Humor
Food Court
June 25, 2006 11:07 AM Permalink
Who came up with the idea of food
courts?
Walking around downtown Billings, Montana, I saw the familiar sign: Food Court. My mind immediately recovered the memory of dueling fry grease: the Chinese knock-off battling with the fish and chips, the American fries wrestling endlessly with the hot dog stand. I imagined a judge, seated behind a greasy bench, gavel slipping as she tries to bring some order to the court.
Guilty as charged, I say. Throw the cookbook at them all!
I have occasionally courted the idea of visiting a food court. Once or twice, I slipped down from my slow-food high horse and took the tumble, bruising my stomach instead of filling it.
I passed by that food court, not knowing where I would eat that morning. But I have a nearly infallible nose. Later, I found a small bakery with decent coffee, pleased that I had not risen to the seduction of the food court and fallen so far from grace.
Walking around downtown Billings, Montana, I saw the familiar sign: Food Court. My mind immediately recovered the memory of dueling fry grease: the Chinese knock-off battling with the fish and chips, the American fries wrestling endlessly with the hot dog stand. I imagined a judge, seated behind a greasy bench, gavel slipping as she tries to bring some order to the court.
Guilty as charged, I say. Throw the cookbook at them all!
I have occasionally courted the idea of visiting a food court. Once or twice, I slipped down from my slow-food high horse and took the tumble, bruising my stomach instead of filling it.
I passed by that food court, not knowing where I would eat that morning. But I have a nearly infallible nose. Later, I found a small bakery with decent coffee, pleased that I had not risen to the seduction of the food court and fallen so far from grace.
|
The Downfall of the American
Match
January 31, 2006 07:11 AM Permalink
Have you noticed that matches
don't work anymore?
In my youth, a single Diamond™ kitchen match could set a porcelan toilet on fire. (I didn't mean to do it. I was just experiementing!) Today, I need four or five to catch tinder-dry kindling. The little matches, the ones that come in handy pocket-sized boxes, don't work at all, except as pocket filler. I can go through a box of these without ever catching anything on fire, especially the matches. They die before they flare, leaving me with a fine pile of tinder-dry kindling and an empty box which, if I'm lucky, I might set fire to if I have four or five kitchen matches handy.
Forget about paper matches, which are nothing more than advertising on false promise. Probably two false promises. Don't believe anything you read on a matchbook cover.
In Europe, it's still possible to buy decent matches. Full-headed with a decent striking strip. Lively with flame, On Swedish wood. And firery graphics with sexy names. Vestas! Calling the Greek god of fire into play every time you strike.
The American match seems godless, designed for efficiency of manufacture and lowest possible cost. I'm sure they succeed on both of these counts, but in achieving these noble ends, they have succeeded in reducing this once proud implement to an impotent twig, unable to perform its primary function.
Gotta light? Probably not.
In my youth, a single Diamond™ kitchen match could set a porcelan toilet on fire. (I didn't mean to do it. I was just experiementing!) Today, I need four or five to catch tinder-dry kindling. The little matches, the ones that come in handy pocket-sized boxes, don't work at all, except as pocket filler. I can go through a box of these without ever catching anything on fire, especially the matches. They die before they flare, leaving me with a fine pile of tinder-dry kindling and an empty box which, if I'm lucky, I might set fire to if I have four or five kitchen matches handy.
Forget about paper matches, which are nothing more than advertising on false promise. Probably two false promises. Don't believe anything you read on a matchbook cover.
In Europe, it's still possible to buy decent matches. Full-headed with a decent striking strip. Lively with flame, On Swedish wood. And firery graphics with sexy names. Vestas! Calling the Greek god of fire into play every time you strike.
The American match seems godless, designed for efficiency of manufacture and lowest possible cost. I'm sure they succeed on both of these counts, but in achieving these noble ends, they have succeeded in reducing this once proud implement to an impotent twig, unable to perform its primary function.
Gotta light? Probably not.
