We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Mrs. BD asked me to fix up a batch of rhubarb compote to splash on some Haagen Dasz for a fancy dinner party we are attending tonite. My guess is that nobody there will have had it before. It's a North country treat. Lots of people do not care for it much. Their loss. It's tangy. I always use half the sugar.
We are the Rhubarb People. A racial identity group and a much-abused and/or neglected one. Maybe we all originated in Yorkshire. Who knows?
Since my own recipe for hot pepper jelly (served with cheeses and cream cheese) was such a hit at a fancy cocktail party in NYC that I have been urged to produce a line of it, I decided to branch out into Spicy Rhubarb Jam. Maggie's Farm Produce, or something. All-organic, meaning grown in pig and cow shit.
Mom always grew her sizeable patch right outside the barn. We would just pitchfork some fresh horse poop and horse straw on top of it when cleaning the barn. Worked well. A rhubarb patch likes to be fed.
A good patch takes a couple of years to establish itself. How do you harvest rhubarb? With a sharp yank on the stalk. Not with clippers.
My rhubarb plantation, stolen from my Mom's garden, is overwhelming. Had to use some more of it. We'll make some pies too (never with strawberry), but I invented my own recipe for Spicy Rhubarb Jam - chopped rhubarb, lemon juice, sugar, chopped fresh red chilis and chopped jalapenos, some chopped green peppers, a little salt, and I threw in some pectin for the heck of it. No pressure canner.
Is cooked rhubarb red? Almost never. People add food coloring but I don't bother. You only get a little red from the young thin stalks.
Yes, the jam tastes like spicy rhubarb. Quite tangy. I like it. Might be good with pork or chicken. Not sure. Definitely good with cheese especially goat cheese. Not on a toasted bagel. I am no expert food canner but I just boil the heck out of the Ball jars for about 15 minutes and hope for the best. Botulism is not wanted.
Next stop might be Spicy Cranberry Preserve. Why not? Any poultry is improved with some cranberry on the side. And for those who can enjoy a tart now and then, for dessert any little rhubarb or cranberry tart is nice.
Pension payments to Chicago public union employees have become so high that today all the property taxes paid by the households of Chicago go exclusively to pensions.
Obama Turns to U.N. to Outmaneuver Congress - Washington is working on a new Security Council resolution making the nuclear deal legally binding on the next president.
Best band in Maine. They can do jazz too. Well, all they need is a versatile bass player who can sing harmony. Or maybe not. Difficult to find reliable people in Maine, apparently. Is McCartney available?
These are fine lads. Met 'em a few times. They are polite, cheerful, and pitch in and help out with anything. You don't even need to ask. Musical talent from God.
A common nightmare has teeth falling out of one's mouth. I have always had pretty bad teeth. And, like all normal people, I hate going to the dentist and I hate the costs incurred. Implants are expensive. A few weeks ago, we posted about Perfect Teeth. I don't need perfect teeth, just strong functional teeth that don't look like I am from England. Lost 2 front teeth playing ice hockey when I was 15, and it's been downhill since then.
There are new technologies now that will make implants obsolete, make removable false teeth obsolete, create large, perfect bridges held in by metal bars, etc.
Guy told me that I could bite spare ribs in half with those titanium bridges. Great party trick. I want some. As I commented to friends this weekend, when they burn me to ashes those teeth will still be chattering in the fire.
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Economically, the Clinton-Sanders-Warren-O’Malley project is stuck squarely in 1938. Theirs is a country in which tax rates can be set without reference to global competition; in which the taxi commission and the trade union are the heroes while the entrepreneurs and the dissenters are a royal pain in the ass; in which families can simply not be trusted to determine which services suit their needs and which do not. It’s a country in which our heinously outdated, grossly illiberal, neo-Prussian educational system is to be set more firmly in place — even as it crumbles and falls. It is a country in which the state must determine which firms are Good and which firms are Bad, and reward or punish them according to its whim. It is a country in which Upton Sinclair is an up-and-coming writer, and in which anybody who doubts the efficacy of federal control is in danger of falling headfirst into a rendering vat.
He mentions Sinclair. As we now know, his books were pure fiction
Man, do we find NYC endlessly interesting and stimulating. To each his own, I guess, but we all know how to try to extract the most from this most amazing venue in the USA without being rich. Having a place too far from it would make me feel socio-culturally deprived and isolated. I know some readers feel otherwise, but they have not been properly introduced by us.
BTW, Bulldog and I are planning a second Maggie's NYC Urban Hike for September. Details when ready. Different route this time, different sights, probably on the West Side including the High Line and Clement Moore's Chelsea. That link does not make it clear that all of Chelsea was the Moore family farm/estate which was called "Chelsea". Wow. Serious real estate.
Before I go on to Sargent, let me just take a couple of words to observe that I know Americans who will visit every museum they encounter in Europe, dutifully, but who spend no time in the greatest warehouse of civilizational art and artifacts in the world, right in NYC. The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Well, it is always full of people so there's that.
Readers know that my rule for museums is to go to see a specific, limited set of things, a 1 hr and 15 min time limit, and walk in the halls to your item destination with blinders on so as not to get distracted by other interesting things. It's too easy to get overstimulated and a case of the deadly museum-brain.
Mrs. BD and I zoomed in Sunday afternoon to catch the Sargent show. No rush to see - it's there until September. (Yes, we always use the earphone thingies)
Sargent had lots of friends, and painted them. Most interesting to me was that, as soon as he became rich enough from his society portraits, he turned to what he loved most which was Impressionist landscape, sometimes with people but with no facial features at all. Died 1925.
A few of my pics of Sargent's pics below the fold -
We gave the lad a pair of some serious London-built Peal &Co. quality shoes for his birthday this weekend. Doubt he would ever do that for himself, which is what birthdays are for.
My Mom always put up tons of these pickled string beans from my Dad's garden. When you take some out, people eat them like popcorn. You can not can too many of these.
We wanted to make a ton of Rhubarb jam on Saturday but we ran out of sugar and Mrs. BD needed to control the kitchen for a double family birthday party. Poached salmon, etc. Anyway, people gnawed on my raw Rhubarb stalks. Delicious and stringy. The Rhubarb I salvaged from Mom's garden is going great guns and, racially, we are the Rhubarb People.
Microbiologists Hold 
Elizabeth Holmes 
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Stem-Cell Dental Implants 
My college sex education: In her first year, a student finds a campus obsessed with hooking up —
My Mom always put up tons of these pickled string beans from my Dad's garden. When you take some out, people eat them like popcorn. You can not can too many of these.