Rocky Horror vs. Sound Of Music

     Page One Hundred Ninety-Six.
     For the last few months, I've had an Indian medical student roommate who's here, in Cleveland, doing a couple rotations at University Hospitals, one of our fine, local hospitals. He's leaving tomorrow and is hoping to come back in 2016 for his medical residency.  His stay has been pleasant. He's made friends and experienced some American/Cleveland culture. I've taken him to a few plays downtown at Playhouse Square; we've gone to a few museums in University Circle; I've taken him on numerous architectural tours and we've gone out to eat at a few places. All in all, I've tried to get him out and about as much as I could during one of Cleveland's most brutal winters in recent memory and I think I've been reasonably successful.

     I've also watched movies with him. I have a decent collection of DVD's and regardless of anyone's  cinematic taste, they'd eventually find something they like on my shelves. Just last night we watched Rocky Horror Picture Show. Afterwards he asked if that was pretty typical of American musicals. Ummmm, uh...

     I do know a little bit about Bollywood and Indian culture's taste in movies, but not too much. We had a long conversation about American musicals versus Indian ones and how Rocky Horror isn't typical of anything. So then I popped in The Sound Of Music. Half way through, he declared, "I like this movie better than Rocky Horror". Gee...

Gaudy Asian Restaurants

     Page One Hundred Ninety-Five.
    You know what I've been craving for the last few years? I've really, really been wanting to go to a terribly gaudy and garishly decorated Asian restaurant. Do you remember those places that were decorated mid-20th century with large fountains, larger plastic plants lit with colored floodlights, red stuff everywhere, Tiki gods, hanging paper lanterns, and sometimes real flames coming out of the food? Of course you do. And if you're too young to know what I'm talking about, I'm truly sorry.

Cleveland's Kon Tiki Restaurant

     These restaurants were a direct result of WWII and the return of GIs from the South Pacific who had fond memories of the food, drink and tropical feel of all those islands. The most famous Ploynesian style restaurant was called Trader Vic's and it, in fact, all but invented the look. I was too young to really appreciate the theatricality at the time, but like I say, I've been going through a thing lately where I just really want to eat some florescent food in a comic book version of a 1940's Polynesian Island. And for the record, who cares what the food tastes like?      

     Cleveland, being working class with zillions of former GIs, had many of these extravaganzas. I think our most famous was the Kon Tiki Restaurant in the Sheraton Hotel down on Public Square. Apparently, the Kon Tiki chain was slightly higher end than Trader Vik's, but I'm not sure. Really though, every Chinese restaurant in America had to have some of that decorative flavor going on by 1960 or so. It was simply de rigueur. 
     And I'll tell you something else, I suspect I'm not the only one who's craving that decor again.  In the last few years, Trader Vic's has begun expanding its world-wide locations after decades of financial losses and subsequent restaurant closings. I wouldn't be surprised at all if in the next few years we see New York Times style section articles about how the "look" is back. Tiki is simply fun, lighthearted and warm; the opposite of sterile, clean, understated and simple; read: boring. Also, of course, it's reminiscent of the styles of the jet age. Styles which are definitely back.

Walking Ayesha to Lax & Mandel

     Page One Hundred Ninety-Four.
     May I tell you about the very first time I ever bought food for a perfect stranger? Good. I didn't think you'd mind.
     It was 1980 or '81. I was either 18 or 19. I was in a habit of taking my dog for nightime walks many pleasant evenings around 9 or so. Ayesha was an auburn-furred German Shepherd. She was beautiful, well-tempered but protective, energetic, intelligent and a good sport. She'd always oblige me whenever I asked her if she wanted to take a walk.
     We got her some years earlier, when I was in the 6th grade. She was 4 years old I think. She'd been born in Israel and being auburn got the name Ayesha because Aish is Hebrew for fire. Hence: Ayesha = Fire Lady or Lady of Fire. She was an American soldier's pet while he was stationed in the middle-east. When he came home to Cleveland to attend college he had to get rid of her. (I honestly don't remember the exact story but it was something like that.) This soldier was subsequently the friend of a friend of a friend and we were looking for a dog, so viola! She really was the perfect kid's dog.
     Now, around '79 or so, I discovered Dobosh Torte. If you aren't familiar with this item, go to your closest Eastern-European style bakery and get some. Seriously. It's multiple thin layers of yellow cake, with light chocolate filling between each, then dark chocolate frosting on top. Or, some version of that. It definitely fills the hole in your soul when nothing else will do the job.

