Best of Show

In the past, I've said that if shows were available on the internet, I'd pay to watch them. iTunes has given me a means to put my money where my mouth is. As the TV in my apartment is broken -- and wouldn't play American shows if it did -- I have to use iTunes to get my fix of good ol' American TV. At present, I'm watching Battlestar Galactica, Heroes, and Babylon 5.

BG (I refuse to call it BSG, as that acronym makes no sense) is the best show on television. Period. You can try and talk to me about Lost or Veronica Mars or whatever, but it won't change the fact that BG has the best acting, writing, directing, effects, and production of any show on. C'mon, it has Edward James Olmos and Mary MacDonnell. A mere one of those two would send a show soaring in the acting department. BG has them both on the set, where they exude so many chops that the props around them suddenly seem worthy of Emmys.

Feel that nothing is happening on your other show (Lost, I'm looking at you)? BG packs more action into single episodes than happens in an entire season on other shows. And yet there's character development in spades (and shades, too). Moral quandaries are played out from all sides. Darkness rules the day, but it's an awesome darkness.

Heroes is a different story. Where BG is dark, Heroes is light. It's popcorn, but it's the kind with lots of butter ( the real stuff, not some fake movie theater goop), salt, and some carmel, too. There's humor and fun characters and goofiness (Hiro, anyone?). It's a bountiful comic goodness. If BG is your Watchmen, Heroes is your Ultimate X-Men. Each week is chock full of "damn, that was awesome!" moments that can't help by put a grin on my face.

Babylon 5 is an oldie, but, as they say, it's a goodie. I can see why people compare BG to it, as there's the same maturity present. While the acting isn't the awe-inspiring thespianism of BG, it's solid and convincing. It tells the story, and that's what B5 is about. It's one of the few shows -- especially from its time -- with an arc. While Star Trek was being decidedly episodic, B5 was exploring a vision worthy of Harlan Ellison. Sadly, iTunes has only the first season available, so it's to the store with me for the rest of this five season spectacular.

Once More Unto the Fog, Dear Friends, Once More

When I landed yesterday morn, Geneva was enshrouded with fog. This hardly should have come as a surprise, as we had been delayed before takeoff in Amsterdam due to the visibility in Geneva. And, yet, it was a surprise, for Geneva has seldom been foggy. London? Yes, of course. But Geneva? Hardly the adjective that springs to fore.

Fog holds a decidedly ominous place in literature: it causes Pooh to get lost in the 100 Acre Wood; it turns Merry into a Nazgul-esque phantom; it cloaks many a quarry of Sherlock Holmes. This is no shock given what fog does: conceal and mask reality, making our imagination run wild. But it is for precisely this reason that I enjoy it. It turns the quotidian into something evocative and invokes grandeur.

To be sure, it can be dangerous. Driving in heavy fog can be quite hair-raising. One must drive slowly, proceed with caution. But if one does this -- and how kind of the fog to make us take a breather -- the fog is calming. There is little more peaceful than canoeing or kayaking on open water before the sun has burned away the fog. The gentle dipping of paddles as the craft glides neatly through the water. Sound is muffled, but the senses are keen. Trees and rocks spring forth from the mists. The hidden nature of things allows you to focus on that which you are able to see, drinking it in.

Once in a Blue Cheese

For years I resisted blue cheese. As a youth, the idea of eating visible mold galled me, and, I'm sure, I was rebelling in some sense to my mother's love of blue cheese. Nowadays, my tastes have matured, and I'm a huge fan of blue cheeses. I enjoy pairing blue cheeses with pears and figs or using them as a garnish for pasta or salad. They also make great a great addition to omelettes, quiches, and sauces.

Here's a quick overview of some decent blues.

Roquefort
The "King of Cheese" to many, Roquefort is a blue with a pedigree going back to Roman times. It is a ewe's milk cheese from the Pyrenees with the characteristic salty tang of a strong blue cheese. It's shame to hide the taste of Roquefort in a sauce or mask it inside a larger dish, so I prefer saving Roquefort for simple dishes with fruit or on a cheese board.

