I’m far more of a wine connoisseur than a coffee drinker. Years ago I cut back to half decaf in order to cut back on migraines and stomach trouble. The hi-test sludge my editor prefers could never cross my lips for fear of bodily damage. The one thing I associate with brutal American coffee is brutal American stress: the need to meet a deadline, please a boss, do more, say more, be more with vim and vigor. Just as any alcoholic uses cheap trash, downing brutally burnt beans has become a lousy, albeit necessary way to get a much-needed fix. And that’s where we get coffee wrong in America.
Tel Aviv is littered with cafes and kiosks serving Euro-style coffee. I never got the hang of what to order to balance out my pathetically minimum caffeine requirement, but at Cafe Nachmani I not only learned how to order the right tasting brew, I learned how to enjoy it. I’ve never seen a windowsill in Starbucks lined with art magazines. Not Cosmo or People, literal professional art magazines you’d see in big city galleries and be afraid to touch. The Barnes & Noble cafes are filled with geeks on their laptops, chugging down brew in order to use the free WiFi. At Cafe Nachmani, patrons sipped on cappuccinos and the Israeli favorite, espresso, while lingering over literary mags heavier than half the books lining our chain’s clearance aisle.
Tel Avivans work like mad in a city that never sleeps. They’ve just learned how to enjoy a frenetic pace better than we ever could. It’s amazing how much more you enjoy life when you view it as a pleasure to be lived instead of an obligation to be fueled through.To better answer the question of what you’re drinking, you need to start with why you’re drinking it.
No Dave, Italian coffee definitely isn’t the best coffee in the world. That cappuccino you show looks like the same one you can get anywhere in Europe. There’s nothing even remotely special about it.
Want to see what real coffee is supposed to look like? Well, just take a look at this wonderful Turkish coffee I drank earlier today. Now that’s the kind of boost you need in the morning.
Editor’s Note: Tweet or Instagram pics of your morning beverages to @DaveSwindle on Twitter or @DaveSwindlePJM on Instagram to be featured as we continue the search for the ultimate caffeinated wake-up.
This Cappuccino From An Italian Instagram Acquaintance Looks Much Tastier Than Our American Motor Oil
A woman in Fort Worth, Texas, is celebrating her 104th birthday and she proudly told reporters this week that despite her doctors’ admonitions, she has been drinking three Dr. Pepper sodas a day for 30 years.
“People try to give me a coffee for breakfast,” Elizabeth Sullivan said, “but I’d rather have a Dr. Pepper.”
“I started drinking about 40 years ago — three a day — and every doctor that sees me says ‘It’ll kill you’ but they die and I don’t, so there must be a mistake somewhere.”
Elizabeth is living proof that the doctors — and the food police in the White House — don’t always know best. Many people manage to live long and productive lives even when they don’t subsist on a diet of twigs and acorns.
“I’m feeling good! I’m glad I’m still here and I’m glad I’m not in a rest home,” Sullivan told reporters. “I’m glad I can read books and watch TV and have people come by to say hello.”
I raise my can of Dr. Pepper to you tonight, Mrs. Sullivan! Wishing you a Happy Birthday and many blessings in the coming year!
“American coffee is now and always has been revolting, and it behooves us to look deep into our souls to understand why we overpay for muck at Starbucks. There’s a sucker born every minute, and he’s almost certain to be American. We are boosters, enthusiasts, tent-evangelicals, fly-by-nighters, snake-oil salesmen and honky-tonkers as a people, and get swindled every time.”
Well, yeah. This is the way it’s supposed to be. The coffee so many of us drink reflects who we are.
Here’s something I’m going to argue that isn’t going to make much sense to many people: I don’t want my morning coffee to taste good. I *want* it to taste bitter and “disgusting” as hell. Damn right!
That’s part of its magic — the knock-you-on-the-tongue kick in conjunction with the caffeine rush and the heat at a reasonable price.
I alternate between a tea routine and a coffee routine every six months or so, using one or the other to help keep energy up and stay focused throughout the day. Right now I’m usually on about one pot of coffee a day, generally done by noon. I haven’t decided yet which is better…
What about you? How much coffee or tea do you drink? How do you prepare it? What’s the best dollar-for-caffeine ratio? Bonus points for anyone who surpasses the wit of “The 3 Most Hilarious Comments Responding to Spengler’s Anti-Starbucks Rant.”
Have a coffee, tea, or other food/drink you’d like to see considered at PJ Lifestyle? Please get in touch: DaveSwindlePJM AT Gmail.com
Yes, I agree with David P. “Spengler” Goldman that it’s “Time for a National Conversation About Why Starbucks Coffee Is Disgusting.”
