#regis clam oil

[tiny-buzz]

Nice dinner party. Great ambiance, jazz trio, gorgeous women and powerful men. But, let me ask you this, person to person, as we sit down to sup . . .

Was this delightful capellini finished with "Brand X" clam oil?

Because, friend, if you cheaped out on the clam oil, then buddy, you're missing the point

Thankfully, I brought a flask of my own. Top shelf, the best there's ever been.

Regis Philbin's very own REGIS PHILBIN'S AUTHENTIC ITALIAN CLAM OIL. And before you interrupt me to ask, yes, friend: it's "Italian-style." Frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way. Take a sip, and let's pass it around the table.

See, Regis Philbin was content with life. He was a man of influence, power. He alone decided who lived and who died within a beautiful system of machinery. His body glistened in the Santa Monica sunrise. But, like all men do, he sought something greater.

A few phone calls later, and Regis was talking to the Pope, his Holiness.

"Pope, listen," Regis said, with candor and excitement. "We're gonna shake up the stodgy clam oil market. We're gonna take it back to the way things used to be, Papa."

"Holy moly," said the Pontiff, saluting everything Regis was running up the flag pole.

A few months later, the finished product was unveiled to a municipal gymnasium of earthquake survivors. "The rich velvet of the clam stands in playful contrast to everything I THOUGHT I knew about Italian-Style Italian Clam Oil!" said a grieving mother who just hours prior had lost her only Nintendo.

So, listen, friend: next time you hold a little get-together? A little congregation? A little State dinner? A little shindig? A little Tweetup? A little funeral? A little fistfight? A little soiree? A little cult orgy? A little board game night? A little solstice? Make sure not to humiliate yourself, and spring for the bottle made by Regis, endorsed by the Church, and individually kissed by Madam Wolverine herself.

Now let's all raise a bucket of the good stuff (clam oil) and cheers our imperfect host as we celebrate Regis Weekend being extended through and including the day of Tuesday, October 17, 2023.

[strumpeteye]

The Seven Friendships – Erica Funkhouser

They were friends from the first look the first day of work and friends they would remain. Not lovers. Never, though they thought of things to whisper about all day. At night, when they sat at home hunting for something to say to their actual lovers, they longed to be back at work, where the home life they described to each other seemed larger, funnier, more colorful.

They were playful as gods and, at the same time, serious. Once, in a car, on the way to a conference, they worked out the seven possible forms of friendship between people who aren’t related by blood.

First: the fortunate friendship of two who feel equally attached but not attracted to each other. No desire. Instead, equilibrium, a reliable membrane, keeps them wholly separate while holding them together. You can always tell these two in the kitchen: they can share a cutting board — two different sharp knives chopping two different vegetables, and no one gets in anyone else’s way.

Second: the friendship founded on suppressed desire. All the accessorizing takes the place of real nakedness. The servant’s invocations to his master; the master’s adulation of the slave. Michael Jackson / Liz Taylor — yes — Regis and Kathie Lee.

Letter writers are the third, their correspondence floating safely above and beyond their problematic bodies like a vial of scented oil. They use each other without apology — an excuse to shape the simplest moment into something memorable ending with “Write soon, write back,” that frank plea for affection.

Then there is the electric communion that’s awakened between two people vastly different in age, like the dowager one of them knew who’d had to wait ’til she reached ninety to meet a young child she recognized as herself, the adventuress she’d been. At long last, the right playmate!

Fifth: the fireproof friendship that has survived desire. This includes all the ex-wives and ex-husbands whose shared grief unites them as love could not. They drift back to each other, grateful for a cup of tea, for someone who remembers that their first dentist in Troy collected brass hose nozzles.

Next, a love of argument — not bickering or nagging, but the brainy brakes-without- pads kind of arguing, no attachment to conclusions, no transparent right and wrong, just the delirious pleasure of competing for airspace with someone you trust never to take you personally.

And the seventh form? Friendship based on the exchange of gifts, preferably ridiculous. Someone would get the idea to buy odd salt and pepper shakers, and once he’d purchased the first set, a whole history of silliness could begin.

