stalker/STD/unwanted pregnancy hunt 2014.

So yes shit has been happening that I haven't been writing about. Nothing at all bad, just yeah taking a break I guess maybe whothefuckknows.

One new development that seems to be worth at least thinking about writing about is this: in a conversation with my still pretty great therapist a few weeks ago, I was lamenting the fact that my current social/work situation doesn't make it very easy to meet unattached members of the fairer sex. I pretty much see the same 50 people all the time, and (at least) 48 of them are dudes.

He said, in all seriousness, "Have you thought about internet dating?" And in all seriousness, I had to say "Dude, fuck no." He smiled politely/sadly, and then in an well-designed attempt to soothe my inflamed sense of pride, he said something like, "Well it's actually become a pretty completely normal thing to do for people in your situation, who work from home, don't go to school, or have an otherwise limited social circle, or are just hopelessly awkward with people they don't know (he didn't really say the last one). There are lots of advantages to it: weeding out people you don't have anything in common with, being able to converse without having to shout over a crowd or pay for expensive drinks and food just to find out you never should have been talking to this person in the first place", etc.etc.etc.

This went on for some time. Eventually I kind of saw his point, and by the end of the session, he'd given me an assignment: sign up for at least one internet dating site before our next session. Fucker.

I'm writing about this scary-as-shit assignment here b/c well in reality I'm finding it pretty funny and educational so far, and I haven't found enough funny and educational things to write about lately, and well I think maybe my nine readers might also think it's at least a little funny, because for starters 1) I might not seem like the ideal candidate for internet dating, or at least I know that perhaps six of you nine people are chuckling to yourselves at the idea of showing up on a blind date and being faced with the prospect of me silently blinking at you from across the table. and 2) my first 48 hours of contact with the whole phenomenon have revealed to me a modest wealth of information that seems to want to bear some scrutiny, scrutiny being a word I have not typed nearly enough in my life thus far. Scrutiny.

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Our story begins with questions. Lots of questions. I'm only dealing with one very popular dating website at the moment b/c 1) I can't imagine dealing with more than one, and because 2) this one seems to have a pretty good sense of humor about things (example here). More on this soon.

Upon beginning the signup process, unfortunately your first task is to choose a username. Not easy. I have many personal rules about usernames, such as not including numbers (unless I'm logging in as my cat Jo3n, which I totally just wrote without realizing at all how Crazy Cat Man it sounds, I swear there's a reasonable explanation), and usually using my IRL name, but in this particular case I thought it wise to not include one molecule of information that could be traced back to the real world me. I mean why would you.

The whole enterprise nearly ended here. I spent almost an entire day trying to come up with a non-creepy, non-emo, non-man-geek, non-committal, non-pervy, non-pretentious and generally non-personal-detail-revealing username. I wish I could tell you what name I sort of submitted to out of sheer exhaustion, but let me just say that I ended up going with something totally clinical, semi-meta, and hopefully mysterious in its profound unsexiness.

OK so then the site starts asking you questions, in order to "improve your matches". I thought maybe it would be like 20 or so questions. But they kept going. And going. Turns out there are 275,294 of them, I'm not kidding (I stopped at 600 800 1000, they're pretty addictive). There will be at least one entire post dedicated to the occasional awesomeness of these questions.

But for now, one completely awesome side effect of answering these questions is something called "% Enemy". As you answer questions, the site starts figuring out whether womens in your area are potential "matches" or potential "enemies", or more accurately, what percentage of each they are. At first I thought this taxonomy was a bit unnecessarily hostile, until I realized/remembered that, hold everything, some people enjoy dating/having sex with people that they don't even remotely like. A moment of silence please. 

But back to me. Once you've answered a certain number of questions, you're able to search for women based not only on how compatible you seem to be (% Match), but also how much you profoundly disagree about things (% Enemy), and by default the site will show you both. So for example, when you log in, it says "Hey UnsexyClinicalMetaName, check out BigBoobMarge from Buiksloot (25% Match/67% Enemy)."

