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Member since: Sat Nov 30, 2013, 05:06 AM
Number of posts: 4,830

Journal Archives

Bill Maher, New Rule: Change Anxiety

Bill Maher, Monologue: 100 Days of Trump

Bill Maher, Overtime: Nukes, Gun Control, Obama speeches

Writing about food: Happy birthday to Harper Lee, "To Kill a Mockingbird"

"While Walter piled food on his plate, he and Atticus talked together like two men, to the wonderment of Jem and me. Atticus was expounding upon farm problems when Walter interrupted to ask if there was any molasses in the house. Atticus summoned Calpurnia, who returned bearing the syrup pitcher. She stood waiting for Walter to help himself. Walter poured syrup on his vegetables and meat with a generous hand. He would probably have poured it into his milk glass had I not asked what the sam hill he was doing. ... Atticus shook his head at me again. 'But he's gone and drowned his dinner in syrup,' I protested. 'He's poured it all over --'
It was then that Calpurnia requested my presence in the kitchen. ... 'There's some folks who don't eat like us,' she whispered fiercely, 'but you ain't called on to contradict 'em at the table when they don't. That boy's yo' comp'ny and if he wants to eat up the tablecloth you let him, you hear?' ... Perhaps Calpurnia sensed that my day had been a grim one: she let me watch her fix supper. ... It was not often that she made crackling bread, she said she never had time, but with both of us at school today had been an easy one for her. She knew I loved crackling bread.

"... we reaped the benefit of a talent Miss Maudie had hitherto kept hidden from us. She made the best cakes in the neighborhood. When she was admitted into our confidence, every time she baked she made a big cake and three little ones, and she would call across the street... . Our promptness was always rewarded. ... 'Soon as I can get my hands clean and when Stephanie Crawford's not looking, I'll make him a Lane cake. That Stephanie's been after my recipe for thirty years, and if she thinks I'll give it to her ... she's got another think coming.' I reflected that if Miss Maudie broke down and gave it to her, Miss Stephanie couldn't follow it anyway. Miss Maudie had once let me see it: among other things, the recipe called for one large cup of sugar.

"I sometimes thought of asking her if she would let me sit at the big table with the rest of them just once, I would prove to her how civilized I could be; after all, I ate at home every day with no major mishaps. ... But her cooking made up for everything: three kinds of meat, summer vegetables from her pantry shelves; peach pickles, two kinds of cake and ambrosia constituted a modest Christmas dinner.

"'Gracious alive, Cal, what's all this?' He was staring at his breakfast plate. Calpurnia said, 'Tom Robinson's daddy sent you along the chicken this morning and I fixed it.' 'You tell him I'm proud to get it -- bet they don't have chicken for breakfast at the White House. What are these?' 'Rolls,' said Calpurnia. 'Estelle down at the hotel sent 'em.' ... The kitchen table was loaded with enough food to bury the family. Hunks of salt pork, tomatoes, beans, even scuppernongs. Atticus grinned when he found a jar of pickled pigs' knuckles. 'Reckon Aunty'll let me eat these in the dining room?'"

Writing about food: Andrew Todhunter, "A Meal Observerd"

"... before my junior year in high school, a friend and I took a month-long course in mountaineering and wilderness survival ... in Wyoming. ... At month's end, fit as Olympians but wraithlike, we hiked out ... fasting. ... Unable to sleep, we spent most of that last night writing lists of all the sweet and savory things we would consume ... on our return to civilization. One of us would call out an entry; after a silent moment of absorption would rise a chorus of oaths and moans.
'Philly cheese steak, covered in onions ... '
'Don't say it.'
'A big oily sausage-and-pepperoni pizza ... '
'Ohhh, you bastard.'
'A Double Whopper,' rasped a parched voice in the darkness, 'with bacon and cheese, large fries, and a Coke.'

