Other Stuff I Have Been Doing

The 2012 Farm Bill is a behemoth. There will be more on in the months leading up to it's renewal but for now, I was able to ask my congressman, Earl Blumenauer 5 questions about the bill - you can read the questions and answers here.

Not as exciting, I am upgrading my skill level taking 2 classes this term - Excel and HTML - I'll spare you the spreadsheets and code but I have been doing that, ploddingly. Last year I took a grammar refresher (Got an A), anyone notice? 

Finally, Books and Food were the topics when Greg Netzer of Wordstock stopped by PFM's NW Market for an interview. You can watch below. 

THE GREATEST DELICACY

Today clears the great summer backlog of posts from Friend of the Blog, Charlie Seluzicki. I want to thank Charlie for all the contribution - they couldn't have been submitted at a better time - around August the Farmers Market takes over my free time.

To close out his summer of writing, Charlie is getting all Magyarian on [us], talking about his memories of Louis Szathmary. A little later in the week I will post more about Szathmary, who was an innovator and should be more of a legend - for today, enjoy Charlie's essay.

Chef Louis Szathmary [1919-1996] was a formidable presence.  As a person, he was heavyset yet strong, with a grand white handlebar mustache and a devilish glint in his eyes.  He was in every way demonstrative: his accent still colored by his native Hungarian, his movements theatrical, filled with gusto and an unmistakable love for life.  While I never ate at his famous Chicago restaurant The Bakery, I did have the good fortune to know him as a collector of rare books.  One morning in the late 70’s he showed up at John Gach Bookservice (Baltimore) where I worked for almost 5 years.  

At that time, Chef Louis’ cook book collection was already legendary.  Numbering into 10’s of thousands of volumes dating from the 15th century to the present, he remained insatiable and endlessly curious.  I remember showing him the Janus Press production, SPAGHETTIANA,  a marvelous conceit in which the text unfolded as a more and more entangled bunch of spaghetti some 20 pages long.  He clapped and laughed as I made the slow reveal.  And he then put it on the stack that he was buying.  

Around the noon hour, he said he was getting hungry. Could I get him some food? The sense of ease that I was beginning to feel with this man, immediately vanished.  My mind scrambled over the possibilities: where could I turn up a plate of chicken paprikesh and homemade noodles? My state of confusion was clearly showing and Chef Louis held up his hands and may or may not have said, “Well?”  At which point I asked, what would you like? His asked for bread and cheese.  “What kind of cheese?” His reply was somewhat noncommittal, “Swiss?”  I learned after the fact how simple a man Chef Louis could be, often opting for simplest, most unpretentious choices when he was in the company of others.  Gratefully there were two good grocery stores not far from the store and I shortly had real Kaiser rolls, a wedge of Jarlsberg and a stick of butter before the big man.  He produced a pocket knife and cheerfully ate the simple fare.

After he was done, he inquired about things that fell beyond the scope of cook books.  Did we have any books of Hungarian literature? Books on Hungarian coins? Frank Lloyd Wright? And finally, with an instantaneous air of seriousness, he asked if we had any books on the greatest delicacy?  “And what is that, Chef?” “You don’t know?” “I am not sure that I do.” “Think about it a moment.” Silence. And then he said, “Humans, the long pig...” “Huh?” He cracked a smile.  “You’re kidding me, right?” “No, actually I have over 150 books on the subject.” “That’s impossible.” At which point he explained that over half of those books were tracts written by missionaries and published by their missionary presses.  They included tales of cannibalism.  I vividly remember that his favorite account was recorded by the wife of a missionary who watched as her husband was summarily butchered, put in a large pot and then flavored with a variety of herbs and roots, all of which she scrupulously preserved in her diary, a ghoulish recipe if ever there was one.

It is good to meet people like Chef Louis when you are young.  He taught me more in a afternoon than I could have learned in years on my own.  He was a man of astounding imagination and great generosity.  And there is more to tell about this immigrant who showed up on our shores with a $1.10 in his pockets. He wrote cook books and, equally importantly, he edited a series of historically important cook books. His many collections are now preserved primarily at Johnson & Wales, University of Iowa and University of Chicago.


Charles Seluzicki

Fermenting with Liz Crain

A Book Worth Owning

True Story: Liz Crain is the only person in the world who has ever expressed jealousy/reverence over my career (?) choices. Bookseller by evenings and weekends - Portland Farmers Market Interactive Media consultant by mornings - Liz, told me I had 2 really cool jobs the first time we met.

