Text 17145, 64 rader
Skriven 2011-10-27 12:30:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
     Kommentar till en text av DAVE DRUM
Ärende: the heater 114
======================
 DD> My opinions on professional sports (other than
 DD> Motor-sports) are well known in these precincts.

You make an exception for NASCAR. I make one for baseball,
which for me has a beauty that none of the other ball sports
have (tennis can be quite exciting, though).

 I am currently
 DD> rooting for weather cold enough for the final game or two that when
 DD> Albert smacks a line drive home run and the announcer calls it a
 DD> "frozen rope" he will be speaking literally.

We got pretty close to that wish. Anyhow, the game was postponed
until tonight at least. Maybe we can hope for tornadoes or a
plague of locusts?

 -=> Dave Drum said to Ruth Haffly <=-

 DD> A good Chinese mustard can give you the hiccups if you aren't ready
 DD> for it. And sometimes if you are.  Bv)=
 RH> Just a tiny bit, maybe dip the tines of a fork into the jar, wipe them
 RH> off against the jar and then only put the barest breath on whatever
 RH> you're eating. Then be prepared for a major heat rush. (G) It blends in
 RH> with some foods; others, it really stands out and gives you kick in the
 RH> belly.

Isaac Asimov used to brag about putting a teaspoon of hot
mustard into a dinner of fried rice. I wondered what sort of
man he was who had to brag about feats of dining derring do
... and what sort of palate and friends he had to consider a
teaspoon a big deal.

==

I took my brother to Sabai Sabai, a Thai place that insinuated
itself into the Washingtonian's top 100 restaurants for 2011.

We had spicy wings, where were sort of medium mild, with a
few bits of hot pepper among the cashews, galanga, and lemon
grass - not enough to completely disguise the not quite fresh
but not quite rancid nature of the wings, and Crying Tiger,
which is a stir-fried beef with a quite spicy fish sauce based
dip. By the end of this, Jonathan was snuffling and had a pile
of dirty napkins beside him. Then larb, quite mild, made with
cooked chicken (I of course prefer spicy, made with raw beef),
which was okay, the chicken being fresher, but with bits of
gristle (yay, thought I) and skin (YAY, thought I) - it had
minimal amounts of heat, lime, and fish sauce (boo, thought I)
and "basil pork crisp," the most praised dish on the menu,
thin slices of pig belly, deep-fried hard, in a sugar, garlic,
cilantro, fish sauce, soy, basil, galanga, lemon grass, bird
pepper sauce, pretty good though hard rather than crisp and
pretty hot. Jonathan called the waiter over every five minutes
or so asking for more napkins and more water. Later, at the
house, he remarked that I hadn't broken a sweat nor blown my
nose once during the meal (nor had any water, for that matter,
just a couple Sam Octoberfests, which go great with Asian food).
I said, well, I was used to it. No, he said, that's because
you're a MAN and I'm a BOY. Okay, whatever floats your boat,
I said. No reasoning with this 38-year-old boy, and if I
said anything more I would have fallen into the "do I look
fat" trap I just mentioned to Nancy.
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