Today, being a Sunday, we

Today, being a Sunday, we had Everett and Jones barbecue, which is one of the great joys of living in Oakland. Tomorrow is back to fish, and, as I promised, salt cod. I think I will prepare it with ceci and tomatoes, but I am not sure which way I am going to go, herb-wise. I will post the recipe and reflections on it later in the week.

Today we went to the

Today we went to the Latin Novus Ordo mass at St. Margaret Mary's in Oakland. Usually we go to the solemn sung mass at the National Shrine of St. Francis of Assisi in San Francisco, which is about 70% Latin (sung polyphony in Latin for the Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, Agnus Dei, as well as motets, with a chanted Credo). While I prefer the amazing singing of the St. Francis Scola Cantorum, I do prefer Latin for the Eucharistic prayer, the Pater Noster, etc. The main reason for that preference is that Latin is reserved for Sacred use. When a car cuts me off, in a moment of weakness, I may yell mean things at the other driver, but always in the vernacular, when I buy a pound of lamb at the butcher, it is in the vernacular, when I post semi-coherent rantings on my blog, it is in the vernacular. Latin is kept for the realm of the Sacred (or at the very least, for reading classical poetry, but my Latin is rusty enough that I generally read that in translation). Anyway, I will continue to go to the National Shrine, but I will also continue to pester the priests for more Latin.

The thing about the Novus Ordo (actually I prefer to call it the Mass of Paul VI), is that it is a wonderfully reverent and worthy liturgy, particularly when done properly, following the directives of the Second Vatican Council, with plenty of Latin, Gregorian chant, and polyphony. On those occasions when I have to participate in a guitar/piano mass, or an irreverent mass, or a sloppy mass, I understand the folks who think that the reforms of the council were a disaster. But when I go to a mass like the one today, or the ones at St. Francis, I am always struck by the beauty of the Pauline missal.

As a corrective for the

As a corrective for the last recipe, which is time consuming and ingredient heavy, I will offer what we did tonight. I come from a family that makes stuffed pastas for all sorts of special occasions. My mother's ravioli are legendary, as are those of several cousins. As a result, I am picky about ravioli. I have found a couple of local brands of pre-made ravioli that are quite good (the best are the ones from the Market Hall Pasta Shop). Tonight we tried the Trader Joe's walnut and gorgonzola tortellini. They are quite good, and can be served up in a good sauce rather quickly (you can actually start this sauce after you put on the water to boil). Dice a small shallot. Fry it in olive oil and deglaze with nocino (Italian walnut liquer, I make my own, but it is possible to find a commercial version that is ok, otherwise use a good grappa). Add cream, reggiano parmeggiana (no substitutions!), fresh cracked pepper, and freshly grated nutmeg. I didn't do this, but should have added half a Turkish bay leaf. When the pasta is two minutes from done (remember to salt your water first), add it to the sauce, along with some of the cooking water. Toss, so the sauce covers it. Finish cooking in the sauce. Top with chopped Italian parsley and serve with a fairly full-bodied red wine and chilled sparkling mineral water. Grilled asparagus would be the perfect side dish. Remember to say Grace, don't want to be an ingrate!

I asked my friend who

I asked my friend who has a severe aversion to Blogs if he had seen this one yet. His response:

"You know those old maps that had the sea beyond, say, Iceland, labeled [with a pirate's voice] 'here be dragons?'"

Hmmph.

Hmmm. Baseball without hotdogs. I

Hmmm. Baseball without hotdogs. I am not sure this was meant to be, but at least today's game is in San Francisco where there is Sushi at the ballpark! Go A's/Giants!

I promised that I would

I promised that I would link to some of the reviews I have written that are available online. If you have ever bolted upright at 3 in the morning and asked yourself, "gee, Portugal had a huge empire, I wonder what impact Portuguese music has had on the music cultures of the former empire," then the 12 CD box set put out by Tradisom is for you. An excellent box set, and you can read what I had to say about it on Rootsworld here. Eventually I will have a more permanent archive of my writings, but for now, this gives you something to do. There are ample samples on the review, so you can listen to some great music as you read. Enjoy!

FRIDAY SERMON! I am not

FRIDAY SERMON!

I am not sure what sort of an indulgence is granted for reading this through, but let's hope it is a big one!

