Bluebird

preamble to dinner

Early Sunday morning, she found herself inexplicably awake at six am. Too early for anything, she thought as she lay there listening to the steady breathing of her husband. She thought about the day ahead, making dinner for her cousin in town from the East Coast. He was a priest. A curious career path for the 21^st century, even though she knew her cousin would say it wasn’t a career but a vocation. He would be getting ready to say mass. She tried to remember when she was last even in a church, more than a year ago.

She carried her Catholicism around with her like some people carried the latest handbag—possessively although not ostentatiously. Although she had other identifying tribal affiliations like being an English/Polish pseudo-aristocratic bourgeois with a lineage that stretched back to the 1400’s, a prep-schooler with a naïve pretension of nihilistic intellectualism (probably a result of too much theatre as a child, combined with her older pseudo-intellectual siblings being a main influence,) and, today, a forty-something fashion snob with a decided bent for all things Belgian—she mostly thought of herself as a re-lapsed, Vatican-hating, feministic, veil-loving Catolica who felt perpetually sheepish (read guiltified) about the way she ultimately lost that long ago virginity (both physical and spiritual). Shallow and proud of it, she bragged about how Catholicism meant the most to her when all the females in her family got new hats for Easter Sunday mass. And she was nostalgic for the veils, those lace dribbles pinned to every female’s head in the sixties, even if she was too young to remember wearing one. (If truth be told, she never wore one, since they were worn by adult women and she was stuck in hats, being so young, not that hats were bad.) It was only when she fully grew up did she realize that the church thought the female head unclean, hence the headwear. Then there were the nuns. Modern vestal virgins, they could never hope to rise to the status of priests. Sexist for sure, but only after it had all been pointed out as such. When something is as familiar as that, you don’t necessarily question it or resent it. It was rote role-playing more than anything else. Like genuflecting before getting into the pew.

It was a quandary—this mix of repulsion/obsession. She truly believed that Vatican II killed organized religion as she never knew it, what with its gradual relaxation of standards that eventually resulted in the horror of bland guitar masses and made-up face-to-face confessions. And even if she could’ve been an altar girl, unlike her older sisters, she had no interest. She pined for the mix of exoticism and mystery and (perhaps most of all) the sense of ritual, (after all, she had minored in Anthropology) that seemed to add authenticity. No matter that she couldn’t remember the Latin mass when last practiced, she hated that most of all. It seemed a sign of being not only a lapsed Catholic, but belonging to a lapsed religion. She felt the whole religious revision had deprived her of experiencing the genuine, historical ritual, when going to mass was an event, dramatic pageantry—hence supportive of her revulsion/fascination. She was, after all, nothing if not melodramatic in her analyzing, rationalizing, conclusion-izing.

Being Catholic somewhat redeemed itself with its perpetual identifying factor/curse. She knew who she was—always. This possessive trait of her religion stamped her, tainted her throughout her day, affecting everything from turning the right cheek to crossing her legs properly like a lady in a pew. Then there were all the sacraments of her childhood, a way to get money from relatives and also a nice party with a cake.  She, unfortunately, had never been confirmed but that never kept her from being a Catholic.  It wasn’t her fault, anyway. They kept pushing the confirmation age further up in grade school. Her older siblings had all been confirmed (with parties and gifts) by sixth grade. Thanks to the new, modern take on things, everything changed in the seventies and confirmation was moved to the eighth grade. When she arrived at that final chapter of Catholic schoolgirlness, it was moved to the high school level. Well, she was not about to attend special classes on Saturdays simply to be confirmed, even if it did mean a cake (and she so loved cake). And she was most certainly not going to attend St. Ann’s girl’s high school for the convenience of confirmation. Rife with rumors of girl-on-girl action, she much preferred boys. But if they wanted her to publicly state her baptismal intent, they could have made the whole thing easier, like keeping it back in the sixth grade as it had been for all her siblings. Easy peasy. So she became a sort of in-between. No one seemed to mind it either, even when she was married in her family’s church. Unconfirmed but still not a heathen. It wasn’t like the Mormons where they excised the soul or some such trashy bible nonsense. (She only knew this sketchy information from visiting other parishes in eighth grade with the then-considered-liberal Sister Agnes Mary. Sister Agnes believed in opening up her student’s eyes (but she kept close tabs on their souls) and minds to the whole wide world of religion beyond the doors of St. Stephen’s grade school. Along with the Mormons, they’d visited Armenian, Episcopalian and Baptist churches, as well as a temple. Heresy before 1976—most assuredly.