      There were a bunch of bakeries on Taylor Road, just 6 blocks from my street, that sold this stuff and one day I simply started eating it. (This part of town was heavily Jewish at the time, so these bakeries were a result of that demographic.) And somewhere along the way, I got into the habit  of going out in the evening with Ayesha, walking up to Taylor, getting a slice from Lax & Mandel Kosher Bakery, eating while walking home and continuing on about my life.
     Well, one brisk autumn's eve, I had a tag-a-long. I was a couple of blocks into my walk when a kid, 12 or 13 or so, happened to be walking by and inquired about me and Ayesha. I'd never seen this boy before, but there are well over 1 million people living in Greater Cleveland, so his unfamiliarity wasn't too surprising. He was talkative, charming and just walked right over and inquired about Ayesha's breed and so forth. Also, he thought I was in the military because I was wearing my favorite article of clothing, a WWII army dress jacket. (This was the early 80's. Reagan was all the rage and everything military was becoming extremely fashionable. My jacket was authentic, vintage and beautiful.) So this boy, who's name I uncharacteristically don't recall, let's call him PJ, strolled along with us to the bakery, chatting all the way.
     When we got to Lax & Mandel, I tied up Ayesha to the parking meter and PJ and I went inside. You already know how much he drooled while looking at all the pastries, cakes and cookies. You also already know how much money he had in his pocket. I knew what was going on so I told him to pick out anything and I'd treat him. Well, he thought I was just the greatest angel in the world.
     We talked and ate our respective empty calories, fat and sugar while walking back up Washington Blvd towards our starting point. It was a very pleasant 20 minutes, obviously or I wouldn't remember it so well. Right then and there is when I first learned how joyous it feels to unexpectedly give a stranger a gift.

Split Pea Soup

     Page One Hundred Ninety-Three.
     Last autumn, I was going through a thing where I was really craving ribs. I mean, a lot. Well, I steam my ribs. Meaning: I put them on a rack in a pan, put some water in the bottom, add spices to the ribs, wrap aluminum foil tightly around and pop into the oven on low heat for ever. The meat ends up just dripping from the bone and is as tender as all get out.
     Well, I used the same water repeatedly. In between the 4 or 5 batches of ribs over the course of a few months, I simply froze the de-fatted water, then thawed as needed. This water became the base for a vat of split pea soup that I cooked yesterday and ate last night.
     The soup was heavenly. Try this method sometime. I'm just suggesting...  

Hamentaschen

     Page One Hundred Ninety-Two.
     Purim is next week. That means one thing: Hamentaschen. Yum, yum, yum.
     Purim is a springtime Jewish holiday when the Book of Esther is read in synagogue and Jews celebrate a time about 2500 years ago when our Persian Jewish ancestors faced certain annihilation. But, at the last minute, were saved. However, the holiday has evolved into something of a Jewish Mardi Gras. Synagogues all over the world have carnivals and parties. In Israel there will be parades, merriment and much alcohol consumption. Getting to the specific point, Purim's a blast. It's also one of Judaism's best kept secrets. Few non-Jews know about it and I'm not sure why.
     When discussing Purim's contemporary traditions, the first thing to know is the ancient, biblical story of Esther.
     Here's the super-mega-ultra abridged version of the story:

     King Achashveros of Persia (our 21st century Iran) has a Prime Minister, Haman. 

