End of an Eon

September 8, 2022

Clean-Up Time

Cover of The Economist, January 23, 2021 edition.

Graphic: Benedetto Cristofani

The Twilight Time

This night has been so strange that it seemed
As if the hair stood up on my head.

— William Butler Yeats, “Presences” (1919)

Kiss from a Rose

Édouard Manet, “Vase of White Lilacs and Roses,” 1883

Only a masterpiece will do for a one-of-a-kind Mom…
Happy Mother’s Day!

Beginnings

Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering,
‘It will be happier.’
— Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Daddy

My father loved the sun. In an amazing conversation that we had when he was in the hospital a few weeks before he died, I was able to tell him that the overriding memory of him that had always stayed with me throughout my life was of he and I as a child at a beach, shortly after daybreak, my arms around his neck, in the still waters of the vast ocean. “Such peace,” he remembered.

It was one of many early mornings that we shared at that beach, and I always wondered why he liked to take me and my brothers there at the crack of dawn. Turns out his years as a rower had left the habit of arriving early to the shores for rowing practice, before the waters became too choppy to navigate.

Daddy had the strength and fortitude of a lion, qualities uncannily reflected in his name (yes, it really is “Leon de Leon,” we often had to clarify) and as if to really bring home the point, he was even born under the sun sign of Leo. What are the odds of that?

His magnetism was irresistible, his presence overpowering. Movie-star handsome, with formidable intellectual faculties that never failed to result in an illuminating perception or two. Most importantly, he was a steadfast husband and father who provided such a comforting continuity to our lives.

That strength that lay so essentially at the core of his being was never more evident than in the valiant fight that he waged in his last years, inspiring every one of us with the courage so typical of how he always approached life.

We’ll miss you so very much, Daddy. The vibrant sun of your good heart will shine on us eternally. And please know that I will remain, forever — and gratefully — “tu bebita.”

Perch Perfect

In another example of how creativity takes many forms, even the simple birdhouse has contributed to a flight of fancy or two, as wonderfully depicted in the recently released book, Birdhouses of the World, compiled by author and bird expert Anne Schmauss.
A collection of dozens of what she calls the “coolest” nest boxes from around the globe, they range from the avian architecture pictured above, made from natural spruce ply (and modeled after the Palazzo Venezia in Rome), to “The Scream” birdhouse inspired by the famous Munch painting and constructed by blacksmith artist Anthony Cateaux, shown right. Many of the houses took weeks to build, others even years. The quirky and often highly embellished creations are reminders that there’s nothing insignificant enough to not challenge the human imagination.

(Photos: top: Elephant Room Creative; right: London Fieldworks)

What’s Cooking, Watson?

Not content to rest on its laurels as Jeopardy!’s all-time champion, IBM’s artificial-intelligence computer system, Watson, has now donned a chef’s hat, showing off its culinary chops in a recently unveiled project called “Cognitive Cooking.”

It’s all part of an effort to broaden the horizons of computing to incorporate that most unique of human qualities — creativity — which has long eluded technological reach. Tapping into a database of more than 35,000 recipes stored in the IBM “cloud,” Watson sniffs out flavor profiles and chemical compounds with a nose for novel combinations, in pairings that number in the quintillions (that’s 18 zeros).

The system searches for the most interesting gastronomic matches by ingredient, cuisine, and dish type, resulting in such unorthodox creations as “Baltic Apple Pie” (with a topping of pork tenderloin, left) and a “Belgian Bacon Pudding” that mixes bacon and figs along with egg yolks and buttermilk (and a pinch of cumin). Other confections whipped up so far: a “Caymanian Plantain Dessert,” “Peruvian Potato Poutine,” and an “Austrian Chocolate Burrito” (ground beef alongside dark chocolate and Edam cheese).

The public got its first sampling at an IBM Watson Food Truck in Austin, Texas last month. Visitors at the city’s SXSW Festival tweeted their choices for favorite dishes, as Watson spewed out recipes ranked by their ability to surprise. For the “Vietnamese Apple Kebab,” it identified a common flavor compound found in both pork and apple. Add curry, mushrooms, and strawberries, and any traditional notion of shish-kebab is turned upside down.

