Monthly Archives: July 2012

Since we’re talking literature, check out this recent piece on James Joyce by Louis Menand in the New Yorker.

Even better, dig these rare illustrations Henri Matisse did for a 1935 edition of “Ulysses.”

“Interior with a Book,” By Richard Diebenkorn (1959)

I’ve talked about Bucatini All’Amatriciana many times before. It’s my go-to meal, a signature dish in Rome (or just outside of Rome). It’s simple: bacon (or, in Rome, Guanciale), onions, hot pepper flakes, olive oil and tomatoes. Served with bucatini, the long pasta with a hole in the middle.

There are many variations on this theme and just as many arguments about the proper way to make the dish. Marcella Hazen doesn’t use olive oil, she uses butter and vegetable oil. Some people add garlic. Lydia Bastianich cooks the onions in pasta water first and once they are softened she adds the oil. Everyone is convinced their way is the correct way.

Anyhow, here are two more versions to fool around with.

One, from a Portland Chef named Rachel Grossman (via Saveur). It is certainly more involved than the traditional method, has far more ingredients. Curious to give it a try to see why she goes in that direction.

And here’s another–which I’ve tried and recommend–from New York chef (co-owner of Dell’Anima and L’Artusi) Gabe Thompson.

[Photo Credit: Todd Coleman]

Summer in New York is sweet because the town thins out some. People go on vacation, or at least they often vamoose for the weekend. The trains are less crowded cause kids are out of school.  The Farmer’s market has incredible fruit and veggies.

There’s plenty of flesh to enjoy.

So long as the power doesn’t go out–thank the heavens for ice cubes and air conditioning–life is good.

[Photo Via Bags and the most incredible, This Isn’t Happiness]

Adapted from his foreword to a new Modern Library Edition, here’s John Jeremiah Sullivan on William Faulkner’s masterpiece, “Absalom, Absalom!”:

A poll of well over a hundred writers and critics, taken a few years back by Oxford American magazine, named William Faulkner’s “Absalom, Absalom!” the “greatest Southern novel ever written,” by a decisive margin — and the poll was conducted while looking back on a century in which a disproportionate number of the best American books were Southern — so to say that this novel requires no introduction is just to speak plainly.

Of course, it’s the kind of book a person would put first in a poll like that. You can feel reasonably confident, in voting for it, that nobody quite fathoms it enough to question its achievement. Self-consciously ambitious and structurally complex (unintelligible, a subset of not unsophisticated readers has always maintained), “Absalom, Absalom!” partakes of what the critic Irving Howe called “a fearful impressiveness,” the sort that “comes when a writer has driven his vision to an extreme.” It may represent the closest American literature came to producing an analog for “Ulysses,” which influenced it deeply — each in its way is a provincial Modernist novel about a young man trying to awaken from history — and like “Ulysses,” it lives as a book more praised than read, or more esteemed than enjoyed.

But good writers don’t look for impressedness in their readers — it’s at best another layer of distortion — and “greatness” can leave a book isolated in much the way it can a human being. (Surely a reason so many have turned away from “Ulysses” over the last near-hundred years is that they can’t read it without a suffocating sense of each word’s cultural importance and their duty to respond, a shame in that case, given how often Joyce was trying to be amusing.) A good writer wants from us — or has no right to ask more than — intelligence, good faith and time. A legitimate question to ask is, What happens with “Absalom, Absalom!” if we set aside its laurels and apply those things instead? What has Faulkner left us?

I have never read the book, though I’ve started it a few times and have read four other novels by Faulkner. This article has me curious to try again.

[Painting by Steven Sullivan]

Diggum, smack.

[Photo Credit: Marco Pandullo]

Well, I missed the whole damn affair. Family gathering upstate. Had to be done and it turned out to be a nice time. I checked the score from time-to-time and was thrilled to learn that Phil Hughes, after giving up a couple of runs in the first, was stingy. He went eight innings and a two-run home run by Robinson Cano–yes, that man again–broke the tie as the Yankees beat the White Sox, 4-2.

Cano is surging, is in the prime of his career, and more than capable of carrying the team for weeks at a time. It’s also been great to see Hughes, Nova and Kuroda pitching well, am I right?

Zach Schonbrun has a nice write-up in the Times.

Coupled with a Baltimore loss the Yanks are now six games ahead in the American League East. That’s the way to beat the heat. Nice job by the Yanks after losing the first two games of the series–the White Sox got two runs in the last couple of games.

Say Word:

And on Old Timer’s Day (covered here by Harvey Araton), Derek Jeter, C.C. Sabathia, Curtis Granderson and Cano were selected to the All Star Game. Sabathia was replaced by C.J. Wilson. Also, the Yanks picked up a reliever today and over at River Ave Blues, Mike Axisa can’t figure it.

[Featured Image via: Kathy Willens/AP Photo; interior pictures by Jim McIsaac/Getty Images and Willens]

Old Timer’s Day at the Stadium or “The Return of Tanyon Sturtze!”

Laughs and old men running around in costumes playing a boy’s game.

More heat. Boy, is it hot.

Phil Hughes follows as the Yanks try to break even against the White Sox.

Never mind the nostalgia: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

More than 50,000 fans packed Yankee Stadium to watch DiMaggio as he took aim at the all-time hitting streak record. Wee Willie Keeler had hit in forty-four straight games in 1897. The crowd was anticipating a record, and they were also no doubt excited to watch the Yanks battle Ted Williams and the Red Sox. In the opening game, DiMaggio came up empty in his first two at bats, fouling out to first in the first inning and grounding out to third in the third. In the fifth, he hit another grounder to third, but third baseman Jim Tabor bobbled it momentarily before firing wildly to first, allowing DiMaggio to reach second.

The official scorer gave him a hit, although many disputed the call. The crowd, incidentally, was left in the dark, as the scoreboard at that time did not flash the H or E that modern fans are accustomed to seeing. Most people in the park didn’t know whether or not the streak had been extended. With his next at bat, however, DiMaggio erased all doubt with a clean line drive into left field. The crowd erupted with an ovation that lasted a full five minutes. The Yankees won the game, 7-2, but for the first time in nearly a month they didn’t hit any balls over the wall. Their record of hitting home runs in twenty-five straight games still stands today. (I think it’s been tied recently, if I remember correctly; it’s a difficult record to track down.)

It should also be noted that there were two DiMaggios playing center field on this day; Joe’s younger brother Dom was in the other dugout with the Red Sox, and he hit his fourth home run of the season in the opener of the double header.

DiMaggio took care of business much earlier in the second game. He lined a single over shortstop for a single in the first inning to tie Keeler’s record. The Yankees won easily in an abbreviated five-inning game, 9-2, and stretched their lead in the American League to 2 1/2 games over the Cleveland Indians.

Kick the Bobo…

[Photo Credit: Particular Particules]