8 minute read
Home state advantage
BY VIRGINIA BUCKINGHAM
May we dwell for a minute on Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to talk politics in this column. I’m not promising not to ever, just not today It’s not DeSantis’ politics or policies per se that have my attention, but his promise to make every state just like his.
If you missed DeSantis’s book tour kickoff — in that literary capital also known as Des Moines, Iowa — the backdrop was a big sign that said, “The Florida Blueprint.” OK, it actually said “The Freedom Blueprint,” but his point in his speeches there and in the title of his new book, “The Courage to be Free — Florida’s Blueprint for America’s Revival,” was basically, “Elect me, and I will make the rest of America just like Florida.”
Given I was writing this column poolside in 85degree weather, I had a pretty open mind when it came to making the rest of the country like the Sunshine State. After all, how many times in that gray month of March did you ask yourself, “Why do I live here?”
Without comment on issues like a school getting in trouble because students were exposed to Michelangelo’s “The David” — see what I did there — I decided to compare Massachusetts and Florida on issues less thorny, and more personal: one’s own comfort and enjoyment. My list of comparators is not comprehensive — feel free to play at home and add your own.
Sitting poolside
Florida’s pool season is much longer than our measly 12 or so weeks. “Let’s open the pool, honey; it’s Memorial Day” reaching in warp speed “It’s time to close the pool, honey; it’s Labor Day.”
However, from my lounge chair in the sunny south, time moved slower, but not everything did. A snake moved from the edge of the pool to the bushes just beyond it pl at a speed that belied the meaning of the word “slithered.” It curled its body back on itself just out of reach if someone came near to catch it, plotting its next move like Voldemort versus Harry Potter. Was it 4 feet long? Six feet? Ten? Not sure, I was busy throwing my book in my bag and skedaddling at warp speed to the safety of the condo. A neighbor that evening even said she kept her toilet seat down lest she meet HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED at 3 a.m.
Length of season versus slithering snakes, not only by the pool, but in the toilet?
Advantage: Massachusetts.
Traffic
At home when we’re stuck at a particularly long light, we quip “It’s Donald Ross” — a test of patience at an intersection with Route 1 in DeSantis Land. Traffic in this part of Florida has definitely gotten heavier, at least according to our Uber driver who has had to build in more time to get his customers to the airport.
Then there are the bridges over the intercoastal waterway. You’ve done something deserving of bad karma if you get stuck when one of those is going up. They are meticulously timed so you can plan around them. And soon there will be train service all the way from Orlando to Miami. Also, that bridge to Sanibel Island destroyed in the recent hurricane? Replaced in a month. Hear that, Cape Cod travelers dreading the Bourne and Sagamore yearslong replacement?
Other than the Donald Ross delay, on all other counts, transportation there is more reliable than the MBTA.
Advantage: Florida
Bad hair days
If you, like me, welcome everything about the warmer months but the humidity, the clear winner is the state where nine months out of the year you don’t have to wear a) a hat, b) your sunglasses as a hair ornament, or c) give up and accept your hairstyle is going to resemble Gilda Radner’s back in her SNL
What the hell’s a ...
You know the expression, “Thinking outside the box.” The “box” referred to is straighton yawnyawn linearassed conventional logic.
Mathematically expressed, the box is — watch this — 1 + 1 = 2!
Oh, wow. Whoopee do ... thud. The ingenious Brit Henry Ernest Dudeney came to the rescue with his concept of thinking outside the “box” of conventional logic in the early 1900s, opening veritable galaxies of possibility for us creative cuckoos.
Quite simply, go beyond the usual: Free your mind to think theoretically, express things creatively. As an example, that same 1 + 1 could also = ... 7! Like so: 1 (Tom Brady) + 1 (football) = 7 (Super Bowls).
A verbal example of thinking outside the box: In the late 1970s, the I (heart emoji) NY started a stampede of “I Love Thises” and “I Love Thats.” Driving up to Montpelier to meet with Vermont Director of Tourism client Don Lyons in 1980, the fact that there’s a “ve” in “love” and a “ve” in “Vermont” combined in beatific vision as “I LOVERMONT” in my mind. Sold in a heartbeat to the Vermont Chamber of Commerce that day, it appears on Tshirts, bumper stickers, coffee mugs and whathaveyou tchotchkes to this day.
A graphic example of thinking outside the box is the idea I came up with when I was concept heydays.
Advantage: Massachusetts
Sea bird watching
As readers of this column know, I have a new appreciation for seagulls. However, have you ever watched a flock of pelicans, flying in formation, their heads, gullets and bills seemingly too big for their bodies but somehow perfectly balanced just the same? They skim the surface of the water or they dive bomb for fish from as high as 60 to 70 feet. Pelicans are cooler than seagulls.
Advantage: Florida
Farmers’ markets
Again, that determined foe, winter, keeps our pilgrimages to the fonts of fresh fruit and vegetables confined to the warm weather. I recently visited what they call a “green market” in Florida, which operates yearround. There were over 120 vendors. One offered spectacular orchids. There were tacos. And artisan cheeses. Fish mongers and sustainable meats. And this — a cart selling fresh Maine lobster rolls, from, you know, Maine, some 1,600 miles away. It would be like the Marblehead Farmers Market selling Florida conch fritters.
