chicus.com

Birthday Dinner    Sep 04, 2009
Jen took me out for a fancy dinner in advance of my 32nd. Neither of us would be in Boston that evening so we went to Upstairs On The Square on Wednesday.

I have a love-hate relationship with fancier restaurants. To me, fancier is when the average price of an entree (not including sandwiches) creeps close to $20. I just have a block in paying $20 for an entree (which is not to say anything under $20 requires little or no deliberation).

Anyhow, Upstairs on the Square fits into my qualification of a fancy restaurant. We sat down without reservations around 6:30 and were served our (tap) water. But shortly thereafter our waiter disappeared. It is worth mentioning that around the same time Skip Gates and three friends sat down at a table not far from us.

For those unaware, Skip Gates is a professor at Harvard and was recently at the center of what he believed to be a racial profiling case. He was coming back to his home, didn;t have the key, and cops were called. It was big news around here and became national news when Obama weighed in and eventually invited the cop and Mr. Gates to the White House for a discussion over beer.

Jen was simply entranced with their party. I was intrigued but also felt ambivalent. He was infamous, I would say, not necessarily a celebrity prior to the event. So I was interested in the conversation but not enough that I wanted to sit silently and truly eavesdrop.

To say the Gates party ruled the night is an understatement, nary a minute went by where Jen didn't glance in that direction and I admit, I did get up at one point to use the restroom primarily to catch a glimpse, as they were behind me.

Beyond that I was in a lovefest with my love-hate relationship with fancy restaurants. Not only was it not my bill to pay but also we had a gift certificate. I know, I am a nerd. But it made me feel good that we had $50 knocked off our bill before we began. Jen got some Jackie O martini (which a member of Gates' party also had) and I had a beer with our heirloom tomato and melon salad appetizer. (Note: Their menu is at this point not current as the menu changed on Tuesday.)

My entree was the skirt steak. I was looking forward to the strip steak on their online menu and was genuinely disappointed that the option was skirt steak. However, it had this amazing buttery flavor that really set it off. I always thought of skirt steak as a bit of a leftover. Great on the grill for fajitas but never the show stopper of a real loin. This meal proved me wrong. Jen had the scallops, which were garnished with some sort of funky lentil I had never heard of. It was very good as well but I was preferential to my beef.

We opted for dessert, Jen for some sweet-ish pastry I can't recall but found to be quite good. I went for the sorbet sampling and gave her one of the three selections. She chose the malted chocolate, which was incredibly rich. I had a bite but was more than content to let her enjoy the bulk of it. I thoroughly enjoyed my choices, however. One was blackberry and thyme...I was really intrigued by incorporating a spice with the fruit. The other was pluot and honey. I had never heard of a pluot until Jen introduced me to them at the grocery store this summer, though I guess she didn't actually realize she knew what a pluot was. She pointed to it in the store as a mix of a PLUm and apricOT (PLUOT). But when I ordered it she swore she had never heard of it which led to an interesting conversation where I explained that it came from the beginning of plum and end of apricot and she realized she had, in fact, told me of it. By the way, both sorbets were amazing!

Anyhow, the point of this all is that I loved that they were using fresh and local ingredients based on the season in ways I would not imagine. I've been hitting the farmers market with more regularity and focusing on eating as close to the source as possible. However, I tend towards hearty but unoriginal salads for dinner and ripping apart fresh fruit with my teeth for breakfast. It's not often you can keep that up at a restaurant but I suppose if you are willing to pay a bit more you can do so. It inspired me to tell Jen that we should visit such 'fancy' restaurants every four to six weeks. We otherwise just cook together and aren't overly extravagant so it seems to be a workable arrangement.

Speaking of cooking at home, Jen's gift to me is a visit to make our own cheese. There is a woman in western Mass who has workshops and we are going to one in November. Yes, again, I am a big nerd, I thought it was the coolest thing.

New Hampshire    Sep 01, 2009
Early in the summer Kelleigh and Mike planned an excursion to a home near a lake owned by Kelleigh's uncle. Despite the coming of Tropical Storm/Depression Danny, Kelleigh and Mike, John and Brinda, and Jen and I headed up for Alton for the weekend.

The event unofficially began Thursday evening when Mike, John, and I dropped a handsome sum on beer for the weekend. We all like good beer and decided to splurge a bit and loaded the cart with a wide variety of six-packs and 22 oz bottles.

