Dear Virgin America

Dear VirgAm,

I'm a little peeved with you.  Overall I think you're a good airline. I like your planes, the entertainment system, WiFi capability, and the ability to order drinks and food with a credit card from the comfort of my seat. 

However, the last time we flew with you, your staff made us feel like No-Fly List Criminals because we brought our dogs.  And this after we shell out $400, roundtrip, for the privilege of shoving our dogs underneath the seats in front of us.

First, you request a veterinary certification that our dog is older than 8 weeks old, up to date on vaccines, and spayed/neutered.  Fine (except the spayed/neutered part--what the hell do you care? I mean, do you think one of them is going to impregnate or conceive with a human on a flight? You're gross).  We don't mind when someone at the check-in counter says: "May I see the health certificate?" That's fine. On the other hand, I don't like so much the tone and implication of: "I'm going to need to see your health certificate" as if I'm trying to sneak into the country without a passport and with illicit narcotics.  What probably added to my annoyance was the subsequent 10-minute scrutiny of said health certificate.  It was about 3 sentences long, in English and using proper grammar.

Then there was the time that your check-in clerk told my husband that what he gave to her was a health certificate (which is what you ask for on your website), not a vaccination record, and she is not sure she can let my husband or dog on the plane without the vaccination record.  Really? The fucking health certificate states that the dog is up to date on vaccines. Perhaps she cannot read.  My husband felt powerless at the time to point out that it was the health certificate that we were required to bring, because, as stated, she had just implied that she might prevent him and our dog from going home.  He didn't want to piss her off into detaining him in some windowless, dank room.

Said clerk also asked my husband to show her the dog, like turning his pockets inside out to make sure he hadn't shoplifted any extra luggage tags or a headset.  I don't mind so much the wanting to see the dog (to, you know, make sure it wasn't decaying or something from an airborne disease), but the reason she wanted to see the dog was so that she could look at it, cock her head, and say, in very embarrassing baby talk:

"Now you make sure you tell your daddy that you need to go to wee-wee before getting on the plane, because it is a looong flight."

I did not appreciate her talk patronizingly to my husband, especially THROUGH OUR DOG (it was also a bit befuddling).  Breaking news: the dog can't understand what you're saying. Furthermore, I don't believe it's in our interest to have our dog piss and shit in her carrier. That might be a stretch, but I'm just putting it out there (please note sarcasm). So it's odd to me that the clerk felt it necessary to suggest to us, the dog owners who have had the personal and up-front pleasure of dealing with our dog's piss and shit for years, that we should take her to "wee-wee".  As if it could not have *possibly* occurred to us on our little own selves that taking her out to "wee-wee" before a flight just might be a bright idea.

Also, I do not understand the purpose of the health certificate.  Okay, I'll concede to checking on the rabies vaccination, but the other vaccinations are for diseases not transmutable to humans.  Human passengers--you know, the ones that usually carry germs that can infect each other--are not asked for a health certificate.  You let sick people on the plane all the time.  A person with tuberculosis got on some plane (U.S. Airways, I believe), for goodness' sake.  I don't see airlines screening for TB, the flu, or the common cold.  I'm not sure why dogs are singled out for this very special treatment.  I think it's because it's more logistically feasible since there are not many pets who travel.  I also think it's simply because you can, and it makes you feel all justified and official in patting down our pugs.  Our aggressive, deadly pugs (note the oxymoron).

Second, the millisecond we stepped on the plane for one leg of the trip, a flight attendant marched towards us determinedly like a soldier on a mission with a Very Serious look on her face, rushing through her urgent words "So you're the ones with the dogs, rightwellyouknowthattheyhavetobekeptinthecarriersandzippedthewholetimeunderneaththeseatsi frontofyou." Again, it wasn't so much what she said, but her manner and tone.  As if we were bringing an explosive device on the plane and she wanted to make sure that we knew not to detonate it during the flight. 

Third--and face it, the above would not be cause for so much irritation without this part--I strongly and vehemently hate, yes I said hate, that you make us pay $100 for a one-way trip, for each dog.  When I tell people this, the first question is, "So is the dog in addition to your two carry-ons?" Well, no, it isn't, although that would make a whole lot more sense and be much more fair, for that amount of money.  The dog counts as a carry-on.

