Even The Best Have Issues

A month or two (or three) ago, I picked up some frozen wild boar shoulder.  It sat in my freezer until last weekend.

As my kitchen reno looms, an effort to clear out foodstuffs rolls on, and 2.75 lbs of boar shoulder takes up a bit of room. So out it came, thinking I'd just roast it up like any ol' piece of pork.

Luckily, I looked up some stuff, and it turns out boar can do with some solid marinating. So as it thawed in my fridge, I explored options.

My best friend, who knows me well, got me The Complete Robuchon for Christmas. I had yet to have made anything from it, but this seemed in general vicinity of its alley.  I was right. "Roast Haunch of Young Boar" largely fit the bill, except for the shoulder vs haunch aspect.

So I dutifully gathered the ingredients - pork bones, herbs, juniper berries, shiraz, etc., and assembled the marinade. Piece of cake, except for finding pig bones. Those took visits or calls to 9 different butchers, the last of which was just about to toss his out with the rest of the cuttings from that day's delivery.

Regardless, the meat sat in the marinade for around 20 hours. I took it out, and let it rest on the counter to warm up as I prepared everything else. The probe thermometer still read chillier than I'd like, but time was a-wastin' and I was hungry, so in it went.

Lucky me, I used the thermometer.  See, Jöel calls for "40 minutes at 400, basting every 10 minutes, turning halfway through".

20 min in, the outside of the meat was still cold, the interior temperature wasn't even at room, and there was no way this would be ready.

40 min in the interior temp was now rising steadily.  An hour in, it was approaching the hope it might be done that night.

I was confused. I've done plenty of roasts, and never seen this slow a rise.  I double checked with my Thermapen (another great gift from the same friend)... same reading.  Everything else in the oven (vegetables in the pan, potatoes to the side) was cooking fine.

An hour and half in, I turned it off, let it rest, and decided to only eat the ends.  It was delicious, but also an hour later than I had planned.  Also, the ends were well-done, but a quarter through was medium rare. In the middle was a small section that was still raw.  Not rare. Raw. The thing had been thawing for 4 days, and was under 3 lbs.  No way it was still frozen, but that's exactly how it cooked - as if it was rock solid instead of the floppy hunk of roast I pulled out of the marinade.

Regardless, it generally worked out, but I could only imagine if I'd just followed the 40 minutes instruction - cold, raw meat, bleeding all over the place.  I'm surprised that the Robuchon book would rely on timing instead of temperature. The book is only 4 years old, so it's not like it predates the era of kitchen thermometers.

What I've pulled from that is simple - good flavour combination, but next time I'm cooking it my way.

Also, I can't wait until I have a new oven.

Bleeding Blue and White, Turning Red

Fuckin' Leafs.

1-8-1 in the last 10 games. 4 points out of a playoff spot. Only 3 points ahead of BUFFALO? Give me a break.

What a joke.

I agree with not much being done on the trade deadline. Other than a goaltender, no trade would have made a major difference with the club.  But the goaltenders worth anything that were available would have come at far too high a cost for them. When Evgeni Nabokov and Jonathan Bernier are your top options, their prices are going to be inflated.

Nash? Obviously nobody wanted to pay the price for him.

Dustin Brown? Might have been nice, but hardly improves a team fighting for a playoff spot. He's a good addition FOR the playoffs, but not scrambling for them.

The reality is that most deadline signings don't have an effect on the acquiring team until the following season. It takes more than 20 games to find your groove with new teammates and new coaches.

So, nothing was going to get fixed by dismantling the rebuilding effort.

Look, I said before the season started that the playoffs would be a fight. We were as likely to be in 11th as 7th with this team and this division. The emergence of Kessel and Lupul as bona fide stars is welcome, but the death of our secondary scoring, complete inconsistency in goal, and godawful defence has more than countered the upsides. Those last two points have really come home in this stretch. Where before the Leafs could win on top-line scoring alone, the turnovers and bad goals of late are gifting points to opponents.

But that's not the worst of it. What really pisses me off as I've watched this collapse is the lack of energy on the team. It started when they played 4 games in 6 nights a couple weeks back.  The Leafs were DEAD after the first game. They could barely stand up, let alone skate end-to-end by the third period of the second game. By the end of the week I half expected to see them snoozing on the bench.

If you can't play the 2nd half of back-to-back games without looking like your legs are made of wet noodle, then you're sure as shit not going to make it ANYWHERE in the playoffs. Where the fuck is the conditioning?

Outside of Lupul and Brown, are there any players on the team who can go a full 60 minute game?  I wish the whole team was made of clones of these two. Brown can't score, but he's scrapping and banging and shooting to the last second, whether it's 5-0 leafs or 10-0 other guys. Kessel still looks like he should be on a beer-league team, and it shows as the long stretches play out.

I think back to the Pat Burns days, and him running the team hard every single practice. They'd be gasping for breath when the sprints and drills were over. He told them they'd be thankful when they were in overtime in game 7 of a playoff series. That year's team saw a game 7 every round. And more overtimes, double overtimes, and triple overtimes than any team has ever seen. They played hard every damned shift.How the hell is Wilson letting his team look this poorly conditioned?

So now, 19 games left, four points out, 2 teams to climb over, to JUST make the playoffs - the team needs to be shaken up. Firing Wilson at this point serves no purpose. If they miss the playoffs, he's in trouble.  But knowing Burke's loyalty to his guys, I expect you'd see the rest of the coaching staff scrapped first. Goaltending coach Francois Allaire should be the first out the door.  He may be highly regarded, but his method clearly isn't working with what he's got.

At this point, with 9 of the next 11 games on the road, the Leafs need a kick in the collective ass. They'll be away from the (rightfully) booing fans at home, away from the Toronto hockey media circus, and that can't hurt. But they'd better be flying a few Marlies around with them too. Time for Kadri to skate around for a game or two again, give Colborne a shot, why not Carter Ashton? They can't hurt any more than we're hurting. Would it kill them to put Scrivens in net for a game? If nothing else, the enthusiasm from these guys could be a refreshing change right now. The teams hits the ice already beaten now. It's an embarrassment.

I accept rebuilding. In fact, I embrace it for the Leafs. Too many rebuilding efforts on this club have been stopped dead by a playoff run or unexpectedly good season. I'm glad Burke is sticking to his guns. But at this point? We should be fighting for 6th, not 8th.

The Flailing of a Failing Dictator

More Toronto politics folks.

When we last left our intrepid mayor, he had suffered a defeat at the hands of council. His lackeys looked chagrined, and he was at a bit of a loss.

To the surprise of nobody, he's been lashing out in his own special petty way.

First, there were the Ford-side councillors who sent a letter to our Provincial government that said "hey, council is irrelevant, so you should just ignore that vote."

You don't get to pick and choose if you're relevant in a democracy. You can't cry because you didn't get your way and say you don't matter. Because the next time something goes your way, but the people up the ladder don't like it, they can say, "huh, I thought you said you were irrelevant."

Idiots.

Then word came that the TTC chief general manager, Gary Webster, had sent a report to Ford a while back basically saying, "Um, dude, your plan for a subway makes no sense, will never make sense, isn't feasible, and would be extending a mistake made over a decade ago that resulted in none of the promised gains."  Also known as the truth. Our esteemed mayor and his lackeys decided this report wouldn't be released to the public or council - you know, a vital piece of information that could help inform their decisions about the project.

That same guy made the mistake of telling the truth at the big special council meeting too - 135,000 more people served using the LRT plan instead of the subway plan. Far better value for the dollar.

In short, he wasn't making friends with Ford.  He refused to drop to his knees for the emperor of Toronto.

So Ford's lackeys on the TTC board called their own special meeting of their group, and fired the chief general manager. The guy who's been working for the city for 37 years. Why? For no just cause, but because he didn't kowtow to the Mayor's whims.

The sycophants who still side with Ford toed the same line - "A civic employee should hold the same vision as the Mayor."

No. A civil servant should serve the needs of the citizenry. The ideal civil servant should be apolitical, and be relying on facts and the truth. They shouldn't twist these things to match the current administration's viewpoint if it's directly at odds with reality.  This is why there is a civil service and bureaucracy - to maintain a steady flow of operations as leadership and mandates change.

Oh, and the vote? 5-4. Exactly along the lines of those who "want subways" and those who have a fucking brain.

But, council has still spoken. Firing the guy running the day-to-day of the TTC doesn't change that. It's the bully going after the random kid because his teacher gave him detention and the Principal backed it up. I'm sure Webster's replacement will be someone more in-line with our Mayor. Which means more roadblocks and stumbling blocks to a realistic transit solution finding its way into my city. But hey, anyone who thought Ford wouldn't muck up the works instead of accomplishing anything of significance needs to have their independent thought examined.

Edit: Turns out Webster was one year away from retirement. Also, The Holy Roman Mayor managed to say that the "general public" wanted the TTC to "move forward" with a straight face. I assume he fist-pumped once he was out of sight.

Addendum #2: I forgot to mention that the whispered cost of terminating his contract early? $500,000. Yup. Ford's desire to turf someone who didn't agree with him will cost his beloved "taxpayers" half a mil so he can sit at home instead of working for one more year for, I assume, less money. CHOO CHOO! What's that? Oh, it's the GRAVY TRAIN!!! WOOO WOOO!! Thanks for stopping that your Worship.

