The ‘Dredge Report

I haven’t posted in awhile because I’ve been too busy working and hibernating, in that order. As much fun as I’m having reading all of my D.C. friends’ Tweets about all of the inaugural balls and parties that they’re desperately trying to shuffle their way into, my friend John posted the most relevant Twitter update of our time, which linked to this You Tube video, in which actor David Cross explains his best tattoos. I don’t want to ruin anything, but I’d think that a tattoo of an Old Testament God spanking Hitler should catch your attention for a moment, at least. No?

I didn’t do any year-end music lists for 2008 because I just didn’t feel like I was on the right bandwagons this year, and aside from a handful of finds, I really had no idea what was new and life-changing in terms of bands and albums.  But a quick note to document one that I recently downloaded and think well of: Bang on A Can All-Stars, an eclectic collaborative of musicians and composers, recorded Brian Eno’s classic Music For Airports, which is interesting if only because Eno never meant for those songs to be performed live, by real humans with real instruments.

If you don’t like the original Music for Airports, you definitely won’t like this. But if you do, you will.

I almost feel a little bad saying that 2008 was a great year for me—not the best, but up there in the top 5, I’d say. It seems to have been such a terrible year for a lot of folks, to say nothing of the economy. It wasn’t perfect, but I managed to: finish up grad school, have the coolest internship I could have wished for, move 3,000 miles across the country to a new city—which included yet another 1,800 mile drive, start a job that I like, catch up with some old friends and make some new ones, embrace everything the Pacific NW has to offer, and take care of myself pretty well in the process.

Resolutions are dumb, and the only one I’ve ever solidly kept was a few years back when I really did read a book a week for the entire year (and not easy books, either, necessarily!) I’m resolving to do more of what I enjoy, which boils down to doing more yoga, cooking, reading, hanging out with friends, watching old movies and (some) new TV, exploring Portland, finding new music and going to some shows, traveling here and there throughout the PNW (goals: more trips to the coast, Seattle and Vancouver, and Crater Lake, for starters), and staying in touch with friends and family.

I am, how you say, a bit boring?

Honestly? I had no idea that making black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day was a Southern thing. Up until now, I thought it was, like, an American thing? But apparently not. We’re cooking up a storm here in rainy, depressing Oregon: black-eyed peas, cornbread (in a much-abused cast iron skillet), and smoked brisket. I was going to make the world’s weakest joke about how Jews and Texans have two things in common, Kinky Friedman and brisket, but come on now. It’s been done. I do have to say that the Texas incarnation of smoking brisket for about 18 hours is vastly superior to the pot roasted/broiled method that’s more traditional among my Chosen friends. But that’s just me.

As for black-eyed peas, don’t get me wrong: they are cute. They remind me of little designer handbags or something. Flavor-wise, they’re not the best of the bean family, not by a long shot. I won’t say they’re “bland”, but in cooking them, you really need to view them as a vehicle for more flavorful things: chicken stock, bacon, jalapeno, onion, garlic, celery. They take a long time, too, even when soaked overnight—I just gave up on my worthless slow cooker and transferred them to the stovetop for a more rapid conversion into deliciousness. Serve with grated cheddar cheese and a splash of Tabasco on top, and you won’t be disappointed.

Happy New Year!