(Michael Scott and Dwight Schrute are peeping through the window blinds of Michael's office, observing the rest of the office employees...)

Michael Scott: "I need to know who else is gay. I don't want to offend anyone else."

Dwight Schrute: "You could assume everyone is, and not say anything offensive."

Michael Scott (rolling his eyes): "Yeah. I'm sure everyone would appreciate me treating them like they were gay."



This is just one of the many golden nuggets of hilarity from "The Office: An American Workplace".

Good Lord, this TV show is funny.

Are you already an avid watcher? (HINT: There is only one "good" answer to this question.)

If not, why not?

Don't you want to be cool too?

Then you and I can call each other up the next day and wax lyrically about how many times during the previous night's episode we peed a little in our pants because of how hysterically socially inept Michael Scott (the boss) is, how uproariously power hungry Dwight Schrute (the fascist assistant manager) is, or how poignantly star-crossed Jim and Pam (the would-be office lovebirds) are. (JAM fans, anyone?)

A couple weeks ago, it was such an exciting revelation when I learned that my good friend in New York was also a loyal Officemate. It was like we now got to gossip about these new "weekly" friends of ours behind their backs. It, like, totally renewed our friendship on a higher level! (Plus I can't help but giggle a little because one of the kooky Office characters - the Valley Girl-esque "Kelly Kapoor" - reminds me of my NYC friend! Hehe.)

Anyway, back to the show:
This is not your father's comedy. This isn't your tried-and-true (read: *yawn*), old school sitcom. And this really isn't the typical "set up then punch line"/"Charlie Sheen chasing skirts as the precocious little nephew wags his finger at him"-type humour. The Office predicates itself in those awfully awkward, cringe-worthy, painfully funny moments when others around you are oblivious to their own embarrassing, unfiltered, un-PC behaviour. Trust me, we all know people like these in our day-to-day lives.

Okay, I don't know how I can continue on with this entry without further coming off as a pathetic shill. It's not like the show needs me to recruit more pairs of eyes to save it. It's actually doing just fine.

I guess I'm just trying to do my (non-Semitic) mitzvah for the week and spread the gift of laughter with you all!

And for all of you fans of the original Brit version of The Office, you'll have to take my word for it that once you get past the first few episodes of the American version, you'll start to realize just how wonderfully different a comedic beast this one is. Give it a chance. You'll love it too.

But this American version really began to hit its stride in its second season (after an abbreviated 6-episode first season). So what I recommend to all you American Office neophytes is that you purchase/rent/Netflix/five-finger-discount a copy of Season Two as your foray into the series. Then once you are (guaranteed) hooked on the show after those 22 episodes, you can go get Season One and watch the original six. And then you can also catch up to the current Season Three this upcoming summer when it goes into repeats on TV.

Wow, WHAT AN AWESOME PLAN I just laid out for you! You can send me a tin of "thank you" cookies later. (HINT: I'm partial to oatmeal raisin.)


Dent in your pay cheque:
around $25 for Season One; around $40 for Season Two; currently FREE for Season Three!

Ideal for:
anybody who loves having their funny bone fondled; snooty fans of smart, non-patronizing television; people who work in an office and want to watch a weekly, half-hour version of their autobiography

Look for it at...
the DVDs: Best Buy (but maybe you can find it cheaper elsewhere)
the weekly TV broadcast: NBC, Thursdays at 8:30 PM!

Grimacing for my fix

(Initially I thought I'd give y'all a timely treat with this entry. But, as you'll realize, my tardiness in posting this makes it the furthest thing from being timely. Ah well.)

I debated whether I should even include this item in this blog. I mean, yes, I have purchased it in the past, and - technically - it is still available for purchase. You just might have a really tough time finding it - and will have to wait, oh, about a year for your next opportunity.

But in the end I decided, why the hell not. Because I really love Shamrock Shakes!

Yes, I am indeed talking about those nuclear green McDonald's milkshakes that appear only once a year in the weeks leading up to March 17th. At least they used to appear once a year - quite ubiquitously in fact - back in the 80's and early 90's. But nowadays, you may be hard-pressed to find these viridescent gloopy treats at your local McDick's. Not unlike those commercials that used to feature Ronald McDonald & friends, the Shamrock Shake has all but disappeared from our cultural menu board. So sad!

However, internet rumours report sporadic SS sightings throughout the northeastern U.S., as well as parts of California, and there's even been an unconfirmed Canadian appearance in Coquitlam(?), British Columbia. The interest in this elusive triple-thick delight has become rampant enough to warrant a website solely dedicated to tracking these Shamrock sightings. So true!

But perhaps equally sad to this vanishing milkshake is the phasing out of the aforementioned McDonald's characters, in particular Uncle O'Grimacey, the Gaelic emerald cousin (uncle?) of everybody's beloved purple glob, Grimace.


Okay, so maybe my love of this minty bever-essert has more to do with nostalgia than delectable taste (don't get me wrong though, it is a whole bunch of yum). But like Christmas or my birthday, this is an annual event with cause for celebration. Give me a super-sized Shamrock Shake over a stein of green beer any St. Patrick's day!


Dent in your pay cheque:
$2.50-$3.50 (the price of a regular McDonald's milkshake!)

Ideal for:
milkshake fiends bored with chocolate, strawberry and vanilla; cultural connoisseurs of 80's kitsch; the (underaged) Irish

Look for it at:
unfortunately only very select McDonald's restos just prior to St. Patrick's Day -- but to aid you in your quest: www.shamrockshake.com

(In times of desperation, you can also try making your own knock-off Shamrock Shake with this recipe.)


