting down for the day. It was a pretty good day. Definitely more than I’d ever done in the past. Not bad for my fourth day snowboarding. Although a few steep starts freaked me out. I found it best to talk myself into it. Actually, the conversations with myself were really pretty hilarious, and included being my own ipod here and there.

Anyway, we left the parking lot as the rain started coming down. Merritt asked if I wanted to stop at the Government Camp gas station for a hot dog. I did, of course, but she talked me out of in in lieu of a Dairy Queen in Zigzag. But then lightning struck. Lightning in the form of a GZA “song” (really, what do you call it when it’s rap. songs are sung, right? Piece?). So a GZA rap piece mentioned Chinese Food, and it struck Merritt’s fancy in a big way. So we started looking for roadside Chinese restaurants, secretly knowing that we wouldn’t find one until we got to Sandy.

I guess we missed seeing Wong’s King in Sandy, because it was on our way through town (maybe it was closed for Easter. But what kinda Chinese restaurant closes on Easter? guh!), but maybe we just missed it because it wasn’t painted canary yellow, like the beloved Double Dragon Chinese Restaurant.

Merritt and I opted for the special they’d posted on the lobby whiteboard.

Let’s see if I can remember what it entailed. Egg Drop soup, Fried Shrimp, Crab Puffs, Barbeque Pork, Sweet and Sour Pork, Happy Family (shrimp, chicken, and bbq pork strir fried with mixed vegetables–nice and gingery), and I think that was it. But we added a “small” order egg roll to it. We wouldn’t need it. Each dish was a mound of delicious food. Yes, it was “American Chinese food,” but spicier than usual, and very tasty. Even the fried rice, often bland in other places, seemed really well done. I was surprised. We entered the place with standard low expectations and left promising to return. Sister Double Awesomeness!

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