Archive for the ‘Beef’ Category

Obit watch: July 18, 2024.

Thursday, July 18th, 2024

Robert Pearson, hair stylist turned…barbecue chef.

He was pretty successful as a stylist, working with Vidal Sassoon and Paul Mitchell, as well as setting up a chain of salons in Bloomingdale’s.

By the end of the 1970s, Mr. Pearson was growing tired of the stylist’s life, in particular the long trips around the country to train stylists and speak at industry conventions. He did enjoy visits to one city, though: Lubbock, where he first encountered Texas-style barbecue.

He took up Texas-style barbecue seriously.

He purchased a $13,000 custom-made pit from Texas. He bought mesquite wood at $800 a cord, which he blended with local green oak (at just $110 a cord); after much experimentation, he found that a one-to-four ratio created the right balance of smoke from the mesquite and moisture from the oak to fuel the six- to 18-hour fires he needed to cook his meats.
Mr. Pearson was a purist: He insisted on wood, and only wood, as fuel. He cooked low and very, very slow. He eschewed rubs and sauces, letting flavor emerge from the meat and smoke. He specialized in brisket, the lodestar of Texas barbecue, but also offered half chickens, pork shoulder and the occasional exotic fare, like alligator, elk loin and rattlesnake.

His first location was in Connecticut, just off of I-95. Later on, he moved it to Queens.

After establishing himself in Queens, Mr. Pearson tried to open an outlet in Manhattan, which he supplied with food cooked in Queens. But he found that the cooked meat lost its zing during the drive across the East River, and in any case the space caught fire a few days after opening.
In the late 1990s, he stepped back from his restaurant, not long before it lost its lease under pressure from neighbors who, despite loving his food, were less enamored with its constant, thick smoke.

While many young pit masters looked to Mr. Pearson as a mentor, few chose to follow his near-religious devotion to an austere interpretation of Texas barbecue, and in particular his aversion to sauce.
Conceding to consumer tastes, he did offer a quartet of sauces as an accompaniment: mild, medium, “madness” and “mean,” which he said, with some disdain, was a further concession to “macho” diners who insisted that real barbecue had to be wet and spicy. Mean, made with a pile of Szechuan peppercorns, gave them what they wanted, and more.
“When I’m making that sauce at the store, I’ve got to make sure it’s very quiet, and nobody else is around,” he told Newsday. “It’s very volatile. Mean is not really meant for human consumption.”

Peter Buxtun, one of the people responsible for exposing the Tuskegee Study.

For the benefit of my younger readers:

Officially known as the Tuskegee Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Negro Male, the research began in 1932 with the recruiting of about 400 poor, undereducated Black men in Macon County, Ala., whose seat is Tuskegee. All had been found to have syphilis.
The infected men were deceptively told that they had “bad blood,” not a sexually communicable disease that could lead to blindness, heart injury and death. The researchers wanted to use them as human guinea pigs, without their informed consent, to study the ravages of syphilis.
Even after penicillin was found in the 1940s to be an effective cure for syphilis, the men were not offered treatment. In one sample of 92 deceased men from the study, 30 percent were found to have died of syphilis complications.

But in the early 1970s, after Mr. Buxtun had left the health service for law school, he turned his files over to reporters for The Associated Press. An article by Jean Heller, an A.P. investigative reporter, ran on front pages around the country, including in The New York Times on July 26, 1972.
“All hell broke loose,” said Susan M. Reverby, the author of “Examining Tuskegee: The Infamous Syphilis Study and Its Legacy.”

Hearings called by Senator Edward M. Kennedy of Massachusetts, at which Mr. Buxtun testified, led to the termination of the study. A class-action lawsuit on behalf of survivors and descendants was settled for $10 million. In 1997, President Bill Clinton invited surviving Tuskegee subjects to the White House, where he offered a formal apology and called the government’s actions over four decades “shameful” and “clearly racist.”

I like this quote:

Dr. Reverby, who got to know Mr. Buxtun, described him as a political libertarian and National Rifle Association member who was angry that the health agency where he worked, tracing people with sexually transmitted diseases, was denying treatment to the Alabama men.
“He thought it was outrageous and wrong,” she said, adding, “He was really a strong-willed, irascible guy.”

