Category Archives: General

A Very Savory Soup

My newly-kindled love affair with soup is in full-effect with this entry. I’ve declared my obsession with Lidia Bastianich from the Create Public Television station (don’t get me started on one man’s unhealthy fixation on JoAnn Weir) and one of her Italian cookbooks features a section on soups that has transfigured the entire notion of that liquid love.

Most of my former issues with soup revolved around the idea of it being rather insubstantial starter fluid, light of heft and lacking in anything fully filling. An ill-fated cabbage soup – made mostly of water and cabbage, and devoid of flavor or broth – did nothing to help my disdain for the dish. Yet there are ways to bulk up any watery concoction – from the simple amendments of noodles or rice, or more decadent additions of coconut milk or cream. When all else fails in thickening up a big pot of the stuff, simply boil it down for an hour or two – even the clearest of liquids will eventually condense into flavorful richness. Oh, and when even that doesn’t managed to turn it something good, drop in a few bay leaves – the greatest secret of many a cook.

Lidia suggests the making of a big batch of vegetable broth base, from which you can create virtually any kind of soup. Still holding onto a few strong threads of doubt as to how flavorful a soup could be made from water, potatoes, celery and carrots (not even an onion or clove of garlic!) – I forged ahead and did as instructed.

The most difficult part of this is the peeling and cubing of two pounds of potatoes – but this is the work that keeps one occupied on a cold day, the mundane routine of the kitchen that, when coupled with music and a glass of red wine, can turn into something wondrous instead of woeful. It’s the cozy preparation that lays the groundwork for a spectacular bowl of goodness that will warm the oncoming night. I’m getting ahead of myself. First, the recipe, from ‘Lidia’s Family Table’:

SAVORY POTATO BROTH

Ingredients:

  • -        ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
  • -        2 ½ pounds russet potatoes, peeled and diced into ½ inch cubes (approx. 6 cups)
  • -        2 teaspoons salt
  • -        2 stalks celery, finely chopped (about 1 ½ cups)
  • -        2 medium carrots, peeled and grated (about 1 ½ cups)
  • -        3 tablespoons tomato paste
  • -        4 quarts water, heated to boiling
  • -        3 bay leaves
  • -        1 or 2 pieces outer rind of Parmigiano-Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese

Preparation:

In large cooking pot, heat oil to medium-hot, but not to the point of smoking. Add potatoes, sprinkle on 1 teaspoon of salt, and toss in oil. Cook until lightly crusted and caramelized (about 6 minutes). Lower heat to prevent burning, and stir so they don’t stick. As potatoes start to leave a crust at bottom of pan, add celery and carrots. Stir well, scrape up any potato crust, and raise heat until vegetables are hot and steaming. Push aside to clear a hot spot in center of pan and drop in tomato paste, cooking it a bit before integrating it into the vegetables.

Pour heated water into pan, drop in bay leaves and cheese rind, grind 1/2 teaspoon black pepper, add salt, and stir well. Cover pot and bring to a soft but steady boil for an hour, stirring occasionally.

Uncover pot and cook for another hour or so, still at low bubbling boil, until it has reduced to 4 quarts.

After an hour, remove the bay leaves and let cool. Divide as you wish, or use as a simple soup on its own. Oddly enough, I didn’t happen to have the outer rind of a big-ass block of cheese lying around, so I omitted it – though I can see how that would add another layer of richness to the affair, and may find a smaller piece in the future for just such a purpose.

This is the savory vegetable broth base from which I made two variations on a couple of Lidia’s recipes: a parsnip and fennel soup, and a bok choy and scallion soup. Basically I chopped up the additional ingredients and boiled them for 45 more minutes or so. The russet potatoes somehow remained solid enough and didn’t fall apart – not sure if this was due to the initial cooking in oil part, but whatever the reason, it’s a happy one.

Though it’s a simple recipe, it does take time – but that’s cooking time, not active preparation and work time, so once it begins you can sit around writing silly blog posts while the heat works its magic. You can also speed things along by upping the heat and boiling factor, but the slow nature of the cooking process is, for me, part of its cathartic empowerment. One of the best lessons of all is to be found in the making of soup: patience.

