I don't think this needs much explanation, does it?

Watch this space...

A couple of nights ago I was riding the streetcar across the city when I had the great honour of meeting Inuit artist, Manasie Akpaliapik. He was sitting across from me and asked me if I was going very far. He said that he needed someone to talk to. We talked about art, drumming, the tragic death of a friend of his, and his life here in Toronto in the space of a 20 minute ride. We exchanged information, and I stepped off the car with a mixture of feelings that ran from humility and gratitude to sadness.

From our conversation, I would say that Manasie has been going through a difficult time, and I hope that his troubles are resolved soon. He's clearly a gifted artist, and from talking with him briefly he also possesses a gentle, accepting soul and a wildly passionate creativity. When I got home, I noticed that a range of his works were on auction on Kijiji with prices listed from $440 to $2800. I wondered if the person auctioning such works off would consider sending a portion of the proceeds to Manasie himself? I emailed the auctioneer about it, but haven't heard back yet. Stay tuned.

He could use it. He really could. Imagine the irony I felt today when I heard on the radio that VANOC is in hot water over it's "authentic aboriginal products" that are manufactured in China. I wasn't surprised. Sickened, angry, embarrassed, ashamed, yes. Surprised, no. What the hell, Canada?

Our living room is a television-free zone. We chose to have this space in our home as a place to relax, to talk, listen to music, and entertain friends. Having seen too many living rooms in people's homes turned into shrines for the almighty big-screen HDTV, we felt it important to create a space that ran counter to this trend, and it works for us. I read in there, my wife and I will have a cocktail after work and talk, we have friends over and nobody is pretending not to stare over your shoulder at the television as you try to engage them in conversation. It's a salon from the days of yore, not a home theatre, but this is all a digression from my main point.

We have an unobtrusive, but potent sound system installed in this room which we use regularly. I employed a Roku Soundbridge for the longest time which served my library-streaming needs perfectly: I had my entire music library on the desktop computer upstairs being served by a Firefly media server. The Soundbridge not only connected and played anything in the library, it accessed internet radio streams as well. After it strangely, suddenly died an untimely death - I felt the loss immediately. Of course, I could burn a CD of music from the library upstairs, the limitations of which should be obvious. I could plug in my iPod to the stereo and do it that way, but the same problem exists. Roku still makes the Soundbridge, but it's become a niche device and is only available by mail-order. It would also cost me the better part of 2 bills to get one. Not exactly what I had in mind. Any other streaming options currently on the market were either prohibitively expensive (I'm looking at you, Sonos) or had gone all aflutter over streaming video as well, a feature I had no use for and thus was uninterested in paying for.

At this point I hit upon the Airport Express. The current model Express allows wireless clients to connect via 802.11n, and will serve your iTunes library wirelessly through AirTunes. Could this be what I needed?

I realized also that this would solve any connectivity problems I have on the main floor of our house. The DSL modem and router are upstairs in the study, and sometimes I have dropouts when connected wirelessly downstairs. With the Express extending my existing Airport Extreme network, it would serve not only as a way of streaming my media to the stereo downstairs, but provide additional wireless coverage to the rest of the house.
Perfection.

Setting it up was pretty simple, although one has to be relatively careful when extending an existing wireless network with WDS - the settings on both the Extreme base station and the Express remote have to be exactly the same. Now, I can use Apple's free Remote app for the iPhone and iPod touch to browse and play my entire iTunes library. It's literally the exact situation I had with the Roku Soundbridge, with the added benefit of increased wifi coverage and a better control interface by using the free iPhone app. I should mention that this solution cost half as much as replacing the original gear. Nice.

There are however, two issues with the Remote app that I would like to mention for anyone considering the same setup. 1. Internet Radio. iTunes allows you to connect to and play internet radio streams, but the Remote app has no way of browsing them, even though a whole section exists in your iTunes library for these streams. Here's a workaround: create a playlist, title it something obvious like "Internet Radio," and drag your favourite streams into it from the Radio section. You'll be able to browse this playlist on the Remote app and play the ones you want from there. Not perfect, but it works. 2. No wifi streaming to the iPhone/iPod itself. This surprised me, as it seems like a no-brainer for Apple to include this functionality. Here I have a Mac sharing it's iTunes library to the local network. Any other computer on the network can see this library and play from it. But an iPod (from the very company that prides itself on it's effortless functionality and connectivity) can't stream music from an iTunes library on the network it's connected to. The Remote app allows me to control iTunes - I can even select which speakers to send the stream to. Why it doesn't also allow streaming to the app itself is beyond me. It's sending playlist data, album cover art, etc, but no audio stream. Bizarre. There are other options like Simplify Media and dot.tunes, but I have no interest at the moment of browsing my iTunes library over the internet at large through a web browser. A kludge, considering how elegantly this should work from an Apple-based solution itself.

