Today all the PA equipment is right back where it belongs, and there is a note from someone named "Waterbury" thanking me for lending it. I don't remember lending the PA system to anybody named Waterbury. Naturally, no one is around to ask because Ray's having a Sunday afternoon barbecue/pool party. Philippe even borrowed my kite, I can see it from here.
Okay, so I'm missing a PA and a couple hundred feet of cables...but naturally no one is around to ask. It's not even my stuff, it's Ben's, and he's going to be pissed if I can't come up with it. Maybe Lyle hocked it for god knows what reason. I'm going to leave a boilermaker under a propped-up box and see if I can catch him.
It seems like every time I leave the house, I notice something. For example, today I left the house for a while and I noticed that my neighbor seems to be parking on his front lawn again. He has a perfectly good, long driveway, yet he seems to insist on parking his little car on the grass. It's kind of perverse, if you think about it. There's this big driveway completely empty of cars, and he goes out of his way to drive over the little lawn edging and park on the grass. It's like he thinks his car is some kind of resting dog. I don't like that.
Our mint patch is getting a little rampant so this afternoon I culled a bunch of it and used it to marinate a leg of lamb. I also minced a handful and put it into some saffron and pea couscous. Lamb and mint are kind of a deadly-dull classic, but this was a nice tangent to the typical mint jelly and broiled chops.
For no apparent reason at all, while I was standing at the grill taking the temperature of the leg, my pants fell down. I looked around, but since everyone was in the house no one saw and I pulled them up again pretty quick.
Or so it seems. Téodor's had plenty of opportunities to bring it down around my shoulders lately, but he's just been humming around the house, making non-risotto foods, picking on his guitar, etc. I was out for the weekend, but when I came home I found no evidence of foul play on my bathroom counter, in my pantry, or in my dresser. I just got back from a run and he was baking olive bread. Not a grain of arborio to be seen. He even poured me some Fresca and put a lime in it. Maybe his goofy new Jamie Oliver wardrobe has put him in a cooler frame of mind. He has on these Asics cross-country shoes (the really lightweight ones that are only meant to last like three races) with the cleats removed, these super-roomy white painter's pants, an actual rope belt, and a white thermal undershirt with a kelly green Bruce Lee tshirt over it. Oh, plus this colorful little scarf wrapped completely around his neck. I even think there was some product in his hair, but I tried not to stare too long.
Still, though, he may have an ember or two alive. I've known him to hold a grudge a while. Maybe I'll try to do something nice for him to get him in the "forgive and forget" mode. Philippe told me he was being chatty about a girl he met at Ray's on Friday, maybe I'll be the listening ear for a while (if there's one thing a guy who's freshly in love likes, it's to bend another dude's ear about it).
THERE IS STRAWBERRY SODA ALL OVER THE KITCHEN FLOOR AND IT HAS FUSED TO THE FLOOR LIKE FRUIT LEATHER.
How do you even clean up something like this.
Maybe Téodor's not going to show up again until I make some visual sign of apology. Should I cook risotto? Would that send the right message? I don't see why it would but then again I don't exactly know what's going on here. Here are the facts as I see them:
1. I casually accused Téodor of cooking risotto too often.
2. He got mad at me.
3. He cooked risotto for me, every meal, for like a week.
4. Most of the risottos were extremely delicious.
5. One day I came home after several hours away and he kicked me and threw a Ziploc bag with Sambuca in it at me.
6. He disappeared for the last week, but has been leaving little risotto-related threats around the house.
7. Where is he?
The tension I first felt when he disappeared has almost entirely diminished. I'm sort of resigned to the fact that he's just going to pop in and scare the hell out of me one of these days.
WTF?! You're not going to believe this but he just walked into the house and waved to me! He had a little duffel bag and it looked like he had new clothes on. He acted like nothing was up and went into his room. I'll keep you posted.
I was lounging around on the bed earlier, reading a couple different books and magazines (Dave Barry, Basque History of the World, latest Gourmet) when I fell into a very sound sleep. I was abruptly awakened when someone started banging on the door and ringing the doorbell. Things being what they are with Téodor, my heart nearly exploded. Looking through the peephole I could see that it wasn't him, so I opened it up and this crummy guy immediately started barreling me over asking if I wanted to buy meat "out of his truck." I tried to tell him that I was a vegetarian but he wasn't having any of it, and kept charging ahead. Soon I had to just talk over him and go, "Listen, I don't eat meat OUT OF A TRUCK." Last I saw of him before the door closed he was still talking, saying something like "If you don't want to buy, is it because my prices are so low or because my quality is so high?" I looked out the window to make sure he didn't steal any hood ornaments as he left.
I wanted to get a "no solicitors" sign for the front door when I was at Home Depot last summer, but they didn't have any tasteful ones.