Exactly what am I paying for? The dog does not take up any extra space in the plane.  A child 2 and under can fly for free, because he/she does not take any extra space.  I notice no particular extra effort, work or courtesy on the part of your staff stemming from my $100, so I would like an explanation of why the fee exists.

If you say it's because of increased operating costs, seriously, I will hit you.  If you are hoping to improve your operating costs on the backs of the very few owners with pets that fly your airline, might I suggest looking into an alternate strategy that may actually make sense, as opposed to the current one employed.

I have a suspicion that you charge the fee simply because you can.  There's no AARP for pets to argue our side. You oppressor.

Our recent trip with you was a mostly condescending experience.  To pay an extra $400 per roundtrip and not receive anything but normal treatment given to other passengers is insulting, when it costs nothing to you, your staff, and the other passengers.

I don't hate you.  Although my husband refuses to fly with you anymore.

Please reconsider your policy on pets and the training you provide for your staff.  As it stands now, I imagine that the training consists of a military instructor standing at the front of the room with a picture of a menacing dog with the word "Evil and Dangerous" scrawled along the top in blood.  At the bottom is written the mantra "If Possible, Be Condescending and Treat Like Criminals At All Times".

I know not every staffperson has or will buy into this brainwashing rhetoric, and some staff will be quite nice. I just wish we had run into more of them on this recent trip.

Sincerely,

Mina

P.S. Don't tell me that I should be so lucky to travel with my pets on a plane.  Because I used to travel with my pets when the fee was $50, which I could handle (despite still not understanding the airline's reasons).  I don't see what has changed that I'm now so super lucky that I get to pay $100.  

French...German...Just a Potato Salad

We saw some lovely fingerling potatoes at the farmers' market a few weeks ago and decided to make potato salad.  La Ratte, they were called.  Rat potatoes. Anyway, Kevin's not really into mayonnaise-based potato salads, so I decided to go with a more "French" version.  However, I also looked into the "German" version because of one thing and one thing only: bacon.  In the end, I used a mostly French recipe and added bacon, for an international love child potato salad.

Recipe adapted from Jacques Pepin.

Ingredients:

• 6 slices of bacon, chopped (you may omit if you want this to be vegetarian)
• 2 pounds fingerling potatoes or other small waxy potatoes
• extra-virgin olive oil
• 1/2 cup 1/4-inch slices of scallion, green and white parts
• 1/2 cup chopped onion (I used shallots because I don't like having half onions lying around rotting in my fridge)
• 3 cloves garlic, mashed and coarsely chopped (1 1/2 tsp)
• 1/3 cup white wine (I used a combo of white wine and champagne vinegar because I really wanted to buy and use champagne vinegar, for no particularly good reason except that it's fun to have champagne vinegar, regardless of the tenuous relationship it actually has to champagne)
• 1 1/2 tablespoons Dijon-style mustard (in my single-minded mission to buy champagne vinegar, I completely forgot that we were out of Dijon mustard, so I used the whole grain mustard we had at home instead)
• 2 to 3 tablespoons chopped chives
• 2 tablespoons or more coarsely chopped fresh green or purple basil, fresh tarragon, or parsley (did not do this)
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more if needed
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper (coarse), plus more if needed

For serving and garnishing (I did not take advantage of any of these):

• Large radicchio leaves, about 6, from the outside of the head
• 1 or 2 hard-boiled eggs, coarsely chopped
• Chopped fresh parsley

Place the potatoes in a pot and fill with water to cover potatoes by about 1/2 inch.  Cover and bring to boil.  After water boils, lower heat and cook for about 10 minutes, and then start checking for doneness by piercing potato with a paring knife and making sure it goes easily through.  I cooked mine for about 15 minutes after bringing to a boil and it was too long--the potatoes were a bit overcooked.  Basically: don't follow my advice on this one, find your own method which will surely work better than what I did.  Drain the potatoes after they are cooked.

While the potatoes are cooking (or overcooking, in my case), prep the other ingredients.  For the dressing, whisk together 3 to 4 TBS of olive oil (I misread the recipe and put in WAY too much olive oil so in this pic you will see a shitload of it), mustard, vinegar, white wine, and salt/pepper.