Watson’s human counterparts will admit that in some ways they can’t compete. James Briscione, one of the chefs from the Institute of Culinary Education (ICE) who is working with IBM on the Cognitive Cooking venture, told NBC News: “This is stringing together five or six ingredients at a time that are all matched based on the flavor compounds that they share. That’s something that’s way beyond my ability as a chef.”

IBM has even loftier goals for the project, seeing possibilities for global impact in such areas as obesity and malnutrition. The thinking is that by using computational creativity technologies to analyze chemical compounds and ingredients, the food-service industry can avail itself of new recipes and combinations that will be both healthier and more efficient to produce.

But for now, Watson, how about a taste of the “Caribbean Snapper Fish & Chips”? (Non-fried, of course.)

Walking on Water

The sea-shore is a sort of neutral ground, a most advantageous point
from which to contemplate this world.

— From Cape Cod by Henry David Thoreau

Among the memorable experiences from a first-time vacation on Cape Cod last week was encountering the Brewster Flats (we stayed at a cottage on a bluff overlooking the ocean in the town of Brewster), the widest expanse of their kind in North America, a factoid I was unaware of until after my visit. One can literally walk on water for a (squishy) mile over what is for most of the day Cape Cod Bay, into an oasis of peace and serenity that can only compare to what I felt at the top of a huge glacier in Alaska many years ago.

Watch long enough and the moored boats begin to rise almost miraculously as high tide returns, a ritual that depicts nature in all its transformative glory. The area is remarkable for its schizzy weather shifts as well, where a blinding fog can lift in a matter of minutes, and gorgeous sunlight is doused by ominous clouds in what seems like seconds. The sunset on our last day ranked as one of the most magical I’ve ever seen; applause was heard from a far-off distance as the sun finally disappeared beneath the horizon.

In Cape Cod (published in 1865), Thoreau wrote, “Even the sedentary man here enjoys a breadth of view which is almost equivalent to motion.”  Nearly 150 years later, the sweep of that view remains as moving as ever.

Nature Made

That soothing gel many of us reach for after a long day at the beach may well have had its origins in an aloe-vera plant, shown above, one of several species on display this summer in Wild Medicine: Healing Plants Around the World, at the New York Botanical Garden. Featuring the latest research on how the ancient healing properties of plants have impacted modern medicine, the presentation also explores the fascinating discipline of ethnobotany, or how and why interaction with plant life varies from culture to culture. (In addition to its help with burns, the aloe, for example, is used in the Dominican Republic to treat asthma, while in Puerto Rico it’s appreciated for its ability to alleviate symptoms of the flu.) Other medicinal plants that pack a powerful punch include the Pacific Yew tree (scientific name: Taxus brevifolia), below, whose bark yielded the discovery of a chemical, paclitaxel, that revolutionized the field of cancer treatment. (Wild Medicine appears through September 8.)

A Taste of Gold

As the international gastronomic community gathers for the quadrennial event known as the “Culinary Olympics,” which get underway this weekend in Erfurt, Germany, I recall the same occasion as being the serendipitous springboard for what would become the most extraordinary dinner of my life. And it took place far away from Europe.

It began with a dare. My maternal grandmother, Adriana C. Petit de Vivanco (“Clemen”), was truly legendary for her talents in the kitchen. (And yes, I know, everyone brags about their grandmother’s cooking.) There is no one, and I mean no one, who tasted her wizardry who did not remain indelibly dazzled by the experience. (Desserts, especially, included.)

And so one night in 1992, in a year that also featured an installment of the famous culinary competition, my family and I were at a restaurant that we frequented often, eponymously  named for its chef, Mark Militello, one of the celebrated founders of what was known as the “Mango Gang,” a group that led the charge in the New American Cuisine category which became so cutting edge and popular in that era.

