Barbeque in Georgia

I posted this picture a few days ago on Facebook, but my Facebook crew and blog-reading crews don't always overlap, so I thought I'd post it here for posterity.  After getting back from the South, I think I took about a 36 hour break from any sort of pork products.  My body knew/knows I needed/need a break, but my mind keeps thinking, "Bacon." 

Alas, fate took me to Quitman, Georgia - this place was recommended to us, but it was closed, so I'll have to return.  Instead, while driving back towards Valdosta, we passed this fantastic place:

So the great thing were the homemade barbeque grills on the side -- but the best was the ribs:

We, clearly know-nothing Northerner tourist-types (there were things on the menu that were incomprehensible, like chipped things and God knows what else - chipped as in Pittsburgh chipped ham? I don't know! It could've been another language), engaged in some witty banter with the locals regarding the high quality of the local ribs.  Based on that discussion, these ribs are the best in Georgia, which, until proven otherwise, I will agree with.  You can't see it in this picture, but there's a quarter of a chicken under those ribs.

The baked beans were not homemade, but the coleslaw was and it was great.  The last three weeks have seen my appreciation of coleslaw grow exponentially, and I enjoyed this iteration quite a bit. 

Ohhhh barbeque.  I think I could be happy just going from small town to small town in the South, sampling barbeque as long as my heart could handle it and my body could process the cholesterol.  It's got everything I like in my kind of food tourism:

• something that speaks to the local culture,
• something made in a semi-permanent structure,
• something involving pork products,
• something that is cooked to perfection, and that's the only thing the business sells, because they do it to perfection and so they don't need to fart around with other things.

Shuffleboard: A Dialogue

Before this week, the most shuffleboard I'd seen was the beer-stained tabletop version they have at the Gaslight in South Orange.  But we're in Florida, where there are lots of retirees, and hence, lots of shuffleboard.  Last evening on the news, there was a whole thing about some shuffleboard club that was closing and how devastating that was because people had to belong to a club to join tournaments.

Generally, I'd say that these shuffleboard clubs are like the pool teams I encountered down in the Mon Valley.  This morning, walking down Flagler Avenue in New Smyrna Beach, we passed the Coronado Shuffleboard Club, and since I had lots of questions, I asked a lady (in a sparkly visor and earmuffs) about it:

Me: So are there any fights here ever?
Lady: No, I've never seen any.
Me: Are you really serious about those poles? Do you get them online and are they collapsible?
Lady: Yes, you can get them online and some of them are collapsible, but the Ace Hardware also has them.
Me: So do you play? [because at the time, she was sitting on the sidelines]
Lady: Yes, I'm waiting for my turn.  This side is the amateurs, this side is the professionals. [gesturing] I'm in the professional category, not because I'm so good but because of how many points I've racked up.
Me: How long do you do play?
Lady: We try to get to the point today where tomorrow we can just play for first, second and third places on the second day. Sometimes it takes three days if we get a crowd, but because it's so cold (about 55 degrees) not many people showed up.
(She'd come from a town 50 miles away because they're all in the same district.)
Me: How did you learn how to play? Did someone teach you?
Lady: Just practice, really.

Fascinating.  With that, I had to move along with my party, but seriously, when else do you have the opportunity to approach and talk with a professional shuffleboard player? I'm a bit biased, but as far as sports that retired people play, I think bocce is much more interesting and stimulating and graceful -- this is like curling with a little bit of paint drying thrown in - although I guess you need to know what to watch for, as with anything else.

Wekiva River Adventure

View Wekiva Float 24 Feb 10 in a larger map

Wow. This trip was a combination of the Adirondack paddle and Kremenec -- both days notable for being excellently beautiful, grueling, and ending with obscene amounts of rain.  I posted the bird list earlier, and the birds and wildlife we saw were amazing, though the alligators were always a bit too close for comfort...

Great Blue Heron

Turtles

One alligator out of five (six) that we saw.

