Later On

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Archive for February 2nd, 2021

Introducing ‘Food Grammar,’ the Unspoken Rules of Every Cuisine

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Emily Monaco writes in Gastro Obscura:

SERVE SPAGHETTI AND MEATBALLS TO an Italian, and they may question why pasta and meat are being served together. Order a samosa as an appetizer, and an Indian friend might point out, as writer Sejal Sukhadwala has, that this is similar to a British restaurant offering sandwiches as a first course. Offer an American a hamburger patty coated in thick demi-glace, and they’ll likely raise an eyebrow at this common Japanese staple dubbed hambagoo.

Each of these meals or dishes feels somehow odd or out of place, at least to one party, as though an unspoken rule has been broken. Except these rules have indeed been discussed, written about extensively, and given a name: food grammar.

Yes, much like language, cuisine obeys grammatical rules that vary from country to country, and academics have documented and studied them. They dictate whether food is eaten sitting or standing; on the floor or at a table; with a fork or chopsticks or with fingers. Like sentence structure, explains Ken Albala, Professor of History at the University of the Pacific, a cuisine’s grammar can be reflected in the order in which it is served, and a grammar can dictate which foods can (or cannot) be paired, like cheese on fish, or barbecue sauce on ice cream.

A culinary grammar can also provide insight into how an assortment of ingredients becomes a meal, much like how a jumble of words becomes a sentence. Many American diners imagine dinner as a plate with a protein, a vegetable, and a starch, followed by a sweet dessert. But for Cantonese diners, writes linguist Dan Jurafsky, author of The Language of Food: A Linguist Reads the Menu, a meal is a combination of a starch, such as rice or noodles, and another element, usually meat, vegetables, or a combo.

“Describing this in English requires the awkward word ‘non-starch,’” writes Jurafksy. The Cantonese word for this, sung, 餸, is so pervasive that “the word for ‘grocery shopping’ in Cantonese is mai [sung], or ‘buying sung,’ since the starch is a staple that would already be in the house.”

Grammars can even impose what is considered a food and what isn’t: Horse and rabbit are food for the French but not for the English; insects are food in Mexico but not in Spain. Moreover, just as “Hey, man!” is a friendly greeting for a buddy but maybe not for your boss, foods may not be suitable in all grammatical contexts. “A Frenchman would think it odd to drink white coffee with dinner and an Italian probably would resent being served spaghetti for breakfast,” writes Claude Fischler in “Food, Self and Identity.” By the same token, rice is appropriate for breakfast in Korea but not in Ireland.

While a culinary grammar is far easier to grasp than a linguistic one, according to Albala, it’s no less impervious to rule-breaking, especially when . . .

Continue reading.

Written by LeisureGuy

2 February 2021 at 6:27 pm

Posted in Daily life, Food, Memes

Some of Us Did Not Die: Reflections on the Lord of the Rings trilogy

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Yangyang Cheng writes in SupChina:

Staying up overnight, when one manages to and does so by choice, is a magnificently empowering experience. You watch the world fall asleep. You are there when it wakes up. The hours between midnight and first light feel like stolen time, laws of physics and biology defied.

On the last night of 2020, I decide to rewatch The Lord of the Rings.


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I first encountered the enchanted kingdoms of J. R. R. Tolkien as a young child in China, when one day, my mother brought home a hardcover collection titled World Children’s Literature. “World” meant western. I devoured the pages in the following weeks, forming imaginary bonds with Pippi Longstocking and Karlsson-on-the-Roof. My favorite stories in the series were the two wordiest, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. This was the late 1990s. No one in my family or at school had heard of Frodo or the Dark Lord. I wrote about the ring and its corrupting power for composition homework, and felt both morally and culturally superior.

A few years after, billboards for the movie adaptation would spring up across the city. Aragorn flashed his sword next to newly opened shopping malls and glistening office buildings. Every bookstore stacked Tolkien’s volumes by its entrance. Signs on the windows read: “The first complete Chinese translation.” I knew what I had was an abridged version, but by middle school, all leisure reading had given way to coursework.

When I found a disc set for the trilogy at a street vendor with dubious licensing, my mother made an exception. If the subtitles were turned off, she figured, the dialogues in English could count as language learning. I watched them twice before she decided I was having too much fun. Those steaming summer afternoons appear as vividly as yesterday: the ceiling fan buzzing, the battle for Middle Earth raging in the living room. My mother still lives in the same apartment. She tells me about changes in the city: “You won’t recognize it when you come back.”

