Wikileaks

The governments of the United States, Sweden, and Interpol have brought their collective forces to bear on a target that seems to be embarrassing them all; Julian Assange, the nomadic, chamelion-like leader of Wikileaks, which has just begun a months-long process of pulling the curtain back from years of U.S. diplomatic efforts. The U.S. government, using Sen. Joseph Lieberman as a proxy, has demanded Amazon.com cease hosting Wikileaks, which is has since done. The Swedish government has issued an arrest warrant on rape charges against Assange that are no doubt politically motivated, Interpol is currently pursuing Assange as well. Wikileaks seems to have found a new home on Swiss servers in order to continue to provide the documents it possesses for public access, and should Assange be arrested, Wikileaks has other members who will carry on with its work.

Wikileaks is performing a public service. Not only does the world have a right to know the truths of international diplomacy, the cables are a treasure trove for historians and armchair ambassadors. Governmental secrecy is desirable in some cases, but none of the cables in Wikileaks collection are labeled top secret. Indeed, most will merely embarrass world leaders, as details they believed were shared in confidence will be revealed for the world that we all live in and deserve to know about. Now presented with a peephole into world affairs, fly on the wall status, we must loudly defend Wikileaks and its rights and ability to continue. To anyone who disagrees, if the U.S. or any other government has done nothing wrong, what does it have to worry about?

Carnivale

Having never been to Carnivale, I expected run of the mill pan-Latin food, a drink menu that's mostly sweet and frozen, and waiters in gaucho pants. I was right on only the drink menu, which was mostly a bachelorette party's dream, apart from an extensive tequila selection. The food and atmosphere were completely different stories. Carnivale, like all restaurants run by impressario Jerry Kleiner is big, bold, and popular with those hoping to be seen. The decor is colorful, vibrant, and more than over the top, but it worked with such a large space and guest list; it created a fun setting and encouraged consumption of several fairly weak caipirinhas (the cachasa-based national drink of Brazil, whose root word means "hillbilly"). After settling in, acclimating to the noise level, and slightly obnoxious and disrespectful waiter, appetizers arrived. Guacamole with chips was creamy and refreshingly tasted of lime, but was in need of a kick. House made ricotta with pleasingly greasy garlic bread was rich enough but lacking, a balsamic flavor or pomegranate seeds would have added another dimension. The must-order small plate is tortillas covered in melted cheese and squash blossom, topped with tiny shrimp and a fiery tomato sauce. The entrees looked no less creative or promising; a churrasco style beef tenderloin with mashed potatoes enhanced with equal parts goat cheese and cream, a pleasingly thick arugula-based chimichurri, and a "spicy beet salsa" which was neither spicy nor a salsa, but still served as a nice accompaniment to the beef. Unfortunately, the tenderloin was served nearly well-done, not medium rare as requested. Dessert was merely adequate, an outrageous portion of three tropical ice creams molded around cake into a tower. Overall, Carnivale is an excellent celebratory restaurant but not a choice for a light, quiet dinner.

Burger Bar

When a new trend begins, it's always followed by imitators. Some innovate on the trend, making it better. Some push boundaries, taking the trend in new directions. And some, in an attempt to capitalize on it come up way short and embarrass themselves. Burger Bar fits into the third category; embarrassing. Burger Bar began life as Urban Burger Bar but had to drop the "Urban" after a copyright dispute. Too bad, they should have simply closed and saved Chicagoans the misery. The woes began before even entering the restaurant. $7 valet in the Clybourn corridor, with street parking plentiful is insanity. The lone valet looked extremely bored and seemed to wonder what he was doing there. In due time, so would I. Burger Bar is a large space, split into a bar area with several high tables and a dining room with lots of found objects and light wood as decoration. Mostly empty which wasn't odd for a weeknight, the waiter was friendly but a bit unprofessional. He did take his time explaining some of the burgers which the menu left unclear. Upsides: cheap large beer selection featuring many local breweries and some of the "snacks" or Burger Bar lingo for appetizers. Fried pickle spears with a pinkish mayo-based sauce and house made chips covered in an almost too mild blue cheese sauce were addictive. Also Burger Bar is moderately priced. Downsides: pretty much everything else. The rest of the snacks (sweet potato tater tots, green bean fries) were limp and without taste, redeemed only by more mayo-based sauces. The burgers are simply terrible. They're charred, mushy and flavorless. One was cooked to medium rare as requested but somehow was dried out, yielding not even a drop of juice. Toppings are plentiful but unimaginative. A "special hot sauce" that could be added to a burger was almost entirely sriracha; it was slopped on top creating a huge mess and disintegrated the soft bun. Fries were under salted and limp. Milkshakes were thin and barely tasted of their advertised ingredients (a malted milk ball shake tasted more of vanilla than anything else and a peanut butter version was only slightly better). Overall, there's no reason to waste time with a pretender when so many restaurants (DMK Burger Bar, Kuma's Corner, The Counter, McDonald's) are much more enjoyable.

