Movies I'm Watching: The Best Movies I've Never Seen

I recently came across a reference to Leonard Maltin's 151 Best Movies You've Never Seen (Harper Studio, 2010). The title is designed to be provocative, to make you say to yourself "I bet I've seen a lot of them." And that's what I said to myself. I see a lot of movies, including fairly obscure ones, and I watch a lot of older films.

I looked the book up on Amazon and found myself humbled by the table of contents: I had seen only one of the 151 films on the list. Oh dear. I did a little searching, and found two similar books. One was Richard Crouse's The 100 Best Movies You've Never Seen (ECW Press, 2003). I have seen six of the films recommended in that book--somewhat better. The other was The 100 Best Films to Rent You've Never Heard Of (St. Martin's Griffin, 1997). I have seen 13 of the 100 recommended there--even better. Still, I have to admit that I'm surprised there are so many purportedly worthwhile films in these three books that I have yet to see--and there is very little overlap on the lists.

I feel a project coming on.

What sort of project? First, I clearly need to see some of these selections. Second, recommending obscure favorites is a game that anyone can play. I could recommend a few of my own. This is beginning to feel like a dual-layer project....

No film is on all three lists. Eight films are on two of the lists: Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, Bubba Ho-Tep, The Devil's Backbone, Delicatessen, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Kind Hearts and Coronets, Peeping Tom, and Two-Family House. As I have seen two of these (Beyond the Valley of the Dolls and Kind Hearts and Coronets, I think I know where to begin.

For a list of some of my personal favorites that few people seem to know, see my following post on the subject of movies.

Plants I'm Growing--First Blooms: California Poppy (2010)

The first California poppy (Escholzia californica) of the year bloomed in the garden today. It was a rather drowned-looking single blossom, although today we had a lull in the rain. The first California poppy opened on March 19 in 2009. So, a year according to this plant was 351 days.

Also, first blooms today on the Franciscan wallflower plants  (Erysimum franciscanum) I picked up at one of the plant sales at the Strybing Arboretum in the city last year. These bloomed on February 20 in 2009. A year according to this plant was therefore 378 days. The poppy produced a short year, the wallflower a long year. Interestingly, the average of the two values is 365.

Wines I'm Drinking: 2001 Château de la Rivière Fronsac

Deep medium red, tending toward brown, suggestive of a little age. Very nice bouquet. Cocoa. Leather. Violets. Something decidedly musky as well. Not long on fruit. Rather astringent and tannic at first. Quite restrained. Austere even, but cleanly made. Not at all unpleasant, but at first seems to have no especially endearing qualities either. Initially seems rather drab. I had my doubts that this wine would open up at all, but with a little time I began to notice that the scent of candy apples had joined the fray and some of the initial astringency began to fall away. The initial suggestions of cocoa and violets became more assertive on the nose. On the palate, I began to enjoy a lingering sweetness offset by persistent, spicy, fine-grained tannins suggestive of nutmeg and with a hint of bitter chocolate on the finish. This is a subtle, delicate wine. It's almost certain to baffle wine drinkers that need a knock on the head with a bowl of spiked fruit punch to enjoy their wine, but it's worth a try. Just don't crowd it. Serve it with foods that are equally delicate and in a setting that allows you to pay attention to the wine. It may be at its best just sipped, alone. Not a self-promoting crowd pleaser by any means, but interesting nevertheless. I liked this more the more time I spent with it. $14.99 at Trader Joe's, which seems a fair price. Recommended--with the above caveats.

Plants I'm Growing: Just Because It's Pretty

Nothing much to report, really, but the back garden was very pretty in the rain today--another 1.5 inches fell last night and nearly another three quarters today. Visible in the photo are two varieties of rosemary in bloom, the golden currant (Ribes aureum) that recently started blooming  (back left), the dwarf nectarine (pink), the dwarf peach (darker pink, mostly obscured by the foreground tree), and Daphne odorata. The tree is a coral bark Japanese maple "Sangokaku." Also visible is the stone wall at the back of the yard. Beyond the wall are the grape vines, but they are hard to see in this view. The beehive is clearly visible in the middle of the picture, against the wall.

Just because it was pretty today in the rain.

Plants I'm Growing--First Blooms: Cytisus Scoparius

The first blooms opened on the Scotch broom (Cytisus scoparius) called "Moonglow" today, which seems very early. As is so often the case, only one or two buds have opened--well ahead of the main rush of flowers, but I record today as the first day. This plant bloomed last year on March 24, so these are quite early. A year according to this plant was 343 days, one of the shorter years the plants have so far calculated. The median has been around 362 days.

First blooms today also on Prunus tomentosa, or Nanking cherry, a small bush cherry.

Television: Why I love the Olympics

Since the start of the Winter Olympics--a little more than two weeks ago--I've been thinking about the meaning of the games, as one does every four years or so. I'm always mildly surprised by my own interest in the competitions, as I'm generally not a fan of sports; the Olympics are one of the few sporting events I look forward to and watch as much as I can. A fair number of people claim to hate the games, but I was heartened to see that a Google search on "Why I hate the Olympics" returns only 40,000 hits, while a search on "Why I love the Olympics" gets 139,000 hits. I decided to poll my friends and acquaintances to see why they feel the way they do about the games. I know the Vancouver Olympics are over now, but I'm still watching the portions my brother was able to tape for me (don't worry Olympic Commission, it's for private use--I have no TV service--and I plan to erase the tapes after viewing).

Talking to friends, there appears to be quite a homogeneity of opinion about both the appeal and about what turns people off. Most people who say they hate the games say they dislike the behavior of nations that attempt to breed athletes from absurdly young ages in national "medal factories." These national programs seem to arouse the same indignation as sweatshop child labor, and rightly so. The Olympics haters point to the secretive behavior of Olympic committees worldwide and the sometimes absurd protectiveness of the IOC of its trademarks and other rights. They point to the taint of money in the form of advertising and sponsorship that has attached to the games. They call the games elitist and object to investments governments make to host the games or support teams at taxpayers' expense. They point to the nationalism the Olympics can foster.

