DHANSAK ! OR, THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER TRUST A DABBAWALLA TO DO A PERSONJI'S JOB

This past Sunday I had the worst excuse for dhansak ever. It was miserable. Horrid. Nasty in the extreme. A vile and debased concoction. A thoroughly repulsive squogg-dreck mess, off-putting and up-setting. Blah. And gxtvxrdxmmx-nxndxjx!
[06/20/08 FOUL CURSING OBSCURED BY REQUEST OF A READER] I should have known better - what Indian restaurant in the United States actually serves Indian food? More specifically, what Indian restaurant in the United States does anything other than dabba cuisine?

Much as I love Punjabi truck drivers and their rich greasy eats, it was probably too much to expect them to understand dhansak.

What I wanted was mutton chunks in a mixture of various lentils and vegetables, thick and nicely spiced, with chicken croquettes and a chunky cucumber salad. And Parsi brown rice.

What I got was standard steam table curried lamb and uninspired yellow lentils hotchpotted together.


Dudes, that's not dhansak. That's muck. You guys must think I'm white.


Oh wait, I am.

Eliding over the minor matter of my hereditary skin-hue, let me explain how to make dhansak.


DHANSAK
Enough for eight people.
[Made with lamb. As it should be. Chicken dhansak (dhansak ni margi) is for wussies.]


Two pounds of chunked lamb on the bone.
One cup of oiled toovar dal (telwalla toor dal).
Half a cup of masoor dal.
Half a cup of moong dal (or urad dal).
A pound of red pumpkin, large chunks (substitute regular pumpkin, or a batata, if no red pumpkin is to be had).
Two or three Chinese eggplants
Three or four tomatoes - peeled, seed, chopped.
Two or three large onions, chopped.
Several cloves of garlic, minced.
A large thumb of ginger, also minced.
A small bunch of methi leaves, plus a handful of cilantro, nicely minced.
A few tablespoons of tamarind water (equal parts hot water and mashed tamarind pulp).
Godrej Ghee or Olive Oil.
Mint leaves - enough to make their presence known, but not an excess.
[06/20/08 - Mistri-bhen alerted me to the omission this morning. And note: actual quantity depends on pungency.]
One batch of Dhansak masala (see below).

Soak the dals for the requisite length of time - overnight, or according to the instructions on the package. Drain, rinse, drain again. Then put in a pan with a teaspoon of turmeric and plenty water to cover, and cook till quite done - about an hour or so. Use a wooden spoon to break up and mash the lentils.

[06/20/08 - oh go ahead; add a goodly pinch of fried ground cumin to the dals - I know you want to.]

Brown the onions in an enameled stew-pan. Add the ground spices plus the garlic and ginger, sauté till fragrant, add the meat and tomato, plus a brisk jigger tamarind water (or substitute a squeeze of lemon and a dash of vinegar), and cook, stirring, till the meat is well coloured and the oil separates. Add water to cover, pinch of salt, cook for about an hour.

Now combine the meat and lentils, add the remaining vegetables, and cook till the eggplant and pumpkin chunks are soft and falling apart - the finished dish will be a medium ruddy brown, with lumps. Adjust the flavours - pinches salt or sugar, dash more hot stuff, another squeeze of lime. Plus a pinch of garam masala for aroma, and a small amount freshly chopped cilantro or parsley for visual appeal.

Serve with kachumber and Parsi brown rice, plus quartered lime for squeezing. And croquettes or pattice.



DHANSAK MASALA
[Parsi spice mixture used primarily for dhansak]

Ten Dry chilies - Guajillo or New Mexico chiles secos.
Three TBS coriander seed.
One and a half TBS cumin seed.
One TBS whole peppercorns.
Half a TBS fennel seed.
Half a TBS black mustard seed.
Half a TBS fenugreek seed.
Four Tej Patta (cassia leaves - bay leaf may be substituted, but it isn't really the same).
Four green cardamom pods, seeds only.
One black cardamom pod, seeds only.
One three-inch stick of cinnamon.
One star-anise pod.
Eight whole cloves.
One Tsp. mace.

Toast all spices except the mace. Cool and grind. Add the mace and regrind, sift. If you double the recipe to have some for future use, store the excess in a brown or blue glass jar in a cool place. Use within a month.

-------------------------------------

GLOSSARY

Guajillo chile: A nice winey dry chile that yields a lovely simmered salsa for New Mexicans, but which also makes a superior chile powder. One Guajillo is roughly equivalent to between two teaspoons and one tablespoon of powder.
[I like to up the ante by also adding a spoonful or two of sambal oelek (simple hot red pepper mash available from Vietnamese, Chinese, or Dutch manufacturers - the Vietnamese brands from Southern California are best), plus a jigger of Louisiana hot sauce to the cooking dhansak.]
Tuvar dal, Toor dal: Pigeon pea, Cajanus Cajan,
Masoor dal: Regular salmon coloured lentil, commonly available. Lens culinaris. Takes less than an hour to cook.
Moong dal: mung beans, (lok dau in Cantonese, 綠豆). Vigna Radiata.
Urad dal: Black gram, vigna mungo.
Red pumpkin: Same as the regular types of pumpkin, different cultivar, different flavour. Cucurbit.
Kachumber: The typical Indian restaurant salad composed of chopped cucumber, tomato, onion, salt, pepper, fried mustard seeds, and cilantro, dressed with a little vinegar, salt, and sugar. Think chunky salsa with cucumber, not wet.
Parsi brown rice: Combine a few tablespoons of sugar with a little water. Heat in a cheap enamel pan till the sugar has melted and started to redden, remove from heat immediately. Carefully add water (beware of savage splattering), and reheat. Add this dark red syrup with a pinch or two of cinnamon to three or four fried onions, add parboiled rice sufficient for the eight people, mix and stir-fry a bit to imbue the rice with the flavours, then add water to cover, place a lid on the pan, and cook on low heat for about twenty minutes. Parsi brown rice is not an exact science. More or less sugar as you wish - it should be slightly sweet, taste of fried onions, the cinnamon should aromatize but not dominate, and it should still be mostly just cooked rice.
Pattice: This is the accepted spelling of 'patties' in descriptions of Parsi food - do not quibble with the spelling. Pattice are similar to Indonesian perkedel - minced chicken held together with a little mashed potato plus flour and spices, kneaded and formed into "patties", and fried brown. The key thing is that they are crispy-flaky, savoury-spicy. You don't need a recipe, just experiment. Serve with a glob of hot (!) green chutney.

-------------------------------------

Now, what better to delay your after-lunch nap than dessert?

[Errrm, if you keep kosher, postpone the dessert till after your nap. At least three hours.]


SHIR BERINJ
[Rice in sweetened cream.]

Two cups heavy cream, and a dash extra.
One cup rice.
One cup cane sugar.
One cup plump golden raisins.
Four Tablespoons rosewater (Arabic: ma'-ward, moit el warda).
Four Tablespoons crumbled pistachios.
A pinch of saffron.

Wash the rice well, spread it out to dry on a tray for a day. Then pound with a brass mortar and pestle until the grains are about one quarter their original size.
Add the saffron to the cream and bring to a boil, add the rice and bring back to boiling, turn low, stir, and add the sugar and raisins. Keep stirring till it has become thick and custardy (meh, takes about ten minutes or so). Remove from heat, and when it has cooled add the rose water and pistachio. Serve semi-chilled.
Shortcuts are possible: one is to dry the rice in the oven on a very low heat (which, if you live in a boggy climate, is better than relying on the weather), another is to use a coffee grinder and pulse the dried rice. The reason why you wash the rice and re-dry it is obvious - you do not want all the powdery crap that normally coats even the best rice, and washing the rice dissolves some of the starches. Redrying it afterwards makes it easier to pound, too.


Of course, instead of pudding, you could simply retire to that long chair on the veranda and doze till sunset. Make sure that the net is down to keep out the flying things and the slats are lowered to keep out the sun.


-------------------------------------

AFTERWORD

It is customary to have dhansak for the Sunday noon meal among the Parsees of Bombay. And because lunch is heavy, the household turns quiet afterwards, as the various diners sleep, for their digestion's sake - naught but the occasional borborigmus breaks the silence and disturbs their slumber........... entirely aside from the antiquated air-conditioning system, which sounds like heavy machinery.