Cumin

An unassuming little Indian restaurant in Wicker Park that does the basics well. The decor is hip but comfortable. Bowls of spices fill the air with the unmistakable scent of Indian cuisine.The hostess and service is friendly, if a bit discombobulated. After a brief wait at the bar (the smallish space was full and bustling, even on a weeknight), a friendly waitress pointed out that in addition to the standards of Indian food, Cumin features a large amount of Nepalese dishes. Sadly, the goat will have to wait until next time. An appetizer of a samosa, chaat-like fried okra, and lamb kebab was delicious if simple. Then began the wait. At least 40 minutes passes before the entrees arrived, and it seemed like the wait was endemic; other tables were experiencing it as well. When the chicken tikka masala and vegetable biryani finally arrived, they were found to again be good examples of basic Indian food that non-Indians feel comfortable eating. One of the waiters even smiled knowingly as he set the plates down. Highlights were a naan filled with ground lamb and a spicy yogurt sauce to drizzle over the hot biryani, cutting the fire of the rice well. Overall, Cumin satisfies a craving for Indian staples should one be in Wicker Park.

Big Star

Looking for clean design? Exposed bulbs, pale green walls, large, hip wooden booths? Searching for a honky-tonk? Blaring country music, an encyclopedic selection of cheap bourbon and whiskey? In the mood for trendy Mexican food? Sonoran hot dogs, doused in mayo, guacamole, hit with a fiery touch of chile peppers, guacamole studded with julienned radish to cool the burn, or potato and chorizo tostadas smeared with black bean paste? Just go to Big Star. A fun, crowded, loud, easy going bar with a walk up window for those addicting tacos (also available in tender al pastor with pineapple or tinga, a slightly bland chicken thigh sprinkled with mild queso fresco). Should you want to sample a Kentucky Bourbon from a certain distillery, they probably have it at a reasonable price, but cash only, please. And be prepared to wait, especially for a booth (there are only a few). Instead have a seat at the bar, get comfortable elbowing your neighbor, listen to the roots music, and start picking bourbons and tacos. Ah, life's simple pleasures.

Open Letter Concerning the Annual War on Christmas

Dear Fellow Jews and Allied Non-Christians (Atheists, Muslims, staff of MSNBC), I hope this missive finds you well. I know my usual yearly means of communication is Priest's blood on sheep's vellum but you'd be surprised how difficult that was to obtain this year, despite our nefarious organization's reach and power. Yes, you all no doubt know why I write. It's time again to take up arms in our most sacred mission, the War on Christmas. It's well into October so we have approximately two weeks before that radio station plays nothing but Christmas music and department store Santas get their suits out from under the pyramid of empty beer cans. Recall in years past we undertook such missions as ensuring major corporations spit in the eye of Jesus-fearing people everywhere by suggesting that "Happy Holidays" was a bit more inclusive than "Merry Christmas", and who can forget that perennial favorite, suggesting creches and other displays of Christmas be moved from public property or at the very least, a small nod to other holidays be permitted nearby. Alas, often we have been found out and thwarted by such fair-haired America-loving defenders of Christ such as Sean Hannity, Michelle Malkin and the mouth-breathers who inhabit National Review's subterranean lair. No matter how we try to operate in secret, they still feel a need to shine a dastardly light on our efforts, heroically attempting to remind America that it is indeed Chistmastime. As if anyone who doesn't celebrate Christmas could ever forget, ever.

The Social Network, or, Is Mark Evil?

The movie tells a compelling story. Viewers see the spark of genius at work, the creation of an original idea. Who, exactly, creates that idea is up for debate. Through a nebulous two hours, we are given a path by watching Mark Zuckerberg develop the Facebook in his dorm room and later, squirm through two depositions as Mark is being sued. Mark is made to look like a tragic villain, almost Grecian in the way his life played out (he's known to enjoy epic Greek poetry, so maybe this was an allusion to that). But the director, Aaron Sorkin, admitted in interviews that the storytelling aspect was more important than the facts, which vary slightly from the book the movie is based on (the book's factual account is disputed by Facebook as well). So we cannot take either the book or movie as gospel, as it's told primarily by the Winklevoss twins and Eduardo Saverin, three people who we know comparatively little about in the story, except for the fact that they were losers compared to Mark, the eventual CEO of Facebook and billionaire. Consider Mark as someone who nurtured the idea. The idea may not have been entirely his brainstorm, but he built that idea into a multibillion dollar website that's changed the way we interact online. Convinced the idea for the Facebook is his, Mark does what he thinks he needs to do to protect it. Nothing sinister about that.

