Dill weed

Really, whats not to love about Dill?

Dill is an herb, but often called "dill weed."

I love dill, in pickles and lightly dusted on fish and grilled.

I don't mind weeds, don't make a big deal about removing them.

I don't watch the show Weeds, but could look into Mary Louise Parker's eyes and smile for hours.

I freely admit this post is going nowhere. Well, just far enough to justify posting these pictures of Mary Louise.

There is a cure to this lame-ass post.

Go thee forth to Jeremy's and get thee a nice dose of dill!

Jobs you love to hate

In this week's blog tour, I had my turn at the grill, and was glad to talk about my love of the ubiquitous spice, pepper. I also traipsed back down memory lane to one of my first jobs.

The lovely and uber-talented Alana also posted a blog about her first job where she was a waitress at a steak house; a job she really enjoyed.

These two things got me to thinking...

(screen gets all wavy, fade to black. Sentimental voice-over)

I worked in a restaurant in an old Idaho mall (built in the mid 60's and expanded over the years, it was just a long string of stores all in a row; kind of an odd duck of a place.) The restaurant was the only part of the mall on the second floor, and had a wrought iron rail overlooking the entry way. The food there was good (not gourmet, but certainly above average.) I have a million stories from that job, though I only worked there a year and a half or so. It was a cool place.

I sometimes get all romantic about that job, one of my first. I was a dishwasher, then a cook, and I was pretty good at both. One Sunday damn near everyone one was sick. We were busy, I did it all that day: cooked every meal, washed ever fucking dish. I was fucking tired at the end, but I felt great.

The downside of the job was that the pay was piss poor, even though this was a pretty damned good restaurant. My next job was at a gas station pumping gas, washing windows and checking the oil, where I made nearly twice as much. I had benefits at the gas station job too, though that didn't matter too much to me then, being 19 years old and indestructible.

There was pretty nice diner across the street from the gas station, and the owner often stopped by for a fill-up (self serve, of course.) One time we got to talking and he said how he short-staffed. I told him I was a former cook and dishwasher and he lit up like Christmas. "Boy, we could sure use you right now."

I told him how much I made at the gas station.

"Nevermind," he said with a resigned smile.

I was a bit wistful at that moment, despite my young age; the best moment I ever had at that gas-station was leaving for the day.

A lesson I learned early: You don't always get paid well for what you do well. You don't always get paid well for what you like, or even love.

But sometimes I wonder if I didn't cave too easily back then. I might have made a fine chef or restaurant owner.

Better still I might have believed in myself enough to pursue my writing, which is my greatest passion in a "work" sense.

One thing is for certain: While I'm one to reflect, I'm not one for regrets. Had I not chosen the circuitous route that I did, I would not have met my wife in Germany, and I would not have the terrific kids that I have now. And in truth, the job I have is not my dream, but it's a good job, and I enjoy going to work each day (at least most days.)

Late in life I learned that there is always time to pursue what you love. So, having divested my reflections, I return to my writing.

Best job in the world, regardless of pay.

Mini Monday

First, thanks to all who joined me for my leg of the Spice blog tour.

Second, I once lamented that our local Waldenbooks had discontinued selling erotic books. Well, yesterday I was pleased to discover that they have resumed selling a small number, including Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 8.

Finally, I have found a book that has one of my stories in a local brick and mortar store!

This week, I'm presenting a poem for Mini Monday.

Counter Offer

©Craig Sorensen

My fingers
     cup
          a sharp silk arrowhead

Her hips
     stay tight as a drum

Her face turned away
     sounds of sleep
          is that a coy smile I hear?

A drop of fragrant rain
     collects on my fingertip
          I ease my palm under the silk

Comb downy curls

Tiny laugh
     through her nose
          she tries to retrieve

Hesitates

Her knees part slightly

The Power of Pepper

I love Pepper...

That’s Angie Dickinson, who played Sgt. Suzanne “Pepper” Anderson in the popular 1970’s series “Police Woman.” She has nothing to do with this post aside from the gratuitous use of her beautiful smile due to the "blog appropriate" nickname.

Anyway, I also enjoy “peppers” but this different than peppercorns. What we often call peppers are chiles: Fleshy pods with flavors ranging from sweet to stunningly piquant, bitter to zesty, some as complex as a fine wine. “Peppers” were so named, because early travelers to the “new world” aligned them with the pepper they had come to know in Europe: expensive little round morsels that packed a punch, so precious they had even been used as legal tender.

What they returned to Europe with from the west was chiles.

Not pepper:

When I cook there are three seasonings I turn to most: peppercorns, salt and garlic. For a good steak cooked on a grill, I only use these elements, but I do use a blend of four varieties of peppercorn. Cook to taste. Serve with a loaded baked potato (with a generous measure of fresh ground green peppercorns,) corn on the cob slathered in butter (and ground white pepper.)

Oh, a diet Dr Pepper, and a salad…I’m watching my figure. But please grind some nice tellicherry pepper on those leafy delights.

Speaking of watching figures (warning: gratuitous image)…


Before she was Pepper.

Most everyone uses pepper to some measure in cooking and at the table. Good old sturdy black pepper like mom used to buy in a tin. Pre-ground, makes you sneeze if you get too close, delicious pepper.