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The Incontrovertible Turn

The snow was not necessary to let us know that the turn into fall had been executed a while ago. It flickers and fades in the memory, receding further into the past. No longer is it possible to pretend that it hasn’t yet happened. There are a few more warm days to come, I hope, but the chill has set in, and the heat that the earth holds through early autumn has just about dissipated. Once it goes, it’s very difficult to get it back again, and we likely won’t have that all-enveloping warmth until next June. That feels like a long way off.

On Sunday, when the first few snowflakes fell, I’d made a tour of the yard. It had been a couple of weeks since I was last out. The fallen annuals and desiccated, brown ferns depressed me too much. In addition, I’d been sick, and traipsing around in the cooler weather did not seem like a good idea. Besides, I’d already seen the devastation that the arrival of fall inflicts on a garden. It starts with the ostrich ferns, particularly in such a dry hot summer. They were on their way out months ago. Now, they are long gone.

The leaves of the coral bark Japanese maple tree are just beginning to light up, and as soon as they turn yellow the brackets of their red bark will form a magnificent pairing. The traditional Japanese maples will burst into a brighter scarlet, and when they catch the dying sunlight they will burn like the most glorious fire.

The lady ferns have held on, and will slowly go a ghostly pale-cream shade, much like the lighter leaves of the Solomon’s seal have already done. This year the leaves of the hydrangeas have gone straight to burgundy, an interesting combination with their pink umbrels which continue the show. I cut them off and brought them inside before the hard frost.

Northern sea oats are in their seed-headed glory, nodding their dangling architecture in the slightest breeze, swaying and gently shimmering in whatever light the day affords. They’ve gone an earthy tan color, but even that will glow in afternoon sunlight. One of the best, and most surprising, color shifts occurs on the feathery leaves of the weeping larch. It looks so convincingly like an evergreen that the switch to a bright copper hue is startling, and always a shock. A beautiful, fiery, final clarion that will have to be enough to ignite the memory until its soft wintergreen starbursts signal the arrival of another spring.

The garden breathes slower now, preparing for its annual slumber. The days sigh, giving way to the nights. There will be other ways to find warmth now.

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An Almost Snowy Recap

Yes, it snowed here yesterday, Ho hum, hum-drum, pa-rum-pum-pum-pum. Too early for that kind of nonsense. Way too early. Thus, we do our best to keep things hot just a little bit longer.

Today is Monday, but the real blues hit tomorrow.

Ben Todd was incendiary in full-color, and black-and-white. 

Stal and vamp, vamp and stall.

Simon Dunn had his second crowning as Hunk of the Day.

Show us your tackle, indeed.

This will never be a political blog, unless it involves hunky politicians like Martin O’Malley.

Madonna: at close range (at least, the closest that I’ve ever been).

By request, Randy Orton was another Hunk of the Day.

Eat here at your first opportunity.

One of the more polarizing Hunks of the Day in recent memory is Frankie Grande.

This Speedo Trio was a triple-threat of sexiness.

Separately, they were pretty hot too.

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A Most Amazing Boston Restaurant

Celebrating our 40th birthdays, just a couple of months after the fact, Suzie and I reserved a seating at O Ya, probably the best restaurant in Boston right now. It was to take place the night before our Madonna concert, and the entire weekend was a much-needed reunion of two very dear (and ever older) friends. After a brief out-of-the-way excursion (we got talking and didn’t realize we passed our exit by 45 minutes…oops!) we found our way back on track to Boston and arrived to a parking space right on Braddock Park. No matter, we hadn’t seen each other in a while, and certainly haven’t had much one-on-one quality time, so this was a luxury. The sun was shining, the first days of fall were just upon us, and the weekend stretched out full of promise and possibility.

A cocktail at the Hotel Intercontinental started things off on the right foot, but after that it was all about the amazing works of culinary art that paraded before us at O Ya.

Each plate was a revelatory masterpiece, building in taste and exquisite artfulness.

It’s a pricy endeavor, but one only turns 40 once. (Thank you, Suzie!)

The dinner was matched only by the company, and Suzie always manages to remind me of comfort and safety and family, and all the good things on which we should be able to rely.

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Back-Log Rolling

The only good thing about the sinus cold that is ravaging me from the neck up is the fact that it waited until the end of this year’s trip to Ogunquit to strike. Thank you, thank you, thank you for that small favor. (Other years have not turned out as fortuitously.) Unfortunately, that meant going into work with a countenance that was decidedly less than happy. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a wimp when it comes to sickness – after a childhood wracked with asthma and lactose issues, I can take a bit of sickness and discomfort without much complaint. However, when I do get ill, it’s no joke. And yes, I’m a little testy, but never wimpy about things. Needles and blood tests and hospitals never scared me. Hopefully we won’t get to that point. I’ll stick to a steady regime of Zicam and hot green tea made with boiled water infused with fresh ginger coins. Tastes as delightful as it sounds!

