Recipe: Crab Cakes

My people, I have brought down from the Blog Mountain a new tablet for you entitled "Recipe." Brace yourself: this feature will feature recipes that I like. Surprising, non? This makes 6 recurring "columns" for the Bloguscript:

* What is Going On? (Administrative Q/A)
* Do It (Advice you really should take to make your life better)
* Excellent Quotes (The pop culture references that shape my world view and any conversation with me)
* Funny Thing (Hee-larious stories; all true)
* 5-4-Fri (Weekly lists of related items or defining characteristics of a main topic; published each Friday)
* Recipe (See supra)

And now (drum roll, please) the inaugural Recipe: Crab Cakes.

CRAB CAKES

1) Mix the following:

2 large eggs, well-beaten
1/2 C chopped celery (1 large stalk)
1 C crushed Saltine crackers
1 T Dijon mustard
1 t Old Bay seasoning
2 t Worcestershire sauce
2 T finely chopped parsley
1/2 C finely chopped scallions (12 scallions)
Fresh pepper, to taste

2) Fold in 1 lb fresh-picked crabmeat

3) Shape mixture into hamburger-like patties. Dredge in 1/2 C fresh bread crumbs if desired (I make them w/o the bread crumbs). Saute 2-3 minutes on each side in oil over Med/Hi heat. Serve immediately.

REMOULADE SAUCE

1) Mix together the following:

1 large egg yolk
1 1/2 T Dijon mustard
1/8 C white wine vinegar
1/2 T paprika

2) Add in:
1/2 C corn oil (whisk this in gradually; no kidding)

3) Add and blend in well:

1 T horseradish
1/2 t finely chopped garlic (1 clove)
1 T catsup

Let diners pour the remoulade on the crab cakes individually to taste at the table.

PS - My Mom cobbled this recipe together from Craig Claiborne's NYT article on the famous Baltimore crab house, Obrycki's, and data acquired from diligent trial and error. It makes THE BEST CRAB CAKE I have ever had. Anywhere. Ever. Woefully, most crab cakes you get out at restaurants are nasty. The secret: juuuust enough other stuff to hold the crab together. Oh, and "Help I'm Alive" by Metric is delicious; now playing on iTunes.

Do It: Read Ross Thomas

I am by no means overcompensated, but I am fortunate enough to have enough spare change to need to develop a few ways to keep myself from amassing too much money in any one spot. This poses a bit of a quandary. I don't make enough money to pursue heli-skiing or to become a devote of traditional Nipponese archery. But, I make too much money to establish an enviable set of collectable plates from famous places or to get every Care Bear ever made.

Further: my ENT has strongly encouraged me not to take up with SCUBA gear; I find people who build elaborate train sets in their basement to be as scary as clowns or gun enthusiasts; and, woefully, I lack the truly OCD phenotype necessary to seriously collect comic books or really get into a paraphernalitic sport like fishing.

So, I need a few ways to occasionally bleed the pressure off my bank account without getting into a situation where I find that my hobby is acting as a burn-off flare on the oil rig of my net worth.

One of those ways is eating at South Austin Grill. One of those ways is traveling. But perhaps the most indulgent and unnecessary way is purchasing first editions of Ross Thomas novels.

Thomas wrote international thriller/crime stories, heavy on the political satire and character-creation and lite on the actual mystery. His claim to fame is creating Michael Padillo and “Mac” McCorkle, the bar-owning, booze-swilling, banana republic-hopping heroes of the D.C.-based subset of his oeuvre. Thomas' firsts go for about $50 but can run you more, depending on quality and desirability.

Here's a quote to entice you:

Booth Stallings shifted his gaze to the hurrying Japanese Imperial Marines, then to the dead American medic, and back to the Filipino guerrilla. It occurred to him that this was the second Filipino he had come to know well, the first having been Edmundo something or other from San Diego who, like a robin, had appeared each spring near Stallings' grade and junior high schools, dispatched by the Duncan Yo-Yo people to demonstrate their product. Edmundo could make a Yo-Yo do anything, and for three childhood springs Booth Stallings had taken a limited number of private lessons at an exorbitant fifty cents an hour until, turning thirteen, he had discovered masturbation, Lucky Strikes and girls in approximately that order. -- Thomas, Ross. Out on the Rim.New York (NY): Mysterious Press, 1987.

