NANCY SILVERTON'S "PANICALE PEASANT ZUPPA" NAMED BEST SOUP OF THE YEAR FOR 2022
/Yes, mister and misses know-it-all,. I realize there are over 360 days left in the year 2022 and, as they say, “anything can happen.”
But, the truth is “anything” can’t happen.
Sunday, on the second day of the year, Nancy Silverton made a soup so delicious that many of the world’s greatest restaurant chef and the world’s revered home cooks formally announced they could not make a soup takes that good even if they tried for the next 363 days. As a result, the the ISF, the International Soup Federation based in Geneva. formally proclaimed Silverton’s Panicale Peasant Zuppa as “Soup of The Year, 2022”.
The soup was of humble origins. The base or starting broth aka bouillon de demarrage was he liquid of long cooked beans from a New Year’s Eve meal. (It should be noted that several prominent chefs including Mauro Colagreco, Andreas Caminada, Alain Ducasse and Ruth Reichl lodged formal complaints with the ISF claiming the Panicale Peasant soup could not be named Soup of the Year 2022 because it was started in 2021. The compliant was tossed out with the following admonition “Thinking like that would lead to other complaints such as you could not win the Nobel Peace Prize for one year because you had done some good stuff the previous year,” said Dr. Hans Christian “Pea Soup” Anderson, ISF’s Director of Operations.
So the soup. It was made with cabbage, Rovejo dried pea native to Umbria. unnamed seasonings. a cardboard box of vegetable broth. potatoes and other things. The write Michael Krikorian was the only human to have it for dinner. Later, however, Nancy gave a small container of Panicale Peasant Soup it her sister Gail and brother-in-law Joel. She wanted to give them more, but Krikorian would not allow this to happen, even though he likes Joel and Gail.
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NANCY SILVERTON'S "PANICALE FRITTATA" TAKES EARLY LEAD IN BEST DISH OF 2022 COMPETITION
/As soon at the gate fell for the start of the Best Dish World Championship 2022, American chef Nancy Silverton stomped on the gas and took a commanding lead with an egg dish that had the few fortunate diners thanking their lucky constellations and the competition wondering how the hell where they going to catch up.
Silverton, cooking in her pajamas, and using two eggs, made her revered Panicale Frittata which, today, had artichokes, ham and swiss cheese.
It was, in its original meaning, delicious.
With Silverton safely in the lead for best dish of the year 2022, others contenders scrambled ( not eggs) to think how they could close the gap. Massimo Bottura said he needed to be alone. Rene Redzepi took a walk in the woods. Thomas Kellar considered retirement. Fredy Girardet considered offers to come out of retirement.
After Michael Krikorian told her how good the dish was and she had just made the best dish of 2022, Silverton shrugged and said “It’s just eggs.” Yeah, and that stuff on the “Mona Lisa” is just paint.
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F.D.R.- NANCY SILVERTON'S STUNNING LABOR DAY CREATION, FRITOS DIPPED RUDY (BUTTER)
/For the last two hours, Nancy Silverton and I have pondered where in carnation we could eat out tonight, Labor day, 2021.
Everywhere we tried was closed. Even Mozza is closed today. You name it, we tried. Connie and Ted’s. Alimento. Carousel. Jitlada. A bunch of other places.
And if you know the refrigerator at the Van Ness home, you know other than some condiments and Captn Eli root beer, it’s barren. I mean there is some Rudy, aka Rodolphe Le Meunier Buerre de Barrate French butter,
And on the counter there are a three-day old bag of Fritos, Original, or course.
So I’m figuring I’ll lose several ounces tonight when I hear Nancy say “Umm. That’s delicious. Try this.”
I go into the kitchen and she’s holding out a single Frito with a gob of Rudy on it. I take and eat.
Do you know the opening lines of “Cheek to Cheek"?
Nancy says “Crunchy, salty and creamy in one bite. What more could you ask for?”
Nancy has created another masterpiece. Today in the Times of London there is an article about Nancy’s Chopped. And today in Krikorian Writes there is this article about Nancy’s brilliant Fritos dipped with Rudy butter, aka F. D. R.
