[E]lemental KC

This is dope!

(Image Source: Playboy.com)

PLAYBOY: You have spiky bleached hair, tats, bling, money, millions of fans and serious attitude. When did chefs become the new rock stars?
FIERI: All I know is we all gotta eat, and not everybody knows how to cook. So if you’re the guy who can rock the kitchen, people go crazy for you. People such as Bobby Flay, Emeril Lagasse, Tom Colicchio, the Iron Chefs—they’ve turned food making into a kind of arena spectator sport with their TV shows and competitions, and their restaurants, cookbooks and products have made them rich. Me? I’m just a dude who always loved to cook. At a certain point I got to the reality I wasn’t going to be Evel Knievel or a pro football player, which were my childhood dreams. So I thought, Hey, why not be just as frickin’ cool with a frying pan in my hand?

Q2

PLAYBOY: Gone are the days of “A woman’s place is in the kitchen.” But what exactly is a guy’s place in the kitchen right now?
FIERI: Men have always been cooks. Since the first saber-toothed­-tiger burger, guys have been grilling and thrilling. My dad was always my role model. He could make anything in the kitchen, even when we were basically living out of a van in California. I remember once he traded a pair of cowboy boots for salmon. He liked to cook healthy, vegetarian mostly, with a little fish and stuff like bulgur. Yuck. One night we had eggplant parmigiana, and I said, “Why can’t we have chicken parmigiana like everybody else?” That was the fatal day.

Q3

PLAYBOY: Did he hit you with a piece of tofu?
FIERI: Actually, it was my mom who got mad. She said, “If you don’t like the food, you cook.” So being the confident 10-year-old I was, I rode my bike to the grocery store and told John the butcher to give me a bunch of red meat. He slapped down two big fat rib eyes, and somehow I managed to get dinner on the table that night. I remember watching my dad. He took one bite, put down his fork and glared at me. It’s as clear today as it was 30 years ago. “You know what, Guy?” he said. “This might be the best steak I’ve ever had.” Total relief! And on top of that, my sister had to do the dishes. I was hooked, man.

Q4

PLAYBOY: You never went to cooking school?
FIERI: I left home when I was 16 to go to Europe as an exchange student. Before that, I cooked for my parents a lot. Their friends would come over, and I’d put on a whole Asian dinner—chopped the stuff, made my version of wonton soup and all those things. If I didn’t know a recipe, I’d make it up, trial and error. France really opened my eyes to great cooking. Then I came back, majored in hospitality management and lived with a bunch of college students, who were my guinea pigs. I had a skill nobody else had. You get away with a lot in college if you can feed people.

Q5

PLAYBOY: It sounds as though that came in handy with women.
FIERI: I saw some possibilities, definitely. When I was 18 or 19 I got a job as flambé captain at a hotel, cooking table-side with the brown polyester outfit, the dickey, the whole getup. I realized success is all about your style. I’d meet these families having dinner and would always find the older daughter who looked bored. “Hey, you want to see an extra-big flame on your scampi?”

Q6

PLAYBOY: Was it a winning pickup line?
FIERI: Sometimes, but I effed up on that job. They taught us this technique of opening and closing the jar of Grey Poupon mustard with one hand for the steak Diane presentation. [rolls eyes] One time my cart got stuck, so I yanked it, and ch-ch-ch, the Grey Poupon fell, hit the side of the cart, the lid clicked off and a globule of mustard flew through the air and ­shhhpwakked this grandma on the forehead. Her beehive hairdo flopped down, and there was mustard everywhere. It was the couple’s 50th anniversary, and I was thinking, I’m a dead man. But her old man thought it was the funniest damn thing he’d ever seen. Dude tipped me 40 bucks!

Q7

PLAYBOY: Do you separate fancy food from the food in your book and on your Food Network show Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives?
FIERI: I don’t separate fancy food from the rest. Good food is good food, though there’s definitely way too much fussing and phoniness out there in the food world, with people talking about ingredients you need an advanced degree to pronounce. That’s not to say I don’t like five-star dining. But costwise, I don’t know. Even with flavor. If you prepare it right, a burger can taste better.