This is utterly, morbidly fascinating. The 200x more nihilistic me from twenty years ago would've loved the idea of a series of dates with women who I knew for certain I had absolutely nothing in common with, although come to think of it "the me from back then" didn't really need a website for that, did we, it just kind of happened automagically.

Luckily, the modern me can turn on a filter in this website that specifies "only show me womens that I have shit in common with", so after that I get "Hey UnsexyClinicalMetaName, check out Maaike1970 in Amsterdam (74% Match/9% Enemy)". And then it displays how both of y'all answered the same 481 questions (or however many of the same questions you answered), and after seeing this data you start to think, wow how nicely efficient this whole thing could be.

OK, more soon as they say around here. One of the more obtrusive/addictive elements of this site so far is that it tells you the moment someone starts looking at your profile (you can turn it off, but how much fun is that). A few minutes ago someone just visited my profile who is a "4% Match" for me. IMAGINE THIS DATE.

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gray matter.

Today's lunch, based on David Lebovitz's version of this, it was super and somehow ready in 25 minutes start to finish. As Mr. Lebovitz says: "The fennel isn’t necessary (well, neither are shoes)". I myself would say that the Puy lentils are absolutely necessary. 

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warm du puy lentils with mustard vinaigrette.

1¼ cup (250 gr) French green lentilles du Puy, or in a pinch Beluga will do, but don't even bother doing this with anything else 

1 bay leaf
a few springs of fresh thyme
pinch coarse salt

2 or 3 carrots, peeled and finely diced
1 medium red onion, peeled and finely diced
1 bulb of fennel (optional), finely diced, or lately I've been subbing 1 tsp of fennel seed, not disagreeable
freshly-ground pepper

3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
3 tbsp Dijon mustard
1 tbsp red wine or sherry vinegar, or really, any vinegar, to taste
1 scallion, minced

Basically: cook lentils with bayleaf, thyme and salt for 20-25 minutes, do not overcook. While that's happening, saute the carrots, onion, and fennel in olive oil 10-15 minutes, until tender. Make vinaigrette. When lentils are done, toss them with the vinaigrette while still warm and add the sauteed vegetables. 

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It was so good I made it again for dinner plus some shrimp, there are a bunch of complementary things going on.

khichdi.

Ja so I'm making the same thing for dinner I made last night, not something that happens much around here unless we've purchased an Econosize something from somewhere. And thus I figure this recipe might be worth jotting down.

It sounds like hippie food, but it has a surprisingly complex thing happening: the surprise ingredient is the split yellow lentils, they have a very pleasant toothsomeness if you don't overcook them. Well also the fennel seed, it's an ingredient that has really grown on me over the past year or so. OK wow all very exciting yes.

Supposedly this is Ayurveda food, extremely thrilling for your digestion: I didn't notice anything startling myself this morning, but maybe two days of it will prove educational and/or stimulating. I'm really just likee how it TASTEE (though it looks like, well, only slightly less gross than this ill-advised serving option).

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kichadi.

1 cup yellow split mung beans

2 tbsp coconut or olive oil
1 tbsp fennel seeds
1 tbsp cumin seeds

1 tbsp ground turmeric
3 tbsp coconut

2 tbsp chopped fresh ginger
1 liter boiling water

2 large carrots, sliced into rounds or whatever shape floats your boat

1 sweet potato, skin on, diced medium

1 tsp sea salt, or to taste

1/2 cup to 1 cup kale or spinach, chopped

1 cup cooked basmati rice

cilantro, chopped
lime juice, squozen

So I didn't follow the original recipe's instructions except for the part where you take your (in my case unsoaked) mung beans and coat them in the oil, then add fennel, cumin and turmeric and fry for 5 minutes or so, taking care not to burn your seeds. Then I added the water and ginger and cooked for 25 minutes or so until lentils were almost done. Then I added sweet potato and carrot and cooked for another 20 minutes. Then I added the cooked rice at the end and re-seasoned. Then I et it. 

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bony tuck.