At university, a dormmate had a poster of Aragorn glued next to her pillow. Many a night, long past mandatory lights-out at 11:30 p.m., we lay in our bunk beds and debated the attractiveness of the characters. Ranking Aragorn above Legolas was a marker of maturity. I wonder whose face adorns those walls now, who are the latest stars girls giggle about before they sleep.

I came to the U.S. for graduate school in 2009. A boy in my program looked like a dark-haired kin to Merry and Pippin, a fact I wasted no time in pointing out. His name was Sam.

“Are you calling me short, Yangyang?” Sam looked up and asked, feigning indignation. Then, tilting his head back and squinting his eyes, he pronounced with absolute pride, “Samwise the brave.” His thick, curly locks bounced with each syllable.

Sam and I worked on the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), the world’s most powerful circular accelerator. “One ring to rule them all” was almost a cliche. Before exams and thesis defenses, we avoided references to Gandalf. “You shall not pass” was too unnerving an utterance.

The last time I saw Sam was in the summer of 2019, at a dark matter conference. We had graduated years before and moved to different institutions. We were still working on the LHC. He still looked like a hobbit.

On the last work day of 2019, a colleague asked if we had any New Year’s resolutions. “To survive,” I said. Everyone laughed; only I was not joking. I knew 2020 would be difficult, with the election, rising tensions between my birth country and my adopted home, and the tenuous relationships I have with both governments. I did not know then that a mysterious pneumonia had appeared in Wuhan. In a few short weeks, survival would become painstakingly literal.

I sit at my desk and stare at my screen, a spot I’ve barely left for over nine months. In China it’s already morning on New Year’s Day. I consider calling my mother, but decide to put it off till the date has shifted for me. I dim the lights and press play. Galadriel’s voice emerges from the darkness: “The world has changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air.”

I know the plot well, so there’s no anxiety of anticipation. I suspend judgment and sink into the universe of Tolkien’s creation, richly rendered by Peter Jackson and his crew. It’s a world of tradition, where every creature has its place. The hierarchies and moral codes of Middle Earth mirror our own, but unlike the reality we inhabit, in fantasy friends are loyal, people are brave, the once and future king is wise and good. The gorgeously-realized cinematic universe grants its viewers absolution. The length magnifies the indulgence.

An alliance of elves and men are fighting against Saruman’s army when the clock strikes twelve. I hit pause and look out the window. Fireworks are blooming on the horizon. I take a deep breath and return to the film. I obsessively check the number of hours remaining. I’m not ready to depart Middle Earth. If only time could stand still.

As Frodo and his friends sail toward the Undying Lands, I too have completed a passage. I feel no elation but heaviness, a nostalgia akin to grief. After the holidays I will be starting a new job, leaving the LHC after 11 years, switching from studying the laws of nature to examining the rules of men. It’s a decision I had made before COVID-19 threw everything into disarray, but the pandemic has helped clarify my choice and injected it with urgency.

The inkiness is fading in the east. My Twitter feed is a sea of jubilation. Humans are such needy creatures: We invent symbols, calendars and rituals, as scaffolding for our wishes, but another cycle around the sun does not erase our sins.


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On the sixth day in the new year, white supremacists attack the U.S. Capitol.

I watch videos and live streams on social media. Angry mobs scale walls outside the building. They clash with security. They break in. They roam the halls uninhibited. They carry flags of a government that lost the civil war and banners for a president who lost reelection. They are here to contest the defeat.

After what seems like an eternity, uniformed soldiers arrive in combat gear. Plumes of tear gas rise from the balconies. Flash bombs light up the dome. For a moment it looks like the Capitol is in flames. A war is taking place against a pale edifice like it’s the end of times. The scene bears eerie resemblance to a movie I’ve just seen.

Fifty-five years ago, another leader on another continent, worried about losing power, incited his supporters to turn against their government. “Bombard the headquarters!” declared Mao. People familiar with Chinese history are quick to draw comparisons between the Capitol Hill riot and the Cultural Revolution. The parallels are superficial, but the impulse is natural. We all approach new information through the lens of what we know. We notice similarities and trace patterns. We use the past as a map to navigate the present.