Note: "His Worship" is actually the proper title/address for the Mayor.

One Peaty Night

The current assignment, due tomorrow, is to replicate a shot. The challenge of course being to reverse-engineer the lighting, angle, materials, etc. used in the original without having access to that information.

The original I chose can be found here.

This shot isn't my replicated version, but one that happened while trying to get it.  I almost stopped shooting at this point because I like the fall of the light so much more. But then, that wasn't the assignment.

Baseball Season

No, I'm not giving up on the Leafs' season yet, although after the last 3 games, I've got that ol' familiar feeling called "February for the Leafs".

But, baseball season isn't too far off, and I read some disturbing things about the Jays the other day. Mainly, that the fans are restless.  19 years since the last World Series win, and the fans are restless. Please, add 26 years and then call the Leafs fans.

The concern seems to be in the Jays not trying hard enough for some big names like Prince Fielder and Yu Darvish this off-season. The Jays' explanation? No contracts longer than 5 years. Which is an improvement over the 3-year max back in the halcyon days of the '90s.

Makes some sort of sense. In any sport, 5 years is a long contract.  It's long if the player stinks and you can't dump him. It's long for the player if he has an amazing 5 years and doesn't see a raise while lesser players are raking in salaries commensurate with other teams' payrolls.  We have Bautista for 5 years, and that's looking like a steal.

What these fans want is a contender. I can't blame them. I want one too. But look up and there's the Yankees, Red Sox, and sometimes the Rays in our division. Second place in the AL East usually means the wild card. With the addition of second wild card, the Jays' chances improve tremendously.

But what I feel the fans are missing is what's right in front of their nose - the team we've got. Back in the big days, the Jays WERE the AL All-Star team. Big name free agents, blockbuster trades, rent-a-players down the stretch.  Also, a sold-out Skydome, Major League attendance records being shattered year after year, and teams that couldn't be ignored, despite being up here in the Great White North.

Now? Well, 20,000 is a decent turnout. A sellout is 10,000 less than it used to be. The Jays are a footnote in baseball news, and the fans here are starting to buy into that.  We're not a small market team. Toronto has 2.6 million people, the GTA has 6 million within an hour's drive from the Rogers Centre. Ownership is a company that pulls in over $12 Billion in annual revenue. But nobody's coming out to the games, so they can't validate putting up a $120 million payroll to satisfy a handful of fans. And since Toronto is a hockey town first and foremost, grabbing a Yu Darvish or Prince Fielder won't pack the stands. Hell, Prince would be a better choice because at least then you have a connection to old-school Jay, Cecil.

After all, we had the best pitcher in the Majors in Roy Halladay and couldn't bring in the numbers until he was about to leave, and now when he returns. We have one of the best hitters in the league in Bautista, who broke the all-star voting record, and can't keep all the beer stands open. The only way the people come is if the team starts winning deep into the season. No more of this "1st in April, 4th in September" crap.  We need to be fighting for 1st in August, if not running away with it. We need the team to be dominating the headlines in the dog days of summer. We need a winner.

And rushing that now, when Anthopoulos is doing yeoman's work on rebuilding, would mean a quick death.

Sure, there are holes. That's what rebuilding is about. You see what you've got, and fill in the gaps. Coming up is a prime time to finish the launch pad.

Bautista has proven himself.
Romero is our ace.

Does a Darvish help? Maybe. Of course, he hasn't played a lick in the Majors yet. Maybe he gets 18-20 wins. Maybe. After all, we play the Yankees, Sox, or Rays seemingly every other series. That replaces 6 wins from one of our 3-5 starters, so a net gain of 12-14 wins. Or the wild card spot.  Or maybe he's only solid in this division and pulls under 15 wins... also known as still 4th place.

But can't we get those wins elsewhere? Morrow is a strikeout machine behind Romero. Cecil and Alvarez pretty much have 3 and 4 locked up in the rotation, and Alvarez could do some damage with a full season.  Does McGowan make it back to be #5? Does he steal #2? Is Drabek mature enough to get in there? Can Arencibia follow up a fantastic rookie campaign in 2012? He's got Mathis to mentor him, and d'Arnaud coming up the ranks to light a fire. Escobar has become a solid shortstop when nobody was looking.

What about the close games? Oh, Cordero and Santos are the setup man and closer for this year, new to the team and getting on in years, but we don't want them forever, we just need them to fill their roles. Neither is going to overpower, but I'm thinking Santos has a pretty good ground ball crew behind him. They add to the veteran presence that is slowly being installed behind the young guns to provide experience, mentorship, and calm. If we get some protection behind Bautista, there's no telling where his numbers go.


Which brings me to Brett Lawrie. A Canadian boy who has "5-tools" bandied about him all the time. All I can say is that he has superstar written all over him. Sitting 20 rows behind home plate I watched this guy step up to bat and was blown away. Intensity radiated off him, and the crowd was louder than I've heard it in a long time. The kid's young, but has shown every bit of willingness to do what's asked.I watched him with the bases loaded, every muscle tensed, his bat quivering.  I turned to the guy next to me and said, "this is going out or he's striking out in 3 pitches."  1st pitch - ball. I was shocked this young guy had the wherewithal to hold off. Then he cranked it out of the park for the Grand Slam. The roof blew off the place in a nothing game with tons of empty seats. If he keeps his head in check, he's going places.  And he's the type of player who will bring the city along with him.

Then there's the talk of Votto. Some think it's a foregone conclusion that he'll be here in the next couple years. A Toronto native. An established powerhouse. And again, exactly the type of player this city will pay heed to. He'd be a good fit, and it's a move I'd keep an eye on.  Probably not this season though.

There's plenty of weak spots still - middle relief is better but still a question mark. Only two pitchers last year saw double-digit wins. Can Lind finally be consistent? Can Rasmus get his head screwed on the right way? Will Snider even sniff the bigs again? Can the team get a damned batting average? .249 is pathetic, and only Bautista was over .300.  The right side of the infield could use a bit of spackle too.

I said .500 would make me happy last year. The Jays obliged and nailed that number. This year I expect some surprises, and assuming general good health, a better record. They aren't winning the division this year.They might be fighting for a wild card spot. At the very least, I expect the Jays will have the adjective "surprising" put in front of them more than a few times.

Also, going back to the old logo is a nice touch. It's far better than everything since.

Wasting Away

According to the multiple apps I enter my weight into daily, it's been 40 days since I declared I was going to lose some of this middle section of me.

40 days. 5 5/7 weeks. 4 lbs. 0.7lbs/week.

The goal was 0.5 lbs per week, so I'm ahead of schedule! The Superbowl jammed me back up, but that was gone a week later.

It's odd doing this slow-and-steady method. I'm not exercising any more, but I'm definitely eating way less crap. I look at a bag of chips and can only taste the grease. I feel like a pop and I can taste the sugar. If I want some candy, I have a little bit of chocolate or some flavoured hunk of sugar and move on.  My candy jar at work has been empty since the new year.  My trips to pick up snacks downstairs have become a rare occurrence, and even then I return with peanuts, almonds, or dried fruit.

I have a lot more salads, wraps, sandwiches, and soups.  The Greek, Thai, and burger places around around here have forgotten what I look like.

At home, I still cook - chili this weekend. Also applesauce to save some apples that were on their way to inedible. Oh, and I whipped up a batch of an attempt at Ben & Jerry's Cool Britannia for a friend (and also me), but switched the cream/milk proportions (and added more yolk) to cut the fat.  Portions of that will be still be small.  But of course, anything I make at home will be far healthier than whatever pre-made stuff I could pick up. After all, it's "real" food.

The only really successful attempt at weight loss in my past was comparatively rapid. 15 lbs in 3 months, daily exercise and extensive calorie counting. I kept that weight off for a year, and then very slowly gained it back over 4-5 years, then passed it, then kept going.  11 lbs more to lose before I'm back to that old high.  Then 10 more before I hit my current goal. Maybe I'll aim for another 5 after that.

This time I'm hoping the long-view attempt at weight loss will result in it staying off - because I'll have spent a year eating healthier, and getting my body off the crap I would think nothing about eating.

I know that at some point I'll plateau. My body will hit an equilibrium where just cutting the crap won't result in weight loss. That's when I'll try and start getting the daily exercise routine back into play to keep on track.

Renos

This etherspace isn't the only thing I need to renovate in my life.

There's also my home. Or more specifically, my kitchen.

I bought my place 7 years ago. Hell, just over exactly 7 years ago.  The plan then was for 5 years, then I'd rent it out and find something more permanent. What I didn't anticipate is loving the convenience of being smack in the middle of downtown, with more space than I need, in a great older building. As it stands, all I'd be interested in for moving purposes would be if my unit, only 7 or 8 floors higher went up for sale at a reasonable price.

That said, with a 5 years, then rent plan, I skimped on the renos when I moved in. I stripped the bathrooms to the walls and rebuilt them, stained the floor, and put in new tile, cheap countertop, and backsplash in the kitchen. The plan was to reface the cabinets, but that never happened.

Now, it's all starting to bite me in the ass.

The bathrooms are generally holding up - except for perhaps the need to replace the showerheads.  The floor is fine, if a but scuffed in places.  A year or so ago I tore out the carpet from the bedrooms and put in hardwood. That's all good.

