What Do I Know?

George Bush: Breaking the Law, 750 Times

Here's why changing control of Congress won't matter: George Bush simply ignores laws passed by Congress, claiming executive privilege. Over one in ten laws are ignored via the issuance of "signing statements", whereby the president's office decides how the laws will be interpreted, or which sections of the bills will be ignored.

The Boston Globe has the details of how George Bush "has quietly claimed the authority to disobey more than 750 laws enacted since he took office, asserting that he has the power to set aside any statute passed by Congress when it conflicts with his interpretation of the Constitution."

So, unless the congress is replaced by people like John Conyers, Barbara Boxer, and Russ Feingold, we can kiss our constitution goodbye:

A president who ignores the court, backed by a Congress that is unwilling to challenge him, Golove said, can make the Constitution simply ''disappear."

Go read, it's scary stuff. (via AmericaBlog)

If Your Politicians are Corrupt, You May Be on the Wrong Side of the Atlantic

Yesterday I listened with little sympathy to a British friend complain about her government. There's plenty of fodder for complaints, especially this week, when the home secretary Charles Clark has lost hundreds of foreign prisoners, the health secretary was booed and heckled during a speech at a nurses' college, and the deputy prime minister John Prescott announced he'd had an affair. The Conservatives aren't any better, she moaned, since David Cameron's a wimp who'll never get elected (I disagree) and she'd never vote Lib Dem (I would).

Finally I'd had enough when she declared she'd move to the U.S., things were so bad here. Take my spot, I offered, since I'm moving to Switzerland. Or anywhere, since I can't imagine a more politically screwed up place than the United States. Our VP has shot a man, been booed, and runs the government with the help of a few shadowy figures. Meanwhile our congressmen are participating in a prostitution ring, our judges spout obscenities, and our president (I use that term loosely) openly breaks the law.

But the real difference is the fact that all this is greeted mainly by yawns. The citizens don't much care, as long as their gas prices don't go up, and the punditry finds ways to excuse every fumble and foible of the administration as if it were another episode of Desperate Housewives. Sons and daughters are coming home in body bags, yet Tom Cruise's baby gets more coverage on CNN. Katrina evacuees are still without homes, yet the biggest grievance the right-wing press can conjure is the thought of the Star Spangled Banner being sung in Spanish.

The cocksure Bush administration even dares to put the fox right in the henhouse, knowing Tony Snow of Fox News is hardly the predator BBC's John Humphrys is.

But I'm hardly ready to let Labour off the hook, just because they don't win the King John Award for Worst. Administration. Ever. No, they deserve a special ring in Hell, if for nothing more than spending £7,000 on Cherie Blair's haircuts. Local elections are coming up, and my prediction is Labour will learn the booing wasn't just a bunch of disgruntled nurse trainees.

The U.S. electorate will get its own chance to throw some of the bums out in November, but I don't see that happening, unless celebrities everywhere suddenly become sterile.

Dogs and Presidents Stink

This is as close as I will get to the dog, until she smells like a human again.

"My dog is smarter than your president." Get your bumper sticker here.

Gina says I need the one that says "My golden retriever is smarter than our president" but I'm not so sure. She went and rolled in something very foul on our walk on Wednesday. I hosed her off and gave her a bath and still she reeks. But affectionate thing that she is, she insists on cuddling.

"I'm just not that into you," I tell her, paraphrasing a book by a similar name.

On the other hand I'm sure she had a good reason to roll around in stink.* But why George Bush rolled around in Iraq I still don't know. But it sure does stink.

*Gina says it's to cover her scent while she hunts. No doubt about it, the prey around here are all holding their noses, saying "Did you smell a predator? I didn't smell a predator. Just some garbage over there. Yum!" Gina also says this works.

UPDATE: Mixed success with the hydrogen peroxide mixture. I'd recommend doubling the amount for a large dog. I mixed up another cupful to address her ears, where the stink seemed to be concentrated. One ear is still slightly stinky if you put your nose to it. I'm still not cuddling with her, but at least I can let her ride in the car again. Doesn't she know modern predators ride in Volvos to the hunt?

