We would like to add our congratulations to the new family as well! May you enjoy a wonderful, happy life as you all grow together.

I had a baby that size, too. It makes me wonder how big a baby I would have had if I had mingled my DNA with Airport Guy's. . .would we have had the world's biggest headed baby? The thought frightens me.

Wow... They say most of the 8 lbs. 9 ozs. is head, but I don't believe it. I think a good portion is attitude. Because a Mastandrea has to have attitude. Congratulations Jessica and Bazzukajoe.

Someone better send me some pictures soon so I can post 'em.

Circumstances make it hard to blog this week -- Christmas is always joyous, but was visited this year by a great sadness. I drove down to Staten Island to attend the wake last night -- it was all so horribly tragic. I won't blog too much on it because it seems so tacky, but for anyone who reads this and wonders why all is so quiet I'll just say we lost a cousin -- someone who was young and whom we all knew and whom we all loved.

So that's why there hasn't been much activity online in the last few days. But let me also add this: there better be something on this blog by the end of today. Something announcing the arrival of (yikes! could it be?) another Mastandrea.

The world pauses mid-spin.

This has been some crazy time these holidays -- so much to do and so little time to do it all. Vito finally landed his reindeer in Tuckahoe at about 2 a.m., and we sat at the kitchen table for some time after that drinking port and miscommunicating. Then to bed, unable to fall asleep for some time (and I had been fighting sleep, a bitter battle, just a few hours earlier -- not wanting Vito to have to ring the doorbell upon his arrival). So for most of today I had that special combination of grogginess and wracked-nerves that can only mean the Christmas is upon us.

Santa Claus was good to me: I got a ship in a bottle, a cast-iron hibachi grill, and King Kong mutandes that roar.

The stockings aren't hung (no chimney) and no children are nestled snug in their beds. . .even the cat is out in the drizzling rain doing his kitty cat thing. . .if he is asleep in the barn he is dreaming of mice stirring in a big pot of kitty chow.

We are still cooking here. . .I got a very late start on the lasagna. . .so it is in the oven at 12:30 in the AM on Christmas morning. . .and I am way past ready for sleep! However late the start was, it was a true joy to have my new Kitchen Aid mixer and attachments! I made about 250 mini meatballs for the meatball lasagna. The mixer mixed all 6 pounds of meat up with the bread crumbs, spices and eggs in just a jiffy! I mixed up the four pounds of ricotta and filling ingredients in a snap and used the attachments to shred cheese, knead the pasta dough and will use it again in the morning to put together the ingredients for the cheesecake.

Our presents were opened as they were received (the joy of being an adult! no one tells you to wait until Christmas) especially when I got to go along with Joe to outfit the kitchen with a new Crockpot, coffee pot with coffee grinder, silicone spatulas and hot pads, as well as a new set of dishes and a French bread pan that won't fit in our tiny oven (sad sad moment there, but we have lots of them over that oven!) After seventeen years together nearly everything we both brought to the relationship was dead or dying, so it was a fantastic, wonderful thing for Joe to devote his teaching $$ to re-outfitting the kitchen and making cooking and eating together a pleasure again!

The present that was going to go on Joe's breakfast plate didn't even get wrapped since he was going to go buy it himself while we were finishing up our shopping Saturday morning . . . for the last four Fridays when he got off work, he had a present in his Christmas stocking . . .(Santa was very confused by the weird weather in Nebraska, you see) . . .but none of the presents were the DVD of the Cream reunion that he had asked me to get him . . .and last Friday there was an Eric Clapton DVD in the stocking leading to his mild disappointment which spurred the desire to purchase the DVD . . .so I had to confess that I had planned it that way. . .so much for me trying to be sneaky! ha ha ha

May everyone in the Dish have as wonderful a Christmas as we are having this year and enjoy each other's company, fantastic food and enough good cheer to last throughout the year!

So I'm sitting here, with everyone else tucked up in their beds, watching TV and wiating for Santa. The strange part: around here Santa wear a postal uniform. And he carries an Odd Job sack.

We did lots of cooking today, and then lots of eating. Guido deep-fried a turkey and I got a taste of that -- good stuff. Then some baccala upstairs.

I baked some focaccia today, but I wasn't too satisfied with how it came out. I have another portion of dough still in the refrigerator, so I'll give it one more try tomorrow. And I'll attempt to document my attempt on Pugliese Table (but of course I didn't measure everything, so there's no replicating my work anyway).

I don't have a living will or a healthcare proxy or any of the useful stuff a lawyer would normally advise for a client (that figures). Furthermore, I know a blog-post is a poor and legally-insufficient replacement for any of those but at this moment I would like to make this clear: If I'm ever in a situation where I'm stuck to the train tracks because my balls are frozen to the rails, just shoot me. Or let the train roll over me. Because even if I was set free, I'd never live it down.

Ellie and I have ended the mock Lemoncello experiment. Actually, Mother Nature took care of it for us. The alcohol must have eaten through the stopper on the spigot near the bottom of the sun tea jar. Despite the recipe saying to use a sun tea jar all stoppers must not be created equal. Much of the concoction had leaked out and we weren't too confident about drinking anything fortified by stopper particles.

So what are we out? Vodka, lemon rind and sugar. Oh, yeah, a sun tea jar. If we try again we will use an all-glass jar.

To console ourselves we opened the Orangecello. It is satisfying but I prefer the Lemoncello. Ellie wants to try the creamsicle recipe.

When you leave New York you can end up uttering this famous line from Goodfellas: And that's the hardest part. Today everything is different; there's no action... have to wait around like everyone else. Can't even get decent food - right after I got here, I ordered some spaghetti with marinara sauce, and I got egg noodles and ketchup. I'm an average nobody... get to live the rest of my life like a schnook.

As the transit union threatened its strike over the last few weeks I cheerfully predicted that it was a bluff and that no strike would actually occur.

That's just a small example of the general reliability of my predictions.

Anyway, the subway strike won't affect me directly -- the Metro-North is still running. For now. So in a little bit I'll head into Grand Central and make my regular walk to the west-side.

What I won't do today is get lunch from the cart on the corner -- the one with the big sign that says "Halal Meats." I've made this vow before, mainly because the quality of her food always seemed... suspect. But her cart is right there on the corner, across 7th Ave from my building. It's so close! And the weather is so cold! So I went there yesterday and got the chicken on the rice, with the white sauce, a little hot sauce, and the lettuce on the side.

It tasted... ok. But for the rest of the day I felt blech-o.

Yo, it's cold! Just stopped off at Andre's Shop of Spine -- got crunched but good. Had a sip of Christmas cheer, and then back out to the freeze. Lots of home have lights strung up in Queens -- I noticed that as I stared out the window of the train (going into Astoria from midtown) and the bus (heading to the Triboro Bridge to get to 125th Street station to get home). It was nice to see.

Did those people drink vermouth as they decorated their homes?

I think not.

Last night we took the boys to the Bronx Zoo to see the Christmas Lights. It was Alane's idea to go there. I wasn't so sure I wanted to go.

"Zoo? We're not animali."*

It was nice, but very cold. Or at least it felt very cold -- I'm not sure it was much below freezing, but to my untrained limbs it may as well have been in the teens.

The boys liked it -- especially when we got up close and personal with a pacing tiger.

*Now Steve's got me making reflexive Goodfellas quotes. The bastard.

I knew Airport Guy would say that. . .ha ha ha

Lemme get this straight.

Vito sends you a "be careful who's around when you open it" video and you don't forward it to me?

I just located and resolved an issue that was preventing me from seeing my e-mails. This allowed me to review, finally, about two weeks worth of personal messages -- including one from Vito that contained a link to a special multimedia clip. "Special" in a Vito sort of way. I should know by now that if Vito is sending me something I should be very wary -- especially if he warns me to make sure no one is around when I view it. And when he tells me to make sure the speakers are on.

Maybe I never should have fixed that e-mail problem...

For the record I didn't know how much the Proscuitto di Parma would cost. Al I knew was that Ellie wanted a thre-eights inch thick slice so that we could make cubes. With the wide end in the slicer it turned out to be a big slab.

I'm not sure I could pick Giada or Nigella out of a lineup but I somehow feel that I'd agree with Frylock and Brandi.

John, I don't know where you got the idea that I'm organized. It must have been the vermouth.

Thanks Alane for the compliment on The Table. Please post recipes. . .pretty soon I will have used up my whole bag of tricks and will be posting how to make peanut butter and mortadella sandwiches.

In the discussion of Giada vs Nigella. . .Giada and my crazy next door neighbor could be twins so I can't handle watching it. . .would be throwing the cast iron skillet at the TV. . .and I haven't any idea who Nigella is. . .so I guess I get a "time out" under The Table for having no clue.

Joe is having veal parmigiana for supper and I am having Spaghetti alla Carbonara di Parma Arrabbiata thanks to Joe's generosity. Proscuitto di Parma is $23 a pound now. If I had known that when he called me on the cell phone to tell me he had driven all over Omaha and finally found it, I would have said, 'skip it!' I have divided the slab up in to 5 meal sized portions: glad the recipe only calls for 1/4 pound! I am spoiled rotten, aren't I?

