Spitball Army

I have been toying with the notion of planting a vegetable garden in my backyard.  Look who beat me to the punch!…somebody always does.  Way to go, Obamas!

From The New York Times of 19 March 2009:

On Friday, Michelle Obama will begin digging up a patch of White House lawn to plant a vegetable garden, the first since Eleanor Roosevelt’s victory garden in World War II. There will be no beets (the president doesn’t like them) but arugula will make the cut.

While the organic garden will provide food for the first family’s meals and formal dinners, its most important role, Mrs. Obama said, will be to educate children about healthful, locally grown fruit and vegetables at time when obesity has become a national concern.

In an interview in her office, Mrs. Obama said, “My hope is that through children, they will begin to educate their families and that will, in turn, begin to educate our communities.”

Twenty-three fifth graders from Bancroft Elementary School in Washington will help her dig up the soil for the 1,100-square-foot plot in a spot visible to passers-by on E Street. (It’s just below the Obama girls’ swing set.) Students from the school, which has had a garden since 2001, will also help plant, harvest and cook the vegetables, berries and herbs.

Read the whole darn article,written by Marian Burros, here.

This week’s New Yorker cover is one of the funniest ever!  Barry Blitt’s cover illustration is titled “OctoRush,” in a combined reference to OctoMom Nadya Suleman and the If-I-don’t-get-my-way-I’m-going-to-threaten-a-complete-governmental-overthrow-or-at-least-the-overthrow-of-the-floundering-Republican-Party noisemaker Rush Limbaugh.  Both characters are not-so-arguably media pawns…or are they playing the media?  In any event, there isn’t much of substance beyond their entertaining veneers, and Blitt seems to be making a comment on that with his drawing.  Frighteningly, the image of a bouncing baby, that had immediately entered my brain after seeing this cover, morphed into the video image of comedian Limbaugh bouncing like a Weeble gone wrong at the recent CPAC (Conservative Political Action Conference) convention (see video below starting at 0:25).

This exchange occurred on Facebook this morning, starting with D.T.’s (an Atlantan) status update:

D.T. is I can’t believe I made this flight. Austin bound! (posted 10:03 a.m.)

S.B.N. (at 10:19 a.m. March 18):  D.T., if interested, gimme a holler while you’re in town. Love to cross paths. Cell is (123) 456-7890. Safe travels!

D.Q.G. (at 10:26 a.m. March 18):  Wait. What flight? I’m in ATL sitting on tarmac. Austin bound.

D.T. (at 10:27 a.m. March 18):  Row 37! I’m on this plane with you man! Where r u?

D.Q.G. (at 10:35 a.m. March 18):  Delta 2814? I’m in row 26

H.T. (at 10:55 a.m. March 18):  that is hilarious! Facebook rules.

I am a member of an online community of film enthusiasts called The Auteurs. It is relatively new, and was started as a forum for people who share an interest in classic film. The group began when The Criterion Collection, a company whose mission is the preservation and restoration of important world cinematic works, revamped its website and recognized the desire of its followers to have a place to discuss topics related to Criterion releases and film, in general. As I mentioned at the outset, the group is new, but its membership seems to be growing daily.

A recent topic on the forum rallied Auteur members to contribute votes for a poll to compile the ten best films and filmmakers of all time, similar to the Sight and Sound poll that occurs once a decade. More about the poll itself later, perhaps, but let’s jump ahead in time. After about 100 members, including me, submitted lists, one of our very brave compatriots compiled the results. On the list, in a four-way tie for last place with The Godfather, Rashomon and Taxi Driver, was Stalker, a 1979 film by Andrei Tarkovsky that I had not seen and knew very little about.

There seems to be a cult of Tarkovsky on the Auteurs site. You can find some of these folks populating YouTube, and they are probably marking their territory elsewhere on the internet by posting comments on a variety of websites. They revere Tarkovsky, and I would agree with them that Tarkovsky made films, not movies. His work is just about as close to “art” as film gets, and his pacing is slow and deliberate. I had previously seen only two of his films (Solaris and The Sacrifice) and, while I respect the languorous tempo of his work, I realize that it isn’t for everybody, especially not a generation of people raised on a diet of Farrelly Brothers movies, action pics or butcher-edited TV reality shows. Probably the closest thing to a Tarkovsky film that the general American public has embraced recently has been the Coen Brothers’ No Country for Old Men. But Tarkovsky pictures are much slower than that, with narratives that are nowhere near that tight.

Aiming to fill a hole in my filmic vocabulary, and to be on a more level standing with my Auteurs cohorts, I rented Stalker.