One of my first jobs was as a cook at a restaurant in a mall. It was a sort of middle of the line place, steak house, sandwiches, breakfast, lunch and dinner. By and large the food we cooked was of good quality, and the prices were well above bargain level. So I felt kind of guilty the first time I prepared the “mashed” potatoes.

Why? Well, I lived in Idaho, worked in a good restaurant, and we were making potatoes from…

Little commercial dried potato flakes.

The first time I prepared them, I knew I couldn’t just let them be and make it to spec; I dusted a little white pepper in.

I actually got a compliment from a customer on the mashed potatoes the first time I made them this way.

And I learned: Behold the power of pepper.

As I mentioned, I keep four varieties of peppercorn on hand: tellicherry black, Ecuadoran black, Mysore green, and Malaysian white. In the peppermill at our table, I present a blend of all four, as each brings a unique character. Tellicherry is a nice combination of rich flavor and heat. Ecuadoran is hotter than Tellicherry, and not as complex in other flavors. White, which is just the black variety with the outer hull removed, has a rich, almost fermented flavor and a bit less heat. Green peppercorns are picked early and dehydrated. As a result, the texture is softer, the heat subversive and the flavor milder.

Sadly, pepper has lost its exotic edge. It is no longer is it conveyed on slow caravans from India, a laborious process resulting in its preciousness. Now it is on every table, relatively cheap.

But don’t go thinking pepper has lost its potency. There’s a reason it’s on so many tables.

Sometimes we are drawn to the exotic: lingerie, exhibitionism, voyeurism, and so on. Variety is the spice of life. But a woman need not be in stiletto heels, fishnets and a camisole to be sexy. Comfy clothes on a couch watching some crap movie can be incredibly sexy, if your mind is open to potential…

Comfort, ease, familiarity, but with a spark.

Reach out twist the mill -- release the scent, anticipate the flavor.

Taste.

Pepper was exotic when we first discovered it. So was the first sensation of orgasm and the rich intoxication of desire when our bodies awakened sexually. As we explored deeper it began to lose some of its wonder.

Still, that first taste of pepper, though exciting, was not necessarily the best. We noticed the heat mostly. As it became familiar, we pursued new flavors, and there is great wonder when we found a new one, or blend old ones in new ways. Perhaps the contrast of other flavors provided a spark.

Are we not explorers, finding new worlds of sensual delight?

The heat of chiles is different from the heat of peppercorns. The underlying flavors are very different.

There is delight in discovering this. In the end we seek new destinations, and pursue new flavors. Our palates refine as we embrace a new flavor.

But I, for one, love to come back to the simple beauty of pepper.

Next time you twist the mill, savor the scent a little longer. Let the flavors play on your tongue anew.

Next time you see that familiar figure on the couch, legs crossed washing down popcorn (dusted with white pepper, of course) with red Koolaid, give a little wink.

Twist the mill, and behold the power of pepper.

Next week my good friend Jeremy Edwards will be bringing another pungent taste treat to us: Mmm, dill!

Trust me, it works well with pepper.

(What I did on my) Mini (Summer Vacation) Monday

I saw my youngest son graduate high school with honors. Congrats, dude.

I had family from out of town come to said ceremony and just to visit. Thanks, fam!

Turned 49.

The “Check Engine” light in my 1991 Isuzu Trooper (named Steve McQueen by the aforementioned youngest son) went on. So I checked, and the engine was still there. Woot! I drove on and the light hasn’t come on since. Guess it just likes me to look in from time to time.

Visited the Harley Davidson plant…

Well, I could go on and on, but I guess what is more notable is what I didn’t do: write. This is notable because I started writing “with a purpose” in 2004 when I laid down two volumes of a planned trilogy. Since then I’ve written a bunch of short stories, two erotic novels, lots of poetry and so on. I took a one week break in the summer of 2004 because we were out of town, and I don’t use a laptop, but other than that, I don’t think I’ve gone more than a day or two without writing something.

So last week was kind of special. About three days in, though I was busy, I started to really miss writing. I could have slipped some writing in, but I resisted.

In a sense, it was freeing to not commit myself to writing -- to give myself some space.

It’s not that I feel some sort of obligation to the writing. Hell, any day writing is a good day “in my book.” Even though writing is something I love, to step away seems to have refreshed me.

Don’t get me wrong. Toward the end of this self-imposed creative vacation, I was starting to get a little loopy. I gave in just a little and hand-wrote resolutions to a couple segments of one of my books when the inspiration took hold. An idea for a novel started to sprout like a weed, and every fiber in my being said I should start laying down an outline. Then a short story idea germinated while I mowed the lawn, and I thought to start writing it.

But I didn’t.

I thoroughly enjoyed my Mini Vacation.

But I'm glad to be back, and that my engine, aging though it is, still appears to be okay.

No Thyme Left

Just back from my week of craziness, and what better way to return than to a lovely meal and the best of company?

I may have no thyme left but fortunately Scarlett Greyson has plenty, and she knows how to use it.

Here is someone else who has no thyme. Burton Cummings and the Guess Who.

I love this track. I love thyme.

If she can take it...

Yes, I'm still in the midst of a string of summer events. A tad of summer mayhem.

But so is the amazing DeDe Sorensen, and yet she's finding time to do articles and radio programs on the business of art.

If she can do it, I can do it. So at least I can sneak in and crow about my lovely lady's most recent efforts.

Please stop by DeDe's Blog for more details!