The Craigs

Guacamole

Ingredients (starting):

6 avocados

1 tomato

3 stalks of green onion

1 handful of fresh cilantro leaves

1 lemon

Salt

Will probably need more ingredients to adjust flavor.

Peel avocados, remove seeds, and put into mixing bowl. Chop tomato, onion, and cilantro individually until they are very fine and then put them into mixing bowl. Cut lemon and squeeze juice into mixing bowl. Add a dash of salt. Mash all ingredients until they become a paste.

Here's the fun part: taste the guacamole; guess what is wrong. Then add and mix those missing ingredients. My guacamole's tomato flavor was too strong, so I included an extra avocado, a couple more stalks of green onion, some more cilantro, and another 1/2 lemon.

I almost never eat guacamole, so I didn't know how it should taste. Ryan liked how it tasted in the end, but Sarah wanted more salt. It all comes down to taste.

The guacamole went very well as a topping for Mexican Turkey Burgers.

Ryan had a special scoop (pictured in bottom

center) for the avocados, but I didn't like it.

I would rather cut and then pull the core

from the skin by hand. I did like the chopper

(pictured in the top center) and wish I had one

because I use a lot of chopped garlic and onion.

Even though I rarely eat guacamole, this recipe was fun because it represents the core of cooking. Subjectively, cooking is not about exact, scientific measurements or precise step-by-step instructions. It's a gut feeling. It's shooting from the hip. It's personal. It's art. That's what makes it fun. I've heard about people who are very exact about recipes and cooking, but that's not fun. It's also constraining. It doesn't allow experimentation, and experimentation lets me find new recipes. I'd rather make a few mistakes and know more about what I'm cooking, what makes it taste that way, and what makes it better.

I now want to learn how to make homemade salsa. I wonder how hard it would be to make homemade tortilla chips. I would also like to learn how to make BBQ sauce.

Elizabeth and Phoebe

The other night here in Houston I threw one of Phoebe's (my sister's dog) toys, and Elizabeth started laughing. I then took this video:

Ever since then, I now notice that Elizabeth's eyes follow Phoebe whenever the dog is around. Phoebe still isn't the biggest fan but has warmed up to the 6-month old.

Lankford Grocery- why is Houston the most obese city in America?

I made a huge mistake in Scotland. I went to the pub Victoria (the "Vic") on Market Street and saw that they had 2-for-one burgers for dinner. It sounded like a tempting offer, so a friend and I split it. I quickly learned that pub food sucks. It was one of the worst burgers I've ever had. The meat had been microwaved instead of cooked on a grill, and it wasn't ground beef. I'm honestly not sure what it was. Cafeteria food at my elementary school was better than this crap. I swore not to eat another hamburger until I was back in the US of A.

This summer my brother-in-law and I went to several burger joints around Houston, including Five Guys and Fries and Smashburger. Today we tried a new place, Lankford Grocery, which was featured on the Food Network's "Diners, Drive-Ins, Dives". I didn't know it was on tv until I saw a huge poster, signed by the show's host, in the restaurant.

Still family owned today, this hole-in-a-wall shack at 88 Dennis Street was originally a mom-and-pop grocery store built in the late 1930s. They started selling sandwiches in the early 70s and then burgers in the late 70s. As the neighborhood changed, it stopped being a grocery store in the 90s and became solely a burger joint with lunch plate specials. Today's special was the enchilada plate.

Holiday decorations, including blue Miller Lite ornaments, covered the walls along with other memorabilia. We sat by the large front windows, which had been the garage opening; the garage doors were pulled open and hanged above our heads. An uneven floor sank around the counter and front door. The roof above our heads sagged even though a huge beam tried to keep it up. They didn't have a soda fountain but only sold canned drinks. I drank tap water from a colorful plastic cup not too different from what I would use at home. The place was crowded, and we were lucky to find a seat at 1 pm. Even at 1:30 and 2 new customers came in but had to leave because there wasn't enough space. The summer is probably better for business since they can sit outside, but then the Houston humidity would be a problem. Hanging from a rusty pole, the only sign was dirty, plastic, and had an "Enjoy Coca-Cola" below the "Lankford Groc."

Here are a couple photos (like my last post, the pics are from my cell, which doesn't have the greatest camera function):

At 56º f (13º c), Houston was too cold for anyone to sit outside.

My first burger since the Vic disaster.

Fried egg on a burger- who came up with that idea?

I'll go ahead and say it wasn't a skinny dude-

that's probably a safe bet.

I ordered the "Grim Burger;" six hours after the fact I still feel nauseous and smell like grease. The menu description said, "mac & cheese, bacon, fried egg, & jalapeño." I've never tried that combo before, but it's a dang good idea. I'm not sure if I'd go for jalapeño again since they're not my favorite, but it was worth doing once. Fried egg with mac & cheese on a burger was glutton genius. For the past few hours, I can taste the burger whenever I burp. That might be TMI, but I'm ok with that.

