Would You Like Parts With That?

Earlier this week, my mom presented me with an "assignment." Not interested in hearing what I expected to be a laborious task, I displayed my stitched up knee. "Doesn't it look more swollen today?" My mother kept talking. "Sarah, your dad and I would like you to find a restaurant for us to eat at for our anniversary," throwing in "... and we want you to come, so make sure you'll eat there too."

Was she really giving me this throwback? My dad has always been the chef of the family, and I, the lowly admirer (or on a good day sous chef), have mostly just been best for making reservations. Actually, at a certain time, I was pretty decent at uncovering the city's hidden gems. But since I moved up north, I've felt a little out of touch with Atlanta, and haven't kept up with its restaurant scene. So what's a girl to do? This was like rock climbing after a winter off: you're a little rusty on locating a route to the top. Phew!

So, I hopped on the computer and reacquainted myself with some of my favorite Atlantan restaurant bloggers. Generally, my family eats a lot of french food, but I was on a mission-- searching for a bold food adventure! Without the restraints of this regular search boundary, I was able to explore all types of cuisine metro Atlanta had to offer... South African, Ethiopian, Tex-Mex. Then, I found it. An upscale, yet non-pretentious gastro-pub: Holeman and Finch Public House, located right on the edge of Midtown and Buckhead. Yes, it was the one.

The day came as we pulled up to the valet, walked in, and were seated. A kooky, red-glasses-wearing waitress greeted us, and sooned turned out to have very impressive knowledge of the menu, which was compiled of unique ingredients, many that were unfamiliar to me. H&F wins its aclaim for, according to Creative Loafing, being "a chef's restaurant... [with] all the food that chef's want to serve, but restaurant owners refuse to allow." So what delicacies were introduced that night?

H&F's entrance... greeted by the kitchen!

I started off with a creative cocktail made by Chef Greg Best (awarded one of America's top ten "mixologists" by Playboy Magazine) christened "Neutral Grounds." It was an enticing mixture of bourbon, fresh lemon juice, raspberry liqueor and Angostura bitters, topped with Victory Prima Pils and sprinkled with fennel pollen. Booze, booze, and beer-- what a concoction! Surprisingly, theses fixings fused into the acute flavor of grapefruit. Deeelicious. In the meantime, my parents split a bottle of Spanish wine. We were also pleasantly surprised to find the menu was tapas (small plates) style, and immediately ordered a long list of items to share.

First, we were presented with the red and yellow watermelon salad (yes, there are yellow watermelons) with lime créme fraîche. The cubed fruits were vaccuum packed with small bits of lime to infuse the flavors, making them more intense. Each bite of this starter was sweet of melon, lush and creamy with the créme fraîche, and bursting with droplets of lime juice. Simple, refreshing, and cleansing.

We had a few more small dishes (fried pickles, quail, mussles, deviled eggs) before veering off the culinary cliff. We had entered the "parts" section of the menu. Committed to the experience, I smiled while requesting an order of veal brain; my parents followed with their requests for sweetbreads and veal fries. What had I gotten us into? Did I really just order brains?

Minutes later, the brain was served. "You ordered it Sarah; you get first bite." My mom nudged the plate towards me. The brain looked like a small chicken breast, lightly breaded. Not too bad, I thought to myself, I can do this. I tried to convince myself that I'd eaten things just as unusual. First (and last) bite lay in my mouth, flowing over my tastebuds. The brains have the same consistency of a soft cheese, like Brie, but I could feel the natural folds of the tissue, and this just set me off. I could not get past the texture. Downed a few more sips of cocktail, and signed for someone else to dive in. No more brains for me.

Next, sautéed veal sweetbreads served a-top raw black-eyed peas. I was slightly more familiar with these, the thymus gland of a cow. These were shaped interestingly, they sort of looked like 2"x2" molars. A little lumpy, but certainly square. As I chewed, the texture was something I was comfortable with- firm, like a day old bread pudding. The fresh peas cut the fatty taste and the flavors melded marvelously.

Finally out came our order of schnitzeled veal fries with a gremolata of orange zest, lemon zest, and parsley. I kept running through my mental dictionary. Fries? Certainly not the same thing we're asked to supersize at McDonalds. Fries. Fries. Fries. So, as both of my parents were digging in, I sat pondering. Finally I resorted to naming some edible parts of a calf. Brisket...knuckle...fillet...loin... though I certainly do not have a diagram of calf parts in my mind, I could not figure out what I was missing. Loin... groin! Are both of my parents eating what I think they are? Am I about to eat that? You bet. Baby cow testicles... god, it doesn't get classier than that, right? And you know, as far as "parts" go, these beat both the brain and the thymus. No, they did not "taste just like chicken," but they were good. Good enough that fans in Illinois hold an annual "Testicle Festival," which has more balls "than you can shake a stick at." While I doubt that my liking for fries will ever grow this deep, it sure is great knowing I'm not the only one.

