"All The Threes" was so named die to that fact that the 'Number 3' can be seen several times in the embers which surround the explosion. Though some have suggested that they see a 'Question Mark' more prominently. And on a personal note, I also lived at 'Number 33' at the time as well and his was taken in my back garden!!! Spooky...???

This one, "Big Bang Theory" give me an impression of a planet being formed, hence the title and pun!

© nEoPOL 2008 All rights reserved

Visit my Flckr Profile @ http://www.flickr.com/people/neopol/

I've spammed quite a few friends (perhaps even enemies) about the existence of this foodblog. And as the number of my visitors show, some do visit but not often enough. Guess they have other preoccupations.

Even fewer have added their two cents' (or three cents after adjusting for inflation to echo my friend who goes by the nik of Wonderfulbee) worth online and into the blog.

Perhaps my food experience(s) are not controversial or interesting enough. Still, thanks to HSM who bothered to write at all...here and here

Of cos, some have been courteous enough to acknowledge my "invite" with comments (somewhat non-committal and could be interpreted any which way) such as "wow, I'm impressed" or "very impressive indeed".

I'm grateful they wrote at all but more grateful still am I to those two gentlemen and one lady who not only visited this blog but bothered to share their own experiences as well.

One, a World Bank retiree, wrote from KL: Just passing by to let you know I enjoyed your foodblog.  Of course the "cheap" food in Chai Chee and Woodlands is not meant to lure the denizens of Orchard or even Bkt Timah road to slum it in those far-off places, but would be worth trying if one happens to be in the vicinity. 

"I'm lucky in Bangsar where my favourite lunchtime place is a scruffy coffeeshop (which doesn't offer coffee anymore) where every day the husband-and-wife team puts out 20-25 nyonya-style home-done dishes covering pork in various guises, tofu, veggies, wild boar rendang, varieties of fish fried, steamed, sauteed, curried, and all at much less than what you'd pay at a more "posh" eatery.

"And it's just 5 minutes' brisk walk from my place!  Next time you're here (KL), I promise to take you there!

"Do you know in S'pore that delicious Chiew Chow noodle tossed in minced pork and black vinegar?  Or the Hakka "thunder tea" rice in a fresh herb (note: not herbal) soup? 

"Tell me where you (or your blog-fellows) think you can get the best of the above, and I will take you to sample the Chiew Chow noodle or Hakka "thunder" on my next sortie to S'pore.

"The Hakka stuff can be found in certain food courts in KL, but not the Chiew Chow noodle; at least not to my knowledge as KL has practically no Chiew Chow community."

Lo n behold, to prove that those I "spam" aren't wholly ignoring me, a friend, whom I wld describe as a travelling car sales magnate emailed me to pinpoint where ex-World Banker can find his "Chiew Chow" noodles.

He wrote: "Reply to your friend from KL looking for Teochew Bak Chor Mee (he calles them chiuchow noodles with black vinegar).
 
"Best place I know is Mee Sek Food Court at the junction of Upper Serangoon Road and Florence Close.
 
"It is right in the heart of Teochew territory, held for years by a Teochew Opposition Politician. The Speak Mandarin Campaign died here.
 
"Closest parking lot is at Simon Road. Don't try to park on the roadside as you will surely (and deservedly) get a summons for causing congestion.

"Take it from me, a five-generation Hougang Teochew (yes, my great-grandmother was born in this particular area) that this is the best and most authentic Teochew minced pork noodle stall in town

The other who wrote to tell me is an independently wealthy individual with homes in Singapore and abroad. Actually, he won't like me to repeat what he shared, for fear of being fingered but hey, I don't think he's that famous. I also found what he said informative and hopefully visitors here would find it informative too... so here goes:

"Your foodlog is an interesting read, well done. (Auntie Lucia says:"I can't keep this secret can I?") Ever tried Ember at Kiong Siak Street the black miso cod is a to die for dish ..If you like desserts Ember does some of the best in town (rare for a Chef to be good at desserts too but he now has 4 assistants)

"Before you shudder from the address it has become a gourmet food place with Jonathans (fine dining degustation only menu) whom I think is overrated cost me $160 per head with lousy red wine (Chilean at $125 per bottle when you can get an equivalent Aust red for $7).

