tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64139172024-02-19T18:53:33.077-05:00nice guy syndromeTim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.comBlogger388125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-69819159064924528632012-06-06T16:14:00.003-04:002012-06-06T16:16:00.690-04:00Interview with Tom Lisk about his Visual ArtI sat down with Tom Lisk
today at The Flying Biscuit Cafe to discuss his visual art in a
conversation that covered such topics as Dollar Tree, the virtues of
slow-drying glue, and the “perhaps dangerous precedent” of letting
people touch works of art.<br />
<br />
Read the interview <a href="http://tomliskinterview.tumblr.com/post/24550488814/tom-lisk-the-author-of-such-books-of-poetry-as">here.</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbwjumRSIUDHI07_tTo2LFGCTGzaEu1QgqODZ-lDcINhYCQKFMlcVhXKqUucPpst6eLx2rL7OI4UVqRBsEkLaV5ZIFWmUtoVp3O2XbN7p66tA9t-D56kALbG-SWQkzH5luJkC5/s1600/Tom+Lisk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbwjumRSIUDHI07_tTo2LFGCTGzaEu1QgqODZ-lDcINhYCQKFMlcVhXKqUucPpst6eLx2rL7OI4UVqRBsEkLaV5ZIFWmUtoVp3O2XbN7p66tA9t-D56kALbG-SWQkzH5luJkC5/s320/Tom+Lisk.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-55905716708058258952012-06-06T14:46:00.002-04:002012-06-06T14:46:41.544-04:00Visual Art by Tom Lisk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGv-NOR6_KxTeEN8LWs3uNKrsiIdA7fwcTIu2Rxlfy67fpn20y7PLJiPhdpoulIjSQXNXhBPXqoQ8N7xVtUPPntgamfsFsTrsOo1rWFAqTDz6fKcZ2r07VhkushDCTvUP-ysw/s1600/IMG-20120606-00844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGv-NOR6_KxTeEN8LWs3uNKrsiIdA7fwcTIu2Rxlfy67fpn20y7PLJiPhdpoulIjSQXNXhBPXqoQ8N7xVtUPPntgamfsFsTrsOo1rWFAqTDz6fKcZ2r07VhkushDCTvUP-ysw/s320/IMG-20120606-00844.jpg" width="161" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrO4f3mW5tiKStv3ZWzZp-55fVC33OnhJplPA96i09opjV-mu0lW-VvWPGaPIjbPFqEeU-tYMxdsl2nSAgQFVQWcU4ULqSJvNG8hqIYDUmaYR7UaytXbQeqrJXnD0_1fj6kXed/s1600/IMG-20120606-00845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrO4f3mW5tiKStv3ZWzZp-55fVC33OnhJplPA96i09opjV-mu0lW-VvWPGaPIjbPFqEeU-tYMxdsl2nSAgQFVQWcU4ULqSJvNG8hqIYDUmaYR7UaytXbQeqrJXnD0_1fj6kXed/s320/IMG-20120606-00845.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7eOsnkTgKM3e4eFqUSvYoWsUXyJ-SxX7ArSmtID28UCB83SSsTg6eCM3JqTGG1Gm00kg0flLFzxt8ytQvZmXZDTSib1AHAA3RpNTpU4IR5WKZq8K4aNGCuuKZBRBhbCcC9T8/s1600/IMG-20120606-00846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7eOsnkTgKM3e4eFqUSvYoWsUXyJ-SxX7ArSmtID28UCB83SSsTg6eCM3JqTGG1Gm00kg0flLFzxt8ytQvZmXZDTSib1AHAA3RpNTpU4IR5WKZq8K4aNGCuuKZBRBhbCcC9T8/s320/IMG-20120606-00846.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5stwR3pQe0lPoAb7REE4ejT-d8XtPset3i-XQh9-bMeUI6JIs_-UO548HtC2TnjxM2xE2wLRF87xNrhRejD83xmtvySvjEqQV-6J9dJYNin4NX4APRej8y9XFXgdgx7CKmE2/s1600/IMG-20120606-00835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5stwR3pQe0lPoAb7REE4ejT-d8XtPset3i-XQh9-bMeUI6JIs_-UO548HtC2TnjxM2xE2wLRF87xNrhRejD83xmtvySvjEqQV-6J9dJYNin4NX4APRej8y9XFXgdgx7CKmE2/s320/IMG-20120606-00835.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfewwhPSTdl85z3mRpSdvcC8DrqHTryvE8745uFuEJrfw4Hb6jyOeTD9zDOSpeKADCRR4k8PUdI-I_gNyUe0oO-Ovszo9EietXoi_HmhIBj7AtefLpoqgSxv23i9yg384EP21E/s1600/IMG-20120606-00836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfewwhPSTdl85z3mRpSdvcC8DrqHTryvE8745uFuEJrfw4Hb6jyOeTD9zDOSpeKADCRR4k8PUdI-I_gNyUe0oO-Ovszo9EietXoi_HmhIBj7AtefLpoqgSxv23i9yg384EP21E/s320/IMG-20120606-00836.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJGrBVTLLYOqGJminmMgUiJv5kPfK5yWtrmMWOeEDoqjvkSJ75bp_TahM2t79f9xvJQTHhLgXBmRxJ37rHq3Wl5fpebPpPB9XaRemX_7iqwrstwr0rTudhed8paIZGug70jos/s1600/IMG-20120606-00837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJGrBVTLLYOqGJminmMgUiJv5kPfK5yWtrmMWOeEDoqjvkSJ75bp_TahM2t79f9xvJQTHhLgXBmRxJ37rHq3Wl5fpebPpPB9XaRemX_7iqwrstwr0rTudhed8paIZGug70jos/s320/IMG-20120606-00837.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzNQ6jzIdM5UGc36eE3ppT9RNqMcai_nU19c8X2-JeGQodgrD0ROi9BZn4cd0qZzKX0ylUi6mCfiz9wk2lxsq1ueW8Ha3QVuiiQ0iSpWa68CzpIfSGuCI4SnOw0UyI-f90ex4/s1600/IMG-20120606-00838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzNQ6jzIdM5UGc36eE3ppT9RNqMcai_nU19c8X2-JeGQodgrD0ROi9BZn4cd0qZzKX0ylUi6mCfiz9wk2lxsq1ueW8Ha3QVuiiQ0iSpWa68CzpIfSGuCI4SnOw0UyI-f90ex4/s320/IMG-20120606-00838.jpg" width="259" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlco8NWt4yMrnefdtaIWJg6TJ8883e_QIGWUzGNvGb73gxPnlfx9BL_7AE6-NeQGVy0PALcPXTjkMXawu3SzUyvC5RtiCP9geeDOV2Tp3F8UUZYNQVKTDtfsuf6kb7kOMvG-Ov/s1600/IMG-20120606-00841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlco8NWt4yMrnefdtaIWJg6TJ8883e_QIGWUzGNvGb73gxPnlfx9BL_7AE6-NeQGVy0PALcPXTjkMXawu3SzUyvC5RtiCP9geeDOV2Tp3F8UUZYNQVKTDtfsuf6kb7kOMvG-Ov/s320/IMG-20120606-00841.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1RGro3L8B0meX4F43nfo0OxKhtddMsV2lEqtRErOGmvUrP3v2K_4YfgsA4oLA77BTkLg-dRZgm5l7-cg2Flkf7iqkDaQ5iFTCA2tsC8wif4z3tlaeLXpeEsBWLOj-qaLRU3v/s1600/IMG-20120606-00842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1RGro3L8B0meX4F43nfo0OxKhtddMsV2lEqtRErOGmvUrP3v2K_4YfgsA4oLA77BTkLg-dRZgm5l7-cg2Flkf7iqkDaQ5iFTCA2tsC8wif4z3tlaeLXpeEsBWLOj-qaLRU3v/s320/IMG-20120606-00842.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-38913781927954854292011-12-31T08:03:00.001-05:002011-12-31T08:04:24.279-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V70OZjAbVvjZF9FAwpHYGE6bRjGY4Tncah4mfc-TKdwGn9BQKJHvQVFglBFquVHv3K7reGiCqSgKfEXA_6wiezq6Ai16lF8T38zoLcXy_1smuXb0tPFVIm0hABdyGsMcO2Tl/s1600/cat+sleeping+on+blankets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V70OZjAbVvjZF9FAwpHYGE6bRjGY4Tncah4mfc-TKdwGn9BQKJHvQVFglBFquVHv3K7reGiCqSgKfEXA_6wiezq6Ai16lF8T38zoLcXy_1smuXb0tPFVIm0hABdyGsMcO2Tl/s320/cat+sleeping+on+blankets.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I'm putting some of my drawings and other visual art <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="http://timbotta.tumblr.com/">here</a> nowTim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-26121690261234480902011-11-12T10:57:00.001-05:002011-11-12T11:06:50.815-05:00drawings blog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2QlcIOeViC1CEsj0uIwpWqDAfEiroHqCQi3P8pEhGM0mm9I8xaanDjnRVNN3YJSedvfaXRFIsdiPxgr_TxUR1UfsbM4A35KTkKpSLEOuMtfvRUAHypmPXvcZfZfob4cE8zvdb/s1600/shoedrawing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>I've started putting some of my drawings<br />
<a href="http://timbottadrawings.blogspot.com/view/snapshot">here</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2QlcIOeViC1CEsj0uIwpWqDAfEiroHqCQi3P8pEhGM0mm9I8xaanDjnRVNN3YJSedvfaXRFIsdiPxgr_TxUR1UfsbM4A35KTkKpSLEOuMtfvRUAHypmPXvcZfZfob4cE8zvdb/s1600/shoedrawing.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2QlcIOeViC1CEsj0uIwpWqDAfEiroHqCQi3P8pEhGM0mm9I8xaanDjnRVNN3YJSedvfaXRFIsdiPxgr_TxUR1UfsbM4A35KTkKpSLEOuMtfvRUAHypmPXvcZfZfob4cE8zvdb/s320/shoedrawing.jpg" width="320" /></a>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-5369087814463289592011-06-29T20:15:00.000-04:002011-06-29T20:15:55.726-04:00"The Meeting on the Turret Stair" in International Poetry Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjgAqVxXnUDYg1uUZQHNpiiTEHjoP49KH0GEBiA0nnKQsvVUtY2PI8PjsNMOtrvHqxXqnEk4bw5yHyYIs8UAoZBdpWn_k_f222Lido41URG33VkeWPLeuqLGPW_GK6-Y4rUPoV/s1600/Stairspaintingburton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjgAqVxXnUDYg1uUZQHNpiiTEHjoP49KH0GEBiA0nnKQsvVUtY2PI8PjsNMOtrvHqxXqnEk4bw5yHyYIs8UAoZBdpWn_k_f222Lido41URG33VkeWPLeuqLGPW_GK6-Y4rUPoV/s320/Stairspaintingburton.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>My poem "The Meeting on the Turret Stair" is in the Spring 2011 issue of <a href="http://www.uncg.edu/rom/IPR/"> International Poetry Review </a>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-108930079479632011-05-20T12:37:00.003-04:002011-05-20T12:37:51.472-04:00Steven Elliot on "Fox and Friends" Discussing the Rare Burger Ban<a href="http://www.foxnews.com/on-air/fox-friends/index.html#/v/951246444001/rare-burgers-on-endangered-list/?playlist_id=86912"> Watch </a>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-35823852969090275992011-05-19T15:37:00.004-04:002011-05-20T12:39:52.844-04:00"One Rare, Fined"My essay <a href="http://www.rareburger.com/tim-botta.html">"One Rare, Fined" </a>is at Steven Elliot's <a href="http://www.rareburger.com/"> Rare Burger </a>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-693632224356401822011-05-19T12:40:00.001-04:002011-05-20T12:40:22.548-04:00"North Carolina's Rare Burger Ban Makes Red Meat Illegal (VIDEO)"<a href="http://weirdnews.aol.com/2011/05/17/north-carolina-rare-burger-ban_n_861306.html"> This article </a> on the North Carolina rare burger ban features Steven Elliot's thoughts on the subject.Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-28531161916630611992011-01-14T07:39:00.011-05:002011-05-20T12:40:57.753-04:00Interview with Steven Elliot, Proprietor of Falls River Books<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRuIkuEr4KqFeYkXg7hn4BSebKjrBEjcYN__F7u47HUbu7PP8jXerDNuS2wKTx8Y8qIv61v7hDG6VR8xnOH50n18gD601YdlZTBJ7H-ESd6fLrZxrXXA4q2viRQfiwCULPts4/s1600/Steven+Elliot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRuIkuEr4KqFeYkXg7hn4BSebKjrBEjcYN__F7u47HUbu7PP8jXerDNuS2wKTx8Y8qIv61v7hDG6VR8xnOH50n18gD601YdlZTBJ7H-ESd6fLrZxrXXA4q2viRQfiwCULPts4/s1600/Steven+Elliot.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steven Elliot</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I interviewed Steven Elliot, proprietor of the wonderful </span><a href="http://www.fallsriverbooks.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">Falls River Books</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> in Raleigh (directions </span><a href="http://www.fallsriverbooks.com/bookstore-directions.html"><span style="font-size: large;">here</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">). </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBi_sxfZeEPF_6U4hyphenhyphenpQ6AnVIxVe37KTdwW12R3oGEqD0orQVNxOqDQX-fLWERYSku-xGSmK454Qk4PfHnKaEtdMhPN2jX_DjSqXom5ATZsQfaHnUafms_06-YFA-NB6yAnPa/s1600/Falls+River+Books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBi_sxfZeEPF_6U4hyphenhyphenpQ6AnVIxVe37KTdwW12R3oGEqD0orQVNxOqDQX-fLWERYSku-xGSmK454Qk4PfHnKaEtdMhPN2jX_DjSqXom5ATZsQfaHnUafms_06-YFA-NB6yAnPa/s1600/Falls+River+Books.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1. <b>You have a great selection of old paperbacks, including pulp fiction from Fawcett Gold Medal. What's interesting about these books? Who are your favorite authors who were published in this format?</b> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fawcett was an innovative publisher, launching the career of thousands of authors, but by far John D. Macdonald is my favorite writer published by them. They also chose great illustrators and their cover art is outrageous. First and foremost, I derive a great pleasure from saving old and forgotten books from the trash heap, and I pride myself for shelving books that other stores reject. They just do not know what they are missing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2.<b> You also carry a wide selection of books of poetry, including out-of-print titles from small presses. Why is it important to you to have a good poetry section?</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Poetry has an existence akin to ephemera. It is generally printed in limited quantities, is hard to find, and quickly goes out-of-print. Most poets are unknown and not because of their lack of talent. Also the quality of poetry, more so than any other type of writing, is subjective. Just because you may not care for a particular poem, it does not mean that others may not find it to be sublime. Because of these aforementioned qualities I shelve every book of poetry we receive. I think the store is more complete since we have this collection.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">3. <b>What is your background in book selling? </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have been selling books for close to twenty years. In addition to Falls River Books I own a store in Durham called Northgate Books, and I owned two landmark used bookstores in Miami. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">4. <b>What kind of experience are you hoping your customers will have? </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am an introverted extrovert, and Falls River Books is a habitat in which I thrive. It is designed to feel like my living room. I want you to feel like a guest, and I will be your host. In Falls River Books, as in all of my bookstores, I have created an environment akin to a room in your home. A place where you almost feel comfortable wearing your pajamas, but please wear some real clothes, will you. A bookstore should be like a bar for bookaholics. Feel free to share your sorrows with your bartender.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">5. <b>What are some of the events you host? Which organizations do you donate books to?</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Falls River Books is community oriented first. We host open mics, writers meet ups, trivia tournaments, local author signings, and many other events. We also allow charities such as Girls Help, Brownies, Safe Haven for Cats, and other charities to use the store for fundraisers. Also Falls River Books founded the North Raleigh Farmers Market which is hosted right through our back door. We donate books to any charity that requests them--literally thousands of books per year.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">6. <b>The logo for Falls River Books is based on the silhouette of a dog. What dog is it based on? I get the impression that you like dogs and are interested in animal welfare.</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Our logo is a likeness of Lily, my ten year-old Dachshund. An intern designed the logo for the Kendall Bookshelf, my first store in Miami. Lily used to be a store dog, but she became ornery when she got older and now resides at home with my family. We have always been interested in dogs, have participated in many dog welfare events in conjunction with the store, and we maintain a pet friendly business. By all means bring your pet with you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">7. <b>What are some of your interests besides books?</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I am interested in many pursuits beyond books. An internet junkie I read thousands of online articles per week on art, science, history and politics. I like to post the most interesting examples online. I am also passionate cook and to those ends I have recently opened a restaurant in Durham called the Sweet Tea Cafe. Also I am a film junkie, and like old classics, foreign films, quirky comedies, and just about anything else on celluloid.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">8. <b>What are some of the more unusual books that have come into the store?</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The most unusual book I have encountered is extremely rare. It is an eighteenth century copy of Dance of Death by Holbein. Decorated with skulls and a skeleton holding a saber on its foredge, this copy is bound in human skin. I have yet to find a buyer for this book!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">9. <b>Is there a rare book you haven't been able to find yet?</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thus far I have located a copy of every book I have ever searched for. If I cannot find the book it probably never existed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: large;">10. <b>What is your motto in life? </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Do onto others as you would have others do onto you. - Hillel </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></b>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-77374836462710283202010-12-16T16:06:00.000-05:002010-12-16T16:06:25.226-05:00Guided by Voices-inspired greeting card<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpqyiGOCSGMwat2FJhjZpOV-h_ITroqWDARhthZzHkfJsMVPmXCeXq2ATfAgpNqXhkPk-k66MK9lfgyYP6oGUqD-2PxLMN3r-oIdh1QZV2hPybSH_QKcG-ls5shY6Nd6NDVK9/s1600/GBV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpqyiGOCSGMwat2FJhjZpOV-h_ITroqWDARhthZzHkfJsMVPmXCeXq2ATfAgpNqXhkPk-k66MK9lfgyYP6oGUqD-2PxLMN3r-oIdh1QZV2hPybSH_QKcG-ls5shY6Nd6NDVK9/s320/GBV.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Whoever designed this American Greetings thank-you card is obviously a Guided by Voices fan!</div>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-45489376454430956792010-10-07T08:31:00.006-04:002010-10-07T09:42:36.206-04:00Cold Remedies<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >Before you read this blog, you must read the disclaimer. </span><br /><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">No advice</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">This website contains general information about medical conditions and treatments.<span style=""> </span>The information is not advice, and should not be treated as such.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">Limitation of warranties</span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">The medical information on this website is provided “as is” without any representations or warranties, express or implied.