Unravelling Rapture & Blue Demons in Pursuit of Something

“One is not born into the world to do everything but to do something.”
― Henry David Thoreau

 

February 13^th, 2012

At last, I feel words form to my thought . . something dignified.  I believe in God, despite my renouncement of his lacking of late, my everyday curse as one of the living.  This is the second morning that I have risen before that of the Sun.  The sky is so beautiful transcending every shade of blue, maybe the blue of yesterdays poem alludes to the same.  Where the Earth meets “the floorboards” of heaven it is topaz adorned with silhouettes of swaying date palm fronds, then tiffany to majorelle, duke to navy and almost gray but really prussian melded with anubis and dotted by the stars of the Almighty . . . I search, a turn of the head, to capture and gaze at the iridescent moon as it encapsulates my new mood that stirs within.  Yes, I believe in God still . . . Buddhist by nature, by choice . . belief by blood or so it seems.

 This awakening of realization stems from an intercourse in recent fiction – I speak not of the bible or distant church bells that resound here on Marco Island but a book that I’m reading of witches, demons & man in his many incripulous faults and deeply wedded loves.  My reading is titled, Lasher by Anne Rice and whilst it is the primary subject of my thought, knowing each character and hanging on the suspenseful climax, one that I speculate and anticipate with the turn of each page; there is an abundance of Christian symbolism at this time.  I passed over the Grammy’s last night and in it’s place, settled on watching Angels & Demons.  You know the movie with Tom Hanks and the plight of the Vatican’s own meddling of affairs nearly causing the destruction of Rome.  It was this movie and the immediately following cinematic Sci-Fi Channel special that captivated this audience of one (plus dog, but he didn’t offer any input on the channel selection).  The secondary movie, I can’t seem to recall the name, heralded the return of Arnold Schwarzenegger (no longer a California governor and his fortunes divided by divorce – he has returned to Hollywood in true form of action/thriller) in yet another movie with Roman priesthood battling Satan’s return in attempt to breed his spawn with some once in a thousand year born child named Christine.  Of course, it was Arnold who portrayed some Rambo meets Saint Michael character but that is far from the topic of importance here.

All of this religious mumbo jumbo has stirred something more spiritual than a splash of vermouth over iced down Tanquerey gin (I openly admit to having three last night and oh, were the artisan blue cheese stuffed olives delish!).  Whitney Houston’s death, the daughter of one Emily “Cissy” Houston, renowned as one of America’s great gospel singers; the abandonment of Prop 8 and the ongoing battle of belittling the authenticity and legality of legal gay marriage; the conflicted republican GOP racey religious overtones sporting a “Royal Rumble” between Mit “the Mormon” Tyrant,  Newt “the Grinch” Gingrich & Ricky “the Papal Slave” Santorum (again, I leave Ron Paul alone); and my own acceptance of faith and fate spooned over an attitude that hasn’t quite settled on the next move . . . fearing the right as much the wrong.  Am I a Fallen Angel?  

In many ways, I identify with the actors and characters of my recent entertainment escapade – that is to say, “the good guys” with their many flaws flanking their intentions as members of the righteous wing.  And I’m not ashamed to say that I too can find my own corrupted soul entwined with the likes of less angelic heirs . . . perhaps it is the blend of the two that allows one the fortitude to strike out against the hand of evil; the saintly all too reserved, too faithful, too passive as the innocence of a nested dove amidst a torrential storm.  No, no . . I am not passive that is for certain, but I have definitely taken my time these passing months, I’ve taken no real assertive steps in any direction for the very fear of making the wrong choice. 

Is any choice the wrong one?  Or is it simply another path of lessons that unfold in perfect triangular fashion as a Star Spangled Banner Flag is passed to the widow of a soldier no more?  Death comes to us all, it is merely the mode and hour that has to be determined – I have no fear of that darkening moment.   I fear having failed to live life to my fullest potential; I fear my own neglect, whether coherent of unconscious, of my pre-ordained destiny to “change the world” . . that is to be an open-ended concept that continually evolves or shall I say revolves; I fear what most do not . . . I know myself, I know the coming of change has accountability and responsibility that few have but elected to embrace . . . I know, I know . . . I know nothing right at this moment, but that God would have me be something more than that of late.

I am a warrior, often meek in merit, but none the less . . I am fighting everyday with the devil within and by circumstance, or fate . . the demon of Eden.  A chef by trait, by passion, by celestial gift – I am hardly content to settle for such selfish preoccupations of simply garnering a wage.  Money is not the root of all evil, it is what we do with it that harbors such ill elections.  My choices however are limited by the unfortunate absence of funds and therefore the struggle couples and leads me further astray, perhaps to turn my sight in oblivious pursuit to be loved by another . . that escape is ever so appealing.  But at last, I recognize the angel sent to me this past November – a mere memory of what can be, could be, will be . . .  and yet that I need find myself before the latter love can ever fully be honored.  Again, I wonder how much of this makes sense?  I know that I believe in God again and tomorrow my Valentine might just be that of the cross embroidered into my plight of possibilities rendering on the stove. 