Advantage: Massachusetts
Beach scene director at Harold Cabot ad agency, guestteaching the Boston Ad Club’s creative course for young people trying to put together a sample portfolio to get a startup job in advertising.
Ubiquitous topless bathers who make it perilous to bring your children for a day of innocent sandy fun? Rambunctious South Beach? Nope. While some hotels allow it poolside, there’s a specially designated beach for nude sunbathing in Miami. It’s Nantucket that recently voted to allow topless bathing everywhere, even at Children’s Beach.
Advantage: Florida. Or Advantage: Massachusetts. Pick your porn, I mean, poison, so long as it wasn’t sculpted by Michelangelo!
Virginia Buckingham is a member of the Current’s board of directors. Her column appears weekly — at least when she isn’t on a Florida holiday.
The class’ previous week’s assignment had been to come up with billboards or posters for the Red Cross blood drive, which I was to critique before launching into my subject matter.
It being the Vietnam war era, many of the ideas were rough layouts of guys on a battlefield with IVs in their arms and headlines along the lines of: “He needs it more than you! Please give.”
All of a sudden, it just popped into my head. “Y’know, the ideal poster is graphic ... no words at all,
BY LINDA BASSETT
Recently, I found a recipe for a toasted cheese sandwich spread over two pages of a highly regarded food publication. Really?
Satire? Poking fun at new cooks?
Culinary snobbery?
Every American has grown up watching their mom make a toasted cheese sandwich.
For my part, I’d rather know the secrets of The Landing’s featherlight tempura fried green beans. Or how The Beacon gets lemon chicken to taste so knockout lemony. I’d like to peek into The Three Cod’s and The Barnicle’s kitchens to see how they keep baked fish flaky. Or how Maria’s muffins consistently crown so high? Or what flavors go on the steak frites at Five Corners Kitchen?
Not that I’m going to run home to cook any of them. I reserve my right to make reservations and enjoy favorites on their home turf.
Marbleheaders like to dine out, but there’s something to be said for peeking behind the curtain. We like our favorite fare, eating or watching, but with a conscience. We are not a town that tortures chefs into dreaming up wild techniques for stewing moose brains or tweezing flower petals onto dabs of olive oil. We don’t approve of the inhumane practices of employing stagiares (unpaid interns) or dishwashers working for untenably low wages.
For centuries, not much was expected of underpaid kitchen help. When George Washington — yes, the president! — advertised for a cook back in the day, his only requirement was sobriety.
Times change. Many chefs are under tremendous pressure to do it all — fast. So fast they skip the basics. I once worked with a chef who climbed the ladder so quickly that he’d never scrambled an egg. When the breakfast cook called out sick, chaos prevailed! At least it wasn’t like the kitchen in “The Menu.” This film (too selfimportant to be called a movie) has been sold as a satire. A group of food hipsters — wealthy patrons, celebrities, finance bros, critics — pay a ridiculous ticket price to be whisked to a private island for the ultimate dining experience. The event turns, instead, into a horror flick. Slashers, crashers, blood and guts. No one has any fun. Or (spoiler alert) gets out alive. Contrast that with the cult film “Big Night,” lovingly streamed and copied by food professionals. Two brothers, one played by Stanley Tucci, attempt to bring authentic Italian food to a neighborhood that craves glitz. The movie’s main meal is delicious to watch.
More recently, “Burnt,” with Bradley Cooper, turns the spotlight on a tortured chef who rose too high, too fast, crashing and burning as he reached for that third Michelin star. This is a love story of finding a better way with the help from some friends.
In both films, the sun rises, literally, on preparing a simple dish of eggs. Two brothers in one and two rival chefs in the second, vast empty kitchens in both. Barely dialogued, lifeaffirming scenes.
Just a note here: Julia Child introduced herself by cooking an omelet on public television.
A BASIC ROLLED OMELET SERVES 1
Omelets are made individually, two to three eggs each. They take a little practice. The first one invariably tears. Don’t throw it out. Just roll it over until the torn side faces downward.
Use a nonstick pan and a heatresistant spatula.
` 3 large eggs
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1 teaspoon water
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Salt, pepper, to taste
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1 tablespoon unsalted butter
2 tablespoons shredded swiss
` or cheddar cheese, or chopped fresh herbs, e.g. chives, flat chopped flat-leaf parsley » Crack eggs into a bowl with tablespoon of water, herbs, salt and pepper. Whisk together until well blended, even slightly bubbly. Heat the pan over mediumhigh heat. Add butter; lower the heat to medium. When the butter foams, tip the pan and swirl to coat the bottom. (Don’t let the butter brown.) When the foam subsides, pour eggs into the pan. Swirl while stirring the center gently. When the eggs look softly scrambled in the center, run the spatula around the edges, lifting them to let the runny center portion slide underneath. Shake the pan gently to keep eggs from sticking. » Sprinkle the cheese or herbs (or both) across one half. » Use the spatula to push the eggs over until a third is covered with the other third. Tip the pan, pushing the eggs toward the edge. Push again to roll over the rest of the way, sliding the eggs onto a plate by tipping the pan. The seam will be on the bottom.
