Here (Where Else?)

I really don't know where to start.

Maybe I should start with the ant (I really don't have too much time here, so I can't afford typos -- I have to type fast).

The ant in question's abdomen might have just overshot the head of a pin. But when I, sitting there in full sun on the "patio" outside our room, felt the full fury of the ant in question, it was more like the business end of the pin that was the culprit. On my inner thigh.

"Welcome to Cuba, senor!" he seemed to proclaim. Amazing how such a little thing can deliver such a message.

Anyway. I sit here in a small room. The sound of my fingers on the keys of this keyboard and the drone of the cooler, plus the murmurs of the lobby of Gran Club Santa Lucia are my auditory accompaniment.

I can't condense this into a fashion that can fit itself into the required space of half an hour. I simply can't type that fast. If I make a typo, so be it. Please excuse.

This is as much for me as it is for you, since I have not had access to a computer since, I think, the first day I got here, which would now be last Tuesday.

But in this land of heat, where "calor" is a verb, my tiny febrile brain has just been wanting to write it all down. Now i know where Ernest Hemingway got his muse. He just went. That was enough to fill a book. Too bad he didn't have the Internet. He would have made millions. Of typos.

I'll try to shorthand this, but it's really not possible here. Every moment is longhand. It just can't be compressed.

Suffice to say that I'm as brown as the brownest cockroach you ever saw. Bigitte is as red as the reddest lobster you ever saw.

My eyes, for some completely unexplained reason, are swollen, as if I walked into a boxing match with Sugar Ray and Mohammed in the same ring. I've already been to the "camp" doctor for a complete inspection for an entirely unrelated problem -- namely naively walking out in a semi-inebriated state (any other state here is impossible by Official Orders from Raul Himself) without my trusty shoes on into the "pristine" blue waters of the Caribbean. Of course, I immediately stubbed my toe on some malignant lionfish, which I didn't feel right away because their toxin is so poisonous that it numbs the brain first, then kills you after your next Cuba Libre, and thus awoke the next day to an angry, spreading red Big Toe.

I've seen that angry red spread before, so I knew that the only thing to do was get in the only taxi on the island, try to figure out the driver's name by osmosis, and get to Diana Doctora at the resort next door to this one. Next to the resort next to that resort. Near . . . El Resorto Nexta Ta El Resorto.

Anyway, after pretending to be a GP from my home town (hey, it worked for Leonard diCaprio in "Catch me If You Can") I scored some Amoxycillin (a drug of which I've heard!) and some unnameable painkiller.

(at this point, my half hour of Internet time ran out in the Cuban 15 minutes to which it had been allotted, so I take up even more of your time trying to explain why I'm taking up so much of your time).

which promptly made me have the worst nightmares that I've ever had, waking or sleeping. I awoke in a cold sweat, practically screaming to Brigitte that monsters -- no, not dinosaur monsters, but only the monsters the mind can produce -- were attacking me and could she just hold my shaking form for about ten minutes.

Anyway, I digress, and time is short. The medicine, I think, is working. My feet hurt just as much as they did before I got on the plane in Montreal.

I had the most amazing pizza I've ever had and it's coming from someone who knows! And I've been taking pictures of flora nd fauna and maybe some of them will qualify for my Exotic Plant Blog, but I've just been constantly dreaming of writing everything up and I'm no longer content with my spiral-bound and Bureau en Gros pen, so this will have to do for now.

See you guys maybe on Tuesday. Now I have a date with an Espresso. Fortified, of course.

Just like ol' Ernesto.

Hasta la Vista, Babies!

It looks like summer’s finally here
Now that winter months draw near
June July and August fun
And then the summer will be done.
But I don’t care, at least today
Because tonight I’m on my way
Away from fickle Montreal
With no regrets, not one at all
To sand and sea and beachfront bar
Just puffing on a fine cigar.
At last tonight, and none too soon
I’ll gaze upon a Cuban moon.

Vertical Potatoes

No posts. Woe is me! In case you didn't notice, I've been killing flies.

But here, I decided to experiment with my cheesy potatoes recipe.

I noticed some lunatic on a PBS cooking show doing something I'd never considered: making scalloped potatoes except with all the potatoes standing on end in the baking dish instead of being layered flat.

Cool! thought I, so I did my best to come up with the recipe, since I wrote nothing down while watching and have no idea what keyword to look for in a search ("vertical scalloped potatoes?")

They turned out fantastically, with an unexpected "domino" appearance after the potato slices wilted and collapsed onto each other.

But here are the basics:

Ingredients

Two large potatoes, preferably white (not Idaho or baking potatoes) scrubbed clean and mandolined into 1/8" slices
Six large garlic cloves, peeled and sliced on the bias extremely thinly
One large red onion, peeled and sliced very thinly
1 cup shredded Gruyère cheese
1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1 cup finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano  cheese
1 cup finely grated Pecorino Romano cheese
3/4 cup 35% cream
Italian parsley
Salt and pepper to taste

Method

Soak the potatoes in cold water after slicing unless assembling the dish immediately.

