Wednesday, April 30, 2008

How to Get Your Ass Potentially Whipped By A Total Stranger In One Easy Step

At Walgreen's just now to pick up some stuff for Emmy and Little League practice is ending. I'm walking toward the checkout when I see this grown ass man raising a baseball bat at his kid. I don't know whether or not the guy was joking with his kid (and if he was he probably shouldn't in that manner in public), but the stare I locked on him could have bored through his head if he met it.

The fucking jagoffs one runs into.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

"Last Night I Tried Some Different Things. Today I'll Be Drinking The Classics."

I sit here waiting to head out to Indiana for DarkLord Day at Three Floyds today. I'm one year away from having enough bottles for a vertical tasting of their highly prized Russian Imperial Stout, and this year's model should cover it. Although I might wait until 2010 to actually hold the tasting and work backward from that year to 2006.

Been walking on air most of the week. I liked the way that my interview with Lisa Thompson of Blue Sky Inn turned out. Even better, the usual comment trolls stayed away. So much for small favors.

Even better was the
complimentary note I received from John T. Edge of the Southern Foodways Alliance. What Bourdain and Ruhlman are to every other foodie, Edge is to me. In short, the proverbial shit. From waxing poetic about slugburgers in Corinth, Mississippi (my stepfather's family hails from Counce, Tennessee, twenty miles north of Corinth) to tracing the roots of the modern supermarket to Piggly Wiggly, Edge has the history of southern food on lockdown, and writes about it in an accessible conversational tone that I try to do with my writing.

Edge and other members of the Southern Foodways Alliance will be in town in late May retracing the steps Southern blacks took during the Great Migration and seeing how their food habits and cooking style affected the city's culinary imprint. They've got a load of events planned. Check it out.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

"Der Saliver In Ze Mouwert."

Originally uploaded by bridgeportseasoning.

Went to a stemware seminar at the new Binny's megastore in the South Loop Wednesday hosted by Georg Riedel (of the eponymous wine glass company). It was for his "Vitis" stemware and the man basically said that his stemware could improve even the taste of water, in between yelling at his assistant and various members of the audience to pay attention to him. (What is it with Germans/Austrians and their need to be the center of attention?) I was expecting him to say something along the lines of "Jesus turned za water into vine; zis stemware can make it perfect." I turned it into a field trip for the Chicagoist foodies; one thing I regret not doing enough when I had Oppenheimer, Ameila, et al was putting together enough group get-togethers to get to know each other and lay out plans and put realistic expectations on the table.

We ran through about an hour of wine majicks with Riedel ("Jeezus could not do this because I vas not born to make za stemware."), switching wines from glass to glass and gaging the change in the taste profiles as they entered each glass. Stolpman asked me after if the seminar was old hat for me. I assured her that it was, and that we really didn't need what amounted to a $140 set of mismatched stemware to show that a wine glass can enhance a wine's taste profile. I could probably do the same with the $2 per glass Anchor and Libbey stemware I have at home.

Essentially, the main purpose of this seminar was to sell attendees on the sizzle of the Riedel name. If I want full sets of each glass I received in the "tasting set," I'll have to fork out another two or three hundred bucks. Now, I have a bit more disposable income than I did a year ago, but that nothing to sneeze at.

Unrelated, I've been walking through the neighborhood with Emmy in tow now that it's armed up. Where have all the attractive women in Bridgeport been hiding? My GOD!!! I've been waiting nine years for this. Where have you been? Or did I just take myself out of the pool for so long I never recognized you there?

Friday, April 11, 2008

People I Know

Posted an interview with Tom Bulleit of Bulleit Bourbon at Chicagoist yesterday. This was the photo taken after the interview/lunch at the Palm in the Swissotel.

'Course I looked at it and thought, "Man, I'm fat." Then I reminded myself that I used to be fatter. And I might have been woefully underdressed for the Palm.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

"It's the Stroke, Baby!"

What do you get when you put together Ice T, his pneumatic wife Coco, pro wrestling legend Paul Heyman, a live mike, and a nighclub in New York? Classic video.

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Getting Old For This Shit

Deli Counter 2
Originally uploaded by bridgeportseasoning.

Sometimes I think about just packing this all in and saying, "later." Like when I receive an e-mail from someone I wrote about here who thinks that I incorrectly characterized her and her husband. I do understand that there were extenuating circumstances behind their arguments, but when I can clearly hear that someone wants to "rip off (my) head and shit down (my) throat" I'm not thinking of the extenuating circumstances.

So, to the person in question, if you're reading this, I'm sorry if you think what I wrote put you and your spouse in a bad light. But when placed in that position, I have to look out for myself. And I'm not thinking of extenuating circumstances.

WhiskyFest came and went, and with it a good portion of my liver. I'll start sitting down after cleaning around the house and filing my recap for Chicagoist. BTW, you are keeping up with what the new food and drink staffers are up to, aren't you? I'm pretty stoked.

I've also been being a bit of a social butterfly. Wednesday I'm supposed to meet up with Erin and Rachelle for a fundraiser at Jake Melnick's. Ms. Shea has been one of three women who've been giving me invaluable advice on matters of the heart lately. As I come back to my senses from a deep winter, it's nice to have a kangaroo court like that that speaks from the hip, even when you don't want to hear it.