Bleu d'Auvergne
Roquefort is also a shame to put into pasta or other dishes where it isn't standing by itself due to its price. So when I want a Roquefort flavor in a sauce or other dish, I reach for Bleu d'Auvergne. It's a blue with a flavor quite similar to Roquefort: it's a strong, salty, robust blue. It's also half the price, making it suitable for everyday use when on a budget (as the wily grad student is likely to be). Don't think that Auvergne is merely a poor man's Roquefort; it holds its own against the "king" of cheese -- some of my friends say it even bests it.

Bleu de Gex
For those with palates that favor a milder taste, Bleu de Gex is a good choice -- and it happens to be my local cheese. As a resident of Pays Gex, this is an easy cheese to get in the stores. It's a little creamier than Roquefort and Auvergne, making it easier to use in quiche or sauce. Straight up, I prefer stronger blues; I don't think Bleu de Gex stands by itself as well as it could due to its mild flavor.

Read Them the Livarot Act: the Normal Conquest

I recently discovered a great new website: All about French cheeses. It appears to be a source of cheese info for frommage-loving Brits who want to know what to get when they cross La Manche. It goes without saying that the cheese over here is amazing. But it's frustrating not knowing more about the cheeses themselves. These problems are for the most part gone thanks to this site. I've been trying to explore the wonderful world of cheese since I got here, and now my goal is to share my discoveries to the world.

The first cheese to undergo this treatment is Livarot AOC. It's a soft, Norman, cow's milk cheese. I got it not expecting much. Sure it was AOC, but it wasn't guaranteed to pique my taste buds. I got it with the intent of putting it in a sort of sauce for pasta. Before I added it, I had to try some. Instead of a mildly bland soft cheese, I got a mild but delicate and nuanced cheese.

This is a cheese you can eat straight out of the wooden box. It goes great with pasta (benefitted by a low melting point like most soft cheeses, which is why I chose it in the first place), but it could also be paired with bread on a simple cheese (or cheese and fruit) platter. AaFc recommends a whole grain bread with it, but I think you'd need to be careful with the pairing. You don't want to overwhelm the Livarot and mask it's nuances. A good, hearty peasant loaf would go well as a foundation -- as well as paying homage to the 19th century appellation of "meat of the poor" to this frommage.

Adoration of the Sausage

Traditionally speaking, the Three Magi arrived in Bethlehem on January 6, Epiphany, and there bestowed their gifts to the infant Christ. The details are muddled -- were they kings, wizards, or astronomers? were they Persian or from disparate locations? -- but this is what custom tells us. This is the story of the Traditional Mini Jesus as taught in Sunday schools.

In the Basque region, there is another tradition. The Basque make a red pepper sausage called txistora. They also make a sausage they call Petit Jésu, a variation of salami. It is bursting with sweet, marbled flavor. It is also bursting with sweet, marbled irony: a pork sausage named for a man who lived a Jewish life.

1013: Of Mice and Men in Black

At first I was excited to see that France Telecom's hot line was 1013. To an X-Phile like myself, this was a fun coincidence. I should have taken care to see the signs, however, that the similarities between France Telecom and Chris Carter's most famous creation were numerous:

* Both start out with an auspicious premise (chasing unsolved mysteries/conspiracies and providing sweet, sweet broadband)
* Both have engaging central characters (Mulder and Scully of "It's me" fame and Wanadoo and Orange)
* Both promise a solid future with tangible connections (Mytharc and ADSL)
* Both stutter at stumble at times, but remain mostly dependable (hybrids, supersoldier and hybrids, supersolders)

Then came the final degeneracy into something that no longer resembled the thing with which you had fallen in love in the first place. The alien babies and multiple Samanthas of X-Files become hopelessly entangled "help" lines and equipment malfunctions in my internet world. My connection has died before, and a few weeks ago it did again. I putter around with the hotline for a while to no avail (my French computer vocabulary is not, how you say, au courant?). After a week of no service, I decided to spend a Saturday fixing it. Here's how it went:

