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The Truth Vigilantes
I’m late to writing about this, so I’ll spare you the recap and assume that you’ve already read this from the public editor of the New York Times. I’ll just leave youwith my thoughts.
It really is incredible that the nation’s most respected news organization has to even ask “whether and when New York Times news reporters should challenge ‘facts’ that are asserted by newsmakers they write about.”
What conspicuously absent from Brisbane’s blog entry was any sort of alternate model. I really would like to hear what he thinks the job of a report is if not to challenge “facts” (in scarequotes) asserted by the rich and powerful.
I understand the press’s desire to not be a referee. I really do. There are plenty of people who would be perfectly happy arguing that black is white, if they thought that they could gain power by convincing a few people. Determining “truth” is a heavy burden. You’re bound to be wrong at least occasionally, and even one misstatement could be damaging to your credibility.
So I can understand why some might be reluctant to take this on. But if this is not the job description of the journalist, I want to know what is. The only alternatives I can think of are “stenographer” or “relayer of press releases”. I’m sure that’s not what these men and women see themselves as. If it is, then the problem is much more serious than I imagined.
What I want, at this point, is for a mainstream journalist to articulate an alternate ideal. Explain to me what you see your role as.
It’s clear from the reaction to Brisbane’s blog entry that this is clearly what the readership expects of these journalists. It’s a clear line in the sand. “The job of a journalist”, we, the public, say “is to leave us better informed about the world than we were before we began reading.” Lets not pretend this is going to be an easy job. It will not be. Even the best will fail occasionally. But goddamnit we expect our press corps to try.
Worldwide SOPA
As I write this, SOPA is not yet law. It hasn’t even been voted on in Congress. Free speech advocates across the country have banded together to fight this bill. I’ve been planning a post on the particulars of the bill, but enough has been said over the past few weeks that I’m not sure what more I can add. Suffice it to say that I am against any attempt to treat people as felons for violating “intellectual property”. When ideas flow freely, we all benefit.
What scares me the most, though, is the way the idea of protecting IP at all costs has infected all levels of our government. Big Media is likely to be seen as holding the leash of government in the coming decade the way Big Oil was in the last. The State Department, for instance, is trying to bully our trading partners into accepting draconian IP protection that hasn’t even been able to pass in the US (yet).
If you’re reading this blog, you probably fall into the gaping chasm that many in our government labels “criminal”. What’s infuriating is that this criminalization of a large class of Americans is happening without what feels like a real debate. It’s conventional wisdom that something must be done, and that rather than heeding the advice of the experts, we should wield as large a club as our political capital will allow. Consequences be damned, something must be done now.
Of course, I think most Americans would say that the problem is overstated, to say the least. Rather than being a drain, the technology of the last 20 odd years has allowed creativity and entertainment to flourish (outrageous reality show of the week not withstanding).
Related reading: Dear Congress – It’s No Longer Okay To Not Understand How The Internet Works
Very Funny, NPR
Someone somewhere must be playing a trick on me. I tried to listen to a story about atheist chaplains in the US Military, a topic I find interesting as this is one of the great fuzzy 1st Amendment lines left untouched. Religion is engrained in the culture of the military, it seems. Especially at the higher levels. And it seems no one has the political will to truly change this and make the service more inclusive.
However, when I first clicked on it, I discovered the link instead took me to 8 minutes of Greil Marcus talking about The Doors. This seems to me the type of lecture they might have in hell. A wonderful art critic extolling the virtues of one of “Classic Rock”‘s worst bands.
While it may just be my personal opinion, The Doors have always represented to me most of the worst aspects of 60’s rock. They were pretentious while being utterly vapid. They were in love with their own playing at the expense of the actual song. In fact, it seems like they rarely gave any sort of consideration to the people who had to actually listen to these songs. The music was self indulgent and the lyrics were at best trite, and at worst pseudo-profound garbage. About the only good things this band contributed to popular culture was Ray Manzarek (clearly the worst of the bunch) somehow discovering X, and Jim Morrison giving Iggy Pop the idea of whipping his dick out on stage.
Luckily, the glitch has been corrected. But in case you were wondering if someone as eloquent and thoughtful as Greil Marcus could possibly change my mind about The Doors, it turns out the answer is “No”.
RIP Hubert Sumlin
Hubert Sumlin was honestly one of my greatest influences as a guitar player. Before I even knew his name I had some Howlin Wolf best of that I had picked up out of a used CD bin that I listened to over and over again. I was in high school and still discovering the blues. At the time, I couldn’t have told you then what drew me to the Wolf’s music, but looking back I can tell you that a big part of it was Hubert Sumlin’s playing. He was never flashy. He didn’t play a lot of notes. He slid and stabbed at the guitar. He was always playing to the rhythm, even when he was holding down the “lead guitar” spot.