A still from Stalker.

I watched it in two sittings over two evenings, which turned out to be a good way to approach the film. There is a natural break between its two parts just past the 60-minute point. Thus, the images and ideas from the first hour were allowed to gestate in the back of my mind before I watched the second half. Last night, I finished the film. I turned off the television, shut out the lights, and walked slowly and quietly to bed.

When I awoke this morning, I still felt a meditative quiet about me, and about the house. I poured a cup of coffee and stepped outside. There was an uncharacteristic fog drifting about twenty feet above the street, caressing the rooftops of the houses surrounding mine. As I stepped off the porch, I noticed what appeared to be fresh single strands of spiderweb dangling from the ends of the dogwood branches, some extending to the bricks at the corner of the house. All was quiet. It was about 7:45 a.m.

I paused on the step and sipped from the coffee cup. A bird sang from a tree next door. I ducked under a web and walked, calmly and slowly, up the driveway. It seemed as if the mood from last night’s film had escaped from the television and out of the house into the night, enveloping the bloom of a new morning. A fully-developed spider web glistened in the dew from the branches of a butterfly bush in the back yard. I approached the stairs that lead up to my office (where I am now typing this) and there, as if to warn me, as if to slow me down and heed me to take notice, as if they were lines of police tape advising me to use caution, were three more shining threads of spun silk. They crossed from one side of the staircase to the handrail on the opposite side.

I paused briefly before walking through and destroying the spider’s handiwork. It was gone in an instant, as quickly as an image from a film. But, like that image, my encounter with it was burned lightly in my consciousness. I want to wake up to this morning again, to experience this calm again, this peace. I feel that I’d like to watch Stalker again soon, as well.

On my way back to the house, I encountered the following scenario, which reminded me of a dream sequence from Stalker (if you’ve seen Stalker, you’ll recognize the tone; if you haven’t, I am sorry, but there don’t seem to be any licensed clips of it on YouTube).  I just so happened to have my camera with me:

It is my turn to cook dinner tomorrow.  I decided to whip up a new recipe for soup.  I’ve got to say that this one worked great!  Not too spicy hot, but flavorful enough to keep my own adventurous taste buds entertained.  I love the fact that the majority of this dish comes right out of the produce section of the market.  My first attempt at this recipe included leeks and some corn as cooking ingredients, but I would not use them again – especially the leeks – as it detracted from the smoky and sweet taste of the peppers, which I felt should be the focus of this hearty soup (DO use corn as a garnish, however.  It’s a nice textural touch.).

(photo: spitballarmy.com)

Ingredients:
1 tbsp. crushed or minced garlic
1 tbsp. olive oil

48 oz. chicken broth or vegetable broth
1 tsp. sugar
¼ tsp. black pepper (freshly crushed black peppercorns are preferred over ground black pepper)
1 tsp. basil (dried)
2 ancho chiles, finely minced

2 potatoes, diced raw
2 glasses of water (using an average size drinking glass, about 1½ cups in size)

2 of the largest red bell peppers you can find (or 3 of the tinier ones)
1 bunch scallions, chopped (white ends; the green ends can be used for garnish)

Corn kernels (fresh or from frozen; can be roasted, if desired)
Scallions, chopped (green ends)
Roasted red pepper flesh, about ½ cup

Instructions:
In a large pot, brown the garlic in the olive oil.

Once the garlic has been nicely browned, almost caramelized, add the chicken broth, sugar, pepper, basil, and ancho chiles.  Turn the heat up to a boil.  Once the mixture has come to a boil, turn the heat down to a simmer and cover.

Add the potatoes.  Turn the heat up slightly.  Leave covered, adding water occasionally during the potato-cooking process.  While the potatoes are cooking in the broth, roast the red bell peppers.

To roast the peppers: De-stem the peppers and cut them in halves.  Place the pepper halves skin-side-up on a foil-covered cookie sheet approximately three inches below the heat in a broiler.  Once the skins have turned completely black, remove the peppers from the oven and allow them to cool.  The skins will slide off of the peppers.  Dice the pepper flesh and retain about ½ a cup to use as garnish.

Once the potatoes are tender, add the diced red peppers and chopped white ends of the scallions to the pot.  Allow mixture to cool.

Once the mixture has cooled, puree approximately ¾ of it in a blender.  Return the pureed portions to the mixture.  You will have a chunky puree.  Perfect!  Raise the heat on the mixture and serve immediately, or store in a refrigerator or freezer for later.

Use the chopped green ends of the scallion, corn and diced red pepper as a garnish atop the center of the bowl of soup.