Place the chopped bacon in a skillet and turn heat on to moderate/medium.  Stir occasionally, until bacon is cooked to your liking. Remove from pan.

Dig in with fork, or just tip plate towards mouth and slide those suckers in. Ta-da!

No just kidding, there's other stuff to do.  Chop your onion (or shallots), green onion, and mince ze garleeque.

In a few TBS of heated olive oil, saute the onion/shallots and green onions for about a minute, and then add in the garlic and continue to cook for "a few moments", as stated by the recipe. Whatever that means.  I cooked it for about 30 seconds after the garlic was in.

When potatoes are just cool enough to handle (you want them to be very warm), slice into 1/2" rounds.  a lot of the skin started falling away at this point, and I picked them out.  I'm not sure if it's because we stored the potatoes for 2 weeks before making this recipe, but the skins were quite bitter so I tried to remove as much as I could.  Main flaw of this recipe.

While the potatoes are still warm, pour on the oil/wine/vinegar/mustard dressing and toss gently but well.  The potatoes are soaking in all that goodness.  Add in cooked onion/shallot mixture and bacon, if using, and toss.  Sprinkle with chives.

Ta-da!

"Major" "Redecoration"

In reading this post, you will see that my sense of the phrase "major redecoration" is probably on a slightly...lesser scale than that of most others.  Kevin and I are not big home DIY-ers in any sense of the word (except for, I guess, cooking and grooming the pugs ourselves because of that all too well-known pleasure of expressing their anal glands--we save all the fun stuff for ourselves), particularly when it comes to home improvement stuff.  So when I tell you that we have made changes around the apartment, you can be assured that it is a BIG DEAL, regardless of how far I have stretched the word "redecoration".

We're not talking about retiling a fireplace (MintedLife puts me to shame) or staining a deck--hell no, we would pay people to do that (which we don't, because we don't have a fireplace or a deck, among other reasons).  We're talking about...

A shower caddy pole!  Recently, the shower caddy basket we had hanging off the showerhead fell.  On it descent into darkness, it decided to pull along the actual showerhead, and the threads that screwed the showerhead into the water pipe. It took a plumber a good hour to fix things, which involved lots of banging, dirt, concerned looks and mentions of "new fixtures and having to retile the entire shower" which did not make me happy AT ALL, and a big fat check.  Scarred by this experience, we have decided never ever to hang something on the showerhead again.

First, of course, we had to buy a new showerhead so that we wouldn't be trying to clean ourselves under what would amount to be a garden hose shooting out water from somewhere behind the shower wall.

Kohler single-purpose showerhead, $37.98 (motherf*!ker I'm pretty sure we bought it for $15 more from those BBB bastards)

What I am going to say next will demonstrate to you how lame I am.  I was so pleased to be purchasing something "Kohler" for our bathroom.  Because, you know, it has that brand-name and quality recognition and stuff. I know, it's a showerhead. But if you knew the state of our apartment, you would realize that by purchasing this showerhead, we're really stepping up in the world.

As I said, no more hanging shower caddy for us.  So we splurged on this tension pole from Simple Human.

Simple Human stainless steel tension shower caddy, $130

I'm kind worried that the surfaces aren't level enough and I'm going to one day come home to find my pugs trapped under the fallen pole and various bottles of shampoo, but so far so good.

But perhaps The Most Significant home improvement we have made is our welcome mat.  Feast your eyes:

I know, it's stunning, and has "Crazy Couple Lives Here" all over it.  There was a store going out of business and had this for sale, and I just couldn't pass it up. You know how it goes.

The other project involved installing a few decorative shelves in the bathroom in a awkward empty space on the wall. Here it is!

Yes, still sitting around.  This is what happens to projects that require a drill, hangy thingys, screws, etc.  Considering how long it takes to change lightbulbs, this should get done in December.

Pasta Puttanesca

I am Miss Major Wimpo when it comes to traveling. I am tired afterwards. For, like, DAYS. Even if I'm just taking a 2-hour flight.  Such is the plight for someone as delicate as I am.

