So I’ve been playing with spices and sprucing things up a little, as I’ve never much been into heavy spices in recipes, and I think that this recipe works out nicely- Not blazing and indiscriminately hot, but rather a subtler, more flavorful spice, with a little heat for fun. I emulated Middle Eastern and Caribbean cooking, picking a little from Jamacian jerk recipes, while adding what seems like good things to it. I’m sure there’s some other great things that can be thrown into this one, a little saffron powder, smoked salt, things like that. This is a really great recipe to play with and just have fun!

I named this recipe for fun for one of my favorite actors, John Barrowman. He’s a super talented British actor, but spent his formative years and was raised right close to me in Joliet, Illinois. He still visits sometimes, and I hope to bump into him on the street, or see a live performance here in Chicago! Wouldn’t that be so exciting?! Anyhow, this recipe is spicy and beeeefy (if you wish) like Mr. Barrowman. (heheh!) He also has a new CD of showtune covers coming out in just a few days, on March 1, 2010. He’s also playing a guest role in the last six episodes of this season’s Desperate Housewives on this side of the ocean, too! I also have to gush over the cufflinks made by Ian Flaherty that he’s chosen for his site- They’re all so wonderful!

Anyhow! After the jump, Onwards with the recipe!

Supplies: Bamboo skewers, Olive oil, Cast iron skillet or cookie sheet, lightly oiled.

Into The Meat:
1 to 1.25 pound of ground meat (Beef, Turkey, Chicken, Pork, Tofu substitute)
3 large cloves of garlic, microplaned or minced
1 tablespoon powdered Ginger
18 drops Tabasco
1/4 teaspoon Mustard Powder (optional)
1/2 teaspoon Cayenne Pepper
1/2 teaspoon Salt
1/4 teaspoon Pepper
1/4 cup, minced Onion (Preferably sweet! I like the purple ones, or even better, Vidalia onions if they’re in season.)

Note! If you’re leaning closer to a pound of meat, you might have some issues with the meatballs holding together for you. That’s fine! Just add an egg, and that will help to bind it together for you.

Over the top:
Couple dashes of Soy Sauce
3 or 4 Lemon wedges (optional, but an excellent touch!)
Saffron Flowers, red chili pepper, any suitable garnishing spice. Not necessary, of course.

In-between: Green pepper, onion chunks (if you do this, cut out the onion in the meat) Whatever you like on your kabobs, really! I usually just use one or two kinds of vegetables, these get pretty meaty!

Preparation: Pretty straightforward. Just mix up the spices and meat, make little meatballs, and slide them onto the skewers. You’re bright, you can do it

On the side: Wrap up a piece of naan or pita bread in foil, with a thin coat of butter on a side, throw it in the oven at 350 degrees F for about three minutes. A dollop of plain yogurt goes very nicely as well, and helps to salvage over-cooked and dry meat.

Vegetarian notes: I am quite sure that there’s an excellent meat substitute out there for this recipe, and it seems an easy and delicious replacement.

… bake at 350, 25 minutes, and will feed two in a big way, or four light eaters. There’s no need to flip them halfway through, either. Also, I like to put some slices of lemon on top, the juice helps to vary the flavor in a pleasant manner. I usually get about four kebab out of quantities like this. Enjoy!

Okay! Our beloved Lost is in the first half of the final season, and now some secrets are coming out. The numbers, part of the show’s lore since Season Two, have appeared in repeated forms throughout the entire show from there- The numbers are used to win the lottery, they are to be input so ‘the button’ can be pushed, and add up in some interesting ways. Now, it has been revealed that each ‘candidate’ has their own number, as referenced in both ‘The Numbers Cave” (06×04) and “The Lighthouse” (06×05), both pretty new additions to the storyline, as well as being a part of The Valenzetti Equation. Anyhow, here’s a few little bits of trivium for you:

4 John Locke

8 Hugo Reyes

15 James Ford (Sawyer)

16 Sayid Jarrah

23 Jack Shepard

42 Sun or Jin Kwon

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 added makes 108, the number of minutes that must pass before the button is pushed… 5×108= 540, the number of days indicated by The Dharma Initiative that crews are to be switched out of the Swan Station. Curious, no?

Also, 108 is the number of the man that is to come to help Jacob. A candidate or a hero? I guess we’ll have to keep watching!

And a few snaps for posterity!

SuperGreg! Numba One! (wikki-wokka-wheer-wheer-schratch-dj noises)

Hehehe. Neato.

It’s ugly, sugary, buttery tart mess, and it’s also absolutely amazing. Just.. take my word. Make it. Photo is an example of ‘ugly’, recipe courtesy of interwebs. A buttermilk dessert. It will kill you. This is ultimately your choice. We’ve been gobbling mounds of it like Robert Downy Jr.,  right off the tabletops and stairwells. We get bored, I guess.

3 eggs
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons flour, plus a little for dusting
1/2 cup melted butter
1 cup buttermilk (or 1 1/2 cups buttermilk for less sweet version)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 unbaked 9-inch pie shell

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
Beat eggs slightly and add sugar and flour. Then add melted butter and mix well. Add buttermilk and vanilla and mix.
Dust the unbaked pie shell with a little bit of flour. Pour batter into shell, and then sprinkle a little more flour on top.
Bake at 325 degrees until the custard is set, approximately 1 hour.