The problem was, she still believed that the whole possessive/identifying thing enslaved her. She used to say (jokingly) how she was Catholic whether she wanted to be or not. It was like she had no say or choice in the identity that burdened/gladdened her through the years. A smallish weight to carry through life compared to being Jewish. But being Jewish seemed so much more than mere religion. It was a much more glamorous cultural stamp, they even had their own cuisine. On the opposite side of the coin, the Episcopalians she knew had no such identifying problem. It was just one small part of their lives, not their character. Still, there were no Episcopalian foods.

Then she remembered the fish fries of her childhood. Meatless Fridays during Lent meant dinner out at a church hall, supper club or even a tavern. Why even the Episcopalians ate perch on Fridays, it was so delicious. Maybe that was her religious culture food—perch from Lake Michigan. Pan-fried with potato pancakes and a lavishing of creamy coleslaw. Suddenly feeling better about it all, she knew what she'd make for her cousin's dinner and dressed for her own ritual—her Sunday morning jog.

 

http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Beer-Battered-Haddock

http://www.food52.com/recipes/7968_golden_panko_latkes_with_sour_cream_and_chives

http://www.saveur.com/article/Wine-and-Drink/Brandy-Old-Fashioned

food bedevils us all, especially those who like it...

My interjections are below in bolded blue...

 

March 19, 2012, 2:57 PM

Calories Are Everywhere, Yet Hard to Track

By JANE E. BRODY, Columnist

Yvetta Fedorova

Americans are having a passionate love affair with something they cannot see, hear, feel, touch or taste. That something is calories, billions upon billions of which are consumed every day, often unwittingly, at and between meals.

Certainly calories are talked about constantly, and information about them appears with increasing frequency on food labels, menus, recipes and Web sites. But few people understand what they are and how they work — especially how they have worked to create a population in which 64 percent of adults and a third of children are overweight or obese, or how they thwart the efforts of so many people to shed those unwanted pounds and keep them off once and for all.

Enter two experts: Marion Nestle, a professor of nutrition, food studies and public health at New York University; and Malden Nesheim, professor emeritus of nutritional sciences at Cornell University. Together they have written a new book, “Why Calories Count: From Science to Politics,” to be published April 1, which explains what calories are, where they come from, how different sources affect the body, and why it is so easy to consume more of them than most people need to achieve and maintain a healthy weight.

“The human body does a superb job of making sure that it gets enough calories to meet biological needs but is much less effective at knowing when calories are in excess,” they wrote. “The result is that it is much easier to overeat than to stop eating when you are no longer hungry.”

Out of Control

People living in affluent societies today swim in a sea of redundant calories. Food is everywhere, and it is relatively inexpensive, accounting for about 10 percent of Americans’ disposable income on average, Dr. Nestle said in an interview.

“When did it become O.K. to eat in bookstores?” she asked. “Or in Staples? Bed, Bath and Beyond, or drugstores?”

I do not allow this...

Portion sizes — especially restaurant portions — have mushroomed out of control, she noted.

“People who pay attention to calorie labels on menus are shocked, for example, to discover that a single cookie contains 700 calories,” Dr. Nestle said. “You may want that cookie, but then you can’t eat anything else. Cookies didn’t used to be this big.”

Nor were bagels, now 500 or 600 calories each, or sodas, available in sizes as large as 64 ounces.

The shock extends to those supposedly in the know. Recently Lisa Young, a colleague of Dr. Nestle at New York University, asked the students in her nutrition class how many calories were in a Double Gulp, a 64-ounce soda available at 7-Eleven convenience stores. She’d already told them that an eight-ounce soda has 100 calories, but the students guessed a Double Gulp contains less than 400 calories.

We drink very little soda. 

When Dr. Young asked why their estimate was off by 100 percent, they simply said, “800 calories — that can’t be!”

Who eats/drinks at 7/11?

People who do check calorie information on nutrition labels often fail to note the size of the serving it applies to. A serving of ice cream is just a half-cup, a burger is three ounces, and uncooked pasta is merely two ounces. A pound of pasta, therefore, should feed eight people, not two or four; two ounces per serving is about what Italians consume as a first course.

A typical American restaurant meal is more like dinner for two. Dr. Nestle said restaurants have resisted her suggestion to serve half the amount of food for about a third the price. She recently found at one New York restaurant that a “personal-size pizza” contained 2,100 calories, the amount the average woman needs in a day.

“And that didn’t include the soda and dessert,” she said. “Unless you’re in the kitchen watching what the chef is doing, you have no idea how many calories are being packed into a given dish.”

Health claims for foods are another seductive factor encouraging overconsumption, Dr. Nestle said. She’s found that words imparting “a health aura — like ‘organic’ or ‘low-fat’ or ‘heart-healthy’ — can prompt people to forget about calories.”

