weekend, and we can feel all snug and cozy in our grotteaux deep below downtown California. We actually venture to the surface (sheltered!) just so we can hear the raindrops and appreciate not having to be out in them.
The dog has his own opinions about it, however.
This weather has been making me want to knit, more than make beads or beadwork. But I did get out to the studio and make a couple more horseheads. The horseheads are endlessly fascinating. I start by winding glass around the mandrel for the neck, and how that shapes up tends to influence the personality of the horse itself. Is it stretching out its head in curiosity? Arching its neck and flaring its nostrils to intimidate a rival? A lot depends on the shape of the neck.
Then comes the head: a lot of glass to project off the neck. As it goes from blob to recognizable details, the head almost reminds me of the stages of an embryo growing to a full-sized creature. The details of the horse's expression are in the eyes, nostrils and mouth. Different glasses allow you to get different effects. The dark-brown glass is so soft that it's difficult to make a horse that's NOT flaring its nostrils! And if the eyes show a lot of white -- well, let's just say I've seen horses with that expression. They look cool in those Romantic-era paintings, but in real life it means a little too much drama for me!
Anyway, I'm looking forward to showing the new works to all of our friends at the rapidly-approaching bead shows.
The other thing the rainy weather has inspired in me is ... soup!
I love to make use of what we have around the pantry or refrigerator, and this weekend what we had was the bone from a large ham, with lots of meat still on it, and the ends of a couple of bags of beans, red and pinto. Here, in my usual conversational style, is a recipe for bean soup.

BEAN SOUP

This soup couldn't be simpler, once you've soaked the beans. I didn't think of making this soup until the day of, so no overnight soaking. But there's a quicker method that works every bit as well. Plan to make this soup when you've baked a bone-in ham and had a few meals, but still have the bone with a couple of servings of meat still remaining.

Quick-soak beans: Put the dried beans (I had about 2 cups) in a colander or sieve and rinse the dirt off. Pick out any little stones or weird-looking beans while you're doing this. Drain the beans and place in a soup pot. Cover with cold water, bring to a boil and boil for 2 minutes. Turn off the heat, cover the pot and let the beans soak for 1 hour. Drain.

Soup: Put the drained beans back in the (rinsed) pot, add the ham bone and meat and cover with cold water. It's OK if part of the ham bone and/or meat sticks up out of the water -- adding too much water will just make a watery soup. Just make sure the beans are covered.
Bring water to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and simmer for 3 or 4 hours.

That's the basic method. You can season the soup any way you like. This time I added two bay leaves, two celery ribs and a carrot, roughly chopped, about a dozen peppercorns and a few sprigs of fresh thyme from our garden. When the beans were done, I tasted the soup to see what else it needed and discovered ... it didn't need anything else. Not even an onion (which the torchmaster can't really tolerate,anyway [and no one can tolerate him then, either....]). The ham was falling off the bone, and the meat and bone had flavored the rest of the soup perfectly.
But you could add a lot of things to this soup: cooked sausage; more vegetables (turnips, potatoes, fresh peas right at the end, or thinly sliced spinach, chard or other greens and, of course, garlic and/or onion); pasta or rice. [Served over rice, this soup is great!]

My favorite kind of recipe: easy to make, great-tasting and it helps clean out the pantry and refrigerator! [and fill up an eager belly!]

sitting down and hearing about history from the folks that really lived it, whether it be around a campfire or Thanksgiving's leftover turkey carcass, and consider it to be my favorite flavor of dessert.

I think that I may have hit the Mother Lode for the Boomer generation for those sort of stories when I stumbled across the Archives of Television web site. This resource, presenting raw and barely-edited talking head interviews with people that you will recognize, tells it like it was. Many of the Pioneers of Television were, if you will recall, veterans of vaudeville (one of my favorite historical eras, yes) and aren't shy about telling (family-friendly, sigh) stories about it. Slightly more recent arrivals are in there, too; it was the George Carlin series that got me hooked. Now that guy can spin a yarn!

