Stay Thirsty My Friends

Summer is my jam. I love everything about it.  The sun, the hot temperatures, the need for liquid refreshments; you get the picture. I’m a beer and martini guy, but every now and then I feel the need for something fruity and refreshing.  I was looking through my fridge for some interesting and tasty items to put together, and after some experimentation, came up with a very enjoyable and tasty  drink.  I call it, “A Kick In The Pants.” 

1 ½ ounces of your favorite vodka.  Mine is Grey Goose.

3 ounces of Raspberry lemonade.  Pink if you can’t find raspberry.

1 ounce of orange juice.  No pulp PLEASE!

1ounce of cranberry juice

1 squirt of MIO pomegranate juice

Shake with ice and strain into an ice filled glass.  Garnish with some fresh raspberries and enjoy!

How Many People Does It Take To Plant A Tulip?

You may have surmised from some of my past musings that I really don’t have much of a green thumb.  The upside down tomato plant debacle, my hatred for mowing and my rather pathetic standard of what makes an acceptable lawn.   If it grows and it’s green, it’s okay.  For years I was the scourge of the neighborhood.  As my neighbors would toil on their lawn trimming, mowing, and fertilizing, I would happily repair to my patio, sip a beer and toast the other jerks as they wasted a perfectly good Saturday afternoon. 

I once got ambitious and decided to spruce up my backyard by planting some tulips.  I went to Home Depot and bought a large box of assorted bulbs.  The picture promised a garden worthy of a gold medal; healthy plants, bursting with color and beauty.  It went into the garage and sat for a year.  When cleaning out the garage I stumbled upon this winsome box.  I decided that they weren’t going to plant themselves, so I ruefully walked out to the yard, spade in hand and began to dig.  I carefully arranged the bulbs, covered them up with dirt, and cracked open a beer to celebrate my new garden.  Fall comes and goes, winter arrives and finally ends, hinting away at spring.  I anxiously look to my new tulip garden with excitement.  I wait, and wait, and wait.  No tulips.  Okay, maybe these are late bloomers.  Summer arrives and still nothing.  This is not good.  I complain to my wife and she suggests that we dig and check out what went wrong.  We dig up the tulips and much to my chagrin I find out that each carefully arranged bulb was planted upside down.  Apparently tulips and tomatoes prefer to be planted as nature intended it to be.  Correctly. 

Well now, that was a kick in teeth.  I decided last year that what I really needed to improve my lawn was a new lawn mower.  Everyone in my neighborhood had a riding mower except for me.  Their lawns rivaled golf courses they were so nice.  Maybe that’s the secret.  I begin my detailed investigation into the best mower out there for my money.  I settled on a John Deere because it had the best cup holders.  I put aside money each pay period and finally the day arrives.  We go down to Home Depot and purchase my new Deere.  Two weeks later I notice that the Depot is having a special, if you purchase a new Deere you get a free cart.  My wife went back to complain.  She ended up having to return the mower and then repurchase it.  The cart sits on the side of shed waiting for me to haul something.  I also purchased a dethatcher to pull up all of the dead grass that has sat undisturbed on my lawn choking the life force out of any blade of grass foolish enough to attempt to put roots down on my lawn.

I dethatched the lawn and was quite surprised at the volume of stuff being pulled up.  I mean piles of brown grass, a few lost dog toys, an old shoe.  I was astounded.  I then fire up Buttermilk, yes I named my new mower, and off I went.  I’m driving this thing around like I am in the Indy 500.  This is a sweet ride.  I complete the lawn in record time.  I had so much fun with mower that I mowed the lawn the next day.  My wife is looking at me as if I lost my mind.  My neighbors are all abuzz wondering who just moved into the Scott house and is actually taking care of the lawn.  I just motor on; a Romeo and Juliet cigar clamped between my teeth and a Harpoon UFO comfortably nestled in the cup holder.

After a few weeks and many mows later, my lawn is starting to look pretty good.  A few more and it’s looking better than my neighbors.  Green, lush healthy.  I would even go so far to say verdant.  Trust me, I don’t use the term verdant loosely.  Pretty much because I just found out what it means.  Anyway, I’m pretty happy with my lawn now.  I still have my share of weeds and stuff but overall it’s looking good.  Now, I’m on my way to Home Depot to find some bulbs.  Light bulbs, not tulips.  They only go in one way.  