And, here's the cannon:

The Cold War Swap (1966)
Cast a Yellow Shadow (1967)
The Seersucker Whipsaw (1967)
Singapore Wink (1969)
The Fools in Town are on Our Side (1970)
The Backup Men (1971)
The Porkchoppers (1972)
If You Can't Be Good (1973)
The Money Harvest (1975)
Yellow Dog Contract (1976)
Chinaman's Chance (1978)
The Eighth Dwarf (1979)
The Mordida Man (1981)
Missionary Stew (1983)
Briarpatch (1984)
Out On The Rim (1987)
The Fourth Durango (1989)
Twilight at Mac's Place (1990)
Voodoo, Ltd (1992)
Ah, Treachery! (1994)

Do it: read a Ross Thomas crime thriller.

PS - I have all the books in bold. They sit on the bottom shelves of my vintage quarter-sawn oak, drop-leaf-secretary-topped, barrister bookshelf, which was purchased with this purpose expressly in mind. Oh, and "Fit But You Know It" by The Streets is worth adding to your collection; now playing on iTunes.

5-4-Fri: The Beach

There are many, many reasons to lurve the beach; here are five:

1. Hearts. The family obsession is playing the card game, Hearts. You need my brothers and another willing player. We only get to play at family events. This makes the annual beach trip--at which our entire generation gets together--ground zero for Hearts. The secret is in the passing of cards to other players. Play it.

2. Yahtzee. For the younger set -- the 3-10-year-olds -- there is the dice game, Yahtzee. Fantastic fun, especially when the occasional rain storm keeps you inside the house. Chance + strategy. Woo hoo.

3. Dinners. I suggest our family recipe for handling dinner at the beach. Each adult signs up to "own" one night's dinner. You shop, you cook, you serve, you clean up. Then, like magic, the rest of the trip you don't have to do nuthin'. Very, very cool strategy. I always make the same thing: crab cakes, rémoulade sauce, rice, salad, fronch bread, and some veggie, such as carrots or green beans. Yum.

4. Family Photo. There is nothing like the tension-filed process of arranging for the annual family photo. Does everyone look good? Are all the kids actually facing the camera? In which order should everyone sit? Will the piteous and woeful crying ever stop? But, there is nothing like having an annual family portrait, either. So, Uncle iClipse says, arrange for one.

5. Bodysurfing. This is what I would do all the time if I were stinking rich. I don't really understand the obsession with surfboarding when you can just lie down in a wave and scoot along. No paraphernalia necessary. Soooo much fun.

PS - Also, don't forget that there is the beach itself. Walk on it. Take a beverage out to it. Sit under a tent on it. Look at it. Fish in the surf. Etc., Etc. Oh, and "Take Me to the Riot" by Stars is good for listening to on the drive down to the beach; now playing on iTunes.

Do It: See "The Hangover"

Todd Phillips, who directed 2004's "Starsky and Hutch" has made a woefully sick, deranged, laugh-out-loud summer caper called "The Hangover." It is a classic "What Goes on in Vegas Stays in Vegas" bachelor party flick with a twist a la "Go" or "Pulp Fiction" or (you get the idea). I urge you -- now listen carefully -- to STOP whatever you are doing and go to see this film immediately.

Why, you ask? Oh, I'll tell you:

* Do you like Peter Sellers? If he were still alive, he'd have had something to do with this picture. There is a scene involving the trunk of a Mercedes that could easily have been dreamed up by Mel Brooks, Blake Edwards and Peter Sellers on a bender.

* Do you think that, in the service of comedy, a baby can be made to wear '70s style sunglasses and to do abominable things? Then this is your film.

* Do you like funny things to happen during the closing credits? Do you, really? What if a film were to be largely a set-up for the credits? How would you like that?

* Is it, in your opinion, awesomely meta in a film when a character scolds another for doing something inappropriate to abuse a baby's trust but first laughs JUST a little at the joke?

* Think about this: when a film shows the decrepitude of a bachelor-party-gone-wrong by using a close up establishing shot of a hotel room with an incongruous chicken and a toothless dentist it is off to a great start.

I am not a huge Judd Apatow fan; the boy should probably just come of of the closet and move to Amsterdam. This is not a Judd Apatow film. It gets back to the craziness of classic gone-wrong/social commentary filmmakers like Paul Brickman ("Risky Business"), Martin Scorsese (After Hours), or Christopher McQuarrie ("The Way of the Gun").

