'Tis the Season

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to everyone this fine year. Ours was family-filled, food-enriched, and driving-heavy. I hope that this nice break finds everyone safe, healthy, and ready for a new year!

A Winter Wonderland

Snowy Helmet, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

Somehow, we end up scheduling our first snowboarding trip of the year as our big trip of the year. Three years ago, it was Whistler. Two years ago, it was Park City. This last year, we spent a couple weekends in Mammoth the first month out. This year, we started out with another big mountain, this time in the Colorado Rockies at the finest of resorts, Vail.

First off, I have to say that Vail is a great place for skiing. There are plenty of wide open runs, moguls, catwalks, lots of ways for skiers to enjoy themselves. Snowboarding is another matter altogether. The catwalks are so numerous that slagging through the flatlands is exhausting. The moguls are well constructed and maintained, but that just means snowboardings have to battle their way through the two-foot high bumps in a frustrating matter. After a first day spent dragging our boards behind us and hiking all over the mountain, we vowed to spend our second day on some runs more favorable to our limited skills.

After a night walking the Vail Village and partaking in an excellent dinner (in which I was served lamb bacon! bacon!), we crashed out and dreamt of the smooth snow that would await us the next day.

We were not disappointed.

The snow was smooth, dry, and buttery. I always say that each trip is another opportunity to improve and I think that we all experienced a bit on this trip. While Vail is a great resort and I enjoyed myself immensely, maybe the next time we're in Colorado we'll try another mountain to mix things up a bit.

Next up, perhaps a trip to Mammoth is in order...

Oh, and more pictures can be found here.

Dining Out

It's been pretty quiet around here, and I'm lacking with the updates since things have been in hyperdrive prior to our trip to the mountains, all I have to say for now is Happiness is Skin Cracklins and an Avocado Shake. 

Tasty.

Christmas in the Kingdom

Xmas Cheer, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

After over a year of absence, Grace and I returned to Disneyland. This wasn't just any time of year though, this is the Holiday season at Disneyland. I don't believe any other park does atmosphere this well, well aside from Knott's Scary Farm, but there's a palatable buzz in the air when you first set foot inside their gates. Obviously Main Street is lined with decorations, but it really is more than just holly and ivy, it's the staff dressed in Christmas colors, the non-generic, Disney-specific music, the cast of characters decked out in Christmas sweaters, and even the general aroma of the place. Just imagining the amount of work involved with decking the halls of the Magic Kingdom is staggering.

It was with much excitement though that we made it. After a full breakfast at the Original Pancake House we trolled a few blocks south and west to our destination. Lo and Behold, it wasn't that crowded at all. Which is quite a surprise given the holiday hype that abounds in their marketing. Yes, it abounds. There's a general Christmas assault on billboards, commercials, everywhere. What's more amazing is that the feeling comes off as sincere once you step inside. People are somehow friendlier and more helpful than usual. In a way, it's strange, but appealing.

We did manage to hit the new Finding Nemo submarine overhaul, which was a pretty cool integration with new technology and old, the revised Pirates of the Caribbean (now with more Johnny Depp), and the Jack Skellington infused Haunted Mansion. Space Mountain was lacking the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but was again as awesome as usual. Is it nostalgia that makes Disneyland this fun, or is it really that entertaining?

Nevertheless, it did inject me with a scant bit more Christmas spirit and did remind me that I do enjoy going there every now and then. Will I regain Annual Pass status? Who knows? What I do know is I will always be back.

If anything, I'm going back for a turkey leg and fries. Yee-haw.

Good Will Hrunting

The future of cinema was begat some time ago, with the filming and release of Stephen Spielberg's seminal Summer Blockbuster, Jurrasic Park.  Being the first of its kind, with fully realized computer generated effects, the movie was enthralling for the cinema audience and has had lasting effects among the entire industry to this day.  It could be argued that Pixar is the original pioneer, but this application of generated effects interacting with environment and actors was revolutionary.  You could say the film is the precursor to such modern fare as the Star Wars prequels and the Lord of the Rings trilogy.  Directors have managed to push things even further with the onset of these trilogies by exploring picture quality, generated backgrounds, and have managed to even squeeze pathos from motion capture generated characters.  It's no surprise then, that these movies are becoming more and more popular and now we have a new entry to the field in Beowulf.

This film is not Robert Zemeckis' first foray into the animated field.  The most high profile being "The Polar Express" starring a lithe representation of Tom Hanks as a conductor.  Personally, the onscreen look is a bit too hyper-real for me, but I have to say that what they've accomplished with Beowulf has made me somewhat of a believer. 

Completely computer animated, Beowulf is based on the epic poem, of course, but stars a heavy blend of powerful actors amid a grand guignol of monstrous adventure.  Ray Winestone is the titular hero, dispatched to dispose of Crispin Glover's well-animated and pathetically distraught monster, Grendel.  Seeking revenge, Angelina Jolie plays the character only known as Grendel's Mother.  Anthony Hopkins and Robin Wright-Penn round out the cast in fine fashion as royal stalwarts in the Danish tradition, with John Malkovich and Brendan Gleeson in supporting roles.  Each of these actors relish there lines and deliver them with both gravitas and brio, depending on the role.  Most effective, however, are the horrific action sequences.  The first appearance of Grendel assaults the view in a chokehold of limbs and blood-curdling screams and never releases its grip from then on.  I can only imagine what the experience was like in 3-D, but it must have been incredible seeing as the two-dimensional experience was enthralling.

My biggest complaint has to be the gratuitousness of it all.  From the mead-hall hedonism and overall gore to the enhancement of Ms. Jolie's terrifying seductress, the film oozes testosterone.  It could be a bigger complaint, but coming from an age in which such masculinity was rampant, it's not unfound.  This movie pulses with the beat of a taskmaster's drum from the opening scene to the somewhat blurry closing credits and here I am saying that we have not seen even the cusp of what technology can offer to the cinematic experience. 

Hail Beowulf!

Overall Score: 4 out of 5 stars.

Writings on Parade - Post Game Wrap

I promised a post-game wrap, and instead I post about sandwiches.  Not horrible, but I know it made me quite hungry.

Whatever, I figured I'd talk a little bit about "Drawn and Quartered" a bit, to try and talk myself through the process of what I consider to be a minor success and failure.  Here are the five parts in total:

Drawn and Quartered - Part 1
Drawn and Quartered - Part 2
Drawn and Quartered - Part 3
Drawn and Quartered - Part 4
Drawn and Quartered - Part 5

Before going anywhere, I have to admit that I initially had formulated most of part 5 before even writing the rest of the story.  In my attempt, I decided that part 5 actually worked best as a closing scene rather than an introduction.  I had started writing part 1 as Joseph re-entering the kitchen.  try reading it the other way around with half of part 5 excised and you'll have an idea of what direction I was heading.  Yea, not so good.

In the end, I feel the story really meandered quite a bit and I fell into a trap that most amateur writers fall into: overwriting.  I believe that the story could be served by elimination of a few descriptive paragraphs and instead of attempting textual gymnastics, I could instead focus on storytelling.  Even so, I feel there are positives to be gleaned from the experience, including part 4 of this story, which I consider to be the strongest section.

What it comes down to, for me, is this exercise really stretched me in terms of figuring out pacing, plotting, a little more in the realm of dialog (do all characters have a unique voice?) and taught me that what I need most is discipline.  In that, the story is a success.  In the fact that the story itself seems rather pointless, it is a failure.  It could work as an opening chapter, it could be served to have a little more background applied to the supporting character of St. Stephen (a cypher, maybe?), and I probably could have mentioned Ruth a bit sooner in the story. 

Alas, that's why I write these things in the first place:  to learn.  I'll keep going though, so if anyone's at all interested, watch this space.

Break for Lunch!

