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The forgotten Christmas movie. December 12, 2011

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Our friend Ben and Silence Dogood are, as always, in the midst of our annual Scroogefest, in which we play every version of Dickens’ classic “A Christmas Carol” that we know of. But last night, we had supper at our friend and fellow blog contributor Richard Saunders’ apartment, and discovered a very different kind of Christmas film.

After the meal, as Richard’s girlfriend Bridget served wine, cheese, and fruit in the living room, Richard asked if we had ever seen one of his favorite Christmas films, “Prancer.”

“Kidding, right, Richard?” OFB tactfully replied. “What’s that, a twisted remake of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?”

“It’s not a cartoon, is it?” Silence, who hates cartoons, was quick to ask.

“It’s not sicky-sweet, with lots of kids shrieking in ear-splitting falsetto, is it?” OFB helpfully added. “After all, I just ate.”

“No, it’s not a cartoon, no, it’s not ‘sicky-sweet’, and no, I’m not kidding,” said Richard, who for some reason remains friends with us. He suggested that we watch it and judge for ourselves. 

Well, we’d just been presented with a luscious-looking assortment of fruit and cheese, not to mention large glasses of wine. Silence and I figured that, if the film was really atrocious, we could just keep discreetly requesting more wine throughout the showing to dull the pain.

And guess what? Richard was right, the film (ca. 1989) was delightful. It stars Sam Elliott, one of our favorites, as a crusty single parent whose eight-year-old daughter bonds with a wounded reindeer. The story follows the little girl, played by Rebecca Harrell, as she plots, wheedles, works, and schemes to secretly nurse the reindeer back to health by Christmas Eve.

Now, you’d have every reason from that plot summary to think that this could be just another nauseatingly sweet greeting card of a film. But it isn’t. The little girl is feisty and resourceful, and refreshingly homely. Her beautiful best friend is actually delightful, recognizing her friend’s leadership qualities and eager to please her rather than pursuing her own popularity based on looks and status. The heroine’s older brother engages in a totally realistic antagonistic relationship with her. And the supporting cast is excellent, especially Sam Elliott as the beleaguered father trying with scant success to support his shattered family. Even the reindeer is endeering, uh, engaging.

Our friend Ben and Silence now agree with Richard that “Prancer” should hold a place as a Christmas classic, especially for families, with its excellent plot and performances (especially by the heroine) and its message that a kind heart and a determination to do what’s right together can overcome all obstacles.

Admittedly, we found the film’s ending disturbing, quite a far remove from Richard’s enthusiastic description and the DVD back blurb’s “The magical final scene is sure to make your heart soar!” Well, it made our hearts plummet. I guess it all depends on whether you believe, as the film intended you to, that [spoiler alert!] the rescued reindeer flew off to join the other reindeer pulling Santa’s sleigh just in time to deliver the Christmas presents, or, as Silence and I did, plunged off a cliff to its certain death on the rocks far below. But hopefully nobody but us would draw such a conclusion from a feel-good film!

Anyway, we enthusiastically recommend “Prancer” for your Christmas viewing. It will almost certainly become a beloved tradition in your house. We’ve already ordered our copy. It deserves to take its place with such classics as Alastair Sims’ version of  ”A Christmas Carol” and the original “Miracle on 34th Street.”

Crunching blog numbers. December 11, 2011

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Bloggers, have you ever felt like a voice crying in the wilderness? If so, there’s a good reason for that: The numbers are against you. Our friend Ben was reminded of this again today when I saw a news headline on our blog host, WordPress’s, home page announcing the launch of WordAds. Yeeikes!

Mind you, our friend Ben has no objection to using our blog, Poor Richard’s Almanac, as a springboard to generating some desperately needed income. If our content and style garnered us a grant, award, or book deal, or an offer to write a magazine or newspaper column or be a regular on a radio show, I’d be delighted.

But I’ve seen plenty of blogs with ads, and they’re not ads I’d want on my blog. I’m always horrified by the ads that pop up on my Yahoo e-mail page. And I’ve been shocked by the purple-faced woman cropping up regularly with the “she’s 80 but looks 20!” promo on, of all places, The New York Times online. If The New York Times can’t keep vulgar, trashy ads off their site, what hope do we bloggers have? Fortunately, checking out the post about WordAds, I saw that they were optional. But I digress.

Point being, that same post carried some pretty stupefying statistics. “There are more than 50,000 WordPress-powered blogs coming online every day,” for example. So far, 5,320,347 people have signed up to receive WordPress’s e-mail updates.