Tonight after dinner I had this piece of corn kernel stuck in my teeth, so I went into the bathroom to floss. No R I S O T T O ? or anything, since I had swept it all away the night before in one of those "NNNNOOOOOOOO!" slow-motion horror-movie type reactions, like where the victim turns around and just before the killer stabs their face they get out a quick "NNNNOOOOOOOO!" Something like that. I don't know, I've been pent up all week. I'm not usually so responsive to scary things. I cut a healthy slice through my thumb with my 12" Henckels one night (on accident, please don't send me supportive email), and just sort of looked at it curiously for a second before getting annoyed.
All this is by way of saying that not ten minutes after I went in to floss, I went back into the bathroom to comb my hair (we were going to visit some friends) and there, in front of the toothbrushes, spelled out in arborio rice...
R I S O T T O .
I watched this French-Canadian film The Triplets of Belleville tonight. Those who enjoy vintage 20s/30s animation and French aesthetics would be particularly delighted to view this modern masterpiece. Freshly inspired, I thought I'd break out my paints and see what came about. When I went into the bathroom to fill my brush glass up with water I flipped on the lights, went for the faucet...and what I saw next stopped my heart dead.
There, on the counter in front of the toothbrushes, spelled out in arborio kernels:
R I S O T T O ?
I put a small amount of flour dust on the inside of the doorknob to his room, to see if he'd been going in and out. Unless he noticed and has been replacing it, he hasn't been here all day. I also got this really small splinter and leaned it against the very bottom of his door so that it would fall over if the door had been open. It's still standing there.
So either he knows about my little tricks, which I guess wouldn't be that hard since they're not that good, or he's camped out at some other house waiting for me to go slowly insane. Téodor likes a neatly wrapped conclusion, he wouldn't let this risotto fiasco end with a non-sequitur kick in the shins and a spray from a seltzer bottle. Or would he?
Anyhow, as I was nervous, I ate three meals out today. It's forcing me to try different places, which is actually rather nice. I discovered this little French cafe that puts together an incredible charcuterie plate, with an incredible couple of housemade pâtés in the middle of a nice selection of cured meats, butter, olives and cornichon. I've got a little set of leftovers, and I put some packing tape around the entire container, and I'm going to check for needle holes before I eat it.
When I was young I had this Hardy Boys book that wasn't part of the main series, it was the "Hardy Boys' Detective Handbook" or something like that. It was basic information on how to be a detective, and one of the sections was how to lose someone who's following you on foot. Today I walked into town to get something to eat, and I used all the techniques, just to make sure Téodor wasn't on my tail. I left the house going in the wrong direction, checked over my shoulder on long blocks, ran short ones, stopped to talk to a cop (fortunately it was officer King, who handled that drunk driver that landed in my front yard, so we just chatted about things), etc.
When I was satisfied that he wasn't behind me I went to a restaurant I've never been to before, this hole in the wall sushi place on an alley downtown, and sat in a corner facing out. I had a deep-fried spicy scallop roll (like spicy tuna, but minced scallop in a creamy Sriracha sauce), miso soup, salad with a peanut dressing, and a ton of salted edamame. I even had an Asahi to calm me down. It was immensely satisfying after yesterday's starvation diet. I walked home on a more normal route, but still kept my wits about me lest Téodor leap out from a doorway holding a sharpened spoon and a sock filled with arborio or some other such risotto-related weaponry.
So yesterday all I could manage to get down was one of those hard-tack breakfast bars and some ruffles/sour cream dip. Emeril was cooking these enormous pork chops and I had to change the channel. Today the paranoia has ebbed a bit and I have had a bowl of Raisin Bran and an apple. Where is he? He locked his room, so it's probably booby-trapped against me unlocking it and going in there. Maybe I'll call Ray. No, I'm not going to call Ray. He always rambles on about all the DVDs he just bought and I'm in no mood.
Where is that guy? I'm too nervous to eat, and I've only had an Odwalla breakfast bar all day. I even inspected the foil wrapper for needle holes. This is making me paranoid. Maybe I should act more on the offensive and booby-trap his room, maybe fill his pillow with a hot sack of risotto, to show him that two can play at this game.
I'm getting nervous. Every time I open a door I expect a bucket of scalding risotto to fall on my head. Maybe he's over at Ray's frying up arancini to throw at me. What if he puts arborio in my gas tank? What does that do to an engine? Nothing good, I bet.
I've been feeling cooped up lately, so today I got up around 7 and spent the day at the coast. Brought a few paperbacks, my paints, sketchpad, and had a great lunch of cracked crab and sourdough at a little roadside shack. I walked a couple miles along the water and got that nice wind-blown tired feeling that one gets after a day at the seashore.
When I walked in the door a few minutes ago, Téodor kicked me in the shin, shot me with seltzer, and threw a bag of liquid in my face. I see the risotto war has escalated into actual violence...if he tries that stunt again I'm going to boot him across the living room. I'm in no mood to have my mood ruined.