Well, it is that time again.

I had mentioned to several of you that I was going to rant about technology, particularly in light of the experience that I had with making a CD this week. But that will have to wait. It is a good topic, but one that needs more time, as plenty has been said on it, and to really explore new and interesting facets of it, I will need to do a little homework.

Instead I think I am going to take some shots at a sacred cow. Hopefully we will be having sacred cow burger on Sunday (which makes me think of the fairly recent stink of the Hindoos complaining that the fries at McDonalds had trace amounts of beef flavoring in them. One earnest young fellow, who was suing, said with a straight face, "I was horrified. It was like eating my mother!" I might have my disagreements with my mother, but that is beyond the pale. A cow! Also, what sort of twisted jerk goes to a hamburger joint if he thinks eating beef is akin to eating Mom? Oh, it is OK that this place serves Roast Mommy sandwiches, but I will stick with the French fries. And I thought Western moral relativists were bad).

Some of you have heard me rant on this one before. Some of you have ranted on it even more vociferously than I have. The sacred cow that I am going to attack with a heavy, blunt instrument is the notion that children's art should be publicly displayed. Now, I am the proud father of a genius abstract expressionist. Her control of the ballpoint pen is amazing, especially when it is on paper and not on her face, my passport, the walls, etc. She has a grasp of composition and line that is, well, breathtaking. Furthermore, like her father, she works with both her left and right hand, rapidly switching the pen around to fit into tight spaces and make that line MOVE. Recently she has done brilliant work with tempera on paper, sort of Motherwellian, with a hint of Franz Kline.

But, for now, the proper venue for her output is the refrigerator. I would maybe have her do work in a more durable medium, but then it would go on a shelf...at Nonna's house (grandparents, you see, seem to have even greater limits for tolerating this stuff, I mean, appreciating high quality). It is the perfect audience. Her family loves to see the progress she has made, thinks that every scrawl she makes is a portent of greatness to come, and expects her to take up the brush and join her father's atelier. That is the level of criticism that is appropriate for an artist of her age: "Brilliant! Amália, you are the greatest artist since Diebenkorn! Wow. This one goes right on the refrigerator!" Maybe at the age of 10 she will figure out that if Babbo did, indeed, purchase a Diebenkorn, it would not go on the refrigerator, but at that age, she will hopefully understand (unlike her Babbo who used to semi-regularly send drawings to SFMOMA when he was that age).

However, art which is publicly displayed must be subjected to stronger criticism. This stronger criticism is just not appropriate to give a 10 year old: "well, considering the poor level of draftsmanship, it is amazing that little Throckmorton was able to get his message across at all. Of course with a message as heavy-handed and simplistic as 'don't hit your playmate with the Tonka truck or he will bite you' that should not be too surprising. As for a sense of color, will someone see this kid tested for colorblindness? And composition? Is this kid drunk? This crap is not worthy of lining a birdcage."

Now, I have no problem with the occasional show of children's art in the side gallery of a museum, as long as it is clearly labeled as such, and I can stay away. And, in fairness to our museums, this is usually how it is done (although with current trends in museum administration, it won't be long before this stuff is integrated into the permanent collection: well, we have a Picasso, a Matisse, and a little Throckmorton, which is really a fine piece, look at the shocking colors and the deliberate sense of disbalance, a veritable simulacra of society's implicit racism).

Where schoolchildren's art is most often forced on the public is in public artworks. Long the refuge of simple-minded idealists, public art is now full of the most banal pieces imaginable. Not only is children's art smiled upon, but it is further hampered by the "democratic" urge to have pieces that are roughly the same in quality. So we get thousands of tile mosaics in which each tile is a hand print of a child, somehow decorated so that the child can express himself. The result is that the untalented kid's and the talented kid's pieces are virtually indistinguishable, thus defeating an important reason for displaying children's art: allowing the parents to see how far the child has come in his artistic career.

Now, since it is children's art, it is shielded from criticism. Like I said, no one but a real meanie is going to come out and say, "this is crap." By being shielded from criticism, the work is thus rendered irrelevant to the conversation of ideas, thus taking it out of the realm of art, as art is understood in the West. If we are slightly paranoid, we would also point out that by creating a public work that is protected from criticism, we are taking the first step towards totalitarianism. I would make this point, except that it is pretty much common knowledge that it will be illegal to criticize the regime under the Keilholtz dictatorship, so it would be hypocritical of me.