Westboro Baptist Church

The Supreme Court has recently agreed to hear an appeal concerning whether the Westboro Baptist Church was within its rights to protest the funeral of a marine with signs such as "God Hates Fags". The Church, primarily comprised of the family of the leader, Fred Phelps, believes that war dead are America's punishment for tolerating homosexuality. Therefore, they protest military funerals. The father of the dead soldier sued for damages based on harassment and mental anguish. After winding its way through the legal system, the Appeals Court found for the church based on the First Amendment. This is the correct decision, and the Supreme Court should and likely will uphold the decision. Though reasonable people may find the speech of the Church members horrifying and disgusting, their right to speak must be recognized, protected and indeed cherished.

The Bristol

This was my second visit to the Bristol, and both times I found a wonderfully well-rounded experience. The food, service, and atmosphere came together to create a very satisfying meal. The only quibble is a policy of no reservations. Since the Bristol seems to be waning slightly in popularity, it wasn't an issue at 7:30 on a Saturday night, despite a small dining room and a crowd that tends to linger as a result of leisurely course pacing and a wide variety of small plates served one or two at a time. That small room is cozily lit and dominated by a long communal table which ends in a blackboard wall, upon which is scribbled some of the specials which are also listed on the menu. The menu is made up of several categories; snacks, pastas and main courses, as well as the option of a cheese board. From the approximately ten snacks, duck fat fries were tasty and served with a complex, not-too-sweet ketchup, monkey bread with dill butter was a bit of a chore, too dense once past the tender, salty mounds of the muffin-like bread, and a flatbread with fromage blanc, bacon hunks and melted onions was fantastic, comforting and rich, though in need of some acidity or bitterness. The shining dish of the night came from the pasta section, shrimp ravioli in cream sauce with trumpet mushrooms. The ravioli resembled dumplings, but much more complicated in flavor. They also seemed to be popular, as the waitress mentioned there were only a few portions left. For the last dish, roast chicken atop miniature dumpling dough and a spicy celery-raddish mixture. The chicken was well-roasted, but this dish lacked the dimensions of some of the others. Roast chicken does seem to be all but required on gastro-pub menus, but it could be played with, re-imagined. Service was excellent, plates were cleared and replaced between each course, recommendations were on target, and the host made me feel as if I was a regular. The Bristol is quickly becoming my favorite gastro pub in Chicago, maybe even one of my favorite restaurants.

Cafe Sushi

Cafe Sushi in Old Town is an unassuming little BYOB sushi restaurant. It has an eerie blue glow inside a stuffy, small space and a nice patio fronting Wells St. Beef gyoza were a standout; meaty, not overly greasy and good sized. A sashimi sampler of various fish tasted fresh and also featured larger than average portions. The remainder of the food (edamame, miso soup) was standard. The issue was the service. It started out slow and ended even slower. Though large groups were clearly sitting and drinking, one large maki order seemed more than the two sushi chefs could handle, resulting in an hour wait for two rolls and sashimi. In a city with many BYOB sushi restaurants with few differences, Cafe Sushi's service puts it towards the bottom.

Sushisamba Rio

Having been to Sushisamba in Chicago and Miami, I knew to expect an odd amalgam of overdone maki and Brazilian fare. Of the many small plates I sampled, three stood out. A special appetizer of a large portion of sweet corn tempura was covered in a dusting of fresh white truffles shaved table side by a chef who informed us that the restaurant was one of four in Chicago to procure white truffles this season due to the usually merely sky-high cost being astronomical this year. Of course, the truffles were welcome, as their earthy, cheesy musk and complex flavors were an excellent foil to the chewy, fried disk they sat atop. The two other dishes that proved worth ordering were both grilled meats; a beautifully cooked portion of short ribs and an addicting charred octopus, which didn't need the thick, sweet mayonnaise-based sauce that accompanied the crunchy tendrils. The sushi, like most maki nowadays, was overwhelmed by too many ingredients. Yellowtail and lobster, stuffed into miniature taco shells, was cute but saturated by a sweet peanut sauce rendering the contents barely noticeable. Service was passable, if a bit slow. The large space was about half full of tourists on a Tuesday. Clearly, Sushisamba Rio has staying power in Chicago.

Overused Phrases

Sound and fury, the kids are/aren't all right, I only dabbled in witchcraft in high school.