Anyway for Labor Day weekend I had more of an excuse for post-travel fatigue, since I had a fun and food-packed extended weekend in the Bay Area.  The actual travel portion involved profuse amounts of sweat, cursing and snarkiness as I trudged through multiple travel depots (subway, LIRR, AirTrain, airports, etc.) carrying what felt like a full-grown man inside of a suitcase and a very awkward, 15-pound pug in a bulky carrier hanging like a dead weight on my near-dislocated shoulder. Ah, the wonders of traveling with a pet and still refusing to check in luggage.

After our return home and several meals at Chipotle, I caved and started cooking again. But I started easy, with Pasta Puttanesca.

Recipe adapted from New York Times. 

Ingredients:

• Salt to taste (when I was a beginning cook, I really hated the phrase "to taste"--in this recipe, wait till everything's done to taste because there's plenty of salt in the ingredients. Unless you are Lot's wife, you probably won't need more than a 1/4 to 1/2 tsp, at the most)
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 3 or more cloves garlic, lightly smashed and peeled
• 3 or more anchovy fillets
• 1 28-ounce can whole plum tomatoes
• Freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 1/2 cup pitted black olives, preferably oil-cured
• 2 tablespoons capers
• Crushed red pepper flakes to taste (in our household, this would translate to a measly 1/4 tsp or so because Mr. Whitey can't handle spicy food (I know, I'm being all racial and a bad person, I totally know that there are plenty of his kind who absolutely love spicy food--this is just me trying to shame him.  Also, do you like how I, in making my half-apology, took another dig by using the phrase "his kind", as if to further alienate them into being the "other"?))
• 1 pound linguine or other long pasta (oddly, there was no linguine at Fairway. WTF. Hence the "thick spaghetti", which is well-known all over Italy)
• Chopped fresh parsley, oregano, marjoram or basil leaves for garnish, optional (I took the "optional" part seriously)

Note: You could easily make this a vegetarian dish by leaving out the anchovies.

•  

Heat the olive oil over moderate heat and add in the anchovies and smashed garlic. Cook until garlic is golden.  Anchovies are fascinating and add such a good savory note to dishes.  And don't worry, they don't stay whole like this throughout the cooking process.

After a few minutes of cooking, they kinda dissolve, like dees.

In a bowl, crush the tomatoes with your hands (you can also use a can of crushed tomatoes, although I actually I do like the texture of whole canned tomatoes lovingly crushed by my grubby hands a bit better than the pre-crushed tomatoes, which seem a bit watery to me, but will do just fine) and add to the garlic and anchovies.  Bring to a boil, then lower heat and simmer for at least 10 minutes.

While the tomatoes are a'simmerin' away, prep the salty, briny stuff.  Pit the olives (you can see how I do this here) .  You can also chop them if you like.  Hm, guess the capers and red pepper flakes don't really need any prep.  But have a photo, if you please.

Put the olives, capers and pepper flakes into the tomato sauce.  You can use the sauce after  about 10-15 minutes of simmering (i.e. while you're cooking the pasta), or as long as you want.

Cook your pasta according to the package directions, shaving off a minute or two.  Drain the pasta and add to the sauce.  Toss with sauce and continue to stir over heat until pasta reaches your desired consistency.

Ta-da! This tasted awfully like the tuna pasta I made, sans tuna.  Yum.

Stop Squishing Me

Hey folks--sorry for the slight blogging hiatus. I took a long Labor Day weekend out to California to attend a beautiful wedding and hang out with some very awesome people (and pugs), and was in a bit of an internet-aversion phase. You know how it goes, right? Needing a little break?

Before I go back to showing you more of my tireless kitchen endeavors (I use the word "tireless" in case Kevin is reading and needs a reminder re: his requisite gratitude), here's what the pugs have been up to.

Following up on my post from the other day, It warms my heart to see our pugs cuddle with each other.

Yeah, that's freshly cleaned laundry

And sometimes it just makes me giggle.

My Dad and Beer

Growing up, part of my dad's daily routine was to unwind and have a beer with dinner.  He did this as far back as I can remember, and at a young age I would ask to take sips.  Beer was disgusting to my 10-year-old self.

Sometimes he would also have a small bit of liquor before going to bed.  This I also became curious about.  At that young age, it seemed to me that it didn't so much taste like anything as it just BURNED. BURNED me.