Heading to Google to try to unearth data about how many blogs currently exist, I found 2011 data for 450 million active blogs in English and over 1 billion worldwide, which translates to 1 in 6 people worldwide with their own blog. And these are just the active blogs, not the dead or defunct blogs that litter cyberspace, the sad husks of abandoned dreams. 

Does knowing this make you feel better or worse? Certainly, the chances of catapulting your blog into bestsellerdom and film fame were way higher in the early days of blogging. It’s much harder to be a Julie Powell of “Julie & Julia” fame today, or Markos Moulitsas Zuniga of Daily Kos, given the competition.

But it’s far from impossible. Look at Ree Drummond, The Pioneer Woman. She has successfully leveraged her blog into bestselling books, a Food Network show, and a forthcoming movie based on her life. And, as Silence Dogood pointed out in our earlier post, “The pizza zombies are coming” (check it out in our search bar at upper right), a waiter at a diner just scored front-page coverage in The Wall Street Journal because of his pizza blog.  

So, is it even worth starting a blog or carrying on with your blog in the face of such massive competition, to continue to be a voice crying in the wilderness? Of course, that depends on why you started your blog to begin with. If you enjoy writing it, if you enjoy sharing things you’ve learned, if you feel you have something to say that others might want to hear, I’d say absolutely. Keep on keeping on. Eventually, people will hear you.

Take us, for example. Here at Poor Richard’s Almanac, with no promotion, no platform, no famous names, no visuals, and no advertising, we get an average of 500 views a day. And that’s 500-plus views a day for writing about whatever the heck we want to write about on any given day.

True, it’s not 5,000 or 50,000 or 500,000 views a day. Nobody’s beating down our door to offer us awards or book deals. Nobody’s begging us to put their ads on our site. But wow, when we started, we never thought we’d arrive here. We’re so grateful for the people who want to read what we have to say. Thank you, everyone! And thank you, WordPress, for making Poor Richard’s Almanac possible.

 

White lights or colored lights? December 9, 2011

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Yesterday, our spring water guy arrived at Hawk’s Haven with our December delivery. After bringing in the water cases, he turned a critical eye on our Christmas display, looking over our lavishly ornamented tree, wreath, fireplace extravaganza, and snow scene (featuring an ornament that looks like our black German shepherd, Shiloh). Then he turned back to us with a look of strong disapproval and said, “Don’t you like colored lights?”

Silence Dogood and our friend Ben have discussed this very issue many times. Actually, we do like colored lights. But we like them in other people’s houses. We love driving around this time of year, enjoying the Christmas displays outside people’s homes featuring either white or colored lights. (None of those hideous blow-up Santas, snow globes, and so on, though, please. They ruin everything!) We love seeing Christmas trees with colored lights in the homes of family and friends (including our friend and fellow blog contributor, Richard Saunders), and in Christmas movies.

But our tree and wreath have tiny white lights. We love the soft glow they cast on the room, and we think they highlight the greenery and ornaments better than colored lights do. They also remind us of stars, like the star that led three Wise Men to a manger in Bethlehem on the very first Christmas.

Of course, we get our colored-light fix every time we look out the deck door at the festive strings of red, green and yellow chile pepper lights. Their colors certainly add a Christmasy touch to our deck railing. One year, a friend gave us a live Christmas tree, which we set up on the deck and adorned with unbreakable ornaments. If we ever have another one out there, maybe we’d get some colored lights for it to complement the chile lights. That would be a sight to behold!

There’s really only one color of Christmas lights that we don’t like: blue. Every now and then we see all-blue lights on trees as we’re driving around, and they always strike us as sad and spooky rather than festive. But even blue has been rehabilitated for us since those super-soft blue LED lights came on the scene. An outdoor tree festooned with those soft blue lights is actually beautiful. Seeing one transports us to the quiet of deep winter, when the full moon casts a soft blue glow on snowdrifts.

So, people, cast your vote: white lights, colored lights, or both?

What’s the worst Christmas song? December 8, 2011

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I believe it was in the movie “About a Boy” that Hugh Grant plays a feckless playboy who’s constantly humiliated because the source of his wealth is a nauseatingly saccharine Christmas song that became a huge hit for his composer father. Everywhere Hugh goes, they’re playing the sickening song.