So here we have an effort that is pedestrian, ugly, does not fulfill the criteria for children's art, is not even art in the sense that it is understood in the West, and is an early symptom of totalitarianism. If we look at some of the parent-teacher imposed politics that make their way into this garbage, it gets even scarier.

Now, if I were really going to rant, I would start attacking all of the hideous sculptures made from melted down handguns, but then we wouldn't get out of here until late, and I bet you are anxious for the music to start (it is Cajun today).

Next week I will talk about children singing on records. Names will be named (including some who I otherwise respect and admire). It could get ugly. Bring earplugs.

Now, could you please pass the calamari?

Baseball tomorrow! It is just

Baseball tomorrow! It is just an exhibition game, but it is professional Major League baseball. Unfortunately games between the A's and the Giants are often less than exciting, and I really do have torn loyalties (although, when push comes to shove, it's the Giants that I will root for every time). April certainly would be the cruellest month if it were not for baseball and bullfights (four and a half weeks from Madera), not to mention Easter. Today is perfect baseball weather and tomorrow should be good as well. We are going to PacBell Park, which is the prettiest ball park around.

San Fermin. This year, in

San Fermin.

This year, in addition to my big San Fermin barbecue, I am going to post tidbits about the Saint's life on the blog. The problem is, there is not a lot of material on him. So, this is my call for material. Anything you know on the Saint would be appreciated. Email me at EKeilholtz [symbol for the preposition that begins with the letter "a" and is not "according to"] aol [period] com. Muchas gracias!

POETRY THURSDAY!!!!! I have a

POETRY THURSDAY!!!!!

I have a thing for French Symbolist art, poetry and music. I can't help it. Sometimes I even see Diebenkorn as a cryptosymbolist (Ocean Park series, maybe Bay Area Figurative Movement works, certainly nothing earlier). Sometimes I project this on Hopper. Musically, I have been known to stretch it and argue for a Symbolist interpretation of Lou Harrison, but unfortunately most of my music geek friends don't give a fig about Symbolism. Too bad. Their loss, etc.

So, here is the poem for the week. I will put it in French and English. It is by Stephane Mallarme (for some reason I cannot get the accent marks to work in the Blogosphere on this computer, sorry). In light of this being Lent, I figured that one with overt religious imagery would be good. The translation I am using is Hubert Creekmore's.

Sainte

Ala fenetre recelant
Le santal vieux qui se dedore
De sa viole etincelant
Jadis avec flute ou mandore,

Est la Sainte pale etalant
Le livre vieux qui se deplie
Du Magnificat ruisselant
Jadis selon vepre et complie:

A ce vitrage d'ostensoir
Que frole une harpe par l'Ange
Formee avec son vol du soir
Pour la delicate phalange

Du doigt que, sans le vieux santal
Ni le vieux livre, elle balance
Sur le plumage instrumental,
Musicienne du silence.

WOW! There is a whole lot to talk about in this poem. I hope that you non-French speakers will at least go back to the French after reading the translation, and will look at the structure, since French Symbolist poetry is heavily dependent on structural matters.

Saint

At the window ledge concealing
The ancient sandalwod gold-flaking
Of her viol dimly twinkling
Long ago with flute or manore,

Stands the pallid Saint displaying
The ancient missal page unfolding
At the Magnificat outpouring
Long ago for vesper and compline:

At that monstrance glazing lightly
Brushed now by a harp the Angel
Fashioned in his evening flight
Just for the delicate finger

Tip which, lacking the ancient missal
Or ancient sandalwood, she poises
On the instrumental plumage,
Musician of silence.

I have some quarrels with the translation, but for the most part it does the trick. The book it is from is Stephane Mallarme, Selected Poetry and Prose, New Directions Books, New York, 1982.