Q8

PLAYBOY: How can a burger taste better than filet mignon?
FIERI: The core fundamental is great meat. Go to a good butcher and ask them to grind a great piece of chuck right there. With chuck, you don’t need to add a lot of ingredients at home. It’s quintessentially great as it is. Cook it medium rare. Some people like a charbroiled or wood-fired taste, but I use a flat metal grill top or a big flat pan. That way you get a little bit of fat, and with fat comes the crust. Crust is key. We’re a culture of crust, and that crunchy outside is what makes a crowd go crazy for a burger.

Q9

PLAYBOY: Speaking of crowds, what is the secret to a memorable Super Bowl party?
FIERI: It’s the greatest sporting event in the world, so do it up a little. It doesn’t have to be expensive. At my house I’ve got my buddy Kleetus at the stove, cutting fresh tortillas into wedges and frying them into tortilla chips. It’s so much better than out of the bag. Then my buddy Opossum makes fresh salsa. Chicken wings are great, but bake them, then panfry them in a nonstick pan to get a little more crust on top. Oh, and ice. Nothing’s worse than a party where you have to dig around the beer cans for ice. It makes my hair stand on end. [laughs]

Q10

PLAYBOY: What’s the deal with your hair anyway?
FIERI: About 10 years ago I was in Vegas with a bunch of buddies. It was my buddy Reno’s birthday, and we were shaving his head. My buddies and I are a little bit on the wild side. But it gave me the idea to try something new. Next thing I know, I’m telling my hairdresser, “Do whatever you want.” She sits me down and puts a plastic bag on my head. When she takes it off, my hair is Colonel Sanders white! And I go, “Oh no! Man!” I used to dye it blackish purple in the winter, but now it just stays white.

Read the rest at Playboy.com

Peace.

Hypebeast is a great site dedicated to fashion, art and all other things sick in the industry. Guest bloggers appear all the time on the site, including designers and frequent interviews from some up and coming underground artists. Hypebeast is definitely a favorite in my book and a favorite among many others. Check it out and share other sites I might find appealing.

Read the about content below.

Peace.

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Hypebeast was launched in January of 2005 as a one-stop news source for internet-savvy street fashion enthusiasts. Frustrated with having to browse multiple sites to keep up with the latest information, the creation of Hypebeast allowed for the latest news to be broadcast through one specific medium.

Over the past three years, the site has grown from small sneaker-based blog to a large well-respected information source within the industry, with a strong emphasis on street fashion. Features and interviews that profile designers and brands serve as a platform for companies to showcase new and upcoming product, while keeping readers informed of new trends, retailers, and events. The Guest Blogger section features exclusive blogs where industry insiders share their thoughts and opinions, while a large and active Forum provides a community space where readers around the world are able to connect and interact.

Attracting a vast and diverse readership from around the globe and boasting 9 million page views per month, Hypebeast is the premier destination for street culture information on the web.

Stanley Crouch

(Image Source: Columbia News)

Though we are told to mourn it, we must know that it was a noble sound. It had majesty. Yes, it was majestic. Deep down in the soul of it all, where the notes themselves provide the levels of revelation we can only expect of great art, it formed a bridge. That’s right, a bridge. A bridge that stretched from the realm of dreams to the highways and byways and thoroughfares and back roads of action. To be even more precise, let me say that this sound was itself an action. Like a knight wrapped in the glistening armor of invention, of creativity of integrity of grace, of sophistication, of SOUL, this sound took the field. It arrived when the heart was like a percussively throbbing community suffering the despair imposed by dragons. Now if a dragon thinks it is grand enough, that dragon will try to make you believe that what you need to carry you through the inevitable turmoil that visits human life is beyond your grasp. If that dragon thinks it is grand enough, it will try to convince you that there is no escape, no release, no salvation from its wicked dominion. It will tell you that you are destined to live your life in the dark. But when a majestic sound takes the field, when it parts the waters of silence and noise with the power of song, when this majestic concantenation of rhythm, harmony, and melody assembles itself in the invisible world of music, ears begin to change and lives begin to change and those who were musically lame begin to walk with a charismatic sophistication to their steps. You see, when something is pure, when it has the noblest reasons as its fundamental purpose, then it will become a candle of sound in the dark cave of silence. Yes, it was a noble sound.

