Chowder Head.

So I'’m in a bar the other night drinking Olympia cans at $1.75/Hr. to sit and watch basketball and type, free from Mormon roommates and the insanity of my house. Looking down the bar are many people I know as friends, people I’ve worked with, people I sell wine to. We are all doing the same thing, escaping, some from different things than others. Next to me is Scott. I have known him for years and want him to win. Win like Ghengis Khan won, not like Hoover won. He makes films. He writes. He sees words rendered to image in a way I can hardly imagine, let alone describe. Scott likes hockey and has always had a little thing for the Cayenne Pepper story. I put it on the Blog the day before, and while writing it was thinking of him.

Well, he's rightfully disappointed in the rendering. I was reading a piece in the Art of Eating today about Fish Chowder and how it is properly made. The author described her mother in the kitchen, building the soup from the bottom and how the first step was to "“try out"” some salt pork. Not render, though the same thing, but try out. Under intense heat, melt the fat, leaving an oil to cook in, removing the meat bits that remain for use later on. Cayenne Pepper story is my first step in a proper chowder. Something I will return to when there is more time, something that will come together. Something that will taste real. Thanks, Scott, for your faith.