And thanks to the family for the Christmas cards and the huge surprise it contained (Joe doesn't tell me anything, obviously! He just comes home and collapses after his ten and twelve hour days.) I would send out cards to the rest of the family in the Dish, but Airport Guy is a bit tied up with work and hasn't updated the database I use to mail merge into Publisher to make labels. (It's the only program that lets me add my own images to the labels.) Okay, so Emily Post would bust a gasket over using the computer to address the cards, but that is what being a geek is all about, right? And it makes the post office happy.

I would happily live somewhere I never saw snow again. Tarka, our snow dog, would be unhappy, but I would be thrilled. If you ever saw me jogging in the snow it would be the end of the world as we know it. . .So enjoy that balmy weather in Florida for me, too, please.

Isn't there anybody who knows what Christmas is all about?

Did Mojo outdo Linus?

Today I will tell many tales of Mojo:

1. Today after a very long wait, the Nerf Night Hoops thing we got from saving the backs of boxes came. Mojo was and is in his glory. (I should have wrapped it as a Christmas gift.) I attached the hoop to the bunk bed and he's shooting his heart out. He just came in to tell me to come watch him play and that all the "high seats" were filled but he saved me a seat down front.

2. The other day we drove by a house on the way to school and the people had installed a putting green -- not just one hole, but three. So we talked about it. A couple of days ago we drove by and the putting green was snow covered, but the flags were still present. I said to Mojo, who would be kooky enough to golf in the snow -- the ball is the same color as the snow. Without batting an eye he said, BazzukaJoe and Frylock.

3. Today Mojo's teacher stopped me after school. This is usually an indication that some behavioral problem has ensued and must be addressed. She said let me tell to you what your son said. I immediately thought she was gonna say, "Hey, this isn't college" . . . something that John says and that Mojo likes to quote at random. However, she said that they were discussing Christmas and she asked if anyone knew why they had Christmas. She said that all the kids said it was to get presents from Santa. She said it looked like Mojo wasn't even paying attention. She said to the class, "No, does anyone know why we really have Christmas?" And she said that out of the blue Mojo says, "To celebrate God's son's birthday." She said tears welled up in her eyes -- I then told her that before she decided to put him in line for Popehood like his namesake she should realize why he knew that. One Sunday, like all Sundays, Mojo was exclaiming his dislike of going to Church. I said well then you must not like Christmas and getting gifts because the reason we have Christmas is to celebrate God's son Jesus' birthday.

I just want to say on another note, that the other blog -- I will not mangle the spelling -- looks terrific.

I truly empathize with your 17 degree temperatures...after all this morning I had to wear a long sleeve shirt because temperatures here dipped all the way down to about 60...luckily now its back up to 72 so I'm okay. For the record, Brandi agreed that Ghiada was way sexier than Nigella....okay maybe she didnt use the word sexy...but she did think she was better looking. Nigella is British, they have no place in the kitchen. But the one thing we did agree upon was a desire to see either Ghiada or Nigella air an episode where they soak in a bathtub full of broccoli rabe (Dr. Freud could probably explain this)

The Weather Channel (via Yahoo) says it's about 17 degrees in the NYC area. In a little more than an hour I'll pile on layers of sweat-clothes to go out jogging -- an activity I find unpleasant even in fair weather. Maybe I need better music to keep me moving. Perhaps the new Rammstein can inspire me. I'll load that to my mp3 player.

I had Steve and Brandi on an IM chat the other day; Steve and I got locked into a pretty typical argument... It wasn't Jets vs. Giants; it wasn't Yankees vs. Red Sox. We were arguing Giada vs. Nigella.

Brandi wondered why we talk so much about food.

Community Service Santa? Minimum Wage Santa? Stressed-out Santa?

Cookie went and saw Santa yesterday. Santa asked him what he wanted and he looked stumped. Mind you he tells me he wants everything. He finally says, a microscope. Santa says, "oh, you like looking at the stars?". Wow...

Our front window now has lights; our Christmas tree is decorated. It has been a productive weekend.

It sounds like you had a very good start to the Feast of Seven Porks. All you would have needed is a few cold cuts for antipasto to go with the Vermouth and you would have been there pre-Christmas Eve. We will have to check out your rub as I believe that is usually the beginnings of a great meal.

I caved in and purchased a single strand of lights which I hung on the trellis in the living room, thus foregoing the annual Cursing of the Lights by hanging them right out of the box. Perhaps if we had Vermouth the light stringing would go better? I am truly impressed that the wreath was hung with care and not hospital care. That takes talent!

You would not have sullied The Table with your post :-) I hope we have such a good time that the table cloth is stained with gravy and a few meatballs escaping from forks. (Ozark Hillbillies talk with their hands, too!) Post anything you like there.

Sadly, Airport Guy doesn't cook very often. He is an excellent cook when he has time and energy for it. He did, however, take me to Ruby Tuesday's for lunch yesterday and brought home Panera's bagels and cream cheese for breakfast. He also made a special trip in to Omaha to find pancetta, proscuitto and smoked provolone plus an eggplant spread for crusty Italian bread. Our bread starter did not ferment. It formed a crust of black mold, forcing us to throw in the towel (and the bowl)quite literally when the garbage men came on Friday. The basement has a mold problem which apparently has now migrated upstairs. Yikes!

If he still had time to cook, he would make our anniversary dish: hot dogs, sauerkraut and Asti Spumanti Zonin which we would eat on a blanket by the fireplace at our favorite log cabin.

Time to stir the gravy. Bon Appetito!

My new winter clothing keeps me pretty warm in the wintry winds. Unfortunately, I get the sense that the new headgear makes me look a little too much like Moltar -- Spaceghost's studio engineer.

I think that means Cookie is Brak. And we already know for sure that Mojo is Zorak.

My brother Joe-maha seems to be very organized in his tasks and projects. The rest of us... we tend to wing it when we have something that needs to be done. We really need to reach beyond ourselves to contribute meaningfully to a blog dedicated to actual recipes -- a fixed set of ingredients added in more or less exact measures, combined and prepared according to some sort of plan.

So as I review yesterday's holiday prep festivities, I ask myself: what did we do to that pork to make it so good?

To not sully geekette's new food blog, I will herewith memorialize the process:

Holiday Christmas Lights

3 lbs pork rib deboned (rib without rib)
6 thick-sliced pork chops
2 lb sweet Italian sausage
1 large bottle Cinzano sweet red vermouth
Pigmans Rub-a-Dub Beef and Rib Rub
8-10 strings of outdoor Christmas lights

Preparation time: pretty much all year. Guido and I used to get into the Christmas spirit by driving off to the Galleria Mall in White Plains to shop for gifts and grouse at life, but gone are the days where we can pull off spur-of-the-moment seasonal adventures. On this particular project, we got started shopping at about noon and we were eating by about 6 p.m.

The first step is to get the grill heated. This is probably the first point at which a real barbecue specialist would throw his hands up and storm off, saying I don't know what I'm doing. Well, I don't. I have a grill that generally has two setting: "cold" and "reactor core." Pre-heating is still a good idea, so I let it go hot while I get everything else in order.

It is my experience that the best way to get everything else in order is to drink vermouth -- lots of it. So I pour some out for us. And I apply the rub to the rib-slab and the pork chops.

Migrating outside, I stick the vermouth bottle and the drinking glasses into the snow-pile that sits like a high-hat atop my patio table. I take the big bowl of pig to the grill and start arranging... Because that's another built-in limitation of mine: my grill is small. So I arrange the pork chops to sit on their sides (bone-down, so they get the brunt of any direct heat). The rib-slab can only go broadside down, taking up pretty much the other half of the grill surface.

Then I need to tinker with my equipment. The adjustment knobs on the front of the grill are pretty much useless, so I have to squat in front of the unit, reach my hand onto the tank valve and tilt my face into the inferno to see my progress. I turn down the propane as low as it will go without going out... Then I close the lid and walk to the front of the house to dis-entangle strings of lights with Guido and his brother Julio.

The next step is to drink the rest of the vermouth and hang the lights onto the hedges. An even more impressive ritual is the raising of the giant wreath -- with one person on the front walk and the other in the upstairs window hoisting it up on a rope and affixing it to the window-jamb. What makes it impressive is that we usually leave this task for last (after we've had most or all of the vermouth) and no one has yet fallen to their death in a tangle of rope and wreath.

Every 30 minutes or so I checked on the pork. At one point the flame went out, so I re-did the adjustment ritual -- not well either because 20 minutes later I saw lots of smoke which meant I had a flare up and a fat fire. I got that taken care of, re-arranged the meat, re-adjusted the heat, and we were back on track. Everything was browning so nicely. After about two hours of this, I turned the rib-slab and noticed that a strip of meat pulled off and stuck to the tongs -- seeing the meat fall off so easily let me know I was in the zone. I tasted it.

Whoa.

Then I piled everything up onto the side to make room for the sausage. So the last half-hour was on a higher heat, at least on one side -- but still not the heat I'd normally use to sear and cook on a normal grilling day.

I think the entire cooking time was a little over two and a half hours -- and again, a barbecue pro would scoff at that. Real barbecue needs much more time, and smoke, and whatever else.

Yeah, yeah, I know. But this was a workingman's meal!