I was lucky enough to see him lives several times. The first time was in a tent on the edge of the Mississippi river in Memphis. I remember skipping out on Willie Nelson to go see him. It wasn’t just a museum piece. He was lively and raucous, and having a blast. Later on I skipped out on work early, pretending to be sick, to rush to New York to see him playing with David Johansen and Levon Helm. Unfortunately, he wasn’t feeling well and cancelled that night. A few years later he played a mile from my apartment, at the Brighton Bar. I got to stand right in front of the stage and watch him play. I saw him barley two months ago, brought on stage by Elvis Costello as a special guest, in what might have been his final performance. He was frail but seemed to be enjoying himself as much as ever. Rarely do you see someone taking such joy in music.
Hubert Sumlin’s playing was as primal and unadorned as Howlin Wolf’s singing, which might be why they made such a good pair. Like all my favorite guitar players, he was an example of feel and taste trumping technical expertise. He played the music he felt. No more no less. And the world is a darker place without him.
GZA Goes To MIT
The “fish out of water” thing can be pretty heavy handed here, but still, what I wouldn’t give to spend a day hanging out at MIT with GZA.
Video here.
The Stall
When I first started barbecuing, I bought a half dozen thermometers. I had a thermometer or two in the meat and I had them in the smoker near the meat. I had wireless thermometers, and analog ones that you could barley see from the smoke. Cooking seemed like an exact science, so I figured that I wanted as much data as possible.
Since then I’ve found that it’s easier to go by feel. I’m down to 1 thermometer now. But there really is science behind it. You’re trying to bring a mass of protein and fat up to a certain temp slowly over the course of many hours. But you notice that the meat will often hit a certain temperature and stay there for a while. Hours even. It gets frustrating. You expected this damned thing to be cooked by this point, but you’re at the same internal temp you where several hours ago.
Why does that happened? I just assumed the BBQ gods were testing your patience, but it must have bothered someone enough that he looked into. He studied it in depth. There’s even graphs. Check it out.
Firemen Are Not Very Social On The Job
I’ve hung out with firemen before. Usually they’re a blast. Hell, they’ve got a pretty intense job. They’re the ones you call when shit is on fire. I get it. That’s one hell of a responsibility. So when you run into one of these guys off duty, they have a lot of steam to blow off, and usually they’re the life of the party.
When they’re on the clock, however, it is different. I’m not talking about some Denis Leary world here, either. I’m saying that my real life interactions with firemen actually on the job have never been very pleasant. Even when there’s no fire raging, we’re not in a life or death moment, it seems like they really don’t want anything to do with you. If you’re not on fire, forget about it.
Tonight, for instance, I was out of town, but I heard that there was a fire in my neighborhood. Honestly, I was a little worried. After all, I have 2 cats in this little apartment we never practiced evacuation procedures. I know it’s a large area, and the odds are that my place was fine. Still, I was a bit nervous driving back into town.
When I got here, I see flashing lights circling my building. I live on a corner, and the side street was blocked off and there were cops and firemen standing out front. You could tell that the action was happening down at the other end of the block, so I wasn’t worried anymore about my place. But it still seemed like an invasion into my neighborhood. The entire street was filled with fire fighters, police officers, and reporters. It was starting to seem a little too much like a battle field for m tastes.
The fireman out front did let me through so I could park in front of my building. That was nice, because he could easily have let me the next block down.
Still, I needed more information. So I walked up to the cop who was monitoring the situation on my corner and asked what happened. There was no response. He looked away from me and spit on the ground a bit. No kidding, he seemed to be the bad guy in a mid 80’s movie. All I wanted was some info.
Still, I felt I had to ask what happened. He told me that there was a fire at the warehouse down by the train station. No further information was forthcoming. I did get him to nod when I asked him if everyone was okay, so I hope that means there were no injuries. It’s pretty obvious they don’t see their job as public relations. They control the scene, and the scene supersedes the actors.
For The Love Of All That Is Holy, Use The Good Paprika
You don’t have a lot of disposable income. I get it. This is a recession, and even if it weren’t, if you’re reading my blog you probably aren’t rolling in hundred dollar bills.
So you’re probably living with a food budget, trying to save where you can. Maybe it’s the off-brand cheese. Maybe it’s the stack of coupons you clipped. Maybe you’re buying the dried beans instead of the cans. In fact, if your diet mostly consists of beans that’s probably a good sign that trying to keep the grocery bill down.
I understand, but there is one ingredient that I am begging you not to skimp on. Please, please, only buy the good paprika.
I realize that the cheap stuff is, in fact, really really cheap. $2 will get you something like a kilo of cheap paprika. Trust me, it’s not worth it. That stuff tastes like sawdust. It will actively make your dish worse. Do not buy the cheap paprika.