1) Walk a mile to the Leclerc to buy an ethernet cable (a colleague had suggested that I might be able to reset my Livebox (the router cum phone cum TV hub cum modern art conversation piece), and I wanted to be sure I didn't raise hell with my telco over something I could fix myself) -- I thought I had had an ethernet cable at home, but I didn't, so one had to be purchased. (Miles walked: 1)

2) Walk a mile back, connect my computer, futz around, determine that it is still broken, and I can't fix it myself. (Miles walked: 2)

3) Walk a mile in the other direction to the France Telecom store in Ferney to seek their assistance. I'm told that I can exchange my Livebox (which my colleague had suggested before). Excited, I walk back to get my Livebox. (Miles walked: 4)

4) Walk back to the store with my Livebox in my hot little hand. Try to exchange my Livebox only to be told that I need an exchange number from the hot line. I asked if I could call from the store, but, no, I could only call from my home line. So I walked back home. (Miles walked: 6)

5) Call the hotline and get an exchange number. Walk back to the store with the Livebox and the hotline exchange number in my hot little hand. Exchange my Livebox and walk home. (Miles walked: 8)

6) Hook up my Livebox. It doesn't work. Call the hotline. It doesn't work. The hotline. The one I called an hour or so before. No longer working. Suspecting a bad connection with the Livebox, I plug the phone directly into the wall. Nothing.

7) Walk back to the store. Tell them my situation. They can do nothing, but they let me call the hotline. The hotline people say there's a problem with their network; someone will come to my apartment by Tuesday evening. I go back home. (Miles walked: 10)

I have spent an entire day walking around, waiting on hold, and talking to people about my problem. People don't believe that I have a problem or they can't help me. Either I'm Mulder trying to convince people that a conspiracy exists or I'm an X-Phile trying vainly to decipher what 1013 wrote in their hot-boxed writing rooms.

Sunday. Nothing works. Monday. Still nothing. Tuesday comes; today's the day, I think. I get home to find a note in my mailbox that someone came by, but they couldn't do anything, as I wasn't home. What? No one said I needed to be at home. I take Thursday off to go to the store and try and get a new technician to come out. I'm told one will come in the afternoon between 4 and 5 PM. I tell the person on the phone that my apartment has no name plate, but I give directions indicating which is mine (it's not hard). The lady on the other end says it will be fine. I go home and wait. Around 4:20, I decide to go downstairs and wait for the guy (I've been checking out the window every 5 minutes or so). On the way to the door, I check my mailbox. Another note: they came, but couldn't find my apartment, so they left.

I run to the store hoping to be able to tack on a return visit to my apartment at the end of their work day. Sadly, this is not possible, the hotline man informs me. Can I schedule another visit for the next day? No, visits can only be scheduled the day of. I explain that I work during the day and that I can't take another day off work to sit around hoping someone comes. He's sympathetic, but says he can't do anything. I ask if I can call in the morning to schedule for the afternoon. Yes, it's possible. I mention that the hotline isn't available early in the morning. He says it is. I ask if I can call at 5 am and schedule someone. He says it's quite doable. I repeat the question, and he confirms. Okay, I'll call before work from the pay phone outside my house.

At 7 AM, I call the hotline. After a wait, I get someone. I explain my problem. He says he can send someone out. Great. He then confirms my location in Paris. Paris? I live across the country from Paris. Oh, he says, the hotline at this hour is only for Paris. The national hotline will open at 8. Frustrated, I head back to my apartment. I get ready for work, and I head out to the phone booth. A new rep talks to me. I ask if a technician can come help me. Sadly, my last request was too recent. No more requests can be made until the afternoon.