I am a fan of none of these things. In particular, I dislike the nationalism the games create. National pride is one thing, and not a bad thing necessarily, but nationalism is too often used as an excuse for the re-writing of history by people in power at the expense of people that have none. (In one of those odd little coincidences in life, I just read an excellent review in the most recent New York Review of Books that touches on this very subject--the misuses of history*.) Even some athletes profess to dislike the games--saying that World Cup events are the true test of the greatness of an athlete. In particular, they seem to resent the public's focus on a single set of competitions that happens only once every four years. (Yet, these same athletes seem to want the Olympic gold medal very much--often very, very much.)      

Most people who enjoy the games point to one thing; the hard work and dedication of individual men and women aiming to become the best a human being can be at bobsledding, or ski jumping, or javelin throwing, or just running fast. It seems a good thing to dedicate a lifetime to--or the best part of a lifetime.  Sport interests me when it is sport at its best--people at their best. And so I watch and I cheer for the winners--regardless of what country they come from.

But, there is another thing. Call me sentimental, but the very idea of the Olympic games--at least of the ancient Olympic games--still seems a noble one to me, regardless of how it has been altered over the years or tainted by this or by that. As a child, I loved learning that the whole Greek world was supposed to have laid down arms during the games. I first came across the idea reading A Child's History of the World (V.M. Hillyer, first published in 1924). I see the book is still in print. That doesn't surprise me. It was a delight to read. I remember pulling it out of the big dark wood bookcase with leaded-glass doors in our house in Dayton to start reading it, at my mother's suggestion--she had enjoyed it as a child. It was her copy that I read. I imagine it's been revised, rewritten, brought up to date. If I were to read it now, I might see the stories in an entirely different light, but I remember thinking then--I must have been about 10 or 11--that dropping everything for the games was a special idea.

Humanity having the good sense--even if occasionally, once every fours years--to set priorities in so hopeful a fashion is an idea to be celebrated, fervently to be wished for, even if halting all conflict is not achievable today or never in reality has been. By keeping a feeble flame lit under a vision of us as beings that are better than we actually are, we are given something to strive for. Imperfect as the Olypmics are, and although in modern times the games have been put off in order to fight wars--turning on its head the idea that so struck me as a child--the modern Olympics continue to suggest that we can be better if we try. For that reason and because of the phenomenal work of the athletes and the excellence of their performances, I love the games.

*"Drawing the Wrong Lesson," by Max Hastings, a review of Dangerous Games: The Uses and Abuses of History, by Margaret MacMillan. The New York Review of Books, Volume LVII, No. 4, March 11, 2010. In another coincidence, this review mentions the movie Zulu, which I have just written about elsewhere in these pages.

[The Olympic rings are a trademark of the International Olympic Committee. Their use here is solely illustrative. No affiliation exists or is claimed between this blog and the IOC or the Olympic Games. It is not the author's intention to suggest endorsement by the IOC. Use is intended simply to visually alert the reader that the subject of this post is the Olympic games. (The need to say this sort of thing is one of the things people who hate the Olympics hate most about the Olympics.)]

Food I'm Eating: The Great Yogurt Taste-off (Now up to 18!)

I just wanted to point out that I've added four more yogurts to the taste comparison--the last four on the Part IV page. I've now tasted 18 different vanilla yogurts. One of the four new ones was a real stand-out--perhaps the most delicious of all 18 I've tasted*. If you missed the yogurt taste-off, start with the Introduction page.

*[Update: Unfortunately, this was an error on my part. While the yogurt in question is undeniably delicious, it turned out to be an inappropriate comparison as it was not a low-fat or nonfat yogurt. See the article for details.]

Miscellaneous: Colin

There are too many people named Colin in the US these days. When I was a child, Colin was an unusual name here. I was teased. Kids called me a girl, saying my name was "Colleen." They had never heard the name Colin.

In my birth year of 1960, only 7% of names given to boys in the US were more uncommon, according to a Facebook application that rates your parents on the originality of the name they gave you; mine got an A+. Getting teased was the downside--and there was never a "Colin" on the racks of those little license plates for bicycles with first names on them. The upside was that when I heard or saw the name Colin, it almost always belonged to me. Now, men and boys named Colin pop up all over the place--which can be confusing.

Plants I'm Growing: First Blooms--Dwarf Nectarine

This is to note that the first buds on the dwarf nectarine behind the house opened yesterday, or February 27. The little tree will soon be flocked in pink, looking like a cupcake. The plant bloomed on March 5 in 2009, so a year according to this plant was 360 days. So far the average year calculated by the plants in the garden has been a little over 360 days.

Wines I'm drinking: 2007 Pago Florentino Syrah (Spain)

A small triumph of modern winemaking. I recently tasted the 2007 Pago Florentino Syrah, made from grapes grown in Castilla-La Mancha, the southern half of Spain's great central plain, and part of the old Spanish kingdom of Castile (Castilla). With its vineyards mostly at high elevations (1,600-2,300 feet), La Mancha is brutally hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Traditionally, the area has made large quantities of ordinary wine sold mostly in bulk (although I have had excellent wines from Valdepeñas, one of the Denominación de Origen areas within La Mancha). Castilla-La Mancha makes something like half of Spain's wine. The most heavily planted grapes are Airén (far and away the most common) and Cencibel (the local name for Tempranillo), along with Garnacha (Grenache) and Monastrell. Airén is a white grape about which no one ever has anything good to say. It's main distinction is that it has long been the world's most planted variety in terms of acres under the vine--and entirely because so much is planted in La Mancha in vineyards with widely spaced rows. Because of Spain's connections with the New World, the ageworthy reds of that country have traditionally been aged in American oak. All of this information is a prelude to the following observation: The 2007 Pago Florentino Syrah is a non-conformist--thoroughly modern in its philosophy.

The wine is made from Syrah--widely planted around the world, but truly great in only a few places and not generally in Spain. It reaches its greatest heights in the northern Rhône valley in France (think Hermitage, Côte-Rôtie--two of my favorite wines) and in Penfold's Grange, from Australia--that's the conventional wisdom, anyway. So, the grape is "wrong," and, according to the label, the wine is aged for 30 months in French oak rather than American oak.

