Scribe-ls

Anyone who grew up in the Denver area knows Taco House.  I think we're down to two of 'em, south Federal near Alameda and north Wadsworth near Colfax.  If you grew up modestly, Taco House was a family night out.  We'd dress up a little bit and pile in the car to go to this 'real restaurant.'  The rule was:  if you're going where someone waits on you, you dress up and behave nicely. 

No matter that then as now, Taco House was completely lacking in pretention.  Hard floors, bare booths and tables, paper napkins, cheap flatware and plastic drinkware.  There might be a decoration or two, a sombrero and some maracas, on the wall, but no ferns or objets d'art.  What was there, though, were "people next door" types working and dining surounded by reassuring cleanliness.  A menu of what was then exotic Mexican dishes such as tamales, enchiladas, tacos and burritos rounded out with rice and beans came priced at levels even Dad could accept.  The food arrived hot, fresh and flavorful.  It was ever so slightly greasy and it was good, being not too spicy or too bland.  Best of all, the waitress was johnny-on-the spot with chips and hot sauce (this was pre-"salsa" days) and very attentive to every detail.  You could get a whole meal for a bargain  at $2.50. 

I stopped in recently at the Wadsworth location for a quick, very affordable bite that didn't come out of a fryer.  It hasn't changed a bit, except the meal with a small drink is now $5, and that is a good thing.  We don't need attitude or contrived ambiance every moment, with a price-tag to match.  Sometimes we just need to eat and to be and that is the feel there.  That is is why I love Taco House. 

Is anybody else feeling the bite this summer concert season?  I have a feeling some are....

I feel like very little is in reach with all the pressures right now.  The price of everything is going up, up, up and the family business is suffering a recession to boot because clients are scared to spend money.  (Thank goodness one of us has a job outside!)  So, concerts, which after fees, a couple of pops and parking rarely come in for less than $100 for two people, are out of the question for the time being unless a really big deal hits the scene. 

Hey, but one did; a particular fast food chain (locally based, hint, hint) is running a great deal in which you buy a certain meal package and take the receipt to get a free concert ticket to some good shows.  The ad was in the Denver Post on May 31.  For a music-lover like me, it's a joyful thing that brought tears to my eyes.  Maybe it won't be such a dud summer after all...and maybe musicians won't be facing that awful demon of near-empty venues.  And maybe I'll rethink my snotty attitude toward fast food...

Max Wagner has once again proved to be a great producer in putting on the Estes Park Jazz Fest (in conjunction with the Art Walk).  He gives attendees at the free outdoor festival May 17 and 18 a good sampler of the one true American art form: jazz music in many of its varieties. 

Saturday started off with the cool trad tones of the Estes Park Big Band and man, it swung.  Next up were Brad Goode and the Ken Walker Trio shaking it up with some modern in amongst the swinging melodies.  For a traddie like me, some of it was a little out there, but hey, you've gotta keep your ears open and let the music in.  The Air Force Falconaires played tight trad and swing jazz with acumen and the vocals were gritty and sweet.  Topping off the day with panache were George Whitesell and His All-Stars with Jill Watkins performing largely jump and blues to rattle the rocky surrounds.  Watkins can sing it like nobody can, with outstanding projection and a whole lotta soul.  Anybody who didn't have a good time listening to George's crew has no-one to blame but themself. 

Sunday the 18th has a whole new lineup with the smooth crooner and reedsman Max Wagner joining the Ken Walker Trio to start the day at noon in good jazz form.  The OTones Brass Band comes next with a mixed-up New Orleans sound, then Javon Jackson and the iconic Les McCann, finishing with The Dexter Payne Quintet with Derek Banach.  See this link for a real run-down:  http://estesparkcvb.com/events.cfm?mode=cat_overview&l
isting_cat_id=1440. 

I can't think of a better way to spend a warm, sunny day in May. 

Wanna go to Mars?  hehehe  Visit:

http://www.google.com/virgle/index.html

This has to be the best thought out joke!  It's a good one I'll remember for years to come.

Don't sweat the price of pizza!   Make your own!  It's more healthful and cheaper by far.  You can freeze the dough and the sauce, buy cheese in bulk and get creative with the toppings.

It's easy!  Here's how:

Dough for 2 Big Pizzas

Proof 2 tablespoons rapid-rising yeast in 1/2 cup hot tap water with a spoonful of sugar or honey.  You mix it all up and let it set until foamy.

