THE GURGLING COD

Bells

Apologies for the thin posts this week. The Codbrother, AKA the Pickler, is getting married tomorrow, so check back Monday for news on the very latest in passed apps.

It's a shame about Michelle Malkin

More news from Dunkin Donuts, this time in a political vein. The chain has opted to pull a new commercial featuring their spokesperson, Rachael Ray, because she wears a scarf that looks a little bit like a keffiyeh, the traditional Arab scarf. It's not, but I guess maybe it looks like it is a little bit, but so what? Well, it
turns out that "The keffiyeh, for the clueless, is the traditional scarf of Arab men that has come to symbolize murderous Palestinian jihad." Hard to see how winding up the whole Arab=terrorist thing helps advance this conversation, but, a) more munchkins for the rest of us, and somebody, somewhere, please throw the book at this Malkin character.
*Many Arabs are not terrorists, and some of them wear this traditional scarf. It's like claiming that anyone who wears johdpurs supports Mussolini.
Tip o' the fin to the ever-vigilant cinetrix.

More Importantly

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

-Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)

Gnocchi

A garden accident led to a sudden glut of sage, which led to talk of gnocchi alla La nonna del LaD. I used bread flour instead of all-purpose.. oh, who am I kidding? Emily Gould* Emily Gould** Emily Gould*** Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould Emily Gould.
That's better. Anyway, the gnocchi w/ brown sage butter were good, and I think I could get away with less flour b/c of the higher gluten content of the bread flour. But I'm not like Chris Kimball or anthing, so it could have been the potato.
*An associate we will call Moz referred to her as a "Human Fractal."
**Also, this.
***Who is it who reads through the 1,000+ comments, and decides that a) they have a fresh perspective and b) someone will wade through the comments and read theirs?

Boston Globe <3 Mario!1!

The lede suggests that maybe the Globe got Mario's people to write the piece:
Even with restaurants around the country, an armful of books, more product endorsements than Michael Jordan, and plenty of goofy TV footage, Mario Batali is the rare celebrity chef who remains a chef's chef. His food is admired by many professionals and his restaurants receive consistently good reviews.
Best of all:
In photos throughout his books and on TV, Batali can be seen in shorts and orange clogs. He says he rarely wears pants. "I've made a career out of wearing shorts. Sweatpants are too post-'Sopranos.' Guys out on Long Island are doing it though."
This is in a major metropolitan daily, mind  you. Is writing about food over, or is this the kind of thing you can expect on this end of the Fung Wah? I mean:
He hangs out with all sorts of luminaries from outside the food world, including poet/novelist/gourmand Jim Harrison, for whom he recently hosted a surprise 70th birthday at the writer's home in Patagonia, Ariz. Also in his circle of friends is Michael Stipe of R.E.M. (Batali loves the band's new recording). He had the musician over for dinner recently. "I made spaghetti with ramps that we dug at my wife's parents' farm, garlic, red pepper flakes, and pecorino cheese. We also had a romaine lettuce salad with balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and gorgonzola."
Seriously? Is Personality Parade the new journalistic paradigm?

Your head up your own Habermas

The Emily Gould/NYT Mag kerfuffle, while dull in itself, points to a larger trajectory that has the Cod a bit puzzled.

A bit of background:

Once upon a time, there was the state.

Then folks noticed that the state did not always do like they wanted, and they started to talk about it.

Eventually, newspapers came along, offering a more concrete form for the people to discuss affairs of the state.

Newspapers had power, but not everyone who read them agreed with them all the time.

With the invention of the internet, and the development of blogging software, it became possible for just about anyone to point out the follies of the newspaper, via occasional commentary, or more sustained critique.

For some, a form of news delivery that did not have to be retrieved from the bushes every morning, and was Stuart Scott-free, to boot had a certain appeal, and in some cases, well-written, informative and entertaining blogs became news vehicles in and of themselves. In some cases, representatives of older forms of media freaked out.

But not all. If the Bissinger/Leitch contretemps is one facet of the uneasy coexistence of blogs and older media, the NYT's recent emphasis on blogging is another. On one hand, many Times staffers are now responsible for their own blogs, above and beyond their reporting duties. On the other The Gould piece is the most prominent example, but last Sunday's piece on hating Park Slope was essentially a print media response on blog reactions to a neighborhood. If one function of blogs criticize newspapers, and another is to aggregate news on topics of particular interest, what happens to this relation when newspapers start covering blogs instead of the news? As Gawker and Radar offer various metalevels of coverage of the NYT coverage of the story about them, its hard not to feel as if the whole shebang is in danger of collapsing into a black hole of metadiscourse from which no light can escape.

Lil' nephew!

May 22: Herge, Sun Ra, and now this guy:

Break out the hats and hooters on Dot Ave!

Somebody put something in my drink

What with the earthquake and the typhoon and all, what better time to check in with the Olsens? 

Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen better get the skinny on their favorite Starbucks beverages soon!The  caffeine addicts always request a Grande nonfat latte from the coffee empire, but a source tellsOK! there's way more to what they ordered.
An ex-barista at the twins’ local Starbucks in their West Village, New York neighborhood made sure that skim milk was not on the menu or in the girls' cups when they came in.“The barista thought the Olsens were too thin, so whenever they ordered their usual drink, he would replace the skim milk with full-fat!” the source reveals. Sneaky, sneaky! However, the Olsens’ rep tells OK!, “This is ridiculous.”

The Olsens' rep is right, for once.It is ridiculous. But not in the sense of "impossible for it to be true." Instead "ridiculous" in the sense of "presumptious." The Olsens looked healthier than is skinny, last I checked. As higher education probably has a higher number, if not a greater percentage, of young women with eating disorders, Fessering pretty frequently includes encounters with folks in the M-K&O demo who appear to be making self-destructive choices, so I understand the impulse.* But it's the barista who gets the yellow card here. Evidently, for women, being famous is like being pregnant, in that you lose autonomy over your body. (The other day, a visibly pregnant colleague was scolded by a student for drinking coffee. On a campus with a student population that favors  "Sir" and "M'am," as forms of address, I cannot imagine another situation where a student would feel free to address a professor thus.) I don't defend starving oneself to death as a lifestyle choice, but I do think that your dress size does not determine if you are entitled to have a server show you the courtesy of giving you what you ordered. By way of comparison, it's hard to imagine a bartender bragging about slipping the odd O'Doul's to Dylan Thomas, or a pharmacist filling Heath Ledger's Vicodin scrip with Flinstone Chewables.

*Unfortunately, there is sweet fuck-all for the Cod to do, as the path to academic survival does not involve much conversation with students about their bodies. London Broil and Lilian Gish is about the limit.

Good news/Bad news

On the one hand, it's nice to see Spank Rock getting the kind of silly free TV commercial money usually reserved for twerps, but on the other hand, sorry to see a salad dressing look so much like vomit, what with the chunks of fruit and vegetable.

Meat and Sports

Maybe the second and third most popular things on the internet. And like a complicated math equation with funny superscript numbers and stuff, the world of meat and the world of sports intersect in two unexpected places -- first, Alonzo Spellman Clown Burgers. You will find no mimes in these, as they are made of 100% clown meat.* Second, kosher hotdogs at Fenway. From a machine. Until The Sausage Guy goes to yeshiva, I guess the Glatt Sox Nation will have to settle. (Via The Meat.)

*I am hoping "made from 100% clown meat" catches on as a phrase.