An Unfortunate Truth

I learned an unfortunate truth today. When it comes to Chinese food, this tragic truth is as follows:

It ain’t always good.


Case in point: Panda Buffet on SE McLoughlin in Milwaukie. It used to be the Apple Peddler years ago, which was actually a pretty decent place to get breakfast (in fact, we went there on Christmas morning in 1994). Anyway, I was driving around today on my lunch hour looking for a pawn shop (I’ve gotta find a cheap used cell phone for Isaac, since he magically kills every cell phone he touches; he’s been through four or five of them in the past year). I didn’t find a pawn shop (which is odd, since I remember Milwaukie being full of them), but I did find Panda Buffet, which offers buffet-style food with a to-go option.

“Chinese food by the pound?” I exclaimed. “Hell, count me in!”

$2.50 per pound was the going rate, so I stuffed a little over two pounds of food into my Styrofoam container. My selections were: Mandarin chicken, General Tso chicken, deep fried chicken chunks (basically sweet and sour chicken, minus the sweet and sour sauce), one egg roll, two pot stickers, teriyaki chicken, fried rice, and chow mien. Oh, and some barbecue pork. They did have hot and sour soup, but there were no to-go containers in sight. A minor setback, but oh well. I was still gonna eat like a king.

As I drove back to work, my mouth watered with anticipation. I could smell it, sitting there on the passenger seat, promising deliciousness.


Looks good, doesn’t it? Well, guess what? It sucked. Not just certain items…. All of it. ALL OF IT. There wasn’t one thing that didn’t taste like ass. It astounds me that every single item could be this bad. Wouldn’t the odds dictate that at least ONE thing would be good, or at least passable? This, uh, place (I hesitate to call it a “restaurant”) has somehow managed to buck the odds and provide 100% absolute and unequivocal suckiness. In a twisted way, it’s kinda impressive, like scoring a perfect zero on your SATs.


I’ve had lots of Chinese food over the years, from lots of different places. At worst, I’ve had “okay” Chinese food. Most of it has been decent, and sometimes it’s been great (Wu’s Open Kitchen in Lake Grove and Wong’s in Tualatin are generally excellent. Oh, and P.F. Chang’s, while not traditional Chinese, is awe-inspiring). This is the first time I’ve ever had truly awful Chinese food. I imagine nations have gone to war over smaller insults than the one this place is perpetrating against the ancient and noble China. Needless to say, I won’t be back. I’m actually hoping the place gets struck by lightning and burns to the ground.

Their menu promises “No Waiting.” Gee, I wonder why?

Panfraffle.

Panfraffle. It sounds like a Tolkien character, some dwarf or elf or something, perhaps a witty guide to show you the way to the mythical land of Skankendale, east of Buttmunchshire. It's not. What then, you ask, is Panfraffle? Why, it's what we had for dinner last night.

You've heard of a turducken? A chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey? Well, a Panfraffle is essentially a waffle, wrapped in a pancake, dipped in egg batter and fried like French toast. Logan came up with the idea, refined the concept and gave it the name.



The lid is to trap enough heat to cook any egg batter that seeps inside. Can't have the kids collapsing from salmonella poisoning, now can we?


Were they good? I can't say one way or the other, because I didn't have any. See, I've mostly lost my sweet tooth in my old age, so I generally avoid pancakes, waffles, and French toast. Naturally I'd be averse to eating an unholy combination of all three. Instead, I had leftover king crab sweet corn chowder from Saturday night. Divine.

However, that damned Panfraffle still haunts me. Perhaps I should have at least tried a bite…

Best... Dinner... Ever!

Let me preface this by saying that I love food. Past blog entries will confirm this (as will my ever-growing gut and, sadly, my blossoming man boobs). Some of my favorite culinary items include:

* General Tso chicken with shrimp fried rice from Wu’s Open Kitchen.
* Hot and sour soup from well, pretty much any Chinese place.
* Original recipe Kentucky Fried Chicken.
* Dragon rolls at Sushi Train.
* Chicken tortilla soup at Chevy’s.
* Most pork products. If it’s pig, I dig. Oink, baby.

I love these things. A lot. I want to buy them Christmas gifts and cuddle with them by the fireside. It’s a bit sick, I know.

Ahem. Anyway --- I love food. So when I’m presented with a dish that I’ve never had before…. well, even if I like it or even love it, the odds are it won’t impress me enough to earn itself a place among my hallowed hall of beloved entries. It’s like my favorite foods are Iron Chefs, and they’re pretty much unbeatable.

This, dear reader, is the tale of a meal that knocked my socks off, smacked my ass, and somehow managed to surpass every morsel I’ve ever consumed. And it did it by candlelight, no less.

