My Cat Smokey; August 1998-April 19, 2012 RIP

Fourteen years ago a beautiful, green eyed, gray, kitten was wandering the neighborhood. My son and his girlfriend were sitting on the front steps of our house, when she walked up to them softly meowing.  Hungry, no doubt.  We gave her a plate of milk and sent her on her way.  A few minutes later, she returned.  Persistent little creature. 

“Can we keep her?” Asked my twenty-year son.  “No way!” was our reply.  We neither wanted nor needed another cat in the house.  We had just lost a cat a few months prior and were in no mood to take on any more pets.  Pip, our ninety-pound Old English Sheepdog, was enough to keep us busy.  “But we’ll take care of her.” My son pleaded.  “She will live in our house at school.”   “Okay,” We agreed, “But she is YOUR responsibility.”  Two weeks later, when the landlord found out a cat was in the house, she become our responsibility.  And that is how Smokey found her forever home.

Well, it wasn’t always Smokey.  First it was Binger.  Remember a twenty-year old college student is naming her.  Then Stoli; after the vodka.  That wouldn’t do, so we settled on Smokey.  She had the most beautiful coat. All grey with faint ringlets on her tail.  Nearly perfect proportions.  Her only flaw, if you could call it that, was that her legs were slightly too short.  She had a funny way of running.  It just added to her charm.  

When my younger son was a baby, he would constantly watch The Lady And The Tramp. In one scene, Si and Am, the two deliciously trouble making cats, sing "We Are Siamese If You Please."  That became Smokey’s song.  I would hold her head in my hands, lock eyes with her, and softly sing the song to her.  She would gaze right back at me and purr. 

Through the years we got two other cats, Lucky and Misty, as well as our dog Rocky.  By this time Smokey became the undisputed Alpha cat.  She would determine who got to sit in what window.  Who got to sit on what piece of furniture. And most important of all, who got to sit on the kitchen table under the warm lights.  Woe to the cat or dog that was in the spot she wanted.  A hiss, growl and a smack across the snout would send the interloper running. 

A few months ago she started to go downhill. She stopped grooming herself.  She was not eating well.  She was throwing up and had diarrhea.  She was sleeping a lot.  We were treating her for hyperthyroid.  We changed her diet to a modified RAW diet.   She started to thrive.  She seemed to be her old self again.  Affectionate, loving and still maintaining her pack status.

Last night, I was grooming her on her perch; A five foot tall pie safe.  She was cooperating as usual.  I finished up, put the brush away, threw away the fur and remarked to my wife how great she looks.  Right in front of my eyes, she got up and fell off her perch!  She hit the ground hard.  She didn’t move.  When she finally got up she ran down into the basement.  She was panting hard, her eyes were extremely dilated and she was drooling profusely. Not good.  We ran down to our vet’s office.  They immediately took her in.  They put an oxygen mask on her and gave her a sedative.  Since our vet doesn’t have any overnight staff, they told us to take her to the emergency clinic.  We frantically drove to the hospital and they too put her on oxygen.  The doctor explained all of the possible outcomes and tests they would do to diagnose the problem.  We glumly nodded and agreed to have them do what they could do.

This morning, when we called, we found out the bad news.  She was dying.  There was nothing the doctors could do to save her.  I raced down to the clinic. They brought her in to the room.  She was bedraggled.  That proud, beautiful cat, shaved, with needle ports attached to her.  It was heartbreaking.  The attendant left.  I picked her up in my arms, hugged her gently and told her how much I loved her.  The doctor came in and explained how the procedure would work.  As she inserted the anesthesia into the port, I held Smokey ever so gently and sang, “We are Siamese if you please...”  Those were the last words she heard.  I hope it comforted her as she made her journey over the Rainbow Bridge.  She was a wonderful cat.  Our lives are enriched with pets and when they leave us, they leave a little hole in our hearts.

Smokey Scott

August 1998-April 19, 2012

RIP

First The Education Gap, Now Two More Sinister Gaps

As a teacher, I have been closely watching Governor Malloy’s assault on our profession. We have been accused of having cushy jobs for life because of the tenure system.  Our unions have been accused of stymieing education reform. Older, experienced teachers are portrayed as dinosaurs. According to him, all we do is show up to work and get paid.   He constantly reminds the public of the achievement gap in Connecticut; the discrepancy between the low and high-income students in our state.

This gap has got me thinking.  If there is an achievement gap, surely there must be other gaps in Connecticut as well.  Through my careful research, I have discovered two very disturbing gaps; the crime gap and the fire gap.  Two gaps, which have for some strange reason, been overlooked.