I’ll try and have my rebuttal up shortly in defense of cheap, crappy coffee, [Updated: now here] but in the meantime, I found these 3 comments very amusing, in particular Fred Z’s:
What do you think? Is American coffee terrible? Is Starbucks a symbol of Americans’ pathetic palate or does it hint at something darker, our gullibility at being able to be manipulated into spending ridiculous amounts of money for a lame product? Or is Spengler just being his usual cranky self and expertly trolling you?
image illustration via shutterstock / Akos Nagy
Your grill called. He’s cold and hungry. Fire up that alloy ally because gelid air temps offer noteworthy benefits in curing major bovine muscle groups. Low and slow heat delivers smoldered exteriors with pinked interior rings and buttery flesh by way of the sympathetic smoke.
Those of you who routinely scorch steaks on the grill can’t possibly get smoking wrong. If you can read a thermometer, you can smoke meat. It’s infinitely more palatable than a scorned Porterhouse at the hands of a meat arsonist, and a heck of a lot cheaper. Meat prices are higher than ever and it’s time you get better acquainted with humble Chuck.
Many traditional cuts once smoked for their economy are now nearly as expensive per pound as their provender contingents. Not to say that a twenty dollar prime rib “hamburger” or an ten-dollar haute dog aren’t worth a try. It’s just that the American BBQ isn’t a solitary kind of event, it’s a party. And having friends over to break bread shouldn’t break bank.
This week, beefretail.org, who establishes national averages for beef prices, quotes wholesale price for flat cut brisket at just over six dollars per pound. That’s nearly two dollars more per pound than this time last year not including retail markup which averages 26%, even higher in metro areas.
As such, I suggest we scrap traditional cuts that routinely inhabit the smoker and venture out into roasts previously confined to the Crock Pot or Dutch Oven (as in roasting pan, not captive undercover outbursts). Enter “Chuck”, the shoulder area of the cow. This portion of the carcass generates nearly 25% of the edible rations, bearing a great deal more meat than bougie steak or rib portions. And like my spouse, Chuck is tough but loveable given the right conditions.
Wholesale prices for Chuck hover around $3 per pound. But even with retail markup you can secure a great three pound chuck roast, enough to feed a family of four, for about twelve bucks—The price of one bone-in ribeye. Three pounds may sound excessive for four diners, but one must consider shrinkage– Fat and water melted away, leaving a dense beautifully hued protein (because dense and beautiful are the perfect combo in the meat kingdom).
Prep and cooking time is lengthy so consider buying bulk Chuck. Slice into three-to-four pound sections before marinating. Leftover smoked Chuck can be shredded for stellar tacos, sandwiches or enchiladas.
My own fore into smoked chuck was entirely by accident. I’d have never thought to throw such a girthy, oleaginous cut into the drum. But one morning when the husband was prepping the smoker for some whole chickens, I remembered thawing a roast that wouldn’t be prudent to eat if left another day in the fridge. A dull fleshed, less than spritely three pound chuck that I just couldn’t bear to toss.
You see, I went to an angus farm and ordered half a bull. I saw the damn thing galloping about a field of butterflies and named it “Fred” before solidifying his slaughter with my signature (death warrant) and credit card number.
I purposefully made eye contact with death row Fred a week prior to his poor throat being slit by a rabbi, wanting to better appreciate where my food comes from and be less inclined to waste former living things. As such, my near-ripe chuck (Fred) was messaged with salt and spices then nestled into a quad of chickens on the smoker vice being ravaged by raptors at the landfill.
Smoking meat does not require a Texas-style steel Trojan of a grill favoring a sawed off MK-16 torpedo. These offset smoker boxes are great if you have one, but a standard charcoal grill with a tight-fitting lid will suffice.
The easiest method involves soaking wood chips (six cups) or small branches overnight in clean water then tossing them right atop your hot charcoal when ready to smoke. Apple, cherry, mesquite and hickory are all good.
Don’t buy wood chips if there’s an orchard nearby or a neighbor with a few fruit trees. Ask to be present when they prune (you could of course, offer to help). There’s no reason to spend seven bucks on a tidy bag of ethically-harvested smoking wood at Williams-Sonoma. Only a liberal would do that. Pruning is very ethical and free is always better.
While your grill is getting hot, marinate Chuck in any style bath you’d normally offer beef. If you don’t have a go-to, see my blog for a basic marinade recipe. Use a gallon-sized zipper bag for each three-to-four pound chuck roast. Leave at room temp for an hour or up to twelve hours in the refrigerator.