Ending Excess

The human body has a very complex and redundant system to make sure the brain gets the sugar calories it needs to function, Dr. Nestle and Dr. Nesheim explain in their book. At least 100 different hormones, enzymes and other chemicals — with more likely to be discovered — act to regulate appetite and to assure that people eat enough to maintain brain function.

But it is these very systems that go into overdrive during starvation (translation: a reduced-calorie diet), making it so difficult for people to lose weight.

As seductive as the current food environment is, it is still easier not to gain excess weight in the first place. Most people seriously underestimate how much they eat. For example, participants in the Nurses’ Health Study report consuming 1,600 calories a day, but their body mass index on average is 26 or higher — well into the overweight range and supported by many more calories than the women seem to think they are eating.

“I don’t count calories, and I don’t recommend counting calories,” Dr. Nestle said. “I recommend eating food. You have to pay attention to eating better and in moderation: plenty of fruits and vegetables, lean meats, and whole grains in reasonable portions, and not too much junk food.”

She applauded the current campaign by the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene to get people to stop “pouring on the calories” by consuming fewer sugar-sweetened soft drinks.

Dr. Nestle and Dr. Nesheim also review the weight-regulating effects of different sources of calories. Is it high-fructose corn syrup that makes so many people fat? Are other carbohydrates to blame, or fat — or what?

They found scant evidence to support the popular notion that any one nutrient is responsible for our obesity, or that a low-carbohydrate diet is everyone’s secret to success.

Although a diet low in carbs and high in fats and protein may enhance satiety and curb snacking, few people seem able to refrain indefinitely from the carbohydrate-rich foods they love. The long-term effectiveness of low-carb diets for a vast majority of people who try them has yet to be assessed.

If I do all protein, I crave carbs and binge. So I do a half-starve during the day. A banana, boot camp, Think Thin protein bar in the morning. Later, I'll have low fat string cheese, two sticks, and a small bowl of pretzels. Or a hard-boiled egg on a mess of greens rossed in olive oil. But I have to keep it light and a mix of protein and carbs--or else I can't/won't stop eating.

“The source of the calories may make a small difference in weight maintenance or loss, but it appears to be much less important than the ability to resist pressures to overeat calories in general,” the authors wrote.

And since most people cannot come close to estimating how many calories they consume or expend in a day, a better way to monitor intake and output, Dr. Nestle said, is to regularly check the notches on one’s belt or numbers on the scale.

“It’s much easier to lose a pound or two than 20 or 30,” she said.

Of course, the amount of calories consumed is not the only factor influencing weight. Calories expended count as well, and the more active people are, even if they are simply fidgety, the better able they are to balance intake with output.

Dinner with mi familia is muy importante, so I cook most nights and we eat together. I eat what we all eat. It's my reward, yay. And more often than not, I'm satisfied with one helping and no dessert. But it's been a slog getting to this point, for sure.

In the name of massive art

340-ton boulder to begin tortuous trip to LACMA, because it's art

February 28, 2012 |  8:16 am

 

A 340-ton boulder is expected to begin its difficult trek Tuesday night from a Riverside County quarry, rolling to a stop 11 days later in a new art exhibit at LACMA.

The two-story-high rock will begin its 106-mile journey on a custom-built, 294-foot-long centipede-like transporter between 10 and 11 p.m. and travel at the painstakingly slow speed of about 5 mph. It’s due to arrive at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art on Wilshire Boulevard in the wee hours of the morning March 10.

The 680,000-pound boulder is so large that work crews from about 100 utility districts will have to take down traffic signs, overhead wires and other obstacles to let the rock pass and then reinstall them later.

INTERACTIVE: Graphic of boulder's centipede-like tractor

A signal expert will have to move and rebuild traffic signals that would otherwise be mowed down like blades of grass by the transporter--nearly as wide as three freeway traffic lanes.

The rock will travel through four counties and 22 cities and is so large and cumbersome it can only move at night on roads closed to traffic. Officials also had to use a circuitous route to avoid "overpasses and any streets or bridges deemed too weak to support the transporter and cargo," according to the museum.

During the day, the rock -- expected to be shrink-wrapped for protection -- will have to park in "the middle of the road, the only place big enough," Rick Albrecht, the project's logistics supervisor, told The Times last year.

Initially, the plan was for the trip to take nine days, but it is now scheduled to take 11 days to reach its destination. 

At LACMA, the granite will be placed on its new home, resting atop a ramp-like slot in the ground through which visitors will pass, making it appear that the rock levitates above them. It will form the center of artist Michael Heizer’s enormous sculpture “Levitated Mass.” 

The total cost of the project, including the rock, the transportation and construction of the sculpture site, will be up to $10 million, which was raised from private donors.