"The chef is Sebastian Choo (formerly dy head chef in the Fullerton Hotel's french restuarant), and I think he won the regional top young chef of the year awards in 2006/7.   My definition of a good rest and chef is that you must dream about his signature dishes at night after tasting it

"There are just too many restuarants in Singapore these days, spoilt for choice but my business sense tells me that a lot will fail but not yet as they are are well patronized, esp weekends, you can't even get into Jonathans without a booking and at $150 per head av spend, lots of yuppies...

And here is what my lady friend from London said:"The blog on food, is it started by you?  Very good, most informative.  Yes, I might like the wonderful dishes at this dinner in Jurong, but noise will disturb my old sensitive ears. 

"We were out yesterday, we were shown a table quite near a table full of kids so we moved. Then shown to another table, now next to a small Wedding table of ten or so, thought it will be okay! 

"Unfortunately there were two youngish girls in their twenties and when they opened their mouth they were as bad as the children if not worse.  They really were loud with high pitch voices

"It spoiled the meal for me. It must be old age perhaps!!!!!"

We start where everything starts. Potency. A block of wood. Plato spoke of it. Mr. Magorium made use of it. And it was where Ms. Musical Molly realized that she had what it takes, that her fingers’ “quirks” are really up to something.

We all have blocks of wood. We are all stumps of wood. And it is up to us to sculpt ourselves. Or to sprout little new verdant leaves.

And yet.

As with everything in life, there’s always a catch attached. Today’s would be that this beautiful fact of potencies—dreams, so to speak—is easier said than done.

When you were but a young sapling, you felt that staying strong and unbent in the face of the world and its mighty winds would be doable, or easy even. As a sparse-feathered sparrow, you ventured an inch off the nest, and you thought that you were an eagle ready to conquer the azure realm.

And yet.

The first gusts threw you down on your feeble roots. You looked up to the heavens, and a prayer escaped your lips. It’s tiring to face the world. Mother Nature’s first push was also your first fall, your first crash landing. Thump. It’s a harsh forest out there.

And yet.

You did not long for the protecting arms of the Ents. You did not pine for the comfort of the nest. No. You believed that you were strong—you could take the next winds, the eager hard earth. Failure was the material that could take you up among the hard elders who makes less than a creak. It would take you to the clouds so that you can look down upon the earth with the eyes of a conqueror.

And yet.

You turned out to be just another jester’s material. Fit for entertainment. You remained the block of wood that you are. The potency longed for the act. It would have been even nicer to have someone cut you down and sold you to some sculptor. You were a fine wood, after all. You could have made a glorious statue for everybody to gawk and be amazed at, shake their heads, and wish that they could be as grand. But you could also have been a mere paperweight on an ignored table, gathering dust. Do you want to trade for the bust by the corner? He may have been some great personality. But you could have just been that—a bust, a recreation for some ancient has-been.

Even then, it could have been a good existence. You would want to be a bust than some firewood.

At first, you laughed at the glorious statue. He was getting old. His fine contours were cracking, smoothness was roughening. He was drooping, disintegrating. Should have been better to have moss clinging to it. You also mocked the paperweight. It couldn’t breathe anymore, much less cough up the dust that became his rags of a clothing. Secret holes inside were making him weightless. And the bust? Oh, that poor bust was anything but. He could hold anything from coats to bowler hats. And then his polish ran out. His nose fell off.

At least you were a firewood. There was some warmth in you, some light, some fire. Yes, you could help a great big pyre fit for a mighty king. Playing small, you could still cook something. Yup, now you’re cooking. Food for the brain. Nourishment for the soul.

Even as just another piece of fuel, you made your tiny licks and left your marks. You smiled as your warmth provided for the creation of some things more than a simple wood—paper and the ink blots that posed as words and thoughts. Ink blots. More like a child’s doodles. But it was all right. It’s good, I’m good, you told yourself. There will be master scribes on my way. Oh, and how you burned! You burned with the eager fires of youth! Every little thing that you touched burst aflame too. Hot! That was what you were. Blazing!

Until.

You realized that you could break off even just a splinter of you. Some charcoal, and you could be a pencil and do your own doodles. Hell, you could make more than some blots!

