Shreveport, Knife and Fork

Is it possible to get a cold from eating too much? If so, that's what has happened.

Tim (who I'm beginning to think should have a blog code name, like "Meat&Cheese-Only" or "Gilligan") and I went to Shreveport for Thanksgiving break. His sister has an enormous, awesome house there with her fiancé so she graciously accommodated about 30 people for Thanksgiving dinner.

I'm particularly fond of Shreveport because it's the only place I've ever moved to all on my own, out of my own free will. That's not to say that I didn't want to live in Crawford or Boulder, just that I lived in those places because my family already did and those were my options. And well, DC is DC is DC is... not my first choice.

Shreveport is also particularly amazing because it's a weird place. It looks a little like a sleaze-pit sometimes (it's undeniable--and there's proof on the interwebs). HOWEVER: it also has a thriving arts culture that existed well before all the movie studios got wind of it and the restaurants are the perfect combination of varied, delicious, atmospheric (I said it) and (compared to other cities of its size) affordable. After the thanksgiving smorgasbord, we ate at a number of my Shreveport favorites because Meat&Cheese-Only's family--despite his seeming aversion to all things delicious--knows how to have a good time.

Friday:

The Blind Tiger
The Regular: Creole Pecan Catfish with extra mustard cream sauce, jambalaya and cajun fried corn.
This is the restaurant where Meat&Cheese-Only and I had our first date. There was a car wreck outside and I wore my foxtail. Those two things are not related. Anyway, unless you happen to show up on karaoke night, The Blind Tiger has good atmosphere, and even if it didn't the food is wonderful. The fried corn is a half cob of corn that is indeed battered and deep fried. Paula Deen--are you listening? The red beans and rice are thick (real thick) and the sausage is spicy. And the mixed drinks come in mason jars. Who could want anything else?

Saturday:

Superior Bar & Grill
The Regular: Superior Nachos con pollo. I love the way they build each nacho on the plate individually. I've never seen that done anywhere but Shreveport and it makes me resent restaurants that bring you a giant messy, soggy pile of nacho ingredients. It takes real TLC to make nachos the way Superior does. And their margaritas will knock you on your face, which is probably why all of their drinks are served in styrofoam cups. In addition, the chips are freshly made and the salsa is served in a carafe and each person gets an individual cup, so you can double-dip until your arm falls off if that's your thing.

PieWorks
The Regular: The Wing It.
Meat&Cheese-Only delivered pizzas here so I sometimes have mixed feelings about the place. On one hand, it's almost like home and I can order off-menu items and they'll still make them for me. On the other hand, when I SEE a PieWorks, this stale pizza stench fills my nostrils and I get a mini-panic attack remembering the way MCo's person and car smelled that year. However, their pizza is undeniably delicious. We ordered a Wing It (hot wings pizza), a BBQ chicken pizza, a fetamato and breadsticks. We tried to order a Heathbar pie, but they were out and comped us three pieces of turtle cheesecake. Which is a fine trade.

Superior's Steak House (for cocktails)
The Regular: A Tanqueray Gin and Tonic
But at Superior's, you have to order a cocktail, because they do them so well. I got a Lemon Drop, which made my hands completely sticky somehow, but still tasted like heaven. They also make a mean Cosmo. And they have live piano and are one of the few remaining restaurants to have Andes Mints at the exit rather than those terrible hard peppermints: I take this as a real sign of quality.

Sunday:

Strawn's Eat Shop on King's Highway
The Regular: Biscuits and Gravy, Home fries, Unsweet Iced Tea and Strawberry Icebox Pie.
This time, however, I got the "Hungry Man" special because I was craving pancakes. This is two eggs, toast, choice of meat, choice of potatoes (or biscuit or grits before 10), two hot cakes and a pound of butter. I think the real reason I hate DC is because while there are placed to get breakfast here, there is nothing, I mean nothing like Strawn's.

Part of it is simply local. We ran into Will, MCo's choir director from college there, which is just something you know will always happen when you walk in the doors. But it's also the atmosphere and the total disregard for frills or health conventions. You honestly cannot get a chicken fried steak like that here. And the pie? Forget it.

