My beard has finally decided to eat my face. It hungers for more.

Life is a beard grown by an idiot, full of mud and bread crumbs, signifying nothing.

And so we grow on, beards against the current, shorn ceaselessly into the past.

My Beard (May 28 2010-June 19 2010)
Goodbye, old friend.

Friends, rather than bore you with futher tales of harrowing exploits and delicious conquests, I feel that I should change up a bit to answer a question: what sound does a rooster make?

Many would say that the answer is simple. However, in delving deeper, I discovered hidden complexities which challenged my previous conceptions of evolution, the meaning of life, and what sound a rooster makes, and proved to me, once again, that the world is a soccer ball.

In the U.S., the rooster says cockadoodle-doo. In Spain, the rooster says kikiri-kee. In Croatia, the rooster says cucuroo-coo. Thus brings up the obvious question–why the difference? Are there different variety of rooster? Do they speak different languages? Scientific evidence suggests that neither is the case, so what could possibly justify such discrepancies? Is it possible that society is itself imposing what it wants to hear on these delicious animals?

Let us first look at the U.S annunciation. It begins with cock, i.e. to be cocky, continues with doodle, as in yankee doodle, and ends with doo, or perhaps just do. Thus, cockadoodle-doo roughly translates to “cocky yank, just do it”, which itself is similar to “git ‘er done”, a standard rallying cry for much of this great nation. The fact that the rooster signals the coming of the dawn is of no surprise. It is a signal, reflected in its call, of the American drive to get it done, and early.

For the sake of brevity, I will not delve into the etymolgies of the Spanish and Croatian versions, but suffice it to say that they involve siestas and cabbage, respectively.

In other news, the facial hair has evolved past scruffy and can now safely be called a partial beard. I’d say it still gives me scruffyness +2, age +3, and stealth -1. Stay tuned!

After a harrowing plane flight, winding roads, and more than a few close encounters with wandering farm animals, we made it to our destination. The rumors were true. The roads were lined with beautifully decorated stucco houses, all with clear views of the Mediterranean sea encompassing the skyline. All one could hear was the occassion
car engine above the chirping of birds. It was truly paradise. How backwards.

Dinner confirmed my suspicions. We ordered from a selection of freshly-caught fish which was brought directly to our table on a large cart before being delicately grilled. The waiters were witty and brought us course after course of food on the house, just because they liked us. The truffle pasta and risotto, both delicacies of the region, merely whet my appetite for the main course. The seafood paired well with the local white wine, and the sea bass was cooked perfectly, leaving the fish juicy and flavorful. We finished the meal with sorbet and brandy, both on the house. The final bill–a mere $30 per person. Oh quaint populace of Croatia, how we would have paid twice as much for such a fine meal. You truly have much to learn.

In other news, the beard is coming in well. It appears to be full in nature, not yet gray, improves my scruffyness stat +3. So far, a tremendous success.

Some may argue that my mission and goal are unrelated. Fools, they fail to understand that food must be experienced using all six senses. Beard-sense is arguably the most important, if not the most overlooked.

So I find myself in logan airport, having just finished a repulsive, overpriced plate of terriyaki chicken, hoping that my next meal will be better than the last. Welcome to beard day zero. Allons-y!

They feed on their dead.  Nature’s roombas, the bottom-feeders consume the detritus of the ocean.  However, in one of the most beautiful violations of the garbage-in garbage-out paradigm, these crustaceans are delicious.  The crabcakes in Baltimore were unequivocally superior to any I had ever tasted.  The seasoning brought out the true flavor of the crab without overwhelming it, and a lightly fried exterior added to the texture of the dish.  The care and attention to detail in the presentation was truly surprising, and definitely added to the experience.

Friends, there are many things we can say about Baltimore. But I think the one we can all agree on it that the city knows its bottom-feeders. The state of Maryland gets a 8.5/10 for having the foresight to never clean up the city of Baltimore, where nature’s trash collectors and America’s trash have formed a symbiotic relationship which can only be described as delicious. Hats off, and a strong recommendation to visit the great city for lunch, and leave shortly after.  The aquarium is pretty cool too.

It began with the forging of the great pancakes. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of pancakes. And nine, nine pancakes were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else, desire pancakes. For within these pancakes was bound the strength and will to govern each pancake. But they were all of them deceived, for another pancake was made. In the land of Vermont, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a master pancake, to control all others. And into this pancake, he poured his flour, his milk, and his will to dominate all life.

That was exactly what I was thinking of when I consumed these pancakes. Topped, injected, and gently massaged with Vermont syrup, these pancakes were truly delicious. Worth the trip? Doubtful. Unfortunately for the state of Vermont, the syrup gets no better the closer you get to it. Sure, it was good. But was it five-hours-of-driving good? Probably not. I’d settle for an Elven pancake rather than the one pancake to rule them all, and probably wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Pancake shapes would have also been appreciated. The State of Vermont gets a 5/10–points for effort but lacking originality, and probably not worth the gas money.

When George Mallory was asked why he strove to climb Mount Everest, he uttered, “Because it is there.” Four simple words, which symbolize the determination, the strength of resolve of humanity to reach beyond the accepted boundaries of understanding and possibility just to see if it can.  As such, I pose a similar challenge to myself. I will visit every state in the United States of America.  I will do so, and sample what each state considers to be its most delicious meal–the product of millenia of human struggle, of a delicious fusion of cultures of melting pot America.   I will savor the soul of its greatness, its reason for existence, and I will document my travels as they occur.  Why go to such lengths? Why indeed.