Then stir in 1 tablespoon of salt, 1/3 cup of olive (or other cooking) oil, 1-1/2 cup warm water and 1 cup of unsifted white flour until it's smooth.

Now the fun begins - stir in enough flour a half cup at a time (you can use up to 1 cup of whole wheat flour at this stage).  As the dough becomes thicker and thicker, it's easier to just wash those hands, take off the rings and get your hands right into it.  What you're looking for is a dough that's thick enough to be slightly springy but soft enough to not shrink too much from whatever shape you make it.  Knead it at least another two minutes after the right consistency is reached.

If you like a really chewy crust you can oil the same bowl you mixed in, put the dough ball in it, cover lightly with waxed paper and let it rise away from drafts until double in size (about 45 minutes).  Or, you can immediately divide the dough into two and roll out your crusts one at a time on a moderately floured clean board or countertop.  Transfer to a pizza stone or large side-less cookie sheet either oiled or sprinkled with a handful of corn meal by folding lightly into quarters.  Pinch up the edge with your forefinger and thumb, add sauce, cheese, additional fresh herbs and toppings and bake at 450 degrees in the middle of the oven until the edges are darkly golden, but the cheese isn't. That's roughly 15-20 minutes.

You can easily multiply this recipe and freeze individual dough balls wrapped in freezer paper.  Thaw them out in the fridge beginning about 24 hours before you need them by unwrapping and placing in an oiled bowl and covering with waxed paper.

...what you want my sauce, too?  No Ragu for you, huh?  sheesh...credit really goes to Trios of Boston's cookbook for this one...

Red Sauce for 2 Big Pizzas

Sautee 1 tablespoon of crushed garlic in a skim of olive oil in a 2-quart saucepan until it's slightly browned.

Add:

1 28 ounce can of good quality crushed tomatoes (or peel and crush 6 large tomatoes of your own if you know the trick)

1 tablespoon of dried basil leaves or one bunch of chopped fresh basil

1/2 teaspoon salt (optional)

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper (canned is fine, really, but freshly ground is zingier)

That's it.  Simmer it for at least a half hour and cool to lukewarm before using on pizza.  It's good on pasta, too.  You can add other herbs, onions, etc., as you wish.  This is the best basic sauce for starting all kinds of good things.

This sauce can also be cooked in quantity using the huge cans of crushed tomatoes from the warehouse store.  The trick is to only increase garlic, herbs, salt and pepper by about 2/3 for each additional 28 ounces of tomatoes.  (It's amazing how those things get really disproportionately strong in large quantities.)  Freeze by two or three cup batches in re-usable bowls for the most utility.

When in Memphis for any useful amount of time, one must venture to that shrine of Americana:  Graceland, home of Elvis.  Nestled in a declining outlying area of Memphis, the Graceland complex indeed embodies American-ness.  You've two or three blocks worth of fascination with a musically-inclined celebrity (who may have been the most handsome man to ever live) in the form of greasy-spoon cafes, souvenir shops ranging from mega-cheesy to attitude-ambitious, a theme hotel, over-priced refreshments, and for-profit museums centered on the King of Rock.  For some reason, tourist-trap averse as I am, all this seemed right as a monument to the dirt-poor kid who became known for good-natured sparkle and glam as well as a heart-melting voice.  I got a real kick out of it even if it's a ridiculous $25 per person for the basic tour plus $20 in taxi fare!

We got to the Graceland ticket window prior to opening time (shush!), so wandered down to the Rock n Roll Cafe for a decent little pancake breakfast in perhaps the kitschy-est 50s-diner Elvis-themed place I've ever been.  For $5 a person, not bad, but watch out for the coffee - they charge for each refill!  Ouch!

Anyway, touring Graceland is a highly-controlled activity.  No hordes walking up to the door at their own pace here.  You get your ticket and wait for a short bus to whisk you up the hill across Elvis Presley Boulevard to the house at the appointed time.  While boarding the bus, you're issued a set of headphones and a player.  If you want to know anything about the place at all, you must wear them.  The plentiful staffers hardly speak except to remind you to not cross the velvet ropes, not use flash, not record and to please put your headphones back on so you don't miss any of the magic.   