DMK Burger Bar

DMK Burger bar takes the latter part of it's name seriously. The former, a bit less so. Walking in at 8 on a weeknight, the restaurant is long and narrow, dominated by a large bar along one side, a meandering red banquette on another, and a large, pink piece of wall art taking up yet another. With few tables, most people stood around the bar drinking. The drink menu was pleasantly eclectic, including one cocktail cribbed from NYC hipster locale Death and Co. The beer selection is lengthy as well, a peach fruit beer was fragrant and refreshing. The menu features about eight burgers (refreshingly, no do-it-yourself option to complicate things as is house practice at The Counter). Number four, a burger on a nice, pillowy ciabatta-type, slightly over-floured roll featured a nicely sized burger, cooked medium, with pepper jack cheese, a fried egg, thick slab bacon, and Hatch green chiles. The elements worked well together, though a bit more spice from the chiles would have been welcome. Also, fried eggs do not work on burgers. While the concept is sound, and a soft yolk spread over a patty provides a nice textural contrast and more mouth-feel, the problem is that egg white is tasteless. It seems to lessen the flavor of whatever burger is unfortunate enough to be sitting underneath it. Fries, chosen from a list of four, are nicely offered in single servings or doubles, even a single would have been enough for two. Fries smothered in Merkt's with limp, tiny green onions needed a more crisp onion to stand up to the richness of the cheese. Sweet potato fries were fine, but the accompanying lemon Tabasco aioli lacked any semblance of heat. Overall, DMK is a winner, a great place to drink and, if so inclined, eat.

Israeli Settlements

President Obama is pushing intensely for a settlement moratorium in Israel. This is a good thing; many of these new settlements are focal points for militant Jewish settlers who, with nothing more than some trailers and the odd structure, claim land for Israel. It's counterproductive and it gives all settlers a bad name. Many settlers live in large, established Jewish communities that an eventual two-state solution will be encompassed by the Israeli border line, while a corresponding bit of land from Israel proper today will be ceded to the Palestinians. But these tiny settlements won't go away, indeed they mushroom because there are plenty of hardcore settlers and it always looks awful in the news when the IDF has to forcible drag Jewish civilians from their "homes", so the government reacts or does nothing when instead it could act by establishing policies preventing certain types of settlement which would serve the two-pronged goal of appeasing the United States government and helping to usher in a Palestinian state next to Israel.

Perennial

Another night, another locavore temple. Perennial is so proud of it's location (right across the street from the Green City Market) and the provenance of it's ingredients (mentions of farms are liberally sprinkled throughout the menu, even the mustard seed's origins are revealed). But despite the genealogy, Perennial is a simple restaurant that lives in the now. Decor is current; unfinished woods, simple lines, taupe, a large patio on Lincoln St. The drink menu is the usual mixology concoctions, a dark and stormy was a little overpoweringly gingery. The food mirrors the setting; simple, clean flavors, the sort of thing that always seems to work. And everything did work. I had a tasting menu built around sweet corn. First was a velvety, rich corn soup with a fried ball of peekytoe crab and whipped honey (looks exactly like marshmallow fluff yet tastes of nothing but honey). Then, corn ravioli filled with corn polenta in a corn puree with kernels and bacon atop. This dish was the clear favorite of the chef; though it had the most corn of the dishes on the menu, the textures all worked together beautifully, the light puree, the rich polenta, and the crisp kernels were a fine showcase of what can be done to an ear of corn. Third was a scallop with a corn puree, greens, a bland spoon bread, and the mustard seed. Nothing special, just like it sounds. This dish was definitely a throw-in to get a protein on the tasting menu. Lastly, for dessert, a corn financier with salty sweet corn ice cream on an even saltier blueberry compote. The "financier", instead of being a pound cake, was indistinguishable from corn bread. In addition, it was leaden and flavorless. When I questioned the otherwise impeccable waitstaff about the dish, I was told that the waitress felt the same way. Regardless, the entire tasting menu was a mere $40, an excellent value. We were told that the chef intends to institute a tasting menu for a seasonal ingredient every month or so which absolutely gives me a reason to return.

Chilam Balam

Arriving mere hours after Check, Please! was filmed at Chilam Balam, a BYOB locavore-type Mexican restaurant in Lakeview, I marveled that such an unassuming space had attracted so much attention. It looks as though someone emptied a bodega of its shelves and replaced them with a booth running the length of one wall and no more than 15 tightly packed tables. Add some kitschy south-of-the-border decorations, and the scene is complete. Of course, no one is here for the atmosphere, which is dispensed with as soon as one opens the windscreen door with its thin metal bars, enters, and is essentially sitting at a patron's table. Told the wait would be 45 minutes at least, no more than five minutes after walking to the bar next door, I received a call summoning me back. The morning after, I feel similarly summoned; the food was playful, mostly successful, and entirely delicious. The small menu, presented in a book of fragile paper, is half blank pages, a good metaphor for where the restaurant is going and perhaps what it may become. The menu is about 20 small plates, half rotating specials, and three or so large plates, none of which I sampled, as they seemed uninspired. Of the small plates I tasted; creamy squash blossom soup with goat cheese and fried leeks, slightly fiery guacamole with chips and pickled onions, bone marrow with toast and sweet pickles, chicken flautas with a mess of vegetables, a sliced flank steak in a spicy red sauce with fried onions and tortillas, and scallops in a thick green sauce similar in taste to a mole with corn, mushrooms, wax beans, and roasted tomatoes the size of a dime, the scallops were the clear winner. Perfectly roasted, a sauce I would have taken home by the quart, and tomatoes so sweet the waiter and I both commented on how much they added to the dish. Of the remaining dishes, the soup was delicious, the guacamole was overpriced, the marrow bones held too little marrow, the flautas presented a nice textural contrast between the fried shell, soft chicken and crunchy, creamy vegetable mixture, and the flank steak was unsuccessful, limp, and given flavor only by the peppy red chile sauce. For dessert, a slightly overbearing but addicting dish of cinnammon-sugared empanadas that were stuffed with crunchy peanut butter and accompanied by small dishes containing a not unpleasantly grainy Oaxacan chocolate sauce, and crushed blackberries. The service was friendly as we discussed other restaurants and helpful as the waiter demonstrated his knowledge by properly suggesting how to course our meal. I would absolutely return, but not until the special dishes have rotated.