I'm generally not a fan of Syrah. Too often it's all fruit, with no other dimensions, especially in California and most of Australia (although I admit to relative ignorance here; because I generally don't like Syrah, I usually don't drink it). In extreme cases it can taste like grape Kool-Aid spiked with rather too much alcohol. So, buying a case of this wine on spec was out of character for me. I have to confess that I was convinced entirely by the advertising of the retailer--PJ Wine, in New York (212 567-5500)--which is also out of character. I've been on their e-mail list for about five years now, maybe longer (where has the time gone?). Have you ever made a single purchase from a catalog and then had the catalog follow you around for the rest of your life? That's what happened to me here. Years ago I bought a case of my favorite wine from Provence, Clos Milan, from PJ, as I could find it nowhere else at the time. Since then, I've been receiving their newsletter every week or so in my e-mail (not that I've minded). But something was markedly different this time. The text describing the wine had a palpable enthusiasm I'd never seen before. The buyer admitted to a prejudice against Spanish Syrah and said he had tasted it with great skepticism. But he liked it so much that PJ ended up taking the entire vintage, and it is now the only place this wine is available. My shipment arrived a few days ago. Last night I decided to open a bottle. Had I wasted my money? I was expecting to be disappointed.

They say honesty is the best policy. Although I've come to the conclusion in the past couple years that Mark Twain was right when he said that that isn't always true, honesty is called for here. I was a little disappointed. I wanted this to be truly great wine, and it isn't. Having said that, it is a very good wine--a very good wine, indeed. I don't regret buying a case of it. In fact, I recommend you do the same thing.

It was a limpid, strawberry jam red--not the inky purple that Syrah often is. It had a perfume-like nose at first, but the floral scents blew off fairly quickly to reveal cherries and suggestions of tobacco. With a little time in the glass, I began to detect blueberries, bacon, cinnamon, smoke, and even some citrus scents. The blueberry was intriguing because it immediately put me in mind of the Penfold's Grange.

The taste of a wine is difficult to describe at the best of times. Blueberries were again present, but, as the wine opened up, I began to detect strong hints of licorice and citrus. What was perhaps most remarkable was the wonderful balance. This is what wine writers talk about when they say a wine is "elegant." "Poised" is the word that kept coming to my mind. The 2007 Pago Florentino Syrah is excellently balanced between restrained fruit, moderate tannins, and soft acidity. What keeps it from being truly great is that the fruit is a trifle too restrained. The wine is a trifle too light in body. It doesn't have quite the grip I would have liked. Despite very good length, it is not as long as it might be. Yet, these are all relatives. I reiterate: This is a very tasty wine. While I'm fairly certain it won't appeal to palates used to powerfully ripe California-style Syrah, it should appeal to anyone who appreciates a somewhat more restrained European flavor profile. All in all, a very pretty wine that I look forward to sampling repeatedly over the course of the next five to seven years.

Finally, the bottle is extraordinary. The package is irrelevant if the wine is poor, but a nice package is always...nice. The 2007 Pago Florentino Syrah comes in what is the most substantial still wine bottle I've ever encountered. The punt is deep enough to take the entire length of my middle finger. With three inches of wine still in the bottle, a round glass island floats above the level of the liquid (the tip of the punt sticking up inside the bottle). The label, silver embossed on black, is adorned with a pair of deer with grape vines growing from their antlers. All this adds to the pleasure. No, I don't regret buying a case at all.  Highly recommended. $17.99 a bottle, at PJ Wine, New York--which is an excellent price for a wine of this caliber.

[For the record, I have no connections of any kind with PJ Wine except as an occasional customer.]

Birds I'm Watching: Northeast Santa Rosa

I used a free hour and a half today to take a walk along one of the creeks near my house--about a three-minute drive away--to look for birds on a strip of land there about 50-feet wide on either side of the creek. (Accessible from Arroyo Sierra Dr., between Summerfield Rd. and Hoen Ave., in Santa Rosa.) I saw many birds, including dark-eyed juncos, turkey vultures (14), a belted kingfisher (which was something of a surprise; I've never seen one so close to home before), ruby-crowned kinglets, California towhees, scrub jays, brown creepers (3), yellow-rumped warblers, chestnut-backed chickadees, Nuttall's woodpeckers, robins (10), crows (6), bushtits, house finches, a mallard, an oak titmouse, American and lesser goldfinches, black phoebes, a raptor that went by too quickly to identify (but probably a Cooper's hawk), and, improbably, an Osprey. I've never seen an osprey in suburban Santa Rosa  before.

The bird was soaring at a very high elevation, not anywhere near water, so at first I doubted my eyes, but nothing else made sense. It was an osprey (and the location is only about two miles from Lake Ralphine). Also of interest was a rather oddly colored female downy woodpecker (pictured). I'm almost certain the bird was a downy, but the markings are somehow shifted. There was almost no speckling on the very plain black wings, and the bird did not have the usual white stripe down the back, although I did not get a very good look at it from behind. The photo was hastily snapped, but shows enough to get an idea. Considering the short time I spent, I saw a solid 22 species.                          

Plants I'm Growing: First Blooms--Rhododendron "Pink Snowflakes" and Tulipa Bakeri (2010)

First 2010 blooms today on the rhododendron "Pink Snowflakes" (lower photo) near the bird bath and on the species tulips at the front of the house--Tulipa bakeri. The Rhododendron bloomed on February 22 in 2009. A year according to this plant was therefore 363 days. The bakeri tulips bloomed on March 5 in 2009, so their calculated year was markedly shorter--356 days. I plan to start graphing my data points soon to see what the botanical year looks like. From the data I've collected so far, I can say the plants in my garden seem to think a year lasts about 362 days (the median result). 

The tulip photo is from last year. This year's flowers are not nearly so fully open. The Rhododendron photo is also from last year. So far, only a single bud has opened on "Pink Snowflakes," but soon the plant will be covered in pink.

Rain: 1.5 Inches More Rain (February 24, 2011)

We had yet another 1.5 inches of rain overnight. That brings our total to 21.15 inches so far in the 2009-2010 season. That's still a little below the average. Average rainfall by this date (February 24) has been 22.59 inches historically in Santa Rosa, but other local stations have reported as much as three inches more than the average. We finished last year 8.5 inches below the historical average, so we are doing very well in either case. We've already had more rain this season than in all of last year.