It’s easy, it’s ugly, utterly delicious, and it will kill you. Like most things in life, really.

Yeah, and Maggie sounds like a <I>bitch</i>!

The Betrothed

“You must choose between me and your cigar.”
–BREACH OF PROMISE CASE, CIRCA 1885.

Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.

We quarrelled about Havanas–we fought o’er a good cheroot,
And I knew she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.

Open the old cigar-box–let me consider a space;
In the soft blue veil of the vapour musing on Maggie’s face.

Maggie is pretty to look at–Maggie’s a loving lass,
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass.

There’s peace in a Larranaga, there’s calm in a Henry Clay;
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away–

Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and brown–
But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o’ the talk o’ the town!

Maggie, my wife at fifty–grey and dour and old–
With never another Maggie to purchase for love or gold!

And the light of Days that have Been the dark of the Days that Are,
And Love’s torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead cigar–

The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket–
With never a new one to light tho’ it’s charred and black to the socket!

Open the old cigar-box–let me consider a while.
Here is a mild Manila–there is a wifely smile.

Which is the better portion–bondage bought with a ring,
Or a harem of dusky beauties, fifty tied in a string?

Counsellors cunning and silent–comforters true and tried,
And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride?

Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes,
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close,

This will the fifty give me, asking nought in return,
With only a Suttee’s passion–to do their duty and burn.

This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,
Five times other fifties shall be my servants instead.

The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the Spanish Main,
When they hear my harem is empty will send me my brides again.

I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouths withal,
So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.

I will scent ‘em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides,
And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides.

For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between
The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o’ Teen.

And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear,
But I have been Priest of Cabanas a matter of seven year;

And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light
Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight.

And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie and I must prove,
But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o’-the-Wisp of Love.

Will it see me safe through my journey or leave me bogged in the mire?
Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire?

Open the old cigar-box–let me consider anew–
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you?

A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke.

Light me another Cuba–I hold to my first-sworn vows.
If Maggie will have no rival, I’ll have no Maggie for Spouse!

Look into his eyes.. is it redemption? Or is it.. DOOM?

Our new overloads await. Whoops.

The premise is simple: Take an old cell phone or pager, harvest the motor, and fix it up with a battery and slap it on a toothbrush. With a little planning, you can order the motors off the internet for about a buck a piece, Grab some dollar store toothbrushes, and find some cheap 3v coin cells, and you’re off to the races! It’s kinda fun to get a little herd of these guys together and run them all over the kitchen floor.. Or, go a little further and do a little anthropomorphizing. A favorite one of mine, and perhaps only one of two bristlebots I own anymore, has a pair of eyes, and little doom-hands flailing about over his little disky-body. Oh, just Look For Yourself.

And so, as it goes, I got Bored one day and put together one of my favorite Dumb Robots so far- The Flying Spaghetti Monster Bristlebot. I was touched by His Noodly Appendage, and the joy of the FSM was rained upon the world… That afternoon, the fimo flew, hot glue was glued, and the Noodly One was given an earthly body: Perched upon a 7,000 RPM motor with a die glued to it, prone to flying off and hitting one in the eye, given a seat upon a hairbrush.. truly,  a rather odd thing to see!

All five episodes, magically being shown at Chris’s house. No commercials, Exactly as shown during world premiere in Britain.

Saturday; July 11th, 2009 Time: Based on Consensus – Put aside five hours

Non-Alcoholic beverages & really good popcorn provided.

Well, you could have a go at that bottle of Chardonnay I have, and those two little bottle of Merlot. I’m never going to drink them, but they’ll desperately need a dusting. Send an email.

“It’s like rice cakes for Doctor Who fans”

Trailer after the tuna fiss and onwion wings.. jump..

July 4th the Fantastic Party at V&B's House.

Courtesy of Sprung Photography, fine photography for fine people.

(also hoarked without asking. I’m sure Ms. Sprung doesn’t mind.)

Which one is me? I’m the handsome little devil that can pull off wool dress slacks, suspenders, and white Adidas.

Not so bad...

Hey, someone’s second place at.. FROSTING! c’mon, c’mon, lick it, lick it.. *shakes rump like a 1987 Geo Metro* (slowly and clumsily, like a riding lawnmower)

Originally a comment on the Skirt Full of Fire blog, in response to a much better written article.

1. Marie Curie – Kicked ass droppin’ science when women weren’t ‘allowed’ in that club, has a still-radioactive journal, and gave her life for some of the greatest advances in science at the time. Curie? Fuck yeah.

2. William S. Burroughs – Have you ever read ‘Naked Lunch’? His writing was so taboo at the time, and fucking brilliant. He had the balls to do it, and do it he did.

3. Matthew Barney – ‘The Cremaster Cycle’ says it all.. him and Bjork do make the perfect freak couple.

4. Forrest P. Mims – Coined the term ‘Citizen Scientist’ and is regarded as one of the 50 greatest scientific minds living. What makes him a freak? He ignores the science money, openly doubts global warming, and does what he thinks will make the world a better place, while being careful not to let other’s money taint his work and direction. He suffers for this, but it’s great.