Tuesday, February 26, 2013

so we could be heroes

just for one day.  or not.

I actually really hate that I have a sorta kinda like um you know . .  . "hero."  I hate that I revere another HUMAN who isn't in a career that is life endangering like a fireman, policeman, soldier or  school teacher (yes male or female in all categories) but well confession time. . . .

You have to have heard me gush about Tony.  Yes.  that tony.  Tony.  Anthony Bourdain of the No Reservations goodness.  where I met him first (met as in on TV not like I'm some crazy stalker - really, I'm not! - I swear that wasn't me!)   Instant attraction.   I read his books.  My copy of his Kitchen Confidential is dog eared and loved - very much akin to my Julie Powell's Cleaving.  Julie and Julia was only the start of her story.  It is not a book for the faint of heart.   Gritty - tough parts and tender parts and all things intestinal and hard to swallow.  A cook's journey.

Cooks, we are a funny lot.  we take feeding seriously.  and work with knives.  very very sharp knives. we have blood on our hands most days and flesh under our nails often.  we get excited about exotic ingredients we have never worked with before JUST as much as familiar but forgotten things from our past.

What we do is something so very vital to existence but also just as basic.  it could be simply filling and then forgotten because it served a need and the fuel moved the subject on to the the next activity  - as no car remembers it's last fuel station.  OR it's remembered - put down - etched into their very being = something akin to writing a sonnet because the meal was so amazing.  earthshaking.  breathtaking.  like my first bowl of pho.  I will never  EVER forget it.  and I only was brave enough to try it because of him.  Tony.  he made me try it.  dared me even.  and I'm a better NAY, more adventurous eater because of it.


you had to know there was a but coming right?  kinda riffed on the heroes thing and you knew I hadda knock this asshole off the pedestal he never would have wanted me to put him on in the first place.

I watched him in this kind of crazy Pulp Fiction version of his life on tape.  I saw No Reservations.  Read his book (and please for the love of GOD don't waste your time with his fiction.  He thought he was a cooking Micky Spillane and he should stick to what he knows and rocks - no fiction love okay?)  But the BOOK was the start of it all.  And thanks to HULU plus I'm now watching Cooks Tour which is his small screen start.  what a f'n whining bitch who doesn't want to eat anything!!!!  Dear Lord!  The very people he makes fun of in NR are exactly who he was in Cooks!  and to complicate matters he ended NR by starting mid stream with a show I CRAVE - FREAKING CRAVE called the Layover.  THAT show has me salivating just thinking about it.  So, short of his bad fiction he's a cooking god, tv maverick (hates Rachel Ray - what's not to love?) and made peace with Emeril.  He and Mario are sorta friends and he loves all the offal I do.

wait for it . . . wait for it . . . bam

no it's not another shot at Emeril.  it's that other shoe.  the one that had to fall.

it sorta started with the Chase Sapphire plugs IN THE SHOW.    I know I saw it coming.  I just didn't want to.  He was so punk.  I was so right there with the Dead Kennedy's and Iggy and the Ramones.  He did a show with Queens of the Stone AGE.  He can't sell out.  or can he?

enter. The Taste.

I can't even say it.  Or frankly watch it.  again.

saw 15 minutes.  shut off the tv.  and wanted to eat a quart of hagen daz rum raisin.   Iron Chef is at least cool.  And Alton keeps it snarky.

The Taste isn't bad.  it's just boring.  And that's worse.  I hope that this isn't the end.  I get he's older, married and a daddy.  but.  really?

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

angels in the architecture

So, I as a human,  tend toward the "looker for answers" in the day to day.   That may come from my Christian upbringing and life in the Church.   I believe that there is meaning in the chaos and that we are not here by some freak random chance.  If you do, well then,  universe, bless your precious little heart.

 I try to see meaning in the things that happen but I don't always see it.  today.  it's rather in the later that it tends to make perfect sense.  I meet people and don't know why until they teach me something about myself.  good bad ugly or just plain eye opening that stops me.  and then I know why.  I needed to learn that.  Yet I know that it's not purely selfish.  I know that I serve a purpose too.  I really try to be salt and light to a world that needs flavor and illumination.  and not mess it up. Yet I do mess it up, sometimes.

I don't do what is needed or right or even called for - a lot.  I can be horribly selfish.  I deserve to be happy. . . .   um says who?  not if it's the wrong thing to do.  and therein lies the rub.  the catch.  the humanity.  

but happily they really are there.

they are if you look.

I'm not talking worship.  not remotely.  just recognition.

there are angels

all around us.

pay attention.

they do have a job to do you know.  They are like bees.

they make something good but will hurt if they have to.

and there are bad ones  - but their names are different.  demonic and sad and very angry.

look around and see them.  see the angels in the architecture.  all around us.  there is good.