Ed the Gent's Amateur Guide to Chivalry, Courting and Cooking

A Gentleman does not speak blue

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 01:59:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

A good chum was telling me about an esteemed colleague of his who, despite his preppy and stern demeanor, had a mouth like a Hungarian pimp.

This colleague, who we should refer to as "Detective Nick Curran" - the same name of Michael Douglas' sexually dangerous character in "Basic Instinct" - has a habit of making sordid points at inappropriate moments.

For instance, my chum - who we should call "Archie", for his unspoiled innocence and ginger hair - was remarking on Alex Rodriguez's sudden resurgence in the post-season as the two were sitting in their office. Detective Nick Curran chimed in, crediting the resurgence to the fact that A-Rod is giving it "hard" to Kate Hudson and her magical minge (he used different words here). Det. Curran did not stop there. He then wondered aloud what it would be like to entertain Ms. Hudson's minge while using the word "strawberry" as a descriptor.

It was enough to make Al Goldstein go blue in the face.

On another instance, Archie asked Det. Curran if he hated it when cab drivers spoke on their bluetooth earpieces? Instead of answering the question, Det. Curran asked Archie if he ever received a blow-job in the back of a taxi cab?

Archie, who recently married his very own "Veronica", feigned a smile as his face became as red as his hair. He said that he never had.

Det. Curran sure as f**k has. Seven times.

Det. Curran is new to Archie's office, and perhaps being sexually frank was his way of finding an instant rapport with Archie. Or perhaps he was looking for a like-minded dude who would partner up with him to"Eiffel Tower" that naughty secretary in the office who's just asking for it...
Such approaches are negligible, as they come across more creepy than charming.

In short, save the naughty talk for your lass, your sexual therapist, your porn scene, or for your guest appearance on the Robin Byrd Show. Spare the good people in your office the indignity of your naughty speak. They just want to talk about baseball.

Stay chivalrous,
EtG

And the name of my son shall be...

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 01:13:00 +0000

Yourhigness the Gent. How's that for the future son of EtG?

He can knock you the f**k out with his charm and his tackle. A Gentleman Linebacker indeed.

A presto,
EtG

Ali Wise update

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 03:11:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

The accused in happier times.

Ali Wise, as you may recall, was the fair and fierce lass who was arrested earlier this summer for using spyware to hack into the voice mail accounts of Nina Freudenberger, a lady with whom Wise had an ex-boyfriend in common.

Well, Wise was formerly charged in Manhattan criminal court on Monday.

From the NY Post:

Other alleged victims have since come forward anonymously to the Post to describe Wise busting into the voice mail systems of her perceived romantic enemies and competitors -- and then listening to and even deleting messages. Wise has admitted to hacking into at least one of the alleged victim's phone messages. "I used the SpoofCard to get into her voice mails," Wise 'fessed when cops asked about the alleged Freudenberger hacking, according to the criminal complaint against her.

The fetching 30-year-old Wise was dressed entirely in black and wearing stilettos, the Post reports. Perhaps as such:

If convicted, she faces at most four years in prison or, if lucky, probation.

According to the criminal complaint, Wise made at least 337 hacking calls - blimey! - to Freudenberger's cell and land line voice mails.

Wise also made 137 calls to the voice mail of a second victim, 119 calls to a third victim, and 102 calls to a fourth victim.

Again, blimey!

This is what I wrote on the matter back in July:
"... we have so many online avenues - like facebook, asmallworld, NY Social Diary - that permits a person to keep tabs on their ex-lovers, albeit in a semi-innocuous (and anonymous) fashion. Does this mean this is permissible? Not entirely. In the event that Wise is guilty of the charges levied against her, one could argue that she just went one foolish step beyond that - wanting to stay abreast of the going-ons of her ex-loves in a more thorough and unconstitutional manner."

Now, all I can say is this: 337 calls is not "semi-innocuous." Perhaps I am too compassionate a Gent, especially when it comes to madcap women.

A gentle night to thee,
EtG

Daily Musk: Halloween costume?

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 19:23:00 +0000

A Gentleman wonders:

What are you, fair reader, going to go as for Halloween? Leave your response in the comments section.

As for EtG, my costume is simple: A slutty Robin Hood.