I like dhansak. Perhaps you could tell. I was consequently overjoyed to see it on the menu, and bitterly disappointed with the actual dish when it came out of the kitchen. I shall avoid lashon hara by not naming the restaurant that produced that ghastly mess.

Savage Kitten, on the other hand, was happy as a clam. She had Tandoori Murghi. Did you know that a petite Cantonese female can devour an entire Tandoori chicken all by herself? Along with poori, rice, and raita.

Savage Kitten went to sleep promptly upon our return home. I did not.

TIME TO REMIND Y'ALL OF SOME THINGS THE DUTCH WOULD RATHER YOU FORGET

At this point you are probably already familiar with the abysmal record of the Dutch, particularly their bureaucracy, police forces, banks, and railways, during WWII.
[Spoiler alert: this post is a rant, and is somewhat lengthy. Nor will I claim that it is entirely rational - some pettiness may have crept in.]


No?


WWII
Quick refresher: Collectively the above mentioned were responsible for enabling the Germans to efficiently and expeditiously exterminate eighty percent of Dutch Jewry. After the war all the above pointed fingers at the Germans, denied any and all intimate knowledge of the details of what had happened or how, and conspired to obfuscate their role in the events. The banks, in particular, profited from the German organized despoliation of Dutch Jews - after the war, much that had been confiscated was never returned, and the state made itself the official owner of whatever it had not the energy to find heirs to.

[Key search criteria for a representative overview: Pieter Menten (Dutch war criminal protected by his contacts in the post-war establishment); Jacques Goudstikker (whose art collection was finally given to his heirs after more than six decades of Dutch government denials and obduracy); Maror gelden (bitter money - the paltry recompense offered to the survivors after much sniping and pettiness by the Dutch government); NSB (National-Socialistische Beweging - the Dutch Nazis, many of whom occupied prominent places before the war, some of whom occupied prominent places after the war); Dutch SS (the various volunteer legions raised in the Netherlands to fight alongside the Germans on the Eastern Front).]


Anyhow, now that that is out of the way, how about some Dutch East-Indies history?
Just a sampler - there is far too much to illuminate everything.


BANDA: 1621
Let's start with the extermination of the native population of Banda. The Dutch, under their great military commander Jan Pieterszoon Coen (later made governor of the East Indies) were determined to enforce their trade monopoly in mace, nutmeg, and cloves, and decided that as the natives of Banda did not agree with them on this issue, it would be profitable to exterminate them utterly. They were right; it was profitable. Over fifteen thousand people were slaughtered.


DJALAN RAYA POS: 1808
The Great Post Road (Groote Postweg) across Java was a military road which was constructed by order of governor Daendels in 1808. Native rulers along the route of the road were commanded to provide workers from the local populations - if their portion of the road was not completed on schedule, the rulers and their workers were killed and their heads displayed along portions yet being built. Thousands died because of the harsh conditions, thousands more perished because of hardships created by the mobilization of so large a proportion of the population. Certainly Daendels qualifies as a tyrant and a criminal. He is lauded as one of the Netherlands greatest men.


COMPULSORY PLANTING: 1830 to 1870
The Kultuurstelsel (Culture System / Cultivation System) forced millions of natives into poverty and starvation with its exactations - food crops took a backseat to required cash crop planting, harvests going to the government. It was extremely profitable - mansions in Amsterdam are still occupied by the heirs of men who benefited by that tyranny.
Along with enforced trade monopolies it enriched Holland while gutting the victims of empire. A splendid achievement.


THE ATJEH WAR: 1873 to 1910
For over a generation, the Dutch colonial army engaged in savage repression of a former ally and friend. Initially the aim was to assert control and so keep the other powers (particularly the Americans) from involving themselves in one of the last independent territories of the archipelago, but after the ignoble defeat of the first expeditionary force the Dutch ramped up their efforts. In a scorched-earth campaign they leveled villages, destroyed crops, imprisoned native leaders, and massacred thousands. The war was so savage that returning soldiers carried the sobriquets 'kaki mera' (red feet, from wading in blood) or 'tangan mera' (red arms, from being in gore up to their elbows).
The Dutch colonial army at that time, in addition to professional soldiers and Moluccan mercenaries, included the dregs of Europe - murderers, thieves, brigands, and rapists - who sought safety and anonymity by enlisting for Holland and leaving Europe.
The list of heroes on the Atjenese side is endless, that of the Dutch, short. This war was not marked by gallantry.


BALI: 1906, 1908
The royal courts of Sanur and Kelungkung, realizing that they stood no chance against the superior might of the Dutch, deliberately marched out against the invading army and met their end. Thousands perished rather than surrender - princes, nobles, commoners; men, women, children. These events are known as the Puputan of Badung (1906) and the Puputan of Klungkung (1908) respectively.
[A puputan is a defiant and suicidal final battle. It is the last resort of those facing certain defeat.]


TURK WESTERLING: 1946 to 1950
Let's also mention Raymond (Turk) Westerling. This gentleman, in the employ of the KNIL (Koninklijke Nederlands-Indisch Leger - the Royal Dutch East-Indies Army), commanded special forces in Sulawesi (Celebes), and engaged in a relentless reign of terror against the Nationalists and native villages sympathetic to their cause. Tactics employed by Turk and his men were later echoed much more modestly by Americans in Vietnam - what happened in MyLai had already happened several times over in Sulawesi. After 1949 he went awol, and attempted to overthrow the republican government of Indonesia. Despite his blood-drenched past, he was welcomed back to the Netherland where many considered him a hero. He died peacefully in 1987, having never stood trial for his crimes.


POLICE ACTIONS IN JAVA: 1947 & 1949
And further, consider the first and second Politionele Acties (Police Actions) in Java during the Indonesian war of independence - what the Americans later did to the Northern Vietnamese with airplanes and napalm, the Dutch Marines managed to do entirely by hand. They were just as effective - the enemy was steeled in its resolve and despite horrendous losses continued the struggle.
What is truly remarkable is that if the Dutch had resisted the Japanese with even only a fraction of the fury of their fight against the Nationalists, it is extremely likely that the Dutch East-Indies would never have fallen to Emperor Hirohito's forces.


Had enough?

How about just a little more, in brief:

South Africa - Cape Dutch (Boers/Afrikaners), Apartheid.
Ceylon - Brutal exploitation and mass bloodshed.
Brazil - Profitably exploiting the slave-society stolen from the Portuguese.
Suriname - A brutal colonial economy created on the backs and blood of hundreds of thousands.
The African Slave Coast - Major player, manifestly not a civilizing role.
Malabar - Extortion, bloodshed, and trade in spices.
Etc.

--- --- --- --- ---

SREBRENICA

Now, why am I highlighting all this?
Because it looks like those canny, mercantile, subtle Dutch are going to weasel out of admitting any responsibility for Srebrenica.

See this article (in Dutch) in the Algemeen Dagblad:
http://www.ad.nl/buitenland/2379724/Nabestaanden_vangen_bot.html

And this article (in English) on the BBC site:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7461310.stm


Frankly, this is not surprising. The Dutch have a talent for denying responsibility, and often take delight in leaving someone else holding the bag. Having lived there for several years, I am more than familiar with their penchant for casting blame while steadfastly refusing to acknowledge fault.
Dutch law, furthermore, is the Napoleonic Code with modifications - a legal system which absolves the authorities and hampers acknowledgement of governmental culpability.

I am rather disgusted with this turn of events. But again, I am not particularly surprised - I lived there for sixteen years (1962 - 1978). While I personally like many Dutch, and would trust those that I like on an individual basis, as a group and institutionally I prefer to keep them at much more than arms length.


PERSONAL NOTE
There is a certain pleasure in exposing all this juicy dirt - my ancestors were effectively sold to the English when the Dutch West-Indies Company divested themselves of New Amsterdam in 1664. The history my family shares with other Netherlanders actually ends in 1635, when Isaac Abrahamsen van Deursen (my first New-World ancestor) was born in Kings County; my lineage is in no way implicated or complicit in subsequent Netherlands-Dutch events - we and the other New York Dutch were left to our own devices and solved our own problems (teaching natives how to scalp, manufacturing soupy ale and cheap gin, and putting up with Presbyterians, among other things).