As we raved about our meals as usual, I deliberately (and mischievously) asked my grandmother if she could match the amazing creativity that was so typical of Mark’s fare. As expected, her facial expression signaled subtle offense, with the implication, “…and beyond!” (Though in her mid-70s at the time, there was nothing dated about her approach to cooking — or life, for that matter. No tired rehashing of old recipes with her; she managed to surprise even more as the years went by.)

So I told her, OK – carte blanche. We would stage our own intimate evening in that year of the “Culinary Olympics,” with just one prerequisite: imagination. Wherever your genius takes you. I wanted this “Picassa” of the kitchen to let loose with free rein. My grandfather (a discriminating oenophile) and myself would follow her food choices for the wines.

One Lovely Blog Award

Well, this one will be a bit off the beaten path, as the blog has been nominated for the “One Lovely Blog” award, a blogger ritual with its own rules and regulations, and charming in a spread-the-word sort of way, as it acknowledges fellow bloggers whom you like and would like others to get to know. In order to accept, protocol calls for publishing the rules, which are as follows:

• Link back and thank the blogger who nominated you;
• Place the award logo on your blog;
• Share seven things about yourself;
• Nominate 15 other blogs you like for the award.

First, a big thanks to learningmypathtowardsgod for the nomination. The spiritual journey that is detailed there is both involving and personal, and one can sense tremendous honesty in the experience. Thank you again for thinking of my own “Musings.”

Living the Language Loca

As a lover of all things linguistic, one of the fun parts of having come from my background has been what are called “Cubanismos,” those colorful phrases that are so perfectly and uniquely Cuban in flavor — and impossible to translate in any conceivably coherent way. (An hilarious offshoot of the “Cubanismo” includes the pronunciations of some of the more commonplace American venues and items, as in the T-shirt, left.)

Also referred to as “Cubonics,” these sayings comprise a zany subset of what is otherwise known as Spanish, and to this day I still discover a new nugget or two along the way. 

Hawking’s Non-Heaven

“I regard the brain as a computer which will stop working when its components fail. There is no heaven or afterlife for broken-down computers. That is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark.”

With those words, British physicist Stephen Hawking set off yet another round of controversy already preceded by similar pronouncements in his 2010 book, The Grand Design. There, he wrote that “the universe can and will create itself from nothing,” a thought reflected in his comments from a few days ago in The Guardian, reiterating his belief in spontaneous creation and human life as being a matter of “chance.”

The reference to heaven as a “fairy story” is what’s gotten the most attention, but Hawking’s computer analogy is what most struck me. Far be it to call anything Hawking believes “simplistic,” but to reduce the sum total of a human being to hardware destined for the dumpster feels a bit shallow. Much as I view cemeteries as metaphorically nothing more than used-car lots where the drivers have long since moved on, that failed PC in Hawking’s example would likewise have been worthless as well had something bigger not pushed the button and turned it on in the first place. (The “soul” being a subject for another time.)

Anima Rising

Last week’s brouhaha about shifting zodiac signs brought to mind the subject of the nature and origin of personalities, specifically the thoughts of the great analyst Carl Jung, he of synchronicity, the collective unconscious, and the idea of introversion and extroversion defining us as human beings.

I’ve always gravitated to the Jung principles; easier to relate to in a present tense, and somehow more tied to the intrinsic “self” than Freud’s emphasis on infant/childhood experiences. (Jung addresses the divergences directly in the indispensable Modern Man in Search of a Soul, in the chapter, “Freud and Jung – Contrasts.”) In Jungian jargon, I’m considered an “INTJ” (Introversion/ INtuition/Thinking/Judgment) personality (per the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI, based on Jung typology), probably as valid a classification as any. (Take a similar test here.)

More involving is Jung’s complex hypothesis of the “anima,” or life force.  The core aspect of the introversion/extroversion (“in/out”) theory is that the introvert’s essential spirit feeds on solitude; the extrovert’s on interaction with others. The introvert recharges in aloneness; conversely, the battery for the extrovert is drained without continual social stimuli. Jung writes that, “One cannot be introverted or extroverted without being so in every respect.” (Ambiverts beware…no middle of the road allowed.)