Ciao,
EtG

EtG and MtB: Chicken with shallots and Madeira

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 21:37:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

If you live on the Eastern Seaboard, then you have perhaps noticed that the weather as of late blows. Blows massive bollox, to be precise.

A benefit of such weather is that one can start cooking like a peasant. Mark (the) Bittman would probably scorn you for going out to restaurant in such weather, looking all fershlugina from the gale-force winds. Like your Gent friend, MtB implores that you stay at home and cook an easy dish.

One such peasant dish is Chicken with shallots and Madeira. Madeira is a sweet Portugese wine that hails from the Madeira Islands (according to the noted sommelier Captain V. Obvious). It can be purchased cheaply at most wine shops, and it adds a gentle sweetness to the resulting sauce of this dish.

A trick that I like to do whenever preparing chicken - something that the recipe does not call for - is to toss the chicken pieces in a bowl containing a tablespoon or more of flour, salt and pepper. This particularly helps when cooking chicken with wine, as it gives the final product more body and character (I think).

Here is your recipe, with action shots.

Chicken with Shallots And Madeira
Time: 30 to 40 minutes

2 tablespoons neutral oil, like corn or grape seed
1 whole chicken, cut into serving pieces, or about 3 pounds thighs or
drumsticks
Salt and pepper
10 shallots ( 1/2 pound or more)
1 1/2 cups Madeira
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice or good balsamic vinegar, or to taste
Chopped fresh parsley leaves for garnish.

1. Put oil in a deep skillet or casserole, and turn heat to medium
high. When oil is hot, add chicken skin side down. Cook, sprinkling
with salt and pepper, until skin is nicely browned, about 10 minutes.
Turn, and brown other side a minute or 2.

2. Spoon or pour out excess fat. Add shallots, and cook, shaking pan
occasionally, until they are tender and begin to brown, 5 to 10
minutes more.

3. Add Madeira, and cook over medium- to medium-high heat, turning
chicken occasionally so it continues to brown and cook evenly. Let
Madeira reduce almost to a glaze. If mixture dries out before chicken
is done, add 1/2 cup water or more Madeira.

4. When chicken is cooked through and sauce is shiny and thick, add
butter and lemon juice or vinegar. Cook a minute, and remove chicken
to a warm plate. Taste and adjust sauce's seasoning. Spoon sauce and
shallots over chicken; garnish and serve.

I had no parsley to garnish the dish with, hence the sloppy presentation.

Yield: 4 servings.

If a Gentleman had money, what would he buy? - Nespresso

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 20:33:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

Allow me to introduce yet another semi-recurrent series.

I remember the halcyon days when I was a true Gentleman of leisure. I would work from 9-to-5, then head off to my nearby local for a pint or two, then off to shirt shopping with the lass, followed by the theatre with the lass, concluded with a late bite at a schwanky establishment, concluded by a kip at the lass's home.

Sadly, I no longer live in London. In America, we work f**kin' hard for our f**kin' money (put that in your shandy glass, you f**kin slipshod lymie!). What's more, I work too hard for too little, barely able to muster enough quid to treat a lass to a nice seafood supper. I believe this is the case for most men nowadays.

But if we were all men of unlimited means, this would be one of the many luxuries I believe each Gent should have in his home.

1) Nespresso Espresso Machine
Price range - $199 - $659
A hardworking Gent can often be a knackered one. Considering most Gentlemen have a variety of professional and social obligations, one cannot be too sleepy when entertaining a Japanese client - or a Japanese date, for that matter. Be too tired during an important occasion and risk looking silly... adorably so.

You can drink red bull, but drink too much of it and soon you may find yourself shirtless and wearing 3/4 pants, holding two neon glow sticks as you're pressed together by 7,000 sweaty Grecians at an Ibizan nightclub.

Techno viking. Methinks his "caffeine" comes in pill form.

Cocaine is too costly and gauche, and can land you in the clink. Crack is, well, crack, and altogether illegal (if not uproarious). Adderall deprives one of personality and good sense.

That leaves espresso as a perfectly viable option to keep a Gentleman up for his social obligations.

I have had one of these magic Nespresso machines for over a year, and it has yet to fail me. All one has to do is place a Nespresso cartridge in the machine, press a button, and your demitasse is filled with top-quality espresso.

The refills themselves start at $5.50 for a box of ten.