Our friend Ben is sure that the inspiration for this part of the plot must have been either “Frosty the Snowman” or “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” But there’s plenty of competition, and not just in English. (“Petit Papa Noel” and “Kling Glockchen” come to mind.) “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” “The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire),” “Nothing but a Child,” and “Here Comes Santa Claus” are all enough to set our teeth on edge. And we especially hate when classic Christmas songs like “Jingle Bells” are performed super-fast as though to get them over with as quickly as possible, turning a normally inoffensive jingle into a nerve-jarring jangle.

Our friend Ben and Silence Dogood got into quite an enthusiastic discussion last night about whether “Rudolph” or “Frosty” is worse. We both think that “Frosty” is inherently worse, but the ear-shattering falsetto in which “Rudolph” is so often performed is enough to boost it to number one in the all-time-worst Christmas song category as far as we’re concerned. (Alvin and the Chipmunks, anyone?)

Our friend Ben has another issue with “Rudolph” as well: It’s misleading. In the song, Rudolph is an outcast, mocked and ignored by his fellow reindeer because of his, ahem, non-standard appearance. But once Santa is forced to rely on Rudolph’s red nose to steer his sleigh on a foggy Christmas Eve, he becomes a hero to his former tormentors.

I’m sure the author of those lyrics was thinking of his son (grandson, nephew, baby brother, whatever) when he wrote them, and was trying to suggest that once his true talent was recognized, he’d be a hero to his bullying classmates. And no doubt bullied and outcast children have been buoyed by the happy outcome of “Rudolph” ever since, thinking that if they could only get recognition and praise from an adult authority figure, as Rudolph did from Santa, their peers would suddenly welcome them to the in crowd.

Right. Imagine for a second what would happen to a child who was already outcast, mocked and bullied if suddenly a teacher showered attention and praise on them? It would be an excuse for the heartless pigs who already felt no compunction about their behavior to crank up the bullying and mocking to hitherto unprecedented levels. ”Rudolph” is a recipe for disaster.

You might think that the best revenge would be the Bill Gates model, immortalized in that classic film, “Revenge of the Nerds.” Grow up to be Albert Einstein or Mother Teresa or, say, Jimmy Page, and see who was laughing at you then. Go back to your high school reunion with your honors and your millions, and smile benignly at the cheerleaders turned old before their time from waitressing and the football heroes serving out their time as Wal*Mart greeters. 

But our friend Ben doesn’t think that’s the real solution. It’s much more universal, and much simpler: Like who you are. Like who you are as a child, a teen, an adult, a retiree. How? First, know yourself. Then “to thine own self be true.” If everyone did that, accepted themselves for who they were, there would be no bullies, there would be no outcasts. There would be no prejudice, there would be no hatred. Everyone would be too busy happily living their own lives to be threatened by people who were different from themselves.

This post has strayed pretty far off-topic, but come ’round to a message that is certainly appropriate for the Christmas season, the season of goodwill. God bless us every one!

And anyway, which Christmas song do you think is worst?

‘Tis the season… December 7, 2011

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…to be exhausted, and exhilarated. Silence Dogood here. Today, I decorated our living room for Christmas. It took me five hours, and that’s without so much as a five-minute break. And mind you, our friend Ben had already set up the tree and hung the wreath over the mantel. Not to mention hauling 12 Xerox boxes of ornaments down from the attic. And setting up our German schwiboggen, a delightful wooden winter scene illuminated by tiny white lights.

What could have taken five hours, you’re asking? Well, first I had to decorate the fireplace. Of course the stockings—our vintage stockings and stockings for our three cats and black German shepherd, Pioneer Hawk’s Haven Shiloh von Shiloh Special—had to be hung by the chimney with care. But then I created a display that completely covered the mantel, followed by one that covered the base of the fireplace, our wood holder, and our fireplace tool stand. (Poor Santa! I’ll know he’s arrived—that, or one of the cats has jumped up on the mantel—by a cascade of crashing ornaments, and a subsequent supply of switches and ashes in all our stockings.) I just hope we don’t have another power failure and actually have to light a fire in the woodstove!

Then it was on to the tree. I like to create layers of ornaments, so that people (including us) feel that they could look at it forever and still not see everything. It’s pure magic to see all the ornaments in the flicker of tiny white lights. We have inherited, been gifted with, and bought new and vintage ornaments over the years—thus the 12 boxes—and every one has meaning for us. But let me just say that unearthing them all, while enchanting, is not for the faint of heart. And then of course I have to decide exactly where to place each one for best effect.