But the kitchen... oh the kitchen.

A couple years back the faucet exploded. Lucky me - lifetime warranty, new faucet head. But now the unreplaced parts are weakening.  The cabinets are literally falling off.  Their hinges coming loose after 30 years of existence.  The handles are ripping out of the doors. The microwave decided it didn't want to open any more. The handle on the stove is sitting in the pantry now. I don't even want to look in the range hood for fear that years of grease has become sentient and just wants to be left alone. In short, I fully expect the whole thing to collapse around me in the middle of preparing a meal.

So the process to renovate has begun in earnest. I met with a kitchen company last week, and have a meeting with an independent contractor tonight.  I'm leaning to the latter option as he's come recommended, seems friendly, and has been open about seeing his current projects, past work, meeting the crew, etc..

Place will be demolished to the walls. New cabinets, new stone countertops, new appliances, raise the drop ceiling and put in new lights, new floor, new backsplash, new paint, new everything.

It's something I both love and hate. Hate because it's stressful. Picking cabinets, countertops, appliances, colours, etc.. Talking to 3 different people about what can and can't be torn out. Putting together the application to condo management. Eventually I'll be given an estimate and that will be fun.  But then, new stuff! Induction stovetop with double oven and built-in probe thermometer! Fancy new fridge! Schmancy dishwasher! Convection microwave! Quartz everywhere! No more 1981 cabinets! In the end, it will be totally worth it.

So, any suggestions?

I guess I'll have to host another dinner sometime.

The Better Way

This is Toronto-centric. Also, it's long. Leave now if you don't care.

Yesterday, an astounding example of community activism and municipal democracy happened in my fair city.  But first, some background.

Our previous city government, under mayor David Miller, approved the most ambitious transit plan that Toronto has seen in decades. Ours is a city of the car - gridlock during the day, poor bike infrastructure, 3 subway lines, and a bunch of streetcars and buses. The Transit City plan would use LRT lines to expand this infrastructre - replacing a line at the end of its life (Scarborough RT), replacing a dozen bus lines with one contiguous rapid transit line (Eglinton), providing those with the worst commute in the city with a sleek new system (Finch), and extending other lines to the people who needed them.  Environmental assessments were done, provincial funding was guaranteed to the tune of $8.4 billion, and while some compromises had to be found, it was full steam ahead to finally expand a system that had only seen a stub of a subway line added in the previous 30 years of explosive growth.

If it all worked out, even more ambitious plans were in the works - a downtown relief line, extensions to University and College campuses that are currently a pain to get to, connections to major attractions and the airport. In short, what would eventually be better access through one of North America's largest cities.

Then came Rob Ford. Our current buffoon of a mayor. He campaigned on "ending the gravy train" at City Hall. He promised those wonderful "efficiencies" that are all the rage but never really found.  He also promised a subway to our eastern wing, Scarborough.  A subway that would run along a stretch where the density is far too low to support such a system. Hell, they build a Sheppard subway in the 90's that they considered closing in the 2000's because ridership was so low.  He wanted to extend that mistake.

So day 1 in office, he "cancelled" Transit City. A plan, that while not perfect, was our best hope for comprehensive transit in our lifetimes. A project that was fully funded, fully supported, and where DIGGING HAD ALREADY STARTED.  Why? He wanted a subway to Scarborough. Fuck the rest of the city.

So he marched to our Provincial leader and demanded they let him have his way. They acquiesced - an election was coming after all, the world was jerking to the right, and Ford had some sort of inexplicable momentum behind him.

So work stopped. The organization in charge looked at alternatives. Ford demanded that the $8.4 billion, instead of building 2 new lines, replacing a 3rd, and extending a 4th, all be dumped into burying the Eglinton line and replacing the Scarborough RT. Because that's how much it would cost to take a reasonable plan for that street (buried for a bunch, surface route in lower-density areas) into a "subway".  I guess it beat his alternative - the whole kitty into the subway to the east that would be underutilized for 50 years.

But all was not lost! No! He also was going to find magic beans he called "private sector money" to pay for his glorious Sheppard subway to Scarborough. Of course, nobody in the private sector had been consulted. Nobody had done a study to see if it was even feasible. But dammit, Rob Ford felt it in his gut, so it would be!

Except it wasn't. Instead of a proper feasibility study, he asked one lackey to put together a report. This guy came up with "yah, it could happen. If we have road tolls to pay for 60% of it." Road tolls being anathema to politicians in this city. I dunno, New York seems to get by with them. I hear  London has adapted too.

Anyway, along with this report came a legal decision that another councillor had asked for. A prominent legal firm here determined that no, Rob Ford was not, in fact, a king. He couldn't unilaterally cancel a plan that had been approved by the council. The council had to vote on it.

Drats! Democracy again?

And that was the release on the giant boulder at the top of the ramp. Within days of this opinion being released, Ford's plans were being squashed. Karen Stintz, former Ford lackey who he had hand-picked to head up our Transit Commission turned on him. She presented a compromise! A COMPROMISE! THE HEATHEN! She suggested that maybe Eglinton could be unburied a little bit. Not as much as originally, but also not all underground. It could save $2 billion that could restore some of the other plans a bit, and give Ford a boost for his white elephant subway.

The response? NO! NO! NO! Ford gets tantrumy (as is his wont) and his lapdogs on the TTC board turn on their leader and vote her down.

So she says, fine... I tried to be nice.

She gathered up more than half the councillors and had them sign a petition to call a special meeting of council. This is an exceedingly rare occurrence. I'm not entirely sure it's EVER happened before. This meeting was to put forth the original plan in all its glory for final approval. Mayor be damned.

Rob cried and whined! NO! I'M THE MAYOR! PEOPLE ELECTED ME TO BUILD SUBWAYS!! I WILL REND THE EARTH WITH MY BARE HANDS AND YELL CHOO! CHOO! DOWN THE TUNNELS!

Or something to that effect.

The councillors approached him right up the last minute, offering compromises that would still make him look good. There could still be a subway! Just make an allowance here so the poor (literally) people on Finch can get to work faster.  He refused.

So yesterday, the full council met, made speeches, pleas, and motions. Even then, a compromise was made - Sheppard was left off the table. It would be further explored to see if a subway made sense. Rob still bitched. He tried to get the whole thing delayed - that was defeated quickly, and he disappeared for hours afterwards.

His yes-people spewed blatant lies and the same old misinformation to try and swing the vote and instill fear. They read letters from citizens that sounded hand-written by the mayor himself so effusive of his plan were they.  Those who supported the original plan spoke clearly, used facts, and even a bit of sarcasm and humour to shoot down their opponents. They swayed a couple more votes in the process, and in the end, 58% of the council voted to approve the original plan, and tell the mayor to go fuck himself.  In far more political language of course.

So naturally, the mayor called the meeting "irrelevant", his #1 fluffer said the meeting was an exercise in ramming things down their throats.  Some of his supporters looked a bit ashamed that they were following such a moron who had no respect for democracy.  Some claimed the mayor and the province should just ignore the wishes of council. After all, the mayor was elected, so people want what he wants. The rest of council, also elected and representing citizens, be damned.

Then, our esteemed mayor went out the broke-down, soon-to-be-replaced Scarborough RT and rode it. He asked people if they'd rather a subway than that piece of crap. Unsurprisingly, they said yes. Of course, he didn't ask if they'd rather have ANYTHING other than that piece of crap.  It was a publicity stunt that screamed of desperation.

But, to the chagrin of him, and joy of more than him - the province came out almost immediately and essentially said "We will do what council wants, not one man."

So, now the next step comes. Metrolinx (the overseeing organization) now has to figure out the logistics. The TTC has to move forward with them. The mayor will likely try a few more things to stop it, but for now, the will of the people and their representatives seem strong.  People are fed up with a 3rd-rate transit system in a gridlocked city.

This mayor has been a disgrace, and embarrassment, and a fool. We have him for almost 3 more years. But his defeats are starting to pile up as the level of political activism in my fair city continues to rise. People are involved in the process in a way never before seen. They've realized that their voice counts, and that they can bring change where they want it.  Either Ford has to learn to accept compromises, or he has to get used to losing. His "Ford Nation" is now a small island, and it's shrinking.

Oscar-Winning Annoyance

I suppose I could put this on Filmchaw too, but it's more rant than review.

TIFF runs more than their big annual festival in these parts. They have a rather impressive tower now that houses theatres, workshops, a gallery, and other film-related stuff. In many ways, it's a year-round festival of various films and concepts.

They've just started this season's various series(es?), one of which is Food on Film. This series consists of 6 films about food, followed by a Q&A with a chef of some fame.

Last night kicked off with Babette's Feast and a Q&A with Scott Conant (owns Scarpetta, judges on Chopped, been on Top Chef).  The movie won the best foreign film Oscar for a reason.  Conant gets on TV for a reason. These two things were able to drag this first event above its two shortcomings.

First, the good. Babette's Feast is a Danish film about a small, remote, fishing village/religious sect.  The people live a pious life with little luxury. Meals are a mush of bread and ale, or saltfish soup.  Along comes Babette, a French woman escaping the French revolution of the mid 1800's.  She slowly adjusts these simple meals - a little bacon, a spring of rosemary, some onions. Nothing much, just enough that the locals notice and appreciate it.