Friday Cow Blogging

Extreme cow watching.

Sometimes you have to go to great lengths to photograph the elusive bovine. These cows were hidden behind a thick hedge near Turville. The mothers were on to me; they shied away when I approached from underneath the hedge. The babies, though, were curious, despite their mothers' warning moos.

I suppose this is how Jane Goodall felt.

Foodie News (Late Edition)

A couple of housekeeping notes, since housekeeping makes us so happy (see below):

I've added several new foodie sites to my blogroll, including Fatfree Vegan Kitchen (don't let the spartan-sounding title put you off; the recipes are making me drool on my keyboard) and  Vegan Lunchcast, the grownup version of the Vegan Lunchbox. 

But if you're into Welsh food, here's a site for you: Wales: The True Taste. Which reminds me I was given a Welsh pastry recipe by a farmer when I was in Wales and haven't made it yet.

Finally, I've been meaning to write about this article that appeared a month ago on SFGate.com: The oil in your oatmeal. It talks about how much petroleum goes into making your breakfast food, yet it omits an important factor: The sausage you eat was made using far more petroleum than your oatmeal, orange juice, and strawberries combined. The hidden cost of meat is often ignored, including by reluctant omnivore Michael Pollan when he says even plant food involves some loss of life when crops are harvested and bugs are killed. Food environment writers need to get a clue:

What the hell do you think cows and chickens eat? Tons of grain, which multiplies the petroleum factor many, many times, depending on their lifespan. In addition, Imperatrix points to a Salon article which reminds us how much water is going into your beef. So don't lecture me on the 4 ounces of petroleum in my oatmeal, and I'll shut up about the tons of natural resources in your hamburger.

Today I'm going to an Italian cooking demonstration in London. Ciao.

Wednesday Food Blogging: Pain Perdu, or French Toast Loses the Eggs

Anyone seen my pain perdu?

One of our favorite recipes is the french toast my husband makes (or made, before I gave up eggs). It's from a New Orleans cookbook I've had for ages, with stains on all the best recipes. Over the years we've varied it a bit, substituting Cointreau for the brandy, adding soy milk—always joking we'd serve Pain Perdu (Lost Bread) if we ever opened a bed and breakfast.

Lately I've been hankering for french toast, but I didn't want healthy french toast, with the whole grain bread and applesauce some vegan recipes call for. I prefer my decadence straight up.

So I combined a couple of vegan recipes with my favorite New Orleans Pain Perdu recipe and the result tasted a lot like the original, minus the eggs. Next time I think I'm going to heat some syrup and toasted pecans to serve with this poor lost bread.

I used stale french bread, the kind that has no redeeming qualities whatsoever until it's coated with sugar and soaked in syrup. It ended up light and fluffy. Not the least bit healthy, either, but then vegans aren't all about the health.

Unless you're a chicken.

In Which I Shock the Archeological Community

I got my paper back last week from my class at Oxford and I got an A+. It felt good to ace a test, but frankly, at this point in my life I'd rather have a publishing contract. Or be an A-list blogger.

But as it turned out, the real reward was in writing the paper, in the process itself.

The paper seeks to prove that the Bayeux Tapestry was actually the medieval equivalent to a piece of commercial fiction, a potboiler of its day. I note how all the elements of a modern novel are present in the tapestry: character, conflict, plot, setting, etc. It's actually a rip-roarin' good tale.

My original premise—that William the Conqueror was the protagonist, or the hero, and Harold the villain or antagonist—ended up being reversed, to my surprise. (Remember how Word unexpectedly quit on me and erased 2 pages of text? Not such a bad thing after all.) I also made several startling discoveries about the Bayeux Tapestry that I'm sure would shock historians. For instance, I'm convinced the missing scenes at the end (likely of William's coronation) were deliberately lopped off by its "author", who realized the final chapter was anti-climactic. A good author never drags out an ending.

I also figured out why Edward the Confessor is dead in one scene, then shown alive in the next: Ever heard of a flashback?