I still need to put lights into my front window. I'll do that tonight.

It looks like a great time was had by all. Hope you are all enjoying warming up with a nice cup of cocoa and the boneless ribs. We had Italian Roast Beast Sandwiches. Tomorrow the wine and pan drippings form the base for our tomato sauce.

We lit 'em up. And we got lit in the process. Guido and I drove the boys to Stew Leonard's to get Christmas trees, pork chops, boneless ribs (ribs without the ribs?) and Italian sausage. Pig and pine. Then we took it all back to start the grill, open the vermouth bottle, and start hanging Christmas lights.

Mission accomplished: the lights are one. The trees are still strapped to the top of the car, though -- it got cold out there fast. So I still have some outdoor work to do, at least to get those things off the roof and down to the end of the driveway (three trees: one for me, one for Guido, and one for Guido's mom upstairs).

After all that vermouth, I need some sleep.

Tomorrow should be mostly sunny with temperatures in the low to mid 30s. Perfect for slow-grilling pork and sipping vermouth. And hanging Christmas lights outside.

Hopefully, when the lights are hung and the food is ready, no one will have to stand over us and tell us that our that our table has a lot of caca.

Steve, did Uncle Joe make any hand gestures as he made that observation? Heh, heh.

Cookie should be coming home from school soon. He had his "Holiday Boutique" today where he could buy gifts for our family. I can hardly wait to see what he picked for all of us. He was suppose to get Mojo a gift but this morning Mojo got in trouble and we were threatening to have zero gifts for him--Cookie said he would buy himself a gift and share it with Mojo. I remember that I attended one of those as a youth and bought my dad soap on a rope. I never heard the end of it--indeed if I asked my dad about Christmas gifts from me that would be the first one mentioned.

Continuing with the Christmas theme, today I went to the mailbox and it was awesome. All of our mail was Christmas cards--not one bill or piece of junk mail. We received the Spumoni South card and it was most impressive. Everyone looked great. I must particularly compliment Jessica--pregnancy agrees with her. She definitely has the pregnancy glow. Vinny and Marie look wonderful.

I'm glad to hear that I am not the only one that encounters freaks that must write corrections in library books. The other day I was reading a library book and on one of the pages someone had crossed out one preposition and inserted what they thought to be the proper one. It bothered me during the rest of my reading. I'm not even certain the correction was correct.

It has been quite awhile since I've attended a Christmas party or any other party for that matter where puke played such a starring role. And for it to be a couple activity is even more astounding.

Is it just the way I read it? Or did Steve's weekend partying seem to be unnaturally drenched in... puke?

A site dedicated to food? How could I not like it? Sign me up. And sign up Steve -- maybe he'll finally describe the exactly what you have to do to the chicken to create orange soup (hint: no citrus fruit involved).

Got up this morning and the radio announced that the temperature was 23 degrees. That's going to sound balmy to some, but I had to go out into that freeze to do my morning run. So I suited up with two sweatshirts, two pants, snowboarding gloves, and my brand new balaclava.

I was well-protected. But I still hate jogging. Blasted Never Mind the Bollocks on my mp3 player. That helps.

John, I am asking for your blessing on a second blog where we can all post recipes. . .The Pugliese Table.

I would like you all to participate, if you wish, in posting recipes. My email address is posted here as an image to foil spam robots, but please contact me if you would like to join.

I'm always a little uncomfortable discussing the little priviliges my family and I enjoy having a celebrity family member because I feel like a loudmouth braggart...but on this particular occasion I feel an obligation to publicly give Broadway Joe the love and respect he deserves for Saturday night's charity party. I think I can speak for everyone in my family, when I say it makes me unbelievably proud to have a cousin who represents the greatest celebrity of all...the one who shows his greatest acts of love and human kindness when the TV cameras are off and the paparazzi are a million miles away...and oh yeah, Holy Shit can he throw a friggin party.

Alright so with that I'll give you a basic rundown of a Broadway Joe party, start with a huge MGM Studios Soundstage, add a dance floor, a concert stage, lighting rigs, fifty tables, three open bars, and a metric ton of chicken marsala. Add Wayne Brady, DJ Ice, an impromptu live set by Debbie Gibson, followed by a live set by Joey "Solo Like Justin" Fatone, and then a live set by Janine Fatone...all backed by an excellent house band out of South Carolina. All were the opening act for a full concert by Boyz to Men. These were the most normal things that I can recall seeing. Now for the fun stuff: a list of unusual sights:
1. Big Vin once again getting kissed on the mouth by a complete stranger, only this young lady also gave him a winning raffle ticket....well and possibly a fever sore.
2. Joey Fatone singing back-up for Debbie Gibson...well for one night only.
3. A pair of male fashionistas overly anxious to join Vin in the rest room.
4. My Uncle Joe suffering post traumatic stress syndrome , after having to kiss a woman with a hairlip.
5. A couple neatly and discreetly filling every glass and bowl at their table with vomit...inspiring my Uncle Joe to tell them "wow, your table has an awful lot of caca".
6. Fireman Pete dropping an explosive mehtane bomb from his ass on the dancefloor....before returning to his table to fill up those empty glasses with yak.
7. A member of Boyz to Men slow dancing with my Aunt Phyllis to the song "Mama"...we all assume he must be exhibiting the Sicilian genes regarding skin tone.
This list can probably go on and on.

I also wanted to briefly mention something I saw the Friday night before Joe's party. For openers I found myself wandering the downtown bar scene with a coupla Maryland college girls Id never met before...courtesy of my sisters ex-boss who offered them with my cell number. So out of curiosity and desire for a little fun I met the girls...and drank alot..... and watched a small Spanish man have a fistfight with a pale foreign Hot Dog Vendor. Doesn't everybody LOVE the Hot Dog Vendor? Especcially when youre starving at 4am and hes still happily serving. Who hits the Hot Dog Vendor? Isn't that like hitting a priest? Scariest part was when one of my inebriated female cohorts tried to referee the fight and nearly got an uppercut. A little while later she also tried to stop a stupendously drunk man from wrestling a chalk restaurant sign...she gave him a flying butt block to which he responded by putting her in an abdominal stretch... even later she helped a rotund puking Spanish woman who was too drunk to walk. She was drunk...but she was still civic minded. However all her Good Samaritan acts were almost for naught when she tried to steal a few traffic signs and a an aware parking attendant threatened to arrest. But anyway more about that another day...its time for me to leave.

One other thing we have to link the video footage of Three Mastandreas in A Clearwater Aquarium (or as is heard the sewage plant with fish). G'night

The Bawls have arrived well chilled. Thank you very much. You will forgive us if we stick to the hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps until we thaw.

Tomorrow will be another record-setting day for autumn in Nebraska. Twenty below wind chills. Even Santa will be off his game if it doesn't warm up to freezing by Christmas!

I couldn't tell if Geekette was creating those intriguing illustrations... Yes, indeed, keep 'em coming.

Right now I'm calming my nerves with a (second) glass of twny port.

With any luck, they stoking their nerves in Nebraska right now with a tall chilly bottle of Bawls.

Y'know, were all still waiting for the Thanksgiving report from Spumoni. Where's Steve? He's patetic.

Thank you! That is close enough for me! As far as I am concerned you vindicated the author. . .I did a search on Google and waded through thousands of entries before I posted. . . .Frustrated and cold, I soothed the type A obsession with a glass of Paisano last night, but I still walked the floor until after 2 AM. from the joys of having sciatic radiculopathy and spinal stenosis. . .to which you can relate, I know.
I am off in the 1 degree weather to seek out bird food for our seed-flinging cockatiels . . .love and joy and all that jazz to each of you this holiday season. . .

e-post script: It's a little late to be asking, but I hope you don't mind the little images I draw and post.

So I took down my handy-dandy micro-print Oxford English Dictionary (2d ed.) and was surprised to find that the word "rat" in all its variations takes up about two whole pages.

There on page 1,512 (yeah, really) I found the noun form of the slang, there defined as: "A police informer; an informer in a prison." It proceeds to give examples of early usage, the first being dated 1902.

More on point, the verb form appears on the next page and is defined as: "To desert one's party, side, or cause, esp. in politics; to go over as a deserter; to turn traitor. Also, in Criminals' slang, to inform." An instance dated 1812 includes the construction "ratted upon."

And finally, there's this: "With on. To default on; to let (someone) down; to behave disloyaly towards; [snip] to inform on." For this, they quote instances that appear as early as 1932.

All that, and still nothing on the specific phrase "rat out." Sorry.

I am on a quest
to find the origin of the phrase, "ratted out." Why? Because of my obsession with reading and my disgust with people who deface public property (library books) with corrections and other self-righteous commentary thus totally pulling me out of the story when I would otherwise have noted the error and moved on with the story.

In this case, I am reading a crime story placed in the nineteen-thirties in which a character has 'ratted out' one of their own gangland mobsters. A reader has penned in a comment that the phrase "ratted out" was not created at the time the story is set.

Literary anachrochronism might be noteworthy in great works by Shakespeare and those of his ilk, but I do not enjoy being ripped out of a story by such trivial nit-picking. But now that I have, I want to know just when the phrase, "ratted out" came in to usage. And yes, I would really like to vindicate the author, not the self-appointed critic because I read to escape from my type A personality, not to feed it's obsessions.

