Means of Seeing what the eye brings

March 29, 2010

Wae Baerdy and I get Mexican in The Shire

Filed under: food,friends — osteoderm @ 8:43 pm

My neighbor the Scot joined me for dinner this evening. It was decidedly un-Mexican outside, with epic rain, but we crowded up to the grill and toasted off some meats to enjoy in some righteous little burritos.

Having recently endured several rounds of sub-par restaurant “gourmet Mexican”, I felt that I had to remind myself of just how good simple fresh burritos can be when prepared with love and attention. Here’s the run-down:

  • 2 cheap thin-cut beef steaks. Seriously cheap (I paid $2 each for mine). Fork ’em good, and soak (overnight) in:
  • 1 lime, juiced and pulped
  • 1/2 tsp cayenne powder
  • 4 tsp chili powder
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1 tsp dried or minced fresh cilantro
  • 1/tsp ground cumin

Now break out the beans. I completely cheated and used:

  • 1 can refried black beans “with a touch of Jalapeno!”
  • dash of Tabasco
  • shake of salt, grind of pepper

If you can make the Pico de Gallo a little in advance, it’ll only help it to sit and stew in its own lovely funk awhile. I find that the most dead-simple, few-ingredient, off-the-cuff version is best:

  • 1 small yellow onion, fine diced
  • 2 roma tomatos, fine diced
  • 1/2 lime, juiced
  • 1 shake chili
  • 1 pinch dried or minced fresh cilantro
  • 1 weak shake salt
  • 1 mellow grind pepper

Just two more keys to the party-time that is about to get fired up in your mouth:

  • 1 lump real honest Queso Fresco. Not always easy to find for everybody, but worth it.
  • 1 pack of real honest masa de harina corn tortillas. Again, not easy to find for everybody, but worth it.

As luck would have it, there’s a bizarre catch-all five-and-dime a block from my place that keeps both these gems in a cooler back beyond the no-name canned cat-food and racks of plastic flyswatters.

Fire up a HOT grill (even if it’s raining). Warm up the beans, using whatever method pleases you (I nuked ’em). Warm up the tortillas as well; I wrapped them in a barely-moistened tea-towel and nuked them as well. Once the grill is smoking, pull the flat steaks out of the marinade and drop directly onto the grill. Flip once or twice, but stand-by; they’ll overcook in an instant!

Once the meats are done, let them rest on the block until cool enough to handle bare-handed, then slice across the grain into narrow strips. Toss the strips in a bowl with any meaty-juicy-runoff, another quick dust of cayenne, and another pinch of cilantro.

Assemble just so: a tortilla, a smear of beans, a hearty crumble of queso, a few meat-strips, a tsp of pico, roll and sloppily consume. Compared to the gallons of salsa, oversized flour tortillas, and mounds of shredded lettuce and cheddar you’ll find down at the “gourmet”, it almost seems to be too small, too simple, too unsophisticated. That’s the point: cheap, direct, simple, flavour-packed, and  awesome.

March 9, 2010

reality check

Filed under: friends,rants — osteoderm @ 7:21 pm

After several Facebook “friend requests”, and subsequent denials, this recent exchange:

Subject: “Denied for a third time and I’m out!”

Wow. you are something. I’m not really sure why you don’t want to even remotely talk to me anymore, but I guess you have your reasons. Hope all is going well with you.
~XXXXXX

I thought about this for about as much time as it had taken me to ponder the different aspects of having hit that “ignore” button those three times, and replied:

Dear XXXXXX,

I’m not “not talking to you”; I’ve simply made it my policy to limit my Facebook friend list to people whom I have actually met, know, and have a real human connection with. I have other internet “pen-pals” who are likewise not on my Facebook feed.
Please recall the entire month I spent in [the city], making myself available to you at every possible opportunity, and how you remained too busy to meet with me in person.
My real human friendships are extremely important to me; please respect that I choose not to dilute them with casual, flippant, or temporary acquaintances. I am not a “friend of convenience” who exists to increase some Facebook statistic or provide idle entertainment.
I am a real, vibrant, living, breathing human being, who puts vital effort into friendship, and expects the same in return.
Can you really honestly say that you’re offering me the same?

