Chopsticks, napkins, water and ear plugs

It doesn’t take much to make me happy when dining out with friends. It’s always nice, of course, if the food is decent, the company good and the ambiance a euphonic blend of quiet background music, candlelight and the reverential clinking of silverware meeting fine china.

Saturday evening our weekend gang – Denise and Stan, Susan and John, the lovely Miss Wendy and me – just about struck out. The company was grand, but the food was only okay and the ambiance seemed plucked from a steel foundry. I’ll explain.

Looking for something a little different, we all agreed to try out one of those happening make-it-yourself stir-fry restaurants that are popping up across the Land of Cotton. The Big Chow Grill takes up a corner of a struggling mall complex in the northern ’burbs; an expansive space featuring high ceilings, lots of glass, pendant lights, exposed pipes and ducts.

The gimmick that you’re either gonna love or hate involves working your way around a counter filled with veggies, starches, protein – fish, meat, chicken, tofu – and sauces. The idea is that you fill your bowl with whatever captures your attention, pile it high and hand it off to a squadron of waiting cooks.

The problem begins when you start mixing and matching. Truth to tell, I have absolutely no idea what the sauces taste like and what blends well together. I’ve tried places like this before and no matter what I manage to create in my ten minutes of foraging, it always ends up tasting the same – a little spicy, a little sweet, mostly bland with a toxic aftertaste.

That pretty much describes the mound of stir-fried stuff that landed in front of me moments after we’d finished a batch of wilted and overcooked egg rolls. But, well, we still had the good company thing going on – a splendid melding of conversation and booze.

Unfortunately, the booze was a little watered down and the conversation was difficult since it seemed we were sitting smack in the middle of a foundry – at least that’s what it sounded like. Imagine a place where there are blast furnaces, huge pieces of machinery and workmen yelling above the roar of clanging, clattering gizmos. Now bottle that noise and release it inside the gym where Duke is facing off against North Carolina for the ACC championship. For good measure, add a sonic boom and the ka-thunk of a helicopter flying overhead.

After an hour of attempting to make small talk, yelling at John and Stan across the table and screaming at their wives, I had more or less lost my voice. I was reduced to using remedial sign language – shoulder shrugs, a few obscene gestures and the occasional smile – to communicate.

Okay, so I exaggerate; but not all that much. We had the misfortune of being seated next to a group of 30 or so kids, all simply out for a fun evening and all chatting very loudly. They did absolutely nothing wrong. The acoustics simply couldn’t handle the traffic. I couldn’t either.

You know that old saw about how good it feels when you quit banging your head against a wall. It works the same with noise. I’m here to tell you that the sound of silence is a treat once you’ve had a meal at the Big Chow Grill. It’s a mediocre dining experience I won’t be repeating.

Market stumbles; Yogi provides words of hope

Yes, that’s right, it’s Friday and I was all set to tackle a provocative issue dealing with Jewish ritual. Then the Dow got my attention. As Yogi Berra once famously said, “It’s déjà vu all over again!"

In the last months I was working at that place with the printing press, I often sat at my desk monitoring the wires and watching the Dow – and my retirement savings – go down the toilet. It was a bleak and dismal time, not at all for the faint of heart.

I recall that for at least a year before the bottom completely fell out of the market, there was this constant talk of a recession. Everyone agreed that it was just around the corner when any fool could pretty much tell that we were already, um, standing in it!

If you’ve forgotten, it was on Sept. 29, 2008 – just about three years ago – that the Dow dropped 777 points. Yikes. Don’t look now, but it cratered again on Thursday, losing over 4 percent of its value, down a whopping 512 points.

Once again the “r” word is being mentioned by economists and bloviators of all stripes and colors. The global economy is teetering on the abyss and it seems there’s little in our economic toolbox to address the issue.

The cupboard is empty and our leaders and politicians seem fresh out of ideas after the recent little dust-up in Washington over the country’s debt ceiling. All the shouting seems a little silly now that we’ve been floored – again!

Susan, a friend and colleague, assured me back in 2008 that the market would rebound. It goes up and it goes down, but over the long haul it always seems able to advance, she opined. I nodded in agreement, but wasn’t convinced. Something felt different, something about the whole global thing that had taken hold of the economy over the last decade.

BTW, if you think it’s dark and frightening here, it’s absolutely nightmarish in Japan, Greece, Italy, Spain and Ireland. Like dominoes, once one of these countries tips over, the others will soon follow. Welcome to the global village!

The world has changed and continues to change. For a day, anyway, all seems a bit bleak and dismal yet again. But I take solace in something else Yogi – the New York Yankee Hall of Fame catcher and philosopher – had to say years ago: “It ain’t over till it’s over!” I’m choosing to spin this Yogism in a positive way; and here’s hoping that his words are prophetic.

Mob movie cool on a warm summer night

One sure way to beat the heat here in the land of cotton is to spend a cool evening inside watching a mobster movie. That’s exactly what I did earlier this week, managing once again to sit through Godfather: Part II.