It costs a pretty pence to pay for such a machine. But using this spares you from the usual dreck you get from Starbucks, not to mention the haughty indifference from that obnoxious Oberlin-educated barista at your local coffee shop.

So drop that rolled up $20 and walk away from the toilet seat, sir. A true Gent presses a button to get his caffeine kick.

A presto,
EtG

Eduardo el Caballero

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 03:33:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

As I have intimated before, I sometimes work as a "Gentleman Reporter" for a publication that dare not be mentioned by its real name (hint: it sounds like "schmews schmay"). Today I was dispatched to Midtown Manhattan to cover the United Hispanic American Parade, which gathers all the glorious countries of Latin America into a rather fun parade.
Naturally, my eye caught a glimpse of a line of Latin American "models" (read - lasses who can be seen on "12 Corazones: Rumbo al Altar") catwalking up Fifth Avenue.
My caught a glimpse of the girl representing Colombia who, as photographer James Carbone's work will attest, was no Ethel Merman.

As I approached the lass for an interview, a cheeky and smarmy TV host from a nondescript Spanish TV show swooped in and asked all the models to line up around him as his cameraman filmed them. He asked the lady to his right - a buxom Bolivian - for a beso, which she granted on his cheek. He then asked the lady to his left - a delectable Dominican - for a beso, which she granted. But as she went to kiss his cheek, the smarmy tosser quickly turned his head and she unwittingly kissed him on the lips. I admired the cut of that man's jib.

But it got me thinking - if Spanish TV correspondents are roaming around God's green earth goosing Guatemalan beauties or giving Bolivian nuns purple nurples, then a certain Gentleman needs to make a visit down south to give them a lesson. Perhaps I'll start in Ecuador...

Eduardo el Caballero

Hasta luego,
Eduardo

Daily Musk: The Cad Way Out

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 13:23:00 +0000

A very rare burst of output from yours truly.

This video comes courtesy of Theo, who no doubt has used this excuse on a few occasions to save his Greek hide.

A presto,
EtG

Ghostface

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 04:46:00 +0000

so yeah, this is a family website ("Family" in that my uncle leaves the occasional remark in the comments section). But this ODB anecdote from Ghostface "Tony Stark" Killah - a very filthy anecdote, not for a child's ears - is just too raw and funny not to share. Enjoy at your own peril:

Ghostface "ODB...til his dick was raw" from MCM on Vimeo.

Explaining a Lady's Poor Decisions

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 04:25:00 +0000

Gents,

You present yourself to your lady as honorably and honestly as you can. You keep two buttons on your shirt unbuttoned so that she may catch sight of your hairy brawn. You whisper softly into her ear as you two sit in your booth so that she may inhale the soft scent of your musk. You eat your steak rare and your beer cold, but you do so properly while in front of your woman. You can be a man and a Gent, all at once

And yet at the end of the evening, the wench leaves you for a slight effete knob who preaches art, strums guitars, wears super-tight jeans, and acts like a lost child.

Why is this so? Birth control, mate, according to the Daily Mail:

During the few days each month when women are fertile - around the time of ovulation - they tend to prefer masculine features and men who are more assertive.
On these fertile days, women are also more attracted to men who are 'genetically dissimilar', Dr Alvergne said. Picking a partner whose genetic make-up is unlike their own increases the chances of having a healthy child.

On days when women are not fertile, their tastes swing towards more feminine, boyish faces and more caring personalities, researchers have shown.
However, if women are taking the Pill they no longer have fertile days.
That means they no longer experience the hormonal changes that make them more attracted to masculine men and those with dissimilar genetic make-up.

Women, drop your pills, pronto. Masculine men need love, too.

A presto,
EtG

Ode to a departed Rolex

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 17:01:00 +0000

I first received the watch - a Rolex Oyster Perpetual Explorer II - shortly after my graduation from the Robert J. Wagner School for the Disarmingly Handsome in 2001. My father Allan the Gentleman gave it to me as a present, saying that every Gentleman needed a Rolex to aide him in his quest for a life of luxury and decency. Little did I know at the time that my father procured the watch from a Chinese bookie who he knocked-the-f**k-out during a dispute over my father's backgammon debts. But the watch was in spotless condition - my father also stole the watch's corresponding serial number and user manual verifying its authenticity - so few questions were asked.