Smoke chuck at between 225 and 250 degrees for five to six hours, or 200 degrees for seven hours, generously enveloping chuck in foil at the halfway mark (wrap your meat snuggly—leaks could prove problematic later). Chuck is ready to rest when his internal temperature reaches 165 degrees. The more you peek, the longer the process will take, so please refrain. Juices will be redistributed to the finished meat while resting for several hours in a cool, dry place. The longer it has to rest, the more tender and tasty it is.
Are you a chronic overachiever? Then tackle the entire process a day ahead placing the finished foil-wrapped meat straight into the refrigerator to eat the next day. To serve, thinly slice and gently heat in the microwave or oven and finish with BBQ sauce — Lefty’s is my personal fav. Finished foil-wrapped smoked Chuck can also be put straight into a freezer bag and into the freezer for a later date (or a hot date?). Serve with slaw or my five cheese sweet potato gratin (recipe on my blog here).
Wintery weather offers ideal conditions for curing meat through smoking. And the humble Chuck, once predestined for pot roast proves a worthy alternative to traditionally smoked cuts… he’s tasty, easy to find, and economical. Even our Dallas blood brethren love my smoked Chuck. And that’s a good thing because they eat a lot and visit often.
Being kosher is an important part of the Jewish religion.
The rules of kashrut (pertaining to kosher, being fit or proper) appear in the Old Testament in both Leviticus and Numbers. Jewish people were told they should eat only animals that chew their cud and have hooves — like cows — and fish with scales and fins. Thus pigs and crustaceans, among other creatures which don’t fit into these categories, were forbidden to the Jewish people as food. Bugs were also forbidden (with the exception of two species of kosher locusts, designated by name).
There are many ramifications aside from these basic prohibitions, including the method of slaughter of any of the above-listed animals, and there are a number of organizations with individuals who go into food-processing plants, slaughterhouses, and meat-packing plants to ensure that all kosher tenets are met.
The largest of these kosher-certifying organizations in the world is the Orthodox Union.
Many products carry the OU symbol, thus certifying the products as being kosher.
According to Rabbi Dovid Jenkins, the rabbinical coordinator of the Orthodox Union, there are 3.5 million residents of this country who choose to purchase kosher products and many, he said, aren’t Jewish. The OU kosher supervisors travel all over the world to certify products that will be imported and sold in the U.S. Jenkins said that the OU has even gotten a request from Pakistan to certify their products. However, it was deemed too dangerous to send a kosher supervisor to that country.
Next: 12 Fascinating facts about a kosher diet
Colorado is stuck between a hookah and a hard place on preventing welfare recipients from using their EBTs to buy legalized weed:
Despite mounting evidence that “welfare for weed” is more than an urban myth, Democratic legislators are balking at a bill that would add marijuana dispensaries and strip clubs to the list of places, along with casinos and liquor stores, where debit-style benefits cards cannot be used to withdraw cash from automatic teller machines, or ATMs.
Democrats killed a similar bill last year, but now the stakes are higher. States had two years to align their statutes with a 2012 federal law banning the use of electronic benefits transfer (EBT) cards at gambling and adult-entertainment venues.
As of this year, states that fail to take action risk having their federal grants under the Temporary Assistance for Needy Families program reduced by 5 percent.
While pot shops aren’t on the federal list, Colorado officials are concerned that failing to disable ATMs at marijuana dispensaries for EBT cards would violate the spirit of the law and provoke the ire of the Justice Department, which is keeping the legalized pot industry in states like Colorado and Washington on a short leash.
Democrats don’t want to offend the tender sensibilities of their most devoted voters — people on the dole. Republicans don’t want local businesses at the tender mercies of Washington’s jackbooted thugs.
But is removing ATM machines from poor neighborhoods — where pot stores are mostly located — the answer? Before we get to that, maybe we need to look at the real problem, which in this case is not legalized marijuana.
I come from a family of ketchup lovers. I don’t know how we became one, but here we are.
We would have ketchup on hot dogs and hamburgers, as well as on cottage cheese, hard cheese, green beans, meat, fish, eggs, and an assortment of other foods. We always favored Heinz; however, when then-presidential candidate John Kerry, whose wife is the Heinz ketchup heiress, was running for president, I started to explore other brands to show solidarity with his conservative opposition. I even bought an unnamed generic brand at Walmart, and it was just as good, and a lot cheaper.
1. Ketchup wasn’t always red! When you go shopping for ketchup now it’s easy to spot the bright red bottles. However, when it was invented it was sort of brown, and it wasn’t until the 19th century that it began to be made with tomatoes.