And the search for self continues…

Empty Chairs

I can’t help but be struck by two symbolic images over the past week that are reminders of what a long road remains in the struggle for elementary freedoms. The stark photo at left, of a Cuban flag draped over a solitary chair at the EU’s presentation of the Sakharov Prize for Freedom of Thought, held in Strasbourg, France and awarded to the dissident Guillermo Fariñas, follows last week’s absence at the Nobels (and again, the empty chair, below) of Liu Xiaobo, winner of this year’s Peace Prize. The Cuban government did not allow Fariñas to travel to Europe to accept in person, and Liu Xiaobo sits in a Chinese jail serving an 11-year sentence. Both men are guilty of no more than a simple belief in basic human rights.

I’ve long maintained that had the same global shunning and sanctions (economic and otherwise) that brought down apartheid rule in South Africa been shown towards Cuba (with its own brand of day-to-day apartheidism) the end of that island’s dinosaur-relic regime may have been hastened as well. (China is, of course, a more complicated story). As it is, one feels diminished as a citizen of civilized society that these two sad images can even exist in a circa 2010 world.

Nibble On This

Two of the trendier restaurants in Miami (for now), Sra. Martinez and Sugar Cane Raw Bar & Grill, have made their names with tapas-oriented fare, a concept I first encountered at a bar in Madrid muchos eons ago and fell in love with instantly. It’s a simple premise: many small plates to savor in lieu of the traditional appetizer/main course/dessert routine, making the gastronomic experience infinitely more adventurous. Initially (and essentially) glorified snacks, tapas have evolved into a culinary niche of increasing sophistication (McDonald’s meets Per Se!) And with that sophistication come eateries that are now as expensive as any in the haute-cuisine category. Four baby portions at an average $8–$10 each equals a pretty pricey entree at any upscale restaurant, so I imagine these establishments have healthy profit margins. Sra. Martinez, with the renowned Michelle Bernstein (doyenne of the Miami foodie scene) at the helm, is the more creative of the two; Sugar Cane mixes it up with a raw bar (sushi, sashimi, etc.)—and unexpectedly terrific torrejas for dessert. (Now there’s an idea: tapas dessert bars…)

The Baffle: Plastic Bottles

Once in a while will be posting “The Baffle,” dealing with some of life’s most puzzling questions. Today, the bottoms of  bottles — soda, water, and the like. Why aren’t they flat?  What’s with the ridges that make them (big ones especially) tumble over all the time? It didn’t use to be this way. There must be an explanation, but can’t seem to find it.

Cruising for Bruising

The misadventure involving the Carnival ship Splendor (shown left, finally docking after an engine fire that stranded it for several days at sea) is a reminder of the not-so-pretty side of cruising. Though thankfully not at the level of the current episode, another most unpleasant cruise experience, consisting of a voyage on Princess Cruises’ Emerald of the Seas,  took place for me over the summer.

Having been to the Caribbean on another cruise in 2009 (on Carnival, ironically), and having had a really lovely time, I expected a similarly relaxing escape this go-round. Not quite. Caught the dreaded “Norovirus” – or “Code Red” as they call it when it starts to spread on a ship. “Noro” is without a doubt the closest little visit to hell when it hits, though the worst of it is relatively brief. The quarantine experience is a trip in itself; they pad the cabin doors and come in with what look like gas masks to pick up your room, for starters. To add insult to injury, Princess offered no compensation for the enforced 24-hour quarantine time, and tacked on the medical charges to the bill as well.

Never a big fan of cruises in the first place, and in light of this week’s event, it’s right back to square one for me, for sure.

Colors of a Storm

As a tropical storm moves over South Florida, eerie colors and glowing lights that seem softly surreal (not adequately captured by my trusty Powershot) after a rain-drenched and dreary day. Atmosphere perceptibly alters, very close to dream-like surroundings.