Then an anniversary comes up and she offers to make a French feast for the village. This brings up questions of spiritual devotion among the faithful, and memories of one man's greatest meal ever. It's a hell of a feast, and a great piece of film-making.  If you can take subtitles, don't mind a slow start, and like food - it's a must-see.

After the film, Conant showed himself to be affable, confident (almost to the point of arrogant, but not quite in that annoying way), gracious, and a good interview.  Sadly, Jason Bangerter, the executive chef of the TIFF restaurants isn't much of an interviewer.

The night started with the resident Chef receiving an introduction that seemed to go on forever. Every restaurant he worked at was listed in detail. I'm surprised it didn't start with "His first dish was a sublime scrambled egg he made whilst still in utero".  By the end of the celebration of Bangerter, you'd think the guy was the second coming of Joël Robuchon. In comparison, Conant was practically introduced as "some guy who cooks."  I'm not sure how you get away with talking up the interviewer more than the guest.

Bangerter's interview style was very much the "I ask a question, you respond, then I move to the next with wooden grace" style.  Rarely was it conversational, nor did he seem able to follow up on interesting answers.  Or if he did, it was in the middle of another answer, as if it took 2 or 3 minutes for what he heard to sink in. Considering this should be a meeting of peers, where the insights of an accomplished chef add to the observations of a celebrity chef regarding a movie about food, it fell flat. I hope he improves as the series goes on.

But that was overshadowed by the woman in my vicinity who wouldn't shut up. Before the movie, during the movie, during the Q&A, it was an endless stream of patronizing pedantry and agonizing arrogance spewing from her.  "Oh, I'm only seeing this one, because none of the other films hold any interest at all for me."  "That's a black truffle." (said in the "how can he not know that?" tone when an audience member was asking a question).  Commentary loud enough to drown out the dialogue of the film. The ire was already rising by the time she took the mic for the Q&A and felt she had to correct an audience member, and both executive chefs on the stage with this stunning piece:

"It wasn't a cow's head. It was a calf's head."

Thanks. The world needed that minutiae shared. I suppose her point was it was veal demi-glaçe and not a beef one, but throw in the attitude and audacity and I wanted to tear into her. THEN she gets into an "argument" about women in the kitchen with Conant. Her point, "Woman have always been a force in the kitchen in Italy."  This was in regards to an earlier discussion about how women are becoming more prevalent in restaurant kitchens in North America.  Conant's response was along the lines of, "I wouldn't limit it to Italy. There are amazing female chefs in Spain, Hong Kong. Michelin Star chefs. There's one that is easily one of the top 50 in the world in Italy and everyone should try her food if they have the chance."  In short, he agreed and expanded. She came back with "No, but I'm talking Italy. Like, if you go back a few years, they've been big in Italy."  It was like she was expecting an argument and didn't know how to deal with agreement. An obviously annoyed Conant came back with "Sure, there was Catherine de' Medici if you really want to go back."

As she spoke, the nails-on-chalkboard annoyance across the room was palpable.  I'm incredibly happy she won't be at any future screenings in the series.I also gave an internal cheer when she was, once again, answering audience questions to nobody in particular and was just wrong enough to be wrong. [under her breath loud enough for everyone in a two row radius to hear] "It was sour cream."  [Conant] "That was crème fraiche."

But despite these unsavoury aspects, the film and guest were able to elevate the experience. It's a solid concept for a series, and I look forward to the upcoming films. After all, you can't control who buys a ticket.

Branching Out

This place is due for a facelift.  The background image hasn't been displaying in years, the blogroll is outdated, full of dead links and dormant blogs. The format is too narrow. In short... it needs an overhaul.

But in lieu of doing that, I went and started another blog purely for my photography. I figured I'd give this Tumblr thing a try... even though I'm still not entirely sure what its purpose is. I may migrate that stuff back to here, or at the very least cross-post once I fix this joint up.

Or maybe I should just build my own damned site. Of course, that would require me to actually learn how to code a web page. Something I should have done 15 years ago. Naw... too much work.

In the mean time, please swing by photosbysomeguy.tumblr.com and take a look. Some old shots, and some new ones too.

Of course, as always, even more are on my Flickr page.

Tiny Challenges

I'm off to Vegas again in a couple days. Back when these plans were forming many months ago, I feared that this second trip in just over a month would be reluctant. After all, 3-4 days in Vegas is plenty, and a recharge before returning is always good. But I'm actually really stoked about this one. Different group, different experiences, and the enthusiasm of my friends is infectious.

One minor debate I had with myself was if I wanted to bring my camera gear again. December saw the camera, a couple lenses, Promote Control, 6' tripod, and other doohickeys. Out of that, I got some pics I'm pretty happy with, and a few I'm really happy with. This trip will have 4 full days, with the potential for plenty of lulls in activity... which could be ideal for a photowalk or two. But I've decided less is more. So the only camera I'll have with me is my iPhone, and I intend to use it.

It's not a great camera. It's terrible in low light. It's obviously pretty much full auto. Still, I think I can do some interesting things with it.

That is, when I'm not rolling dice, hitting max bet buttons, or begging for a dealer Pai Gow. Oh, and video poker... I've decided to give that a real try this time. Although I just don't see that as a winning proposition, it could be okay for tier points.

Through the Beer Glass, Darkly

More blahdeblah about photography classes.

I wrapped up another semester in December. It feels odd calling them semesters since I'm only taking one or two courses, at night, once a week.  Still, it's class, there's work involved.

Next one starts this week. A continuation of a previous class, and I have little idea what will be asked of us. I imagine more of the same, perhaps with more specific direction.  But if history is any guide, the final product will be graded on "is it pretty pictures?"

Regardless, my final portfolio assignment for last semester was centred around the idea of a home poker night. Maybe it was burn out, maybe it was laziness, but I just couldn't get the shoot I wanted together. Instead, I went with what I could get. Of the 5 shots I presented, there were only two I really liked, and that was pretty much reflected by the class's reaction.


This one pretty much came out exactly like I wanted. Tight, right angle, shallow depth of field... aces.


This one had the idea exactly right, but something about the shot didn't quite work for me. Maybe the darkness reflected in the bottom of the glass. Maybe the framing. A taller shot might work better. However, I think the intent was strong enough to carry the shortcomings.

Funny thing - I've owned the Godard chip set for years now, but it wasn't opened until this shoot.

Resolve

I'll be honest - I have about zero willpower. Occasionally I'm able to tear myself away from cravings and desires, but most of the time? Hand in the cookie jar, exercise not done, and decisions that are more fun than good.

So far, it's worked out okay.

But I'll make some resolutions anyway.  Maybe putting them in ethereal ink in this here space will make them more real.

- In bed by midnight on work nights. Not necessarily asleep, but in bed. Because once I'm under the covers, I'm less likely to find a thousand things to keep me from going to bed.

- Lose 25lbs. Half a pound a week should be do-able, right? 190.4 as of this morning. 165 by New Year's Eve would be sweet.

- Swim more. I pay for a pool.  It's an elevator ride away. I've used it maybe three or four times in 7 years, none of those since they converted it to a salt water pool something like a year and half ago. And I LOVE swimming. I also pay for a gym and squash court that are just as conveniently located, but let's be realistic here.

- Get off my ass and do something when I think about doing it. Instead of putting aside for later. Seriously, it takes an hour to do my taxes and I get them in late every year (and I mean LATE). Piles of crap build up because I don't bother to deal with them. Dust develops sentience because I don't grab the swiffer and spend 5 seconds wiping down a shelf. I'm not talking epic tasks here, just the little things.  Which reminds me that I have a mail-in rebate to fill out when I get home.

- Organize my photos and get some displayed already.  I have over 35,000 images that I took sitting on my computer. Maybe 1/4 of them are tagged.  That same number could probably be deleted without being missed. The New Years weekend had no small amount of time spent keywording these things, and that's where it stands. As for displaying - there's a Vegas sunrise photo hanging in at least 3 or 4 people's homes (if not more), but not mine. I have a metallic print of it sitting in my closet. It should go in a frame. So should about half a dozen others. And dozens more should be in the digital frame gathering dust next to my computer (see the above resolution). That doesn't even get to the half a dozen other prints and original pieces of art I've bought over the years that aren't up.  I suck.

Vegas Photos

Many of these made it into the trip report. Some didn't. I hope you like them.  The whole set can be found here. Nearly every one looks better viewed larger, so I suggest clicking on them. It's about time I redid this place so it was more photo-friendly.


The best gin & tonic I've had. Can't wait for the next.


This guy started our Neon Boneyard tour


Yucca tree, in neon


The signs just pile up. I keep seeing this as Sassy Sally's Binions


Some bits and pieces may someday spell something.


Quack


Giant skull. Desert. Not creepy at all.


I think this is my favourite shot from the whole trip.


Really, not that bad a view.


This one is close to my favourite.


And this one gives the favourite a run for its money too.


I spent far too much time playing with long exposures.


Without the 3D effect, it's actually kind of a dull shot.


Bellagio's winter display.


Not really Paris


Also, not New York, but don't tell the Post Office


Most of the reasons I went in the first place. Good eggs, every one.