Ibis

So midway through the Wekiva River, it started to pour.  This is not a big deal, because really, nature looks nicer in the rain than it does when it's dry -- something about light, refractions and reflections, methinks.  And we were expecting rain and were reasonably well-prepared for rain -- but raingear is almost never adequate.  It can be, but not really.

For proof that God has a sense of humor and she's really funny, this all happened on the first day of my period.  Because this is what happens in life (this was another one of those days).  Except this time, I was sitting in a puddle (especially because I was in a sea kayak, which drains easily but is wetter on a dry day in this type of water than a regular kayak is) in the middle of a downpour with highly absorbent material between my legs.  It's good to know that things work the way they're supposed to, I guess. 

The big issue for all of us was when we took a wrong turn at the confluence of the Wekiva and Saint John rivers.  We paddled about a mile in the wrong direction before we got out around some uninhabited vacation homes and had a pit stop/fact finding mission.  Then we headed back in the other (correct) direction and our fearless leader talked to some Great Samaritans who gave us a ride/tow to the car, which was at Blue Springs.  Things would have gotten quite unsafe because we were already wet and cold, we were tired, and it was going to be getting dark quite soon.

Thanks, Rick and Fred!

Our fearless leader bringing up the rear

We finally got to Blue Springs, and half of our group went to go pick up the other car while three of us waited in Blue Springs being wet and cold.  It's a state park, and it closed at 6:15pm, so they had locked the bathrooms and I couldn't go in there to sit under the automatic hand dryer -- which is fine because doing so would have required acrobatics I was incapable of since I'd just been paddling the last 5 hours.  Blue Springs is Florida's best manatee refuge, so we went to look at them while we were waiting!  So cool -- here's some video I took:

Blue Spring is 72°F year round because it's a natural hot spring, and so the manatees go there in the winter because they can't live in water that's less than 60°F.  There are some other varieties of fish in there, including some invasive species like these tilapia:

The cool thing is that so many fish were making their nests, and so you can clearly see it in this photo.  The fish use their tails to clear off a spot in the sand and then they go into hyper-defensive mode, fertilize their eggs via some sort of mating swim, and then protect the nests.

Our day was so awesome, and such an adventure.  Having to be bailed out is a bit of a sticky wicket, because it meant that we didn't plan well enough to know exactly where we were going -- if you're reading this and want to do the Wekiva, consider taking out at the Swamp House Grill in Highbanks.  We were as prepared as we were able to be, and that would have been the only place to take out...  You can't bail out of the trip in the middle of a swamp -- or you could but have fun in the swamp!  It was a great day, the birding and the float were excellent -- and we are able to say that because our heroes of the day, Fred and Rick, were so kind and responsive to our needs and our situation. 

Awesome float though, and truly a great adventure I'm not doing justice to in this post.  One of those things you've got to see in order to believe -- the map should help.

A Mostly Complete Bird List from the Wekiva River Float

1. Cattle Egret
2. Pileated Woodpecker
3. Great Blue Heron
4. Little Blue Heron
5. Great Egret
6. Great White Heron
7. Peregrine Falcon
8. Osprey
9. Bald Eagle
10. Cardinal
11. Tricolor Heron
12. Cormorant
13. Anhinga
14. Wood Stork
15. Ibis
16. Kingfisher
17. Turkey Vulture
18. Crested Flycatcher
19. Hairy Woodpecker
20. Sandhill Crane
21. Red Shouldered Hawk

An Okra Recipe

I haven't made this (yet!), but I found it in the local paper today and it seems similar to what I had the other day.

Stewed Okra and Tomatoes
Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons canola oil
• 2 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1 small red onion, thinly sliced
• 1 teaspoon ancho chili powder
• pinch of cayenne pepper
• 1 teaspoon cumin seeds
• 1 teaspoon turmeric
• 1 pound of fresh okra, stemmed and sliced ½ inch thick (NB: choose young pods free of bruises, tender but not soft and no more than 4" long)
• 2 medium Roma tomatoes
• ½ cup water
• salt to taste

Directions

1. Heat the oil in a medium skillet; add the sliced onion and garlic and cook over medium heat until fragrant, about 3 minutes, stirring occasionally.
2. Add the chili powder, cayenne pepper, cumin sees and turmeric and cook, stirring constantly for 2 minutes.
3. Add the okra and cook for 2 minutes, tossing.  Add tomatoes and cook over high heat until they release their juices, about 1 minute.  Add the water and cover, stirring occasionally, until okra is tender, about 5 minutes.  Season to taste with salt if desired.