Ah, yes, speaking of tomorrow,

Ah, yes, speaking of tomorrow, come back for Erik's Friday Afternoon Sermon. It is a little something I have borrowed from the Muslims. They have Friday Afternoon Sermons, I have Friday Afternoon Martinis. Since we really should not consume martinis on Fridays during Lent (or indeed any day during Lent, other than Sundays and Solemnities), I have decided to impose a penance on my readers (and the poor innocents on my email list), and subject you all to.... Friday Afternoon Sermons! After Lent, I might combine the best of the Catholic world with the best of the Muslim world and offer Friday Afternoon Sermons after having my Friday Afternoon Martinis. Boy, G.K. Chesterton watch out!

Lenten food. I should explain

Lenten food.

I should explain the meatless dishes. I am normally a huge fan of meat, particularly pork, but have been offering meatless dishes in keeping with Lent. I am not going to offer dishes that conform to Eastern Great Lent, because I figure that if you want a penitential fast that severe (no meat, fish, dairy, oil), then you probably only want it to be palatable, not tasty, so you boil whatever you're cooking with some lemon juice and salt. No need for a recipe there.

I think next week will be salt cod week. I will offer some recipes, and, I hope, others will contribute some recipes.

I will try to suggest music to go with dinner, too. Expect a lot of a capella polyphony from Genovese longshoremen to go with salt cod! [Boy, glad we are not eating at Keilholtz's next week. Poor Melanie!]

For Melanzane Parmeggiana, let me think. I might have to report back tomorrow.

Poetry will happen later, as

Poetry will happen later, as I am not sure what to post. I have a couple of contenders. As for a recipe, I offer my eggplant parmesan recipe, because I am frequently astounded at how many people louse up this wonderful dish. I made it for the family last Saturday, and was reminded how pleasing it is to have a plate of rich, flavorful eggplant, fried in olive oil, sauced and baked with two kinds of cheese.

Melanzane parmeggiana is not a quick dish. It is not difficult, requiring no special skills (no eggwhites to be whipped by hand and folded into pastry cream, for instance), but it takes time and patience. It is one of those dishes that can be assembled a couple of days in advance, though.

A brief note on eggplant. A member of the nightshade family (related to tomatoes and potatoes), the eggplant’s foliage is toxic, while the fruit is completely edible. Because nightshade poisoning cuases pain, fever, and madness, the Romans called the plant the mal insana, hence the Italian name melanzane. The French term, aubergine, comes from the Arabic. The peculiar term "eggplant" comes from the resemblance of the white skinned variety to a goose egg. In England you may encounter the term Aubergine. I have not encountered it in person, but I have in literature, so it could have been a literary affectation, or an archaism. I hear that the English have even learned how to cook eggplant these days.

One of the unfortunate characteristics of the eggplant is that as the fruit ages, it gets bitter. I think that when people say, "I don’t like eggplant" they have had a bitter, old eggplant. There is a cure for this bitterness, though. When the eggplant is sliced, sprinkle salt on the cut sides, and allow it to sit for at least 20 minutes. Then, when you are ready to use it, wipe the moisture off with paper towels. The slices will then be seasoned and will not be bitter. For this recipe, you will want to make the slices very thin (use a deli-slicer, if you have one). This is actually one of the secrets to a good melanzane parmeggiana, one I learned from eating it at Trattoria Mama Tina in San Francisco (which has been gone for years): the thinner the slices the better.

[For other eggplant recipes you can simply slice the eggplant lengthwise, score the cut sides, and sprinkle with salt. You will have to wait 40 minutes, but it should work just as well as on slices]

The sauce is important, as it must be a little more acidic than a usual red sauce. I am offering this meatless version, but three ounces of finely chopped pancetta are a great addition. It is optional, however.

A good sauce begins with carrot, celery and either onion or shallot. Start by finely dicing a large carrot, a large stalk of celery and a medium onion (or the equivalent amount of shallot). Put a scant handful of dried porcini mushrooms in a bowl and cover with boiling water. In a (preferably cast iron) sauté pan, heat up two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil over medium-low heat. If you are using pancetta, add it now and gently fry. Add the onion, fry for a minute or two and add the celery and carrot. Fry until highly aromatic (anyone even vaguely approaching your kitchen should get hungry). Add a pinch of fresh, finely chopped thyme leaves, a can of crushed tomatoes (I actually prefer Pomí in the cardboard cartons from Italy. When I worked in a food lab, we did a taste test with many different brands and Pomí was our first choice, hands down. If you cannot get Pomí, try 6 in 1 from Escalon, California, or Trader Joe’s crushed tomatoes), a bay leaf, a cup of strong, dry red wine (you can let your taste direct you. I typically use inexpensive but good wines, like a Vestini Montepulciano d’Abruzzo. They can be fruity or not, but should not be too heavy on the tannins, although you can correct for that), and the strained juice from the mushrooms (reserve the mushrooms, rinse them, chop them, and add them in, too). Let the sauce simmer, adding water or wine to keep it moist. As it gets close to assembly time, add sea salt, fresh cracked pepper, and a dash of balsamic vinegar. Taste. It should be fairly tart, but not so tart that it hurts!

