Let's go back in time to 1183 AD, to the setting of that Peter O'Toole classic, The Lion in Winter.  Europe was rather chilly, and neither coffee nor tea had yet to be introduced to England, nor had hops yet been introduced to beer.  One imagines that mornings would have been pretty dreary, because poor old Henry II couldn't even get a mimosa (no oranges, no Champagne!), and his hot braggot would have been flavored with heather or nettles or something unpleasant like that.  It's really no wonder he had so much trouble with his sons.

Luckily, in these modern times, we have a variety of morning delights to distract us from our filial tribulations, and in winter months hot coffee or tea can be used to warm our troubled spirits as well as our chilled bodies.  It is this cherished attribute we wish to draw your attention to today.

When the colder months approach, waxing one's moustache in the morning can become rather taxing.  During the day, the wax stays nice and firm, as the Winter sun doesn't seem that good at melting it, but chilly fingers do a poor job of softening and spreading the wax to begin with.  This is why you should have a hot, fresh cup of tea or coffee with you while working on your moustache.  With it, you can warm your fingers, perhaps warm the wax a bit, and if the going gets really rough, you can take a few sips and let the hot steam from your beverage increase the suppleness of your 'tache, for easier working.

"Some day," I told myself, "I'll have a house to keep all my stuff in."

I was right. What's particularly strange to me is that when I actually start looking through my precious hoard, it doesn't generate the comfort and security I had dreamt of. I won't bore you with an inventory, let's just say that I have a tremendous amount of things that I don't need. Over time, I also have excelled at burdening myself with another category, many of which those things I don't need have become: things I don't want.

The things I don't want generate worry and a tremendous psychological burden: the things I thought would root me to my home have done just that, and it has turned my house not into a personal museum dedicated to displaying my awesome array of interests and fine taste, but instead into a burdensome place that offers me only problems and limitation. Do I really need laser discs? VHS tapes? Manuals for computer operating systems I will never use again? Will I really scrapbook those old party invitations? How is it that I allowed myself to accumulate so much pure crap?

Persons with far greater understanding of economics than my own have surely meditated at length on this issue. What troubles me is the specter of artificial need, and what scares me is the thought that I am the one who always has given myself permission to have such junk to begin with. I can understand how my changing tastes might contribute sometimes, but what on Earth has been so wrong with me that I let it get so bad?

To participate in society, we must exchange. One fundamental reason so many goods are available is because they are so ubiquitously needed, and of course we most often purchase certain goods because the labor or expertise required to produce them exceeds our own means, or because the expense of producing them at small scale is greater than the number on the sticker-- especially when marked down. How simple it would be if when surveying my piles of junk I only saw evidence of that kind of buying: Instead, somewhere I allowed the signal to noise ratio to become very poor.

I'm not really questioning whether it's okay or not to buy things, and I can't possibly comment on anyone else's perception of their possessions and their personal value. I am saying that if I had considered the burden of physically possessing my junk before I let it get so far out of my hands, I would be able to look around and say "I use that" or "I like having that", instead of being worried with where I was going to put things or how hard the junk would be to get rid of. I want my sense of freedom back.

One of the Chap's hallmarks is a kind of disdain for the mass-produced. It's not that a Gentleman of Leisure avoids ever purchasing anything meant for a broad market, but that he knows that such owning such goods requires giving up some individuality-- almost by definition. It's one more handy ideological tool that can be used to evaluate whether or not something's worth having, because by the time I paid for that one gizmo and all those extra boxes to keep floppies in, I could have afforded two tickets to Shanghai after all.

Good memories don't take up any extra space.

Some other ruminations:

http://www.wikihow.com/Buy-Nothing

http://www.paulgraham.com/stuff.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvgN5gCuLac

While shopping at Winn Perry recently, I made an impulse buy and picked up a tin of Oregon Wild Hair Moustache Wax.  I was badly in need of some new wax for my soup-catcher, having just exhausted a tube of Clubman's.  For those of you used to waxes such as Clubman's, which dries very stiff and hard, Oregon Wild Hair's product is a bit of a change.  In addition to its very soothing faint aroma of honey and musk, it stays rather pliant and pleasant.  It's easy to work, easy to use, and not nearly as tacky as Clubman's.

I've only been using it for a few days and am still getting the hang of it, but so far I'm really feeling that it's a superior product.  It claims to be far more resistant to melting in hot beverages, and not being water based, it's far less likely to dissolve while drinking a glass of beer.  It's not as easy to wash out of your moustache, unfortunately, but during the day this is a really great thing, as it doesn't require frequent applications when involved in the typical daily activities of a gentleman of leisure (which we are of course too discreet to discuss).  Please give it a try!

A gentleman of leisure may certainly enjoy cooking, but as the lifestyle tends to lead one in many different and lackadaisical directions, with the cultivation of many different hobbies and interests, I suspect that there are relatively few who truly learn to master the art and science of the kitchen.  This is why, my friends, it is so important to cultivate friendships with experts in various fields of leisure and gastronomy: what we lack the willpower to do, we can have others do for us, and then we simply make up the difference by giving them the canvas of our palettes upon which they may paint their culinary masterpieces.