Sunday we had to leave. But had I been able to stay, I would have gone to Tacomania, Yeero Yeero, The Real Pickle, Oyster Bar, Counter Culture, Ichiban, Bear's, and I would have loved to go to Murrell's but apparently they closed, which absolutely breaks my heart. I can't see how, as there was always a huge crowd. Perhaps the no-smoking law really did take its toll on just one little place. Anyway, there are other places I'm forgetting (the Glenwood Village Tea Room!), but Shreveport is so full of things to enjoy. I would move back. I said it.

The Brain Drain

I'm getting dumber.

No really. This is a fine art, so it's taking place on multiple levels. And it's distressing considering how much effort I'm putting into this fancy degree I'm earning, but hear me out.

Exhibit A: Last Saturday I had a great day with my friend Alsn, we went out for sushi, we went to Anthropologie, and then we went to see Harry Potter and The Most Depressing Camping Trip Ever, Part I. I realized that Alsn is officially my oldest friend within 500 miles, so that makes her the champion. Still, when we were driving around looking for the theater parking garage, I recommended a restaurant to her that we have eaten at together twice as if she'd never been there, and I told her that I've never been to a theater that we went to together. I can no longer remember where I've gone and what I've done with whom and when. Which really, is pretty embarrassing and like I said she's my oldest friend here. How degrading.

"Oh, you've eaten there you say? Oh, with me you say? Twice? Well, I am an idiot. Obviously the events of my life are not important enough for my brain to store in my memory compartments."

Exhibit B: I keep forgetting simple words. I can't think of any examples, but we'll just put that in the evidence file. Granted, this is probably a symptom of my migraine medication and isn't really my fault, but still, it's unfortunate to have to be reminded that the word you're looking for is "sandwich" or "banana". Tim makes up for this in his own life by saying things like "flibbertydoodle" and "dingledongle" but I'm trying to avoid that whole grammatical mess. Yesterday, he said "when we go to there" in a totally non-ironic way, so I try not to emulate him. Nonetheless, being caught without a simple word is infuriating, English degree or no.

Exhibit C: Ok, I'm actually still getting good grades, and I doing fairly well at Jeopardy, but I'm just fairly certain that I spend way too much time on my couch reading books instead of outside talking to real human beings. So maybe instead of getting dumber, I'm just getting a little weirder? Lately, occasionally, when acquaintances ask me questions, I truly cannot comprehend the literal meaning of those questions. It's as though our conversations have suddenly and rapidly changed context and I somehow did not notice. (This doesn't happen with old friends, for some reason.)

All signs point to a dire need to stop reading so much theory. And to maybe spend some time with some humans.

Cucumbers Another Way

I have a migraine today. That usually means spending the day in a cocoon of pillows and darkness, sleeping it off, but I can't sleep. So instead I'm trying to find something that will hold my attention without making me feel like I'm going to explode (so no reading or TV or really anything with color light or sound). Maybe blogging will work?

So here is a recipe for you.

This is a new take on my favorite simple side dish. This would be a great alternative to more traditional heavy side dishes that tend to get served with Mexican food. It's not even really a recipe, just something I got out of a book about migrant farm workers and then modified.

"Alejo thought of his own grandmother working in Edinburg, Texas, ironing, babysitting, cleaning houses, cutting cucumbers with lemon, salt, and powdered chile to sell at swap meets, or making tamarind and hibiscus juices to sell after Sunday mass. She would do anything to allow her grandson to get schooling." -Helena Maria Viramontes, Under the Feet of Jesus

Calling this something like "Zesty Cucumber Salad" seems really bourgious, since this seems like something people just eat. The way a baked potato is just a baked potato--but I don't know what else to call it. Anyway, here's how I prepared it.

Cucumbers Another Way

1 Cucumber
1 Lime (the book says lemon, but I like lime and that's what I had)
salt
Chili powder

Peel cucumber however you like. I prefer to leave "stripes" in the peel for texture and vitamins. Slice as thinly as you like. I make 1/4" slices and then cut the largest slices in half.

Juice the lime. A citrus juicer is the best for this of course, but if you don't have one, here's a trick to handling stiff, stubborn fruit--microwave the lime for ten seconds, then roll it on your counter, pressing gently to loosen all the membranes inside. After you cut it in half, you can use the back of a spoon to help you get all of the juices out.

