- The streets in Salt Lake City, to this average pedestrian, seem unusually wide, so much so that I decided to count how many steps it takes to cross one. The result of my count: thirty-nine. I know my son will dismiss this unscientific test; after all, his pet name for me is "Shorty." Regardless. These streets are really, REALLY wide. It turns out, city planners (here in Zion) wanted to insure there was adequate space to U-turn a full yoke of oxen.
- Here in the city of saints -- of the latter day variety -- Halloween is a really big deal: the LDS library and museum closed early, there were costumed adults to be found all over the city, in bookstores, in restaurants, on the train/trolley/tram (a debate waged in my forthcoming video), and even here at the hotel where a party for local youngsters rocks on. The seeming obsession with a pagan-rooted tradition seems counter-intuitive in a settlement built on faithfully following the principles of Christ.
- Becky and I walked to a nearby cemetery to visit the grave of a woman I knew when the kids were young. Since Becky, walks faster than I, she reached to grave before I did. I heard her gasp ahead of me and then call out: Jacko, you're not going to believe this. When I reached the grave, I paused. There, engraved in the granite, was my friend's potato salad recipe. Becky asked: What the h...? I can't believe it, I said. Sally always said the only way people would get this recipe was over her dead body. She wasn't kidding.
31 October 2008
Random observations from Salt Lake City
30 October 2008
Only in America (only on miniDV)...
The APH Conference, which Becky and I are attending, can always be counted on for long days filled with education, skill sharpening, and learning new ways to repackage old products for new niches, new clients, and new revenue. In other words, there’s no down time here and that’s the way we like it, it makes us feel like we’re getting our money’s worth out of our registration fee.
And then there’s the benefit of meeting new people who become “fast friends” (a shout out to Mary Lou Terwilliger for that phrase) simply because of where we happened to sit during a day-long video workshop. Yesterday, Becky and I, Trish from Seattle, Diane from Loveland, Colorado, Melvin (who calls himself Dee) from Las Cruces, New Mexico, and Don, who lives in Salt Lake City now but who spent the Vietnam era working for the CIA (recruiting spies), started the day as strangers. Tonight, we dined as friends. In between yesterday morning and tonight’s dinner, the six of us conceived, filmed, lit, scripted, and edited a short video.
At tonight’s video share, where APH’s top videographers share snippets of their best work, the six of us watched the stories created by seasoned professionals. Some of the work was amazing; some of the work was beneath ordinary. All of us felt our impromptu film would have stood up well under audience critique.
My hope is to post our workshop project, our four-minute short film titled Video Trax: Inside the Free Zone, on this blog by Friday or Saturday.
And then there’s the benefit of meeting new people who become “fast friends” (a shout out to Mary Lou Terwilliger for that phrase) simply because of where we happened to sit during a day-long video workshop. Yesterday, Becky and I, Trish from Seattle, Diane from Loveland, Colorado, Melvin (who calls himself Dee) from Las Cruces, New Mexico, and Don, who lives in Salt Lake City now but who spent the Vietnam era working for the CIA (recruiting spies), started the day as strangers. Tonight, we dined as friends. In between yesterday morning and tonight’s dinner, the six of us conceived, filmed, lit, scripted, and edited a short video.
At tonight’s video share, where APH’s top videographers share snippets of their best work, the six of us watched the stories created by seasoned professionals. Some of the work was amazing; some of the work was beneath ordinary. All of us felt our impromptu film would have stood up well under audience critique.
My hope is to post our workshop project, our four-minute short film titled Video Trax: Inside the Free Zone, on this blog by Friday or Saturday.
28 October 2008
Things are really different here...
The differences between life in the city and life in the country can be stark at times. But then, urbane existences can also differ, depending on what city you call home and what city happens to be your temporary host. Those variations can range from simple climatological adaptations to complex cultural ones.
Tuesday morning I awoke to temps in the 20s and eight hours later stepped into 70-degree sunshine. This is not a tough adjustment to make. Then things veered off into “we’re not in Kansas anymore” territory.
Such as when our hotel desk clerk, a pleasant-enough fellow who innocently inquired about the reason for our visit, decided to share a few anecdotes from what he was certain was a life of comedy. At the end of our conversation, he asked for a business card. His life, he said, was filled with stories worth preserving. The guy couldn’t have been older than thirty.