Finally, the tree was done, every ornament in place. It stands beside the fireplace, and the effect of the scene, with white lights ablaze on the wreath and tree, is all that I could hope. But the real scene-stealer this year is on the other side of the fireplace, and it’s all thanks to our friend Ben.

A few years ago, I’d bought a Christmas church from a place that sells vintage ornaments. I have no idea if it dates from the ’40s or ’50s, but it’s about a foot tall, covered with white “stucco” and glitter to sparkle like snow, and has a nightlight-like bulb inside to shine through the “stained-glass” windows.

I also don’t know what people originally did with these, but I bought a rectangle of white cotton batting, also dusted with glitter, and set the church on the batting under the tree to create a tableau. It came with a white picket fence (metal, of course, not plastic) for the front yard, and I’d bought a number of vintage bottle-brush trees, including two with ornaments to flank the church’s front door, to add some landscaping.

Unfortunately, last year, the box containing the church failed to materialize—we always misplace a few boxes every year, and sadly, this one is no exception—and by this morning, OFB had forgotten all about the church. But he was enchanted by it. He insisted that we give it a more prominent location so it didn’t have to compete with all the presents for attention. As it happens, we have a wooden chest on the other side of the fireplace, and he suggested that I set it up on top of the chest.

I did, and it looked nice, but given its sudden prominence, I felt that it could use  more color. Then I had what a friend’s mother immortally referred to as a rush of brains to the head.

Last year, OFB and I had been fortunate enough to find a black German shepherd Christmas ornament. Naturally, we think it looks just like Shiloh, sitting with a pink tongue hanging happily out, and adorned with a cheerful red-and-green Christmas scarf. And this year, I’d found a red sleigh ornament in a bag of vintage ornaments from Goodwill. The scale of both was perfect for the church scene. I set the sleigh near the church door and put the Shiloh ornament in the sleigh. 

Since the Shiloh ornament is dark, it tends to get lost on the tree, but now it’s front and center where we can enjoy it every time we pass by. And enjoy it we will! I can’t wait until OFB gets home and can see for himself.

Fortunately, we’ve already decorated the front of the house. Now it’s “just” a question of wrapping presents and setting them under the tree—another three hours at least—and decorating our kitchen table (we don’t have a dining room). Wrapping presents is not my favorite chore, but it does have one advantage: You’ll realize immediately if you’ve shortchanged or, gasp, forgotten someone, and mercifully, there’s still plenty of time to do something about it.

I still have one more scarf to knit, and Christmas treats to buy and make, and of course, packages to mail and Christmas cards to write. But right now, I’m relaxing in the glow of the tree and wreath, listening to Christmas music while heavenly balsam incense burns in the background, bringing the fragrance of Christmas to the whole house. Everything is perfect. Everything is magic. Everything is Christmas. It doesn’t get better than this.

               ‘Til next time,

                            Silence

Buy Facebook friends. December 7, 2011

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Has it really come to this? Our friend Ben was horrified to see a comment in our spam folder offering to let us buy Facebook “fans”. Mind you, our friend Ben has never been on Facebook, not because I wouldn’t enjoy seeing what’s on there, but because they won’t let you on unless you join, and I refuse to give them the satisfaction of adding me to their 750-plus-million strong roster. That smacks of power-grabbing blackmail to me. But even I know that you have friends on Facebook, not fans. (I, um, think. If you can have fans and friends, someone please let me know!) 

But I’m straying from the point here, or maybe not. Facebook has become so powerful that it’s no longer just a social network, it’s considered an essential outreach tool for businesses. Perhaps a desperate teen would buy friends for their Facebook page to look more popular. But I suspect that the real market for bought friends/fans/whatever is businesses seeking to prove to investors and advertisers that they have a huge following.

This of course goes for authors trying to attract publishers, artists and craftspeople trying to get into galleries, musicians looking for bookings and recording deals, and on and on. If you can show that you have bazillion friends on Facebook, followers on Twitter, views on your blog and YouTube videos, etc., you are also showing that you have a marketable platform. When someone offers you a deal, they do so in the confidence that you’ll be bringing your following with you, a ready-made market for your products.

Normally, building a following takes a tremendous amount of hard work, time, and originality. But gee, now you can just buy one ready-made! Still, this is obviously gonna cost you.