<span style=""> </span>TIM BOTTA makes no representations or warranties in relation to the medical information on this website.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;"> Without prejudice to the generality of the foregoing paragraph, TIM BOTTA does not warrant that:</span></p> <ul><li><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;"></span><span style=";font-family:Wingdings;font-size:9pt;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style=""><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">the medical information on this website will be constantly available, or available at all; or</span></li></ul> <ul><li><span style=";font-family:Wingdings;font-size:9pt;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style=""><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">the medical information on this website is complete, true, accurate, up-to-date, or non-misleading.</span></li></ul> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;"> </span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">Professional assistance</span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">You must not rely on the information on this website as an alternative to medical advice from your doctor or other professional healthcare provider.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">If you have any specific questions about any medical matter you should consult your doctor or other professional healthcare provider.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">If you think you may be suffering from any medical condition you should seek immediately medical attention.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">You should never delay seeking medical advice, disregard medical advice, or discontinue medical treatment because of information on this website.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;"> </span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">Liability</span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;"> Nothing in this medical disclaimer will limit any of our liabilities in any way that is not permitted under applicable law, or exclude any of our liabilities that may not be excluded under applicable law.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:9pt;">This medical disclaimer</span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p> <span style=";font-family:";font-size:9pt;" lang="EN-GB" >We created this medical disclaimer using a form supplied via Freenetlaw by SEQ Legal.<span style=""> </span>Other forms supplied by SEQ Legal include </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" lang="EN-GB" ><a href="http://www.employmentlawcontracts.co.uk/acatalog/disciplinary_procedure.html">disciplinary procedures</a></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9pt;" lang="EN-GB" > and </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" lang="EN-GB" ><a href="http://www.employmentlawcontracts.co.uk/acatalog/grievance_procedure.html">grievance procedures</a></span><br /><br /><br />What we call the "common cold" is uncommonly frustrating and miserable. Who can stand the smothering feeling of congested sinuses? Or being woken up every three seconds because of a cough or sore throat or involuntary throat clearing? Or not being able to fall asleep at all because of that stuffed-up nose? And if you do fall asleep, you don't fall asleep very deeply...the dreams are irritating, they barely qualify as dreams, more like disconnected thoughts that make no sense but pretend to. What can be worse than a nasty cold? They don't call it a "rhino-virus" for nothing--since the miserable things come charging through your system like a rhinoceros.<br /><br />As Bluto Pippy writes, in "The Head Cold":<br /><br />Who filled these nostrils with inharmonious,<br />Uneuphonious stones?<br />Who filled these nostrils with pillows?<br />Pillows and dusty, stuffy cushions.<br />Now there are rills<br />From my nostrils.<br />My nostrils have been walled off<br />With a wall of concrete.<br />Would that my head<br />Were carved from a large, cool mint.<br />I cannot breathe the spring breezes.<br />I cannot breathe.<br />The aroma of barbecue<br />Cannot enter the futuristic furniture of my nostrils!<br />Nasty bug,<br />Vacate my nose!<br /><br />--Bluto Pippy, from <em>Inter-Departmental Mail</em><br /><br />If you are suffering from a cold right now, I do not envy you. In fact, I wouldn't wish that kind of thing on my worst enemy (well...). But if you are suffering, take heart! There is relief available. I was able to take advantage of available natural resources to relieve my misery, and you can too!<br />Some things to do when you have a bad cold:<br /><br />1. Steam ("Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Kiss that Congestion Goodbye!")<br /><br />First, remember to be safe and careful. Steam can be hot. You must be sure to regulate the temperature so that you don't harm yourself. Got it? Be careful. Make sure the steam is of a safe temperature. Turn on your shower to hot and let the bathroom fill up with steam. Now you will have turned your home bathroom into a sauna worthy of a Hollywood movie mogul. What could be better than that? The steam will break up the congestion like nobody's business. Also, as long as you are careful, try a warm compress on your chest. The warmth will also work to bust up that stuff in your chest.<br /><br />2. Chinese Remedies<br /><br />Do you like hot, spicy food? I do. And I like it even more when I have a cold. A great way to get over a cold is to order in some Chinese food like Hot & Spicy chicken and Hot & Sour soup. Another great way to break up the congestion and move that cold along! Think of the times you've complained when spicy food made your nose run--now it's to your advantage! Don't you feel a little guilty that you complained before?<br /><br />3. Saline Away!<br /><br />Are you addicted to those medicinal nose sprays? Just can't breathe without 'em? That's because remedies like that have a rebound effect. They end up causing your sinuses to be more swollen in the end. That's why I've stopped using them and only use saline spray now. Saline spray is just that--a saline spray. You Latinists will recall that "saline" derives from the Latin word for "salt." Salt spray in your nostrils--think of how cleansing and refreshing that will be. It really gets the gunk out of there. And all without that nasty rebound effect.<br /><br />4. Sleep In<br /><br />Yes, we live in a 24/7, connected, postmodern world, where everybody's at work all the time, even in their sleep. But to recover from a cold, you must get rest and you must sleep. Much as it goes against the postmodern grain to do so, you must take some time out for yourself to get better. You'll be amazed at how quickly you will recover if you will just allow your body's healing energies to work it out on their own. It's kind of like your body is a cellphone and your energy is the battery. Let's say you're running out of battery charge. Do you immediately start using the internet on your phone and taking pictures and playing games and so on? No, you let it rest. So be like a computer and hibernate!<br /><br />5. Overcome Hydrate-Phobia!<br /><br />Yes, you must drink plenty of fluids to get better. Drink water. Drink herbal tea. Drink green tea. These things will really help. Think of yourself as one of those dehydrated instant dinosaurs--you just add water and they flourish!<br /><br />Now, the above musings on head colds will not appeal to those of us who want the quick fix and the instant gratification. Realize however that those kinds of medicines have rebound effects. They do things to your sinuses to make them feel better for a little while, but then your sinuses are in worse shape than before. So I don't like those kinds of remedies. Because when I do the things above, I may not feel instantly better, but when the cold does go away, it goes away a lot sooner and it doesn't linger.<br /><br />Remember, there is always a price to pay for instant gratification. Personally, I think that a lot of cold medicines out there are the equivalent of junk food. It might make you feel good for a moment, but then you hate yourself later when the consequences hit home.<br /><br />I would much rather research the ancient wisdom and see what's available out there that doesn't involve nasty rebound effects and the prolonging of the cold. I would rather seek out knowledge about how to restore my body's balance.Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-74201154780666018702010-09-24T21:19:00.003-04:002010-09-24T21:20:42.547-04:00Restaurant Review: Return to the Tarnished LadleAfter posting my review of the abomination that is the Tarnished Ladle, I received an email from the owner. I have received his permission to reproduce this communication here:<br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">I've read your review of my place, and I have to admit it--buddy, I just don't get it. Did you go to the real Tarnished Ladle, or did you get disorientated somewhere along the way and wind up at Bowl of Glop or something? I mean, your article has little or no relation to my eatery and what we do here. Your article is comical at best, and somewhat insane. But I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and invite you back. I want to show you what the Tarnished Ladle is really about--not the fantasy story that you wrote. So here's what I'm going to do. You come down to the Tarnished Ladle, any day, any time, and I will personally greet you at the door and show you what we do here on a daily basis. I will personally be your host, maitre d', waiter, waitron, server, chef, and dishwasher! And I think you're going to be pleasantly surprised!<br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm sure as you read this e-mail you had the same reaction I did. This communication is nothing more than a thinly veiled (I'm talking see-through) threat. Obviously, the owner--or CEO as he styles himself--of the Tarnished Ladle had a problem with me posting a truthful, accurate review of his establishment. And now he's "inviting" me back. Yeah, he's inviting me back all right. Greet me at the door? That sounds terrifying. Terrifying and menacing. But as always, I will take the supreme risk for you, my readers. And so, here is my full report concerning the RETURN TO THE TARNISHED LADLE.<br /><br />As I pulled my car into the scant parking lot of the Tarnished Ladle, I noticed a beefy guy standing by some traffic cones and a velvet rope. The guy was wearing a weird chauffeur's outfit that didn't fit him in the least and seemed to be made of black vinyl. "Hey!" he bellowed at me. "Hey hey hey hey hey!" Terror gripped my brain as I sat there idling, looking through the windshield at this behemoth as he approached.<br /><br />"Are you the food journalist?" he asked. I nodded. He signaled me to get out of my vehicle. I did so. "Didn't I tell you in my e-mail you were getting full service today? That means...valet parking!" This man, obviously the owner of the Tarnished Ladle, plopped into the driver's seat of my car and pulled it into a parking space stenciled CUSTOMER OF THE CENTURY...AND BEYOND!<br /><br />The owner locked my car door and led me to the entrance of the Tarnished Ladle. "Now do you get that kind of service at Pork Belleez? I think not." The air in the parking lot was palpable with terror and menace. I was aware at every moment that what seemed to be a friendly conciliatory gesture on the part of the owner may have been nothing more than a crude set-up. What would happen to me once I stepped into the lobby of the Tarnished Ladle? Terrifying fantasies oppressed my inner eye as I followed the owner to the hostess station.<br /><br />"What was all that horse hockey about a wax dummy? My hosts and hostesses are lively, vibrant professionals!" The owner jumped behind the lectern. He made a big show of looking over a seating chart then looked up at me as though I had startled him. With false alacrity, he said, "Will you be dining alone, sir? Or have you company?"<br /><br />It's always weird when a Bluto clone like the owner is polite. I mean, I appreciate it, but it's always unexpected. "I'll be dining alone," I muttered bitterly. "We dine alone as we later die alone. It's just a question of one letter's difference," I said.<br /><br />The owner pounded the lectern, guffawing. "Where do you get these gags, Las Vegas? You should put some of that humor in your articles, buddy. Here, walk this way," he said, speaking that last phrase with the kindness people throw into a factual statement when they feel pleased by you because you made them laugh. Shaking his head, the owner walked into the dining room. Amazingly, though not surprisingly, the dining room had completely changed since my last visit.<br /><br />It was exquisite.<br /><br />I can't explain to you how a sordid, shabby, moth-eaten type of diner suddenly becomes transformed into a sparkling, atmospheric, sophisticated eatery. But this transformation happened...seemingly overnight. And I cannot explain it!<br /><br />Almost like a character in some medieval folk tale, the dining room of the Tarnished Ladle went from horrible to wonderful as though with the stroke of a magic basting bulb.<br /><br />The tablecloths, which before were mildewed and put iron bands of terror around the soul, were now bright and laundered, like laundry in some television commercial. The horrid fluorescent lighting had been replaced with jazzy ceramic fixtures, orange-spotted cylinders that created a warm ambiance in the room.<br /><br />"So what do you think?" the owner said. "Cool, huh?"<br /><br />It was certainly a change from my last visit. But this may have simply been a cosmetic operation. Maybe the essence of the Tarnished Ladle was still the same. The only way that I would know would be to taste the food.<br /><br />"Your server will be right with you," the owner stated. He spread his hands out as though balancing and spun around. "I'll be taking care of you this evening," the owner said. "What would you like to drink?"<br /><br />I asked to see the wine list. The owner said, "Let me call in the Wine Cryer."<br /><br />Huh?<br /><br />A man dressed in a tricorne hat with a large lavender artificial feather stuck into it, a coat, and tights, stepped into the room and began shouting out the names of wines from a scroll he'd unrolled. Just to stop him, I chose one of the first wines on the list, an introverted Cabernet.<br /><br />The wine was palatable--potable? I was a bit disturbed when the Wine Cryer informed me that it was available in both Regular and Diet, but I soldiered on and drank it...again, as I remind you, for you!<br /><br />Instead of the clear broth I had last visit, this time I had the Cool Whip soup in a cantaloupe bowl. Fantastic! The owner wasn't kidding--the Tarnished Ladle maybe wasn't as tarnished as it first appeared. It was as though a tarnished ladle had itself been dipped into that liquid they used to advertise on UHF television during the daytime...way back when...when I used to sit spellbound by the antics of the Galloping Gourmet. Rubber chickens are falling from the ceiling!<br /><br />Suddenly, the image of a rubber chicken dropping onto a stove snapped me back to reality. Fear seized my mind in its grip. This had to be an illusion! Nobody could makeover a dump like the Tarnished Ladle in that short a time. Who knows what sort of trickery was working behind the scenes to make the Ladle appear to be an acceptable, even excellent dining establishment.<br /><br />"This can't be real," I murmured to myself, slapping the table over and over. "This just can't be real!" I jumped back from the table. Out-of-tune trumpets shrilled as the room spun and purple polka-dots whirled through the air, ending in a plummeting black-out.<br /><br />* * * * *<br /><br />When I awoke, I looked around me to see that the Tarnished Ladle was once again Tarnished. Perhaps it had only been an illusion, perhaps it had been real but temporary, but the eatery was no longer the Polished Ladle. I creakily rose to my feet. The dining room was empty, and the owner was nowhere to be seen. The eerie aria of the ceramic doll began once more. I had to get out of here. Disoriented, I tried to remember how to get back to the lobby. I took what I thought was the exit, but found myself in a corridor bound on one end by a pair of swinging doors into the kitchen, on the other by a unisex restroom. I made my way through the kitchen--deserted as it happened--and left through the back exit. In the humid, chilly stench of the dumpster area, I stood with pounding heart, wondering what had happened. I knew that I must document everything that happened that night...<br /><br />Well, there you have it. Through some kind of mind control trickery, the owner was able to make me think the Tarnished Ladle was shining like gold. If I were to rate the illusion, I would give it five stars. But since I know now that what I took to be a polished ladle was nothing but a cruel illusion, I must give the Tarnished Ladle a disillusioned...zero cantaloupe bowls.