Here's a little intermission before I hash out the post-game talk from the previous five or so posts.  Thanks to one Mr. Bill Franz, I have been inspired on this most inane of posts:  The Sammich Post.  Yes, believe it!  Here are a list of the ultimate sammiches and the ingredients that make them special:

Ultimate Tuna:
Tuna Salad on Pumpernickel with Bean Sprouts

Ultimate Ham:
Ham and Meunster on White with pickles and a thin layer of mayonnaise.

Ultimate Turkey:
Turkey and Havarti on sourdough with avocado and dijon mustard.

Ultimate Club:
Maple Turkey and Honey Ham with Applewood smoked bacon on buttered whole wheat.

Ultimate Pastrami:
Pastrami, provolone, and sauerkraut on toasted rye with dijon mustard.

Ultimate Panini:
Steak and arugula with a bleu cheese spread on French bread.

Backup Panini:
Prosciutto and Salami with provolone and pickles on Italian bread.

Ultimate Sammich:
The Thomas Keller Special - Applewood bacon, arugula, provolone, tomatoes, and a fried egg, on toasted peasant bread.

Writings on Parade - Part 5

It's the Last Portion! Feel free to leave any thoughts, comments, or suggestions.  I'll probably post up some thoughts of my own on the process and results tomorrow if I can manage it.  Truth be told, it's been interesting...

Drawn and Quartered - Continued

The turbulent electrical hum of the vending machine involved itself into Joseph's thoughts of the year's disasters. Thumbing through quarters and nickels, he perused the vending menu and knew where he'd gone wrong. It wasn't the limply prepared leek and potato whip oozing from the bottom of a generously portioned and crispy monkfish, nor was it the loss of his sous chef, Laurent, abruptly spitting in his face and quitting in a beet-stained shower of epithets that ruined the synchronicity of his kitchen. Joseph resigned himself to accept that it was in fact his own hubris that had doomed him. 

The glinting silver slugs enveloped through the grinning coin slot punctuated themselves with the smooth coin rail slither and thump of transaction. "I've been reduced to pretzels." Joseph's fingers flicked through the buttons of his grease-stained chef's jacket as he peered upwards into the oil-slicked sky. 

Joseph's back met the cement wall and he resembled a step-ladder. He peeled his crushed toque from its cranial perch and blanched his mind between mouthfuls of salty bread. 

"It wasn't your fault you know." 

St. Stephen opened the back door of the restaurant and leaned in the doorway, a blue light cutting through the eggplant black of the alley.   

"She's quite good."  Stephen said.  "Shame about our stock of rabbits though, it's the biggest order we've seen for specials in quite some time.' 

"Quite."  Joseph's bag of pretzels went from pillowed storage to rubbish sphere and he tossed it aside. 

"I'd known for a while you know." 

"Known?" 

"Well, Ruth hired her when the Examiner ran that piece on you last year." 

"If I hadn't finished these pretzels, you'd be giving me the Heimlich." 

"Well instead I'm just giving you the news, and I'm giving my notice as well." 

"You really shouldn't have to, Stephen." 

St. Stephen stepped over the jamb and onto the pavement.  "Why not?  We built this place together with Ruth's money.  We've always been a package deal." 

"Perhaps, but this package?  I think it's gassed." 

"Hardly.  We've still plenty of life left in us." 

Joseph placed his hand upon his friend's shoulder.  "Please, go back inside.  Ask for your job back." 

"Your eyes, Joe.  I don't think I've…" 

"Just, please." 

St. Stephen paused.  St. Stephen turned and did not look back as he returned to the kitchen that had been Joseph's and was now Helen's.  He did not close the door, but it whined shut in the breeze.  It was a slight wind, but strong enough to carry the door shut and to carry with it the scent of the night's forgotten kitchen debris rotting away in the garbage bin.

Writings on Parade - Part 4

Now it continues after a nice weekend hiatus.  Posting the parts piecemeal seems to read better than the actual story as a whole, but I really don't mind.  The exercise is good, I just wish I'd have written much better.  Ha.

Drawn and Quartered - Continued

A 15-year old butcher block sits proudly on the north side of the Joseph Abrams kitchen.  During peak ours of the night, when the sauciers cannot be bothered to reduce remains to velvety caramel gravy and the sous chefs themselves are encumbered with diner's complaints of tepid prime ribs and underdone shanks of lamb, Joseph would peel back both sleeves, freshen his kitchen towel, and dig himself a fox hole based on this great mass of tree.  Uninterrupted and confident that his sous chefs could keep everyone in line, he could concentrate on completing any task, great or small, that held his kitchen behind.   

This night, Joseph's corner shrank from a thick, knotty corner of his own design, to an aluminum-legged kitchen stool, uneven from years of being knocked over, leaned and stepped on.  From this vantage point, Joseph perched like an observant canary, somewhat indifferent, but interested enough. 

This table, under Helen, had become a triage of dead, skinless, and headless rabbit carcasses.  Joseph's challenging chef de cuisine herself had brought out a crimson cutting board of plastic from her kitchen sack and onto the weathered surface of Joseph's table.  Helen's fingers walked along the ebony handles protruding from her open roll of knives.  Little black tombstones, each of them, it was not even two steps from the end for her fingers to draw the traditional chef's knife. 

"You can watch if you like, Joseph.  I could learn you something new about dressing rabbits."  Helen said without looking up from her workspace.  "Most people would start from the haunches and work their way back towards the neck.  I suppose that's where I'd start as well, but in the interest of expediency…"  Yanking the left-most rabbit, rested it delicately – studiously even – and began to work. 

"I first learned to dress a rabbit at the Institute, but learned this technique in Spain."  Helen surgically segmented the front and hind legs of the rabbit and tossed them aside.  "It's terribly efficient for large groups, but somewhat unconventional, maybe.  I tend to like it more for speed, but…" she leaned in and pressed the weight of her arm from shoulder to wrist, flattening the meat just enough to assist her as the knife's blade snaked and snapped the rabbit in two. "It's a tad uncouth." 

Both rose eyes darted in Joseph's direction.  "I can do the rest of these in two minutes.  The balance I saw in the fridge, I could do in thirty."  The knife sunbeamed in the kitchen light and collapsed underneath the ribs, flashing white upon exit.  "What do you say, Joe?"  Helen held a perfect breast of rabbit for him to see before placing it upon a foot's worth of saran.

The sous chefs normally would take an hour to dress their rabbits, being careful not to bruise the meat for tenderness sake.  This first rabbit had taken no longer than thirty seconds for her to dress, but each subsequent preparation appeared no less than an exhale as the rhythmic circles of Helen's knife tangoed.  Within those thirty minutes, what was once a crowded shelf of fridge had been relieved of its population. 

It was then that Joseph knew he was finished.

Writings on Parade - Part 3

It continues!  Nothing to see here folks:

Drawn and Quartered - Continuing

As Joseph told his staff, "Tonight, you will listen to Ms. Louis.  She will be your boss.  Any problems, any questions, you go to her until I give further notice." He looked askance at St. Stephen and nodded. 

Helen set to work straight away.  The normal chatter of the cook's line was lost on Joseph as he focused his eyes on Helen's kitchen mannerisms.  She delegated well, not barking but insinuating her orders from chef to waiter alike. 

"What's the special tonight?"  Helen did not look up from the pink slab of French cut pork loin she was inspecting.  "Stephen, I believe I asked you a question." 

Forearms addressed across his monogrammed chef's jacket, St. Stephen smirked.  "We were saving this for tomorrow, but for you Joseph is making an exception.  Braised rabbit breast served with a goat cheese and beet salad.  The apricot marmalade we made yesterday would normally suffice, but it appears that someone's consumed it during our lunch service."   

"Excellent.  I trust the rabbit has been freshly dressed?" 

St. Stephen's smirk evolved into a snicker and he gestured towards the butcher's closet.  "Unfortunately, the second sous chef would be prepping the rabbit."  Helen followed him through the foggy glass doors.  "Since Laurent is no longer with us, I'd more than likely dress it myself." 

