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Beet Dip

For years my cousin’s wife has been making this beet deep that is delicious. So distinctive and unique. By the way, she’s in Japan right now and is a prolific writer on organic gardening, really farming, and is quite worth the read. It’s been interesting to see her adapt to the Asian vibe coming from the midwest. Check it out here.

beetsSo here’s the recipe for your reference. (text from Popcorn Homestead)

Cut off the beet tops leaving a bit of stem. Plop the whole beet in a pan of water and boil until the cut easily with a knife. Word has it that you should not cut off the root or cut the beets in half (although I have done both) as it causes additional bleeding of the beet and flavor loss. I boiled for about 35 minutes.

Meanwhile, peel a number of garlic cloves. Most people who eat this like a fair amount of garlic, so even if you don’t use all of them you can use them later.

Drain the beets, and peel them under cold running water. The latter is especially nice if you’re peeling them right after boiling as they are quite hot. The peels should simply slide off under your fingers, and the tops should slide off or edge off easily, too. I would let them dry a little (maybe 10-15 minutes) before grating, if you can. Makes the dip a bit less soupy.

Grate the beets into a bowl. Grind the walnuts (about a 1/4 cup) and sprinkle over the grated beets. A good dollop of mayo and press in the garlic. Stir. Add mayo as you want the color and taste to change.

There are no measurements, I’m afraid. I make it to taste every time, so you just have to sample as you go. Do not use fat free mayo or olive oil or whatever without an experimental batch for yourself first. I’ve never had luck with alternatives for mayo, but you may.  I measured about 6 beets for one garlic.
Spoon into a bowl, chill (if you can) for a bit, and serve with crackers or bread.

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From the wordpress twitter feed comes, a sample of wordpress being used as a content management system.

After looking at it I see it as a great digg-like resource for all things design. These folks have taste and are astute enought to appease our list and classifcation fetishes on the web.

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Poem from Akin

A poet friend wrote the following poem. I was a bit floored and posting almost seems conceited. However I’m thinking that in these times words and “the poet” are more important than ever. Treasures of the heart are worth more than Babylon’s gold. The Warrior is back.


I have a friend named Tim, who I don’t see much of
Beautiful wife and a daughter the color of red apples and candy colored crayons of princess rayon
Black hair like her mother’s, with jelly soft features, the future is bright if she is what it features
Suburbanite gripes, gripping cool whips, pushing past the poetry of Detroit streets
Techno music or maybe electronic forms, breaking it down to underground basement alley drums
Rocking the peasant hats, friends with pornographic editors and peasant proprietors, all while versed in old school raps, the cool kid imitators
Shepard Fairy imitations, along with reproduced prints by Jean Michel Basquiat
A loose crew of bomb blasting , loud bass thumping, thumb ring rubbing, pull pin loving with one warning like ETA
Flying fairies on the lunch box of a princess, separated from himself like Basque bandits from the Vatican Eucharist shelf,
A subversive in sense but a normal and decent man. No war over which one has the final word because both have their innocence delivered in a baby bird with ladybug charms and chubby arms…
Ornithologist of mistakes that escape from cooped up fates, now soaring into a bright digital sky
That has passed the death of cool cassette tapes and black vinyl tracks, to boom past C.D paths and expand into an mp3 Lego land
Full thronged supporter of black aspirants and Amir Baracka, he too was once the wretched of the land
Stacks and stacks of fanon, Buddhist cannon, old mystics and newer classics all managing space in his corrugated iron left leaning thinking
His ascent from wild hedonistic ascetic to throat vibrating mystic chanter is telling in his fortunate belly
Swells like the didgeridoo brewing like coffee from his decanter, burning cigars are his lanterns
Off the puff clouds his feet must fly back to his photographer wife on double duty with sure doubts
Rescued cat, named after a revolutionary track master, and a powerful dog, named after my father and a prophet that railed against the taskmaster
And a black cat named after a communist march, and a balancing home budget
-On Sunday he is loving the tasks of the garden tax and building decks that tax checks invest
Shoring up the wealth of his castle in this suburb of hustle and home-
And a daughter around whom
His life revolves, like the earth around the moon
And the sun around the earth and the moon pulling the waves and spiting the seas’ shores
and his other loves, all sharing an equal plane in this assortment of stuff, such
As a mother and a father…
Old framed pictures of himself from the early past, cushioned in a pimp’s plush pudding
Riding around in the past but plugged into an iPod production, producing waves of raves
The kind with the ecstasy of a morning commute to a desk and a screen, with the scent of a dream
Hanging and dangling from the rearview scene
You might not have a great big fancy car, diamond in the big… digging the scene with a gangster lean
Just be thankful for your diamond in the back, gem by your side, ink dipped memories on your arm as you take that seat belted ride with booster seats inside
Gangster silver walls closing off the outside’s doors ensconced in a summer rush, with fragrant flowers dropping from the ceiling of your Porsche, must be the greatest feeling
In the world, a man with his happy family involved
Soccer father, closeted TV screen, screaming into the Mac computer unplugged from the warm colors of wood and laughter, reflecting the clean design that is careening off electronic and metronomic, arithmetic ergonomic, style reflexes that reflects in the horn rimmed lenses,
Chest of secrets that seat wonders of a childhood palace where we are safe from disaster, insured by the chanting of a wiser but ice blue father… cool with cold-blooded calm, returning the anxiety, with a balm of harmony, forming from rubbed palms
Ready to cry at the drop of a dime, reading and writing poetry one at a time, long into the night under the foundation of mundane household fascinations.
Beautiful wife, the happiest daughter… working everyday and still learning to be a man…


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Deviant Art

A few years back I went to an exhibit at the College for Creative Studies in Detroit focusing on notable modern graphic design. There was a section on The Walker Art Museum in Minneapolis, Target, and of course, Apple. Each section looked at the history and evolution of these different brands from a design perspective. It was cool.

A colleague of mine and I walked through the exhibit pretty quickly as we absorb design daily both consciously and unconsciously then we wandered around the lobby of CCS where there was a student exhibit showing. Some of it was dark and twisted and some of it flowery, but it had something the graphic design did not. My colleague pointed out how refreshing it was to look at art for art’s sake, rather than used as a tool to promote and advertise. Some of the darker paintings, complete with guns and blood from what I remember, had an honesty and soul. It was humble and personal. I felt a connection not only with the artist but an intimate part inside myself as I responded to my emotions created by the art.

Now, not only with the web, but with high-end inexpensive ink-jet technology, art is becoming more accessible, more prevalent, and more easily shared so we can all respond to the artist’s plea. Check out It has the standard web community features but what is really innovative, is you can submit your art and also purchase art. It puts it in our hands, not the curators. You can choose from a postcard or a wall sized print, even a print on canvas. Cuddle up, this site is huge, you can spend hours on it. And come away inspired.

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