Methane Zephyrs of Titan

Ah, Summer again. Fireflies, pretty June nights leading to sweltering July 4th parades and the Dog Days of August (named after Sirius, by the way). So it must be time to make more beer. This Spring was crazy, but we always had some beer in the house. I entitled my latest adaptation of a Maryland Homebrew recipe, “Don't Worry, Be Hoppy,” which should give you a clue about its flavor. So far, rave reviews, which probably explains why its about half gone. I'll be taking some of that up to Canada this Friday. (is that illegal? Never ask ahead of time! Always beg for forgiveness! Then there's the air of plausible deniability.)

For those of you who might follow these things, here's the list of what TMM Brewery is making this summer. Note the crazy dates that are this past Sunday and Monday (5/31 and 6/1)! Again, I've donated a case to the Capital City Symphony gala auction, won by KJ who requested the Citrus Blast.

And the world breathed a collective sigh of relief as the whirling helicopter took the ex-President and ex-Vice President off to a secure penal colony where they will serve out their lives making elephant tchotchkes while listening to endless Kenny G. piped in on tinny speakers.

I'm beginning to realize one valuable purpose of blogging. My memory is terrible, and as the years pass by (I'm now allowed to use that expression as I've passed the 40 mark), this may be the most likely way I'll get around to trying to preserve events important to me and my family. I will certainly never self-publish anything resembling a memoir (what on earth would a stranger care about my life?), and I'm a dreadful photographer.

I dearly wish my ol' Da had done something similar. He could tell a good story about the things that happened to him in WWII, or on the stage, or in Hollywood, or in college, or back in Windsor and Maidenhead where he grew up, or how he ran off to join Franco's fight for Spain (yes, he was on the “wrong” side of that one). But he didn't write them down. And when he died in an airport 20 years ago at the age of 65, I lost a connection to those stories. Yes, I loved him and carry that still, and the mystical links that are father-son through all the generations are still there, I lost a crucial link in the story. Makes me think that quantum mechanics has it right about the transient nature of information at ALL scales.

And while I doubt my life has even half the ring to it that his did, I'm sure at some point my daughters, grown to older women Goddess-willing, will want to know a little bit about me and even just be reminded of the events they partook in as kids. Such as Obama's inauguration.

In the sum of all, it was worth it. The four of us bundled up and braved the (impressive!) crowds. Metro lied to us when they said L'Enfant Plaza would be an exit only station; it was announced “closed” by the time we got to Gallery Place/Chinatown at 8:15ish, so we had to get out with the throng and spend about 30 minutes just trying to get out to the street. Intimidated by the security lines, we walked up to K Street and over to 19^th Street NW to skirt them, getting to the lawn between WW II Memorial and the Washington Monument around 9:45ish.

We grabbed a spot in some trees where we could see the (mini?) jumbotron on 17^th. While the other three chilled (both figuratively and literally), I scouted up around the Monument itself to see if there was a better spot, but even by then, the Mall was basically full all the way back to that obeliskoid. The kids whined a little about the cold, but I think Rowyn understood why we were there, and Naomi got into the chanting (“O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!”) once the festivities actually started. Debbie took a few pics and managed to get the swearing in on video.

Every time the jumbotron showed that smirking asshole, EX-President Bush, the crowd booed or broke out into, “Nah-nah-nah-nah, Hey, Hey, Hey, Good-Bye.”

At any rate, we enjoyed it for what it was. Brilliant speech (of course, even if it was written by a 27 year old...or maybe because it was?), and brilliantly delivered. And when the poet started giving a painful rendition of her poem (extraordinary rendition?), we headed straight up 17^th to Farragut North and caught a nearly empty redline Metro back home to watch the parade on the tellie. A day marked by a near-permanent grin and constant sense of relief...

Hope that vox.com lasts long enough for these words not to disappear...

Obama Gets Busy

And that's just the first three days.  And I doubt this list of major change is even complete...
It's like a glass of the finest glacier water for a desert-parched throat.  For once, I am grudgingly and perversely grateful for Bush.  Because I think it had to get that bad before we were ready to elect someone this good.

So, our New Years' Eve Party went swimmingly. We've done NYE parties for 11 of the past 14 years [we met in October 1994]. We missed 2006 here when we went to Loretta Kelly's instead, missed two for being in England (2003, 2004) and missed one due to advanced pregnancy in 1996. (In 1998 we weren't going to have one for the same reason, but then wacky advanced pregnancy hormones kicked in and we had one anyway. Thirty five people showed up that year with two days' notice. Some of them were planning on coming all along and hadn't heard about the almost-cancellation.)