Later, Becky and I set out on foot to explore Salt Lake City. A half a mile from our hotel, Becky and I stumbled into Temple Square, Mecca for practicing Mormons. It’s a 36-acre spotless urban campus surrounded by a twelve-foot stone wall. Immediately we were welcomed by Elder Johnson, a church member who gave us an overview of all the glory of the Mormon faith waiting to be discovered inside its walls. Two of our young mission sisters will be more than happy to walk you around and explain things to you, he said. We thanked Elder Johnson for his kindness and said we’d prefer to explore on our own. The imposing tabernacle just ahead of us was locked tightly as its famed choir was inside recording. The temple, behind the tabernacle, was an imposing structure and equally as secure from outside intrusion. We did visit one of two visitor’s centers on campus where another church elder explained the model of Jerusalem at 33 A.D. At that point, two mission sisters made our acquaintance and their questions, along with their vacant stare and waxy smiles, left Becky and I feeling a bit uneasy. We thanked them for their offer for a tour, then left Temple Square quickly in search of dinner, and perhaps, libation.
We knew alcohol was a possibility in Salt Lake City because we’d passed a half dozen “social clubs” on our way toward Temple Square. What we hadn’t realized, of course, was that if there was any way to peg yourself as an tourist in Salt Lake City, it was your interest in the wine menu.
Before settling on a nice restaurant that served southwestern cuisine, and wine and beer, we peeked inside another restaurant where the majority of diners had carafes of milk on their tables. Becky chose a Corona and I, a Pino Grigio. A drink with dinner seems innocent enough, except in Utah where alcohol consumption is clearly the exception. And lest you think I exaggerate, I give you this: Upon ordering a second drink, our server informed us that Utah law prohibited her from setting that second libation on our table until the glass holding the first serving was completely gone. If you still have some left, she said, I have to stand and hold the drink until you finish. Believe me, I was tempted to see how long I could keep her at my table.
This is a model of Jerusalem as it appeared in 33 A.D.
This is the Mormon Tabernacle, home to the famed Mormon Tabernacle Choir. The building is 135 years old and houses a massive, 11,623-pipe organ. Choir practice is typically open to the public, but not this week, as the choir is recording.
This is Salt Lake Temple, spiritual home to this capital city's Mormon community. No tours here, ever.
Tuesday morning I awoke to temps in the 20s and eight hours later stepped into 70-degree sunshine. This is not a tough adjustment to make. Then things veered off into “we’re not in Kansas anymore” territory.
Such as when our hotel desk clerk, a pleasant-enough fellow who innocently inquired about the reason for our visit, decided to share a few anecdotes from what he was certain was a life of comedy. At the end of our conversation, he asked for a business card. His life, he said, was filled with stories worth preserving. The guy couldn’t have been older than thirty.
Later, Becky and I set out on foot to explore Salt Lake City. A half a mile from our hotel, Becky and I stumbled into Temple Square, Mecca for practicing Mormons. It’s a 36-acre spotless urban campus surrounded by a twelve-foot stone wall. Immediately we were welcomed by Elder Johnson, a church member who gave us an overview of all the glory of the Mormon faith waiting to be discovered inside its walls. Two of our young mission sisters will be more than happy to walk you around and explain things to you, he said. We thanked Elder Johnson for his kindness and said we’d prefer to explore on our own. The imposing tabernacle just ahead of us was locked tightly as its famed choir was inside recording. The temple, behind the tabernacle, was an imposing structure and equally as secure from outside intrusion. We did visit one of two visitor’s centers on campus where another church elder explained the model of Jerusalem at 33 A.D. At that point, two mission sisters made our acquaintance and their questions, along with their vacant stare and waxy smiles, left Becky and I feeling a bit uneasy. We thanked them for their offer for a tour, then left Temple Square quickly in search of dinner, and perhaps, libation.
We knew alcohol was a possibility in Salt Lake City because we’d passed a half dozen “social clubs” on our way toward Temple Square. What we hadn’t realized, of course, was that if there was any way to peg yourself as an tourist in Salt Lake City, it was your interest in the wine menu.
Before settling on a nice restaurant that served southwestern cuisine, and wine and beer, we peeked inside another restaurant where the majority of diners had carafes of milk on their tables. Becky chose a Corona and I, a Pino Grigio. A drink with dinner seems innocent enough, except in Utah where alcohol consumption is clearly the exception. And lest you think I exaggerate, I give you this: Upon ordering a second drink, our server informed us that Utah law prohibited her from setting that second libation on our table until the glass holding the first serving was completely gone. If you still have some left, she said, I have to stand and hold the drink until you finish. Believe me, I was tempted to see how long I could keep her at my table.
This is a model of Jerusalem as it appeared in 33 A.D.
This is the Mormon Tabernacle, home to the famed Mormon Tabernacle Choir. The building is 135 years old and houses a massive, 11,623-pipe organ. Choir practice is typically open to the public, but not this week, as the choir is recording.
This is Salt Lake Temple, spiritual home to this capital city's Mormon community. No tours here, ever. 27 October 2008
No, this isn't now a cooking blog, but...