REAL Soul Food!!!

Ohhhh soul food.  How I love it, yearn for it, and yet how I rather insist on having it be cooked by people who really know what they're doing and have been cooking in this style their whole lives -- because I want the real thing, baby.  Yesterday, on our way down to Florida, we had planned a stop in Savannah and this became our destination.

So let's let the food porn begin, shall we?

Clockwise from top: biscuits (dessert!), corn pudding, OKRA! and tomatoes, and sweet potato salad in the blue bowl.
The okra.  Okra doesn't look appealing to me, because it's kind of tubular -- but it's so delightful.  And the corn pudding was sweet and magical.  I didn't like the sweet potato salad, because there was a lot of celery in there -- but there was also fresh dill, which I love.  But the presence of celery lost me.  No matter, it was the only thing that I had that I wasn't 100% into eating.

Baked sweet potato with brown sugar butter, collard greens! and cheese grits.  I prefer my grits with a ton of butter, but these were delightfully savory.  I didn't have any of the sweet potato, but I would walk 500 miles for a mountain of those collared greens.  Any collared greens, really.

Notable on this plate? Lima beans with dill!  I know lots of people really loathe lima beans, but as long as you don't have to eat only lima beans for your whole meal or something, I really rather enjoy them.  And loving dill is part of my genetic structure.  You can't really see them on the dish, but they were part of the taste.

I'm saving the best for last.  We also had coleslaw, but it was rather pedestrian and we had to season it ourselves -- I usually won't season things other people cook, because I trust whoever's cooking.  Anyway.  This asparagus.  OHHHHHH.  It was chilled, with a bit of a fresh tomato, onion and parsley salad with a zippy viniagarette -- there was a teeny bit of horseradish in there that made it delightful.  And I really enjoy asparagus and don't get to eat it enough.  The asparagus was also picked small enough so that it wasn't some thick stalk, it was still tender.

I often think people wait too long to pick vegetables -- zucchini is much better when it's not the size of a baseball bat, so is asparagus, often tomatoes...

It's meals like this wherein I realize that if this type of thing was what was available to me, I could be a satisfied vegetarian.  Or if I was in India.  But it would be a great sacrifice for me to say no to bacon/pork.  I'd be closer to enlightenment if I could let that go.  I wanted to try the catfish and did have a bite of some chicken there, but I've been eating a lot of seafood lately and knew I'd be having more this week - so yay for veggies!

And where did we eat all of this wonderful food?  At Sweet Potatoes in Savannah, Georgia.  I first read about it on Serious Eats, and Yelp sealed the deal.  The place was pleasantly full of a local lunch crowd -- I think we were the only Yankees in there, and four of us ate for about $30.  It's not near I-95 and it's not near Historic Savannah, but I'd definitely go back and make it a stop if I was in the area.

Two things:

1. Friends Emily and Arnoux have a blog about being US civilian aid workers in Afghanistan.  You can read it here.
2. The Monroeville Times-Express did a fantastic article introducing Rusyns to the Eastern Suburbs.  You can read it here.
   

The Decade in Review

Barring some life-changing event in the next 4 days, I've been spending lots of time the last few days thinking back on the last 10 years -- because wow, it's been a helluva ride.  The following's not exhaustive by any means (in fact, it leaves out  a lot), but there have been some definite highlights and I've included some pictures of some of my favorite memories.

2000: Mum retired from teaching, which caused her to be home during the day, which was a change -- though she did not stay home and bake cookies.  Petra came to live with us -- the start of a beautiful friendship.  In August, we took off for Rome and I started high school at Marymount.  Over the course of the year, lots of our friends and family came to visit.