Fortunately its cold enough in here to force me to return to the sofa, the blanket and the relative warmth of the summer of 1932 and the days of mobsters, Prohibition and the Untouchables. . . .but if anyone stumbles upon the answer, the portion of my brain still ruminating on the phrase, "ratted out" thanks you in advance for sharing it with me.

It's too cold in Nebraska for human life to exist, but here we are. . . .The old furnace in this house can't keep up with the wind blowing through the windows and even with the thermostat set on 60, it is running nearly constantly (and there isn't even any heat vent in this room!). . .tonight the thermometer will be in the single digits again, so we huddle in sweats and even have gloves on while surfing the web. . .(making typing a challenge). . .internally we are warmed by the knowledge that winter isn't even here yet. . .wait, that's not right. . .it's single digits and it's not winter? that thought is bone-chilling, not heart-warming! What on earth are we doing out on this prairie? We what? we did. . .yes, we did. . .we both moved here of our own free will. . .what were we thinking? Yet we have stayed on more than a decade and a half. . . .

The delightfully awful movie Eurotrip was on last night, and this time I succeeded in getting Alane out of bed to come see the Bratislava scene. It still makes me laugh -- and it made me have a strange dream about Castle 1526 as I slept... In the dream workers came with me to the apartment and did analysis on peeling paint and plaster scraped from the ceiling. The worker informed me that in the scrapings he had detected the fecal material of "turpentine ants" and that such ants would do great damage to any wooden furniture in the room. I told him not to worry because there wasn't much wood contained in any of that furniture.

Well, except for that teeter-totter board they keep balanced under the couch cushions... But I didn't remember that until I woke up.

So if last night was my turn to tell bedtime stories, and instead I let the boys watch I, Robot (or, as Cookie called it today, I Am Robot), does the movie count as a bedtime story? Do I have to tell the story tonight? Can I find another R-rated movie to let them watch with me? Or does that only keep me on the hook for stories tomorrow night?

We'll need a ruling on this soon -- it's already past their bedtime, and they're here in the living room running Sonic through a casino, looking for something.

Hell, when we were in school teachers would sometimes get lazy and show movies -- and they never had to make up the class-time!

Cookie stayed up late with me to watch I, Robot, which just ended. Alane tapped out before the movie even started. Halfway through, Mojo bailed out and put himself to bed -- Cookie and I had the big cushion on the living room floor and we spread ourselves out. At some point during the last half hour, Cookie closed his little eyes and checked out for the night.

I like Bazzukajoe's baby pictures -- I can see the resemblance.

Frylock reported last night that he found a secret Jacques Cousteau archive tape in the trunk of his car... The episode that ended his career.

This is Ellexa. It is estimated she is now nearly 8 pounds. The rumor is that she will be popping soon. We await the verdict on thursday. If you look close you can see her face. Or head. Thats the whole shot. Vin finds this amusing. So John I assume you explained the appropriate time for a pressed ham to mojo. There is a time and place for everything.

Momentarily, I will leave my office to get on the subway. I will take a downtown train to an elevated station in Bratislava. I will then walk the short distance to the Castle 1526.

Perhaps I should get myself a small bottle of Cinzano... Just in case I burn my arm on the steam pipe.

Artichokes seven ways is an easy task. . .a quick search of just cooking.com recipes presents 55 recipes. . . none for dessert. . .however, a quick search of Google shows an artichoke recipe book with a dessert recipe. . .I'd say that would be a challenge even for the most inventive chef!

I have been watching it snow for several hours; now I am watching the flashing lights of the snow plows in the shopping mall parking lot light up our house like Christmas. . .I suppose I should enjoy it even if it is 3 AM and I have not been to sleep yet. . .because they are about all the holiday lighting going on in this house because of the wild cat. . .

Even our double coated dog had good sense and came in today out of the cold and snow while the wild cat stayed out an extra hour and came in chilled to the bone. I do wonder whether he will venture out when it is daylight and the snow could swallow him up rather than just dust his toes. I know I am staying in if possible!

Oh, and the other night I was sitting in front of the tv playing on the Gamecube when Mojo walked up and said "I got something for you." He turned his back to me, dropped his pants, and mooned me.

He was very pleased with himself.

I stopped my game and tried to explain to him how that wasn't very nice, but I immediately sensed the futility of swimming so hard against such a powerful genetic tide.

Yes, I do need to drink more.

Friggin' tourists. The city has gone insane for the night -- and the area around Rockefeller Center was jammed. I skimmed the outer perimeter as I made my way to the train station, listening to Lo-Fidelity Allstars on my MP3 player.

Had a nice IM chat with Brandi and Frylock before leaving the office. Brandi made a gratuitous (and thoroughly disingenuous) comment about how much she liked to cook -- Frylock saw right through it. I challenged her to cook us an entire meal of only artichokes, perpared in seven different ways (with extra credit for finding a dessert option).

Right now I'm maxing on the sofa, sipping vermouth and sorting through some paperwork. And despite my enjoyment of wormwood-infused spirits, I don't think I drink nearly as much wine as Cookie thinks.

Or do I?

And if I don't, should I?

I think the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree is lit tonight, so I'll need to walk an alternate route back to Grand Central -- lest I have to compete with the crowds of onlookers reaching out to that fat holiday bastard. And I don't mean Santa.

Happy Post Thanksgiving! We have arrived back from the frozen tundra of Cleveland to mild weather here in New York.

A holiday tradition of mine as a youth was to go to Litehouse Pools with my mom--which sold pools in the summer, but became a Christmas tree and decoration store in the fall--and pick out a new ornament for the Christmas tree. Since we were at my folks, I decided to continue the tradition with Cookie and Mojo. Mojo declined the invitation and stayed with my dad and John. Cookie gleefully came along. I told him since Mojo declined attending I would allow him to pick out an ornament for Mojo. Cookie also decided to pick out an ornament for John. I'm always fascinated at what will be chosen (although this was the first time at Lighthouse pools, I've let them pick out ornaments before). Cookie chose for himself this folksy looking quilted heart snowman thing. Not at all what I expected, but he did later see a school bus that he loved and my mom got it for him so he could keep snowman too. For Mojo he got this giant decorated jingle bell that actually made noise. We had just watched Polar Express again so maybe that's why or maybe he knew Mojo would like the amount of noise that could be made with it. My favorite pick of Cookie's was for John. He found a glass ornament in the shape of a bottle of Chianti--explaining to me that Daddy likes to drink wine. I don't think Cookie recognized the Italian flag colors or the Salute written on it. It will be hung proudly on the tree.

When I was at home this Thanksgiving, my mom and I went to the mall the Saturday after Thanksgiving. It didnt seem to horrendous until I went and waited in line to purchase one item. I was fooled into thinking it wouldnt take long because there was only THREE people ahead of me. Little did I know I had descended into Dante's circle of consumer hell. The first woman apparently had purchased the greater part of the department and desired to have it all bagged separately. The woman in front of me started to practically hyper-ventilate because her $ 10.00 coupon was about to expire at 1:00 and she had to get back from her lunch break. Luckily the woman ahead of her allowed her to jump ahead so paramedics werent necessary. Then the final woman in front of me is up and dont you know she has some kind of coupon dilemma that requires the saleswoman to ring up the order six times then have to call a manager because the customer is upset because she is unable to purchase the mechandise for well below cost. The manager says it can't be done so the woman after about 15 minutes buys none of the items and takes it upstairs to a different register. The whole time this is happening these two insane coupon clipping women behind me are holding out fistfuls of coupons and trading them back and forth. The one woman says that she had already gone to the gas station and bought six newspapers to amass the great store of coupons she had and was gonna go back to the gas station and get a few more. It was a surreal experience which reminded me of why I shopped online whenever possible.

Yes, the new phone is quite nice -- much better than the prior model that operated a little funny since its screen got bashed in.

We made the long haul back to New York yesterday. Since my childhood was devoid of long road-trips (not to mention a car), I can only wonder how this works: is it a rule that a child riding the interstate may not announce his need to urinate until that need has reached emergency proportion?

Right now I have to do some office work that I tool home with me -- I find the work goes much faster when I grease the skids with red vermouth. I'm taking business to the next level!

I hope that your new Palm device outperforms the old one. They're too small to be a decent paper weight.

Leftovers is one of the words of the day here. The other word of the day, "Yeah!," is inspired by college football. It is a rare day when the Huskers win, LSU wins, and I get to watch both games.

I was just watching the Greg Giraldo Show and unbelieveably the Kid from Brooklyn was a guest. Now the whole world knows.

Funny you should mention the Macy's parade incident. Did you notice that NBC broadcast video of last year's parade which showed the balloon finishing the parade, which is consistent with their not reporting the incident. I guess the light pole has to fall on the talking heads to make the national broadcast.

Treo-blogging again. This time from the 650, which has a better browser and is thus a little easier to use. We just hit the local Target to take in the Black Friday madness. It wasn't so bad. Now we're back and eating leftover turkey. Tonight we'll watch Polar Express on DVD.