On Tuesday night, quarry owner Stephen Vanderhart will throw a reception for about 300 people to see the rock off, complete with a BBQ truck and a DJ.

The rock's first stopping point, at 5 a.m. Wednesday, will be at Mission Boulevard and Bellegrave Avenue in Ontario.

The Times' Culture Monster blog will be covering the event live, with updates throughout the evening.

You can follow the action on the rock's own Twitter account @LACMARock. Los Angeles County Chief Executive William T. Fujioka sent a tweet to the account, saying, “It’s wet out there, @LACMARock. Be sure to pack an umbrella & coat for your journey. I’m thinking size 3,428XL.”

 

Charlie's Secret

Charlie Chaplin was the son of a gypsy queen  

By DAILY MAIL REPORTER

Last updated at 10:44 AM on 21st February 2011

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1358970/The-secret-letter-claims-Charlie-Chaplain-son-gypsy-queen.html#ixzz1mg8HR6D1

The little tramp: Charlie Chaplin may have been born in a gypsy caravan, not in London

A letter hidden for years by silent movie pioneer Charlie Chaplin has come to light which claims he lied about his birthplace and was in fact born in a gypsy caravan.

The letter, written to Chaplin in the 1970s, claims he was born on the 'Black Patch' near Birmingham rather than in London as previously believed. 

The comedian, one of most iconic personalities of the 20th century, received the letter six years before he died in 1977, and kept it hidden in his desk drawer.

It stated that the British comic actor's claim in his memoirs that he was born in London was wrong and instead relocated his birth, on April 16, 1889, to a caravan in the town of Smethwick, in central England.

Believed to be genuine by Chaplin's family, the letter was found in the locked drawer of a bureau which was inherited by Chaplin's daughter, Victoria, after his widow Oona died in 1991.

It was only found after his daughter had a locksmith open up the drawer.

WHAT THE LETTER SAID:

'Hello Charlie,

'If you would like to know, you were born in a caravan, so [was I]. It was a good one, it belonged to the gypsy queen who was my auntie. 

'You were born on the Black Patch in Smethwick. So was I, two and a half year later. 

'Your mum did move again with her dad's circus and later settled down in London but whereabouts I do not know.'

Jack Hill, who adds he is not out for any money for the information, signs off:

'Goodbye and good luck,

Jack Hill.'

The letter is set to be included in a British radio documentary tomorrow and reveals the inauspicious beginnings of the man who earned worldwide acclaim for his performance as the 'little tramp'.

It was sent by Jack Hill, of Tamworth, who says that he knew about the British actor's real background from his aunt, who was a gypsy queen.

Mr Hill wrote: 'The caravan belonged to the Gypsy Queen, who was my auntie. You were born on the Black Patch in Smethwick near Birmingham.'

The Black Patch was a thriving Romany community based on the industrial edge of Birmingham in the 1880s.   

Chaplin's birth certificate has never been located, even though by the late 1880s it was a legal requirement. His older half brother Sydney had one.

Until now it was thought he was born in London in 1889.  His mother Hannah, whose maiden name is Hill, was descended from a travelling family.

 

She was a singer and actress with the stage name Lily Harley, who separated from her husband Charles when young Charlie was three.

There may have been some shame in having a Romany background, which is thought to be why Chaplin made much of being a Londoner, particularly after he emigrated to America in 1910.

Secret letter: Charlie Chaplin aged 12 (left) in 1901 and aged 25 in 1914 (right). He received the letter telling him of his birthplace six years before he died in 1977

Inauspicious beginnings: Chaplin may have been born in a gypsy travelling wagon similar to this

The letter is one of a number of documents about the comic being kept in a bomb-proof concrete vault in Montreux, Switzerland, the country where his relatives now live.

Other documents include reel-to-reel recordings of Chaplin improvising at the piano.  

There are also press cuttings which detail the British Army's banning of the Chaplin moustache from the trenches during the First World War.

Chaplin is one of the greatest figures of the 20th century, famous for his signature character, the Little Tramp.

The survivor of a tough workhouse childhood, he became one of the best-known film stars in the silent movie world before the end of the First World War.

Chaplin's oldest surviving son Michael has said the idea of Chaplin being a gypsy born in Smethwick, the West Midlands, does not bother him.

He believes the letter must have been significant for Chaplin to have kept it.

There are plans to turn the Chaplin family home in Montreux into a museum.