Four Days in the Desert - Day 4

Finally, I'm wrapping this thing up. Amazing that I got the trip report out before I found myself back in Vegas (that would be mid-January).

Day 4.  Of course, I don't request a late checkout even though I'm red-eyeing it back. So I have to be out by 11am, and I crashed sometime around 5.  Easy.

Up, shower, pack, and check out right on time.  Absinthetics was kind enough to offer his room up to keep my bags in. His mistake as I undoubtedly woke him up for it.  Lesson taught to another American - don't offer Canadians kindnesses, we'll assume you're sincere and take you up on them :).

Bags stowed, I made my way to the Aria sportsbook bar for some good ol' fashioned... umm... whatever is done at the bar by the sportsbook. See, I ain't much of a football fan, but I do like seeing people.  So I hung out, grabbed some quesadilla and wings and beer, and chatted a bit.

At some point, Jordan announced there was cake coming.  It showed up. It looked like this:



It turns out that Pokerist sponsored a whole bunch of stuff for our charming group of degenerates. An extra grand into the team last longer, a bar and food tab on Sunday, and this lovely cake that was about 5x more cake than was needed to feed our group. It was rather tasty to boot, and apparently made by the premiere Vegas cake-makers. I also hear it weighed about a ton.

Very cool of them.

People cheered and sweat and cried about their sportsball teams winning or losing or beating spreads or somesuch.  Myself and OhCaptain opted to wander a bit with cameras in hand.

Between Aria and Crystals is this sculpture:



The ol' refocus your eyes for 3D trick.

We made our way to The Bellagio to see their winter display.  We voted unanimously that it was last year's re-organized and therefore not all that impressive. I have pictures of the penguins and igloos and such, but the reality is that I'm not overly thrilled with most of what I grabbed.  Maybe I'll be able to edit them enough to find something interesting, but for now, there's this:



Outside the Bellagio, we crossed the driveway to see what we could see. Turns out, you can see Paris.



From there, I didn't get too much, but the Cap'n kept snapping.  Hopefully he'll have those pictures posted somewhere at some point. We swung by M&M World, a stop I figured I wouldn't be making this trip, and of course picked up a bag of coconut M&Ms.

Can I mention that the street mascots are all a bit creepy? I can? Good, because they are.

Wandered back through Monte Carlo to Aria, a route that would come in handy later when I was schlepping my bag down the strip. It was determined that the Monte Carlo is about the most boring casino on the strip. Zero character, zero effort.  It was an excitement-sucking vortex of meh.

It was a good walk with another photographer. The last time Cap and I wandered around with our cameras (outside of the Neon Boneyard, but that's different) was Niagara Falls at Eh-Vegas a few years ago. I'm always intrigued by the pictures other people see and their attitudes towards photography.  One of the most fun ways to learn anything is from someone else.

Back at home base, I found myself with time to spare. The Sportsbook bar was dying down, the marathoners were warming up, and the bar was largely empty.  I decided to roll some dice.

Big mistake.

I was impressed Aria was running $10 tables, so I opted for them instead of the $15. Oops. The $15 table was cheering for hours. My table was ICE FUCKING COLD. I blew through my buy-in in around 30 minutes and was down for the trip because of it. Shit. The table was empty and stayed that way for at least an hour afterwards. Nobody was going near the cursed felt.

I, however, couldn't resist the siren call of the Blazing 7's machine. Which promptly handed me around $500 or so, easing my pain.  During this, April let me know that there was an entourage heading to Mandalay Bay to cheer on the marathoners.

Right, the runners. So a bunch of our group was running in a half marathon because they are insane I assume. By this point they'd been pounding the pavement for a while and were expected to hit the finish line in the not-too-distant future. The tale that ran beneath this whole trip was Dan training this group to run this thing, and the tragedies both major and minor that were befalling them in the final days.

Dan almost didn't make it to Vegas because of cancelled flights, but was saved by blogger hearts.

Much bigger was Otis. His father passed away days before, and it was widely expected that he wasn't going to make the trip so soon after the funeral. Nobody could possibly blame him for wanting to spend time with his family, grieving someone who sounds like a great dad. Our thoughts were all with him.

Then the note from him - he was coming after all. His family had convinced him that he couldn't abandon what he'd spent the better part of the year working towards. He needed this run. He needed the accomplishment. And he needed his friends. As word spread among our group, smiles went with it. Partly because we all wanted to see the guy, and largely because we here happy for him and his ability to complete this journey.

They all finished. Otis raising his hands in victory and creating a memory for everyone watching. Or so I hear.  Pauly sums it up well over here.

See, I had grabbed my bags and meandered towards Manadaly Bay (no easy feat with a stuffed check bag in tow). But by the time I got there, the group had already made it out to the street to cheer the runners. Cell service was crap out there, so tweets and texts looking for them went unheeded. I finally figured out where they were after a quick run-in with Garth, and realized there was no way I was getting to them with bag in tow.  The bell desk was a nightmare with all the runners and guests, so I found a spot, and kept an eye out, but saw nobody I knew. I eventually had to turn around find my way to a cab and my flight. I wish I'd been able to stay the extra day so I could have better participated in the festivities.

At least there was Twitter so I could send my congrats and follow along with the action from afar.

I joined the throngs of runners and their friends and family leaving Mandalay via tram. I wandered the bridge to the Tropicana, snapping shots along the way.



I feared the closures and increase in people would result in a taxi issue, so I had budgeted extra time for the airport trip. Turns out I either timed things well or was wrong.  The taxi stand at the Trop had a few people, but nothing tragic.  The first cab that pulled up took a couple people, and the next guy in line begged to come along, as it was an SUV and he was also going to the airport with his wife. The cabbie agreed and then asked if anyone else was going to the airport solo.  I raised my hand and skipped the line.

Immediately the driver was letting us know how pissed he was with the marathon. The shift to a night run (it had previously been in the afternoon) really screwed things up for the cab industry that night. Road closures, HUGE traffic jams, and a lot of pissed off tourists had made for a bad night. We were his first Tropicana pickup (a favourite spot of his) and first airport run of the night. Refreshing surliness aside, he was the best cabbie I'd had this trip.  He backroaded and shortcut to avoid traffic and we were there in no time. As we approached McCarran he pointed at the highway - backed up for miles as traffic hit the Strip, and we were all glad we had a guy who knew what he was doing.

I was the first drop, and he came out to grab my bags for me. I handed him double the total fare and wished him a better night. I figured after all the crappy cabs I'd had so far, this guy deserved my appreciation.  I have no idea what he got from the other two groups in there, but I hope they tipped well.

Airport was a breeze, no crowds, no lines. Leaving me with tons of time to spare.

Sadly, food options were severely limited, and after Jaleo, Raku, and Carnevino, I was forced to order from royalty, his highness, the Burger King. Talk about a long fall. Still, it was food-like, and it filled a hole.

Flight home was spent largely asleep, and all was well. Another trip over. Down cash, up far more in worth was the fun and memories.  I can't wait to do it all again next year.  By then I expect someone will have created a time dilation device so that we can all hang out a bit more.  There's never enough time.

Four Days in the Desert - Day 3

Let's see if I can get this one in a single post.

Saturday - Tournament day! We'll get to that.

So, up at the crack of enough-time-for-breakfast. I fire out a "anyone want more Wicked Spoon?" tweet, only be told Maigrey beat me to the punch because it was so awesome the day before. So I tag along with group, getting there about a plate or two in. Still, it's plenty of time to sample what I missed the day before (still very good) and head to the tournament.

See, that wasn't so painful. I pied-pipered the group back through Crystals to the poker room at Aria, signed up both myself and my last-longer team, caught up with some folks, grabbed BrainMC's nuts, and found my seat.

Oh wait... before it all started, we grabbed the group photo.  I played backup photog in a crappy spot, while OhCaptain perched on high to get what I assume are better pictures.  However, here is the best I grabbed.



Who was I seated with? It's been a while, so apologies to the one person I think I'm forgetting.  There was CJ, Drizz, Alcanthang, Maigrey, Jordan's buddy, a couple women I didn't know, eventually WhoJedi I think, and the mystery person my brain refuses to acknowledge even though I knew them.

Anyway, cards in the air, chatter and bounties and all that.  Hey! Jd, rest of the Royal on the board! Awh, couldn't get the final call on the river, showed the stone cold nuts anyway. Up a bit.  Ooo! Aces.  Won a little. Hammer drop (first at the table).  Al saw into my soul when the 7 hit on the turn and wisely folded, yes a legit hammer win.

Then I bled chips for a while... NOBODY got knocked out until PokerVixen saw the rail after the 2nd round. Then people relaxed, knowing they wouldn't own a copy of Gigli.  I went down sometime after the break when I shoved my KK preflop and Al called with AQ because he wanted my bounty (pic of your choice).  JT7 flop. Yah, no doubt here... K on the turn for my set, his nut straight, and I went home.  Seems only fair that I got KO'd by Al (who ran like a god for most of the tournament I hear), a minor bit of retribution for our HU battle a couple years back.  So yet another blogger gets a copy of the Vegas sunrise shot.  I should get on contacting Al about that.