The turkey wasn't stuffed this year; but we certainly are! Our dinner guest has gone home and we are going to lie around here watching White Palace on TV. . .one of my very favorite movies. . . .
Have fun in the snow. . .we have bare ground here and frigid temperatures. . .

Here's something I'm sure they're not having for Thanksgiving down at Spumoni South (can't be so confident that it doesn't look like this in Nebraska).

Driving on I-80 last night was a little treacherous, but we made it through without incident. The snow only got heavier this morning and the boys couldn't wait to get out into it. Alane looked very natural holdiong the snow-shovel (but she apparently forgot to pack her babushka).

Right now the boys are watching Scooby Doo and the football game is on in the other room. I'm considering what I should eat/drink next.

So, who's having snow-cones? Perhaps with a splash of Creme de Cacao?

BTW, the Macy's Thanksgiving parade was already in the local news earlier this week -- with reports that they were using untrained volunteer balloon-handlers, despite the assurances they made after the 1997 fiasco. The last time we went to the parade was back in the early 90s (1994, maybe 1995) and it was very windy, especially where we stood at Columbus Circle. The big balloons did some crazy dances as they came out into the open. Bart Simpson seemed to hump the apartment building on the corner. And Sonic Hedgehog (yes, Sonic) hit a building and deflated a few block beyond us.

I hope the lawyers don't get hold of this situation -- there'll be no more parade.

It's Thanksgiving here, too. . .we have a table full of antipasto to nibble on until our guest arrives, then we haul out the turkey,oyster and sage stuffings, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole and sweet potatoes. . .if we can find room we will have pumpkin pie for dessert. . .if not, there is always the option of pumpkin pie for breakfast. . .

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the Dish. . .

It's Thanksgiving in Ohio. The snow has ended. And the eating has begun. What's the story on the prairie?

Alane really knows how to pick an inopportune time to mock my favorite signer Patricia Kaas.

Buzzkill.

Got my eye on the weather sites as we gear up for the long haul to Ohio. There's foul weather on the horizon. And turkey. (And I don't mean Jim Cantore.)

Wow, that sounds like a wicked Orange Julius (which we never had around here in the NYC area).

Yesterday we took da chimpz to the Bronx Botanical Gardens to see if we could snap some holiday photos -- something to insert in our Christmas cards. They also had the toy train spread out again for a members-only weekend. In fact, it wasn't just members-only access -- visitors got a free coffee-maker. Yeah, really: crowds of people milling around holding big boxes containing a strange counter-top device that serves up single-servings of nasty coffee. We know. We took one home and I made a cup this morning. Yech-o.

Anyway, once we got the boys to settle down and stand still we got some decent shots. It always takes a while, since one or the other always seems to be wearing a ridiculous expression.

Anway, we think we got the shots we need for the Christmas cards. The weather was nice yesterday (not like the cold rain we're getting tonight). And since we were there in late afternoon, we caught a bit of the golden hour. So some of the photos came out pretty well (or at least, parts of some photos came out well).

I saw Andre tonight for some bone-chilling spine-crunches and all-around quality-time. He hooked me up with the massage therapist. So I'm feeling loose tonight. Let's see how long that lasts.

If this drink:

Orangecello & Cream
Combine
1 1/2 oz. Caravella Orangecello
3 oz. cream in a shaker.
Shake well and pour into a rocks glass filled with ice.
Garnish with an orange strip.


is anything like a Creamsicle, this bottle could disappear in a flash over the holidays. I guess I will be looking on the web for an Orangecello recipe.

I have decided that we will make up the sugar water for the Lemoncello this weekend and then sample the homemade Lemoncello on New Year's Eve. Sounds like a plan to me.

Off I go to make a batch of egg noodles for Thanksgiving. I will make several pounds so that I can throw a bunch in to the freezer and make noodle soup this winter when nothing else sounds better than a steaming hot bowl of soup. Lots of g-ahhhh-rlic.

I'm glad to hear the training went well -- I'm certain that Joe-maha has his presentation all nailed down. But my question is this: did he find a way to use the rubber chicken? (Even if it was just the old Loony Skip Rooney schtick: holding it up and sneering "Will you get dressed!")

It's no warmer in Nebraska but the drought continues and, all things considered, I begin a very grateful Thanksgiving week.

The week began with a great visit to Tuckahoe where I witnessed Cookie beat John on the Nintendo gamecube. Next I had a pleasant visit to the castle (yes, I said it and it is true - would I lie this close to Christmas?).

Instructing in CT was the usual day and a half of uphill battle followed by a day and a half of satisfied students. The tremendous quantity of information makes the beginning a challenge but the repitition insures that students generally know what they're doing when we leave. I use the software in question all the time so I'm gratified to see others benefit from using it.

It was great to return home to Ellie and it was good to sneak to Des Moines for a great comedy show. All in all it has been a great week. It's almost enough to make me feel good about all of those years of 50 and 60 hour work weeks.

The only question remaining is how long I can keep my hands off the Orangecello that I found in CT

Greetings from Des Moines, IA . . .Joe, Tarka and I are huddled in our hotel room while outside it is a wintery mix of cold rain and wind.

We respect the tradition of the annual tree lighting with vermouth, ladders and pork. . .We, however, are skipping the Annual Cursing of the Light Strings because Sterling would have the tree down on the floor faster than we could put it up. While I am all for entertainment for the cat, I prefer the fuzzy fake mouse-type toys, not the full-sized tree variety.

So enjoy the trees and lights and all the childen's wonder and joy. . .we will bask in the glow of our monitors this year.

My voice is returning. A cold knocked me down for much of the week, culminating in a hoarse and erratic voice over the last two days. But this morning seems a bit better. And not as much of the nasty snot-globules that need to be blasted from my nose. And that's good.

I'm trying to get ready for Thanksgiving and the whole holiday season. The star is atop the tree at Rockefeller Center -- I saw it one morning on the slats of a forklift, and the next day it was mounted. The scaffold will be around the tree for some time more and soon there will be insane crowding throughout that plaza making it harder for me to get to and from the office. Tourist bastards.

And it got cold this week. It was in the 70s on Wednesday, but went down to the 30s thereafter. Time to get out the woolies.

Ah, yes -- Alane's wedding shower. That was an absolutely killer party (nothwithstanding the bow hat which made Alane squirm). I remember seeing many of those pork varieties and at least as many types of bread. Marie outdid herself.

Of course, there are sausages and there are sausages. I remember another party at the old Staten Island homestead that included a fully-stocked, real-life hot dog wagon like you'd see on a street corner... It was parked in the living room. Bazzukajoe stood at the helm and as I walked in he pointed a fork at me and said "You want kraut on yours?"

C'mon, how can you have a First Communion party without a hot dog wagon?

Blood pressure? Gosh I hardly know what blood pressure is. . .mine hovers at 80 over 60 and sometimes doesn't register at all if I have been asleep. . .

As far as Joe's blood pressure? I dunno. I probably raise his blood pressure more by just being myself than with the salt. . .ha ha ha

We only eat salt in the foods that are commercially purchased. . .mostly cheeses, sausages, pickles and hot sauce. I don't even put salt in our Sunday gravy or meatballs. . .so our once a year Feast of Seven Porks is followed by a year of repentance so to speak. . .

I made 3 gallons of chili and a gallon and a half of chicken noodle soup for last night's HAM radio fundraiser and almost forgot to salt them. . .at the last minute I remembered that other people like salt! The chili got very little. . .I figured the garlic, thyme, oregano and cayenne would work without much salt. . .but the chicken soup I salted a bit closer to normal although I relied on garlic a lot as well. . .and then I couldn't eat it. . .it was the first soup finished off with people coming back for seconds before the line was completely finished . . . so I must have gotten it right. . . and one guy even told me he would pay me to make up a batch for him to freeze in 2 cup containers. . .so I guess, to each his own. . . .

It's really cool to learn about your Christmas traditions. . .and I always delight in hearing about the boys. . .Joe has talked about them quite a bit in just the few hours he has been home. . .so I know he really enjoyed his visit!

Hat and shower. Two words I do not like to see in close proximatey. I still have trauma from that hat at my wedding shower at Aunt Marie's and Uncle Vinnie's house in Staten Island. Joe's hat was awesome looking. I believe I would have been proud to don such a creation. Bow hats bite.

I really must know, Ellen -- Do you really buy all that sausage? What does that do to your blood pressure and sodium levels?

We did not do the fish thing on Christmas Eve when I was growing up. Slovaks have a Christmas Eve tradition that involves Oplacki (basically unconsecrated hosts), honey and garlic. We didnt eat meat either, but had halushki instead. Halushki is basically fried cabbage and dumplings. Which sounds quite nasty but actually for some reason tasted pretty good.

Yesterday was the first time one of my sons said, "Do you love me more than "other son"?" I had told him that I loved him to the moon. Any bets on which monster uttered that.

The other day Cookie said he didnt want to go to school. Mojo was like "why?, I love school." Cookie said, "You'll see. Kindergarten is real long and you have to sit and be quiet all day and do lots of paperwork." Yesterday, after considering Cookie's comments, Mojo decided that he will stay in the 4's. I went to Mojo's 4's conference and had to hear about what a total joy he was and how he respected authority. I suspect some pod person replaces him when he shows up for school cuz he sure aint like that for me.

