Dinner of Champions

When our friend, the lovely and talented Andrea Frustaci, triumphed last week in the Burnaby Open Tennis Tournament, we had to have a celebratory dinner. The centerpiece of the menu was moules marinières with a nice crusty sourdough bread. (Dessert, incidentally, utilized the recently-made rose petal jam as a topping for vanilla ice cream, accompanied by lavender shortbread.)

But there were way more mussels than we could eat, and a goodly bit of the rich, creamy broth. So, with the leftovers, a handfull-or-two of bay shrimp, a few yukon gold potatoes, an ear of corn, and supplimental splashes of white wine and cream, I prepared the fantabulous one-pot meal pictured above. Is it a stew? A chowder? A “panroast” a la The Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station? Who could say? Our mouths were full.

The Agony of Defeat

I’m back-on-my-back.

A nasty little ankle sprain had been elevated and iced for the better-part of four days, with intervening trips to the doctor and physio and a regimen of careful range-of-motion enhancers, to speed recovery.  To goal was to be fit for last night’s doubles match in the Burnaby Open Tennis Tournament.  Let’s just say the effort came-up a little short.

Brave New World Cup

It all began with what seemed an amusing, head scratching, eyebrow raising fluke. North Korea nicked a goal off Brazil and shipped only two, as the team ranked first in all-the-world barely scraped by the team ranked No. 105. (This ranking includes only national teams. It would be exponentially lower if it included pub sides and teams in pick-up games.) The next day, a talentless, ambitionless Swiss side shut-out tournament favorites Spain 1 – 0. Soon all-hell was breaking loose.

Greece won a football match — against Nigeria, no less. Serbia beat Germany. Tiny Slovenia rode its luck to draw a very good American squad. Camaroon went down with nary a peep to Denmark — which was only a fraction as embarrassing as Ghana drawing with the Australians and, in the process, defying a long-established international tradition by letting the Shielaroos score a goal.

Then, just this morning, the New Zealand All Whites, who had already taken a surprise point from Slovakia, held cup holders Italy to a 1 – 1 draw.

And I’m not even mentioning the fact that England and France are winless, which are not really surprises. Only Englishmen think their team is not crap; and not even the French are deluded about Les Blues Calamiteux.

What’s going on in this World Cup?

“Global warming,” suggests Yoo-Mi.

Political Football

One of the favorite shibboleths about international sporting events like the Olympics and World Cup is that countries temporarily set aside politics and bygones to come together in the pure spirit of sport. This ideal never seems entirely to bear out. Admit it: geopolitical dynamics add to the drama of certain sporting events.

Today’s test case: is there anyone out there that doesn’t want to see Brazil put half-a-dozen goals past North Korea?

******

Schadenfreude Update

Brazil 2 – DPR Korea 1

Dear Leader will be so pleased. Dunga, less so. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we hope in football or geopolitics.

Golden Olympics

A week before the start to the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Games, I had the temerity to wonder whether the experience would be fun for the city and its visitors. At the time, there were few tell-tales to be seen on the city streets. Now the games are concluded and I have absolutely no difficulty declaring them a resounding success.

VANOC put on a superb show, not only for the world’s best winter athletes but for Vancouver as well. The experience was inclusive, inspirational, and delightful. Much has been made, and will continue to be made, of the economic costs and benefits that go into hosting an Olympic Games. That accounting will play-out in the years to come and the ultimate judgment cannot be predicted with any certainty, one way or the other. But only the most Grinch-like observer, pushing an ulterior agenda, could say that these games were anything but marvelous.

No Fun Olympics?

Last summer, in the face of the fabulously successful Summer Olympic Games in Beijing, I raised the question: Could India host an impressive Olympics? With the Winter Games now a scant two weeks away, that same question must be asked of Vancouver. Though I write this from my Vancouver home, I cannot say that I have a clue what the answer might be.

I assume than the Vancouver Olympic Organizing Committee (VANOC) has the infrastructure and logistical matters well taken care of. I’m sure the events will go-off in decent venues, visitors will find themselves well accommodated and transported, and that they’ll even overcome the snow shortage occasioned by the rotten luck of an Olympic year El Niño in the Pacific. But will it be any fun?

The End of Dadaism

Leave it to Sourav Ganguly to go out in a perplexing blaze of nothingness, with a first-ball duck at Nagpur, just as he entered with a perplexing blaze of brilliance, with an opening-innings century at Lords nearly a dozen years ago. Always a bit of drama with Sourav. Okay, more than a bit.

Could India Host an Impressive Olympics?

India and China. China and India.

Whenever discussion turns to the New World Order, these neighboring giants are always mentioned in the same breath as the up-and-comers. I understand the arguments, but remain deeply skeptical about the prospects for both countries, though for vastly different reasons.

With the Beijing 2008 Olympics drawing to a close, one must concede that China has managed to pull off a fabulously successful advertisement for itself, even though its ugly authoritarianism and environmental shamefulness remained on plain view throughout. So the question nags: Could India hold an Olympics that would flatter, rather than embarrass the nation? I, for one, seriously doubt it.

Nightfall on English Bay

We had no camera with us as we slipped onto the water under a cloudless twilight, still pink in the west toward Vancouver Island and intensifying to a midnight blue over the city. The photo above, like the one at the foot of this post, was taken more than an hour after our moonlit paddle had concluded — after the kayaks were carried back to the house and the boats, our gear, and we had been properly showered. Only then did I return to the beach to capture what remained of the drama of the nightscape; and by then its crystalline perfection had melted to a lovely, if less breathtaking softness. The glassy surface of the water had become pocked by the slightest whisper of wind and a gauzy haze obscured the late-rising moon in the east. So you’ll just have to close your eyes and imagine.

Yet Another Reason Vancouver Rocks

This afternoon, under cool, grey skies, Yoo-Mi and Ellen rolled out the driveway on bicycle; and I launched a sea kayak from the beach in front of the house. Roughly an hour later, we rendezvoused on the dock at Granville Island, and began combing the aisleways of the Public Market for the makings of dinner.

Not a bad way to “run to the store.”