We (all of us Americans) may indeed be co-guilty of all the sins of America, as my beloved classmates in Valkenswaard averred; we may also be horrid barbaric Yanks (see previously mentioned averring); and we may be co-responsible for ending WWII (atom bombs, also under the rubric of previously mentioned averring); and certainly too Vietnam was one of our country's errors (again, that averring biz)..........

But Srebrenica, boys, is all yours. You did something incredibly nasty there. You handed unarmed men, women, and children over to murderers. You stood by while the men and boys were marched off to be slaughtered. You 'observed' as women were gangraped, and children were violated or had their throats slit. You did all this, not us. Your officers ordered it, it was their authority that made it happen. Your men, in your country's uniforms, and representing your nation, saved their own hides by sacrificing those who were entrusted to your care.
You did it. You bear responsibility for Srebrenica.
You.

And now your legal system may miscarry justice in this matter.

Nice.

You 'Ollanders often claim to be the Acme of the enlightened First World, and represent the best of Western Civilization.
We wish that you wouldn't. You make us look no better than do the rest of that lot on the other side of the Atlantic, and if they know their history, they too may have some questions about the appropriateness of your claims.

Judging from your history, it might be best if the Netherlands-Dutch stayed out of the rest of the world for a while.

NEW TAGS

For the benefit of my readers I have created some new tags which now show up under the relevant posts - food related tags. I figgered you might be more picky than the previous two catch-alls ('FOOD', 'Recipes') implied.

[Yeah, I know. Took me a while to grasp your complexity, didn't it? Sorry.]


The new tags are:
Chinese food, Dutch food, Indian food, Indo food, Jewish food.


Explanation: Chinese food includes the dishes of Chinese origin that are actually in the Indo category as well as pure Chinese; Indian food also applies to Parsee and Pakistani dishes but not to Gujerati muck, as that is well-nigh inedible; Indo food is both common Indonesian as well as regional; Jewish food may include some Dutch food; and all of it consists of stuff that I consider particular to my life and my table.
Dutch food is Dutch food.

[As yet there are no tags for Gujerati food (so far that subject has not been discussed), Surinamese food (only one or two recipes noted at this point), or African food - I assume you already know how to cook a zebra (I wrote about it a while back), and nyembe and saka saka were mentioned here a long time ago too (search this blog for saka saka if you are curious). With the exception of Gujerati food, there will be tags for these categories in the future.]


Mutanjan and Muzaffar are under Indian food, along with Haleem, Nahari, and Dhansak Masala. Roast duck is under Chinese food, but also under My food, along with oil balls and a lot of herring - which you will also find under Dutch food and Jewish food. Sweet soy sauce can be found in Indo food, along with some strange fish. It's all one happy Venn diagram.


I encourage you to happily click on the tags to find everything in that category.

THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS

Yesterday ended as one of the most miserable days in San Francisco that we've had since winter. A cold biting wind came off the ocean, tourists huddled inside the cablecar too blue to speak (instead of hanging on the outside hooting and hollering), and the few street people still out in the frigid dusk muttered their spare-a-dimes through clenched teeth.

It would've been the perfect time for a Muslim breakfast, such as sheep's trotters in broth (nahari / nihari). Warm and comforting, splendid just before either heading out into the chill predawn, or settling in for a long nap ere heading to the masjid around noon (if you live in Delhi or Lahore).
It would also be perfect for shabbes morning, but you might be replete and far too sluggish for shacharis afterwards. Still, I heartily recommend it. You can even prepare it ahead, keeping it warm overnight.


PAYA NAHARI ( نہاری )

Eight sheep's trotters, well-scrubbed.
Eight marrow bones.
Two large or three medium onions, chopped.
Three or four cloves garlic, minced.
A generous thumb of ginger, minced.
One Tablespoon ground coriander.
Half a Tablespoon cayenne.
One teaspoon ground cumin.
Half a teaspoon turmeric.
One teaspoon garam masala (Sindhi style - it is more fragrant).
Half a teaspoon salt.
Three or four whole black cardamom pods (bari elaichi).
Three or four whole star anise.
Three or four Jalapeňos, left whole.
A generous handful or two of chopped cilantro, or cilantro and parsley mixed.

Brown the onions in ghee or oil. Add the garlic and ginger, gild, then add the ground coriander, cumin, and turmeric. Stir till fragrant. Stir in the remaining spices and salt, put the trotters and marrow bones in the pan along with the whole green chilies, cover with plenty of water or meat broth, and simmer for several hours. Put in the chopped herbs to wilt with a little extra garam masala for fragrance. Serve with wedges of lime on the side for squeezing over, plus chopped green chili for heat.

It should be soupy. Feel free to slurp the soft meat off the bones.

Freshly baked sourdough baguette is a splendid accompaniment, as well as hot cardamom coffee.


Note I: Like tsholnt, it benefits from a long period on low heat. You could place it in the oven or on the blech overnight and have it for breakfast.

Note II: The Jalapeňos are left whole, so that they may impart their fragrance. You could eat them alongside the nahari - they will have mellowed considerably after cooking.

Note III: For broth or stock, added in lieu of water, I like to take shank bones, rub 'em with a little olive oil, and roast them dark in the oven, then simmer them with scrap mutton for a few hours. It yields a flavourful browned-bone broth which combines nicely with spices.


I should mention that while it would've been a perfect evening for a Muslim breakfast, I didn't have any; I didn't feel like going over to the Queen of Sheba Market (near Masjid At-Tawhid, Polk and Bush) and negotiating with the Yemeni woman for odd sheep bits. Instead I climbed under the comforter with Savage Kitten, and a cup of strong tea, and read for several hours. It was just as good.

IN WHICH I SPEAK UNFAVOURABLY OF THE DUTCH, THE EUROPEANS, AND THE UNITED NATIONS

No, this has naught to do with Israel. Or Jews. I have in the past slammed the Dutch, Europeans, and United Nations several times for their abysmal two-facedness and reprehensible record regarding Jews and Israel. Not this time.

This time I speak of their abysmal two-facedness and reprehensible record regarding Muslims and the Balkans.


SREBENICA

In 1993 General Morillon (a Frenchman, currently member of the Euro parliament) told the besieged town of Srebrenica that they were under the protection of the UN, and he would never, never (!) abandon them. He left the army within the year.

In April of that year, the UN Security Council officially declared that Srebrenica was a UN safe area, and that it would be safeguarded from attack.

By spring of 1995 the situation was desperate: the Serb terrorists were determined to capture Srebenica and expunge the Muslim inhabitants, the UN had done nearly nothing to ensure the safety of the sixty thousand people in the town despite looming disaster, supplies were running low, and the Dutch peacekeepers were becoming keenly aware of the apathy of their NATO colleagues about the situation.


NOTE: I should mention at this point that the Dutch had become overly friendly with the Serbians during their time in the Balkans - Lieutenant Colonel Karremans (now hiding out in Spain, where no one particularly cares about his role in the debacle), in command of the Dutch at Srebenica, seems to have had a drinking-buddy relationship with Serb terrorist commander Ratko Mladic, to whom he looked up, and from whom he accepted favours.

There have also been well-attested incidents of ethnic Dutch soldiers hazing (abusing) fellow soldiers of Moroccan and Turkish ancestry in the Dutch army - including one incident in which they poured gasoline over a companion and threatened to burn the damn' heathen. Certainly they did not look upon the Muslim Bosniaks in an overly kind fashion, and an argument can well be made that the bigotries of small town Holland affected their concern for their charges in Bosnia.


JULY 1995

Between July tenth and July twenty first, Dutch forces witnessed several incidents which indicated that Serbs neither respected the inviolability of people in the UN safe area, nor intended to honour the assurances of safety and civilized treatment of the refugees that they had given the Dutch - there were numerous murders, rapes, and incidents of brutal torture. There is consequently no way that any of the Dutchbat soldiers and officers could then, or can since, claim ignorance of what was going to happen.