This was my hat for the Baby ShowerI say no more.

All week I neglected to post this photo of the monster truck Cookie and I constructed on Saturday using the Erector Set. We were waiting for Airport Guy's arrival and Mojo was out at a birthday-party/play-date. Cookie declared his intention to "build something without con-structions" which means withou in-structions. All our other projects used the canned directions that came with the Erector Set. This one would be harder -- but we got it all together soon enough. I explained how trucks have a chassis and I showed him what I was building as a chassis. Then I told him about the axles that connect the wheels and the engine mounts that hold the motor in place. I considered explaining how a differential would work, but then I got hold of myself.

By the time Airport Guy arrived, we were attaching the very last piece -- the rounded bumper on the front-end. That bumper, and a few other parts, have already fallen off thanks to my reluctance to tighten the bolts as much as would be needed (somebody's gotta take this thing apart to do the next project).

Anyway, the gears mesh and the motor propels it and it was great fun. I'm not too sure about the structural integrity of my chassis -- a few loose bolts and all hell breaks loose. So GM has nothing to worry about. Well, actually, GM has a lot to worry about but not necessarily from Cookie and me.

The motorized projects are fun. Next step in the escalation of this hobby: remote control motors.

I was raised on farms in two rural Missouri communities. . .one in the Ozarks and one in mid-Missouri. We butchered our own meat and my father was a mortician. I bet I can out-gross anyone in the Dish, but I won't. I have to confess that I have eaten blood sausage. I have not ever speared an eyeball with a fork even though I have partaken of whole suckling pig and lamb. I like eating eggs so fresh that they weren't even laid yet. . .it was a real treat when we stewed a hen.

My Italian heritage is this: my mother is half Muskogean (Creek) Indian and half Dutch. She went to an Indian boarding school run by Catholic charities but when the Depression came the school was closed and the children dumped without even bus fare home. . .(as if they could ride on a bus in the south.)

She made her way around in a hard knock life from the age of nine until she ended up living in Kansas City in a Sicilian neighborhood. She changed her name to "Ruth Anne Corvino" and became Italian to escape at least one kind of prejudice. She is 80-plus years old and cannot draw Social Security because she can't produce a birth certificate. Fortunately my father left her an endowment when he died so, while not rich, she can keep on pretending to be Italian.

I am red-haired and freckle-faced. . .not a drop of that NA blood shows on my face although I have 5 points on all of my jaw teeth. . .my father was Scots-Irish but I look like the Dutch grandparent. . . .

Mortadella and Peanut Butter is a disturbing thought.
Sanguinaccio has always been a word we used in our house however not eatenas blood sausage is not enticing.
Have you ever made Gabuzella? I hear as a child it is a disturbing site. It is the roasting of a lambs head. It is fully intact eyes and all with an apple in its mouth. I have heard stories of our grandma making such a delicacy to the chagrin of her boys. My dad told me he watched his uncle and father each eat an eye with a fork. I can only imagine the feeling when that oven was opened to check on the progress and you caught a glimpse of that thing. What would JP and Mojo do? I have never seen that. I have seen the OCTOPUS preparion though. And worn the ceremonial hat i would say. This was prepared by aunt cristina. she in the back left of the picture.
Now .................
are you sure there is no ginzo blood in your family?

Just to tell what a mutt I am. . .I like my Mortadella di Bologna with peanut butter.

A Kindred Soul for the Feast of Seven Porks. . .it's not only possible, this list doesn't contain them all:
Baldonazzi,Bale d'Aso,Biroldo or Buristo or Sanguinaccio,
Bisecon, Bocconcini di Daino,Bondiola, Bondiola Affumicata, Bondiola d'Adria, Bondiola di Treviso, Boudin, Bresaola, Bresaola dell'Ossola, Bresaola di Cervo,Budellaccio di Norcia, Cacciatori or Bastardelli,Cacciatorino,Capocollo, Cappello da Prete, Carne di Melezet,Carne Salada, Cervellata, Calabrese, Cervellata Pugliese,Cervellatina, Ciauscolo or Ciavuscolo,Coiga,Coppa, Coppa di Ascoli Piceno, Coppa Umbra,Coppiette,Coppiette, Ciociare,Corallina diNorcia, Cotechino, Cotechino di San Leo, Cotecotto,Culatello di Zibello, Fegato Dolce,Fegato Pazzo, Fiaschetta Aquilana, Filetto Baciato, Finocchiona, Fiocco di Daino, Guanciale, Kaminwürz, Lardo, Lardo di Cavour, Lardo di Colonnata,
Lardo di Saint Arnad, Lonza, Lucanica, Luganega, Luganiga, Marcundela, Marzapane, Mazzafegato, Mocetta or Motzetta, Mortadella di Bologna, Mortadella di Campotosto,
Mortadella di Fegato, Mortadella di Fegato or Mortadella d'Orta or Fidighin, Mortadella Nostrale, Mortadella Umbra, Mortadellina Amatriciana, Mortandela, Mostardella, Mulette,Musetto, 'Nduja, Pampanella di San Martino, Pancetta or Rigatino, Pepperonni, Pettucce, Porchetta di Ariccia, Probusto, Prosciutto Affumicato, Prosciutto Berico-Euganeo, Prosciutto Cotto, Prosciutto Cotto nel Pane, Prosciutto di Bardotto, Prosciutto di Basciano, Prosciutto di Bassiano, Prosciutto di Bosses,Prosciutto di Carpegna,Prosciutto di Cinghiale, Prosciutto di Daino,Prosciutto di Guarcino, Prosciutto di Modena,Prosciutto di Montefalcone, Prosciutto di Norcia, Prosciutto di Ossola, Prosciutto di Parma, Prosciutto di San Daniele, Prosciutto di Sauris,Prosciutto di Val Vigezzo, Prosciutto Lucano, Prosciutto Romano, Prosciutto Toscano, Rindgeselchtes, Salama da Sugo,Salame Brianzolo, Salame d'Asino, Salame del Montefeltro, Salame della Duja, Salame di Cinghiale,Salame di Cremona, Salame di Daino, Salame di Fabriano, Salame di Felino, Salame di Mantova, Salame di Pecora, Salame di Rape, Salame di Sant'Olcese, Salame di Varzi, Salame d'Oca, Salame Genovese, Salame Milano, Salame Napoli,
Salame Sant'Angelo, Salame Toscano, Salsiccia,Salsiccia Cruda di Bra, Salsiccia di Castrato, Salsiccia di Lecce, Salsiccia di Monte San Biagio, Salsiccia di Polmone, Salsiccia di Rionero, Salsiccia Pezzente, Salsiccia Sarda, Salsiccia Stufata, Sanguinacci, Sanguinaccio di Lecce, Sanguinati, Scammarita, Scodeghini, Soppressa del Pasubio, Soppressata, Soppressata di Fabriano, Soppressata or Testa in Cassetta or Mallegato, Spalla Cotta di San Secondo,Speck, Speck Quadrato or Peze Enfumegade, Strinù,Su Zurette, Testa in Cassetta, Teutenne or Tetette or Tetin, Tzemesada or Mesada, Ventricina Molisana, Ventricina Vastese, Violino, Zampitti and Zampone. A to Z and the ones in bold are the ones we buy (plus a couple of others if we can find them). . .

Then you have the pork that isn't cured: fresh sausage (sweet and hot), chops, steaks, roasts, tenderloin. . . .

I was raised 'Italian' although I am a ethnic mutt with no Italian DNA. . .therefore I feel it's okay that I buy our Panetone, Gardiniere, Artichokes and Roasted Red Peppers (I only roast peppers when I have an abundance in the garden.)

And although Joe has hinted strongly that he is ready for a batch of cannoli, I haven't made it in a long time. Maybe that should be something I make to welcome him home!

It's not exactly a feast of Seven Porks, but Guido and I will, in just a few short weeks, hold our third annual Pork and Vermouth Christmas Lighting. It often involves at least three varieties of pig: hot sausage, sweet sausage and pork chops. And it involves an entire bottle of red vermouth. And electricity. And ladders.

WOW. I am jealous that i was not there to partake in the video gaming. Limoncello and Soul caliber are an excellent mix. This match has strenthened the soul of astaroth. So Vin would be quite impressed that any one else on the planet would be aware of the female male thing in the eggplant world. Grandma Rose used to always tell my dad when he shopped for her that she needed an eggplant and how to know what to get. We thought it was funny but its true. And nothing is more disappointing than bitter eggplant. I am amazed at your knowledge of food. The Feast of the Seven Porks intrigues me. I am drawn to it like moth to flame. I feel this may be something we have to begin celebrating. Does this mean we need to eat 7 porks on that day? Is that possible?

So we went in for our regular doctor visit and had a nother sonogram. They say the baby is now 5 pounds with seven weeks to world entry. Hmm. What will the ratio of head to body weigh end up being? Will it be a 90-10 split ? Its been very interesting. I have seen and felt the kicking and pushing going on in that small apt she is in. It is fascinating to watch. We went in for a non-stress test. There are several straps put on the stomach to track baby and moms heartbeats and all the motions within the womb. Well our child sleeps all day and is most active in the evening. The nurse proceeded to put a small round buzzer on her stomach to wake her up. She was not happy. we could hear her thrashing about on the fetal monitor. it was pretty cool.