In the meantime, I promise to do my best in getting back on track with some updates regarding recent Boston and Maine trips, and some magical Madonna moments as well. The Delusional Grandeur Tour isn’t slated to resume until next week’s ‘Book of Mormon’ performance at Proctor’s, so there’s some time for recuperation. I am determined to let nothing derail this tour! Ok, the second exclamation point in as many paragraphs is a clear indication that I’m not right! Oh God, there’s a third. Heading out to find my mind…

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Tuesday Mornings

I’ve long maintained that Tuesday mornings are far worse than Monday mornings, and that holds doubly true on the Tuesday after a Monday holiday. I’m not sure why I’ve always thought less of Tuesdays. Maybe it was that damn religious education class that we were forced to take on Tuesday afternoon, the one that extended the school day well beyond that of those fortuitously-non-Catholic heathen classmates. More than that, though, I think it’s because one expects that avalanche of awfulness that is Monday, so when it comes, it’s never as bad as it seems.

Tuesday takes you by difficult surprise, the morning minutes slowing to a snail’s pace, halting and hesitating and making themselves known in a cadence that usually goes unnoticed on a Monday. Of course since today is the first day of a workweek, it may function more like Monday in that respect. So I’m hoping I won’t mind this Tuesday as much. I’ll save the drudgery for Wednesday.

This post has been brought to you by post-weekend/post-vacation laziness.

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A Minor Holiday Recap

It seems strange to be celebrating a man who basically ravaged this country’s native people, so this “holiday” will pass without much notice from me, other than a day of thanks for having it off from work. It’s certainly no reason to skip the weekly recap, so here it is, a bit later in the non-work day.

It began in fine Hunky fashion, with the likes of Matthew Manning making his debut as the Hunk of the Day. A day later, Jeff Grant had his Hunk cherry popped in even finer fashion.

Boston will be coming back here in a big way, as I’m about to drop a few Beantown posts that will round up the last couple of tour stops there.

I’m popping bottles that you can’t even afford, I’m throwing parties and you won’t get in the door.

A Hunk by the name of Leo Sabato makes for a sunny Sunday indeed. And Monday. And every day.

Things got very eclectic here, not just once, but twice.

Hotels and Tours go hand in naked hand.

Vagabond Booty.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour continued, as three more installments of the Tour Book hit the blog:

On the Road/Hotel: Part I

On the Road/Hotel: Part II

On the Road/Hotel: Part III

The (male) Flesh & the Fantasy is all coming back to me now.

And more male flesh comes back again.

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An Eclectic Collection ~ 2

Continuing with our exploration of the whimsical and strange posts that have appeared on this site, here are a few more out-of-the-ordinary posts. That means entries without Gratuitous Nudity, Naked Male Celebrities, Male Models, Male Nudity or Tom Daley. But there’s still worth looking at, I swear! In fact, I find them much more entertaining than my ass, or anyone else’s ass, and that’s saying something.

Color me nostalgic.

A favorite bathroom floor experience.

Adventures in Babysitting.

Do I make you porny?

The thrill of recognition.

Heart of gold.

Kitchen mayhem (not of my doing!)

A WalMart Midnight.

Speaking of the midnight hour

McFly, my pretties.

Hot pause.

The Seagull.

Baseball, baby.

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An Eclectic Collection ~ 1

Every now and then I like to veer away from Madonna and Ben Cohen and even David Beckham to post something strange and, in my opinion, wonderful to share with you. (I’ll never have enough Tom Ford.) I consider these one-off posts the spices that go into making this blog a little more flavorful and unexpected. There’s nothing better than a third act surprise. Sometimes whimsical, sometimes funny, and sometimes touching, these entries are just different enough to keep people guessing. Here are a few of my favorites:

The first girl I almost married.

Correspondence with my niece and nephew.

A trip to the ballet.

6th Grade S&M. (I started early.)

It separates us from the animals.

The horse whinnies.

Every once in a while you need a little smudge.

Confessions of a Former Twink.

The moon in spring (and I don’t mean my naked ass).