As I go type this, as always, Nancy is trying to improve the dish. “Next time, get Scoops.”
“Heaven, I’m in Heaven. And the cares that come around me though the week, seem to vanish, like a gambler’s lucky streak, when we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek. “
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"BENEATH THE TOWELS" LONDON STUNNED BY MURDER SPREE, 11 HOMICIDES IN 13 DAYS
/It was a quiet night at the mini market in the Kentish Town neighborhood of Northwest London last Tuesday when suddenly the clerk heard a loud clang against the metal shutters on the side of the building. He went outside to investigate and saw a ghastly sight; a teenager slumped against the shutters, moaning in agony, hands tight against his stomach, blood dripping from his wet, shiny fingers.
By chance, a doctor was strolling by just then, a little after 8 p.m.. She dropped to her knees and quickly assessed the gravity of the boy's wounds. The English version of 911 was called. Other people appeared, some of them screamed. Residents of the 6-story apartment complex across the street heard the commotion and looked out their windows
The kid writhed as the doctor called out for towels to hold against the grave injury. Within seconds, the corner of Bartholomew Road and Islip Street was raining towels. "I threw down four," a neighbor lady said.
The police arrived. They frantically urged on an ambulance as they took over from the doctor, pumping his chest. "They were pumping, pumping, pumping", said a man who works nearby. But, it was too late. The kid was gone.
A lady arrived. The dead kid was partially covered now with those fallen towels, but what she could see of his jacket looked frighteningly familiar. She told the police to let her through. It could be my son. But, they didn't let her close.
She called her son's phone. Three, four seconds later, beneath the towels, from the dead kid's jacket, a cell phone rang.
About 90 minutes later, as the heartbroken mother of 17-year old Abdikarim Hassan was failing to be consoled by loved ones, there was another stabbing death. This time Sadiq Adan Mohamed was killed, on Malden Road near Queen's Crescent Market.
The two killings brought to 11 the number of homicides in London in just a 13-day period, most of them stabbings. There were about 126 homicides reported in London for all of 2020. Murder by knife outnumbers murder by gun in London about five to one. .
The latest two victims, were David Potter, 50, who was fatally stabbed in his flat in Tooting, south London, and Abraham Badru, 26, shot dead as he exited a car in Dalston, east London. The two killings made for a two-inch brief on page eight in The Times.
When I arrived in London on Friday, March 23, the thought I would be out on the streets reporting on a murder didn't remotely enter my mind. Since I had never been to London - other than 17-hour layover - I had planned the usual tourist stuff; Museums, a lot of walking, riding "the Tube", Harrod's, and hanging out at the restaurant Nancy Silverton had commandeered for a week near our hotel in a neighborhood called Shoreditch.
But, as I read the locals papers and viewed their websites, I was surprised, even alarmed by the frequent reports of stabbing deaths. The first one that grabbed me was of Benjamin Pieknyi, a 21-year old from Romania who came to the aid of a friend being attacked and was stabbed to death. A 22-year-old from the Ukraine was arrested for that. I wanted to get to his family, to the guy he came to aid, but they lived in Milton Keynes, a 90 minute drive from London.
Then, the next day, when I heard about these two murders above, I almost felt an obligation, so I hit the streets.
The next day, an 18-year-old male, Isaiah Popoola, was charged with both killings. He will be tried at London's Old Bailey court.
As for the victims, the few people I talked to all spoke very kindly of them. Neither were gang members, they worshiped their families, were lightning quick to help others, were constantly smiling and loved to play football. They were both from the capital city of Somalia, brought to London at a young age to be safe from the dangers of Mogadishu.
BENJAMIN PIEKNYI
27 DAYS ALONE ON VACATION, NANCY AND MICHAEL DOING GREAT 99.7% OF THE TIME, EXPERTS SAY “THAT’S NOT HEALTHY”
/“Let’s Get Lost quote.
