Daily Entries for the week of
Sunday, April 11, 2021
through
Saturday, April 17, 2021
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It’s Saturday, April 17, 2021
Welcome to the 1079th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Chicken Pot Pie
Homemade curry chicken pot pies.
avlxyz at https://www.flickr.com/photos/avlxyz/ -
https://www.flickr.com/photos/avlxyz/3258947765/
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2.0 Commentary
What I like about retirement is that you can follow a lead.
So this morning, Thursday, I spontaneously decided I wanted to eat chicken pot pie.
I took an hour to write up a recipe and start the chicken poaching.
Were I gainfully employed, I would have to find an appropriate place in my schedule to follow the lead.
Chicken drumsticks were on sale at W Foods. Marked down from 2.99 to 1.49 per pound.
These are the Bell and Evans brand which I admire.
I bought them on Wednesday knowing I would think of something.
Also on Wednesday, I bought delicious shortbread biscuits from Tatte.
Since I don’t bake, I don’t know how to make a crust for a pot pie.
But the biscuits will do quite well.
What are the elements of the recipe.
Poach the chicken.
Construct the broth.
Think through the thickening of the filling.
Seasonings.
That’s it.
3.2 Conflicted
Staying on Target: July 4 manuscript completed.
3.3 Storyworth
I’ve listed a few of the famous people I have met.
I’ll spend some time writing a sentence or two on each and then I’ll publish it.
3.4 Blog
Getting it done.
3.5 Modernism and Existentialism
Read 20 pp of week’s assignment of 100pp
3.8 San Jose
Taking advantage of a reduced air fare, I booked a trip to San Jose for May 5 to May 11 of this year.
Made some calls re: reservations for the restaurants I’d prefer.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted;
persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished;
persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.
BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR
per
G.G., CHIEF OF ORDNANCE”
~ Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huck Finn
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Wednesday night I enjoyed a thick slab od Broiled Swordfish with beans and greens.
This recipe I developed on Thursday.
CHICKEN POT PIE
For 4
3.5 lbs chicken drumsticks
poached in ample water
remove foam
poach for 1 hour after foam is removed
cool and remove from bone, removing small bones and as much of the skin as you’d like.
cut chicken into medium dice.
Reduce stock to 4 cups
In a Dutch oven
Use 2oz duck fat or pancetta
Saute until softened: 3oz each medium diced carrots, celery, onions, and fresh peas, and corn if you’d like.
Sprinkle 1 TB flour as you soften.
Add salt and freshly-ground pepper
1 t of thyme
1/2t sage
When softened, add chicken
Add a half cup of white wine and stock to cover,
bring to a boil, reduce to a slow simmer and cook for twenty minutes.
and more stock if necessary to keep casserole moist.
Stir in ½ cup of heavy cream
Cook together for ten more minutes
Buy some good buttermilk biscuits.
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11.0 Thumbnail
A pot pie is a type of meat pie with a top crust of flaky pastry. The term is used in North America.
Pot pies may be made with a variety of fillings including poultry, beef, seafood, or plant-based fillings, and may also differ in the types of crust.
In the United States, both beef pot pie and chicken pot pie are the most popular types of pot pies and can vary significantly in terms of both preparation and ingredients.
Pot pie can be prepared in a number of ways including in a skillet over a stovetop, in a baking dish in an oven, or in a pie iron over a campfire. There are numerous other types of pot pies including taco, Ham and brie pizza, and steak and mushroom. The pie shell and crust can be made from scratch or can be fashioned from store bought pie crust or biscuit dough and includes ingredients such as butter or olive oil, flour, and shortening. Once prepared and served, the pot pie leftovers can be stored in the freezer for later consumption.
In the Pennsylvania Dutch region, some people make a dish called "bot boi" by Pennsylvania German-speaking natives. Pennsylvania Dutch pot pie is a stew without a crust. Most commonly made with chicken, it usually includes homemade dumpling-style dough noodles and potatoes, and sometimes vegetables such as carrots or celery.
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It’s Friday, April 16, 2021
Welcome to the 1078th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Dirksen with President Richard Nixon and Vice President Spiro Agnew on January 20, 1969.
Oliver F. Atkins, 1916-1977, Photographer (NARA record: 8451334) - U.S. National Archives and Records Administration
Scope and content: Pictured: Vice President Sprio Agnew, Senator Everett M. Dirksen -Illinios (R), President Richard M. Nixon. Subject: Staff with President- Group.
Public Domain
File:President Nixon conversing with Senator Dirksen and Vice President Agnew on the occasion of a luncheon with Senate... - NARA - 194603.tiff
Created: 29 January 1969date QS:P571,+1969-01-29T00:00:00Z/11
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2.0 Commentary
Love writing.
If you love to write, write.
For goodness sake.
Write a sentence
A second one.
Examine the thought that’s emerging and write a complete paragraph on only that thought.
Check it.
Is it rational?
Clear?
Write.
Free yourself.
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3.0 Reading and Writing Events
3.2 Conflicted
I did good work on the manuscript today.
3.3 Storyworth
I’ve begun to gather the names of famous people I have met.
Give this a high priority today.
Am working on things that fascinated me growing up.
Today the subject is art.
I get a new question tomorrow.
3.4 Blog
No wriggle room here.
Every day requires its own effort.