     Haman tells King that if they kill all the Jews then that would solve all of Persia's problems. 

     King says "okey-dokey". 

     King doesn't realize that his wife, Esther, is Jewish. 

     Esther has uncle, Mordechai. who saves King's life. 

     So Esther goes and says "since you owe my uncle a biggie, how's 'bout if you don't kill me or my people, but instead Haman, his family and all their friends who were going to kill us?" 

     King said "okey-dokey." 

     Everybody lives happily ever after, except for Haman, his family and their supporters who were dead.

     The End.

     Believe you me, the actual bible story is a loooooooooooooot longer with more plot twists than Les Miserables. But you basically have the general idea now.
     Purim traditions are wonderful.
     At all the costume parties the world over (a tradition which dates to 14th century Italy and Germany) children and adults alike will be dressed up as these 4 major characters. Secular costumes have also become extremely popular. Think Halloween. In Israel and New York you might see Orthodox rabbis dressed up as nuns. Literally. The rabbi at my synagogue has dressed up as Sponge Bob, Superman and Oz's Dorothy to name just a few. This, while reading from the bible during a religious service.
     Then, there's the carnival attitude (with 12th century origins). There's singing, dancing, merriment and much, much alcohol. Purim is the only day of the year when the tradition is to get hammered. That tradition comes from the belief that one should drink enough wine that one shouldn't recognize Haman's name. Purim is the only day in the Jewish calendar when excessive drinking is biblically sanctioned.
     Also, there's the duty of giving money and food to your friends and the poor. There are actually gift bags made specifically for Purim food and gifts and they're labeled as such. You know how Christmas bags are labeled and decorated for Christmas? Same thing here except they're labeled and decorated for Purim. But , there are no gifts per se... just food (or money if they need it).

     And most importantly, there's Hamantaschen. Only the most glorious food in the world, Hamantaschen is a pastry only to be found this time of year. Haman wore a tri-corner hat so these pastries are triangle shaped. These bits of heaven are then filled with the usual variety of flavors, hence "taschen", German for bag. There are two different styles of Hamantaschen: cookie style or yeast style. Cookie style are just exactly that. This photo shows cookie dough style with apricot and cherry filling. Yeast dough is my favorite. That style might remind the casual observer of Danish, but with no filling exposed. You simply bite into a flat triangle of slightly sweet bread and suddenly your mouth is filled with gooey sweetness.  It's beautiful.  
     It's extremely possible that Purim's carnival tradition and Christianity's Mardi Gras both have roots in the same Roman springtime festival. Lord knows, Mardi Gras is popular. But again, non-Jews have no idea that Purim even exists. That really is unusual because many Jewish holiday are somewhere in the world's consciousness. Who knows why Purim is Judaism's greatest secret, but it is.
     During the middle ages Christians did know about Purim. Anti-Semitism was so extreme that the general population knew about Hamantaschen. There was a pervasive rumor that Jews kidnapped Christian children, killed them, ground up their bones, then used that fine powder in the making of Hamantaschen. As recently as the late 1990's, there was a front page article in Saudi Arabia's largest newspaper discussing how this actually happens today. Again, this article was written and widely read less than 20 years ago. Then we wonder there's still so much mistrust and misunderstanding between Israel and the Arab countries.
     I'm telling you though, if you live near a Jewish community, phone your largest local synagogue and find out when their Purim carnival or celebration will be. Go. Have fun. Eat. Manga... Manga...