The Chinese, the industrious inventors of so many western items like gunpowder and paper, created the ancient form of ketchup as well.
The word ketchup is derived from the Chinese ke-tsiap, a pickled fish sauce. It made its way to the Malay Archipelago, where it became ketchup or ketjup (in Indonesian). The Chinese product was more like soy sauce.
In another version, in 300 B.C. texts began documenting the use of fermented pastes made from fish entrails, meat byproducts and soybeans. The fish sauce, called “koe-cheup” by speakers of the Southern Min dialect, was easy to store on long ocean voyages. It spread along trade routes to Indonesia.
It turns out that Israel—which is a frontrunner in many fields including hi-tech, medicine, agriculture, defense, and others—is actually leading the world in the field of veganism.
The nearly 5 percent of Israelis who are now vegans is the highest per capita total in the world. Another 8 percent are vegetarians. This is a very dramatic rise from just four years ago, when Israel’s Central Bureau of Statistics found that only 2.6 percent of Israelis were either vegetarians or vegans.
And the trend is apparently growing. The Times of Israel quotes Israeli vegan activist Omri Paz:
The makeup of the community is the biggest change…. In the past, maybe they were more spiritual, or people society viewed as a little different, a little strange. A lot of the new vegans are mainstream—vegan lawyers, vegan teachers.
The Times goes on to note:
Israeli veganism took root in secular liberal circles, but religious Israelis are joining the movement, too. Many note that the biblical Adam and Eve were vegetarians in the Garden of Eden.
And as another report notes:
Even the IDF [Israel Defense Forces], in which most Israeli young men and women have to serve, now offers soldiers leather-free boots and a small allowance to buy themselves alternatives to the food in mess halls.
To some extent Israelis’ vegan tendency could be rooted in the kosher laws, which take meat-eating seriously and set restrictions on it.
Meanwhile, an article by Mary Eberstadt last month on National Review Online reports:
Conservative circles in Washington and New York include a growing number of…animal softies, ranging from mindful carnivores to all-the-way vegans. As the respectful treatment accorded theologian Charles Camosy’s recent book For Love of Animals goes to show, Catholic/Christian hangouts harbor fellow travelers like that too.
Eberstadt goes on to note:
within American conservatism itself, a growing coalition of newly attentive carnivores, vegetarians, and vegans is steadily acquiring new momentum. In fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that the freshest thinking on animal welfare these days is emanating not from the Left but rather from writers who are Christian or conservative—or both.
As both an Israeli and a conservative, I welcome both these trends. I’ve been a vegetarian for about twenty-five years, and in more recent years, a near-vegan.
The reason is simple. You’ve had dogs, or cats, or both? So you know how sensitive and emotional they are. Why would you think the cows, pigs, chickens and so on that people slaughter and eat are any different? Why put them through ordeals and death?
I used to think this didn’t apply to dairy products, since animals aren’t killed to obtain them. But modern dairy farming—like modern factory farming in general—is actually full of appalling cruelty to the animals involved.
But even if there were a sweeping reform of factory farming, and farm animals were allowed to live more or less decent lives before being subjected to “humane slaughter,” I would remain a near-vegan (and I may make it to full veganism). Should we be killing animals so we can eat their dead flesh? Is it civilized? And is it much more civilized to have a cow’s milk on my table?
I would agree that it was justified if people, like cats, needed animal products for their health. But that, of course, is not the case; there are many millions of perfectly healthy vegetarians and vegans in the world. My quarter-century of increasingly stringent vegetarianism finds me at the peak of health. And I will never forget the light, pleasant feeling I had as soon as I stopped eating meat; by now, of course, I take it for granted.
So if health isn’t the justification for meat, that leaves two others: it tastes good, and it’s what people have been doing for a long time.
Yes, I recall that it tasted good—and so do all sorts of delightful non-meat dishes, including ersatz meat products if you miss meat. Is a good taste really a reason to kill a living being?
And as for the fact that people have been eating meat for a long time, that, of course, is not a strong argument. Other “traditional” human practices have included cannibalism, human sacrifice, and slavery. Longevity is hardly a justification.
What I’m saying is best summed up by the image of a vegan soldier with non-leather boots. There is, lamentably, still a world of belligerent, murderous humans out there whom one has no choice but to fight. But by going vegetarian-vegan you link yourself with the world of peace, harmony, and respect for life, and you expand it.
When one has indoor plumbing some things are simply better purchased with a wingman. Not the proverbial “wingman,” but an oversized, fortified male accompanying the said female in procurement of goods, minimizing her mocking for sheer amusement of purveyor staff.