"Bookie"

Since then, the watch has accompanied me in practically every notable event of my adult life. It was one of the few items I grabbed in the mad scramble to get out of my TriBeCa flat during the 9/11 attacks. The logic behind that move was that were anything to happen to me in the ensuing days, I could easily trade in the watch for a car, gun, timber, and/or mule.

The watch accompanied me to my two-year stay in London, where the risk of some pikey chav nicking it from my wrist was nearly certain. It joined me when I met former President Bill Clinton at the Barbican (and when he rightly scorned me for wearing a beard during our encounter).

The watch has been on the nightstands of good women, strange women, random women, madcap women - and those are just my past relationships. It was admired by Gents and Ladies, lusted after by thieves and knaves, and loved by EtG.

It suffered a few dings on its face, mostly due to my natural clumsiness. It looked good on my wrist no matter what the outfit - from bespoke suit to jeans and trainers. It was as much a part of my identity as my superb hair.

Sadly, as of two weeks ago the watch has been lost. It was either nicked - I live in Manhattan now, so the odds of a pikey chav doing the deed are slim - or simply lost. It may have returned to the wrist of its previous owner, or it could be hiding in the deeper recesses of my flat. Whatever the reason the watch is no longer property of EtG, and for that I have been a dispirited bloke. (Please send baked goods and/or scotch to Ed the Gent, PO Box 2700, etc).

I am nevertheless honored to have been an owner of this Rolex. I hope that whoever possesses it now enjoys it as much as I once did (or rots in a Rikers cell ... but not before returning my watch in its original form).

A presto,

EtG

EtG and MtB: Oy

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 03:20:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

Judging by the occasional addition of yiddish into these Gent journals, you can surmise as much that I am of the chosen faith. So is Mark (the) Bittman, our dear menschy friend and chef.

Tonight I have started atoning for my sins (wearing jeans more often than I should, writing fewer entries than I should, losing my rolex watch (or at least, allowing it to be pinched), and that's about it. Enjoying scotch and running around with madcap women is not a sin).

I normally reserve my Sunday evenings to cook up MtB's recipes. But as tonight is a holy night and I cannot eat for the next 18 hours, I leave you not with an MtB recipe, but an MtB shpiel.

Happy New Year and a presto,
EtG

Daily Musk: How I feel after a decent night's rest

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 16:04:00 +0000

Slept in for the first time in eons. Like this Russian bloke, the sleep was like a naughty strike to the top right corner.

A presto,

EtG

EtG and MtB: A Chicken Soup with a Peanut Crunch

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 01:16:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

I overdid it last night. I was at a reasonable Irish pub in the East Village with some unreasonable colleagues of mine, which lead to an unconscionable morning-after earlier today. (As a side note: a trick I learned from a mate is to take a multi-vitamin before going to sleep, which helps take the edge off for when you wake up. But remember, I'm a Gentleman, not a Doctor, so do so at your own risk).

Factor the sluggishness with the ten consecutive work days logged, and you have a very knackered bloke. Fortunately for said-bloke, he had to work yet another day today - this one no merciless than the others - and needed a big, hearty meal to put an end to this brutal week.

Naturally, I turn to Mark (the) Bittman for advice on what to cook. As I do not suffer from peanut allergies, I decided to try my hand on his Chicken soup with a peanut crunch.

Recipe is as follows:

West African Peanut Soup With Chicken

3/4 cup roasted and shelled peanuts

Related
The Minimalist: A Chicken Soup With a Peanut Crunch (June 17, 2009)

2 tablespoons peanut or neutral oil, like grapeseed or corn

1 medium red or white onion, chopped

1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger

1 tablespoon minced garlic

1/2 pound skinless, boneless chicken (about 2 thighs or breasts) cut into chunks

Pinch of cayenne

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

6 cups stock or water

2 sweet potatoes or yams (about 1 pound), peeled and cut into thick slices

8 plum tomatoes, cored and halved (canned are fine; drain and reserve liquid for another use)

1/2 pound collards or kale, washed and cut into wide ribbons

1/4 to 1/2 cup peanut butter, chunky or smooth.