2001: Roma caput mundi.  I discovered Jack Kerouac and spent lots of time poking into interesting corners of Rome where tourists certainly don't go, spending time observing street people and taking pictures with my Pentax K1000.  I'd carry my camera and some lenses with me in my backpack.  The MMI girls basketball team ended up in the DoDDS European finals and so we went to Mannheim, Germany and slept in a middle school gym.  It was the period in which I gained my youthful fearlessness and an interest in radical politics was aroused.

2002: Further photoing, further fearlessness with trips to Athens and Berlin because I was becoming a museum geek -- without knowing it at the time, I was on a quest for the "aura of the original." Went to prom on the via Veneto like something out of La Dolce Vita. Unfortunately, my parents' marriage ended and we came back to the US on the QE2, where I began going to Vincentian.  It was like switching from the School of Athens to the School of Hard Knocks.

2003: Consolidated my reputation as one of the perhaps 5 left-leaning thinkers at my school during a very politically-charged period in which this iteration of the Iraq war began.  Went to Italy during spring break and to Slovakia for the first World Forum of Rusyn Youth! The good news was that I began doing excellent after-school activities at The Andy Warhol Museum, which introduced me to lots of people who supported me and my interests at a time when I was probably a bit vulnerable.  I registered to vote in September and in December, I took my driver's exam during a blizzard.



2004:  Protested with my mom, graduated high school, got my International Baccalaureate diploma, and started at Seton Hall.  Thus began 4 years of train rides back and forth from South Orange to Penn Station for lots of fun times.  Began a tradition (which could maybe continue again someday) of spending my birthday at the Festa di San Gennaro and having cannolis in lieu of birthday cake.



2005: Got as involved as I hope I ever do in a (extraparliamentary) political party.  Threw lots of great parties and made lots of excellent friends as a result of said bacchanals.  Went to Montreal in January, where I froze froze froze but had a great time, and Italy for spring break, where dad and I froze froze froze in Calabria but had a great time.  The second World Forum of Rusyn Youth was held in Krynica, Poland, but it was during that trip that we walked across the border to and from Ukraine at Uzhorod and went to Ivano-Frankivsk and Lviv. 

2006:  Ended my involvement with active political organizing, happily.  More parties, trips to NYC museums, and the summer in Italy that caused the blog Maria in Italia -- and ubergeekdom about the Caravaggisti and lots of adventure and beer in San Demetrio Corone, Calabria.  Italy won the World Cup and I came home exhausted.  In the fall, I turned 21 and rather difficult seminars in Italian began and so I read more medieval and 19th century Italian texts than I ever thought I would, but I reveled in the scholarly pursuits and enjoyed my relatively frequent visits to the Gaslight in South Orange.

2007: The year started out with a bang in the form of me seeing Barry Manilow live at Madison Square Garden (thanks KC!) and it was such a fun time!  Went to Agape with Emily which was wonderfully renewing.  Spring break with mom in Catalonia was beyond fabulous even though it took me more than a week to actually enjoy being on a break and be able to rest, and then in May I was off on a wild solo trip across Europe from Paris to Sighet and back!  I came home exhausted and near the breaking point, and started my last two semesters in residence in South Orange. 

2008: Finished my residence in South Orange, interned at the ICP, spring breaked in Portland, had a uncharacteristic type of vacation in the Bahamas and took off for Slovakia, where by providence I found a job I ended up loving and begun research that is proving to be a gift that keeps on giving.  Going to Slovakia proved to be the right decision, right place at the right time.

2009: God, how time flies.  Rung in the New Year in Toronto, had my first experience skiing, went on some amazing hikes, taught some cool kids, and spent lots of time with some excellent people.  Professionally, and with lots of help, I organized the exhibit Dana Kyndrová: Podkarpatská Rus', which was well-received by the communities it was serving.  In the fall, I co-founded Slovo Translation Services, and now I'm finding myself in the position of gearing up for 2010 and keeping on keeping on.  My mom still has not stayed home and baked me cookies.

