I think the first picture in this set makes it pretty clear, that, despite the title of this post, I was not “up with the chickens” during the stint when I was “chicken sitting” for friends, as this chook looks pretty testy, “Dude, where have you been? We’ve been up for hours. Let us out of this cage already!” Also, I cannot say that I find chickens to be the most endearing animals. They sometimes cock their eyes and look at one with some pretty intense looks. And when I came at lunch to let the dog out, they ran toward me and my Subway sandwich, bouncing as they ran, like a flock of Jurassic Park raptors. Nonetheless, I find the eggs they produce both soothing to look at and yummy to eat. And even though the chickens were long up, it was delightful to be up in the morning relatively early taking care of beasts and seeing the early light in the flowers.
at trader joe’s
i feel the energy
of people getting deals
the sense of making steals
and living to tell about them
(that’s half the pleasure)
like walmart after thanksgiving
but without obesity
i check out
and in my heart I feel
the insidious energy
caveat: I really don’t have much against Trader Joe’s. In fact, I admire its business model almost as much as its distant relation Aldi’s, which I adore. I appreciate the fact that they seem to be doing something in the effort to raise meat more humanely, if I am not mistaken. I appreciate the energy of its employees, one of whom very kindly brought a whole case of the infamous three buck chuck to an event of mine. I even really like many of their products. I don’t know, I suppose it is really only the way some followers of the cult of Giuseppe talk that sometimes gets under my skin
In writing for Catapult magazine, I have written about pornography, grieving, conflict, and race, but seldom has the prospect of articulating my thoughts and feelings about a topic been harder than writing about weight. My interior landscape as it reflects on my own external form and also how we talk about such issues with one another in community-or rather don’t talk about such issues-are so complex, involving such depth of feeling, that the task seemed too hard, principally because of the wounding it might cause others. And, consequently, I did not manage to write an article this time. After several failed attempts at an essay,though, I did manage to write a sort of poem which gets at some of what I was after. It is not much, but if it precipitates any thoughts which you would like to talk to me about, please do not hesitate to email me.
This issue entitled “Weight,” is not only about the weight of bodies, but also reflects on other conceptual notions of weightiness, with some very personal writing. I especially commend to you the editor’s piece which encourages us who live in privileged Western contexts to ask God for more, not less, weight in life.
Located at 5101 Shaw Blvd, on the Hill in St. Louis, a neighborhood burgeoning with Italian restaurants, Adriana’s is a warm, sunny spot to go for lunch summer or winter, sunshine or rain. That is because every time I have gone Adriana herself has been at the counter and chatted warmly as she takes my order. On the day I took these pictures, the friendliness was doubled as one of her daughters was also at the counter.
Adriana’s menu features sandwiches and soups and salads, which can be bought whole or in combination as a half and half meal. Everything is fresh. The daily pasta and tomato salads sit on the counter behind Adriana, just in front of the kitchen which makes your sandwiches just after you order them. I neglected to take a picture before I started eating, but this was a traditional pork sandwich with rabe and a side of soup.
The prices are about $1 or $2 over similar soup/sandwhich combos at chains like Panera, but the portions are larger and the flavors…well, the flavors are fantastic, often as a result of reflecting traditional Italian recipes.
So if you want to have lunch where there is fantastic food, good prices, pleasant surroundings, and charming people head to Adriana’s on the Hill.
I would, it might just be with
you, you sweet, sweet thing.
The title of this post is what Homer Simpson might say if he were Indian or Pakistani, with an anticipatory head waggle. That is what I said when I saw jalebis on the buffet of an Indian restaurant I went to the other day. And, my, were they good, crunchy and colorful, hollow at the core, filled with sweet, sweet syrup. Oh, my, oh, my!
I hope it was not too illicit to wrap this little piece up in a napkin and bring it home to photograph. It had such an exotic shape that it led me to commit minor buffet theft for the sake of art. Though, in truth, there was no fear of it not being eaten then or now just a few minutes after its little photo shoot. Dad had had a nice little “mouth sweetening,” which is more or less a transliteration of the Punjabi phrase “mooh mitha kaar,” which is what people say when they are holding out sweets for you to taste.
Jelabis really are a treat. In looking up videos and recipes, I learned that there is variation, as their is with most recipes in all cuisines though perhaps especially in Indian/Pakistani cuisine, as there are so many different regions in the sub-continent. There are two cool videos with slightly different takes here and here. In remembering men making jelabis in Pakistan and in seeing these videos, it occurs to me that jelabis are quite similar to funnel cake, except instead of being thicker and doused in powdered sugar they are more delicate and soaked in sugar water.
For my rupees, the best jabelis are reddish orange, crispy, bursting with sweet syrup, which should have a tiny hint of rose water. Enjoy the pictures and some jelabis the next time you go out for Indian/Pakistani food. And, for the record, I do know that Indian and Pakistani cuisines are not absolutely interchangeable, though north Indian and Pakistani cuisine come closer to being so.