THIS is My Drug

The Marlboro Man Ain’t Light in His Loafers No More, Fellas

2006-08-21T18:03:00.000-04:00

Ah, my friends, a new age has come to the cigarette industry. Last Thursday, a US federal judge ordered strict new guidelines to cigarette manufacturers. A brief overview of two of the new guidelines that Judge Gladys Kessler set into place can be found here, but the most important one is below:

Cigarettes are forbidden from being labeled “light,” “ultralight,” “low tar,” “natural,” “mild,” and other descriptions that imply that these cigarettes are less dangerous than regular cigarettes.

Of course, this is being appealed by Altria, proud parent of the companies who manufacture Marlboro and Velveeta, Philip Morris and Kraft Foods, but if they lose, what will my wimpy friends be smoking? I smoke Cowboy Killers, but the rest of my friends smoke: Marlboro Lights, Marlboro Ultralights, Camel Lights and Salem Lights. Why? I guess it’s because they can’t handle the taste of a full flavor cigarette. I highly doubt that they believe that they are smoking something less harmful than what I smoke, but they could be stupid. (Now see the non-smokers are out there, are saying “Well, of course they’re stupid… they’re SMOKERS!” But whatever…)

Obviously, I’m not too concerned about the whole matter, because I choose to smoke Reds. What does concern me is what these companies will be naming these cigarettes come January 2007 when this guideline goes into effect. One place to look is the EU, where Marlboro Lights are sold as: Marlboro Gold; and Marlboro Ultralights are sold as: Marlboro Silver. I could not find what Camel Lights are called there, as a quick look at RJ Reynolds' [Camel, Salem, Kool, Natural American Spirit (oops, drop the “Natural” part there), Pall Malls, etc.] website currently displays the message:

The Web site of R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company is currently under review by the company. Please check back to the site later.

Poor grammar and the outdated use of “Web site” aside, it seems as if they are immediately complying with the new guidelines and changing their site to reflect them. Lorillard’s (Newport, Kent, Old Gold, True, etc.) website has the exact same message, with the exception of a switch in the tobacco companies’ names. Anyway, names must be changed to reflect these new guidelines, so I thought I would help.

Without further ado, here is my list of revised cigarette names:

Camel Lights – Dromedaries (while Camel regulars change their logo to include a Bactrian Camel instead)
Camel Ultra Lights - Llamas
Salem Lights - Greensboros
Natural American Spirit Lights – Métis
Newport Lights – Block Islands
Kool Lights – LuKewarms
Pall Mall Lights – Strip Malls
Lucky Strike Lights – Fluky Hits
Gauloises Lights – Montréals
Monte Carlo Lights – Renos
555 Lights – 666
Winston Lights – Egons
Parliament Lights – Congress
More Lights – Additionals
Benson & Hedges – Belvedere & Bushes
Marlboro Lights – Ranch Hand Killers
Marlboro Ultralights – Cowboy Abortions

Smoking is My Drug

Get Burnt, or How I’ve Spent My Summer

2006-08-18T12:32:00.000-04:00

As you can see either I’ve had a rather busy 5 months, or I haven’t been jonesing to post here lately. It’s actually a bit of both. My summer has flown by, and although I’ve enjoyed it, it will have been too fast. My need to comment on random issues has been rather lax, either doused by the sun, heat, culture or adult beverages. The things that have been keeping me busy fit into a handful of categories, and they are as follows:

Burning – Fire Island has been treating me very well this summer, as have my wonderful hosts. I spent most weekends in May in Cherry Grove with my friends E&E, DEv and Dole. Although it was rainy at times, I had a very relaxing time. Instead of attending the Pride festivities this year, Jody invited Myrtle and I to his share in the Pines. We cooked, drank, and found a great board game called: The World According to Ubi , that we played for hours. It also rained and was cloudy for most of the weekend, which was sad, but being naked in a steaming hot tub with a torrential downpour above is quite amazing. I didn’t get back to the island until a couple of weeks ago, when a couple of my friends had a B Squared party with boxers and booze in the Pines. I’m not a big fan of the Pines and prefer the Grove. I guess that it’s just two different crowds. I went to the party after spending some quality naked time on the beach, where, although I kept on applying sunscreen, my back turned lobster red. The party was a hit with awesome drinks and great music. I probably won’t get back until September, but at least the crowd is calmer then.