We had a kidless evening Saturday night, which is pretty rare. So what did my lovely wife Teresa do? She sent me out of the house for a couple of hours and, while I was gone, put together the single best meal I’ve ever had. Ever. In my entire life. No kidding.


The feast began with a bowl of king crab sweet corn chowder (not pictured), which was beyond delicious (pick some up at your local CostCo!). Then came a huge shrimp cocktail, complete with Bloody Mary cocktail sauce. The main course consisted of a pepper-crusted steak, cooked to pink-center perfection, drizzled with a sauce made from Pendleton whiskey *, sliced and fanned out atop a decadent roasted shallot aioli, flanked by plump, juicy asparagus spears. Oh yeah, there was wine too. Everything was perfect. The meal had a transcendent, once-in-a-lifetime quality. That’s not to say she’ll never make it again, but even if she does… well, it’s like that Sade song: “It’s never as good as the first time.”


But every silver lining has its cloud. I’m now wondering if my enjoyment of my go-to favorites will be a bit diminished in the future. I can see it now: I’ll take a bite of a Dragon Roll at Sushi Train, and as I chew, I’ll think to myself: “Yeah, this is pretty good, but it can’t touch that Pendleton whiskey steak Teresa made for me back in ’08.”

Anyway: best meal ever, thanks to my awesome wife. I think I’m still glowing a bit. You know, that woman is too good for me sometimes. Wait, I mean ALL the time! Honey, put down that frying pan….!


*if you’ve never had Pendleton Whiskey, you’re really missing out. I’ve tried a lot of whiskeys over the years (surprise, surprise), and this is by far the best. And it’s made right here in Oregon!

Randomonium

I cannot resist the sweet siren song of the Burgerville double-beef cheeseburger. It calls to me from across town, its warm soothing voice floating atop the brisk autumn breeze. Comforting images of melted cheese and that glorious secret sauce fill my mind, sending my stomach into a fit of ravenous growling not unlike that of an underfed dog, making it impossible to concentrate. Nothing can stand in my way. I must have it. And, ten minutes later, I do. Oh heavenly burger, you never disappoint. I should say burgerS, since I bought three. I will die a fat, fat man, but there will be a smile upon my face. A greasy smile.

My birthday is on Thanksgiving this year. I was actually born on Thanksgiving, so every six or seven years, my birthday and the holiday fall on the same day. As it turns out, several people I know share my birthday: my cousin Alexa, my brother-in-law Jon, the deadbeat father of my stepkids (whose name I won’t mention, because frankly he’s not worth the effort it would take to type it), plus a few celebrities: “Buffalo Bob” Smith (host of Howdy Doody Time), country legend Eddie Rabbit, Caroline Kennedy, actress Brooke Langton, Bruce Lee and…. Jimi Fuckin’ Hendrix! You might think it sucks, sharing a birthday with a holiday. I must point out that I’m guaranteed a big tasty feast (turkey is one of my favorite foods), so how bad can it really be? My sister Karin, meanwhile, has a reason to complain about her birthday: she was born the day after Christmas. Ha!

There are, um, a couple of celebrities who share my birthday that I’m less proud to mention: Robin Givens (come on, she was married to Mike Tyson, so she’s pretty much a total skanketta roast) and Jaleel White (Urkel? I have the same birthday as fucking Urkel???).


On the subject of Thanksgiving: we’re having it at our house this year. It seems that last Thanksgiving, in what I can only assume was a drunken attempt to win the favor of my wife’s extended family, I loudly volunteered to host this year’s festivities. My memory of this event has somewhat dimmed, but my wife’s memory is sharp as a tack. So yeah, we’re stuck. Happy… birthday… to… me….. (I’m actually taking the Friday after off from work, so I’ll still get my “me” day, so it’s all good).

I’m finding it difficult to keep up with my must-see TV shows. I’m two weeks behind on both Boston Legal and Fringe, and worse, I only saw one episode of the most recent season of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations. I have managed to keep up on my sitcoms (Big Bang Theory, How I Met Your Mother, Two and a Half Men, and The Office), though. Could it be that I’m so chronically unhappy that my brain will only accept funny shows in a sad attempt to create inner cheer? Or is my attention span so tragically small that anything longer than half an hour gets pushed aside?

As I’ve lamented many times in this blog, I have way too much time on my hands here at work. To pass the time this afternoon, I read back through the entirety of my blog so far. Here’s an excerpt from my 10/31/07 entry:

“Others are enjoying the Halloween spirit. Meanwhile, I'm…. not. I'm a sad old man. Tonight I'll watch TV and hand out candy while the rest of world lives it up. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maybe next year I'll go all out and REALLY celebrate Halloween. You know, if I'm still alive and shit.”