With Culinary Blessings & Love,

                  Chef Scotty  

A Valentines Menu

Seared Sea Scallop with Saffron Beurre Blanc & Sun-dried Tomato n’Artichoke Risotto Cake

Wild Rocket Salad with Parsnip & Ciopolleni Confit, Corn Shoot, Baconized-Black Raspberry Vinaigrette, Shaved Ossau Iraty & Pink Peppercorn-Pistachio Praline

Sorbet of Scarlet Champagne

Caramelized Shallot encrusted Lambchop wth Sangiovese-Cocoa Demi-God Sauce, Fingerling Potato-Fennel Gratin, Nasturtium Confetti

Coconut-Cardamom Panna Cotta bathing in Rosewater Seduction Sauce

Poem: Compelled to Know & Whitney's Light still Burning Bright

“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.”
― Henry David Thoreau

February 12^th, 2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FzrfSsDqQE

"Compelled to Know

I know not what to make of my past, the lover that hides behind ivory mask,

Today is a Mentos moment, fresh flavors to savor and smile upon favor,

A perspective no longer broken, the yolk somewhere between over easy and hard-boiled.

I pledge to lead in the wake of your shadow, to follow the tide in ebb and flow.

Why don’t you understand my vulnerability, I’ve shed all and stand naked in honesty,

How can you ignore my affectionate kiss in turning your cheek so?

Maybe it’s me or maybe it’s you, it doesn’t really matter the mood has shifted to blue.

So at last I fall to bended knee and I’ve already forgotten the aforementioned plea.

Let us not pass farewell avenue for fear of such things as a finger torn from its nail,

Clouds for floorboards, stilted beams and shingled rooftops to shelter our dreams,

Lost amongst so many details, the past fading to present as questions are revealed,

I ask you why, when and where did I ever deserve to pay forward in prayer?

You have come into my life and whisked me off my feet,

removed any preconceptions of what this should feel like.

Please set it right, find the missing pieces to my puzzled heart.

I have so much pure love to give, the bullseye beckoning the dart.

There is not a moment within the minute that you’re not taunting my mind,

I think more of your happiness than to follow the obvious signs.

I cherish your laugh, endeavor more touch and yearn for the evening when we can curl up.

Shall I stay or should I go, the bed sheets crumpled from foreplay, I am compelled to know?

A poem by a hopeless romantic,

                   Chef Scotty

Political Rigamortis & Super Simple Stuffed Shrooms

“Instead of noblemen, let us have noble villages of men.”
― Henry David Thoreau

February 9^th, 2012

Song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mKamV46ovA

It’s overcast here in Marco Island perhaps an ominous prediction of hurricane winds to come, it snowed in Rome, another earthquake ruptured in the Philippines . . . Mother Nature is still in control despite our politicians, scientists, philanthropists, archaeologists, economists . . . despite all of us and our preoccupied lives of believing that we in fact built a sound ship, man the helm & perfectly capable of navigating through any storm.  It’s the water that’s keeping us afloat and can just as quickly turn us over to fend for ourselves without any marvel of metal, or inflatable “life preserving” mechanism to save our ass.  The Ocean listens to her own voice; it is we that should heed her warnings.

This conversation comes to mind with all of the politics swirling around the upcoming GOP election, amongst the facebook revolving posts regarding the issue of gay marriage and even my own frustrations in debate with my mother . .(shaking my head) . . . my own mother who voted in that despicable piece of shit Governor Walker and to whom looks to Romney in her wishes to replace Obama.  This stirred more than spit & vinegar in me  . . . how can anyone not see that this President is the first of his kind in a long, long time.  Returning to an age when patriotism meant more than speaking “in God we Trust” but unity amongst a people.  This man has purpose & willingness to sacrifice his own personal interests.  His only care to get re-elected is relevant to his need for more time to carry out a mission of change; one that has been hampered by inheriting a flailing economy & an opposing political party with f’ked up priorities.  I sincerely believe this man cares not about power or privilege – he is an honest man to himself, his family & his colleagues . . . that means more to me than any discussion on income taxes, gay marriage or demoralizing filibusters compliments of the Republican party.  Why do we need parties at all anyways???  There is so much cross over it seems silly, pointlessly and contradictory to having any benefit to the people or substantial progression.  