Wipe the extracted moisture from the eggplant slices, and fry in extra virgin olive oil (you can thin with some peanut oil if you are trying to cut costs). You should not have so many that they cannot be in one single layer with some maneuvering room around them. Make sure that the oil stays hot, but does not smoke. Add oil as needed (eggplant soak it up). Do not let the slices burn, but they should turn golden brown with brown spots. Remove them from the oil, and let them drain on paper towels.

When the slices of eggplant are fried, you are ready for assembly. First, put a light coating of sauce at the bottom of your baking dish. Then put down a layer of eggplant slices. Put a thin layer of sauce over that, followed by a layer of freshly grated WHOLE MILK mozzarella. That skim-milk stuff will not do! Then put a layer of freshly grated Reggiano Parmesan (accept no substitutions – it MUST be the real thing from Italy. Romano will not do. If you have to cut costs use Argentinean Reggianito, but it is better that you skip on something else and use the real KING OF ALL CHEESES). Crack some pepper over it, and grace it with another thin layer of sauce. Continue, building layers in this way until you are out of eggplant. Make sure that the top layer is cheese! Put the dish in a preheated 375 degree oven and bake for about 20 minutes, or until the cheese is bubbly and browning.

Serve with a mixed green salad (or just radicchio, arugula, and dandelion greens), lightly dressed, a sweet French baguette (in the Bay Area ACME is the way to go), red wine (cabernet if it is cold outside, a lighter Tuscan red if it is warm), and San Pelligrino sparkling mineral water. Remember to say Grace, because God is very merciful to allow us to eat Italian food, unworthy though we may be! We don’t want to be ingrates.

For music recommendations to go with this meal, well, I will post those later.

I do not want to

I do not want to be one of those bloggers who extensively posts links to other blogs. So, do not expect me to digest the blogosphere for you. I will however, once in a while, point out other bloggers who have said things in a way that I really like, or have said things that are provocative. I will also point it out when I am stealing an idea from a fellow blogger. Beltway writer Eve Tushnet has poetry Wednesdays. I think this is a swell idea, but I do not have a poem to give you today. So come here for poetry Thursdays! Tomorrow I will dig up something to share. Probably Pound, maybe Mallarme, perhaps Kerouac. We shall see.

And, the blog has yet to experience the Keilholtz Friday Afternoon Sermons! So far I have been tormenting my friends with them via private email. This week, the world in general will get the experience. Boys, you ain't seen Shock and Awe until you have sat through one of these doozies! I will also pick a day to post record reviews. Not sure when. I will post the one that is scheduled to appear in the newspapers Friday a few days after publication. So go out and buy a newspaper! Get the scoop early.

Also, I think Wednesday will be recipe of the week day. I am not sure what I will post for today, but I will come up with something. It might be tomorrow before it gets posted, though.

Meanwhile, comment boxes are fun! Use them! Write often! Argue with me and with each other! Exclamation points are beautiful things!

At some point I will

At some point I will have a list of recommended links and fellow traveller blogs on the side, like all of the other bloggers out there. At around that same point I will throw my hat in the "St. Blog Parish" and announce the existence of this blog to everyone in the loosely disorganized group of Catholic Blogs out there. I have hesitated, because I tend to add things to this hastily, late at night or at lunch, in between haranguing my friends with emails. But joining St. Blog's means, of course, coming under the crosshairs of Nihil Obstat, the anal retentive anonymous proofreader of St. Blog's Parish. So, before I throw my hat in, I better go through this blog with a fine tooth comb.