Just a side note....
I witnessed a pick up recieving a ticket on I95. I counted 18 people in the flat bed of the Ford F150. You do the math.

It's snowing here! I have started the Christmas sourdough bread, Pane Rustico. Legend has it that this bread dates back to ancient Rome. . .whether or not it is true, I have no idea. It isn't a flat bread but it is a sourdough bread made from fermented grapes so it is at least plausible.

The drought did in the eggplant crop, so I am not sure if I will make caponata for Christmas Eve. I only budget fifty dollars for the two days and store bought caponata is expensive as well as inferior to homemade. Eggplants from the grocery store are often very bitter and I don't always have "male" eggplants from which to choose like I do if I am growing my own. Okay, so there aren't really "male" eggplants, but eggplants have a dimple at the blossom end. The dimple can be very round or oval in shape. The round ones that look like a belly button (innie) seem to have more seeds and tend to be less meaty, so I select the oval barely-dimpled eggplants because the seeds are what make the eggplant bitter.

We don't do the Feast of Seven Fishes (La Vigilia or vigilia di magro,) . . .it's more like the antithesis of that or the "Feast of Seven Porks" with all the cured meats and cheeses that we only buy once a year. I used to do the fishes thing. . .from mussels (drunken soldiers), herring, seafood salad, shrimp scampi and stuffed calamari to smoked salmon and sometimes baccala and stuffed sole florentine. The year I ended up wearing a scalding hot pan of stuffed calamari was the end of the Feast of Seven Fishes and the beginnings of the Feast of Seven Porks which is a whole lot less work and lets me concentrate on the Christmas day lasagna: homemade sauce, meatballs (ground veal, It. pork sausage and beef ground together) and pasta.

Here is a blog that seems to have food on the mind, too. . the hungry blogger.

The meatballs are in the sauce. Joe-maha left over an hour ago and has most likely already crossed the moat into the Castle 1526. My head-ache has mercifully subsided (after drinking about a gallon of water and several cups of coffee). The boys are gaming, gaming, gaming. Christmas rocks (at least the part about getting gifts -- not so much the shopping part, Ellie). I'm not sure what to think of Cookie's victory dances and trash-talking -- but when I had him out in the driveway yesterday to kick the soccer ball back and forth, I noticed how big he's gotten. Maybe big isn't the right word... Athletic? Accomplished? He kicked the ball very well once I convinced him to kick for aim not power. And he added some fancy flourishes that I didn't expect from him. He's growing up. And he definitely likes to win.

And Mojo's a maniac. We showed him Joe-maha's ID so he'd see that they both had the same name. He laughed. I don't suspect my brother is accustomed to having kids jump all over him, but that's what they did -- even before they saw he had brought them such a cool piece of equipment. We had Cookie suit up as Sonic this morning, at least without the eyes and hands, so Airport Guy could see for himself how good a job Ellie did. That was after the bagels (sorry, Vin, Alane forgot the Swiss-cheese).

So now I'll settle down, play some Melee with Cookie, hopefully get a nap. Maybe I should place a mercy phone call to Brooklyn to check on progress. In any event, the blog awaits a full after-action report.

Good Sunday Morning to all the Dish!I am so delighted to hear that the early Christmas with all the kids (adult and minor) is fun. Alane, I feel your pain since I am sure you are the only adult carrying on with normal duties.

(In a call back to an earlier post, all the whistles at our house mysteriously lost their little noise maker balls soon after their arrival at the house. The kids would blow and blow and I would admit to no tampering but wonder aloud about how that could happen. If you can't pop the ball out with a nail file, pull the two halves apart and superglue them back together after children have gone to sleep for the night. Old age and treachery overcomes youth and enthusiasm.)

Tarka and I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast after a midnight call from a panic-filled friend sent me out until nearly 2 AM repairing a computer and educating a user. It was a PEBCAP error but it went kernel-deep. I spent many hours while diabetic cat sitting this last week updating a PII and tricking it out to think it could run AOL 9.0 and a new printer. I left it in hibernate mode with a note that said, "Call Me FIRST." The aforementioned person saw the blank screen and pulled the plug on the computer instead of wiggling, jiggling, jostling or otherwise waking computer out of it's slumber or calling me. SO. . .at 11PM CT I received a phone call asking me to drive in to Omaha to fix it because she is a power seller on eBay. . .and has sniping to do, things to sell and money to make. . .Three hours later the computer was returned to working order my friend had a large lesson in disgraceful shutdowns and how to use the new software. . .she inconvenienced a few electrons to say the least.

I actually was happy to do it although I had already spent the evening doing one of my least favorite things: Christmas shopping. And not even for family! I shopped for Joe's HAM radio club's Christmas party. Said club president and I will be heading out here in a few minutes to take advantage of a 25% off coupon Airport Guy's college buddy shared with us. . .I am a much better geekette than girlie girl so last night's shopping was filled with 'Yeah, that's really cute. Oh, I bet that will look great on your mantle along with the six you bought already and told me about over salad at Applebee's.' I don't fake sincerity well, so she finally suggested I go home and rest because I was looking like I was in pain. I was. Mental pain. But I volunteered to subject myself to another day of said. Airport Guy, if that isn't true love, I don't know what is. . .

Have lots of fun on the country's right-hand coast and enjoy the gaming. May I suggest a spot of limoncello for breakfast as the hair of the dog that bit both John and yourself. . .and an anesthesia before visiting the castle. . .

I just got the coffee on; Alane is out getting the bagels; Airport Guy is playing Super Smash Brothers against Cookie with Mojo looking on and cheering.

My head is killing me -- I feel like I was attacked last night by an angry lemon tree. The morning light shows half a bottle of limoncello on the counter, and empty one in the recycling container.

I hope Alane gets back soon with those bagels -- I need to put one under my head as a pillow.

I gotta pull myself together... Someone's gotta make the meatballs.

I blog from Tuckahoe with Caravella Limoncello nearby. I fear that a photo may follow. I knew I should have purchased a camera so that I could take the photos instead of being in them.

Mission accomplished - I delivered the package from the North Pole and minutes later John set the calendar and clock. Within minutes John, as Mario, was battling Cookie (a.k.a. Donkey Kong). DK beat Mario 5 games straight. Good thing that the upstairs neigbor is deaf because we were all howling with laughter and screaming with delight. Both players learned new moves so the battles will only get better.

We're now reviewing season one of "Aqua Teens." And partaking of Limoncello. Life is good.

Tomorrow I visit the castle and Monday I'm off to work in CT. That's too bad. I'd rather watch Mario and DK learn a few more moves.

I believe the whistle from John's office made it home and now Cookie is running around blowing it. My head is beginning to scream from it. Soon it will be confiscated. Due to Veteran's Day, I am blessed to have both boys home all day. It is amazing how much more quiet it is with just one monster roaming. Now I am realizing that there is not one whistle but two. I am a lucky person.

Yesterday when we were driving in the car and Cookie asked me, "Where does your brain go when you die?" I believe he was trying to figure out what happened to your soul or essence but I was not ready for that philosophical discussion so of course I said it just decomposed. The poor kid will probably have nightmares now.

The other day I was doing something and Mojo asked me to build railroad tracks with him. I told him as soon as I finished I would help him. I finished what I was doing and said, Ok I'm ready at which point Mojo said to me, Look mommy my eyes gleam with hearts. I asked where that came from--gleamed? He then said he saw Tom's eyes in "Tom and Jerry" have hearts in them. Still didnt really answer the gleam part....

I certainly hope Bazooka Joe's daughter has a smaller head then Cookie for Jessica's sake.

So Jo-Maha is making the trek to Tuckahoe. I have spoken to the mother and she is going to call you regarding the soup. Apparently the Blog is too high tech. I do not get why. She has a palm pilot. Oh wait i mean an I-paq. So you may possibly have the recipe for Joe.
Well..... I now have a room piled high with baby stuff. They say that the baby may have a larger than average head. I looked at the doctor and said there is NO MAYBE about it. I will have a child with a large head and chicklets for teeth. It is now documented. The shower was amazing. There were many pictures hung on the walls of us as children. The food was great and i think i opened gifts for 2 hrs. I am hoping that someone has a photo of a hat Janeanne Gallo made that was totally bizzarre. It was a white fedora i wore pimp style. Which did not make her happy. Somewhere during that day the hat was swiped and never seen again. I need a picture to post so we can set up a reward poster for it. And so all others may enjoy.
Thank you to all that sent me stuff. Thank you Thank you.
well
The weather is rumored to be in the 60's tomorrow. I will bask in it.

Last night's wind and rain seem to have provided the final push needed to get the leaves off the trees. Finally. Went out this morning to do my regular jog (have I mentioned how much I hate jogging?) and it was about 7 a.m., clear and chilly. The walkway was wet and in some places completely covered with brown and yellow leaves. Autumn definitely arrived late this year -- I've got time-stamped photos from prior years showing the boys playing in leaf-piles in mid-October.