Such was the case recently, when I had the distinct pleasure of visiting the rustic home of one of the fine cooks from the kitchen of Elements Tapas Bar & Lounge out in the scenic Applegate Valley, where guests were pried open and then filled to the brim with delicious cuisine.  I had the foresight to bring with me a couple bottles of Bison Farmhouse Ale, which I am happy to report tastes far better than that original bottle of mine seemed to suggest.  After finishing breakfast and the first bottle, we all sat around stuffed and groaning, while the cook told us, "Nobody leave!  I'm going to start working on the next meal."

So how does one make friends with chefs?  And should one, really?  Are the stories really true?  Yes, chefs and cooks tend to be crazy, maniacal people, but they are also artists.  It's just that they're forced to be artists at extremely fast paces, repeating the same processes over and over again.  They're usually delightfully quirky and many of them are eager to cook in their off hours, as well.  One head cook once told me that every morning before heading in to the restaurant, she cooks a gourmet meal for her boyfriend, and that in the several years they'd been together, she'd striven hard to avoid repeating her dishes.  Can you imagine that?  A different gourmet meal every day!  Maybe I should change the title of this entry to "Marry a Chef and Get All The Food You Want."

Well, one of the culinary delights that I had on this most recent trip was goetta, a savory, meaty oatmeal dish somewhat similar to a cross between meatloaf and breakfast sausage.  I've looked around on the web and found a number of recipes for this delicious treat, but here's the one that I was given.

Goetta
1 lb. ground pork
1 lb. ground beef
2 1/2 cups steel-cut oats
8 cups water
2 bay leaves
3 tsp salt
1 onion

First, chop the onion, then brown it with the meat in a large pot.  Once it's all browned, add the water and all the other ingredients.  Boil for two and a half hours, then pour into loaf pans and let cool.  I suppose after cooling, it's set into a sort of loaf, which you can then slice and fry until browned.  Serve with ketchup or maple syrup, poached eggs, and toast.  Plus, it keeps well when frozen.  Enjoy!

Hot buttered rum has long been a favorite wintertime libation.  Recently I've noticed that many of my otherwise-worldly peers and acquaintances are not aware of this worthy warm-up, and it would be tragic if such knowledge were to pass into antiquity.  As I prepared to write this article, I was somewhat concerned that the time for it had passed as hot buttered rum is traditionally considered to be something of a holiday beverage.  On the other hand, the local weather report calls for snow on Monday (is there a better day for foul weather?) so I am somewhat more assured that now is as good a time as any other.

For the neophytes, hot buttered rum is a sweet and spiced beverage which as the name implies contains butter and rum, and is served hot.  A brief word of warning: alcoholic beverages served warm are much more potent much more quickly than their chilled brethren, so do start gradually if you have not previously enjoyed such a beverage.  Incidentally, this is one of the reasons sake is traditionally served hot (the other being that sake is only palatable when hot), but I digress.

The typical preparation of hot buttered rum consists of three components: rum, hot water, and "rum batter" which contains all that makes this drink so special.  While rum batter can typically be found at your local package store in small plastic tubs, my personal and somewhat extensive experience has been that quality varies from excellent, to highly-overprocessed (no, it is not called "hot-margarined rum"), to get-a-jackhammer, and all points in between. Therefore, I will offer a recipe for the basic ingredients, and encourage all and sundry to experiment with variations, substitutions, etc.  Show this recipe to your father or grandfather and he will doubtless exclaim that I have left this or that out etc., as recipes for rum batter are as varied, traditional, and heartfelt as those for pie crusts, except that men of all walks of life tend to be more profane in their expressions of opinion on such matters - so be prepared.  Keep in mind that what is offered here is merely the foundation upon which you are expected to build. 

In keeping with the premise of this site, it's worth pointing out that making a batch of rum batter takes approximately one minute by any gentleman worthy of the name, and a batch is sufficient for many an enjoyable evening by the fireplace.  Hot buttered rum is an excellent companion to a nice pipe or cigar tobacco, particularly those varietals which have hints of chocolate or berries.  It is, in all ways, a fine and very warming nightcap to counter the dark and cold of midwinter.

The Recipe:

1 lb dark brown sugar
1 1/2 Tablespoon ground cinammon
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1 pinch salt
1 stick (1/2 cup) softened butter
1/4 C heavy cream (or half and half, or milk if need be)

Combine dry ingredients first, then add wet ingredients and mix thoroughly with a wooden spoon.  Seal any unused batter thoroughly and store in the refrigerator.  Serves 10-20.

Preparation:

Pour desired amount of un-spiced rum into a large coffee mug.  Add 2-3 heaping teaspoons of rum batter and mix well (will be slightly lumpy).  Add boiling water until desired concentration is achieved, and stir until all ingredients are dissolved.  Find a warm fire and enjoy.