Getting away from it all is one of life’s grand pleasure. Even if you are alone. And when a couple gets away, especially a couple often surrounded by others, it is the ultimate.
Still, that can turn volatile as fast as Hamilton and Verstappen on Copse Corner at Silverstone. A mumbled reply, a misplaced key, an accusation, a glance, a spill. Little things that go big.
That has not happened for Nancy Silverton and Michael Krikorian who have been living together - and alone - for the last 27 days. It has been wonderful and in Krikorian’s words “Our best vacation ever.” Nancy agrees.
The couple’s vacation has been tracked via the international “How’s My Vacation?’ website and - other than some very minor disagreements - their vacation has been nearly flawless. Silverton Krikorian has scored an unheard of 99. 75"% GAG (Getting Along Great) rating. the highest of any couple from the Western Hemisphere since the website debuted in 1989.
A conflict resolution analyst from the United Nations said there have been several key factors in the couple’s astounding GAG rating Even Krikorian’s driving has played a role in the two getting along so well.
“He is speeding as usual. but, and this is key. he’s not accelerating in the corners and yelling out “Fangio!” or “Senna!” or “Hamilton!” like in previous years,” said Edward Felson, assistant director of of the UN’s “Can’t We All Get Along” Division. “That makes a difference because that would drive Silverton bonkers.”
As an example. Belson referred to 2017 Panicale when Krikorian bought up Aryton Senna. Juan Fangio and Lewis Hamilton more than 140 times in a 37 day period. So far after 25 days. he has only mentioned Fangio four time. Senna three and Hamilton three. This has pleased Nancy no little.
As for Silverton, another observer from the United Nations said Krikorian is reaping the benefits of being the only person with her.
“Nancy is a giver and she has no one else to look after. and feed so all of her focus is on Krikorian. the lucky motherfucker. “ said Walter Payton. of the Sweetness Institute “If you listen to the tape, everyday she is asking Michael ‘What can I make you to eat? What do you want?”
And the music they have been listening to. the Piazza Mozza playlist made by both of them has been the ideal sound track. Nancy is even liking Bruce Springsteen tunes such -“Moonlight Motel. “The Wrestler” and “The Land of Hope and Dreams”.
Still, with that astoudning 99. 75 rating. some are concerned ithey are getting along too well.
“It’s not normal to get along that good,” said Dr. Robert Schneidemeider, of the University of Vienna “To take use of an old standards, ‘Something’s Gotta Give.”
That might be the key. Or maybe Someone’s gotta give.
SEEING THE POETRY OF GILLES VILLENEUVE’S BROKEN FERRARI
/“That’s the poetry of everyday life. You have to be ready to see things as others don’t even imagine. Make visible the invisible.” – Massimo Bottura, 2014
Walking to a lunch reservation at Massimo Bottura’s Osteria Francescana, Nancy Silverton stepped into a Modena second-hand vintage shop and came out of telling me of the many Ferrari models inside I went in and after consulting with the owner, purchased an F40 for my small collection in Panicale, Umbria and a Formula One, a model, the owner said, of the four-time World Champion Alain Prost, who is half French half Armenian and famous for his duels with Ayrton Senna.
Of course, I had to buy that. I got it with the intention of giving it as a gift to Massimo Bottura to add to his collection of model Ferraris he has on display in his restaurant’s wine cellar that double as private dining room. On our walk is to his restaurant – named #1 in 2016 and 2018 by the World’s 50 Best Restaurants organization and, for the record, not illegible currently because he had already won - the plastic bag I was carrying with the the models inside slipped out of my hand and fell to the cobblestone street. I didn’t think anything of it as the shop owner had wrapped the models in layers of newspaper.
We went to Osteria and Nancy and I were sat in the wine cellar, reserved for friends of the house. We were immediately poured two goblets of 2011 Ca’ del Bosco Annamaria Clementi Franciacorta sparkling wine. In preparation of Massimo’s greeting, I unwrapped the F1 Ferrari and to my sheer disappointment saw it was broken. When the bag fell, it had severely damaged the F1 car. One front and one rear wheel and tire were busted off, another was loose. Brakes were busted. Damnit. God damnit. I could not give Bottura a broken model.