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1358970/The-secret-letter-claims-Charlie-Chaplain-son-gypsy-queen.html#ixzz1mg83qgbn

 

A recipe for the year of the dragon

 

 

Stir-Fried Scallops With Snow Peas And Peppers

January 16, 2009

Scallops, clams and mussels are regarded as lucky foods. The opening of their shells represents a fresh beginning for the New Year. This is a classic Cantonese stir-fry lightly flavored with ginger and garlic. You can also add 1/2 teaspoon of red pepper flakes in the sauce mixture for a more fiery stir-fry. 

Serves 2 to 3 as a main dish, or 4 as part of a multi-course meal. 

1 pound sea scallops
1/3 cup chicken broth
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 teaspoons oyster flavored sauce
1 teaspoon cornstarch
1 teaspoon Shao Hsing rice wine or dry sherry
1 teaspoons sesame oil
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
4 slices ginger
3 medium cloves garlic, smashed and peeled
1 red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch squares
1 cup snow peas, strings removed
2 scallions, cut into 2-inch sections

1. Wash the scallops in cold water, removing any visible bits of shell or grit. Drain well in a colander and pat dry with paper towels. If there are any large scallops, halve or cut them into thirds to match the size of the other scallops. In a small bowl, combine the chicken broth, soy sauce, oyster sauce, cornstarch, rice wine, sesame oil, sugar, and salt. Stir until the cornstarch is dissolved. Set aside. 

2. Heat a 14-inch flat-bottomed wok or 12-inch skillet over high heat until a bead of water vaporizes within 1 to 2 seconds of contact. Add 1 tablespoon of the peanut oil and the scallops, spreading them evenly in the wok. Cook undisturbed 1 minute, letting scallops begin to brown. Then, using a metal spatula stir-fry 1 to 2 minutes, or until scallops are firm and slightly brown but not cooked through. Remove scallops from the wok to a plate. 

3. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon peanut oil, ginger, garlic, red bell pepper, snow peas, and scallions. Stir-fry 2 to 3 minutes, or until pepper begins to soften. Re-stir sauce mixture and swirl it into the wok. Return the scallops and any juices that have accumulated on the plate to the wok and stir-fry 1 to 2 minutes, or until the sauce has thickened slightly and scallops are just cooked through. 

Adapted from The Wisdom of the Chinese Kitchen: Classic Family Recipes for Celebration and Healing, by Grace Young, Simon and Schuster 1999.

 

Russian political poetry

Satirizing Putin With Boldly Poetic Flair

By ELLEN BARRY

Published: November 18, 2011

MOSCOW — An elegant after-work crowd packed into the Estrada Theater last week, having shelled out as much as $250 for an evening devoted to laughing at Vladimir V. Putin.

Yury Feklistov

 It was clear as soon as the stage lights went up that this was not some low-rent puny-autocrat shtick. Behind a desk on stage sat a fat poet, smiling wordlessly, like a giant cherub. Beside him stood an actor from a legendary Soviet theater dynasty, his long face projecting mirth and despair.

The “Citizen Poet” project — conceived by three friends after a night of heavy drinking — is pushing the edges of Internet programming in Russia, delivering political satire to an audience that numbers in the millions rather than the thousands. It has also tapped into the sour response of many Russians to Mr. Putin’s plan to return to the presidency, a mood made darker by the absence of any viable course of action.

Unless poetry counts as a course of action. The actor began an uncanny imitation of the poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko, whose 1957 lament over a faithless friend had been rewritten to channel Mr. Putin’s hurt feelings last spring when President Dmitri A. Medvedev differed with him in public:

Here is what’s befallen me

My old friend does not come to me

He even feels free

To open his mouth and disagree

Yes, I taught him to put on skis

To keep the Kuril Islands from the Japanese

Back then he was not so loud

He barely ever made a sound.

A little while later, he recited a sentimental, folkloric classic by the Soviet poet Aleksandr Tvardovsky, retrofitted as a commentary on Mr. Putin’s stage-managed outings:

Today after lunch

Having finished our cutlets

Medvedev and I were wondering

How can we shake things up?

We have done everything

Amused the whole country

We took the helm of airplanes

Immersed ourselves in the depths

We did not hide our tender friendship

Sang rock ’n’ roll

Milked cows

Twitter, sweater, Macintosh

Skiing, dancing, the whole nine yards

To the clatter of our teacups

The answer was spoken

We have never once played badminton on combines!

When they began, the progenitors of “Citizen Poet” — the poet Dmitrii L. Bykov, the actor Mikhail O. Yefremov and the producer Andrei Vasiliev — expected their weekly videos to be viewed at most by a few thousand people. But their first clip got 250,000 hits, Mr. Vasiliev said. Ten months and three dozen satirical poems later, that number is at 12 million to 14 million, according to Yuri Katsman, who publishes the poems on his Web portal, F5.