The house itself isn't that big by today's standards.  It has a charming street appeal, however, and the rolling, grassy grounds are lovely.  Inside, it's like a time-warp back to the haute home fashion of the mid-1970s, with shag carpets, lots of glam, glitz and color, except in the all-white parlor which I know of having been copied by at least one Denverite (may Babs rest in peace).  I guffawed at the dark, clunky wood and leather of the Jungle Room and freaked out over the meadow-green shag carpet on the walls of a basement stairway.  The yellow-formica and black leather TV room with the monkey statue on the glass coffee table was also a memorable space. 

Outside, I was struck by the humble swingset Elvis had provided Lisa Marie.  I had friends as a kid whose grandma had given them one almost exactly the same.  The racquetball building features a room where Elvis plunked his last tune on a spinet.  That was touching - Elvis was my first crush after all.  The horse pasture, complete with a palomino (Elvis favored one) was pretty.  I marveled how tiny the swimming pool is!  The memorial garden is a meticulously maintained family plot, graced with many flowers and an eternal flame over Elvis' grave.  I sniffled a bit in spite of myself at this open display of how Elvis treasured his family. 

You can't help but feel while walking through the rooms of Graceland that Elvis was indeed a good man who just didn't know what to do with the massive riches and fame that life gave him.  You can see the fun while yet you feel the pervading loneliness lingering about the place.  Because of that, it's awe-inspiring.  Rest well, dear Elvis, my crush still stands. 

Well, geez.  My 22-year old burst my flashback bubble when I excitedly related that I'd bought Laser Floyd tickets for the WHOLE FAMILY!  Woohoo! 

To quote him:  "What did you do that for?  I don't want to go to that, can you return them for Tool?" 

Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy!  C'mon now kiddos.  Get with it!  Laser shows were de rigeur in the mid-to-late 70s if you were to be anything resembling hip.  My first real date was to Laserium at the Museum of Natural History in City Park. 

To answer his question, nope.  Buy 'em yourself.  I'll find enthusiastic laser concert goers to join me.  Besides, you saw how Ozzfest traumatized me.  Hmph!

I love to travel.  Visiting different places and walking around outside the official tourist zones is one of the best educations you can get and I consider myself lucky to be able to do it.  You find that people are basically the same in their differentness, and you run into random kindnesses that restore your faith in humans.  Except at airports.

Recently, there appeared an article in some one of Denver's papers about ten annoying things to not do when traveling by air.  I really took exception to it because it's so endorsing the current sourpuss trend.  Airports seem to be a gathering place for these misguided types. 

One of the big ballyhoos is to please be ready at security - shoes off, laptop out, yadayada.  I've observed while in line at security, great people-watching venue that it is, well-dressed frantics invade the personal space of parents, old people and obvious infrequent travelers while ejecting loud sighs of exasperation and sometimes even rude little remarks. My gosh, they practically push those who aren't moving quickly enough.  The result is usually that the flustered or befuddled person ends up being more so and taking even longer, not to mention looking more than a little crestfallen. 

I've seen grown men in business suits all but knock over over children well out of the way of the luggage carousel because they obviously consider themselves and their needs too important to walk five feet around to approach or leave it.  Do they use polite words, at least?  No, yet they'll be the most vocal in the waiting area or on the airplane in complaining about "rude children."  ha!

I've been nearly mowed down myself while walking at my own steady pace to the parking shuttle or down the concourse.  No warning or apology is ever offered by these puffed-up, pinched-face souls and I find myself hoping my laptop case some day gets tangled in their legs. 

Another item in the article that really galled me was the admonition about bringing food on board because the aroma might bother some weak nelly.  My goodness but there's a whole population that either needs to grow a skin or demand that airports and airlines make separate provision for their paltriness.  Just imagine how much nicer it'd be to travel if the sourpusses were confined to their own security lines, gates, luggage carousels and airplanes.  The rest of us might actually have a pleasant airport experience and the airlines might have a shot at being in the black again!

The lovely blue package jumped out at me in the Kmart line:  Hershey's Kiss Truffles!  At 5 pieces for 99 cents, they seemed a bit precious for Hershey's (yeah, I can be a bit of a chocolate snob), but well, you never know, so I bought a pack and stuffed it in my handbag.  After forgetting it for two days I was joyful in finding it and really anticipated at least a modestly good, creamy truffle-like treat.  The good news first:  the outside chocolate is creamier and richer than the usual Hershey's milk chocolate.  The bad news:  the truffle filling inside was the consistency of chalk and not well-flavored.  Phooey.  What a let-down.  I won't buy those again.