Our friend Ben has a better idea: Steal a page from Facebook’s playbook. Refuse to allow anyone to buy your products unless they friend you on Facebook, follow you on Twitter, sign up to get your e-mails, etc. This would naturally be more effective if you were, say, L.L. Bean or Wal*Mart. But it has broader applications. What if you couldn’t get an appointment with your doctor unless you had to friend, follow, etc.? Or even hope to get into the college of your choice, or get a job, or go to a concert, or buy groceries, unless…

Of course, once everyone had huge followings, maybe they’d lose their market value. And maybe then we’d return to a place where quality, originality and talent were what mattered, not marketing platform. Our friend Ben can dream…

Christmas colors fire political protest. December 4, 2011

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Red and green are the colors of Christmas. They’re also the colors of chiles*, and folks in New Mexico have gotten all fired up about protecting the purity of their most famous crop. (Hatch, New Mexico is renowned as the “chile capital of the world.”) The result is Occupy Green/Red Chile, a protest movement that is taking to the streets in major New Mexico cities like Albuquerque, Santa Fe and Taos. But what are they protesting?

Turns out, it’s a topic familiar to all of us who care about plants, agriculture and gardening: genetic engineering. According to Susan Montoya Bryan’s article “Green chile lovers fired up over genetic research,” rising labor costs and pervasive diseases have decimated New Mexico’s chile crop, so that now only 25% of the original tens of thousands of acres are still in production.

One of the New World’s most successful exports, chiles are now grown worldwide, and their presence is so taken for granted in Indian, African and Asian cuisine that it’s easy to forget that they’re a New World crop. And now less pricey chile imports are eating into New Mexico’s chile profits.

New Mexico State University, which has had a Chile Pepper Institute and been researching and breeding chiles for decades (including such popular cultivars as ‘NuMex Big Jim’), has turned its attention to genetic engineering in an attempt to help plants resist diseases, boost productivity, and get the peppers up where they’re easier to harvest mechanically. (If you’ve grown hot peppers yourself, you’ll know all about hunting around under the leaves to find ripe peppers for harvesting or the biggest green poblanos for stuffing. Our friend Ben can’t imagine mechanically harvesting a pepper crop. And imagine the labor costs of hand-picking them.)

Genetic engineering raises red flags for different reasons. Some people simply object to having mouse or pig or whatever genes inserted into their plants, when there hasn’t been enough time to see what the long-term effects will be. Not to mention, Silence Dogood reminds me, the moral chaos into which this will plunge vegetarians. 

Others—including the majority of people concerned about protecting plant diversity—are concerned about interbreeding between vigorous genetically engineered hybrids and heirloom plants which have been cherished, sometimes for centuries, for specific qualities of flavor, texture, color, fragrance, ability to withstand certain climatic conditions and problems, etc. This can happen if insect-pollinated heirloom crops are planted near genetically modified fields, or it can happen across long distances if wind-pollinated heirloom plants (like tomatoes and corn) are grown within gale-force reach of genetically modified plants.

The lessons of history, both ancient and modern, all point to the importance of maintaining diversity in our crops, our animals, ourselves. The Irish Potato Famine might never have happened if every person in Ireland hadn’t been growing a single cultivar (cultivated variety) of potato which happened to be susceptible to the blight. Had the hundreds of varieties of potatoes that exist been grown, doubtless many would have proved blight-resistant, and since it took several years for the blight to become disastrous, seed potatoes from resistant types could have been shared, averting the tragedy. (This also points up the importance of not depending on a single crop, be it potatoes, rice, wheat, corn, soy, or you name it, for a nation’s sustenance.)

On a less extreme scale, last year’s canned pumpkin shortage was caused by a crop failure of Libby’s carefully selected and exclusively grown ‘Dickinson’ winter squash cultivar, the source of their canned pumpkin. While our friend Ben ventures to guess that nobody’s going to die from lack of canned pumpkin, unlike the millions of Irish who died in the Potato Famine and millions more who were uprooted and forced to leave friends and family for new lives in new lands, the cause is the same: lack of crop diveristy.

Living in litigious times as we do, crop contamination and reducing diversity aren’t the only objections to growing genetically modified crops, a lesson Monsanto has taught us all so well. University researchers work hard to benefit their states’ farmers, usually drawing no profit beyond their modest salaries. But then agribusiness monsters like Monsanto enter the game, patenting genetically modified crops and forcing growers to purchase their overpriced seed every year if they want to grow the new supercrops.

On the surface, this seems like good old capitalism at work. Nobody has to buy Monsanto seed, after all, do they? And if they choose not to, and to keep on growing the varieties they prefer and saving their own seed for future crops, that’s a free-market choice, isn’t it? Maybe their harvest and profits will be lower, but that’s their decision.