[Update: Had another 0.9 inches of rain on the evening of the 26th. As of today, the 27th. Our total is 22.05 inches.]

[Update: Another 1.5 inches overnight on March 2. As of the morning of March 3, we have now had 23.55 inches of rain in the 2009-2010 season.]

[Yet another update: Another 0.25 inches fell on March 4. Our total is now 23.8 inches, as of March 7. According to the forecasts, we aren't going to have much new rain for the next week or so. Beautiful sunny day today.]

Places I'm Visiting: The Annex Galleries, Santa Rosa

During the past month, I've been teaching printmaking at my son's school, the Santa Rosa Charter School for the Arts. We've talked about etching, done relief printing using styrofoam, done the same using found objects, and we've begun to talk about linocuts, which are essentially the same as woodcuts (the process is much the same, that is).

Today we took a short field trip to The Annex Galleries, at 604 College Ave., in Santa Rosa, one of the best print shops in the north Bay Area; few galleries/shops in the vicinity (if any) have the breadth and depth of what's on offer here. The Annex Galleries specializes in modern prints with an emphasis on prints from around the start of the 20th century until around 1970.

The gallery is now doing a show entitled A Century of American Color Block Prints that is well worth seeing. Many blocks are on display along with the prints, and there is a flipbook that shows the successive stages of printing a multi-block print, which adds an extra dimension (bottom photo). Recommended. Free admission. Street parking only. Monday through Saturday, 12PM to 5PM. Through February 27.

Movies I'm Watching: Fargo and Selective Memory

I recently saw Fargo (1996, written and directed by Joel and Ethan Coen) again for the first time in many years. The DVD was on sale for a modest $5, which seemed a bargain, and, having recently cancelled my TV service, movies on DVD have acquired a stronger appeal. I can't remember when I first saw Fargo. I was living in Tokyo when it was released, and I know I didn't see it in a theater there, but I clearly remember the first time I heard about it.

I was driving a rented car. I must have been on a business trip in the US or visiting family, or doing both. I was listening to NPR on the radio--All Things Considered, no doubt. I think I was driving from Dayton, Ohio, to Nashville, to visit the Bridgestone headquarters in the US. At the time, I was a securities analyst covering companies making tire and rubber products.

Someone was interviewing Frances McDormand--an actress I had never heard of at the time. The topic was her new film, Fargo. The interviewer played a clip of the officers investigating the first murders, at the start of the story. I had no images to work with, only sounds, voices (this was radio). The contrast between the horror of the scene (as I imagined it) and the matter-of-fact assessment by McDormand's character, Margy, pregnant Chief of Police in Brainerd, Minnesota, was comical in a black sort of way (as intended), and even more so because of the silly accent the characters use throughout the film.

Seeing it again last week, I was shocked. I should say I was shocked because my 10-year-old son watched it with me, which was not at all appropriate (although he had parental guidance and doesn't seem to have been much affected by the violence). I hadn't intended to show him such a violent film. The experience reminded me of my childhood discomfort watching films at the theater with my parents that I probably shouldn't have been watching. The traumatic big three were Zulu (1964, directed by Cy Endfield, today a favorite film), Bullitt (1968, directed by Peter Yates), and Bonnie and Clyde (1967, directed by Arthur Penn). I don't blame my parents. Film ratings then (and awareness of them) were not what they are today, and my father was (and remains) obsessed with films. We saw most everything released that seemed worthwhile to him, regardless of whether it was appropriate for children. (Having said that, I would have been only four years old when Zulu was new; we must have seen that one at a second-run theater at a somewhat later date.) As my son and I watched, I wondered if Fargo would become my son's Zulu.

Fargo is a very violent film. So, why did I choose to watch it with my son? Because, I realize now, that I had completely forgotten about the violence. It's not that I didn't remember the murders. I had blocked out their graphic depiction. The patrolman shot in the head early in the movie (the first murder) reminded me of one of the most memorable (and horrible) images from the Vietnam War--Saigon Execution (1968), by Eddie Adams. You know the photo: the man shot through the head as he stands in the street. The other murders in Fargo are no less bloody, no less realistically depicted. Only the final gruesomeness--the stubborn leg and foot of the murdered kidnapper sticking out of the wood chipper--is somewhat less horrible, simply because it is so absurd that it's hard not to laugh.

I don't object to the violence. It's integral to the story. The point of this short essay is very simple. It's that the humanity of the main "good" characters, and especially Margy, is profound--so profound that, with time, Fargo can become distilled in memory into an essence that retains only the goodness of the film's strongest characters. What did I remember about Fargo? Mostly the solid uprightness of Margy and her husband in the face of bleakness--both bleakness of the soul and bleakness of landscape (although that landscape is beautifully filmed here). Not blood gushing from the head of a brutally murdered patrolman, but Margy's husband making eggs for her after she's called out in the middle of the night to investigate the first homicides. Not the vast stupidity, vulgarity, and violence of the criminals, but Margy telling her husband to be proud that his painting has been chosen for the design of a new postage stamp, even if it's a stamp of low denomination--"one of the little ones." She reminds him that people need the little ones when the postal service changes rates. His contented smile at the end of the film is one of its quietest moments, but one of its most powerful. The large gap between the way I remembered the film and its actual violence is perhaps a testament to its greatness. Fargo remains one of my favorite films. I wonder how long it will be before I forget the violence again?

Plants I'm growing: First Blooms--Ceanothus "Ray Hartman," Dwarf Peach, Santa Rosa Plum

The warmth and sun today has coaxed out new flowers in the garden. The "Ray Hartman" Ceanothus (or California lilac, top photo) and the dwarf peach (bottom photo) have both started blooming today. The Ray Hartman is now a small tree. It looks fabulous when at its peak, which should come within about two weeks. The dwarf peach has grown very slowly--left behind by a dwarf nectarine planted on the same day. Small differences in location (the trees are only a few feet apart) can make such a big difference; the peach gets an hour or so more shade both in the morning and afternoon. The fruit of the two trees is delicious. The deep pink blossoms contrast nicely with the rosemary always in bloom at the same time.

Yesterday brought the first flowers of 2010 on the little Santa Rosa plum tree and on the two-toned daffodils that went in last year.