Lillie's Q

Barbecue is quickly becoming the next cupcake in Chicago, I can think of at least five nouveau places opened recently or opening soon. The gold standard is Smoque, but Lillie's Q is proof that there are contenders to challenge for the crown. Brick walls and a small, unassuming room with a blackboard drink menu offer nothing of the nuances to come. That drink menu features several mixed drinks containing a boutique, small batch corn whiskey, which added a nice bite and depth to an Arnold Palmer. The menu isn't long, but it doesn't need to be. Three appetizers, ten or so entrees, a few sides and a pair of desserts are more than enough to satisfy a picky eater. From the appetizers, fried pickles are fantastic. The batter is similar to tempura, which leaves them relatively light and not at all greasy. They performed well as a blank canvas to test out the six sauces left at the table. Carolina and Smokey were two favorites. As for entrees, the pulled pork with slaw sandwich on a fluffy brioche was a bit flavorless, but that was remedied quickly with lashings of the slightly spicy Smokey sauce. The tri-tip sandwich was another story. Pink and smoke-flavored, it surpassed Smoque's brisket in flavor. However, on a second visit, the same meat was chewy and tough. A side of baked beans was sublime; brown sugar and maple flavors pushed the beans past a thin, bland mac and cheese. A side of green beans was deliciously slick with butter and studded with bacon. Service was friendly, and the owner stopped by to discuss his triumphant Memphis in May BBQ contest victories. Lillie's Q definitely has a fighting chance in this city as well.

Kendrick Meek

Shouldn't the White House be offering Kendrick Meek a plum job right about now? Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Islamophobia...

in America is scaring the hell out of me. Politicians railing against members of a certain religion, blaming them for wrongs assailing our country, asserting they aren't like us, have cult-like practices, want to impose their way of life on us and are abnormally powerful, and stirring up a general mistrust and hatred of a religious group reminds me of Berlin in oh, say, the early 1930's. While rights for groups such as gays seem to progress, some politicians (Michele Bachmann, Sue Myrick just off the top of my head) seem to prefer the rights of Muslims be curtailed. Why? They surely are aware of crazy Christians and Jews and Sikhs and Quakers in this country who dream of killing in the name of their religion. Fire breathers like Hannity and O'Reilly invented a war on Christmas after some corporations decided to switch to "Happy Holidays", but when religious rights are actually being infringed upon, where are those self-appointed defenders of freedom of religion?

Go Ahead, Have That Paraguayan Mango

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/20/opinion/20budiansky.html?_r=1

Coq d'Or

Amongst the restaurants in the venerable Drake Hotel, the Coq d'Or is by far my favorite. As a child, I was in love with the since-closed Oak Terrace, with its elaborate sundae bar and gorgeous views of Michigan Ave and the lake. Within the last several years, it was replaced by Drake Bros, a by the numbers steak restaurant that failed to inspire a return visit. I've also enjoyed the Cape Cod Room, a musty old warren of rooms designed like an 1850 man-o-war (it may have been crewed by some of the ancient waitstaff). But the ship is cozy and romantic with its side by side booth seating and well kept by its crew. The quality of the seafood is impeccable, even though the dining room is rarely even half full anymore, the restaurant still delivers a pleasurable experience. Of course, the Palm Court is nice for a drink but the hidden gem of the hotel is indeed the golden rooster. It's been one of my favorite restaurants since I was little; when I began going there with my family. The bar began serving five cent glasses of whiskey the day prohibition ended and today serves $18 executive (meaning double) martinis. The small rooms, low ceilings, murals depicting French sailors and lanterns create a womblike effect. The menu changed repeatedly as it attempts to remain current in an odd contrast to the setting. The constants are clam chowder from the Cape Cod Room (the best in the city), Bookbinder's soup (a red snapper broth served with a miniature snifter of sherry that's never been to my taste), and a club sandwich. The Coq d'Or is in no way a place to be seen, but the personal connection I've developed over my life makes it a very special place for me. Plus, it's an unbelievable date spot (classy, cozy, and lots of alcohol).