Jen and I arrived around 5:30, after the others had already shopped, swam, and kayaked. The grill was going and Jen got swiftly to work on a little surprise for me, birthday cupcakes and a small cake. She even packed a hand mixer. We had dinner and cake before retiring to the front yard for a fire and some beer. We sat in firelight and away from any urban sounds for a couple of hours when sprinkles began to fall as quickly as eyelids. We packed up the chairs and then Mike and I extinguished the fire (urinating seemed to work well) and headed to bed with the only sound being that of rain drops. Every time I stirred overnight was set to the tune of mother nature's deluge, as was the sound when we arose around 8:45. However, at that time there were few other man-made sounds available as the power had gone out sometime around 7:30.

I returned from a wet run to find John at the entrance to the garage heating water for coffee on a small propane grill. I entered to find three 22 oz beers lined up by Mike, set for immediate consumption. There had been one coordinated effort to open the fridge and pull out anything which would be needed for breakfast. Along with butter and the likes were three beers.

John, Mike, and I sampled the beer with breakfast and at around 10:15 power came back on. Due to the rain we settled in to watch Ted Kennedy's funeral, much to the dismay of Kelleigh and Mike. I understand their point and agreed, we were on vacation at a lake. But the other four of us felt that it was a historical event and due to the rain were content in watching.

After the funeral and some board games we donned rain jackets and long pants to brave the 55 degree temps to kayak around the lake. Watching sheets of rain and mist move across the lake was fun and miserable all rolled into one. After some warm showers in the iron-fortified water we were alone to our own devices (reading and sleeping, mainly) before Kelleigh, Mike, Brinda, and I took to some beer pong. By that time the rain had basically stopped so we fired up the grill for some bbq chicken fajitas and some more drinks. The wood was all soaked though so instead of a bonfire we played some speed Scrabble and Bananagrams and called it a night.

We arose Sunday and had a hearty breakfast of spent-grain bagels, made of the leftover grain from John's most recent batch of beer. The bagels (and bread) were awesome but were definitely high in fiber. I'll not go into details but it reminded me of this SNL commercial. We then hiked Mount Major before heading back for a quick lunch (more spent grain bread on my turkey sandwich) and walked down to the lake for some swimming. We got back around 5:15 and after a quick shower Jen and I were back on the road headed to Boston. She slept and I wished to sleep.

It was a most pleasantly exhausting Sunday to cap a really wonderful weekend. After a clam bake and weekend in New Hampshire my trip to IA for next weekend has a lot to live up to...but I think it can.

The Clam Bake    Aug 26, 2009
With one last check on Hurricane Bill I headed to South Station for a bus to my first clam bake. Bill had been the talk of town for a few days with most reports being quite overblown. "It's going to hit Boston with 85 MPH winds on Sunday...it's already a category 5" I was told Thursday, though in fact it was only a cat 3 at that point.

With a brief exception the reports were wholly inaccurate. Literally the moment the bus rolled onto the Sagamore Bridge (the entrance of the cape) buckets of rain slowed our progress. It was an ominous start to my day on the cape but when I called Jen to let her know where we were she reported nary a drop of rain where she was, 13 miles a way. She picked me up under sunny skies and we ran a few errands for our contribution to the festivities before heading to her parents place. It was my chance to Meet The Parents.

I wasn't nervous but at the same time there were some nerves. I hadn't met the parents of a girl I am dating in many years. Before I had a chance to fully prepare myself we ran into her brother on the road outside. I shook his hand, handed him the coffee we had gotten him, and off he went to the beach. I met mom and dad showed minutes later...and all was well. After a bit of chatting around the table on their screened in porch Jen and I changed and headed to "Own Risk" beach, called such because there is now lifeguard on duty and you are swimming at your own risk.

We pulled her parents bicycles from the shed and headed off. I could only think of it as a scene from a romantic comedy, a young couple on circa 1980's bikes with wicker baskets rolling down a quiet street towards the beach on a sunny afternoon. It was pretty darn cool.

The waves were up at Own Risk, at least compared to normal. The beach is in Nantucket Sound and protected by the island. So Saturday's waves, while up, were not enough to knock into one with enough force to even start to knock you over. After standing/treading water with Sean for about 30 minutes he left and soon after we sat on the beach for a bit longer. Just long enough to get a bit pink on my face and shoulders.

