Paul Wolfowitz, velociraptor


Our fearless SAIS leader of old crops up in this week’s Economist as something more hawkish than a hawk, hence “Paul Wolfowitz, velociraptor”. Here is a PDF version of the article, (728K) which The Economist sadly opted not to place online; I’m sure they won’t mind this little PDF–you all have subscriptions anyway, right? My only comment on the article is that it makes Wolfowitz sound… articulate and charming.

This week’s issue also reviews a new book by Jagdish Bhagwati (p.68), whose Protectionism was one of my epiphanies at SAIS and which should be distributed free to every proto-anarchist who still thinks third world workers are better off unemployed as first-world labor unions protect their markets against competition from cheaper and better manufacturing imports. There was a “spontaneous” demonstration here in the East Village last weekend during the World Economic Forum, but to the obvious disappointment of some protestors they weren’t persecuted by the NYPD. This timeless Monty Python line comes to mind: “DENNIS: (Calling) Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I’m being repressed!”

Zen One on St. Marks

Six years ago Tom Atkins and Uta Harnischfeger introduced me to Sandobe, a miniscule 4-table Korean sushi den on 11th & 1st run by a genial husband-and-wife chef-and-waitress team. For a while, it was our secret–we’d rush in at least once a week to inhale the flawless seaweed and cucumber salad appetizer, and watch some of New York’s freshest fish cut into delectable rainbow rolls or Stefan rolls. Slowly.

But then word got out. The restaurant expanded, and expanded again; the chef delegated to a team of new chefs; the East Village was discovered by people who 2 years previous would have preferred a holiday in Haiti to a jaunt down Saint Marks; the experience became diluted as reams of diners who just didn’t know any better became Sandobe’s mainstay; they barely noticed the seaweed salad and quaffed their shabby rolls contentedly.

I’m glad he cashed in, but my East Village sushi dealer was no longer providing me with the fix I needed, and for the past few years I’ve been using sushi at Takahachi, a very capable restaurant populated by virtuoso chefs and rightly popular for it. But for all the obvious bliss of dipping a piece of slightly seared pepper-crusted tuna into mustard sauce and then into one’s mouth, Takahachi lacks the intimacy and personal attention I’ve craved ever since the early days of Sandobe.

It seems the prayers I would have said had I been religious but which I didn’t because I’m not have finally been answered, in the form of Zen One, a new miniscule 4-table sushi restaurant that opened this week–a mere 6 flights of stairs below my apartment, on the ground floor of 109 Saint Marks. They too have a husband-and-wife team; they too have a great seaweed appetizer, but here the cucumber is laced with crab, and it works. The first time I ate at Zen One they brought out what looked like an ancient earthenware Korean Bunsen burner, and placed on it an open-faced clam that proceeded to cook in its own juices. It was incredibly tasty, but fun too, and it was presented with a sense of humor. The rolls are delicious, and the presentation is beautiful. I’ll be dragging everybody there in the coming months, as long as they know how to keep a secret.

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Anagrammed friends

Today’s post is brought to you courtesy of the Internet Anagram Server, responsible for hours upon hours of immature snickering at expense of friends’ names. Here’s what I’ve managed to come up with so far.

EUROF UPPINGTON = PFENNIG OUTPOUR (he lives in Frankfurt, after all)

EPHRAT LIVNI = HIP INTERVAL

TONJE VETLESETER = NOVELETTE JESTER

TANYA EPSTEIN = INSTANT PAYEE (she’s a lawyer)

KIMBERLEY STRASSEL = TIMELESSLY BARKERS (thanks Felix)

But the piece de resistance is without doubt this eerily accurate hat trick:

CLARICE ANNEGERS = SACRILEGE CANNER, GLANCE INCREASER, CARNAGE LICENSER

Then, when you’re finished, read up on the latest meme: Googlewhacking. My first: defenestrate lentils. My second: monaural saltpeter. Be warned, this is highly addictive, yet harder than you think.

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