* * *

P.S. Hey hey! I know there are a few of you lurkers out there who have yet to sign up as materialistic contributors to this blog. If you've "lost" the invitation I sent out a few weeks back, e-mail me and I'll send you out a new one. Don't be creepy...join us!

Through a light, darkly

Butterfly LanternSpeaking of decorative lamps (that is, lamps with a main purpose that has more to do with aesthetics than illumination), I offer Hisae Homma and Philip Lewis' spinning rice paper lanterns. I picked mine up at Autumn Cottage Home Furnishings in the Mall of America circa 1998.

I dare you to find a lamp more unique and adorable (or less functional) than this one. The first thing that may strike you about these lamps is their simple, handmade design employing only rice paper, construction paper, cellophane, wood, a small light bulb the size of a Christmas tree bulb, and the required electrical parts. Heat from the bulb rises to spin the windmill attached to the inner cylinder, projecting moving images on the outer rice paper walls (and onto the walls of your room as it spins in the dark). Mine has jumping cats on it that are chasing a ball. It's so cute that I could eat it.


Jumping Cat PatternWhat occurred to me that day in Minneapolis as I examined the lamp's seemingly simple construction was that I could probably build such a thing myself. I'm glad I decided to buy it though, because the rolls of rice paper and cellophane procured for this project are still stored under my bed, having survived four moves.


Dinosaur LanternMy infatuation with this lamp only grew when I saw it featured (jumping cats and all) on one of the final episodes of "Six Feet Under" in Maya's bedroom. The only other time I've seen something of mine on TV was in 1988 when I saw Erica Ehm on MuchMusic wearing an oversized hooded sweater like one I had bought at Le Chateau. As you can see, I'm still talking about it.

Dent in your wallet:
US 79.99 plus shipping

Ideal for:
baby shower; children's room; the young at heart.

Look for it at:
www.whippoorwillcrafts.com

Seasoning 101

Okay. Some of you will snicker. Others will roll their eyes.

It's because the featured item in this latest blog installment -- well, let's just say I fully expect to get called out for my "gourmunk" wannabe snobbiness.

But, hey, it's not like I'm talking about ridiculous $2 a gram Quebec foie gras, or even ridiculous-er $7 a gram white truffles from the Piedmont region of Italy. I mean, really! Who do you think I am?? (I'll be covering those items in future blogs.)

With today's particular item, I just really feel a need to extoll the virtues of this often pooh-poohed necessity in culinary preparation. I'm speaking of the prevalent kitchen staple: Salt.

When stocking a kitchen with the basics, the standard grocery shopping protocol usually calls for the requisite box of Windsor or Sifto brand table salt. Ho hum. Sure, that's fine and dandy. For a 50's diner maybe.

But we're in the uber-cosmopolitan 00's now, and to help elicit the maximum flavour from our foods, you have choices in your seasoning. You do NOT have to be a slave to the everyday, iodized supermarket variety salts. Free yourselves, y'all.

"But, Benjie, please get your ass off that high horse for a sec....we're talking about salt here, buddy boy! Salty is salty. Get a grip, yo!"

Fine, okay, I'll give you that: Salty is salty. But soy sauce is salty. And so is oyster sauce. But they certainly don't taste the same. And not all types of salt taste the same either. True, it's more subtle than the differences between soy sauce and oyster sauce. And true, I've made friends take the "Pepsi challenge" with a few varieties of cooking salts, resulting in some of them being unable to discern much between the types. (Philistine palettes if you ask me...hmph!)

But seriously, it you don't experiment yourself, then you'll have to take my word for it that, when cooking, different salts bring out the flavours of dishes in differing ways. Some punch up flavours by brightening them up (e.g. grey sea salt on roasted winter vegetables). While others coax out flavours in less aggressive ways (e.g. Hawaiian red salt in melted dark chocolate).

And although my roommate will swear by his oh so vairy Frainche "Fleur de Sel" from the marshy bogs of Camargue, France (and don't get me wrong, it is a wonderful salt), if I had to plunk down my cash for one tried-and-true, go-to salt to use when I'm dicking around my kitchen, then that cooking salt would have to be the reputable Maldon Sea Salt. Large, flaky crystals. Quality so refined from sea waters that - as they say - just a little does go a long way. Just feel those granules crumble between your fingers as you scatter them over the freshest of your ingredients...ahh, it's food porn at its most raunchy! (Yes, my apologies for that.)



But with glorious Maldon salt (along with perhaps four-plus years at a top culinary school) you'll finally be able to release your inner chef. Serving up meals with flavours you never dreamt possible in your lifetime. Angels will sing on high and doves will flock together with olive twigs in their beaks. Okay, fine, it's probably not quite the manna from heaven I'm hyping it up to be, but it's damn good stuff to season your cooking with.



But just one snobby cooking tip, if I may: When seasoning your dishes as you cook, do yourself a favour and add the salt by hand (as opposed to shaking it from a container). With just a little practice, the tactile experience will give you a much better feel for how much salt you should add to your culinary masterworks. Seriously. For real.


Dent in your wallet:
around $8-$10 for a 240g box
(yeah, I know, but it'll last you a long time!)

Ideal for:
poseur chefs; real actual chefs

Look for it at:
most schmancy food shoppes frequented by gourmands (such as Cheese Boutique or the St. Lawrence Market in T.O., probably Le Faubourg in Montreal)