Pizza Pie

de gustibus non disputandum est - you cannot argue about taste - a phrase that signified, historically, the universality of taste, meaning that any judgment formed via gustibus was simply true, for everyone, at all times, so it was indisputable. Today, the self-same phrase is applied with a blithe unconcern when tastes are found to be widely and wildly variant, when no sensus communis is found or even sought after, as if to say 'what's the point in arguing about something for which there can be no agreement?'

If the traditional use of the phrase is to be recovered, and if we are to save ourselves from the degenerative forces of apathy, indifference, and relativism, so as to form a communal and communicative bond that is beyond question, we must turn to pizza. If the universality of taste is in operation anywhere, it is with pizza. Then with pizza, we will find our social, ethical, and epistemological ground.

It all begins with a simple pizza dough (click link to find my favorite dough). I like to use 25-50% whole wheat flour in addition to using whole wheat flour on the work surface for kneading and rolling out.

The trick is to roll it until it is very thin. When using a standard tomato sauce, I like to bake the dough 5 minutes at a high temperature (450 degrees) before flipping it and topping what was the bottom.

Choice ingredients, including fresh garlic and mozarella.

The pie: tomato sauce, mozarella, sweet red pepper, and garlic.

Get creative: basil pesto sauce, chilli & cumin spiced black beans, mozarella (or feta), and red onions.

Stuff it: one crust topped high with sausage, ham, red pepper, onion, & mozarella, then draped with another crust and topped again. de gustibus non disputandum est.

West Highland Way Race

Two of my new mates, Marco and Debbie, competed in the WHW race this past weekend, and my mind has continually wandered to, and wondered at, this absolutely daunting task - all the more so after my experience of running just 23 miles along the mountainous, rocky trail (with an hours long break in between sections even), which left me broken, wasted, dizzy, and confused, thinking that the white spots floating around my field of vision were magically levitating and laughing sheep... or perhaps they were?

But Marco and Debbie were out there, in the rain, through the dark, all day, and possibly into the next nightfall, running not a measly 23 miles, or even 53 miles, but a discombobulating 95 miles! I am anxiously awaiting their results and full race report.

If your interest in the WHW race is also piqued, I encourage you to visit the race website and recommend in particular the short film featuring an ordinary bloke, Mark Hamilton, and his epic struggle to complete the race. Just click the link below and follow the "race community" and "runners videos" tabs:

http://www.westhighlandwayrace.org/

And see last week's post "My Heart was in the Highlands..." for some pictures from the WHW trail.
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Beer of the Week (B.O.W.): sadly, I only sampled one cask ale this week, at the Three Judges pub here in Glasgow - "Independence" from Inveralmond brewery (makers of "Lia Fail" and "Ossians Ale"). Although this pale seemed more suited for fall or winter - with its fuller mouth-feel and caramel notes, accompanied by a hop profile that was not floral but dried grass, not citrusy but resinous - it was a well-made beer. Pairing it with the West End Festival, Glasgow's great summer celebration (a Scottish flavored Mardis Gras), left me wishing I had ordered a "Bitter and Twisted" or "Tradewinds," but this was simply a matter of poor timing.

Whisky of the Week (W.O.W.): a tie between the "Oban" 14 year and the "Bunnahabhain" 12 year, sampled at our new favorite pub on Byres road - the Aragon - a warm mix of good beer & whisky, football fans watching the teles, and quality, live, acoustic music on Sundays. Now that's what the Germans call "Geborgenheit." The "Oban" was sweet and smooth with a burnt fruit and toffee flavor most prominent. The "Bunnahabhain" started out spicy and finished well with a warm vanilla sweetness.

Post-run panny-cakes!

The old lore back in Yellow Medicine County tells of a young boy who, at the breakfast table of Morris "Mad Dog" Melby, once ate 87 pancakes ... in one sitting. His passion for pancakes lives on.

It's berry season in Scotland - honestly the best strawberries I've ever had.

There are purists out there who call for maple syrup alone, but I find thick, goopy golden syrup to be the perfect pancake accoutrement.

The money shot - click to enlarge, but please have drool kerchiefs ready at hand.

But don't forget, there is a heavy dog tax on pancakes.

...a heavy, dog tax.

Britt and Ben's Hoosier Wedding

While I'm on the topic of Britt and love ... we were married December 10, 2007 at the Monroe county courthouse in Bloomington, Indiana - the Hoosier state. For those of you who haven't seen it yet, here is the hit music video, "Hoosier Weddin'":

Happy Birthday Britt!

Slideshow tribute to the love of my life - Britt, the Tern Princess:

May-June Race Report

This spring was an exciting time to not only test where my fitness was at after a long winter of training, but to also gain acquaintance with a fantastic new group of runners and races in my new "dear green place" of Glasgow and its environs. Special thanks goes to local endurance runner extraordinaire and new long-run partner, Gavin Harvie, and all the members of the Garscube Harriers who have accepted me into their club events, never failing to make me feel welcome - like an old mate.

