Why Americans Are Fat

From a Lone Star Steakhouse & Saloon ad in the Sunday, August 17, edition of the Lansing State Journal: A never-ending serving of our tender steak medallions cut into bite-size pieces, hand-breaded, golden-fried then tossed in your choice of spicy Sidewinder BBQ, Buffalo (mild, hot, or Texas hot) or plain Texas Traditional. Served with choice of ranch or bleu cheese dipping sauce and bottomless steak fries.

Cocktail Recipe: Bleachbomb

Ingredients
Bell’s Oberon Ale
Lysol® All Purpose Cleaner with Bleach

Take a couple drinks of beer. Spray Lysol® on walls of very small shower cubicle in closet-sized, windowless half-bath. Scrub tile vigorously, inhale deeply, and pause for occasional sip of beer. Continue process until shower is clean or until unconsciousness seems imminent.

This Week’s Menu

MONDAY
Puerco a la Mexicana, arroz blanco, and refritos negros (from Mexican Everyday by Rick Bayless)

TUESDAY
Leftovers

WEDNESDAY
Spinach risotto (from Cook with Jamie by Jamie Oliver) with grilled chicken

THURSDAY
Pasta with tuna and lemon (from Off the Shelf by Donna Hay)

FRIDAY
Shrimp pad thai (from Everyday Food)

SATURDAY
Cheeseburgers and French fries

SUNDAY
Frozen ravioli, sauce from a jar, and spinach

This Week’s Menu

MONDAY
GROWNUPS: Salad of Baby Greens, Smoked Chicken, Dried Cherries, and Pecans. Rosemary sourdough toast.
BABY: Banana, Avocado, and Chicken. Butternut Squash. Spinach.

TUESDAY
GROWNUPS: Panfried Fish Sandwich with Bacon Mayonnaise (from The Improvisational Cook by Sally Schneider).
BABY: Hint of Mint Soup (from Homemade Baby Food by Connie Linardakis). Pears.

WEDNESDAY
GROWNUPS: Spaghetti with Spiced Meatballs in Chipotle Sauce (from The Gourmet Slow Cooker by Lynn Alley, via the freezer). Baby Greens with Rosemary Sourdough Croutons.
BABY: Hint of Mint Soup. Butternut Squash.

THURSDAY
GROWNUPS: Yellow Peas and Rice with Onion Relish (from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison).
BABY: Split Peas and Rice (from Homemade Baby Food by Connie Linardakis). Pears.

FRIDAY
GROWNUPS: Leftovers.
BABY: Split Peas and Rice. Bananas.

SATURDAY
GROWNUPS: Chicken Tacos.
BABY: Sweet Potato and Chicken Dinner (from Homemade Baby Food by Connie Linardakis). Peas. Pears.

SUNDAY
GROWNUPS: Tuna and Lemon Pasta (from Off the Shelf by Donna Hay).
BABY: Sweet Potato and Chicken Dinner. Carrots. Applesauce.

Recipe: The Fauxjito

I’ve lost track of the mojito. I know it can’t possibly still be in—an acutely fashion-forward friend of mine made a little moue of distaste when I ordered one at a restaurant, like, 4 years ago—but I don’t know if it’s currently out or if it has retreated to a place beyond the dictates of trendiness. Whatever. It remains a delicious drink, and a very pleasant one to serve at small summer gatherings. When entertaining a crowd, however, it is a colossal pain in the ass. For those of you who enjoy the refreshing taste of the mojito but prefer not to consign yourself or someone you love to several hours bruising mint leaves, I offer an alternative: the fauxjito. While this drink does require a little bit of work, it’s all done in advance, leaving you free to mingle instead of muddle.

The ingredients for this drink are

A couple bunches of fresh mint (more for a large crowd)
At least two cans of frozen limeade (more for a large crowd)
A bottle of rum

First, make mint ice cubes by chopping the mint leaves, stuffing them into an ice-cube tray, topping the mint with water to fill, and freezing. Each drink should have at least a few mint cubes, so make as much as you think you’ll need. Obviously, you want to leave yourself several hours of freezing time for each batch.