Culturing – I went to my fair share of concerts this summer. I was lucky enough to hear about the Scissor Sisters at Bowery Ballroom. They rocked the house. I brought a friend who had never been to a concert before, and he loved it. We got to hear some songs from their upcoming album, Ta-Dah, which should be a blast, and comes out just in time for my birthday. I was fortunate to see The Streets one show in NYC at Webster Hall. Lady Sovereign opened for them, and although I love “Cha Ching,” she put on a horrible show. Mike Skinner, on the other hand put on a great show. The last concert that I went to was P!nk’s. I have never been a big fan of hers, but her latest album, I’m Not Dead, is quite good, so I made it a point to see her. She kicked all kinds of ass. In other concert related news, I went to Meatloaf’s album release party. You’ll never guess what it’s called… Bat Out of Hell III. It sounds very similar to the original and II, so if you’re a fan of Mr. Loaf, I recommend it. Mr. Loaf was looking very good. Aside from the concerts, I saw a great dance piece, called STREB vs. Gravity as part of the Lincoln Center Festival. I also was able to see Julie Taymor and Elliot Goldenthal’s new “opera,” Grendel. It should have been called a Theatrical Event and not an opera. It was visually exciting, but it took way too long to get moving. It was slow as molasses until the best scene 3/4’s of the way through the first act, where Denyce Graves’ scene as the dragon occurs. It was aurally and visually stunning. I also got to see Macbeth in Central Park with Liev Schreiber. Liev was good, but the production was a yawn.

Fooding – I cooked a lot this summer. I tried all sorts of new dishes and some old standards. Most of them were hits, so I was happy. I also went to a dozen or so new restaurants, which has inspired me to keep a restaurant blog. As soon as that is up, there will be a link here.

This afternoon, my mother and I will be taking a road trip to Providence. It will be our first trip together in 10 years, so I am looking forward to it.

I plan on getting back to my usual blog style hopefully by next week, and update it a little more consistently. Here’s hoping that your summer was just as exciting as mine!

Sponser Me!

2006-05-11T10:01:00.000-04:00

I ask people to sponser me once a year for AIDS Walk NY. And it's that time of year. Please click here to donate.

A Personal History of Baseball, or R.I.P. KP

2006-03-07T10:56:00.000-05:00

Those that know me, know that I am a Yankees fan. I go to Yankee Stadium many times in the year to catch the day's game, and I will pay top dollar for the cheap ass swill that they call "beer." I go to bars that have TVs that I know will be showing the game [Lighthouse Tavern in Brooklyn is my favorite (Cousins II was, but apparently it is closed); I have yet to find a consistent bar in Manhattan or close to my place in the Bronx; I don't like GYM in Chelsea, because the layout is poor, and the bars by my house are… nasty. Either I will be doing a tour of Manhattan sports bars this summer or I will be moving to Park Slope]. I will stay at home just to watch the last inning before going out for the evening. I will watch the YES network often, starting next month, only taking breaks for tennis and shitty reality shows until October. I will bitch about the weekend's games to co-workers on Mondays, who will look at me as if I am crazy. A majority of my friends will start avoiding me after games, or will compile a list of topics to change to when I start bitching about some aspect of the most recent game. I do have a few friends that I can bitch about the season with or share in the fruits of victory (J, Sars, and DEv). I don't watch all of the games though, probably once or twice a week, and I don't memorize the statistics and histories. I'm not a Superfan by any means.

I didn’t always like baseball though. Perhaps this started when I was playing T-Ball as a youth. This was a problem though, as I was not very athletic, and therefore not really interested in being the loser on the team who would stand in the outfield looking for dandelions or wasn’t able to bring his hand/eye coordination enough to hit the goddamn ball off the motherfucking tee. I would rather lose myself in a book. You see, I was a nerd. It’s tough to be in elementary school and a nerd, and being forced to humiliate yourself by whiffing on the ball that just sat there on a fucking stand. My father desperately wanted me to love baseball. At that age he was intent on bonding with me, and this was the method to get to me. So, because of my love for T-Ball, he took me to Major League games.

