Knock, Knock

Knock, Knock

I found this “correction” in the L.A. Times interesting.  

Real Estate: The Hot Property column in the Nov. 4 Real Estate section reported that actor Matthew McConaughey personally knocked on the door of a Malibu home that wasn’t on the market and struck a deal. However, the story should not have implied that he chose the home at random. He was represented by Lily Harfouche of Coldwell Banker-Malibu West and was shown the house by the seller’s agent, Michael Cunningham of Pritchett-Rapf & Associates, Malibu Road, who had a pocket listing on it.

There you go, don’t start hoping any celebs will come knocking on your door anytime soon.

A Dirty Bull

A Dirty Bull

Like I’ve said before, I’m a meat eater.  There is never too much meat on a plate for me.  Periodically, I try to give it up because of the strain it puts on the environment and my health, but after a day or so I get crabby and anything else becomes unsatisfying.  Short-term thinking gets the better of me, so I start having it again. 

But even I have red-meat limits.  I found one of them while reading the NYT today.  In that paper’s pages I came to learn about the Dirty Bull, a meat-flavored martini.

The article describes this drink for the decidedly non-vegetarian as:

[O]ne part vodka, one part olive brine and two parts bull, the last ingredient coming from the dose of veal stock that’s shaken into the drink as well as the garnish of house-made beef jerky that hangs on the rim of the glass. It is an excellent drink for junkie-level carnivores who cannot abide the fact that their pre-dinner martini is so … vegetarian. And probably, owing to its jolt of protein, a blue-ribbon restorative for a hangover. And maybe a decent soup. But definitely a good gimmick.

I’ll stick with carne asada, but for those more daring, the recipe below.

3 ounces vodka.

½ ounce olive brine.

1 teaspoon veal or beef stock.

Cured black olives, thyme sprig and beef jerky, for garnish (optional).

1. Add the liquid ingredients to an ice-filled cocktail shaker and shake 20 times. Strain into a chilled martini glass.

2. Garnish with the olives (speared on a toothpick), thyme sprig and jerky, if using.

Yield: 1 serving

College Gameday

College Gameday

Today is the day.  The only day all football season when I get to root for my alma mater in a game that actually matters to the annals of history for my school. It’s not televised anywhere I can see it, so I rely on the ESPN crawl and mobile alerts for updates.

This year, our game against Yale, is also the game that will determine the Ivy League champion.  We’re both 6-0.  I want a bowl!! Chuckle (ok, maybe not seriously).

I know some don’t care for sports, think there’s too much emphasis on it in the life of a college, think it’s a rough, meaningless physical activity. 

I don’t see that in my life.  I went to four (maybe five) football games during my college career (no snickering from the contingent that would have done the same given the school).  I only knew one football player.  That’s hardly “great emphasis” on football.

But, it does mean something to those who play it, and other sports.  I found this essay by a kid who currently plays Harvard football and who’s also an opera singer.  It’s about why he plays and why it matters to him. 

Maybe someday I’ll sit down and write about why sports matter to me and why I think more should be done to encourage broader participation, but for now I’ll leave you to read the essay by Noah Van Niel

Go Harvard!

Maldita Gasolinera

Maldita Gasolinera

About a month ago, I snapped this picture at my local Shell gasoline station (Monterey Rd. at Huntington Dr.).  At the time, I thought it was odd that all of the “Reglar” unleaded gas pumps were out of order.  But, that’s what the post-its said.
I happened by that gas station again this weekend, and now the post-its say “Sold Out.”  Permanently, I guess.

They’re making their choice, I’m making mine.  Guess I’ll have to go over to Ave 60 for gas now (carefully avoiding the kid who likes to sit on his skateboard and sled down Monterey Road).