Obit watch: January 17, 2024.

Wednesday, January 17th, 2024

Professor Peter Schickele, of the University of Southern North Dakota at Hoople.

Damn it.

I was a big fan of Prof. Schickele and his interpretations of P.D.Q. Bach when I was younger. I still am, but I was when I was younger too. (If it’s been a while since I bought a PDQ Bach album, well, it’s been a minute since I bought any albums.)

Fun fact: he stole Philip Glass’s woman. (Well, okay, only sort of. You’ll have to read the obit for the full story. And that is supposedly a NYT “gift” link: please let me know if you have a problem.)

Under his own name, Mr. Schickele (pronounced SHICK-uh-lee) composed more than 100 symphonic, choral, solo instrumental and chamber works, first heard on concert stages in the 1950s and later commissioned by some of the world’s leading orchestras, soloists and chamber ensembles. He also wrote film scores and musical numbers for Broadway.

Worth noting: he wrote the score for “Silent Running”.

Crucially, there was the music, which betrayed a deeply cerebral silliness that was no less silly for being cerebral. Mr. Schickele was such a keen compositional impersonator that the mock-Mozartean music he wrote in P.D.Q.’s name sounded exactly like Mozart — or like what Mozart would have sounded like if Salieri had slipped him a tab or two of LSD.
Designed to be appreciated by novices and cognoscenti alike, P.D.Q.’s music is rife with inside jokes and broken taboos: unmoored melodies that range painfully through a panoply of keys; unstable harmonies begging for resolutions that never come; variations that have nothing whatever to do with their themes. It is the aural equivalent of the elaborate staircases in M.C. Escher engravings that don’t actually lead anywhere.

True story: once upon a time, I had just bought the new Schickele recording of a recently discovered P.D.Q. Bach work. Lawrence and I were sitting around our apartment listening to it when a friend came over for a visit. Said friend was (like us) a big fan of Glass and other minimalist composers. So we told our friend we had a new Philip Glass recording, and we wanted to play the first track for him.

He was fooled. Right up to the point where the slide whistle came in.

I was lucky enough to see him in performance…

In his early, supple years, he often slid down a rope suspended from the first balcony; on at least one occasion he ran down the aisle, vast suitcase in hand, as if delayed at the airport; on another he entered, pursued by a gorilla.

…when he could still climb down a rope.

“They were playing a record in the store,” Mr. Schickele recalled in a 1997 interview for the NPR program “All Things Considered.” “It was a sappy love song. And being a 9-year-old, there’s nothing worse, of course. But all of a sudden, after the last note of the song, there were these two pistol shots.”
That song, he learned, was Mr. Jones’s “A Serenade to a Jerk.”
“I’ve always felt that those pistol shots changed my life,” Mr. Schickele continued. “That was the beginning of it all for me.”

Prof. Schickele also gave me a quote I have been known to use from time to time:

“Truth is just truth – you can’t have opinions about truth.”

John Brotherton, owner and pitmaster at Brotherton’s Black Iron Barbecue. The Saturday Dining Conspiracy has been there twice, and eaten there once. That’s not a shot at Mr. Brotherton, just a statement of reality. When you run a really good barbecue restaurant (which Brotherton’s is), your customers run the risk of the barbecue selling out before they get there.

Dejan Milojević, assistant coach for the Golden State Warriors. He was 46.

Lynne Marta, actress. Other credits include “The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo”, “The F.B.I.”, and “Then Came Bronson”.

Some followups: Tom Shales in the NYT. And an appreciation of him by one of the NYT writers.

Nice obit for Terry Bisson by Michael Swanwick.

Michael Swanwick also has a touching piece up about his friend of 50 years, Tom Purdom, which I encourage you to go read.

Travel notes: Glendale, AZ.

Thursday, June 29th, 2023

So where was I last week?

Glendale, Arizona, for the annual Smith and Wesson Collectors Association Symposium.