I grew up in Minnesota, in a nice suburb outside of Minneapolis. Good school system, nice homes and a very decent baseball team, the Minnesota Twins. I remember those years fondly. My dad took me to the H.H. Metrodome many times. In 1986, we went to the game where the dome teared slightly and water poured down onto the fans below. In 1987, Minnesotans watched in amazement as our decent team turned into a World Series Champion team. The team consisted of Kent Hrbek, Gary Gaetti, Frank Viola, Dan Gladden and, of course, Kirby Puckett, all lead by Tom Kelly. This season was called “Magic” by just about everyone in Minnesota. The Twins had yet to win a World Series, and at the beginning of the season, they weren’t expected to even get to the division series. But they played good ball, and with their new manager, Kelly, were able to take the division, as the fans counted down to the “magic” number. Homer Hankies were printed up for the first time, and the horrible song that accompanied them was introduced. The Twins went into the ALCS with no one expecting them to win. The Tigers fell 4-1, and the Twins went on to win the World Series against the Indians. Kirby had always been the favorite of the hometown crowd, and this year was no exception. He got the credit that he deserved and the ring to back it up. He became a hero of sorts to me. Probably because I knew he’d be able to hit the fucking ball off the goddamn tee. I generally don’t regard sports stars and movie stars as heroes. I usually go for politicians and activists who work to change the world for the better, but I was 9 years old, and Kirby was god.

Four years later, he proved that he was God-like. It was 1991, Knobby’s rookie year, and the Twins had ended the previous season in the basement. The denizens of the upper-Midwest did not expect anything in 1991. Our “Magic” had come and gone. Eventually, the Twins actually started to win games… a lot of games. The Twins somehow took the division and moved onto the ALCS to beat the Blue Jays. The Homer Hankies had been printed and we were ready for another “Magic” post-season: The Homer Hankies vs. the Tomahawk Chops. Fast-forward to the famous Game 6 at the HH Metrodome. The Twins were down to the Braves 3-2 in the series, and were fighting for their lives. The score was tied and in the 11th inning, Kirby came up to bat, and hit a homerun to keep the Twins in the series, which they took in Game 7. It was one of those “I can’t believe I’m seeing this” moments, and proved that Kirby was in fact a God.

Kirby played for another 4 seasons. He started his MLB career in 1984 and played through the 1995 season, every season with the Minnesota Twins. He was slated for the 1996 season, but woke up one morning to blurred vision, and found out that he had Glaucoma. His number, 34, was retired. Although he was no longer playing, he continued to be active in the organization and his popularity continued. He was inducted into the Hall of Fame his first year of eligibility in 2001, and was the third youngest person to be inducted.

The man changed my mind about baseball. I have him to credit for this mild obsession that I have on what, quite frankly, is generally a boring game. But it is the 2 minutes, hopefully longer, each inning where something happens: a bat comes alive, one of the outfielders makes a daring dive to catch a ball just out of reach, the pitcher beans the batter in the head with a wild pitch, an infielder makes an amazing catch to start a double play… that is what I love about the game. That is when the beer (“beer”) is forgotten and my eyes are riveted. Although he never played for the Yankees, he is the man that introduced me (actually it was Knobby, but… I met Knobby through Kirby) to Jeter, Paulie, Tino, Bernie, Jorge, Moose and Joe.

Thanks for the memories Puck, and R.I.P.

Baseball is My Drug.

One of Those Things That Makes This Country Great: Dumb People

2006-03-01T10:38:00.000-05:00

How great a place is the United States of America? The United States of America, or just “America” as it is affectionately called, is a land built on freedom… and blood, don’t forget the blood. This country began by declaring it’s independence from England in 1776, oh beautiful. In 1777, the Articles of Confederation named this confederation of colonies: The United States of America. These articles were the general guidelines until the US Constitution went into effect in 1789. Our founding fathers built the country so that all white men could be free. Eventually, after realizing that they had been idiots on this point, they made it so that all men could be free, regardless of skin color. If you had a penis, you were free and able to vote. Slavery was abolished in 1865, by the 13th amendment to the US Constitution. Three years later the 14th amendment was ratified which stated that all persons born on US soil or naturalized under the spacious skies of the USA are considered citizens and are due all of the freedoms promised there in. It also states that no state “shall abridge the privileges or immunities” of those citizens and that no state shall “deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” This is the amendment that was cited to end racial segregation in Brown vs. the Board of Education. In 1870, the 15th was ratified to give ALL men of the US the right to vote, regardless of skin color, and eventually, in 1920, the 19th amendment was ratified to give women the right to vote.