I started by looking at the different crime rates between Darien and Hartford, Connecticut. Hartford is one of the nation’s poorest cities while Darien is one of the wealthiest. Through my meticulous investigation, I discovered that the overpaid and apparently lazy Hartford police are not doing their job. The information I found out was mind blowing.  Despite having 445 sworn officers in Hartford vs. 51 in Darien, Hartford remains a very dangerous place.  In fact Hartford is one of the most dangerous cities in the United States.  That’s astounding.  In 2010 Hartford had nearly 6900 thefts, burglaries and robberies.  Darien had 143. 

Logically, you would think that it would be the other way around.  Crime should be out of control in Darien, because duh, that’s where the money is.  But, unbelievably, the crime rate is rather low.  In fact, the last time someone was murdered in Darien was 1999. Hartford has five homicides this year and a total of twenty-seven last year. Those crime dogs in Darien are busting their butts keeping the good residents of Darien and their BMW’s safe at night.

Clearly the cops in Hartford are eating too many donuts to prevent any crimes. They make good money and don’t seem to work too hard to earn it.  They ride around in air-conditioned cars all day.  They wear cool uniforms and carry guns. What they don’t do is prevent crime.  It is obvious that outdated union work rules have hindered any real progress in bringing down the crime rates.  I bet that if their pay was tied to how many people they arrested, boy would the crime rate plummet.  I’m sure that if the older more experienced (read - more expensive) cops were replaced by newer ones, fresh from the police academy, you could walk down the street flashing hundred dollar bills and no one would give you a second look. 

The other gap I discovered is the fire gap.  I looked at the fire statistics of Hartford and Avon, Connecticut for the year of 2011.  Avon is another fabulously wealthy town.  Hartford had 913 fires and Avon tallied only 32.  But here is the kicker.  The Hartford firefighters are unionized while the Avon firefighter are, sit down, volunteer!  That’s right, they don’t even get paid and yet they manage to prevent Avon from burning to a crisp. What are those greedy, unionized Hartford firefighters doing with their time?  Having chili cook offs? Polishing their pole?  And do they really slide down that thing anyway?  You never see them out on the street being proactive.  Only when there is a fire do they reluctantly leave their firehouse and go to work.  Disgusting.

I think the governor needs to be aware of these dangerous gaps.  I think we need to have a blue ribbon task force to figure out why crime and fire rates are so much higher in poorer communities compared to rich ones.  I think we need to get rid of collective bargaining and strict union rules that are damaging the very fabric of our society.  Once we bust the unions and make public employees toe the mark, then and only then, will we be safer and smarter. 

My Singing Debut; Haman the Agagite (Evil)

The Story of Purim  I play the evil Haman in my synagogue's Purimspiel.  Haman is eventually hung on the gallows.  Ouch.  Next stop for me, Jerusalem Idol.

Hooray For Bollywood, La La La La La La La La La La!

Indian cuisine is probably my favorite of all ethnic foods.  I cook a fair amount of Indian and Asian foods at home.  But, it is always much more fun when someone else does the cooking; and the dishes too!   I won a restaurant.com gift card as a Christmas grab bag gift, so my wife and I checked out the participating Indian restaurants in the area, and eventually settled on The Bollywood Grill, in Glastonbury, CT. 

Bollywood is the Indian equivalent of the American cinema industry.  The word itself is a portmanteau of Bombay (Mumbai) and Hollywood.   According to Business Week, last year, Bollywood films sold a million more tickets than Hollywood worldwide.  It is a huge industry.

I was expecting the décor to reflect the Bollywood theme with perhaps movie posters, memorabilia, and maybe even a few flat panels with a movie or two playing quietly in the background.  This was not the case.  It looked like the same sad décor as the restaurant it replaced; The Ambassador of India, because it was the same sad décor.  Needless to say, I was a little disappointed with the ambiance.  There was some music playing in the background but that was it!   Oh well, on to the food.

The waiter swiftly brought out some papadums to munch on as we decided what to order.  Papadums are thin, crispy, peppery wafers made from either lentil, chickpea, potato or rice flour.  They were served with chopped onions, spicy coriander chutney and a sweet tamarind sauce. Curiously, my wife, who was born in India, does not like hot or spicy food.  Alas, I got to eat all of the papadums myself.  I know, it’s a tough job, but...  Anyway, We decided on a few appetizers, breads and our entrees.  We ordered some vegetable samosas, which are triangular pastries stuffed with potatoes, peas and then deep fried. We also ordered vegetable pakoras, which are fritters, made from onions, carrots, broccolis and cauliflower, dipped in chickpea flour and deep fried as well.  My wife ordered what she always orders, which is Chicken Tikka. Chicken Tikka is chicken that has been marinated in yogurt and spices and then grilled.  It is not served with a marsala (sauce).  I ordered the Chicken Shahenshah, which is chicken that is also marinated in yogurt and spices but served with a cashew sauce.  I love different Indian and Asian style sauces.  The cashew sauce really caught my eye so I was eagerly awaiting it.  We couldn’t decide which bread to order, so we went with the Bollywood Bread Basket.  It has Naan, which is a flatbread, Aloo Paratha, which is a potato stuffed flatbread, and our favorite of all, Poori which is a wheat bread that is deep fried and puffs up like a ball. 