Next, make a pitcher of limeade according to the instructions on the carton. This will involve thawing limeade first, so plan accordingly.

At party time, put the mint cubes in an ice bucket, and set this out with the pitcher and bottle of rum. Drink assembly is totally simple: Put a few mint ice cubes in a glass, fill glass with limeade, and top with a shot of rum. (Straws are optional, but they do make it possible to stir the drink, and your girl guests won’t mess up their lipstick as they sip.)

Gerry Thomas: 1922-2005

I haven’t checked, but I imagine James “Scotty” Doohan tributes are multiplying like tribbles on the Internets. Myself, I would like to take a moment to honor another luminary who died yesterday, Gerry Thomas, the inventor of the TV Dinner.

The TV Dinner is a quintessential 20th-century artifact. It not only changed the way people ate, but it changed the way people thought about eating. Plenty of people, from Slow Food advocates to those who bemoan the demise of the family meal, will tell you that the TV dinner changed America for the worse, but it’s worth remembering that, before the invention of convenience foods, women were pretty much trapped in the kitchen for much of the day, every day. Also, I’m just wild about those weird, crusty-fluffy mashed potatoes. Mmmm.

The AP did a pretty nice job of analyzing the cultural impact of the TV Dinner in their obituary, but, if you want the full story, you can find it in Karal Ann Marling’s As Seen on TV: The Visual Culture of Everyday Life in the 1950s, which is one of my very favorite books.

Camp Cupcake Cupcakes

Nestled in the Appalachian hills of southeastern West Virginia, Alderson Prison Camp is the nation’s oldest correctional institution for women. The federal facility made headlines when Martha Stewart began her 5-month sentence for lying about a stock sale—and again when she broke prison rules by cooking up a batch of crabapple jelly—but the celebrated homemaker and media mogul is by no means the most famous inmate the prison has housed.

Since opening its doors in 1927, Alderson has been home to a diverse roster of felonious females. Billie Holiday served a drug sentence at the rural compound in 1947. Iva Ikuko Toguri, one of the women who gave voice to Tokyo Rose, crossed paths with Mildred “Axis Sally” Gillars while at the prison. Socialist, ACLU co-founder, and women’s rights activist Elizabeth Gurley Flynn was sent to Alderson after her 1951 conviction for violating the Alien Registration Act.

Alderson is, for the most part, a temporary home for non-violent offenders (Manson family alum and would-be assassin Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme is one notable exception). A minimum security prison on an open, forested campus, Alderson has earned the nickname “Camp Cupcake”, and it’s that lighthearted sobriquet that inspired this delightful dessert.

I began with the Chocolate Cupcake recipe in The Martha Stewart Living Cookbook, a recipe that’s quite similar to this Devil’s Food Cupcake recipe found at marthastewart.com. The type of cake used isn’t important, though, so use any kind of cake you like. It is important, though, to have a large canvas for decorating, so use a jumbo muffin tin instead of standard size.

A white topping is also necessary, and I chose this Shiny Cream Cheese Frosting. Sweet and just a little tangy, this is a wonderful complement to a dense, fudgy chocolate cake. Please note that this frosting requires chilling before it’s properly spreadable, so you might want to make it before you make the cake. You should also know that it takes a lot of mixing before this recipe gets creamy, so using a stand mixer—such as this gorgeous Kitchen Aid model in Martha’s green—is a good idea. When you’re frosting these little cakes, be sure to reserve some for the decoration.

While any dessert should, of course, be delicious, Camp Cupcake Cupcakes are all about style. Martha Stewart may have to wear Alderson’s contemporary uniform of sweatshirt, khakis, and sneakers, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t emulate the nostalic charm of old-fashioned jailhouse togs. To make the stripes, mix black food coloring—available in the baking aisle of big grocery stores—with reserved frosting and pipe the colored frosting through a ribbon tip. Be sure to separate each black stripe with white space of equal width to achieve the desired effect. The finished result? A dessert that’s as visually striking as it is tasty.