Along the bike ride home we stopped at the house where the clam bake would occur to check out preparations. This is as good a place as any to explain the reason for the gathering. At one point there was a summer school in Osterville. After grad school Jen's dad took a job there to compliment his full-time job of teaching math at a RI college. It's been a part of his life for over 30 years. The school is now closed but a close community formed and though they have since gone their separate ways they still come together for this reunion every year at a house which was once owned by the school and has since been purchased by one of the children of a former employee.

Anyhow, we biked up the little lane to the back of the house. Ray, whom I instantly liked because of his over-sized autographed shirt from scientist-chef Alton Brown, put me to work lying the sweet corn down on the seaweed in big copper pots. We then helped wrap cheesecloth into bags containing pieces of bluefish, sweet potato, potato, kielbasa, and hot dog. These would sit on top of the corn and directly below the lobsters, which would then be covered by big bags of steamers (clams). The whole rig. It's all set up, I learned, with the items requiring the most cooking on the bottom and the least on top. It's a pretty obvious principle I hadn't ever had reason to consider. Once we were sure the matters outside were under control Jen and I went inside and greeted Richard, who was frying the bacon for clam chowder (that was only half of what was used).

We then biked back to Jen's parents place. It was my first test with the parents, 1-on-1 in the back yard as Jen showered. They both worked at colleges so it wasn't difficult to engage them in conversation. Jen and I then returned for the actual clam bake activities. The event was quite draining for me, meeting 30 or so new people and trying to keep (relatively) straight their current city, profession, family tree/connection to one in the group...oh, and minor details like names. I focused on those whose names were most familiar before the evening (Jen's family seemed like a good place to start) and otherwise just bounced here and there.

The actual food was excellent. Word quickly spread that this was my first clam bake and I seemed to have an audience, or at least a regular set of people to check in and see how I was doing. Jen's dad was particularly interested in how I enjoyed the lobster. The steamers were fine but I found it odd that you dunk them in broth first to de-grit them and then dunk them in butter to give them flavor. As Sean said, otherwise I'll be "spittin' grit" all night long. I can think of many other conduits for butter that don't require cleaning after they were cooked and immediately before they enter my mouth. I was told not to eat any clams whose shells were not open. I considered asking for clarification but because I had already eaten my bowl I decided I was best off not knowing what I may have contracted.

After the steamers I needed a break from butter so I grabbed lobster and sweet corn...umm, so much for moving away from butter-soaked foods.

Like a good Iowan I started with the sweet corn. But like a good New Englander I went for the sweet corn from the bottom of the copper pot, not the 'alternative' sweet corn which was boiled on a stove top. I guess a lot of people are turned off by the flavor of clam bake corn. Initially it sits atop a bed of seaweed but over time the seaweed ceases to hold it's shape and the juices of everything above it trickle down. By the time they pull it out the corn is pretty much submerged in seaweedy, lobstery, clammy, fishy water. It didn't sound appealing in advance and by sight it was no better. But I had to do it 'right' at least once. And when I say right I mean "This is how they did it at my first clam bake so that is what I understand to be right". I actually liked the corn. It wasn't too seafoody but there was definitely no need to for additional flavor. I cleaned off nearly every kernel, a clear sign it has been too long since I have enjoyed corn on the cob.

After the corn I went to lobster. Jen was cutely assertive from across the long picnic table in requiring...I mean offering...her insight on how to best eat a lobster. I graciously rebuffed her help. I love the opportunity to work for my food and wanted to do it my own way. So with pleasure I analyzed the best way to break apart the claws and tail while minimizing damage to the meat within as well as access to the tomalley. I even went for a few bites without the seemingly obligatory lobster.

The rest of the evening was spent chatting to random folks, playing horseshoes (another first), and on a walk down to the beach. I departed around 9:15, wiped from being "on" all night and breezed home in Jen's Prius, smiling at getting 45 miles to the gallon while fog was gently lapping at the highway. Jen reported later that I did very well by all her friends and fam (or maybe it is she that did well).

Clam Bake Preview    Aug 23, 2009
I went to a clam bake this weekend. It was pretty awesome. As a result the story is long and interesting (at least I think so). But the only thing better than long and interesting is shorter and equally interesting. That's my goal and I hope to have it ready for you Monday evening. With some pics, too.