I heard from Bazzukajoe today -- he said he's getting a write-up of the proper technique for preparing orange soup. While I wait for that to be posted, I sit here drinking red vermouth, watching "Sling Blade" on television while Mojo inexplicably sleeps on the living room floor.

Got caught in the rain coming off the train this evening. No umbrella. So I sprinted to the house, clutching my plastic bag containing half-a-pound of Viennese Roast from Oren's and two black-and-white cookies from Zaro's. The cookies are gone already; the coffee we will start using tomorrow (I was supposed to get that yesterday, but I forgot -- Stew roasts coffee on the premises, but it just doesn't have the character of the stuff I get from Oren's).

Still need the orange soup technique -- Steve, will you get on that already!

To prep for the impending arrival of Airport Guy, I stopped at Stew Leonard's wine shop and got a big bottle of red vermouth. And a bottle of rainwater madeira (hey, I like the stuff!).

Actually, the trip for was to get some coffee -- we used our last beans for this morning's pot and I forgot to stop at Oren's in Grand Central (they carry some very nice roasts there).

Mojo Jojo and I had a big adventure today -- I took him to the office and he spent pretty much the entire workday with me and the staff. And somehow, he remained civilized throughout. He gets lots of attention there, so it's no wonder he was so well-behaved. He drew some pictures, watched videos, hit people with the inflatable bat, punched people with the Hulk Hands, squeezed Silly Putty, and danced to Gorillaz music. He noted how long a walk it was back to Grand Central and was glad when we finally found a deli with black-and-white cookies. He fell into a deep sleep on the train ride home and I had to carry him off at Tuckahoe -- a pretty full day for the little man.

Early in the day, someone gave him a plastic whistle and told him to walk into different rooms, blow the whistle, and announce: "Get back to work!" Which he did. Throughout the day.

I'll pay for that for the rest of the week.

There's something very evil about this video clip -- I suspect Bazzukajoe would have had similar difficulty.

The History Channel is running a show about the rampaging Mongols. Very interesting. Right now (in the show) they're facing off agains the Ottoman Turks, making comments about each other's mother. How can I flip channels? I had the football game on earlier and had to explain to Cookie that even though they're called the New York Jets, they actually play in New Jersey. Same for the New York Giants. That ought to keep him confused for a while. Maybe someday I'll plan us a flight that lays over in Cincinnati -- an airport that is actually in Kentucky. I want my boy to learn not to take anything for granted.

Frylock IM'ed me yesterday telling me his wish to vacation in France this autumn -- clearly an attempt to get in touch with his 38th-Street roots (somewhere in the Mastandrea collective archetype is the tableau of the torched apartment building).

Steve, before you go you gotta remember: those French are very fashion-conscious -- be sure your belt matches your riot gloves, and dammit, get yourself a new balaclava!

Saw the Christmas camels as I walked by Radio City yesterday. They were out by the front doors posing for pictures with a gaggle of Rockettes. On the way home there was a penned off area of picketing strikers by the theater.

Scab camels.

Toy Farting Teddy Bear 'Nuff said.

Thank you so much for the kind words! You all are so thoughtful with the cards and the pictures and all that. . .makes me feel really good that the kids are having a fun time and are happy.

Joe and I just shut off the lights and the holiday is winding down for us. There aren't too many kids willing to walk up the driveway and then two half-flights of steps to the house. . .


Again, thanks for the compliments and Halloween and thank you cards. It was my pleasure. Your boys are both just too cute for words and so precocious, too.

We're putting our little super-heroes to sleep now -- chocolate slobber and sticky fingers notwithstanding.

They had a good night.

Alane and I are still reviewing notes from our weekend visit to the Castle 1526. So much data, yet so little of it computes. We know all the Odd Job locations closed long ago, but Don Vito still comes through with the wacky consumer goods. He bought a sound-amplifying eavesdropping device -- it's on my desk at work. I'm sure I'll find a way to make use of it.

The stream of trick-or-treaters has slowed to a trickle -- just the occasional teenager now and then, giggling awkwardly for their friends waiting on the sidewalk, making the transparent attempt for free candy. What's wrong with today's kids -- can't they buy liquor like we did when I was their age?

Yesterday was the neighborhood Halloween parade -- complete with hay ride around the block and a rampage through the local old-folks home (no shit). It ended with pizza, cakes and candy out on the dead-end street around the block. All the kids were out. We even got to see Sonic turn on the charm for the neighborhood girls -- sitting there, looking civilized, acting like he was actually listening to what they were saying.

He's a natural.

Mojo, on the other hand, is not so subtle. Alane told me that on tonight's trick-or-treat run, one hapless homeowner had to go to another room to refill her bowl of treats. Quoth Mojo upon her return:

"What took you so long?"

We're live-blogging Halloween from it-sure-gets-late-early Tuckahoe. The boys are making the rounds and I'm back here distributing candy to the trick-or-treaters (I was all set to join the entourage, but Cookie thought it was very important for someone to stay here and answer the doorbell).

They'll be back soon enough; I was sure to get some snapshots before they left. They are are excited. We had to wolf our dinner so we could get them suited up and out the door (actually Mojo has been Spidey for a good three hours already).

Once again, we must note how totally excellent Cookie's costume is -- mad props to Ellen for a truly outstanding performance. As for Mojo, the off-the-shelf nature of his costume is more than made up for by the magnitude of his... Mojo.

Ah, methinks I hear them returning...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! We are all ready here for much candy and merriment. Today John Paul had a Rag-a-Muffin parade at school. He did not go as Sonic because well, his teacher is not too nice and I figured she wouldn't help him. So he was a knight for the morning. However, he will once again don the Sonic gear when he goes door to door. He went to our block party yesterday dressed as Sonic and everyone admired the costume. So thanks again Ellen.

I'm glad to hear everyone down Spumoni South way weathered the hurricane alright. Sounds like it was nasty.

Good Halloween Morning to all the clan. . .hope you have a Spooktacular Day!
ellie

I'm off the hook this morning: Alane is making the meatballs.

Greetings from Grand Island, NE. I am not sure how it got it's name. . .no islands in the prairie grass that I can see unless you count the lagoon out behind the hotel...

I am glad that Cookie is having fun with the costume. . .it sure looks to be too big to me, and for that I apologize. Do the spats come close to fitting his shoes at least. . .I made a trip to the local Payless to find some size 13 shoes to measure them up against. . . You could take darts in the shoulders in a V both back and front and see if that doesn't raise his shoulder spikes up. . .I know, I know, I am obsessing again!

Our weather should be much more mild than weather requiring someone hanging on to one's ankles while they hand out treats. . .and I can wear my costume rather than a winter coat and snow boots like last year. . .I may even get energetic and dig out the lights for the house. . .orange to line the driveway and black lights outlining the front of the house (all C 9's). . .I have spiderwebs for the bushes and bats for the house. . .plus we fire up the fog machine and turn on the spooky sounds CD. . .nothing like banshees and wolves to enliven the neighborhood.

The candy has been hidden in the basement for at least a month. . .we hide it from ourselves. . .as in 'out of sight, out of mind'. . .Joe says he is bringing you all the leftovers. . .I have a serious java and chocolate addiction. . .so there might not be leftovers by the time he boards the plane to the east. The mitigating fact about the candy stash is that it isn't dark chocolate, my favorite.

Recently it has come to my attention that some of the upscale markets are carrying espresso dark chocolate. Good thing Omaha and those markets are 13 miles away. Even Kit Kats are getting in to the flavor market, though, and they are way too easy to come by and consume. . .a serious danger to the 35 pounds I have lost since stopping the VIOXX. . .yes, I do put part of the blame on steroids and VIOXX and of course, inactivity since I stopped working outside our home has not helped. . .I wouldn't dream of blaming chocolate. . .it's health food and it is also myth that the sugar causes hyperactivity

Hmmm guess what I am going to try to find for dessert tonight after Joe gets a nap in?

Oh, and have I watched the video clip of Al Roker getting toppled by the hurricane? Only about a hundred times -- and it's funnier with each playing.

I want to hire another staffer at my office -- someone to hold me at the ankles on windy days (or during particularly gusty management and/or board meetings).

We are just about ready for Halloween. Cookie's Sonic costume kicks ass. Last night I stopped at three drug stores before finding a white du-rag. Rite Aid had it; Duane Reade only had them in black. (Before getting on the train I stopped at the Hot & Crusty and got black-and-white cookies for the boys -- appropriate, or what?)

So I cut out some eyeballs and attached them to the du-rag -- all that's left is to cut off that annoying red logo-tag. Sunday is the neighborhood Halloween party for the kiddies; and Monday, of course, is all about trick-or-treat. Cookie is pumped -- he just suited up for some photos and ran into my bedroom where Alane is lying down to ease her raging angst. He stood on the bed to show off his look and a moment later tried to roll himself into the Sonic attack-ball. He's out of control.

Anyway, I find Bazzukajoe's photo journal most insightful. You know, even at Nagasaki the church remained standing. But in Jupiter, the church steeple got whacked... while Vinny's grill survived intact.

A cosmic coincidence? Not a chance.

Once again, I think Orange Soup has something to do with it (in the book of Exodus, they didn't have carrots to turn their soup orange -- that's why they had to use lamb's blood to mark their homes).