oh the weather outside is etc.

What's this, a blog post?

Yeah. It's just that nothing has been happening.

Okaiiiiiiii, not true. Some things happened.

1) I got a piece of rice stuck in my iPhone headphones jack. Three pieces of rice actually. And? Contrary to popular opinion, I was able to get it/them out using only a wooden toothpick and American ingenuity. Oh, right what was my iPhone doing being submerged in a bag of dry rice? Yeah a friend of mine? Knocked it into a bathtub full of water, where it sat for about 5 seconds. It's totally OK now!!!

2) I have been on tour!!! In the Netherlands!!! This never happens!!! I have so far visited the teeming metropolisses of Eindhoven (above), where our tour bus/car was broken into and our driver's belongings were removed and then probably discarded moments later after discovering they were "only" clothes, and Utrecht (below), where I may have set personal records for Most Unintentional Feedback, Fastest Broken String Change and Fastest Load-Out. Next up is Baarle-Nassau on Saturday and then Rotterdam in December.

3) But before all that: Thanksgiving. It's always a challenge to figure out what to cook, well because I make it one: I wait until the whole menu is set, then ask, "so what else do you still need?" This year's answer is "something vegetarian that's not potatoes, and not orange- or yellow-colored."

OK, how about this. It's really good and you can make it ahead of time, I adapted it from here.


roasted pumpkin and runner bean salad with spiced pecans, cranberries, maple vinaigrette.

1 kg (about 1 large or 2 medium) pumpkin or butternut squash, peeled, seeded, quartered, and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1/2 cup (120 ml) extra-virgin olive oil, divided
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
800g runner beans
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
pinch ground cloves
pinch cayenne pepper
1 tbsp light brown sugar
1 1/2 cups (about 8 ounces; 250 grams) pecans
2 shallots, finely minced (about 4 tablespoons; 40 grams)
2 tbsp (30 milliliters) date syrup
1 tbsp (10 grams) whole grain mustard
1 tbsp (15 milliliters) sherry vinegar
1 cup (about 6 ounces; 200 grams) dried cranberries



against all odds, episode 913.

Wow, thanks to O'Neill, we now have a picture of The House.


For future reference: the goal was healthiness, using things already in the fridge. That meant watercress, turkey, yogurt, turmeric, lemons, and I combined these two random recipes to an unexpectedly smashing effect. This chili with harissa made with turkey breast instead of lamb, topped with this watercress yogurt dip, a bit heavier on the watercress, made with some protein-rich Icelandic yogurt from the Avondmarkt clearance bin. Anyway: it was like these two were made for each other, like Donnie and Marie.



vulture bait day -1: pre-liftoff.

Picking up Rental Car 1 in Phoenix from super-tweaking Dollar rep. Richardson's red chile cheese enchiladas for home use. Soccer in the desert.


vulture bait day 0: wikieup trading post.

Wikieup Trading Post: super cute old diner, but can't say much about the food. I think grilled cheese and fries was the only vegetarian option other than a cheese enchilada, which was just not going to happen, curious though I was. It seemed unwise.


vulture bait day 0: phx to vegas.

Driving. Northern Arizona. Wikieup Trading Post. Navigator/Photographer/Documentarian. The Saddest Palm Tree In The World. Sunset on The Strip. The Venetian. Very very good food at Yardbird (watermelon with lemon oil and farmer's cheese; roasted/blackened carrots with coriander and cumin, really great; and pretty definitely the best mac and cheese I've ever had). And a $15 cocktail so unexpectedly delicious that Nelson had two of them, called a Southern Revival (Wild Turkey 81, lemonade, passionfruit, Thai basil). Many games of pool at Dino's Lounge until bikers rained on our parade. One as-fast-as-possible beer at Club Platinum not pictured due to the absolute wrongness of it all.

vulture bait day 1: breakfast in las vegas.

I hadn't been to Las Vegas in 20 years. You forget how easy it would be, given a proper bankroll, to lose entire days there, because it's never nighttime in a casino. Or always nighttime. The lighting never changes, nothing ever closes, everything is always possible. Denver omelette at 4pm? Sure. Martini at 8am?  Coming right up. Just as long as you keep spending money.

This would also be the beginning of my recognizing the arcaneness of American menu terms to non-Americans, specifically diner breakfast lingo. "Do you want hash browns or home fries with that?" Ehhm...."Red-eye gravy? Grits?" No idea. "How do you want your eggs, over easy? Sunny side up?" I'll just have pancakes, it's easier.

Pictured: Denver omelette, hash browns, biscuit; short stack with fresh strawberries. Bottomless cups of coffee. Winning big at slots.


vulture bait day 1: death valley in color.

So we pick up the van from a very unpleasant woman named Sandy in Las Vegas. Her underling seems frightened to death of her but must really need this job. Or she's his mom. As he's putting our paperwork together, the following conversation ensues:

Underling: "OK, so...there are really only two 'no-go' areas, mkay? Mexico, and Death Valley".
Me: "Mm-hm. Yes. What exactly do you mean by 'no-go' areas?"
Underling: "It means you, well...can't go there. Our insurance doesn't cover us there."

Me (to myself): "Fuuuuck, really?"
Me (to him): "Ah, OK, yeah. Yeah, sure! Got it."

Then I signed and initialed lots of papers that I'm pretty sure said I wasn't going to take their van to Mexico or Death Valley.

Then? I followed the fucking plan* and drove directly to Death Valley. This is the badlands of Zabriskie Point, both with and without Team Photographer Nelson.

Oh yeah, and hilariously, Kevin the van spent the week toying with our nerves by not starting sometimes. The first time he pulled this shit was at Amargosa Opera House and Hotel, pictured below, which is, of course, located in Death Valley Junction where none of the three of us were supposed to be. Imagine my face at the sound of the uselessly clicking ignition.

* Death Valley had been the plan for months. Their website had always said that they didn't advise going to Death Valley between May and September, but you could still do it. If you had a breakdown, however, you were fucked: you were completely liable for the van and any extortionate repair costs. I quickly computed the likelihood of Sandy and myself having a productive conversation about what their website said vs. what her underling had just told me and decided that I should probably just take my chances. I mean, "what could go wrong in Death Valley?"


vulture bait day 1: death valley desert noir.

That sign says "BROTHEL".