On Sunday, I got an early start and was mostly done before I went off to the café.
3.5 Modernism and Existentialism
I was well-prepared for class on Wednesaay.
We discussed the Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
“If voting made any difference they wouldn't let us do it.”
~ Mark Twain
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Thursday night I roasted a game hen, 1.3lbs.
I also made a greens, beans, and porchetta dish.
Dinner was perfect.
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11.0 Thumbnail
Everett McKinley Dirksen (January 4, 1896 – September 7, 1969) was an American politician. A member of the Republican Party, he represented Illinois in the United States House of Representatives and the United States Senate. As Senate Minority Leader from 1959 to 1969, he played a highly visible and key role in the politics of the 1960s. He helped write and pass the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Civil Rights Act of 1968, both landmark pieces of legislation during the civil rights movement. He was also one of the Senate's strongest supporters of the Vietnam War. A talented orator with a florid style and a notably rich baritone voice, his flamboyant speeches caused his detractors to refer to him as "The Wizard of Ooze".
Born in Pekin, Illinois, Dirksen served as an artillery officer during World War I and opened a bakery after the war. After serving on the Pekin City Council, he won election to the House of Representatives in 1932. In the House, he was considered a moderate and supported much of the New Deal; he became more conservative and isolationist over time, but reversed himself to support US involvement in World War II. He won election to the Senate in 1950, unseating Senate Majority Leader Scott W. Lucas. In the Senate, he favored conservative economic policies and supported the internationalism of President Dwight D. Eisenhower. Dirksen succeeded William F. Knowland as Senate Minority Leader after the latter declined to seek re-election in 1958.
As the Senate Minority Leader, Dirksen emerged as a prominent national figure of the Republican Party during the 1960s. He developed a good working relationship with Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield and supported President Lyndon B. Johnson's handling of the Vietnam War. He helped break the Southern filibuster of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. While still serving as Senate Minority Leader, Dirksen died in 1969.
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It’s Thursday, April 15, 2021
Welcome to the 1077th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Mrs Doubtfire House
taken shortly after Robin Williams' death, with a fan-made tribute at its front steps
rulenumberone2 from San Francisco, CA, USA -
Mrs Doubtfire House - San Francisco
The house used for the exterior shots of the film Mrs. Doubtfire. This photo was taken on August 13, 2014, a few days after the death of Robin Williams, and a make-shift tribute to the actor can be seen on the front steps.
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2.0 Commentary
We’ve already forgotten how cold winters are.
Now I hear complaints that a 50* day is blustery.
Everything is perspective.
50* is a mild day.
Zip up and enjoy it.
I remember Everett Dirksen, a Republican Senator from Illinois, Minority Leader.
I remember him and the Senate Majority leader, Mike Mansfield, Democrat of Montana.
Together they passed landmark legislation, especially the Civil Rights Acts of the 1960s.
Statesmen, they.
Country came first.
Where on earth are they now?
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3.0 Reading and Writing Events
3.1 Sacco and Vanzetti
We’re negotiating an alliance with a group who wants the same thing as we do.
But done their way.
3.2 Conflicted
Having sent out the first section of the book for edits and comments, I’ve started with the next section.
I’ve upped my quota from 3pp per day to 4, without changing my end date: July 4.
3.3 Storyworth
See Mail and other Conversation
3.4 Blog
No wriggle room here.
Every day requires its own effort.
On Sunday, I got an early start and was mostly done before I went off to the café.
3.8 San Jose
I’ve begun to calendar restaurants, preparatory to making reservations.
I’ve a growing fear I’m too late to book some of them.
Should have been calling from 30 days out.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
"There are lies,
damned lies and
statistics."
~Mark Twain
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5.0 Mail and other Conversation
We love getting mail, email, or texts.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
or text to 617.852.7192
Emails today focused on ideas for me regarding the question: what famous people have you met?
Lots. Cameron Diaz, Faye Dunaway, David Bowie, Doc Rivers, and on.
I’ll be publishing the list with a thumbnail within the next week.
Blog meister responds: Thank you, my friends and family.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
I ordered Shrimp with Lobster Sauce.
Had fond memories of large shrimp crowding out a sponge bath of Lobster Sauce.
Received a bucket of thin Lobster Sauce with tiny shrimp.
So disappointing.
The taste not much better.
Peach Farm disappointed me.
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11.0 Thumbnail
Mrs. Doubtfire is a 1993 American comedy-drama film directed by Chris Columbus. It was written for the screen by Randi Mayem Singer and Leslie Dixon, based on the 1987 novel Alias Madame Doubtfire by Anne Fine. Robin Williams, who also served as a co-producer, stars with Sally Field, Pierce Brosnan, Harvey Fierstein, and Robert Prosky. It follows a recently divorced actor who dresses up as a female housekeeper to be able to interact with his children. The film addresses themes of divorce, separation, and the effect they have on a family.
The film was released in the United States on November 24, 1993. It won the Academy Award for Best Makeup[4] and the Golden Globe Award for Best Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy. Robin Williams was awarded th Golden Globe Award for Best Actor in a Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy.
It grossed $441.3 million on a $25 million budget, becoming the second-highest-grossing film of 1993 worldwide. Though the film received mixed reviews, it was placed 67th in the American Film Institute's "AFI's 100 Years...100 Laughs" list and 40th on Bravo's "100 Funniest Movies of All Time". The original music score was composed by Howard Shore.