PGA Championship

As I sit here watching the PGA Championship, I'm struck by the fact that golfers are extremely humble athletes, at least in public. Excessive celebration is rare, players are self-effacing and quick to point out flaws in their game or poor shots from the previous round. Golfers are an exception to the rule that athletes are always thanking God for victories. When a player is four or five over, he has no one to blame but himself. I also think golfers have much more respect for their sport and its officials than other athletes; this probably stems from golfers calling their own fouls, enforcing the rules themselves. The rules of golf are sacred, every golfer understands this. From the first day a young golfer picks up a club, he learns both official and unofficial rules which are enforced by sanctions, both official and unofficial. If a player hits a ball in a tough yet playable spot, he cannot kick the ball without incurring a serious penalty. If a player talks during another's backswing, he likely won't be invited to play again. Essentially, being a golfer means bringing an honorable and respectful attitude to the course which is less than can be said for other sports where the goal is winning at all costs.

Big Dreams and Little Dreams

This post is about dreams. I recently saw the movie Inception. Though many have pointed out that the story is not original (stealing secrets from dreams was part of the plot of an old Ducktales cartoon), and even the director Christopher Nolan admittedly borrowed from many sources in his filmmaking, at least it's no Avatar, which is literally the story of Pocahontas. Inception is very well done with a story that holds the viewer's attention with the exception of a few small lapses nearing the end. Dreams are spun within dreams, subconsciouses are delved, theories are held forth on the nature of dreams. Some of the movie is dull action sequence, while less is genuinely creepy, and Ellen Page as Ariadne did an excellent job lending an aura of unsteadiness to what could have been a simple heist movie. There are rules, and there are secrets. One scene especially stood out to me; when Ariadne visits Cobb (DiCaprio) in his own dream state. She takes a literal elevator down to his figurative memories and sees his lost wife's manifestation. The way Page whispers to Mal (Cotillard); it feels like her fear is palpable and thus shared with the audience. The scene feels like something we all do; bury things we don't want to think about.

Little dreams can leave impressions too, but it's more difficult to remember them sometimes. To illustrate, I recently dined at Piccolo Sogno (little dreams). I was unimpressed. The restaurant is nicely decorated in a sort of mismatched manner, chandeliers are strewn about closely to each other, there's a lot of white space and tables seem oddly grouped together. The real winner is the large patio with its high ivy-covered walls and more mismatched furniture. Dinner, for a place that has had so much buzz, was generally a letdown. Fried squash blossoms filled with fontina and drizzled with a sweet tomato sauce was the only dish to leave an impression. The peach salad with beets and goat cheese was fine, and the burrata with cullatelo was obviously enjoyable as it would be to anyone with taste buds. Branzino, presented whole then roasted and served with a nice citrus broth and cippolinis was well prepared but forgettable. A perfectly al dente pasta with veal ragu was better, a gnocchi with tomatoes wasn't. Though it's always nice to dine at an Italian restaurant in a predominately red sauce town that knows there's more to Italian cuisine than whatever parmesan or vesuvio (Club Lago, j'accuse), Piccolo Sogno simply didn't make the grade.

Question

I recently read "Ishmael" by Daniel Quinn. In it, a character speaks about feeding the hungry. We shouldn't feed the hungry, he says, because feeding the hungry leads to more population growth, which means more mouths to feed, so we must devote more energy to producing additional food; essentially we can never truly feed the hungry. Of course this sounds cruel and horrifying, but the book speaks about civilizations and humans surviving on Earth over millions of years. Our population is exploding. Is this something we can do anything about?

Part of This Complete Breakfast

Who most egregiously overestimates the intelligence of Americans? Junk food advertisers and politicians are two that quickly come to mind. Whenever a sensible bit of legislation is proposed that say, limits soda sold in grade schools, or requires listing trans fats in donuts, just as predictably as right-wingers yelping about the nanny state, allies of Big high fructose corn syrup (advertisers, industry lobbyists, etc) proclaim that Americans are smart enough to know that too much trans fats or high fructose corn syrup or whatever additive is only harmful in large amounts. While the science may be true, while consuming trace amounts of Red No. 45 may be harmless, most Americans have no idea what's healthy and what isn't. We can blame small servings sizes or huge portions but the truth is that most Americans are not smart enough to understand healthy eating. Studies have been done by groups such as the CSPI that demonstrate that Americans are clueless when asked to estimate how many calories are in a dish. In fact, they consistently underestimate. Sugary cereals are given check marks from the AHA and other healthy sounding seals of approval. If junk food merchants are to continue to push the foods they do, they should carry something akin to the surgeon general's warning on cigarettes warning people that consuming in excess of moderation may cause serious health problems such as obesity and diabetes.