Rainy day activities.

Campy!

Going commando, semi-inadvertently.

More to come… so come back.

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A Chilly Recap

This was the week in which the tide turned. Temperatures plummeted and fall was indisputably at hand. A Super Blood Moon kept things interesting, and I laid low to avoid the insanity and moodiness that sometimes accompanies such a lunar event. (End result: little to no sparring.) I’m embracing the shift, getting back into the kitchen for some roasted spaghetti squash, and perhaps frying up some sage leaves for a butternut pasta dish later. For now, our weekly look-back.

It began by the wrap-up of my Seattle Tour Stop. Shopping played an integral role in that visit (duh) but so did Snowqualmie Falls. It was Laura Palmer and Dale Cooper country, and it did not disappoint. Neither did Seattle.

It was Ally Week, and I gave a few shout-outs to some of my favorites.

It was a week in which I went true blue, literally, going back to my Manic Panic roots, but with a professional (and permanent) twist.

Speaking of favorites, there were a few new Hunks of the Day to enter internet immortality, as ephemeral and fleeting as that may be. Say hello to the shirtless shots of Nico Tortorella, Jack Mason and Jacek Jelonek.

Nick Jonas took his shirt off as well, and flexed his muscles, but he’s already been a Hunk of the Day, so until he does something more he only gets a minor post. Justin Bieber did NOT get naked, and has never been a Hunk of the Day.

This butt-shot got banned from FaceBook, but I reaped the benefits of the ban as always.

A life in motion.

A much-needed break.

The Madonna Timeline returned with ‘Ghosttown.’

A major clean-up of my social media pages, and a new way of utilizing those sites, was put into effect. I feel more joyous already. (Don’t take any of it personally.)

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Sparking Joy: Forewarned is Fairwarned

The latest clean-up craze sweeping the world is based on Marie Kondo’s ‘The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.’ From what I’ve gathered, the general idea is to whittle your possessions down to those objects that truly make you happy – or those that “spark joy.” Strangely enough, or expectedly for one as seemingly frivolous as me, I’ve only ever owned things that give me joy. (You won’t find a vacuum on my wish-list.) So utilizing that clean-up method won’t really change my living situation. Besides, I’m pretty good at discarding things that have passed their usefulness or joy dates.

The one area where I’ve let things get out of control is social media. Up until now, I’ve allowed all sorts of nonsense to go on my FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram pages. While I can control what goes up here, those pages are open to all sorts of public interaction and comment, and my page is also filled with the views and photos and links of anyone whom I’ve friended or followed.

For some reason, I’ve always erred on the side of allowing just about everyone’s comments to stay up. When they criticize my clothes or hair or body, I let it stand because, hey, this is America, and part of me felt it was more cowardly to delete them or take them down. (The only times I’ve removed comments were when they were about others.) I also remained friends/followers with those people whose posts regularly pissed me off. Whether it was their political stance (there are no reasonable Republicans left, and certainly not any in this Presidential race) or their racist/homophobic tendencies, or their ridicule of Madonna. I let it go because, well, I felt it was only fair to give them their say.

I’ve since changed my mind. While everyone is certainly entitled to their opinions and beliefs, I no longer have to have it on my page. I’m not a celebrity, I’m not a politician, I don’t need to give equal face-time to opposing viewpoints. – FaceBook, Twitter or otherwise. So from this point forward, if I don’t like something on social media, I’m probably going to unfriend, unfollow, or block. This is my way of keeping only those things that spark joy in my life. Of late, much of what I’ve been seeing online is depressing and upsetting, and I want to have fun when I’m delving into social media fluff. It’s escapism for me.

I don’t want to see or hear about political battles from anyone who seriously considers Donald Trump one of its top contenders. I don’t want to see videos about aborted fetuses. I don’t want to hear someone like Kim Davis say sanctimonious bullshit. I don’t want to read ageist or hateful comments about Madonna. Newsflash: I love Madonna. In what way does your joking about her being in a wheelchair or looking like a granny seem like it would be enjoyable or funny to me? So from this point forward, nasty comments about anything I post (especially Madonna) will get deleted, and repeated offenders will be dropped without notice or fanfare. (I also don’t want to see any more horoscope posts. I don’t give a fuck what the day has in store for an Aquarius – I’m not a fucking Aquarius.)