The first 10 amendments to the constitution define many of the rights of the citizens of the United States. Those 10 amendments comprise what is called the Bill of Rights. In my opinion, the most important of these rights is detailed in the first amendment. This is the freedom of speech, press, religion, peaceable assembly and to petition the government. Although some may not think that it works 100%, or that the government strictly adheres to it, this is one of those basic rights of this country that really works for the people. It’s why CNN can show the news and FoxNews can show you (or choose not to show you) the “news.” It’s why we can blog about whatever we care to (although we may get sued or put under scrutiny). It’s why we have Catholics, Episcopalians, Jews, Buddhists, and Scientologists, and we’re all allowed to celebrate our faith (or lack of) freely and openly. You may be ridiculed for it, but that’s freedom of speech.

You’re probably asking: why the history lesson? “Why are you telling me something that I already know?” The thing though, is that you probably don’t. At least according to a recent study, “only one in four Americans can name more than one of the five freedoms guaranteed by the First Amendment.” I mean, 25%? Come on! And only one in 1,000, or 0.001%, can name all five! Usually I am not a stickler for shit like this, not everyone can know everything, and I know that there are some public schools out there that aren’t great in the teaching facts part of the curriculum, but this is one of the United States’ basic tenets. Sure, I can understand that someone may not remember which number is which amendment, and one in particular was so incredibly asinine that they repealed it 14 years later (God Bless the 21st!), but this is so basic to the rights of the Citizenship.

The thing that really blows my mind is that one in five Americans believe that the right to own a pet is protected by it! What in the amber waves of grain are they smoking? “God Bless America, which gives me the right to bear cats!” Um, NO!!! Seriously, maybe we should reconsider the whole free speech thing if one in five of us is a knucklehead. We wonder why test scores are so low among these purple mountain majesties, but if you took a look at the US Senate, who could divert more money to education, statistically 20 of them think that owning Buddy is a right protected by the Bill of Rights (of course, those 20 would probably be Republicans). These Americans, this 20%, has the ability to vote! I’m not saying that US Citizens who are the age of the majority should have to take a test to be able to vote, that defeats the purpose, but at least there should be some sort of public review at the polls or before the State of the Union address. There should be something so that the people in the fruited plains can catch up. What else do people think is in the Bill of Rights? The right to blow up any country that looks at us funny? The right to be loud, pushy and rude? The right to mar or destroy anything that isn’t personally agreed with? The right to a foolish sense of entitlement? Probably. I mean, these are some of the same people who cry, “America! America!” every bleeding chance that they can, but 25% don’t know what rights they’re hoping to protect. I don’t understand. I know that ignorance is bliss, but this just amazes me. I guess that I will have to resign myself to this sorry state of affairs.

I do hope though that this important fact is brought to light. Maybe it will encourage people to learn what those five freedoms are. Maybe the newscasts will air this story and actually air what those freedoms are instead of blowing through them at the tail end of the story that I’m sure they will. Maybe Anderson will blog about it, or put it on 360°. Maybe Matt will introduce his loving fans to it when he’s not assaulting Martha (she just wants to show you vegetarian options, man). Or Idol contestants can sing about it, after all they’re seen by millions, all: God Shed His Grace on THEEEEEEEEEAY! That would reach so many people, but that would be all educational and stuff, and that would not be good for the ratings. But patriotic hymns and anthems are well known, lots of people know the words to those, and they’re sung at sporting events and in elementary schools. Instead of reciting the pledge of allegiance, which I’ve always found to be a bit cult like and conforming, we should recite the Bill of Rights. That way, everyone knows of their inalienable rights from sea to shining sea. Hopefully, the Freedom Museum will be able to change things. Probably not a lot, but maybe a little bit.