In my experience these purchases include fast cars, Cuban cigars in Paris (Churchills not cigarillos), and high-end spirits. Never have I been so unabashedly snickered at as when inquiring about whiskey.
It all started four years ago. My husband was having a major birthday and I desired a distinctive offering. I thought about a really ripe Cabernet Franc (his favorite) but we already had enough garnet-hued libations in the basement. Collecting red wine involved more babysitting and added expense than initially anticipated. It’s an indulgence requiring quick consumption after opening as it begins to decline soon after. And wine has obstinate storage needs. If you have something special waiting to peak, it can easily become soured in less than ideal conditions.
A good example was the much-anticipated 2004 Merryvale Profile finally opened on our anniversary last month–an utter disappointment. The bottle had been too close to the radiant heat floor and consequently the cork dried out, allowing air to filter through. We took a sip and puckered up, promptly committing the remaining tainted wine to the crock that houses my French Mother. What a waste.
My husband is incredibly difficult to buy for and rarely gets excited about anything—the only downside to his even keel. Before he was into wine, he really enjoyed whiskey, which was at the time absent from the liquor cabinet. I began my internet search for a spirit to parallel a major birthday for such a man and came across the annual “spirit” awards (as in alcohol, not cheerleaders).
The mentioned imported whiskeys (spelled “whiskies” in Scotland, Canada and Japan) were the Scotch and Irish bottlings, Canadian and, surprisingly, some Japanese. There were several standouts, but no solitary bottle that prompted a Hallelujah. So I headed to the American offerings in which one bourbon (we’ll get to a whiskey/bourbon comparison in a sec) won seven notable awards in 2010 and a score of 97 points by Wine Enthusiast. That bottle was the 20-year Pappy Van Winkle, referred to by loyal devotees as “Pappy.”
That solitary distilled spirit commandeered recommendations and reviews from every possible venue: lowly college kids that accidentally found a bottle hiding in the local liquor store to chefs in Manhattan to bourbon gurus in Kentucky. The 20-year Pappy seemed the overwhelmingly obvious choice, and I was relieved to find my husband’s soon-to-be birthday gift.
Then came the crushing reality. I was tremendously naïve regarding process acquisition of the illusive “Pappy.” There were thousands of folks (generally men) on wait lists across the country trying to land a bottle, and no respectable liquor store in Maryland was willing to sell to some girl wanna-be whiskey connoisseur sans wingman. The fact that shipping alcohol to Maryland was illegal at the time only upped the ante.
Three weeks later the exchange took place. Within arm’s reach was not one, but two bottles of Pappy Van Winkle in trademark velvet bottle sleeves. I had managed to talk an unnamed someone out of both a 15-year and a 20-year Pappy for the agreed price of $500. My blue-collar background objected via inner dialogue but was snuffed out the second I cradled that plain brown box in my arms. I had closed on a Hail Mary, securing honorary sainthood among future generations of American wives.
Finally the day came. He opened the box, at once astonished. After putting his jaw back into place, he snapped a photo with his iPhone and off it went to his brother in Dallas, who’d been trying to get his hands on any bottle (or even just an ounce) of Pappy Van Winkle for well over a year.
That first Pappy procurement swiftly launched me into the “Wifee Hall of Fame” (his words, not mine). I’ve never seen a tough guy act so dorky. He texted photos of himself posing with his Pappy to nearly every drinking buddy he’s ever had. But my victorious endowment also created a problem… He was hooked. The limited supply of Pappy merely tickled the scratch of increasing consumer demand in the following years.
I again called all the liquor stores who might obtain an allocation, usually one case or less, in late November. After booking my parents’ babysitting services for Pappy allocation day, the hubby and I hit every liquor store (like Bonnie and Clyde) that was expecting at least six bottles. We went in each location separately as there was a one-bottle limit per person. At the end of the day we had four new bottles. The following year we obtained another four bottles to add to our modest collection (see exhibit B below). Pappy allocation day had become a standing date between us… like a treasure hunt for grown-ups with OCD.
This past November, we were down to eight bottles and hoped to pick up two or three more. But the UPS trucks had all arrived at liquor stores with lines forming outside and the few bottles sent to each location sold immediately upon arrival. Didn’t even make it to the shelves. Other stores that were expecting a modest delivery got the big goose egg and were consequently pretty pissed off. Despite five well-managed attempts, we went home empty handed (sigh).