I missed the first blooms on the Ceanothus in 2009, but I seem to have noted on March 19 last year that they had been open for about a week, suggesting the tree bloomed around March 12. That would make the flowering quite early this year. The dwarf peach started blooming on March 2 in 2009, which means a year according to the peach was 357 days. The Santa Rosa plum bloomed on February 23, 2009, so a year according to that plant was 363 days. I don't seem to have a 2009 record of the first blossoms on the pretty white and coral daffodils that opened yesterday.

I write about many subjects, not just the plants blooming in my garden. Use the tabs at upper right to explore other topics. 

Rain: Clear and Chilly After Rain (February 22, 2010)

It's a beautiful, sunny (if chilly) day in Santa Rosa. The air is clear following a little rain overnight. We got 0.15 inches, according to my rain gauge. That brings our total for the 2009-2010 season to 19.65 inches. The average for February 21 (yesterday) in Santa Rosa is 21.96 inches, according to the site I monitor. That puts us more than two inches below normal, but other locations in the city have reported as much as 23.26 inches, which would put us ahead. In any case, the reservoirs are full and we have already had more rain this year than we had in the entire season last year--which is great. Still, it's nice to see the sun. As soon as work is finished, I hope to go out and enjoy it a bit.

Art I'm Looking At: More Found Art (February 21, 2010)

Putting gas in the car not long ago, I found myself looking down at the covers over the gasoline tanks at one of Santa Rosa's gas stations. Beautiful. More found art.

The Great Yogurt Taste-off Part IV (More Yogurts)

Four more yogurts reviewed. (You may want to start at the beginning--see links below.)
The Great Yogurt Taste-off Part I (Introduction)
The Great Yogurt Taste-off Part II (The Yogurts)
The Great Yogurt Taste-off Part III (The Yogurts--Continued)

Cascade Fresh Nonfat Vanilla Yogurt

($0.85 for a 6 oz. container, or $0.14 an ounce, 0% milkfat, 16 grams sugars, 90mg sodium)

Pale, creamy white. Quite solid. Stays put in the cup. Strong vanilla scent. Nice creamy texture when well stirred. Good texture in the mouth, too. No vanilla bits and nothing to stir up from the bottom. Creamy, but not too thick or sticky. Moderate vanilla flavor. Moderate yogurt tang and not excessively sweet. Good balance. A nice, middle-of-the-road yogurt. Not exciting, but solid. Tastes like yogurt and has no objectionable characteristics. I liked this one more than many. Has more active cultures than any of the other yogurts I've compared (eight rather than the usual four to six). All natural ingredients. Sweetened with fruit juices.

Yoplait Thick & Creamy Lowfat Vanilla Yogurt
($0.99 for a 6 oz. container, or $0.17 an ounce, 1.5% milkfat, 28 grams sugars, 110mg sodium)

Slightly yellowish in color, but there are no colorants listed on the label. Shiny, gelatinous look that put me off immediately. Doesn't mix well. remains in chunks, kind of like stirring Jell-O. No scent of yogurt. Hints of vanilla. No vanilla specks. Nothing to mix up from the bottom. Very thick, sticky texture. Strongly flavored, but tastes mostly of sugar. Had an unpleasant way of sticking to the roof of my mouth. Really doesn't taste like yogurt at all. Sweetened with sugar and corn syrup. Did not care for this. 

Chobani Nonfat Vanilla Greek Yogurt

($1.49 for a 6 oz. container, or $0.25 an ounce, 0% milkfat, 13 grams sugars, 65mg sodium)

Very pale white. Quite thick. Solid in the cup. No vanilla specks. Nothing to mix up from the bottom. Good yogurt scent. Thick, slightly cheesy texture, but quite smooth when well stirred. Nice texture in the mouth. Creamy. Good vanilla flavor and a good yogurty tang. Nice balance of sweetness (just noticeable) and tangy flavors. Sweetened with sugar. Delicious. This is close to my idea of what yogurt should be--thick and creamy, but smooth (and not sticky or gelatinous), distinctly tangy (but not sour) and not with so much sugar that the yogurt flavor is overwhelmed. 

Kirkland* Lowfat Vanilla Yogurt

($0.53 for a 6 oz. container, or $0.09 an ounce, 1% milkfat, 24 grams sugars, 95mg sodium)

Pale, gelatinous look. Slightly runny. No vanilla specks. Nothing to mix up from the bottom. Moderate yogurt scent. The vanilla was more noticeable than yogurt. Tasted very sweet. It immediately reminded me of the frosting on cheap, horrible birthday cake. Very artificial flavor. Slight tang on the finish, but tasted more like an acid addition than like the sourness of yogurt. Looking at the label, this has lime juice added, and I realize now that that is what I was tasting. Thumbs down. One of only two I was unable to finish eating; this was actually unpleasant. Sweetened with sugar and inulin. For more on inulin, see notes to the Weight Watcher's brand yogurt in Part III of this exercise. It's probably no coincidence that that was the other inulin-sweetened yogurt and the other one I was unable to finish. This has the advantage of being inexpensive, but I thought the comparably priced Safeway brand product much better if price is the main consideration. 

* Kirkland is the Costco house brand. Manufactured by Dannon. I'm assuming this is identical to the Dannon product. I wonder who makes the Safeway yogurt?  

Whole Foods Organic Nonfat Vanilla Yogurt 

($0.99 for a 6 oz. container, or $0.17 an ounce, 0% milkfat, 28 grams sugars, 110mg sodium)

Slightly creamy color. Solid in the cup, but a bit watery on top. Smells like yogurt but not much like vanilla. Slightly chunky texture, but quite smooth when stirred up. No vanilla specks, nothing to stir up from the bottom. Not much vanilla flavor. Overall impression is one of tartness--but not a yogurt-like tang. Rather bland actually, except for the tartness, which suggested a cheap white wine that's been balanced after the fact with acid additions. I wasn't surprised to find citric acid among the ingredients. That's what it mostly tastes like. Sweetened with evaporated cane juice. Would have expected better from Whole Foods.