I know this list will grow.  The more things change the more they remain the same, and reverse.  Maybe some other folks will have some additions.  I'm sure I'm not the only middle-ager whose head is spinning.

1.  Overheard in a shopping center parking lot, from a scruffy kid in the back of an older pickup truck:  Daddy, Daddy!  Starbucks!  Can we have Starbucks?  Pleeease?  (Whatever happened to: Daddy, Dairy Queen!  Can we have Dairy Queen?  Pleease?  Man, they need to redirect the marketing.)

Color me amused.  John Malkovich explores and expands on the character of a man who led a long, successful con in which he lived quite a spectacular adventure misrepresenting himself as Stanley Kubrick, the famous and eccentric film director.  The plot is outrageously funny in its preposterousness while it's also outrageously sad that people are so anxious to cuddle up to fame that they lose hold of common sense.  How simple the swindle when the marks are enthralled by the romance of fame!  To feel so special that a self-proclaimed, yet generally obscure, rich and famous person actually chose you as an associate/lover/business partner/prodigy!  To feel so bleak when the smoke clears and the mirrors break, leaving you with embarrassment and disappointment along with empty heart or pockets. 

Such a sly, clever little movie.  It provokes some self-examination as well as snickers and giggles.  The story involves gay men, heavy drinking and criminal behavior.  Keep this one for a parents' private viewing. 

Samuel Jackson and Christina Ricci in Black Snake Moan create one of, if not the, best movies ever made.  As a messed-in-the-head trailer trash strumpet named Rae, Ricci artfully makes the viewer detest her while pitying her.  Even as her devoted boyfriend drives away to a much-anticipated chance at a way out of hillbilly hell via the military, she writhes torturedly in the grips of an uncontrollable sexual impulse that she simply must act upon.  The viewer soon learns she is the town toy, not above casually mooching some money after the event.  Rae's seriously out of control, letting herself be used and abused by any and all randy males while working on slow suicide by bottle and pill. 

Needless to say, it's shocking and disturbing.  While on the surface portraying Rae as one who loves, loves, loves her tawdry behaviors,  Ricci masterfully conveys a deep disturbance of unresolved sorrow beneath the sly, slimy, bad-girl surface.  That's probably the only reason the movie lasted more than 5 minutes at my house.  You could call the sex scenes soft porn, but they're an integral part of the story.  The graphicness is intentended to slam the viewer in the gut -- how and why is she like this? 

Samuel Jackson is Lazarus, a name not chosen idly by the writer to grace an aging and dejected blues man turned farmer.  His wife makes a very public exit from the marriage and he is devastated, a dead man walking, you might say.  Then fate intervenes in the form of an unconscious and badly beaten Rae left for dead on the country road he lives on. Now Lazarus has a purpose to enliven him:  curing Rae of her chronic cough, and upon realization of them, of the power of her demons. 

It isn't long after regaining consciousness and some bit of health that Rae attempts to seduce the lonely old man - it's long been her ticket to whatever she wanted, why would it be different now?  Lazarus is sorely tempted (Rae is half naked and well-built), but doesn't give in, opting instead to physically restrain the wickedly willful Rae and teach her to become a better person.  It's not an easy undertaking, a heroic battle of wills bespeaking all human resistance to change even when it stops the hurt.  In the process of bringing Rae back to the light, Lazarus is given new life - he picks up the guitar again and rolls out some belly-melting blues and finds a good woman of the town to love. 

It's a wonderfully moving movie with a lot to say and some out of this world music to boot.  This is not one for children or prissy people - there's nudity, rough language and rough sex.  There's also a thoughtful script with solid premises.  The end is more Euro than American, not exactly happy, but not tragic either and leaving the viewer to sort out the ever after.  This is one I'll definitely buy.

The Frisco Barbecue Cookoff and Festival this weekend (June 16-17) is a delicious diversion!  Get there early and you'll park right around the corner and get tickets and food without waiting in line.  The food ranges from $1 for a deep-fried pickle - a Southern treat not found often around here - to $6 or $7 for a full meal. It happens annually, so if you miss this year, put it on the calendar for next!  