This strikes me as either an incomprehensible oversight, or it's in the works for a later revision of the app. One can wish.

Stephen Harper can do a great number of things:

He can prorogue Parliament, effectively stifling any questions about the Afghanistan file. He can, in the interim, stack the Senate a little more in his favour.
He can allow the economy, the environment, and the operation of this country to be put on autopilot for TWO MONTHS. He can willingly fall asleep at the wheel.

He can cost taxpayers millions of dollars by effectively sacking a whole host of upcoming legislation that will never see the light of day. He can give the spotlight on the world stage to the Conservatives alone during the Olympic Games.
He can order the Governor-General around like a toy poodle. After all of this, he can even order a publicist to explain the whys of all this madness to the press and public, when he's too ashamed to stand up and take his lumps on his own.

There is one thing, however, that Stephen Harper can not do. Not ever.

He can not have my vote.

When he's not busy with his needless (indeed, shameless) self-promotion, Randy Bachman occasionally hits the nail squarely on the head with one of the musical selections he presents on the CBC Radio program, "Vinyl Tap."

Tonight he reminded me of that 70's organ powerhouse, Lee Michaels.

I can thus confirm that my cat Momo officially hates Lee Michaels. From the first notes of his blistering Hammond solo on "Stormy Monday," her ears firmly pinned themselves back to her head as she gave me the most disgusted look.

A glare that said something along the lines of "How could you? Why would you torment me with this acid-soaked blues, this patchouli-scented, Californian pseudo-psychedelia ? Why?"

I try to reason with her, I say, "Baby, just give it a chance - it gets really good after a few bars. Keep in mind that heavy, saturated sound is produced by only two guys. Keys and drums, baby. And the drummer's name is Frosty, baby. How cool is that?"

"About as cool as getting clawed in one's bare ass at 3 am, that's how cool. Dig?"

Clearly still not impressed, she smoothly saunters out of the room, acting all cool jazz just to make her point.

I have tested our cats. On their musical tastes, I mean.

Max likes show tunes, the Beastie Boys, and bebop (although his tastes in jazz tend towards late bop, I still can't get him to appreciate early Lester Young). Momo prefers the Beatles, she'll tolerate anything baroque (Bach interpreted by either Gould or Segovia is a safe bet), and generally won't run from the room if you put on good funk. Not crap funk like P-Funk, but good funk like Tower of Power, James Brown, or The Meters.

They actively detest house music, will hairball on command at the sound of nu-metal, but oddly enough enjoy a bit of Iron Maiden from time to time, in limited doses. It goes without saying that you take your life into your own hands if you even attempt to introduce them to anything with a whiff of commercialism. No Beyonce for these kitties, no sir.

Blues is touch and go, as it is with me - it's just the same damned chord progression ad nauseum and all - but if we're all in the right mood on a Saturday night we can certainly appreciate Bessie Smith, Jelly Roll, Stevie Ray, and a few select others.

It's important to know your pet's musical tastes, if you want to maintain a harmonious household. I'd hate to have the OSPCA testing their jackboots against my front door again just because my cat can't stand an album I was listening to, and proceeded to promptly dime me out to the man. (Still scratching my head over that one. I thought we were safe with Joe Jackson.)

Dogs seem to approve of everything, but then again dogs are noticeably less cultured than cats.

I mean, Ever seen a cat at an outdoor folk festival?

I rest my case.

In my first foray into martini appreciation, I made some grievous tactical errors. Namely, I tried 3 different vermouths as well as the gin.

I don't suppose I need to elaborate further on the state of my head this morning. Instead, I vow to proceed at a more measured pace. Others who find themselves swept up in the experiments can serve as willing guinea pigs for some of the more drastic swings in mixtures. I'll taste, but leave the finishing to others. So much the better for my head.

Tonight we look at Plymouth gin, olives vs. lemons, and bitters.

I used a 2:1 ratio as a control for the experiment.

1. Last night I discovered that particularly interesting use of Kina Lillet instead of dry vermouth. Tonight, I used Plymouth gin instead of Tanqueray and mixed one with Kina Lillet and one with a dry French vermouth. The Plymouth gin is smooth, no doubt. Perhaps a little too smooth - the botanicals in a more herby gin only add character to the overall experience. In a drink with the base spirit as exposed as gin is in a martini, I think the more interesting the gin the better. (Hendricks, anyone?)

As an aside, the Kina is closer to a so-called "Perfect" martini - it's much sweeter than the dry and close to what you might get from combining sweet and dry in one drink.