<br /></span></span>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-7777615388722021382010-09-24T21:19:00.002-04:002010-09-24T21:19:40.629-04:00Restaurant Review: The Tarnished LadleAlthough I was warned repeatedly by various folks not to even consider stepping into the Tarnished Ladle, I had lunch there yesterday afternoon. The Tarnished Ladle rests on a street among depressing furniture stores, cheerful mortuaries, and terrifying ice-cream parlors. The Tarnished Ladle's exterior is old brick and features an electric sign with an animated ladle swinging stutteringly from a 90 degree angle on the right to 180 degrees south and back again, with pulsing permutations in between. I stared at the ladle for a number of hours and then awoke with a start as several patrons brushed past me and through the glass door into the Ladle's lobby, a shoebox-shaped room, poorly ventilated. I remembered my friends' warnings about the eatery, but I decided that they were alarmists and that for the sake of my readership I would press on. I noted the sanitation rating--a disturbing D--and walked into the Ladle.<br /><br />The host stood at a decrepit particle-board lectern. Dressed in a tattered suit of black crepe, he smiled like a wax figure at my arrival. I realized that this would be my last chance to leave the Ladle, but I know that you are counting on me to give you an honest and accurate review of the restaurants in the area...and you need me to eat even at the horrifying places.<br /><br />The funereal old-fashioned soap opera sound of an electric organ throbbed as I followed the host into the dining room. The host found me a seat next to a niche in which stood a very creepy ceramic figurine of some 18th century French person.<br /><br />"Could you do something about creepy doll?" I asked the host. He smiled and pulled down a convenient black shade that completely covered the niche. "Your server will be with you shortly," he said, and tiptoed away.<br /><br />I rubbed my fingers over the stiffened, mildewed surface of the velvet tablecloth. Disgusting!<br /><br />My server arrived.<br /><br />"Evening, sir. I'm Oliver and I will be taking care of you today." As always, that phrase gave me the creeps. Why didn't I listen to my friends? Did I really owe it to my readers to dine in such a horrible eatery? I'd soon find out...<br /><br />Oliver handed me a menu that looked like it had been rescued from a fire. As it crumbled, I searched it for the safest item available. "I'll have the broth," I ordered. "The clear broth. Just hot water," I said, adding a safe temperature to my order.<br /><br />"And to drink?"<br /><br />I requested the wine list and decided on a cobwebby Chardonnay.<br /><br />The server stepped away. Someone was singing an aria, unaccompanied. The sound was coming from the wall. I put my ear against the shade covering the niche and the singing grew louder. The creepy figurine was singing!<br /><br />I didn't dare raise the shade. My sanity could not abide the sight of a ceramic doll vocalizing. When my server reappeared with my glass of wine, I ordered him to somehow stop the figurine from its eerie crooning.<br /><br />"It feeds on your annoyance, Sir," he said. "Just ignore it and it will fade away. I promise you."<br /><br />To put the sound of the figurine's singing out of my mind, I concentrated on the taste of the wine. I put the smudged, chipped glass to my mouth and tasted something that I would happily splash on a salad. It was positively balsamic!<br /><br />Thankfully, the figurine had stopped singing and I waited for my broth to arrive. The terrible sanitation rating was still worrying me, but I hoped that the boiled water would somehow be OK to imbibe. How wrong I was!<br /><br />The broth was tepid and was served in a bowl on the bottom of which was still stuck a sticker stating "Not for Food Use." A bullion cube still in its wrapper floated among little surface-tension puddles of grease on the broth.<br /><br />And for you, dear Reader, I drank a spoonful--one!--of this dreadful broth.<br /><br />In a similar vein of self-sacrifice, I went on to order dessert--a Salted Ice Cube with Piece of String...yes, I ordered dessert and got a magic trick!<br /><br />As I lifted the ice cube to my mouth with the string (attached to the cube by the encrusted salt) I thought of all that I have done for my readers over the years. Do they at all appreciate what I go through for them?<br /><br />I popsicled the salty, frozen cube until all that was left was the string, which I laid carefully next to my soup spoon.<br /><br />I hope that you will be good to me. After all I've done for you...! Eating at places like the Tarnished Ladle, an eatery that I give One Salted Ice Cube!Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-17265872969763936782010-09-24T21:16:00.000-04:002010-09-24T21:18:24.085-04:00Restaurant Review: Diner's RemorseTonight I ate at Diner's Remorse...and yes...I regret it. I ate something I shouldn't have...and now I'm paying the check.<br /><br />What is it about the alluring menu at Diner's Remorse that makes the bitterest pile of ashes look like the sweetest dessert? Their menu designers are geniuses! Evil geniuses, but geniuses nonetheless. Because I ordered...and ordered...and now I am suffering the consequences.<br /><br />I wish I could have back all the wasted time, money, and energy, that I spent tonight at Diner's Remorse. But I never will get them back. And now I am left alone in this bleak diner...contemplating the waste...the utter, irrevocable waste.<br /><br />The waitron was so beguiling. "You have to try our three-tier cocoa salad torte." And like a fool, I ordered the torte. And now the flames of regret lick mockingly at my ankles.<br /><br />Because the glamourous glossy photography of the menu was just an illusion...as the ashes of stark reality clump in my stomach, the realization hits me. I want my money back! I want my time back! I want my energy back!<br /><br />The waitron cackles. All of those things I want back have been greedily absorbed into the infinite maw of Diner's Remorse...and here I sit, depleted.<br /><br />There are no other diners. I am alone. I chased the illusion of the candied poppering pears...and now the walls of the pit rise around me.<br /><br />Ah, yes, I am paying the piper now. A flickering black-and-white television braced against the wall is playing that old TV commercial: "I Can't Believe I Ate the Whole Thing." That is the only thing that TV ever plays in here.<br /><br />I thought that the Artichoke Fries would make me happy.<br /><br />They didn't.<br /><br />And so...I signed away...everything! for what turns out to be a pile of charred charcoal. Or, in other words, charred coal or charcoal. I poke around in the ashes. I try to derive sustenance from the aroma of the smouldering embers. But there is no hope in that.<br /><br />The waitron lied. It's that simple. The waitron told me that the Mint Gelatin Skins were Incredible. And I believed the waitron. And I know the waitron is laughing up its sleeves.<br /><br />What is the decor like in this place? Bleak of course. Tired and wilted and clammy. The linens are clammy. I don't like this place. Fluorescent light like soiled laundry. The stainless steel is stained.<br /><br />I'm going to leave soon.<br /><br />And so, as I cover the remains of my meal with the funeral pall of my napkin, I can only warn you away from this place. But I know you will never believe me. You see only the sizzle...not the stake!<br /><br />I would give this place zero stars if I could. But the code of the Restaurant Critic does not allow for that. Perhaps I will give it five stars...so that you will think the place overrated...and thus avoid it!<br /><br />And so, consumed with remorse, I give Diner's Remorse five heaps of ashes.Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-89840418639782753872010-08-19T19:18:00.002-04:002010-08-19T19:23:55.467-04:00Restaurant Review: Panica: The Anxiety-Attack PlaceSo the other day I decided to have lunch at Panica, the Anxiety-Attack Place. It's a theme restaurant, and in this case the theme is panic attacks. Interesting, huh? You have to go to a place like Panica in the proper state of mind. I mean, you have to be feeling pretty vulnerable and washed-out and on the verge of a panic attack to even begin to appreciate this eatery. And so I waited till I was tipping over into an anxiety attack before I made my way to Panica.