If someone eats these things on a regular basis, they'll see the grim reaper sooner rather than later. If there's a food worth dying for, a greasy burger is it.

There's an elephant

I arrived into Houston Thursday afternoon, and later that evening Ryan (my bro-in-law) said to me, "There's going to be an elephant." "What?" "There's going to be an elephant." "I don't understand what you're talking about." The next day the three of us were going to a Christmas Pageant (or as they called it, a "Christmas Celebration") at First Baptist Church of Houston; Ryan heard on good authority that an elephant was going to be part of the show.

I was thinking there was going to be a small elephant brought into the sanctuary by the side door, but I didn't expect the church to walk the elephant through the middle of the sanctuary. Even though we were expecting it, it was still a surprise.

Yes, that's an elephant walking through the middle of church.

Some other cool stuff from the pageant: Cables lifted Santa Claus on his sleigh over the congregation as he made his grand arrival and exit from the stage. Cables also suspended angels over the stage, and a spotlight illuminated them in the dark sanctuary before the angels dropped the trails to their long flowing white gowns.

Because of a mishap with the nursery, Elizabeth (my six-month old niece) had to sit with us in the congregation. She's a rather calm baby, and for a whole hour she sat quietly and watched the stage and lights. Then she fell asleep just before the elephant came in.

Calmest baby in the world.

Miles to go before I sleep (a little more than 5,400 to be exact)

Today has been a rather long day, and it probably won't end until sometime tomorrow. This morning I went running with a flatmate along a wooded trail outside St Andrews. The path was quite gorgeous at several points as we ran up hills where we could see the North Sea in the distance and around gorges that were thirty or more feet deep. Unfortunately, the path wasn't always paved. I fell the first time while running on a muddy path leading to the top of the first big hill, and I landed into some thorns. I slipped again while running down that hill, and my last fall was near a gorge. I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to stop my fall and keep rolling down the steep hill into the rocky stream below. Once my shoes were slightly muddy, I lost most of my traction until we returned to the paved roads. I'd love to go again once the ground dries up a little bit, and maybe next time I'll avoid the slick spots better.

Tonight I'm leaving for Edinburgh where I'll spend the night at the airport. My flight for Amsterdam is at 6 am, and the first bus leaving from St Andrews is at 6:25 am so that I have to leave tonight. Since my flight is so early, I don't really see the point in getting a hostel for the night. I would arrive into Edinburgh at 8:40 pm and have to be at the airport sometime around 3 am or so. I might as well spend the night for free in a 'comfortable' chair. I've already spent a few nights in airports, and I don't recommend it very highly. Last time I was in Stockholm, and I couldn't sleep until I was back home in Châteauroux, France the next afternoon. I don't expect to sleep much tonight if at all.

I have this grandiose dream that I'll actually get some work done while at the airport and on my flights back to Houston. Today I bought 3 books for class which should help me on the exams next January, but we'll see how much I actually read tonight.

Who Dat

I remember when we called the Saints the "Ain'ts" because they ain't gonna win. That was just a few years ago. They were one of those pathetic teams that no one really followed because we all knew what was going to happen: they were going to lose, eventually. We were excited when they won their first playoff game back in 2000 against the defending champions, St Louis. Unfortunately, they later lost in true Saints' style. Even last season when they had the most productive offense, their defense sucked.

Now that New Orleans is good, I'm living in Scotland where I can only get a few NFL games from Sky Sports in a pub, and those games have mostly been with Green Bay or Dallas. I'm surprised they haven't shown any of the Saints games.

This week I noticed on Politifact.com where Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal predicted that the Saints would go undefeated and win the Super Bowl, but then Jindal went on to say that this feat has never been done in the NFL. Of course, the 1972 Dolphins had a perfect season with a Super Bowl win, so Politifact ruled this comment a "false." I like Politifcat because they seem to be balanced enough and call politicians on their crap, but this article hardly seems worth the time. I know it's a quick comment to check and prove wrong and thus an easy article, but he's just mouthing off about sports. Maybe Jindal should have gone really over the top with an awesome hyperbole. He could have said all Saints wins were bigger than any other victory in sports history, including the Miracle on Ice. It would have been false, but maybe he could have shown his personality and gained support from sports fans.

New Orleans Saints' Devery Henderson runs to the

end zone to score on a 75-yard pass from

Drew Brees during the 2nd quarter.

The Clarion Ledger. Ryan Moore.

New Orleans Saints owner Tom Benson with

wife Gayle arriving for the New England Patriots game

on November 30, 2009.

AP Photo. Dave Martin.