Everybody from Andy Ackerman (editor and directer of shows like Cheers, Frasier and Seinfeld) to Alan Young (Mister Ed's Willllbur.) is featured here, although I hope that someday they can turn up footage for Danny Thomas and Phil Silvers. (note: while many other kids of my generation had folks like Timothy Leary for heroes, my role models were probably closer to Sgt. Bilko.....)
Many of the names might not be familiar*, but their work will instantly open the floodgates of memory the moment that you hear them telling tales about each other.

And, yes, well, while Newton Minow (former FCC Chairman) may have described televison as a "vast wasteland," I prefer Steve Allen's remark that Minow was partly correct, in that it was a "half-vast wasteland"....... ...(ok, it's funnier when spoken......)

Just the same, check it out.

A Really Important Safety Alert!

Dihydrogen monoxide (sometimes referred to as 'hydroxic acid') is one of the most dangerous and pervasive compounds known to mankind.

Everyone should be aware that, among other things:
- the substance is the major component of acid rain.
- contributes to the "greenhouse effect".
- may cause severe burns.
- is fatal if inhaled.
- contributes to the erosion of our natural landscape.
- accelerates corrosion and rusting of many metals.
- may cause electrical failures and decreased effectiveness of automobile brakes.
- has been found in excised tumors of terminal cancer patients.

Despite the danger, dihydrogen monoxide is often used:
- as an industrial solvent and coolant.
- in nuclear power plants.
- in the production of Styrofoam.
- as a fire retardant.
- in many forms of cruel animal research.
- in the distribution of pesticides. Even after washing, produce remains contaminated by this chemical.
- as an additive in certain "junk-foods" and other food products.

Evidently the safest way to contain dihydrogen monoxide is in a specialized container known as a 'Klein bottle."

Please mention your concern about this dangerous substance to your local representatives, and tell them that this public health menace must be stopped!

And, despite all of the above, have a nice day!

sometimes it's hard to tell from our non-vantage point deep below the surface) but, as far as we're concerned, the timing is just right! Our daffodils, which are just about the only flowers hereabouts to survive the ravages of Charlie the Gopher, are fading, but we had just received word that Daffodil Hill has opened for the season!
This one-time stage stop was founded in 1887 near Volcano, California, and became a well-known way station, providing boarding and feed for teamsters, their animals, and other travelers (breakfast was 25 cents!). Eventually expanding into ranching, timber and gold mine support operations, the McLaughlin family (later becoming the Ryan family) started planting these early-blooming flower bulbs early on, and have continued ever since. Each year the Ryan family (and many willing volunteers) plant between 8 and 12 thousand new bulbs on the 6-acre flowery portion of the ranch, including up to 300 varieties.
It is estimated that over half a million blooms appear annually, with cooperative weather.
This being too good a thing to keep to themselves, the Ryan family opens this part of the ranch to visitors for about 3 weeks of the year, at peak bloom times. And for free, too, so we had to go see it for ourselves!
It was a wonderful, get-outta-town sort of trip, which everyone needs now and then. Mostly now.....

enjoyable, be it a heist, confidence game or behind-the-lines rescue.* And on a crisp, clear winter's morning, it is a wonder to behold a young colt, quite full of himself, capering about in a pasture.
But, what the heck is a plain old 'caper,' anyways (this being the culinary type) ? And, besides that, what could 'Nonpareil' possibly mean? And why does it say that on the jar of capers, huh? And, and, who figured out that this little item that most resembles rat feces is actually edible? (Ok, this one sounds like it was initially tested on a little brother, but they'll generally eat anything, right?)

It turns out that capers are the unripened buds of a plant Capparis spinosa, a prickly, perennial plant which is native to the Mediterranean and some parts of Asia, according to About.com's 'Homecooking' section (among many other sources.) These buds, typically brined and pickled before use, can be traced back over 3,000 years as a food ingredient. Other uses down through the years include medicinal treatments of such maladies as eye infections, irritable bowel syndrome and flatulence (altho I couldn't find just exactly how these roly poly little things were to be applied - that's probably a good thing.....)

Food wise, they're an interesting addition to many things Mediterranean, lending a briny and piquant note something akin to green olives. In fact, there have been instances when some creative bartenders have used the Capparis buds in place of green olives in martinis.