Recently I noticed a bottle of champagne on a friend's wine rack, and upon examination found it to be a dusty old bottle of Perrier-Jouët, a very fine champagne and one that I've enjoyed several times in the past. This one was old, though, and was not exactly stored in a cellar, but in a room with a fireplace, up near the ceiling on a tall wine rack. According to our best guess, it had been up there for perhaps a decade. While the Wine Doctor will perhaps tell you that it's a good idea to cellar certain non-vintage champagnes, I am certain that this is not the sort of storage he had in mind. Realizing the seriousness of the situation, I demanded that we chill the champagne as soon as possible and drink it, before any other damage could be done.

It was too late.

While barely drinkable, the wine had a distinct hint of apple cider. Very acidic, very disappointing, and in fact we couldn't finish the bottle. It was a sad, sad day. No man of leisure should ever have to open a bottle of champagne that he can't consume.

When I came home, I eyed the bottle of Moët & Chandon White Star in my wine rack and sighed longingly. What could I do to make sure no other bottles of champagne succumbed to such a perilous fate? First, I had to save my own bottle, so I seized upon the next excuse to open a bottle of fine wine in celebration, and drank it. My task was not yet done, however, which is why I am bringing a very important message to you today. Please read carefully.

No celebration is too mundane, too small, or too unimportant for champagne. However, I'd argue that the more important the celebration, the better the champagne should be. Thank you for your time!

There are few breakfasts as dignified, quiet, and enjoyable as those including poached eggs.  From the simple poached eggs-and-toast to the wonderfully complex eggs benedict, the elegance of this magnificent creation is obvious.

Recently I entered into a contretemps with Mr Bertelsen regarding the proper way to poach an egg. He prefers to use an egg poacher, such as the one you see to the left, and contended that nobody wet poaching an egg could ever match its brilliant results. My position was the opposite: that no dry-poaching egg-cheater could ever come close to a well-made water-poached egg. We realized that we could not be the best judges of this particular contest, so we turned to the Breakfast Club and discovered the painfully obvious: I was right.

So, I'm going to reveal to you all my method of making poached eggs. Perhaps somebody can improve on this, and if so, I'd love to hear it. I'm not really much of a cook at all, you see.

I recently learned about the Bloody Caesar, a cocktail related to the Bloody Mary which replaces the tomato juice with Clamato, a disturbing mix of clam broth and tomato juice.  It sounds odd, but odder still is that the Bloody Caesar is one of Canada's most popular drinks! I swear I'm not making this up.  Check out those links, particularly the one for the Clamato home page, which has a few very entertaining and upbeat songs about their clammy broth.

With a leisure-based lifestyle, we have the time to write a classy and beautiful piece of personal communication that can be treasured as a work of art by the recipient.  It is important to choose good paper, a fine writing instrument, and quality ink, but the first thing someone is going to see is the envelope. An ugly 1000-for-a-dollar lick-seal envelope may be fine for the uncultured masses and for paying bills, but for a piece of art, we need something more. Letterfolding allows you to put a final personal touch on your communications, that bit of extra effort that says "I care" or perhaps, "I'm too cheap to buy an envelope."

There are many classic letterfolds and you may wish to explore every one of them. My personal favorite is the fern letterfold, mainly for it's simplicity and classic look. For simple notes, and hand delivery, it is a great way to package your thoughts. For postal delivery, you'll want to use some wax and a seal, and/or tie it with a cord to ensure your letter remains unread by all but the intended recipient. 

 You may wish to explore other more complex designs, or may prefer to fold a separate envelope. There are many letterfolds and envelopes to choose from, and I suggest you practice on something you can toss in your fireplace, prior to folding a letter you may have spent hours on. A great starting place and long term resource is "Envelope and Letterfolding".
If you have your own personal letterfold, I'd love to receive an example of it. You can address it to:

Christopher Maujean
PO BOX 133
Williams, Oregon
97544

I wish you well in creating classier and more personal packaging for your future letter writing endeavors.

--Christopher

http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/10/28/asia/wine.php

"In an effort to crack down on binge drinking among French teenagers, the government last week proposed raising the legal age for buying alcohol to 18 from 16. It also wants to ban sales of alcohol at highway filling stations and to ban all-you-can-drink "open bar" evenings at French high schools."


I'm appalled, just appalled. If you live in France, I hope you get out of your armchair, grab a long gun  from your gun safe, put down your pipe and slippers, light up a fat cigar and GO RIOT!

Actually, I'm joking here, I don't advocate rioting, and having been in a couple, don't feel they're all that fun. They are a great learning experience, now I'm the guy who ducks and rolls into the bushes for backfires, unexpected fireworks, laser pens and gunshots.

In all seriousness, I think the drinking age issue is ridiculous. The issue is about teaching responsible drinking at an early age, and practicing responsible drinking. If you're on the floor every night, puking in your shoes you're practicing something along the lines of a "gonna be a homeless wino" based lifestyle, rather than a leisure based lifestyle.

--Christopher