But.

It was too late. Everything around you was nothing but embers already. Every fucking splinter. And so you burned and you burned. You discovered how it was to feel burnt out, but you added more meaning to the term. How is it to feel burnt out but still burn? For Christ’s sake, how! It was all you could do for a prayer. But you prayed even more. For Death. Ashes. For even though you could feel every fucking inch of you sting with the flames, you gave off no warmth. Sunshine on a gray and cloudy winter day.

Man, oh, man, are we not just exaggerated bovine creatures? We trade our souls for some cud to chew on all day. The one thing that sets us extremely at odds with those four-legged, five-stomached mooers is that we grow our own grass in the summer and make our own hay for winter. Fucking overrated!

0115 hrs

The noon-day sun was bright in the sky, and I adjusted the sunglasses on my face, their blue lenses protecting my eyes from the heat of the day. Despite it all, however, it wasn't my eyes that seemed to warm, but instead a feeling began to permeate my chest. One that I had thought long-gone, not since... I'm getting ahead of myself.

I checked my watch again, the Citizen quietly reminding me of the seconds that were ticking by. There, on my hood, were the two bottles that I'd purchased, sweating in the sun, their chilled contents expressing distaste at having to sit in the heat, but I paid them little heed. After all, if they were sweating, then I knew that I would be, too.

A glance back at the parking meter confirmed that I still had plenty of time, but even so, the anxiety seemed to be growing within me. A subtle nervousness was causing my hand to start to shake, so I hooked my thumb on my pocket, and forced myself to calm down. After all, this wasn't the first time that I'd seen her.

We'd known each other for nearly two years, actually. But for some reason this felt like the first time all over again. For some reason it felt like I was being introduced all over again, yet my face betrayed no small hint of my inner turmoil. I forced myself to keep my feelings in check, and told myself to just stay calm. After all, she just wanted to talk. It wasn't like we had never done that before. We saw each other all the time before, but after the semester ended, it had been a while, probably somewhere around two months.

I'd spent the better part of a year adjusting, diminishing the flame that had continued to burn in my heart despite itself, until finally there was nothing but a few small embers to remind me of the bonfire that had scorched me before.

Finally she walked out the door. Like many of the others, she walked with purpose, with a definite stride, but it seemed that she didn't so much have a goal in mind, but that she was searching. Her gaze wandered about, scanning the area, but I just watched, waiting. I knew that she was trying to find me, but there I was in plain sight, so I waited for the recognition.

When she finally spotted me, she smiled and waved, and I responded in kind. That feeling in my chest pounded slightly, but I suppressed it again, leaving the past in the past. We said our hellos, and started up the conversation as if there had never been a break at all. She spoke of her family, and about how things had been going, and about how her life was treating her. I shared with her the goings-on in my life, from work to ideas to school and family. There was no pause in the conversation, it was just a sense of belonging, a sense that here were two souls who meshed together. We didn't really have anywhere specific that we were walking, instead it was just whatever spot we happened to be standing on.

And that feeling in my chest continued to hiccup, no matter how many times I kept pushing it down.

Near the end, the conversation turned serious, and I finally realized why she had wanted to talk. I listened with an understanding ear, and agreed with her on every point, at least in my internal responses. But outwardly, I offered the sensible, assuring answers, intentionally not showing the feelings that I truly felt.

And then, with a goodbye and a quick embrace, she was gone, leaving me there wondering where to go. All around me, they continued to walk with purpose, and with a reason. For me, however, the purpose was done. I walked away slowly, holding my head up so as not to betray the feeling in my chest. But inside, I was wracked, as the fire that had for so long been dormant suddenly sprung to life.

I sat quietly in the heat of the sun, and just pondered. I pondered my place, and I pondered my future.

I closed my eyes, and in the darkness of my mind, I swear I could see the glow. In the far recesses of my conscience, I could see the embers.

And those embers were still burning.