It’s a good thing.

VIEW THE COMPLETE CAMP CUPCAKE PHOTO ESSAY HERE. THANKS TO MY HUSBAND, TED, FOR THE ACTION SHOTS AND THE INSPIRATION. THANKS TO MY DEAR, SWEET DR. KATE FOR GIVING ME THE MAGNIFICENT MIXER.

Joy Garden

I just got back from a long weekend in Richmond, Virginia. I was there with the inimitable Alyssa Dallas, visiting our mutual friend, Miss Sarah Hand. We were there on a secret mission, so I can’t really say anything about it, but I can say that we took a refreshing break for exotic cocktails at Joy Garden. These drinks were everything you want an exotic cocktail to be: sweet, fruity, and wonderfully alcoholic; served in ceramic coconuts and crazy tiki mugs; decorated with plastic swords and paper parasols. Here, for your imbibing pleasure, is the recipe for the Scorpion, which tastes like rummy Hawaiian Punch®:

2 oz Rum
1 oz Brandy
1 oz Lemon Juice
2 oz Orange Juice
½ oz Orgeat Syrup
1 cup Crushed Ice
Garnish: Cherry, Orange Slice (At Joy Garden, they add a plastic magnolia blossom.)

[RECIPE COURTESY OF COCKTAIL TIMES.]

Tuesday Recipe: Dream Pie

My mom used to make a dessert called Pudding Pie. It was pretty much what it sounds like: a pie shell filled with pudding. In my earliest recollections, she made a pastry crust and filled it with chocolate JELL-O® pudding, the kind you have to cook. At some point she discovered the pre-made graham-cracker crust in the baking aisle, and that became the foundation for Pudding Pie. Then, one momentous day in the ’80s, she was cruising towards the JELL-O® display when the words “Dream Pie”, emblazoned on a Dream Whip® box, captured her attention. Since then, Dream Pie has been one of her signature desserts for picnics and potlucks. Personally, I prefer her lemon meringue—she makes that from scratch, and it’s amazing—but everybody loves the Dream Pie.

Ted’s department had a barbecue recently, and our contribution was a couple of chocolate Dream Pies. This dessert is not suitable for everyday consumption—the main ingredient in Dream Whip® is partially hydrogenated oil—but it’s an absurdly easy dessert and a total crowd-pleaser. The recipe’s on the back of every package of Dream Whip®, but I’m reproducing it here with my family’s preferred crust.

2 envelopes Dream Whip® Whipped Topping Mix
2¾ cups cold milk, divided
1 tsp. vanilla
2 pkg. (4-serving size each) JELL-O® Instant Pudding & Pie Filling, any flavor
1 pre-made Oreo® chocolate cookie crust

Beat whipped topping mix, 1 cup of the milk and vanilla in large bowl with electric mixer on high speed 6 minutes or until topping thickens and forms soft peaks.

Add remaining 1¾ cups milk and dry pudding mixes. Beat on low speed until well blended. Beat on high speed 2 minutes, scraping bowl occasionally. Spoon into pastry shell.

Refrigerate at least 4 hours. Garnish as desired. Store leftover pie in refrigerator.

NOTE: This recipe makes one very, very generous pie. You should be able to stretch the filling to two pie shells if you’ll be satisfied with a less lavish dessert.

Tuesday Recipe: Okra Pancakes

My family prepared much of the food for my nuptial hoedown. My dad roasted a pig. My aunt Apryl baked some Coca-Cola cakes. And my dear old mom, in addition to making three magnificent banana puddings, prepared innumerable fruits and vegetables for the grill.