Large Scale

What word will define the 2000s? "Fierce."
What was the most significant political event of the 2000s? The election of Barack Obama.
What was the greatest TV series of the 2000s? Mad Men, the concepts of Top Chef and Project Runway, though not always in execution.
Greatest Tragedy of the 2000s? The wars we're tied up in.
Most influential person of the decade? Dick Cheney

Personal
Of the ten years of the last decade, which one was your favourite? 2001 and 2009 -- bookends.
Which was your least-favourite? 2002, probably.
Was it a life changing decade for you? Absolutely -- things change all the time.
Highlight of the 2000s? In terms of sheer pluck and personal growth with a lot of fun, the summer of '06.
Lowlight of the 2000s? The general reorganization of my nuclear family unit.
Are you happier or sadder? Since the decade began with me in the throes of puberty, I'd say I'm happier now.
What do you plan to tell your grandchildren about? So many stories of adventures, with lots of well-planned exaggerations.

The Future

What is your greatest fear for the coming decade, on a global scale? Probably a growing lack of fresh water in the world.
What is your greatest fear on a national scale? Continued overextension of our military and Sarah Palin's continued presence on the national stage.
What is your greatest fear on a personal scale? To not have started something I plan to do now.
What is your greatest hope for the coming decade, on a global scale? Some kind of revolution -- political, financial, social, cultural, artistic -- the word can mean a wide range of many things and it need not be violent.
What is your greatest hope on a national scale? Universal healthcare.
What is your greatest hope on a personal scale? Financial stability.

Julia Child's Kitchen

After my fab visit to the NMAI, my cohort (hi Kevin Coffee!) and I split and I set off on foot to Foggy Bottom to meet some of my crew from my Rome years.  But on my way, it popped into my head that in Julie & Julia they visit Julia's kitchen at the National Museum of American History.  So I thought I'd poke in and have a look.

What fun!

There's just one thing I want to point out about this exhibit, which was such a pleasure overall.  When we get into structuralist analysis, we sometimes describe artworks (literature, visual arts, music, architecture) in terms of a conversation between the artist and viewer.  Relatedly, I've often said that while I love visiting museums, I also can't not go anymore without really analyzing what's going on -- I read an exhibit the way I'd read a single painting or a text.  Most of the time, that makes for a rather serious intellectual exercise -- and something that makes my brain itch, not smile.

But I exclaim what fun! about this Julia Child exhibit, because in this case, it did make me smile and make me think that the curators and exhibit designers were having a good time while they were doing their job:

Julia Child is often credited as being a major influence on the development of Americans as wine connoisseurs.  On her ground-breaking TV show, she dug deeper by enjoying a glass of wine at the end.  But on television, it wasn't some Mouton Rothschild from the Child wine cellar -- it was a mixture of Gravy Master and water!  Now we have even more reason to love Julia, because she was capable of ingesting not only divine bœuf bourguignon but also this crazy spotiote of Gravy Master and water.

And so what made me smile about the exhibit design?  First, the 'setting apart' of this most banal, humble, and pop-culture-50s-housewife of "flavor enhancers" in an obviously custom acrylic case.  So we're having fun playing with high/low culture here when Gravy Master gets similar display treatment as the Venus of Willendorf.  And that's further ratcheted up a notch when behind the Gravy Master is a facsimile of the Child wine cellar inventory. 

Good to see that Museum People don't always take ourselves too seriously!

National Museum of the American Indian

It's Thanksgiving Week.  Apparently, it's a week now -- lots of friends get the week off, etc.  Since I'm working retail this holiday season, I'm part of the consumption more than usual, especially on Friday.  But on Sunday after church I was at the National Museum of the American Indian -- appropriate considering the origins of Thanksgiving.

In fact, I'm going to start with that.  Over at Bitch, PhD there's an interesting discussion in the comments about how to talk with kids about Thanksgiving -- and before everyone gets all upset, it's talking about the historical origins of Thanksgiving, which doesn't mean we're not allowed to be thankful.  We don't have to condone genocide and imperialism, either, though.  And check out this article deconstructing the myths while you're at it.  Then say a prayer thanking God for Howard Zinn for telling the history of those who don't fall under the category of dead white men*.

