Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Black River Cafe | Pork Sandwich






Oberlin has quite a lot going for it, if you're into the sorts of things Oberlin has going for it: organic meats, cheeses, and produce, riding a bicycle, walking in a very relaxed manner, strange hairdos, wearing cow costumes on the street, great music, and businesses that open whenever they damn well feel like it, to name a (somewhat random) few.

Oberlin's famous notorious Black River Cafe epitomizes all of the above qualities.

It's a pleasant surprise when the BRC's actually open, and what you order off the menu is usually organic and always high quality. The waitresses tend towards the beautiful, funky, and languorous type, and will get to you when they get to you (unless you know their names and majors).

I happened upon an open BRC just today, in fact, and was greeted by "Amy", a red-headded history major who used to work at the local Chinese restaurant- and she remembered me! I was seated within five minutes of being there.

Five minutes is fast for the BRC. Really.

I ordered a pulled pork sandwich instead of my usual BLT today. The gorgeous sandwich is pictured, above, with its crisp baguette, slow-cooked pork, muenster cheese, and chipotle mayonnaise (no barbecue sauce on this piggy!) that brought a much appreciated heat that built up steadily with every bite. The lovely soup (also shown) is a roasted red pepper and tomato puree.

While the BRC has quite a few vegan offerings, this plate obviously isn't one of them!

I went with a friend, and our two pulled pork sandwiches, two cups of soup, and peach-raspberry iced teas amounted to under $20 ... not bad for made-from-scratch, porky goodness!

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Mmm. Cancerrific.


Et tu, char-grilled ribeye?


Every night I came home from working at the Steakback Outhouse, I smelled of fried onion, french fries, hamburgers, and other assorted seared and char-grilled meats. My boyfriend always complained of the grease on my shoes and the odor, but I thought that's where the offenses ended.

Turns out I was wrong.

Researchers at the University of Minnesota and Carleton College in Minnesota have conspired to reveal the dangers of commercial cooking. The frying of fatty foods releases particles that are carcinogenic, elevating the air pollution in restaurants' general vicinities. Diners and restaurant staff have been getting free lungfuls of the stuff for years!

Unfortunately, the foods that create the most hazardous emissions are delicious "fatty foods cooked with high heat, especially with open flames, such as cooking hamburger patties on a conveyor broiler". The aforementioned hamburgers, chicken cooked in peanut oil (read: Chinese food), and even pepperoni pizza cooked in an oven create emissions. Previous research has found that "for every 1,000 pounds of hamburger cooked on conveyor broilers, 25 pounds of emissions were created". Should the Green Gestapo ever decide to ban these air pollutants, at least pizza is safe, since it produces less harmful emissions than the other foods.





Not as meaty, but I'll take it.
Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/punch_pizza/



In a nutshell:
"These experiments help us to assess what needs to be replicated in standardized laboratory tests, and to suggest better methods of emission control," Gross said. "In combination with other measurements, we can provide a relatively comprehensive chemical and physical signature of the emissions from various cooking operations. Not only do these emissions affect air quality, but they contain chemicals that are known carcinogens."

We have the inquisitive folk who partook in the 239th National Meeting of the American Chemical Society in San Francisco as well as Deborah Gross, PhD and company to thank (?) for this research.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Cucurrucucu Paloma








I want to play this song.

C6/9
Dicen que por las noches
no más se le iba en puro llorar;
F7M
dicen que no comía
no más se le iba en puro tomar;
G7
juran que el mismo cielo
C6/9
se estremecía al oír su llanto;
cómo sufrió por ella
G7 C6/9
que hasta en su muerte la fue llamando.
C6/9 G7
Ay ay ay ay ay cantaba,
Dm7/9 Dm6/9 C6/9
ay ay ay ay ay gemía.
G7
Ay ay ay ay ay cantaba,
Dm7/9 Dm6/9 C6/9
de pasión mortal, moría.
C6/9
Que una paloma triste
muy de mañana le va a cantar
F7M
a la casita sola
con sus puertitas de par en par;
G7
juran que esa paloma
C6/9
no es otra cosa más que su alma,
que todavía la espera
G7 C6/9
a que regrese la desdichada.
C6/9 G7
Cucurrucucú paloma,
Dm7/9 Dm6/9 C6/9
cucurrucucú no llores;
G7
las piedras jamás, paloma,
Dm7/9 Dm6/9 C6/9
¿qué van a saber de amores?

I'll have to learn a few chords ...

C6/9: X3223X
F7M: 1X221X
G7: 3X343X
Dm7/9: X5355X
Dm6/9: X5345X

... but that's the fun part, right?

Small Hands





I've been told by someone I trust to do my taxes and who helps me make many of the important decisions in my life that if my left hand doesn't fit around the neck of a guitar, I'm not meant to play it. He suggested I try a ukelele, instead. While I normally defer to his judgement, everyone knows that that particular instrument only works well when the player (and, consequently, the hands) is/are much larger than the instrument.

While I may be six feet tall, once I place my hands on said ukelele they are clearly proportionate to its size. That is too disturbing for me to deal with. Also, I lack the gravitas to pull off the whole ukelele thing.

He bought me a guitar anyway, and by God, the man appeared to be right. I couldn't get my damned little fingers to curl around the neck properly, nor could I strum a clear chord. I've been wanting to be a bad ass guitar player since I was 14, and so I did what any music nerd would do: I armed myself with a quick "small hands guitar" search on mother Google and discerned three main approaches to the small, carny hand dilemma. The description follows, in no meaningful order.

The most obvious one is to purchase a smaller guitar, and it's the one I've gone with. I am the proud owner of a 3/4 size Ibanez acoustic guitar with nylon strings that not only emits a beautiful, melodic sound, but also is a sane fit for the carny-handed. (Aside-I feared that I'd have to look for a used guitar in one of the seedy second-hand guitar stores that litter the outer rings of Cleveland. I feel strange buying second-hand instruments: touching someone else's grease, debris, and sweat (or "soul") poured into the neck and the frets. Someone not famous. Someone whose sweat and "soul" won't fill me with talent and skill...) The smaller guitar feels great, but here's the catch: the three-quarters size does not refer to the width of the neck, but the overall length or size of the guitar. So, while the smaller guitar body is more comfortable for me for some reason, the neck is still to wide for my hands.

The next best thing appears to be investing in classical guitar lessons. Positioning and technique can win out over brute force (or in this case, larger hands). Newbies with carny hands, don't despair. There is a way to eliminate those muddy notes. Getting your fingers to curl in unnatural ways is unnatural. Making the adaptation takes time. Plenty of classical guitar teachers (and the other hacks) assure us that we must get our hands accustomed to the strange positioning and assure us to look forward to calluses. Sounds good to me. This also brings up an obvious point: practice makes progress. So practice, and the body WILL adapt.

That is the most interesting bit of obvious information I scrounged up. It's silly that I forgot about the potential for physical change in a human's body. A hand will adapt to the uses it is put to: calluses, thicker muscles, claw-like shaping. One gentleman said he noticed his left hand had gotten one inch longer after two years of playing. Better yet, females appear have superior abilities for change thanks to the power-hormone, estrogen. It seems to add to a female's elasticity, making it easier for her to flex her hands for reach. Pregnancy is supposed to "help", too, but I haven't found the scientific evidence, and... quite frankly, I'm not that committed to finding out.

So, I've got to practice my guitar chords diligently on my smaller guitar while taking vitamins and exercising in order to get my hands accustomed to the guitar playing. Why the vitamins and exercising? To keep that estrogen flowing, baby! Delicious estrogen will be my next topic of bloggersation.