1. Chop peanuts, or crush them with the side of a knife, or pulse them in a food processor to chop roughly.

2. Put oil in a deep skillet or medium saucepan over medium heat; a minute later, add onion, ginger and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is soft, 3 to 5 minutes. Add chicken and continue cooking for another 3 or 4 minutes, until just coloring. Add 1/2 cup peanuts and the cayenne and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

3. Stir in the stock and the sweet potatoes, bring to a boil, and turn heat down to medium-low so the soup bubbles gently. Stir in tomatoes and collards, then cook, stirring occasionally, until chicken is cooked through, about 10 minutes.

4. Stir in 1/4 cup peanut butter. Taste, adjust seasoning (you may want to add more peanut butter at this point) and serve, garnished with remaining peanuts.

Yield: 4 servings.

Daily Musk: Pick-up lines and mustaches

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 16:10:00 +0000

These men are a disgrace to the mustache. Also, do people still do videotaped personals? Or has it all deteriorated to just using pictures of one's genitals on Adult Friend Finder to find a lady?

Relationship Survival Guide: Pick Up Lines - Watch more Funny Videos

The Daily "Swayze": Farewell, Lion.

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 13:35:00 +0000

Yes, Patrick Swayze starred in some awfully silly films (although am furious many are not remembering him for the criminally overlooked classic, "Next of Kin"). Yes, perhaps Gents and Ladies alike are mourning the man while holding in a few chuckles as a result of his silly cinematic repertoire, not to mention his hair, his dancing, and his brother, Don.

I believe I crossed paths with him in Vegas this past weekend.

But to chuckle at this man's plight is downright inhumane. I may be a silly man at times, but Sir Swayze's death was hard to stomach. The man represented so much to so many that to write him off as some feather-haired fop who liberated Jappy girls in the Catskills and slaughtered commies in Calumet is insulting.

To the ladies, he was "Perfectly Patrick," the ersatz boyfriend who high-kicked his way into their pre-pubescent hearts. To the men, he was on par with Michael Dudikoff, an action hero who could kick a hillbilly's arse and keep his hair marvelously unspoiled, all at once. To the poofs, he wore tight pants.

Whatever he was to you, fair reader, we can all agree that not only did we lose part of our childhoods, but we lost a liberator, a defender, and a damn good dancer.

A presto, Lion.

EtG

EtG and MtB: Pan-fried Pizza

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 11:58:00 +0000

Fair Lettore,

I spent what little remained of the summer out at the Gent home in Strong Island (or "Beast Hampton," to all you fancy meatheads out there), doing little but visit the beach, challenge scoundrels and ladies to backgammon (it's become an addiction), and cook.

As you may have noticed, I have recently taken a page out of "Julia and Julia's" book and have tried to rediscover my love of cooking and, possibly, of life through the mensch wisdom of Mark (the) Bittman.

In this week's entry, I tried his ludicrously easy method of cooking pizza without the aid of a wood-burning oven - or any oven, for that matter.

Although we do have a "pizza stone" at the Gent home - which is a ceramic stone that you preheat in the oven and can cook an acceptable pizza pie on - Herr Bittman would have surely frowned upon me had I used it.

As for toppings: I used a Mediterranean tomato sauce (made a few days earlier), fresh mozzarella, basil, olives, and some grilled red onions that I prepared beforehand. I also placed the pizza in a broiler for a spell to firm up the toppings. It does make a difference, especially when cooking a pizza in a pan.

The entire experience was a great deal of fun, although be warned. Cooking it often could have a transformative, if not stereotypical, effect on you.

Pan-Fried Pizza
From the NY Times

Time: About 2 hours

2 cups all-purpose or bread flour, more as needed

3/4 teaspoon instant yeast

1 teaspoon coarse salt

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, more for cooking

About 2 cups any light, fresh tomato sauce, warmed

Sliced mozzarella to taste

Salt and black pepper

Prosciutto slices and basil leaves for topping (optional).

1. Combine flour, yeast and salt in a food processor. Turn machine on and add 1/2 cup water and 2 tablespoons oil through feed tube. Process for about 30 seconds, adding more water, a tablespoon or so at a time, until mixture forms a ball and is slightly sticky to the touch. (If mixture becomes too sticky, add flour a tablespoon at a time.)

2. Put one tablespoon olive oil in a bowl and turn dough ball in it. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let rise until dough doubles in size, 1 to 2 hours. When dough is ready, re-form into a ball and divide it into 4 pieces; roll each piece into a ball. Place each piece on a lightly floured surface, sprinkle with a little flour, and cover with plastic wrap or a towel. Let rest until each puffs slightly, about 20 minutes.