That is nothing compared with the televised satire of the pre-Putin era, which was powerful enough to affect politicians’ approval ratings. The puppet show “Kukly,” which was forced off the air in 2002 as the government took control of Russia’s popular channels, reached 80 million people every week, according to Viktor A. Shenderovich, who wrote scripts for the show.

Still, “Citizen Poet” has managed to engage Russians who are politically passive but nonetheless alienated, much as Jon Stewart did with “The Daily Show” during George W. Bush’s presidency.

“The government feeds us,” said Mr. Vasiliev, a longtime journalist, as he waited to take the stage as master of ceremonies, drinking what seemed not to be his first cocktail. “This is not a joke. The sillier they behave, the better our show is. Just imagine — the two of them went to harvest corn and to play badminton. Really, I cherish our government. They nourish us.”

Their act featured jokes about prison camps, however, suggesting at least a small edge of anxiety. In March, the general director of Dozhd, the progressive Internet television station that had commissioned the project, decided the Yevtushenko poem was too insulting to Mr. Medvedev. They edited the narrator’s harshest lines about the president:

He may at times cast glares of ire

And huff and strain to look a tsar

The shadow lies as I request

And we’ll be friends as in the past.

Ultimately, she decided to cut the whole thing.

At that point, the three men began to post their work on the Internet directly. They did not consult with officials about this decision, and the next month, when Mr. Putin invited Mr. Bykov and Mr. Yefremov to join him at a gathering of intellectuals and artists, neither man accepted. The project has since received sponsorship from the billionaire owner of the New Jersey Nets, Mikhail D. Prokhorov, who said he was proud to lend them his support, “even though I have been on the receiving end of their cruel and unjust humor (twice!).”

Mr. Vasiliev likes to joke that they would be in jail already if their critiques were not presented in the style of classic poets. He recalled getting a worried call from Mr. Yefremov’s mother, and responding: “How can they lock him up? He’s Lermontov! He’s even wearing a jacket!”

Mr. Yefremov, for his part, said the project had no political purpose. He described himself as “not Putin’s fan,” but said that the political alternatives make any change of leadership unappealing.

“I’m afraid that it will be even worse,” he said. “That frightens me much more.”

Anyway, he added, every king’s court includes a jester.

“I think it’s good that they don’t notice us so far, or pretend that they don’t,” he said. “Maybe this thing is too small for them, for what they are doing.” Otherwise, he added jovially, “I might be on a train to Magadan.”

But the project has landed at an uncertain moment in Russian politics.

Public support for Mr. Putin’s system appears to be declining steadily despite efforts to shore it up; last week, the independent Levada polling center released new numbers showing that support for the governing party, United Russia, had dropped by nine percentage points over the previous two weeks, to 51 percent. Mr. Putin’s approval rating is at 61 percent, still high by international standards but 17 points below where it was last November. Meanwhile, Mr. Putin’s announcement that he will return to the presidency has sent the message that there is no potential for substantive political change for years to come.

At the Estrada last week, that announcement was replayed on a huge video screen to sardonic voiceovers from Mr. Vasiliev, and the hall rang with laughter, the comforting sound of 800 people who shared exactly the same opinion.

But Mr. Bykov’s poems were not all funny, and they offered little in the way of hope. In a parody of Vladimir Mayakovsky’s utopian anthem of 1929, “Here Will Be a Garden-City,” he paints a landscape in which the only certainty is Mr. Putin, “a meek Lieutenant Colonel from the swamps of St. Petersburg.”

As agile as a lover, he found his way inside our skulls

I am looking at the Lieutenant Colonel and I see that he is us

All we can do is drink ourselves blind

That is the only garden-city we will find.

Blurred lines

Disruptions: The 3-D Printing Free-For-All

By NICK BILTON

| November 13, 2011, 2:17 pm

 

Ángel Franco/The New York Times

Downloading — quite often stealing, in the eyes of the law — music, movies, books and photos is easier than bobbing for apples in a bucket without water. It has kept legions of lawyers employed fighting copyright violations without a whole lot to show for their efforts in the past decade.

You think that was bad? Just wait until we can copy physical things.

It won’t be long before people have a 3-D printer sitting at home alongside its old inkjet counterpart. These 3-D printers, some already costing less than a computer did in 1999, can print objects by spraying layers of plastic, metal or ceramics into shapes. People can download plans for an object, hit print, and a few minutes later have it in their hands.

Call it the Industrial Revolution 2.0. Not only will it change the nature of manufacturing, but it will further challenge our concept of ownership and copyright. Suppose you covet a lovely new mug at a friend’s house. So you snap a few pictures of it. Software renders those photos into designs that you use to print copies of the mug on your home 3-D printer.