Nancy and I tried in vain to put the tires back on but it was too intricate and key pieces were broken. I put it away. I didn’t know what I would do with it. Maybe it was destined for trash.
Within moments, Nancy came to the Ferrari’s rescue. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll give you the chance to say it.”
“Say what?”
“Think about what you can say to Massimo about the Ferrari.”
I couldn’t think of anything.
“Come on,” Nancy said. “You’re the writer. You gonna feel stupid when I tell you. Your gonna wish you came up with this.”
I scanned my mind, but came up empty. “Nancy, what?”
She had a sly smile, She knew she had a winner and then she just said it. “Oops, I dropped the Ferrari.”
O. M. G. Straight out brilliant. She had just saved the Ferrari from garbage bin. She had seen the poetry where I couldn’t envision. She had made the invisible quite visible.
Massimo’s most famous dessert is called “Oops, I dropped the lemon tart.” which was accidently born when a Osteria Francescana sous chef, Taka Kondo, well, he dropped a lemon tart. Bottura told a food publication this. "Taka was ready to kill himself because he's Japanese and his culture doesn't make mistakes, or they make mistakes but they're not allowed to. So, I saved Taka's life saying 'Taka, it's amazing’.”
Bottura and staff went on to painstakingly recreate Kondo’s fallen tart and “Oops, I dropped the Lemon Tart” became a classic.”
So when Nancy said “Oops, I dropped the Ferrari” I knew that was the magical line to say to Massimo. Though he came to our table three times that lunch – one of the best meals of my life – none was the appropriate time to drop the magical line. That night we went to Massimo and his wife Lara’s small heavenly countryside hotel called Casa Maria Luigia. Nancy was too full to eat but I indulged in his classics; 48-month culatello, tortellini Parmigianino, psychedelic beef, even the “Oops, I dropped the Lemon Tart.” I told the Ferrari story to our server Domenico and the chef Jessica Rosval who was just named by Guide dell L’Expresso as the best female chef in Italy which she was particularly proud of because she’s from Canada. From Montreal’s West Island.
I asked Domenico for a plate and he added he would bring a plate and cloche, the plate topper He did and I put the Ferrari, broken pieces and all in there and topped it with the cloche.
Massimo came by and I told him the story – I got you a Formula One Ferrari. Alain Prost’s model. Bag slipped out of my hand. We looked at it. Couldn’t give to you. Then Nancy had the line.
As I lifted the cloche, I said the “Oops, I dropped the Ferrari.” He gasped, walked away about five steps and came back and said “Amazing. Amazing. Amazing. Amazing. (Yes, four “amazings” from Massimo Bottura.)
I gave Nancy all the credit and he hugged her. He looked back at the Ferrari and immediately said ”Not Prost. Gilles Villeneuve. Number 27. That was Villeneuve’s car.”
That made it all the more special to me and others. Gilles Villeneuve was one of the fastest drivers in Formula One history. He died in a horrible airborne crash in 1982 during qualifying for the Belgium Grand Prix at Zolder. F1 legend Nikki Lauda said this of him;. "He was the craziest devil I ever came across in Formula 1. The fact that, for all this, he was a sensitive and lovable character rather than an out-and-out hell-raiser made him such a unique human being". (Out of respect to Gilles, I need to say his son, Jacques, became the first Canadian to win the Formula One World Championship in 1997.)
When chef Jessica joined in the table again I told her it wasn’t Prost’s car it was Gilles Villeneuve’s. She almost cried. Villeneuve was a Canadian as well.
Massimo took the broken Ferrari away “I am going to frame this.”
Gilles Villeneuve is still remembered at Grand Prix races, especially those in Italy. At the Autodromo Enzo e Dino Ferrari, the site of the San Marino Grand Prix, a corner is named after him and a Canadian flag is painted on the third slot on the starting grid, from which he started his last race. There is also a bronze bust of him at the entrance to the Ferrari test track at Fiorano in Maranello. At Zolder the corner where Villeneuve died has been turned into a chicane and named after him.