A few hours after returning home defeated, one of my husband’s employees called with intel regarding someone who might sell us a bottle of the Van Winkle Family Reserve Rye. When my dedicated spouse arrived at the nondescript liquor store, the 80-something owner looked him up and down, asked him a few questions and made small talk. After all, the guy wasn’t about to sell Van Winkle to a jerk (or worse, an unworthy palate). Luckily, my husband passed the interview. They had bonded over a mutual interest, hockey.
The older fellow then discreetly disclosed that he had rye in the back. My husband followed him to a room of what seemed to be boxes full of easily attainable American whiskeys. But the contents of the boxes did not correspond with their entry-level housing.
Not only did my husband secure a Van Winkle Family Reserve Rye, he also came home with a unique bottling of Colonel E.H. Taylor, and the humdinger… the 18-year Sazarac Rye that I’d been trying to get a hold of for two years (see exhibit A). The Sazarac Rye had been the second most absurd request I made at local liquor stores. And it is absolutely delicious! Not nearly as angry as the Van Winkle Family Reserve Rye because the smooth toffee-like Sazarac had another five years to mellow into an uber-refined gentleman.
So, here’s a quick education on American whiskey and bourbon. There are actually laws that specify what they can be made of, what they are aged in, the temp of the fluid when entering the barrels, and how high the alcohol content must be for each. It’s a lot of info, but Maker’s Mark generated a great visual that presents the basics in a rather unconfusing manner. I wish I would have found this back in 2010:
An unforeseen bonus to our rather tantric Pappy fixation is that it has only increased in value, nearly three-hundred percent. And, it keeps for ages, unlike the red wine stewing on our heated floors.
The Pappy purchased and opened several years ago is just as enjoyable, if not more so. And the best part? I get between twenty and twenty-five servings per bottle, under $15 for a 1oz. pour of 23-year Pappy, the brand’s flagship. In contrast, our big reds cost more per pour, offering only six servings per bottle. Buck for buck, our whiskey is by far a superior value for initial investment.
We’ve still got four ounces left of that first 20-year bottle I bought back in 2010. Those last well-loved milliliters will be finishing a long distinguished life in form of a bourbon cake in the next few weeks. I realize this is spiritual heresy, so feel free to protest should you feel led.
Icelandic brewery Stedji, which is producing the beer in time for the country’s mid-winter festival, Thorri, said the Hvalur 2 beer was made with the testicles of fin whales – which are classified as endangered on the conservation Red List – smoked in a “traditional way” with dried sheep dung.
Stedji may very well be redefining “on tap.”
If you really want to upset white people at brunch, water down the Bloody Marys.
— Stephen Green (@VodkaPundit) January 6, 2015
Being somewhat of a foodie of the kosher variety, I find the online review service Yelp indispensable when choosing where to eat. To be fair to restaurants, Jews can be somewhat discerning (read: picky and somewhat cranky); thus no restaurant I’ve ever read the reviews of totally came off smelling like roses. The best reviews on these kosher restaurants, though, are not from Jews, but from non-Jews who accidentally stumble upon kosher restaurants and all of their quirks. To keep kosher means to abide by certain rules of the Jewish faith. For the purpose of this post, it’s only necessary to lay out those which apply in restaurants:
Milk and meat are separate: In reality, this means in a kosher restaurant they only serve meat or dairy, never both. If you order a cheeseburger in a kosher restaurant, one of the items is a “fake” — either the burger is made of vegetables or the cheese is made of soy.
No pork or shellfish: If you’re looking for a shrimp scampi or bacon, you’ve come to the wrong place if you’ve chosen to eat in a kosher restaurant.
There are a lot of Jews: You would think this goes without saying, but in a kosher restaurant, you will find yourself among a lot of religious Jews. Observant Jews are only able to eat in kosher restaurants, which are not nearly as numerous as non-kosher; thus, when choosing a place to eat, Orthodox Jews tend to come in groups as there are few options to choose from.
1. House of Dog in Boca Raton, Florida
It’s somewhat incredible that someone can live among so many Orthodox Jews in Boca Raton and be completely ignorant of what Orthodox Judaism is, and what it entails, but this woman has managed the impossible. I recently visited House of Dog and the menu now has small notes on it to indicate that the bacon isn’t really bacon and that the cheese isn’t really cheese. I shared this review with my husband and we laughed, wondering if the menu was altered because of people like this woman. Outside of what appears to be some latent anti-Semitism on her part, I was also confused when I first saw the House of Dog menu, wondering if it was actually kosher because cheese and bacon were listed without any clarification.
One of my husband ‘s favorite sandwiches is peanut butter and a pickle on rye. Elvis Presley liked his peanut butter sandwiches with banana and bacon, and Hemingway liked thick onion slices in his. Ninety-four percent of American households have a jar on hand. The stuff lasts forever, so in a nuclear war situation you can always rely on it for sustenance. It can be stored safely unrefrigerated for two years.