Did you break the law by doing this? You might think so, but surprisingly, you didn’t.

What about a lamp, a vase, an iPhone protective cover, board game pieces, wall hooks, even large pieces of furniture? In each of these cases, if you copy them, it’s highly unlikely that you’re breaking any copyright laws.

“Copyright doesn’t necessarily protect useful things,” said Michael Weinberg, a senior staff attorney with Public Knowledge, a Washington digital advocacy group. “If an object is purely aesthetic it will be protected by copyright, but if the object does something, it is not the kind of thing that can be protected.”

When I posed my mug scenario to Mr. Weinberg, he responded: “If you took that mug and went to a pottery class and remade it, would you be asking me the same questions about breaking a copyright law? No.” Just because new tools arrive, like 3-D printers and digital files that make it easier to recreate an object, he said, it doesn’t mean people break the law when using them.

But it could turn design and manufacturing into the Wild West. That’s already happening on Thingiverse, a free online site that offers schematics of more than 15,000 objects. Thomas Lombardi, a 3-D printer owner and regular contributor to Thingiverse, uploaded a free design for a “Lucky Charms Cereal Sifter.” This brilliant piece of American engineering is a cup with several holes in the bottom. When you pour Lucky Charms cereal into the sifter and shake it from side to side, the cereal falls through the holes and the marshmallow charms — clearly the most sought-after part of the product — stay in the sifter, leaving you with nothing but marshmallowy goodness to pour into a bowl.

After Mr. Lombardi posted his invention on Thingiverse, someone else downloaded the design and began selling a finished Lucky Charms Cereal Sifter on a competing Web site for $30.

Because the sifter is a useful object (although some might argue otherwise) and not simply decorative, there was nothing Mr. Lombardi could have done to stop them.

A recent research paper published by the Institute for the Future in Palo Alto, Calif., titled “The Future of Open Fabrication,” says 3-D printing will be “manufacturing’s Big Bang.” as jobs in manufacturing, many overseas, and jobs shipping products around the globe are replaced by companies setting up 3-D fabrication labs in stores to print objects rather than ship them.

The disregard for copyright smoothes the way for this shift. Downloading music online prospered because it was quicker and easier to press a button than go to a store to buy a CD. Given the choice to download a mug, or deal with Ikea on a Saturday afternoon, which one do you think you would choose?

Joan takes the mic

November 11, 2011, 4:51 pm For Joan Baez, Another Protest

By COLIN MOYNIHAN

Don Emmert/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images Joan Baez waved to a crowd of protesters with Occupy Wall Street during a concert on Friday in Foley Square.

After Occupy Wall Street protesters received permission from the city to hold a Veterans Day concert in Foley Square, not far from Zuccotti Park, the organizer of the event, Aaron Black, had to improvise in finding an area to serve as a green room, where musicians could stay warm before performing.

So it was that just before 1 p.m. on Friday Mr. Black was standing inside a Starbucks on Worth Street with Joan Baez and a few others, waiting for the audience to arrive. After some conversation about how the protesters had been faring in Zuccotti Park, Mr. Black pointed to a group of people marching along the sidewalk toward Foley Square.

“The veterans are here,” he said. “Let’s go.”

On their way out the door a young man recognized Ms. Baez and posed with her for a photograph. On the sidewalk, a woman called out, “You’re my mother’s favorite.”

Mr. Black and Ms. Baez walked through Foley Square, where about 300 people had gathered. Some wore military uniforms and waved American flags. One man held up a sign reading “No War but the Class War.”

As Ms. Baez neared the stage a protester named Jesse LaGreca, who was wearing a Civil War-style military cap, greeted her and said, “It’s an honor.”

Norman Siegel, the civil rights lawyer, stopped by and said, “Thank you for being here.”

Somebody asked Ms. Baez if she saw any similarities between the current protests and the many antiwar demonstrations that she participated in 40 years ago.

“The ideals are similar,” she said. “But now it’s more spread out.”

On the stage, a former air traffic controller for the Air Force named John Penley told the crowd that veterans had participated in Occupy Wall Street and related protests across the country.

A few moments later, Ms. Baez took the stage.

“This is a song I wrote in the 70’s and I wrote it in the era of the Vietnam War,” she said. “I wrote it for and about veterans of that war. It’s called ‘Where’s My Apple Pie.’ ”

Joan Baez at Occupy Wall Street from Gothamist on Vimeo.

Some in Foley Square swayed back and forth as they listened. A few sang along for the chorus.

Next, Ms. Baez played a Rolling Stones song called “Salt of the Earth.” She finished with a song about Joe Hill, a union organizer with the Industrial Workers of the World who was executed in 1915.