Except it isn’t, at least according to Monsanto. If Monsanto’s modified genes find their way through pollination into somebody’s heirloom crop, Monsanto sends its dogs after them and sues them out of business, even though the farmers are minding their own business and not only have done nothing to incorporate Monsanto’s genes but are horrified by their line’s corruption. Monsanto has shown itself ruthless and successful, time after time after time. No wonder the Occupy Green/Red Chile folks fear that the university’s work will, rather than helping New Mexico farmers, drive them all out of business.

Our friend Ben completely sympathizes with the concerns of Occupy Green/Red Chile, which I feel are totally legitimate. And with a Master’s degree in horticulture, having worked alongside the dedicated professors and researchers trying to help farmers, orchardists and gardeners, I really do appreciate their efforts.

It’s the mindless, heedless greed of corporations like Monsanto that make my hackles rise.  As long as their quarterly report looks good, they don’t give a damn if they destroy the world, even in the next quarter, much less the next generation. If I had my way, every Monsanto executive would be flipping burgers at McDonald’s for their day job, then heading off to work as Wal*Mart greeters for their second job. Perhaps in their abundant spare time they might consider the evil they’ve done and are still doing, not just here but worldwide. “The evil that men do lives after them” was never, ever so apt.

* “Chile” is the correct way to refer to the fruits of the hot pepper plant in the Americas; “chilli” is typically preferred in Britain and the East. “Chili” is the famous soup or stew made with chiles.

Pigging out in style. December 3, 2011

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Silence Dogood here. With the recent zoom in popularity of eating contests— those grotesque competitions where contestants try to cram in massive amounts of food in the shortest possible time—and with the news and medical communities perpetually assuring us that our everyday-enormous portions are supersizing us all, you’d be tempted to think that overeating is a modern phenomenon.

But what about the Nineteenth Century, when affluent households ate from groaning sideboards at breakfast each morning and were served course after course each evening, not to mention nuncheon and tea? Looking at the staggering variety of foods served at a single meal, I’d always just assumed that diners selected carefully from the assortment and then ate small portions, rather than gobbling down a healthy serving of each and every dish.

Now I’m not so sure. I just read a review of Balzac’s Omelette, a biography of the French author Honore de Balzac by Anka Muhlstein (Other Press, 2011, $19.95). As the title implies, food plays a significant role in the book, as it did in Balzac’s life. He liked to celebrate the forthcoming publication of his novels with a big meal, and I do mean big.

According to reviewer Moira Hodgson, at one such meal Balzac “was said to have put away a hundred oysters, four bottles of white wine, a dozen salt-meadow lamb cutlets, duckling with turnips, a brace of roast partridge, a Normandy sole, dessert and Comice pears.” By himself. The after-dinner brandies and coffee would have been so taken for granted that they weren’t even worth mentioning.

Now, admittedly, this was a special occasion, and Balzac was not what you’d call a small man (as far as girth was concerned, at any rate). His meal probably lasted many hours, too—no rushing to polish it off in an hour and head off to catch the latest drama on TV. But even so, where in the world could a single person put all that food?!! And did the well-to-do really eat like that (or an approximation thereof) all the time?

Food historians, if you’re reading along, please weigh in. (Sorry, couldn’t resist that.) And everyone, if you’d like to check out the review of Balzac’s Omelette, it’s called “Like Dining with Rabelais” and appeared in The Wall Street Journal on 12/1/11 (www.wsj.com).

All I can say is, it’s a good thing for the restaurants that sponsor those eating competitions that Balzac isn’t around today. He’d put them all out of business.

             ‘Til next time,

                        Silence

The pizza zombies are coming. December 2, 2011

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Silence Dogood here. I was reminded yet again that I don’t get out much when I read an article in Wednesday’s Wall Street Journal (www.wsj.com) called “Slice of Life: a Quest to Try Pies in the Big Apple.” The story followed a 28-year-old Brooklynite, Colin Hagendorf, as he sampled pizza-by-the-slice at 362 Manhattan pizzerias. (Had it been me, I’d have gone for a nice, year-end total of 365 slices, but hey, everybody’s a critic.)

Anyway, I was looking forward to another fun Wall Street Journal food read, and launched into the story with gusto. (So to speak.) Then I stuck my finger in the socket of culture shock: “[Mr. Hagendorf] scribbled notes for a review to be posted on his blog, where he chronicles his pizza forays and rates slices on an eight-slice scale.” Pizza blog? There’s a whole blog just about pizza, and it’s made the front page of The Wall Street Journal?!