<br /><br />The exterior of the place is meant to induce panic in you from the beginning. If you're looking for a cozy place to dine, Panica is not it. The entrance is imposing and brutal, with gigantic oppressive columns and a blunt stairway. The heart starts rabbiting from the moment you view the building.<br /><br />Inside, everything is conceived to make you jittery. The music is terrible synthesizer-based "new wave" music from the last century. The treble is turned way up and everything sounds tinny and distorted. The music has that annoying "energetic" sound that I despise. I wanted to find the nearest exit, but I had to dine there...so you wouldn't have to. Unless, of course, you're looking for an anxiety-attack theme restaurant, which, judging by how crowded the dining room was (of course!), many others apparently are.<br /><br />The host at his lectern was commited to making you feel nervous. In a fascinating twist, the host was not high-strung and impatient. In fact, his ability to give you a case of the nerves was based on how plodding, molasses slow he was in everything he said and did. In fact, he didn't even acknowledge me for around one to two hours. I stood in the lobby of Panica, feeling more and more clammy by the minute, pummeled by the awful keyboards and drum machines and hyperactive vocals. I walked over to him after the second hour and asked for a table. "I'm sorry, but...well, let me go in the back and see if anything's available." He worked kinks out of his neck as he loped back to the kitchen.<br /><br />Another hour passed. A trap-door of panic opened up. And somehow I suppose the host was able to detect that, because he re-appeared at the moment my anxiety attack was revving up.<br /><br />"This way, sir," he said. I followed him through the press of a dazed, stupefied crowd. My table was full of stains and made me fear some food-borne illness would waft up into my system from its surface. I asked him to clean the table, but somehow the anxiety had lowered the volume and projection of my voice until it became so weak that the host could not hear me. "Your server will be back later tonight. Give him at least three or four hours."<br /><br />When the server finally arrived, I was wringing my hands, passing my hand across my brow, and unconsciously tearing the cloth napkins into shreds. Fears of imminent madness or sudden death pierced my mind. The waiter arrived.<br /><br />"Would you like a large coffee with a shot of adrenaline?" the server asked.<br /><br />The waitron left for the coffee and I perused the menu. The print was extremely small, and it was difficult to read with the hysterical eyestrain I was presently suffering from. The descriptions of the dishes made no sense and confused me. Try as I might, the words wouldn't connect. When the server returned, around an hour later, I was weak with hunger and anxiety.<br /><br />"Anything look good?" the server said.<br /><br />"What would you suggest?" I asked. Again, my voice was extremely weak and the waitron couldn't hear me. I raised my voice...which took great effort. "What's good?"<br /><br />The server said, "You'll love the bottomless bowl of creamed corn."<br /><br />Bottomless. As in...bottomless pit. The panic escalated when I heard the word bottomless and thought of what it meant...THE ABYSS.<br /><br />The creamed corn was flavorful, not too salty or runny, and had some exceedingly large kernels, which I thought was a generous touch on the part of the chef. I usually enjoy my creamed corn hot instead of tepid, but otherwise the dish was excellent.<br /><br />The panic subsiding, I asked for the dessert menu. "Ah," said the waitron, "you've ridden out another panic attack! Now you get your prize!"<br /><br />The Panic-Lover's Blondie was crisp and tangy. By the time I finished it, the anxiety attack had been replaced by a feeling of calm and relief...just the sort of mood to accompany an excellent fried dessert.<br /><br />Overall, Panica delivers what it promises--adventurous cuisine in a nerve-shattering ambience. If you like a little anxiety with your creamed corn, Panica is the place for you. And so, I hyperventilatingly award Panica Five Brown Paper Bags!Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-49323051228553546932010-07-25T20:57:00.004-04:002010-07-25T21:39:25.403-04:00Restaurant Review: The Game Show DinerAs theme restaurants go, The Game Show Diner is one of my all-time favorites. Imagine...a 1970's game show set. The marquee bulbs. The 1974 colors. The sparkly sculptures, smooth abstract shapes. Yes--that's the decor of the Game Show Diner. What could be better?<br /><br />The other day, I had lunch at the Game Show Diner, and I was impressed--as usual. The host, of course, is dressed like a host. A game show host, that is, one from the early seventies. (Early? Mid? Is 1974 mid? How does that work?) Anyway, walk up to the host lectern and see a man in a crazy, wide-lapel suit covered in criss-crosses. The tie is gigantic, as large as a human being made of cloth. The hairstyle is longish--how strange the way hair has changed since then...much more restrained.<br /><br />When you walk into the Game Show Diner, you immediately hear the theme song. It's maddeningly repetitive. You hear the wah-wah, the ostinato, the brass section. The host says, "What do you do for a living? Tell us a little bit about...you!" and extends the magic-wand like Bob Barker microphone to you. <br /><br />The host brings you to your seat...a game-show-contestant desk...your name appears on a light panel in front of the desk, and lights up as you approach. You sit down and the host says, "Your celebrity will be right with you. Good luck."<br /><br />Normally, if your host told you "good luck" at a restaurant you'd be terrified, but it's the Game Show Diner, so you understand. <br /><br />A moment later, your celebrity indeed is with you. <br /><br />Now if you'll recall, the celebrities on game shows in the 1970's were allowed to dress down, a little more loose and with-it than the hosts, and so you're not surprised to see your celebrity wearing a sport coat. The host comes back and stands at the celebrity's side.<br /><br />"Name a beverage," your host states.<br /><br />"Uh," you rack your brain, looking for a beverage to match the one in your server's mind. "I'd like a glass of wine..."<br /><br />The server turns his pad around--on it is written: Wine. The happy theme song starts playing. The horns, the wah-wah. "Great!" the host states. "Just fantastic."<br /><br />"OK, next..." the host says. "Name an entree."<br /><br />Again, it takes a bit of ESP to win this game...What is your server thinking? <br /><br />"Chicken a la King!" you shout. The server turns around his pad. "Corn Dogs Florentine."<br /><br />A horrible buzzer grates in your ears. The host says, "Aw whoa! So close! Wow! Sorry!"<br /><br />Unfortunately, you don't get another choice, so there's no entree for you tonight. Next you need to guess the dessert the server is thinking of. <br /><br />"Apple pie," you say. <br /><br />The server flips his pad and you see he's written "Melted Milk Balls with Lettuce Wedge."<br /><br />The buzzer again. Audience sounds of disappointment with a little booing.<br /><br />The host says, "So sorry, my friend. But you do have that fantastic glass of Boone's Farm!"<br /><br />"That's fine, that's OK," you assure the host. "I didn't come here with any food, and I won't leave here with any food."<br /><br />Which other eatery gives you this kind of suspense and excitement? And so I am happy to award the wonderful game show diner a full Five Consolation Prizes!Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-67853445436707522682010-07-18T17:40:00.004-04:002010-07-20T12:19:48.335-04:00Drawings at Baja Burrito<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvSFj7cE43fA5dC5lewVeubndmri0AVQofs2tvrkYpNP-oajjdcBJy86LP_TDeVAo40eYCe8Nx8yco4S9axqey92EGm8uQWeCJNL8tu5hQORDfWHTG_zAQ9F7Tm0ZRK1Juk5J/s1600/kitteh.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvSFj7cE43fA5dC5lewVeubndmri0AVQofs2tvrkYpNP-oajjdcBJy86LP_TDeVAo40eYCe8Nx8yco4S9axqey92EGm8uQWeCJNL8tu5hQORDfWHTG_zAQ9F7Tm0ZRK1Juk5J/s400/kitteh.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495365635512459890" /></a><br />You can see six drawings by me at <a href="http://www.bajaburrito.net/index.html">Baja Burrito</a> in Mission ValleyTim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-91250988841700373742010-07-14T19:55:00.001-04:002010-07-14T19:55:32.213-04:00Restaurant Review: Fishsticks-on-a-Stick Au Go-GoToday I did something I had never done before in my career as a food critic. Today I walked out of a restaurant before I ordered.