If it comes off as a success (and judging from the thank yous and the smiles, it did), we can chalk it up to some factors which are very hard to measure in any scientific way. Good friends, good food, good drink, music, laughter, getting some of our friends from different circles to interact, multigenerational good humor. These things are intangibles; like porn or high art, very hard to define but you know it when you see it.

Nonetheless, there remain some things which stand up to evidentiary rules. They are measurable; repeatable even. And by themselves might not count as proof of a good party, but still could well sway a jury on the matter.

I type here, as we sip on some Highland Park, the statistics from our 2008/9 New Years' Eve Party. As Kai Ryssdal on NPR's Marketplace says...

Let's do the numbers:
4 hosts (the kids were put to work this year and did an excellent job. At no point during the party did either Debbie or myself have to deal with any kid crises.)
110 guests (though not all at once) of which:
79 adults
27 kids ages toddler to 12
4 teens (who, we hope, weren't entirely bored out of their minds in the standard teen fashion...and no, Rhianna, you're not a teen for the purposes of this count or this comment!)

Demographics:

While Revels was, perhaps, overly represented, there were Takoma Park Folk Festival people, including one who is the mother to a dancer in the Foggs (small world), nearly a sufficient number of Foggs (Foggy Bottom Morris Men) to form a side, one Cutting Edger (who was naturally coerced to help us form a side), families from Sligo Creek Elementary (including one family who just moved to California making a whirlwind tour back home), friends from California who now live here, families from Kehila, friends from the Astronomy Department at UMD, and some neighbors.

During the evening:

6 musicians played (at least), which included one playing that venerable and ostensibly Swedish instrument, the saw. Two fiddles, a concertina, a guitar and recorder round up the ticket. I brought my concertina out only as show and tell (and to prep those who didn't know Jennifer Cutting's tune yet) because I love my friends and want them to still be my friends in 2009.

4 Morris dances broke out in quick succession: Shooting (bagby), Donkey Riding (bampton), Binghamton (bampton) and Minor Billy (4 man bampton). At a minimum there were:

3 singalong songs sung: “Children, Go Where I Send Thee” (led by Rowyn and the 2008 NYE Kids Chorus); Jennifer Cutting's new “Song of Solstice” (led by me) which is becoming a favorite around here and which our own Foggy Bottom Morris Men have danced at Strathmore; and of course, “Auld Lang Syne,” all six verses; gaelic included; harmony enacted. Numerous other songs were shared with or without choral refrain.

Knowing how many people had RSVP'd (and assuming some would come anyway), we had laid in a variety of hard and soft drinks; people brought some, of course; and later I counted what went into the recycling (or reuse, in the case of bottles I can use for homebrew). My homebrew was well received. I had brewed it mostly with this party in mind. In all, we drank:

7 bottles of champagne

4 bottles of red

2 bottles of white

5 bottles of Martinelli's (or equivalent)

33 bottles of homebrew

21 bottles of other beer (primarily microbrew)

2 bottles of O'Douls

17 cans (or equivalent) of Coke & Diet Coke

12 cans ('') of Sprite or Diet Sprite

12 cans ('') of Root Beer and Ginger Ale

23 cans ('') of specialty soda

13 cans ('') of seltzer

~15? mixed rum or vodka drinks

~14 single malts (Joe?)

2 large bottles of apple juice

...which, truth be told, doesn't sound like a lot given the number of guests, though if I'd had more homebrew, I think it would have been snagged quickly. Not braggin', just sayin'. Anyway, we also have enough champagne left for many Sunday brunch mimosas.

Food is harder to measure, of course. As usual, Debbie's chocolate chip poundcake, fudge, butterscotch squares and rumballs were vacuumed. And the cocktail franks were a hit. Of special note (sorry if I missed your dish!):

A delicious Christmas pudding (thanks, Mike!) with hard sauce (14 ounce jar of homemade hard sauce which included 5 oz of whiskey)

At least two “Hoppin' John” contributions (Catherine and ?) which, while considered a Southern dish, actually dates back to the Babylonian Talmud as good luck food for the New Year. One presumes those following such suggestions back then didn't use pork fat, but then maybe it didn't taste as good as it does now, either.

Chocolate fondue (from the elegantly dressed Leah and her beloved Jeff) with fresh fruit. As you can guess, there was none left.