- Kyle

Sandor Marai, Embers (Vintage, 2002).
The General waits in his castle for 41 years, as the world outside moves on apace, and then, finally, he receives the letter telling him that his boyfriend friend, Konrad, will return. The two grew close in military school in fin-de-siecle Vienna, but then, during a hunt in 1899, something happened, something the General has obsessed about ever since. This novel is the story of their dinner together and their conversation, in which the General recounts the events decades earlier and seeks to come to terms with them. First published in Hungary in 1942, Embers contains little hint of the twentieth century. Marai killed himself in San Diego in 1989, six months before the collapse of Eastern European Communism; largely ignored before then, his works have been rediscovered since.

New York magazine makes Marai’s long story short.  The Complete Review has an awesome collection of links to other reviews.  They post their own review as well. Here are reviews from Bob Corbett, Dan Schneider, Danny Yee, Bibliofemme, Andrew Bentley-Steed, Michelle, Chouhrette Sherif,  Caribousmom, Eva, Bella Stander, Alok, Jessica Schneider, and Tim. Mary reports on a talk by Carol Janeway, who translated Embers (from German and French translations). Last, but certainly not least, Erik started a Sandor Marai blog which is well worth a look.

1:5:10:119 EcoTip: The fire screen on your fire place chimney does more that arresting sparks going up the chimney as well as keeping out pests. Many homes that catch on fire and burn in wild fires would have been okay if they had an intact fire screen. When wild fires burn they can create a back pressure that sucks hot air and sparks down the chimney into the home - igniting it from the inside. A properly installed chimney fire screen or spark arrester can help prevent this from happening.

***********************************

 Additional Information

 The information in this post is from my new book Extreme Weather Hits Home: Protecting your Buildings from Climate Change

• Use quarter-inch fire screen over the opening of every chimney or wood stove pipe. The hot air from a fire can cause the typical air flow to reverse so outside air rushes down the chimney and ignites the interior of the home. Fire screening not only helps prevent sparks from your fireplace from causing a wildfire, but also helps prevent wild fire embers from back drafting into your home.

Each careful step slowly dragged,
Heavy with tears unshed; marked
The end, as the epitaph changes
With each written embrace to end.

Strokes sketched like final waves
To fade, as the chained door behind, closes;
On the other side lies, the precious remnants
Unfading memories of a fairly, fulfilled life.

With each blink, I watched,
Each day coming and ending like displays;
Moving before this half-conscious soul,
To gather in cluster for a final bow.

Each drop of tears bathes,
Like blood gushing out from this heart
As each chapter paraded for the last time;
Battles won, puzzles solved; lives restored.

As the locks kissed to seal,
A part of a whole had been finished
Maybe, with a promise of continuity’s bliss
For now, it’s the end but, leads to a beginning.

With a faithful sigh of unsung prayers
Towards God’s ears; blown to the Heavens;
As I’ll take turns and bends and byways
Harboring hope of seeing you again someday.

One last lingering look
To imprint the memories; embers to live within
To merge as part of this soul and whole being;
As I’ll go on seeking, searching, and, living.

©2008january15leofinajanegalleta
// 23:53:12

“there are some unsaid goodbyes, for the meantime..”

If you know any of the people, who won etc...comment here and I will do something with that info.

THANKS BARFLY, THANKS MT TABOR LEGACY, THANKS other people who I should thank but forget...oh yeah, thanks to Busch (wow, I never thought I'd write that, but I drank 'em) for all the free beers.

Oh and also--"largest amount of tags ever award" post here on PDX PIPELINE beating out the previous post on this topic the day of show. Where is my bag of goodies?

All pics and nominees are after the "read the rest of this entry"

for www.PDXPIPELINE.com

Info from Miss Jen Lane of Barfly Fame:

Nominees in each category are listed alphabetically, by first name.

