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This one that doesn't mention spirits of any kind!
There's a new Japanese Steak House on Ninth Street, we go to check it out. I like Japanese food immensely, sushi, sashimi, all the raw stuff, and go for ramen, the noodle soups. A steak house should be worth a try. After shedding our shoes at the door, we enter a barn-like, wood beamed structure, a feudal hall. It's lined with polished dark wooden tables a foot off the floor, in pits so our feet hang down. Neat, hides the hole in my sock.
An electric grill in the center of our table starts to glow as we order steak and seafood ... a half a pound skirt steak, half a pound flank, sliced very thin. The meat shows up marinating in a sweet teriyaki sauce. oh dear. Wonder if I could have ordered it without the sauce. Sometimes that's a bit off putting with Japanese dishes, sugar everywhere. Why?
Still, it's an experience. Deftly transfer meat to the grill using chopsticks, char one side, turn to do the other, and devour the sizzling slices. There is a choice of three dipping sauces, one sesame seeds in some sort of plum sauce, a lite plum sauce, and a plum sauce. Never did use them, and there was no use asking for some hot sauce what with the teriyaki.
Seafood turned out to be a piece of salmon, in foil for steaming on the grill with just a hint of butter, a generous helping of king crab pieces split in half, some whole shrimps, and scallops, all of which takes but a couple of minutes to cook to perfection. Scallops stick to the grill, think we should have put them in with the salmon, but the crab is best, the shell turns pink, and the flesh pops right out. A few veggies are an afterthought ... a quarter-slice of corn, some green pepper and cabbage, not bad when singed. Same sauces, though.
The two Japanese students on the other side of the screen finish eating before us, from the looks of it they had much the same we did. Felt good, nice place, but gotta find out if I can get some plain slices of beef with hot sauce on the side before I'll go back.
Hot Hot Hot
World Records. Phoenix Inferno.
It was near 130°F in Death Valley this weekend when Jon Rice yet again survived his yearly one-mile run while dressed as Darth Vader ... “Darth Valley” run, get it?
“I don’t agree with anybody else doing this,” he said, “I don’t even really agree with me doing this, particularly.”
Meanwhile most of us are looking for cool. Perhap these pix from 2006 will help a little?
I really wish they would stop making a big deal out of Death Valley. The word Death should tell people a lot. Death Valley is approximately an hour's drive from my desert home town. We feel for the families of these people that choose to go into Death Valley in the 'summer', but it is stupid to go to Death Valley with no experience, especially in the summer. What few businesses that are even out there, are closed during the summer months. 120 to 130 is normal in the summer in Death Valley.
Sad to say, but when flat landers go where they have no idea, have no experience, in deserts, mountains, or even swamp/bayou, they risk death.
For them to say world records, when they know most will never do the research themselves to find out that they either don't know what they are talking about, or flat out lying.
Still too hot for me. I am definitely not going to retire anywhere down that way. At one point I thought Seattle was cool but they've been having a rough time there with storms and heat as well.
I'm happy here in New York even with the smoke from Canada and the current warmer temps.
Even though my desert hometown could get 110+ heat in the summer, here in southern Louisiana, the humidity is horrible. If I had choice, I'd take dry heat any day.
Be careful, smoke is not healthy for anyone. Maybe a good air filter in your house, with extra filters?
It's one of my favorite and simplest dishes: Turkey Thighs. They usually come in a package of two, I pick the smaller ones which are just right for one hungry person each. Usually I put them in a plastic cooking bag, shake them up with a package of dry onion soup mix and then put them in a 350F oven for an hour an a half. The meat ends up melting in your mouth. Add a big salad and some starchy stuff if needed - mashed potatoes are heaven with the juices from the bag.
What with the heat got me thinking I should try doing this stovetop instead of the oven. It worked much the same. Salt, pepper and brown the pieces on both sides in a dutch oven type pot, toss the thighs in the onion soup mix and add just enough water to cover the bottom, then cover and turn down the heat to a low simmer for an hour and a half, works just as well as in the oven.
A simple Red rounds out a satisfying dinner. try it sometime!
This reminded me of a post here: https://www.vox.com/culture/23811186/how-to-john-wilson-season-3-review
One of the many stories of The City. rings a bell. Thanks for the link.
Another City, another story:
Mid morning, I get dropped off at the hotel, sign in and change to civvies. I am determined to spend my last day in Thailand exploring Bangkok and did I ever!
Outside a gang of samlor guys all quote the same outrageous prices, all except one who undercuts them. However, that includes a side trip to the PX, he has a long shopping list? I wander off down the block to a regular taxi stand.
eeJAA, that's what it sounds like ... never could figure out how to write his name ... eeJAA sees me coming, we bond at first sight and he insists on taking me On the Town: Buddhas, shrines, temples, hidden gardens, night life, the works ...
Somewhere in there is the Snake Farm .... you've got to see this he said ... with pits of writhing snakes just like in a horror movie.
They want to take a picture of me posing in front of a backdrop. With a snake, a boa? Turns out I have to pay them for a Polaroid instead of them paying me. OK I say and am instructed to kneel just this way and hold my right hand out just that way.
Here come two men hauling a huge boa constrictor, one in front and one at the tail end. They proceed to drape a ton of snake around my shoulders.
I can't even.
The guy in front gently places the head of the snake in the palm of my hand.
Ok, got it.
They take the load off my shoulder. No sooner do they have it off me than the snake voids. You'd be amazed how much a well-fed boa produces. The two hurry off with the beast before it refuels with another tourist.
You were lucky says the photographer while looking for someone to clean the mess.
I wish I still had that Polaroid, can't find it anywhere. I think one of my exes took off with it. In any case, the below is actually a good facsimile of what it looked like. Except the snake was larger and of course I do have better looking hands.
"Hey, you're that actor! you're that jackson guy on tv aren't you?" I usually just wave and smile, hiding behind my shades. It's always a different name she comes up with.
She is very enthusiastic, habitually runs up to passing strangers, grabs their hands and compliments them on their jeans or on the dress someone is wearing. Her husband smiles as they walk hand in hand when she's in her Lolita outfit or when she glides down the center of the street fair in a simple wedding dress.
At one point I made the mistake of acknowledging that I did indeed act in a play sometime in the past. Today she comes running with her hands outstretched: "Are you working?" I wave at her and get rescued by a passing group of grade schoolers on an outing. She loves kids, her husband barely manages to restrain her from grabbing one of them.
I'm thinking pork chops tonight but at the neighborhood market another EVR, Lotta, is getting things together for her August in the Catskills as she has done for the past 20, 30 years I am sure. She has taken all the pork chops and is busy separating them into individual baggies in front of the cashier.
People try not the stare. I'm not sure about her sexuality but she's a tall lady, proper hose, sensible heels and fur even now in this heat. Something went terribly wrong with her face many years ago, I'm guessing at a botched plastic surgery, mostly hidden by hats with varying lengths of veils.
I get two split chicken breasts and pass the money over the mound of chops.
"Why don't they wrap these individually, she says, they used to! I freeze them. Perhaps this young man will help? ... Oh, he's gone already."
The young man is out the door and makes it home, safe.