An early Thirteen: Thirteen Movie Memories

An early Thirteen, because somewhere in the world it’s already Thursday*.

Veterans to my Thursday Thirteens know I like to use these occasions to revel in the only subject of which I never tire: me. It’s autobiography as viewed through a variety of lenses. Food, sex, love, are little more than angles and gimmicks. But isn’t that the original idea of the TT, to learn more about the author?

I shall always be faithful to this blog’s subtitle. Besides, if you’re here reading this, you haven’t tired of me, either. Or perhaps you’re just hoping for more recipes.

Follow me below the fold: my life in movies.

(more…)

Oxtail stew

Did you ask for it? No! Are you getting it? Yes!
My oxtail stew recipe* . . .

Why oxtail stew, you ask? Assuming you don’t object to red meat (sorry, Shaina), it’s delicious. Unlike beef, oxtails retain their flavor even after long cooking, so it’s an ideal crockpot or overnight stew. Indeed, you can’t rush oxtail stew.

It’s a cheaper version of ossobuco and every bit as good. Since I can’t often find veal shanks in our grocery store, this is the closest I can get to ossobuco.

You’ll want two good-sized oxtail pieces for each adult. Look for large-diameter, meaty, close-to-the-butthole pieces (because that’s where it’s most flavorful!) You’ll use the little pieces, too; not so much for the meat, but they do add flavor to the stew.

Preheat oven — anywhere from 275F to 350F, depending on how long you plan on letting it cook. Low heat/slow cook is best. Typically, I’ll set it up in the early afternoon and cook it at least four hours, maybe five, at 300 to 325F. At 350F, I suspect it would still take at least 3 hours for the oxtails to become tender.

Sprinkle the oxtail pieces with salt and pepper, then lightly dust with flour. In a Dutch oven, brown the pieces in olive oil on all sides. If you do this over medium to medium-high heat, the flour and oil will form a little roux at the bottom of the Dutch oven. Save this. If the heat gets too high, the roux will burn. Don’t save this. So: great if you can manage to get that little bit of roux, but don’t stress out if it burns. Just throw it away and use fresh vegetable oil for your vegies.

That’s the next step. Once you’ve browned the oxtails, set them aside and saute some vegies. I like a traditional mirepoix of yellow onions, carrots, and celery, but I also add chopped button mushrooms or portabellas. Dice them all quite fine. Chop up some garlic cloves while you’re at it, but add them only after you’ve sauteed the vegies. Continue sauteeing until fragrant. In other words, don’t burn the damned garlic.

Add a cup of a full-bodied red wine. Boil off the alcohol. Add the browned oxtails. In honor of George W. Bush’s all-time-low approval rating, add a 28-ounce can of crushed tomatoes (I like S&W) on top of the oxtails. Add a bit of salt and pepper (you can always add more later) and shove a few bay leaves down, down, down deep into the stew. I also add about a half-teaspoon of dry thyme and a good pinch of oregano.

Heat to a simmer. Put the lid on. Shove it into the oven and cook the crap out of it.

By the way: the liquid in the stew ought to come close to the top surface of the oxtails. Add some stock if necessary — chicken, beef, vegetable, doesn’t matter what kind of stock.

After the stew has been cooking at least three or four hours, take it out of the oven. Taste one of the oxtails: the meat should pull away from the gristle and melt in your mouth. If it’s tough, you haven’t cooked it long enough. This dish tastes better the next day, so you have no excuse to undercook it.

Stir well, flipping the tails. Now taste the stewy part. (You might need to spoon away some of the fat.) Adjust for salt and pepper. You can add some lemon zest, chopped Italian parsley, and chopped fresh garlic if the stew tastes too bland, but that is usually not a problem.

Serve with crusty French bread. Questions? (If you’ve never eaten oxtails, you’ll soon be asking: Now, how the hell do I eat one of these? But it ain’t that tough. The meat should peel away from the gristle with little effort. If it doesn’t, it’s undercooked.)

D.

*Old-timers here knows what it means when I’m posting recipes. Means I’m bone tired, too tired to do anything truly creative. Sorry, Corn Dog, the ant post will have to wait.

Recipe contest: we have a winner!

Thank you all for participating in the Balls and Walnuts First Annual Ridiculously Easy Recipe Contest. You’re welcome to add more recipes, but the contest is now CLOSED.

Yes, I’ve picked a winner.

Methodology

Contestants’ names were scrawled on a 3×5 card. If the contestant (call her ‘Julia Child’) submitted multiple entries, her entries were labeled “Julia Child 1,” “Julia Child 2,” and so forth. Next, I cut the strips as uniformly as possible, placed them into an empty water bottle, and shook.

I uncapped the bottle and one LARGE slip fell out. They had all stuck together, thanks to the presence of a bit of residual water in the bottle.

Too cheap to buy cookbooks for all of you, I unpeeled the slips and placed them face-down on a table. My son picked the winning name via a process of intuition and an abbreviated form of ‘eeny meeny miny moe.’

And the winner is . . .

(more…)

SBD: The “I love you”

Been so long since I wrote a Smart Bitches Day post, I expect Auntie Beth has forgotten all about me. Have you, Beth? Cuz I haven’t forgotten you. And here I am, back again with another, “Sweet Jeebus is he NEVER going to understand the meaning of SBD?” post.

