Showing posts with label Doug. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Doug. Show all posts

Monday, November 3, 2014

The Harvest

3 November 2009 Twelve days remaining. So much left to do. The journey of a 1000-miles begins with a single step and at least the first step has been taken, the harvest started. The amygdala was much smaller than anticipated, less than a quarter of an ounce. Must redo the calculations and certainly identify additional sources. Discretion is of the utmost importance. They would not understand. If discovered, they would say I was crazy, a monster. They said Mendel was crazy, refused him the time of day. Today they have changed their tune haven’t they? Today he would get a Nobel Prize. My ambitions are not nearly so lofty. I do however fully expect first place on my debut at the Northwest Food Festival.

Pâté (de Amygdala)
3/4 cup Cognac
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup minced onion
2 1/2 pounds ground amygdala
12 ounces bacon (8 to 10 slices), finely chopped, plus 14 bacon slices (for lining pan)
3 garlic cloves, pressed
2 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme
1 1/2 teaspoons allspice
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/3 cup whipping cream
Coarse sea salt
Serve at room temperature with a touch of Dijon and a sprinkling of salt on a baguette.

Friday, April 22, 2011

A Regular Guy

He’s just a regular guy. Two arms, two legs, a face that at least his wife thinks is cute, a really thick tussle of unruly hair on top, and his dear departed Dad’s sophisticated sense of humor. He hates writing. His highest ambition is to be on “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?”

Thursday, April 21, 2011

The Fifth Day

He was unprepared for the enormity of the task, but how could he be really? This was his first time. He had been drafted onto the team, but as one of their last choices, and on a probationary basis no less. Sure he completed all the necessary schooling but his grades were unremarkable. It was luck to have made the team in the first place and now it looked like that luck had run dry. He had to rely on his skills and raw talents now, and those wells didn’t seem to be any too deep either. 
Still, the team was in the second seat and he was proud to wear the uniform, even if for a season. They were good for good reason; they were relentless in their training and preparations. First there were the endless planning meetings, then the endless preparations as well as the countless practices, rehearsals and drills followed by even more meetings, preparations, practices, rehearsals and drills. Morale was high and they were stoked; as ready as any team could be for any championship game. 
How could this have happened anyways? If only he had more time maybe he could fix it, but that really wasn’t possible was it? They had 24-hours period and there would be, in fact there could be no exceptions. Failure on that account would be catastrophic, a disaster beyond biblical proportions. He knew it as well as anyone. 
He was getting tired now, but this was no time to let up. There would be plenty of opportunity for rest later, especially if he was cut. Although he had worked tirelessly the last 23 hours and 59 minutes with out a break or chat around the cooler, he had caught glimpses of many of the team’s products as they came off the line. Even at a blush, he could tell they were masterpieces. Take your breath away beautiful! Visions of form and function, strength, speed, endless variety, flawless design, true biological wonders. The preparations had payed off! How then could this have happened? Was it an error in the inventory, or a mistake in the distribution? Did he get punked? Or could something more nefarious be going on? Theft or sabotage were unthinkable, and yet here it was. 
There were so many products, perhaps he could hide it, slip it into some remote corner where nobody would ever notice. But how could you hide anything from the boss? He seemed to know everything; must have eyes in the back of his head. No, it would be found out, there was no getting around that. Indubitably it would be the subject of a number of investigations, followed by more studies and then endless pontifications by the pundits. It would be shown on every channel every fifteen minutes, over and over again from every angle in an endless cycle for days or maybe even weeks. He would be the subject of their laughter, their scorn, their abject disappointment.
What was he supposed to do with these? There were only seconds left before the first rays of sunlight cracked the dawn on Day 6. No time left for any refinements at all really, he would just have to slap them together. There it is, just in the nick of time. It would have to be good enough. Might as well give it a name to fit, how about “platypus.” If he does manage to survive this fiasco and stay on the team, he hopes next time there won’t be any parts left over. 

Doug