During the Black Lives Matter protests last summer, many on Chinese social media posted photos of toppled Confederate statues with the caption that a “cultural revolution” was taking place in the U.S. My mother forwarded me some of these messages and asked why “Black people are so quick to anger.” What she saw invoked memories of her youth, when historical artifacts were destroyed by political fanaticism. Unaware of the social context, she recognized the imagery and assumed the rest.

Spectacle captivates, but it’s never the whole story. Two sides can be equally engaged in battle and share no moral equivalence. What fascinates me is how easily people identify symbols of authority and take their side. My mother didn’t know what the Confederacy was about, but between monuments of stone and a passionate crowd, the crowd must be the trouble. Order, however unjust, was preferable to chaos.

Politicians and pundits spare no adjectives in denouncing the violence at Capitol Hill, which, in this case, is fair but insufficient. Violence is the spectacle; by itself it says very little about the justness of the cause while concealing underlying structures of power. The rioters are referred to as criminals, insurrectionists, domestic terrorists, which may all be legally correct, but these labels imply the righteousness of state authority and miss the most important point, that the rioters are white supremacists.

In a country founded on stolen land and built with slave labor, white supremacy has always worked with the state, often as the state, and occasionally against the state; only in the last instance does the establishment punish the rogue actors to preserve its power. From slave patrols to modern-day police, violent organs of the state have functioned to uphold structural racism and suppress its challengers. John Brown was tried, convicted, and hanged for treason. The men of the Sioux Uprising were tried, convicted, and hanged for rebellion against the U.S. government. Klansmen lynched with impunity. Martin Luther King jr. was “the most dangerous Negro,” according to the FBI.

Turmoil triggers fear. Bloodshed shocks the conscience. By promising safety and stability, the state justifies its monopoly on violence and expands its arsenal. In the immediate aftermath of the Capitol Hill riot, over a dozen anti-protest bills have been introduced in state legislatures across the country. As reported by The Intercept, “most of the bills have their roots in responses to last summer’s protests against police brutality.” One of them, put forth in Minnesota, seeks to restrict Indigenous-led activism against oil and gas pipelines.

“Some of us did NOT die.” Speaking at a lecture shortly after 9/11, the poet June Jordan posed these questions:

“And what shall we do, we who did not die?

“Is there an honorable non-violent means towards mourning and remembering who and what we loved?

“Is there an honorable means to pursue and capture the perpetrators of that atrocity without ourselves becoming terrorists?

“I don’t know the answer to that.”


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That afternoon, when the Capitol was under siege, I was trying to . . .

Continue reading. There’s more.

Written by LeisureGuy

2 February 2021 at 5:46 pm

Inside the craziest meeting of the Trump presidency

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Jonathan Swan and Zachary Basu report in Axios:

Last month, Axios published “Off the rails,” a series taking you inside the end of Donald Trump’s presidency, from his election loss to the deadly Jan. 6 Capitol insurrection that triggered his second impeachment — and a Senate trial set to begin next week.

In this bonus edition, we take you back into those final weeks — to one long, unhinged night a week before Christmas, when an epic, profanity-soaked standoff played out with profound implications for the nation.

Four conspiracy theorists marched into the Oval Office. It was early evening on Friday, Dec. 18 — more than a month after the election had been declared for Joe Biden, and four days after the Electoral College met in every state to make it official.

“How the hell did Sidney get in the building?” White House senior adviser Eric Herschmann grumbled from the outer Oval Office as Sidney Powell and her entourage strutted by to visit the president.

President Trump’s private schedule hadn’t included appointments for Powell or the others: former national security adviser Michael Flynn, former Overstock.com CEO Patrick Byrne, and a little-known former Trump administration official, Emily Newman. But they’d come to convince Trump that he had the power to take extreme measures to keep fighting.

As Powell and the others entered the Oval Office that evening, Herschmann — a wealthy business executive and former partner at Kasowitz Benson & Torres who’d been pulled out of quasi-retirement to advise Trump — quietly slipped in behind them.

The hours to come would pit the insurgent conspiracists against a handful of White House lawyers and advisers determined to keep the president from giving in to temptation to invoke emergency national security powers, seize voting machines and disable the primary levers of American democracy.