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It’s Wednesday, April 14, 2021
Welcome to the 1076th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Alcatraz Island
Photograph by D Ramey Logan
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2.0 Commentary
It seems I can no longer control my weight.
Some weight god has stepped in and spread five pounds over me.
Says I’ve gained it in my thighs or arms or chest where it can be safely spread
without a gross distortion of my proportions.
Anyone have a bridge they’d like to sell?
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3.0 Reading and Writing Events
3.1 Sacco and Vanzetti
Things heated up on Monday with a missive from a supportive group offering to combine forces.
The question always is: at what price?
Talking in terms of control and momentum and organization.
It’s not a negative communication. That’s good.
3.2 Conflicted
My manuscript took an important step forward today.
I am polishing the first 65 pages of the story to go out to beta readers as well as my editor.
Ten days ahead of schedule.
3.3 Storyworth
This week’s question asks me what famous people I have met.
Many, I can tell you.
But I don’t think that’s much of an answer.
I’ll need time and help.
Thinking a couple of sentences on each.
3.4 Blog
No wriggle room here.
Every day requires its own effort.
3.5 Modernism and Existentialism
Finished this week’s assignment on Monday.
That gives me a couple of days to think of something smart to say at
the online class on Wednesday.
3.8 San Jose
Tonight I’ll review my restaurant selection with my cousin Alex.
Then I’ll start reserving tables.
My guess is that I’ll average spending, tax and tips included, $200.00 per meal
except for one meal that looks like $600.00 if I go forward with it.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
The secret of getting ahead is getting started.
~Mark Twain
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5.0 Mail and other Conversation
We love getting mail, email, or texts.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
or text to 617.852.7192
A reader asked me about a real simple pasta sauce, like when your alone and don’t want a production..
Blog meister responds: Permit me to give you, not a recipe, better than that: an idiom. Let’s make the sauce. Finely chop tiny quantities of aromatics (like ½ oz each) such as leeks, bell pepper, carrot, chili. and garlic and soften them in a generous amount of butter or olive oil.
Then stir in anchovies. And there’s your sauce.
Cook the pasta to al dentissimo, (still even a bit stiff.)
Reserve ¾ cup of the pasta water. Drain the pasta.
Return the reserved pasta water to the pot, add the sauce and stir together.
Return the pasta to the pot and, with the burner on medium, toss and stir the pasta well as it finishes cooking. If desired, add an ounce or more of parmigiana cheese while the pasta finishes the cook. With the cheese, you must toss the pasta vigorously to avoid clumping.
No anchovies?
Brown four cloves of chopped garlic when making the sauce. There’s your Linguini with Oil and Garlic.
Now use your imagination.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Sunday night I had a potpourri of fried rice, chicken wings, pork ribs, and assorted veggies,
all store prepared.
Not bad.
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11.0 Thumbnail
The Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary or United States Penitentiary, Alcatraz Island (often referred to as Alcatraz or The Rock) was a maximum security federal prison on Alcatraz Island, 1.25 miles (2.01 km) off the coast of San Francisco, California, United States, the site of a fort since the 1850s; the main prison building was built in 1910–1912 as a United States Army military prison. The United States Department of Justice acquired the United States Disciplinary Barracks, Pacific Branch, on Alcatraz on 12 October 1933, and the island became a prison of the Federal Bureau of Prisons in August 1934 after the buildings were modernized and security increased. Given this high security and the island's location in the cold waters and strong currents of San Francisco Bay, prison operators believed Alcatraz to be escape-proof and America's strongest prison.
The three-story cellhouse included the four main cell blocks, A-block through D-block, the warden's office, visitation room, the library, and the barber shop. The prison cells typically measured 9 feet (2.7 m) by 5 feet (1.5 m) and 7 feet (2.1 m) high. The cells were primitive and lacked privacy, with a bed, desk, and washbasin, and a toilet on the back wall, and with few furnishings except a blanket. African-Americans were segregated from other inmates in cell designation due to racial abuse. D-Block housed the worst inmates, and six cells at its end were designated "The Hole", where badly behaving prisoners would be sent for periods of often brutal punishment. The dining hall and kitchen extended from the main building. Prisoners and staff ate three meals a day together. The Alcatraz Hospital was above the dining hall.
Prison corridors were named after major U.S. streets such as Broadway and Michigan Avenue. Working at the prison was considered a privilege for inmates and many of the better inmates were employed in the Model Industries Building and New Industries Building during the day, actively involved in providing for the military in jobs such as sewing and woodwork, and performing various maintenance and laundry chores.
Today, Alcatraz is a public museum and one of San Francisco's major tourist attractions, attracting some 1.5 million visitors annually. Now operated by the National Park Service's Golden Gate National Recreation Area, the former prison is being restored and maintained.
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It’s Wednesday, April 14, 2021
Welcome to the 1076th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
______________________________________
1.0 Lead Picture
Alcatraz Island
Photograph by D Ramey Logan
______________________________________
2.0 Commentary
It seems I can no longer control my weight.
Some weight god has stepped in and spread five pounds over me.
Says I’ve gained it in my thighs or arms or chest where it can be safely spread
without a gross distortion of my proportions.
Anyone have a bridge they’d like to sell?