This Halloween (next Friday night), Teresa will be out trick-or-treating with Kendyl. Sierra’s going to a party. Logan and Isaac will undoubtedly be out spreading their unique brand of juvenile delinquency all around town. And me? Little old me? Why, I’ll be alone at home, handing out candy. Again. I seem to be “still alive and shit,” but apparently another year of life hasn’t made one damn bit of difference when it comes to All Hallows Eve.

The one bright spot? I’ll be playing Disney’s Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House album (detailed in my 10/10/08 blog entry) as background ambience for the trick-or-treaters. Muwahahahahahaha…

Family Movie Night

Friday night marked the triumphant return of Family Movie Night at our house. We made popcorn, turned off all the lights, and watched the classic short Rikki-Tikki Tavi, followed by A.I. – Artificial Intelligence. Things have been busy and hectic for several months, so my goal was to simply get all six of us together for a low-key activity. Unfortunately, Isaac opted to go out with friends instead, so my plan didn't quite come to fruition as I'd hoped. We trudged on regardless, and the drooling mongrel Bijou was happy to take the vacant spot on the couch.


I must acknowledge that Sierra was more or less responsible for both selections. She asked me to Netflix Rikki-Tikki Tavi a few weeks back, and as for A.I., it's one of her favorites. I was happy to accommodate both. What none of us could have anticipated, however, was that Teresa, upon viewing Rikki-Tikki Tavi for the first time since her childhood, was able to decode her puzzling lifelong fear of snakes (hell, "fear" doesn't even cover it; she can't even look at a picture of a snake!). She's never been able to figure out why she has such a strong aversion to the slithering things, but after viewing Rikki-Tikki Tavi, she was able to determine that her paralyzing fear originated after seeing the film in grade school. Understanding fear is the first step toward conquering it, so I view this as a positive first step in curing her. Just watch, before long we'll have pet snakes all over the house.

I want to keep doing Family Movie Night every two weeks, which was my original intent a few years back. My plan is to always start with a short subject, followed by the main feature. Our next screening is scheduled to take place on Saturday, November 1st: Frankenweenie and The Nightmare before Christmas. Here's hoping everyone will be there this time (you hear that, Isaac? I'm talking to YOU).

Crackle, Pop, Bliss

Sometimes I think that the universe is totally random, senseless and without order. No god, no master plan, no grand design, no intricate pattern weaving destiny and chance into a harmonious tapestry that surrounds all Life like a warm quilt. And then there are days like today, in which I am made to wonder if every little fucking detail in life is somehow interconnected.



When I was a kid (probably 8 or 9), my mom brought home a vinyl LP called (deep breath) Walt Disney's Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House. It was basically a sound effects record designed for use in haunted houses, and maybe to scare trick-or-treaters at one's front door. It had it all: wind, rain, creaking doors, angry cats, ferocious dogs, tortured screams, and pretty much anything else you could ever want in such an album. I adored it, cherished it, played it to death. It, along with my 2-LP Star Wars soundtrack, was the crown jewel of my tiny record collection.

My sister and I used to record audio dramas (similar to those old radio shows like Suspense! or Inner Sanctum; ours was called "Beyond Locked Doors"), which I would script and she would act in, and this record came in handy for various background sound effects. Oh, how I wish I still had the tapes we made back then. Where did they go…?

Anyway, time marched on and technology rendered the vinyl album more or less obsolete in an increasingly digital age. I found myself without a record player, but I was a teenager, so I didn't really have a need for sound effects records anymore (or records at all, since cassettes and CDs were all the rage). The Haunted House record ended up in a box in my closet (along with such vinyl gems as Queen's Flash Gordon soundtrack and Led Zeppelin IV) and was essentially forgotten. I grew up, became a man and moved several times, and at some unknown point in time that precious box of vinyl disappeared. I probably tossed it into a dumpster, assuming I'd never want (or need) those old records again. Funny how things come around, isn't it? But we'll get to that a bit later.

Two interesting things happened in mid-2007. First, a coworker of mine, a friendly chap named Mike Lewis, upon hearing that I was a huge Frank Sinatra fan, brought me several Sinatra albums on vinyl (he apparently has quite a large collection, with many duplicates). I told him that I didn't have a turntable, but he insisted that I keep them regardless (it was a cool gift, I've gotta admit). Second, my brother-in-law Terry visited from Thailand and, upon retrieving a bunch of his stuff from his parents' garage, gave us a stack of vinyl albums from the 70's and 80's (including Synchronicity by The Police, one of my all-time favorite albums, and Steve Martin's A Wild and Crazy Guy, a stand-up album that I grew up with, courtesy of my Uncle Greg). So I had a small vinyl collection given to me, just sitting there silently.

