The Weekly Meat

A Jew at Christmas

Until I met my wife, "the holidays" for me meant New Year's, and that somewhat misunderstood festival of lights for which there are multiple accepted spellings. My friends and relatives never really called to wish each other happy Chanukah. Though a friend one year did send a great card wishing me a "Happy ChakaKhan-aka" and featuring a fabulous pic of said '80s pop-funk diva.

My family always chose to place the onus of grand celebration not on Chanukah, but the non-secular and more easily scheduled Thanksgiving. We gather around the turkey instead of the menorah, and eat and drink instead of eat and drink and light candles and open presents.

I'm not alone. Christmas for us U.S. Jews has always been a slightly awkward time of wonder, envy, outsider-ness, and Chinese food. But eating fine Sichuan cuisine can also bring out the outsider in me, and — especially during the countless years I spent as a single guy during the holidays — it was not a stretch for me and those like me to feel as Brendan Behan famously said about critics, "like eunuchs at a harem."

And this despite the fact that until I married into Christmas, I was a real go-to Christmas Jew. That is, as sort of a reverse Shabbos Goy, I was the guy all my celebrating friends would invite over on Christmas Day in an attempt to make the festivities run a bit more smoothly among their observant brethren.

Yet I did not even see It's a Wonderful Life in its entirety until I was well into my twenties. (And let me just say, that's some dark shit you Christian folks get all auld lang syne about.) Though I'm a big fan of some of the better Christmas tunes (though not as early as the local retailers like to start in with them), I'm not sure I could make it through all the words of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" on my own. And to this day, no one in my immediate family is partial to what I label the "Christmas spices": cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, and allspice, despite our love for food of all kinds.

The flip side for non-celebrants is that Christmas is pretty much the single best day of the year to go anywhere that's actually open. I've spent some excellent Christmases skiing, flying, and going to newly-released movies, all without crowds. It's exhausting to ski on Christmas day; it invariably involves long runs down the mountain and skiing directly onto the chairlift, all with barely a "Shalom" to those jumping on a few chairs ahead of you. Because on Christmas — while much of the god-fearing world is home opening presents, eating fruitcake, and drinking egg nog — there is no line and no waiting.

The reality nowadays is that I haven't done any Christmas skiing in years, I know It's a Wonderful Life better than most, and I've stood out in the middle of driving snow debating the finer points of various fir trees. Christmas, like Chanukah and Thanksgiving, is a part of my life — and one I look forward to each year. I've got no love for the egg nog. But the holidays have always been about family. And with marriage, I've gained another holiday and another family. And I love them both. "Merrrry Christmas, Bedford Falls."

Adam Sandler — The Chanukah Song

Bush's Top 10

As President, George W. Bush has pulled far more idiocy than should be constitutionally allowed. Picking his top ten gaffes is like picking Johnny Cash's 10 best songs — which is to say time consuming and tedious, yet hugely entertaining at the same time.

Some day, years from now, we'll reflect back on his presidency, laugh nervously, and quickly change the subject. Until then, let's have a look at what The Dauphin had to offer us:

10. I was just, uh, watchin playoff football. And, uh, I fell. See, I forgot to chew ma pretzels well enough. Choked on em. Passed out. Fell down, hit ma face.

[Note: Call me cynical and a tad conspiratorial, if you must, but surely there are others not wearing a tinfoil hat who would agree that Bush's pretzel logic a tetch fuzzy, and that perhaps the untimely meeting of his face with the floor was caused by his fall off a certain wagon.]

9. Oh George, will you ever stop falling? First, the pretzel incident, and then (silly George), you tried to ride a Segway (self-balancing, mind you) — with predictable results.

8. Oh, such a pensive photo op from Air Force One — the magnanimous and empathetic President finally cutting short his vacation to fly high above the devastation of Hurricane Katrina (see #3)....

7. There are certain things that one could do to make oneself look achingly unpresidential. Monica Lewinsky in a White House alcove would be one. Dancing like Elaine on Seinfeld would be another. No video of Clinton and Monica, of course, but here's George doing his best white man's overbite.

6. "Yo, Blair!" Oh, G8 summit conference, how do I love thy comic genius? Your open microphones, featuring sophomoric fraternization between smug, foppish dolts, Bush stuffing his piehole with rolls and butter.... So good.

5. It's gotta be the shoes. It generally takes more than the standard amount of loathing to make a grown man throw a pair of shoes at anyone — let alone a sitting president. But if there's one area in which Bush excels, it's his ability to inspire more than the standard amount of loathing. Admittedly, Bush showed better than average presidential agility in managing to duck both shoes (very well thrown, by the way). I dunno about Clinton or Reagan, but I'm fairly certain Bush Sr., along with Nixon, Ford, and Carter would have taken those wingtips right in the mush.