To make things even better, I am in awe of Liz Crain's work. Editor at Hawthorne Books and as the author of the The Food Lovers Guide to Portland, Liz knows her way around Portland foods. Even as someone who thinks a 5 mile trip (bicycle people, I'm not a driver) to get the perfect ingredient is an occasional necessity - Liz's book reaffirms my belief and encourages me to bike even greater distances for my ingredients. Plus it's a pretty handy reference. Liz is currently working on the Toro Bravo cookbook and is a relentless promoter and advocate for all things fermented.

The fermentation fest is around the corner and Liz stopped by the NW Portland Farmers Market to talk about the difference between a pickle and kraut. Watch the video below: 

Speaking of kraut and festivals - It's Polish Fest this weekend. Accordions, perogi, beer, golabki, potato pancakes - Plus it is one of the last outposts for getting John Paul II gear. How is it that I am missing this? It has nothing to with my year of eating in/ not paying for food and more to do with a merciless work schedule right now. If your in Portland, stop by 3900 N. Interstate, a mere dog walk (sorry that is how I measure walking distance) from the Saucy World Campus.

SOFT DRINK COOKERY

What's with the soft focus?
Is this a Meryl Streep film

The idea of taxing Soda is all the rage. Fob friend of the blog Charlie Seluzicki has some different ideas on what to do with soda.

I was recently at a house sale in my neighborhood and found myself digging through a stack of cooking pamphlets prepared by companies and states promoting their brands or their products: Fleischmann’s Bake-it-easy Yeast Book, Florida’s Favorite Seafoods. James Beard wrote a number of these for the likes of Crosse & Blackwell, Cuisinart and Corning Ware.  Most dated from the 40’s to the 60’s.  But only a few were unusual.  Among these I was happiest to unearth “quick recipe favorites distinctively different with...7up” (1965).  

It was years ago that I first became aware that there had been a vogue for cooking with soft drinks after WW II.  I had found a Dr Pepper cook book and passed it along to bookman and novelist Larry McMurtry whose collection of vintage bottles of Dr Pepper was not widely known.  I had never seen such a thing and, frankly, was horrified at the thought of basting a pork roast with Dr Pepper.  But that was then.
James Beard’s magnum opus, AMERICAN COOKERY (1972) makes at least two references to cooking with soft drinks and these had escaped my gaze in early readings.  In a note on ready-to-eat hams, he writes “You may bake tenderized or ready-to-eat hams fat side down in a pan with a pint of sherry, Madeira, apple cider, or ginger ale.” In the narrative accompanying “Ham Baked in Cola,” he simply notes that “[t]his Southern-style dish has come into fashion within the last twenty or twenty-five years.” This is Beard the chronicler, passing no judgement except the obvious: he thought it worthy of inclusion in his book.
While I understand the cook who chooses to askew such trends, I value the discreet inclusion of them in the repertories of many of the chefs that I prize most highly.  Soft drinks provide a singular form of acid, sugar and a distinctive taste.  They tenderize, promote carmelization and add a chosen dimension of flavor. No doubt their use inevitably provokes highbrow / lowbrow subtexts. There is that person who flavors the whipped cream with a few drops of Grand Marnier who would be aghast at the thought of poaching pears in 7-UP or adding Dr Pepper to the duck sauce.
While I will take a pass on 7-UP cheese fondue, it strikes me that the current proliferation of soft drinks made with good ingredients that are actually revealed on the label might introduce yet another dimension of welcomed experimentation and fun into the kitchen.  Besides, those Southern cooks know a thing or two.

Charles Seluzicki

Pass the Very Old El Paso

Is Pico de Gallo salsa? Or is it as a friend tells me, “pico’s pico dude”?

Pico de Gallo is the combination of raw tomato, chili, white onion, cilantro (representing the colors of the Mexican flag) and sometimes an acidic ingredient like vinegar or lime juice, Pico – as it’s known on the street - is a type of salsa.

Salsa is a vague word. Bernardino Sahagun a Franciscan Priest who entered the land that would be known as Mexico in 1529. In a letter he described a combination of ground squash seeds, tomato and chili as a sauce. Sahagun was using salsa, the Spanish derivative of salsus and if Salsus sounds like the name of a Roman Emperor to you, you’d be partially correct, salsus is Latin, meaning salty or salted. Words evolve, so sauces may be salted, but they aren’t Roman anymore.

