She's Baaaaack

and darn gummit if she isn't terribly ashamed of just how long its been since she's shared with the webiverse.  

to wit

1) bedbugs gone

2) st. louis pizza *not* eaten

I think now I can focus on the St. Louis experience.  I am going to make a list of all the places I should go, and yes - all the food I should eat.  

There might just be a trip to Branson in the offing.  There will be a complete blow-by-blow.  I may be driving half-a-ways across the country with my sweetheart in a chevy s10.  We will see how that goes. 

Okay, I admit

I have been more than remiss.  Criminal, really.  Isn't there a blog police?  

As my non-communication might attest, I have been introspective of lately.  Or, more like . . . intromural.  As I cleanse my new apartment of bedbugs . . . Ewww.  Yes, the nasty lil' critters have taken up habitation with me.  And they must be purged. 

I notice that to a large extent my blog has been about food.  Everything has been homecooking as of late.  I promise a St. Louis style pizze 'splosion soonish - more like T-day. Turkey Day.  Thanksgiving time.  

It was a dark and stormy Thursdsay

I have been remiss.  

I know.  

I've been busy.  School has started and there is lots to do.  Most of it involving me, the library and a photocopy machine.  Hence, there has not been a lot of Missouri Experience Project.  

I did, however, go to Costco.  It took us twice.  The first time we shaved the arrival time too close and then messed up on the freeways.  BUT as we headed across the Ole Miss to E. St. Louis (anybody seen National Lampoon's Vaca?) we did see the most ghetto-pimptastic school buses ever.  They were lit up like a moving discotheque.  And one of them was towing a fine looking SUV.  Costco was closed by the time we got there. So we went and had fantastic Vietnamese.  Deepfried spicy tofu tossed with lemongrass and other exotica.  The tofu were little puff balls of perfect frying technique.  A thin layer of crunch that then exploded into a luscious soft cream.  I am drooling as I write this.  Then I had bun with charbroiled pork and crispy springrolls.  Ah, more drool.  The pork was an ungodly red color, but tasted like the little piggy had been forcefed ginger, garlic and chiles its whole piggy life.  How else could little bits of meat taste so intense.  So, I have found decent ethnic.  Yet the ultimate ethnic food eludes (and I blame only myself) - St. Louisian.  

Trip number two was more successful.  Red vines and Diet Dr. Pepper were purchased.  The fuel of all champion academics (so I tell myself).  And as we left, armageddon fell down upon us.  Like the wind picked up and blew off a stapler.  Yes, a stapler.  We made it back safe n' sound.

Now I'm off to enjoy this dark and brooding day.  By brooding in a dark way. 

Meat, meat, meat

So, I think that I may begin a photo-essay of meat sections in local St. Louis grocery stores.  A visual anthropological - social exploration of the intersection between 1) economics 2) cuisine and 3) neighborhood community. 

For example.  Same grocery chain, two different locations. 

1) Ground turkey breast, lamb (ground, chops etc.), decent parts of the pig and cow.  Decent as in - not guts.  Your standard organic/angus ground beef with all the range of fat percentage from 80 to 93.  Chicken breasts, lots of them. 

2) Tripe, pig trotters, an entire smoked meat section, the fattest-loveliest cuts of pig steak and beef steak I've ever seen, 1/4 (of a cow) slab cuts of brisket, 5 pound packages of ground beef (60-73 percent fat, no extra lean on display here.  Let's be honest, not even vaguely lean on display here.).  Lamb - nope.  Ground turkey breast - nope.  Poultry breast bits in general are not the majority - more turkey thighs and chicken thighs then you can shake a stick at. 

Hmmmmm.  Let's see - what kind of neighborhoods do you think these two different stores serve?  You'd probably be right. 

I've got to start dragging my camera along on these adventures.  I know I know.  We live in a visual culture now.  Reading is too hard.  Tough (for now). 

A Payback is owed

So, all of you out there that have been salivating at my eating St. Louis cuisine will be repayed in full. With pictures, mind you.

I owe somebody something. Om nom nom, as they say.

FYI (not meaning to offend anyone), but I miss the good old days when commies were commies and we were renegade proud democrats. I mean the Olympics just don't have the same oomph if I can't surreptiously root for the 'other side'. I had a platonic crush on Katarina Witt. (I was always more of a winter voyeur). I hated her for defeating Debbie for the gold at Sarajevo, but spent several hours post-broadcast attempting to recreate on dry land her skater-ific Carmen.

1984 Los Angeles. It was momentous because it followed the non-appearance of our nation in 1980. And it was always about the Eastern Germans. But, really - consider what that really means. We were traumatized athletically by communists from a very small country. Many of them from half of a city. Half of a city. Politically and Historically important, but still . . . small, really small.

And we've never really reconciled our national fascination/distruct of Bella Karyoli. And Nadia . . . there is still no competition. But when Mary Lou hit that vault landing, it was thrilling. My parents had moved a mattress downstairs in front of the tv (thank god for their forbearance and patience with my antics) so that I could bounce along. I still prefer Nadia's stoicism to any perky americana, but she was the 'enemy'. In the end, I still say Go commies - but that's beside the point.

Final Thought: Is Michael Phelps not human? He just set the pace for some sort of crazy world record setting relay - like 5 secs under the current world record. He's 5 gold medals for 5, ALL OF THEM WORLD RECORDS. Wtf.

This is it.

Today in the mail I received a postcard. A postcard of destiny.

From Imo's pizza. The 'original st. louis style' pizzeria. Serving it up real style to the fine folks of St. Louis.

But, darn, cracker-crust and provel don't come cheap. A medium two topping is 9.99. And it goes up from there.

I'm tempted to order. Yet - shucks, I just put a pot of chile verde on the stove. I guess I'll just have to wait.

But time is not on my side. The postcard says that I only have until Sept. 30 to take advantage of their offer. For now, it is an offer I can refuse.

tick tock tick tock

Today. A Day like most other days.

I'm beginning to believe that I live in some strange land where everything takes twice as long. A fairy land of 'hurry up and wait.' Or, maybe this is just midwest living?

I spent a lot of time on the phone today with lots of different people to try and fix my internet. Its not really fixed, but the consensus seemed to be 'well, if that's the way it is. that's the way it is.'

Also, my on-again, off-again relationship with Charter is . . . on-again. This time its the crazy-making buzzy hum that emits from my tv, but only when I'm watching cable.

And I still have water damage, and no word on when 1) roof will actually be fixed and 2) when yucky icky stainage on the walls will be a thing of the past.

Did I tell y'all about Mortimer? He was the cockroach I killed the other night. A bloody huge one. I measured him post-mortem. 1.5 inches of buggy carapace. Antenna another 2 or more inches.

Sigh. Its enough to make a girl miss southern Italy. The weather was actually nicer in Naples. And the pizza was tasty and cheap and not 'snot on a cracker'. And everyone expects everything to take twice as long, so you can be pleasantly surprised when it doesn't. And even tho' there was garbage - I never saw a cockroach/rat the whole two weeks (a better comparative average than the two weeks here.)

Oh, and not to be all complainy - but my shuttle bus is kind of scary. Like there was a crack or meth addict on it this morning (with sores), and on the ride home (at 11:30 am) one nice lady had already gotten her drink on. Mmm, yessir. I don't think I've ever smelled public transportation so redolant with spirits. At least, I am willfully hoping that it was the lady and not the bus driver.