4. Bush gives German Chancellor (German Chancellor, mind you, not German whorish page to the undersecretary of the Chancellor) Andrea Merkel a creepy, smirking, unsolicited back rub at the G8 summit.

3. Katrina. Three words: colossal fuck up. GWB: "I don't think anyone anticipated the breach of the levees." They didn't? Not even, say, a couple years earlier? George? GWB: "Heckuva job, Brownie." And may the 9th ward be in the White House, listening to Chocolate City, when a category fiver strikes Kennebunkport, Maine. And may you be trapped in the attic with an axe.

2. 9/11/01. In the days following the 9/11 attacks, let's agree that Bush was presidential, empathetic, rallying, and basically fine. But facing the eye of the shitstorm, he was a deer in the headlights. For seven painful, s l o w, minutes.

1. Two words: Mission Accomplished. Number one with a bullet. Because sometimes pictures do tell the story. And this single image continues to be the most glaring evidence to the fact that the Bush administration was grossly shortsighted and criminally negligent in their planning for, execution, and analysis of the Iraq war — the vital statistics of which can and should be seen here.

I've been waiting for the end of this era since before it even began. You're a pox and an embarrassment, Mr. Bush. May the White House door hit you in the ass on the way out.

Change

The mainstream media has a knack for painting issues with a broad brush, and occasionally with their fingers. And their dumbed-down questions lately of "Where's the change?" grossly oversimplify what president-elect Barack Obama will indeed bring to Washington.

Yes, Obama's Cabinet will consist largely of faces we've all seen before: Hillary Clinton, Bill Richardson, Rahm Emanuel, and so on. But lasting change often has less to do with Washington "insiders" and "outsiders" per se than it does with the way in which business is conducted.

Policy aside, the approach of the George W. Bush administration was brash, rash, and hugely partisan. Bush was the self-proclaimed "Decider" who felt things in his gut rather than weighing them with his intellect. He was a self-consciously–presented blustery cowboy — all "Dead or alive" and "Bring it on." He was isolationist, secretive, and subversive in his attempts to grab power on the world stage, within the U.S., and specifically among the three branches of government. He thumbed his nose at the media (whose "filtered" newspapers he did not even deign to read), and was almost never humble, almost never contrite.

Appearances and tone count for a lot in terms of public opinion, and from what we have seen and heard so far, the Obama administration will be far more transparent and open, far more based in truthfulness than truthiness, far more persuasive yet far more willing to compromise. Time will tell, but it certainly appears that as president, Barack Obama will actually listen to the other side, listen to public opinion, listen to science. And after George Bush, the ability to listen at all is a great change.

Not to get all "team of rivals" about this, but it has been some time since we've had a president assemble a Cabinet unbounded by party lines and that will present a studied, informed view of events and crises to aid in the decisions which will help shape our world. Bush surrounded himself largely with yes men and women whose primary and sometimes only purpose seemed to be that of sheltering Himself from opinions other than his own.

Arguably, the transition from Clinton to Bush was far more drastic than the current transition. But the political whiplash and public uproar caused by Bush 2000 (after an election in which he, in fact, lost the popular vote) had to do with adviser Karl Rove's strategy of playing to an über-narrow base, repaying campaign debts, upholding strict party doctrine, and looking toward reelection. Barack Obama appears to be a far more unifying and skilled politician, and his Cabinet choices alone have shown his lack of servitude toward a far-left agenda. So one would hope that his brand of change (and it certainly is a brand) is a more lasting one.

I am not talking about immediate partisan change, nor gradual demographic changes favoring the left, nor even change in the Clintonian sense (George Clinton, that is — because "You're my piece of the rock, and I love you, CC"). Rather, I'm talking about a shift in national thinking and, hopefully, even the way in which it is presented. Not to sound cornpone, but a shift from the divisive red state/blue state map we all know to a more subtly shaded one in which there does exist a broad and surprisingly solid middle ground.

Sure, the change will start with the transfer of ruling party power, and yes, Barack Obama looks a bit different from all 43 of his predecessors — but from there, the subtleties take over, and the difference in people, in culture, and in the processes that help run the country have a good chance of seeping into public discourse and indeed into each of us, as we push back against the constructionist notions of who liberals are and who conservatives are. I am a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat, but I vote the issues and I lean toward the middle on many of them, and I am utterly exhausted by the purported and perpetuated polarization of our two main parties. Again, the mainstream media, spoon-feeding us with their blunt shovels.