Trader Joe's Organic Greek Style Nonfat Vanilla Yogurt 

($1.69 for a 5.3oz. container, or $0.32 an ounce, 0% milkfat, 17 grams sugars, 45mg sodium)   

Creamy off-white color. Full of vanilla specks. This yogurt looks delicious. Good vanilla scent, but not much scent of yogurt. Thick, rustic texture at first. Creamy when stirred well. Nothing to stir up from the bottom. Thick, creamy flavor. Moderate sweetness. Just enough, but doesn't have much in the way of a yogurt tang either. Excellent texture, but a bit disappointing taste-wise. Not bad, but not especially exciting either. Sweetened with cane juice. Contains citric acid, but doesn't have the exaggerated sour taste that some have had when citric acid has been an ingredient.

Brown Cow Nonfat Vanilla Yogurt
($1.59 for a 5.3oz. container, or $0.30 an ounce, 0% milkfat, 12 grams sugars, 55mg sodium)

Quite runny-looking, with liquid on top. Pale, creamy white. Very creamy and smooth when stirred. No vanilla flecks, nothing to stir up from the bottom. Not a lot of scent--of vanilla or of yogurt--, but has a good yogurt flavor. Neither sweet nor especially tart. Great texture again, but not a lot of vanilla flavor. Sweetened with evaporated cane juice.

Liberté Méditerranée French Vanilla Yogurt**
($1.19 for a 6oz. container, or $0.19 an ounce, 12 grams sugars, 55mg sodium)

Beautiful fresh cream color. Fairly liquid appearance, but moderately thick when well stirred. Very nice vanilla scent. WOW! Sweet. Too sweet for my taste, really, but amazing flavor. Decadently creamy and rich tasting. Easily the most delicious of all the sweeter yogurts, yet this one managed to achieve a noticeable yogurt tartness at the same time. Outstanding. Absolutely delicious. Very sweet (sweetened with sugar), but somehow I didn't mind in this case. Will definitely buy this one again! [But see notes below--this was NOT a low-fat or non-fat yogurt.]

Conclusions

What is good yogurt? It seems to depend on whether you like your yogurt to taste like yogurt or sugar. While some of the sweeter yogurts among the 18 yogurts I've tasted so far were quite appealing (notably the Trader Joe's Organic Vanilla and (Wow!) the Liberté Méditeranée French Vanilla**), I prefer yogurt to taste like yogurt--that is, I like it to have a sour yogurt tang. The Icelandic Skyr, at the other end of the spectrum, was a bit over the top--rather too tart for my taste--but still, it was among the most interesting examples simply because it had some character. My favorites among the less sweet yogurts were the Stonyfield "Oiskos" Organic Greek Vanilla Yogurt and the Chobani Vanilla Greek Yogurt. The least interesting yogurts were thin and runny, although bulked up with gelatin, and they tasted mostly like corn syrup (the sweetness overwhelming the yogurt flavor), or they had other artificial-tasting flavors. I was surprised to find that the yogurts I liked least were those made by Yoplait and Dannon (the Kirkland yogurt)--both of which used to be decent brands. I found both really unpleasant, especially the Dannon product. My dislike of these two may be related to the presence in them of inulin as a sweetener.

I hope this taste test will be of use to someone out there. If nothing else, my digestion is back in tip-top shape. One thing bothers me, though. This is Sonoma County. Where are all the handmade artisan yogurts? They must be out there. I guess I go to the wrong grocery stores. Farmer's market maybe?

[**This yogurt is wonderfully delicious, but I was mistaken about the milkfat content. This is not a lowfat yogurt, so should not properly be compared with the other yogurts in the tasting. I was trying to figure out how they packed so much richness into a lowfat product. It turns out they didn't. This one is made with whole milk AND cream. Still--it's delicious.]

Books I'm Reading: Cookbooks and Penguins

I went to our local bookstore recently--that would be Copperfield's, in Santa Rosa's Montgomery Village--to find a copy of one of the Barefoot Contessa cookbooks, seeking the actual recipe for the lemon and butter prawn pasta I mangled not too long ago trying to make it from memory. They didn't have the book, but I ordered a copy.

I got to talking about cookbooks with the woman helping me. We laughed at all the copies of Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking on the shelves. Apparently, it's been selling like hotcakes (what else?) because of interest prompted by the film Julie & Julia (reviewed here). The Joy of Cooking is selling well, too. That makes considerably less sense considering the disdain the film heaps upon the book and its author. I have nothing against the Joy of Cooking. I own a copy. I use it from time to time. There's been a copy in the family for decades. I just don't see Julie & Julia as a recommendation for it. People are interesting.

There was a sale going on. Inevitably, I bought things. I had a big stack of books in just a few minutes that I eventually pared back to four--three of the four books published by Penguin. When books are on sale for just a few dollars--as some of these were--I never hesitate to buy a Penguin edition, even if it's on a subject I have little interest in or by an author unknown to me. Is any publisher on the planet more consistent? I don't think I've ever read a book with a bright orange Penguin spine that wasn't worth the time. In this case, however, I wasn't buying on the strength of the publisher's name. The books caught my attention for various reasons.

I picked up Gut Feelings: The Intelligence of the Unconscious, by Geld Gigerenzer, which suggests that logic and reasoning may be overrated--or at least that we have highly evolved powers of intuition that sometimes serve us better than rational thought; A Summer of Hummingbirds, by Christopher Benfey, a book with a rather long subtitle that obviates the need for further explanation from me--Love, Art, and Scandal in the Intersecting Worlds of Emily Dickinson, Mark Twain, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Martin Johnson Heade; Desire: Where Sex meets Addiction, a book by Susan Cheever (only daughter of John Cheever) that appears to explore the idea that addiction to people (sex, that is) has characteristics rather unusual among addictions, which seems an idea worth delving into; and Mary Cantwell's Manhattan Memoir, being a collection of her three memoirs--American Girl; Manhattan, When I Was Young; and Speaking with Strangers. This will be my first reading of Mary Cantwell, but she comes very well recommended.