Preheat oven to 400˚. Butter a 6x6 baking dish. If soaked, dry potato slices on paper towels thoroughly. Starting at one corner of the baking dish, stand one potato slice on end; insert a few shards of onion and garlic. Place another potato slice on end to make a sandwich of the onion and garlic. Continue with the potato slices and onions and garlic until you've reached the other side of the baking dish.

Now repeat at right angles to the first row of potatoes. Continue until baking dish is filled with vertical potatoes, onions and garlic.

Drizzle cream all over potatoes until gone. Sprinkle gruyère and cheddar over potatoes. Sprinkle cracked black pepper and salt to taste. Finish with parmesan and romano cheeses.

Put in oven at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Check and increase oven to 400 degrees for 30 minutes, making sure every so often that potatoes are not scorching.

Reduce heat to 200 degrees, cover baking dish and leave to steam for about 15-20 minutes more. Garnish with freshly chopped parsley and serve immediately.

Evil Plants Get Their Own Blog!

It's at http://nicksplants.blogspot.com/!

Invasion of the Fly Catchers!

The girls and boys are here! (I haven't figured out who's who yet).

But my carnivorous plants arrived yesterday, coincidentally along with their terrarium. The plants were courtesy of Rick at Keehn's Carnivores in the Okanagan Valley, British Columbia. Rick was brilliant from the start, coaching this neophyte on how to keep these little babies and nurture them.

I had no idea there was such a huge following of carnivorous plants, but it's vast; just Google "carnivorous plants" and you'll get about 650,000 pages.

Dionaea Muscipula

My interest initially began when I watched a National Geographic show and watched a Flytrap catch a fly. As you know, flies are about the fastest things on wings (just try catching one with your hand) but when I saw the Venus Flytrap move, it was impossibly fast. The fly never had a chance!

So I was hooked. I was surprised to learn that a lot of these carnivorous plants live in bogs that have poor nutrition (hence the "fast food") and a lot of them come from North and South Carolina! I thought it was Borneo or Guadalcanal or something.

Some of them, like the Traps, are active, but some, like the Sundew and the pitcher plants, rely on the insect either sliding in and not being able to get out or getting stuck to sticky tendrils.

What's great is that they all get along together! (Except in my terrarium, one of the little Flytraps has another in its embrace and isn't letting go . . . could they be cannibals?)

Anyway, Rick shipped them by Canada Post and they arrived in perfect shape. I set them up in the terrarium as per his careful instructions and they look like they're very happy! The traps have opened up, the sundew has curled up, and everyone looks ready to rrrumble!

Sundew (middle) Purple Pitcher Plant (background) Flytrap (center, right) Butterwort (foreground)

Can't wait till it gets sunny and the BUGS start arriving. These guys look hungry! And when the summer turns to autumn turns to winter, these guys actually go to sleep! No, really, they die if you don't put them in a cold room and don't water them for two months!

You owe it to yourself to email Rick and order yourself up some of these guys! They're very reasonably priced and easy to plant and they look wonderful!

Here's one last one, where you can see the pitcher plant better.

I'm so amped with my little forest of plant predators! If I ever do get a fly in there I'll try and videoptape the little bugger getting eaten. Can't wait!

Flora Nicksotica!

Well, the first denizens of my dinosaur forest have arrived. Okay, well, they're not so much so far, but just you wait!

This little guy is a mimosa:

I know he's not much to look at now, but he grows all over the world, and is viewed by many as a pest, he grows so fast! So just you wait. They'll smash down the door one day and find one growing out of my ears.

And what's so much fun is that you can stroke him and he'll shrivel up immediately like a Berber folding his tent and slinking away! You'll see, at the end of the summer he'll be a sturdy little bush.

And here's my Cycad -- the true dinosaur plant.

They've literally been around since the dinosaurs; they're one of the Earth's first true plants. And to add to his exoticness, add danger: if you so much as cut yourself on one of his sharp leaves, you could be on your way to ER; he's that toxic.

And in the next few days, the true warriors of the plant world will be here: the Fly Trap Family! (Definitely NOT Edelweiss!)

Don't worry, I'll keep them all apart so someone doesn't start a brawl.

Tickets to come see Nick's Exotic Nursery can be purchased at TicketMasters everywhere.

Christmas? Not AGAIN, Mommy

You better not shout
You better not . . . aaah forget it.

here

Only In Life

Only in life do I discover today that suddenly my local cable station has decided to offer Al Jazeera for free for three months and, only in life, when I call them to ask them to cancel it, is the operator's name Hamid.

Out of thousands, I get Hamid. Don't get me wrong, but can you see the cosmic irony?