Salsa as used in the States certainly doesn’t mean a traditional sauce, it means a Mexi-condiment. Sometimes the salsas are fresh, as is the case with Pico but more and more they are cooked, considering the outbreak a few years ago this is wise but it also extends the shelf life of the product, which is also good: Tomatoes are seasonal maybe 3 months a year, yet I enjoy quesadillas year around. But salsas don't have to be tomato based – tomatillos make a fine salsa verde. There was a the craze in the late nineties through the early ought-oughts where 3 nouns (the first one being a fruit) preceded the word salsa, Mango, cashew, cumin salsa. Pineapple, avocado, black bean salsa. 

Pre-pico

Words do evolve and salsa has become a shorthand for an acidic, spicy condiment. Surfing the net, checking out a sample of recipes to see if there were universal ingredients (answer =no; just common ingredients), I landed on the Food Network page. Emeril had a pretty straight-forward pico recipe + garlic. Rachael Ray, managed to avoid chilies altogether. And if that weren’t somehow predictable enough, a rollover with Guy Fieri started yelling at me. Remember when Emeril’s bam and kick it up a notch were a sure sign of the foodpocalypse? In retrospect he was positively Jeffersonian compared to Fieri’s W.

A few weeks ago, a combination of garden tomatoes and cilantro leftover from a curry led to a batch of pico. It was real, real good an hour after I made it. Not quite as special the next day. By the time I finished it up on day 5, it was meh. Freshness is one of the draws of pico distinguishing it from cooked salsas. Maybe that’s why your friend is so adamant in making his distinction or maybe he likes to say things loudly and throw dude on the end, as if that makes a statement self-apparent.

So, yes Pico is a salsa just goldfish and sturgeon are both fish. Wait is that a bad comparison – I would eat sturgeon, salsa and pico but not goldfish unless they were crackers which means they are no longer fish. Pico’s pico but it is also a salsa.  

CHESTNUT HONEY

I am not the only one celebrating a birthday. Recently, contributor Charles Seluzicki had a milestone birthday. There was dinner, sausage and my brother was somehow involved in this. Anyway, since this seems to be the week of birthday dinners, enjoy the journey Charlie's birthday dinner took him on.

My birthday lunch at SALUMI in Seattle offered one delight after another. But it was when the last course was served- pears poached in red wine with sweetened ricotta- that my taste buds went off the Richter scale. This was no ordinary sweetness. I was completely unaccustomed with the riotous range of flavors that our chef Brian informed me originated from chestnut honey.  
Those of you who are familiar with SALUMI know that owner Armandino Batali is the father of the acclaimed chef Mario Batali.  I mention this because Gina DePalma, pastry chef at Mario’s New York City restaurant BABBO, has captured in words what I would find difficult to equal.  “Dark and spicy,” she writes, “with touches of smoke and leather, chestnut honey is complex, mysterious, and nuanced.”  This honey is not for the faint of heart.  Absent are the familiar floral notes, the lingering softness of clover, the delicate hints of citrus.
I purchased a jar from a little specialty shop here in town shortly after my return. It is rather dark and Tuscan in origin. DePalma writes that, like so many foods, chestnut honey varies greatly from region to region. She explains that if the summer is dry and the bees do not collect as much nectar from competing flowers, the honey will be darker and stronger. I tasted a spoonful from my jar straight and was not prepared for the rush of smoky spice and contrasting sweetness.  A genuine drama. Little had I realized how the ricotta had tempered the big flavors of SALUMI’s private stock.  DeCarlo urges caution while introducing these flavors and recommends a thick slice of semolina bread, slathered with sweet butter and drizzled with chestnut honey as the perfect starting place.

*****

In his great AMERICAN COOKERY (1972), James Beard mourns the loss of the American chestnut to the blight that came to America in 1904, one year after his birth. By 1940, they were virtually extinct. As in Italy today (the European strains are immune), chestnuts were everywhere in 19th century America, a staple, free for the gathering.  They could be roasted, boiled on dried.  They could be ground, the poor man’s flour.  Now they are an expensive import food and holiday fare. The jars of ‘marron’ from France now cost 12 to 16 dollars each.
While a few stands of American chestnuts have survived, they are the province of chestnut hunters.  Those who know declare that the native American chestnut is far better than newer introduced and crossbred varieties.  This writer looks forward to the day when he might try the original.  

