Man-Size Chocolate Chip Cookies

This is a really good chocolate chip cookie recipe I found after a bit of extensive research and several trials in the kitchen. They are pretty fantastic and the final product is a cookie that can easily be shared with 2 to 3 other people (I actually have eaten two in a single sitting, but then, I was also just complaining to Heather that I think I've never been fatter). Apparently this is a knock off recipe of the well-known treats from the Levain Bakery in Manhattan.

8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
3 1/2 cups AP flour
3/4 teaspoon Kosher salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 baking soda
12 ounces (2 cups) good quality chocolate chips of your choosing (mixing semi-sweet with the milk variety produces good results)
1 cup pecans (or walnuts or macadamia nuts)

Cream the cold butter with the sugar and brown sugar. Blend in eggs one at a time. Add flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda. Now, you can either reserve a perfectly clean countertop to unload the dough and knead in the chocolate chips and nuts, or simply blend with your mixer--it gets pretty heavy there.

Next shape the completed glob of dough into a long symetrical rectangle and proceed by carefully dividing into 12 equal segments with a large knife. Roll each segment into a ball, which will roughly be the size of a cue ball. I can fit about six on my cookie sheet at a time and, if using a conventional oven, will bake only those six as a single batch at 375 for 19 minutes. Finish the second six. Share and enjoy.

Jesus Christ Was the First Socialist

On Tuesday night Mandi was kind enough to join me at the southern Utahns for Obama gathering at the Jazzy Java. We all introduced ourselves and why we were there. We were apparently the only two "undecideds" in the energized group, although I don't know why Mandi introduced herself as such because she is clearly a decided (see: her sole blog post and numerous comments alluding to her man, McCain).

I think even Mandi would agree, it was a nice experience. At the meeting, some Obama representatives were better than others--the ones with the bitter, conspiratorial tone were hard to stomach, but for the most part it was good people interested in the ideas of a pretty good guy. Discussed several times was an obvious Democratic cause central to the Obama plan: helping the poor. It didn't bother me. Rising poverty is clearly a huge problem our nation faces; it's seems wrong to ignore it and, admittedly, some ideas are poorly informed populism while others do a better job to encourage progress. But a dialogue addressing the problem is a good thing where it is a problem that will only forseeably worsen.

Then tonight I had the good pleasure to volunteer at the church cannery canning thousands of cans of peaches. It was a timely reminder of how those who are underprivileged ought to be helped and who really ought to be helping. When properly done, church welfare is a win-win with people feeling good about their service and people feeling good about a welcomed helping hand. And all this minus the compulsory means necessary with state intervention.

Using western Europe as an example, it has notoriously become a more secular society than what we see in the US; however, it is interesting that the fall of its religious activity has been accompanied by the rise of its welfare state. It would appear that when the government robs churches of the significant role of charitable giving, people quickly lose interest in an institution that now has a less relevant purpose in society. Obviously, other social mores are at play, but the government doing what has historically been the church's job has to have an impact.

I don't think Europe's a bad place because its citizens are comfortable with socialism, and religion still does have its presence there for those inclined, but my questions are: Is our country's current roles for church and state the ideal solution for social welfare, or does the government need to step in where the churches have deficiencies, or Friedman-ites, is it stupid to step in at all?

Oh, and I don't think Jesus Christ was a socialist at all as Hugo Chavez and his red contemporaries like to call it. Clearly the distinction is that Jesus Christ asked to sell all you had and give to the poor. If you care for what He said, it is one's own choice to whom, how much, or even at all.

What's Your Mantra?

The Hindus have AUM--the sound present at the creation--which encompasses all other sounds, words, languages, and mantras. The purpose of the mantra is to bring the mind into focused concentration. You can use it to steer your mind from harmful thoughts or to travel into meditation. Ultimately, we must learn to control our bodies and minds, and a mantra can be a tool that anyone can use. Let it be a scripture, a poem, a lyric, a phrase, or a word. Whatever you choose make sure it is simple to remember and positive. Right now, I'm searching for a mantra. Anyone have any ideas?

