Pizza and Opossum

Of course this being a vegan cafe the two items in the title are quite separate events. However, as this blog is authored by a former failed poet, I must say the temptation of alliteration was too great. Or is it assonance? As you can see I only fool myself when referring to my failure in the past tense.

In any case, Dinner with Dilip came over and had some BC pizza. As you might be able to guess from his tight smile, he was trying hard to keep the pizza down.

On this particular version I put some artichokes, olives, garlic, onion, sauted shitakkes, and a crumbly masa-garlic powder-olive oil mix on top. I also added some basil from Beloved's garden.
The other night, at approximately 3:00 am, we heard odd clicking noises, almost like a small drip. Rob took a look down the basement and saw a huge rat. Only it was not thus; the next day upon inspection we discovered that we have an opossum inhabiting our basement. This one appears to be an infant and didn't know how to play opossum yet. At one point s/he opened her tiny yet intimidating mouth to reveal many sharp (and poisonous, BC fears?) teeth. BC set to researching the creature immediately, and found some useful information. Particularly of interest
to my inner-vegan was this characterization:

In danger Opossums can feign death or drool heavily for a predator to think the Opossum is sick and unappetizing. Or they hiss and growl, showing sharp teeth, but it's only a bluff. These gentle and placid animals prefer to avoid confrontations.

I naturally deduced they are a bunch of mini-Jesuses, turning their other tiny cheek, so to speak, in the face of adversity. How quickly the opossum became a metaphor for all we should be as humans. This little beast already has it figured out. As they have been around since the time of dinosaurs, one might reason they have had time to figure things out. Unfortunately, though they managed to survive huge reptilian attacks, presumably by "playing possum," they are no match for our motorized vehicles, and many of these cute babes are left orphaned when their mom's are killed crossing the street. Apparently playing dead isn't very effective with automobiles. In any case, I have named our opossum Sybette because they have quite a striking resemblance.

(unbaked) Cinnamon Rolls & *Success*

I must confess that these cinnamon rolls are not fresh. I made them while Rob's mom was visiting. Pictured you will find the pre-cooked roll, then the cut up rolls ready for me to bake. They take a little while to make as you must let the dough rise a few times.
But they get all puffy, sticky, and delicious. I know I took an "after" picture of them baked, but, alas, cannot find it. I am guessing this is another attempt by Beloved Cafe to sabotage Binge Cafe. He is, after all, open again, which explains my recent absence and resorting to old cinnamon roll pictures.

As many of you know, we recently recorded at the wonderfully great Zero Return Studios. The analog experience was amazing, sounds amazing. It is more difficult to record only in the sense that you need to be more prepared and cannot punch in/out as easily. We recorded live, so if one of us messed up we would start over. A few overdubs included backup harmonies, an old Hammond organ, and my beloved bouzouki. The sound is raw (without effects) and enhanced by a technique (by the Great Jim) that brings out the bass sounds of the guitar (since we don't play with a bassist). Our album will be named Other Places.

Last Thursday through Sunday was the biggest Documentary festival in the (country? world? universe?) called Full Frame. We're about a 5 minute walk from the festival. I bid on and won a pass so attended panels, workshops, and many documentaries. I highly recommend: And God Spoke (about Al Franken), My Country, My Country, one on Jim Jones, and another about North Korea.

In any case, one of the documentaries about domestic workers in the US called "Maid in America" had a tidbit of advice that is perhaps well-propagated, but nevertheless helpful. One of the domestic workers said "success is when preparation and opportunity meet." Though I hate one-liner inpirational crap, this very sentiment has me thinking less about how much one toils to no end, and more about efforts being productive potentially and therefore worthy of the expense. Efforts like activism, art, learning obscure bits of useless information. I suppose the framework of the sentiment provides hope - but there are no guarantees. In fact, the phrase has been recast as well to: "luck is when preparation and opportunity meet." Binge Cafe makes no claim to know the answer(s), but must attest that "success is when you meet Binge Cafe."