Read my other trials and tribulations 

http://myview-straykat.blogspot.com/2011/04/spring.html

http://myview-straykat.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-first-mow.html

http://myview-straykat.blogspot.com/2011/05/upside-down-tomato-plants.html

Aladdin Halal Restaurant and Pizzeria

I was cruising through Yelp the other day, and much to my surprise, I discovered a Middle Eastern restaurant two minutes away from my house!  How did that happen? Am I that unaware of new food offerings literally in my backyard?  Apparently, I’ve been sleeping.  I love food from the Middle East so a field trip was in order.  My wife was out of town, it was too hot to cook, so off I went.  Aladdin Halal Restaurant and Pizzeria, was my destination.  It is located in a strip mall that previously housed a pizza joint, whose former occupant was a pizza joint, whose preceding owner was a pizza joint.  And on, and on.  So a couple of Syrians rent a space with a pizza oven in Berlin Connecticut and decide to cook Middle Eastern.  Go figure. 

We all know who Aladdin is and pizza, well I won’t even dignify that, but halal?  Halal is the Arabic version of kosher. Like kosher, it specifies how the animals are to be slaughtered and what can and cannot be eaten.   Yes, there are differences such as it is halal to eat shellfish, but not kosher.  Both halal and kosher forbid the eating of pork.  Camel meat is halal, but not kosher.  Cheeseburgers are halal, sadly they are not kosher.  Check this website for a cool take on halal vs. kosher.

http://youngbrokeandkosher.blogspot.com/2011/01/-vs-kosher.html

Anyway I decide to try two of my favorite foods; Falafel and shawarma.  Falafel is a chickpea fritter served in pita bread.  Shawarmas are meats that are cooked on a vertical spit and grilled; also served in pita bread.  I had my first falafel in college many years ago and my first shawarma in, of all places, Johannesburg, South Africa, again, many years ago.  I’ve loved chickpeas ever since I was a kid.  I love my mom dearly, but one of the few things that she cooked without ruining was a can of Progresso Minestrone soup.  I would always save the chickpeas for last.  When I tasted my first falafel, oh man, I was in heaven.  I seek it out, any chance I get. 

I walk and a few Arabic ladies with traditional head coverings are waiting for their order.  That’s a good sign when people native to the culture are eating there.  We actually have a mosque in Berlin so there is a sizable Muslim population in the area.  I order both a falafel and a chicken shawarma and have a seat.  The place was freaking hot,  on the hottest day of the year.  I had a few other places to go, so I didn’t feel like schlepping home.  Note to self, get it to go next time.

After about ten minutes and the loss of few pounds, the food arrives.  That is two huge, overstuffed pitas.  Oops.  I can immediately tell I ordered way too much. Oh well, let’s man up and dig in!  I go for the falafel first.  The pita was very fresh.  The falafel was crunchy on the outside, soft and grainy on the inside. They were nicely spiced with a slight heat at the end. The cool, crisp lettuce, combined with the citrusy tomato and the sour snap of the pickles was a nice contrast to the  falafel.  The tahina was a little too thin for my taste though.  I like a thicker tahina with a more sesame punch. 

I crush the falafel and tear into the shawarma.  This is gigantic.  It is stuffed with grilled chicken, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and red onions.  The chicken is tender and flavorful.  The grilling adds a nice char to the chicken.  They really put a lot of chicken in the pita. I was very surprised at the amount. The sauce is very flavorful, but I can’t get a handle on it.  I ask the server what it is.  He explains that it is Arabic mayonnaise (which he says is different from American) combined with tahina.  Okay then.  I’m groaning at this point but I manage to finish the shawarma.  It was awesome.    

There is a ton of stuff on the menu such as pizzas, grinders, pastas and soups.  I go to Pepe’s and Da Vinci’s for pizza.  As for pasta; I eat it at home. Their Middle Eastern food is the real deal and I can’t wait to go back. 

http://www.beyondmenu.com/22720/Berlin/Aladdin--Restaurant-And-Pizzeria-Berlin-06037.aspx?r=22720

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