I, on the other hand, have a love/hate relationship with it, and if I do ever eat it, I do so in the traditional manner, as a solo spread or with its mate, jelly! At other times, I abhor the stuff and, even when scrounging around for something to eat, will bypass it.
Who invented Peanut Butter?
I had always thought that peanut butter was as American as apple pie and mom and was never eaten before we Americans took over from the British. Not true. Peanut butter was actually an Aztec dish, but eaten as a paste, not a spread. I bet they didn’t eat it with jelly either, or put it into their kids’ lunch boxes.
The modern form of peanut butter was invented by Canadian Marcellus Gilmore Edson of Montreal. According to Wikipedia, he was the first to patent peanut butter, in 1884. Peanut flour already existed. His cooled product had “a consistency like that of butter, lard, or ointment,” according to his patent application. He included the mixing of sugar into the paste in order to harden its consistency.
Stretching 150 miles from Miami, U.S. 1 traverses the Florida Keys, a series of narrow tropical islands, surrounded by aquamarine waters, and connected by 42 bridges — one is seven miles long! There are 800 keys, with only a few inhabited. Coral formations range offshore their entire length. They stretch east to west, ending in Key West, the southernmost spot in the U.S. Weather is warmer in winter than anywhere else in the continental U.S. in winter, and pleasant in summer.
The variety of land and water attractions include gorgeous sunrises and sunsets, sailing, fishing, sampling a medley of fresh area seafood, viewing unusual fauna and flora, swimming with dolphins, sea kayaking, and more. It includes the world’s third largest coral reef, which extends 240 miles from Key Largo to the Tortugas. Lush vegetation proliferates with flowering bushes and bougainvillea.
The food is special, too, with dishes like Key Lime Pie, made from tart yellow limes; Bahamian fish stew; and conch served in a variety of ways. The very special Keys’ deer are miniature, no larger than medium-sized dogs. They are so adorable that you might be tempted to take one home as a pet. Several of the keys offer the chance to swim with these intelligent warm creatures who love humans and especially kids. My son swam with them several times.
In my youth the government encouraged people to eat more eggs and butter and drink more milk for the sake of their health. Perhaps it was the right advice after a prolonged period of war-induced shortage, but no one would offer, or take, the same advice today. Nutritional advice is like the weather and public opinion, which is to say highly changeable.
How quickly things go from being the elixir of life to deadly poison! A recent paper from Sweden in the British Medical Journal suggests that, at least for people aged between 49 and 75, milk now falls into the latter category, especially for women.
Milk was once thought to protect against osteoporosis, the demineralization of bone that often results in fractures. It stood (partially) to reason that it should, for milk contains many of the nutrients necessary for bone growth.
On the other hand, it also stood (partially) to reason that it should do more harm than good, for consumption of milk increases the level of galactose in the blood and galactose has been found to promote ageing in many animals, up to and including mice. If you want an old mouse quickly, inject a young one with galactose.
In other words, there is reason to believe both that the consumption of milk does good and that it does harm. Which is it? This is the question that the Swedish researchers set out to answer.
I’m not sure exactly how to lead you into this story, so without any further ado…
Diamonds are typically created more than 800 kilometers (500 miles) below Earth’s surface when temperatures over 2200 degrees Celsius (4000 degrees Fahrenheit) and pressure 1.3 million times greater than the atmosphere combine and crystallize carbon into the clear white stone we all know. Synthetic diamonds can replicate the process in a few short days, creating diamonds that are less politically-charged for use in jewelry, electronics, manufacturing, and more.
Dan Frost of Germany’s Bayerisches Geoinstitut has been creating diamonds out of a rather unlikely source of carbon: peanut butter.
Do you have any idea how many potential diamonds my kids have pooped in the last nine years?
From the International Business Times: Learning a New Language Stimulates Same Pleasure Centres in the Brain as Sex and Chocolate
Learning a new language apparently has certain unexpected benefits.
Researchers found that the process of learning a language and acquiring a wider vocabulary has the effect of stimulating the same part of the brain as having sex or eating chocolate.
Scientists from Spain and Germany found people who expand their vocabulary trigger a part of the brain known as the ventral striatum, a pleasure centre that is activated when people are involved in activities such as sex, drugs, gambling or eating sugary foods.
Researchers from Barcelona’s Bellvitge Biomedical Research Institute and Otto von Guericke University in Germany conducted trials on 36 adults who participated in gambling simulations and language-based tests.