"Other entries on my personal list of nearly a hundred items included Key lime pie, lobster rolls, jelly doughnuts, and Buffalo wings. Red meat and pizza appeared in countless forms. Greasy substances, high in fat and protein, were the staples on everybody's list, the T & A of our culinary pornography. ... On our return to Lander, disregarding our instructors' warnings, we ate as much meat, fat, and candy as we could get our hands on. ... Alone and with others, ... hitting every fast-food place and convenience store in my path, I scratched items, one after an other, from my list. Double cheeseburgers, chocolate bars, steak sandwiches, vats of soda and lemonade, huge, loaded pizzas wolfed down in a corner booth.

"The morning after our return, the very instant I awakened in our hotel room, I sprang out of bed with the intention of cleaning out the adjacent doughnut shop. I took one half-conscious bound down the staircase, missed the fifth step I had aimed for, and tumbled end over end to the next landing. Then seconds later, rubbing my elbows, I stood before the shop's glass cabinet, peering in. Glazed doughnuts, powdered doughnuts, chocolate doughnuts, cinnamon doughnuts, jelly doughnuts, old-fashioned doughnuts, crullers, twists, eclairs. Row upon row, illuminated under glass. This three-day orgy destroyed my digestion for months ... But I couldn't stop; the imperative to eat was too strong. I have never sat down to a meal in quite the same way since ..."

Stephen Colbert: Trump Is Turning The Oval Office Into A Treehouse

Seth Meyers, A Closer Look: Trump Pushes Executive Orders and Tax Cuts

Stephen Learns How To Say F*** You In Canadian

Stephen Colbert: How Much of Trump's 100 Day Action Plan Has He Completed?

Writing about food: "Shocking Life, The Autobiography of Elsa Schiaparelli"

"... the feature of the house is the bar downstairs near the kitchen where one generally eats, with a real zinc counter and a wooden table with vaudeville posters of the nineties. This room has received an incredible number of the most famous and important people in the world. When somebody is asked to dine, the question rises naturally and nearly always: 'I hope it is in the bar ...' There is certainly something psychologically tantalizing in having good china, good linen, and good food in a cellar. One eats everywhere in the house, in the library, in the sitting-room, in the bathroom, in the garden. Only formal dinner-parties are held in the dining-room. Few people restrain from bursting into exclamations of wonder when the door opens and they see what appears to be gold plates and gold tablecloths. Actually the plates are Victorian vermeil and the china was bought when roaming through the English countryside. ... The glasses are of different colours and shapes, and the yellow and pink table-cloths are embroidered in gold by the Bedouin women of Tunisia. There are never any flowers. The extravagance consists principally in the colours and the unexpected setting. It is not necessary to spend millions to make a table glamorous.

"Hard bread and caviare -- and vodka ... . ... We arrived in Moscow in a burning cold. ... We lunched at the British Embassy, a wonderful lunch because all sorts of things had been brought over by air. Lady Chilston was a thoughtful hostess. ... Meals outside the embassies were occasions for farce. My companions would ask for something impossible, like salmon or a minute steak, and were surprised and a little cross when they could not get it. I stuck to the only good menu, hard bread and caviare -- sometimes sturgeon, but always vodka. Caviare was sold in the grocery stores in big barrels of red wood, and one could take it out with a large soup spoon. I can vouch for this diet being miraculous for losing weight, for when I returned to Paris I was as thin as Gandhi and in marvelous health.

"I learned to know London well, and though I was invited into many homes and attended all the parties in the fashionable restaurants ... I also delighted in the more popular places. There is a public house in Wapping (and I confess that I love 'pubs' because they are so human) that pleased me immensely. I would sit for hours at the water's edge, surrounded by ancient and rotting wooden poles, and munch bread and cheese. One could see the tugs and lighters, dark grey in the haze, in the grey of Whistler's Thames, threading their way majestically through the busy shipping. Cockneys laughed at Italians, Chinese would bow to Swedish sailors. Men of all nationalities came in for a glass of beer and a craps game, and though they spoke different languages they understood one another perfectly."
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