Fastest guns in the West (Portland’s fastest bartender)…

Erin Clauson, Slow Bar
Jason Keebler, Mount Tabor Legacy
Lincoln, Embers
Lisa Wagner, Tonic Lounge

Funniest bartender…

Jim, Candlelight Cafe
Kevin, Devil’s Point
Jedediah “Diamond” Aaker, Roscoe’s, AudioCinema
Mike Heiges, Tube

Hottest item not on the menu (dreamiest waiter or waitress)…

Anna, The Slammer
Danica, Dante’s, Devil’s Point
Ryan, Roscoe’s
William Slater, Bonfire Lounge

Nicest bouncer…

Crack La Rock, Fez
Dylan Skiles, Tonic Lounge
J.D., Doug Fir
Philly Chris, Dante’s, Devil’s Point

Sexiest stripper (The Monster/Busch Award)…

Cami, Magic Gardens
Malice, Sassy’s, Devil’s Point, Dante’s Sinferno
Rivets, Union Jacks, Dante’s Sinferno, Devil’s Point
Stormy, Devil’s Point, Dante’s Sinferno

Bestest deejay ever (we’re talking clubs and bars here, not radio)…

Atom 13, Bar of the Gods
DJ Catalyst, Red Cap Garage
Disc Jockey Gregarious, Fez, Matador
DJ Yeti, Yeti Magazine, Holocene

Favorite cabbie…

Bobby A, Radio Cab
Chris Harley, Radio Cab
Enrique, Radio Cab
Holly Morgan, Radio Cab

Hottest hairstylist…

Lucinda Beth Thompson, Dirty Little Secret
Nicci, Bishops (NE 28th)
Susan, Rock Paper Scissors, Wack
Yvette Reyes, Wack

Most good writer (from the local press)…

Byron Beck, Willamette Week
Ezra Ace Caraeff, Portland Mercury
Viva Las Vegas, Portland Mercury
Zach Dundas, Willamette Week, Portland Monthly

Best drunk (a regular who rocks; the greatest drinking buddy, ever; someone who can throw down, but not throw up)…

Andrew Loomis
Kelly Gately
MIke Heiges
Sarah X. Dylan

Most ghetto fabulous (a star of the local circuit - someone who’s a social celebrity, not necessarily a ‘real’ celebrity)…

Jedediah “Diamond” Aaker, Roscoe’s, AudioCinema, The Darlins
John “Elvis” Schroeder, Saturday Market, Portland Organic Wrestling
Tres Shannon, Voodoo Doughnut, Karaoke From Hell, Miss U’s
Seantos, Rontoms, Starantula

Best band for a one night stand (a local band that gets you laid)…

Dahlia
The Darlins
Kleveland
Pure Country Gold

Hardest working man or woman in show business (again, this is locals only - individual performers who play with a band(s), dance, act or otherwise put on a show)…

Derek Moore, Damned Events
Morgan Grace, Morgan Grace
Storm Large, Storm and the Balls, Cabaret
Tres Shannon, Voodoo Doughnut, Karaoke from Hell, Miss U’s

Starving artist most likely to get fat (new category for 2007! A local artist working in any media, from fine art to film, who’s struggling now, but may well be making it big any minute)…

Chris Haberman
Corey Smith
Mike “Private” Albano
Pasha Gross

Most likely to be famous (in any capacity, other than maybe serial killers, and artists, who are covered, above)…

Corey Smith
Rick Emerson
Storm Large
Wade McCollum

The Go to Guy (or Gal) Award (new category for 2007! Think of it as the “perfect attendance” award for the Portland Scene, in general - a Joe or Jill Reliable who’s always there, in a good way)…

Jason “Lord”, BOG, Mount Tabor Legacy
Kelly “Murph” Murphy, Kells
Mike “Krummy” Krum, Big Bertha’s
Steve “Reno” O’Riordan, Voleur

Lifetime achievement award (someone who’s paid their dues, been around forever, and has endeavored to make the scene better and brighter along the way) (The Mobile Marketing BarFlyVIP Award)…

Frank Faillace, bar owner/publisher (Dantes, Devil’s Point, Tiger Bar, Boom Boom Room, Exotic Magazine)
Fred and Toody Cole, musicians (Dead Moon, Pierced Arrows)
Leo Rivera, salon/bar owner (Bishops Barbershops, Ten-O-1, Chesterfield)
Phil Ragaway, bar/coffeeshop owner (BOG, Shanghai Tunnel, Bossanova, 1201, Genies, Tiny’s)

Wood briquettes burn relatively nice as well, but if they get too much air they are also eaten away by the flames like nothing else. A friend from Cologne told me her trick to economize on briquettes: Before she leaves the house or goes to bed, she takes a few pages from a newspaper, soaks them with water and wraps them around the briquette before she puts it in.