And soon, at one of the world’s greatest restaurants or its family hotel, one of the world’s greatest Formula One drivers, now invisible, will be made visible.
BAN THE LEFT TURN
/Last week my uncle Johnny and auntie Sheila from Chicago came to visit. They had not been in Los Angeles for 45 years and, though they both thought it was a bit corny, they really wanted to see some of our city’s famous tourist spots.
“I know it’s for kids, but we’d really just like to go sightseeing,” said aunt Sheila, 72, almost apologetically.
No problem, I told them. Heck, I wouldn’t mind seeing some of the spots that have brought tourists to the town of my birth myself.
So, I took them to the Chinese Theater – that I still call Grauman’s Chinese - and uncle and I we put our feet in Humphrey Bogart’s, Paul Newman’s and Steve McQueen’s shoe imprint while auntie tried out Ava Gardner and Natalie Wood.
Then we went to the La Brea Tar Pits and marveled at the mastodons and mammoths and that saber-toothed tiger, (now, politically correct, called a saber-toothed cat) still the coolest name of any animal. Ever.
Then I took them to see the storied “NO LEFT TURN 7 AM - 9 AM 4PM - 7 PM” sign at Beverly and Normandie. That’s a classic I never get tired of seeing and love to take out-of-towners to gaze at it. It’s such a sweet thought back to memory lane. Those wonderous days when the morning rush ended at 9 a.m. and the afternoon rush didn’t start until 4 p.m.. Imagine that. Back then, from 9 am to 4 pm - seven hours! – drivers hummed along in Los Angeles streets like they were Formula One champion Lewis Hamilton zooming around the Nürburgring racetrack in Germany.
My uncle and aunt stared at the sign it wistfully. “Wow, what a, well, I guess, in a way, a melancholy sign,” said aunt Sheila, who was born in Manchester, England and grew up fairytales about Los Angeles allowing left turns from non-“left turn only” designated lanes. “So back in the day, the evening rush hour didn’t start until four? And only lasted three hours? That’s crazy. What a delight that must have been to drive in those days.”
Since we weren’t that far away, and I had an hour before dinner, I continued the tour. I drove west on Beverly, past the Wilshire Country Club, hung a right on June Street and another right onto Melrose and headed back east.
“Get your cameras out,” I said as we drove past the intersection where Rossmore Avenue transforms into Vine Street ( that’s a whole ‘nuther story). “Now watch as this two-lane road becomes only one lane because three or four people get to park on Melrose.”
I lucked out. Only one car was parked on Melrose a block west of Larchmont, but it was enough for 100s, more likely 1,000s of cars to have to squish over, honk, nearly side swipe each other all for one car to park.
My uncle was impressed. “So, let me get this straight. A thousand cars pay the price for one car to park. A two-lane street becomes one-lane all because of that silver Camry. Now that’s democracy.”
Democracy? No, this is more like stupidity. Two lane roads turning into one lane so a few people can park? People legally turning left up until 4 p.m.? Hey Garcetti, hey Transportation Department bosses, wake the blank up. The rush hour in Los Angeles does not end at 9 a.m. or start up again at 4 p.m., Time have changed. Change the damn signs.
Make it, I don’t know, left turns allowed from 11 a.m. until 2 p.m. on certain streets? How about no left turns at all? Make three right turns. Suffer a little. The left turn is the most dangerous thing most L.A. residents do all day anyway. Ban it. Let us going-straight folks go without having to veer into the next lane.
The point is do something about the traffic on the streets. .
Every time I drive on these roads – two, three times a day – I think “Do the people that run this city ever actually drive?” They couldn’t possibly drive here and think this is okay. These rules 30, 40 years old.
Where is the Coltrane, the Miles Davis of the transportation department? We need some outside the box. Or, rather, outside the lane thinking. This current way is not working. Try something different. Anything.