For those of you really intrigued by the idea, you can read The Bayeux Tapestry: A Novel Experience here, including the "fake" book cover I made. Here's how I imagined the back jacket copy for the Bayeux Tapestry might read:

In a feudal epic of treachery and perjury, a friendship based on deceit falls apart amidst a struggle for power. This searing, compelling story pits William of Normandy, loved by his people, against his one-time friend and battle partner, Harold of England, sworn to allegiance by William in an unforgettably moving scene. Ill-omens abound, including an arrow-like comet, a visitor from the Heavens foretelling doom. But will it be heeded?

The Bayeux Tapestry is a tale of greed, power, and deception, an ancient struggle in which justice ultimately triumphs. With an unflinching narrative power reminiscent of Cain and Abel, Bishop Odo’s The Bayeux Tapestry is a thrilling epic that leaves readers shocked and enlightened.

“A real page turner. Rich and vivid in detail.” —The Winchester Gazette

You all are remembering to refer to me as "the Oxford-educated KathyF", right?

Desperate Housewives Is Right

The Independent today says that housework is no longer a sign of female subjugation. Damn. I've been using that as my excuse. Now it appears it's some form of therapy, and a messy house is a sign of depression.

I think I'll go slit my wrists. With the bread knife that's been sitting in the sink all weekend.

April Is Not Always Cruel, But My Poetry Is

"Where should I dig now?"

A gorgeous day here, the first one this year. Temperature near 70 and not a cloud in sight.

It's days like today that make me wish I could write poetry, odes to Mother Earth in honor of her special day.

If I could, I'd write about the swan I saw flying toward Heathrow this morning, slowly gliding toward the runways. She knew she was much more glorious than the silver 767s lined up to migrate across the Atlantic. As she slid through the air currents, the Boeing birds took off awkwardly ahead of her, envying her grace, no doubt.

I'd write haiku about the spring that finally came, all at once, with fields of daffodils growing wild as dandelions. Bluebells lie in wait to replace them. Warm earth basks in sun.

I'd write a limerick about my dog, helping me dig in the mucky mud that is my flower bed. There once was a mutt from South Bucks...who dug and dug in some muck...her mom said "dig over here" and so she did. The dab of dirt looked cute between her eyes.

But I can't write poetry, despite being born in the middle of Poetry Month, so this will have to do:

"What instruments we have agree; it was a gorgeous day."

Where Are the Saudi Actors?

The Independent today has a story about an Iraqi actor who stars in the film Flight 93, about the terrorist hijacking of an American plane. But he will be unable to attend the premiere in New York because his visa application wasn't processed in time. It's apparently really difficult for Iraqi citizens to procure American visas these days, and the fact that Mr. Alsamari served in Saddam Hussein's army only makes it tougher.

Here's the rub: The story mentions the fact that authentic actors were included whenever possible in the film, including an actual pilot to play the role of Flight 93's pilot.

Mr. Alsamari, one US blog said, was chosen because of his time in the Iraqi army - although Zacarias Moussaoui, who is on trial in the US for allegedly being part of the hijacking team, is French of Moroccan descent while most of the others who took part in the hijackings were Saudi Arabian.

I like to see newspapers quoting blogs, but I want to know what kind of blog is implying that the hijackers were Iraqi, when by now everyone should be aware that NONE of the hijackers were Iraqi citizens.

I haven't seen the film, and likely won't, but I wonder if the film accurately portrays the hijackers as being Saudi and not Iraqi.

Friday Cow Blogging

Taciturn cows in Milton Keynes, known for its modernity.

Came across this herd of cows in Milton Keynes. Like all cows, they were very placid. Nothing seemed to ruffle their feathers, not even the little twit girl who climbed on top of one and pretended to ride it like a horse.

I looked them up later; they seem to be from that breed of Concrete Cows I've heard about. I think the milk is used to make cement, which must have been handy when they made all the roundabouts in Milton Keynes.

Sometimes Minutes Go By When I Don't Think of Food. This Is Not One of Them.