"But…?"  Helen knew her question was simply rhetoric. 

"Unfortunately, again, I'm prepping the usual special for tonight, and you will have to dress the majority of the hippity-hops yourself, Ms. Louis."  The refrigerator light drew a yellow scar across a single shelf, lined with the casualties of a French veldt. 

"Indeed."

Writings on Parade - Part 2

Not sure how the first part was received, dare I post the second?  I think many people are the harshest critics of themselves and I tend to be the worst critic of myself anyway.  At any rate, I still like the exercise of trying to write something new to challenge myself.  This is the first time I've really written something in this vein, so I chalk this up in the "win" column.

Drawn and Quartered - continued

The kitchen's carmine red double doors fluttered with the memory of a head chef tornado. Diners could be heard gushing over the presentation. However, for every obvious satisfied customer, one could see the falling stars of confusion surrounding each half-made and unhappy dish. Green spinach jungles of salads had been slashed and burned, the skyscrapers of pommes frites were condemned and unfit for habitation, and the rolling hills of filet mignon were polluted with the gasoline fires of a disheartening sauté. 

Along a burnt toast pinewood length of bar riddled with patrons, one woman had obviously set herself apart.  Grease-proof clogs, tightly wrapped auburn hair, and the calloused hands of a seasoned chef; Joseph knew this was his customer. She had the look of an eating woman, cheeks rounded and dimpled, a seat that cut a wide berth between many a doorway, and a dominant stance straddling the barstool, adding more height to her vaulted stature. 

Joseph took a deep breath; he knew it would take more than just words to eject her from his kitchen.  His legs moved forward, but his knees were chicken soup in a bathtub.  The dull rose gaze of her pupils drew blinds twice and she looked in his direction, stood up, and extended her hand. 

"Joseph Abrams? Helen Louis.  I'm afraid you're in need of my services." 

"Seriously?  I had imagined that you'd be needing mine?" Joseph said.  "Have you seen our patio?  It'd be lovely if you stepped outside." 

"Seriously.  You're short one sous chef and I've heard St. Stephen can barely get through an entire night without his little Glenlivet friend."  Each corner of her confident smile peaked, left and then right.  "I've three years cooking for Rolf Phoenix in New York, five years running my own canteen in Midtown West, and one year educating the scrubs at the Downtown Crash Corner.  The Culinary Institute of America was lucky that I left one year early after learning everything I needed to know from their 'chefs.'  I've only returned to your city after six months of studying the Spanish cuisine in Diabloro.  Your foie gras is pasty, your razor clams are more pathetic than a rheumatoid basset hound, and I've seen happier stomachs at the International House of Pancakes, frankly." 

"You think that impresses me?  Did your research tell you you're useless to me?  Did it mention that there's no use for any ego but mine under this roof and in that kitchen?" 

"That kind of attitude is why your kitchen is populated with ham-fisted hash slingers and fry-cooks, Joe." 

"Mr. Abrams, please." 

"Joe."  Helen's eyes narrowed into mail-slots.  "I will take this kitchen from you.  If I have to tear it from your meathooks, it will be mine before the evening's over." 

"Right.  I'm just going to let you take this kitchen.  All this that's been built for the last 13 years and I'm going to hand you the keys to the fridge?"  You show me, then.  You show me you can handle me, and maybe I'll let you take out my garbage.  Maybe I'll let you mop my floors and scrub my grease-traps." 

"Absolutely.  You don't even know what you've done.  Do you, Joe?" 

"I've sent your knives and that double-wide caboose of yours home already."  Joseph's knuckles whitened as he strangled the bar's edge within an inch of its non-life. 

She drew herself to full height, a few inches taller than Joseph minus the toque, persimmon lips revealing square white pearls of malice.  The restaurant air turned vacuous and Joseph couldn't tell if he had left the kitchen on empty, but there was a lead brick suffocating his diaphragm.

Writings on Parade - Part 1

I finally finished working on another little piece of writing which was originally intended for another forum, but unfortunately, I didn't feel it cut the mustard.  Here's the first part of the scrap.  I consider it a decent first attempt.  More to come later...

Drawn and Quartered

Some people talk of kitchens as well-oiled machines or even a buzzing hive mind of sorts. Joseph's kitchen was neither, but had been a finely-tuned operation from sous chef to dishwasher. Under the fist of its chef de cuisine, Joseph, each employee was born and broken in this kitchen. Such it was and had been, but the staff had grown weary.  Attrition was at an all time high.  Dinner suffered.  Lunch suffered.  Now, even the most committed line-cook had begun soliciting mutinous thoughts through gritted teeth. 

Twin stoves' sullen with grease stains smiled greedily as Joseph stepped deftly through a bubbling mixture of Spanish and English. One of his remaining sous chefs, St. Stephen, trailed after Joseph while sampling a fresh and briny batch of brie Hollandaise.  

"We've a cook warming a seat at the bar for you already, Joe." St. Stephen said through a napkin. Smearing the buttery sauce across an empty lamb-less and bone-colored plate. "Word travels much too fast. Laurent's station is hardly cold." 

"You tell him I wasn't ready for any new chefs?" Joseph said. 

"Well, I did." St. Stephen watched Joseph carefully remove two superfluous shallot cloves from his presentation. "But you need to set her straight. She's been gnawing at mine and everyone else's ear who comes in and out of this kitchen." 

Tightening his apron, Joseph narrowed his eyes.  "Better yours than mine. I'll make sure she doesn't want to go anywhere but out the front door."

Boo!

The past couple of years, I've posted a scary story on Halloween.  Since I'm actually writing something else at the moment.  A re-print will have to suffice.  Sorry guys!

Tree Song

Once upon a time...

There was an old tree with black bark that sat in the middle of our front yard. When I was younger, I'd fall asleep on the couch in our living room beneath the blue light of the television with nothing but the oily squeak of wind-strained branches. How old it was, when it was first planted, and what type of tree, I never knew, but it was suitable for climbing. I knew this, especially when I would break sleep at 2 AM staring into the moonlit blinking eyes of a possum bumbling along a sparsely-leafed branch.

Summertime, while always hot, was cool underneath the shock of pale green leaves. My younger brother could be seen rolling around in the mossy dirt underneath with our aged beagle, Rufus. We buried Rufus under that same tree after one of the neighborhood ne'erdowells slipped some strychnine in his water bowl.

I used to tell some of my other friends that there once was a clubhouse perched in the dark branches, tucked behind dense foliage. There was a ladder leading upwards that could only be accessed by tugging on one of the lean, dangling twigs. It was completely furnished with sleeping bags and old posters made from found wallpaper and wrapping paper scraps. I would tell them this as they narrowed their eyes towards the top of the tree, only to be dismayed when I told them we had to tear it down a few years after it was first built when it became infested with raccoons.

It was a voluminous presence on the pathway to the front door. You would look outside when company arrived and see them visibly shift to the tree-less half of the cobblestone walk when approaching. It wasn't imposing in its height, but in its girth. Three men, six feet tall each, couldn't clasp hands and surround the trunk without hyper-extending their shoulders. Several passersby would tell us to uproot the thing for fear that it would rip into our foundation or, god forbid, upend the concrete sidewalk underneath their feet, but we knew better. Many years I'd lived at the same house, but I still noticed how fewer and fewer people would cross directly in front of our house, instead deciding to cross the once, away from our house, and twice, towards our house, while gangling through the neighborhood.

In my adolescent years, I would drag the vinyl lawn chair onto our birch porch and sit with my homework assignments under the spring shade. Occasionally, I'd glance towards the tree of my youth and remember how many times I'd skinned my knees against it while climbing. Even then, I would remember the knotty smoothness of its weathered limbs, some with peculiar bites encircling some of my more sturdy perches. As I sat, I could visualize it as I had in my youth, like a twisted rubber hose knotting off a wound.

Yes, the Virginia house had lots of history, and I could feel it hurtling earthward with each leaf of the tree. Glaring from the pit of its bushy pale top, it never failed to send a shrill pitch of shudders down my spine in a stiff wind.