So I'm out. I'm not particularly upset about it. Disappointed, sure, but it's hard to get mad in a friendly game like this one.I wander a bit, tell Dawn that she's the lone shining light for Team Bedrock (BrainMC being KO'd a few minutes before me), and decide to wander a bit.  Back to the room for a bit, and I fire out a text asking where I'm having dinner and with whom.  CK gets back to me pronto and plans are made.

Showered, changed, and back downstairs I once again swing by the tournament, shoot the shit a bit, and go back out on the floor (because watching live poker, even when it's friends, is boring, and I feel like I'm intruding on their play).  I wander by a bank of slots.

Normally, I ignore the video penny slots that nobody understands the workings of. 15 lines? 5 credits per line? No idea what wins? It's basic insanity. But one caught my eye.  "Do you like games with Gladiators?" DO I?? Airplane! The slot machine!

I plunk my ass down, drop $100 in, and bet the max.  BONUS!  Touch a square! Huh? Er... ok... touch.. nothing... touch... nothing.  Touch the right thing -- BONUS!! Touch passengers! Uh... ok... touch... touch... touch... bonus, bonus, bonus. Super bonus! Double bonus! Spinny give me money bonus! I have no idea what's going on, but I keep winning. On my first spin. Oh hell do I like games with gladiators.

When it finally ends, I have something like 18000 credits. Sweet. $180. Seems like a lot of work for $80 though. Wait... that's waaay more than I started with. Oh! It's a nickel machine! $900! Wheee.

So I play it down a bit. Hit another bonus, play that down and cash out. Put in another hundo, hit more bonuses, and cash out. I walk away with around $1100.  That definitely makes up for lack of tournament winning. Airplane! The Slot Machine is awesome.

Dinner isn't until 9:30, so I find more railbirds and chat it up. Numbono, PokahDave, F-Train, etc.. The final table is rocking 50% women, including my teammate Dawn Summers.  I'm hoping the "member of Astin's team wins the tournament" streak continues, but alas, she crushes all my hopes and dreams by going out 4th. Um, I mean... great job Dawn! Congrats to Chilly's friend for taking the whole thing down (right? It's been awhile. There was a chop at 3 I think.)

Wander wander wander.  Bar, slots, bar, tourney.  Chilly taking prop bets on how many toenails he has painted (answer: 1).  Finally, dinner time arrives, I grab my coat and head out with CK, Grange, and CaityCaity to Carnevino.

Never been before.  Will be back in January.  Carol did the ordering with some minor input from the rest of us and the waiter, and the meal was top-notch.

Bison chop, lamb, sweetbreads (my choice, and the most unexciting part of the meal, but I'm spoiled by the best sweetbreads in the world available in Toronto), pastas, carpaccio, crudo, house-cured pastrami, and more. The food was great, the conversation and company better. But isn't that how these WPBT things are supposed to work? Everything we do, the tournament, the outings, the gambling, the dinners, the drinks -- they're all noise around the core purpose of meeting up with awesome people.

Dinner wrapped up, and I finally made it to the IP. The moment I walked in those broken doors, I realized that I hadn't felt like I was in Vegas until right then. The Aria is very nice. The Excalibur is cheesy. Dinners at fancy restaurants are delicious. But with this group, and these trips, the Imperial Palace is home.

And what does one do in the IP? One sits down at a table and plays PAI GOW!!! I can't remember how much I lost there, but it was worth the price of admission to joke around with BrainMC, Maigrey, and the rotating cast of friends showing off their Pai Gow skills. Hours and a few drinks later I plunked down at The Ghostbusters slots because craps was looking too full.  Turns out that Slimer also wants to give me money because I walked up a couple hundred in a game I couldn't seem to lose.

By this time it was about half past ridiculous o'clock in the morning and I grabbed a cab back (the long away around, I REALLY need to pay better attention to the cabbies who are ripping me off) to Aria with Absinthentics and called it a night.

Next up - the final day, a small photo walk, and runners.

Four Days in the Desert - Day 2b

Full set of Neon Boneyard shots can be found here.  More added as I get around to it.

The concept of Vegas as being 24/7 nonstop action is a bit of a myth.  Mid-day is a pretty open period as people groan off their buffet indulgences, realize that three hours of sleep wasn't really enough, or just find a nice poker table to sit down to for the next 8 hours. Sure, there are still people at the bar, but the real drunkery doesn't get seen until late at night when 21-year old girls in little black dresses keep trying to hold up the buildings as they stumble around vaguely recalling what hotel they're staying in.

During nearly all my Vegas trips, the afternoon is where I slip in things like ziplining, buying M&Ms, or finding a cheap tournament to flip coins in.  This time I opted to head to my room, unload my memory card to my laptop and maybe catch a couple zzz's before a planned mega-dinner. Except that the sun was setting and my room faced west.

So the tripod and camera got set up by the window and all the lights went out to cut reflections. Now my room looked like I was either a spy or voyeur. Who's to say I'm not both though?  Regardless, the goal was to get some sunset shots. This turned into getting night shots as the sun dropped and I wasn't thrilled with what I was getting of the horizon.  Luckily, even the buildings a short walk off The Strip light up as night approaches, and I was able to get some pics I rather liked of the Vdara, the Bellagio tram terminal, and the various loops of road that is Harmon.

Among them was this one.



There are plenty more I'll soon get around to posting.

The whole process of shooting out the back of the Aria took a long time. Enough that plans like "taking a nap" were no longer feasible. I set up the photo dump to the laptop and went about getting ready for a dinner whose sheer size was grossly unplanned for.

There was texting and such to arrange rides, and I eventually met F-Train, Drizz, JoeSpeaker, and Doc Chako in front of the hotel. Raku is a tiny place in a strip mall about 10 minutes away from The Strip. Our group of ten necessitated a fixed price menu, but beyond that, details were unclear. Let's see if I can recall the whole group.  Myself, F-Train, Doc, Drizz, Speaker, Garth,  Saunter, Grubby, Absinthetics, and Katkin.

The easiest way to convey the meal is by cribbing from Speaker's post about it.

We started with a few pitchers of Sapporo. Then the food started to come. If I don't comment, then take the description as "tasty and fairly self-descriptive".

1.- Tofu with Bonito, scallions, wasabi and green tea salt - tofu was served like a giant ball of soft cheese. the green tea salt was on the side, as was a jar of soy sauce.

2.- Bluefin Sashimi Salad with spinach and crispy onions

3.- Red Snapper sashimi and seared- Delicious two-ways snapper. They then asked about deep-frying the leftovers (ie.- the removed skeleton, head, and skin of the snapper). We said yes.

4.- Seafood soup - Kind of. Eel, chicken, (shrimp?), matsutake mushroom, and some kind of nut for people who weren't me, broth in a teapot. Absolutely AMAZING broth.

5.- Shellfish and broth - An understatement. Clams, mussels, whole shrimp, scallops... piled on top of one another. I dislike most of those things and ate them all.

6.- Fried chicken thighs on spinach with balsamic vinaigrette - The first "meh" dish of the night. Generally low on flavour in the chicken, but the bed of spinach underneath was great, having basically marinated in the balsamic.

7.- Asparagus deep-fried with panko bread crumbs

Around here is when I got a text reminding me of my plans to ride the New York New York roller coaster later that night. Hrmm..

8.- Roasted mackerel

9.- Red Snapper bones and skin redux - The snapper from earlier returns as crispy goodness!

10.-  Tofu in beef broth with Salmon roe - I fail to see the point of tofu as anything other than a base for other flavours. Man, what amazing other flavours. Oh, and the tofu is made in-house.

11.- Bacon-wrapped mushrooms, two ways - They're bacon-wrapped mushrooms, two-ways. Of course they were delicious.

I think it was at this point (although it might have been a couple courses earlier) that we were brought hot wet towels and assumed the meal was over. We all agreed that we had certainly received our money's worth and were well-sated. Full, yet not explosively so.  Then this happened:

12.- Kobe beef with wasabi - Oh, there IS more! And it's delicious meat! [nom] REALLY delicious meat!

13.- Pork cheek - Chew the inside of you cheek. Fell how tender it is? Now imagine it tasting like pig.

At this point I assumed our waitress was fattening us up in order to kill us and feed the next party.

14.- Ground chicken on a stick - Again, the chicken was low on flavour. I took a bite and deemed it not worth exploding over.

15.- Salmon rice with salmon roe - Because we weren't moaning in stuffed agony, a giant bowl of carbs is just what the doctor ordered. I had two delicious bites.

16.- Asian pear and strawberry sorbets - This was truly the last dish. And one that was desperately needed. the excellent sorbets cleansed the palate and fit in the tiny spaces left in my stomach.

On top of all this, the ten of us probably went through seven pitchers of Sapporo. Cost per person? $115 all-in. That's the food, beer, taxes, and tip. Best damned deal in Vegas.

So big thanks to F-Train for putting this one together. Fantastic call.

We rode back to Aria to observe mixed games.  Well, I waddled around the tables a bit to check on roller coaster status.  Yup, even stuffed to the gills and barely able to walk, I was going to ride a 203ft, 67 mph coaster. After a bit more (I assume) winning at the tables, Alan and Caity rose to join Dawn, OhCaptain and myself for our trip into oblivion.