Yes, this is a lot of food.  Did you didn’t think we were going to eat all of it in one sitting?  That’s what Styrofoam boxes are for!  My wife grew up in New Rochelle.  When we used to my father-in-law, he would always take us to this awesome Indian place called The Abhilash. Abhilash was, according to my father-in-law, the best Indian food in the area. My father-in-law, a great host and raconteur, would always order a bunch of appetizers, entrees and bread.  I don’t know how to eat Indian food otherwise.

The samosas and pakoras arrive sizzling hot from the oven.  The samosas were crispy on the outside and very creamy on the inside.  Not too spicy either.  The sweet tamarind sauce went perfectly with the savory samosa.  The pakoras were exceptional.  Very crunchy and flavorful.

The entrees appeared with a flourish.  The Chicken Tikka that my wife ordered arrived sizzling on the hot plate. Tender, succulent chunks of mildly spiced chicken with a slight char taste served on a bed of onions and peppers. My Chicken Shahenshah was delicious.  The sauce was rich and silky smooth, with a nice cashew flavor.  I think I would have been happy with just an order of the sauce with a straw. Maybe next time.  The breads were very good—fresh, chewy and a perfect accompaniment to sop up the sauce.  The basmati rice was cooked perfectly as well.

We didn’t finish half of what we ordered and had them wrap it up to take home.  We had it for dinner the next night.  This was excellent Indian food.  The menu was extensive with a lot of vegetarian dishes. The waiter was happy to customize the amount of heat or spiciness. I highly recommend it.  

http://bollywoodgrillct.com/index.htm

Burger Quest, I Bid You Adieu

As all good things must come to an end, so too must the Burger Quest.  Ironically, it ends at the beginning.  Louis Lunch in New Haven Connecticut. Ground zero for ground beef.  Louis Lunch has the distinction of being the first hamburger joint in America.  The story goes that in 1900 a businessman ran into the New Haven lunch wagon and demanded a lunch to go.  Louis Lassen, the proprietor, slapped together a blend of beef trimmings between two pieces of toast and sent the harried gentleman on his way.  Thus the hamburger was born. 

At Louis Lunch, little has changed in one hundred-twelve years.  Their hamburger is a proprietary blend of five different cuts of fresh ground beef. The menu is limited.  Hamburger or cheeseburger.  Tomato, grilled onions or both.  On toasted white bread.  That’s it.  No condiments and don’t even ask because they will look at  you like you are an idiot.  You can get potato chips, or potato salad.  Drinks are soda or water. 

We walked into the restaurant and were struck by how tiny it is.  About the size of a small living room.  The place was packed wall to wall with people.  There was a large table for communal eating on the right, a small table on the left and some curious pew looking chairs with a tiny table  attached to the chair.  The walls were a dark tobacco color.  Curiously out of place were some antique firearms hanging from the roof.  The windows were an interesting Tudor diamond pattern.  Every conceivable surface was covered with initials, names poems and such carved into the surface.  The tables, chairs, walls, window muntins; everything.  I immediately wished I had brought my knife to mark my territory.

You don’t have to ponder the menu too much to figure out what you going to have.  I took more time figuring out my potato chip order.  My wife and I ordered two cheeseburgers (American cheese; what else) with onions and tomatoes; cooked rare.  We managed to get a seat and sat down to wait. And wait. And wait.  We waited about a half an hour.  The hamburgers are cooked to order in in four gas fired cast iron vertical braziers that date back to the original store.  Since they can only cook four burgers at a time, bring something to amuse yourself.  Like “War and Peace!”  One guy next to me celebrated two birthdays that same day!

Finally they called my name.  Here comes the big moment.  This was a good sized burger as far as burgers go.  Some of the reviews I read said the burgers were tiny.  I didn’t have a scale but it appeared to be about 5 ounces after cooking.  The toast was perfectly browned.  I took one bite and wow, I was stunned.  The burger was perfectly cooked rare, it was very juicy, and had a lot of flavor.  The meat had great texture and you could tell the meat was fresh.  The onions added a nice sweetness and the tomato contributed just a touch of sour.  This burger stands on its own.  No need to dress it up with sauces, condiments, pickles or truffles.  The burger is the star.

