We still you pix and stories from the trip the cinetrix and the Cod got to take to Island Creek Oysters. Long/short: a) these folks are not messing around (read Shucked, if you want to know where your oysters come from b) I'm sure the oysters they raise special for Thomas Keller taste nice at Per Se, but not as good as they taste coming right out of the water on a boat, in August, in Duxbury Harbor. c) If I get to pick, I am coming back as an oyster dog. See right.
And now they are hosting a Thing. If you can manage to gag down short plates from Rialto, Mary's Fish Camp, Formaggio, Gramercy Tavern and a host of other spots at either end of the Fung Wah corridor, and bear up under the burden of unlimited oysters, you could console yourself with knowing you are supporting aquaculture in Haiti. You can read about the bigger picture hurr. Were the Cod not previously committed to a Tiger v. Cardinal contest, would be there w/ bells on fins.
The Cod agrees. These are things you should do, and often. But as prerequisites for sharing your opinion about a meal you have spent your time and money to eat? Not so much. At first, the entire post struck me as huffy, and generally assy, viz "
Heaven knows, The Cod is no fan of Yelp, but geez. It is not necessary to perform the task in order to be able to evaluate how someone else does the task. Only novelists can review novels? Only currently active gymnasts can score gymnastics? Nuh uh.
But! The conclusion goes a long way toward redeeming the post.
I read this as "if you cook, you will have a deeper enjoyment of what others cook for you." This is totally true. One of the best recent dining expereinces I've had was sitting at the bar at Farm 255 and chatting w/ Whitney Otawka about making bearnaise. Turns out the way my mom taught me, and the way Thomas Keller taught her are quite different. That's not a conversation I can have if I've never made bearnaise myself.
In this case, DI/DO and the Post readers are united in their blithe unconcern for NY state game laws, which are, for both constituencies, "technicalities." Perhaps this can be a building block for a new era of concord and amity among Times and Post readers!
It happens. It has to me, already, this year, event with a new fridge in the office, and plans for an office toaster oven. (Did you know they will sell you one w/ a rotisserie, raising the spectre of roasting a chicken in the office, and the passing of drumsticks to students waiting for academic advising, etc.) But, it happens. Rather than packing a delicious and inexpensive lunch, I've wound up paying for something more expensive and less good. No need to go into details - those of you who know where the Cod grinds can paint the unpretty picture; those in similar rackets can paint a similar picture using colors other than orange and purple. You plan for something like Badthings epically simple sandwich:
But it's 95 degrees out, and you forgot to get an extra tomato, and you need to pay someone for a less good sandwich than the one above, so you go to a non-Jared sandwich outlet. It happens. But! It's the kind of thing one keeps to one's self. However, the social media wizards at the aforementioned sandwich chain now want you not only to confess your weakness, but to shout it from the electronic rooftops of Twitter. It could happen, but only on a Guiteau Monday.
Inspired by Wide Right & Natty Lite's guest post w/ Cormac McCarthy previewing the upcoming season in the Big 12, we thought it might be fun to get another popular author in to preview our home conference. Long story short, we got noted provocateuse Elizabeth Wurtzel instead. Sorry WR&NL!.
1) Florida State Seminoles: When I was at Harvard, I had an Indian boyfriend, but the other kind of Indian. I can't remember his name. I think I fucked his roommate.
2) Clemson Tigers: Like I care about some liberal arts college in North Carolina?
3) Boston College Eagles: When I was at Harvard, they had these buses to bring girls from here so they could find husbands or something. On a slow weekend, not bad for a diversion, if you don't mind a little rough trade.
4) Maryland Terrapins: I think my agent's stepson wears a sweatshirt from here. Dim bulb, but Oxy doesn't grow on trees!
5) NC State Wolfpack: That reminds me, I should write another memoir - about the time I got stuck under Philip Gourevitch's desk for a week.
6) Wake Forest Demon Deacons: Pretty sure this is actually one of the boarding schools I got kicked out of, but don't feel like looking it up.
1) NYU: Number one because my new boyfriend is a doctor there. He's married, so I can't say his name or his specialty, but let's just say he's in a position to admire his handiwork.
2) Virginia Tech Hokies: Didn't they have shootings here? Like after I had to move out of my studio because of 9/11? Maybe Fall of 05? Anyway, it was about the time that some bridge and tunnel cunt grabbed a pair of 40% off Louboutins from me at a Barney's sample sale. That's a tragedy people need to not forget.
3) Miami Hurricanes: Miami is the only place I can really relax. The Fontainebleau sends a limo and I curl up in the back so I don't have to look at Cubans.
4) Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets: I could watch the triple option all day. And not just because Paul Johnson reminds me of my father.
5) UNC Tar Heels: Some guy from here tried to contact me on OK Cupid. Ew.
6) UVA Cavaliers: UVA gave Jhumpa Lahiri ten large to do a reading right after MY book came out. The next time I saw her in the sauna at the NYAC, I left a used tampon in her shoe. Interpret that malady, Jhumpa!
7) Duke Blue Devils: My BFF from high school had to go here because she got waitlisted at Harvard. We had about the same grades, but she did let herself get a little chunky after she stopped dating her gymnastics coach. Sometimes the little things make a big difference!
Per the last post, more detail on states that do or do not sound like good names for sex workers:
The top 10:
*Male stripper only.
**For a performance artist who works blue.
And the bottom ten:
It is worth noting that on their own "Carolina" or "Dakota" are good sex worker names, but the compass wrecks it. As a general rule, SEC territory = good sex worker state names; New England = bad sex worker state names. (I would, however, go out of my way to see anyone who chose to dance under the name "Connecticut.")