What about that 'Nonpareil' business? Well, it turns out that, much like olives (more on this another time) caper size is described by some words that one doesn't often find elsewhere. 'Non-pareil' (up to 7 mm), 'Surfines' (7-8 mm), 'Capucines' (8-9 mm), 'Capotes' (9-11 mm), 'Fines' (11-13 mm), and 'Grusas' (14+ mm). The word 'nonpareil' is often described as a synonym for 'nonesuch.' Go figure.

So, what do we do with 'em? I don't think that they would complement a bowl of Rice Krispies, but, a hearty forkful of them atop a fresh plate of chicken piccata is terrific. And, of course, our all-time favorite use for them goes something like this:

One slice of fresh sourdough bread
On top of this, spread a generous layer of cream cheese.
Scatter a forkful of capers onto the cream cheese, pressing them onto the cheese layer. (This prevents them from escaping while you are enjoying the previous bite.)
Add a layer of your favorite type of lox or smoked salmon atop this.
Optional: a quick squeeze of fresh lemon juice.

Enjoy.
Repeat as often as quantities allow.
Out-wrestle your dining partner for the last serving, if possible. (Hey, it's fun even if you don't win!)

This goes great with fresh-brewed tea (breakfast), chilled champagne (brunch), chilled white (or really light red) wine (lunch). If it's dinner, drink whatever you want with it (true anytime, really.....)

And, no, I've never literally tried 'cutting up capers.' (Only figuratively.) They're way too small (let's put it this way: my fingers are bigger, and therefore make a better target - ouch!)

We always hope to see some bauble that inspires us in our own work. Or catch a trend. But if there's one thing more predictable about the Oscars than some actress showing up in a what-was-she-thinking ugly dress, it's the relative tastefulness and expense of the borrowed jewels. It's as though the singleminded focus on box office extends to the personal ornamentation, as well. No one seems interested in breaking new ground in regards to what they wear on their ears or around their necks or wrists.

So we're forced to look elsewhere for inspiration.

Luckily, there's one source of new ideas that never gets stale, and that's the big wide world outdoors. At the very least, you can expect a fresh breeze to blow cobwebs out of your mind so that you return to the studio refreshed. And you never know where the germ of an idea will come from: the glitter of water on San Pablo Bay, the gray-green of eucalyptus leaves, the shimmer inside an oyster shell washed up on the beach.

The other one of us takes inspiration even more directly from nature: collecting pods, seeds and even discarded crab claws and turning them into objects of art. You never know what you'll find around the grotteaux ..

And now spring approaches, with some of our favorite haunts blooming with the first wildflowers. Even before the big flowers come the tiny, seedbead-like white flowers inside the lilypad-shaped leaves of miner's lettuce, a native that the 49ers evidently found useful when they wanted fresh greens. They look like something out of fairytales.

But now the first California poppies and the purple spires of lupines are suddenly appearing against the green of spring, which will disapper all too soon. Daylight Saving Time is here. What happened to winter?

Before winter bows out, though, here are a couple of ways to use one of winter's best produce offerings: Brussels sprouts.

[ Ralph's note: One thing is for certain: brussels sprouts have often garnered a bum reputation, often for a slight bitter taste. Well, this can be true sometimes, and is usually the result of at least one or two things. First, overcooking them will make them taste pretty punk - this is true of just about anything, though. The other - and I would never have believed it if I hadn't witnessed it myself - is freshness. Yes, dear friends, I confess that, once upon a time, during what could only be described as a fit of sheer horticultural perversion, I did, in fact, grow my own brussels sprouts.* Just as with home grown corn, ripped fresh from the stalk and plunged into boiling water within seconds (yum, I can't wait for that season, too!) freshly-picked brussels sprouts can actually taste sweet, and with no hint of bitterness. BUT, ya gotta get as fresh as possible!
Also, my favorite recipe is the second one down.....]

ROASTED BRUSSELS SPROUTS

1 lb. Brussels sprouts

Wash the sprouts. Trim the bottoms off the sprouts and cut them in half. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Toss the sprouts with olive oil, and turn them so the cut sides are down -- they'll brown better that way. Roast for about 15 minutes, checking near the end of this time to make sure the leaves are crisping and the cut sides are browning. They're remarkably sweet when cooked this way.