On the 21st of July 1995, after surrendering the Bosniaks to the Serbian terrorists, Karremans and company left the area of Srebrenica for safer climes. Apparently the four hundred Dutch soldiers did not develop any psychological problems despite what befell the refugees they abandoned, as not long after they were happily carousing in Sarajevo. Since their return to the Netherlands, however, the Dutch government has kept them mostly under wraps, claiming that they are 'traumatized'.
Which conveniently keeps them out of the light, and away from the somewhat disinterested eyes of the Dutch press.


Now the survivors of their compassion are seeking justice. And suing the Dutch government.


Article from the BBC:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7457239.stm

Quote: "They allege the Dutch state was liable for its troops' failure to protect some 8,000 Muslim civilians killed when Bosnian-Serb forces overran the town."

And: "Lawyers for the plaintiffs argue that the UN Dutch battalion (Dutchbat) allowed the killings by handing over Muslims to the Bosnian-Serb forces, and that the Dutch state was liable because it had command of the military."



It took the Dutch seven years to conclude that perhaps something went disastrously wrong. Now let us see how the Dutch courts deal with the issue, and who will get splattered - there is more than enough blame to pass around.
The Dutch, the Europeans, and the United Nations; all bear guilt for the slaughter of eight thousand Bosniaks.


On a related note, if it weren't for the US, the Serbians and their Greek and Russky volunteers would've pogrommed Bosnia and Kosovo right off the map. The Europeans were ready to sit back and watch it happen, the UN would've done nothing more than pass the usual resolutions, and a majority of the international community would've ignored the issue in return for their own flaws being overlooked.

I sometimes think that when we bombed Belgrado in 1999 we should've dropped a couple of stray thousand-pounders on the other European capitals.

GLOATING, GLOATING, GLOATING FAIRY PRINCES

You know, I really should be a gentleman, and not gloat about the French soccer defeat several hours ago. They fought manfully, and delivered a splendid game.


On the other hand, I am extremely petty (!), and schadenfreude is a talent.
So here goes:


Netherlands trounces France
http://www.canada.com/windsorstar/news/sports/story.html?id=2a90e588-ec02-47e0-a249-d41da0a90e3b
Quote: "The dazzling Dutch qualified for the quarter-finals of Euro 2008 with a 4-1 destruction of France that left the World Cup runners-up hovering over the tournament trapdoor on Friday. Four days after crushing world champions Italy 3-0, Marco van Basten's side ripped the French apart with another superb performance "


Brilliant Robben underlines value and leaves fragile French reeling
http://www.independent.co.uk/sport/football/internationals/netherlands-4-france-1-brilliant-robben-underlines-value-and-leaves-fragile-french-reeling-846999.html
Quote: "There is no team that has proved itself more emphatically in Euro 2008 thus far than Marco van Basten's Dutch team who have dispatched Italy and France within the space of five days "


Netherlands Beats France
http://poligazette.com/2008/06/13/european-championships-football-netherlands-beats-france/
Quote: "Ever since the Netherlands beat Italy (the world champion) with ease, the Netherlands is considered a favorite to win this year’s tournament. The French, on the other hand......"


Deadly Dutch turn on style to thump France
http://uk.reuters.com/article/worldFootballNews/idUKL1300242020080613
Quote: "Dirk Kuyt, Robin van Persie, Arjen Robben and Wesley Sneijder scored for Netherlands, with Thierry Henry replying as France slid to their heaviest defeat in a major tournament finals since losing 5-2 to Brazil at the 1958 World Cup."


Dutch beat France 4-1 to win group
http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5hwNpPwBMIrRJnNQ4xPV17TLzfviAD919DO481
Quote: "The Dutch romped past both 2006 World Cup finalists in Group C, beating Italy 3-0 before outclassing the French. "


Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener. Neener, neener, neener.

Brief recap, so that you can really appreciate the situation: On Monday, the Dutch beat the stuffing out of the Italians. Today, the Dutch slaughtered the French.

Neener.
Heh.

MAD CHEESE WHACKS FROMAGE PERFIDE!

In another masterful display of spectacular soccer, the Dutch team beat the French. Whupped them. Hacked them to pieces. Slaughtered them. Spat upon their aspirations, cut them off at the knees, stamped upon their unborn, and destroyed any and all hope of French honour.
Massacred 'em, decimated 'em, utterly smashed 'em.


Final score Netherlands - France: 4 - 1.

To repeat: The Dutch beat the French by four to one.

Neener, neener, neener.


Okay, now that we have that out of the way, let's look forward. There are sixty thousand ecstatic Dutch soccer fans in Berne, it's the middle of summer, and the weekend is just starting.
Did anyone mention beer?

THE SWEETNESS OF THE LAMB

Several years ago I stopped purchasing Ahmed's pickles, which came from Pakistan, and switched to Patak's, which are made in England. The reason has nothing to do with taste (Ahmed's Pickles are truly excellent), price, or politics. It is not because I despise Pakis, or object to the average Pakistani's reprehensible political views. By no means.

[I do not boycott, by and large. Even if Pakistan despises Americans, Jews, and Israel, that is immaterial. Malaysia does the same, and Malays are fairly unpleasant arrogant little turds to boot, but I still purchase blatjan (blachan: stinky prawn paste) made in that abysmal dreck of a place. A pox on Mahathir Muhammad and all his kin. But their blatjan is fine.]


It is a quality control issue. I simply do not trust foods made in places like Pakistan, Spain, Eastern Europe, or Texas.

I could put up such pickles myself, but manufactured Indian-style pickles are better than most of us have the time or talent to make, and it's just so much easier to rely on someone else's mom - especially as regards nimboo ka achar or am ka achar.

[Achar (pronounced 'ah-tjar' - the 'ch' is English rather than Yiddish or Ivrit): meaning 'pickle' in most Indian languages and in much of the Indonesian archipelago. An essential part of a well-stocked larder, a benefit to the dinner table.]


Not all Indian and Pakistani preparations are mom-work, however.
Haleem (حليم) needs a man's input. A strong vigorous male hand, to beat it into shape. Fiercely.


GENTLE, FORBEARING, KIND

The word 'haleem' means gentle, forbearing, kind. It is one of the names of the divine (Al-Halim: G-d), as well as a descriptive of patient and understanding persons, and a popular name for men.

As applied to food, it becomes a comforting and nutritious meat-grain-lentil porridge. Spiced, of course, in the Indian manner (in this case meaning Muslim style, as it is not associated with Hindus, and is a traditional dish for breaking the Ramadan fast).

[Haleem is also an excellent breakfast dish, especially if one has grown tired of sheep's trotters in broth.]


HALEEM

Two cups wheat (whole grains).
Two cups masoor dal.
One cup dry chickpeas.
One and half pounds of lamb, cut into small chunks.
Three large onions, chopped fine.
Three to six cloves garlic, slivered.
A thumb of ginger, minced.
One Tablespoon cayenne.
Half a Tablespoon sweet paprika.
Half a Tablespoon cumin seeds (toast and grind).
Half a Tablespoon garam masala (Sindhi style - very fragrant).
One teaspoon turmeric.
One teaspoon salt.
Pinches of sugar (accentuates browning of ingredients).
Olive oil, samin, or ghee - your choice.
Juice of two or three lemons.
Generous handfuls of cilantro and parsley, plus a pluck of mint leaves. Finely minced.


Soak the grain, lentils, and chickpeas separately overnight. Drain, and cook separately with water to cover for an hour or so. Turn off heat and let cool.

Fry the onions golden (add a pinch sugar if needed), remove to a plate. Fry the garlic and ginger in the same pan, remove to a plate. Now decant most of the onion plus all of the fried garlic and ginger to the blender and pulp them (this is where the vigorously thrashing man came into play, in the days before blenders). Do the same with the lentils. And the chickpeas.

Put the spices in the pan with the onion puree and fry fragrant. Add the meat and turn to coat and brown well (again, pinch of sugar if needed). Add the grain, lentils, chickpeas, plus water to cover if necessary. Simmer for an hour or more on low, stirring occasionally to prevent scorching. At this point the grains should be mushy enough that a wooden spoon held by a strong hand will break them apart; do so (this also is the work of male muscles). If some of the meat also breaks apart, excellent. The result should be a meaty porridge. Simmer a bit longer, then add the herbs to wilt, salt to taste, some fresh garam masala for aroma, and the lemon juice for tang. Garnish with the remaining fried onion and serve.