Just got the two new cookbooks I ordered last week from Amazon (that was fast!) and I KNOW I said no more cookbooks, after I counted at least 101 on my shelves the other day, but I couldn't resist. All the vegan blogs are talking about Vegan With A Vengeance, by Isa Chandra Moskowitz, and the recipes I've seen sound fantastic: Lemon Corn Waffles with Blueberry Sauce. Sweet Potato Crepes with Cilantro-Tamarind Sauce, Ginger Macadamia Coconut Carrot Cake. A lot of the recipes use tempeh and seitan, which are impossible to find here, but maybe I can substitute tofu.

I also got another book by The Millennium Cookbook authors, The Artful Vegan. I've made quite a few recipes from The Millennium Cookbook and they're quite complicated, but for special occasions I'm willing to complicate my life. The recipes in The Artful Vegan sound exotic, even painful: Chanterelle and Stinging Nettle Ravioli with Sorrel Puree, Saffron Aioli, and Candy Cap Mushroom-Balsamic Reduction. Easy enough to find stinging nettles; they thrive in my garden, but how the hell do you get them into the kitchen without being stung? Also there aren't enough photos. (Pictures of lovely mushrooms don't count.) Maybe I'll make this bad boy instead: Tamarind and Cardamom-Glazed Tofu Brochettes over Zucchini Cake with Butternut Squash Baduche.

I probably won't be posting any recipes from these books; I don't like to post a recipe straight out of a book unless I've changed it significantly. I do hope some of these ideas will inspire other original dishes. Look for those stinging nettles sometime soon!

(Also, I'm hoping Amazon did not turn in my name to Homeland Security for purchasing seditious vegan material.)

Funny, and Often Informative

Via Donna, A History of US/Iranian Relations Since 9/11.

Via Arse, the First Family Shakeup.

If this video (via NewMexiKen) is any indication, the Japanese are far too clever, and will soon take over the world: How to keep your BandAid on all day. And this one I am going to try out right now. (eRobin, you folded that laundry yet?)

"Osama? It's Karl. We Got Some Elections Coming Up..."

You know, from all the bumbling that goes on in Homeland Security, port security, the office of the national intelligence director, not to mention, uh, someone revealing the names of undercover CIA operatives, you'd almost think the Bush administration wanted another terrorist attack.

Hmmm...

Wednesday Food Blogging: Black Beans with Coconut Rice

Black Beans and Coconut Rice, a flavour and colour contrast that knows no boundaries.

With their multi-ethnic background, black beans are a versatile legume. They are right at home in Caribbean cooking, in Mexican dishes, in Latin American soups, and in Spanish tapas. Known also as turtle beans, they originated in southern Mexico and Central America. The first time I ever had them was when my Honduran brother-in-law made them for us when we lived in Austin. He insisted on adding a boiled egg to the pot. I think it was a Mayan fertility ritual or something.

This recipe is more Caribbean in influence. The coconut milk brings out the sweetness in the mild black beans. I used canned, but dried cooked beans can be used as well, if you've got a few hours to spare. The yellow rice is a perfect backdrop for the darker hued beans. All it needs is a nice salad, maybe with some papaya or mango slices, to go alongside.

And They Cook, Too!

If you've been off the planet for the last month and haven't ordered your copy of And They Cook, Too, the cookbook by bloggers that Ginger put together, now's a good time to check it out. It makes a great gift, too—I just ordered three extra copies to give to family members who have no idea how to use the internet.

If you have a few minutes and you've already received your copy, why not give it a rating or review? I noticed 25 people have rated the RLS Cookbook—a cookbook for Rick Springfield fans.

Surely bloggers have as much to say.

Remember, the proceeds—every penny—goes to Doctors Without Borders.

Good Answer!

The other day I was munching my way through a bag of Kettle Chips (Lightly Salted. No fancy flavours for me.) and I thought to read the label. I'd eaten Kettle Chips in the States, and knew they did not contain hydrogenated oil, i.e. transfats. But what I saw concerned me: instead of the expeller-pressed (non-hydrogenated) oil that U.S. Kettle Chips contain, it merely said "sunflower oil". So I checked their website, which is different from the Kettle Chips U.S. website. They did advertise "all pure" ingredients but that could include 100% pure hydrogenated oil.