Meanwhile, I would like to call your attention to a website that comes and goes, depending on the mood and finances of its editor, Traditional Catholic Reflections and Reports. Mr. Hand, the editor, comes from basically the same point of view that I do, although I have disagreed with him on the rare point or two. I respect his dedication, and have found him rather enjoyable. He has had some unfortunate and public spats with Rod Dreher, who I also respect tremendously, and I hope that, in the long run, the two see that they are mostly on the same side. So, please take a look at Mr. Hand's site, and if you like it and can afford it, drop him a donation.

I am not a blegger, and do this entirely to stoke my own tremendous ego and to build an army of yes-men bent on doing my will when I decide to take over the world, so I do not ask for a handout (other than the occasional martini and conversation, but after Lent, oh, and the blind and complete obedience to my agenda, starting, well, now). However, some of these web publishers provide a tremendous service and could use a donation. This site is one of them.

The other is one that I write for, Rootsworld.com. Now, I do not get paid for writing here, just the occasional free CD (and considering how long it takes me to post my rather verbose reviews to Cliff, I am grateful for his patience), so I am urging you to subscribe to this online magazine solely because I believe in it. It is an amazing resource for music (both the Rootsworld side as well as the Hollow Ear side), and needs support. Cliff works tremendously hard on this project and does a great job. At least take a look at it. Later I might post links to reviews I have written on there.

Speaking of writing, I need to finish a review for my paid reviewing gig, and I have used up a lot of my lunch time writing here (and the lengthy rant that will be emailed to my friends later, and probably edited for blog consumption tonight - lucky you!). So, until next time, check out Traditional Catholic Reports and Reflections, check out Rootsworld, and help my poor father untangle Outlook (anyone who does that can come by my house for a cocktail of your choice, as it saves me having to figure it out!).

If anyone is fluent in

If anyone is fluent in Outlook and has a lot of patience and time, my father could use some help in sorting out his contacts file. I am stumped. He is stumped. Email him at swedgewood [character for at] aol [period] com.

TOIROS! The bullfight season is

TOIROS!

The bullfight season is upon us, and I am itching for some hot evenings with linguiça, cerveja and toiros! The season will start with a mano-a-mano in Madera, between Joseph Correia (of California, who took his alternativa in Madera last year) and Vitor Ribeiro of Portugal. Personally, I expect Joe to outperform Ribeiro, but you never know. If any of you, dear readers, would care to come to this season opener, please let me know. We may have to take multiple cars, but if you go to only one bullfight this summer, this is a good one.

Another option for the "only one bullfight in the year" category is Pico dos Padres. There is one in particular that I am looking forward to, with Correia, Eddie Costa and Cesar Castañeda from Tijuana, a matador I particularly admire, even though I have seen him fail miserably (but that is the way it goes in bullfighting). There is a lot of nastiness directed towards Castañeda, as can be expected towards a Mexican matador from Baja California (oh the horror - not from Spain, not even from Ciudad de Mexico!) and given his former career as a television actor. However, he understands bulls, is graceful, demonstrates good form, and is willing to work a bull even in a small, remote bullring in California, constrained by loopy laws, and surrounded by drunken Portuguese farmers who do not care about matadores. Furthermore, he is bravely sharing the cartel with two popular local horsemen, so basically he is facing a crowd that will be heading out of their seats to get beer, dance, eat, and talk while he is risking his neck to give a decent performance. I have seen Castañeda on both sides of the border, and have enjoyed him on many occasions. He did, however, have a bad year, and was miserable in Pico dos Padres a couple of years ago, but hopefully that is all past. My biggest worry is that he will give up on the California audience and just walk through the paces, like the no good Gonsalves (I am drawing a blank on the man's first name).

Don't get me wrong. Cesar Castañeda is no Joselito, but his is a valid torero, and should add considerably to the Pico dos Padres cartel. Also, the little ring in the hills is probably the most enjoyable bullring in the state. You will definitely need a guide if you have not been there yet, so let me know if you are interested. My goal is to go to every one of the corridas this temporada, but I know that it will not happen, as I will probably miss Laton and Tulare and Artesia and all the other ones that are really far away.

The other day my coworker

The other day my coworker and I were discussing coffee, and we both agreed that Pete's has been slipping. Is it just us? Please comment. If it is a general trend, this is sad news, as Pete's has long been a pillar of the Berkeley Gourmet Ghetto.