<br /><br />Walking out before you order violates the food critic's code, I know. How can I possibly review an eatery if I haven't tasted the food? But today I walked out of Fishsticks-on-a-Stick Au Go-Go.<br /><br />First let me state that the decor at Fishsticks is marvelous. You really do feel like you're in a swinging discotheque that happens to serve fishsticks. If fishsticks had been provided on Sunset Strip in the late 1960's, maybe things would have turned out differently for the counter culture. <br /><br />That being said, the decor is no excuse for what I found there. Go-go cages with animatronics robots can't cancel out what's deeply wrong with Fishsticks. In all good conscience, I had to walk out. And it wasn't just my conscience bothering me--the whole concept of Fishsticks made me want to crawl under a rock in embarrassment. <br /><br />The reason I walked out before I ordered anything from this living exercise in nostalgia and seafood is that I literally couldn't order anything from their menu without turning red in the face.<br /><br />You see, Fishsticks is one of those places that thinks it's cute to give their menu items names that you couldn't possibly order without cringing and wanting the earth to swallow you up. <br /><br />It's one thing for International House of Pancakes to offer something called Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity. I would be physically incapable of speaking that phrase aloud. I can barely write it. But it's just one item on the menu, and I suppose one could always abbreviate it to Fresh and Fruity. Or point. <br /><br />And it's another thing for bars to offer drinks with suggestive names. That seems appropriate in a bar atmosphere.<br /><br />But it's something else for a restaurant to only offer menu items that have names no one could possibly ever want to speak. And offer those of us with shame no alternatives.<br /><br />Again and again, I searched the menu in vain for something I could say aloud. Why on earth would they call the Caesar Salad-flavored fishstick "I Have Weird Thoughts about Mucilage"? Giving a name like that to a salad shows nothing but a kind of snickering contempt for the patron. And why take an open-faced beef sandwich-flavored fishstick and call it a "Simply Super Idea"? And is it really necessary to call a radish-flavored fishstick "The Wink Factory"? <br /><br />I will say the waitrons were incredible, bearing up under the burden of hearing patrons jump through the degrading hoops the restaurant chain has set up for them. But the courage and determination of the waitrons, just like the clever decor, was not enough to keep me in my seat once I'd seen the eatery's abysmal menu.<br /><br />I hope that the Fishsticks corporation will rethink this naming strategy. Are you really trying to humiliate us? Why else give your food, which one would hope you are proud of and which some day, if you drop this silliness, I may indeed taste, these ridiculous, anti-human names?<br /><br />And so, sadly, I give Fishsticks-on-a-Stick Au Go-Go a mortified Zero Stars.Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-81550886983384467512010-07-03T01:43:00.001-04:002010-07-03T01:43:47.038-04:00Restaurant Review: Insomnia WafflesWhen it's late at night..after midnight..and you can't sleep for whatever reason - whether you're worried sick about some loss you fear is impending or else annoyed by some noisy person downstairs - well, you might want to go over to Insomnia Waffles to while the time away till dawn. It's past one am and I can't sleep so here I am at Insomnia. I've set up my laptop on the counter here so I can transmit my wi-fi review to you live from the waffle shop. So with my waffle wi-fi working, I send you my thoughts about Insomnia Waffles, my favorite waffle shop in town. First off, let me say that Insomnia Waffles is the non-scary version of an all-nite waffle place. I really dig and appreciate and admire any place that is the non-scary version of something that people usually think of as scary and to-be-avoided. So for somebody to take the waffle shop concept and transmute it into a diner-friendly place is almost miraculous to my eye. <br /><br />Insomnia is also great because it doesn't try to help you sleep. I think that a restaurant that tried to put you to sleep wouldn't actually be worth much. If you walked in here and they were playing lullabies over the sound system and serving you glasses of warm milk--well, that might put you to sleep but what would you do then? Spend the night in a waffle shop? I think not.<br /><br />So Insomnia Waffles does the best thing, the best response to insomnia, it just doesn't acknowledge it or try to treat it. Insomnia Waffles tells you--ok, you can't sleep, let's just make the best of it. So they do serve coffee. They don't serve warm milk. And, of course, gloriously, they do serve waffles.<br /><br />In keeping with the non-scary mode, this is a waffle place that actually has more the ambiance of a coffee shop, complete with mood lighting and great background music--right now they're playing Manhattan Transfer's "Spies in the Night." It's the cool phone-call part right now--"The winds are calm in the channel" and so forth. So while this driving tune plays, I'm sitting here looking over the non-laminated menu.<br /><br />Laminated menu's. Don't they kind of scare you? Because really they're made for easy clean-up, which is always the sign of some creepy institutional ware. I mean, why on earth would you need to clean a menu with a sponge? It's too disgusting to think about. <br /><br />But Insomnia Waffles, of course, has no laminated menu's. (I've already noted elsewhere that I realize there is no apostrophe in menus but I think it looks goofy without it so I use it anyway. Critic's prerogative.) The menu's are on a nicely browned parchment with cool early-70's inspirational-pamphlet calligraphy and ink-brush drawings of egrets. That's the kind of menu I like. So you can see it's just one more way that Insomnia Waffles departs from the scary waffle shop concept.<br /><br />Now there are many choices with a waffle. You can have a round waffle. A square waffle. A triangular waffle. I'm particularly fond of the rhomboid waffle. And once you've chosen the shape, next on the decision agenda is how large the indentions or "wafflings" should be. Now, I'm not a fan of those waffles with only one or two gigantic indentations. I like the standard waffle grid or checkerboard pattern, though I know some disagree. <br /><br />OK. My server has just appeared (I mean that literally--one minute they're not there and then they suddenly materialize). I will stop typing for a moment then report back.<br /><br />OK. I just ordered the Powerhouse Waffle. This is one of those menu items that gains you a special engraving on a plaque if you eat it. Normally I don't go in for such sensationalistic food stunts, but in this case--well, it's a waffle! What do you expect me to do?!<br /><br />Of course I'm also having the coffee. Coffee and waffles. That's what Jarmusch should have called that movie. It would have been an infinitely better film had it been about coffee and waffles rather than coffee and cigarettes. I mean, really. And the checkerboard table would have gone so much better with checkerboard waffles than with cylindrical cigarettes. I mean, it isn't that hard of a decision, people! And I'm a food critic not some famous motion-picture director! <br /><br />Let me say something about syrup. Now I have been accused by various persons of drenching my waffles in syrup. Well, as a diner, I fully indulge my instincts, and I have a strong instinct for hot, sweet syrup, and I indulge that to the fullest! I also put a couple butter pats on each waffle before I ladle the hot honey-like syrup on. I like butter pats that have little images carved onto them (I don't know if carved is the right word exactly--I'm a food critic, not some self-conscious pedant! Who cares!). I like famous faces on my butter pats. Especially cartoon characters from the 1930s. And that's exactly what Insomnia Waffles does--they have people (characters) like Mutt and Jeff molded into their butter discs. Isn't that phenomenal? You can watch Mutt's face interestingly morph under the cascade of ladled hot syrup. Delish!