I first saw the film back when I still had hair, Richard Nixon was in the White House and Elvis was starting to wear spandex. I’ve seen bits and pieces now and again, but haven’t watched the entire film in decades.

It remains one of the top movies ever produced, featuring a killer cast – Al Pacino, Robert Duvall, Diane Keaton, Robert De Niro, John Cazale and Talia Shire. It also has a pitch-perfect screenplay, beautiful cinematography, and a wistful, melancholy soundtrack that won the Oscar for Best Original Score in 1974.

There is a minor hiccup that bothered me the first time I saw the film and continues to irritate decades later. Lee Strasberg, the legendary actor, director and acting teacher, plays Hyman Roth in the film. It’s worth noting that he was nominated for a best-supporting Oscar for his performance – he lost to Robert De Niro, playing the young Vito Corleone.

Take a moment and recall the scene when Michael meets with Roth at his home in Miami. Michael is ushered into a smallish den where Roth is relaxing before lunch, sitting in some sort of lounge chair, watching TV. Roth initially seems oblivious of Michael coming into the room. His right leg is awkwardly resting on the arm of the chair and he seems to be lost in his head.

The first thought I had as Strasberg turns toward Michael and the camera is that he’s acting. That, I’d argue, is a thought you never want to have when watching a flick. The entire scene – at least the Strasberg half of it – feels phony, unnatural and awkward. The leg thing comes across like some sort of artistic affectation.

None of this is particularly surprising. Strasberg, after all, is considered the father of method acting. It’s a concept that Dustin Hoffman captured hilariously in the film Tootsie when his character is trying to figure out how best to portray a tomato by understanding what motivates the veggie. Sometimes the best thing to do is just act!

The Godfather franchise is filled with memorable characters and solid actors who bring them to life. Strasberg eventually finds the heart of Hyman Roth and quietly builds the character throughout the film. In their last scene together, Strasberg and Pacino face off; Roth ranting about the nature of the mob and the work they have chosen, Michael seething in quiet rage.

All four hours were grandly entertaining and very, ah, chilling. That would be a good thing on these oh-so hot and humid nights. Up next? The Untouchables and Sean Connery’s over-the-top Irish brogue!

Capped, crowned and smiling once again

The lovely Miss Wendy has her lovely smile back. It only took two dental appointments and a few hours with our favorite neighborhood dentist, Dr. S.

That’s what happens when you crunch on a crouton that’s crisp and tasty – and, unfortunately, hard as a rock. For a variety of reasons, Wendy asked that I go with her for all the drilling and heavy lifting on Monday. It was an eye-opening experience. Well, actually, Wendy’s eyes were closed for most of the appointment.

But with the blessing of Dr. S and his irreplaceable and charming assistant, I had an up close and very personal demonstration on how to fix a cracked tooth and replace it with a dental crown. Standing above it all, the experience is all together different than when you’re sitting in the big chair! I don’t know about Wendy, but I had a grand time.

Did you know that all the initial drilling is simply to whack away the enamel surrounding the tooth’s dentin and core? It’s not unlike sanding away a peeling layer of paint on a wall – if the wall happens to be tiny, filled with nerve endings and has a huge tongue that keeps getting in the way!

What you’re left with after the dust clears is a smallish post that serves as an anchor for the crown. The majority of the work – the aforementioned demolition; sanding, blasting and creating molds – has much more to do with artistry than science. It’s the sort of work I think a carpenter would be better at than, say, a theoretical physicist.

Of course dental work takes a good deal of focus. Dr. S certainly seemed to be paying attention to Wendy as he worked and we discussed what’s new and happening at the local cinema; his plans to take his entire office to Vegas in the fall; the ups and downs of the Braves, Falcons and the U.S. economy; and the incredibly fishy smell of a piece of salmon his wife recently bought at that oh-so popular specialty market that is bulling its way into our little corner of the world.

But I, ah, digress. Everyone was smiling once again – especially the lovely Miss Wendy – when Dr. S finished up his work. In fact, the only person frowning at the end of the day was the guy holding the bill. Oh, right, that would be me! But, hey, a million dollar smile and a healthy set of pearly whites are worth a few bucks, right?

Now, finally, I know where my beef was born!

My little corner of the world is all abuzz this week, excited about the opening of yet another grocery store. Whole Foods Market is bringing its all-natural vibe, eco-friendly philosophy and stunningly high prices to our neighborhood and we’re all darned excited.

In fact, the lovely Miss Wendy and I got an inside peek on Monday. We joined with a couple dozen other folks and took a tour of the market – all shiny and new – as workers were putting the finishing touches on the place. That’s right, you heard me correctly, we toured the new market; even paid a few bucks for the opportunity. Hey, I was bored with nothing else to do!

I don’t think Disney need worry. Once you’ve glanced at a row of veggies or aisle filled with canned beans, and listened to the marketing patter of corporate toads, there’s little reason to take the tour a second time.

If you buy the company line, Whole Foods is only marginally interested in making a profit. What corporate honchos really want is to create a business that provides healthy grub that is harvested in an eco-friendly fashion – local produce, organic and tasty; free-range fowl, and beef that is so fresh you can almost hear it moo!