______________________________________
3.0 Reading and Writing Events
3.1 Sacco and Vanzetti
Things heated up on Monday with a missive from a supportive group offering to combine forces.
The question always is: at what price?
Talking in terms of control and momentum and organization.
It’s not a negative communication. That’s good.
3.2 Conflicted
My manuscript took an important step forward today.
I am polishing the first 65 pages of the story to go out to beta readers as well as my editor.
Ten days ahead of schedule.
3.3 Storyworth
This week’s question asks me what famous people I have met.
Many, I can tell you.
But I don’t think that’s much of an answer.
I’ll need time and help.
Thinking a couple of sentences on each.
3.4 Blog
No wriggle room here.
Every day requires its own effort.
3.5 Modernism and Existentialism
Finished this week’s assignment on Monday.
That gives me a couple of days to think of something smart to say at
the online class on Wednesday.
3.8 San Jose
Tonight I’ll review my restaurant selection with my cousin Alex.
Then I’ll start reserving tables.
My guess is that I’ll average spending, tax and tips included, $200.00 per meal
except for one meal that looks like $600.00 if I go forward with it.
______________________________________
4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
The secret of getting ahead is getting started.
~Mark Twain
_____________________________________
5.0 Mail and other Conversation
We love getting mail, email, or texts.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
or text to 617.852.7192
A reader asked me about a real simple pasta sauce, like when your alone and don’t want a production..
Blog meister responds: Permit me to give you, not a recipe, better than that: an idiom. Let’s make the sauce. Finely chop tiny quantities of aromatics (like ½ oz each) such as leeks, bell pepper, carrot, chili. and garlic and soften them in a generous amount of butter or olive oil.
Then stir in anchovies. And there’s your sauce.
Cook the pasta to al dentissimo, (still even a bit stiff.)
Reserve ¾ cup of the pasta water. Drain the pasta.
Return the reserved pasta water to the pot, add the sauce and stir together.
Return the pasta to the pot and, with the burner on medium, toss and stir the pasta well as it finishes cooking. If desired, add an ounce or more of parmigiana cheese while the pasta finishes the cook. With the cheese, you must toss the pasta vigorously to avoid clumping.
No anchovies?
Brown four cloves of chopped garlic when making the sauce. There’s your Linguini with Oil and Garlic.
Now use your imagination.
_____________________________________
6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Sunday night I had a potpourri of fried rice, chicken wings, pork ribs, and assorted veggies,
all store prepared.
Not bad.
__________________________________
11.0 Thumbnail
The Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary or United States Penitentiary, Alcatraz Island (often referred to as Alcatraz or The Rock) was a maximum security federal prison on Alcatraz Island, 1.25 miles (2.01 km) off the coast of San Francisco, California, United States, the site of a fort since the 1850s; the main prison building was built in 1910–1912 as a United States Army military prison. The United States Department of Justice acquired the United States Disciplinary Barracks, Pacific Branch, on Alcatraz on 12 October 1933, and the island became a prison of the Federal Bureau of Prisons in August 1934 after the buildings were modernized and security increased. Given this high security and the island's location in the cold waters and strong currents of San Francisco Bay, prison operators believed Alcatraz to be escape-proof and America's strongest prison.
The three-story cellhouse included the four main cell blocks, A-block through D-block, the warden's office, visitation room, the library, and the barber shop. The prison cells typically measured 9 feet (2.7 m) by 5 feet (1.5 m) and 7 feet (2.1 m) high. The cells were primitive and lacked privacy, with a bed, desk, and washbasin, and a toilet on the back wall, and with few furnishings except a blanket. African-Americans were segregated from other inmates in cell designation due to racial abuse. D-Block housed the worst inmates, and six cells at its end were designated "The Hole", where badly behaving prisoners would be sent for periods of often brutal punishment. The dining hall and kitchen extended from the main building. Prisoners and staff ate three meals a day together. The Alcatraz Hospital was above the dining hall.
Prison corridors were named after major U.S. streets such as Broadway and Michigan Avenue. Working at the prison was considered a privilege for inmates and many of the better inmates were employed in the Model Industries Building and New Industries Building during the day, actively involved in providing for the military in jobs such as sewing and woodwork, and performing various maintenance and laundry chores.
Today, Alcatraz is a public museum and one of San Francisco's major tourist attractions, attracting some 1.5 million visitors annually. Now operated by the National Park Service's Golden Gate National Recreation Area, the former prison is being restored and maintained.
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It’s Tuesday, April 13, 2021
Welcome to the 1075th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Northern view from Alta Plaza Park.
The Marina District and San Francisco Bay can be seen below.
Photographer: Christopher Beland - Own work
A view from Alta Plaza Park in the Pacific Heights neighborhood of San Francisco, California. The Marina District and San Francisco Bay can be seen below.
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2.0 Commentary
I feel very fortunate to have several projects that I enjoy doing.
I love my manuscript.
I worked on this thing, Conflicted, for several years and developed a compelling story.
My style wasn’t acceptable.
After several years of writing my blog, a dear friend and a superb editor told me to recast my manuscript is the style of the blog.
I’m working on that and the results seem to bear him out.
And I love the social aspect of the Sacco and Vanzetti group that I’ve assembled.
Team playing is fun.
The enterprise provides lots of opportunities to write.