My first week of practicing with the Garscube club included a fun 3k race combining the youth and adult members of the club. Here I am charging up the final hill:
Next on the racing schedule, I donned the Garscube Harrier vest in order to participate in the largest 10k racing series in Scotland - the Polaroids - consisting of four races, over four consequtive weeks, in the neighboring areas of Helensburgh, Clydebank, Dumbarton, and Vale of Leven. Although I was not able to run the final race in the series (the Scottish 10k road championship race at Vale of Leven) due to injury, I had a successful three races, steadily improving my 10k personal bests, running 33:37 (5:25/mile pace) at Helensburgh; 33:17 (5:22/mile pace) at Clydebank; and 33:05 (5:20/mile pace) in the downpour at Dumbarton. I was even fortunate enough to have the following picture (capturing my relaxed and carefree racing form!) printed in one of the local Glaswegian free papers for all to see:
I look forward to a summer of training and socializing with my new mates at Garscube. The focus has now turned toward Loch Ness marathon preparation, including an initial month-long training phase emphasizing speedwork (where I will get to relive my younger days of training for the 800 meter run) before moving onto a diet of heavy miles, long tempo runs ... and pancakes! The goal is to break 2 hours and 40 minutes on the fairly hilly Loch Ness course - goal marathon pace of 6:05/mile.

NEDS!

The least pleasant thing about Glasgow (aside from perhaps the trash and dog mess that no one seems compelled to dispose of properly) are the "neds," known to the world more generally as "punk kids." However, these unruly bastards cannot simply be understood by the more general moniker, so I am pleased that they have their own apt sign and referent: NEDS!

What makes them so distinct, one might ask? It is not so much a difference in kind, but degree - the degree to which they just don't give a shit what or who or how they destroy; for that is the sole purpose of the ned, to reduce lived experience to a mode of unreflective and purposeless destruction. For example, whereas "punk kids" will set fire to an abandoned building because it's there and fire is cool, "neds" will set fire to the same building in order to attack the firefighters with bricks, broken bottles, and knives when they arrive on the scene, thus destroying not only some vacant building, but the entire concept and experience of a community that is worth serving and protecting, of an occupation that is a figure for social valor and heroism. But this is certainly to over-intellectualize the behavior and intent of the ned, which, as we should remember, is defined by its unreflective and purposeless destruction. Another example: whereas a punk kid will lean out the window of an SUV to yell "nice shorts fag" at a passing runner, "neds" (who will never have or be found in an SUV) will come at you in herds and on foot (or occasionally on dirt bikes, most likely stolen), again wielding and whipping rocks and glass bottles; and though it goes without saying that the victim is "pure gay," you need not be wearing the "wee shorts" (or even running) for to provoke the neds.

As far as I know, an in-depth anthropological analysis of Glasgow's neds has yet to be fashioned, and I hereby call attention to the need for such a study, which will most certainly enhance our understanding of youthful destructiveness in its most unadulterated form(-lessness). Until then, I will simply leave you with this dramatic re-enactment of ned-talk (produced under the influence of a few pints I must add):

My Heart was in the Highlands, Now my Foot's in Disrepair

Unfortunately, the denouement to last weekend's run on the West Highland Way (a 95 mile trail from Glasgow to Ben Nevis) was the inability to walk, let alone run. A week of full rest, ice, and ibuprofen has subdued the inflammation of tendons and tissues enough for me to plan a full return later today (and per usual, I suspect this return will exceed the boundaries of moderation and wisdom). Looking forward, the Loch Ness Marathon is 16 weeks away. Looking backward, here are some pics from my amazing and inspiring run through the highlands with some of my fellow running club mates in the Garscube Harriers (click pics to enlarge!):

The bonnie banks of Loch Lomond as seen from Conic Hill (on the Highland fault). Garscube, Moira Young pictured.

The pastoral gloom of Glen Coe

Garscube, Toby Messenger amidst the wilds, ruins, and spirits of highland drovers pastThe road to broken foot (man, was it beautiful though)
Sheep, lots of sheep

Beer of the Week: "Tradewinds" from Cairngorm brewery; from cask at Inchtree Inn in Fort William and at Three Judges in Glasgow; smoky hint to the malt up front and pulls off an amazing, seemless transition to grapefruit; beer of the week and beer of the year thus far! Disappointed with the "Red Cuillin" from Skye Brewery served at Inchtree, not clean-tasting or -looking, just an out of control estery and buttery yeast cloud (couldn't even finish the pint, fault of brewery or pub?).

Whisky of the Week: "Glengoyne" 12 year, toured the lovely distillery at the foot of Dumgoyne hill in the Campsie Fells with Britt and her uncle Roger. Quite a change from our usual imbibing of the smoky, peaty, edgy Islay whiskies like Laphroaig, Caol Ila, and Bowmore; mildness revealed the softer floral, spice, and woody qualities.

Thoughts and Trots: First Entry

Lately I have been injured and thus a little depressed ... thinking about the experience of motionlessness, darkness, nothingness, silence ... Then I read the following and it inspired me to begin blogging:

"What if the void is everything and the only certainty is the fleshly tomb of one's own pain in a universe where no one is listening?"

For some reason I have always been comforted by this thought - celebrate the 'fleshy tomb' I say! And who cares if no one is listening ... just start a blog - the 'answer' to this existential question/crisis.