Well crap

My PC just went belly-up. Over the last couple of days it'd started acting glitchy, internet browser windows opening at random, programs seizing up... I thought it might be a virus, but all my scans turned up negative. No spyware, either. But then my system diagnostics and repair software crashed every time I tried to run it. Something was seriously wrong, and I couldn't figure it out (although I still suspected a virus).

So I made up my mind to move what files I had on my hard drive over to my external drive and reinstall Windows. So what happens when I boot up this evening? Windows immediately crashes and I can't get it back, not even in safe mode. *sigh* Now I've got to dig up my Windows installation disk (which isn't where it's supposed to be, naturally) and try to boot from that, salvage what files I can, then re-install and wipe out whatever the cause of this problem is.

Until then, we're down to the laptop. Which has some glitchiness of its own, refusing to run Photoshop... egads, what a mess. At least I've been keeping most of my important files stored on the external drive of late...

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Friday Night Videos

I remember when Paul Simon's Graceland was released. There was much critical praise for it but sales weren't up to the praise. The first single, the silly "You Can Call Me Al," made a brief blip on the Hot 100 and vanished. But then the even sillier video found its way into heavy rotation on both MTV, Friday Night Videos and the WTBS-aired Night Tracks, and the single re-charted, becoming a modest hit on the Billboard Top 40. A bunch of Grammy nominations didn't hurt either.

I'd heard that this song was inspired by a party Simon attended with his then-wife Carrie Fisher. Supposedly, some drunk couldn't remember the famous couple's names, so resorted to calling them Al and Betty. Apocryphal? Maybe. I'm too lazy to look such things up.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... The Kinks.

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New MEMORY!

I've just posted a new installment of Memory over at No Fear of the Future. We're up to chapter 31 now (who'da thunk it?) and the narrative now takes us back to Flavius and the perilous situation our Scottish hero finds himself in.

Flavius eased onto his side, Memory’s scabbard uncomfortably hard beneath him. The room spun in perfect time with the pounding of his head. Barely daring to breathe, he gripped the side of the bed and pushed himself up. An involuntary groan caught in his throat, and he winced.

“Ready for another go, Flavius?” Anacaona popped up beside him, entirely too perky and enthusiastic for such an ungodly hour. She cocked her head and pressed her three pair of copper-red breasts against his bare back, leaving new smudges of glittering dust to join the others covering his body. She buried her face against the nape of his neck and inhaled deeply. “Huna! You have the most erotic scent.”

“It’s called sweat, lass,” Flavius muttered, rubbing a bleary eye.

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Friday Night Videos

For examples of why I consider Ray Davies on of the greatest songwriters of the rock era, an equal peer to the famed Lennon-McCartney and Bob Dylan (although, technically, the latter is really folk despite mainstream success) I don't generally point to the hit songs of The Kinks. Although they essentially created hard rock with the driving guitar distortion in "You Really Got Me" and "All Day and All of the Night," and "Lola" remains a gloriously subversive piece of brilliance that predated the height of David Bowie's gay chic androgyny phase, it's the songs of the Kinks that were not hits that I often find most powerful and moving. Songs that by right should have been hits at any other time, from any other band. But music's littered with shoulda coulda woulda and Kinks fans have long ago come to accept the fact that the Well Respected Gentlemen will always be among the second tier of rock royalty despite an extensively brilliant output and even membership in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. That doesn't mean we ever stop preaching that Muswell Hills gospel, though.

Here's a particular favorite, "Misfits" from the album of the same name at onset of the band's Arista years. An uneven album (as were many of those with Arista) that nevertheless contained some absolutely marvelous music. The subject matter and lyrics are far beyond any "June with a spoon" lines breathlessly crooned by Brittany and her ilk today. But unlike a lot of so-called "message music," there's a focus on intimacy here, a crisis of an individual nature that speaks to many people separately as opposed speaking to broader social issues. I find that endlessly fascinating, and hope you do too. Enjoy.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Book of Love.

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The arborist

Back in the summer, Fairy Girl's bunny died. It was sad for all involved, but I buried it on the spot where I'd unsuccessfully tried to grow an apple tree a few years earlier, with the promise we'd plant a tree there once the weather cooled off. Well, January's about as cool as it gets in Texas, so Saturday we took the short drive over to Marion to peruse the fruit tree selection at Schulz Nursery. I like Schulz. Heck, I love Schulz over all other nurseries--and that includes some pretty good ones in the San Antonio/New Braunfels area. First, they always have a good selection. Second, there's a playground there for the kids to entertain themselves on. This may seem trivial, but it's not. Thirdly, and by far most important, when you're checking out they ask questions like "Have you checked the chill hours on this peach tree? Are you sure you've gotten one appropriate for your climate?" Call me crazy, but I love competence! I've gotten such spectacularly bad advice from otherwise highly-regarded nurseries (for the record, pomegranate bushes do not come in male/female varieties, and fruit-producing types are not double-flowered) that Schulz has earned my loyalty.

