Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Oulipo

I've been seeking out Oulipo challenges this year. I find the constraints yeild some hugely surprising results. Here is a challenge, the syllable sestina--this one should have me contorting words for days:

http://wagsrevue.com/syllablesetina.php

Come join me in the challenge, and share your result here!

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Jaques Pepin

Sometimes when I can't sleep I watch Jacques Pepin shows on my iphone. Here is one of Jacques cooking a cute mussel dish'Happy Cooking'.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Tribal Warrior Salt

I adapted this from another recipe that was only a blend of peppercorns,chile and salt. This is much better. Rub this into anything going on to a grill or BBQ

2 tablespoons black peppercorn
1-3 dried chile (to desired heat)
2 tablespoons good coarse salt or sea salt
1 teaspoon cumin seed
1 teaspoon fennel seed
1 teaspoon mustard seed
1 teaspoon dried thyme or orgenao
2-3 whole allspice berries

--Toast everything in a pan on the stove for a minute or so.
--Grind it up in a coffee/spice grinder
--store in an airtight container
--use as a marinade, with oil, or as a dry rub, or hey, add to a curry.

This is really good mixed with a ginger paste, and rubbed into red meats. Or mixed into an onion paste (whole white onion in a food processsor) on chicken. If you have szechuan peppercorns be sure to use 1 teaspoon as well.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Typewriter Paintings

John Ruszel makes paintings out of typewriter parts, very cool paintings:

"in this body of work, the components of dismantled typewriters are used to generate images. the punched sheet metal pieces are arranged on the press bed then inked and printed in a manner similar to a woodblock or other relief plate. the three tiled pieces are built of multiple impressions, trimmed and mounted to a single board."

RIP PK Page

Pk Page dies at 93

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Hello Ice

Outside it smells of pumpkin
& chicken, xylophone tones
roll up the river, each note

a mirrored dust, a goalpost,
as daughters bounce off summer’s
nude shoulders, the idea of Mars

never quite landing & a WWII
navigator remembers his windless map
of stars. Something hidden coming out

readied for a moment in the middle
of us: the family station wagon’s
wooded sides riding Swan hills,

sun’s noon gown kept at respectful
distance. The rest of the thought
lost in the grass,

as an ice bucket shifts its portable
Saturday mid-rift, imaginary silver
birds & dark crickets