As she stepped off the stage, Ms. Baez signed a poster that read “Decolonize Wall Street,” and shook hands with a few fans.

“I don’t think there are any limits to how far this can grow,” she told one man.

As Ms. Baez left, several younger members of the crowd confessed that they had not recognized any of the songs she played. But Jerry Wade, who said he served in the Army from 1967 to 1972, had.

“When she played ‘Where’s My Apple Pie’ tears were streaming down my face,” he said.

Not a foodie

November 10, 2011

Where’s the Lunch? Looking at Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party

Luncheon of the Boating Party (1881) by Pierre-Auguste Renoir. Image courtesy of the Phillips Collection.

Mealtimes are fairly well represented in fine art. Wayne Thiebaud had an affinity for deserts. Manet gave us images of Breakfast in the Studio and Luncheon in the Grass. And I think Da Vinci may have a dining scene in his oeuvre as well. And then there’s Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s instantly recognizable scene of a convivial bunch of diners enjoying a summertime meal alfresco. Completed in 1881, Luncheon of the Boating Party is one of the most famous midday meals committed to canvas, but it’s curious to note that in spite of the title, there’s precious little food to be seen. Taking a cue from Clara Peller, I have to ask: where’s the lunch?

“It’s like a painting about the most perfect meal that ever was—but you can’t tell what most of it was,” says Phillips Collection Chief Curator Eliza Rathbone. By the time we see the table, all that’s left are a few not-quite-empty bottles of wine and a compotier of fruit such as grapes and pears, perhaps a peach or two. “It’s the end of the meal. And I think that’s one of the reasons why it’s such a beguiling picture. It’s of that time that comes when everyone has had a delicious meal, they’ve all gathered, they’ve focused on the food and now they’re just focusing on each other and this beautiful day and they don’t want it to be over. And we’ve all had those kinds of experiences where you want to linger and those are the best meals we ever have.”

The scene takes place at the Maison Fournaise, an open-air café on the Ile de Chatou where people of all social classes mixed and mingled as they enjoyed their leisure time away from the bustle of the city. In its heyday the Maison was a popular hangout for artists. It remains open for business, although the scenic views have changed a bit since Renoir’s time.

But it seems Renoir wasn’t much of a foodie. In a memoir, son Jean Renoir, who made a name for himself as a film director, remembers his father preferring simple fare, even when finer things—like veal and soufflés and custards—were laid on the table. In terms of food as a subject for his paintings, actual foodstuffs crop up most often in his still lifes, and even then, his attentions turned to raw ingredients instead of finished dishes. “He could paint a beautiful onion,” Rathbone says. “They’re the ingredients in their most natural form, which is their most beautiful moment. Let’s face it, a chopped onion isn’t nearly as beautiful as an onion whole. I think Monet and Caillebotte did more prepared food in their still lifes than Renoir did. We have a wonderful still life in the collection that’s a ham and it’s a marvelous subject in Gauguin’s hands. He makes the most beautiful ham you ever saw.”

Instead, Renoir seems to prefer to focus on the social aspect of the dining experience. “He was a people person, and people love food. So I think the subject came to him naturally.”

Next time you are in the D.C. area, you can enjoy Luncheon of the Boating Party first-hand at the Phillips Collection, which is a short walk from the Dupont Circle metro.

 

Posted By: Jesse Rhodes

‘One of the Most Bizarre Recipes for Stuffing Ever Printed’

November 4, 2011, 2:42 pm Thanksgiving Countdown |

By THE NEW YORK TIMES

From the Diner’s Journal mailbag (that is, the comments section):

It’s time to pull out the wonderful spiced stuffing recipe that appeared in The New York Times Magazine about 35 years ago under the headline “Boy, Is It Stuffed!” It’s from a long-forgotten novel called “Joe, the Wonderful Tennis Player.” My mother made it at the time, commenting that one would have to be pretty old to own all those spices. Boy, was it good! — David Platt, Falmouth, Me.

David, here is that recipe. Adapted from the writer Morton Thompson and published in The Times in 1969, the recipe counted among its ingredients orange, crushed pineapple, pork and Tabasco sauce. Craig Claiborne, then the food editor, called it “one of the most bizarre recipes for stuffing ever printed,” recommending that cooks “searching for a stuffing with a difference might wish to give it a whirl.” If any readers do try the recipe, please be sure to report back with your results.

A stuffing recipe that appeared in The Times in 1969. View recipe (PDF) »

The Dining staff is taking questions on Thanksgiving cooking, drinking, entertaining or any other holiday hurdles. Send us a message via Twitter at @nytimesdining using the hashtag #ThanksgivingQs, or post a question here. They will be answered in the coming weeks. Thanksgiving recipes, videos and more are here.