We slowly finished our meal and sat and chatted savoring the experience.  Yeah, there are sexier burgers out there, but for a unique experience, get yourself down to Louis Lunch. 

http://www.louislunch.com/

This Is Where I Leave You: A Novel by Jonathan Tropper

Think your family is dysfunctional?  Think again.  One of the funniest books I've read in a while.  A death in the family brings all of the family together for a week.  Love, sex, high school, mommy issues, sibling rivalry. Check it out.

Home Made Corned Beef; Simple And Delicious. Thanks Alton!

Corned Beef

For me, one of life’s simple pleasures is to tuck into a delicious corned beef sandwich.  Richly marbled beef, with a melt in your mouth texture and a slight salty tang.  Pile it on soft rye bread, add a smear of deli mustard, and you have a great sandwich. 

Store bought corned beef has never done it for me.  Too salty, too chemical tasting, tough meat, no flavor.  Sorry, but it just doesn’t cut it.  Rein’s Deli in Vernon is an alternative, but It's a schlep to get out there.  So I decided to try my hand at homemade corned beef.  I wanted to see if I could duplicate the flavor and texture of New York deli style corned beef.  Naturally I turned to the Internet for some guidance.  After researching various recipes, I settled on Alton Brown’s recipe for corned beef. It had mostly positive reviews and I have used his other recipes with great success.

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/corned-beef-recipe/index.html 

(The recipe has the list of ingredients and cooking instructions.  I substituted the saltpeter for the Prague Powder #1.) 

Corned beef has nothing to do with corn.  Rather it is beef that has been cured or pickled in a brine solution.  The term corn comes from the old English term for coarse-grained salt.  Before refrigeration, salt was used to preserve meat.  The brine also has herbs and aromatics to enhance the flavor of the beef.   Pink salt can be added to act as a preservative and to give the corned beef its characteristic pink color. I used Prague Powder #1 which has 93.75% table salt and 6.25% sodium nitrite.  It is not necessary to add it to the brine, but I wanted the preservative aspect as well as the color.  Sodium Nitrite's main use in food is to prevent botulism.  A very nasty disease.

I picked up a nice brisket from Stew Leonard’s in Newington.  I have used their brisket in the past for making BBQ and have always been satisfied with the meat.  If you are lucky they may even have it on sale for $3.99 a pound.  I wasn’t so lucky; I paid $4.99.  I look for one with a nice thick fat cap and good marbling. Yes, I know, fat is not that good for you, but it does add a lot of taste.  Besides, you are not going to eat this everyday.  Right?

Next I started to get all of the necessary herbs, spices and aromatics together.  I had most of the items in my spice drawer.  The allspice and juniper berries necessitated a trip to Penzey’s Spices in West Hartford.  The Pink Salt was a whole ‘nother story.  I could not find it in any grocery or specialty store in my area.  I eventually had to piggy-back it on a book order from Amazon.  Finally I could assemble the troops. 

The recipe is very straightforward.  Everything into the pool and boil until the salt is dissolved. Cool the mixture to about 45 degrees.  I added a few cups of ice per the recipe and then put the pot out in the garage for a few hours.  You could stick in the refrigerator if you have room.  

I placed the brisket and brine in a large Zip-Lock bag, squeezed the air out and made sure that the brine covered the brisket.  I put that inside another bag,  placed the whole thing into a large TupperWare container and put it into the refrigerator.  The recipe calls for a brine of ten days, but I left it in for fifteen.  I also turned it everyday to make sure that the brisket was completely submerged.

I removed the brisket from the brine and rinsed it for a few minutes under cold water to remove any residual salt.  The brisket went into a pot of water with a large onion and a handful of baby carrots.  The recipe called for a stalk of celery too, but I didn’t have any celery in the house. It was eight in the morning, and I wasn’t leaving the confines of my warm, cozy house.  Trust me, you won’t miss it. 

I boiled it for a total of three hours.  After two and a half hours, I checked for doneness, but it was still not fork tender.  Three hours was the magic number.  I pulled it out of the water, put it on the cutting board and let it rest for twenty minutes.  

I sliced off a few pieces, placed them on some fresh rye bread and gave it a good "schmear" of Grey Poupon Country Dijon.  Now the moment of truth.  Did I just waste twenty some odd dollars on meat and spices?  One bite told me otherwise.  WOW! Rich, succulent meat that melted in my mouth.  The meat was so tender it nearly fell apart.  The herbs and spices from the brining process gave it that distinctive corned beef taste. Honestly, as good OR better than New York deli corned beef.  Add the salty bite from the mustard to the tart taste from the rye and this sandwich is a home run.  Rein's, eat your heart out!