Pesto pinwheels (ta, Barb!) which were extremely tasty.

And that perennial (annual?) favorite, Deviled Eggs thanks to Will! None of those were left, either.

The last two guests left at 1 pm today having stayed the night; the last guest to leave before we went to bed left a little after 2 am.

For an amusing coda, we present the...

Lost & Now Found:

2 sippy bottles (Autumn W.)

1 knit hat (Betsy D.)

1 baking tray (André S.)

1 brownie pan (Carol G.)

1 plate (Emily D.)

1 green & beige My Organic Market reusable shopping bag (?)

Unfortunately, we have...

Still missing:

One pair of black men's gloves (David E.)

Did anyone accidentally pick a pair up when they left last night/this a.m.?

We are blessed to have such great friends to warm our house and fill our lives with light and sound. Wassail and a Happy New Year to All!

[This post updated 7/14/08

Ah, summer is here and it's time for beer.  (As opposed to the other seasons?)

After a hiatus of many months (both from blogging and brewing), I'm back at it with a vengeance.  Well, the brewing, anyway.  Starting May 18th, I fired up the old canning pot and made another batch of BDR (Barmaid Debbie's Reward) Porter, followed by another batch of Three Merry Men (Dark) since these were requested by the winners of the Revels Auction and the Capital City Symphony Auction of two and one cases of my homebrew respectively.  

Seeing how hot the summer was going to be (already is!), I then made another batch of the very first beer I ever brewed, Summer Peaches (almost a year to the day when I first brewed it!).  But no, that wasn't enough.  Next came my first batch of IPA.  Then I brewed up a simple Pale Ale as well.  Added 7/13: I brewed up the Unnamed Raspberry Wheat.

So how do I do it?  Multiple buckets!  Here's a list of what TMM Brewery has been/will be up to:

[Addendum: photo credit goes to Rhianna (who else?  Erin wasn't there]

Next Generation Revelers

Rowyn and I marched with the Revels this year in the Takoma Park 4th of July Parade (Debbie and Naomi cheering us on from the sidelines).  The Coles and Betsy Delaney brought their kids along with a Revels (fan?  participant?) Innis so we had eight (!) kids.  Considering we only had about 20 adults, this was pretty good.

Typecast Hobby Hoss

After the parade, we threw a nearly spontaneous BBQ at our house which started slowly and ended up pretty nicely.  Revelers Betsy D., Scott M., Gus & Jim V., the Blues and later on Greg, Will & Roxanne all enjoyed the pre-rainy weather.  Our neighbors Heather & Mike (not to be confused with Heather P. & Mike L.) and our new neighbors Emily and Dickson also came by.  Much relaxed banter and beer (2 six packs of my porter!), hamburgers and sausages.  Annie M. and Rhianna N. made an appearance, then wisely scooted off as there were no other teens (Gus arrived later and he couldn't escape as dad Jim was his ride home).

Thanks to Gus and Jim for braving the crowds at Safeway to get some ice for our cooler!

Our three day/two night jaunt to (one of) our favorite detoxification areas is winding down.  So I thought you might like to hear about it.  If you love us, you'll be happy for us.  If nothing else, maybe it'll make you jealous.  I'll go backwards, starting with coffee this morning and beer this noonishtime.  When we log off, we'll head over to the shops and browse.

* * *

Toby's Feed Store in Point Reyes now has a little cappucino bar off to the side, recommended by Jon Carroll and with wifi, no less.  We enjoyed a couple cappucinos with very fancy designs in the foam (the barista competes with others for "Best Barista"!) and relaxed while checking email and smelling hay and feed.  Behind us a few feet was a small cage with chicks for sale (hey, it's spring).   Everyone has a dog in West Marin county, so if the girls would ever forgive us, we'd move out here in a heartbeat.  Bartok would thank us profusely.

Afterwards, we shambled over to Cafe Reyes for lunch.  The owner (same guy we remember from years back) has shifted the business plan, installed a wood-fire pizza oven and serves excellect Napoli pizza.  But the main thing is, it's still a pleasant place to hang with a deck outside and some decent beer on tap.

As I write this, some undefinable euro/mexican music is playing in the background.  The breeze makes the 65 degree weather beautiful and the sun gently warms like a postcoital lover's embrace...  but I digress in bliss...