BTW, today is the 1st anniversary of visbits. Thanks to you guys it's better than ever.

The Little Things

It has been said often that the devil is in the details. I prefer to look at this way; the beauty is in the details. Or better yet, the beautiful are found in an observation of the seemly minute experiences that make up our lives. For example, I love to fish. Yes with a fly. And yes I am inclined to release all, or most, of the fish I catch. In a story about fly fishing and the enjoyment one gets out of this activity, David James Duncan recounts how he got mixed up with the most foul sort of outdoor enthusiast, the "activist". During this mix up he twisted the point of view, and logic, of this activist to refer to fly fishers as "insect rights activists". If you are not familiar with this story, let me know I will send you a copy, suffice it to say that Brother Duncan chose to use the logic of animal rights activists the world over to justify, no exalt, the practice of catch and release fly fishing as a way of preserving the little lives of mayflies the west over. Pure beauty.

The use of the phrase insect rights activist, is just such an example of the little things that make our lives great. Every now and then I get flack for being a catch and release fly fisher and I just smile and say, "I prefer insect rights activist". Since 10 times out of 10 the person I am conversing with has no idea what I am referring to, I giggle with excitement and launch into an almost evangelical campaign to convert the person to my way of seeing things.

It was in pursuit of this very activism that I recently experienced another of life's little joys.

My father is the person that cultivated in me a love of the outdoors and fly fishing specifically. Growing up we would spend the most memorable of days on what he calls "the seeps of Southern Utah". Small creeks and streams that house small but wonderful populations of trout. He is the one that taught me that fly fishing is an art to practiced and enjoyed all by itself. And that even when you don't catch fish, fly fishing, unlike many other forms of fishing, is still a wonder and a beauty.

Due to a myriad of different circumstances I will not go into here, my father rarely fishes anymore. In fact in the past 12 months, the only time he has gone fishing is with me, in Idaho. I use the lure of grandchildren to coax my mother into bringing my father up to Idaho so that she can hang out with them and I can return a life's worth of fly fishing favors to my father by playing guide.

The South Fork of the Snake river is a far cry from "the seeps of Southern Utah" and a wonder in its on right. Every year on or around the 4th of July my father comes to Idaho to try and make it to the river for "The" fly hatch; that of the salmon fly. Aquatic insects so large they inspire the abandonment of all reason by all trout in the waters that experience "The" hatch. I often compare it to what I would imagine would happen if you were to through large T-Bone stakes to a pit of alligators. The gnashing and whaling of teeth; aka phenomenal fly fishing. To an old angler like my dad, it is what your elder years are supposed to be like, dry fly fishing on one of the most breath taking powerful tale waters in the Western United States. It is this promise that makes the trip so anticipated each year.

As a result of him not fishing as often as he once did, my dad is not as proficient as he once was. He misses strikes, screws up great drifts with bad casts, and in an effort to land the big one, breaks off many a large trout. This infuriates him to no end, and brings pain to my heart. This giant of man has somehow fallen from fly fishing grace.

And then it happens....

Every year there is that one cast that is just right. No tailing loop. No wind. The right riffle and mend. He sets the hook and is patient enough to land that perfect fish. Astonishingly vibrant color, mean and strong. To be honest this year it wore him right out when he finally landed the damn thing. Shaking with equal parts age and excitement he releases the hook and holds the creature in the sun smiling with pure joy. What a moment for me. One of the little things that makes life great. One favor down, one million to go.

Thanks dad.

3 Cosas K Me Gustan

MY CAREER--It's rebirth every fall and dying again in the spring. The educational cycle.

THE WEST--I was born in it. I've struggled with it. Now I want to know everything I can about it--history, geography, flora, fauna, and religion, too.

PODCASTING--It's free, and it's for me. Some of my favorites are NPR's Fresh Air, Bill Moyers Journal, Stuff You Should Know, and This American Life. If you're sick of your music, the radio, and you don't have the money to remedy your situation, podcast. You'll luv it.