I say it was a noble sound because we are told today that this great sound is dead. We are told that because it did not cosign the ignoble proclivities of the marketplace, because it did not lie back and relax in the dungeon with riff raff, because it had an attitude of gutbucket grandeur, and because it sought to elevate through elegance, for all of these things, it has died, for some a most welcome death. But we must understand that the money lenders of the marketplace have never EVER known the difference between an office or an auction block and a temple, they have never known that there was any identity to anything other than that of a hustle, a shuck, a scam, a game. If you listen to them, they’ll tell you that everything is always up for sale. They recognize no difference or distance between the sacred and the profane. For them, everything is fair game to be used in THEIR game. Oh, they chuckle when they hear that the coffin for this noble sound has been built; they offer to donate more nails. They send bouquets instead of wreaths. They feel this sound began to outlive its usefulness the moment it could no longer be abused in the world of prostitution, that world where the beautiful, wondrous act of intimate romance and procreation is reduced to one fact: a sham ritual in which the customer’s appetite for lies is equaled by the prostitute’s willingness to tell those lies in whatever detail he is ready to pay for. The tones of lies are vulgar facts but they are not noble sounds.

But there is another truth and that truth passes through time in the very same way an irresistible force passes through an immovable object. That’s what I said: this truth is so irresistible that it passes through immoveable objects. It is the truth of a desire for a refined and impassioned portrait of the presence and the power and the possibilities of the human spirit. Can you imagine that? I said: a desire for the refined and impassioned depiction in music of the presence and the power and the possibilities of the human spirit. That is the desire that lights the candle in the darkness. That is the desire that confounds dragons who think themselves so grand. We have heard the striking of the match and have felt ourselves made whole in the glow of the candle for a long time.

It is possible that we who listened heard something timeless from those who are the descendents of the many who were literally up for sale, those whose presence on the auction blocks and in the slave quarters formed the cross upon which the Constitution of this nation was crucified. Yet, even after that crucifixion, there were those who rose in the third century of American slavery with a vision of freedom; there were those who lit the mighty wick that extended from the candle and carried it; there were those who spoke through music of the meaning of light; those who were not content to accept the darkness in the heart that comes of surrender to dragons who think themselves grand; those who said- LISTEN CLOSELY NOW-who said, “If you give me a fair chance I will help you better understand the meaning of democracy” Yes, that is precisely what they said: “If you give me a fair chance I will help you better understand the meaning of democracy” These are they who were truly the makers of a noble sound.

But as we mourn the passing of this noble sound, we are told to accept the idea that no longer are those blessed who are endowed with majestic inclinations; we are told that no longer are those blessed who have the intention of refining those majestic inclinations into rhythm and tune. If we accept that, however we might find ourselves ignoring the democratic imperatives of our birthright. We might fail to understand what was meant way back in the day when the sun of liberty had been cloaked by the ignoble practice of slavery. We might fail to understand that those living in the dragon’s shadow of bondage fashioned a luminous and mighty chariot that could swing low and carry us back to the home of human hope, which is heroism. I say heroism because it is ever the quality of bravery, of devotion, of the will to nobility that underscores the marvelous phrases of this music. It swung low and it swung upward and it wore wings. It knew that its shining armor would fit it well because it tried that armor on at the gate of slavery’s hell. It was the ethereal aerodynamics of musical art in America. It was democratic because it proved over and over that the sound of human glory knows no social limitations, that the sound of human glory has no concern with pigmentation, that the sound of human glory transcends all definitions except those of the human soul itself. Without a doubt, it was a noble sound.