This ordinarily would have been a flying situation, but when Mike the Musicologist heard where the Symposium was, he offered to drive. He’s not a S&WCA member, but he is a gun guy, and I bought him a guest pass so he could look around. Plus he wanted to see Taliesin West, which he has been hosed out of seeing in the past. Plus driving allowed us to take guns more easily than flying.

MtM did see Taliesin West (finally) but they don’t offer guided tours during the summer. Which is odd to me, because I took a guided tour when the S&WCA Convention (it wasn’t a symposium back then) was in Tuscon in the summer of 2010. (I had a rental car and drove from Tuscon to Scottsdale on one of the off days.) MtM did get to take the audio tour, and had a good time as far as I can tell.

I can’t talk a lot about what goes on at the Symposium, since it is a private meeting. I don’t feel like I’m giving too much away by saying Smith and Wesson actually sent a factory rep (for the second year in a row!) to talk with us and hang out at the convention. The gentleman in question even sat at our table during the Saturday night banquet that closed the show, and both MtM and I were able to chat him up about some…things, which I will keep secret but expect to be announced soon.

(Full disclosure: I own some stock in Smith and Wesson Brands, the holding company for the gun business, and American Outdoor Brands, the holding company for the non-gun business.)

The Symposiums are always like old home week to me. I get to meet up with friends that I only see once a year, though some of those folks were missing this year for various reasons. I get to talk shop with my people. And I get to relax for a few days, or in this case an entire week.

The question people always ask me: “Did you buy any guns?” The short answer: no, just paper and trinkets. The long answer: I came very close to purchasing one, and even had a handshake deal with the seller. But we mutually called the deal off for reasons that I don’t think I need to go into here. MtM and I traveled about 2,700 miles round trip…and I did end up buying a gun, not at the Symposium, but about five miles from my house. (Photos to come after part 2 of Day of the .45.)

It was a two-day drive both ways. We decided to take a scenic route going out to Arizona and went down to Del Rio and along the Rio Grande, paralleling the river and stopping overnight in Marathon at the Gage Hotel (and eating at the 12 Gage Restaurant). We did drive through Marfa (and past the Prada Store, but we missed the world’s smallest Buc-ees by just a few days). We also drove through Alpine and past Sul Ross State University, which gave me both an excuse and a captive audience to talk about Jack O’Connor (who, as you know, Bob, taught English at Sul Ross for a while). The second day we drove through Hatch, New Mexico, and up into the national forests before reaching Glendale late in the afternoon.

For the curious: we were stopped by the Border Patrol three times, twice out and once back, though the third time they just waved us through the checkpoint. The longest exchange we had: “Are you both US citizens?” “Yes.” “Anybody else in the car?” “No.” “Okay, go ahead.”

I don’t think we had a bad meal on the trip, though we did eat catered hotel food two nights. (There’s a “cocktail party”, which is really more like a buffet dinner, on Thursday night of the Symposium, and a sit-down banquet to close things out on Saturday night. The hotel food was somewhat better than decent.) Mike and I ate at The Wild Thaiger on Tuesday night after we got in, and I thought that was very good (I had the Mi Dang and we split an order of Dragon Eggz). Wednesday night we took a couple of my friends to the Barrio Cafe, which was another solid choice that everyone loved. Friday night we took a larger group to Giuseppe’s on 28th, which was also universally beloved by everyone who went.

(MtM picked all the restaurants. His secret: he picks places that have been on “Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives”.)

I heartily endorse all three of these restaurants, and The Old German Bakery and Restaurant in Fredericksburg.

We took advantage of one of the slower days to go visit some bookstores and some gun stores. The one bookstore we visited (Bookmans) I didn’t buy anything at, though I did think it was a good store. Tombstone Tactical was more of a modern firearms store. They had good prices on new guns, but I didn’t find anything I wanted. Legendary Guns, on the other hand, is exactly the kind of funky mixed gun shop I love. And I bought some books there.

We took I-10 coming back, and stopped for dinner at the Cattleman’s Steakhouse in Fabens (also heartily endorsed), staying overnight at the Hotel El Capitan before the final push back to Austin the following day.

