The Weekly Meat

Dispatches from the Real World

Apologies for the lack of Meat of late, but my wife and I had a baby three weeks ago. And Work has me about as busy these days as Rick Santorum staffers trying to click their way into a solution to his Google problem. So, you know, Responsibility.

Thankfully, in the world outside my home, there are others — so called "Friends of Meat" (see at left), even — writing posts well worth reading. So go, browse. Come back to me next week though, dammit. Or I will break up with you in embarrasingly public ways. And the truth will come out.

• You can start over on Twitching Blobs, for a positively Swiftian modest proposal, in response to recent legislative idiocy like the proposed Vagina Virginia ultrasound law.
  
  
• Then make your way over to visit BBQ Billy; if you don't know him, you should. Check out the drool-inducing blog. And stay tuned for his brick-and-mortar joint in Brooklyn, where you'll be able to sample his mighty BBQ wares.
  
  
• Likewise, The Green Spotlight, for well-researched writeups on sustainable solutions for real people. Lower cal (but for their roundup of organic, fair-trade chocolates), to be sure, but no less worth your while.
  
  
• And last, but never least, see The Gurgling Cod, for estimable opinions on food and culture — and obscure references that would make Dennis Miller sweat like Callista Gingrich at the Mütter Museum.

 

How to Name a Child

Possibly the most profound and long-lasting of all parenting decisions is one of the first. Namely, what is it we and others are meant to call this new being?

I bring this up because my wife and I are expecting our third child in the next month.

We've already named two kids, and we're not without our ideas, but it's safe to say that we're not exactly sweating the name this time around. As of yet, we don't really have a clear consensus — despite the kids' entreaties to name him either "Baby Shrump," "Fred Baby," or "Diaper."

We'll do what we've done in the past and save ourselves half the battle by using my wife's last name (she kept her name) as the kid's middle name — a nice touch that I'd like to think will give the kids a better sense of both halves of the geneological family.

But still, that first name isn't easy — for us, or for anyone. So herewith, ten critical considerations; guidelines, if you will, for naming a kid:

DO IT RIGHT AWAY

Though we're folks who spent a week naming our first cat (literally calling him by different names to try them out), and two days naming our second cat — I can't conceive of doing the same with an actual child, though we've had friends and family who have. Among other things, it calls additional attention to the name once finally agreed on. "Herman? Herman!? It took you three weeks to name your kid and that is the best you could come up with?"

So do it before you leave the hospital. And for those of you planning to have a baby at home, don't sweat it — your baby will be called Moonbeam. You damn hippies.

NO NAMES THAT CAUSE OTHERS TO QUESTION YOUR ABILITY TO SPELL

Our neighbors have a daughter named Serenna [sic]. They pronounce it "sareena," as one would if it were spelled "the normal way": Serena. They're perfectly nice people. Honest. Good neighbors. But that double "n" makes me wonder if a spelling error occurred somewhere between the thought and the birth certificate paperwork.

NO PUNCTUATION

I'm down, yo, don't get me wrong. But D'Andre? Amar'e? Please. No apostrophes, no hyphens, no semicolons, no periods, no lowercase. And for god's sake, no will.i.am lowercase and periods together! I don't care if you think it's cultural or hip or whatever. Save it for a nickname. No one deserves to be known by the state as something like T-Bone.

NO PET NAMES

Some relatives that shall remain unnamed (wife's side of the family; I'm just saying), have suggested we name the impending boy Puck. "You guys are literary, so you've got the allusion to Shakespeare" (A Midsummer Night's Dream), they say, and you've got the obvious hockey-crazed thing too. It's perfect!"

All true. Except that we're talking about a human being, not a labrador retriever.

Likewise...

NO RAP NAMES

Before you name your baby O-Dog or Crunk or Money, go get yourself a copy of Garage Band or hit a freestyle open mic night. Do whatever it takes to live your own damn pipe dreams instead of pushing them onto your kid.

NO STRIPPER NAMES

You can name a girl Destiny or Crystal or Chyna, but understand full well that they stand a far better chance of ending up as a stripper or a porn star, than, say, a Rachel.

And remember...