To say that I was a bit jealous doesn’t even begin to cover it. My face probably turned as green as a pesto pizza. But the shocks were only beginning. I thought the name of Mr. Hagendorf’s blog, Slice Harvester, was unnecessarily obscure. (Perhaps that’s because I grew up where no pizza was ever called a pie, and you ate a piece of pizza, not a slice.) But reading further, I realized that the name had been chosen to distinguish the blog from an existing website devoted to New York pizzas and simply called Slice. 

Then there was “Scott Wiener, 30, who runs New York pizza tours…” New York pizza tours?!! And “Michael Berman, a Brooklyn-based photographer and pizza-focused food writer.” Uh, “pizza-focused food writer”?!

Okay, we now had a pizza blog, a pizza website, a pizza-focused food writer, and pizza tours. Clearly, a whole world had eluded me here, and I was determined to find out what I’d been missing.

But before I get to the dead pizza, the WSJ article, by Aaron Rutkoff, is hysterical and well worth reading. You’ll discover what a good slice of pizza and Johnny Cash’s nose have in common, as well as Mr. Hagendorf’s top-rated pizza joint. (No, I’m not telling.) You’ll also discover—perhaps the greatest shock of all—that New York City has a Department of Health and Mental Hygiene. I’m not sure what Mental Hygiene is; maybe the city’s just trying to clean up dirty minds. But I digress.

For once, I managed to recall my fascination with the concept of pizza blogs long enough to Google “blogs about pizza” today. In addition to pulling up a plethora of individual blogs, it also gave me two sites that ranked the top 10 and top 24 pizza blogs, respectively. The top 24 pizza blogs?! Mercy on us. Opting for an easy intro, I clicked on the link to the top 10, at which point I received the final shock (an aftershock, if you will) that I plan to endure in this pizza-blogging adventure.

“They Are Back! Enjoy a dead pizza for 3 bucks Wednesday,” the Punch Pizza blog (http://minnesotapizzablog.com/) proclaimed. “Enjoy” and “dead pizza” are not words I would normally put together, let’s just say, bringing to mind as they do images of molding cheese and rotting pepperoni. (Assuming pepperoni ever actually rots; it may be the ultimate survival food.) I had to find out more. 

Clicking this link, I was shown an image, sure enough, of mummy-wrapped pizzas marching forcefully forward, one brandishing a pizza slicer, with the caption “DEAD PIZZAS: Eat them before they eat you.” Pizza zombies! The pizza zombies are coming! Get out your knives, forks, and napkins, and prepare to defend yourselves!

Reading a bit further before fleeing for the bomb shelter, I saw that on October 26th, Punch Pizza, which originated in the Twin Cities (that would be Minneapolis/St. Paul), was offering $3 deals on pizzas that are no longer on their menu, aka dead, defunct, kaput, croaked, um, retired. “Dead pizzas only,” the poster reminded us.

Well, tough luck for me and our friend Ben, here in scenic PA and already into December. No Punch Pizza, dead or alive, for us. Fans of Punch, please tell us what you like! Fans of zombies, add “October/Minnesota” to your calendars.

As for my ventures into the oozing underbelly of pizza fanaticism, I decided that “Dead Pizza” was a good place to stop. I doubt I could top it—pun intended, of course—no matter what I tried. But I’m already working on an idea for next Hallowe’en… 

               ‘Til next time,

                          Silence

A wonderful weekend for Christmas shopping. December 1, 2011

Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.
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If you live in, or within driving distance of, our friend Ben and Silence Dogood’s home area—basically Berks, Montgomery, and Lehigh Counties in Pennsylvania—our friend Ben would like to alert you to the fabulous and fun things going on in the area this weekend. Our friend Ben and Silence go to all these every year, so we can guarantee that they’re worth the trip. And fortunately, some of them continue throughout the month, so you can plan a future weekend or weeknight trip. Check it all out:

The Christmas Market. Presented by the Goschenhoppen Historians and located at Red Men’s Hall, Green Lane, PA, this amazing combination of folklife museum and Christmas sale is delightful. There’s a bake sale featuring Pennsylvania Dutch/Amish Christmas specialties, including the wonderful Amish lemon sponge pie (we’re not leaving without one), tons of homemade Christmas cookies, “home canned sweets and sours,” the famous molded Pennsylvania Dutch clear toy candies, which make beautiful Christmas ornaments, and even lunch and beverages. But Silence is jabbing our friend Ben in the ribs to get me to stop talking about food and get on to the actual exhibit, which has a wonderful display of themed Christmas trees and holiday arrangements, a sale of handcrafted Christmas gifts and ornaments, a sale of vintage Christmas ornaments, local books and Christmas cards, and “researched period Pennsylvania German Christmas customs and folk practices,” including the PA Dutch skinny, scary Santa, Der Belsnickel. December 3rd and 4th (Saturday and Sunday). Find out more at www.goschenhoppen.org.