2. The second drink I made for my wife was Tanqueray, dry vermouth, a barspoon of olive brine and garnished with olive. I have to admit surprise at enjoying the taste of this as much as I did. I nearly took it away from her. The brine (making this a "dirty" martini) smooths out the gin considerably, and the herby botanicals of a good gin go very well with the savoury olive flavours.

Although I thought I would be firmly in the lemon twist camp, I'm forced to reconsider. It's all a matter of what you feel like at the time. Dinner, or dessert? Sweet or savoury? Bright or dark? Either way is just fine apparently - as long as you know what you want.

3. Lastly, my second cocktail only replaced one type of orange bitters for another, to see which was better. The first drink used Regan's, the second Angostura. (not classic Angostura bitters but their orange bitters. Impossible to get in Canada except by special order.)

Angostura's bitters were sweeter than Regan's - the latter tasting much more strictly orange essence without any gerrymandering. The combination of the Lillet with the sweeter bitters (oxymoron, anyone?) leads me to think that as tasty a concoction as this is, we're straying pretty far from Martini Land. Flavours are strongly citrus, rather than juniper.

With the Plymouth gin this is likely called a Hoffman House, not a martini although it's still close enough to be considered a variant.

Still to come: the dreaded gin vs. vodka smackdown, some tinkering with ratios, and some thoughts on the "-tini" lists one finds when out for a drink.

I have always steered clear of the martini. If there ever was a secret society to cocktail culture, the martini would have to serve as ward and gatekeeper against would-be interlopers and onlookers.

Shaken or stirred? Wet, dry, dirty? Gin or vodka? Lemon or olive?

There is so much opinionated bluster, so much history, so many variants and options that to attempt to mix a martini is to risk rendering oneself catatonic with the infinite myriad of possibilites.

Thus, I embark on a quest to discover the One True Martini as handed down to us from the Ancients. The quest will take me to the darkest places of the soul - realms of torment and evil that will require all of my cunning and fortitude to escape from.

Over the course of the next few installments I will be tackling some of the most existential questions in martini culture.

For starters, I leave you with this:

Tonight I tried a classic dry gin martini with a 7:1 ratio of gin to vermouth. Lemon twist.

Too dry for me. All gin, all the time. As much as I like that, it's got no real complexity to keep me interested.

I then switched to a 2:1 ratio of gin to Kina Lillet with a dash of orange bitters. Also lemon twist.

Much, much more interesting. The flavours really play off each other and the ingredients are balanced enough that it's deceptively smooth.

What with the resurgence of vermouth in cocktail culture, I would heartily recommend the Gnostics come out of the desert and sample what a good splash of vermouth can do for your outlook on life.

Coming soon: more fiddling with ratios, an attempt at a (so-called) vodka martini, and settling the olive vs. lemon debate.

Cheers.

Had a hankering for rye tonight when I got home.

David Wondrich devotes a whole page to the Suburban, in his book:

1 1/2 oz rye whiskey
1/2 oz dark rum (Jamaican)
1/2 oz port
dash orange bitters
dash Angostura bitters

Stir with cracked ice.

His description invokes wood panelling and cigars. I have to admit to being a bit... underwhelmed.

I couldn't let that be the end of the story, so I hunted down something else that was rye based, and came upon the Maryland Squirrel and had to try it, just for the name alone:

1 1/2 oz rye whiskey
3/4 oz creme de noyeaux (I substituted Disaronno here.)
1/2 oz fresh lemon juice

Shake with ice. Garnish with lemon twist.

Ahh, now here's something interesting. If you like almond liqueurs, you'll know the shame of what I speak: you secretly really love the stuff, but you can't bring yourself to drink it straight because that would just be ... wrong somehow.

Here's the booze for you. The rye makes this a "real" drink, in the sense that you know you've got some quality hooch in your hands. The amaretto makes itself known, but not annoyingly so - not like the uncle you wish you hadn't invited to the wedding. The lemon juice keeps everyone real and sits in the middle like a referee.

Not exactly a cold weather drink, but not summery either.

Cheers.

There is one word that I hear all too often on radio, television and in print.

Consumer.

We, the great unwashed masses, are called many things over the course of the working day, but I feel that we don't take enough care with the meanings of the words we use to describe ourselves.

Implied in this, one must also produce in order to consume, to some degree. We are producers as well as consumers, although one would be hard pressed to hear us discussed in this manner.

The word consumer is being used to describe us in more ways than just the narrowly defined commercial role it's meant to.

I'd much rather be called a citizen than a consumer. I have more to provide society than another mouth to feed, another pair of eyeballs to entertain, another wallet to open time and again.

Perhaps North American culture has moved so far away from the concept of production that the term "consumer" really does describe such a large portion of society that it's actually a more accurate label than I'm comfortable with.

That's a scary thought.

Do you produce as well as consume? What exactly do you produce, and do you feel good about doing so?