Bile rising though the day, I leave early to go to the store to try and send someone out that evening. A nice man tells me that it's impossible for Friday, but he can send someone out on Saturday. Really, I ask? Sure, he says, no problem. This is contradictory to my previous experience, so I have him repeat it. He does. A guy will come between 9 and 1.

The next day at 9 two able and competent technicians show up at my door. They look at my setup, pull out their tools, twiddle around, and are done in under ten minutes. Bam. My connection is back. It only took 2 weeks, 10 miles, and countless time spent on hold. Curse you, Chris Carter!

Belly Button Lindt

In my halcyon youth, one of the high points was biking the 2.5 miles to Wayno's, spending some hard-earned 45 cents on a Hershey's Symphony, biking back to the bridge, and eating my chocolate bar whilst playing with the eddies. I loved the Almond Toffee variety, especially. There was something satisfying about the chunks of crunch in the middle of the chocolate. A little surprise for your tongue.

Things have changed since then. I'm now 3000 miles from Wayno's. Symphony bars now cost 75 cents. I prefer dark chocolate to milk now, and European brands to Hershey's. I do still, however, relish things in my chocolate. That's not to say I don't enjoy a nice piece of 70% dark. I love it. But more often I crave chocolate with hidden surprises.

Since moving to the heart of chocolate (while chocolate originated in the Americas, was brought to Europe by the Spaniards, and processed by the Dutch, modern chocolate was born in Switzerland), I have made it my goal to try out as many chocolates as I can. It's a hard life, I know. Even before coming here, I've been a big fan of Lindt. They make quality chocolate that melts silkily on your tongue. To be sure, not all they're chocolate is good -- they have some strange concepts and combinations, which I'll get to -- but the good stuff is amazing.

Crème brulée is a great dessert. It's easy to see the simple delight Amèlie gets from cracking the top of them to reveal the soft golden treasure beneath the crisp, glassy caramel layer. The good people at Lindt have done an amazing thing: they put crème brulée inside a chocolate bar. I don't know if it's real crème brulée or not, but if it isn't, it's an amazing bit of mimicry. There are even flecks of crispy caramel. The problem is that it's not that that crème brulée is bad: it's that it's there at all. It just doesn't go with chocolate. I'm not sure what kind of crazy sausages the Lindt R&D people were snorting, but this combination is out there.

A combination that Lindt hit out of the park is a classic one: hazelnuts and chocolate. Lindt makes two kinds of praliné rocher: milk and dark. It will come as no surprise to people that I prefer the dark. There's a deeper flavor to it. The milk chocolate one is nice. Light and sweet, as you'd expect. But the dark has sombre tones. Low frequency reverberations that give it heft and structure. These dark underpinnings make the praliné and its sweet hazelnut cream stand out and be noticed.

If you like dark, and you like hazelnut, you may find a new best friend in the Praliné Rocher Chocolat Noir of Lindt.

John Calvin's Hell Freezes Over

On Friday night, I went to see Genève-Servette host Davos at their home patinoire. We arrived after a delightful and gustatory dinner at Aviation, a Geneva steakhouse, to find the home team training by two goals at the end of the first period. We grabbed some empty seats -- accidentally not our own -- in the VIP bleachers and sat down to enjoy the miracle on ice that is hockey.

The crowd was undeniably Swiss -- wine cups in hand and sausage on their laps -- but the music was, as always, American. From Queen's We Will Rock You to Aretha Franklin's Respect, it could have been any American hockey match. The music suitably pumped me up, with the exception of their choice of music following a home goal: Final Countdown -- all I could picture was Job prancing around before the finale of one of his magician's, excuse me illusionist's, acts.

It's often said that the Genevois are a staid and dispassionate people. If you see them at the Lake Parade or a hockey match, however, you will see their wilder, looser sides. The crowd was clapping, roaring, and exalting with every slap in favor of the red and gold. There was even a large section behind one goal with a drum and elaborate clapping cheers -- replete with hand motions that were disturbingly similar to those one might find at the Nuremberg Rallies.