Thanks to MtM for driving, and to everyone who attended the Symposium. Next year: back to Tulsa (which is not that far).

Obit watch: June 15, 2023.

Thursday, June 15th, 2023

Glenda Jackson. NYT (archived).

Other credits include “T.Bag’s Christmas Ding Dong”, “The Patricia Neal Story” (she played Patricia Neal), and “The Nelson Affair”.

Robert Gottlieb, noted editor.

Mr. Gottlieb edited novels by, among many others, John le Carré, Toni Morrison, John Cheever, Joseph Heller, Doris Lessing and Chaim Potok; science fiction by Michael Crichton and Ray Bradbury; histories by Antonia Fraser and Barbara Tuchman; memoirs by former President Bill Clinton and Katharine Graham, the former publisher of The Washington Post; and works by Jessica Mitford and Anthony Burgess.

Then, in 1987, in an abrupt career change from the relative anonymity and serenity of book publishing, Mr. Gottlieb was named the third editor in the 62-year history of The New Yorker, one of American journalism’s highest-profile jobs. He replaced William Shawn, the magazine’s legendary editor for 35 years, who had succeeded the founding editor, Harold Ross.

His memoir offered a highlight reel of snarky critiques of authors — the Nobel laureate V.S. Naipaul (“a snob”), Ms. Tuchman (“her sense of entitlement was sometimes hard to deal with”), William Gaddis (“unrelentingly disgruntled”), Roald Dahl (“erratic and churlish”).
“He wasn’t just an editor, he was the editor,” Mr. le Carré told The Times. “I never had an editor to touch him, in any country — nobody who could compare with him.” He noted that Mr. Gottlieb, using No. 2 pencils to mark up manuscripts, often signaled changes with hieroglyphics in the margins: a wavy line for language too florid, ellipses or question marks advising a writer to “think harder and try again.”

Mr. Gottlieb joined Knopf in 1968 as vice president and editor in chief. He edited Robert Caro’s Pulitzer-Prize winning biography of Robert Moses, “The Power Broker” (1974), cutting 400,000 words from a million-word manuscript with the author fuming at his elbow. Despite the brutal cuts, their collaboration endured for five decades and became the subject of a 2022 documentary, “Turn Every Page,” directed by Lizzie Gottlieb, Mr. Gottlieb’s daughter.
“I have never encountered a publisher or editor with a greater understanding of what a writer was trying to do — and how to help him do it,” Mr. Caro said in a statement on Mr. Gottlieb’s death.
Flashing his range, Mr. Gottlieb also edited “Miss Piggy’s Guide to Life” (1981), by Henry Beard, ghosting for the Muppets starlet, and Salman Rushdie’s “The Satanic Verses” (1988), which prompted the outraged Iranian leader, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, to issue a fatwa urging Muslims to kill the author.

LeAnn Mueller, co-owner of the highly regarded Austin barbecue restaurant la Barbecue and member of the prominent Mueller barbecue family. She was 51.

I have not seen any updates on the criminal case against the la Barbecue owners. The only obit I’ve found that even mentions it is from the Austin Chronicle.

Jim Turner, former kicker for the Jets.

Turner played professional football for 16 years, with the Jets from 1964 to 1970 and the Broncos from 1971 to 1979. In the 1968-69 season, he kicked 34 field goals and scored 145 points, setting records that stood until 1983, when the New York Giants kicker Ali Haji-Sheikh broke the first and the Washington Redskins kicker Mark Moseley broke the second.

The most memorable game of Turner’s career was the Jets’s face-off against the Baltimore Colts on the afternoon of Jan. 12, 1969.
The Colts belonged to the older and better established National Football League, while the Jets were part of its upstart competitor, the American Football League. The Super Bowl, held for the first time in 1967, then pitted the best team from each league against the other.
The Colts, led by quarterback Johnny Unitas and coach Don Shula, had beaten the powerhouse Green Bay Packers, winners of the previous two Super Bowls, en route to qualifying for the 1969 championship.
While Unitas and Shula epitomized the stoic masculinity that many fans associated with football, Namath, the Jets’ quarterback, nicknamed Broadway Joe, was a figure of loudmouth swagger, and none of his public comments had ever seemed less creditable than his guarantee that the Jets would become the first A.F.L. team to win the Super Bowl by beating the Colts.
Namath played well — completing 17 of 28 passes for 206 yards, earning him the Most Valuable Player Award — but it was Turner, a decidedly Off Off Broadway figure, who was the decisive player. He provided the Jets with their margin of victory and alone scored more points than the Colts did.