[UPDATE 06/13/08: I usually add a few tablespoons of minced green chili on top for my own pleasure. You may think twice about doing so.]


Note I:
In order to smoothen the mouth-feel or thicken the porridge, some corn-flour paste may be used. Add a few minutes before turning off the heat, at the same time as the herbs, and stir.

Note II:
If the grain is omitted, it will be a type of kichri. That isn't what you wanted.

Note: III:
This is also a great dish to come home to after a night of carousing. That may be at odds with the personal habits of most of the traditional consumers of this dish. Savour the frisson.

Note IV:
Our neighbors in Valkenswaard were a large yeti-woman and her shrimp of a husband. In their case, the man would've been useless as far as making haleem is concerned. But he knew his fish, and trimmed seafood with a master's hand. In retrospect it is a pity that she did not make haleem.

Note V:
The amount of cayenne given above is mostly hypothetical, seeing as Savage Kitten has not even half the taste for chilies as a normal person (meaning: me). So I do not cook much with cayenne, and add the heat later to what I myself will eat. She will hardly touch a chili, and only if it is a Jalapeňo - never a Serrano, D'Arbol, or Thai. Savage Kitten does not touch nimboo ka achar or am ka achar either - too hot, too bitter, too salty. What is wrong with that woman?

A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

Tomorrow the Dutch and the French soccer teams face each other in the European Championships. North and South; two types of Franks against each other. But this is not the Battle of the Golden Spurs, and will not decide the fate of Flanders, nor will it decide the supremacy of herring over snails.


It is, rather, a sporting contest between the 'Mad Cheese' and the 'Fromage Perfide'.


If you support the Dutch, play this anthem:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6xhRN5zz4g
[The national anthem of The Netherlands performed by all bands at the Netherlands Militairy Tattoo in 2006. ]

If you favour the French, play this anthem:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4K1q9Ntcr5g
[Long, rousing version - nearly five minutes long.]


I like both teams. The Dutch finally have their act together, the French play well. May the best Franks win.

-------------------------------------

NOTE: For the words to the Dutch anthem, go here:
http://theothersideofthelizard.blogspot.com/2008/06/dutch-national-anthem.html

If you feel like singing along, please do. I assume you already know the words to the French anthem, and in any case they will show on screen when you click the youtube link above.

GOOD ADVICE

I am usually fairly certain that my employers are happy that I am not in customer service. They should be especially happy today.

This morning our customer-service telephone person told an end-user: "If you can't touch the water, don't pour it on your child."


IF YOU CAN'T TOUCH THE WATER, DON'T POUR IT ON YOUR CHILD


Overhearing this brought two things to mind:
1. "No no, you should hold it under till the skin peels off easily. Then dip it in cold water to maintain the nice red colour."
2. Yad soledet bo ("the hand recoils from it"). One does not violate the rule against melacha on shabbes if one does not heat something to the temperature at which, upon touching it (or the vessel containing it) one instinctively pulls away one's hand.
So, as the main example, and not veering into maachal ben Drosai, one may make tea with water poured ('irui') from the primary vessel ('kli rishon') in which one kept the water hot into the second vessel (('kli sheini')), which will decrease the temperature (yet further), whereupon one places the teabag in the warm water of the second vessel. Or, if the water is too hot to touch, one pours it yet again - into a third vessel ((('kli shlishi'))). Note that the water-heater (primary vessel, the kli rishon) has to be either plugged in or placed on the blech before shabbes.

But this is natural - surely the customer would've grasped this?


The skin of a child is more sensitive than that of an adult, and even among adults, sensitivity to heat varies. Wherefore yad soledet bo is relative, and you clearly shouldn't have your brat make tea on Saturday.

PEPPER-CRUSTED LAMB CHOPS

Treppenwitz writes lovingly of steak in his most recent post, and illustrates it with a beautiful photograph of meat on the grill.
[Here: http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2008/06/the-israeli-lov.html ]

I like a nice piece of animal flesh. But since the American beef industry got caught lying repeatedly about spongiform bovine encephalitis ('Texan Brain', for short), I have generally avoided beef. Ate some nice grilled moo over at Spiros' parents house last month, and a lovely little cut of Niman ranch at a new restaurant in my neighborhood this past weekend. That's the only beef in about four years.


While I like beef, I love lamb.

I really really really love lamb.


So, because of that deep-seated lust for luscious little lambkins, their fatty cutlets glistening and steaming on a platter, sensuously reclining in juicy baby-baa 'come-hither you big carnivore' sexiness, invitingly smoking, tempting me by looking adorable and sending forth rich meaty aromas, AND to snark the self-righteous veggie chowderhead who invaded Treppenwitz's blog with blinkered missionary waffling about avocados, here's a recipe.


PEPPER-CRUSTED LAMB CHOPS

Ingredients:
1 Tablespoon coarsely cracked black pepper.
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander.
1/2 teaspoon salt.
Generous pinch of cayenne, medium pinch of ground cumin, smaller pinch of cinnamon powder.
4 small lamb chops, about a pound of meat in total.
Olive oil.


Rub the chops with the spices and a little oil, making sure that they are well coated.

Add a splash of oil to the cast-iron fry-pan, and heat till smoking. Put the chops in the pan and cook on high heat until the outside is nicely browned - the inside should be at the stage of reddish rosiness at this point - use a knife to find out.
Remove to a plate.

Deglaze the smoking pan with a generous splash (half cup, more or less) of red wine (see below). Add a small jigger soy-sauce, and simmer till syrupy. Pour through a tea-strainer to filter out the pepper-bits that stayed behind. Drizzle and nap the chops, and strew some finely chopped scallion and cilantro over.

Serve with warm crusty bread, and a little bit of apricot preserve jazzed up with cayenne on the side. Or serve over rice, with sliced tomato, and some chard.

Drink the rest of the bottle of red wine (see above) while preparing and eating the chops. One's cooking skills are more fluid and inspired when tiddly.

ORANJE VERNEDERT WERELD KAMPIOEN

Sorry, Spiros, couldn't resist. The title of this post is the headline that appeared on the Algemeen Dagblad site after the match against Italy.
Translation: "Orange HUMILIATES world-champion".

I guess you've probably figured out that the Dutch won.


Of course, the AD is a crappy source for news. So lets go to another source, marginally less crappy - the BBC:

Netherlands took a firm grip on Euro 2008's so-called "Group of Death" by winning a classic encounter with Italy.

Ruud van Nistelrooy put the Dutch ahead in controversial circumstances after 26 minutes when he scored from close range - but also from an offside position.

Wesley Sneijder swept in a second from Dirk Kuyt's header five minutes later.

Edwin van der Sar then denied Italy with stunning saves from Fabio Grosso and Andrea Pirlo before Giovanni van Bronckhorst headed in after 78 minutes.

[Source: http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/euro_2008/7363339.stm ]


The score was 3 - 0.

[Oooooh, was it sad at the Steps of Rome? Were all the folks jammed into the place watching the match ...... disappointed? So sorry. My piles bleed for them. Alas, poor Italy. Weep weep, wail wail, gnash gnash. Ooooooh.!!!! Oh well. Pie.]

There were no little Catholic schoolgirls involved, nor any Japanese schoolgirls. So from my point of view it actually means very little. No pantsu. No yuri. No sideboob. No shojo ai. No accidental grope or face-pie. No mahou maid or nekomimi. No megane, strap-on fox tails, or short short skirts. Why do people watch this game anyhow?


It is also unlikely that this will have any bearing on my three known obsessions.

Additionally, it will not be a reason for me to discover a new and sickening cocktail. I will not be waving any flags, or painting my face orange. I will not go on an all-night drinking binge in Berne, finishing with a refreshing oral expulsion of stomach-contents off a bridge as the sun comes up.
No repetitive songs and chants of ole ole ole with ten thousand other cheese.

Instead, immediately after posting this, I will continue reading Yuri to Boushi to Hon no Tabibito.


In other news, the J-blogs are remarkably quiescent today. Betcha a number of them will be lamenting lactose intolerance tomorrow. Happy chag ha blintzim, y'all.