Herschmann took a seat in a yellow chair close to the doorway. Powell, Flynn, Newman and Byrne sat in a row before the Resolute Desk, facing the president.

For weeks now, ever since Rudy Giuliani had commandeered Trump’s floundering campaign to overturn the election, outsiders had been coming out of the woodwork to feed the president wild allegations of voter fraud based on highly dubious sources.

Trump was no longer focused on any semblance of a governing agenda, instead spending his days taking phone calls and meetings from anyone armed with conspiracy theories about the election. For the White House staff, it was an unending sea of garbage churned up by the bottom feeders.

Powell began this meeting with the same baseless claim that now has her facing a $1.3 billion defamation lawsuit: She told the president that Dominion Voting Systems had rigged their machines to flip votes from Trump to Biden and that it was part of an international communist plot to steal the election for the Democrats.

[Note: In response to a request for comment, Powell said in an emailed statement to Axios: “I will not publicly discuss my private meetings with the President of the United States. I believe those meetings are privileged and confidential under executive privilege and under rules of the legal profession. I would caution the readers to view mainstream media reports of any such conversations with a high degree of discernment and a healthy dose of skepticism.”]

Powell waved an affidavit from the pile of papers in her lap, claiming it contained testimony from someone involved in the development of rigged voting machines in Venezuela.

She proposed declaring a national security emergency, granting her and her cabal top-secret security clearances and using the U.S. government to seize Dominion’s voting machines.

“Hold on a minute, Sidney,” Herschmann interrupted from the back of the Oval. “You’re part of the Rudy team, right? Is your theory that the Democrats got together and changed the rules, or is it that there was foreign interference in our election?”

Giuliani’s legal efforts, while replete with debunked claims about voter fraud, had largely focused on allegations of misconduct by corrupt Democrats and election officials.

“It’s foreign interference,” Powell insisted, then added: “Rudy hasn’t understood what this case is about until just now.”

In disbelief, Herschmann yelled out to an aide in the outer Oval Office. “Get Pat down here immediately!” Several minutes later, White House counsel Pat Cipollone walked into the Oval. He looked at Byrne and said, “Who are you?”

The meeting was already getting heated.

White House staff had spent weeks poring over the evidence underlying hundreds of affidavits and other claims of fraud promoted by Trump allies like Powell. The team had done the due diligence and knew the specific details of what was being alleged better than anybody. Time and time again, they found, Powell’s allegations fell apart under basic scrutiny.

But Powell, fixing on Trump, continued to elaborate on a fantastical election narrative involving Venezuela, Iran, China and others. She named a county in Georgia where she claimed she could prove that Dominion had illegally flipped the vote.

Herschmann interrupted to point out that Trump had actually won the Georgia county in question: “So your theory is that Dominion intentionally flipped the votes so we could win that county?”

As for Powell’s larger claims, he demanded she provide evidence for what — if true — would amount to the greatest national security breach in American history. They needed to dial in one of the campaign’s lawyers, Herschmann said, and Trump campaign lawyer Matt Morgan was patched in via speakerphone.

By now, people were yelling and cursing.

The room was starting to fill up. Trump’s personal assistant summoned White House staff secretary Derek Lyons to join the meeting and asked him to bring a copy of a 2018 executive order that the Powell group kept citing as the key to victory. Lyons agreed with Cipollone and the other officials that Powell’s theories were nonsensical.

It was now four against four.

Flynn went berserk. The former three-star general, whom Trump had fired as his first national security adviser after he was caught lying to the FBI (and later pardoned), stood up and turned from the Resolute Desk to face Herschmann.

“You’re quitting! You’re a quitter! You’re not fighting!” he exploded at the senior adviser. Flynn then turned to the president, and implored: “Sir, we need fighters.”

Herschmann ignored Flynn at first and continued to  . . .

Continue reading. There’s more. And it gets crazy.

This note appears at the end:

Read the rest of the “Off the Rails” episodes here.

About this series: Our reporting is based on multiple interviews with current and former White House, campaign, government and congressional officials as well as direct eyewitnesses and people close to the president. Sources have been granted anonymity to share sensitive observations or details they would not be formally authorized to disclose. President Trump and other officials to whom quotes and actions have been attributed by others were provided the opportunity to confirm, deny or respond to reporting elements prior to publication.