That was when they stopped counting and pulled off the interstate on the way to the conference. They found a small antique store, Junkian Analysis — really! — and in the windows pairs of perfectly ugly salt and pepper shakers shaped like airplanes and bowling balls, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. They liked the ceramic clams, the Taj Mahal in Bakelite; they loved the milkglass cabbage, the jaguars, the shooting stars, the stainless state of Vermont side by side with New Hampshire.

[anyilherron]

The Seven Friendships - Erica Funkhouser

They were friends from the first look the first day of work and friends they would remain. Not lovers. Never, though they thought of things to whisper about all day. At night, when they sat at home hunting for something to say to their actual lovers, they longed to be back at work, where the home life they described to each other seemed larger, funnier, more colorful.

They were playful as gods and, at the same time, serious. Once, in a car, on the way to a conference, they worked out the seven possible forms of friendship between people who aren’t related by blood.

First: the fortunate friendship of two who feel equally attached but not attracted to each other. No desire. Instead, equilibrium, a reliable membrane, keeps them wholly separate while holding them together. You can always tell these two in the kitchen: they can share a cutting board — two different sharp knives chopping two different vegetables, and no one gets in anyone else’s way.

Second: the friendship founded on suppressed desire. All the accessorizing takes the place of real nakedness. The servant’s invocations to his master; the master’s adulation of the slave. Michael Jackson / Liz Taylor — yes — Regis and Kathie Lee.

Letter writers are the third, their correspondence floating safely above and beyond their problematic bodies like a vial of scented oil. They use each other without apology — an excuse to shape the simplest moment into something memorable ending with “Write soon, write back,” that frank plea for affection.

Then there is the electric communion that’s awakened between two people vastly different in age, like the dowager one of them knew who’d had to wait ’til she reached ninety to meet a young child she recognized as herself, the adventuress she’d been. At long last, the right playmate!

Fifth: the fireproof friendship that has survived desire. This includes all the ex-wives and ex-husbands whose shared grief unites them as love could not. They drift back to each other, grateful for a cup of tea, for someone who remembers that their first dentist in Troy collected brass hose nozzles.

Next, a love of argument — not bickering or nagging, but the brainy brakes-without- pads kind of arguing, no attachment to conclusions, no transparent right and wrong, just the delirious pleasure of competing for airspace with someone you trust never to take you personally.

And the seventh form? Friendship based on the exchange of gifts, preferably ridiculous. Someone would get the idea to buy odd salt and pepper shakers, and once he’d purchased the first set, a whole history of silliness could begin.

That was when they stopped counting and pulled off the interstate on the way to the conference. They found a small antique store, Junkian Analysis — really! — and in the windows pairs of perfectly ugly salt and pepper shakers shaped like airplanes and bowling balls, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. They liked the ceramic clams, the Taj Mahal in Bakelite; they loved the milkglass cabbage, the jaguars, the shooting stars, the stainless state of Vermont side by side with New Hampshire.

[seniorbrief]

The Surprising Birthplace of 20 Favorite Foods and Drinks

Food

Carrie BellJul 03

Like superheroes, many beloved dishes, desserts, and drinks have interesting, stupefying, and sometimes even controversial origin stories.

Caesar salad: Tijuana, Mexico

Evgeny Karandaev/Shutterstock

Given its name, it’s perfectly understandable one might assume the king of the salad section hails from ancient Rome. And while an Italian did create what the International Society of Epicure once named the greatest recipe to originate in the Americas in the last half-century, romaine lettuce stalks, olive oil, raw egg, croutons, parmesan cheese, and Worcestershire sauce were first tossed together in Baja California’s Caesar’s Restaurant. According to Food & Wine, Caesar Cardini moved to North America in the 1910s, opening restaurants in Sacramento and San Diego, before making a run for the border town of Tijuana, Mexico, which was experiencing a tourism boom in the 1920s thanks to prohibition. Legend has it that his Avenida Revolución eatery was overrun with thirsty tourists and running low on supplies on July 4, 1924, when he took what was left and attempted to make a finger food tableside. Some claim it was his brother Alessandro who invented it while others say he was only responsible for adding anchovies. Another theory: Italian immigrant/employee Livio Santini based it on his mama’s recipe, but Cardini took credit for the instant hit. Either way, fans can savor the original salad in its birthplace as a renovated Caesar’s reopened in 2010. Check out 9 other foods you’d never guess were American.