Last October (2007), I stumbled across a blurb on some website about the Haunted House album, and I found myself desperately wanting to hear it again. However, even if my old copy was still in my possession, the lack of a turntable would have rendered it useless. I should note that the album had never --- and to this date, has never--- been released on CD.

Fast forward one year. With Halloween a few weeks away, my thoughts began to return to the Haunted House album again. I found myself checking eBay, where several copies were being sold (all between five and twenty dollars). But again, the absence of a turntable in the house would make such a purchase ridiculous.

Yesterday, my above-mentioned coworker Mike told me that he had an extra turntable that he was planning to donate to Goodwill. He asked if I'd be interested in it.

I was. Hell yes, I was.

Today, he brought it for me. It appeared to be in pretty good shape, and the composite (RCA) jacks on the back promised an easy connection to the surround sound system in my home office. I spent the day watching the clock, waiting to get home and hook it up.

On my lunch hour, I busted out my laptop and hit eBay again, looking for a copy of the Haunted House album. I found myself a bit paranoid about buying a record over the internet, since I couldn't examine the record in person to make sure it wouldn't be all scratched to hell. I decided to wait till I'd hooked up the turntable, to make sure it worked and all, before making any purchases. Just for the hell of it, I did a Google search on the Haunted House album, and found the following link:

http://www.haunteddimensions.raykeim.com/index361.html

The blurb at the bottom of the page, dated 10/04/08, caught my eye:

"BIG NEWS! Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House has been released on iTunes!!!"

Dear God, was it possible? I opened iTunes and, sure enough, there it was. A couple of mouse clicks and $9.99 later, it was mine. I'm still cracking up, several hours later, that I stumbled across the information less than a week after it was announced. Synchronicity, indeed. I sampled a few of the tracks before my lunch hour was over, and I was surprised at the clarity of the sound. No pops, no crackles, none of the audio anomalies we usually associate with vinyl. It sounded pristine. Refreshing, but a little odd at the same time. The pops and crackles are indelibly part of my memory of this album.

I went back to the above-linked page, and noticed a link within that I hadn't noticed before:

http://forbiddencrypts.250free.com/DisneyChillingSounds.html

Following the link, I found that the entire album could be downloaded, in mp3 form, for free! But the best part? These mp3s were clearly transferred from vinyl, so they've got all those wonderful pops and crackles. It just sounds… I dunno, right this way.



I got home after work and immediately hooked up the turntable. I pulled out those Sinatra records from Mike and put one on (Sinatra & Jobim). My God, it sounded glorious. You know how people say that vinyl records sound better than CDs? They're right. There's a deep, full-bodied warmth to vinyl that digital recordings can't touch. The occasional pops and crackles somehow enhance the experience; it must be some kind of nostalgia trigger or something. I then changed the record (never thought I'd do that again!) to Synchronicity by The Police, and was doubly stunned by the depth and clarity of the sound.

Vinyl, baby. You can't play it in the car, you can't listen to it on the go, but DAMN. It makes listening to music an event. You dim the lights, light a candle, and play a record. Vinyl restores music to the forefront, where it belongs, elevating it above mere background noise while you work out at the gym or drive home. It captures your attention. It leaves an impression. It soothes the soul.

I'm gonna head downtown tomorrow and hit a record store or two. I've gotta get me a copy of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon on vinyl, not to mention Disintegration by The Cure, and if I can find it: Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House. Yeah, I know, I just scored it earlier today (twice). But those were digital versions, and I want a physical copy of it to gaze lovingly at. Call me crazy.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel.....

No matter what happens with the current Presidential race.... we can all be assured of one happy fact: GeeDub is on his way OUT!




Can I get a HELL YES???

Waiting for a Gull like You...

I swung by McDonalds today (Yeah, I know… don't start with me), and here's what I spied in the parking lot:

It appears that seagulls, no longer content to merely shit on our cars from a safe distance, are now using them as furniture. This particular seagull didn't even blink when I approached to take its picture. I almost got the impression that it wanted me to come closer, wanted me to snap photos and share them with the world, as if it had some dark and sinister message to convey.

Should we as a species be concerned? Could this be the first step in an imminent avian uprising? Could this lone seagull be the airborne equivalent of The Day the Earth Stood Still's Klaatu, the solitary vanguard of a potential invasion force?

If you keep birds as pets (I'm opposed to the practice myself), maybe this would be a good time to cut your losses and set them free. You know, as a gesture of goodwill to our fine feathered friends. In doing so, you may just avert a worldwide disaster. Think about it.