Simple question, really. Genre conventions are important, right? But allowing your characters to do their thing, act ‘in character,’ is important, too. So what happens if convention runs head to head with a character’s, erm, character?

I’m thinking about the “I love you.” Supposed to come at the end of the romance, right? Something like . . .

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Exeunt all.

The curtain, that veil of words, closes within a few paragraphs at most. Perhaps a few pages. But a few chapters? Whaaaa?

But that’s what my hero wants to do. Not so much the heroine; she’s content to leave it to the very end. It makes sense for her to keep her mouth shut about her feelings. But the hero is an inexperienced romantic who has never been burned. He’s drowning in that rush of emotion and damn it he wants to share, share, SHARE with the woman he loves! I LOVE YOU! he wants to scream. I WANT TO BE WITH YOU FOREVER ‘N EVER! Because that’s who he is.

As romance readers, how much does this bother you? Do the “I love yous” have to come at the end, or can I break it up like this? Bottom line, I have to break it up like this, because my hero isn’t gonna act out of character. Does that make my novel something other than romance? *shiver* Lad lit, perhaps? Say it ain’t so!

Discuss.

D.

Cure for cancer? Not.

Don’t forget the contest.

This DCA story keeps dogging me. A cheap drug which kills all cancers! But Big Pharma won’t let the cat out of the bag, because it’ll kill their billion-dollar profits! Does a story get any sexier than that? Think about it: cancer fears; a discovery that would spark hope in millions of patients and their loved ones; and a great whopping conspiracy theory to top it all off. Wow.

The other day, I spent at least an hour reading about it on Daily Kos, and this morning, Dean asked me about it. Well, here’s my reply to Dean.

My credentials, such as they are, for those folks who wander in from a Google search for DCA or dichloroacetate: I have an MD/PhD, and the PhD is in cancer biology. Full disclosure, though: I’ve never been involved in cancer research and my PhD was awarded in 1990. A lot changes in 17 years, believe me, and at best I’m only an armchair cancer biologist.

Follow me below the fold.

(more…)

Yay, me!

Don’t forget the contest.

Just finished an 1183-word scene for my romance. It’s the first new scene I’ve written in months — I had bogged down in the editing and had been resisting the inevitable. I needed/need a new ending.

I had a hunch this would happen. That my muse was ready, but she wouldn’t cough it up until I sat down at the computer and STARTED. “Sorry, chum,” she’s saying, “you have to ante to play.”

Best of all, the next scene is a sex scene, and the story demands that it top the previous two sex scenes. I love writing sex scenes. My wife may not be as delighted; I tend to get rather demanding.

Eh. Too bad.

D.

Contest: keep it simple

I haven’t even sent out prizes for the last contest (sorry — this weekend, I promise!) and here I am hosting another one.

Here’s the challenge: post your family’s favorite “simple-but-delicious” recipe. Something your family loves. Something they ask for again and again. But most of all, something easy.

Post your recipe in the comments below — or, if you’d prefer, post a link back to your blog. Previously published recipes are fair game. ANY meal is fair game (main courses preferred, but again, if it’s simple and delicious, go for it).

The contest will run until Monday. Monday evening, I’ll draw names to determine the winner. If you give me multiple entries, you’ll have multiple “name slips” for the drawing.

The prize: any Julia Child cookbook available at Barnes & Noble . . . let’s say, $60 or under. That should cover damn near all of them, I hope. I would recommend either Baking with Julia or Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1.

The other prize: why, a whole host of wonderful recipes! But that part is up to you guys.

Have fun.

D.

Exclusive: Bill O’Reilly’s Pre-Appearance Agreement for The Colbert Report

If you saw Papa Bear sparring with Stephen Colbert last night (Crooks and Liars has the video), you know something went horribly, terribly wrong. How could the legendary Bill O’Reilly have allowed this young upstart to humiliate him so badly?

Balls and Walnuts has the answer: Jesse Watters, producer of The O’Reilly Factor, bungled the pre-appearance agreement. This evening, we have received not merely a copy of that agreement, but a copy marked up by O’Reilly after the fact.

But a picture is worth . . . well, you know.

(more…)

Thirteen senior year memories

Continued from last week.

I’ve written more about my last year at Berkeley than any other year of my life, thanks to Karen, but I’m sure I can dig up a few fresh stories for you, as well as a few links to old stories some of you may have missed. Onward!

(more…)

The Talk

The following conversation is entirely fictitious. My son demands I preface my comments with that sentence or else he’ll sue me.

Litigious little not-quite-a-bastard*.

It can be rough trying to raise an independent-minded kid. We give him a steady diet of Stewart, Colbert, Olbermann, and Howard Zinn, and yet we’re up against a huge corporate/governmental propaganda machine. I shouldn’t be surprised some of the brainwashing leaks through.

“I don’t believe it,” he said. “You used drugs in college?”

“It was only pot. And alcohol. A few times. Nothing much, really.”

Nothing much? Don’t you realize that leads to harder drugs?” The implicit suggestion: Before long, you’ll be a bum in the street lying in your own vomit, and maybe a few other people’s vomit puddles, too.

“You’re kidding me, right? Don’t tell me you actually believe any of that. It’s all government propaganda.”

“So drugs are good.”

(more…)