I'll save politicians for another post.

Piece of Advice

I recommend that you do not click on the "Next Blog" link in an attempt to see if there are any other intelligent people using a free, easy blogging service. There aren't.

Misused Words

Unique. Something cannot be a little unique, more unique, or less unique. Something is either unique or it isn't.

Girl and the Goat

I dined at Stephanie Izard's new restaurant last night. Having never been to Scylla, I was looking forward to seeing what she can do. I wasn't disappointed, but the concept seemed cookie cutter. Bring me food from Mado, Bristol, or the Publican, all of which I have enjoyed, mix the dishes up and I'd have no clue what came from where. Obviously this sort of hearty, butcher's block communal tables upon which all sorts of animal parts in different configurations are served place is popular. It isn't fussy and it tastes good. But let's not go crazy every time another place opens that will fry pig feet or whip liver into butter. Our arteries would want us to exercise restraint. Anyway, everything I sampled was good or great. Kohlrabi salad (essentially cole slaw) with blueberries, escargot with goat meatballs in tomato sauce, ham frites (ham salt shaken over fries), goat flatbread with sour cherry, ricotta, onion and basil (the winning dish), yellow tomato soup with yogurt (thick like vichysoisse), and lastly, a dessert of olive oil gelato, fudge cubes, thin cookie and a stout sauce. There were also old fashioneds as accompaniment. The crowd was lively, the music was 90's, the place was full at 11, but the service was slow and the course pacing was off. Overall, it was very enjoyable.

Batteries Not Included

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/07/world/middleeast/07tanker.html?hp This sort of attack in the Straits has the ability to paralyze oil shipments, as the article points out. It also has the ability for big anti-American PR victories in the Middle East. Though a lot of this PR is no doubt manufactured by some MENA governments, attacks done by rogue groups against Western shipping interests from Iran controlled territory are no doubt tacitly permitted by Iran in order to drum up some good PR for Iran from those who would love to sell America oil, only to see it never reach America. Rinse and repeat. It's similar to the idea that the Revolutionary Guard was assisting Shia militias in Iraq. Become a regional hegemon by influencing its geographical sphere. Though this bombing was fairly unsuccessful (the tanker was barely damaged and oil prices didn't rise), there's a great solution to what will no doubt soon be frequent tanker attacks; Battery technology.

Though oil is used for more than powering cars, reducing our dependence on oil, both foreign and domestic, will be good for our environment and our R&D departments. Battery powered cars are coming, slowly. They won't be successful until people aren't afraid their battery will run out on the way to Chipotle. New battery technology is an area of interest to me, both to study and invest in.

Misused Words

Disinterested. You sound really stupid if you use this word to mean uninterested.

WWJD (Who Would Jesus Discriminate)

The right to discriminate has been getting a lot of play in right-wing circles. No, I'm not talking about the barely hidden undercurrent of racism that invariably comes up whenever right-wingers discuss our President, or back during the 2000 R-Pres campaign when rumors were circulated in South Carolina about possible nominee John McCain having possibly fathered a black child, costing him that state's primary. I'm also not talking about the onslaught against all things Islam as an evil, hate filled group of cultists hell-bent on suicide bombing baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet. I'm actually talking about the gays. Specifically same sex marriage, gay weddings, the abomination that is homosexuality (however you choose to refer to it). I am pro gay marriage. I think that little line in the Constitution about the pursuit of happiness sort of applies here, not to mention basic human rights, whether endowed by God or the state. But that seems to be irrelevant to the right-wing. They argue that traditional marriage will suffer. They argue divorce rates will climb. They argue that children raised in same sex households will be maladjusted. Those arguments are silly and have been debunked, some by Judge Walker in his excellent decision striking down Prop 8.

This post was meant to be about one specific argument that some right-wingers have made; "Our rights are being infringed". The gist of the argument is that since we believe either based on Christianity or astrology or the baby Jesus, that homosexuality is wrong and we're going to speak out against it, donate large sums to outlaw it, and basically attempt to prevent its practitioners from advancing in the public sphere. In the process of attempting to deny a group of people, that group of people and its allies are denouncing us. They call us names like bigot, demonize us, and try to delegitimize our organizations.

Right-wingers argue that they're being persecuted for their beliefs. What they actually mean is "This curtails or denies us our right to discriminate against gays". Once right-wingers admit that it isn't about their right to believe that Jesus rose from the dead, and that they simply hate gays, we'll all get along much more fabulously.

Dos Diablos

Ended up at Dos Diablos for a late dinner after the driving range. It was decent, the patio was pleasant, and the micheladas, queso and fajitas were fine but not worth running to get.