French dip sandwich: Los Angeles

farbled/Shutterstock

A war has long waged in the streets of downtown Los Angeles between two longtime (and still-operating) diners, Philippe’s and Cole’s, regarding who fathered the French dip sandwich. When stacked up, most concrete evidence points to the former although various owners have disagreed on specifics over the years. A 1951 Los Angeles Times’ interview with the original 1908 owner Philippe Mathieu finds the French-born cook explaining that he created the wet roast beef sandwich on a lark for a counter regular who saw the jus in the pan. The restaurant’s website argues that the creation was a result of Mathieu accidentally dropping the French roll from a policeman’s order into the roasting pan still filled with hot juices in 1918. The cop ate it anyway, came back for more, and brought friends who also wanted to sample the meaty mishap. Other accounts involve a fireman, pork, a stale roll, and 1917. Thrillist argues that the name supports Mathieu’s claim given that he was from France and might also be a double entendre meant to be funny as it shared its name with a waistline type said to make the wearer appear thinner that was becoming trendy. Cole’s, whose sign still declares them the titleholder in neon, argues that they invented it by accident in 1908, but no printed mentions support the German owner’s claim until after Philippe’s reputation had blossomed.

Bloody Mary: New York City

Oleksandra Naumenko/Shutterstock

Seems appropriate that one of the most popular brunch beverages was first poured in The City That Never Sleeps. In 1934, Serge Obolensky, an aristocratic Russian man about town, waltzed into the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis New York and asked bartender Fernand Petiot to pour him a Bloody Mary. He’d sampled an early version of Petiot’s vodka and tomato juice cocktail at Paris’s La Maisonette Russe where the mixologist previously worked. Petiot perfected a zestier recipe that day adding salt, pepper, lemon, and Worcestershire sauce. The moniker was deemed too unrefined for the hotel’s elegant clientele, so it was rechristened Red Snapper. Today, imbibers can partake in Petiot’s piece de résistance under the same 1906 Maxfield Parrish mural. Or they can walk into any St. Regis and try a local spin on the libation, now the brand’s signature cocktail. For example, the St. Regis in Abu Dhabi adds smoke and za’atar as a nod to hookah lounges, Punta Mita’s makes it with tequila and Mexican Maggi sauce, and the Washington, D.C., branch starts with gin and incorporates horseradish, clam juice, and Old Bay Seasoning to evoke a classic Chesapeake Bay crab boil.

Jell-O: LeRoy, New York

diak/Shutterstock

In 1897, carpenter Pearle Wait was mixing a cough remedy and laxative tea in his home kitchen when he started experimenting with gelatin. The result of that tinkering, according to the Jell-O Museum‘s website, was a fruit-flavored dessert whose name was coined by his wife May. Wait tried to market the wiggly treat, lacking funds and experience; he ultimately sold the trademark in 1899 for $450 to fellow LeRoy-ian and successful proprietary medicines manufacturer Orator Frank Woodward. He too gave up and sold it to Sam Nico for $35. The third sale was a charm as the Genesee Pure Food Company started selling Jell-O in 1900 and reported $250,000 in sales in 1902 when the packets were still stuffed by hand and sold from horse-drawn wagons. The first four flavors were orange, lemon, strawberry, and raspberry. Lime was not introduced until 1930. The meteoric rise of J-E-L-L-O was certainly helped by advertising that utilized artists like Norman Rockwell and the aforementioned Parrish and comedian Jack Benny.

Original Source -> The Surprising Birthplace of 20 Favorite Foods and Drinks

source https://www.seniorbrief.com/the-surprising-birthplace-of-20-favorite-foods-and-drinks/