--------------------------------------------
UPDATE: Gratuitous insult: "Italiani languide checche!"
This in cheerful response to the gentleman who opined 'Olandesi tutti froci!'
And neener neener neener to you. Have you seen the videos of the Olandesi in the Bundesplatz? This was indeed la notte piu nera for the squadra azzura.
Pa-a-a-artaaayy!!!!!!!
--------------------------------------------

HENRY DARGER I AM NOT: NEW TAG, PLEATED SKIRTS, AND A COCKTAIL RECIPE

My readers often point things out to me, about myself, that I did not know before. Or did not fully realize. This is always better than having a complete stranger ask "are you nuts?"
And way better than having a bartender say "are you SURE you want another one - that's the fifteenth Grasshopper you've ordered".

[Grasshopper Cocktail: One shot Crème de Menthe, one shot clear Crème de Cacao, one shot half&half. Shake well over ice and pour into a large cocktail glass. If you're really perverse, add a cherry.]


So I appreciate it. Part of having a blog is self-discovery.

[Kinda like discovering a secret perverse fascination with unspeakable drinks. See grasshoppers mentioned above.]


Part of blogging is similar to hearing the next day that one puked all over the bar.

[See grasshoppers mentioned above.]


Fortunately the puking bit, like being caught in a compromising situation with several schoolgirls, has not happened yet. This is largely due to avoiding drinks like grasshoppers.

[I fondly imagine that schoolgirls just LOOOOOOVE froofy drinks with crème de menthe or crème de Cacao. Anything sweet. A watering hole that wanted to attract schoolgirls would serve grasshoppers, with Hello Kitty swizzle sticks. If I ever open a bar near Lowell Highschool, that is exactly what I'll do. ]



"YOU ARE BECOMING THE NEXT HENRY DARGER"

All of this is prolegomatic to a quote.

E-kvetcher wrote: "Dude, you are well on your way to becoming the next Henry Darger."
This was after I had cited a letter from Treppenwitz to one of his obsessed readers, forewording and afterwording it with stuff about dildoes, schoolgirls, teenage lesbians, schoolgirls, Japanese phallus festivals, schoolgirls, Thai penis-shaped luck totems, schoolgirls, and similar decorative elements. Sort of a festive and appealing dimsum banquet approach to using someone else's brilliance, in other words. Treppenwitz's superior cooking, with my parsley on the side of the platter.

[E-kvetcher's blog: http://search-for-emes.blogspot.com/ Treppenwitz's blog: http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/ The questionable post itself: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/05/all-about-fellow-blogger-and-cute.html .
Bear in mind that there is nothing on either e-kvetcher or Treppenwitz's blogs about teenage lesbians - they probably do not think about such things. Deliberately. I can understand that - teenage lesbians can be very distracting.]


Henry Darger was the genius who wrote "The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion". A magnum opus of over fifteen thousand pages, with hundreds of illustrations, about pubescent heroines making daring escapes, fighting fiercely, being tortured, along with supernatural elements, general cruelty, and decadent spookiness.

Fifteen thousand pages, plus. About pubescent girls.

He may have been obsessed.

So I'm not entirely sure what e-kvetcher meant - teenage schoolgirls only occur occasionally in my writings. I am by no means obsessed. Not by a long shot. I am fourteen thousand pages short of an obsession.

[I should mention that we can divide the category 'teenage schoolgirls' into TWO main categories of interest: 'Little Catholic Schoolgirls', and 'Japanese Schoolgirls'. The division is according to garment - little Catholic schoolgirls wear white shirts, cardigans, and plaid skirts, whereas Japanese schoolgirls wear a sailor suit top and plain blue skirts. The skirts, in both cases, are pleated (this is very important). Socks are white. Thighs are pleasingly peachy.]


It's not an obsession. Food and pipe-tobacco are obsessions, medicated foot-powder perhaps also.
Uniformed schoolgirls and their healthy habits, and delightful lack of sartorial choices, aren't.


But e-kvetcher noticed a theme. So for his and your benefit, I have created a new tag: SCHOOLGIRLS. It occurs beneath this post, and has been appended to all posts in which schoolgirls (of either type) appear. Click on it, and read the posts. Especially the very first one ('Enough Char-siu noodle soup for two people' - posted October 26, 2007). You will kindly note that the hero of that post is actually a fresh-faced and weak-kneed bochur. Not a schoolgirl.

ANGRY MOBS, RAMPANT THUGGISM, OR JUST THOSE SMOKERS?

We smokers, when we're not trying to kill your children with our cancer-causing fumes and effluvia, or nauseate your delicate stomachs, or blacken the innocent lungs of people five counties over, are a potentially violent bunch of over-indulgers, profligates, and orgiasts. Nay, veritable brigands, rapists, and incendiarists. We're so evil. Gevalt.


Quote from a newsletter:

SMOKING BAN A THREAT TO PUBLIC ORDER

The ban on smoking in cafés and clubs which comes into effect on July 1 may lead to extra tension and security problems around busy night spots such as the Rembrandtplein and Leidseplein in Amsterdam, says the safety and crisis management institute COT in Friday’s Parool.[Source: http://www.dutchnews.nl/news/archives/2008/06/]


The original article in Het Parool can be found here:
http://www.parool.nl/parool/nl/4/AMSTERDAM/article/detail/16649/2008/06/06/Lallende-cafeganger-buiten-kan-probleem-zijn.dhtml
It's entirely in Dutch, so you'll just have to accept my assurance that the headline "Lallende caféganger buiten kan probleem zijn" is actually rather pithy. The verb 'lallen' implies joyous over-the-top misbehaviour. Celebratory perversity, in fact. Such as a drunkard would commit.

[Het Parool ( http://www.parool.nl/ ) was founded during WWII as a resistance newspaper (for background, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Het_Parool). It is a far better newspaper than the Algemeen Dagblad or the Telegraaf. The Netherlands no longer has the over-all excellent journalism of the fifties and sixties, but Het Parool still has integrity and still maintains high standards.]



A SINCERE (& HEARTFELT) PLEA FOR ACTION

It is essential to insulate the pure and innocent public from deviants such as us. The reason being that when we're not 'snoozing in the gutter (as the rioting begins)' after a night of cheap cigars, black shag, navy flake, or coarse Turkish, we are 'too drunk to give a hoot ' about your wellbeing. We will threaten and leer. We will endanger you - unless we are stopped. You need to be protected.

Yes you do.

Trust me.

Give us our own places, and we won't bother you. And it seems logical that you would want to keep us INDOORS. Away from traffic. Away from the horses. Away from the sensitive eyseses and noseses of the gentler sex. Away from sweet little Catholic schoolgirls with their little plaid skirts, plump girlish thighs, and white white socks.

I suggest stocking the 'smokers-reserves' with lots of good reading material in several languages, plus a broad selection of single malts, fine Irish distillates, cognac, and Armagnac. This (plus a choice of teas and coffee) will keep us inside. Guaranteed.

You lot can have the gin and vodka. And we sincerely hope you enjoy drinking it. Outside.

------------------------------------

NOTE: The statements "snoozing in the gutter as the rioting begins" and "too drunk to give a hoot" are praedictions by concerned non-smokers Eric S. and Maya C. .
They further opine that the ban cited above means the end of civilization.
I concur.

TOBACCO INDEX


==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

THREE TOBACCOS AND SOMETHING ABOUT BEING CHEAP

As several of my readers know, I used to sell pipes, cigars, and tobacco.
I smoke a pipe, and have a fair hand at blending. In all modesty, I believe I am one of a handful of tabak-mayvens in Northern California (primarily because the anti-smokers have driven all the others to drink, suicide, South Carolina, or the brink of extinction).

As such, occasionally there are times when I must waffle on my blog about the noble weed. Such as now.


Joseph Izrael writes:
"I have an assignment for you. If you do it, you get a beer. Or a commission, whatever you want.

I'm still looking for that incredible blend that you smell in the traffic jam and you go "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" what wouldn't I give for that stuff! And sure enough, after a few minutes you catch up with the old geezer with a big white mustache in a 1923 Buick Touring. You probably had a teacher smoking it too.