And so, my bookshelves--I need more bookshelves--get a little more crowded. When will I get around to these four new books? I don't know. I buy books when the opportunity arises. I get to them as I can. Buying them (rather than going to the library) is a habit from my many years in Tokyo, where it was often hard to get English-language books at all, and anything worthwhile had to be snapped up. Some of the books I buy I sit on for years, waiting for the right mood to strike. Some I start reading the day I acquire them. I treat them rather like wine. Some are waiting to reach maturity, some are for drinking young. I just began a collection of essays by Isaiah Berlin--Four Essays on Liberty. I bought it at least 15 years ago, in Tokyo. And when I'm finished with that? We'll see. Maybe one of these. Maybe not.

Wines I'm Drinking: Chanson Pere et fils Nuits St. Georges

Lest anyone think I drink only cheap Merlot from Grocery Outlet (I've reviewed a number of these recently), I note here that I've just been able to buy some of the 2005 Chanson Pere et Fils Nuits St. Georges. These came from The Wine Spectrum Shop, in Santa Rosa, which occasionally gets very good deals. Well worth a visit. I'll review one of these before too long.

Plants I'm growing: First blooms--Pluot "Flavor King" and Osmanthus x Burkwoodii

I report belatedly that the pluot "Flavor King" and Osmanthus x burkwoodii both started blooming yesterday. Activity has picked up markedly in the garden in the last couple of days with a lull in the rain and warmer weather. It was in the high 60s again today. The Osmanthus bloomed on February 18 in 2009. So, a year according to this plant was 362 days, or close to a calendar year. The photo here is a view of the plant in full bloom in 2009.

The pluot is a trifle problematic. One or two flowers opened in isolation about two weeks ago, which is typical, but a significant number of buds broke today for the first time. Last year, an isolated flower bloomed on February 5th, but I didn't note the start of the real flowering, so my data from last year and this year don't really mesh. Roughly speaking, however, the timing of both the first flower and of the fuller flowering appear to be in line with last year.

Tidbits: Snowbocross

We have "autocross" and "motocross." So, why didn't they call it "snowbocross" instead of the awkward "snowboard cross?"

Plants I'm Growing: Pluot "Dapple Dandy"

Prodded by a suddenly warm day, many buds on the "Dapple Dandy" pluot burst today. Last year, the flowers were hit by virtually constant rain during flowering. The result was almost no fruit following a bumper crop the preceding year. I don't know if the rain was really to blame or if the heavy fruiting of the year before was more the cause. In any case, I'm hoping that this year we'll be able to harvest something. The fruit is excellent when fully ripe--usually in mid-August.

"Dapple Dandy" bloomed on February 5 in 2009, for a fairly short year of 355 days.

Plants I'm Growing: Ribes Aurem (Golden Flowering Currant) 2010

The first flowers opened today on the large golden flowering currant bush by the beehive. Only a few buds have opened--prompted by a sudden wave of warmth; it was in the upper 60s here today. Soon the plant will be a mass of yellow. The bees love these flowers.

This plant bloomed on February 2 in 2009. So, a year according to Ribes aureum was 378 days--one of the longer years the plants in my garden have so far calculated.

Tidbits: The Truth About Socialized Health Care

No comment necessary. This says it all.

The Apparent Trap

Wines I'm Drinking: More Cheap Merlot from Grocery Outlet

I tasted two more cheap Merlots from Grocery Outlet last night, the 2005 Alamos Merlot from Mendoza in Argentina, and the 2007 Tilia Merlot, also from Mendoza. I recently tasted the 2005 and 2007 Merlots from Chile's Cousiño-Macul. To see the earlier reviews, use the search box above.

The 2007 Tilia Merlot was a deep blackish purple. The nose was rather closed, particularly at first, but it eventually offered hints of oak, something vaguely floral, and citrus scents; there was something that reminded me of the orange-vanilla popsicles I remember from my boyhood--always purchased outside, from a truck, in a hot summer street. On the palate, the wine was tart, light-bodied, and fairly short. It didn't have a lot of grip. There was very little tannin to speak of, just a slightly bitter finish suggestive of citrus rind--blood oranges perhaps. Nothing objectionable, but nothing special either. Fairly priced at $2.99 a bottle (Grocery Outlet offers an additional 10% discount for case purchases, including mixed cases), but this is not one I'd buy again. Probably best with fatty, meaty foods such as spare ribs or barbecue that do well with fairly acidic wines. This normally retails for $8-10 a bottle.

The 2005 Alamos Merlot was a more interesting wine. It was a deep plummy red tinged with brown--showing its age a little bit. It had an earthy, slightly oaky nose, but remained fairly closed. It was considerably more inviting on the palate, offering clean fruit sweetness, light tannins, and good acidity. The flavors were sufficiently concentrated to linger. Despite a somewhat austere, woody finish and light body, the wine came across as fresh and flavorful. Words like "neat" and "compact" kept coming to mind. With a little time, the palate opened out to reveal hints of cherries, plums, and something chocolatey, and ultimately the finish softened a bit too, becoming sweeter and less harsh. Not great wine, and I preferred the 2005 Cousiño-Macul Merlot reviewed elsewhere in these pages, but solid and a very good value at $2.99 a bottle. Sufficiently interesting to warrant having a few bottles around the house for informal occasions. This normally retails for $10-12 a bottle.

Birds I'm Watching: Bodega Bay

Did a little birding today. At the Bodega farm pond (about a mile east of the town of Bodega) I saw mostly canvasbacks (about 12) along with buffleheads, mallards, Canada geese, and turkey vultures overhead.

At Smith Bros. Rd., behind the Inn there, saw about 35 snowy egrets on the mud flats along with two great egrets. There were about 200 marbled godwits and about 30 willets. On the water there were buffleheads, a few greater scaup, Western grebes, about 300 brants, ruddy ducks, a few double-crested cormorants, Western gulls, a pied-billed grebe or two, one horned grebe, and a couple of female mergansers that looked like common mergansers but may have been red-breasted--they were quite far out.

At Porto Bodega, saw 12 coots, a couple of common mergansers, ring-billed gulls, common loons, a great blue heron, a ruddy turnstone, black turnstones, Western grebes, and both horned and eared grebes (these all fairly close in). Further out, saw surf scoters, a common goldeneye, more horned grebes, buffleheads, brants, and a red-breasted merganser drake.

At the north end of Bodega harbor, saw greater scaup, Western grebes, buffleheads, ruddy ducks, brants, horned grebes, eared grebes, and common loons.