So, do it: see "The Hangover."

PS - No apologies for a film that makes your cheeks hurt from 100 minutes of laughing, grinning, snorting, or just smiling in disbelief. Oh, and "She Said, She Said" by the Black Keys deserves to be on a soundtrack; now playing on iTunes.

What is Going On? (Sitemeter)

So, last time we checked in with Sitemeter, the blog had a vertical axis of 10. That's right, a maximum of 10 readers on any given day. "I'd like to thank the Academy, my agent, and, of course my loyal family who have...."

Well, I am here to tell you that on the 23rd of May, The Bloguscript sported 24 readers! The Bloguscenti know that the 5-4-Fri will actually appear on Saturday and so they tune in then.

Now, the readership has never before or again been that massive, but a blogger can hope.

PS - I credit Facebook for the boost. I have started relentlessly flogging new blog entries on FB and there's a sucker born every minute, so that accounts for it. Oh, and I plan to hype the songs mentioned in the past 5-4-Fri in the Post Script so that they'll show up in the music list on the right nav and the first is "L.E.S. Artistes" by Santigold; now playing on iTunes.

5-4-Fri: Songs

For your diversion and entertainment, this week the management presents five songs you may wish to enjoy:

1. "L.E.S. Artistes" by Santigold. She used to be known as Santogold until a few months ago when she force-fit her first name back into her moniker, but this song is pure gold no matter what she's called. Insanely infectious hook, driving punk "rap" that references Blondie and Gwen Sefani, and an articulation style (plus electronic clapping!) that echoes DEVO. Here's a sample of the lyrics:

I'm here for myself
Not to know you
I don't need no one else
Fit in so good the hope is that you cannot see me later
You don't know me
I am an introvert an excavator
I'm duckin' out for now
a face in dodgy elevators

2. "She Said, She Said" by the Black Keys. Okay, normally, I believe that anyone who covers the Beatles should be shot or otherwise punished by some kind of musical Sharia Law. But, this is an example of one group taking an iconic song and making it wholly their own. Plus, HOW did the Beatles write lyrics and licks that would make any modern alt-group proud:

I said "Even though you know what you know
I know that I'm ready to leave
'Cause you're making me feel like I've never been born."

3. "Take Me to the Riot" by Stars. I am thinking of playing Den Mother to a Tape Club in 2009 and this song would definitely be on my mix tape. Sounds to me like what would have happened if Steven Morrissey had been in a band with a female co-singer. Also, I am really am a sucker for that classic rock song structure that goes: start soft in the verse, get loud on the chorus, get soft again:

You despise me and I love you
It's not much but it's just enough to keep
Saturday nights in neon lights, Sunday in the cell
Pills enough to make me feel ill, cash enough to make me well
Take me, take me to the riot

4. "Fit But You Know It" by The Streets. Who knew the Brits could rap? I absolutely love the post-Ska sensitivity The Streets brings to this song and it is both freeing and charming that Michael Skinner is doing rap without trying to be inner-city Black, which cripples a lot of otherwise promising rap(ish) music. Proof of lyrical cleverness:

I didn't wanna' bowl over all geezer and rude
(Not rude like good, but just rude like uncouth)
You girls think you can just flirt and it comes to you;
Well let me tell you, you see, yes, yes, you ARE really rude
(And rude as in good), I knew this as you stood and queued,
But I just did NOT wanna give the satisfaction to you.

5. "Help, I'm Alive" by Metric. I heard this first on the always-awesome KEXP, Seattle's radio masterpiece, which provides the streaming goodness to us East-Coasters. Canada's Metric has a nice mix of good ole guitar-driven rock and synthesizer New Wave vibe. This song switches back and forth between both to good effect. In a weird way, I am reminded of Lucinda Williams' complaint that she remains standing after getting dumped. Check the lyrics:

I tremble
They’re gonna eat me alive
If I stumble
They’re gonna eat me alive
Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer, beating like a hammer
Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer

PS - Thanks, again, to Steve Jobs and the boys at Apple for -- despite the complaints about iTunes -- getting me back into High School listening mode. Oh, and "Obstacle 1" by Interpol is a list-worthy song that sounds like David Bowie were still recording aggressive stuff in NYC instead of settling down to a life of Pop Icon with Iman; now playing on iTunes.