The First Amendment is My Drug.

Footnote: As for: "And Crown Thy Good With Brotherhood," I just couldn't fucking fit it in there without it coming out smelling like cheese, so deal.

I Don't Mind Missing a Record Breaker... No Really, I Don't

2006-02-16T16:38:00.000-05:00

New York City in the winter typically sucks. I grew up in Minnesota, where twice they cancelled school due to the 60 degree below zero weather, which was horrible, but generally the cold in New York City sucks. At least the cold in Minnesota is a dry cold, but not the cold in New York. The gusts of wind blow down the corridors formed by the buildings and goes straight down your throat, burning your lungs with it's tiny icicles. It snows in both places. In Minnesota it snows more often and generally starts at around Halloween and continues until April. In New York, the snow is "peaceful" as it falls and people ski around downtown or in Brooklyn for the news cameras or sitting at home listening to jazz or classical music. And then it stops, and turns into a complete nightmare. See, in New York City, there is no place for the plows to push the snow, no front yards or shoulders. Instead the snow just gets pushed into the already covered parked cars or on the sidewalks or most likely right into the pedestrian intersection on the corner so that pedestrians are trapped from crossing the street until they knock down a small pass-through that will eventually wind-up having a river running through it of icy brackish water that reaches your ankles. And all of the pretty white snow that quietly blanketed the city turns into slush and becomes a major headache commute-wise.

This is the reason why I need a vacation by the beginning of February. Due to this, for the past several years, I go to San Francisco for a long weekend the second weekend of the month. This past January was the fourth warmest January in Central Park on record, and at times it reached 60° F. I had a feeling in my bones though. Something said: This will not last; you need to go; get out now! So I did. I packed up two of my friends, and we went for a weekend of mild weather and drinking and boys. Little did I know what I would miss.

In San Francisco, I got some color on my skin, and not from a harsh breeze, but from the sun, which began to warm my skin from the moment that I stepped out of the MUNI. The temperature was gorgeous in the 60s and possibly 70s. But the real pleasure of being away from New York was on Saturday night and all day Sunday listening to the blizzard reports on the TV or seeing the pictures on CNN. In total, 26.9” of snow fell while I was away. Planes were stuck across the world, as there were no planes coming in or out of the Northeast. An additional day of vacation looked to be assured. Although it did not happen, I was happy to be miles away. Unlike the blackout, which was fantastic with the parties in the streets, a snowstorm does not bring people together in the city, instead it keeps them apart. No one wants to leave their apartment and trudge through the drifts and deal with other people. At least I know that I don’t.

In your face, Nor’easter! The best thing about coming back is that I brought the warm weather with me and it’s 57° today.

Avoiding Snowstorms is My Drug.

Bleary Eyed Vacation Dreams... CRUSHED!

2006-02-07T13:48:00.000-05:00

As I tend to travel the subway quite often due to the distance between my job, my regular bars and my house, I am assaulted by advertisements for about an hour and a half per day. I am fully aware of Dr. Zizmor's work or "work," as the case may be. I have seen Isobel's before and after pictures for about 10 years or so... she looks like a friend from high school... well the after does... and please allow me to apologize to my friend for that statement. This seems to be an ideal ad for the subway. Imagine walking to the subway through the unforeseen rain or snowstorm with the wind blowing in your face. You get to the top of the steps and hearing the train you make a run for it, because who knows if another will arrive in the next hour. You barely make it through the doors before they close, hopefully not slipping and sliding in the ass-to-elbows crowd. You find a spot and hang onto the pole tightly, trying to avoid any skin-to-pole contact, and you look up and there is Dr. Z, maybe with his wife, she of the big hat, and you say to yourself: You're right Dr. Z, I do look like shit! On the other hand, if that quack thinks that I'm going to trust a fruit acid facial peel that I've seen advertised in the subway, he may be more off his rocker than the imagery of his head floating all omnipotent against a sky blue background and rainbow suggests.