At Campbell Cove, saw sanderlings, common loons, Western gulls, scrub jays, and a black phoebe. So, nothing startling, but there were certainly many, many brants, more loons than I'm used to seeing (probably saw about 12 different birds during the day), and many more grebes than usual. In at least two locations (Porto Bodega and the north end of the Harbor) there were groups of 10-30 birds, mostly eared grebes, with a few horned grebes thrown in--an excellent opportunity to compare the two in their confusing (to me, anyway) winter plumage.

The ruddy turnstone (pictured above) sat quite contently nearby on the pier at Porto Bodega. One of the loons also let me get close. Something is odd about the markings on his head. I wonder if this bird is the one I saw in about the same area during the summer struggling to get disentangled from a loop of fishing line?

Books I'm Reading: Black: The History of a Color

I've just finished reading Black: The History of a Color, by Michel Pastoureau (Princeton University Press, 2009), an English translation of a book published in French in 2008. I've had some experience reading French art criticism. It's sometimes been more mystifying than enlightening. Bad translation may have had something to do with it. I suspect, however, that a misguided, egotistical desire to appear erudite on the part of authors is mostly the root cause of problems I've had with French art historical writing in the past. Happily, this book appears to have been translated well--it reads quite naturally as English with one or two very minor exceptions--and it has something worthwhile to say in a style that is informative rather than aimed mostly at enhancing the reputation of the writer among his academic peers.

The book looks at the use and meanings of the color black throughout history from the perspective of religious art, heraldry, later secular art, and textiles and fashion--mostly in the Western world--, beginning with use of black at sites such as Lascaux, and then moving on to its use in ancient Greece, Rome, and Egypt, in the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, and in the modern era. Frequently the discussion dwells on whether black was considered a color at all and what its connotations were in different periods of history. The author pays particular attention to questions of whether black had negative associations in different historical contexts. There is much valuable information about the history of dyeing in different periods and the fashionability of the color black among the nobility and upper classes (and later the wealthy merchant class) of Europe.

Sections on the influence of Newton's Principia Mathematica, which effectively divorced both black and white from the class of colors, were useful, and I was pleased to see this author discuss the effect printing must have had on the human consciousness of color (at least in the West) as black and white illustrations became relatively widely available to the public and replaced the costly and scarce hand-colored illustrations that were the norm in earlier periods. It has always struck me that after the diffusion of moveable-type printing processes and before full-color printing, television, and the Internet, most people experienced art not immediately viewable in their vicinity in the form of black and white engravings, etchings, or woodcuts--which had to have had an impact on perceptions. I've long wondered whether Van Gogh's use of sharp, short, repeated strokes in his drawings (and to a lesser extent in the paintings) might not have been influenced by his exposure to engraved reproductions. This book does not address or answer that particular question, but it at least acknowledges that black and white reproductions and illustrations became pervasive and probably profoundly changed the way people thought about color, even if unconsciously.

Nicely printed and attractively illustrated throughout. While I wouldn't call this an easy read, it's likely to appeal to anyone with more than a casual interest in the history of art--the history of colors, in particular. Recommended.

I should also say that I love the painting on the cover. At first I took it to be a Georges de La Tour for the obvious reason--its excellent handling of a night scene lit dramatically by fire or candlelight--, but it turns out to be a painting by Etienne La Tour, son of Georges, a painter I was unaware of. You learn something new every day, as they say. It is The Discovery of the Body of Saint Alexis in the National Gallery of Ireland. It strikes me as wonderful, however, less for the lighting effect than for the expression on the torch bearer's face--its combination of no-nonsense determination and the slightly awestruck. Beautiful.

Having said that, it was chosen, no doubt, for the black clothing of Saint Alexis and its deep black background. Doing a little Internet browsing, I see that many sites attribute this painting to Georges de La Tour. I'll have to look into this and see who is right. The book reviewed here attributes it to Etienne de La Tour. I've sent an enquiry to the gallery. They should know.

Two other things about the painting puzzle me. Is that a young man or a young woman holding the torch? Have I just revealed my deep ignorance of stories about St. Alexis? Most certainly. And what is she doing with that piece of kelp? Hmmm....further research appears to be in order.

[Update: I got a reply from the National Gallery of Ireland. Apparently the painting was originally attributed to Georges de La Tour when it entered the collection in 1968. That attribution was disputed. Subsequently (by the early 1980s) it was attributed to Etienne La Tour but is now described as being "of the school of Georges de La Tour"--in other words, it is not considered to be by either. It is an attractive canvas nevertheless.]

[Further update: I got another reply. The gallery has corrected its earlier comment and said that it appears the official attribution at the moment is, in fact, Etienne La Tour. I'll let you know if that changes.]

Wines I'm Drinking: 2007 Cousiño-Macul Maipo Valley Merlot

I recently reviewed the 2005 Maipo Valley (Chile) Merlot from Cousiño-Macul in these pages, having picked up half a dozen bottles at our local Grocery Outlet. It was such a good value that I went back to buy a case yesterday but was disappointed to find the 2005 gone. I must have bought all there was. The store now has only the 2007. I bought a case anyway, assuming that it was unlikely to be overpriced at $2.99 a bottle, even if it was less interesting than the 2005.

I was right on both counts: It is a less interesting wine, but it's still a bargain.

The 2007 was noticeably thinner and less tinged with orange. It looked like the younger wine that it is. It had some of the herbaceousness of the 2005, but nothing like the pronounced sage scent of its older sibling. The nose was more floral, suggestive of pencil shavings, and altogether more distant. On the palate, the wine was light in body with delicate fruit sweetness and very light tannins. The general impression it gave was one of smoothness but it had no especially endearing characteristics. The mid-palate was a trifle weak, but the wine had fairly good length, with distant, lingering, slightly woody tannins on the finish. With time some cocoa hints developed. No rough edges. This wine is perfectly acceptable for everyday drinking, but it lacks the distinctive characteristics and depth of the 2005. Its somewhat austere, rather European flavor profile may not appeal to wine drinkers used to the up-front fruitiness of California wines. Still, this is a good value at $2.99 and I don't regret buying a case of it. If, however, your Grocery Outlet has the 2005, snap it up.