We baby our system, our people & our politicians, our corporations & lobbyists . . . an assassination (or two) would shake up the greedy pockets and lost intentions.  The corrupt need be held accountable for their actions, but slipping a noose around some congressman’s neck isn’t very Buddhist like of me.   I should chant with compassion for these beguiled government officials to succumb to righteousness; remembering their causes and be reborn to the roots of change.   Until something better presents itself, I am proud to call Barack Obama our president and humbly admit that my Mother is but one of many souls consorting with the crimelords:  Gingrich, Romney & Santorum (Ron Paul . . I’ll let be for the moment).

Enough with the political punch.  It’s sip is all too delusional and the hangover hardly worth the wasted words.  Food on the other hand is very much a topic of interest and reward.  It’s primal simplicity can be the epicenter of comfort . . take my friend Joe at Cedar-Sinai for example.  He bumped up his meal plan to the galloping gourmet for a mere $250.00 per day and . . . well, it seems to be well worth the extra expense.  The alternative routine was something similar to the cafeteria muck served in elementary school – and just about as many little milk cartons to boot!  That next meal is perhaps the most rewarding bite of his bed-bound day . . I can't say I'm too far off from that myself.

Mom and I visited the Marcos Island farmers market today and picked up some gorgeous fresh shrimp, Joes stone crab claws, fennel bulb, decadently sweet carambola (ie: starfruit), eggplant, onions, ginger & a variety of peppers.  Don’t quite know what I’m going to make yet, but I think it’s time for a martini, 4 ibuprofuren and apply myself here as chef.  Till tomorrow, I give you another Valentines Day menu option that can be tweaked to your own liking.  The cream cheese guarantees you won't have excess moisture spilling out of the shrooms so be sure to fold in some favorite item(s).

With Culinary Blessings,

                   Chef Scotty

Baby Bellas Recipe

These little lovers are delicious and full proof,  but feel free to adlib with pinenuts, tarragon, olives, fresno chile or mix in some baba ghanoush?  How about some spicy Italian sausage, some fresh fennel, fresh crabmeat . . pour your love into it!

Ingredients

• 12 whole fresh mushrooms
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 tablespoon minced garlic (roasted garlic preferred)
• 1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese, Pedano Grano or Gruyere
• ¼ cup drained artichoke hearts, minced
• ¼ cup sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
• 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon onion powder
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
• Add fresh basil, oregano, marjoram and/or thyme

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Spray a baking sheet with cooking spray. Clean mushrooms with a damp paper towel. Carefully break off stems. Chop stems extremely fine, discarding tough end of stems.
2. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and chopped mushroom stems to the skillet. Fry until any moisture has disappeared, taking care not to burn garlic. Set aside to cool.
3. When garlic and mushroom mixture is no longer hot, stir in cream cheese, artichoke hearts, sun-dried tomatoes, parmesan cheese, black pepper, onion powder and cayenne pepper. Mixture should be very thick. Using a little spoon, fill each mushroom cap with a generous amount of stuffing. Arrange the mushroom caps on prepared cookie sheet.
4. Bake for 20 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the mushrooms are piping hot and liquid starts to form under caps.

It's on the Books! Penny for your Worries, Worshorseshire Sauce

“I do believe in simplicity. It is astonishing as well as sad, how many trivial affairs even the wisest thinks he must attend to in a day; how singular an affair he thinks he must omit. When the mathematician would solve a difficult problem, he first frees the equation of all incumbrances, and reduces it to its simplest terms. So simplify the problem of life, distinguish the necessary and the real. Probe the earth to see where your main roots run. ”
― Henry David Thoreau

January 15^th,  2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dlr90NLDp-0

It’s still Friday the 13^th but a lot of some nothing has happened – but it’s good stuff.  The judge has set a trial date, which means . . . . there is an end to the madness.  My mind is now reprieved of the constant weight of this overshadowing debacle – or so I shall like to think as the Gregorian Chant settles those background noises with stern secular clarity; the orators channeling angelic influence . . . or simply a monk & num medley of a chorus reciting Latin?   

Freedom comes in many forms but it is more a state of mind in our American society than any environmental precedence (ie: tyranny in 3^rd world countries).  I guess I could highlight the numerous “viral marketing” articles regarding the freedom of homosexuality with the GOP going on but really, I don’t see it as that big of an issue.  Maybe that makes me a moron amongst my people but I see our global warming and destruction of the planet as the number one cause to action.  After all, depleting our resources & raping Mother Nature is ultimately nothing more than tearing down the foundation of earth, walls of trees, the foliage of furniture coverings . . . and with no home – it really doesn’t matter what creed, color, sexual orientation you’re sporting – we’ll all be dead!  So long as we’re on this topic, I’ve always believed that this “gay gene” (whether habitat or humanity) is nothing more than a reversed state of natural selection.  In case you don’t remember that term from Biology 101:

NATURAL SELECTION:  the process by which forms of life having traits that better enable them to adapt to specific environmental pressures, as predators, changes in climate, or competition for food or mates, will tend to survive and reproduce in greater numbers than others of their kind, thus ensuring the perpetuation of those favorable traits in succeeding generations.