But my dad's preference was for beer. Oh he loved beer. He was drinking Sam Adams in the days when everyone was still drinking Budweiser and Michelob.  Often times when he traveled, he would return with a specialty beer, or a beer stein.

My dad also had a stint where he engaged in making his own beer at home.  He made several batches, the first or second one being the best, and the rest of them rapidly declining in quality as my dad attempted to achieve a nice, deep, rich beer and ended up with something more resembling fudge.  But it was still pretty cool that he was trying to brew his own beer.

Despite my initial distaste for alcohol, we reacquainted ourselves and became friends.  One time on a trip home from college, my dad and I entered "new territory" by drinking a beer with each other at dinner.  I brought the bottle of brewsky to my lips for the first sip, and my dad looked at me, kind of surprised, and asked, "Don't you want a glass to pour that in?" I said, "Nah, I just drink it straight from the bottle."

His look changed to barely disguised disdain, he harumphed, and said, with a snort, "How uncouth."

There's no real point to all this except that these tidbits all came flooding back to me when, last night, I received a call from my parents, and the caller ID showed up as:

"BREW AMERICA"

Perhaps my dad is taking is home beer-brewing corporate or something. I don't know. It just seemed fitting, don't you think?

Quinoa Pilaf

Quinoa is supposedly some kind of "super food". I don't know what "super food" means, but a quick glance at trusty Wikipedia mentions that quinoa, unlike other grains, is a really good source of protein. Yay. I had never eaten quinoa before (or if I have I don't recollect) until my friend brought over a delicious quinoa salad a few weeks ago.  I love making dishes with a grain or carb at the base (i.e. pasta, rice, polenta, freekeh, etc.) so that it kinda becomes a one-pot dish as opposed to a separate protein, carb and veggie thing.  Too much work.

So in comes quinoa pilaf, courtesy of Tyler Florence and the Food Network.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups vegetable broth (or chicken broth) 
• 1 cup quinoa, rinsed well (huh, totally didn't see that "rinsed well" part before I started cooking)
• 1 bay leaf 
• 1/2 tsp turmeric (if you don't have this you could use paprika--the turmeric kinda lent a smoky flavor)
• 1 TBS olive oil
• 1 tsp preserved lemon rind, finely diced (right, whatever. I'm not tracking down a jar of preserved lemons to use one whopping teaspoonful. Instead, I grated about a 1/2 tsp of lemon rind)
• 1 tomato, finely chopped (I used about 3 plum tomatoes)
• 1 15-oz can artichoke hearts in water, drained and quartered (I used a can of hearts of palm instead, drained and sliced crosswise about 1/4" thick)
• 1/2 red onion, diced (I used about 1/3 cup, and marinated the onion in red wine vinegar, apple cider vinegar, and water with a pinch each of salt and sugar before draining and mixing in with the salad)
• 1/2 cup pitted black olives (I used kalamata I think, and chopped them)
• 1/4 cup dried currants (didn't use these)
• mint leaves for garnish (didn't use these either, although some parsley would have been nice)

Serves 4. 

First, gather the ingredients for the quinoa.

 

Place the broth, quinoa, bay leaf, turmeric (or paprika), 1/2 tsp salt, some pepper, and lemon rind into 3-quart saucepan.

Cover and bring to boil.  When it reaches a boil, lower heat and simmer, keeping covered, about 15-20 minutes (all the liquid will be absorbed).  Fluff with fork and admire how funny it looks.

Now for the add-ins.

Drain and slice the hearts of palm crosswise into 1/4" thick coins, and finely chop the tomatoes and olives. For the red onion, I finely diced it and let it sit in a mixture of red wine vinegar, apple cider vinegar, water, and a little salt and sugar.  What kind of vinegar you use doesn't matter (although white might be a bit too strong). Drain before mixing in with salad.  You don't have to marinate the onions first, by any means. I just did it.

Dump dem suckers all into a bowl and mix around.

The recipe says to garnish with mint leaves, which I skipped, although I think some chopped parsley would be a nice addition to this dish.  You could also use other yummies, like chopped bell peppers.

This recipe was incredibly simply and I felt so damn healthy and proud of myself eating it (right before I had my ice cream sandwich).

Ta-da!