After we cut it down last year, the city gardeners told me chilling stories of how each thunderous draw of the chainsaw sounded like the shrieking wail of an old woman. They started on a Monday and didn't finish cutting it all down until three Thursdays afterward. Each week bringing in at least two new faces where three old ones had left. It was only after they dragged the trunk from the ground that they noticed its sap, a deep crimson pool in the soil, had stained their hands, clothes, and equipment permanently.

We saved some of the trunk for sentimental reasons. Some of it, my grandfather used to make knick-knacks or picture frames for friends of his, but the lion's share he used to make a rocking chair for my own home and a crib for my brother's daughter. To this day, she hasn't slept a full night since she's been born. As for me, I can't sit in that rocking chair without fitful afternoon dreams of a white-haired woman with piercing eyes pronouncing my name as if it were read from a bill of sale.

Saturdays in the Hawth

Pamcakes!, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

One of the little joys I get out of life on the weekends is breakfast with my wonderful wife. Saturday mornings have been traditionally reserved for the two of us to get some relaxation in after the long week and before the madness of the coming weekend, usually, but the last month has been ridiculous. Traveling, overtime, and other commitments have really stolen this treasure from us lately, so it was with great pleasure that I determined this weekend would be a return to this pseudo-tradition.

In honor of this, I decided to try something a little different. There's several things I've learned about making breakfast since we started doing this, one of which was making an almost perfect egg and also how to slow sautée some buttery potatoes. A golden fleece, if you will, of mine was always to make a batch of pancakes from scratch. I resolved to do this, with gusto, and set out to the supermarket after work on Friday with recipe in hand.

Pancakes themselves are a bit of a trick in that they can be both sweet and savory, depending on your ingredients. Without the right proportions, they go from tender blankets to cinder blocks. My favorites tend toward the sweet and fluffy side, especially pancakes laced with bananas and nuts of some sort. In this sense, the banana and pecan recipe I found was right up my alley. The first one I slapped on the griddle was a little smaller than I like, so I decided to ladle in heaping spoonfuls of batter each time, which presented its own new set of logistical nightmares. Between that first fluffy devil and the last pillowy monstrosity, there were many mutants, but after a while, I got the hang of it as much as I could and this photo is the end result. I often remark that this is a far cry from the first failed omelet I've ever made, but I chalk it up to determination. Well, determination and hunger.

At any rate, here's the recipe on the Food Network website, courtesy of Mr. Tyler Florence. I didn't go as far as to make the maple butter, but perhaps that's best saved for another time and place.

Bon Appetit.

SCRUBS is Back!

Lord, I love this show.  Last night's episode was classic. 

My favorite quote, "Suck it, Tony Shalhoub!"

"The International Criminal Police Organization"

Interpol 10/23, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

Questionably, I stayed up a bit later than usual and headed on over to Inglewood for the New York quartet, Interpol. At a decidedly bigger venue, the Great Western Forum, than where I had seen them last, The Wiltern, I was faced with the reality of arena floor tickets, long lines, hipsters, and a horrid opening act. Yes, I said Liars were horrid. I don't care if Pitchfork thinks they're super-fantastically-awesome, I think they sounded like some high school Freshman attempting to play At The Drive-In without having ever picked up an instrument before. They were not the main event though, so I should be happy I didn't waste my money.

The best drive to any venue I will ever have while living in the South Bay has to be to the Great Western Forum. While it isn't my favorite venue, the floor is spacious and the acoustics aren't half bad. The screaming nails-on-chalkboard feedback of Liars hung in the air for about 10 minutes after they left the stage and we waited for a good while for Interpol to show, which sucked, seeing as I had to be up early. When the lights dimmed and Paul Banks and company strutted on stage to open with "Pioneer to the Falls" from their latest album, Our Love to Admire, the anxiety melted away.

In my previous experience I had noted that the band blazed through their songs as tightly as any professional band would, but it still amazes me how clean and balanced their sound really is. The set itself was a good mixture of strong singles packed around the middle with a few of their lesser known songs here and there, but it struck me that the band was a bit more conversational than before. That being said, they still don't interact with the audience very much. I don't really believe they need to do so, anyhow, as the crowd was just moving in time to the pulsing rhythms of each song in time, oblivious to the world around them.

My one disappointment was that I couldn't stay for the entire set. It's the first time I've left a show early and for that, I'm truly sorry. There was no encore to be heard and no exiting traffic to fight. One thing I will admit is that I loved them at the Wiltern, but it was surprising to me that their music would translate so well in the arena context, a definite symbol of their success.

As far as this one goes, it was fantastic! It really seems like the only concert I've been to all year, but I know I've been to more. It serves as a reminder that I'll be on the lookout for more until the end of this year and the beginning of next one.

Defy Gravity

Wicked, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

Yes, we finally saw the blockbuster musical of the year in Los Angeles, Wicked. The way every single one of our friends was raving about the show, you'd think they handed out free money before every performance. As hard as it's been to find time, we somehow carved it out and took in the show Friday evening at the historic Pantages theater.

Interestingly, it appears that our theater datebook has been packed this year. We saw two Culture Clash shows so far and two other musicals, Avenue Q and Spamalot, earlier this year, which is quite a feat when one considers we were restricting ourselves voluntarily. Comparing Wicked to Avenue Q, and even the Vegas rendition of Spamalot is pretty difficult since it is the most traditional of the three, but if I were to rank it amongst the spectaculars I've seen on stage in my lifetime, I'd rank it pretty high.

Cut from the cloth of the original story written by Gregory Maguire, the musical follows the origins of the eponymous Wicked Witch of the West and her friendship with Glinda the Good Witch of the North. The plot casts her in the sympathetic life of an unhappy childhood with an overbearing father and a super-sized chip on her shoulder. Her ambitions and dreams take a turn for the worse with a meeting gone wrong in the Emerald city, and the rest really is history.

Musically, the show is a powerhouse. The songs are well woven into the plot and both leads gave tremendous performances to match. Backed by simple and effective backdrops and superb theatrical effects, the story really wraps you into the rich world of Oz beyond that which one has seen in the films and even read in the books. While there really isn't one number that stands out and sticks in your memory in the vein of Les Miserables or even Avenue Q, the modern characterization of a few famous Oz characters and the inclusion of a human element to the fantastical ring true.

Fascinatingly, the overall themes of friendship, history, and politics run deeper than one would suspect, a testament to the long-running nature of the show beyond just Broadway and the original San Francisco production that one could glean more than just an alternate tale of the Wizard of Oz. For this alone, I can strongly recommend seeing the show while it's still in Los Angeles. Catch it while you can.

Ilha Formosa

We've returned from the Far East and the island of Taiwan to very little fanfare and to a lot of jetlag.  The 15-hour time difference kills you in a new way every day.  For me, this has been falling asleep while catching up on television and coughing up a new color every other morning.  Lovely times.

What did we do?  We saw night markets, day markets, temples, the north parallel, aboriginal Taiwanese, live chickens, mochi donuts, frogs legs, fresh noodles, the second tallest building in the world, smog, packs of wild scooter commuters, shrimping, relatives, a gilded tour bus, millipedes, a spa nestled in the middle of a natural reserve, hot springs, stray dogs, stray cats, stray babies, weight gains, growing pains, and the smallest, densest toy store in the city of Taipei.

I love traveling for all the new perspectives it brings, the people we meet, and the food.  We ate way too much for me to even think about food for a couple weeks, but it was just enough for me to enjoy it as well.  I can't possibly recap how much we did and my impressions of everything without taking a few days to do so, but in the event that I'm inspired, I may just recant and comment on a few of the pictures we snapped while there. 

At any rate, a big thank you has to be said to Grace's family for their generosity and kindness towards me for making me feel welcome to their home and to their country.  Without their warmth I think it would have been a different experience. 