Until the lions have their historians, tales of hunting will always glorify the hunter.

If there's one museum I've been really excited about visiting in the last few years, it's this one.  I've had to read so many articles about it, some quite critical, and so I've been looking forward to it.  And it was worth it.  Simply put, this museum is about as open and inclusive as we Americans are capable of being, and my visit there confirmed so much about what I think about exhibit design, interpretation and curating material culture especially when so much is actually intangible.

I was visiting NMAI with two non-"Museum People" friends who are both practiced at reading culture and politics against the grain.  It's always fun to go to museums with folks like this and to also observe what they're experiencing because it helps me gain perspective on regular museum visitors -- I do my own visitor evaluation surveys when I visit museums with my friends.  And at NMAI, I think we pretty much agreed the introductory film was very well done, but it was also very well done propaganda.  But visiting this museum was a way of challenging our relationship to Native Americans -- three people from immigrant families -- we were aware of all of the broken treaties, why sports teams have changed their names, and I've driven on I-90 near Buffalo quite a few times.  On the other hand, we'd seen Pocahontas and the word "papoose" is in our vocabulary with a smile.

Immediately I was struck by the gorgeous and generous pluralities of the interpretations.  Universes. Histories. Curators.  Better yet, community curators.  Teachings.  Nations.  Relations. And diseases and genocides.  We've always had a master narrative in museums, this gives an opportunity to have the master narrative and the narratives of the previously marginalized.

As I was impressed with the work of Jeff Thomas at the ROM, I can say now I'm a huge fan of Paul Chaat Smith.  Apparently I may be one of the last ones to get the memo, cause he's a big deal, but better late than never.  But the more important question here is how do I know now I'm a huge fan of Paul Chaat Smith? Because the labels have bylines!  Yes!  This is wonderful because the curator is no longer nameless and faceless, which I believe contributes to the current controversies about the disappearing curator and curator-as-concept, but rather is an actual human being.  Besides NMAI and the ROM, I've also seen attributable labels at the Brooklyn Museum.  Readers, where else have you seen labels with bylines? I'm curious.  There were so many good soundbites in the labels here, it made me so happy to read them and to revel in these other views of history.

Along the same lines of curators-with-a-face were the Community Curators.  How empowering!  And what a great way to bring some of the experts into the museum space!  So often in the Rusyn community I see people with inferiority complexes because they don't have Ph.D. after their name, when in fact they're just as expert about the topic because they actually live in the communities that the Ph.D.s need so that they can have something to study in the first place.  So let's bring the people from the community in and let them discuss what's important to them about their communities, and give them names and faces as well!

Community Curators in the Our Universes exhibit

But let's talk about the post-colonialism of this museum - in fact, of its very existence.  The aboriginal, indigenous, First Nations of this country were subjected to genocide and the horrors of colonialism right down to being marched across the country and fenced into reservations.  But now, with this museum, the aboriginal, indigenous, First Nations of this country have coöpted the same imperialist institution that used all sorts of exploitative means (ethnographic present, eugenics, anthropometry -- the long horrible list goes on) to justify their subjugation as a way of communicating the other sides of the story in a language the dead white man/kids of immigrant families multiculturally educated in American schools can understand.

One final thought is that the name of the museum is unfortunate, because it furthers the inaccurate name (that the dead white man gave) of aboriginal, indigenous, First Nations peoples.  Not that it's an easy problem to solve, because it's not (hello, Musée du quai Branly).  But let's try to think of ways that we can help promote discussing groups by the way they self-identify instead of by the names dead white men give them.

Next time you're in Washington, DC -- go to this museum.  It's free and worth the visit.  OHHHH and how can I forget -- quite possibly the best museum cafeteria I've ever been to.  The menu is seasonal, fantastically unbelievably good and so well-thought-out.  You can get a cookbook at the museum, but as @shadow pointed out, finding ingredients may be difficult. So, I revise: it's free, worth the visit, and bring an appetite!



* I'm not against dead white men, per se, but am using the term rather tongue-in-cheekly here.  Don't take me too seriously.