Of course, my blog.
After 1060 consecutive postings I’d better be enjoying it or doubt my sanity.
Planning the landing in San Jose and the near week in San Fran.
Loving that.
Especially the restaurants, walking, and museums, at least the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art
Leaving on May 4 and the daily blog will be a challenge.
Don’t forget the weekly piece I write for my daughter on Storyworth.
I‘ve had to skip one week in the first fourteen.
I consider that a victory.
Through it all I reviewed a book for a friend, the review published today, I believe.
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3.0 Reading and Writing Events
3.2 Conflicted
I completed the edits for the first section of the manuscript wherein the protagonist moved from the isolation of a drug addict to a warrior engaged in battle against the forces of evil
3.3 Storyworth
I published the next due question today.
It will appear sometime on Monday, dated for Tuesday.
3.4 Blog
No wriggle room here.
Every day requires its own effort.
3.5 Modernism and Existentialism
Almost done with this week’s assignment.
3.7 Book Review
Dom Dileo
Once a Northender
Recollections from Boston 1930-2020
This is a fun read. It isn’t meant to burden the reader with strange syntax or strained grammar.
It’s folk art, a basic beauty, down to earth using simple language like Ernest Hemingway. A clear and pleasant delivery.
Once a Northender simply lays out the story of an Italian immigrant family that made good. Dom DiLeo, the author, and his intrepid daughter, Diane Noel who transcribed his words into the typed manuscript, take us through his early childhood and his family, growing up in early 1930s, referencing such dated professions as the ice man and the kerosene man.
He talks about his life in the military, not only his daily life, but the insights of someone who transcends the working class with an understanding of the scope of world politics as in his praise for the uniqueness of America as illustrated by the implementation of the Marshall Plan.
Mr. DiLeo treats his losses and disappointments head on, like his unsuccessful runs for School Committee. Despite his losses, being on the campaign trail brings him in contact with the love of his life whom he marries. They are married now going on sixty years. If God hands you a lemon (a losing political campaign)…
Some losses happen without satisfactory compensation, like the severe injuries he suffered while biking with his children.
We hear about his life as a husband and a father. About the home they loved so well. About the children they raised.
This is the story of a successful man. A perpetually smiling man. Not a celebrity, but one who should be celebrated. Dom DiLeo is kind enough and generous enough to share his remarkable story with us. It comes down to a story of an iconic immigrant family whose industry and love produced as perfect a life as human beings can expect. A family whose daily lives chant, “God bless America.”
Staying true to basic values, life can be a beautiful voyage, as Dom ends his book:
“What a trip it has been for me.”
3.8 San Jose, landing; San Francisco staying
I have decided that San Francisco will be my home base and the location of the Guide Michelin restaurants that I intend to visit,
I spent several hours looking at the options.
I decided to eliminate any restaurant that charges more than 200.00 per person for their prix fixe menus. That cuts out a surprising number of Guide Michelin restaurants.
Now I’ll match the nights they close against my calendar and I’ll start reserving tables in the next two days.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
“Kindness is a language which
the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
~Mark Twain
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Dinner was a rack of ribs.
Unfortunately, I cooked them poorly and they were dry.
But tasty.
I settled.
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11.0 Thumbnail
Pacific Heights is a neighborhood in San Francisco, California. It has panoramic views of the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco Bay, the Palace of Fine Arts, Alcatraz, and the Presidio.
The Pacific Heights Residents Association defines the neighborhood as stretching from Union Street to Bush Street in the north–south direction and from Van Ness Avenue to Presidio Avenue in the east-west direction. The San Francisco Mayor's Office of Neighborhood Services defines its north-south extent more narrowly, with Green Street and California & Pine Streets serving as its boundaries.
In 2013, Pacific Heights was named the most expensive neighborhood in the United States. The article stated that if San Francisco's Pacific Heights had its own zip code, it would be the most expensive place to live in the United States. The 94115 zip code includes both Pacific Heights' "Gold Coast", an area famous for its billionaire residents and record-breaking prices, and "The Western Addition", an area about 20 blocks away where real estate prices are significantly lower. In 2017, Curbed SF again announced the "occasionally chic, hardly affordable, always elite Pacific Heights" as San Francisco's most expensive neighborhood. A $40 million Pacific Heights mansion was listed as San Francisco's most expensive home. Later in the year, Business Insider gave a preview inside San Francisco's most exclusive neighborhood, where old money rubs elbows with tech billionaires. In 2018, Pacific Heights continued to garner accolades and was voted as one of the 15 most prestigious residential neighborhoods in the San Francisco Bay Area. Pacific Heights has also been listed among the top 10 richest neighborhoods in San Francisco.
Pacific Heights is situated on a primarily east–west oriented ridge that rises sharply from the Marina District and Cow Hollow neighborhoods to the north to a maximum height of 370 feet above sea level. Pacific Heights features two parks, Lafayette and Alta Plaza. Visible to the north are the Golden Gate Bridge, the Marin Headlands, and Alcatraz Island. Visible to the south are Twin Peaks and the Sutro Tower.
Lower Pacific Heights refers to the area located south of California Street down to Post Street. While this area was previously considered part of the Western Addition, the new neighborhood designation became popularized by real estate agents in the early 1990s.