Social and professional obligations have been a bit on overload, so much so that this above picture is from two Sundays ago, that's the kind of backlog we're dealing with. This the BIMhuis, just before The Necks' second set and our reunification with good ol' Tony, with whom we closed the damn place down, a rare extra-late night hang that was, well, "worth it".

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gummint do take a bite.

Above: 't Blauwe Theehuis, last Thursday, the first Springish day of 2014.

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So I'm on the phone with The Obamacare People because I just figured out this morning at 5am: hey, you're an American citizen and The Gummint will be wondering why your ass isn't all signed up for this shit. Of course I realized this on the last day of open enrollment, so there's no telling how long I'll be on the phone with them (available Skype credit at beginning of call: €6.03).

Thus, I thought I might jot down a few notes about my experience. Note Number One has to do with the incredible hold music. It sounds like a Lee Ritenour/Dave Grusin record that has been left out in the sun for nine days, transmitted to my Skype headphones via shortwave radio, shot through with bursts of static. 

How does one even get music to sound this destroyed in 2014? It is obviously not that they have a record player sitting there on repeat with one busted-ass GRP record dropping the needle on itself over and over: so how is this happening? It is just about the least-reassuring hold music I've ever heard, in terms of making you think that the people you're about to talk to might be able to help you solve whatever problem you're having. 

35 MINUTES LATER:  The hold music is not only completely obliterated-sounding, it's the same 45-second loop over and over (although slightly different every time b/c of warping), punctuated by "Please stay on the line, our next available representative will assist you" every 90 seconds. Quite something. Skype credit still €6.03, the only redeeming part of this experience thus far.

AFTER 51 MINUTES: The whole thing is slightly less entertaining now. To combat this decline in enthusiasm I have picked up the guitar and am now playing along with hold music. 

AFTER 67 MINUTES: Human contact. Told me he was pretty sure that if I wasn't "lawfully present" that I probably didn't have anything to worry about. But he'd have to check. Cue more hold music, different but just as distressed-sounding. But hey, more than one song so that's something. 

72 MINUTES: We're supposedly exempt since we live in another country. Frankly, I don't believe that they're not going to penalize us come tax time, and then we'll have to contest it, but I guess we'll find out yo. 

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ambienkitchen.

Interesting evolution of Ambien usage: this morning featured inexplicable pots and pans and vanished leftovers. At some point in the night I'd made a complicated dish of leftover home fries, leftover frittata, and rice noodles, no actual memories of it, I thought it was a dream.

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wheels, steel, etc.

Awwww yeah, I am back behind the DJ console or whatever the newfangled kids of today are calling the place where you stand and play records for other people to try and talk over top of. But seriously, what a thing to get paid for.

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there's a tear in my beer.

Gig: over, successful, yay. Now back to cooking.

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kabeljauwlever.

I bought some today, it was on sale (€2). The Dutch name sounds better than the English to me I suppose b/c many American kids of my generation have horrible memories of either real or threatened medicinal applications of cod liver oil.

But it's either a different story as adults or because we're in Cod Country. I had a taste tonight, I'll try to post an appetizing pic tomorrow, but basically: it tastes very oceanic and only very mildly livery, I think if you like fish pâtés and did something like the following with it you would be pleasantly surprised. I liked it.

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cod liver pâté. 

120g cod liver
1 hard-boiled egg, chopped fine
1 tbsp creme fraiche
2 tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp grated lemon zest
1 tbsp fresh dill, chopped fine
2 tbsp chopped red onion
2 tbsp watercress, chopped fine
2 tbsp chives, minced
salt and pepper to taste

Basically mash the first ingredients well with a fork, or process gently with some kind of chopper thing. Add everything else and salt and pepper to taste. Eat on something crispy, like cucumbers or hmm, maybe even a deluxe potato chip.

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sigemuchi namul.

My picture doesn't do it justice, but basically following this recipe exactly resulted in a simply perfect room temperature Korean/Japanese side dish.

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sesame and garlic spinach.