Farm Water    Aug 16, 2009
I made an agreement with myself Saturday night that I would wake up Sunday AM and go for a bike ride. In previous years I thoroughly enjoyed bike riding but like most of my standard ways of getting exercise, it had been exceedingly lacking this summer.

So I popped up around 7:30, threw some water in my backpack, and stopped at a gas station down the street to drop $.75 on a free resource to make my tires road-worthy. I headed towards the Charles River paths knowing it would be somewhat busy and therefore unideal for a quick pace. However, my goal for this ride was less to set a land speed record than to reintroduce myself to an athletic activity I enjoy.

It was forecast to be a hot and humid day. As a result fit Bostonians and those trying to be fit, like me, were out in droves to get their workout in before the heat and humidity really set in. Boston regularly ranks among the more fit cities in the States but if I were to judge only by this one morning I couldn't imagine another city ranking higher. I was pretty consistently weaving in and out of runners and other bikers from Mass Ave. to the Hatch Shell before crossing the river and heading up the wider sidewalks of the Cambridge side. It was generally an unremarkable ride, though scenic. The water shimmered coolly and invitingly, the skyline slightly hazy (even at that early hour) but beautiful as ever from the slight distance allowed on the Cambridge bank, and of course there was a myriad of attractive women.

I returned home for breakfast and to quickly clean up and then went to sit in a park at the top of Summit Ave. to read and get some sun. I've realized it's very difficult for me to stay focused on a book for any prolonged amount of time so have been changing up my routine a bit to get away from distractions. Oh, and I am pale. Quite pale for this time of year. That played into it as well.

On the walk home I pulled out my Nalgene bottle full of water and found surprisingly a fair amount of ice remained. I took a few big gulps and surprisingly found myself back in Iowa.

There was just something about the water that took me back--quite vividly--to summer days at my grandparents farm. I saw myself working with my grandma on the farm, pruning trees, weeding, mowing, etc. There was something distinctive about the water on those summer afternoons. There was the difficulty of prying the orange pump up so the water would come out. It moved so easily the first half of the way but that second half, the movement that actually opened the valve, there was so much resistance. Once open it would puddle almost immediately at your feet because it came out far too quickly to capture 1/4 of it in your cup without splashing up and over. And don't even think of trying to stick your face under the spigot unless you are wholly prepared to have it run into your nose and cause a coughing fit. But eventually the re-purposed peanut butter jar (or as we got older, actual glass Mason jars) was filled with ice cold water.

The only real similarity was the feeling of relief that came from ice cold water on a hot and humid day. Different containers, different flavor, and most certainly different settings. But the same pleasure. Kind of. I can appreciate it now in a way I could have never done as a child.

Random Stories    Aug 03, 2009
So Saturday morning I met Mike, Marty, Vicki, and Tony at Sam Adams for a brewery tour. The tour itself wasn't the draw which was lucky because it was actually pretty bad. The guide's schtick was pretty canned and it was even more evident to me because I was waiting around for the rest of the group and heard some of the guides, including the one who would become ours, talking. Our guide mentioned something about how it had been a while since she gave the tour and then in the tour talked about the guy 'a couple of days ago...'. It was a minor deal, really, but caused me to pay less attention. Then at the tasting as she led us through the steps of tasting a beer she forgot to mention you are to smell the bouquet but nonetheless declared us "professionals, just like [her]". But the beer was good, at least until the final, which was pretty darn crummy. It was a sample batch that I can assure you will never make it to production. I thought she said it was a wheat heavy but it was nearly black in color and had a strong taste of anise. I'm not sure of one person in the tasting of 40 or so that liked it.

One thing I always love about the tasting portion is that it is dead silent at the beginning and by the end of the second sample there is a low rumble about the room as people have loosened up. By the end of the third sample it is full-on loud.

That evening the five of us and Kelleigh grabbed dinner at Artu in the north end. It was by far the best Italian I have had. I was going to go for a chicken dish but Mike ordered ahead of me and ordered the same dish. He has this weird complex about people ordering the same thing at a restaurant so I went with the veal braciolettine. I don't normally eat veal but to see it was wrapped with proscuitto and provolone and then pan fried left me unable to resist. After dinner we stopped to get cannoli's at Mike's and saw that Elvis was not just for weddings but is also a big promoter of religious feasts.

