Standing Aside

What something meant to you is not the same as what it meant to me. Reality differs from perspective. OK, I get that. Neil got to the museum in time for a quick tour, then we headed home in tandem, he in the rental car from the airport. I started cooking, a kind of ratatouille without eggplant, mashed potatoes, pork medallions with horseradish jam. K joined us for dinner, then talked with Neil for a while, she borrowed a flashlight and left a couple of hours later. Slept in, then fixed fried potato patties with fried eggs for breakfast, then back to the museum so Neil could talk with D about the proposed thesis. Stopped at the liquor store, then Kroger, him buying, slow drive home pointing out the highlights. Wedding reception mystery: in what universe is a bunch of white plastic tablecloths hung on a string a better backdrop than good paintings? Go figure. I mean, why would you rent an art museum for a reception if you're going to cover the fucking paintings? While Neil was checking his email I looked through a catalog of new shows available for touring. Expensive stuff, but a lovely show based on the work of Piranesi, the prisons, of course, but also some 3 D pieces generated by a new method of scanning that D and I have been following. Even the prison images, which are 2 D, are presented in a video that layers the depth-of-field. Incredible. Neil said that part of the Tom Experience was to rent a 4-wheel-drive vehicle and actually drive up the driveway. He's napping now, before I start the hours long process of fixing baby-back ribs. I rub them with a mixture of chilies and various other things, essentially everything I can find that doesn't go in a pie, let them sit for a while, then sear them, then wrap them in several layers of foil and cook them for two hours, spinning them around every fifteen minutes, undo the top of the foil and pour the liquid into The Sauce, and let them sit for 15 minutes. I don't sauce them directly anymore, but serve it on the side. Serving them tonight with coleslaw and baked sweet potatoes. Doing two slabs, so we can eat them again tomorrow. These are about as good as any item of food I've ever eaten. I'll do them again, when Sara and Clay get back from Hilton Head, on the rooftop of Terry's apartments, for select members of the Board and special invited guests. I like cooking them for people that have never had ribs before, watching them adjust to eating with their hands, but I love cooking them for people who know ribs and then consider me some kind of genius. It isn't really difficult, it just takes time. The iconic meals all take time. Consider brisket, which on the fast track takes 12 hours, or a really good pot roast, which I can manage in 4, and in both of those cases I'd feel slightly rushed. B and I, back when we cooked together, once did an 8 pound leg of lamb, brushed with blackberry juice and rubbed with chilies, cooked away from the heat, smoked, really, for 5 hours, that melted in your mouth. We passed the bone around, for gnawing. I have to go, make the slaw, so it can mellow, and mix a rub. Just thought I'd keep you up to speed.