So until the next trip, I remain humbled and ready for more. 

Out o' Town

The wife and I are off to TW for a week or so to see family and the country. It will be my first time on the island and I'm really looking forward to it! See everyone when we get back!

TiVo Fall Schedule '07-'08 Redux

I'm reserving judgment calls on the new Television season until all the new shows have premiered, but here is the story thus far:

Save:
Gossip Girl
Reaper
Chuck
Journeyman
Dirty Sexy Money
Back to You
Bionic Woman

On the Fence:
Life

Dump:
Big Shots
Cane

Unfortunately, this does not help our swollen DVR problem.  We've added Reaper, Gossip Girl, and Back to You to the lineup, which also is detrimental, but then, what would the point of a DVR be if you couldn't record possibly every program available to you. 

Woe to the television addict, what pain it must be to watch over 10 hours of television straight.

Sammiches

U F O, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

I've been remiss in posting this week. With sleeplessness, stress, a strained rhomboid muscle, medical emergencies, and a flurry of incomplete personal projects looming, it seems appropriate, but mostly it could be attributed to me being one year older and another year less than wiser.

So what is there to look forward to this fall?

* More rain to turn to snow
* Completing my first story for the Stanford fiction contest.
* Raking in my free time and turning it into drawing time.
* Blasting through several incomplete video games.
* Re-connecting with old friends
* Getting a flying house off the ground

Anyhow, here's to fall!

A Red Cross

I just donated blood for the first time in ten years.  Being a bit apprehensive about the whole ordeal, since the last person who took my blood made it feel like they had chopped my arm in half, it wasn't that bad.  I was in and out of there within 30 minutes and even got some Nutter Butter cookies to boot!  

If you can even donate, I would suggest doing so right now since the Southern California blood banks are at some spectacularly low levels.  I would try and donate more, myself, but I tend to feel a little under the weather every time the blood van rolls around.

What can I say though, as I was lying on that table, feeling a bit strange about the whole thing to begin with, "Suavecito" began playing over the blood-mobile radio...

And all was right with the world...

The '07-'08 Fall TiVo Season

My madness can only take me so far, thanks to TV.com and The Futon Critic for keeping my sanity in line.  I now present our fall TiVo schedule with following commentary.

Monday
8pm
Chuck - NBC
Prison Break - Fox

9pm
Heroes - NBC

10pm
Journeyman - NBC


Tuesday
8pm
New Amsterdam - Fox

9pm
House - Fox
The Unit - CBS

10pm
Cane - CBS


Wednesday
8pm
Pushing Daisies - ABC

9pm
Private Practice - ABC
Bionic Woman - NBC

10pm
Dirty Sexy Money - ABC


Thursday
8pm
Ugly Betty - ABC
My Name is Earl - NBC

8:30pm
30 Rock - NBC

9pm
Grey's Anatomy - ABC
The Office - NBC

9:30pm
SCRUBS!!! - NBC

10pm
Big Shots - ABC
ER - NBC


Friday
9pm
Las Vegas - NBC


Sunday
9pm
Desperate Housewives - ABC

10pm
Brothers & Sisters - ABC

First of all, this schedule does not include basic cable shows such as Doctor Who or Nip/Tuck.  It also only reflects Prime Time shows, not including late night and early morning talk shows.  Now you can imagine how stacked each TiVo is throughout the fall season. 

Counting it all up, the breakdown is as follows:

ABC - 8 shows
CBS - 2 shows
CW - 0 shows
Fox - 3 shows
NBC - 10 shows

Of those 10 NBC shows, four of them are half-hour comedies.  I don't believe any other network can answer to that. 

Anyway, there are some glaring shows missing.  We've decided not to record Smallville anymore, 24 and Lost don't premiere until next year, and Bones is not on the schedule anymore.  I've still included Desparate Housewives even though we probably won't watch it and for some strange reason, we're still recording Brothers & Sisters.  I think Grace likes that show more than I do.  Anyhow, as you can see, it will be a full Fall Season.  Let's pray that I don't go brain dead with all this television.

What Do You Do With a B.A. in English?

Avenue Q, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

There is no shortage of fun in the downtown Arts district these days. The last time we went to the Music Center (including the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion amongst other theaters) was to see, once again, Culture Clash performing "Water and Power." Last night was unique, however, in that we were taking in a musical, which I don't think we'd seen since Grace took me to see "The Lion King" at the Pantages last year. Wholly a family affair, the Disney produced musical can not compare with the completely adult and absolutely mature "Avenue Q."

Created by a former Sesame Street puppeteer with music by the Scrubs-hired Lopez brothers, "Avenue Q" is an irreverent puppet comedy, clothed in the overalls of the Children's Television Workshop. Every program, poster, pamphlet, advertisement, and soundtrack is labeled "for mature audiences only" with good reason, as the CTW would surely cringe at the un-muppet-like themes central to the musical's plot. Yes, there are segments presented like education, but such is the tongue-in-cheek nature of the animations that it's all one enormous dirty joke.

The shows performers are gamely adept performing the act of puppetry. Comparing it to "Lion King," "Avenue Q" succeeds in getting the viewer lost in the character of their puppet cast-members, but perhaps is more striking since the format is less hide-and-seek since the human puppeteers make no efforts to hide their presence other than to wear dull clothing. Most impressive for myself was how each puppeteer lost themselves in the character enough that their physical performance matched the traits of whichever puppet they would be performing at the time. As an obsessive-compulsive monster, the performer would be gregarious. As a blonde bombshell vamp, the performer would strut around the stage in earnest. While not as grand in scope, it was almost more effective.

Musically, it is easy to see how the Lopez brothers were hired on to write for the musical episode of Scrubs. Each tune was catchy, full of energy, and whip-smart lyrically. I can't imagine that any other musical could get away with a song titled "Schadenfreude," but for that matter, there is no other musical that could include another one titled, "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist." Even the overarching theme, "It Sucks to be Me" had a jumping little beat reminiscent of the Henson tradition. Thanks to the music, I found myself not even noticing how much time had passed between the beginning of the first act and the second since I was enjoying the humor and the spectacle of each set-piece.

I would also be remiss not to mention a former high school classmate of mine who had a few supporting parts in the musical. Playing the part of one half of the Bad Idea Bears Duo and also the grumpy kindergarten teacher Mrs. T, she really impressed me with how far she's come since the days of portraying Peter Pan in our own high school musicals. Looking up at her perform on-stage while I was in the orchestra pit back then is a far cry from being an audience member in the balcony looking down at her, and I'm not surprised that I considered it just as remarkable (if not more so) now as it was back then.

This show comes with a high recommendation from myself. If you are a fan of the medium and looking for something fun to watch and unique from the blockbuster Broadway musical, score some tickets for yourself. You won't regret spending some time down on "Avenue Q."

The September Music Post

This has been sitting in my brain for quite some time.

The past month or so, has been pretty vacuous, music-wise.  We'll say that I haven't really done a very good job keeping up with the tunes, but essentially, I've been listening to a lot of Mariah Carey.

Aside from that, I've been lucky enough to keep up with some current discs and behold, I have thoughts on them!

Smashing Pumpkins - "Zeitgeist"
Billy corgan returns with the original moniker prior his solo attempts.  Essentially Zwan with a new guitarist and bassist, this new incarnations of the Pumpkins is lacking Melissa Auf de Maur and James Iha, which probably would never happen in the first place.  These Pumpkins do howl and snarl heavily, escaping from the ethereal vapors that Mr. Corgan favored with Zwan and churn out some pumping, angry tracks.  Essentially displaying their guitar-flavored melodies, the lyrics do tend towards the grand and dramatic, which isn't unexpected, but never get lost in the obligatory hook.  I'm impressed, but am hard pressed to find a single song that's memorable aside from the radio single, "Tarantula." 