Oh the catch? Well, I guess you've heard of the proverbial "cheap Jew". That's me. I don't spend more than $10 for a tin. But if it's really pikuach nefesh, it can go up to $15. "

Cheap Jew? What a strange concept. To a Dutchman. We Dutch have a hard-won reputation for being the cheapest penny pinchers in the ten worlds. Stingy is first-nature to us. How is copper wire made? Two Dutchmen fight over a penny. How was the rubble cleared after the last big earthquake? Some Dutchman heard there was a penny buried underneath.
I would tell more cheap Dutchman jokes, but two freebees is all you get; those things cost money.


Anyhow, pipe tobacco.

I'll need more information from you - what does it smell like? What type of blend or mixture do you think it is? Can you describe it in more detail?

Need more data than geezer's age and car...... what other tobaccos does it remind you of?

We can probably find it, or a close replica - but it will require some effort. The trade has changed since the days when that old geezer was still the typical pipe smoker.

-----------------------------------------------------

In the meantime, here are the three tobaccos that I have been smoking recently.



PETERSON'S SHERLOCK HOLMES MIXTURE

This is composed of thin-ribbon cut pale Virginias and air-cureds (the tin says Burley, but it is more like Maryland), top-dressed with a plum-apricot flavouring. I should mention that an aroma of prunus spp is not unusual for matured Virginias - the Japanese and some American brands still fake the smell of well-aged tobacco for their cigarettes with a heavy plum reek.

The top-dressing fades if the tobacco is dried out a bit before smoking, and in any case does not carry over into the smoke. Nor does it leave a perceptible after-presence in the bowl.

It smokes fairly mild, with sweetness on the center of the tongue. Enjoyable, though medium high in nicotine. A short bowl is best, too deep a bowl will likely exhaust your patience. A fine product with a remarkably stupid name. The amateur detective never smoked anything like this. This is not likely to offpiss anyone other than diehard tobacco-haters, and could be smoked with pleasure several times a day.
Lipman's mention of this tobacco made me try it. I very am glad I did.



ROANOKE
[A house blend - Grant's Tobacconists ]

This is something that Thomas at the local pipe-shop threw together after grilling me intensely about blending one evening while I was getting smashed on single malt. He must have been drinking considerably less than me, because his first batch was quite good, quite balanced. Two other experimental batches later he had the final product - the only difference being the proportions of two of the five tobaccos in relation to each other. And while he may have gotten some ideas and feedback from me, the inspiration and judgment that went into this blend are his alone. Kudos.

It is a Virginia blend with a touch of Perique. The base consists of two similar matured Virginias and an unflavoured Cavendish. There is a proportion of ribbon.

It grows on you. The taste is medium strength, leafy, and tangy because of the Perique, with a creamy sweet touch from the matured Virginias. It can be set aside and relit without concern. I've actually smoked a lot of it, all three versions while it was in development. Since then I've become the first person to actually purchase it. I find it quite enjoyable.

This is the fourteenth tobacco in Grant's current line-up of house blends, and the only one that I will smoke. If you want it, you will have to order it from them.
Internet: http://www.grantspipeshop.com/
Brick and mortar location: 562 Market Street, San Francisco, CA 94104.
E-mail: grantspipeshop@gmail.com
PH: 415-981-1000. FX: 415-981-1310.



BALKAN SASIENI SMOKING MIXTURE - ORIGINAL FORMULA
Made in Denmark for Peter Stokkebye Tobaksfabrik A/S

Yes, this is the so-manieth iteration of the Balkan Sobranie replacement. It is actually better than the Balkan Sasieni mixture from several years ago, which was too toasted and steamed to replicate anything other than a certain fine tobacco ponginess. I also think that the recipe has been changed - there seems to be more Turkish in the mix, less Latakia. The texture is finecut ribbon, irregular and short.

It's an excellent tobacco, profoundly old-fashioned, with a nice interplay between stinky Turk, nicotine-laden colonial, and just enough smelly Cypriote to accentuate their love-making and chase away your friends. It is of course not the Balkan Sobranie - nothing in this world will ever be like that again. But it is an excellent tobacco that not only echoes the old Balkan Sobranie, but has distinct charms of it's own. The first bowl will probably disappoint you, but halfway through the tin you may decide to go out and purchase California Tobacco Center's entire supply.



Still waiting to try Germain's King Charles Mixture, and some of the Burley mixtures from various sources. Will discuss the Samuel Gawith line-up at some point in the future.

TOBACCO INDEX


==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

PROTESTING AND COUNTER-PROTESTING AT ISRAEL IN THE GARDENS 2008

Israel in the Gardens: A celebration of all things Israeli and Jewish held every year in San Francisco's Yerba Buena Gardens - sounds innocuous, no? Some people think otherwise.

SUNDAY, JUNE 1st

Attempting to pish on everyone else this year were Bay Area Women in Black, JVP, the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), AlAwda, and a multitude of committed supporters of Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and Hezbollah, as well as an entire slew of Stalinists, crypto-Stalinists, neo-Stalinists, meta-Stalinists, anarcho-Stalinists, vegan femmo-Stalinists, wicca-Stalinists........

[Jim Harris was also there. He's too inchoate to qualify as any of the above, he's probably just lonesome. Hi Jim.]


ABOUT BAWIB

Bay Area Women in Black includes all variations of the above. Self-hate does marvelous things to people. BAWIB members always apologetically identify themselves as Jews, although not all of BAWIB are in fact Jewish women - several are Presbyterian or Episcopalian.

[While I can thoroughly understand and sympathize with their Presbyterian and Episcopalian self-hatred, I am confused by them making Jews the target thereof. Jews are what's wrong with Anglo-Protestantism??!?]


PAUL LARUDEE

Larudee (of ISM) was also there - he is not a woman, despite his haberdashery saying that there are unresolved issues.

Paul Larudee, a fervently anti-Israel conspirator, is a sixty-one year old gentleman from Northern California whose sole field of expertise lies in piano tuning, and whose knowledge of middle-eastern matters originates with friends in Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, and Hamas (which he defends as a peaceful, mainstream democratic movement).

[As an example thereof, note this article:
http://www.tikkun.org/rabbi_lerner/news_item.2006-01-16.8453650708 . And please also observe that Tikkun Magazine, from whence it comes, is not precisely a friend.]

Hi Paul, nice to see you again. Why are you wearing that thing on your head?



PHOTOS AND VIDEOS

Given the many unique individuals on the other side, a cultural anthropologist could have had just as much fun as a psychiatric researcher. As Zombietime's photo reportage illustrates:
http://www.zombietime.com/israel_in_the_gardens_2008/

[It also shows the positive side of the day. Entirely unlike the BAWIB report, here:
http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2008/06/01/18503762.php - worth scoping out too, if only to understand what a poisonously self-righteous coven flies under the cloak of Women in Black.]

For video of the protests and counter protests, please visit:
http://www.youtube.com/user/bluetruth36



A WONDERFUL CELEBRATION

On the bright side, the self-important ladies and lady wanna-bees of No Time To Celebrate (usually including Sarah Kershnar, Kinneret Israel, Perry Bellow-Handelman, Libbey Goldberg, Ms. Eric Romann, Mr./Ms./M?. Jaron Browne, et altres) didn't find a single opportunity to disrupt events inside, so instead they peaceably enjoyed some fine falafel and hummus in the food-court.

[No Time to Celebrate, also known as Na-Na-Nakba:
http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/notimetocelebrate/ ]


Over twenty thousand normal attendees enjoyed a sunny day in a beautiful location, great music, the company of friends, plus a multitude of booths with interesting organizations and free literature. No matter the distant tumult of the Keffiyeh-wearing cryptos outside - the day was barely marred by protests.

[Note: The keffiyeh, also known as a shemag or ghutra, is the checkered tea-cloth worn on the head to guard against the sun. Traditionally it is held in place with an 'iqal (heavy braided rope band), but stylish radikaler-jugend prefer to wear it around the neck, a la Rachel Ray. Black checks are associated with Palestinian Terrorism and Al Qaeda, red checks with Jordanian Bedouin and Saudis, though some kopstukken of AlQaeda wear either. Paul Larudee, mentioned above, favours red checks.]


