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Apr. 7th, 2013
The Proper Way to Eat a Pig
Apr. 7th, 2013 08:21 am
Camas Davis, the founder of the Portland Meat Collective, with some of the high-school students and teachers in her butchery class.
By MARNIE HANEL
Published: April 4, 2013 56 Comments
On a recent morning in Portland, Ore., Camas Davis was teaching nine high-school kids how to butcher a pig. A 17-year-old named Mady called dibs on the front trotter, slicing through the skin near the pig’s ankle, then using a hand saw to cut through the bone. Nathan, 15, moved up the leg and worked through the hock, while Karina, 16, eyed the shoulder. Pushing up the sleeves of her red cardigan, she placed her blade between the fifth and sixth ribs, scored the flesh, then gave the knife a long pull, separating the shoulder from the carcass, but leaving intact the coppa — a muscle around the pig’s neck — in case anyone wanted to roast it. Moar
Fucking Fuck! "Fuck" inna Newspaper?
Apr. 7th, 2013 08:45 amMatt Damon: man of the people
Haz the whirled ended?
Nobody does the everyman better than Matt Damon. His common touch has made him one of the world's most bankable stars. He tells Tim Lewis about offending Barack Obama, his love for Ben Affleck and marrying outside the Hollywood elite Moar
Haz the whirled ended?
This wuz the week that wuz:
Apr. 7th, 2013 10:14 amMonday
Something mustta happened.
Tuesday
On Tuesday morning, I met with my financial adviser to toss and read the chicken bones. Situation cloudy. Estimation of mortality vs money pot seems like it oughta be a Bergman movie. More mortality to come
Whilst at work on Tuesday I received a couple o' passes to Jurassic Park 3D at the Southdale AMC, 7:00 pm that day. I left work around 5:45 and went to get in line. It wasn't too long, and the theater never filled. Shoulda offered the pass at work. Coulda fit the whole IT department in the theater. Wished I'd worn my Jurassic Park bomber jacket...
Wednesday
Roger Ebert tweets that he's taking a leave of presence. And, he wuz right.
Thursday
Iain Banks roiled Twitter with his impending prediction of death. Sadly, Ebert would prove a much better prophet.
On the way to work on Thursday, I stopped at the Homestead Picking Parlor in Richfield to pick up a ticket to Gordon Bok on Friday. I got there right after ten, when they opened and the door was locked. Old hippie slackers, wuz my charitable thought, but the door unlocked shortly after. (She claimed to have been on the phone...) Got the ticket (cash or check only).
I did not make it to the second freeby, The Place Beyond the Pines, on Thursday night. I'm uncertain of the confluence of free movie passes. I sometimes get them through the Landmark emails, but rarely two from the same ad agency in one week.
Friday
Left work a bit early to get home, eat, and get to the Gordon Bok concert. Had a letter from Scotland. David, I thought. Wrong I wuz. David's executor.
At the Gordon Bok concert, I bought CDs like I was fresh off one of the boats Gordon talked about. Concert was good, although he lost his place in one of my favorites, Laird o' Drum. Ain't, I guess, none of us getting no younger.
Saturday
I got up late, to a house smelling of spinning duck. Brekkies was roast duck, asparagus, corn, and baby racially diverse tatters.
Went out for a hair cut at 10:30. My haircutter's place haz been haircutted, cut in half, and the other half is being turned into apartments. After the haircut, I headed for Lunds, a bank, and OfficeMax. (I was almost outta paper.) A sane person would ran it, haircut, OfficeMax, Lunds, Bank, Home, but no, not me. Haircut, Lunds, Bank, OfficeMax, Home. Crossing my path all over the whole damned town. While at OfficeMax, I only bought paper, three reams, confident that I had CD labels in my stack o' papers. Of course, I wuz wrong.
At home, I popped pills. The haircut included a smattering of remodeling dust and incense, not anything I need ever in the spring. I dozed for a bit, after setting my phone alarm, and went out at three for coffee with Michael, at the Hennepin Caribou, then back to OfficeMax for the missing CD labels.
There followed a brief, cursed, and cursing interlude of rendering, compiling, creating labels, printing, and labeling of CDs that involved the bestest cockup of Nero I've had when it tied itself in knots while burning DVDs whilst I was working on a label. Had I not been rendering a DVD, I would have rebooted.Of course, the cockup took the DVD recorders off line, so the render would not complete, which I finally got around by punching the emergency eject on the wildly spinning DVD with my smallest jeweler's screwdriver... The Nero cover designer splash screen that refused to go away in the middle of the main monitor was the frosting on the cake...
Someone crawled into bed around six, while I was busy having a go with my computer, so around seven when we were supposed to be at
mizzlaurajean for drinks and pizza in the exotic North Loop, I was still burning, printing, and labeling. About 7:10 I pronounced it done, and woke Somebody, who pulled on some clothes with only minor complaints, and we drove the two blocks before the drive to the exotic North Loop.
After parking, we walked to the Parlour, and had some quite fine drinks. (Bullet and a Target, Spanglish, Pickle in the Middle, and a glass o' cava for Someone.) I was a food Nazi, and nixed the cheese plate and the foie gras plate, because when we'd been there with B&K, there was a great lack of things resembling bread or crackers and a great difficulty of the staff procuring such, and what they did procure, seemed treated as if it wuz made o' gold. So we ordered two plates o' fries and one o' olives and nuts. (No bread nor fancy hand made crackers.) It was there that the Glam Doll Donut dessert run was hatched...
We walked a couple o' blocks north to Black Sheep Pizza in the London-like weather to stand for twenty minutes before we sat. Pizza was pizza. Good, but not stunning, I thought. We ordered three.
