culmination

for every ten days I spend in crisis, there's at least one where the dramatic arc falls and I'm able to find some kind of resolution; it usually happens all at once.

The Ethiopian food drama was almost more than I could handle for those intense few days. The stress was so all-consuming that it actually produced a blog, which is more than I can say about many of my other obsessions. I often find myself locked into some kind of loop: something needs to happen, but for that to happen something else needs to happen, but I can't do that something else because of Reason XYZ. Usually that reason is tied up with some unrealistic expectation on my part—"I should be able to cook injera myself, and I can't make or eat Ethiopian food at home until I do."

Well, somehow breaking the cycle, I drove to Little Ethiopia again last night and bought myself a pack of pre-made injera. Sure, it was less satisfying than a meal made completely from scratch, but only by a little bit. My visit to Merkato truly was inspired, as I got an opportunity to ask the cashier all about cooking injera for the first time. He even volunteered to give me some starter if it didn't turn out!

Pictured: Yemiser W'et (lentil stew) with a side of plain yogurt

In related news, I finished the puzzle at work that same day. Coincidence?

reading between the lines

who says I don't have fans?


Subject: I love your photos!

Hey m. berru,

I've just come across some of your flickr photos, and I just had to stop by to drop you a line of appreciation. I've left several comments on some of my favorites of yours. I absolutely love the shots you posted of your feet and shoes. I was wondering what size they are. Also, would it be possible for me to get some full-size versions? Thank you so much. Hope to hear from you.

happy drake day, folks



via Brian and Evan.

insult to injera


in an effort to minimize both the amount of money I spend dining out as well as the heartache and stress induced by my spending vast amounts of time online, I've cultivated an obsession with cooking Ethiopian food. From the delicious Yesiga Tibs at Nyala two weeks ago to tonight's meltdown (details forthcoming), I've salivated over the buttery taste of tomatoes and beef on spongy flatbread. (Only the jigsaw puzzle at work has distracted me more these past two days.)

My trip to San Diego this weekend really ignited the insanity. Bernd served me some homemade chicken korma, which to date is the only Indian food I've been able to choke down, let alone enjoy. After seeing the "Darwin: EvolutionRevolution" exhibit at the San Diego Natural History Museum, I pondered the mechanism and possibility of my inheriting a genetic distaste for cumin. Similarly, isn't it marvelous how we evolved to love the smell of cooked food? Or at least, the idea of the theory is marvelous. (I'm less pleased by the hypothetical in which I have this conversation with my Creationist parents, but that's another story.)


Anyway, jealous of my friend's cupboardful of gram marsala and bay leaves and turmeric all lined up in uniform Ikea glass jars, I made my own trek to India Sweets & Spices in Culver City last night. (Cumin, ugh.) Using cardamom and nutmeg (or "jaiphal;" cultural!) as a nosegay, I made my escape home right in the nick of ... around nine-thirty pm. Good thing we had chips in the pantry and guacamole in the fridge.

Tonight, I had similarly long delays on the way home. From work in Marina Del Rey to "Sofax," teff flour for the injera can apparently be found for $12.50 in Little Ethiopia, and only there. My beacon was the wrinkled recipe in my messenger bag, injera in a half hour, and, if all went well, lentil soup and yogurt too.

Here are the principles of my fascination:

Berbere: Much like "curry powder," berbere is a term used to describe a mixture of spices used frequently in Ethiopian cooking. My recipe calls for cardamom, ginger, cloves, cinnamon, coriander, fenugreek, cayenne pepper, and paprika. The spices are roasted and the mix saved for up to 6 months in a tightly-sealed container.

Niter Kebbeh: This Ethiopian spiced butter is, as one of my recipes describes it, "ubiquitous" in Ethiopian cooking and—as it contains many of the above spices—is absolutely delicious. I'll gladly suffer calorically the indulgent fattiness of butter for the more nutritious (and gluten-free) teff flour.

Yemiser W'et: Lentils seem to make some of the most satisfying vegetarian main courses, and this recipe called for berbere, so I felt pretty comfortable with it.

Tsebhi Sga: The closest approximation to what I had at Nyala, I found this recipe online (sensing a theme here?) and meticulously transferred over all the spices between the four dishes, so that at some point I would have a master list of every item. n.b. Still missed "cloves (whole)" and "allspice" and am firing myself as my own personal assistant.