* * *

We enjoyed a fairly pricey evening at Pat Kuleto's new restaurant Nick's Cove last night.  I'd never had raw oysters before, despite numerous visits to Tomales Bay (which exports some huge percentage of the oysters eaten in the nation).  All the varieties we tried were interesting, and while I would say raw oysters are an acquired taste, I suspect I can acquire it because 1) I like sushi and 2) I enjoyed last night.

The Preston Points, according to Debbie, resemble East Coast oysters the most.  The Drake's Bay were a notch above those in flavor while still being salty. The Kumamotos were tiny, cute and delish, but the Miyagis took the prize for us: somewhat small, quite sweet and only moderately salty.  Now it appears (and I repeat: I am an amateur) that most of the time, one has "mignette" sauce for the oysters: champagne, garlic and oil or butter.  But here in Tomales Bay, with Hog Island in view (and Hog Island Oyster Co. down the street), they also serve "hog wash" with oysters: similar to mignette but with a white wine instead and a hint of jalapenos.  Yum.

Followed by another glass of Anderson Valley Pinot Blanc and for me: salmon/ahi tuna tartare; D had the clams and linguini.  Pricey, as I said, but a fun evening, nonetheless.  Now, to be sure, our table had the yougest average age in the room, and the fact is, we're courting yuppie status by even being there, but, well, we straddle hippie and yuppie easily enough.  Wait till I blog about the place we're staying at (next blog).

Nick's Cove is about 20 minutes up Highway 1 from Point Reyes.  If you've turned inland and are heading along Walker Creek, you've gone too far.  It seems to have quite a history, including 13 years of being shut until Kuleto pumped $12 mil into it.

* * *

Before dinner, we had spent the late afternoon enjoying coffee (a big pint of tasty stuff) and wifi at Cafe Reyes trying to connect with various Bay Area friends and make plans to see them when we get back Friday night.

* * *

PORE_pic_headlands

The day had started out with a lovely, breezy, sunny, cold hike along the cliffs of Chimney Rock (upper right of the hammerhead shape above).   We admired the 200+ elephant seals from a distant lookout point, but when we went the other direction to the end of Chimney Rock itself, we could see one lucky big, fat male with his harem and a few adorable pups in a cozy cove just beneath our path.  All they needed, while basking in their wind-protected cove, were drinks with little umbrellas.  Fish smoothies, or something.

We snagged yummy sandwiches (mmmm. sourdough) from the Inverness grocery and relaxed back at our Casita (more on that place later), enjoying the sun ourselves.  Sometime around 2:30 we passed out and napped, a luxury all should enjoy.

* * *

Prior to our morning walk, we had spent the morning relaxing.  The details of which are really not your business.

Mbclogo

The Sun is peeking through some tatters of fog.  The bridge is like an old friend, leading us to a place to breathe.  And so we make our way to Inverness....California, that is.  But it's almost lunchtime and we have to check our email*, and lo! Marin Brewing Company has wifi.  So here we are, sipping a Californian cask-conditioned stout (6.4%) and having salads in Larkspur Landing.  Life is good.  More later...

*My inlaws, who are not generally slouches in the tech department, have dial up.  Yes, you read that right.  Imagine trying to hold a conversation with a telegraph and you have a sense of the pain and suffering that addicts like my wife and me have to undergo.  We tease them unmercifully as an insufficient mode of revenge...

E_roma

Here we are, sitting at Espresso Roma (what do you mean, which one?  Across from Monterrey Market, of course!), sipping our coffee and chillin' with the wifi.  If our final destination on this crazy journey we have nicknamed our "exile" (England & Maryland) were ever in doubt, this trip to our home, our heimat, our querencia, has been a clear reminder.

We saw a dear friend yesterday who opened her heart to us and all her troubles for the last 18 months (a better example of Job you could not find -- but please don't try -- and don't ask whom it was, please) and all we could think was how soon can we come back?  (The soonest, for those who have been living under a rock and haven't heard us say it a billion times, is Summer 09.)

My Rochelle (the model name for the 30 button anglo concertina) has arrived.  And sure enough, I managed to play one tune on it the minute I farted around.  Hot Cross Buns.  Okay, it was in a minor key (given the C/G prevalence, I'm assuming it was D minor), but hey, I get it.  Sort of.  We'll take it with us to California and I'll practice. Every day.  Whether my inlaws like it or not.

Just got back from Fells Point Sea Shanty (Chantey) at the Wharf Rat.  A small group of us moseyed on over to Bertha's Mussels to keep singing and now it's absurdly late.  Good time had by all, and decent cask conditioned ale was consumed with glee.  Good night.