We also got some outside help, in the form of Ms. Williams at Southern Hands catering. She produced some wonderful cobblers—her specialty—and sides. Upon our first meeting, I asked Ms. Williams what kind of dishes she made, and she replied, “Whatever you want.” When I pulled this recipe for okra pancakes from my wedding planner, she considered it for a moment before she said, “I can make that.”

I haven’t talked with Ms. Williams since the picnic, but, when I do, I am going to suggest in the strongest possible terms that she add this savory fritter to her regular repertoire. I found these pancakes to be quite wonderful, and they got at least as many raves as the transcendent deep-fried Mounds bars my cousin Sarah and her boyfriend, JD, prepared.

This recipe comes, in a slightly amended form, from The Gift of Southern Cooking by Edna Lewis and Scott Peacock, a cookbook which I recommend whole-heartedly not only for the deliciousness contained within, but also because the friendship from which it was born is so unusual and lovely.

½ cup stone-ground white cornmeal
½ cup all-purpose flour
1½ teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 egg, lightly beaten
½ cup water
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ cup finely chopped onion
2 cups thinly sliced okra
Oil for frying

Put the cornmeal, flour, 1 teaspoon of the salt, and baking powder in a mixing bowl, and stir well with a whisk to blend. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg and water, then stir into the dry ingredients, mixing only until moistened. Sprinkle the remaining ½ teaspoon salt and freshly ground pepper over the onion and sliced okra, and toss lightly. Fold the vegetables into the batter.

Pour 1 inch of oil into a skillet and heat to 340ºF. Spoon the okra batter by heaping tablespoons into the hot oil; do not overcrowd the pan. Fry until golden brown on one side, then carefully turn and continue frying until both sides are browned. Remove from the skillet and drain well on a draining rack or crumpled paper towels.

MAKES APPROXIMATELY SIXTEEN 2-INCH PANCAKES, ENOUGH TO SERVE 4 AS A SUPPER OR 6–8 AS A SIDE DISH

Tuesday Recipe: Deep-Fried Candy Bars with Pineapple

As soon as Ted and I started planning our nuptial hoedown, I started thinking about food—of course, I’m thinking about food much of the time, but this was thinking about food in a purposeful, as opposed to a day-dreamy, kind of way. I thought about foods that are traditional favorites in my family. I perused magazines and cookbooks. One recipe I adored as soon as I encountered it was Deep-Fried Candy Bars with Pineapple, from the “Trashy” chapter of Nigella Bites.

This recipe calls for a deep-fryer, an appliance not found in every contemporary home, but a good-sized stir-fry pan might work, too. I had planned to serve the candy bars with grilled pineapple; the grilled pineapple, however, was long gone by the time we got around to making this dish, so I’ll have to wait until next time (the next time i make this dish, not the next time I get married). It wasn’t easy to find Mounds bars—in fact, I don’t even know where my mom finally rustled some up—but it was totally worth it. The chocolate gets all melty, the coconut gets hot, and the crispy batter is a lovely complement to the sweet gooeyness of the candy.

approx. 2 quarts sunflower or other oil for deep frying
1 ripe pineapple
1 cup self-rising flour
about 1 cup soda water
8 fun-sized Mounds bars

Heat the oil in a deep-fat fryer to maximum heat.

Cut the top and bottom off the pineapple, and then quarter it vertically. Trim the woody core off each segment, and then lay it skin-side down, and slice the flesh in half lengthwise, stopping when you feel the skin. Then cut it across into slices and run the knife between the flesh of the fruit and the outer husk. The pineapple pieces should then come away easily. Squeeze the outer skin of the pineapple over the cut fruit to get every last bit of juice.

Measure the flour into the bowl, and whisk in ¾ cup of the soda water to make the batter, adding the rest of the water if the consistency is still too thick: you want this just thick enough to adhere easily. The best way to check is to turn a Mounds bar in it; if the batter sticks well enough, it's fine. I just use my fingers for this, but tongs work well, too.