By this point, I was actually feeling better. The food had had about an hour to digest, so I wasn't a bloated mass of groaning anymore. We made our way to the coaster, briefly feared it was shut down (due to some drunk walking past saying "it's shut down!"), and paid our $14. I recall it being $25 on my first trip to Vegas, so now it seemed reasonable. I reminded Dawn about the time we rode the Cyclone at Coney Island and she thought she was going to die, and I did nothing to alleviate those fears.

"How much did that cost?"

"$8. I remember because that's how much your life and dignity were worth."

"Grrr..."

Good times.

Alan pulled out his phone to tweet something, and was promptly attacked by the ride nazi because phones are loose and have to be stored. Pleas about his jacket having a zippered pocket weren't enough. I was tempted to tweet about it on my phone that was in my totally not-zippered jeans pocket. Instead, I pulled out my equally loose wallet to hand him a quarter for the locker. The irony was completely lost on the attendant.

With that, the coaster took off, we had fun, I didn't puke on anyone (and in fact felt just fine TYVM), and we wandered back through the carney games that don't give you money. Where I believe it was Alan (or was it OhCaptain?) and I who lost $5 each to claw games because Dawn dared us to play.

Walk back to Aria, drinks, jokes, chats, more battle stories about the dinner with the other survivors, and finally I wandered up to bed.  Yah... 2 days, 4 posts, 2 more days to go. So far? Amazing WPBT. Next up? The tournament and games about gladiators.

Four Days in the Desert - Day 2a

The alarm in the Aria is a curious beast. From bedside you can program how you want the room to wake you up. I opted for lights on, blackout curtains (but not sheers) to open, and the TV to turn  to CNN (although I found myself turning to FOX news for the pure entertainment value). I also set my phone to make odd noises at the same time to force me to cross the room and shut it off.  After all, I wanted breakfast before heading to the Neon Boneyard.

Everything worked as planned, I fired out a tweet along the lines of "anyone want brunch in an hour?" and promptly crawled back to bed for half an hour. At which point I got the first reply, followed by more. Excellent. 4 of us (Maigrey, BrainMC, Alan, and myself) would be heading to Wicked Spoon at the Cosmopolitan - a buffet I'd been looking forward to since I'd heard about it earlier in the year.

So I rushed around, got presentable and went out the door in search of the buffet. For those who didn't make it out there at some point (and shame on you), Wicked Spoon is on the 2nd floor of the Cosmo, towards the taxi/valet area, past the death rays. Seriously. Death Rays. Cool steampunky Flash Gordon-era death rays mounted on podiums in the hallway.

I found 2/3 of my dining partners in line with Maigrey texting that she was on her way.  I paid for myself and Maigrey and waited for the table to be ready.

Eventually we were all around the eatin' slab and ready to grab some grub.  Wicked Spoon is unique in its presentation of buffet.  Most of the items aren't presented in troughs of goop, but put out in individual servings. A small bowl of salad, a mini-pan of eggs benedict, fruit cups, dessert shots, cup o' sweet and sour pork, etc.. And the carving station is plenty impressive too. Slab bacon, tri-tip, sake marinated turkey in a black pepper glaze, and more.  I never even bothered with the omlette station, but have no doubt it would have also impressed.

I asked for a cappuccino and was told "it costs extra".  Okay, how much? "I'm not sure... around $5?" That's a bit steep, but I wants me my foamy milk on espresso dammit! It was a perfectly serviceable capp that didn't offend. Which is saying lots for a buffet. We never saw a bill though, so I tossed an extra $5 on the tip to cover the cost. Looking back, I probably got hustled for an extra $5 on the tip.

Three or four plates later we were plenty stuffed and Brian and I had a boneyard to visit. Tweets and texts back and forth with PokerVixen and OhCaptain had them wrapping up Vixen's Canadian treachery by becoming a US citizen (totally not part of our continuing plan to invade the states slowly via immigration), and she wanted to get home and change before wandering around a dumping ground for Vegas signage. So, Brian having a car, and standign rigth next to me, I opted to ride with him. OhCaptain would meet us shortly.

But first I needed to swing by my room and grab my camera. Plus, Brian, who was staying at the IP, wanted to see the fancy Aria rooms. He was duly impressed by the geegaws and whosamawutzits in the room and we went in search of the cap'n.

Here was the problem after we found him. Brian's car was at the IP, we were at Aria, and the tour started in 30 minutes.

To the cabs!

A quick ride to the IP and we were doing not terribly on time. Then came the search for the dog tracks.

See, Brian might have been a touch tired when he parked his car the previous night, but he made a point of remembering that there were dog tracks leading him to his parking spot. The problem was, he couldn't remember where the tracks started. So we spent 5 or 10 minutes wandering around the back of the IP looking for dog tracks before finally asking the guys at the oxygen bar/water massage area. Tracks found (they lead to a sqaure of dog bathroom grass because the IP is pet-friendly), we then found the car and were on our way with about 5 minutes to tour start.  That's when we hit highway traffic. Three cops, cars pulled over, multiple arrests.

Luckily, OhCaptain called the boneyard and told them we had no sense of time due to me being on Canadian time or something, and they completely understood his thick Minnesota accent enough to say "whatever, we're starting without you."

We found our way thanks to Google maps and Cap's having been there before.  The tour had indeed started, but was at the "so this is the place we stand to start he tour" phase. Plus the woman in the wheelchair still hadn't made it, so we weren't last. Yes, we were able to beat a wheelchair-bound guest, I'm so proud. Not beat as in battery, but beat as in get there before them.  We clear? No lawsuits? Good.



After the spiel about how they're totally building an indoor museum, we started the tour in the middle with this guy:



Here he is in 3D.  Cross your eyes funny 3D. It's better if you click on him and visit the larger image.



They have lots of piles of letters.



And occasionally even some neon.



Neon is apparently billed per bend in the tube. That thing up there must have cost a fortune. But not as much as this car rental joint's mascot:



The high cost of neon means that a lot of the signage is actually good ol' light bulbs.



We wrapped up at gigantic skull, from the old Barbary Coast, which must have had MASSIVE signage.



For perspective, here's the Googly map of the Boneyard, complete with skull. You may need to turn off 45-degree perspective to really see it.

The Boneyard is a worthwhile way to spend an hour or so of your time. You get plenty of Vegas history stories from the guide and see some cool abandoned signs, if that's your thing. If you have a camera, it's a great place for shots.

From there it was back to The Strip, via Las Vegas Blvd this time, to see the "sights". Man, what a depressing drive that is.  But in many ways, it's a more accurate representation of Vegas, without the veneers and façades that The Strip puts up.

This is, once again, long. So I'll split up day 2 here. Up next - how to combine and epic feast with a roller coaster.

Four Days in the Desert - Day 1b

When we last saw our intrepid Canadian, he was jumping a cab at the Cosmopolitan all by his lonesome to get to the Excalibur. I seem to recall this cabbie actually taking a route that made sense. This opposed to the one who took the highway to the Aria (I wasn't paying attention) earlier in the day.

So I find myself at the Excal and I am, as usual, struck by the cheap cheesiness of the place. But I knew there was a murder (I assume that's the proper group designation) of blogger-types hanging out by the bar, so I just beelined towards Lynyrd Skynyrd's reportedly terrible BBQ joint and swerved at the last second towards the sea of recognizable faces congregated around cheap beers.

I started by giving Bam-Bam a hearty slap on the back, followed by hugs and greetings to the man from Bedrock and his lovely wife Pebbles, who moved from the frosty rolling hills of 45 minutes away from me to the flat golden fields of Saskatchewan (provincial motto: Easy to draw, hard to spell.).  About 5 seconds after this, Bammer tried to convince me to jump in a cab with them and head to The Palms for some HORSE. A game I detest 3/5ths of. Try as he might, he couldn't get me to budge from the Robin Hood-themed drinking establishment I had yet to ensconce myself in.

There was chatting, the some quick chat with newly-minted full-time author John Hartness, an all-too-brief talk with Iggy, hellos to Mattazuma, Yestbay, JoeSpeaker, Lightning, and general all-round chaos as I tried to catch up with 20 people at once.

I of course made some time to talk to Carol (no links because she's secretive that way, but you already know how to find her), who is totally my Vegas foodie insider and all-around awesome person who I don't talk to nearly enough.

Then it was chatting with OhCaptain and PokerVixen about any number of things.  In short, everyone was catching up on their year.  Our 140 character spurts of information and all-too-rare ramblings in these bloggy things just don't measure up to face time with these "Internet friends" (I can't possibly call them imaginary any more).

Somewhere during all this people started to split off and I found myself throwing money away at the Burger Girl machine (slot with a giant burger side-game) while Bam-Bam, Pebbles, and Carol looked on. it was very embarrassing... for the burger girl. Then a tweet came in that OhCaptain was learning craps... so I quickly found myself dropping a few bucks on a craps table with the Cap'n, Maigrey, Gus, Speaker, April, Garth, CJ and Lefty, and eventually Drizz (and maybe others, apologies if I forgot you). Basically, we surrounded the table, and the Excalibur gladly took our money.

However, I did introduce CJ and company to my ideal strategy of ALWAYS playing the come bet and putting full odds on. Regularly stating that "nothing could POSSIBLY go wrong with this." At some point it got dubbed the Canadian strategy. As expected, nothing at all went wrong, except the time I was fully loaded and some asshole sevened out without hitting a single damned point. But that almost never (read: always) happens.