The rush hour is no no longer 7 am to 9 am and 4 p.m. to 7 p.m.. It’s a lovely thought but it’s just not true. It’s fiction. It’s make believe.
Whoever is in charge of traffic, please, like Frank Sinatra sings in “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”, use your mentality, wake up to reality.
HOWARD WEITZMAN HIRED TO DEFEND BRUTUS IN RETRIAL OF JULIUS CAESAR STABBING
/Famed Los Angeles attorney Howard Weitzman will defend Decimus Junius Brutus Albinus in the highly anticipated retrial of the infamous Julius Caesar stabbing assassination on March 15, 44 B.C. in Rome.
Brutus Albinus, much better known as simply Brutus, was convicted of murder in the first degree in a highly publicized trial in 45 B.C. and sentenced to LWOP, life without the possibility of parole. Since the fall of the Roman Empire in 476 A.D., , Brutus has sought a retrial
Weitzman, who left Los Angeles on April 7th to join the prestigious firm of Hammurabi, Cicero, Darrow and Kardashian located on the westside of Mount Olympus, held a press conference Monday on the steps of the Really High Court to make the announcement he had taken the case. The unusual maneuver was more like an opening statement than a presser.
“The evidence will show that my client did not kill Julius Caesar and was, in fact, rushing to protect him from an unruly mob,” Weitzman said with a slight smirk. “Mr. Caesar was Folsom shanked 23 times. Look at my client. He couldn’t shank a spencer prime roast from Vincente Foods let alone fully grown adult with more attitude than anyone since Alexander.”
Weitzman laid much of the blame for Brutus’s centuries-long assumption of guilt conviction on William Shakespeare who famously wrote about Caesar’s killing, undoubtedly the most famous assassination in history.
“Shakes did more damage to my client’s reputation than all the forensic evidence in Rome, “ said Weitzman, who, as is his style, was juggling doing the press conference with making lunch reservations, this time at Escoffier’s new bistro. “When Shakespeare wrote that Caesar said ‘Et tu, Brutus’, that’s all the public heard. Hold on. Do you have the roast Bresse chicken stuffed with Perigord truffles today? Yes, where was I? Oh, yeah. Brutus loved big Julie. The trial will show that.”
Weitzman contended that since security footage of the Caesar assassination is “spotty at best” and several eyewitnesses to the brutal attack who were not allowed to testify in the original trial, will testify in the retrial and “put enough reasonable doubt to free my client.”
“Look, Brutus has been held without bail in a holding cell since 44 B.C, that’s, what, 2,065 years. I would normally argue for ‘time served’, but he is adamant about clearing his name.”
Weitzman even leaned further into what will likely be a key element of his defense when he spoke of incriminating evidence against Brutus in the first trial.
“They claimed a bloody toga was my client’s,” Weitzman said. “I will prove in court it was not. Brutus was way too fat to wear that toga. If the toga doesn’t fit, you must acquit.”
Sources close to the investigations told this reporter that Weitzman was being paid in rare bottles of wine including a 47 B.C. Chateau Cheval Blanc, a 217 B.C. Panicale rosso H, Barca Cuvee and a 2009 A.D. L’Evangile.
A reporter in the crowd asked Weitzman how he was getting along in his new home.
“They call this place heaven, but I was already in Heaven on Earth with my Margaret by side,” said Howard, his voice uncharacteristically cracking. “I saw some footage yesterday of Margaret with tears in her eyes. I want you to get word to her. Relish those tears. Those tears are from me. I have them for you. There are two tears. The ones that tear your heart and the one that fall from your eyes. Some people never have tears of any kind. Those poor souls. We are blessed and we have tears.”
Then Weitzman appeared to have a revelation of sorts. “Tears and tears,” he said softly, seemingly to himself. “Hmm. Tears and tears. ‘Tears and tears. At Hammurabi, Cicero, Darrow, Kardashian and Weitzman we get rid of them both.’ That could be our logo. I’m gonna run this by Hammurabi. Can you text up here?”