In the end, the Eagles tied the score at 2-2 in the final minutes of the third period and scored the first goal in overtime to win 3-2. The crowd was jubilant and threw streams of crepe paper onto the ice. In all, it was a good night.

Some observations:

* There is no slashing or checking, it seems, in this league, and the fouls were low-key, if penalized appropriately.
* The cheerleaders -- yes, there were hockey cheerleaders -- were clad in typical garb, except for their feet: ever practical, they wore boots.
* The mascot is an Eagle named Calvin, love it.

Twas Brilling, and the Slithy mRNA Did Gyre and Gimble....

I am an unabashed fan of Leonary Nimoy's 70's acid-folk Ballad of Bilbo Baggins. I have also put words to the Colonel Bogey march to describe the role of centrioles in the cell. However, some things are too bizarre even for me -- and those who know me will attest to how crazy I am. Setting Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky to a modern dance interpretation of protein synthesis crosses that boundary.

But you don't have to take my word for it....

Pigeons! The Big Bird Scourge of the Skies!

I was waiting outside B40 the other night for my ride to come, when I noticed an odd van. Well, the van itself wasn't odd -- the van was a regular old van -- rather it was what was written on the van that caught my eye: dépigeonnage. I wish I had had a camera, as I found it wonderful.

Pigeons, as any city-dweller knows, are the rats of the sky. Even Marco with his love of peanuts and multiculturalism can't convince me otherwise. It seems thusly fitting that a pest eradication service would offer pigeon-removal services. We actually had problem with pigeons nesting in B180 and defecating on our sectors.

De-pigeoning seems a natural wish of many people, but I love the formation of "dépigeonnage" -- a delightful portmanteau of "pigeon" and "dépannage" (an outage). As a fan of wordplay, I thrill to see it occurring in other languages, especially one with the stodgy, hide-bound rep of French.

One of These Days, Barbicane! Bang! Zoom!

"Nothing can surprise an American. People often say that the word 'impossible' isn't French; clearly, those people have misplaced their dictionaries. In American, everything is easy; everything is simple -- mechanical problems die before they are even born.....Something said, something done."

"As Americans, they had no other ambition than the take possession of this new continent in the air and to plant at its highest peak the star of the United States of America."

Jules Verne wrote these (in French, of course) in 1869 in his novel From the Earth to the Moon. I'm currently reading his book to work on my French, and it's startling to see these stereotypes of Americans appearing almost 150 years ago -- more chilling is that Verne's depiction of Americans as single-minded, bellicose, jingoistic people with an appetite for conquest still seems to ring true.

To me, it's surprising to see such an impression, as I think of the America of 1869 as rather isolationist. Sure we had Manifest Destiny and the Monroe Doctrine, but those related purely to North America. Roosevelt's Great White Fleet, the Truman Doctrine, the UN, and the Cold War were all yet to come. In my mind, America had not yet entered the world stage as a prime mover and shaker. We always seemed more of a backwoods nation concerned with its own internal squabbles.

Verne's book is interesting to read for a few other reasons: it reads like a newspaper or historical account of the event and there is a surprising amount of technical details. Verne includes many footnotes and asides about American words (e.g. "club" or "mile") or bits of culture (e.g. West Point or self-government) that don't translate into French. This lends an air of verisimilitude quite different from, but as effective as, the first person or other types of narratives. Verne also peppers his writing with technical details about astronomy, physics, and engineering. This is befitting as the protagonists are engineers by trade and working on a highly technical project. Verne, in fact, had all his calculations checked by a friend who was the Secretary for the Academy of Science. To me, it's refreshing and fascinating to see a popular work of fiction containing such an abundance of math and science -- and to have it be right!

If you have an interest in science (or the history of science fiction), enjoy books that capture a zeitgeist far removed from our own, or have fun seeing parallels in history to modern times, I think you might like From the Earth to the Moon -- try it in French, if you can!

But you don't have to take my word for it.....