Pour lime juice over the cucumber in a bowl. Season with salt and chili powder to taste. This is according to your preference so start light and build up.

Let it chill for at least 20 minutes before you eat and you'll be glad.

Unlike a vinegar salad, this can be refrigerated over night and the cukes won't wilt dramatically.

You could probably put this in a glass, muddle with vodka and ice, and make a delicious cocktail. If you didn't have a migraine.

I'm with Reasonable ------->

Saturday was a very exciting day. First of all, it was my dad's fiftieth birthday, or in his words, his 25th birthday times 2. I didn't get to spend it with him, which kills me, so I spent it doing all sorts of distracting things. The most nationally important of which being the joint Rally to Restore Sanity and to March Keep Fear Alive.

Can I just point out first of all that we're idiots because we live within walking distance of the Mall--we don't even have to take the metro--and we still didn't make it until exactly noon. Needless to say, by that point, it was challenging to find a place to stand as over 200,000 people had already shown up. But luckily we live behind the capitol so we were already at the front of the crowd when we showed up.

So. What the hell was the Rally to Restore Sanity? Based on the fact that it was mostly just a very long outdoor version of the Daily Show, I think it's main purpose was just to prove that there are more Liberals and just plain "normal" people than Glen Beck would like the world to believe, and that we outnumber the crazy-shouters by far. (That's right, I refuse to believe it's normal to be that angry all the time at everything.)

I know the first picture here does not quite convey the scale of this post-rally horde unleashing itself directly upon the city, but it stretches six blocks: from Constitution Ave. all the way to Chinatown, shoulder to shoulder. I've really never seen anything like it except for the inauguration, which was much colder and more somber (and did I mention colder?).

The Highlights:

1. Cat Stevens. The minute John Stewart introduced him, I started crying. I never thought I would hear him perform live. And to be honest, I never expected to have to boo Stephen Colbert for ruining my hippie-Cat-Stevens-Peace-train-euphoria, but I was quite displeased by the sudden interruption of Ozzy Osborn (as much as I love him, he's no Yusuf Islam).

2. John Stewart's speech. It just makes me feel better knowing that at least one person in the media, even if he is a pseudo-comic pundit Comedy Central guy, feels the same way I do and has the power and balls to say so in front of the world. Even if the major news media don't bat an eye.

3. The guys from Myth Busters. Hear me out. 50% of their shtick was a failure, but it was sort of brilliant of them to try to conduct experiments with a crowd that big while they had them. Doing the wave with 200,000 people? That's kind of awesome. And then making them all jump at once to see if it registers on a seismometer? Even if it didn't work, it was neat (neat!) to hear that THUMP, and well, to see everyone cooperating (awwwwww).

4. The signs. People are so creative. Love it.

The lowlights:

1. Jeff Tweedy. No problem with Mavis Staples, but damn Jeff, way to bring everyone the hell down. Terrible. I actually preferred Kid Rock. Kid. Rock.

2. Not being able to see anything but people's heads--anywhere in the city. (And the guy in front of me smelled like he drank a bottle of vodka and then sweat it all out on his sweatshirt.) Amazingly, one of the drawbacks of "strength in numbers" is, as Sarte said that "hell is other people" (or at least it can be). That sounds awful, but consider this: Amazing three hour rally begins at 12 and ends at 3, many people arrive as early as 8:00 a.m. There are very few places to get food on the Mall, so what do these 200,000 people immediately do after the rally? They flood the restaurants. Tim and I went to our "secret" Chinese restaurant, which is usually empty, and the poor place was overwhelmed. It's usually so empty they don't even have a waiter--the host seats you, takes your order, brings your drink. The busboy brings your food. The host's wife brings your check. Now the dining room was full and the chef took our order 45 minutes after we sat down. The line was out the door.

But I have to say, I have never tasted such amazing sushi in my life. I will call it freedom sushi. After the rally and the awesomeness of being around people who just want everyone to be polite... we too were hungry and tired. And happy and hopeful. (But mostly hungry and tired--which is, I think, the point? When you're living you're own life, you're too busy doing that to be too insulted by how other people are living theirs.)