3. When ready to cook, press one ball into about a 10-inch round. Use a little flour, if needed, to prevent sticking and a rolling pin, if desired. Film a 10-inch skillet with olive oil and turn heat to medium. When oil shimmers, put dough in pan and adjust heat so it browns evenly without burning. (If dough puffs up unevenly in spots, push bubbles down.)

4. Turn dough, then top browned side with tomato sauce, cheese, a bit of salt and pepper, and, if you like, prosciutto and/or basil leaves. If top is now heavily laden, cover pan and continue cooking, or run it under broiler, just until toppings become hot. With only a couple of toppings, just cook until bottom browns. Repeat with remaining dough; serve hot, warm or at room temperature.

Yield: At least 4 servings.

A presto,
EtG

Daily Musk: My thighs save my life

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 02:37:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

For those of you who know me or have seen me on the beach or, if lucky, between the sheets, you may have noticed that my thighs - shapely-yet-toned, hairy-yet-glorious, reminiscent of the limbs of a young Sean Connery's - are one of my key attributes, next to knowing how to (sometimes) treat you like a lady.

And I, for one, have always been a fan of ladies with shapely thighs, for they are naturally beautiful and, as science recently announced, a natural lifesaver.

From the Independent:

Scientists have found that men and women whose thighs are less than 60cm (23.6ins) in circumference are more likely to suffer from cardiovascular disease

, and die prematurely, compared to people with thicker thighs.

They also found, however, that the apparent advantage of bigger thighs did not continue beyond the 60cm threshold. People with thighs much wider than 60cm did not fair any better than those whose thighs hovered just above the threshold.

So, girl, don't be quick to get them thighs liposucked. Keep 'em natural, 'cause you be keepin things mad real, as in "really alive."

Those are some mighty vigorous thighs.

A presto,
EtG

Daily Musk: Dupre is all right with EtG

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 14:44:00 +0000

Fair Readers,

This is from today's NY Post. Ashley Dupre, the object of former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer's illicit affection, recently broke her silence through a column on the NY Post. I especially liked this jab, and found it to be remarkably perceptive for, well, Ashley Dupre:

Fourth - ladies, ladies, ladies - so many of you have been cool, supportive and loving. But there are those of you out there who just love to judge. Let me say this - most girls, to varying degrees, of course, want to be pampered and have nice shoes, designer handbags and gorgeous clothes. I know many women who target guys with money and use them to get these things. They toy with them, flirt, go on dates, have sex and then drop hints about that new dress at the store down the street or being short on rent money - and the guys deliver it. This is a dishonest relationship. I see this all over New York City. Some women aren't as vindictive, but still dive into relationships with wealthy guys who they don't love or even find attractive, but they stay in it because they have a nice home, a car and spending money - they would rather stay in an unfulfilling or loveless relationship than lose that security. This, too, is a dishonest relationship. I see this type all over the suburbs of New Jersey with the housewives who are strung out on mood stabilizers or the couples who put all their attention on their children so they don't have to deal with their own issues. What about going to those sugar daddy websites? Is that legal? Should it be? Is what I did any more dishonest? Get real and get over yourself.

Well done, Dupre. And congrats on having a rather fit mum.

A presto,

EtG

Daily Musk: Commish the Gent

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 14:49:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

N YPD Commissioner Raymond W. Kelly is the second longest-serving commissioner in his fair city's history, and perhaps its most conservatively dressed. His military attention to his hair and physique conveys a man who has little need for flash or filigree. Even Kelly's smile (as seen in the photo below) - an almost pained and naughty expression that suggests either a) "Kelly ate your steak as you excused yourself from the dinner table," or b)"Kelly goosed your wife as you excused yourself from the dinner table" - shows that the man keeps his personality in check.

"Commissioner, please stop going underneath the table to pick up my wife's fork. She is capable of doing so herself."

Which is why I enjoyed Al Baker's piece on Kelly's ties - one of the few windows the public gets into Kelly's personality - that appeared in the NY Times on Sunday. Kelly enjoys wearing silk ties, primarily Charvet, and ties them in the Windsor knot, the true mark of a refined Gentleman.

When asked what kind of patterns he prefers for his ties, Kelly only spoke the truth:

Plaid?