I started using this technique. I put in the last briquette last night half past eleven, and when I checked this morning at half past ten, I still had a few glowing embers [Glut] in the oven. Wow! Of course it doesn't give off a tremendous amount of heat, but prevents the temperatures from dropping too drastically. And it's also easier to start a new fire from embers.

*) By the way: It was not that easy to figure out which English word was the thing I needed.
oven - Ofen {m}
stove - Ofen {m}
wood stove - Kohleofen {m}
furnace - Ofen, Hochofen {m}
kiln - Ofen, Brennofen {m}
cooker [Br.] - Ofen, Herd {m}
reefer [sl.] - Ofen (drugs)

1. Well-written, with style and beauty.
2. Thought-provoking themes and characters.
3. Aside from the Kafka, not too densely written...and aside from Love in the Time of Cholera not terribly long.
4. Accessible, with enough narrative energy to keep us reading.

Needless to say, some great books don't make good book club books. Example: Almost anything by Dickens--because of the length--or by Faulkner--because of the density of the prose. I wonder how many of us will finish the Henry James?

Our list is here. Someday soon, I'll add grades and links to my reviews.

after the hysteria surrounding the beatles and stones in the 60s, one thing was clear. cute boys were a one way ticket to an early retirement. motown and stax were huge, but in a global sense, british pop had ruled the 60s.

calling some of these acts boybands is stretching it a bit - not all of them were successful in a commercial sense and would consider themselves male singing groups. however, if they sang songs that sent teenage girls crazy, they are boybands for the purposes of this post!

70s boyband essentials:

1. afro - natural or fake, the bigger the better. use an old skool microphone for inspiration.

2. flares - again, anything less than a 20 inch flare is just a mere wide trouser

3. falsetto - sprinkle liberally

4. family connections - if you're not related, at least dress identically

also check out those they inspired in my 80s and 90s/00s boyband posts.

download here

jackson five - sugar daddy

the most famous 70s boyband, who started as backup to megalomaniac diana ross. why does that woman always get to force more talented people into the background? no clue back then as to how things would turn out with wacko or that jermaine would end up on big brother.

osmonds - one bad apple

more soulful than 'love me for a reason' and nowhere near as weird as 'crazy horses'. many fortysomething women still swoon over donny osmond. which is easy to do if you're uk based as he is the default chat show guest. he's a nice bloke though

bloodstone - oh honey

usually a credible funk band that worked with marvin gaye and curtis mayfield, to name but two, but this track is pure 70s boy soul.

delfonics - trying to make a fool of me

revered 70s philly band who specialised in sweet ballads and falsetto. which makes this one of their more uptempo offerings.

sylvers - misdemeanor

sweet sounding ten piece family band who sang about girls, despite several sisters being in the band at one time or another. easy now to see where maurice starr got the inspiration for new edition.

chi-lites - oh girl

is it my imagination or did 80s mullet paul young cover this at one point? they also had the indiginity of seeing 'have you seen her' butchered by mc hammer. did they really need the cash??

detroit emeralds - you want it, you got it

another family group, who often dressed in green to labour the point about their name. in case you didn't get it.

embers - little red book

very little is known about this group, but most people know this track.

five stairsteps - i love you stop

actually the original 70s brother band, predating the jackson five by a year or two. tried to yank back the crown with this track which sounds very much like 'i want you back'.

o'jays - used to be my girl

hugely successful and adaptable band who rode the philly soul wave then settled into the disco era effortlessly. actually way too good to be called a boyband.

moments and whatnauts - girls

this collaboration between these two groups is probably their most well known work.

temptations - ain't too proud to beg

enduring motown group, with a penchant for matching outfits. this song is actually from the 60s but...i like it, and i remember the temptatons being called the original boyband at some point.

And that is not all, oh no no that's not all.

You can also select Swarm (don't understand that one) Bigspy (stories increase in size as the gain votes) and Arc, which has them take a larger share of the pie-chart.

I don't know what it's all about, but it sure looks purty.

Incidentally, if you see a story that catches your eye, don't go nuts trying to click on it. Go to the normal Digg site and find it there. This is supposed to be relaxation, dammit!