The White Stripes - "Icky Thump"
Blues rock turned up to 11, the White Stripes combine again for a thunderous album combining fewer eclectic elements than "Get Behind Me Satan."  Jack White, post-Raconteurs exodus has no doubt re-energized his musicality, as the melodies arrive in bundles.  The title track crackles with a progressive flavor favored by the late 90's garage bands, but the synthesized guitar solo pushes it into territory unknown to all pretenders.  One always gets the sense that Mr. White makes up lyrics as he goes along, but the improvisational nature keeps the reality in place as diverse tracks including, "Conquest," "Little Cream Soda," and "Rag and Bone" deliver bales of promises over the fence.  Meg White's rote drumming seems less routine, but still plays a decent skin on the record.

Air - "Pocket Symphony"
The French duo best known for their ambient soundtrack composition on "The Virgin Suicides" slumps into place with a disc I have the misfortune of labeling as "lounge music."  I'd have to say the peak of "Moon Safari" isn't present on their latest, and while it is decent to listen to for long stretches, it meanders about into resultant nap-inducing beats.  It would be perfect for music at the latest hipster coffee bar or even while touring an indoor Japanese Garden, it just doesn't seethe with the provocative energy I've heard on their other releases.  Even so, I look for them to redeem themselves on the next effort.

Interpol - "Our Love to Admire"
Some may say that if it weren't for the Joy Division, we would have no modern rock.  Taking this literally, there are many bands in the vein of Ian Curtis and company, but Interpol still delivers the best re-interpretation and re-discovering of the post-punk melodrama.  She Wants Revenge dabbles in gothic lyrics, the Editors have mired themselves in electronic effects, yet Interpol chugs along with amusing lyrics and a drive to grow.  Their third major album contains the familiar single, "The Heinrich Maneuver" as an appetizer reminiscent of "Slow Hands," but with each track, you find the group developing something more complex.  While some dismiss the glaring guitar rhythms as repetitive, I continue to find something compelling about the narrow stare of their music.  There's something to be said of the strange wink of the eye in "No I in Threesome" that exudes an uncomfortable sheen across each track. 

Upcoming: A compendium of older releases, the like of which I have not had a chance to listen to... 

The Play's the Thing

There's a tremendous backlog of posts regarding all sorts of things that I've been neglecting covering the last couple of months or so.  Even so, I highly doubt there will be any recovery of any sort since my memory of certain events is worse for the wear.  Suffice it to say, I can try and dredge it up, but I can't promise wondrousness.

About a month and a half ago, my mom had asked me if we wanted to see yet another play written and performed by the Latin art collective, Culture Clash.  If you remember, we had previously seen them in "Water and Power," a parable about the differing sides of Chicano sociology.  This new play, first performed up north in Berkeley, was titled "Zorro in Hell."  Right off the bat, I will say that it was a much different beast than our first experience of their at-large theater performance.

Summarizing "Zorro in Hell" isn't easy.  In the tradition of many early Chicano plays, it tends towards activist and mystic themes.  When one of the main characters is a talking therapist grizzly, you are in for an interesting tale.  Instantly, we could tell that it was much less linear than what we'd seen before.  Unfortunately, this led to a disjointed narrative that, while entertaining, was not as effective as "Water and Power."

What I did like is that the humor was still present through every act.  The biting social commentary spread itself across the differing interpretations of the legend of Zorro.  From his conception by a white man as a pulp hero in the vein of the Scarlet Pimpernel to his glossy big-screen depiction by a Spaniard, Culture Clash tells a compelling story of disingenuous co-opting of Chicano identity via commercialization.  Our main character's mission was to peek through the veil and re-discover his lost Chicano identity by becoming a sort of "Zorro" himself.  This is where the play sort of lost direction.

The invectives themselves are admirable, it's the delivery of each one that tends to wear on you.  Often, a play is known for the snappiness of its dialogue, but "Zorro" tended towards overblown and overlong in a few monologues.  The spirit remains intact, but I did find myself exhausted by listening.  This coupled with the over-the-top narrative caused some confusion, but not enough for us to hate it.  We didn't dislike it, actually, but found it to be much harder to follow than it should have been.

Even so, I enjoyed it quite a bit.  We did discuss it more over dinner and concluded that it wasn't quite the play that "Water and Power" was.  Still, Culture Clash does remain one of the few higher profile Chicano presences in the theater and I will support them however I can. 

Honeymoon from Heaven

Relaxation, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

After the run-and-gun style of wedding we favored, our honeymoon trip to Hawaii was the best vacation we could have asked for. Long-anticipated, it was relaxing and exciting, but what I didn't expect is that it would be educational too.

Since it was a first-time visit for the both of us, G and I did the usual business and packed in many activities sandwiched between some bouts of nothing. We were primed for the latter, especially after spending 6 hours on an early and sleepless flight filled with screaming children.

Day 1: G and I take a short tour and lunch at our hotel and then take the shuttle to Lahaina for dinner at Cheeseburgers in Paradise. The meal is tasty and is washed down by their vicious version of the Planter's Punch.

Day 2: We hit the beach at Ka'anapali (after a lunch plate breakfast from McDonald's) for a few good hours and take turns hitting the bluest Pacific Ocean I've ever seen. The crystal clear water doesn't keep me from getting a slight sunburn. We hit Black Rock for a snorkeling intro and I drag an exhausted G to shore. There's more to see in Lahaina, like the giant Banyan tree and a cheap dinner at Kahuna Kabob's. I crash at around 10:00 dreaming about pineapple fried rice.

Day 3: Our morning snorkeling tour of Molokini is filled with a brief history of the crater, many people losing their breakfast and lunch, and a large number of tropical fish. We stagger back on land and fill ourselves to the brim with food before returning home. After a short stint of opulence and awe at the Grand Wailea, we experience dinner at Mama's Fish House. My Mahi Mahi is bursting with two crustaceans and topped with a giant prawn and asparagus. Grace's Ono is... well - ono.

Day 4: Another early wake up call sends us on the road to Haleakala and an off-road ATV adventure. We learn more about the extinct volcano and the surrounding townships at 5000 feet. My first trip out, I get stuck in a ditch, G is almost crushed by her bike, and our arms get worn out from the lack of power steering. I fall in love with the scenery there and the amazing foliage of the island on our way to the Tedeschi Winery. We eat lunch across the way at an old general store where I sample some elk before sampling the tropical wines of Ulupalakua. We finish the day out on a hammock and a mixed plate dinner.

Day 5: Standing in a rainy line at the Gazebo restaurant, we see our first Hawaiian rainbow. We spend the morning at the Napili Beach passed out on an omelet and banana, macadamia nut, and pineapple pancakes. It's peaceful enough to wander around the corner to a cove filled with sea turtles. It's the perfect morning before we spend an evening at the Old Lahaina Luau, learning about the Hawaiian traditions and cultural experience. The food is amazing enough to devour in less than 10 minutes. I limp home engorged on things roasted, grilled, mashed, pounded, and shredded, happy.

Day 6: We pack it up and head home on another sleepless flight.

I love Maui.

Oh What a Night!

My Sweetheart, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

Grace and I finally did the deed a week and a half ago in the rolling hills of Fullerton and got married. We spent the rehearsal dinner together, basking in the last night of our single lives with our friends and family, anticipating the whirlwind of our wedding that was to take place the next day. I spent the rest of the night waiting for morning, extremely nervous for the day we had planned.

My Friday morning was pretty laid-back, thankfully. My best man came over in the morning and we headed out to my sister's place for breakfast with my brother-in-law. What better choice for breakfast on that day than the sweet promise of greasy, authentic Mexican food. The giant football-sized carne asada burrito did me right that morning, not to mention the superb salsa, counteracting the queasy morning belly I had from the previous night. Our afternoon was spent with me practicing up for the ceremony and with a little Playstation 3 action to relax.