Namath’s prediction came true, and the Jets won, 16-7.

Homer Jones, wide receiver for the New York Football Giants.

Jones was a member of the Giants from 1964-1969, where he was named to the Pro Bowl in 1967 and 1968.
“Homer Jones had a unique combination of speed and power and was a threat to score whenever he touched the ball,” said John Mara, the Giants president and chief executive officer.
“He was one of the first players (if not the first) to spike the ball in the end zone after scoring a touchdown and he quickly became a fan favorite. I remember him as an easygoing, friendly individual who was well liked by his teammates and coaches.”

Jones, who played six seasons with Big Blue, ranks sixth all-time among Giants receivers with 4,845 receiving yards and 35 touchdowns.

Not quite an obit, but Nautilus reran a nice article about Cormac McCarthy at the Santa Fe Institute by one of his co-workers.

The entrance to SFI also serves as a mail room. When I first entered the building there was behind the front desk a permanent massif of book boxes. It was clear that the boxes were constantly cleared and just as quickly replenished. In this way the boxes achieved a dynamical equilibrium. In the study of complex systems this is called self-organized criticality and was made famous as an explanation for the constant gradient of sand piles and the faces of sand dunes.
The agent of this critical state was Cormac, who busied himself digging—like Kobo Abe’s entomologist in Women in the Dunes—to ensure balance at SFI and the growth of his library.

Barbecue Law!

Wednesday, August 24th, 2022

La Barbecue is a popular Austin joint. It is in the Texas Monthly Top 50, though not in the Top 10.

The owner and manager of La Barbecue have been criminally indicted.

[Leanne] Mueller and [Allison] Clem are each charged with two counts of fraudulent securing of document execution.

What does that mean? Here’s how the Statesman explains it. La Barbecue didn’t have worker’s comp insurance, and hadn’t had it since November of 2014. Sometime in July of 2016, one of their employees was hurt “while operating a piece of kitchen equipment”. It sounds like the injuries were pretty serious: I’ll get into that in a minute.

Four days later, Clem contacted Paychex Insurance to get workers’ compensation coverage, something the restaurant had been without since November 2014.
Clem did not disclose her employee’s injuries to the agent but asked that the new policy be backdated to July 1, 2016, three weeks before the employee was hurt, the Texas Department of Insurance reported.

This kind of strikes me as equivalent to being in a car accident, then calling your insurance agent to get backdated coverage. I would call this “insurance fraud”. But: I am not a lawyer.

“It is perfectly legal to obtain a backdated policy in Texas,” said the women’s attorney, Brian Roark.

Which may be true. But it is legal to obtain a backdated policy, then make a claim against that policy for an accident that happened while coverage was not in place?

Mueller then submitted a signed application for coverage, claiming the business had no previous losses, and the policy was approved by Travelers Casualty Insurance Co. of America, the department said.

According to the article, Travelers paid out “$350,000 in medical and indemnity benefits”. In addition, “The insurance company is also responsible for lifetime care of the injured employee.”

“The insurance company determined early on that they didn’t believe they should have to pay for the claim, yet continued to pay for it anyway,” Roark said. “Regardless of the insurance company’s determination, La Barbecue, Leanne Mueller and Allison Clem believed they were acting in good faith at all times when they signed the application that had been provided to them by the insurance agent. All the monies paid for the employee were paid to the employee or directly for his medical expenses and not to La Barbecue, Leanne Mueller or Allison Clem. We believe once a jury hears the facts, that La Barbecue, Leanne Mueller and Allison Clem will be exonerated.”

If they are convicted, supposedly the two can be made to pay restitution “up to double the amount Travelers already paid to the injured worker in benefits”.