We topped off the night with deep-fried peach pie, a coke float with boiled peanut ice cream, and a decadent chocolate cake. This was all I could ask for. Maybe not the regular definition of a "fun time," but we had a great one! I tip my hat to Chef Linton Hopkins, named one of Food & Wine Magazine's Best New Chefs for 2009, for his courage and exquisite execution. He changes the menu frequently, so I will surely be dropping by for more of his clever palate pleasers!

1] Executive Chef Linton Hopkins and his Executive Sous Chef Ryan Smith

2] The quirky Holeman and Finch Public House crew

3] Acclaimed "mixologist" Greg Best

Bon Appetit Y'all!

Sleepwalkers Anonymous

A few weeks ago at work, I was having a daily chat with two of my favorite kids. Kayla, seven years old, and Bryson, her eight year old buddy, have been friends for as long as they can remember. This time the conversation steered over into Bryson's accounts of Kayla sleepwalking... and though the topic isn't new to me, I was inspired to learn more and uncover silly stories of sleepwalkers all over the world. Thus, a new post is born!

the left picture is a little Sigmund Freud-esque, you see it?

Sleepwalkers have been featured on headlines countless times throughout the years. Also, since sleepwalking, or somnambulism, causes sufferers to engage in "wakeful" activities, when really they are asleep, some people have been aquitted of severe charges like rape by pleading that they were sleepwalking at the time of the offense. Records hold that jury acquitted these defendants because the criminal activities were "involuntary and unintentional." Hmm...

Steering from the "sexsomniacs" to a lighter note, a UK woman who regular exercised and maintained a low-fat diet was puzzled over her dramatic weight gain. She went to specialist upon specialist to figure out why she could not maintain a steady weight, but received no clear answer. It wasn't until she woke "with broken biscuits in the sheets and all over [her] face," that she was finally diagnosed with Sleep Related Eating Disorder (SRED), which meant that essentially every night she would sleepwalk her way to the kitchen and "go straight for the snack bars and sugary treats." She consumed over 2000 calories a night for years without even realizing it.

Though sleepwalking isn't very common, affecting only 18% of the population, mostly young boys, a London hotel group experienced a "surge in naked sleepwalkers among guests" which pushed executives to publish a "sleepwalkers guide" for hotel staff, advising hotel staff on how to handle the nocturnal naked wanderers. Desk attendants were advised to keep towels up front, to preserve guests' dignity if found unclothed in the wee hours of the night.

I'm sure there are many many more crazy stories of sleepwalkers, but these were just a few I wanted to share. A bit of a disconnected post, but sweet dreams/happy sleepwalking!

Michael Jackson Lives On

When the King of Pop died a few days ago, I was overcome by a gloom I never expected. I genuinely was upset over a celebrity, and I'm not one to idolize high-profile figures nor do I surf TMZ. Driving home from work that heavy night, his music diffused across the airwaves; his hits endless, and with ease they cut straight to my core.

I came across some crazy conspiracy theories when researching the results of his autopsy: he was abducted by aliens, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad had him killed to direct attention away from the chaos in Tehran, or my favorite- he's still alive! (is MJ moving inside of the body bag?) As one journalist reported, "nothing as routine as heart failure would suffice for the grand finale of this extraordinarily talented man."

Admired or despised, Michael Jackson is a legend. His tumultuous childhood paved the way for an even rougher adulthood. But despite his eccentric personal life, his genius in sound orchestrated a timeless dimension of music that will forever transcend generations.

Michael Jackson Tribute Mix

O Craigslist, My Craigslist

As of late, I've been a huge habitué of Craigslist. It's an all-encompassing conglomeration of listings sure to fulfill any need users have for entertainment, gigs, drugs, housing, or personal connections. The website swarms with controversy as it continues to push the barrier of political correctness and social comfort through transsexual erotic services ads, people posting free Bibles because they "don't believe in that stuff anymore, but if you do here you go," and rants and raves on the President, taxes, whatever. I really see Craiglist as a tool for social progress... of course in an encrypted "it's not supposed to be that way" kind of way.

On my search for other Craigslist fans, I learned about a man named Michael Ferris Gibson. Gibson, a San Francisco native, was captivated by Craigslist when the website was still newborn. He browsed every section, contacting users through their anonymous emails requesting authorization to follow them through their listing experiences. The resulting documentary, 24 Hours on Craigslist, was completed in 2005 and featured in nine film festivals, winning "best feature documentary" along the way. So, learn about the joys of Craigslist, or perhaps depths of it you never knew existed. Enjoy!

view the trailer here: http://24hoursoncraigslist.com/subs/trailer.html

I have the full film if you are interested in seeing more!