YOU AND YOUR CHILD ARE NOT AS UNIQUE AS YOU THINK YOU ARE

We all seem to want to find a name that's somewhat unique. I can understand that. But by doing so, you run a heavy risk of too unique. Too unique is just not good. Too unique is really only for those rich enough to buy either friendship or protection — or those whose father is Frank Zappa. Because kids with names like Dweezil or Apple or Suri or Siri just wind up (rightly) getting the piss taken out of them at school. Every day.

I mean...

REMEMBER: THE KID HAS TO LIVE WITH THIS NAME

Even without getting into Boy Named Sue territory, our names can influence how others see us, how we're treated, and how we feel about ourselves. My older daughter RK has a friend whose older brother is named Happy. We don't think it's his given name, but that's what his parents, teachers, and friends call him. And that, apparently, is what he will be expected to live up to. Happy. Might be fine now, in fifth grade, but in a few years when the teen angst hits hard and he wants nothing more than to sulk and listen to The Smiths?

Which leads us to...

THINK ABOUT IT LIKE A 12-YEAR-OLD

I run every possibility through my mental Rolodex of teasing. I mean, if your last name is Hoffman, you simply don't want to name a boy Jack. Because Jack Hoffman (say it: "jackoff man") is a bit too, well, Mike Hunt. So think about how your proposed name can be twisted by a snot-nosed 12-year-old.

And lastly...

KEEP IT TO YOURSELF

My wife and I refuse to discuss possible names with anyone but each other — a domestic life scar on behalf of friends who 10 years ago allowed to us and another couple that the two finalists for their soon-to-be-girl were Emma and . . . Sarafina. I can't remember if they actually asked what we thought, but — Tony-award-winning musical or not — I do know that I had an opinion on the proposed choices. And my opinion should have had nothing to do with their naming decision.

P.S. Their second daughter was not named Sarafina either.  ;-)

There you have it, folks. Procreate away.

Holiday Gift Guide: 2011

In past years, this post has been reserved specifically so I could shill for the publishing industry. This year, it's more like "catching up with consumable culture" — some of which is book-related, some not so much.

Here are some things I've run across in the past year that would make good holiday gifts. So go ahead, treat yourself or your loveed ones while boosting the economy in the following ways.

 

READ

Soul of a Chef by Michael Ruhlman — Split into three discrete sections, this looks at the CIA's (Culinary Institue of America, that is, not Central Intelligence Agency) Certified Master Chef exam, as well as the restaurants of chefs Michael Symon, and Thomas Keller.

Cooking Dirty by Jason Sheehan — If Soul of a Chef is for the 1%, Cooking Dirty is for the 99%. It captures the crazy intensity (quite well, I might add; this is a James Beard-winning writer and former chef) of actual working restaurant kitchens in a way I've very rarely seen in print — but saw in practice every day in every restaurant in which I've done time.

Life by Keith Richards — Easy, late night reading, but well-written, entertaining, enlightening, and insightful.

The Four Stages of Cruelty by Keith Hollihan — A sure-handed, fascinating, writerly, and suspenseful novel, from a first-time novelist not afraid (curse you, writing programs!) to have an actual plot drive the story. (Full disclosure: Keith is a friend. And I wish I had his slapshot.)

 

WATCH TV AND MOVIES

Wallander — For a good 10–15 years, Kenneth Branagh and his agent made it too easy for us to forget what a fantastic actor he really is. Here, he brings an honest, humble performance as a Swedish detective, in which he shows his age, his gut, and his chops. Excellent, beautifully shot, understated yet intense TV. Get it from Netflix or wherever you get your goods.

Sherlock — Another BBC production worth watching. An updated and imaginative take on Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson — and starring the man with the most British name of all time: Benedict Cumberbatch.

The Other F Word — Great documentary about punk rockers becoming dads. Deals with the topic of fatherhood better than anything else I've seen or read. And the music kicks ass.

A Face in the Crowd — Classic Elia Kazan flick I'd missed out on until recently. Incredibly prescient (1957) look at how media feeds the cult of personality and vice-versa. Great performance by Andy Griffith as the lead, and it stars both Patricia Neal and Lee Remick. Be still, my beating heart.

 

GO TO A MUSEUM

I could walk around the following museums even if they were absolutely empty. Both are beautiful and fascinating architectural spaces, well worth the time when you're in town.