Disappointed,

XXXX

Does that sum it up accurately? Was I too harsh? It’s not a good feeling to shut someone down like that, especially someone with whom I’d once enjoyed a lively correspondence, but neither does it feel fair and reasonable to perpetuate an otherwise shallow and baseless relationship for the sake of simply being able to.

October 17, 2009

I taught him everything he knows

Filed under: art,friends,pics — osteoderm @ 8:20 am

Okay, maybe not everything. But I am taking credit for introducing him to second-curtain flash-sync and slow shutter pans.
Because of this, and because he’s my buddy, I always take a moment to flip through all the mountain bike mags at the bookstore whenever I can, hoping to see some awesome centerfold gloryshot.
Yesterday, it happened for me: a John Wellburn gatefold in Bike Magazine. Fuck yeah.
Now they’ve got a few of his shots available as free desktop image downloads.

September 8, 2009

circles of circles

Filed under: aspie,friends,learning — osteoderm @ 6:32 pm

I recently got back in touch with Kyla. The casual reader will not, of course, have any idea what this means. Those who know me well enough, however, may pause here to let it sink in.

Kyla Chapman was my first love. I met her the summer I turned 17, in Nelson. Alongside a mixed table of other friends old and new at The Vienna Cafe. Summer afternoon sun slanted in through the window, lit up her hair. And that smile. A walk of two blocks later, and we shared a fetish for green jellybeans.
Our first kiss in that tent among the apple trees; her bare-assed run back to the house, dress a-blow in the moonlit breeze; a scene worthy of some re-mixed or otherwise less-melancholic Cure song… (“Pictures Of You”, if I might suggest it).
But summertime romance far from home is never meant to last, not like that. Yes, there were the letters, the calls, and when all seemed lost (hell it was lost!), the run-run-run-away, the long weird bus-ride south… And that last Bonnington night, I sat on the Chapman’s back porch, looked up at a different kind of moon, filtered by barren autumn branches, and cried out all the hopeless tears a rejected teenage soul can hold. I was so sure then that these things that do not last will be forever lost.

For ten years on after, I thought of her every day; not always a large thought, perhaps just a fleeting half-tone image or un-grasped note on the wind, but every day. Other relationships came and went; some in time proving to be of far more substance than that sliver of summer… But in each, there I was, trying in some same small insane way to fix that past failure. In every woman I found myself seeking out that part of Kyla, that part to whom I would beseech and plead and ultimately fail to “fix” at all.

At 27 years old, I hit bottom. I had destroyed, one by one, the best relationships I had. I’d broken Krista’s heart by falling in love with another younger girl, someone in whom I saw more of my relationship with Kyla to fix; that relationship, too, would quickly and painfully pass. I was broke, increasingly homeless, and steadily alienating every last friend I had.
Then… There was this one crazy 5:00 AM autumn morning… the weirdest mist flooded up from the lake and had the local visibility down to a few feet… the barest trickle of dawn light suffused the scene with an unworldly glow. Even inside, with no glass in the windows, the fog rolled in.
I stepped outside, and into the smallest feeling I had ever had. Right then, I felt as small and insignificant as I could be… and then, for the shortest moment my awareness could sense, the I which felt so small shrank to nothingness itself.
Of course, this is not an awareness than can be held on to. But in that split second, I learned to stop holding on to that perpetual awareness of Kyla.

A couple more relationships have passed through my life in the next ten years since then. Some have fared poorly (with Kim, I was trying to repair mistakes I’d made with Krista), while some have fared beautifully. Most beautifully, many of those past relationships and friendships have come full circle, or had their own circles overlap mine; love or hate Facebook, there’s been no few re-connections there. A few things never fail to amaze me: people have seldom forgotten me, although they usually assume I have forgotten them; furthermore, they are themselves typically amazed to learn just how much, and in what detail, I remember them.
Perhaps it is closure after all. Or maybe it’s just that, in looking down the timeline from the other end, we see that some things never needed to be closed at all. Mostly, I think it is knowing so much more of how I think that has changed so much of how I feel.

7, 17, and 27… interesting years, still redolent with the mistakes/lessons that have been my rod and staff. I find myself looking forward, with wry smile and cocked brow, towards 37. Perhaps the best lesson I’m learning is to stop trying to fix the past, repair the mistakes, and un-break the hearts… and that while indeed nothing does ever last, nothing is ever really lost at all.

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