“Plaid is for kilts,” Mr. Kelly said.

Damn straight. The man prefers collars like the Winchester and the Cut-away that are better suited for the Windsor knot. In short, Kelly knows how important good attire is in selling a Gent.

“I’m not certain it says that much,” he said of his daily tie choices. “If you want to have a nice appearance, I think it’s important to wear good clothes and a quality tie. I don’t think it’s anything more than that.”

In other words: Husbands, hide your wives.

A presto,
EtG

EtG and MtB: Vegetable Frittata

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 17:09:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

Last week I spent a lazy Friday day out in the beach of East Hampton playing backgammon with two bathing beauties. This was followed by lunch and more backgammon at the home of one of the aforementioned bathing beauties. It then ventured back to the Gent abode by nightfall for backgammon and beer with my brother and attorney, Allan the Gent.

I must confess that despite my European Gentleman roots, I never played backgammon prior to a month ago, when I was taught the beautiful game by a fiery Jewish/Japanese lass over a meal of ribs and beer at Townline BBQ. Since then, I have become hooked on backgammon (along with beer, ribs, and Jewish girls of mixed ethnicities).

Following my 20th game of backgammon, which I lost to AtG, I was forced to cook dinner as part of our initial wager. Since there was a ton of vegetables and eggs in the fridge, and since I am a grown man comfortable in cooking emasculating dishes, I turned to mensch Mark the Bittman for a quick and convenient recipe for a vegetable frittata.

More-Vegetable-Than-Egg Frittata (via the NY Times)

As MtB calls for any kind of chopped vegetable, in this case I used radishes, arugula, string beans (both green and purple), and a chopped tomato. Note on the purple string bean - they turn green as you cook them.

Also, for the radishes - it is best to add them about a few minutes prior to when you are about to include the eggs, so you retain their peppery flavor.

2 tablespoons olive oil or butter

1/2 onion, sliced (optional)

Salt and ground black pepper

4 to 6 cups of any chopped or sliced raw or barely cooked vegetables

1/4 cup fresh basil or parsley leaves, or 1 teaspoon chopped fresh tarragon or mint leaves, or any other herb

2 or 3 eggs (as this dish was not effete enough for AtG, he requested egg whites. In this case, we used egg whites from seven eggs)

1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese (optional, but preferred).

1. Put olive oil or butter in a skillet (preferably nonstick or well-seasoned cast iron) and turn heat to medium. When fat is hot, add onion, if using, and cook, sprinkling with salt and pepper, until it is soft, 3 to 5 minutes. Add vegetables, raise heat and cook, stirring occasionally, until they soften, from a couple of minutes for greens to 15 minutes for sliced potatoes. Adjust heat so vegetables brown a little without scorching. (With precooked vegetables, just add them to onions and stir before proceeding.)

2. When vegetables are nearly done, turn heat to low and add herb. Cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are tender.

3. Meanwhile, beat eggs with some salt and pepper, along with cheese if you are using it. Pour over vegetables, distributing them evenly. Cook, undisturbed, until eggs are barely set, 10 minutes or so; run pan under broiler for a minute or 2 if top does not set. Cut into wedges and serve hot, warm or at room temperature.

Yield: 2 or 4 servings.

Daily Musk: Goatees

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 00:10:00 +0000

Herr Reader,

Random thought:

Never trust a man with a goatee. In addition, never trust a man with a goatee who sits at the bar of a Turkish restaurant, possibly ripped on gak, pestering the bartender to look up the name of the music playing in the background as he says "It's like some Turkish Thievery Corp shit, man. I love it. I just fucking know I've heard this shit before. Wait, it's called Taksim Trio? Who the fuck is Taksim Trio?" (and scene...)

I know of only one man who can wear a goatee properly and still be called a "Gent," and that is primarily because his name and reputation are more Italian and machismo than yours.

However, should you be the untrustworthy type, then just purchase this:

In all fairness, it will bag you a Latvian tart in no time.

A presto,
EtG

Daily Musk: Why I am going to start carrying a briefcase

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 04:29:00 +0000

Random thought:

When a Gentleman finds himself entangled in a heated argument with another bloke or a lass, it is perhaps best that he not bring his messenger bag with him. It is perhaps effete and contradictory when a Gentleman leaves an argument in a huff and punctuates it by slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. Women do similar punctuations with their purses. Gentlemen, in the event that they leave in a fury, should perhaps think in advance to keep their messenger bags at home. Or at the very least, at the coat check.