<br /><br />The coffee at Insomnia Waffles is incredible. It isn't typical waffle coffee. It's really great cafe coffee. So again it's the non-scary version of a waffle shop and that's why I keep coming back here! Again and again. Especially when I can't sleep (which is probably the point). Like tonight. <br /><br />The service is serviceable. Nobody has ever disappointed me here. And what's especially appreciated is--the waitrons don't try to make you go to sleep! Wouldn't it be annoying if your server kept saying, "You look exhausted. Time to hit the hay!" I mean, I would not want to be served by that person. <br /><br />Overall, then, Insomnia Waffles is the perfect spot to dine at when sleep is elusive. You can use the wi-fi and enjoy the waff-fi, as you sip the rich roast. The roast has an incredible gravy! The coffee is good too. <br /><br />And so, although I wish I could sleep, although I wish I didn't worry so much which keeps me from sleeping and sends me off to Insomnia Waffles in the middle of the night--I still enthusastically--in a sleepy nocturnal way--award Insomnia Waffles Five Winks!Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-18341575972433695492010-06-29T22:37:00.000-04:002010-06-29T22:53:34.279-04:00<object width="500" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qGl1Um5pD84&hl=en_US&fs=1&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qGl1Um5pD84&hl=en_US&fs=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="405"></embed></object>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-63715792763894338252010-06-22T20:41:00.000-04:002010-06-22T20:42:00.916-04:00Food Criticism: Oulipo's Snack BarToday I had lunch at Oulipo's snack bar. A fabulous location, fantastic waitrons, astounding food--that's why I'm mad about Oulipo's! <br /><br />Oulipo's surroundings? Simply amazing. Brilliant wall art (mostly oil paintings) charms you. Catchy music (classic rock hits mostly--Styx, Pink Floyd, Boston, and so on) wows. Waitrons and patrons? All cool folks. <br /><br />I sit down in a comfy booth. My waitron displays Oulipo's voluminous food list. What looks good? All of it! In a quandary, I finally pick Oulipo's Lipogram Crust with squash filling. And to drink? Glug a mug of Squirt, straight up. Cool!<br /><br />An Oulipo waitron is not your typical waitron. Quick, watchful, mindful, thoughtful--all you want in a waitron! My tip is always grand--not A grand, mind you, but grand. My waitron fills and fills again my Squirt mug without fail. And without my having to flap my hands! Oulipo uniforms? Stunning. Classic, classy, chic duds--not clinging or form-fitting but not baggy. Just right. <br /><br />My Lipogram Crust is also just right. Crunchy and savory, this crust falls apart in your mouth. What bliss! <br /><br />And so, looking back fondly, I found Oulipo's--as always--an out-of-sight dining spot. Oulipo's looks good. Oulipo's waitrons show us what waiting is all about. And Oulipo's food? Astronomically outstanding!<br /><br />That's why I am awarding Oulipo's Snack Bar an avid four stars. No... I award Oulipo's Six Stars!Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-11144369735687300542010-06-18T23:43:00.000-04:002010-06-18T23:44:15.200-04:00Robert Duncan on "mission"<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pZ-E7nvEmss&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pZ-E7nvEmss&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-21763625846024074342010-06-13T09:42:00.000-04:002010-06-13T09:43:17.672-04:00Restaurant Review: WabaThe other day I had lunch with Jacques Wool at Waba, a restaurant I highly recommend. Let's start with the menu. I like the menu there because although I had been to Waba a few times before, I have no idea what most of the dishes are. So I appreciate the menus, which are presented flat on the counter for easy perusal. You don't have to crane your neck gawking at a menu board full of items you don't understand. You can stand relaxedly at the counter and look down at the menu. And the menu has photographs of the dishes. This is helpful for those who don't have an encyclopedic knowledge of Korean cuisine, and I count myself among that group. Also helpful are the little hot-pepper icons. Whoever started this hot-pepper icon craze was a genius. As you know, I love hot, spicy food (when it's flavorful heat, not just some chemical burn). I want the hottest thing on the menu, sir! And I can find that hottest item by looking for the hot-pepper icon. And Waba uses this fantastic feature on their menu. They even have double hot-peppers! Of course, my eye was immediately magnetized to those items. And I zeroed in on the Dduk Bok Ki. Now, though I am multi-lingual (to say the least, though my Guugu Yimidhirr is a bit shaky), I haven't the least idea how to pronounce "Dduk Bok Ki." I just can't do it. I could try to fake it, but that would be ridiculous, I would end up just embarrassing myself and others. So I love the menu at Waba because you can just point to things. But I truly want to learn, and so I just come out and say it: "How do you pronounce that?" And the person at the counter will pronounce it for you. Isn't that great? Now I have a pretty good idea how to pronounce Dduk Bok Ki. And I feel better about everything as a result. So I'm standing up there pointing and asking, and I realize that I'm not just ordering food, but I'm learning. I am a lifelong learner, as all food critics (or any critics, really) must be. <br /><br />Jacques Wool ordered the Mandu. These are dumplings or pot-stickers. Whoever came up with the name Pot Sticker? It's mildly embarrassing. I mean, what is that supposed to mean? They stick to the pot? The pot hasn't been sufficiently greased and therefore things are sticking to it? That's like calling an omelet a pan-sticker. Nobody would ever call it that. It's a chummy, overly familiar and faintly disrespectful way to speak of a dish. And that dish looked good! I was covetously eying Jacques' Mandu the entire time, hoping for some kind of diversion to happen out on Hillsborough Street (great new modernistic aluminum fixtures, by the way!) so I could reach out and take one...with my fork!<br /><br />OK, here's the next thing about Waba. They offer you forks or chopsticks. This is a controversial topic. I know people who think it's unbelievably gauche to eat with a fork in a place that offers chopsticks. Well, let me tell you--there are things that I like to do with my food when I'm eating it that I don't know how to do with chopsticks. I like to move my food around, let it drag through the hot sauce, swirl it...things I don't think I can do with chopsticks. Anyway, I guess I just like the pure sensation of spearing my food, instead of just gently cradling it between two distancing pieces of wood. Call me a vulgarian! But it isn't because I can't use them. No, I've been trained in their use. I know how to do it. And I have eaten with them plenty of times. Anyway, Waba gives you that choice, and I'm grateful for it. <br /><br />Well, the Dduk Bok Ki was fabulous. I loved the hot sauce, it definitely merited two hot (hott?) peppers. The fish,sliced into thin strips, was very tasty. The rice dumplings held my attention throughout the meal, and chewing them added suspense to the conversation as Jacques waited for my responses.<br /><br />Overall, Waba is a reliable, enjoyable dining experience. I'm looking forward to trying every single item on their horizontal menu. It's a great place to meet and hold an intelligent conversation--something about the airiness and calm atmosphere seems to lend itself to this. And so I enthusiastically award Waba a full FIVE DUMPLINGS!Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-14996600281720176732010-06-11T20:31:00.003-04:002010-06-11T20:37:14.490-04:00The entire concept of "the nice guy syndrome" will soon be obsolete</br><br /></br><br />If you came to this blog by searching "nice guy syndrome," you should probably read the following article from Atlantic monthly:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2010/07/the-end-of-men/8135/">The End of Men"</a><br /></br><br /></br><br />If this article is correct, if you succeed in "overcoming nice guy syndrome," you may be making yourself unfit to compete in the postindustrial labor market!<br /></br><br /></br>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6413917.post-21251867435102996832010-06-03T22:56:00.000-04:002010-06-03T22:57:59.254-04:00The Hollies: Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lP94PlEtsEQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lP94PlEtsEQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /></br><br /></br><br />I like the Hollies' "Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress" better than anything that's actually by CCR.<br /></br><br /></br>Tim Bottahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07286307944258546230noreply@blogger.com0