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It’s Monday, April 12, 2021
Welcome to the 1074th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Statue of mother with children
Alessandro giudice - Own work
This is a photo of a monument which is part of cultural heritage of Italy.
This monument participates in the contest Wiki Loves Monuments Italia 2016.
See authorizations.
at the Monumental Cemetery of Staglieno
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2.0 Commentary
Saturday was a stunningly beautiful day.
I walked out early to lift weights before the gym got busy.
It worked.
Afterwards I walked a half-hour to W Foods and bought a rack of baby back ribs,
some juices, some watermelon popsicles, and five ¼ pound containers of prepared vegetables.
Set on those for next three days.
I took a break from work and had a small plate of Eggplant Parmigiana.
I spent the next three hours inside the café writing my Storyworth article and Monday’s blog.
Now I’ll go back to my apartment, put the ribs in the 200* oven for an hour while I walk out and enjoy the lovely outdoors.
3.2 Conflicted
Still on schedule with my manuscript.
July 4th end date.
3.3 Storyworth
This is an application that my daughter bought me as a Christmas present.
Every week I am sent a question about my life.
The answers are mailed out to a list of people that Kat has provided.
At the end of the year I get a hard copy of the book.
This week’s question asks me about my mom.
My response is published below in 11.0 Thumbnail.
3.4 Blog
No wriggle room here.
Every day requires its own effort.
On Sunday, I got an early start and was mostly done before I went off to the café.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
“If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous
he will not bite you.
This is the principal difference between a dog and man.”
~Mark Twain
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5.0 Mail and other Conversation
We love getting mail, email, or texts.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
or text to 617.852.7192
We received a flurry of emails relative to my pending trip to San Francisco.
So many important ideas from transport to birding.
Blog meister responds: These ideas will greatly improve my planning. Thank you, my friends.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Friday night I had two courses for dinner.
I experimented with a Pasta and Anchovy Sauce. Wonderful.
A method that I will assimilate into my regularly made repertoire/
I’ll publish it as soon as I edit my notes.
Then I had a cold plate of sliced dry-aged sirloin with a sliced heirloom tomato dress with oil and vinegar.
Most satisfying.
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11.0 Thumbnail
What was Mom like?
Mom grew up in a huge family: maybe eleven brothers and sisters. On a nervousness scale they ranged from anxious to nervous to high-strung to out-of-control to institutionalized. And although she had a lot of children, my maternal grandmother was not a great mother which deprived my mom of a role model.
Fortunately, mom’s cooking skills were developed under the auspices of my grandfather, he a star. His pupil surpassed the teacher.
At age sixteen, this beautiful young woman married. My mother lacked adult insight into her internal workings and she possessed even less insight into the world outside her home. But since she was content to spend her adult life dressing four children and cooking-for six, responsibilities she handled very well, her time passed, she ever oblivious to her lacks.
My mother’s true genius and the most complete expression of her love for us was in the care she took in cooking and the zeal with which she provided three brilliant meals a day for the six of us.
Breakfasts were simple but perfectly suited to the time and attention we paid that meal. She squeezed oranges by hand and we loved that daily glass of fresh orange juice with breakfast. There was always toast, cocoa, and boiled eggs.
Ah! Boiled eggs. A saga that shouldn’t be. Just drop the egg in the water and time it. Physics takes care of the rest.
Perhaps the timing of it what did mom in. She wasn’t organized enough to consider using a timer. Or perhaps shied from timers because mechanical devices confused her, as they do me, today.
The result: every morning brought the same drama.
My mother would boil the water, drop the eggs, and never check the time.
None of us ever considered, “My mother has a hard time with the eggs. One of us should help.” Didn’t happen. Ever.
A little while later she’s ask any of us if we thought the eggs were ready. None of us had a clue.
So she’d drain the pan and serve the eggs and hover.
One never knew if they were going to come out undercooked, perfect, or overcooked – hit or miss.
I cracked the egg, pierced the white, and too often she would say, “Oh, God!” which everyone knew meant a miss.
Either the still-liquid white of the egg spilled out over the shell or the yolk was firm enough to be used in One in a while the egg would be perfect and my mother would be pleased to hear, “It’s good.”
We never “Thank you.” We rarely were polite to each other. Nirvana in our house was the absence of a ferocious argument. Mom might have done better here. Not that dad helped out.
In ‘the old days’ of my growing up we went to neighborhood schools. Schools didn’t serve lunch. You went home. Lunch period was an hour so you hustled to get home, eat, pee, and get back. That reality flooded the streets of the tiny neighborhood with 1500 school aged children running wildly home, anxious to eat something great; stressed to get back on time. You don’t keep the nuns waiting. The Italian North End was as densely populated as Cairo or New Delhi and the streets at lunchtime were a cacophony of shouts, screams, cries, and the occasional fistfight, although those usually waited until after the school day when the results, blood, swells, ripped shirts, could be more effectively hidden from the nuns. Never from the parents who accepted such behavior as natural.
For lunch, Olga always had an amazingly delicious meal waiting for us: asparagus and eggs, the eggs deliciously seasoned with fresh parsley and freshly-grated parmigiana cheese, the asparagus still crispy; or scrumptious meatballs, with their flavorsome herbs and spices, mix of ground meats, and brilliant textures, and Gravy; or my all-time favorite, Eggplant Parmigiana, its mellow, bland flavor happily absorbing the flavors of the Gravy, olive oil, and cheese in which mom cooked the opulently-textured eggplant slices.