In slight defense of a complete wanker

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 20:10:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

I am sure you have come across the story of the drunk tosser who, while seated in the bleachers of Wrigley Field, threw his beer at Phillies centerfielder Shane Victorino as he was catching a pop-up. The tosser, Johnny Macchione of suburban Illinois, stood idly by as security guards apprehended and ejected the wrong man. This very act alone defies every written and unwritten rule of sportsmanship and stadium decorum. Macchione has been rightly flayed - figuratively speaking - by sports blogs and questionably-qualified sportscasters alike. It seems everything about Macchione - from his prototypical douchebag garb to his weasel-like backdoor shenanigans in avoiding initial arrest (he eventually turned himself in and publicly apologized) - is worthy of a good, figurative boot to the bollox.

Here's one such boot, courtesy of sports blog "Cubbies Crib," which drew up this photograph prior to Macchione's surrender:

Image courtesy of Cubbies Crib

Yes, the man's white sunglasses and off-center cap are awful. But have mercy, mates: There is little wrong to the actual hanging of sunglasses from one's t-shirt collar (or, more preferably, from the first buttoned button of one's button-down shirt). Don Johnson did it, Tom Selleck did it, EtG regularly does it, and every Gent worth his salt does it.

Ain't no shame in this.

What's far worse, in my mind, is when a man decides to put his sunglasses on top of his head like some improvised headband. Mihal Freinquel recently wrote about this on The Huffington Post, and I'm in slight agreement. When women do it, I could care less.

Men, on the other hand, have absolutely no excuse whatsoever when they perch their sunglasses on top of their heads. It's tacky, it's douchey, and it's lazy. In the event you have your sunglasses on you but do not need to wear them, here are a few acceptable possibilities on what to do next:

Option #1: Put them in your sunglass case and place them into the breast pocket of your jacket (assuming you're wearing a jacket).

Option #2: Place them inside your shirt pocket.

Option #3: hang them on the collar of your t-shirt or button-down shirt.

Option #4: Ask your girlfriend/wife/woman (nicely) to hold your sunglasses for you (or to put them in her purse).

Option #5: Purchase this t-shirt.

Option #32: Place them on top of your head (and risk looking like this, as this uber-pooftah photo attests (and just for posting that photo, please accept this link as my apology)).

In short, hate on Macchione for acting like a complete tw*t (although as a Mets fan, I didn't entirely object to the beer being tossed on a Phillie). But have mercy on Macchione: As his sunglass placement attests, at least he did one thing right that evening.

A presto,
EtG

EtG and MtB: Gazpacho

edthegent@gmail.com (Ed the Gent) — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 16:11:00 +0000

Fair Reader,

It's hotter than the dickens out there, and tomatoes be growing out of the ground like a mothaf**ka. What better way to take advantage of both of these developments than with a nice, cold, tasty bowl of gazpacho?

Naturally, I turn to mentor, mensch, and minimalist Mark (the) Bittman for a simple and quick way to cook up this Spanish delicacy.

EtG Note: I differed slightly from this recipe, in that I blanched the tomatoes for a spot and then dunked into a bowl of ice water to remove their skins (not particularly fond them), and then cored them. I also passed on the anchovies, although I am sure there are few bold (read - depraved) sorts out there who would man up to the task.

Traditional Gazpacho

Makes 4 servings

Time: about 20 minutes

1 pound tomatoes, roughly chopped, or 1 (14-ounce) can tomatoes (don't bother to drain)
1 medium cucumber, peeled and diced
2 or 3 slices bread, a day or two old, crusts removed, torn into small pieces
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for garnish
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar or red wine vinegar
1 clove garlic, chopped, or more to taste
Salt and black pepper to taste
8 anchovy fillets (optional)

1. Combine the tomatoes, cucumber, bread, oil, vinegar, and garlic with 1 cup water in the container of a blender; process until smooth. If the gazpacho seems too thick, thin with additional water.

2. Taste and add salt and black pepper as necessary. Serve immediately (or refrigerate and serve within a couple of hours), garnished with the anchovies, if using, and a drizzle of olive oil.

Enjoy what little remains of the summer and a presto,
EtG