Then back across town via Someone's Sekrit Route past the Farmer's Market and over to the Black Forest neighborhood to Glam Doll Donuts, where we noticed a lack of donuts, a lack that grew as we ate the ones we got. It was doing a land office business.
It was a great night. I'll post the one or two pictures we took, but there wuz a sekrit visitor and a surprise planed for Sunday Morning.
Sunday
Somebody is off chasing a new piece o' carbon. I'm contemplating excavating the layers of detritus stacked on my desk and finishing some bookwork I shoulda done months ago. Listening to the CDs I bought at the Gordon Bok concert. Done with the duck pho brekkie, and contemplating a second cuppa espresso.
Damn, I missed Krugman and that senile Stockman on Talking Heads. Gold! Moar Gold!
Something mustta happened.
Tuesday
On Tuesday morning, I met with my financial adviser to toss and read the chicken bones. Situation cloudy. Estimation of mortality vs money pot seems like it oughta be a Bergman movie. More mortality to come
Whilst at work on Tuesday I received a couple o' passes to Jurassic Park 3D at the Southdale AMC, 7:00 pm that day. I left work around 5:45 and went to get in line. It wasn't too long, and the theater never filled. Shoulda offered the pass at work. Coulda fit the whole IT department in the theater. Wished I'd worn my Jurassic Park bomber jacket...
Wednesday
Roger Ebert tweets that he's taking a leave of presence. And, he wuz right.
Thursday
Iain Banks roiled Twitter with his impending prediction of death. Sadly, Ebert would prove a much better prophet.
On the way to work on Thursday, I stopped at the Homestead Picking Parlor in Richfield to pick up a ticket to Gordon Bok on Friday. I got there right after ten, when they opened and the door was locked. Old hippie slackers, wuz my charitable thought, but the door unlocked shortly after. (She claimed to have been on the phone...) Got the ticket (cash or check only).
I did not make it to the second freeby, The Place Beyond the Pines, on Thursday night. I'm uncertain of the confluence of free movie passes. I sometimes get them through the Landmark emails, but rarely two from the same ad agency in one week.
Friday
Left work a bit early to get home, eat, and get to the Gordon Bok concert. Had a letter from Scotland. David, I thought. Wrong I wuz. David's executor.
At the Gordon Bok concert, I bought CDs like I was fresh off one of the boats Gordon talked about. Concert was good, although he lost his place in one of my favorites, Laird o' Drum. Ain't, I guess, none of us getting no younger.
Saturday
I got up late, to a house smelling of spinning duck. Brekkies was roast duck, asparagus, corn, and baby racially diverse tatters.
Went out for a hair cut at 10:30. My haircutter's place haz been haircutted, cut in half, and the other half is being turned into apartments. After the haircut, I headed for Lunds, a bank, and OfficeMax. (I was almost outta paper.) A sane person would ran it, haircut, OfficeMax, Lunds, Bank, Home, but no, not me. Haircut, Lunds, Bank, OfficeMax, Home. Crossing my path all over the whole damned town. While at OfficeMax, I only bought paper, three reams, confident that I had CD labels in my stack o' papers. Of course, I wuz wrong.
At home, I popped pills. The haircut included a smattering of remodeling dust and incense, not anything I need ever in the spring. I dozed for a bit, after setting my phone alarm, and went out at three for coffee with Michael, at the Hennepin Caribou, then back to OfficeMax for the missing CD labels.
There followed a brief, cursed, and cursing interlude of rendering, compiling, creating labels, printing, and labeling of CDs that involved the bestest cockup of Nero I've had when it tied itself in knots while burning DVDs whilst I was working on a label. Had I not been rendering a DVD, I would have rebooted.Of course, the cockup took the DVD recorders off line, so the render would not complete, which I finally got around by punching the emergency eject on the wildly spinning DVD with my smallest jeweler's screwdriver... The Nero cover designer splash screen that refused to go away in the middle of the main monitor was the frosting on the cake...
Someone crawled into bed around six, while I was busy having a go with my computer, so around seven when we were supposed to be at
mizzlaurajean for drinks and pizza in the exotic North Loop, I was still burning, printing, and labeling. About 7:10 I pronounced it done, and woke Somebody, who pulled on some clothes with only minor complaints, and we drove the two blocks before the drive to the exotic North Loop. After parking, we walked to the Parlour, and had some quite fine drinks. (Bullet and a Target, Spanglish, Pickle in the Middle, and a glass o' cava for Someone.) I was a food Nazi, and nixed the cheese plate and the foie gras plate, because when we'd been there with B&K, there was a great lack of things resembling bread or crackers and a great difficulty of the staff procuring such, and what they did procure, seemed treated as if it wuz made o' gold. So we ordered two plates o' fries and one o' olives and nuts. (No bread nor fancy hand made crackers.) It was there that the Glam Doll Donut dessert run was hatched...
We walked a couple o' blocks north to Black Sheep Pizza in the London-like weather to stand for twenty minutes before we sat. Pizza was pizza. Good, but not stunning, I thought. We ordered three.
Then back across town via Someone's Sekrit Route past the Farmer's Market and over to the Black Forest neighborhood to Glam Doll Donuts, where we noticed a lack of donuts, a lack that grew as we ate the ones we got. It was doing a land office business.
It was a great night. I'll post the one or two pictures we took, but there wuz a sekrit visitor and a surprise planed for Sunday Morning.
Sunday
Somebody is off chasing a new piece o' carbon. I'm contemplating excavating the layers of detritus stacked on my desk and finishing some bookwork I shoulda done months ago. Listening to the CDs I bought at the Gordon Bok concert. Done with the duck pho brekkie, and contemplating a second cuppa espresso.
Damn, I missed Krugman and that senile Stockman on Talking Heads. Gold! Moar Gold!