I’d hate to lose a good barbecue joint (though I’ve never had a chance to eat at La Barbecue). But I think this goes to show at least one thing: it’s just ignorant not to have worker’s comp insurance.

(More from eater.com. Crossposted to The Logbook of the Saturday Dining Conspiracy.)

Three things I’m kind of looking forward to.

Tuesday, May 3rd, 2022

1. The Bunk lies down on Broadway.

Wendell Pierce is ready for another run as Willy Loman.
The American actor, best known for his work in “The Wire,” first took on the titanic title role in “Death of a Salesman” in London in 2019, and even then he hungered to bring the performance to New York.

Rod Dreher and his family saw the London production, and he raved about it. This might actually be enough to get me to go to NYC. (Also, Mike the Musicologist and Andrew the Colossus of Roads were talking about Peter Luger on Saturday, and I’d like to take a shot at that.)

2.

(The Last Dangerous Visions explained, for those of my readers who are not SF fans.)

3. There’s a movie tentatively scheduled for February 2023. It sounds like trash, but fun trash.

Cocaine Bear follows an oddball group of cops, criminals, tourists and teens converging in a Georgia forest where a 500-pound apex predator has ingested a staggering amount of the white powder and goes on a coke-fueled rampage seeking more blow — and blood.

That’s right, a movie inspired by the true story of Cocaine Bear. How can you not be entertained?

Obit watch: December 17, 2021.

Friday, December 17th, 2021

John Mueller, one of the great Texas barbecue guys. He was only 52.

Mueller grew up working for his father, the late Bobby Mueller, at family patriarch Louie Mueller’s barbecue restaurant in Taylor, bussing tables from the age of 8, according to his sister and La Barbecue owner, LeAnn Mueller, and eventually learning how to smoke and slice meat at his father’s side.

Mueller built his reputation on sturdy but supple brisket cooked hot and fast, gargantuan beef ribs with a soft side that belied their imposing stature, and a mercurial personality that often burned with the same intensity as his off-set smoker.
Franklin Barbecue owner Aaron Franklin worked briefly for Mueller in 2006, cutting onions and helping with other prep work, and says that the Taylor native had a talent that could not be taught.
“He spent all those years hanging out in Taylor learning from his dad. The guy really just had such a natural gift for cooking barbecue,” Franklin said. “I’d be surprised if there was anyone else in the world who has cooked more briskets than that guy.”

Mueller would play up the caricature of “the dark prince of Texas barbecue,” a moniker bestowed on him by Texas Monthly, later in life, blending barbs with banter that made him an unpredictable if entertaining presence at his businesses.
But despite his love for giving people grief and straddling the line between famous and infamous, Mueller at his heart was a classic Central Texas barbecue man who took the lessons from his father and then burned his own path through the barbecue scene.

John Lewis worked briefly for Mueller at his South First trailer before going to serve as pit boss at La Barbecue. Lewis, who now runs the lauded Lewis Barbecue in Charleston, S.C., says that despite his reputation as an ornery cuss, Mueller could be an affable guy who loved to share a laugh.
“He was a really, really kind guy. He had a huge heart and I didn’t really get to know that until we worked side by side,” Lewis said. “He would act really tough but the next second he is goofing on you. He had a great sense of humor.”

Additional coverage from the Dallas Morning News (by way of archive.is).

Edited to add 12/18: Texas Monthly tribute.

(Crossposted to The Logbook of the Saturday Dining Conspiracy.)

“What you gonna do when you get out of jail?…” part 420

Tuesday, May 25th, 2021

I’m moving Travel Thursday to Tuesday this week, for reasons. I have something else coming up for Thursday.

Today: “New Horizons: Argentina” from our friends at Pan Am. We’ve done South America in general previously, but we haven’t focused specifically on Argentina.

This apparently dates to 1965, so I can’t really make any “Evita” jokes here, alas.

Bonus #1: But I can put up something relevant to Lawrence’s interests, and maybe Andrew’s as well: “MOUTH-WATERING STEAK at an Argentine Steakhouse in Mar del Plata, Argentina”.