Whatever the meal, she stuffed it into baked-an-hour-ago crusty Italian bread from one of the dozen bakeries that thrived in this neighborhood of 40,000 happily-crushed descendants of Glorious Rome, Il Duce, and Sacco and Vanzetti, who patronized the tens of dozens of local food shops that lent their brilliance to the North End fabric.
North Enders shopped daily; continuously more accurate. Early morning saw one of us heading out to pick up the hot loaves or doughnuts or milk from the milk truck who wouldn’t get to our apartment until we were off to school. My mother did her shopping early afternoon when her apartment chores were done.
Although the hundreds of food stores she patronized were close by and packed closely together, shopping, by virtue of who you met while walking, was an event that took hours. Everyone had gossip for you or questions to ask of you that would be the gossip to pass on to the next neighbor. Despite the hours on the street, mom always needed one more item for dinner and one of us would be chosen to go for it. And still later, still before dinner, the hot bread would come out at 4.00pm and another of us went for that.
Breakfast and lunch were good meals but usually eaten on the run. Dinnertime was where my mother shined. Mom liked routine.
Monday nights we had chicken soup. A kosher chicken house on Fulton Street provided amazingly delicious and firmly-textured chickens. You entered a store lined with cages, front to back, floor to ceiling, with sawdust thickly strewn all over the floor to catch any splashed blood from the slit necks of the just-butchered birds. The cackling of 200 protesting chickens filled the air.
My mother would open the cages and feel the chicken breasts. (Occasionally in her hunt for the right bird she’d find, and keep, a freshly-laid egg, the found a fit subject of conversation back home.) If the breasts were fat enough for her, she’d call the man over who would, by its feet, pull the selected bird from its cage, walk it to the butchering section, hang it by its feet to an overhead hook, and casually slit its throat. “Quick and painless,” he said. (Maybe. I’d rather go in my sleep.) After the bird bled out, the limp chicken went to a machine with both ring-shaped rubber fingers spinning at high speeds that defeathered the bird and spinning ball-shaped fingers which gently removed the fluff. Then the butcher cut the chicken up as my mother instructed him and wrapped it in brown paper. You carried it home still warm.
Tuesday nights we had pasta and the left-over gravy from Sunday, a little thicker than optimum, with less of a meat selection, but serviceable.
Wednesday and Saturday nights were variable. Some choices were pork chops, vinegar peppers, and potatoes, roasted chicken, stuffed bell peppers, and potatoes, chicken cacciatore with potatoes, or Minestra, a green and bean pot flavored with the fatty remnants of the prosciutto leg that you begged from the grocer. You begged, not to get it free, but to get in the queue waiting for his next remnant. You begged because demand exceeded supply. And then you paid. Believe me when I say that my mother’s version of any of these dishes were better than anyone else’s on earth. And beyond. She had taste buds that shamed all other cooks, the James Bond of the kitchen: nobody does it better.
Thursday nights were often the worst night of the week: Pasta and Gravy for the third time from the same pot. Remember that we’re still talking about the gravy made on Sunday. Not much gravy left and the bit of remaining meat was often enhanced by poaching a half dozen eggs in the gravy. Never really enjoyed those eggs. You ate them because you were hungry and that’s all there was.
Friday was fish day. As we were all Catholics, we turned the fish store into a madhouse. We poorer Italians chose the less expensive species depending on our cooking skills to make dinner desirable. From my mother’s kitchen came a dozen recipes for squid, from stuffed squid in a wonderful fish gravy to fried calamari, now as omnipresent and American as pizza or spaghetti and meatballs. Some Fridays my mother made pizza. She’d buy the dough from the bakery, roll it out into a baker’s sheet, sauce and cheese it and then slide it into the oven. We loved it. We always made ice cream sodas after pizza.
All over the North End, Sunday was the grand holiday meal and the neighborhood was permeated with the smells of meatballs frying and gravies simmering. I say meatballs but the Gravy always included a pork butt and/or a beef roast and/or Italian sausages, chicken feet, or pig’s feet, or whatever the butcher had available. Usually the pasta was from a box; sometimes my mother made the pasta fresh. Our favorites were stuffed pastas, lasagna or ravioli and potato gnocchi. Whatever she made was spectacular.
Italian and French homes depend on the local patisserie for dessert. But pastries were very expensive for us. We had them on holidays. We relished them. We didn’t have guns. Given the cost, we rarely had cannoli.
On the other hand, there were negatives.
Neither parent ever came to school or to school events. We accepted that as the norm.
My mother never read to us. No one ever read to her. We accepted that as the norm.
We had no manners, never showed signs of affection, never complimented each other, never said Goodnight. We accepted that behavior as the norm.
On her good days my mother was only anxious or nervous and so, reasonable to be around; but she was often high-strung, reacting in extreme ways to routine and extreme issues. Sometimes there was little money to buy food for dinner; weekly my father went on a two-day drunken binge. At the most intense moments during those extreme times, as a child, you wished your parents would disappear.
Both my parents came from parents who in Italy were terribly treated peasants deliberately kept impoverished and ignorant by landlords and aristocracy. Some of these imposed Italian-peasant traditions brought over from the old world might better have been left behind. No one would have missed them. No one would have said, Ah, those Old World ways.