With the craps table holding on tightly to my money, I wandered. I dumped some cash in slots, strolled past table games, and eventually found myself wondering where everybody had gone. Turns out a good chunk were at The Palms, but at this point (some 24 hours since I had woken up to head to Vegas) I really didn't feel like dragging my ass over there to give more money away.  What I DID feel like was a hot dog. Probably from staring at the "beer and dog" banner hanging over the Sherwood Forest bar. I started wandering outside to find food.  I contemplated McD's across the road, but I was on the wrong side of the strip and it wasn't the "nice" one by IP, but the scary one in that odd strip mall between MGM and civilization. Nathan's in New York New York was closing up (and who wants end of night hot dogs?), and I kept walking, dropping money in slots and pulling some out along the way.

I made to the Aria without food and my stomach grumbling most unhappily.  I debated on continuing to the IP in search of food or people, and made it as far as the tram in Crystals before turning around and heading to my room. Thinking, "I'll just grab something snacky off room service." There was no such thing as "snacky" on that menu, and I really didn't want a full dinner.  If only I'd known about Secret Pizza in the Cosmo before I got back home... as it was, I passed out on the ridiculously comfortable bed as sleep beats food cravings most days. Besides, I had to be up in time for breakfast at Wicked Spoon the next morning and a visit to the Neon Boneyard.

Four Days in The Desert - Day 1a

For the first time in the winter gathering, I was travelling solo.  I'd been to WPBT events in the summer by myself, but come December I always had a small entourage of local friends who wanted to gamble it up a bit. This presented a few problems. First we were always co-ordinating flights. Some people couldn't get off work and took later flights, others got delayed a day by vacation scheduling SNAFUs, I would generally be rushing to the airport while others were whiling away the hours waiting for me.

Then we'd get to Vegas and I'd be splitting my time between two groups of friends. The ones I saw regularly, and the ones I saw yearly. My priorities were scrambled.

This year, nobody could come with me. I was a both a little disappointed, and a little relieved. Solo for WPBT is easier. Besides, I'd be returning to Sin City with my usual blokes in January.

In short, I was heading to Vegas by myself to meet up with dozens of friends. I get tired of explaining this to people every year. Maybe I'll tell them I'm going to Scranton. Nobody asks who you're going to Scranton with.

I wisely gave myself some extra time to get to the airport, and the accident on the expressway justified the reduced sleep schedule, for I arrived with still plenty of time to spare.

Not that it mattered too much, as the plane was seemingly delayed about an hour. I'm not sure why, as I was asleep on it as soon as the doors closed, so I didn't notice us sitting on the tarmac the whole time. In fact, I didn't notice we were delayed until I thought, "hrm, we should be there by now."  This put a bit of a kink in my plan to play the Aria 1pm as a Winter Classic warmup.

I strolled through McCarran Terminal 1, a bit concerned about the impending taxi lineup, and tweeted such (yay US roaming plan!). But I won the check-in lottery (2nd bag out) and the taxi stand was a well-oiled operation, so I was checked-in at the Aria by the time I got the "Hey, we just landed and have a rental, want a ride?" tweets.  Bloggers rock.

I was riding the high of being back in Vegas, so decided that yes, I could use some help with my ONE bag, and tipped the bellman as I strolled to the front desk.

The past couple of years I've slipped $20 to the check-in clerk at the Bellagio and am running about 75%. Yes, 2/3 of 2.  The first year was a slam dunk with the penthouse floor room with a lake view (you all know the picture that resulted). The second year was a bit of confusion. Spa tower, strip/lake view, 8th floor. But she didn't touch the $20 and made no suggestion that an upgrade had been given. So I kept the cash.

This year I opted to try a different route. I'd ask for the basic upgrade first (strip view, preferably higher up) and tip if I got it.  No dice.  "I'm sorry, we don't have any strip rooms available, but we do have a very nice room clean and ready for you with a mountain view." Fine... no tip for you.

Ah yes, Aria. Fancy new hotel in the centre of The Strip. I was intrigued by it last year, and April  had swung a pretty solid deal for us degenerates this year.

Sixteen floors up I walked into this:

 

Well, I thought, this ain't too shabby. Purple, but nice. I think I made the right call. The rooms were nice, the bed was amazingly comfortable, and the elevators were fast. Being plunked down two doors from the elevator bank made for a particularly easy walk, with surprisingly little hallway annoyance.



That clock there? It controls the whole room. It's the god-clock. Blinds, lights, TV, you name it, the clock controls it. I think I could have ordered room service from it.  The technology in Aria is well-used. Although a couple light switches wouldn't hurt.

I set up my tripod and started shooting the room.  Why? Because I had an assignment on interior design shots due the Monday I got back and had bupkis. Above are a couple of the shots.  Yes, I started my Vegas trip with homework, but that's only because I knew that once I left the room, I wasn't getting any more work done for days. I immediately realized that my setup looked like I was about to shoot amateur porn in a Vegas hotel room. How cliché.

Far too long later, I had my shots taken, adjusted, and sitting on my laptop.  But before I left, I snapped a quick iPhone pic of my view.  Actually, before I left I searched the room for the safe. I took a tweet to @AriaLV to finally locate it. Twitter is damned useful.

 

Walking outside I realized that the mountain view might be the better option with Aria. Corner suites probably have a good view, but dead-front strip? You get Polo Towers... not much to look at.

I decided to check out the surroundings. I hadn't really explored CityCenter on my last trip because it wasn't entirely finished yet. I also figured it would be good to know where the hell Jaleo was as I was meeting April, Dawn, Maigrey, Peaker (Dan, Dan, the marathon man), Grange, Absinthetics, and the artist formerly known as TheWife (who would be getting in too late, but made it for the bill) there for dinner in an hour or so. I meandered through and around and outside Crystals before finding my way to The Cosmopolitan, noting the much simpler route I could have taken (and later used all the time).  Jaleo wasn't too hard to find, except for them not really putting the name in an easy-to-see location. With time to kill, I wandered The Cosmo a bit more and decided I rather liked the place. There's something unique in its overall design and layout... it feels new with a touch of rat-packy retro-Vegas. The chandeliers, the decor, the death rays on the way to the buffet...

Anyway, I wandered back to the restaurant to await the group. I plunked myself on a chair and played Angry Birds or something, occasionally looking up. I'd met most of the above people before, but had no clue what Absinthetics or Grange looked like, so I figured one of them would show up first. A few lost souls wandered around and left, and I tweeted my curiosity if one of them were who I was looking for. Then someone who stuck out just a bit started wandering, and checking his phone regularly. I knew I had a blogger in sight.  I casually strolled behind him and glanced at his Twitter stream... why, I knew all those people...

"That looks like a familiar list of followers."

"Hi, I'm [Absinthetics]."

"Astin/[real name]"

And so the group started to form. Dawn tweeted that she was on her way and blaming F-Train for her lateness. April and co were coming straight from the airport and a wee bit delayed due to Budget having a no horns, and no honouring your quote policy or something. Oh, and Dan had made it town on time too! Which we were all very happy about because it sucks to have your flights cancelled.  Read about it on his blog.

I presented myself to the ladies at the restaurant to let them know my party was a bunch of slackers who don't believe in watches or "time" so they were late. No worries I was told, and no worries were had. The group showed up about half an hour late and we were promptly seated.

Drink menus on iPads were delivered, wine was had, and much delicious food was ordered. Chevre on endive, iberico ham, serrano ham, veal cheeks and morels, chicken wings, bacon-wrapped deliciousness, amazing lobster paella, lamb ribs, flans, and so much more. Tapas is amazing for a group like us - food gets passed around by design, more of any dish can be ordered on a whim, and good times are had.

But my personal food highlight was a simple thing. On the drink pad, "Jose's Gin & Tonic" is listed as "the best gin and tonic you've ever had!"  So I had to inquire what I was getting for $17. I mean, I make a solid G&T, and there are really only two ingredients.  I was assured by our very competent waiter that it would surpass all expectations or he'd take it back. I suggested I simply drink it and not pay if it wasn't "the best" but only the second best. He declined this generous offer and I ordered the drink anyway.

Damn, they were right.

"This ice ball is quick-frozen over dry ice with pure water for absolute clarity."

"Umm.. okay. It's ice."

"The gin is from Scotland with hints of cucumb.."

"So it's Hendrick's?"

"Uh... yes, it's Hendrick's."

"And finally our tonic, it's Fever Tree tonic from the UK. You can find this at Whole Foods."

"Never heard of it."

It's all in the tonic boys and girls. DAMN. Not as sweet as the usual stuff, this made for one FINE G&T. Not mentioned were the slice of lime, the zest of lemon, the two juniper berries, or the bay leaf floating in my drink as well.



$17 worth? I dunno. But it's Vegas, so expect higher prices.  Which reminds me I need to go to Whole Foods after work to find that tonic. (please be in Canada, please be in Canada).

Anyhoo, dinner was fantastic, and from there we went to storm the castle.  Well, *I* went to Excalibur, everyone else went to check in or tag along with those who were checking in.

Yah, this is a long one, and it's still day 1, and I haven't reached the Excal yet. Okay, I'll break it up here.