• Mass MOCA
• ICA Boston

 

BUY RANDOM KITCHEN STUFF

Pickling tongs — What? You're not pickling or otherwise canning? Get on it; stat! You'll need this cheap but invaluable tool. And a mess of mason jars. Here's a basic pickling how-to from Rick of Rick's Picks.

Busha Browne's Authentic Jerk Seasoning — Marinate chicken or pork, cook, eat, thank me.

A sharp knife — Using a dull knife for food prep is more dangerous than using a sharp one. So go to a proper kitchen supply store and buy yourself a good knife, or take care of the good one you already have.

 

DRINK BEER

I like beer. These are a few new favorites, all from excellent breweries. Give them a shot.

• BBC Berkshire Ale — Straight-ahead English-style pale ale (currently my fave type of brew).
• Otter Creek Black IPA — Just what it sounds like. A real dark India pale ale that doesn't go overboard on the hops.
• Great Divide Hoss — A rye (grain of the moment) beer; delicious on tap.

Or if you or a loved one is in or around Boston, give em a gift certificate to (and ride home from!) Meadhall, which has an insane selection (~100) of craft beers on tap.

 

BUY RAZOR BLADES

I have no explanation (outside of a "vast right wing conspiracy") why replacement razor blades are so damn expensive, while disposable razors are so damn cheap. I just know they are. So buy your loved ones some replacement razor blades. I'm personally a Gilette Sensor Excel guy. I'm just saying.

 

GET YOUR MEAT ON

Why buy a T-shirt when you can buy a TWM-shirt?

 

GIVE IT AWAY

We have too much stuff and don't need more. We all have folks who have died on us that we'd trade every gift to have back. Agree with family to not give mutual gifts, but rather to put your money where your heart is. Do some homework, and donate.

 

That's all folks. Now go get your holidays on.

Sex Me up at the Ballgame

So, Red Sox phenom Jacoby Ellsbury is arguably in the running for this year's American League MVP. Indeed, he has had an outstanding season, and his youth, hustle, and matinee-idol Native-American looks — the occasional resemblance to Julianna Margulies notwithstanding — have understandably endeared him to a great many of the Fenway faithful.

You'll notice at right, the unabashed enthusiasm of young female fan at a recent game. We were seated behind her when I snapped the picture, but (click for larger view) her homemade — or perhaps in this case, I should say "HO-made" — sign reads:

Jacoby
I can be your
Nava-Ho!

He's a Navajo. And she's calling herself a whore. Get it? Hilarity!

Now, when I say this sign was held by a "young female fan" I mean that she was no older than 16 or 17 and clearly sitting with . . . wait for it . . . HER MOM!

But it's OK, see, because Jacoby Ellsbury is rich and famous and talented!

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for sex. But there's a big difference between sex and old-fashioned whoring, and there's a point at which our current Jersey Shore-ian fascination with sluttyness completely turns my stomach.

I'm a forty-something dad of two beautiful girls (RK and E-O) who will, for what it's worth, undoubtedly soon be leered at. They will talk about what schoolkids talk about, but they're going to hear most of the difficult stuff first from us. Because the facts matter. And we'll not be leaving it to a snot-nosed little "Nava-Ho" to give their spin on the facts.

Still, they will be bombarded from all angles, and at all hours and geographies, by the message that not only is sex (at a young age, without love, or even friendship) OK, but that whoring oneself is also OK, be it for friendship or money or even — OMG! — reality TV fame. And we will try our damndest to impress upon them that, among other things, Jacoby Ellsbury is a full 20 years older than them and an unrealistic relationship partner, despite being, indeed, worthy of this year's MVP.

RK, E-O, please do respect athletic ability, and — sure — even looks, and fame, and money. But if you ever find yourself willing to trade sex for any of them, one of two things has happened: either your mom and I have failed you as a parents, or you have failed yourself as a human being.

Random Sketchbook Pages

Back before everything went digital and we all got blogs, I used to be better about keeping a sketchbook. I have several from those days, and I page through them wistfully now and then, pining for the analog nature of it all.