I really like this last photo. In Britain, Benson would be flipping off someone. I know that's not what he's really doing, but I'd like to think he is. This way of flipping the bird is such a posh way of telling someone you hate them while reminding them that they're inferior because they only know the American way. I especially like that he's doing this at the Patriots game. Like anyone with good sense, I hate the Patriots. Now, if you're from Boston or the surrounding area, I can forgive you for liking them... sort of. If you're from anywhere else in the country, then your a douche. You're also probably a sell-out Yankee fan, which makes you a bigger douche. I'd like to dedicate Benson's unintended bird for all those Patriot and Yankee fans.

Slow down. I'm not used to meeting Johnny Cash in the flesh

Story from this weekend: While at church yesterday, I met a retired minister who studied at St Andrews, so he asked me a bunch of questions about the town. As I answered him, he stopped me, "Slow down. Slow down. I'm not used to meeting Johnny Cash in the flesh." Of course, he had a thick Scottish accent I could barely understand. Later I asked one of my cousins if my accent was difficult to understand, and she said 'no.' Maybe he had trouble hearing in general, and I strongly doubt I sound like Johnny Cash. I also doubt that I even look like him, but maybe I should dress in black and form a cover band. That'd be cool. He's apparently popular over here because I hear his music in the pubs from time to time. I probably hear Cash more in Europe than I do in the states.

I'm not sure whether or not I like these photos I took at Keyshill farm near Ayr. I took a whole bunch of other photos at different shutter speeds and aperture settings, so in a couple days I may like those more than these, but I figured I'd go ahead and put these up on the blog and let y'all look at them.

Only a couple family photos

I know it's a major faux-pas not to take a bunch of family pictures in these situations, but I only took a couple. Since I do live in Scotland, I'll be back to this side of the island after I return in January, so I'll take more photos then.

Group photo Sunday night

at "tea," as Dorothy likes to call it.

I'd say that's a Scottish thing,

but Fiona doesn't call it that.

I ate brussels sprouts for the first time...

well, I ate one brussels sprout.

As a cultural exchange, I taught the cousins

Texas Hold 'Em, and they gave me Scotch mixed

with spices. In this photo I had just gone all in

and was about to lose to Ian's pair of kings

when the 'river' gave me a third jack to win the hand.

I eventually lost. I'll blame it on beginner's

luck and not my stupidity.

Keyshill Farm

My Scottish cousins own a farm just outside of Ayr, and I visited them this past weekend. I first came here back in 1993 and again in 2000, and those trips were my first excursions outside the United States. I haven't been back in 9 years, and a lot has changed. Some of my cousins have grown up a lot, which is expected yet surprising. I'll post some more pictures later. Here are some pictures of the farmhands 'freeze branding' some of the cows with metal numbers dipped in dry ice:

The metal numbers in a tub of dry ice.

Cow by the milking station.

A Cut and Shot

The Barber's Pole on South Street

It's not the fanciest barber shop, and the beige interior has less character than a generic hotel conference room. An employee printed the sign in the window on a computer instead of making it at a respectable print shop. The old radio in the corner has a cassette player but not a CD player, and the reception is a little off so that I can't hear the imported American music. There are only a couple chairs, which don't go up or down like the chairs in true hair salons. No one washes the customer's hair with fragrant shampoo. In fact, this barber doesn't use any water at all, not even water from a spray bottle to moisten the hair before she cuts away with scissors that she did not sanitize after cutting the last customer's hair. She does use an electric shaver with a preset length guard that my friends buy at Wal-Mart so that they can easily cut their own hair at home. There is no clean shave with a straight blade or warm foam, but that is probably too archaic to still happen in barber shops today. Besides, I'm not sure how I feel about a stranger taking a sharp knife to my throat, especially if I did not tip well last time since I didn't know how much the British tip. There are no appointments and rarely a wait. It only costs £6.50 with the student discount, but I should check with other barbers to see if that is the best deal in town.

The best part of the whole gig is the shot of scotch whiskey at the end. They advertise the free shot from their window, but the barber never offers it after the cut. I rarely see customers ask for it. Maybe a shot of whiskey at 3 pm is too much. Then again, it does come with the cut. I'm not about to pass up a free shot of whiskey, and the pre-happy-hour time is no deterrent. The whiskey is an unglamorous mixed blend whose bottle doesn't boast being in a single barrel for 12 or 21 years. I think the same bottle has been sitting up on the counter since my last hair cut a month and a half ago. At least the barber pours a full, healthy shot into a touristy shot glass with Scottish scenery painted on the side. It's better than the tiny and expensive shots at the pub. I asked the barber if other shops give free shots of whiskey after haircuts. Apparently, it's a gimmick that only this shop does. Well, it's a memorable gimmick that gets the university students' attention.