It Ain't Like Coolidge Street

I recall one time as a kid helping my Dad paint the outside of our house on Coolidge Street in Phoenix. (That was before they installed the vinyl siding.) The original brick exterior was white. We painted it gray. For access we had an extension ladder and a simple stepladder. That involved a lot of climbing up and down the ladder, carrying paint cans and roller pans, not to mention brushes and rollers, and rags, and edgers, and all the accoutrements of DIY housepainting. I don't remember how long the project took, but I imagine quite a few days...a bonding experience for Dad and son.

Recently a Japanese contractor repainted the exterior of our house here on the Yokosuka Navy Base. The process would have fascinated Stuart.

First, a very nice Japanese lady who speaks excellent English stopped by to inform us that this project would take place over about a two week period. She also provided us with a detailed written game plan, telling us exactly what to expect on any given day. Follow-on daily notes stuck to our front door documented progress to plan, which included some unavoidable weather delays. Sometimes the nice Japanese lady would stop by, with the non-English speaking foreman, to provide verbal updates and a preview of the day ahead.

Several days were devoted to erecting elaborate scaffolding encircling the entire house. I am reminded of the erector set with which I whiled away countless childhood hours on Coolidge Street. 

Then the entire house was powerwashed. Following this step, an outer veil of material was attached to the scaffolding, presumably to keep paint spray and debris from escaping into the environment. It could also shade the painters as they worked in unseasonably high temperatures and afternoon sun.

Following the actual painting, a series of inspections resulted in another day of touch-up work. Then another inspection before the contractor was allowed to tear down the scaffolding. This step took two days. A final inspection authorized the contractor to actually remove the disassembled scaffolding to the next house down the street.

Careful advance planning. Attention to detail. Daily documentation of progress to plan. Frequent communications with the customer. Rigorous quality assurance. All resulted in a very nice-looking product. A good model for business, or for government.

I wonder how that house on Coolidge Street is looking these days.

Les Champignons

One is never too old to learn new things.


Since I am officially "tapering" (quotes intended, Kate) for the big race next weekend, I needed some other activity yesterday besides the 3 - 5 hours I've devoted on recent weekends to smashing my red blood cells into schistocytes and helmet cells. (This happens to normal erythrocytes coursing through the arterioles in one's feet after many hours of pounding pavement.)


Well, ever since seeing "Julie and Julia" I've hankered to emulate the movie's young heroine by trying my hand at one of Julia Child's famous French recipes. Having cleverly purchased the two-volume set as a Christmas "gift" for my spousal unit (we called such self-serving gifts "footballs" in my younger days), I've spent a bit of leisure time poring over the recipe for beouf bourguignon, which I still cannot spell correctly without looking it up. Those who have seen the movie will recall that young Julie's first effort at emulating the icon of French cooking was to recreate this very dish. Well, gosh, if Amy Adams can do it, certainly I can. My dad used to say, "If you can read, you can cook." My mother, for whom cooking was an avocation at which she excelled, took great umbrage to that characterization. I guess I'm somewhere in between. One must read, understand, and execute a recipe to actually cook. So, after reading the recipe about a hundred times, I finally convinced myself that I could actually do it. Yesterday I figured I actually had the time to try, while my body continued to produce healthy erythrocytes in time for next Sunday's smashing.


To cut to the chase, the beouf bourguignon is peacefully aging in the refrigerator awaiting its dramatic debut this afternoon. (Pause to exclaim: I not only cooked it, I actually just spelled it right for the first time without looking!) Julia suggests that "it only gains flavor on being reheated." Since we are a family totally given to deferred gratification, Kathy suggested we give it full opportunity to gain flavor. 


My staff at work will tell you that I am very outcome-oriented. I don't care much about process for the sake of process. I want results. I study methodologies only to the extent that they achieve the desired effect. Not everyone in my work world shares my desire. Some are perfectly content to wallow indefinitely in process and actually believe they've done something by the end of the day. So imagine my unexpected delight with the process of preparing this landmark culinary creation. In one short afternoon I not only learned new methodologies and processes, but also reaped the reward of a final product at the end of the day. Wow!


The one process that totally mesmerized me was the preparation of champignons sautes au beurre (sauteed mushrooms), which is a separate recipe in itself. In very well constructed prose, Julia Child first describes the desired outcome: "Successfully sauted mushrooms are lightly browned and exude none of their juice while they are being cooked." She then sets the conditions for this outcome: "...to achieve this the mushrooms must be dry, the butter very hot, and the mushrooms must not be crowded in the pan." Finally, and this was what I found most intriguing, she describes the actual process: "During their saute the mushrooms will at first absorb the fat. In 2 to 3 minutes the fat will reappear on their surface, and the mushrooms will begin to brown."


So I meticulously followed the prescribed methods, and, voila! Perfectly lightly browned mushrooms exuding nary a microdrop of their own juice! Instant gratification! Process leading directly to desired outcome! And not one false start, wasted step, focus group, or brainstorming session! This is a consummation I could really like.


I think I may buy Julia Child's two-volume set for some of the folks in our planning directorate....