THE SF POLICE

I am still furious that the police broke their stated agreement and allowed women in black and other provocateurs to walk on our side of the street to harass attendees, and did not keep the other side from yanking an Israeli flag out of the hands of one of us (officer Thompson, badge 4223, a particular pissant in that regard), then tried to prevent 'reconquest' of said flag.

The first police on site had been very reasonable.

About an hour into the protests, new police arrivals replaced most of the decent cops, and these officers were far less tolerant - although they seemed to have no animosity whatsoever towards the other side. I got the distinct impression that they felt that confronting da jooz was a jolly good thing.
Captain Balmy, who I believe arrived later, was clearly on the side of the anti-Zionists.

I suspect that there are members of the police who have been told to take sides against us, or that it is okay to do so if they wish. Supervisors Daly and Ammiano are NOT on our side - Ammiano is dangerous in that regard. It may be very good for someone's career in SF to be on unofficial record as "not in the pocket of the Jews".

Unlike last year, there is no strong indication of collusion between the anti-Israel activists and certain police officers this time.


CHILDREN HOLDING FLAGS

Many kids and adolescents were willing to hold an Israeli or American flag, even enthusiastic about doing so, and maintained their vigorous presence on the protest line for several hours, with the support of their parents, most of whom proudly took photos.
At one point a number of teenagers headed across the street en-masse to march flags and signs past sour-looking Jihadophiles - the police had no clue how to handle this incident.

["Do we arrest them? Do we club them fiercely? Tear-gas them? Do we really, really want to piss-off twenty thousand Jews?"]


EN FIN

Our booth inside the garden was busy till the very end, with our volunteers answering questions, handing out literature, signing people on to our mailing-list. We explained our positions, and got lots of good feedback from hundreds of people. So, despite being tense, angry, and having a screaming headache afterwards, I am pleased with how the day went.

DILDO BOB

No, this is not another episode of "this writer's strange obsession with unprintable subject matter". It is not about dildoes. If you came here for that, I am sorry to disappoint you.

This is about bars in San Francisco.


The year after the prohibition against smoking in bars went into effect, the three elderly owners of my favourite watering hole sold the place to a couple whose vitriolic domestic disputes in the bar nearly qualified the place as a cabaret - live shows, quotable lines, and over-the-top stream of consciousness poetry. I held out longer than many patrons, but I eventually found somewhere else to have the occasional drink.


I went to the karaoke bar around another corner. The gay couple that ran that place was more likeable than the two people who ran The White Swallow, and their quarrels were far less public. Many of the loyalists of The White Swallow eventually also started roosting there.
Those two gay men no longer own the place (two other gay men own it now), and while it is still a karaoke bar, the clientele has changed somewhat. One of the loyalists who has stayed, and who enjoys the presence of the younger, hipper, more tattooed crowd that drinks there now, is the person named in the title of this post - a gay man in his seventies with a handlebar moustache, a raspy voice, and a farting dog (which is not allowed in the bar anymore).

Dildo Bob drinks Manhattans, sings off key and out of tune, has an overactive imagination, and is conversationally both a disaster and a toxic-waste dump (he's called 'Dildo Bob' because listening to him, speaking or singing, is a pain in the sphincter). But he's an all-right kind of chap, and once you know him you will recognize this.


GET NAKED

Dildo Bob has a number of lines he yells as encouragement to the singers. One of which is "get naked". When he yells it at young men (that is, anyone under seventy years of age), it also expresses his hope, nay, his desperation, that he might see some fine masculine gootch tonight.
But he yells it at women much more often - he's a gentleman, and believes that the fairer sex need all the encouragement they can get.
It's very sweet of him to do so.


Not everybody appreciates the sheer positivity of his approach. A few weeks ago he yelled it at a woman who sang pretty darn bad. She looked pained, then sang even worse, and when she finished the song she came over to inform him that she did not like what he had yelled. It hurt. It objectified her. It was totally inappropriate!
All of us nearby were smiling like maniacs at this point - it's fun seeing Dildo Bob discomfited. And further: Yelling 'get naked' was sexist, typically male, and deliberately insulting, she felt he was undressing her with his eyes, and using "gender-based judgementalism"...... Bob was starting to look very uncomfortable by now (he probably had no clue what "gender-based judgementalism" could possibly be), and she went on to explain that she had had a mastectomy........


The first person among the listeners to recover from a sudden coughing fit (yes, all of us are smokers) put her hand gently on the woman's shoulder, and explained "hon, Bob's an old queen. He wouldn'ta known about the missin' titty even if you had come up and pressed your chest in his face. He simply wants you to be happy."


So that's basically it. Dildo Bob's advice to you is 'get naked, be happy'.


Promise me you'll at least think about it.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

BOYCOTTS AND OTHER TIRESOME CLICHÉS

In reaction to my posting about the British University and College Union reviving their odious campaign to boycott Israel, regarding which I cheekily complained that there were too few British things to boycott in response, reader and friend of blog Graham suggested that instead I boycott the English language.

He made the suggestion in Dutch.

Touché. 'Cheek-mate', so to speak.
[He is an Englishman. Dutch is my other native tongue. ]

However, boycott the English language? Heaven forefend! If I wrote mostly in Dutch, I would have far too many Netherlanders visiting this blog, and not nearly enough rational readers.

--------------------------
Speaking of a boycott.............


BIGOTED FRENCHMAN BOYCOTTS ISRAEL
Passé cineaste cancels appearance in Tel Aviv.


Director Jean-Luc Godard recently withdrew from an Israeli film festival because of political motivations, succumbing to pressure from pro-Palestinians to boycott Israel.
That decision probably came naturally to him; his oeuvre betrays his biases.


PEEVISH IDEOLOGUE
Jean-Luc Godard is a crypto-Stalinist from an era (1960's) when post-war Europeans were discovering just how delicious it was to daemonize the United States, their own governments, their war heroes, their colonialist involvements, their societies' values, their own spectacular role in the mismanagement of the world, their religions, and their parents.
Such rejectionist "self-liberation" from the burden of the past enabled them to deny all involvement, guilt, and responsibility. It also allowed them to set aside WWII and pretend to be new, different, clean - societies transformed and sanctified.

It still is considered au courant, hip, and educated to subscribe to this crippled and glib world-view. Coupled with a selective superficial appreciation of both "culture" and Marxist ideals, it has been a hallmark of ultra-progressive Europeans ever since.


HACKNEYED HAS-BEEN
Jean-Luc Godard is nothing if not consistent - in the last forty years he's done little more than remain staunchly loyal to a rigid iconoclastic hashkofo.
One would not expect a leading light of New Wave cinema to break his own mold and reject his own clichés.

I wish him much success cooperating with the film boards of the Arab world - I expect that his next film will be a masterpiece along the lines of 'Triumph des Willens'.
Anything else would, of course, be censored, and being ideologically supportive of developing-world despotisms, he would wholeheartedly approve of that - societies struggling upward must not be hampered by free speech.


Even if one would expect such censorship to go against the very fibre of Jean-Luc Godard's being, we should instead assume that the very fibre of his being is sodden with self-loathing and a drang for discipline rather than any real appreciation of liberal values. That is a common response to the extraordinary freedoms of postwar European society, and many ultra-progressive Europeans are thus afflicted (their liberalism hides an insecurity and negativity that goes all the way to the bone).

[It probably also explains 'progressive' support for a boycott of Israel; as such it represents not only denial of that nation's right to exist, but deliberate deafness to its ideals and ideas, and a rejection of everything that is Israeli - people, society, culture, products - as if they were pollution and their very proximity defiling. All done in the approved manner, self-righteously as a social movement or group manifestation rather than by tyrannic fiat.
This is a censorship as fierce but far more degenerate than any other - with the pretense that personal freedoms are not affected, though individual choices are circumscribed and dissent is fiercely censured.]


At the ripe old age of seventy eight it must be too painful for Jean-Luc Godard to admit that he is scarce more than an intellectual manqué, appreciated because of political correctness, by the politically correct.

The lack of imagination on both sides of that equation speaks volumes.


If any of that loathsome Marxist's jejune films get shown in the bay Area, I will be organizing a protest.