This martini was crafted one evening at the original Atomic Cowboy, an art lounge in Maplewood, Missouri. You may change the name as appropriate. It’s a bittersweet flavor, reminiscent of grapefruit.
4 parts Absolut Citron
2 parts Orangina soda
1 part Campari
Shake until ice crystals form. Pour into a chilled glass. Garnish with lime or other fruit.
Haleakala Crater – at the top of Maui – is a lovely place to watch the sun rise, as evidenced by this little video I put together. If you decide to go, make sure and take your long underwear, because at ten thousand feet is can easily be in the mid-30′s. Once the sun is up, you might want to go tramping around the park, which is absolutely stunning.
Humor in my ‘hood…
In the Fall of 2007, one of my favorite foodie mags – Saveur – devoted an entire issue to eating in Chicago. And there on the cover was the most beautiful slice of pizza that I had ever seen, at some place called Burt’s in Morton Grove. At the time I lived in St. Louis, but I kept the issue and vowed that, as soon as I could visit Chicago, I would try that pizza. Despite a couple of delays, yesterday it finally happened. And man was it worth the wait.
Burt’s is a really happy hole-in-the-wall. The current incarnation is about 25 years old, but I’m sure that most of the furnishings came from one of his earlier restaurants.
An avid jazz fan, Burt also likes to collect antique phones, radios and other antiques, which line the place and contribute to the dusty feeling. The walls are littered with reviews and stories about Burt’s odyssey, his unique personality, and mostly his success at delivering the goods. After 40+ years in the business, he still works the kitchen alone, and his wife Sharon takes care of the front.
Which brings me to my arrival. I dropped in on a Friday at 11:30 for an early lunch. The place was empty. In fact, Burt was chatting with a vendor when I walked through the door, and I was psyched that I had beaten the crowd. Sharon came out to greet me, and that’s when I started to get my education.
She asked me if I had called ahead. That kind of caught me off guard. I said no, and she told me that it probably wouldn’t matter; go ahead and have a seat. What I learned is that, Burt’s Place is so popular he doesn’t book tables, he schedules his ovens. You have to call, tell him when you want to eat, and he’ll have the pizza ready. When the ovens fill up, you’re screwed, even if the restaurant is empty. It kind of amazed me. Now that I know better, I have a menu at the house, and will use it to order before making the 30 minute drive north of Chicago (don’t even ask if it’s worth it.)
My antipasto salad was iceberg lettuce with olives, peppers, pepperoni, and had a tasty vinaigrette. Nothing to write home about but a nice way to start. I ordered a 10″ sausage, sliced tomato and fresh spinach pizza. All of the toppings are fresh, and I can assure you that on my next visit I will order something completely different, because I want to try everything. The banana peppers are an intriguing idea, and I’m really sorry that I skipped the fresh garlic, which was always a favorite of mine in New Jersey (especially with the sliced tomato.) Things like sliced bell pepper and fresh jalapeno make this more like a candy store than a pizza joint.
Sharon told me that they call it “pan pizza,” but when we talked regional style she kind of laughed and said, “it’s just our style.” Not Chicago, Sicilian, or stuffed. Burt just does it his way. And it’s the best way. I took a slice home to try Saturday morning. HEAVEN! Laura avoided the sausage and took a bite. I watched her face transform as the flavors, textures and bit of oven char (a trademark of his) hit. No problem getting her to join me next time.
So: 1) eat at Burt’s as soon as possible; 2) call ahead to make sure you don’t have to wait; 3) enjoy your micro-brew beers, because there is no hard liquor (bad for me, but it was lunch); 4) be nice to Sharon because she is nice to you.
I can’t wait to go back. If any of my friends want to visit Chicago, I promise we will schedule pizza for dinner one evening.
According to yesterday’s Chicago Tribune, Redeye edition, the South Carolina Senate is considering the repeal of a law that requires any group intent on overthrowing the government to apply for a permit and pay a $5 fee. No shit. The “Subversive Activities Registration Act” dates back to the 50′s and our paranoia of communists, and levies a $25,000 fine and 10 years in prison for its violation.
Do you know what this means? All we have to do is make this federal, and we’ve solved our terrorism problem. Al Qaeda – register and pay the fee. Instead of spending $3 trillion on wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, we could actually be making money on this one. It is elegant in its simplicity.
For some reason, lawmakers in South Carolina are embarrassed by this. I can’t imagine why.
I wasn’t even aware of any symptoms. But yesterday, while having a somewhat civil discussion with a tea-bagger about our totalitarian government, he presented the diagnosis. It must be true, because he claimed to have studied psychology, history and social science in some institution of learning. I went out on the Google machine and studied it.
Needless to say, I was somewhat disappointed to find that the APA has not seen fit to add this disorder into the DSM-IV, which would allow me reimbursement for treatment under a number of health insurance plans. However, I was successful in finding a list of symptoms on the website Conservative Pledge, which include:
I was also told that LPD is closely related to Narcissism, although my limited intelligence has prevented me from even beginning to figure out that connection. But my fellow conversationalist had studied psychology…
Actually, it sounds like a description of Sean Hannity, but that is obviously not the point. I’m sick and it’s going to take a lot of tough love to fix it, because I realize that health care is really not my right, and I can’t afford the buck-fifty an hour every week that it’s going to cost for therapy.
Support from my friends and [some] family has been overwhelming. It’s not like announcing that you have gonorrhea. Instead of keeping their distance, several have openly declared that they have LPD, too! I never really thought of them that way, but maybe we just need to keep an open mind and accept our weaknesses. Let the healing process begin.