I am also aware of the MANY bankruptcy and immigration lawyers and the many different languages that they speak. I am aware of the schools that teach ESL, the many vocational schools accessible by each and every subway line, and of the School of Visual Arts and the lady with the weird ass dogs. And over the years, a bunch of alcohol that I try to avoid (although I don't always succeed): Bud, Bud Light, Remy, Miller, Courvoisier and even Johnnie Walker.

In mid-January, the Bahamas Ministry of Tourism blitzed the subways with a widespread campaign, taking over an entire car with advertisements to lure New Yorkers to their islands. I went to the Bahamas once, as a senior in college. We stayed on the island of Grand Bahama with all the rest of the college Spring Breakers. I met some interesting people. Coming from the small liberal arts college that I attended, I was in the dark on how other men in college/university behaved and acted. On our first night there, one of my female companions hooked up with, by most simplistic definition, a frat boy. He and his friend came back to our hotel room, where I had retired for the evening. This could be classified as rare, but I had learned the lesson of Spring Break in the Bahamas fairly quickly. It is an island of bars and casinos filled with straight college guys and women who drink until they hook-up, throw-up or pass out. The college guys did not have to work very hard to get lucky with the ladies, and this little homo could not fulfill their needs and could not find the secret homo hangout either. Thus, bored, I had retired to my hotel room to get myself drunk and pass out listening to the ocean.

When my friend arrived with her trick and his friend in tow, I was buzzed and half naked in the living area, on the sofa bed. She introduced the trick's friend to me and then walked into the bedroom with the trick at her heels. His friend, a tall man with a ex-football player's build and a limp, sat down in the chair beside the bed that I was planning on passing out in shortly. We then proceeded to make small talk. He asked what I studied and I replied. I asked in return, and was told that he was in Gynecological Studies. "Oh yes, ha-ha. Good one. Excellent joke, sir." He followed up this bon mot, with the truth that he had dropped out of school years ago and that he had come down to the islands with his best pal to get drunk and bang chicks (that is the polite version of it, his version slurred something which was related to his "studies"). He soon grew tired of the whole sitting, chatting and drinking at once thing, and relegated himself to sitting and staring at me. When he made a move toward the bed, I was not sure if he was going to throw-up, pass out or expand his studies to other organs, but his friend had finished with his own studies in the bedroom and came out at this moment. They left, and my friend and I laughed about the whole experience, agreeing that it was weird, and then promptly passed out.

The rest of the week contained more boys talking about the girls that they were sleeping with and my two girlfriends hooking up with them. We did have some fun going out to the beach and to restaurants, but it wasn't my idea of a fun vacation, mainly because I could not go out and make friends with anyone. So, although pretty in places, the Bahamas are not my idea of a vacation dream.

However, the ads were enough to fantasize about anywhere other than between the larger man taking up his seat and most of mine and the lady who keeps slapping me in the face with her purse. Those pictures have become my little vacation from my morning commute. Of course, leave it to the MTA to ruin my mini-vacation. One of the methods used in the campaign is to give tips on vacation-esque activities that you can do on your commute, which is, of course, not nearly half as fun as the real thing, and that's why you need to come down to the Bahamas to enjoy the authentic activity. These are activities like "Fly-fishing" and lounging on a hammock, as you can see in the article on CNN. Honestly, who's going to attach their cell phone to their scarf using, I believe the term used is, "sticky substance" and then throw it onto the tracks! First of all, I've left the house with my scarf this winter less than five times. Second, I doubt that most people are going to be tossing their phones onto the tracks, adhered to a scarf with sticky stuff or not. In a city where phones are essentially people's lifelines to their jobs and are quickly replacing home phones, that's just silly. Not to mention the fact that a lot of people have the latest and greatest technology, which is usually expensive. The deductible on my phone alone is $115.00, which makes me wonder why I'm paying for the whole insurance thing. On the other objection, the people inspired by the ads to lie down across several seats, are the same people who are inspired to do that without the ads. And if the MTA is going to seriously object to that ad, then they need to enforce the regulation that the ad suggests breaking instead of letting it slide.

So, please don't lock me behind the sliding doors without this brief respite, or else I will have to fantasize about getting a fruit acid facial peel or filing for bankruptcy, while trying to avoid looking at the guy peeing at one end of the car and the crazy lady looking at me as she inches her skirt up her thigh.