The good stuff costs more and you get less. But really, how much paprika are you using anyway? It’s not like this is a major new expense. You could start a “good paprika” fund, throwing spare change in when you clean out your pockets. By the time you run out, you’ll probably have enough. This stuff will last you months, but every time you make roasted potatoes or paprika chicken, you will thank your lucky stars that you cared enough to use an ingredient not made of pencil shavings.
The difference couldn’t be more striking. The good paprika has a rich earthy flavor and imparts an impressive burnt umber color to your food. The cheap paprika actually sucks the flavor out of your food. You might as well roll your deviled eggs around in sand and red food coloring.
Okay, you’re convinced? But you want to know what brand you should be buying? I’m sorry, I can’t help you there. You don’t need to order through some reputable online spice retailer, though that couldn’t hurt. I can tell you that when you’re in the spice isle at your local mega mart, it’s pretty easy to tell. For instance, if it comes in a plastic container with a logo that looks like it was done in Microsoft Paint, it’s probably not the good paprika.
I’m not going to tell you how to cook, or what to cook. That’s entirely up to you. You’re the artist, and the dinner plate is your canvas. But really, don’t piss on your artwork and say your adding yellow highlights.
…But How Good Was Your Last Pizza?
As I’ve written about before, I’ve been spending time training in an awesome Neapolitan pizzeria in Brooklyn. Once a week I show up there after work to help cook. The problem with dropping in like this is that you’re jumping blind. You don’t know how the dough has been, how the oven’s been working, how busy they’re going to be.
Bread can be temperamental on a good day. Working with a wood burning oven only makes it harder. The problem isn’t getting a decent product, but getting consistency. Trying to make a style. If you like a pizza with a certain level of doneness, you’re talking about roughly a 3-5 second window where you’re not too pate and undercooked, but also not too black. You’re trying to get the top of the pie to finish the same time as the bottom. Your oven’s temperature can change from minute to minute as a burning log shoots embers and then collapses in on itself. And to top it off, you’re juggling 2 or 3 pies at the same time.
This is where it becomes hard to have a style. But not impossible. I do feel that I’m becoming more consistent the more I practice. You get to learn the little cues that let you time your cook precisely. You get a feel for how the dough works. Today it was woking against us. I believe that it had over-proofed, and the gluten was starting to break down a bit. Every pie you made there’d be a little hole in it.
It’s probably possible to figure out an exact formula for the perfect pizza. X floor temperature + y dome temperature + z minutes = transcendence. Except for about 50 more variables. So many variables, in fact, that you’ll never be able to write it all down. What you have to do is trust your brain to do all of these on the fly. Art is just science done in your subconscious.
Fast Food America
Is fast food really cheaper than cooking real food at home? If you do the math, it turns out… not so much.
In general, despite extensive government subsidies, hyperprocessed food remains more expensive than food cooked at home. You can serve a roasted chicken with vegetables along with a simple salad and milk for about $14, and feed four or even six people. If that’s too much money, substitute a meal of rice and canned beans with bacon, green peppers and onions; it’s easily enough for four people and costs about $9. (Omitting the bacon, using dried beans, which are also lower in sodium, or substituting carrots for the peppers reduces the price further, of course.)
Another argument runs that junk food is cheaper when measured by the calorie, and that this makes fast food essential for the poor because they need cheap calories. But given that half of the people in this country (and a higher percentage of poor people) consume too many calories rather than too few, measuring food’s value by the calorie makes as much sense as measuring a drink’s value by its alcohol content. (Why not drink 95 percent neutral grain spirit, the cheapest way to get drunk?)
So why do we continue to eat so much of it? Mark Bittman argues “The core problem is that cooking is defined as work, and fast food is both a pleasure and a crutch”. I have trouble with that because, well, cooking is work. As someone who enjoys cooking, I can tell you it’s still work. It’s active and it’s time consuming. This is not a knock on cooking, but hey, lets be honest here. Cooking, and the clean up involved, is more of an effort that stopping at the drive through on your way home from work. This is true for all but the simplest of meals.
The important thing is to emphasize the rewards involved. Health is first and foremost. But cooking can also be a creative outlet. If you have a family, then it can be a shared effort to bring people together. And with just a little bit of practice, the food you can make at home can taste light years ahead of what you get from your local take out joint.
Fast food shouldn’t be illegal. Hardee’s don’t need to be picketed. Instead we should be investing in American food culture. We teach kids about art and music, but not about food, which to me is crazy. Cooking is just as much an art as painting and clarinet playing, and arguably more important. People should take pride in what they eat, and for the most part that means cooking yourself. Eating only fast food is like listening to only top 40 radio, but worse. At least radio doesn’t hurt your liver.
Nothing Was Delivered 