Plunge the batter-blanketed Mounds in the hot oil and fry for about 3 minutes, until the batter’s puffed and golden. Remove to pieces of paper towel to absorb excess grease, then pile up on a plate to sit on the table alongside the cut-up pineapple.

Orange Blossom Cream Ale

So, I spent most of this week in a class called Fundamentals of Effective Leadership. I did not choose to take this class—it's required of all managers in my company. My level of skepticism upon entering was high, but, since I had to do it anyway, I tried to maintain an open mind, and I did end up learning some useful techniques and concepts. For example, I like to work on my own, without a lot of structure. Basically, I like to be left alone, and this is not really an ideal characteristic in a supervisor, particularly when some of my supervisees work best as part of a team and like to have clear guidelines, procedures, etc. It's good for me to remember this, and to know how to work with people who have different needs and styles.

On the other hand, my greatest fear going into this class was, in fact, realized: there was role-playing. My interest in the lively arts ended in 1989, when I was cast as one of the old ladies in Arsenic and Old Lace. I had my heart set on being the ingenue. Yes, Aunt Abby was a big role and a much more interesting part, but who prefers hag drag and clever lines to a pretty dress and a leading man? As an editor of customer-facing content for a major bookstore chain, it never occurred to me that I would ever be forced to spend several days pretending to be surly sales clerk or a supervisor trying to console a sobbing employee.

Anyhoo, by the time training ended yesterday, I was exhausted, and really looking forward to my post-work drink. Since it was a glorious 80 degrees outside, I decided to finish off my 6-pack of Orange Blossom Cream Ale. I bought it because the label is so pretty, but I liked drinking it, too. I should point out this beverage is to beer as wine coolers are to wine. It's a slightly hoppy alcopop, kind of an orange Hostess Cupcake, but liquid and intoxicating. The label says that it has orange flower water, orange peel, and honey in it, and I could taste them all. It's a pleasant orange flavor: not too sweet, slightly bitter, slightly tart. It goes very nicely with hot weather and a reclining lawn chair, and it really takes the edge of when one is suffering from Post-Role-Playing Stress Syndrome.

A Long Weekend with Sarah Hand: Day 4

For the past few years, I've been teaching at a local alternative high school. This semester, I'm doing a class called "The History of Food". We had a guest in our class this past Wednesday: Davy Rothbart, creator of Found Magazine. As Davy read aloud from the flotsam and jetsam of contemporary life, as he filled the classroom with wistful and profane snippets from the lives of strangers, I couldn't help but think of my class's last visitor, Sarah Hand. Please join me as I recall the final day of my long weekend with Sarah Hand.

March 8
Sarah Hand is a puppeteer by vocation, and I was eager to take advantage of her art on behalf of my students while she was visiting. Nothing makes education fun like puppetry.

We decided to put on a show about the history of the tomato. From poisonous exotic and possible aphrodisiac to the main ingredient in America's favorite condiment: the tomato's tale is a tumultuous and fascinating one. I knew that Sarah had worked with produce before, so I had total confidence in her ability to handle the material. Truly, we had the makings of a blockbuster show on our hands.

The pepper—a fellow member of the nightshade family—was in the cast. An ear of corn and a potato reminisced about the old days back in the New World. A lasagna noodle rhapsodised about its very close relationship with the tomato once both found their way to Italy. History came alive through the magic of anthropomorphic vegetables.

Needless to say, the applause was deafening.

After class, Sarah and I went back to my place. We enjoyed a leisurely day, a day which included a nice nap.

Eventually, we got up, and eventually it was time for supper. For our last evening together, we decided to go to Zingerman's Roadhouse. Let me tell you something about Zingerman's Roadhouse: their BBQ is Eastern North Carolina-style, which is very hard to find outside of the Old North State. Sarah took advantage of this fact by having the pulled pork sandwich. I had fried chicken. Before I placed my order, I asked myself, "Can fried chicken really be worth nineteen dollars?" After eating the fried chicken, I can say, without a moment's hesitation, "Yes, it can." Ted had a burger—a very, very fine burger.