Such was the piffle eagerly offered up by all the clerks who shared a bit about the market and how the company’s philosophy, philanthropic efforts and customer care are changing the world. Overstated? “We can trace back every bit of beef we sell to the farm where it was raised and slaughtered,” one meat manager told us. I imagine if asked, he could also provide the names and family trees for the critters recently diced and sliced into hamburger and steaks, now resting comfortably in the market’s meat locker.

Okay, I’ll clamp down on the snark for a moment and readily agree that Whole Foods sells some interesting and tasty goods – I particularly like its selection of fish, aged cheeses and artisan breads. They also feature some creative and innovative ideas that cater to individual tastes and quirks.

Want a six-pack of beer, but different brands; your own special mix of peanut butter; a full meal, cooked and ready to serve? Whole Foods can make all this happen and, well, lots of other stuff. Now I’m starting to sound like I’ve swallowed the Kool-Aid too. Enough!

The grand opening is today and I imagine hundreds of my neighbors will make their way to the store. Meanwhile, it will be interesting to see what the foodie business in this area will look like down the road. Right now, within a two-mile radius of the new Whole Foods, there's a Traders Joe’s, Fresh Market, two Publix super markets and two Krogers. I say, let the games begin and bon appétit!

Another reason to hold onto your library card

Having absolutely nothing better to do, I stopped by Borders in my little corner of the world over the weekend. As you no doubt know by now, the company is on life support and has only a few weeks to live.

The place was filled with bargain shoppers, all scrambling about looking for deals. The problem is that the vast majority of stock in the store was selling for higher prices than a week earlier when news of the company’s demise was first announced.

Apparently, when companies belly up and liquidators take control, the initial plan is to strip away any previous discounts, market everything at its list price and offer small deductions to anyone foolish enough to bite. As the deadline nears for closing the doors one final time, additional discounts are offered – that’s when it’s time to strike!

Last week, a day or so before all the dismal details became public, the lovely Miss Wendy and I stopped by Borders to feed my addiction for anything written by Daniel Silva. His latest spy thriller, Portrait of a Spy, became available on Wednesday. The list price is $26.99 – a huge sum for any book; but I was jonesing for a fun, fast read and, well, Miss Wendy had a gift card!

Borders was offering a whopping 30 percent discount – 40 percent if you were a member of its super-duper exclusive I-Love-Borders book club. After taxes, the book ended up costing $20 and change. If I had waited to purchase it over the weekend, now that HUGE discounts were being offered, the thriller would have actually cost me a few bucks more. Go figure!

BTW, Portrait of a Spy can be purchased online at Amazon for $14.05. Tack on another $10 for something else and shipping is free; and that pretty much sums up why the retail book industry is in free fall!

But I digress. I did mention that the store was packed with bargain hunters, right? They stayed busy grabbing up the few items – magazines, greeting cards, calendars, pens and other tchotchkes – that were deeply discounted.

I’ll probably return in a few weeks, if for no other reason than to say bye-bye. Guess it’s time that I start thinking seriously about purchasing some sort of e-reader. Meanwhile, glad I still have a library card.

Jerusalem sparkles at heart of new documentary

It’s Friday, time for another posting of Interesting Jewish Stories & Facts. So let’s go to the movies.

Israel is often viewed through a fractured lens, a public relations mess of conflict, religion, politics and gloom. Add to this dark stew the misinformed belief that the Jewish homeland is a desert wasteland, fit only for scorpions, camels and the heartiest of Bedouin tribesmen, and you have the makings of a cosmic nightmare.

It seems each time a bit of light reveals the delights of this ancient land that dark forces conspire to hide the truths of the place. Trepidation often hangs heavily on the horizon, tossing a bleak shadow across the beauty of the country and its people.

I mention all this to capture the importance of a new documentary about Jerusalem, an IMAX film that has the potential to push aside the clouds – if only for a moment. The movie, produced by Arcane/Cosmic Picture Film, is scheduled for release in 2013.

I stumbled across the opening minutes of the production recently. It’s a euphonic blend of music, narration and splendid aerial shots focusing on the beauty of the land and its rich and ancient mysteries. You can find it right HERE! Take a few minutes; you won’t be disappointed!

I’ve been lucky enough to visit much that is featured – the ancient port cities of Jaffa and Caesarea; the lush and fertile Jordan Valley and spiritually rich area of the Galilee; Masada and the Dead Sea. These iconic locations serve only as preamble, picturesque settings all leading in the same direction.

Jerusalem, the City of David, springs to life in the heart of Israel, a magnet for pilgrims and tourists, the faithful and doubters. Its sun-bleached buildings, cobblestone streets and serpentine alleys are filled with spiritual energy and ancient secrets.

The film, even on the smallish screen of my computer, offers up a colorful and epic portrait. All the noise and chatter from ill-informed and misguided protesters, weak-kneed politicians and venomous religious leaders is quieted. For a moment, Jerusalem stands and speaks for itself. It’s a glorious site.