This restaurant is called “El Palacio del Bife”, which literally translates to “The Palace of Beef” and they sure know how to prepare a delicious steak.

Bonus #2: We’ve been to South America. Why not Central America on our way back?

Also by way of Pan Am, circa 1968: “Fiesta! A Central American Holiday”.

Obit watch: February 13, 2019.

Wednesday, February 13th, 2019

Rick Schmidt, former owner of Kruez Market in Lockhart.

Kreuz Market first opened in 1900. Rick’s father, Edgar “Smitty” Schmidt, purchased it in 1948, and Rick and his brother Don Schmidt bought the legendary Lockhart barbecue restaurant from their father in 1984. Don retired from the family business in 1997, and in 1999, Austin-native Rick relocated Kreuz Market from its previous location on Main Street to Colorado Street, near Town Branch creek, following a public dispute with his sister, Nina Sells, who inherited the old brick building on Main Street.
Sells converted the original Kreuz Market location into Smitty’s Market, while Schmidt opened his massive, red-brick building about a mile up the road. The family feud made headlines in Austin and landed the family on an episode of the CBS newsmagazine “48 Hours.″

Random notes: November 18, 2018.

Sunday, November 18th, 2018

A few things I’ve stumbled across over the past couple of days:

“I Found the Best Burger Place in America. And Then I Killed It.” In which the author visits 30 cities, eats 330 burgers, names a burger place in Portand as having the best burger in the country…and five months later, the places closes.

Each time I was there, my story would somehow find a way into conversation, like the one with my Lyft driver who asked if I liked burgers. Yes, I said tentatively. “Well, we had a great one here,” he said, as we drove over the Burnside Bridge. “But then some asshole from California ruined it.” Or the time, while sitting at the bar at Clyde Common, the bartender came up to me and in a soft, friendly voice inquired if I’d planned on closing any more burger restaurants while I was in town.

I like this story: it’s a good discussion of the impact of criticism on dining establishments, especially smaller ones. But it’s also frustrating: as it turns out, there was more going on with the burger place than just simply being named “best burger in the country”.

Recently retweeted by Popehat:

I don’t like and don’t read the Huffington Post. But this (also by way of Popehat):

It was still dark outside when Amanda woke up to the sound of her alarm, got out of bed and decided to kill herself. She wasn’t going to do it then, not at 5:30 in the morning on a Friday. She told herself she would do it sometime after work.

Glybera is a drug developed in Canada. It’s a hugely effective treatment for a rare genetic condition, lipoprotein lipase disorder. People with this disorder can’t metabolize fat. Their blood literally turns white from all the suspended fat in their bloodstream.

One round of treatment with Glybera can fix this genetic condition. Only 31 people have ever been treated with the drug, and it is no longer available.

Why? One possible reason: a round of treatment costs one million dollars. (But a round of treatment, as far as anyone’s been able to determine, is a permanent cure. This is a drug that literally edits genes.) And this isn’t a “oh, health care in the US stinks” story: the drug was only used in Canada and Europe, pretty much on an experimental basis, before it was pulled.

On the historic significance of “Hee Haw”:

I have no joke here…

Monday, April 23rd, 2018

…I just like saying “county-funded fajitas”:

[Gilberto] Escamilla was fired in August and arrested after authorities checked vendor invoices and obtained a search warrant that uncovered county-funded fajitas in his refrigerator.

Mr. Escamilla worked at the juvenile detention center in Cameron County, Texas. This is way down in the south part of the state (Brownsville is the county seat.)

Mr. Escamilla was allegedly ordering fajitas through the detention center, using county money, and then delivering them to his own customers.

His scam was uncovered when he missed work for a medical appointment and an 800-pound (360-kilogram) fajita delivery arrived at the center, which doesn’t serve fajitas.

The state claims this scam amounted to $1.2 million worth of fajitas over nine years. Mr. Escamilla was sentenced to 50 years in prison on Friday.

Edited to add: more from Texas Monthly.