A Tavola

Just enjoyed dinner at A Tavola in Chicago. Overall, it was phenomenal. Clearly patronized by a well-to-do clientele, the standards were done well (caprese salad, cheese polenta) and the rest of our order was simple yet satisfying (eggplant caponata, brown butter gnocchi with fried sage, sliced leg of lamb with garlic spinach, chocolate and walnut torte). The waiter was both knowledgable as he spoke about the large number of specials which rival the short menu in length and friendly as he acted as the sole waiter for the smallish dining room. The only negatives were a slightly unkempt dining room and the fact that as we arrived at the door, the waiter was smoking outside. Not the best greeting. However it was quickly forgotten by a restaurant that offered excellent cuisine at a very reasonable price.

Senatorial Misconduct

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/08/09/100809fa_fact_packer?currentPage=all This is an excellent New Yorker article on my favorite governmental institution, the US Senate. Though it has a bitterly partisan history, full of duels, beatings administered with canes, and ugly arguments over slavery, the body for most of its history has been made up of genteel white males who all got along at the end of the debate. Today, the Senate is made up of genteel white males who mostly despise each other it seems, especially illustrated by some of the anecdotes in this piece. What has changed? The thesis statement here is "Money and special interests have a corrosive effect on a free exchange of ideas and eventual compromise". But there have always been special interests at work in this country. Fundraising has taken on a new importance with massive TV ad buys and political parties hungry for more dollars, true, but I think that what's changed is alcohol. Drinking on the job. As an avid fan of Mad Men, everyone gets along much better after a three martini lunch. In fact, some characters barely tolerate others without a round of scotch. Back in the 19th and early 20th century, except for that brief period of Prohibition, Senators were probably regularly drunk on the job, never mind nights and weekends. This NYer article mentions lunch as a good bonding experience, what about sake bombs? Or a weekly round of beer pong, partnering up each state's Senators in a tournament? I think this would inspire comity and a feeling of "we're all in this together" more than any speech about bipartisanship.

Birchers

http://motherjones.com/politics/2010/08/bob-inglis-tea-party-casualty Who still thinks tea partiers are harmless? They've essentially become modern day John Birchers. Over under 6 months on some of these idiots calling to end fluoridating our water supply?

Fat acceptance

The fat acceptance movement is not new, it's been around for a number of years. Led by groups such as NAAFA and various blogs, the movement seeks to end "fat discrimination", rails against dieting, and tries to engender a feel good message about loving people for who they are and not trying to change anyone. I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I don't care what you do to your body as long as I don't have to see you naked. On the other hand, I'll be indirectly paying for your fourth quintuple bypass after you decide to eat foods exclusively from www.thisiswhyyourefat.com. Overall, it seems these fat acceptance people are less happy to be overweight then they are happy to rebel against what they see as societal conventions.

To try

Restaurants in Chicago I need to try: L20, Avec, Sepia, Bonsoiree, Franks and Dawgs, Girl and the Goat, Lillie Q.

ADL, Newt and Palin

Since the last post got me thinking about my religion, I also want to share a thought on the ADL and its opposition to the so-called Ground Zero mosque. I sometimes struggle with the idea of Islam as a peaceful religion while so many of its adherents carry out violence in its name. But building a community center that contains a mosque and is meant to reach out to the area is a noble goal, and I'm ashamed that the ADL, Newt Gingrich and Sarah Palin are all on the same side. I read a lot of political blogs, and many of those of the right-wing variety make it sound like our country is under an onslaught; Shariah, Halal, prayer rooms. "The Constitution is not a suicide pact", they proclaim. We shouldn't have to extend the rights we enjoy to those who wish to destroy us, goes the line of thought. But many of these right-wingers (I refuse to call them Conservatives) are too simple or afraid of change to understand that Islam is not the enemy. A recent post on Redstate mused that churches aren't permitted or are heavily limited in Saudi Arabia, so we shouldn't permit this mosque to be constructed. Yep, that argument was made by a writer for a blog which may as well have the mission statement "America Perfect, Rest of World Bad". In fact, that might make a good Republican slogan. It's simple, direct, and good for the semi-illiterate.

Amar'e

So Amar'e Stoudamire is trying to discover his Jewish identity. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQPJ1Ujo7_U As a Jew, I'm slightly amused by this. Maybe he'll be spotted in a Moses piece? Religion as a whole occupies a strange place in sports. Players always thank God after a win but does anyone actually believe God is a Knicks or a Packers fan? Notre Dame fans attend a special mass held before football games. I suppose that thinking God wants you to win the World Series is less harmful than thinking God wants you to run for office or commit genocide. But if there is a God, what would he want?

First Post

Greetings. Welcome to my little pretentious corner of the internet. This blog will be sporadically updated with posts about my two favorite subjects; food and politics. I also enjoy obnoxiously correcting others' grammar and inappropriate humor.