As things do not always go as planned during weddings. The guys and I waited an extra long time for the limousine to show up, I packed up my saxophone with little time to spare and we headed out to the venue. Since a little crowd was already there, I didn't have time to run-through a quick rehearsal of my music, but did manage to tune up a bit. From then on, it was the stereotypical wedding whirlwind. We ran through the ceremony without a hitch, the look on Grace's face while I performed for her made all my sleepless nights worth it, and just like that, we were married.

The reception itself was nonstop fun for the both of us and hopefully for most of our guests. We were lucky to get a few bites of our food before heading out for host-worthy meet and greets, dancing, and drinking, and the food was lip-smackingly delicious (one of our prime requirements). As the cliche goes, the time flew and as all married couples can attest, the reception was a blur. As we drove back to our hotel, we kept talking about how everything came together so well, how easy it was for us to get lost in everything, and how happy we were with every single detail.

The next morning, we relaxed before having lunch with Grace's family and friends from out of town and steeled ourselves for a Honeymoon packing marathon. Myself, I figured I'm very lucky to have been able to spend such a night surrounded by family and friends while we begin this next major step in our lives. I also consider myself incredibly fortunate that I get to spend it with my best friend and love of my life.

Thanks to everyone involved. Honeymoon report soon to follow!

Calm Before the Storm

It's been a while, but I've been way too busy to post anything of late. Why? This weekend, Grace and I will finally be getting married. It's an undertaking both daunting and exciting, such major life change. I can not wait.

R.I.P. Mike Wieringo

Prince of Saturn, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

I had something else prepared for today, but I do have to make a slight adjustment as one of the greats in contemporary comics has passed on. Mike Wieringo, while not one of the flashiest artists in the industry, was one of the best. Most recognized for his work for DC Comics' The Flash, his work on Marvel's Sensational Spider-Man and Fantastic Four held a special place in my heart. What warmed me to his work was the preparation, the structure, and the attention to detail he paid towards the characters he worked on. He was a consummate professional and his subtle style, while characterized as "ballooney" by some, was magnificent in its confidence whenever I opened a page.

Having been an avid reader of his blog for the past couple of years, I was entranced by his dedication to his craft and his fans. He could be found posting comments on other artists' blogs as well, never condescending and always positive and encouraging. I was impressed by his passion for the art form, for his enthusiasm surrounding his creator-owned material, Tellos, for his dedication to improvement, for his promotion of comics that anyone could read, and for the fact that he was an animal lover. One could tell through his posts that he was tireless in his work ethic in both research and production, taking the time to notice the reality that surrounded him and putting truth into every line he put on the page.

The past few years that I've been at SDCC, I've regretted not being able to meet or see him in person. Knowing that I'll never have this opportunity makes me incredibly sad for he is someone I've admired from afar as most fans often do. My solace is that his work lives on and in that, Mr. Wieringo will never truly pass.

Rest in Peace.

Westside Varietals

2020 Wines, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

The overwhelming blogatude from last week has left me with a dearth of posts for this week. I return briefly to talk up the most expansive wine store that I've ever experienced, Twenty Twenty Wine Merchants.

Lined from top to bottom with the finest vintages, both contemporary and classic, this establishment has a most impressive collection of wines that I've ever witnessed. If I'd never dropped a couple of names on the poor wine salesman at BevMo, I probably would have never found it, or seen it before. If you're ever on the west side, I would highly recommend finding it, you're in for a treat. The wines are extraordinary and the staff is very knowledgeable, but what you won't find, are aisles of other types of alcohol. This place is known for wines and they like to keep it that way. Even so, there was still a number of tequilas and scotches to make my eyes wander from our goal.

In all reality, I'm not much of a wine connoisseur. I tend to like a Cabernet, tending toward the richer side of the spectrum as opposed to the light side. I don't have a nose for wines, nor do I have an eye, but I like tasting and I like hearing about them, but ultimately, I like finding ones that taste incredible. Thank goodness I have plenty of people that are more into wine than myself, so I have endless resources at my disposal.

Most astonishing is the depth of their catalog. Surprising as it was, it was not unusual to find wines dated as far back as the 1940's. Most assuredly, their have to be even older wines in their cellars, as the storefront also doubles as a storage facility for the most avid collectors. Impressive as it was, I feel our trip was too short, but no doubt it warrants a return whenever our personal collection runs short.

Finite Incantatem

Am I tired of the Comic-Con recap?  A little bit, but at least I can rest assured that it's going to be a while before anything reaching this level of nerdiness is posted on ze blog.

I'll bring it back bit by bit though, with my thoughts on "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." 

Having only been a relatively recent Potter fan - I started my interest after four books had already been published - and having just seen the movie adaptation of "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," my fervor was high.  Because it was the last of the lot, reading through the book actually instigated me finishing Haunted well faster than I had planned.  As soon as Grace and I receive dour copies from Amazon (in a special Harry Potter muggle-proof box, no less) we tore into them. Yes, it was a marathon read at over 750 pages, but it never really felt that long.

Obviously, I loved it.

For anyone who hasn't read it, I'll try and remain as spoiler-free as possible.  Not that it would make any sense in the first place, but I'll try.  When last we left our hero, Harry had been tasked with an important mission by his mentor and headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort had waged all-out war on the wizarding world, and the entire planet was in imminent peril.  Gifted with this dangerous task, Harry and his pals, Hermione and Ron, with little clue as what to do, seek to defeat Lord Voldemort using their hearts and their heads.  As bare as the plot sounds, there is much much more involved.

J.K. Rowling, the author, has wound up the complexity of her plot so tightly, you would imagine her editor would go insane from the numerous dangling plot threads.  Surprisingly, there are very few cracks in the Hufflepuff Cup she's cast.  As airtight as the events leading up to the climax are, the story is just as gripping.  I found myself rapt by dilemmas, surrounded by the intricacies of emotion, and engrossed by every distress visited upon the lead characters.  There are deaths and there are casualties, and Ms. Rowling really makes every one of them count.  Nothing is brushed off or sugar-coated, the attitude towards death and danger is just as foreboding as it would be in our own, living, non-fiction world.

That's what the books have always been about, interestingly enough.  In many recent interviews, Ms. Rowling has been frank about how her own mother's death greatly influenced her authorship of the series.  Honorably, I believe it serves a greater good as the pathos shines through what lesser authors would write as schmaltz.  What's more, the emotional content has always been the strong suit of these stories.  Most especially in this book, and the last, when death comes home to roost.

What I've always loved about them, aside from the large heart at the center of all her novels, is the expansive size of her imagination. While some fantasy novels are content to take an old concept and call it their own, these books have elevated the magic of, well, Magic.  The mythology for me has always been most fascinating aspect and the newness of the visuals really spin her world in a new cloth.  The concept of witches and wizards is quite old, but her treatment of their lives as ordinary is what makes each installment believable.

The extraordinary is what makes them loveable.

I bid a fond farewell to this world that Ms. Rowling has created.  While she takes a well-deserved holiday, and I myself take a break from reading for a short, short while (to soak in the "Deathly Hallows"), I'll be thinking more about what these books have meant not only to me, but to her adoring fans. 

Comic-Con Nerd Overload - Part 3

Yes, here we are at the massive photoset that I've compiled from the weekend. Check it out on my flickr page the photoset page, or the pictobrowser below:

Comic-Con Nerd Overload - Part 2

Ballroom 20, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

I still haven't uploaded the entirety of the photoset, but that doesn't mean I have any less story to tell. Oh yes, the Con drama continues.

Sunday, I woke up bright and early with the intention of getting in line to help out my compatriots who had not yet been registered. I waited for an extra half hour for the trolley (in which time I could have walked to the convention center) and made my way up through the Sails Pavilion and towards the line for ballroom 20. Why Ballroom 20? That's where the Heroes panel was taking place later during the day.

Little did we expect an enormous line to be in place before we got there.

Little did we expect an enormous line for the exhibit hall as well.

So I stood in line for the exhibit hall, in which I was determined to pick up a few things before heading to the ballroom itself. An hour and change later, the line started to move steadily and quickly once the doors opened. We got in and walked around in the semi-filled hall for a bit before realizing that all the things I had wanted were already sold out. It was then I decided to make a try for the Ballroom.