This is less a warning or threat, and more of a simple explanation, without spite or anger (ok, maybe a little horoscope anger). In the new tradition of sparking joy, my social media pages are going to be about what I like and love, and anything that goes against that will be deleted or blocked. (And you are free to do the same to my naked ass as well.)

In the words of a wise woman, “I’m sorry, but this is not a democracy.”

Welcome, Joy. Bring your Happiness.

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For Those That Prefer Justin Bieber Naked…

… this post is probably not for you. It’s merely a moving vehicle to showcase the video of a segway dance that’s steamrolling the internet right now, set to Justin Bieber’s new song. Personally, I’m not a fan of Mr. Bieber, even when he gets nude, nor am I a huge fan of this video. It’s being posted here to see if anyone can change my mind. I just don’t get what the fuss is about. Yes, it’s kind of neat, and no, I could never be half as facile with a segway (I’ve always found them stupid), but what is the big deal? It’s another instance of being let down by the incredible amount of hype and “you-MUST-see-this” hyperbole of the online world. And once again, I fell prey and wasted three minutes of my life watching it, and another four typing about it and copying the link and embedding the bullshit. In other words, I’m just as much a part of the problem. But this remains my blog, and until it changes to FillInYourNameHere.com, you’ll have to deal with it, or leave.

Wow, I guess I’m ornery on weekends too. [Shrugs.] I blame the Bieber.

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Give Me A Break

After several weekends of non-stop traveling for The Delusional Grandeur Tour, I’m taking a break this weekend to gear up for the next stop. Before that, however, there are some posts that need to go up – namely a few Boston stops – including my latest run-in with Madonna. There may be a new Madonna Timeline entry to honor the occasion too (though that has yet to be written).  In other words, I’m just buying some time with this post.

The featured photo here is a scary nod to the bunny that gets exorcized in the new tour book… but that is also to come. For now, the waiting, the anticipating, and the celebrating. Fall is here. My attention turns to the kitchen. My focus shifts slightly inward. My gaze is on the distant horizon of the holiday season. Still, I won’t turn down a few more sunny and warm days if October would be so kind.

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Snapshot

This is one of my favorite photos from my recent trip to Seattle. I don’t know anyone in it, I don’t know what street it’s on, and I don’t even think there’s all that much going on, but for some reason it speaks to me more than any picture-perfect composition of the Space Needle ever could. There are a multitude of stories that could be told here, in a single instant in the lives of several people.

There’s a violin, a messenger bag, a back-pack and a baby.

There’s a leather jacket, a Zara, and a Rack.

There is motion and stillness, movement and pause.

Above all else, there is humanity – waking and walking, wandering and wondering.

It is a beautiful, heartbreaking world, and while not always sure of my place in it, I’m grateful to be part of it.

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True Blue, Baby

‘Hey!’

‘What?’

Listen…’

When you’re 40, sometimes you have to do something to jolt your complacent, if contented, life into an exciting new realm. Or, in the case of coloring my hair, an old realm, from long ago (the 90’s to be exact).

Once upon a time, I was big on the hair dye. In a single summer, I went from purple to red to blonde to brown to orange and back to black, so I’ve never been afraid to try a new do. In fact, changing up my hair has been an easy way to reinvigorate my spirit when things start to feel too stagnant. So when the merman craze began sweeping the nation this summer, I was both captivated and challenged by the notion that I might return to such a colorful carriage. Since I’ve never been blue, or aqua, I decided that might be the route to go. No, I decided that it was the ONLY way to go.

The plan went into motion as summer was at its zenith. That meant pool play was at its wettest too, and chlorine and sun are not the friends of freshly-dyed hair, so I made plans for the tail end of the season. I also got in touch with Mike at Complexions, who helped design the color, the cut, and the appointment to make it all happen.

There was only one moment of hesitation on my part: after dying the top of my hair light blond, Mike had to dry it before applying the blue, and as it puffed up like the silken top of a corn cob, I wondered what on earth I had done. But like all moments that have simultaneously thrilled and terrified me, I bristled with the excitement of a new adventure, the wonderful sensation of still being able to surprise and scare myself, even at this mid-to-late stage of the game.

Fortunately, I was in good hands with Mike, and after the blue went on, and then the aqua, my merman dream was soon realized. I looked in the mirror, still myself, but with a tinge of blue, a tinge of new, a tinge of something that reminded me of the guy once mistaken for a clown at Ponderosa. But no more tears.

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