Each is filled with sketches. Ideas too. For plays, stories, artwork. Doodles. Chords and lyrics. Words to live by. Lists of books and movies to read and see. Often, just random things I wanted to remember in that long-ago era before we all walked the earth with cameras in our pockets and knowledge lived in clouds.

Like a bar spotted in Ennis, Ireland called Tipsy McStaggers. Or a pawn shop in Sioux Falls called The Happy Hocker. Or how a friend used to refer to masturbation as "shaking hands with the unemployed."

Or a sign at a church in Gaylord, MI: GOT JESUS?

Or another church sign in Brighton, MA:

C H _ _ C H

What's missing?

U R

 

At the very least, they are filled with the innocent, immature, and occasionally incoherent, notions we all have when unguarded. At their best, though, they illustrate the growth of both my creative and analytical thought processes. And contain an immediacy and truth that I rarely, if ever, reach on the pages of this blog.

For that, I treasure them. 

10 Things You Will Never Hear on Mad Men

With production delayed for the next season of Mad Men, and the long, hot, bloody-humid summer still buffeting us with occasional thunderstorms of our own sweat, here's a 100-calorie snack post on which you can slake your thirst.

Ten phrases that will never be spoken on Mad Men:

1. "I'm afraid that's against our sexual harassment policy."
2. "Drink? Before noon?"
3. "Hang on, let me just put on a condom."
4. "Hang on, let me just put in my diaphragm."
5. "Sorry, you can't smoke in here."
6. "Drink? At the office?"
7. "Joan, I think you should look into a breast reduction."
8. "Sally, Bobby, you kids are the best."
9. "Drink? And drive?"
10. "Don, honey, I hate to ask — but, well, you smell like someone else's vagina again."

Advertising versus Editorial Content FAIL

In retrospect, when manufacturing giant Airbus placed an adtvertising buy with CNN, they should have known this sort of mishap was possible. But corporate suits don't usually think in human terms. Especially French corporate suits. And so, below, via CNN.com just the other day, we had the proposterous juxtaposition of Airbus ads running with an article about, well, the failure and crash of one of the very planes on whose merits they hope to sell us.

Analysis of information from the flight data recorders on Air France Flight 447 showed the Airbus A330 plummeted 38,000 feet in 3 1/2 minutes, four hours into the journey from Rio de Janeiro to Paris.

A preliminary report by France's Bureau of Investigation and Analysis (BEA) found that the pilots were given conflicting speed readings in the minutes leading up to the crash.

Ads below; full article here on CNN.com (now, most likely, with a different ad).

Comment dit-on "imbeciles" en Français? Ah oui, «imbeciles».

March Madness

Take one tournament bracket, mix in a handful of unhinged dilettantes, a healthy dose of The Interwebs, and pretty soon your typical March Madness has become full-blown Batshit Craziness.

Click the thumbnail below for a full-size, printable bracket. And remember, folks: despite their deservedly high seeds, there are no sure things in the tournament — even for those with last names like Sheen, Gaddafi, Lohan, or Berlusconi. All it takes is one Cinderella performance on a given night for a sleeper like Christian Bale to take out Mel Gibson.

 

The Hot List: A Primer for 2011

Tis once again the season for stand-up philosophy, bald-faced prognostication, and linguistic prestidigitation. Herewith, the only hot list you'll ever need this year — in alphabetical order for easy reference.

 

Out	In
2010	1990
24/7	16/5
3G	3D
bacon	Francis Bacon
BP	BP*
CO2	Methane
cloud computing	cloud computing with a chance of showers
coal plants	nuclear plants
cocktail waitresses	prostitutes
"don't ask, don't tell"	it's 2011 for fuck sake; get over it
deep-water drilling	fracking
Glee	ghee
Glenn Beck	actually wearing tin-foil hats in public
home-brewing beer	home-brewing moonshine
iPhone	Android phone
"it is what it is"	"up your nose with a rubber hose"
Lady Gaga	‹15 minutes of fame
meat clothing	The Weekly Meat clothing
mining coal	mining natural gas
molecular gastronomy	vehicular gastronomy
outsourcing	REsourcing
Rudolph	Blitzen
Sarah Palin	Really? Still? Good lord, we're bloody stupid.
small plates	entrées
"snowpocalypse"	expecting snow in winter
Tea Party crazies	tea party crazies
Twitter	The Weekly Meat on Twitter
Verizon iPhone	Really? You're still stuck on the iPhone?
Wi-Fi	Super Wi-Fi

 

*What? Did you drastically change your habits surrounding gasoline usage? Alright then, STFU and get on it.