After much plastic-bag-labeling, allspice-cursing, and general lamenting over the amount of butter needed in the recipe vs. what can be found in my fridge, I tried to take a crack at the Ethiopian bread I had been craving so much. Come to find out, to make injera properly one must have a "starter" dough: optimal time in the most authoritative recipe I could find? Fifteen days. I'm definitely hungrier than that. What better way to show my disappointment in my own recipe-researching skills than to indulge in some tears, table-pounding, and a 6-piece of Wendy's chicken nuggets?

Perhaps when God so intelligently designed us humans, he sculpted my own arrogance in regards to Ethiopian cuisine. "How hard can it be? Goopy stuff, spongy stuff, and some spices? And people with elementary-school educations can do it?" I guess I forgot the whole part about "rich cultural history" and "unlimited free time." Meanwhile, does anyone have any starter dough? I seem to be coming up short.

the botany of desire

i wish that this title was all mine, that I could claim it and continue some metaphor mingling relationships with plant life. Xylem and phloem, microscope close-ups of sex cells, sepals of lust. So ridiculous that I just might attempt it.

The Botany of Desire is not that, however, to the great relief of bestselling author Michael Pollan. Before you ask, yes, he is a public-radio/science-y type dork that I occasionally fantasize about marrying. Before you ask again, yes, like all of those nerds, he is already married. Still, the book is great, and I wouldn't be pining if it wasn't. Weren't? Susannah?

While the book remains a great favorite of mine, I've recently discovered the corridor to another possible favorite ... documentary.



Apparently PBS is streaming it for free, here. I really encourage you to watch it, especially the part about apples. If I have to explain the word "heterozygous" to one more person ... well, then I guess I'll just be that much more tired explaining "heterozygous." That's okay. My sweetheart Michael Pollan is worth it.

guess the pandora station

electronica influences, punk influences, subtle use of paired vocal harmony, varying tempo and time signatures and minor key tonality

David: i have no idea
me: haha
do you want to know?
or do you need more time?
you will never know this band
David: tell me.
me: [spoiler including lyrics all in caps lock]
David: you are correct, i did not know them
I don't listen to the swearing station

ultimate comedy bash 10.09.09 and 10.10.09

first, lots of people took photos at the Ultimate Comedy Bash in Solvang this weekend. So if you did, and happen to come across this, please add your photos to the Flickr pool! It's super easy. Just click here: http://www.flickr.com/groups/ultimatecomedybash/

Also, thanks to Amanda for inviting me. The shows were super fun and Solvang itself was lovely!

(All of the pictures I posted below and many, many more can be found in this photoset.)


Maverick Saloon in Santa Ynez, location of the Fresh Faces of Comedy show on Friday night


Host Paul F. Tompkins asks the audience if they ARE READY FOR COMEDYYYYYYY jokes to be told by him


Kyle Kinane could not look more at home in a venue


Josh Fadem does a flying leap for yet another microphone


The Birthday Boys ask, "Don't you want to know the formula for Tab?"


Peaceful is the ranch in the morning


Saturday's shows took place at the very sunny Solvang Festival Theater


At The Greatest Improv Show Ever, the Upright Citizens Brigade laments the lack of a standing ovation after a false alarm: just some people getting into their seats


Matt Besser asks an "obvious" stoner some pointed questions


The mayor of Solvang didn't quite understand the "Stump the Old People" challenge, and ended up making a reference only Paul F. Tompkins—up in the nosebleed seats—could place


Amy Poehler and Danielle Schneider express their deep and abiding crushes on Abe Vigoda, Restaurant Driver (?)


Don't Stop Or We'll Die opens The Greatest Comedy Show Ever

PFT's one-man show
A photo from Paul F. Tompkins' "one man show"


Nick Kroll works it out. Later, he asks how many people in the audience think dogs are better than cats, and then how many like cats better than dogs. "Who raised their hand for cats?"

Cat Lady
A woman in the front row re-raises her hand, and Kroll says, "Not surprising."


James Adomian as Huell Howser marvels at, well, everything

Why not ME?!
Casey Wilson is a little upset she's not getting married


Matts Besser and Walsh and Ian Roberts conclude hosting duties; turn it back over to Don't Stop Or We'll Die


Goodbye, Solvang! Thank you!

(Again, many, many more pictures from the weekend can be found in this photoset.)