Scans carried out after the tests, showed that both activities stimulated the same parts of the brain.
What motivates your desire to learn new languages? What are the best ways to learn?
What are the tastiest desserts in other languages?
For years, scientists have been trying to prove that chocolate is good for us. The idea was based on more than the desires of a sweet-toothed scientist—cocoa is high in antioxidants known as flavanols. But proving those hypothetical health benefits hasn’t been easy.
Now, there’s new evidence to suggest that chocolate dramatically improves the memory skills that people lose with age. When healthy people between the ages of 50 and 69 drank a mixture high in cocoa flavanols for three months, they performed about 25% better on a memory test compared to a control group of participants.
Hat Tip to Kathy Shaidle
image illustration of deliciousness via shutterstock / Svetlana Lukienko
One lamentable feature of the contemporary West is the ruthless efficiency of the nanny state. It works overnight. You wake up, slouch over your coffee and corn flakes, and read of the new Bad Thing that must be stopped Right Now. In Britain, the latest activity slated for oblivion is smoking in public parks. Readers, I’m sure, do not need to be reminded that parks are outdoor places; the traditional excuse of “secondhand smoke” does not appear to apply (although it is possible to find “studies” on the dangers of “thirdhand smoke”).
Nevertheless, British officials moved quickly. In September 2013, the mayor of London, alleged conservative Boris Johnson, ordered a “major review of health in the capital,” according to The Independent. The results are already in: Lord Darzi, Britain’s former health minister and the appointed chair of Johnson’s special commission, has said smoking needs to be banned in London’s parks and public squares. There is news that ”councils throughout England are also understood to be analysing how the proposals could be applied locally, paving the way for potentially the biggest crackdown on smoking since the Smoke Free legislation of 2007.”
Hat tip to Jon Rowe, from The Atlantic in 2012: “The Case for Drinking as Much Coffee as You Like”
“Coffee and caffeine have been inexorably intertwined in our thinking, but truth is coffee contains a whole lot of other stuff with biological benefits,” said Martin. And most concerns about caffeine’s negative effects on the heart have been dispelled. In June, a meta-analysis of ten years of research went so far as to find an inverse association between habitual, moderate consumption and risk of heart failure. The association peaked at four cups per day, and coffee didn’t stop being beneficial until subjects had increased their daily consumption to beyond ten cups.
Caffeine might also function as a pain reliever. A study from September suggested as much when its authors stumbled across caffeinated coffee as a possible confounding variable in its study of the back, neck, and shoulder pains plaguing office drones: Those who reported drinking coffee before the experiment experienced less intense pain.
The data is even more intriguing — and more convincing — for caffeine’s effects as a salve against more existential pains. While a small study this month found that concentrated amounts of caffeine can increase positivity in the moment, last September the nurses’ cohort demonstrated a neat reduction in depression rates among women that became stronger with increased consumption of caffeinated coffee.
And a new article at The Atlantic today: “Research suggests that a person’s consumption of the beverage is determined in part by his or her DNA—and that its benefits could extend beyond a caffeine buzz.”
A study released last Tuesday by an international consortium of caffeine scholars may help explain why some of these customers visited more often than others. Spearheaded by Marilyn Cornelis, a research associate at the Harvard School of Public Health, the team investigated the link between genetics and coffee consumption. By analyzing DNA as well as data on 120,000 adults of European and African-American heritage, the researchers identified eight genetic variants that predispose individuals to seek out and drink caffeine.
“Our results show that people are naturally consuming the amount of coffee that allows them to maintain their optimal level of caffeine” to get that good caffeine feeling without becoming jittery, Cornelis told me. “If we need more, we’re reaching for it.”
Six of the genetic variants examined in the study were newly discovered by the researchers. According to Cornelis, individuals whose DNA expressed all the variants tended to drink around half a cup of coffee more than those without them. Additionally, the new genes can explain about 1.3 percent of all coffee-drinking behavior, or about the same amount that genes can explain other habits, like smoking and alcohol consumption. While those effects may seem small, Cornelis said the study sheds light on why individuals’ bodies and brains react differently to caffeine—and how some people feel anxious after a single cup of coffee, whereas others can down a Starbucks Venti and feel just fine.
I wonder who the editor(s) might be at the Atlantic with the serious coffee habit…
Anyway, what do you recommend for daily caffeine consumption? Is waking up to the smell of coffee every morning a good enough reason to favor it over tea?
And if you have a coffee/tea or other product you’d like to see reviewed at PJ Lifestyle then please get in touch: DaveSwindlePJM @ Gmail Dot Com @DaveSwindle on Twitter