SAUTEED BRUSSELS SPROUTS

more like something, I dunno, everlasting, maybe eternal, even.....
Mary Roach's second book, Spook - Science Explores The Afterlife, is a terrific followup to her Stiff. This time it's not what bodies do after no one is actually inhabiting them - it's more like an exploration of the flip side of this question: whatever was inhabiting the bodies is now doing what, exactly.....?
As of press time, I have only listened through the first chapter, which documents a trip to India (Ground Zero for reincarnation exploration) to meet with several candidates for believable re-installation upon this earth, as researched by a prominent reincarnation scientist (yes, they really do exist!*)
Note: I had actually read the hard copy of this book when it was first published, and was really curious how the footnotes (which, pound for pound, probably weighed in at 30% of the actual text) would be handled. The answer is, as hoped, quite handily. The flow of the book is not adversely impacted and, in fact, is enhanced by the numerous sidebars and literary side alleyways..
This book is great fun, as is Roach's usual style; it doesn't disappoint!

*and, I am hungering to know, just how does one land a grant to research this kind of thing......?

effervesence of champagne. (Ok, no more too-colorful phraseology, I promise; I'll leave it to competent folk like Michael Chabon,also below.)
One overly-optimistic time, several years ago, we decided that it would be a good idea to host a family gathering of most of the, shall we say, 'more chronologically endowed'* members. It involved at least one great-great grandmother, even. It was crab season. We were hungry, what can I say?
We used the recipe below, which, for the size of the group, involved quite a few of the delectable crustacea, several loaves of good sourdough bread, about an acre of salad and at least a couple of pounds of butter. (That last item is important to the eventual outcome.)
It was a lot of fun, now that this can safely be said in distant retrospect, but not without its share of surrealism. One of the participants thought that our invite meant crab cakes, and confessed that she had never faced down a cracked crab. This lead to some rapidly improvised hands-on education (we naively thought that everyone living around here had, at some point in their lives, tackled this delicious challenge. Oh, well......)
Another one said that she really didn't like crab, but was only here for the company. This remark was almost immediately rendered questionable as another of the diners threw up her hands in complete frustration at her own unpracticed manner of crab dissection, propelling a small fountain of crabmeat in all directions, to the delight and benefit of our floor-patrolling dog. Only the lightning-fast actions of the cooler-headed prevented a full-on food fight. "All the crabs are on the plates, not the chairs!"
Yet another began asking repeatedly "Where's the ham? You said there would be ham!"
By the time dessert was hauled out, it appeared as though Fisherman's Wharf itself had exploded, raining piscean debris all over one end of our house.
Everyone got their fill of everything that they could want to eat, and eventually of each other, too.
The funniest part actually came when, stuffed and exhausted, we were policing our dining room after everyone had returned to their respective abodes. Clutching a large shell-filled garbage bag, I attempted to carry it out to the garbage cans through our garage. I thought that part of our crumbling infrastructure had decided to have its joke on me once more, when I couldn't get the doorknob to turn. It turned out to be wearing a thick coat of garlicky butter, preventing me from getting any purchase.......

*ok, they were just plain OLD

take on detective stories, "The Yiddish Policemen's Union."
I do not normally (if such a word applies here) find myself indulging in non-fiction, but this one is such a treat for the ears (thanks, in part, to Peter Riegert's deft reading) that I couldn't put it down/away/turn it off.
A further disincentive (to me) is that it is set in an alternative history (think near-sci-fi), an Alaska that, in the years just before WWII, were offered up as a resettlement territory for persecuted Jews fleeing the iron boot of the rising Nazis. And yet, I find that, contrary to my tendencies, I am sucked in like a no-see-um vainly fleeing a shop vac.
Chabon's use of colorful imagery, often well over the top, leaves one to laugh out loud regularly, even in the midst of some gruesome crime scene or squalid alleyway, and much of the story is (quite appropriately) salted with yiddish phrases (considerately translated for us goys.) Colorful characters abound, just the way that I like 'em.
This is just the thing to keep me glued to the torch until far too close to daybreak, which, in this Chabon's midwinter story, could be months away.
I can't wait to find out whodunit (being pretty certain that the victim didn't do it to himself.......)