Exhibit A, the Sunday morning talk shows. The shrill voices they present us with, from the far left and far right do not help. Because "Jane, you ignorant slut" does not move along debate. Hearing varying opinions on how to best meet in the middle does. We need more centrist talking heads who not only can talk, but also listen to each other. So instead of letting say, Katha Pollitt and Bill Kristol smirk and jab at each other, what say we let Fareed Zakaria and Andrew Sullivan make some actual progress? We might find that we agree, welcome, and can build on their more centrist take on the issues.

Obama has consistently run on a platform of change, progress, and inclusiveness. I consider myself careful when offered to swig the rhetorical Kool-Aid, but I do believe substantive change is coming. It has been percolating for long enough that it cannot be stopped. And Barack Obama is the right guy in the right place at the right time to be an outstanding steward in leading our country in the direction it inherently wants to go.

Pizza Meditations

I. Sex

"Pizza is like sex," the saying goes. "When it's good, it's very good. And when it's bad, it's still pretty good." To which let's just say a quiet "Amen."

I've written before about my — er — struggle with cheese addiction. And pizza is my near-daily nip.

Hot, melted cheese is pretty much one of the tastiest things that ever met a mouth. And when it melds with a nice, simple red sauce, it gets exponentially better. The salt, the sweet, the heat. Mercy. Put the two atop perfectly crisped yet slightly chewy dough, and a beer to wash it down, well then — simple as it may be — we're not just talking sex, we're talking sex with old school Madonna with a side of Psilocybin.

II. Style

• New York — The standard here on the East Coast (pic at right, below). Fold a slice in half. Take a bite. Repeat.
• Greek — Growing up in Philly, we used to call this a "Boston-style" pie. The crust has some oil to it, so it crisps up in the pan and the edges have a bit of pastry-like flaky crunchiness. The cheese medley is generally a bit more salty (less mozzarella and more parm/romano), and cooked till slightly browned on top.
• Sicilian — Thick crust pizza cooked in rectangular pans.
• California — Uppity pie with non-traditional ingredients like barbecued chicken, sun-dried tomatoes, goat cheese, scallions, arugula, etc. "Not that there's anything wrong with it."
• Brick oven — When done well, my favorite. Tends toward irregular-shaped pies, with thinnish, crispy crust, and an emphasis on the high-heat cooking technique.
• Chicago deep dish — The lasagna of pizzas. When it's good, it's very good; when it's bad, it's more disappointing than the meh "good" of a traditional pie.
• Northern Italian — Very thin crust, so it cooks up quickly and is not as filling as a standard pie. Order one per person, and with no more than one topping.

III. Eyeballing

It can be a delicate thing. The taste from one slice — or even one bite — to another, can be inherently fleeting, as the pizza goes from scalding and soupy to cool and coagulated. One bite perfect, and the next twenty spent trying to recapture that fleeting glory.

I maintain that I can tell what a slice will taste like just by looking at it. Whether a bad cafeteria slice with cardboard crust, cloying sauce, and stratified cheese; a boxed Wolfgang Puck between flights; a perfectly reheated late-night "slab"; a pie made from reserved dough; or grilled sausage nirvana at the bar with a couple of pops.

At a couple dozen PIZZA PICTURES from the past year.

IV. The Trick

The keys to making pizza at home:

• If you're making your own dough, use fresh yeast (can be in a packet, just not old), and make sure you're mixing it with water that's hot enough (recipe below).
• Use a pizza stone and a peel.
• Dust the peel with flour and/or corn meal to allow the raw pie dough to slide off it, onto the stone.
• Preheat the oven as hot as it will go (500–550°F).
• Take the batteries out of the smoke detector and banish small children from the kitchen.
• Lay down mozzarella first, then sauce, then grate a hard cheese (e.g., parmigiano) on top.
• Keep "toppings" minimal and construct the pie quickly once you've got the dough on the peel.

V. The Dough

I spent a year or so tinkering with this recipe, trying different ratios of various flours (white, Italian "00", wheat, and rye) to get the right consistency, workability, and taste. You should do the same. Of course, if you want to just try mine, I break up the two cups of flour as follows:

• 1 C "00"
• 3/4 C white
• 1/4 C rye and whole wheat mix

The "00" flour is very fine, and I found it needed a bit more body, so I added some white flour. The rye and whole wheat are in there for taste and tooth.

VI. Rolling

I give you the following piece of celluloid brilliance, via Serious Eats.