 

Be safe out there this year, people.

Netflix Hidden Gems

With the birth of our first daughter four+ years ago, our social life changed from that of adventurous vacationers and outdoors-people to mostly-homebodies. Further, our home movie watching turned toward shorter-form flicks and TV series, as it became difficult to grab two+ hours of free time at a go (and still manage enough sleep to save our sanity).

Here are some of our — OK, my — favorites:

TV Series

• State of Play — (The British miniseries, not the American film adaptation.) An outstanding political thriller. Smart script, great ensemble cast, and no Russell Crowe!
• Shameless — Happened to catch the pilot of this BBC show several years ago in a friend's flat in London, and was taken by it. Found it on Netflix and watched the first seasons. It's about an epically dysfunctional family in a Manchester council flat. The opening titles sequence says it all. Not for everyone, but hilarious and occasionally even poignant.
• Freaks and Geeks — God, this show was good. Pitch perfect and spot-on to so many aspects of my own high school experience. Fantastic ensemble cast of then-unknowns. Written and directed by Judd Apatow long before his good ideas ran thin.
• Sports Night — Good acting (Peter Krause, Josh Charles, Felicity Huffman, Robert Guillaume) + great writing (Aaron Sorkin before he misplaced his mojo) = classic situation dramedy (that's comedic drama; note: one hump).
• Keen Eddie — Maybe no one watched this but my wife and me, and a friend of ours — I just happened to catch the pilot and it hooked me — but it was a light, fun show, and I missed it as soon as it went off the air (I knew Sienna Miller was too good to be true...).

Euro Thrillers

• (La Femme) Nikita — Anne Parillaud; grrr.... Ahem. That is, I mean to say I saw this in Paris when it came out, and was blown away by it. I saw it again in the states a month or two later and was still blown away. Slick yet gritty and more realistic than most. Luc Besson's best.
• Leon: The Professional — Again, Jean Reno. And so good. Also, the role that gave Natalie Portman a career. Luc Besson's second best.
• Ronin — Great flick. Tight script. Great cast, including a blessedly understated Robert DeNiro, Stellan Skarsgård, Jean Reno, and the understatedly-sexy Natascha McElhone (one of my favorite names to say aloud, incidently).
• Insomnia — Another pre-Good Will Hunting Stellan Skarsgård flick. Unnervingly quiet and suspenseful. In my mind, I group this with the Dutch film of the same era, The Vanishing, which is also excellent. Do not settle for the American remake of either film; they're fine, but not in the same class.
• Run Lola Run — A ticking stopwatch of a movie, timed in minutes and seconds, with a bumping soundtrack. Works really well for what it is.

Documentaries

• Dog Town and Z-Boys — A compelling, inside look at what amounts to the rise of California youth culture of the '70s. See also Stacy Peralta's follow-up flick about big wave surfing, Riding Giants.
• Surfwise — Two parents raising nine kids in a camper in the '70s. From beach to beach, they learn how to surf, and how to deal with themselves, life, and their parents. Sometimes reality is too crazy to be made up. And for a similar category of movie, different milieu, see I Like Killing Flies, about the equally grandiose and borderline crazy Kenny Shopsin and his decrepit and delicious Greenwich Village eatery.
• When We Were Kings — Ostensibly a boxing doc on the 1974 Muhammad Ali - George Foreman "Rumble in the Jungle," staged in Kinshasa, this Oscar winner is more an epic time capsule than anything else. It includes some amazing footage and music, along with eminently quotable guys like George Plimpton and Norman Mailer — both of whom were in Zaire, covering the fight — (let alone Ali himself) and speaks to the culture, music, art, and heroes of the day. Plus, it was one hell of a fight.
• Food, Inc. — I've read the books and seen similar scary food docs, but this one hits home strongest. If it does not make you rethink your eating habits in even a small way, there's little hope for you — or, for that matter, the rest of us.
• The Future is Unwritten — Rest in peace, Joe Strummer. I love you, brother.