Written by LeisureGuy

2 February 2021 at 3:28 pm

He Wants to Save Classics From Whiteness. Can the Field Survive?

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Rachel Posner has a long piece in the NY Times Magazine on Dan-el Padilla Peralta, a Classsics professor at Princeton who is questioning the very structure of Classics education. It’s a thought-provoking piece that raises many issues that merit serious consideration, and (full disclosure) it has quite an impact on me, who studied (and admired) the Great Books program — reading, discussing, and working to understand and apply the classic works of Western civilization — at St. John’s College in Annapolis MD and later taught there while also serving as director of admissions. In my admissions work, I saw my mission as making sure that potential students had a clear understanding of the program: the subject matter, the way that was taught, and the overall goals. I wanted to make sure that they had the information they needed to make an informed decision as to whether to apply or not, and (if admissions were offered) whether to accept or not.

Now I am questioning my own understanding of the program and the underlying ideas it conveyed. And Posner’s article prompted that. Her article begins:

In the world of classics, the exchange between Dan-el Padilla Peralta and Mary Frances Williams has become known simply as “the incident.” Their back-and-forth took place at a Society of Classical Studies conference in January 2019 — the sort of academic gathering at which nothing tends to happen that would seem controversial or even interesting to those outside the discipline. But that year, the conference featured a panel on “The Future of Classics,” which, the participants agreed, was far from secure. On top of the problems facing the humanities as a whole — vanishing class sizes caused by disinvestment, declining prominence and student debt — classics was also experiencing a crisis of identity. Long revered as the foundation of “Western civilization,” the field was trying to shed its self-imposed reputation as an elitist subject overwhelmingly taught and studied by white men. Recently the effort had gained a new sense of urgency: Classics had been embraced by the far right, whose members held up the ancient Greeks and Romans as the originators of so-called white culture. Marchers in Charlottesville, Va., carried flags bearing a symbol of the Roman state; online reactionaries adopted classical pseudonyms; the white-supremacist website Stormfront displayed an image of the Parthenon alongside the tagline “Every month is white history month.”

Padilla, a leading historian of Rome who teaches at Princeton and was born in the Dominican Republic, was one of the panelists that day. For several years, he has been speaking openly about the harm caused by practitioners of classics in the two millenniums since antiquity: the classical justifications of slavery, race science, colonialism, Nazism and other 20th-century fascisms. Classics was a discipline around which the modern Western university grew, and Padilla believes that it has sown racism through the entirety of higher education. Last summer, after Princeton decided to remove Woodrow Wilson’s name from its School of Public and International Affairs, Padilla was a co-author of an open letter that pushed the university to do more. “We call upon the university to amplify its commitment to Black people,” it read, “and to become, for the first time in its history, an anti-racist institution.” Surveying the damage done by people who lay claim to the classical tradition, Padilla argues, one can only conclude that classics has been instrumental to the invention of “whiteness” and its continued domination.

In recent years, like-minded classicists have come together to dispel harmful myths about antiquity. On social media and in journal articles and blog posts, they have clarified that contrary to right-wing propaganda, the Greeks and Romans did not consider themselves “white,” and their marble sculptures, whose pale flesh has been fetishized since the 18th century, would often have been painted in antiquity. They have noted that in fifth-century-B.C. Athens, which has been celebrated as the birthplace of democracy, participation in politics was restricted to male citizens; thousands of enslaved people worked and died in silver mines south of the city, and custom dictated that upper-class women could not leave the house unless they were veiled and accompanied by a male relative. They have shown that the concept of Western civilization emerged as a euphemism for “white civilization” in the writing of men like Lothrop Stoddard, a Klansman and eugenicist. Some classicists have come around to the idea that their discipline forms part of the scaffold of white supremacy — a traumatic process one described to me as “reverse red-pilling” — but they are also starting to see an opportunity in their position. Because classics played a role in constructing whiteness, they believed, perhaps the field also had a role to play in its dismantling.