Compare survival of the fittest.

Basically the theory in my mind:  if we don’t breed our numbers of infestation will go down thus forth potentially lessening our individual consumption of the planets resources.  If that fails, Mama Tierra will likely unleash a virus that doesn’t come by choice (ie: AIDS), more like the bubonic plague!  All of this, on the edge of the Mayan 2012 prediction and I have to wait to get my dividends out of my businesses.  -Sigh-  I have to trust in the universes schedule and align myself with a sense of purpose.  Let go of this provocative journey Scotty!  Ditch the 1,283 suitcases of weighted baggage, bolt from the airport, and find yourself a lookout above common ground to etch out some semblance of a plan.  Disoriented Putz would be a fair assessment of me in my most recent isocracie – I have seemingly misplaced the “S T”  in “S T A B I L I T Y”

Adding on to the previous entries a wee bit late -  it’s now Sunday & I do believe that I just certified my prior assumptions in naming myself as an idiot.  Excuses are really not in repertoire of rationalizing ideas, henceforth I will simply do as I always do . . . forgive myself, let an occasional laugh waft through my surrounding silence in honor of my foolishness and rest up – this is a process well beyond allocating “sleepy-time” and essentially involves multiple applications of recalibrating my mind, balancing out my body & stabilizing the many voices within that compose the essence of my soul.

At least my primary goal is beyond apparent – money, dividends, greenbacks, collateral, funds, capital, coin, mullah . . . my brokenness has reached that most humbling point when one must assess their coinage & either convert to bills (albeit one of those fancy machines at the grocery store) or shucking off those last layers of pride and with an assortment of copper pennies, nickels, dimes and even a few of those now cherished quarters and marching (on foot no less) to the convenience store in pursuit of the life’s only true necessity – cigarettes.  Regrettably, this is not the first time in my adult life that I have sunken to such a state of pathetic worth.  I count at least 5 times in the last ten years that I’ve had to succumb to currency as the primary means of payment; this most embarrassing disposition is at it’s pinnacle of shame when one has no alternative but to pull-over to a gas station (riding on fumes), and finagle $1.33 out of the interior car crevices . . and then throw down that change in front of a line of customers (hope that you at least drive a shitty vehicle & are still sporting your pj’s).  Obviously, the lesson here is more simple than not . . . I’ve been here before, humbled to the righteous core and yet I survived, thus forth one would presume that this too – I shall survive.

With Culinary Blessings,

               Chef Scotty

Chef Scotty’s “Worshorseshire” Sauce:

An experiment in it’s own right – Worcestershire sauce is a staple in our Western World (not an easy to task to accomplish with such a difficult name).  My version is bumped up a wee bit but still relevant to the original recipe.

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 6 cups coarsely chopped onions
• 4 serranos, with stems and seeds, chopped
• 2 tablespoons minced garlic
• 2 tablespoons freshly ground pepper
• 4 (2-ounce) cans anchovy fillets (or an 8-ounce can), drained of oil
• 1/2 teaspoon allspice berry
• 2 tablespoons salt
• 2 whole, medium lemons, skin and pith removed
• 4 cups dark corn syrup
• 2 cups 100 percent Pure Cane Syrup
• 2 quarts distilled organic apple cider vinegar
• 4 cups water
• 3/4 pound fresh horseradish, peeled and grated
• 3 pint-sized canning jars

Combine the oil, onions and jalapenos in a large stockpot over high heat. Cook, stirring, until slightly soft, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the garlic, pepper, anchovy fillets, cloves, salt, lemons, corn syrup, cane syrup, vinegar, water and horseradish and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the mixture barely coats a wooden spoon, about 6 hours. Strain into a clean container.

Worcestershire Sauce may be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 1 month, or processed as directed below and kept for up to 1 year.

Sterilize 3 pint-sized jars and their metal lids according to the manufacturer's instructions. Spoon the hot mixture into the jars, filling to within 1/2-inch of the rim. With a clean, damp towel, wipe the rims and fit with a hot lid. Tightly screw on the metal ring. Place, without touching, on a rack in a large, deep canning kettle or stockpot of rapidly boiling water; water should cover the jars by 1-inch. Boil and process for 15 minutes. Using tongs, remove the jars, place on a towel and let cool completely before storing. Test the seals and tighten the rings as needed. Store in a cool, dark place for at least 2 weeks before using. After opening, store jars in the refrigerator.