It also appears that those cinematic scamps Joel and Ethan Coen are making it into a movie (with no cast named yet.....)

dungeness crab season in Downtown California (and it happily coincides with there being a large crop of lemons on our trees - a match made in heaven!)
Whenever we have out-of-town family over (at least the part that doesn't mind eating like cavemen, which is most of the brood) we can't help but indulge.
Fortunately, we have a ready source of live crab - don't buy it in any form other than feisty - and can put the big stock pot of water on to boil and be back with the crustacea before it is a' bubblin'.
Opinions vary quite widely and volubly about how best to cook and clean these guys - and they are guys, as, by law, any caught females must be tossed back to sustain the fishery. We figure anywhere from one-half to a whole crab per person, depending upon size (of the crab and/or diner) and appetite.

We are of the "kill 'em instantly in the pot of boiling water" school. (Before consigning them to their fate, however, I always pause and give them a sincere 'thank you' for giving their lives to feed my family, and remind the Big Crab that likely someday I will return the favor.)
Our favorite way to prepare the crabs is to boil them whole for about ten minutes, just enough to parboil them. After removing them from the pot and allowing them to cool to the touch, the cleaning begins.
Here is one perfectly workable way to clean them. Your mileage may vary. (We usually remove the legs from the bodies as part of the process.)
The very next thing is to slightly crack all of the shells on the legs (the bodies don't need it) and pitch them into a roasting pan that has been warmed up and generously equipped with about 1-1/2 sticks of butter (melted) and some chopped garlic. A good tossing ensues, and the pan is put into a 450 degree oven for about 5 minutes. At this point, we pull the pan out, lightly toss the crab parts to re-coat them with the heavenly garlic-butter mix and return them for about another 3 or 4 minutes of roasting, during which we prepare the table with the rest of the meal (listed below.)
Every place setting should have a nutcracker-type shell cracker*, a ready plate, a towel-sized napkin (we use napkin-sized towels) and a full wine glass. (It also helps to use some of the smaller pointed leg ends to help dig out the meat.)
Either plate the crab parts so that everyone gets an equitable share, or just put a huge bowl with all of the parts in the middle of the table and let everyone savage it out. This can result in some interesting, revealing behavior. Growling joyously while eating is optional, and highly recommended.
Serve with lots of the aforementioned lemons, quartered, plenty of fresh sourdough bread (to mop up with), a mixed green salad or crudites (remember, you're gonna eat this guilt-free, like a troglodyte) and crisp, chilled white wine galore. Bubbles are a nice addition to this last item...... And, yes, stemmed wine glasses are easier to hold on to with buttery fingers.

* one rather large gathering had more participants than crackers, and so a crew was quickly dispatched to the workshop for every pair of pliers, vicegrips, channellocks and similare implements. Said crew quickly washed and sterilized the whole mess and the meal looked like a cross between "Mythbusters", "Junkyard Wars" and "Martha Stewart." Great fun, tho!

And, no, it wasn't the earlier entry about "Stiff" that got me thinking about this. Honest! Well, mostly not.........

I recently overheard this, in a heated conversation between a man and woman: "I've been completely faithful to you! I told you, I'm pornogamous!"

Happy Valentine's Day everybody!

well, alright, maybe there is just a wee dram of that - but I have been listening to science journalist Mary Roach's first book "Stiff - The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers" with rapt attention. And a hefty dose of belly laughs. Some actually involve a real belly.
Roach, brings some light - and a sometimes lighthearted approach - to a subject that most people would probably just as soon never think about. But, it is a healthy thing to learn about how people who are no longer people can help those of us among the living by uncomplainingly carrying out tasks that can't be done by us. (The visit to the University of Tennessee Anthropological Research Facility makes one think of Mythbusters, but without the ballistic gel substitutes. This is the real, highly aromatic, deal.)
Historical research, from the first attempts at blood transfusions to the last, abortive attempts to transplant human heads is also given a good going over.
The last chapter, involving my ol' pals dungeness crabs, almost convinced me what to do with whatever husk is left when I'm gone. (It's a close second to what I intend to do, which is to leave my body to a local medical school where I sometimes work, with the idea that anybody surviving the pressures of med school could probably use a good laugh. They'll get it, too, from what Roach writes. But it'll be well earned.)
Meanwhile, it's back to the Monstrosa. They don't seem quite so far fetched tonite.....