Charles Seluzicki

Birthday Post

In a tradition not entirely dissimilar to a condemned man's last meal, our family allowed the birthday boy to select their own menu on their b-day. Being 45 as of today, never married and expecting a few months here and there, I never have cohabited - means every meal, I get to choose my own meal, so having a special b-day meal looses some of its significance.

Fittingly, with my year of eating in, today's meal will be a sandwich, well 2 sandwiches - steak and cheddar with extra horseradish and bacon and egg. I'm excited about both. I'm also excited about my birthday 'cake' - peach tart and almond pastry cream on a cinnamon shortbread crust. I baked it myself, which elicited a couple, "Aw you have to bake your own birthday cake". The baking has nothing to do with living alone. I could have corralled/shamed/enticed any number of people to bake or buy for a cake for my birthday except:

• I like to bake
• I don't like cake
• I am not especially great at accepting things from others.

(The last one does have something to do with living alone). 

So what would I have to eat if it weren't my astrological Year of the Sandwich? Pizza was a big favorite as a child but it isn't such a special occasion food now. I remember Chicken Paprikasch, it was pronounced Pup-er-kash in my youth and maybe it still does now after a couple of beers helps my Midwestern accent rear its nasally head. Birthday or not, chicken braised in a sour cream/paprika sauce, then served over egg noodles, was a a childhood favorite. That was one of the few foods that tie me to a different food culture than middle class, suburban American. Now when I make the dish, it is served over the more traditional nokedli AKA spätzle and probably apples, bacon and cabbage on the side. I still get almost weepy thinking about it but were still a month or so away from cold weather foods in Oregon.

What else have I had on my birthday? Many years there were cookouts - Oregon's summer starts late and lingers on, so having a cookout in a glorious September is right and good. Sausages, a whole roast pig. My larger social circle engage in a decade long tradition of Soup Night, so I know there have been a few soups in there. Notably, Chicken fried eggplant, catfish and green curry and beer, plenty of beer to was it all down with. 

Recently, someone asked me what my favorite cuisine was. Fair enough question from someone who knew I liked food. A commendable way to start conversation, ask a question about another person's interest. I suppose a response like Italian, French or Thai was the type of answer she was expecting. I think most of my adult birthdays have involved red beans & rice with bread pudding for dessert, so even Creole would have been a good answer. Yet the straightforward nature of the question threw me for a loop. I spend so much time in the micro level of food and cooking, even if I try to be aware of the fact that for some people food is a practical issue (a lot of people worry about what to feed the kids in 30 minutes or what to get a low-blood sugared hangry spouse) that I forget about food on the macro level. 

I answered with my new food crush, Vietnamese. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that wasn't quite it. My favorite cuisine is delta foods - give me a cuisine born in the area where land and water meet sometimes confusingly, and I will love the whatever gets put in front of me. Age and perspective don't always go together but I'll chalk this up to insight. 

Must go make some sandwiches and get to work. And yes, I will have a happy birthday. 

The Little Things You Say and Do

Full disclosure – I’m overweight. That’s not some understated euphemism for corpulent, that is the Body Mass Index talking. Odd thing, I sometimes get described as skinny, which I’m not; unless people are talking about my biceps, which are. At 6’2”ish and 205 pounds, I’m solid, I have love handles that probably aren’t all that lovable but also aren't my defining feature. I walk, ride my bike and am in a reasonable shape. While maybe, arguably I could stand to loose 10 pounds, which would put me in the “normal BMI range”, there is no way I could drop 20 and keep myself at the optimum 185. Besides I have no desire to and as much as I like to eat bitter green things like salad, I love carbs so much more.

mmm green veg

All of which is a very long lead up to the current kerfuffle over potatoes and school lunches. To wit – the USDA is updating its guidelines for school lunches for the first time since 1994. Proposed regulations would limit starchy vegetables to 1 cup per person per week. Being overweight and loving carbs might make me too close to the subject matter to comment clearly…

But things like this leave little to be happy about. The federal school lunch program is a 12 billion dollar a year expenditure. I don’t have a problem with feeding children – ideally this money should be used to buy from farmers in or near school districts instead of multinational suppliers, but we aren’t quite there in terms of growers and will for such a program. That and in the era of government bashing talking about smarter government, good government instead of no government at all is a dirty hippie sentiment. I hate dirty hippies and drum circles, so I can’t take their side.

