Another Januschian Special Event.
Somewhere in New Mexico, not too long ago - Jason -- the oldest and easily the
most manly of the next-gen offspring -- is shown here practicing his favorite
song in preparation for April 4th: "Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday to me. Hell yeah."
(Second verse, same as the first.)
We fully concur: All the best on your Big Day, J!
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HB, Marcos!
Still, it was a treat to watch the master in action, as attired in his
color-coordinated carving shirt (reserved exclusively for this cut of
meat to conceal inadvertent splatters), he gritted his teeth and bore
down with much-practiced pressure on his recently-sharpened,
40-year-old chef's knife (a wedding present from -- how appropriate
for this Irish gathering -- John & Eleanor O'Brien). I even observed him
employing quality control by pulling out his trusty protractor and
carefully measuring the width of each slice to ensure uniformity.
And now and again, he would pause, step back, mop his gently perspiring
brow with his lightly starched Irish linen handkerchief, and admire the results
of his unparalleled bladework.
Alas, it was a fleeting masterpiece: In short order, dinner guests were marching
past the buffet where they hungrily speared one portion of brisket after
another, oblivious of the spectacular presentation of ideally-sliced-and-ready-
to-serve-succulent-deep-roasted corned beef providing a savory contrast
to the glistening white platter. It was more along the lines of quickly fill
one's plate, wolf it all down, and hustle back for seconds, all the while
giving proper acclaim to the modest cook.
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HB, Marcos!
Although he's now enjoying his retirement years, Marcos hasn't lost his edge in the carving department....
3/19/11 -Here he is slicing through St. Paddy's corned beef as if he were
wielding a chain saw. (Of course, it helps that the brisket was as
tender as a stick of room-temperature butter, having been
slow-roasted to absolute perfection in the O'Janusch kitchen hearth.)
wielding a chain saw. (Of course, it helps that the brisket was as
tender as a stick of room-temperature butter, having been
slow-roasted to absolute perfection in the O'Janusch kitchen hearth.)
Still, it was a treat to watch the master in action, as attired in his
color-coordinated carving shirt (reserved exclusively for this cut of
meat to conceal inadvertent splatters), he gritted his teeth and bore
down with much-practiced pressure on his recently-sharpened,
40-year-old chef's knife (a wedding present from -- how appropriate
for this Irish gathering -- John & Eleanor O'Brien). I even observed him
employing quality control by pulling out his trusty protractor and
carefully measuring the width of each slice to ensure uniformity.
And now and again, he would pause, step back, mop his gently perspiring
brow with his lightly starched Irish linen handkerchief, and admire the results
of his unparalleled bladework.
Alas, it was a fleeting masterpiece: In short order, dinner guests were marching
past the buffet where they hungrily speared one portion of brisket after
another, oblivious of the spectacular presentation of ideally-sliced-and-ready-
to-serve-succulent-deep-roasted corned beef providing a savory contrast
to the glistening white platter. It was more along the lines of quickly fill
one's plate, wolf it all down, and hustle back for seconds, all the while
giving proper acclaim to the modest cook.
Such is life: The kudos always go to the chef, not the chef's carver,
but on this, his birthday, we salute the carver:
All the Best on your Big Day, Marcos.
but on this, his birthday, we salute the carver:
All the Best on your Big Day, Marcos.
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