Fortunately, America provides such families the opportunities to advance. Unfortunately, it takes some families longer to learn than others.
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It’s Sunday, April 11, 2021
Welcome to the 1073rd consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
The sidewalk on Fillmore Street
in Pacific Heights, looking north from Bush Street
View author information
Public Domain
File:Fillmore-sidewalk-1.jpg
Uploaded: 19 July 2005
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2.0 Commentary
During the summer a cooling sea breeze over the city keeps the too-hot temperatures down.
In early April, however, with temperatures just above fifty, the cooling sea breeze prevents us from wearing summerish outfits.
Sea breezes not so welcome.
Biden works as a statesman whose ideas transcend the politician’s goal of staying in power. He looks at the country as it must be in the coming twenty years and works to that end.
Biden works as a politician. He looks at the country and sees what the Democratic Party needs to strengthen their hold on the government and works to that end.
His infrastructure-rebuilding, jobs-creation package is perfectly cast for our nation’s long-term health as well as to win the mid-term elections for the Democrats.
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3.0 Reading and Writing Events
3.1 Sacco and Vanzetti
We are continuing to move forward towards our goal.
We made progress on Friday in dealings with other groups and getting a license to use the art required for ur memorial.
3.2 Conflicted
Am staying on schedule with the manuscript.
July 4th is my ‘shoot for’ date.
3.3 Storyworth
This is an application that my daughter bought me as a Christmas present.
Every week I am sent a question about my life.
The answers are mailed out to a list of people that Kat has provided.
At the end of the year I get a hard copy of the book.
I should finish the piece on my mother by Friday night.
3.4 Blog
No wriggle room here.
Every day requires its own effort.
On Sunday, I got an early start and was mostly done before I went off to the café.
3.5 Modernism and Existentialism
Online literature and writing classes for middle schoolers through adults.
Find community in a fun, dynamic learning environment and become a better reader.
It’s my granddaughter’s class. I’ve enrolled in the class on Modernism and Existentialism.
I must shine.
3.8 Trip to San Jose
I got some good ideas from friends.
I will research them.
4.0 Chuckles/Thoughts
“Never put off till tomorrow what
may be done day after tomorrow just as well.”
~Mark Twain
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from one of everyone’s favorite person, Colleen G from RoomtoWrite.
Ohhh . . . San Francisco! Love that.
We went there for our honeymoon nearly 20 years ago, but it's a great city.
The restaurants were great and we stayed at the Fairmont which had a really yummy and fun tiki restaurant complete with stage for the band in the middle that would actually float out to the middle while they played. Must have been to keep drunk super-fans away--haha:) It was great.
I'm not a big museum person, so I trust you have that covered and can't offer anything more there--but do not miss a trip to Ghirdelli's and definitely order a vanilla milkshake and sit by the fountain and enjoy people watching!! Yum.
Also, the sea lions at the pier. They are so fun to just watch as they shove each other off and the fattest one wins!:)
Ride the trolley--of course. Drink the wine and thumb a ride to the Muir Woods. Amazing. Also Alcatraz was a lot of fun and such interesting history.
Looking forward to a time when I return there.
Have a good time and stay healthy.
Cheers,
Colleen:)
Blog Meister responds: You should work for the Chamber of Commerce! You make it sound so good.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Thursday night I enjoyed a dry-aged steak with some leftover store-bought vegetables.
I drank half of a delicious bottle of Traducion H Gran Reserva 2010 Rioja.
An altogether delicious meal with very little effort.
Watched more the “Restaurant,” an excellent Swedish drama.
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11.0 Thumbnails
Though its boundaries are not clearly-defined, it is usually considered to be the subset of the Western Addition neighborhood and is roughly bordered by Van Ness Avenue on the east, Divisadero Street on the west, Geary Boulevard on the north, and Grove Street on the south.
These delineations are approximate and there are certain irregularities in the geographic shape of the neighborhood; for instance, the Westside Housing Projects are generally considered to be part of the Fillmore District, even though they are located a block west of Divisadero and a block north of Geary.
The community also extends south of Grove St. at several points. Fillmore Street, from which the district gets its name, is the main north-south thoroughfare running through the center of the district.
The area east of Fillmore St. is locally referred to as Downtown Fillmore, while the area to the west of Fillmore is known by many locals as Uptown Fillmore.
Some definitions, particularly older ones, include Hayes Valley, Japantown, and what is now known as North of Panhandle as part of the district and extend the western border further. However, redevelopment — for example, that which followed the Loma Prieta earthquake and the collapse of the Central Freeway — has made these areas more independent and distinct.
In addition, the area centered on Fillmore Street to the north of Geary had long been uniformly known as Upper Fillmore, but rising property values in the 1980s and 1990s severely weakened its ties to the largely working-class Fillmore District.
Instead, it became increasingly tied to the extremely wealthy Pacific Heights neighborhood to the north.
This change in socio-economic identity has caused the Upper Fillmore to be commonly called "Lower Pacific Heights" in recent times, especially by its non-native residents.
Overall, most locals agree that the Fillmore has been steadily shrinking for several decades.
The Fillmore is almost entirely in San Francisco's fifth supervisorial district, with a small sliver on the district's eastern edge in District 3.
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