titsprut, tepeltroep, vrouwenworst, etc.

Things have seemed pretty quiet around here, maybe you've noticed.

But it's all just a result of that wonderfully consistent equation describing the currently inverse relationship between how busy our real life is and how much of it gets documented here. Add to that equation the fact(or) that we're supposed to be blogging less than usual, and what you end up with is zeronimous activity (yeah, my math's not so good).

Here's the proof (oh, stop it):

last night: our first Dutch Scrabble match ever, with a smart Dutch woman and her main robot man.

Klary made a really delicious and quite unusual Sicilian impanata (think empanada) of swordfish, red peppers, salted capers, and crushed red chile in a flaky crust flavored by orange zest and white wine. After having had the leftovers today for lunch, I can honestly say I've never had anything quite like it. We made our (and Jamie Oliver's) reliable ol' tuna + pine nut polpetti, along with my first offsite farinata...both not bad, I'd say on average roughly 84% as good as they've ever been. Our gullets were topped up with a prune and Spanish brandy ice cream afterwards from a David Lebovitz recipe....wheee. I'm still full.

It's probably best if I say nothing about the outcome of these Scrabble games (know your audience!). UPDATE: In a display of true class, our gracious hosts have themselves revealed the outcome: Americans 2, Nederlanders 0.

Um, let me just say that this was never going to be a fair fight. As Dennis disbelievingly observed at some point last night (in Dutch), "It actually has nothing to do with the words, it's only about strategy!" As we used to regularly observe back in my schoolyard days, "No duh." And as any regular reader of this blog knows, we play a lot of Scrabble around here, so our strategy skillz are on the dope side. Thank goodness the four Dutch words I know have high point values.

Saturday: a birthday "drink" for our pal Ron (below, hugging what appears to be a howling zombie woman, I don't remember her at all) at beer mecca In de Wildeman (a VDuck Top 5 Amsterdam Beer Joint). A Dutch custom (at least among our carefully-chosen friends) that I particularly love is that when it's your birthday and you invite a bunch of people out for a drink at a bar, you pay. We were able to escape this potentially hull-crushing beer attack with only minimal damage sustained.

Friday: Scrabble and dinner with P-Woe over here. I made my standard unrepeatable ginger catfish, long beans with speck, nasi goreng, and those pickled cucumbers with allspice and cloves. Don't look too closely at this plate, it's kind of a sloppy, smudgy disaster. But this is the kind of picture you have to settle for when you're having a Man Night (clandestine, unfussy...just like the sex!). Worse than the gross photography, I lost two unbearably close (four and six points), come-from-behind games to P-Woe.

Thursday: a night at OT301. DJing was fun, though the trajectory of my opening salvo (a semi-ironic mashup of screwed vocals and mechanical drones) was ruinously skewed by the unexpected appearance of two Scandinavian families with young kids. "It's that six six long dick slim nigga sticking your chick..." Call me sensitive, but I didn't want the responsibility.

Tuesday: Guitar quintet session review and editing with Jeroenski, and that perfect pork tenderloin I was talking about.

Monday: Incongruous. During the day: lots of sun and The Best Tosti In Amsterdam with the mooperbird. At night: chilled Pinot Noir at Bubbles and Wines (wha?) with the, ahem, "label bosses" for the Double Headphone Project. Bad, bad music, bad scenery...but at least we could laugh about it.

Afterwards, off to Sound Garden for a palate cleanser of Weihenstephaner and Black Flag. Unfortunately, I may have scrubbed the ol' palate a bit too hard: the next day it was throbbing enough to make my whole head hurt. It was as if I was hungover.

Sunday: Kwakoe by myself for some geeky picture-taking and "further research". Nearly derailed by stormy weather.

Saturday: Kwakoe with some knowledgeable, adventurous eaters. Unsurprisingly, this is the right way to do Kwakoe. Although my participation was nearly derailed by the closure of the North-South metro line.

Etc. Etc. Etc. No more yankie my wankie.


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