November 2007

Greetings from the Arizona Desert

I’m suffering from a bit of “blog lag” at the moment, getting FlightKL18 out a week late, and having today’s expected launch of my other blog, CommsOffensive325 likely to be delayed as well. But I’m visiting family and friends in the US of A at the moment, and the diet of food, hiking, quality conversation and the occasional college football game have yielded a case of industrial-strength writer’s block… But creative juices are flowing past a turkey coma—so here is a special Thanksgiving edition of FlightKL18…

Scottsdale—the New Sinai

I always marvel at Scottsdale, the affluent Arizona community that my parents now call home and where I spent the better part of 2003. It is a quintessentially American place—a broad spread of mountainous desert whose expanse of one-story homes hearkens to a day when gasoline/petrol/benzin was less than a Euro a gallon (or a quarter a liter).

What I find particularly amazing about Scottsdale is that it is a place of second-generation migration, where ethnics from the US’ Midwest and East Coast brought their culinary delights along with them. Jewish tastes are particularly well-cared for, with delicatessens of the New York and Chicago persuasions duke it out a few freeway exits away. Indeed, Scottsdale’s burgeoning Jewish population has led me to dub the place “The New Sinai”, home to thousands of Jews, wandering through the desert, searching for the Promised Land.

An Early Thanksgiving

Probably the most extraordinary gift I have received in recent years was bestowed recently when a Washington friend, Michele Saranovich, offered to host an early Thanksgiving dinner in her lovely Georgetown home to mark my visit last week to DC.

I tend to be low-maintenance in the hospitality department, where my focus is to gather as eclectic of a group of friends as possible and thus cross-fertilize the various aspects of my life, usually over Belgian beers in an appropriate drinking hole. But I could not turn down Michele’s more-than-generous offer, and an amazing evening ensued. Very few of the participants knew each other beforehand, and over turkey, trimmings, and some absolutely-to-die-for cranberry and fig relish, some intriguing conversations and pairings ensued… We will see what ensues. But one thing is certain—Michele Saranovich is one of the most amazing hostesses on this planet.

Buying a Watch in Mid-Air

I have a notable habit of under-investing in my wardrobe. But as I look upon a coming year of some professional uncertainty, it occurred to me that there are certain upgrades I’d be well-served to make. One such upgrade was in the watch department. For the last six years, I’d been wearing Danish-designed Skagen watches, super-thin, super-stylish, yet very reasonably priced timepieces. But every so often, the bands or the batteries would fail me. Indeed, my current jet-black Skagen has had the paint on the buckle fade away, rendering it unwearable in serious company.

But I hadn’t given watch-buying much thought until I headed galleyward on my United flight from Amsterdam to Washington to buy a Canadian Whiskey and soda (US carriers having adopted the barbaric practice of charging for drinks on transatlantic flights). As I awaited my mini-bottle, I cast my eye on the duty-free cart and leafed quickly through the catalog. It leapt off the page. A Festina Tour de France Chronograph for $236. A beautiful watch, with lots of dials, and an impressive weight, perhaps from the steroids used in its manufacture.

A bit of research has given me a tinge of buyer’s remorse—though Festina markets itself under the banner of “Founded in Switzerland”, the company is based in Spain and watches are made in Asia. Still, Festina has emerged as a top European watch brand in recent years (I had heard of it before I bought), and being able to call it “The Tour de France Chronograph” to unsuspecting friends more than makes up for the watch’s convoluted origins.

Getting Pilsed in the Netherlands

As most people know, the Netherlands is a land of great beer drinkers. However, due to their Calvinist cultural origins, most of what is consumed in the NL is not particularly great beer. Despite having a formidable brewing tradition, more than 80% of what’s consumed is basic “pils” or pilsner—the basic lager variety consumed the world over.

Far and away the biggest NL pils is Heineken, which has at least 50% market share. Parrying the reputation it has cultivated outside the NL (and particularly in the US) as a ‘superpremium export’, the brewery characterizes its marketing message as “Common at Home, Exceptional Abroad”. Number two is Amstel, which is brewed by Heineken but was so bad when I last attempted to drink it that I could not finish it. Grolsch is of medium popularity. Heineken-owned Brand and Inbev-owned Hertog Jan are the choice of connoisseurs.

As for the choice of common sewers, that mantle belongs easily to a noxious brew called Bavaria. While its owners allegedly named it after a foreign country to hide its origins, Bavaria has a taste-bud-addled following in the nation’s south, and its export packaging highlights its Hollandic origins to attempt to compete with Heineken (to which it is usually sold at a deservedly deep discount in American supermarkets).

To be fair, while draft Heineken is no great shakes, its clean and slightly-sweet flavor go down well when cold, particularly when served in the 200ml measures called “biertjes” (little beers) or, for hard cores, “klein biertjes” (little little beers).

Salute to the Pigs

Finally, a quick salute to the Arkansas Razorbacks (the Pigs), America's only major college sports team with a porcine nickname, for their heart-stirring overtime college gridiron victory Friday over top-ranked Louisiana State University. By rooting their way to a 50-48 win, the Pigs have opened up the title picture considerably, allowing Pig quarterback Darren McFadden to make a case for winning the Heisman Trophy, college gridiron's coveted answer to soccer's Golden Boot. Well done, Pigs!!!