On the morning of the panel, Padilla stood out among his colleagues, as he always did. He sat in a crisp white shirt at the front of a large conference hall at a San Diego Marriott, where most of the attendees wore muted shades of gray. Over the course of 10 minutes, Padilla laid out an indictment of his field. “If one were intentionally to design a discipline whose institutional organs and gatekeeping protocols were explicitly aimed at disavowing the legitimate status of scholars of color,” he said, “one could not do better than what classics has done.” Padilla’s vision of classics’ complicity in systemic injustice is uncompromising, even by the standards of some of his allies. He has condemned the field as “equal parts vampire and cannibal” — a dangerous force that has been used to murder, enslave and subjugate. “He’s on record as saying that he’s not sure the discipline deserves a future,” Denis Feeney, a Latinist at Princeton, told me. Padilla believes that classics is so entangled with white supremacy as to be inseparable from it. “Far from being extrinsic to the study of Greco-Roman antiquity,” he has written, “the production of whiteness turns on closer examination to reside in the very marrows of classics.”

When Padilla ended his talk, the audience was invited to ask questions. Williams, an independent scholar from California, was one of the first to speak. She rose from her seat in the front row and adjusted a standing microphone that had been placed in the center of the room. “I’ll probably offend all of you,” she began. Rather than kowtowing to criticism, Williams said, “maybe we should start defending our discipline.” She protested that it was imperative to stand up for the classics as the political, literary and philosophical foundation of European and American culture: “It’s Western civilization. It matters because it’s the West.” Hadn’t classics given us the concepts of liberty, equality and democracy?

One panelist tried to interject, but Williams pressed on, her voice becoming harsh and staccato as the tide in the room moved against her. “I believe in merit. I don’t look at the color of the author.” She pointed a finger in Padilla’s direction. “You may have got your job because you’re Black,” Williams said, “but I would prefer to think you got your job because of merit.”

Discordant sounds went up from the crowd. Several people stood up from their seats and hovered around Williams at the microphone, seemingly unsure of whether or how to intervene. Padilla was smiling; it was the grimace of someone who, as he told me later, had been expecting something like this all along. At last, Williams ceded the microphone, and Padilla was able to speak. “Here’s what I have to say about the vision of classics that you outlined,” he said. “I want nothing to do with it. I hope the field dies that you’ve outlined, and that it dies as swiftly as possible.”

When Padilla was a child, his parents proudly referred to Santo Domingo, the capital of the Dominican Republic, as the “Athens of the New World” — a center of culture and learning. That idea had been fostered by Rafael Trujillo, the dictator who ruled the country from 1930 until his assassination in 1961. Like other 20th-century fascists, Trujillo saw himself, and his people, as  . . .

Continue reading. There’s much more, and also at the link is audio so you can listen to the piece.

Written by LeisureGuy

2 February 2021 at 11:40 am

Two different approaches to Covid relief: Democratic and Republican

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Just as a reminder: the specific and explicit mission statement of the Federal government is stated in the Preamble to the US Constitution:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

I have put the relevant phrase in boldface.

As of this morning, the number of American deaths due to Covid is 459,712. The total number of American combat deaths for all wars from 1900 to the present — 121 years, including WWII, WWI, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Iraq Wars, the Afghanistan War, and others — is 427,214.

And those who survive are facing grievous economic hardship 2— not the very wealthy, of course, which is the segment of the public the Republican party serves, but the great majority of the American public, who have had to struggle with the impact of the pandemic and the lockdowns needed to contain it. They need help, and the Federal government’s mission is to help them.

Written by LeisureGuy

2 February 2021 at 9:42 am

Another no-aftershave shave with Declaration Grooming Milksteak formula and the superb RazoRock MJ-90A

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I thought I’d try another shaving using a high-quality skin-friendly shaving soap — and Declaration Grooming’s Milksteak formula fits that description to a T. Here I’m using Cuir et Épices. My Omega 20102 is well broken in at this point, and I easily loaded it. It has a large knot, so a little added water helped work enough soap into the knot for a rich lather.

The RazoRock MJ-90A is a wonderful razor, and I do like this particular handle. The bottom section of the handle has a slightly greater diameter than the body of the handle, so it works well in the pass against the grain. Impeccable shave: very comfortable, very efficient, very smooth result.

To finish the job, a splash of…  oh, wait. No splash this morning. Just rinse, first with hot water, then with cold.

I realize that I actually enjoy the aftershave. While it may not be required (if the soap is good), I do like it (cf. coffee or tea: not required, but peasurable). So I think I’ll resume the aftershave. I do like to try new things, but that does not mean I have to continue them.

Written by LeisureGuy

2 February 2021 at 9:28 am

Posted in Shaving

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