So okay fine, instead let’s defer to the Ayn Randers, whose anti-altruism makes a school lunch program a non-starter. Surely, taking a subsidized anything makes one a moocher, parasite or looter, right? Like the $ 40,000 – 80,0000 dollars in direct payment from the USDA to eligible potato farmers, or the 3 billion a year in water subsidies to mostly potato farmers, not to mention the incalculable cost of the network of roads and gas subsidies required to deliver potatoes from rural growers to urban markets. And they surely must hate the fact SNAP/Food stamps benefits can be used to buy things like potato chips. That is why the hardcore, free-marketers and deficit hawks at Dallas based Frito-lay spend countless dollars on lobbyist to get those subsidies removed from the annual budget. Or at the very least beg their representatives not to allow potato chips to be purchased with food stamps

Supposedly middle of the road NPR, of course NPR’d all over the story and tsk-tsked a non-issue, with this quote, “But if the folks at the U.S. Department of Agriculture have their way, we could see a lot fewer of them [potatoes]”. The context of that quote was maybe about school lunches but that's sloppy editing, and for me, a blogger with no editing back-up shouldn't ever be able to make that criticism. Still even if NPR means fewer potatoes at school lunches, how many NPR listeners get school lunches and would see fewer potatoes? Listen NPR, no one is trying to pry a cold, limp french fry from your plump, greasy fingers, don't try to be sensational, you aren't good at it. 

There are some laughably good quotes in the NPR and related articles: Senators Collins of Maine and Udall of Colorado bemoan the new standards, “unnecessarily discriminate against white potatoes, corn, lima beans, and green peas." Because the only thing standing between lima bean consumption and the average American’s mouth is school lunch policy? The aforementioned NPR article, quotes a professional food scold from Center for Science in the Public Interest, "When the kids are offered french fries versus carrots or green beans, too often the kids choose french fries." I know I haven't been getting enough fried food this year by skipping restaurants, but my veg-lovin' self would choose french fries 9 times out of 10. Again, come on NPR, the CSPI is not a serious organization and should not be quoted by any credible news agency. There are sensible professionals who promote healthy eating by promoting healthy foods and balanced diets, not limiting other's food choices.

Maybe it’s fitting that on what would have been Buddy Holly’s 75 birthday, I am just Ranting On. But as someone who was told as a child to fill up on potatoes, who is logging countless hours in the Saucylab trying to invent Potatoes Carbonara and who thinks a life without carbs is no life at all, I have no problems with potatoes, just apparently everyone with an opinion about them. Sorry, I’ll do better next post.

AND NOW, THE RETRO HOT DOG RECIPES EDITION

FOB - Friend of the Blog, Charles Seluzicki, has been contributing left and right over here. I have a backlog of posts from Charlie. Today he gets all retro with the hot dog. Hard to believe there was a time, not to long ago when things like spaghetti and pizza were suspect and/or foreign. Cookbooks from the Mad Men era are full of ways to Americanize dishes, most of which involve ketchup, processed cheese and hot dogs. Charlie will take it from here...

Among my cook books are the few that I keep for alternative entertainment value. They remind of those times in our gastronomical past when it seemed perfectly normal to list cans of condensed soup, Velveeta cheese spread, Accent and packages of garlic-flavored salad dressing mix in a recipe. Two classics of the genre are Good Housekeeping’s HAMBURGER & HOT DOG BOOK (1958) and Mettja C. Roate’s THE NEW HAMBURGER & HOT DOG COOKBOOK (1975, originally published 1965, 1968).

Both books come out of that post WWII boom of canned and frozen foods. The country seemed mesmerized by the notion of  convenience and both capitalize on the popularity of “America’s favorite meats.” Sometimes I laugh out loud when I read them.  Sometimes I am transfixed by disbelief and snap back only when the drool brimming on my bottom lip spills over unto my chin. Even 50 years removed from this vortex of the prepared and the preserved, I am unable to fully comprehend the evidence before me. And I had glimpsed it as a child.

Take two competing recipes for spaghetti dinners. Mrs. Roate’s “Spaghetti Hot Dog Dinner” starts with 6 diced slices of bacon in which 8 hotdogs in ¼” dice are browned with onions, green peppers, a #2 can of tomatoes and a 4 ounce can of drained mushroom stems and pieces.  One pound of velveeta cheese is melted into this mixture and served over 8 ounces of vermicelli.