Also, expect a rant later

Also, expect a rant later in the week on the Spirituality of the Banal. Complete with reflections on the middlebrow PBS set, quotations from Karlheinz Stockhausen, denunciations of pop art, this rant will set all records for something or other. The topics for this rant have been brewing for awhile, but they were set off by something I heard on PRI today. Selected keyphrases will be "ersatz sacramentality", "a dull and simplistic spirituality for materialists", and "what passes for metaphysical curiosity for those whose minds have been taken over by television and pop culture." Stay tooooooned!

Expect a rant sometime later

Expect a rant sometime later on that idiot Michael Moore. Perhaps he will even show up in a Friday sermon. If there ever was a more overrated public figure, I have yet to encounter it. Well, Cornel West is certainly a contender.

I just finished a review

I just finished a review of Joao Afonso's Zanzibar, which I have submitted to Rootsworld. If Cliff decides to run it, I will let you know the URL, if he passes, I will post it here.

OK, So I have read

OK, So I have read in the comments box a demand for recipes, and at lunch today I was accosted by two readers who wanted recipes, so here you go:

The other day I made a pasta, and I will tell you what was in it.

I started by preparing a bunch of asparagus (peeled the bottom part, par-boiled in salted water, trimmed to bite size pieces).

Then I put on my pasta water.

Then I sauteed first a diced shallot, then the asparagus in butter and olive oil.

Then I added a pound and a half of wonderful smoked salmon (I got this stuff at Galvan's in San Leandro - I will wax poetic on this amazing butcher and deli some other time) and about 2/3 cup of fruity dry white wine.

At this point the pasta water was boiling, so I added salt and a pound of penne (I have been smitten by this stuff from my family's village in the hills above Pisa - you can find it at Trader Joe's. It is extruded through bronze and has an artisanal feel to it).

After the wine reduced, I added fleur de sel and cream. I let this simmer until the pasta was a little firmer than al dente, then put the pasta, fairly wet, into the sauce to continue cooking. When the pasta was cooked to al dente, I added fresh cracked pepper and served with a chilled Bonny Doon Vin Gris de Cigare. Yummmy!

One of the great things

One of the great things about being in the music industry is getting records before they are released to the general public. Being both a record label person as well as a reviewer means that there are usually multiple ways to get a hold of something early. Right now, I am listening to Argentinian bandoneon player Dino Saluzzi's latest, Responsorium (it will appear in stores (we call it "streeting") Tuesday). Dino Saluzzi has been one of my all-time favorite musicians for years, ever since I had to stop my car to listen to Mojotoro when it came on KXJZ. I had only recently been exposed to Astor Piazzola, and was definitely ripe for Saluzzi. Responsorium (which will probably be reviewed in next week's newspaper (if you live in the Bay Area and subscribe to the right newspaper, hee hee hee)) features Saluzzi, bassist Palle Danielsson and guitarist José Maria Saluzzi. Intimate, dramatic, mysterious, haunting, all of these adjectives describe this music (and all of Saluzzi's stuff) accurately. I will post a more detailed review later, unless Cliff runs it in Rootsworld. Since I owe Cliff a couple of other reviews, giving him the option is the decent thing to do. At the very least I will post a link to wherever it is, and will certainly post the capsule review that will appear in the newspapers.

What do you think of

What do you think of the new layout? Ann has done a great job, and has promised to keep tinkering, in spite of the fact that she is doing it for free and gets nothing but my free criticism and grumbling in return! The amazing thing is that she picked the graphic, not realizing that I am a huge fan of Enrique Ponce. Olé! If you like what she is doing here, you ought to consider hiring her for your own website. Ann is good at this stuff.

The question was posed to

The question was posed to me: Under the Keilholtz dictatorship, what would have happened to the protesters trying to block the Bay Bridge?
Answer: Well, there wouldn't have been any protesters last night, as they would still all be in prison.

I will probably rant about the protesters later, but felt the need for the official position to be posted right now. It was pointed out at work that the protesters made more interesting television than the long line of Bradley Combat Vehicles inching through the desert.