Seeing as how I killed two apple trees in my ill-fated apple experiment, peaches were the way to go this time, since they have a long and successful history in the area. We came home with an 8-foot La Feliciana type, which is a low-chill variety that produces large, free-stone fruit which ripen by early July. Yay. I planted it just north of the departed bunny's grave, mixing sand and topsoil with the black clay subsoil to improve downhill drainage (although standing water's never been a problem around here). I then pruned said tree back an appropriate amount, spaying pruning sealant on the scars to protect it from any sort of infection. Now we just wait for spring to see what happens.

While I was at it, I pruned the dead branches off the Wife's palm tree (and got plenty of cuts and bloody scratches from the barbs for my trouble) and then did the annual pruning/thinning of the two back yard pear trees. We have two pear trees--a moonglow and a warren. Of the two, the warren is most highly recommended for my area. It's supposed to produce some of the best dessert pears anywhere. Unfortunately, it's growth has been anemic over the years, and it's yet to flower. sigh The moonglow, on the other hand, is growing at a prodigious rate and has flowered the past two seasons, but not produced any fruit due to lack of a pollinator. I'm seriously toying with the idea of trying a graft of branches from the warren to the moonglow. In any event, I cut many, many limbs from the moonglow, and still it's a big tangle of branches. If it ever starts producing fruit, I'll be in heaven, as I love pears.

There's even a pear-based wine called perry. I suspect they'd go into mead very well. Maybe we'll find out this year. Fortunately, peaches are all self-fertile, so with luck I'll be harvesting some in another year or two.

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Drunk Duck

Every so often, my brother gives me ducks and geese brought back from his hunting trips. I used to be, decades ago, a fairly regular hunter of dove and waterfowl, but I haven't been out in the field since the early '90s. I adore the rich flavor of well-prepared wild game, however, and so this week pulled out several packages from the nether regions of the deep freeze. Nobody else in my immediate family likes game, so I was pretty much on my own.

One problem with cooking wild duck or goose is that if overcooked (which is very easy to do) the so-called "gamey" taste folks dislike becomes very pronounced. In a nutshell, the meat tastes like liver. Ugh. So the trick for someone like myself, who cooks it so seldom, is to walk that tightrope between undercooked (I'm not one for rare meat) and overdone. For wild duck and goose, the juices should be pink, but not red.

Alas, on package of ducks were hopelessly freezer burnt--a hole had been torn in the package. I boiled these and after stripping the meat from the bones (bones going into the trash) gave the dogs a well-received treat. The rest--a package of tiny teal ducks and another of speckle bellied goose breasts--I allowed to thaw in the refrigerator for several days, then soaked in a brine solution overnight. This, supposedly, blunts the strongest of the gamey taste (as does cooking with apple and/or onion slices). But what recipe to use, which was simple enough for my feeble kitchen skills yet interesting enough to pique my interest? "Drunk Duck" from BackwoodsBound.com turned out to be the winner.

I ended up doubling the recipe, since I'd twice the amount of meat their recipe called for--six goose breasts, and a like number of the much smaller teal breasts (once separated from the bone). I used a bottle of Sutter's Home white merlot to soak the stuffing (two cups worth), but in hindsight I think a full-bodied red, either a zinfandel or merlot, would work better.

Even with my uncertainty about the proper wine to use, this dish was a winner. I cooked it for 45 minutes, probably about 5 minutes too short, but the teal--oh, the teal was perfect! Excellent texture, with rich, full-bodied flavor. Fantastic. The goose was good as well, but a shade too salty. Couldn't compare with the teal. Next time, perhaps, I'll marinade them in red wine before cooking. That'd seem to go with the motif of the dish, no? In any event, I have quite a bit of the dish remaining after dinner, so we'll see how it stands up to reheating for leftovers. I suspect it won't be half bad.

I also popped open a bottle of my very-limited edition mint mead (metheglin), which I bottled and put back in '07. A very nice mead, with solid honey flavors and light sweetness. None of the rough harsh flavor that can overwhelm young meads. Very smooth. Hardly any hint of mint, though. I'm not that big on mint, so I probably was too timid in the amount I added during fermentation. I'll know better next time.

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Friday Night Videos

Here's an obscure hit from the two-hit wonder band Book of Love, which was popular in the late 80s. This one's "Boy," which can be fairly indistinguishable from their other hit, "I Touch the Roses" if you're not really paying all that much attention. At least they get points for consistency. Enjoy.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Jill Sobule and Bob & Doug McKenzie.

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