Food choices range from the pickle and barbecue choices, of course, to funnel cakes, mini doughnuts with sticky sweet dips and grilled bananas with sundae toppings (a real treat you must not miss).  The best bet is to sample, sample, sample.  Samples of the meats can be a neat little nibble in a portion cup or on a stick, or a half-serving suitable for sharing.  Some, like the Kansas City team's pulled pork offering (their name escapes me) near 3rd and Main, are barbecue at its best - tender, rich, juicy meat and a slightly sweet, spicy-tangy tomato-based sauce and others, like the cajun sausage on a stick with an uneventful sauce, are barbecue you wish you'd never met.  One of the winning entries consisted of pulled pork with a fruit-based sauce which was okay, but just not what I like.  Apparently, the judges did.  KC style is definitely where it's at to my palate.

Another grand taste, and one of the pricier at $5, was the Key-style shrimp 'n' sausage on a stick with a slightly-overpowering sauce served up by the Golden Toad team.  I'll definitely do these at home with a honey, jalapeno and lime sauce. 

We found another tasty treat, too, in the grilled jalapeno poppers.  Maybe I don't get out much, but these little half-shells with a cream cheese mixture inside and a bacon blanket outside were a new marvel and another "do at home" possibility.  I might even take it a step further and put a shrimp or brazil nut inside. 

The mini doughnuts were a disappointment, tasting suspiciously like under-flavored funnel cake batter cooked in a doughnut-like shape.  Throw some sugar and spice in the mix and they'd be dandy, though.

The grilled bananas...what can I say?  They're heavenly.  A half banana is cut lengthwise, rubbed down with brown sugar and grilled until the skin turns black (but not burnt), then served up skin and all with whipped cream, chocolate and cherries.  Warm, gooey, sweet and almost good for ya!

My husband I found $25 worth of tickets for both of us to be plenty unless you really want to gorge yourself.  We bought far too many tickets at any rate, but chose not to torture our palates with the usual cheap beer offerings, so had lots of tickets to sell off at a discount on the way out.  The local restaurants also get in on the fun, most of them accepting the tickets.  That was a huge point of gratuity for us when coffee time hit in mid-afternoon. 

This is one of the best-organized street festivals I've attended, not that I'm huge on that venue. Booths were lined up along either side of Main Street, with a broad path dotted with lots of trash receptacles and picnic tables between.  Sidewalks "behind the shuffle" were open, so it was easy to access the local shops or just take a break from "crowd swimming."  Low-key amusements were at the mountain-end of Main, for both kids and big kids, and the cutest little pig race played out every two hours about a block away.  Live trad bluegrass and DJ'd rock gave it all a slightly rowdy air.  There were ticket booths located conveniently throughout and two ample restroom stations on side streets. 

When you go, make sure you take and drink water and wear some sunscreen because the white-hot mountain sun is brutal.  Ice cold bottled water is sold for $1, as are sodas, but I'm far too cheap to buy water.  A quart canteen each is usually plenty.  There were some sunscreen freebies but  Miss Crispy here ignored them and has future new freckles as a souvenir.

I like this because you don't use a pan to cook the 'taters - less cleanup!  It's got a slight horseradish nippiness different from the vinegariness you usually get. 

Wash and pat dry 3 baking potatoes.  Take a meat fork and poke holes all over each.

Microwave the potatoes until firm-done then cool them off.

Boil 4 large eggs until hard-boiled (I swear by the Eggzact Egg Timer available at Bed Bath and Beyond and other good utensils sections), then cool with ice and water or refrigerate overnight. 

Chop half a sweet yellow onion and three tall stems of celery.  (If you don't like onion try 3 chopped shallots or a half cup of snipped chives.  Flavor monsters might like all three!)

Cut each potato in half lengthwise, score into cubes inside the skin, then rim out with a soup spoon into a 2 quart bowl.  Peel and dice the eggs into the bowl.  Add the veggies and toss gently.  The potatoes will be a little mushy, but not to worry. 

In a quart bowl, mix 1 cup mayonnaise, 1/4 cup horseradish sauce, and 2 tablespoons yellow mustard with 1/4 teaspoon black pepper, 1 tablespoon water, and a few shakes of salt.  Mix well, then pour over the potatoes mixture.  Stir gently until all the potatoes and veggies are coated, transfer to your serving bowl and serve or refrigerate.  This is enough side-dish for 6 people unless you're feeding lumberjacks.