Good Housekeeping’s “Career Girl’s Spaghetti” seems spartan by comparison but no less weird.  Onions, mushrooms, green pepper, a tablespoon of flour and 4 chopped franks are sauteed in 3 tablespoons of “salad oil or shortening.” 1 ½ cups of tomato juice, 1 cup of water and 1 ½ tablespoons of Worcestershire are added and simmered for 25 minutes. The sauce is then poured into a ring of spaghetti noodles made from, once again,  an 8 ounce package.

Oh, I could tell you about “Frank Corkscrews,” “Glamour Dogs,” “Frank Suey,” “Franklettes” and “Frank Rabbit.” There is “Hot Dog Tamale Pie,” “Jellied Hot Dog Loaf” and “Hot Dog ‘N Liver Sausage Loaf.” Those with a continental bent will want to try “Endive Charlotte with Hot Dogs.” But none will deny the sculptural interest of “Hot Dog Dollies.”  8 hot dogs are cut across in thirds and in the bottom one inch two cuts, creating four sections are spread like skirts as the dollies are stood up on a baking sheet. Pimento stuffed olives wrapped in bacon are fixed to the top end and the 24 standing dollies are put in a 400 degree oven until the bacon is crisp.  A sprig of parsley is tucked between the bacon and the hot dog to make a bouquet.  “If you want to be especially gay,” Mrs. Roate entreats us, “insert an additional sprig of parsley in the bonnet of crisp bacon.”

Charles Seluzicki

Crushin'

My crushes are pretty innocent. They are so innocent they are never about human attraction, instead usually involve food. There was Campari and Soda. Earlier this year it was Choi’s Kimchi. Now, it is beer from a can.

The can looks like this; only more cylindery

And this isn’t a return to a more simple time when beer came from cans and people could still smoke in bars. I never really was a beer in a can type of guy. Porters and craft brews generally come from a tap or a bottle. In the last few years though, smaller beer companies have joined the majors by offering can beer. Cheaper to ship, easier to cool, arguably easier to recycle, cans are the new box wine – Well, in the sense of what used to be a stamp of mediocrity is now the domain of avant-garde, forward looking producers.

My new fave is Fort George’s 1811 Lager. What is 1811, the year of a Czech revolt, the invention of the Saaz hop, the bicentennial of a bottom feeding yeast? 1811 is the year Astoria, Oregon – Ft. George’s HQ location was founded. Astoria is a an odd place. Sitting on the corner of the Columbia River and the Pacific ocean, Astoria, 2 hours from Portland, is sometimes called the moistest place on Earth and like the land of the Smufs, Astorians live in mushroom houses. The sun has never shone in Astoria, if you see a picture of blue skies and light it has been photoshopped.

It is a funny place to for a brewery, except the constant cool temperatures are perfect for lagering – a word that comes to us from the German lagern, to rest. Lagers, unlike ales, which can be quaffed almost immediately, need to be put up for a time. Kept in cool to cold temps for 3ish months, lagers need time to mellow and ripen. Lagers in the States, are usually done in the Pilsner style but they can also be Dunkels dark or Schwarzbier black (a porter-lager).

1811 Lager is he light-pilsner style, the perfect drink on a hot day or as I like to call them, gardening beers. Cider and English ales were the first mainstays of American brewing. It wasn’t until German immigration that lagers gained a toe-hold, then became ubiquitous. It’s a always hard to remember that Beer Gardens were seen as healthy alternatives to saloons. It’s even harder to wrap your head around the fact while Scots-Irish were either/and getting drunk and clamoring for temperance, it was the Tuetoni who were gathering with their families to drink lager, sing songs and enjoy meals – they were the fun loving ones.

Going into Labor Day weekend with local temps expected in the 90s, I have 4 cans of 1811 chillin’ in the fridge, just waiting for my attention. And yes I will ride safely. 

And speaking of crushes, well, Willie Nelson might be love. Here Mr. Nelson covers Coldplay (I know dubious choice, effective results). It is an ad for Chipotle, a fast-food (although they like to think of themselves as fast-casual; and Dockers like to think of themselves as business casual) chain formerly owned/partnered with McDonalds. I’ve always maintained it’s easier to be subversive from the middle than it is at the extremes.