The Pill... for men?!

     Just like the title says-- soon there may birth control for men!  China is flying ahead working to create an effective yet reversible male birth control.  One of their biggest hurdles is funding the project.  Drug companies like Wyeth, Schering, and Organon are skeptical: if they provide the money to support further developments of a male contraceptive, will men actually be interested in using them?  Due to this slow progress, scientists working in the field predict that it will be atleast 5-10 years before the FDA approves any form of male birth control for distribution.

     According the the Male Contraception Coalition (haha... honestly, what a cause), the most recent compounds for male birth control were discovered by the contraceptive side effects of relatively old anti-cancer, high blood pressure, and schizophrenia medications.  These active ingredients suppress sperm production and have been isolated and manipulated to create a wide range of birth control options for men.  These medications may come in the form of a seasonal shot, subcuntaneous implants, or a daily pill.

     Similar to the female birth control pill, the male pill is 100% effective so far... in the men that it works for.  An enigma to researchers is the fact that the male pill doesn't even affect the sperm count of about 10-15% of men, mostly Caucasians, thus making it 0% effective for these few. 

     Onto the side effects. My first thought was greaaat, now men will be just as hormonal as women.  But actually, according to drug trials, the only side effects that men on the pill experienced were slight weight gain, maybe a headache here or there, and very rarely, night sweats.

    

Some predicted results for men jumping onboard the male contraceptive train:

-Higher STD infections due to the decreased motivation for using condoms.

-For once men will have control of the baby situation.  They don't want a kid, no problem. Sick of the feel of a condom on their member, no problem. Rich and some girl wants to get knocked up so she can collect buckets of money- definitely not happening.

-Fewer vasectomies (duh)

Is the "Man Pill" a great advancement or just plain demoralizing?  You decide!

Lactation Station

     When browsing through the latest edition of Gastronomica, I stumbled upon an interesting find: an article about...  human breast milk tasting?!!  After stifling my initial reaction, I gathered the courage to read more; and, I guess my primordial instincts came free because I have to admit that I was rather intrigued. 

   

     The author, Charles Reeve, talks about why most Western Civilizations are disgusted by the thought of lactation.  Perhaps it's the confusion of the breast as a sexual object versus a maternal one.  Or maybe it's just the thought of bodily fluids flowing from private orifices. Regardless, milk is packed with vital nutrients like choline to stimulate a baby's growth and learning.  But I digress.... back to the tasting....

     Jess Dobkin, a controversial Canadian artist, has provided an answer.  She ingeniously set up a Breast Milk Tasting Bar, complete with six women's pasteurized breast milk to sample and Cheerios to nibble.  The display was hosted at Ontario's College of Art and Design (OCAD) in 2006, and more than 300 people attended.  "Beer critic, Jon Filson, gamely opinioned, 'Breast milk has a silky mouthfeel, leaving a slight film-but much less even than the skimmest milk from a cow.'"

     If you ever have the itch to sip on some human breast milk, a Lactation Station may be waiting just around the corner!

The Drunk Files

It's happened to most of us at one time or another. Suddenly we feel either outrageously courageous or uncharacteristically sporatic... and then we do it. We compile the rawest (most regrettable) message we're able to, punch in the name of the one person who has no business seeing it, then click... it's SENT!

Clearly, this sore phenomena is common among inebriated internet surfers. But sober individuals too may suffer. The New York Times interviewed one such person. She was prescribed zolpidem (commonly known as Ambien) to combat insomnia. To her knowledge, the drug was successful and allowed her to sleep all night. What she didn't know was that she was waking for short periods in the middle of the night, a condition called sleep apnea. In the morning she had no recollection of these brief wakings nor what she may have done during them. Well, you guessed it... she flooded the inboxes of random people from her contact list during these middle-of-the-night bouts of awakeness.

So, let's thank google for having our backs. Introducing, Mail Goggles. One can activate Mail Goggles in his or her google email (Gmail) account. Gmail asks for a time range during the day or night when you may not be "in the right state of mind" to send an email. Then, if you compose an email during these vulnerable hours and click send, Mail Goggles will lightly let you know "It's that time of the day. Gmail aims to help you in many ways. Are you sure you want to send this?" The reader is then assigned five simple math problems that are to be completed within 60 seconds. If completed correctly and in a timely fashion, off goes your email in to cyberspace. But if you fail, Gmail will suggest, "Water and bed for you." And you are saved until the morning when you see the horrid draft still pulled up on your desktop.