Today I found that work had blocked access to the website of our local NPR affiliate but apparently allows access to facebook. I don't get it. OK, I do, it has to do with the bandwidth of streaming audio. However, it's still a bit funny to me that they wouldn't block a site that clearly wastes a lot of productivity (am I the only one who has noticed there are more posts during the day than evening?) and blocks a news source rather than just blocking the streaming file types (m3u, asx, etc.).

Damn, I think that is all of interest I have at the moment. Life has been good but nothing that interesting to write about. A lot of work, I worked both Friday evening and Saturday. Generally good work though, so that helps.

What's In A Name?    Jul 12, 2009
This past week I decided to change my name. "Haha!" you are probably thinking but I am quite serious. The spelling shall remain the same but I am updating the pronunciation.

At some undefined point in my life I started pronouncing my last name with a soft "o" in the first syllable. "uh-" instead of "ahh-" like cot. I don't remember why or when but my first real memory of the difference is a friend in high school kind of mocking the way I emphasized the first syllable when saying it the correct (cot) way. I am pretty certain I had been saying "cuh" for a time before that.

Anyhow, I have decided to make a point to pronounce it as my family has in the past, which frankly, must be the right way. It just seems more authentic and honorable to my family. Obviously it is going to be confusing for those who know my previous pronunciation and I expect some curious looks and questions from those in the past. However, in the long run it feels quite right. It will probably be a bit like a woman getting married and changing her last name, I will hear both and answer to both but continually guide people to the 'new' pronunciation.

This decision seemed timely when I went to Rhode Island this weekend and was able to sample an ale from the Cottrell Brewing Co. for the first time.

Jen and I went down to Providence on Saturday evening to meet Mike and Kelleigh, who were dog sitting in Narragansett. As Jen and I walked past a gentleman's club on the way to dinner the patron who was parked directly in front of the storefront was leaving (it was 6:00). The bouncer yelled towards him "You can't leave now, you have prime parking!" The patron shouted back "I have to go shower to go out!" There was just something pretty gross about hearing a guy leaving a strip club say he has to go shower up. We arrived at Trinity Brewhouse and Mike and Kelleigh soon showed up and we had some dinner and a few of their good brews. One was not the Baltic Porter, which had a strong black licorice flavor.

After dinner we walked around downtown Providence which was pretty darn active in the early evening and then headed back to the home where M and K were staying to play some cards. Mike invited me to grab a beer from the fridge and to my surprise there was a 6-pack of the Cottrell beer staring right at me. I think I actually shrieked a bit, it was a fantastic surprise. It is brewed just across the border in CT and has a very limited distribution area and I hadn't even considered it being an option. Unfortunately the taste left much to be desired. (Tying it all together, I have always pronounced the beer "cot-" which further supports my desired name change.)

This cloudy morning we got up and grabbed breakfast at some little cafe. They had outdoor seating in the back and directed us to walk around to the alley along the building and enter from the back. Kind of odd. The outdoor seating area was unlike any outdoor cafe I had seen. There were cloth tents covering the dining area and flowers growing from planters everywhere. It was so beautiful and peaceful, by far the best setting for a breakfast I have ever been privy to...and the food was good to boot.

We roamed around a bit and the skies cleared so we headed to Scarborough beach for about an hour (all the time Jen and I had left before we had to leave for a BBQ in her hometown). None of us were that interested in getting in the cold water but we had a free parking pass and the day had become beautiful. However, as soon as we arrived Mike and I ran in and there were some pretty awesome waves. OK, awesome by my standards since most beaches I have been to on the north shore have next to no waves. There were waves which went over our heads and Mike and I spent the entire hour jumping over, through, and under the waves. It was a short but entirely fulfilling hour. That was the second time I have been to the beach this year which equals all beach visits in my previous 7 summers in Boston. I'm hopeful there will be at least 1 more visit this summer.

Jen and I then packed up and headed to Glocester, RI, her hometown, and I got to meet some of her high school friends and their children. It was the home of her friend Nathan's father, 50 acres of woods and some grassland. It was quiet, beautiful, and so reminiscent of IA, I felt so at home. Nathan's father told me how he hunts deer from his front porch and I could only think of how jealous my dad would be to have such opportunity.

Anyhow, that is my life as of late. It's been a busy month as you may have guessed from the sparse updates. All is well and I hope to get back into the swing of things...though I may be off to upstate NY for a long weekend this coming weekend.