I came into some eggplant right about the time I was clearing out my refrigerator in anticpation of a week-long journey west. Not knowing if my purple globes would keep until early November, I decided to divvy them up between two people I know will make proper use of them.
Then I came upon a recipe that made me even sadder that my eggplants had to leave my kitchen. But giving is always better than receiving, I say. And so the eggplants go, and I offer this recipe here if any of you feel "eggplanty" this fall.
Trim the ends off the eggplant, but leave skin on. Rinse, pat dry, and cut into 1/4 rounds. Salt & Pepper. Place on paper toweling for 30 minutes to remove excess water.
Cut top off garlice head and sprinkle with olive oil, salt and pepper. Wrap in foil, leaving top open slightly. Place eggplant and garlic on lightly oiled baking sheet and roast 15 minutes. Remove eggplant and continue roasting garlic for 35 minutes more. Chop eggplant into 1 inch pieces.
In large soup pot, heat 1 Tbs oil. Add onions, basil, thyme, and pepper flakes, sauteeing 5 minutes. Squeeze baked garlic out of head into pot. Add eggplant, tomatoes and stock, bring to a boil. Reduce, heat, cover and cook 10-12 minutes.
Use an immersion blender or food processor to puree. Top with basil or chopped red pepper when serving. Yummm! Recipe from The Wine Lover's Cookbook.
Then I came upon a recipe that made me even sadder that my eggplants had to leave my kitchen. But giving is always better than receiving, I say. And so the eggplants go, and I offer this recipe here if any of you feel "eggplanty" this fall.
Roasted Eggplant-Garlic Soup
1 Large Globe Eggplant (about 1 pound)
Kosher Salt and Black Pepper
1 Whole Head of Garlic
Olive Oil
1 3/4 Cups chopped Red Onions
1/2 Cup chopped fresh Basil (1/4 Cup dried)
1 Tbsp chopped fresh Thyme (1/2 Tbsp dried)
1/2 Tsp Red Pepper Flakes
3 Cups seeded Tomatoes, chopped
4 Cups Chicken Stock
Trim the ends off the eggplant, but leave skin on. Rinse, pat dry, and cut into 1/4 rounds. Salt & Pepper. Place on paper toweling for 30 minutes to remove excess water.
Cut top off garlice head and sprinkle with olive oil, salt and pepper. Wrap in foil, leaving top open slightly. Place eggplant and garlic on lightly oiled baking sheet and roast 15 minutes. Remove eggplant and continue roasting garlic for 35 minutes more. Chop eggplant into 1 inch pieces.
In large soup pot, heat 1 Tbs oil. Add onions, basil, thyme, and pepper flakes, sauteeing 5 minutes. Squeeze baked garlic out of head into pot. Add eggplant, tomatoes and stock, bring to a boil. Reduce, heat, cover and cook 10-12 minutes.
Use an immersion blender or food processor to puree. Top with basil or chopped red pepper when serving. Yummm! Recipe from The Wine Lover's Cookbook.
26 October 2008
Follow up on Cinderalla...
Hubby was amazed by how much fun I could derive from a three dollar pumpkin. I'm a lot like a little girl with an easy-bake oven, I told him. And for others like me, who love to experiment with food, the kitchen is clearly our playground.
Janice was right about Cinderalla here. She did give me lots and lots of mashed pumpkin. And now that our Chef-in-training has mastered GF pie crust, we're all anxious for our first pumpkin pie using this gorgeous gal.
And there was still plenty of pumpkin for the pumpkin bisque, which is simmering on the stove as I write this. The recipe called for onion, garlic, leeks, celery, pumpkin, chicken stock, and sherry. I wrapped my herbs (rosemary, tyme and sage) into a sachet using cheescloth, so it can be lifted out of the bisque at the end. It's the first course of a dinner that will bring two cousins together for their first visit since Christmas.
Today, it seems, our lives unfold far apart from those we long to remain connected to; in this situation, great food can play an important role in bringing us together, in luring us home. For great food, as for family, we must be thankful.
Janice was right about Cinderalla here. She did give me lots and lots of mashed pumpkin. And now that our Chef-in-training has mastered GF pie crust, we're all anxious for our first pumpkin pie using this gorgeous gal.
And there was still plenty of pumpkin for the pumpkin bisque, which is simmering on the stove as I write this. The recipe called for onion, garlic, leeks, celery, pumpkin, chicken stock, and sherry. I wrapped my herbs (rosemary, tyme and sage) into a sachet using cheescloth, so it can be lifted out of the bisque at the end. It's the first course of a dinner that will bring two cousins together for their first visit since Christmas.
Today, it seems, our lives unfold far apart from those we long to remain connected to; in this situation, great food can play an important role in bringing us together, in luring us home. For great food, as for family, we must be thankful.
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