Bra Shopping

     Page One Hundred Ninety-One.
     Would you like to hear a charming Women's Story? I don't know why I've been thinking about this old, family story lately, but I have.
     I'm the youngest of five kids, 2 girls and 3 boys. Now-a-days, we're all in our 50's and 60's. This story takes place in the 1970's when we were a smidgen younger than we are today. My sister Louise, who's the oldest child, was a bit non-centered at the time. My other sister, Lee, who's the next youngest before me, was born to be in charge of everything. So one day Lee went to buy some new bras. I guess her old ones wore out or whatever happens to bras when they get elderly. Now, she usually bought Louise her bras also. I'm not sure how this pattern established itself, but it did. In fact, Lee actually knew what size and style Louise wore, better than Louise did. (It just made sense as Lee was the one who always did Louise's bra shopping.) So when she went to the cash register at The May Company to pay, the sales lady inquired, out of curiosity, why she was purchasing 2 different sizes. "I always buy bras for my sister whenever I get some for myself. She not real good at picking out bras for herself."
     "Well aren't you a wonderful big sister?"
     "Actually, my sister is 6 years older than I am."
     According to Lee, the sales lady's expression was priceless. It was a mix of incredulity, curiosity and amazement. What's wrong... hadn't she ever sold bras to a hippy's little sister before?

Two Portuguese Water Dogs

     Page One Hundred Ninety.

Beautiful Shaker Heights, Ohio

     Right now, I'm dog-sitting 2 Portuguese Water Dogs. Xerxes and Valentine are tres cute and charming albeit loud, especially if they see deer, squirrels or bunny-wabbits in the yard. I'm in very luxurious digs in deep Shaker Heights, Ohio, about 2 miles from where I live in Cleveland Heights, the neighboring suburb. I've been the dog-sitter for this house-hold for 20 years I think. The original dog and cat, Captain and Smokey, are no longer with us but Xerxes and Valentine will do.
     Their mommy and daddy are in the South Pacific right now sailing around and having a nice time. Meanwhile, I'm here walking these monsters at 7AM each day in the most uncomfortable winter in 2 decades. I don't mind too much though. When I get home next week and don't have to go for a walk while it's 5 degrees outside, I'll be so grateful. I typically watch these guys in the summer. But, occasionally a winter trip occurs. A few years ago, they went to Antarctica, so that dog-sitting gig was winter-based also. (Don't forget, America's wintertime is Antarctica's summertime.) It really is amazing what the human body can get used to though; even strolls in the park in sub-zero temps.

The window on the stair landing

     Some years ago, I was here while Captain was actively dying. Many months earlier, he'd been given 4 months to live. So mommy and daddy reserved me for 12 months later, assuming Captain would be no longer and my job would only involve watching Xerxes. Well Captain showed Mr. Death who was in charge. They couldn't re-schedule their trip and receive the deposit back just because they had a quickly dying dog to care for, so here I was. They set up my bed in the dining room because he couldn't make it up the stairs to the real bedroom any longer. And he was used to sleeping with his masters. (In fact, mommy slept on that bed while they were home, until Captain finally did give in to the inevitable.) I've had other jobs caring for dogs while they were on their deathbeds, too. It's really no fun, but someone's gotta do it. I mean, if you made plans 8 months earlier to be in Italy, assuming the dog would take the plunge as the Vet said he would, and he doesn't, well what are you going to do? Cancel? So here I was.

     Xerxes will probably be next. But hopefully not for a while. (In this house-hold, anyhow. Another one of my regular jobs has already reserved me for mid-March and late April, even though their dog has been on death's doorstep since last November and as of yesterday has stopped eating.)
     Meanwhile.... The Van Sweringen Company is a well known brand in Cleveland. Though the company went bust some 75-80 years ago, it was the primary planner and developer of Shaker Heights and some major downtown Cleveland property during World War I and the 1920's. This home where I'm staying was the family home of the Van Sweringen Company's chief engineer. It just epitomizes 1920's opulence. It's not truly large by Shaker standards, perhaps 5000 square feet, but it sure has oomph. Mommy and daddy have a few homes strewn about other states. When they're at one of the others, I'm the caretaker for this property. I stop in occasionally and make sure it's okay.
     One of these days I really should have a big, blow-out party here. I'm sure they wouldn't mind...