Standing in line again, I heard the beginnings of the Bionic Woman panel. Lucky for me, I was able to join Grace, Amy, and John on the inside shortly. We saw the first 30 minutes of the pilot, which was fairly intense. Michelle Ryan, who now plays the modern Jaime Summers plays the role with such innocence and vigor, it reminded me of Jennifer Garner's as Sydney Bristow on Alias. In my opinion, it's some high praise, but the show really excels when Katee Sackhoff shows up as the original Bionic Woman. The show itself shows great promise, with some good action sequences and decent effects, but it has a lot of cheesiness to escape before it can prove itself as a hit drama.

Following the Q & A session, the ballroom emptied a tiny bit and made way for the TV Guide Hot List panel for the fall season. Truthfully, it was a tad boring, and the most exciting part was listening to Tim Kring and Masi Oka talk about the new season of Heroes. You could tell that there was a palpable Heroes fervor in the air by the audience reaction to their presence, so why not just recap the Heroes panel.

The highlight of the early afternoon was definitely seeing the entire cast of Heroes at the panel. Everyone from Adrian Pasdar to Hayden Panattiere was there to "thank" the fans for making the show such a big hit. They were humble and awed by the fan response, but made it a great point to show their appreciation. Most of them joked and expressed their great fortune for working with some of the best people in television, some of them even wore some hilarious t-shirts. The highlight might have been Greg Grunberg giving his t-shirt out to his biggest fan in the audience, but the real highlight was the clip they premiered for the new season of the show. I can't go over it all, but it looks just as exciting as the first season.

We shot out to the convention floor for a short stint in which I picked up a couple of toys and some new Copic markers. The girls then decided to head home after a good four hours of convention madness and Alvin and I decided to try and make into Hall H for the Marvel Studios panel.

The line was enormous.

However, we did have a good chance of making it in. The studio heads showed up in the beginning and joining them were the stars of the Incredible Hulk, Edward Norton and Liv Tyler. There was a brief shot of the Hulk's new look, a promise for a new beginning, and a proclamation by Ed Norton that he had written the screenplay. Undoubtedly this was most interesting.

Immediately following this panel, was the second highlight of the day, the cast and clip of Iron Man. Robert Downey Jr. is hilarious. Gwyneth Paltrow is phenomenal. Terence Howard is enthusiastic. None of them could match the raw excitement and hype of Jon Favreau. For the high action and comedy element of a Summer film, Mr. Favreau is an excellent choice. Anyone who has seen Elf knows he can direct a funny movie, but the high marks for Zathura were somewhat unexpected. He's accomplished, dedicated to the material, and incredibly pumped to see the movie released as a dedication to the original source material. After a brief introduction and exposition, they unveiled the first footage of the Iron Man film, and it was awesome. The bits of Tony Stark they showed were reminiscent of Michael Keaton's portrayal of Bruce Wayne. The effects shots were gorgeous. My favorite had to have been their application of practical effects versus computer generated imagery. Everyone in the crowd loved every second of footage they showed so much, they played it twice.

More excited than ever, we breached the convention floor for the last time. I made my way to the Flight Comics and Ms. Clio Chiang who drew an excellent sketch for me. I didn't get to chat much with most of the artists as their booth was swamped, but I still love going by and showing my support for what they've been doing.

With that, Alvin and I were off. We finished our night off in Old Town and crashed for the weekend. It was a truly excellent trip, and reminded me why I'm such a fan. Seeing as the final three days of the convention sold out, it would be a great idea to register well in advance for next year. Until then, I would have to say it was the best convention I've been to yet.

Comic-Con Nerd Overload - Part 1

Vote Petrelli!, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

Aaaaand, we're back!

Comic-con was unreal. Seriously unreal. Last year was pretty mild compared to the madness of this year. Waiting in line for two hours didn't compare to sitting in a convention hall for three. The blazing sun of the San Diego skyline didn't prepare us for the hour and forty-five minute wait in line just to see Paul Pope. The crowds were insane. The restaurants were full-up.

And I loved every minute of it.

Friday was more about comic books than anything else. First things first, I attempted to find Mark Ryden signing one of his new books on the con floor. After walking all the way down to the vinyl toy section and realizing we had gone too far, I realized that I needed to keep track of the artist locations much more carefully. Luckily, some of the artists were much easier to find. For instance, my first sketch at the con came from Ms. Becky Cloonan. I picked up the mini that her and her compatriots worked on, and chatted with her a bit. While I love her work, I have to love it even more for her graciousness and openness.

I also managed to catch Eric Canete right before lunch at the Black Velvet Studios booth, which was pretty cool. This was the first time (at this convention) that an artist was charging for a sketch. Well, the first time where I had been intending to buy something, but had to reconsider after asking for the sketch. Either way, I was more than willing to support him, he was relatively quiet as he worked on the sketch, but after chatting with him a bit, I realized that while he has a bit of publishing experience, he was unfamiliar with some of the current artists. He was pretty cool and talking with him and the writer of a series he's working on, I got the sense that his star is rising. Most definitely.

Speaking of the hour and forty-five minute wait, this is where Grace got a little testy. Paul Pope is one of the pre-eminent comic book artists of the modern era. Elusive as he is, the release of his Pulphope book from Adhouse was reason for promotion and celebration. Unfortunately, many other people felt the same way. Not being one to upset his fans, Paul spent a lot of time with each fan, even sketching for a small fee. It really tested Grace's patience to the point where she was in a sour enough mood that she had to leave for the rest of the day, which was really unfortunate. I left him with a copy of his book, a copy of THB, a print, and a smile.

The rest of it is kind of a blur. I popped through Artists' Alley, Vaguely scanned some of the toy booths, and attempted to grab a signature from Vasilis Lolos, even though I never saw him there. I did manage to catch a sketch and a word or two with Corey Lewis and Brandon Graham at the Oni Press table, which was cool. Rey showed me a sketch of a new character freshly designed for Sharknife 2 and Brandon regaled me with stories of his early days working in adult comics. Both guys were incredibly down to earth and really friendly. What surprised me the most is how much of a perfectionist Mr. Graham really is. Out of most of the artists I saw, he was the most liberal with his eraser.

As you can see, Friday was all about comics. Meeting most of these artists, getting sketches, and seeing the new work made me feel good about supporting the artists that I saw. Hopefully I'll be able to chat with them a bit more in the future, as SDCC really is a tough venue to get around and connect in.

Saturday was much, much more crazy.

More on this later.

San Diego or Bust!

Tonight we prepare for the madness that is Comic-Con International: San Diego.  Truly, it will be madness this year as the convention has sold out of all 4-day passes.  Even more telling is that all Saturday one-day passes are sold out also.  What this means is that there will be a plethora, nay, a wave of people attempting to get into the convention on Saturday morning.  We will be attending both Friday and Saturday and for that, I owe a large debt of gratitude to my most awesome fiancee for putting up with my lifelong hobby.

I'm looking forward to seeing some of the panels, some of the creators, and perhaps a celebrity or two, but specifically, I hope to see:

Paul Pope signing his book, Pulphope
James Jean signing his new Process Recess 2
The Heroes panel featuring the entire cast
The Battlestar Galactica panel
Robert Downey Jr. as the Invincible Iron Man
The Flight and Gallery Nucleus booth
The Vinyl Toy Network booth replacing Tower Records
Previewing the 10" Bart Simpson Qees
Strolling through Artists' Alley for sketches
Glancing through Stuart Ng's vast European Hardcover collection.

And I'm sure much more.  What's left for me to do is to actually pound out a schedule for the weekend, which I've been lacking in the past.  This time, I'd rather not wander around aimlessly, so I'm hoping to get my money's worth.  Who knows what will happen, but I'm terribly excited.

Again.  I am a tremendous nerd.