For the record, he was a totally cool guy. He swallowed my "uh, okay, yeah"s with a very pleasant attitude.

Thanks, Hamid! Hey, if King Juan of Spain had a channel, or the Pope, I'd probably cancel him too.

The Nazis at Chowhound

That's the last fucking time I post at Chowhound. The forum moderators are some of the biggest and most pretentious assholes I've ever encountered.

Don't bother to have a sense of humor. VE HAFF NO HUMOR! Don't dare stray, even a few words, from the point of your post. VE ARE READINK EFFERY VORD!

Hey, I have a better idea: don't bother at all!

Here's the latest exchange with Fritz and Girndl Chowhound:

Me:
I'm reading a "Best shrimp recipes" book and although it states the obvious (that unless you live 15 minutes from the sea, no thawed shrimp you get will ever be as fresh as those that have never been thawed, since they're flash frozen right on the boat) it does say that "the freshest alternative you will find is live shrimp kept in salt water at Chinese markets."

Not that I'd know what the heck to do with a live anything, but that sure sounds tasty. Anyone ever seen a live shrimp in Montreal?

And just for curiosity's sake, how would you dispatch the poor critter? Could you ask the fish guy to do it for you? I wouldn't want a bunch of live shrimp crawling around in a plastic bag in the car on the way home. I'd probably name them, put some salt in some cold water and go look for some krill to feed them.
Thanks in advance!

They:
Hi there, if you'd like to discuss how to dispatch live shrimp, please start another thread in Home Cooking. Advice on where to find live shrimp in Montreal are welcome to stay here on the Quebec board. Thanks!

You utter pompous puffed-up strutting Nazi.

(Click of heels) JAVOL, herr oberleutnant! I vill obey!

Bring Me the Head of Josef Stalin!

Well, guess what, kids, I've done just that! Here's "Uncle Joe" resting comfortably with the rest of the boys!

Postscript: Brigitte has declared: "There is no way that I will allow that thing in my house. Get rid of it immediately."


Well, I had his head for a while.

The Little Grass Is Sleeping. Please Don’t Disturb It

 This is Chinglish for "Keep Off The Grass."

How very lovely. If only all our signs were like that.

Hee hee! They're going to eat you!

And it won't be pretty!

I just bought and am eagerly anticipating the arrival of a Venus Flytrap, a Sundew and a couple of other carnivorous plants!

You should check them out here.

Craven

I don't know why I think that comes from the word for a crow, but it might.

I don't know, but if you've followed this blog long enough, you'll see that I have a somewhat craven method of getting things done in life.

It's not always fair, but life is not always fair. In fact, it's downright capricious.

But the problem I'm facing tonight has to do with knowing the difference of being craven or being honest.

The crow is a good example. Do you think he actually knows how to make you part with your McDonald's burger in the park?

Well, yes. He doesn't want to hurt you in any way, but he wants his lunch. See? The difference between a crow and Goldman Sacks The Entire Village?

But Brigitte and I are going to Emergency tomorrow morning. Problem being that her knee is so painful that (due to unknowable circumstances) she can barely make it to the bathroom, let alone the walk to Metro.

But Brigitte and I are very different. Have you ever seen those old movies where Frank Sinatra is pretending to be a Nazi, manages to kidnap the train with his little army, and blows up Norway?

Well, I understand Frank. How can you do that?

I told Brigitte, in the most locical terms I could think of:

Fact: ER does not want to see us at 8 a.m. on a Sunday. They just want to go home.

Fact: after processing your medicare card, you'll be told to sit down until they call you.

Fact: that will be in, oh, about three hours.

So what do you do? I'll tell you what I told Brigitte. Ya got a bum knee. They really couldn't give a fuck. The guy last night was in full V Fib and may or may not have survived the night. Fuck your bum knee, sit down and wait with the rest of them.

But what you do in my book is appeal to them as human beings, not just idiots who processed your card.

"Long night? Christ, how can you stand to be here on a Sunday? I feel your pain. Rather, I feel MY pain."

There ya go. Foot in the door.

Next: "Okay, madame, what can we do for you today?"

WRONG: "My knee is very painful and it's been very difficult to walk. I'm not sure what's wrong with it. I think I need a cortisone shot."

RIGHT: "There's something really wrong with my knee and I have no idea what it could be. I made an appointment with Dr. Rahal .  .  . er, do you know him? But he says he can't see me till June.

"The pain isn't my real issue, but last night it was so bad that when I woke up in the night I tripped over the nightstand and then my heart started doing strange things."

See? Immediate results. Oh really? Heart? Strange things?

Please sit down, madame, and next thing ya know, the cardiac guy is with you and then it's just a logical progression to your cortisone shot. Ahead of the sixteen people ahead of you in line.

Craven?

Maybe.

But how long have crows been around and how long have you been around?