Theft of more than $300,000 is automatically a first-degree felony in Texas. On top of that, Texas treats theft by a public servant differently from other kinds of theft. The theory behind that is that theft committed by a private individual harms the person or people who were stolen from; but theft by a public servant harms the taxpayers who pay their salary, and harms society at large by eroding trust in those who’ve agreed to serve us. In cases where a public employee is accused of stealing less than $300,000, charges involving public servants using their official positions to facilitate the crime are automatically escalated to the next-highest level of felony. In Escamilla’s case, the value of the meat he stole meant that it was already the highest class of felony—which helps explain why his sentence was so high.

Obit watch: January 22, 2018.

Monday, January 22nd, 2018

Hemmingway and Ruark have a new hunting partner.

Harry Selby passed away on Saturday at the age of 92.

I’ve touched briefly on Selby in the past, but more in the context of Ruark. So please indulge me:

Mr. Selby was a postwar protégé of the East Africa hunter Philip Hope Percival, who took Theodore Roosevelt and Ernest Hemingway on safaris, and he became a professional hunter himself in the late 1940s. He took the American author Robert Ruark on safari in Tanganyika (now Tanzania), and with the 1953 publication of Ruark’s best-selling book “Horn of the Hunter,” Mr. Selby became one of Africa’s most famous hunting guides.

Without cellphones or evacuation helicopters, Mr. Selby had to be the doctor, mechanic, chauffeur, gin-rummy-and-drinking partner and universal guide, knowledgeable about mountain ranges, grassy plains, rivers, jungles, hunting laws, migratory patterns, and the Bushmen, Masai, Samburu, Dinka and Zulu tribes. He spoke three dialects of Swahili. And he improvised; if there was no firewood, he burned wildebeest dung.
He was no Gregory Peck, but had an easygoing personality that made for good company in the bush. He coped with emergencies, pulling a client clear of a stampede or a vehicle from a bog, treating snakebites or tracking a wounded lion in a thicket — his most dangerous game. He was left-handed, but his favorite gun was a right-handed .416 Rigby, which can knock down an onrushing bull elephant or Cape buffalo in a thundering instant.

For 30 years, Mr. Selby ran company operations in Botswana, and guided hunters and photographers into leased concessions covering thousands of square miles in the Okavango Delta in the north and the vast Kalahari Desert in the south, home of the click-talking Bushmen. He cut tracks and built airfields in the wilderness.
In 1970, he established Botswana’s first lodge and camps for photographic safaris. He hired guides and a large support staff for what became a dominant safari business in Southern Africa. After Ker, Downey and Selby was bought by Safari South in 1978, he remained a director, and even after resigning in 1993 he continued to lead safaris privately until retiring in 2000.

Noted actor Bradford Dillman.

Mr. Dillman played prominent roles in “The Enforcer” and “Sudden Impact,” the third and fourth films in the “Dirty Harry” series, and won a Daytime Emmy Award in 1975 for his work on the TV series “The ABC Afternoon Playbreak.”

He was “Capt. McKay” in “The Enforcer” and “Captain Briggs” (not to be confused with Hal Holbrook’s “Lt. Briggs” in “Magnum Force”) in “Sudden Impact”. As we all know, Callahan went through captains like CNN goes through Russian conspiracy theories.

And finally, more of local interest: Hisako Tsuchiyama Roberts. Mrs. Roberts and her husband, Thurman, founded the Salt Lick barbecue restaurant in Driftwood, a little outside of Austin.

Tsuchiyama Roberts, who held a masters degree in psychology from the University of California, Los Angeles, dedicated her professional life in Texas to running the restaurant in the idyllic setting. She brought her flavors of her own culture to the smoked meat specialists, according to her son, Scott Roberts, who in his 2014 book “Salt Lick Cookbook: A Story of Land, Family, and Love,” wrote about his mother’s tempura frying of vegetables and shrimp for the menu along with her addition of poppy seeds to cole slaw and celery seeds to potato salad.

…with her passing, family shared a tale of the diminutive Tsuchiyama Roberts felling a charging buck with the swing of a pecan bucket she was using for shelling and killing it with a rock while her husband and his friends were away on an unsuccessful hunting trip.

She was 104.