1 big bag of spinach, washed
2 cloves of garlic, pressed
2 scallions, chopped fine
1 tbsp soy sauce, or more, to taste
2 tsp sesame oil, or more to taste
1 tbsp sesame seeds, toasted

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homeslicing.

So this post is going to be an official home base for a legendary apple rum cake recipe. First question is, what variety/-ies of apples? Seems like a mix of Granny Smith and Royal Gala may be the way to go, with adjustments based on increasing/decreasing the Grannies to achieve tartness without pucker.

Below, a running tally of apple tasting notes, yes, it's just that geeky around here.

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Elstar: a really nice red apple. A little bigger than medium. Firm, sweet, a little tart.

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talk it out.

Well hi "everyone". I was just thinking about therapy. Not about getting some, I'm already doing that. And getting a lot out of it, I think for the first time ever. What I'm saying is that I highly recommend my brain man.

But anyway my not totally interesting point is: seeing a good therapist in action is kind of like a masterclass in conversation. I mean i like to think i'm a decent talker and a sympathetic ear/shoulder, so it's revealing to watch a true professional at work.

And I say watch b/c some of the best moments are watching him plan his next question. He has one look that happens before he's figured out what to say, and then another one for when he is fishing around to see if he knows what he's talking about, and a third one for when he is about to get you to say something incriminating about that you really should have seen coming. In fact we've developed a slight pause for when he's asked me something for which he already knows the answer and for which i am not knowing the answer until it is coming out of my mouth. The whole thing is quite educational.

So in case you're wondering, my issues revolve around certain mortality, miscalibrated ego, imagined responsibility, and a lifelong dedication to a love. How unique of me.

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tenderpoke.

This was something I made while the O'Neills were here, it worked out very comfortingly with a mango-lime salsa, roasted garlic mash and those runner beans. It looks/sounds a little bit fusion-y but I think at least the pork is very close to an actual Surinamese recipe, though the Dijon may be pushing it a little bit. This would also work pleasantly on seafood as well.

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pork tenderloin with soy, mustard, ginger, habanero.

1/4 cup brown sugar
1/8 cup Dijon mustard
1/8 cup soy sauce
1 medium scallion, chopped fine
1 tbsp grated fresh ginger
2 tbsp minced garlic
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1 to 2 tsp Surinamese piccalilly
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1/8 tsp ground cloves
salt and pepper to taste

4 small pork tenderloins

Combine everything except pork in a saucepan and gently heat until sugar is melted. Pour over pork and marinate for at least 4 hours, or possibly overnight. At dinner time, pour marinade into a saucepan and gently simmer for at least 10 minutes while pork cooks. Bake/broil pork for 10-15 minutes and let rest for 5-10.

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rolled to the thickness of a pound coin.

I miss pizza.

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face to face.

I just happened across some old photos and realized with a mild surprise that my reaction to them was almost purely devoid of melancholy, pretty much just pure happy memories. I mean really, this could mean something significant, cause that's pretty fkn uncharacteristic. At least it seems a good direction in which to head, because as we all know Nostalgia Will Waste You. Here's a sample, all circa 1997-1999: above, It Laid In Bed With NyQuil Eyes, location indeterminate but probably NYC; below, normal Atlanta kitchen behavior circa 1997-1999; below that, me obviously harassing my Nan in Phoenix, 1999.

surimi fasolatedo.

(EDITOR'S NOTE: Ha. So this morning I get a message from Blogger saying that a nine-year-old post of mine has been taken down for copyright infringement. My first thought is naturally WTF, but then quickly...well yes ok it's true I borrowed a few images back in those first weeks of blogging, but I thought I'd eventually mostly given appropriate foto credits.

So then I go look at what post they're talking about and it's the below, a total rant about gross food photography, which, really, is a case where giving a photo credit would've been more ugly and mean-spirited than actually allowing it to remain anonymous.

The photo in question truly is educationally nauseating if you consider its ostensible original purpose, I can only describe it in terms of sick excreted material and bloated viscera. Thus, though I can't figure out why you'd want to claim it as your own...yes it's gone now. But I hope Mars and I are going to both try and draw it by hand later for entertainment purposes and post our results.

