Robert Mondavi

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone
Silence the piano and with muffled drum
Bring out the piano, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky, He Is Dead
Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves

He was my North, my South, my East, my West
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood
For nothing now can ever come to any good
--W.H. Auden

Eagles, Fabric, Combines

Robert Rauschenberg

If you live in the central Connecticut area, you can see Retroactive I at the Wadsworth Atheneum.

El Batey

For a long time now (actually always), I have disliked front lawns. This became even more apparent when I bought a house and the lawn had to be mowed. I have found it completely unrewarding to mow the lawn. In fact, a lot of it was grass but a lot of it was weeds. So I was mowing weeds (or I was paying someone else to mow weeds).
My parents have no front lawn. They have turned their front yard into an oasis of flowers, herbs, vegetables and some fruit. Grass does not grow there.
I have been trying to figure out what to do with my front yard. It lingers there, waiting. For a while I had lavender lining both sides of the walk but they faded away with the snow. It was too much for them.
I was waiting for a sign; something to push me along. The signs I was waiting for came along just as I was deciding what to do. The first one was Edible Estates. Edible Estates made me think it could be beautiful to have a front lawn (or rather a front space) that was also not just a piece of green. The second was Michael Pollan's article for the New York Times Magazine on what we as individuals could do in the battle to save our planet, our food chain and our selves. To paraphrase Mr. Pollan, plant a garden.
And so I have decided to plant that garden. It will involve fruits, vegetables, flowers and herbs. The front lawn (yeah, I still call it that) is a convenient place to have a garden (yeah, I still call it that). When I think about it, there is not a day that goes by that I don't walk down the front stairs, look at the weeds, dandelions and other things growing there. The front of my house I see every day. The back of the house, where most people have their gardens, is kind of an afterthought.
So why El Batey? El Batey in Puerto Rico is the front of the house where we went to play as kids. It was dirt, no grass and where we went out to just hang. It is also refers to a ceremonial place where a game was played by the Taino indians.
Now I just need to come up with a new name for lawn and garden.

Porter House

The Restaurant, not the cut of meat
I have an interest in jazz; specifically bebop and drill that down to Charlie Parker. This past Saturday I went to see Phil Schaap at Jazz at Lincoln Center for the signing of a book. Wandering around the huge center you realize that at around 2pm the activity mostly takes place below the 5th floor and lots of it down below at Whole Foods. Wandering around the floor that has such places as Per Se (prix fixe 250), Masa (really, really expensive sushi) and Porter House. If you didn't get it from the name, it is a steak house. Yes, expensive. In reviewing the menu I spotted the prix fixe lunch menu. Sometimes prix fixe lunch menus are disappointing; they are limiting in both choices and quality. Here you get a choice of a starter (caesar salad, a slight bit overdressed; or the beet salad,(I thought I was getting regular beets but these were nice baby heirloom beets with a lovely cheese; it was delicious)).
The main course choices were salmon (okay, we automatically dismissed this since we were there to eat meat) or a hangar steak. The hangar steaks we requested at rare and medium rare. They both came out exactly as we had ordered!!! Absolutely beautifully sliced with perfect shoestring french fries (hot; crisp on the outside, moist on the inside).
Let me digress or not, it's all part of the meal. Their service is very attentive. Unlike a lot of places where the less busy they are the less attention they pay to you, the staff at PH was very good. We had a glass of wine each with the meal.
As we were handed dessert menus my friend wondered if we should have been handed dessert menus because dessert was part of the prix fixe and perhaps there was a limited selection. No such deal. We were handed the full list, no limitations. I had the chocolate layer cake with chocolate ice cream and he had a hazelnut beggar's purse with ice cream.
So to recap, lovely salads, terrific entrees, tasty desserts: $24.00 per person. Probably one of the best bargains for lunch I have had in a really long time.
Note: the photo above is from the Porter House website.

Charlie Parker

Bird,
Happy Birthday.

Good Morning Max: Bird & Prez

The great Max Roach is gone. When I lived in New York City, every morning I would listen to Birdflight. Birdflight is one of Phil Schaap's radio shows on WKCR. It plays from 8:20 to 9:30 am. Monday thru Friday. Without fail, every morning (or at least to the best of my recollection) Phil would shout out, "GOOD MORNING MAX".
Remembrances of Max are everywhere. For almost all of the music would be "Tommy Potter on bass, Bird on alto sax and Max Roach on drums, Miles on trumpet."
Thanks to the wonder that is the internet, I don't have to pine for Phil Schaap's broadcasts. Most importantly I don't have to pine for the birthday broadcasts.
In progress now is the Lester Young/Charlie Parker birthday broadcast. All Prez and all Bird all the time for several days.
Right now I am listening to Prez; it will stay on all night working its way into my subconscious and into the Bird broadcast.
Good night Max.

Duck Fat & Rabelais

There are no pictures of the paninis, there are no leftovers. Only the menu to remind me that I have to go back. I was in Maine over the weekend for a wonderful wedding. Late into the party we were all talking about food and wine (as we did almost all day) when we finally got around to talking about where we were going to eat the next day.
Someone mentioned a place in Portland named Duck Fat. The important point of the discussion was the fact that they fry their french fries in duckfat. That's right, duckfat. In spite of the fact that it was late and we had been drinking, I still remembered the name of the place.
The next morning we set out for Portland address in hand and with hunger as our impetus. We ordered the Meatloaf panini with was thinly sliced meatloaf with red onions which we soft. Definitely comfort food. The other sandwich we ordered was the special panini: Duck confit with Blueberry preserves and Goat cheese. This was absolutely delicious. I know you are thinking, how can this possibly go together. Of course it does. Just like foie gras and apples go together. The sweet and the savory are a wonderful match. The panini is big enough that you can eat one half and leave the other half for later.
The Duck Fat fries were also wonderful. They had skin on and they that a rich brown patina to them. An order of the large really is large and is plenty for two people. There are dipping sauces and we opted for the truffle ketchup. The truffle flavor is subtle, certainly not intrusive.
We were also in need of coffee which Duckfat also does a very good job of. Oh yeah and we ordered some beignets to go. They provided a delicious accompaniment to the coffee while we were driving out of Portland.
But we didn't drive out of Portland until we'd visited Rabelais. This wonderful bookstore on Middle Street (right down the street from Duckfat) is devoted to books on food, wine and certain arts. The couple used to live in Brooklyn, NY and are incredibly nice. It is spacious, carries books published both in the USA and abroad and they can find things for you.
All in all, I never thought of Portland as a destination but I think a little weekend trip up there is in order.