Some people might ask, “What is this man doing talking about nobility? Doesn’t he know that this is a dragon-spawned and blood-encrusted century? Doesn’t he know that the dragon breath of our time is breathing down the neck of the year 2000? Doesn’t he know that this is the era of flash and cash?” I will say to them that the interwoven labyrinths of greed and manipulation are as old as the FIRST lie, When you lie you are trying to manipulate; and when you try to manipulate for false profit, you reveal your greed; and when you swallow that dragon dust cooperatively you reveal yourself as a chump, a sucker, one of those folks Barnum said was born every minute. But I will answer them also by saying that nobility is always born somewhere out there in the world, and when you live in a democratic nation you have to face the mysterious fact that nobility has no permanent address, you hove to face the fact that nobody has nobility’s private phone number. Nobility is not listed in the phone book. Nobility is not listed in the society column, nobility shows up where it feels like showing up, and where it feels like showing up might be just about anywhere. If it could rise like a mighty light from among the human livestock of the plantation, you know it can come from anywhere it wants to. You see, nobility is listed though. Yes, it is listed. Nobility lists itself in the human spirit, and its purpose is to enlist the ears of the listeners in the bittersweet song of spiritual concerns.

As we gather here to mourn the passing of this noble sound, we should take the pains to remember something. There are some of us who don’t accept the dreams of dragons as their own, no matter how grand those dragons might say they are. Yes, there are some who will refuse to drop the candle even when pushed into a dark cave and locked there behind a stone. Don’t forget the people like Duke Ellington, who will not leave the field once it becomes obvious that the sound of a cymbal swinging in celebration is more beautiful than the ringing of a cash register. Remember that there are those who, like Duke Ellington, are willing to face the majesty of their heritage and endure the slow, painful development demanded of serious study There is, you must recall, a kind of serious study that will give you the confidence to strike your match to the mighty wick that will illuminate yet another portion of the darkness. Out there somewhere are the kind of people who do not accept the premature autopsy of a noble art form. These are the ones who follow in the footsteps of the gifted and the disciplined who have been deeply hurt but not discouraged, who have been frightened but have not forgotten how to be brave, who revel in the company of their friends and sweethearts but are willing to face the loneliness that is demanded of mastery.

In order to carry the candle, you have to accept the fact that when the wax on that candle begins to melt it will slide down and burn your hand. You must be willing to accept the fact that pain is a part of the process of revelation. You have to be willing to take the field and stay on the field the way Duke stayed on the road, traveling in raggedy cars, traveling in private Pullman cars, traveling by bus, traveling by boat, traveling against his will sometimes in airplanes. Duke Ellington accepted all the pain and the agony and the self-doubt and the disappointment he was faced with because he had been inspired! Duke Ellington was inspired by the majesty he heard coming from the musicians of all hues and from all levels of training. Duke heard the Constitutional orchestra of American life and transformed it into musical form. Whenever they said this music was dead, Duke was out there, writing music and performing the meaning of his democratic birthright in an artistic language that uttered its first words way back on that first day that a slave sang a new sang in a new land.

I am here to tell you that there are some who do not accept the premature autopsy of a noble art form. There are some of us out here who are on a quest, and in the process of that quest who find themselves having to perform conquests. There are some of us out here who believe that the majesty of human life demands an accurate rendition in rhythm and tune. Duke Ellington performed with Sidney Bechet, with Louis Armstrong, with Coleman Hawkins, with Charlie Parker, with John Coltrane, and wrote music for almost all of them. His own orchestra was described by Mahalia Jackson as a sacred institution. The Duke Ellington Orchestra was the manifestation of the elaborately fabricated drum he called this music. He was dedicated without reservation. He knew that you have to listen to a noble sound. You see, you have to watch out for a tradition built on the intention of putting noble inclinations into rhythm and tune. You have to beware of premature autopsies. A noble sound might not lie still in the dark cave where the dragons have taken it. A noble sound might just rise up and push away the stones that were placed in its path. A noble sound might just rise up on the high side of the sky, it might just ring the silver bells of musical light that tear through the cloak of the dragon’s shadow that blacks the sun. You got to watch those early autopsies. A noble sound is a mighty thing. It can mess around and end up swinging low and swinging high and flapping its wings in a rhythm that might swoop up over the limitations imposed by the dreams of dragons. I said: You better check those autopsies. A noble sound, the birthright understood so clearly by Duke Ellington, it might swing low and it might tell you to get on board. It might move with so much grace and so much confidence that you will have to remember what I have been telling you: You had better not pay much attention to those premature autopsies. This noble sound, this thing of majesty this art, so battered but so ready for battle, it just might lift you high enough in the understanding of human life to let you know in no uncertain terms why that marvelous Washingtonian, Edward Kennedy Ellington, NEVER came off the road.