I was sound asleep in bed when I heard a loud foot stomp, so I jumped up and put my glasses on and Téodor's standing there, holding a flashlight under his chin in one hand and a bowl of risotto in the other. He didn't say anything, he just slowly put the bowl on my night table and backed out of the room, staring at me the whole time. He closed the door with a careful, deliberate click. A practiced click, it seemed.
I turned the lamp on and took a look at the steaming stuff. It was a really small serving, just a few tablespoons heaped inside an oyster shell, which rested on a bed of salt. From what I could see and smell it was a tarragon, jalapeño and foie gras risotto with a plump, delicate raw oyster on top, garnished with a pea of caviar and crème fraîche.
At this point his vengeance is as frightening as it is ingenious, so I'm just going to wait it out.
Strawberry risotto with butter and cinnamon. I had no idea such a thing could be made, but it was pretty tasty.
Then when I went in to brush my teeth, he had arranged little grains of arborio rice on the counter in front of the toothbrush cup, spelling out
R I S O T T O
That little stinker made me a shrimp and sausage saffron risotto to heat up for dinner. He knows I like shrimp and sausage, and he knows I'll eat it. Apparently he went over to Ray's and he's making them non-risotto food. Oh well, here I go, eating risotto.
Tomorrow I'm going to cast some doubts about his fried chicken and white gravy. I don't know if I can stomach another bowl of risotto.
I think Téodor's steamed at me. He's resolutely been making risotto for lunch and dinner every day since I made that crack about him never making anything else. The thing is, it's always really good. Tonight was fava/heirloom tomato/leek risotto with shredded rotisserie chicken. It was really nicely flavored, and it turns out he used this Basque technique of moistening the rice with puréed sweet corn and broth instead of just broth.
He said that tomorrow for lunch he's going to mix some beaten egg and bread crumbs into the leftover risotto, shape it into cakes, dredge them in egg and parmesan, and fry them brown and crisp. Apparently if he serves them over a tomato/gorgonzola/arugula salad, it will be quite tasty. I have to agree, but...does he win?
So I made a sandwich (yeah, I've been eating a lot of sandwiches lately) with this pretty good sliced grainy bread, toasted up real good, with miracle whip, mustard, thin-sliced ham, thin-sliced Jarlsberg and butter lettuce. I worked in a layer of salami slices that really took the cake, if you know what I'm saying. Along with this sandwich I had a Guinness that I had bought at the store as a treat. It was a pretty hearty meal, but it felt more like a lunch meal than a dinner meal. You shouldn't be able to pick dinner up in your hands. I don't know, that's just the way I feel. I was brought up in a good family.
Well, it's not dinnertime yet, and I haven't eaten much noteworthy today, so I guess I'll just tell you what I would LIKE to have for dinner. Here are some fantasy ideas:
1. Chow Fun and Won Ton Soup
2. Calamari
3. Veal Milanese at my favorite Italian place
4. Braised lamb shanks with creamy polenta
5. Egg rolls that have duck in them, with a plum dipping sauce
Wasn't that fun?
John Kerry has chosen John Edwards as his running mate. This is nice because they present a much more handsome ticket than Dick Cheney and the Extra Chromosome (good name for a band). I am tired of the President not being Handsome, as I imagine are you.
Made a sandwich with turkey bacon, provolone, butter lettuce, tomato, miracle whip and avocado spread (avocados 3/$1 at farmer's market, excellent price). Pretty nice I'd say. Got some sliced ham and provolone for sandwiches for rest of week. How are you?
It was pretty good: crab and avocado with pancetta and a lemon vinaigrette, over butter lettuce. A water with a lemon slice. I do not like the President.
Sat. dinner was pasta and sun breakfast was biscuits with marmite, plus strawberries and coffee, sun dinner was mussels/linguine look got to go now sorry VOTE BYE
Ok, quick update: lunch on Saturday was a turkey and provolone sandwich with some kind of pesto dressing, with salt/vinegar chips and diet dr. pepper. For dinner I am not sure yet. I'll try to log on later to let you know what I ate for dinner. Sorry. Don't forget to vote.
For lunch I had a really nice professional hamburger with good-style fries on the side (the kind they fry twice). Along with the meal was a tall golden pilsner. I almost never eat nice lunches like this, but today was different, because I have been sitting in a chair for two weeks building the new Achewood shop. Not sure about dinner, I'll try to let you know. Oh, and some of the people who asked me for pictures of myself in pants also wanted to see my head. Why would you want to see my head? It's just a head, it's where my brain and hair are.
Alright so I didn't eat breakfast today. I didn't eat anything so far today, and quit emailing me for pictures of me wearing pants. That is rude.
Okay, not too sure what I'm going to have for breakfast tomorrow. We got these "bars" at the farmer's market today and one of them is Carrot Cake flavor so I guess I should eat that. I might not, though. Sorry I can't be more decisive. I'm looking into Breakfast RSS-XML so that you don't have to keep checking here. Also coming up is some wireless updating technology that will page your cell phone/PDA with my breakfast ideas. E-mail me for pictures of me wearing pants. Don't forget to vote.