After this blissful repast, we returned to my house to bask in a food-induced stupor and watch cable TV.

The next morning, Sarah and I woke early and went to the airport.

This was the end of my long weekend with Sarah

A Long Weekend with Sarah Hand: Day 3

On the first episode of The Swan, contestant Kelly presented a drawing to her plastic surgeon. It was a stick-figure portrait of her, on which her friends had chosen areas of her anatomy for the doctor to improve. "Each part is going to get dedicated to them," she said.

This pathological vignette made me think of my own friends and how they would abduct me for deprogramming—hopefully the kind of deprogramming that comes with tropical drinks and daily massage—were I ever to ask them to participate in my self-hatred in such a horrifying way.

Now that I think about it, Sarah Hand probably wouldn't bother with the deprogramming. She'd probably just give me a smack upside the head and go back to watching Diagnosis Murder while drinking a gin and tonic. Please join me as I reminisce about the third day of my long weekend with this exceptional individual.

March 7
Sarah and I had little reason to get up early Sunday morning. That being the case, we got up late—although it might be said that we only sort of got up even when we did get up, since we left the sofabed in the bed position and remained supine until well into the afternoon. At some point, I did leave the house for coffee, pastries, and a New York Times. I recall watching Martha Stewart leave the courthouse on CNN over and over again. There was also extensive coverage of her trial's closing day in the paper. I was glad Sarah and I could be together for this, as a slightly bemused, slightly awestruck, but entirely sincere admiration for Martha Stewart is one of the things that we share. In fact, it was Miss Hand who introduced me to la Martha back in the day. Of course we think she's quite mad, but the woman gets shit done, and it's hard not to respect that. Also, she really does have some kick-ass craft ideas. Anyway, we were both pretty pissed about the whole legal situation—not angry enough to actually sit upright or anything, but angry nevertheless.

At some point, we had a lovely nap.

You may have noticed that this is the second time that my guest and I have retired to our separate quarters to enjoy a nap. This is because naps are delightful. A shared appreciation of a nice lie-down is one of the cornerstones of my friendship with Sarah Hand.

Eventually, Ted, my fiancé, arrived. This was a big moment for me. While Sarah was on the panel of experts who helped me through the early days of courtship, she had never actually met Ted. I cannot speak for either of them, but it seemed to me like they hit it off, despite—or perhaps because of—their very different personalities.

My friend Mike turned thirty-one on March 7th, and we decided to celebrate by taking advantage of his birthday discount at Gratzi, Ann Arbor's destination for pretty good northern Italian fare. After dinner, we retired to the smoking cave at La Dolce Vita, Ann Arbor's destination for desserts, digestifs, and hand-rolled cigars. Sarah had coffee with Bailey's—she's been on an Irish cream kick. Mike got a nice cognac and a festive smoke. I forgot that one doesn't inhale while smoking a cigar and made a minor spectacle of myself, what with the almost dying. I also had some grappa, which is kind of like cognac but even more so and is totally one of my current favorite things. Ted, my fiancé, had a Diet Coke. It was a lovely evening.

TOMORROW: WE PUT ON A PUPPET SHOW

A Long Weekend with Sarah Hand: Day 2

Last night, I made a batch of kosher-for-Passover macaroons. While I stirred a saucepan full of coconut, sugar, and egg whites, I found myself thinking back to an earlier time, a period of my life filled with leavening and good, good times. Please join me as I take a look back at the second day of my long weekend with Sarah Hand.

March 6
Upon waking at a reasonably sumptuous hour, Sarah and I breakfasted on coffee and pastries from the Jefferson Market. Yes, I am blessed with close proximity to one of the last neighborhood stores in suburbia. Walking a block in one's pajamas to get a café au lait and a newspaper in the morning is surely one of life's greatest pleasures. But I digress. Allow me to return to the pastries.

