Category: Life

  • Japanese Curry and the Fun of Trying New Foods

    YouTube is now the devil in my home. I say that because I find myself watching YouTube videos before I head off the bed. It started simple; I would watch rounds of different disc golf tournaments or Bad Movie Bible videos. Then somehow the algorithm figured out that I am curious about making Japanese food.

    The cooking video that Google decided that I needed to see was this guy:

    I respect Kenji’s cooking show and the recipe he put forth. I do draw an exception with putting raisins in curry, or any food that isn’t trail mix. It’s just gross people, always has been, always will.

    Like I said, not sure how I got to this video, but am I glad that I arrived, because now I have to make my own. As luck would have it, the local H-Mart carried the curry powder that Kenji used in his video, so later this week, I will give his recipe a try… except no raisins. Honestly, it’s just a bad idea.


    The great thing is that my kid is game for this. I don’t know how we did this, but we have a kid that is willing to try new foods, no questions asked. When I was her age, what my mom prepared us was pretty middle of the road, Midwestern American food. Nothing crazy or surprising, as most of the recipes my mom followed either came from Betty Crocker, or her mom, or her mother-in-law. Later in life, both of my folks became much more adventurous with food. Probably because they didn’t haver to feed three boys anymore.

    I was lucky enough to make great friends in college, who were from all over the world, or had at least traveled around the world. It was positive peer-pressure, as I didn’t want to look like the unrefined yokel who was afraid to try sushi, or Indian food, or the Mongolian grill, or the new Pho place that opened up down the street from campus. And it also helped that I started dating a gal who was a trained chef, and trying new foods was like her whole thing. And then I married her, so that kind’a sealed my fate.

    Point here, I guess, is that I’m going to try my hand at making Japanese curry. I am very fortunate that I have a wife and kid that encourage me to try my hand at creating these dishes, as they are very open to trying them. Oh, and I have really great friends that forced me out of my culinary comfort zone twenty years ago.

    Just, no raisins please.

  • ODDS and ENDS: The Dog Groomer, Fart in French, and Ice Cream

    (We’re all excited, but we don’t know why…)

    I love my dog. I always thought of myself as a cat person, but once we got the dog… well, I’m still a cat guy, but I do want to have a dog from here on out. And loving my dog, means loving all of her, including the bad stuff that she does. Which is very little, I might add. What the dog does that drives us nuts, and we haven’t been able to get her to stop, is that the dog goes ape-shit anytime she sees another dog. Like growling, and barking, and trying to break free from the leash so she can go and kill that other dog. It can make taking her for a walk a very challenging endeavor. Anyway, so when we take the dog to the groomers, the dog does her normal stuff when she sees the other dogs getting groomed, she goes bananas. So, we leave her, and when we come back to the groomers, they tell us how great of a dog she was; so kind, nice, and friendly. And we’ll ask if our dog was this nice version, even when other dogs were around, and the groomers tells us yes; that our dog was even friendly to the other dogs. This has happened enough times over the past five years, that I have come down to one of two conclusions; the groomers are telling us lies because no one wants to hear that their dog is an asshole, or our dog puts on this tough act in front of other dogs only when we’re around.

    My mother was a very proper woman. You had to really make her mad to swear, and she did embarrass easy. Yet, she raised three boys, and there was a lot of farting. BUT, my mother never said the word fart. No, that would be most improper. As she was raised in a French-American home, she did bring one, and only one, French term into our lives; péter. (That’s French for fart.) For the first several years of my life, I thought everyone also used the word péter. When I got to school, I learned quickly that no one used this word. Yet, the tern stuck with me, and in honor of my French heritage, I have made sure that my daughter knows that péter means fart in French.

    And, I want ice cream for dinner.

  • Thinking About 9th Grade

    For my group of friends back in 9th grade, we all stayed home the night NIRVANA played Saturday Night Live. I had to go look it up, but it was January 11th, 1992 – I was fifteen with a bad haircut. I remember thinking that I needed to see this because it was what all of my friends would be talking about on Monday morning. I also remember thinking how edgy and dangerous they looked. Not sure why I thought that, maybe it was the red hair.

  • Blog Prompts/Ideas That Failed Me

    (These are all ideas for blogs that I had, but I couldn’t get them to work. So, enjoy some one-off sentences.)

    I have been too hard on myself lately. I need to loosen up, relax.

    We have a very hard time keeping plants alive in our family. Even the weed that sprung up in the planter on the fire escape just gave up, browned up, and has shriveled away.

    I don’t miss being a kid, and I like being an adult.

    I always thought Casper Van Dien should have been a bigger star.

    I bought one thing online from Pottery Barn, and they won’t stop emailing me. Good Lord, the Harris campaign doesn’t email me as much as Pottery Barn does.

    September 16th was the anniversary of the Battle of Harlem Heights. The battle took place in my neighborhood. I think that’s cool.

    I’m in a hurry for Thanksgiving.

    When we have small dinner parties at our place, we end the evening with drinks and a game of UNO.

    Yes, I am bald, but my love of hats predates my receding hairline. Not that anyone believes me.

    Another blog on my love of naps.

    Can I come up with a half-ass idea, and pass it off for a full assed one?

  • Missed Out on all the Stuff

    I don’t know what happened to me this weekend, but all the stuff I normally pay attention to, I completely spaced out on.

    It started on Saturday, when Tottenham played Arsenal. You know, their top rival, the team they hate. These matches even have their own title, “North London Derby.” Since I started follow Tottenham, these games have been a big deal, usually both teams are in a “need to win” position, and the games are exciting and dramatic. This Saturday, totally spaced on it. Just forgot.

    Same thing happen on Sunday, when I spaced on the Cowboy game against the Saints. But to be honest, the Cowboys played so bad, it was better that I missed it.

    And because comedy and drama both follow the rule of three…

    Then Sunday night, I forgot about the Emmy’s. When my wife pointed out that they were on, even my kid was surprised that I wasn’t watching them. (I am a sucker for an awards show.) It was like the Emmy’s snuck up on me and then I ignored them. (Though I did get to see that very weird Johnny Walker backstage bar moment.) Oddly, I had watched most of the shows that were nominated this year, so I sort of did know what was happening.

    Not that any of this really matters in the big scheme of things, yet I still found it odd that I whiffed on three events that normally are rather important to me. Such as I make plans to watch them. But for some reason, I missed all the ads for these things, or I missed the conversations about these things. It left me feeling like I was running behind everybody else.

    Just odd is all.