Admittedly, however, it is somewhat unnatural for me, at least it would appear so to the unjaundiced eye. Dusting off the stalagmites, and checking some of the thinner stalactites for good adhesion is just good maintenance, especially if you're not wearing your hardhat down here in the grotto all the time. But one of the irksome tasks that I've been putting off for far longer than I can now justify is to convert some of my vinyl LP collection (remember those?) to digital form.
So, it was time to poke around in some of the lesser-visited side galleries, rummaging around some of the dustier piles of sides. It's funny how some of the stuff that you were absolutely wild about some years back has faded into mental obscurity, but oh-so-nice to be reminded of it, so that you can rejoice in it all over again. (I don't think that my son's "Spice World" album will ever qualify for that description for him.....)
So, it was with a terrific tingle that I unearthed (ok, just dusted off) a good chunk of vintage Hawaiian guitar music.
I don't mean a lot of weepy "Aloha Oe, and, as our boat pulls away from the dock and the tropical sun sinks slowly in the West we bid a fond farewell" maudlin hula stuff from the 1950's (and Spike Jones did that the best, anyway.)* I'm talking about the real deal. Some of the more manic cats, most of it originating in the 1920's thru the late 1940's.
Names that are legend, like Sol Hoopii, Sol K. Bright(check out his "Hawaiian Cowboy" sometime - jumpin'!), the Kalamas Quartette and the altogether unlikely Roy Smeck (who first surfaced in Binghampton, NY!)
A lot of it has that good ol' scratchy 78 surface noise embedded in it (since some of this stuff is recorded off of the only remaining disc, which had been practically played to death), but I rather like these aural marks of authenticity.
What little hair remains on my head is standing on end with excitement at hearing this great stuff again, and I am moved to wonder just what sort of art it might inspire............

CHILI NO BEANS UNLESS YOU WANT THEM

One of us is watching the carbs, the other isn't. This chili is meat-only, but it's a simple matter to add beans even to one serving, then microwave, as the torchmaster did last night.

2 pounds ground beef (grass-fed tastes best, though it's expensive)-
buffalo is even better, unless you've been eating it exclusively for a couple of years already....)
Olive oil
1/2 to 1 small onion, chopped fine
2 cloves garlic, minced or crushed
S&P to taste
About 1/4 cup chili powder
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1/2 cup very strong black coffee
3 tablespoons cocoa powder
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 15-ounce can tomatoes
1 tablespoon cornmeal or masa harina (optional)
1 15-ounce can pinto beans (optional)
Garnishes (use any or all - or not): Sour cream, grated cheese, chopped green onions, green peppers, olives

[ok, this reads like Broadway Danny Rose's hangover cure recipe......]

In a large saucepan or pot, heat the olive oil, add the meat, onions and garlic, and cook until the meat is no longer pink. Add the spices, stir. Add the tomatoes, stir and simmer for about an hour (at this point it's mainly a matter of watching to make sure it's not boiling and to replace some of the liquid with water -- or wine, or beer -- the flavors will just keep blending and the chili will taste better and better).
About 10 minutes before serving, mix the cornmeal with a couple tablespoons of water and stir in. If the chili is a bit watery, this helps to thicken it.
Add your favorite type of beans if you like, and garnish with any of the garnishes.
Serve with a salad or just carrot and celery sticks, your favorite tasty beverage (anything from buckets of brew to Dr. Pepper; your call) and cornbread (the one on the Albers cornmeal box is a classic)*

*this also begs the response to the mathematician’s statement regarding how to calculate the area of a circle: “Pi - r - squared.” Student Backwoods Billy disputed that, countering “Naw, Pie are round. Cornbread are square!”

And wet, too, a rare combination. (We understand that absolutely zero sympathy will be offered from most of the country right now, but we understand. Of course, that doesn't really restore the feeling in our feet.....) It all serves as a reminder that we really do need to launch an expedition to some of the farther reaches of the caverns - way, way off the beaten path in our subterranean studios - because we think that there just might be some geothermal springs back there. They'd feel really good about now.

Until then, however, we'll need to comfort ourselves with something hearty, such as:

SPAGHETTI SAUCE