They do this thing at the Jefferson Market that they call "brioche." It really doesn't match my understanding of brioche, but it's brilliant nevertheless: bread dough wrapped around pastry cream and big hunks of bittersweet chocolate and baked until everything melts together into something close to nirvana. Sarah and I split one of these, as well as a cream cheese and raspberry danish, which is also amazing.

You may have noticed by now that this account of my long weekend with Sarah Hand contains much food-related content. That is because food is delicious. The deliciousness of food is one of the cornerstones of my friendship with Sarah Hand.

However much we might have liked to have lingered over our pastries all day, Sarah and I had places to go and things to do. In fact, we had an appointment at Versailles Natural Skin Care. I was taking Sarah to get her first facial.

My first visit to Versailles was work-related: I wrote a review of the establishment when they first opened in Ann Arbor. Bicky Phan, proprietress and mad aesthetician, gave me a free facial, and she's been taking care of my gorgeous visage ever since. Sarah is blessed with flawless porcelain skin, but I thought she might enjoy a little professional exfoliation nevertheless. Every gal should have her pores vacuumed at least once in her life.

After Bicky worked her magic, we all set off—with glowing complexions—for lunch at Café Felix. Bicky told some hilarious stories, but I'm not even going to try to recount them here, because, really, it was all in the delivery.

After bidding Bicky farewell, Sarah and I walked back to my place. Languorous from aromatherapeutic steam-cleaning and cheesy French sandwiches, Sarah and I decided to enjoy a nap.

When we awoke, it was time to get ready for my friend Ruth's Maslenitsa party. I wore a Marc Jacobs t-shirt. Sarah wore an adorable dress she made herself. I know you're very interested in our party-going costumes, but you may also be wondering, "What in the hell is Maslenitsa?"

Well, according to Ruth, Maslenitsa is means "butter fest". According to the Moscow City Committee for Tourism, Maslenitsa is "Seven days of impetuous fun, reckless pleasures and solar mood!" From my limited experience, Maslenitsa means blini, caviar, and Stoli Ice. Regardless of the precise definition, if you're not making plans for Maslenitsa 2005 right now, you're fucking crazy. While Ruth's party featured neither the burning of a straw effigy nor fist fights, there were pierogis aplenty and entertaining conversations all around. Sarah and I both had a lovely time.

TOMORROW: WE CELEBRATE MIKE'S BIRTHDAY WITH DISCOUNTED ITALIAN ENTRÉES, AND SARAH MEETS TED, MY FIANCÉ

A Long Weekend with Sarah Hand: Day 1

If you know Sarah Hand, you can imagine how much I was looking forward to her visit. It was a month ago today that I picked her up at the airport. Yes, it was only a month ago, but it feels like so much longer. Why? Because being with Sarah Hand is so much fun that it kind of makes everything else seem like it sucks.

March 5
I noticed two things immediately as Miss Hand came sashaying towards the baggage claim carousel: her hair looked fantastic, and she was wearing pants. Her beautician is kind of a genius—once, when I was in Virginia with bangs that were too long, Charlene gave me a quick trim that utterly transformed my whole head—and Sarah has been in the zone, tonsorially speaking, for a couple of years now. The pants, though: they were new. Like many of the women I know, Sarah had a brief overalls period, but she is, for the most part, a gal who wears skirts—not just skirts, but homemade skirts with vintage slips underneath. (I hope Sarah doesn't mind me mentioning her unmentionables, but, seriously, it's not like everybody doesn't know already.)