Vacation Imagery in the Subway is My Drug.

Ass

2006-01-29T00:56:00.000-05:00

An ass is an ass is Anne Coulter. Dear, I may not respect your opinions, but still, grow up.

Right-wing ass is My Drug (but just because I have to laugh).

Restaurant Review: Taboon

2006-01-12T00:06:00.000-05:00

I have just arrived home from my first meal at Taboon in Hell's Kitchen. It was in the list of the 101 Best Restaurants in New York magazine last week, and although I had forgotten about it, my dining companion had heard good things from one of his business partners. So instead of the kosher steak house that we had been planning to go to, we went to experience a blend of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cuisines.

The restaurant was full upon arrival, and the hostess was disappointed when we said that we didn't have a reservation on a Wednesday. She offered us a place at the bar, saying it would be 15 minutes. Fortunately, a table opened up right away, and we were seated in five.

The atmosphere was very warm, with hanging lanterns and white painted brick walls. Upon entering the restaurant, you are faced with an enormous brick oven, as taboon is Arabic for oven. In the main dining area, the tables were four legged and a well worn, white-washed wood, much that you might expect to find on the Mediterranean. The spacing of tables was excellent for a medium sized restaurant. There was no rubbing of elbows with the other customers, which I was very happy about. The lights were low, and despite several larger parties, it was romantic enough for a date.

Our waiter was charming and knew the menu inside and out. After making several recommendations, most of which we took him up on. While my companion had a very nice Israeli wine, I had a Taboon Cooler, which was a mix of ouza with muddled mint and grapefruit juice. That drink alone is worth the visit. We were then presented with a flatbread, fresh from the oven. It was dripping in oil and spices, and very delicious. Shortly following were our mezes. I had the Fish Ceviche, which was wonderful with pomegranate, olives, and mint among other things. Very flavorful and robust. My companion had the Zucchini cakes, which were also very good, but I was more than happy with my ceviche.

Our entrees took a while to come out, and while good, it was hard to match the beginning of the meal. My friend had the Lamb Osso Bucco, which I regretted that I had not gotten myself, as it was awfully good. The time in the oven made the meat so tender and the accompaniments really gave the lamb a good support. I had the Beef Tchouma, which was beef short ribs served with pumpkin and a variety of other things. Same as the lamb, this meat was falling off of the bone. Somehow though, the flavors did not blend well together, and the result was... well... boring.

For desert, I had the malibi, which was a gorgeous dessert of a rose and floral infused cream covered in a raspberry sauce, coconut and pistachios. As I am not a huge sweet person, I was very happy with this dessert that had a hit of sweetness, which was cut by the floral taste. I will definitely have to find a recipe for this to make at home.

The bill was decent for the two of us. A little more expensive than I would have imagined, but in the end thought that it was well worth it.

I will definitely go back for dinner, and I have heard rave reviews for their brunch, which sounds just as intriguing. This is definitely one of the best restaurants in Hell's Kitchen.

Taboon's Malibi is My Drug.

Taboon's Fish Ceviche is My Drug.

Oh dear... pt. ii

2006-01-11T08:18:00.000-05:00

As a follow-up to a previous post, the man's story keeps changing!

Still, That Silly Mouse is My Drug.

Back from Iraq... at least until next week.

2006-01-09T22:37:00.000-05:00

My cousin, PM, called me today to let me know that he was in town for a couple of days. PM has been in Iraq for the past six months and is on leave for a couple of weeks, so I was happy to get his phone call.

PM lives in Pennsylvania on an army base, where he has spent many years. He has worked in the US Army for several years, seeing this war in Iraq and the Persian Gulf War as well. I remember when he went to the Persian Gulf the first time, but he and I were distant then. It was only in the past few years that we have become close. He has become the brother that I never had. He and I are so different in so many aspects, and yet our bond is so close that people mistake us for siblings rather than cousins.

On my birthday last year, PM called me from somewhere between Fallujah and Baghdad. Although the connection was horrible and the few words that I could hear over the line echoed, I knew it was him, and it made my birthday ten times better just hearing his echoing voice.