Glick’s Greenhouse Poinsettia Show. This may not sound too exciting, but trust me, it is. In addition to a massive display of 10,000 poinsettias—including the latest varieties—Glick’s always has a themed show with judged entries from local goups and businesses. A couple of years ago, the theme was wreaths celebrating Route 66, including one memorable wreath made from old license plates. This year, the theme is A Cowboy Christmas: Christmas in the Wild, Wild West. Live music, free food (hot, fresh popcorn, PA Dutch hotdogs with all the trimmings, including sauerkraut and relish, cider, and beyond), and free admission make this event a must-see. Besides poinsettias, Glick’s has an extensive selection of perennials, houseplants, water-garden plants, and wreaths available for sale at great prices. Silence and I have bought our Christmas wreath at Glick’s for the past five years—the quality and price simply can’t be beat. We’re looking forward to getting this year’s wreath on Saturday. Glick’s is hosting its poinsettia show Friday 12/2 from 9-9, Saturday 12/3 from 9-5, and Monday 12/5 from 9-9. Check it out, and get hours, directions, and an entertainment schedule, at www.glicksgreenhouse.com.

Mennonite Heritage Center Pennsylvania German Folk Art Sale. Our next stop will definitely be the Mennonite Heritage Center in Harleysville, PA.  On Saturday the 3rd from 9:30 am to 4 pm and on Sunday the 4th from noon to 4 pm, there will be an open house featuring the finest Pennsylvania Dutch (aka German) handcrafted folk arts for sale, as well as craft demonstrations (woodcarving, tinsmithing, and elaborate papercutting, aka scherenschnitte). You can enjoy the museum’s folk art and lifestyle exhibits and browse their unequaled selection of PA Dutch folk art, including redware, quilts, scherenschnitte, fraktur, furniture, weavings, tinwork, toleware, carved birds and animals, and much more. Our friend Ben and Silence make sure we have our Christmas gift list drawn up before we head over here! There’s also an amazing selection of books pertaining to PA Dutch lifestyles and history, the history of the region, regional cookbooks [yes!!!---Silence], children’s books on Colonial lifestyles, and local music CDs. We recommend our favorite local group, DayBreak. We love all their CDs, but their Christmas CD is an outstanding introduction. Can’t make it this weekend? Lucky you, the sale continues through December 30th. Check it all out at www.mhep.org.  

Christkindlmarkt. We adore this gathering of artisans and traditional German and Austrian craftsmen held in Bethlehem, PA, every year.  We buy “smokers,” the wooden people and Christmas scenes with hidden cavities for incense, and frankincense to burn in them. We’ve bought glass Moravian stars, beeswax candles, handcrafted jewelry and leather goods, fantastic paintings and photographs, precious stones, and locally made salsa. We make a point of buying spiced hot almonds every year, admiring the ice sculptures, and checking out the cuckoo clocks. Each week brings a new assortment of craftspeople from all over the U.S., as well as the unchanging selection of German and Austrian craftspeople. This year, Christkindlmarkt has moved to the SteelStacks on Bethlehem’s South Side, an arts and community center in the former Bethlehem Steelworks. The astonishing light displays at night are not to be missed! Fortunately for us, Christkindlmarkt continues not just this weekend  but every Thursday through Sunday through December 20th. Did we mention that there’s tons of food and live music? Check it out at www.christmascity.org.

Our friend Ben is sure there’s a lot more going on in the Berks-Montgomery-Lehigh area this weekend. These are just the ones we can personally vouch for. So if you’re in the area, check them out. You may be able to do all your Christmas shopping, and get your family and friends unique, handcrafted, authentic regional crafts, as we try to do each year. And if you see a tall, blond, worried-looking man trying to restrain a short, dark-haired, supremely enthusiastic woman from buying everything in sight, come on over and introduce yourselves. Our friend Ben and Silence would be delighted to meet you!

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