The best live television moment was when poor Peter Jennings, who looked like he was going to drop off into slumber before our eyes, identified his guest as "the son of his father." His own realization of this utterance threw him into such a confusion he forgot the next question. Not that I would have done better on the amount of sleep the poor fellow is undoubtedly operating on.

First, thanks are due to

First, thanks are due to Ann, who is helping make this blog work and look better. You must understand that I am not good at all of this html business. I have limited time, and decided that learning it would take up too much. I will probably go back to learning a little more, but I have no plans at becoming an expert on it. So, Ann is helping out, because she is good at this stuff.

Second, I promised St. Joseph's material, but forgot to post it. There are some great sites out there with information on St. Joseph's altars and such, but one I think is really good is this one: http://www.erc.msstate.edu/~achupa/StJo/sj_stand.html. I will not be eating fruit fritters tonight, in spite of the fact that it is a family tradition for many generations, but we will probably have some this weekend.

Third, I mentioned bullfighting yesterday, and I still am going to begin some posts on it, but I am not sure when. I tend to wait 48 hours after hearing a bullfighting rumor before I believe it, as often it turns out to be false, especially when it is going around in the winter, when aficionados are apt to turn to rumors, out of boredom. There are a couple that might turn out to be true, but I want to sit on them before I spread them. So, please bear with me.

Tomorrow is the Feast of

Tomorrow is the Feast of St. Joseph. I will post on that later.

We should discuss bullfighting a

We should discuss bullfighting a bit later this week, as it is getting close to the start of the temporada. I am expecting some good work from the two California cavaleiros this year. There are rumors that one of the California families has purchases a horse from Pablo Hermoso de Mendoza, but that sounds like a winter rumor, so I am skeptical.

Also interesting will be what happens in Tijuana. It has been a couple of bad years for the management there. Hopefully this year will turn out better

Was it war or was

Was it war or was it too much corned beef and cabbage?

I have to admit that there is a part of me that is a little apprehensive about the effects of the war on the homefront. I live in a major metropolitan area, so the likelihood of our being attacked is higher than if we lived in, say, Eli, Minnesota. But, since I would not be able to last a winter in Minnesota, nor a week in just about any small town, we stay in the Bay Area, and we go on about our business. Once in awhile traffic will be particularly bad on the Bay Bridge, and that does trigger an uh-oh feeling, but beyond that one really can’t worry all the time.

Last night, though, I did not sleep well. I wasn’t lying awake, tossing fitfully, but I don’t think I slept for more than an hour and a half in any session. I kept waking up, mostly because of my dreams. To be more precise, it had to do with who was in my dreams.

For some reason I was supposed to be analyzing a poem. I don’t remember much about the poem, but I seem to remember a resemblance to Pound in its style, and it was a challenge explaining certain passages. So far, so good. I like to read poetry, I like to think about poetry, I like to discuss poetry. Nothing is unusual so far.

Where it starts getting ugly is that Pat Buchanan entered. He was interrupting me, telling me what the poem meant. It was about stopping the Mexicans, it was about "jobs, dammit!" He was really belligerent. Someone else said to me, "well, after all Buchanan did write the poem." I was shocked that this person would think that Buchanan wrote this poem. Well someone else, in a way that is a mystery at this point, proved that Buchanan did indeed write the poem. Now I had to confront the fact that maybe, indeed, this was about stopping the Mexicans and jobs. But that wouldn’t do. Obviously Buchanan was receiving Heavenly dictation, and did not even understand the words.

"Well, so you did write the poem, but that doesn’t mean you know anything about it," I told him, mentioning Sartre for some reason (I don’t know which is worse, having to speak to Buchanan or the notion of me quoting Sartre – whatever I would have found relevant from Sartre is beyond me). Anyway, this went on all night.

Bolt upright. Look at the clock. 1:40. Don’t have to get up for another four hours and twenty minutes. Flop back onto pillow. Here comes Pat. Stop Mexicans. About Jobs. No. Sartre. Bolt upright. Look at the clock. 3:12. Repeat.

I have never met Pat Buchanan in real life, but he is as unpleasant in dreams as he is in print and on television. Hell of a poet, though.

Test. Sorry for the repeated

Test. Sorry for the repeated tests, but I am just learning this stuff. When I get it, this will be a lot smoother. I tried to post something last week, but it did not take. We'll see if I have better luck this time!