He is set to leave town, probably tomorrow, but the hours that we found time for today – drinking beer and shooting the shit – were… gah, I hate to say it but… precious and invaluable.

I have many problems believing in this war and why we fight it. I always find it difficult though that PM is there. He is there because he chose to be. He is there because of his experience… because he does not want to see the kids that he leads get “FUBAR,” and not come back to this country… to their families and friends. I don’t even pretend that I can speak for him, but I know that he is a good man. I respect the reasons that he is there. I respect him and admire him more than he can ever imagine.

PM is My Drug.

A 71 Year Old Woman with French Ticklers as Finger Puppets

2006-01-09T10:19:00.000-05:00

This past weekend, I went to Carolines on Broadway to watch one of my acquaintance's return to stand-up comedy. It was the finale of a beginner’s stand-up comedy class that ended with a performance at Carolines, which was taped in broadcast quality. This guarantees you a variety of performers of different levels, from “Impressive” to “The horror, the horror!”
My acquaintance, a bartender/manager who I will call Fuel, closed the show and his timing was impeccable… easily the best performance there. Fuel had a great support group of friends, co-workers and acquaintances in the audience cheering him on, especially with the two drink minimum/no maximum going on.

A seventy one year old woman was the penultimate act. Nothing is less funny to me than older women or men talking about risqué things, because it’s tired and a majority of us will be that age someday, and I plan on talking about risqué things until the day I die, and would appreciate not being laughed at about it, thank you very much. This woman was different however. It got off to a slow start, but after she related to us her story of how she came to discover that she was “AC/DC,” I started warming up a bit. Not because she was bisexual, but that she used the term: AC/DC.

I had not heard that term in quite awhile, and apparently a lot of people in the audience didn't even recognize it. The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language says that its origin is: From the likening of a bisexual person to an appliance that works on either alternating or direct current. Now that is a creative metaphor. Maybe it’s just me and a lack of electrical systems knowledge, but that is not what comes to mind when the term AC/DC is uttered. No, instead I think of this AC/DC, of which I can probably name one song off the top of my head: Highway to Hell. As you can imagine this is probably not the best association that one could come up with when hearing a euphemism for Bisexual, but I digress…

Eventually she got around to talking about gay couples who are parents, and how she thinks that it’s a great step forward. She went on to, I guess, look at some of the decriers of this new fangled thing called Gay Parenting. She referred to gay parents singing songs to their kids, but with a twist. At this point she started to sing the classic children’s song: Where is Thumbkin? However, at the point when Thumbkin and the thumb trying to locate Thumbkin came out from behind her back, they were both wearing French Ticklers. Now this woman was about the same age as my Nana when she used to sing this song to me, and of the same build and height, and all I could think of was my Nana with French Ticklers on her thumbs, singing me to sleep. This image was temporarily displaced when the comedienne was singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star as she was raising a light-up, rotating vibrator at the end of her act. Yet, as she was done, my Nana was back in my mind with French Ticklers on her thumbs. Fortunately, Fuel took to the stage at this point, and I felt safe again to enjoy the performance.

After the show, and congratulating Fuel, my friend and I went up to the older woman. We congratulated her on a job well done, and then my friend asked the most important question. The older woman’s companion replied that we could purchase props similar to the one's used in the act at The Pleasure Chest on Seventh Avenue in the West Village.

Fuel's Comedy is My Drug.

Oh dear...

2006-01-08T23:57:00.000-05:00

I wonder if this is covered by insurance...

A Vengeful Mouse is My Drug.

Book Review: Garlic and Sapphires

2006-01-08T23:18:00.000-05:00

I just got done reading Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise the new book by former New York Times restaurant critic Ruth Reichl. It's a great look at her history at the Times.

When Reichl heard that restaurants all over the city were putting up her picture and physical statistics, she decided to come up with a cast of different characters to disguise herself as. This turns out to be a fascinating excercise, as she is treated very differently at Le Cirque (one of her first reviews for the Times) as her first character Molly then as herself.

Humorous and well written, the book is a quick read. Also nice are the recipes that Reichl herself cooks for her family. It's a great read.

A Good Restaurant is My Drug.