So I emailed, and here's the answer I got:

Hydrogenated oils are artificially altered to make them solid at room
temperature.  KETTLE Chips are cooked in pure sunflower oil.

We do not use hydrogenated fats, which are the primary source of Tran's fats. Tran's fatty acids do occur naturally at relatively low levels in animal fats. This does mean that our Mature Cheddar and Chive and the Double Gloucester and Red Onion KETTLE Chips, in common with all other foods containing milk fat will contain low levels of naturally  occurring Tran's fats, however the levels would be of the order of only a few parts per million, rather than grams.

We hope this answers your questions.

Other than the misspelling of "transfats" that's a good enough answer for me. I really wish food companies in Britain would start listing transfat content on their labels, the way they do in the U.S. (They were forced to by our "onerous" regulations, btw.) Until then I'll keep asking questions.

Except at Marks and Spencer. They've recently reformulated all their food products to remove hydrogenated oils.

Or when I'm in Denmark. They've recently banned the sale of any food that contains more than 2% of its total oils in transfats.

Kettle Chips and danish. It's what's for lunch.

So, Martha Stewart Popped Round, Left These Eggs

You may have noticed this is not a craft blog, so no, I did not make these lovely Easter eggs. Fortunately my sister-in-law is much more talented. When I heard she was using natural dyes to make Easter eggs, I asked how they came out. She sent me this photo.

Here's how she did it: "We used red and yellow onion skins and coffee to make the dyes, then we gathered leaves and small flowers from my garden and pressed them onto the eggs. We then wrapped a square of panty hose around them and dropped them into the dye for several hours.  I coated them with a couple layers of varnish et voila!  Next time, I'm going to try using beets and either turnip greens or spinach."

I think Martha Stewart should take her in hand. She's obviously out of control.

Loss for Words

I just read an article that a few bloggers have linked to, and I'm speechless. The only other time I've been at this much of a loss for words was when I found out my dear friend had cancer. I guess that's the best way to describe it: the Vice President's office is a cancer in our democratic government.

It has metastasized to the point where the brain of the president, the organ nominally in charge, is only able to decide the most basic of questions:

North Korea bad. Do not negotiate with bad people. And so on.

Instead of the non-partisan staffers who stocked Vice President Gore's office, the OVP is now staffed with pathologically similar tumors, the names of whom you'll never recognize; they operate in secret, dark recesses of government:

Usually, that muscle is exercised covertly. Last February, for example, after Hamas won the Palestinian elections, King Abdullah of Jordan visited Washington to discuss the implications of the vote. With the support of some officials in the State Department, the young king suggested that Washington should bolster beleaguered President Mahmoud Abbas, the Fatah leader, to counter the new power of Hamas.

Then John Hannah intervened. A former official at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy (WINEP), a pro-Zionist think tank founded by the American-Israel Public Affairs Committee, Hannah is a neoconservative ideologue who, after the resignation of Irving Lewis “Scooter” Libby, moved up to become Vice President Dick Cheney’s top adviser on national security.

Hannah moved instantly to undermine Abdullah’s influence. Not only should the United States not deal with Hamas, but Abbas, Fatah, and the entire Palestinian Authority were no longer relevant, he argued, according to intelligence insiders. Speaking for the vice president’s office, Hannah instead sought to align U.S. policy with the go-it-alone strategy of Israel’s hard-liners, including Prime Minister Ehud Olmert and his stricken patron and predecessor, Ariel Sharon.

Dick Cheney and his sarcoma-like staff have run amuck, like a malevolent malignancy, for far too long. Read Robert Dreyfuss' article at The American Prospect, if you can stomach it, and see if you don't agree.

(I guess I found some words after all.)

Easter, For Dogs

Chocolate! I smell chocolate!

At five, my dog still believes in the Easter Bunny, so he came round yesterday, bringing fake chocolate and treats. Then we hid a plastic egg, with ChocoDrops inside, and she had loads of fun finding it, using her extraordinary sniffing skills.

Later she walked up to me with the basket on her head. Unfortunately I didn't have a camera, so just imagine it.