(Image Soure: All Posters.com)

Readers – If you haven’t read this book, I suggest you take some time aside to boost your mental stock. This is a deep and interesting read about the art of war. The text was written by Sun Tzu about warfare and strategy. Although the text based on warfare and tactics, the author does explain the philosophy behind his comments. The translation I read was by Lionel Giles, which is the most common. I bought mine at Borders for a few bucks. I suggest you do the same.

In the meantime, you can read the book here since it is in public domain.

Enjoy!

Freedom by HNDE

(Image Source: deviantART)

deviantART is a medium for artists to share and sell their photos, digital art, poetry, prose, and most recently, film. I have been a fan of deviantART for close to 10 years and I’m always amazed by the submissions of its users.

The site opened in 2000 and has since attracted millions of users and submissions. For those of you who love art and its many forms, this is the place you want to be. The deviants (or artist associated with the site) submit a wide range of art. Some submit art as skins for applications like Winamp or submit poetry on a digital backgrounds. There are tons of digital drawings and other abstract works that make you question reality…

Be warned that the site includes lots of photographs that are NSFW. Even though there is a built-in filter for content like that, not all of it hidden. Remember, this is a form of expression, so the creator of the filter has their own views of what is considered adult content and kid friendly. At any rate, the ‘People & Portraits’ category of deviantART has a wide range of very powerful art that will hopefully make you appreciate the human form.

When you get a chance, take some time to look through deviantART. Trust me, you won’t get through it all in a day. You’ll see one that is so good, then a click find something better, and better, and so on…. This is truly an impressive site.

Enjoy!

Corset II  by SuzyTheButcher

(Image Source: deviantART)

I was recently given a book called The Prophet in honor of my day of birth (it’s today!)  and haven’t been able to put the book down. For me, this ranks up there with Sun Tzu’s Art of War. The book begins with a man longing to return to his homeland, but before leaving, imparts words of wisdom to the locals on different life issues and subjects. Gibran has wonderful way of using poetry and prose to talk about love, marriage, and (my favorite) eating & drink.

Below is a chapter from the book on eating and drinking. Though the book is available online in public domain, I encourage you to own it and use it as another [E]lement to your already blessed life.

Enjoy!

Eating and Drinking

By Khalil Gibran

Then an old man, a keeper of an inn, said, “Speak to us of Eating and Drinking.”

And he said:

Would that you could live on the fragerance of the earth, and like an air plant be sustained by the light.

But since you must kill to eat, and rob the young of its mother’s milk to quench your thirst, let it then be an act of worship,

And let your board stand an altar on which the pure and the innocent of forest and plain are sacrificed for that which is purer and still more innocent in many.

When you kill a beast say to him in your heart,

“By the same power that slays you, I to am slain; and I too shall be consumed. For the law that delivered you into my hand shall deliver me into a mightier hand.

Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feeds the tree of heaven.”

And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart,

“Your seeds shall live in my body,

And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart,

And your fragrance shall be my breath,

And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons.”

And in the autumn, when you gather the grapes of your vineyard for the winepress, say in you heart,

“I too am a vineyard, and my fruit shall be gathered for the winepress,

And like new wine I shall be kept in eternal vessels.”

And in winter, when you draw the wine, let there be in your heart a song for each cup;

And let there be in the song a remembrance for the autumn days, and for the vineyard, and for the winepress.