Lastly, if you know Mars at all you know that the above photo did not need to be specially taken for this editorial moment, this was snapped last week at the central office with the O'Neill family.)

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MOSTLY ORIGINAL POST (AUGUST 2005): I mean this in the nicest way, but...this photo could really only be European, couldn't it? Specifically...yes, German!!!

In other words, the above is not something I'm responsible for having cooked.

We had this fantastic, ghastly book in America called German Home Cooking, or Modern German Cooking, or something of equally nebulously promise, but all of the pictures in it are at least this puke-inducing, both in the presentation and physical consistency of the foods and the morgue/autopsy lighting and styling to which they were subjected. Except that additionally, most of the dishes include things that are actually far grosser than surimi and, uh..."salmon pate" (is what we'll call that puddle of muck) in the photo above. I'm talking about, yes...brains, organs, feet, ears, you name it ("eet ees how you say, vat zee leetle cow seenks viz.")

It was a gift, that book. In that it was given to us. Never did cook out of it much for some reason.

Anyway, before I get to the second spine-tingling installment of Indonesian sandwiches, I have a brief imitation-food-related interruption: what exactly is surimi, and why do I like it. I probably eat it because it reminds me of crab salad, which reminds me of mayonnaise, which who doesn't like to be reminded of. I guess the good news is that it's not too bad for you aside from 4000 artificial flavorings and colorings.

OK so crab salad. Surimi fasolatido? Think solfege, baby...just like you always do.

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blacknuss.

I could not recommend this grocery budget more. If you really need to save money on groceries, this is the shit. A kilo of coffee at 8 euros = an embarrassing amount of small change if you're down to €0.20 pieces and smaller.

The titular blacknuss refers however not to coffee but to rice. Black rice, "the new brown rice" I believe it was called back in 2010 when we accidentally bought the stuff we have thinking it was glutinous black rice. Why am I interacting with it now you may ask. We're cleaning out our "pantry" in an effort to avoid the complex math of checkout coinage, which means that yes we'll be seeing some esoteric shit like black rice right here any minute now.

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What to make with it.

changebox.

Hilarious new grocery budget in place starting yesterday which revolves around paying for all groceries with change from the change box. Boxes. First day was pretty easy b/c there were a few €1 coins, so we bought eggs, potatoes, onions, carrots, cabbage, and canned tomatoes for red sauce, just under €8 if memory serves. Today's purchase was €2.50/500g ground pork. Tomorrow we'll run out of coffee and I'll be looking under the couch.

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bomboni.

Yesterday: De Kat, Puccini, Het Schuim, Baba, Mata Hari, Il Mare, and the Doubletree SkyLounge, quite a view and not necessarily as bad a place to hang out as it sounds. Great homemade spicy cocktail nuts made me wonder how the rest of the food was.

Sunday, before I forget: De Engelbewaarder and Bird Thai and surely something after that. Monday, De Prins, Belgique, and dinner at the central office. Tuesday, De Tuin, dinner at the western office, then Ellington downstairs. Wednesday La Perla, etc.

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my funny valentines.

It's been a week of pizza and beer. And Thai, and beer. And frites. And etc. Somehow we have not gained 40 kilos, probably because we have covered nearly every square meter of Amsterdam on foot. I'll compile a full and fully impressive list of everywhere we went after today, since today is the last day of Living Like Someone Else.

Pictured: shockingly good pizza from Il Pacioccone, I'm almost sure it gives my current fave La Perla a serious run for their money; Vermeer; The Rijksmuseum; Dutch snacks at Cafe Loetje just before my brain doctor appointment.

Not pictured: Gollem in de Pijp, where Mike developed a man-crush on the bartender; our grocery-laden visit to Belgique, groceries that included Hertog Jan and requested birthday tompouces; Office Space, Super Troopers.

Also not pictured: Wednesday's visits to 't Aepjen, Cafe Karpershoek, Cafe de Tuin, De Kat in de Wijngaert and many other places. Please let it stop soon.