Out-of-town guests always give us an opportunity to take a fresh look at our surroundings and, while preparing for Sarah's visit, I discovered Haberman Fabrics in Royal Oak. The store bills itself as "Michigan's Finest Fabric Store," and, having been there, I have no reason to doubt this claim. Sarah was deeply impressed with the quality of their grosgrain, and she bought yards and yards of silk ribbon. I got some stretchy silk—why it took us, as a species, so long to think of 2% Lycra I shall never know—and spent some time looking at bridal fabrics. I'm not having a wedding, but I am having a reception, so there will be some opportunity to dress up. I was glad to have Sarah there not just because she would be one of my bridesmaids if I were having such things, but also because she talked me down when I was on the verge of buying some fabric that cost $150 per yard. It was silk organza, with maribou trim. I'm not sorry I didn't buy it, but it was hot.

While in Royal Oak, we had a late lunch/early supper at Inn Season Cafe. I had a portobello burger. Sarah had some variety of burrito. It was pretty tasty all around.

On the way back to my place, we stopped at the Big Ten Market for wine, cheese, and chocolate. I don't rememeber what wines we bought—whatever was not very expensive and had a pretty label—and I picked up a Flyer Gold Plane No. 5 bar because, after years of bitter-European-chocolate snobbery, I have rediscovered the simple sweet splendor of good ol' milk chocolate. Sarah got some hard, fruity, nutty Spanish cheese, the name of which I never quite caught, and I got some Humboldt Fog, a California cheese so good that, just writing about it, I am a little bit sad not to have any right now. A trip to Kroger for a few items the Big Ten couldn't supply—saltines, Coca-Cola, and fashion magazines—and we were ready for my sofa and whatever cable TV had to offer us.

TOMORROW: WE GET FACIALS, HAVE A NICE NAP, AND GO TO RUTH'S MASLENITSA PARTY

A Few New Rules for The OC Drinking Game

On the first few episodes of The OC, he was a tom-catting jock assbasket. After he saw his dad kissing another guy, he became Ryan's eager sidekick. Next, he starting romancing hot mom Julie Cooper. Now, he's a sensitive, guitar-strumming font of relationship advice. What can't this boy do? Raise your glass high and take a drink whenever the show reveals yet another facet of Luke Ward, Renaissance man.

One night will remind you how we touched and went our separate ways… Chino likes Journey? Anytime we get a clue to Ryan's musical tastes, that's a drink. If he ever cranks up "Lady", that's a three drink minimum. Ryan Atwood jammin' on the air guitar? Beer bong, obvs.

When Kaitlin, Marissa's make-believe sister and Julie Cooper's pretend daughter shows up? That's one drink for you. If a new child actress shows up in the role, take three. If the new child actress is conspicuously older or younger than the current child actress: shotgun a six-pack.

This is not so much a new rule as a personal vow: If Oliver Trask returns, I'm drinking all the liquor that's in my house at the time. Had it happened last night, that would have meant downing half a bottle of curacao, nearly a liter of apricot brandy, and a few ounces of triple sec. If grenadine counts, too, then Oliver's reappearance would equal the girliest girly girl drink of all time—and that seems just about right.

[COMPLETE AND UPDATED RULES TO THE OC DRINKING GAME CAN BE FOUND AT EDGE CITY CHRONICLE. MANY THANKS TO OLD HAG FOR INTRODUCING ME TO THE WORD "ASSBASKET".]

90210 Cast Member Makes a Guest Appearance? Kegstand!

Is it wrong to play drinking games alone, or just sad?

Hell, I don't care. All I know is, it's Wednesday night, I've got a pitcher of Rude Cosmopolitans, and Luke is gettin' it on with his ex-girlfriend's mom! How many drinks is that worth?

[PROPS TO THE REAL JANELLE FOR THE O.C. DRINKING GAME HOOK-UP.]

My New Favorite Thing

Monkeys and boooze! What could be better?! The only thing that could possibly be better is if this vineyard made wallpaper in addition to merlot. While housewares do not seem to be part of this venture's offerings, they do have the best website in the whole œnosphere.

I have not tried any Papio wines myself—my pal Eric reviews a couple on his blog—but I don't really care what it tastes like: I'd drink the pink wine that comes in a box if it had jazzy drunken capuchins on the label.