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I.the Alemanni, German tribes who (as their name indicates) formed a confederation on the Upper Rhine and Danube, from whom the Gauls transferred the name to the whole German nation; cf. Aur. Vict. Caes. 21; Claud. II. Cons. Stil. 17; Sid. 5, 375.—
II. Derivv.,
1. Ălĕmannĭa (Ălăm- ), ae, f. cf. Fr. Allemagne; Ital. Alemagna, the country of the Alemanni, Claud. I. Cons. Stil. 234.—
2. Ălĕmannĭcus (Ălăm- ), a, um, adj., Alemannic, pertaining to the Alemanni: "tentoria," Amm. 27, 2.—Hence, a surname of Caracalla, on account of his victory over the Alemanni, Spart. Carac. 10. —
3. Ălĕmannus (Ălăm- ), i, m., a surname of the emperor Gratian, on account of his victory over the Alemanni, Aur. Vict. Epit. 47.


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NH gun owners would get civil immunity if their weapons is stolen and used in a crime
CONCORD, N.H. (AP) � A House panel is weighing whether New Hampshire gun owners should be protected from lawsuits if someone illegally obtains their weapon and uses it to commit a crime.
The Judiciary Committee is holding a hearing Tuesday afternoon on a bill to grant civil immunity to someone who leaves or stores a loaded or unloaded gun on premises under the person's control. The bill would protect the person from lawsuits resulting from criminal acts involving the gun if the weapon was stolen.

subset: commoncrawl


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Opinion: Human Rights Watch Ignores Genocide
Assistant features editor David Feith on Human Rights Watch's turning a blind eye to Iran's genocidal rhetoric. Photo credit: Associated Press.
This transcript has been automatically generated and may not be 100% accurate.
... well see now assistant features editor David Feith ... joins me to talk about a a very ... unusual debate going on ... with in the ... human rights watch has which is a very prominent so ... and GM ... I did I'd I ... know you're out there this morning suggesting human rights watch is afraid to stand up for ... of all things ... Q it's ... in the Middle East what specifically is going on ... that that that trade with McCain's often reveals is ... if you're interviews an internal e mails ... that there is a rather bitter and behind the scenes fight going on at human rights watch where some people within the organization while this nonprofit to use its ... rather substantial bout ... prestigious could ability in certain circles in the newsrooms in the halls of power in various Western capitals ... they want the orders it continues that credibility to sound the alarm ... over the the genocidal rhetoric coming out of her on ... an on line the genocidal rhetoric but the the things that go along with it like a nuclear program and support for international terrorism and for Hezbollah and Hamas ... they think that a militia that has a responsibility to sound the alarm over threats like this to international peace and to human rights but the executive director of the organization ... minion can drop and and others ... ay ay ay disagree and have it ... in a enforce a policy that generates watcher will not speak out ... on this matter of the genocidal rhetoric of Iran and Danny you describe Mr Ross and his music scene as a tweet holistic approach ... unto you ... speaking on the human rights with each evening ... well ... under the nineteen forty eight ... United Nations genocide convention incitement to genocide in a public way is the legal under international law so there's this particular I it debate over the ... eye of the international standards ... under law but is in sight the Readies breaks ... and and so ... are the folks who pointed to what ... it Nuremberg trials for example where one of the ten ... Nazis painted Norbert was the publisher to leave striker who was not ... commanding armies he was not raining concentration camps he was in the business of ... propaganda and incitement and he was among those detained ... it pointed also to the case of Rwanda where there were ... I'd magazine publishers and ... review ... posts ... who were ... inciting moms to commit genocide in Rwanda about twenty years ago ... and these are cases that that that relate to that particular precedent under international law ... of this matter incitement to genocide but there's also the broader ... non legal I essentially policy question of what you would you ... if you were one of the best funded and highest profile organizations in the world can you had the opportunity either to sound the alarm over genocidal rhetoric emanating from a terrorist regime ... or keep quiet ... so Mr Brock has decided to keep quiet ... I how long it is is that going to last one has to happen ... for his organization ... that Italy isn't George Soros backed organization and they've done ... great work in other parts the world I'm thinking about China for example a ton work on ... a political prisoners they're very important work ... of but busy busy given any indication but it would take for you to to call out the rotten I he ... he he as I strove addicted to Mr. Rothman and what I gather in one when he said is that he doesn't expect policy change on this matter which he says is that for ... I have for the the standard of human rights watch to be met ... the the language of of incitement has to be met by ... action ... answer he said that for Temple the case of Rwanda ... as these are moms were going around ... in real time in his words ... and committing these genocidal murderers ... those who were inciting them by a regular otherwise are therefore guilty of incitement when citizens in the case of Iran and there isn't any of this ... Ayah corresponding action to go along with the incitement but I think that's very curious interpretation when you have a nuclear program when your terrorist proxies in your various other ... forces of the Iranian government ... doing all they can't in fact carry out the good the genocidal intentions of this regime ... okay well assisting beaches and David fights thank you so much for trying our attention ... to this debate ... with your reporting with me to talk to you can on this very soon ...


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Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Pick me! Pick me!
Human Resources
1265 Lombardi Ave
Green Bay, WI 54307
To Whom It May Concern:
This past week I have come to the realization that regardless of the obnoxious format of this year's NFL Draft, I have become overly excited for the event. I fought this enthusiasm with every fiber of my being, but it was inevitable. My desire to be a part of the Draft in some fashion has prompted much contemplation on my part. This brainstorming has brought me to the conclusion that I would like to work for the Packers during draft weekend.
As such, I am writing to express my interest in a temporary position with the Green Bay Packers. I feel that I am excellent candidate for Green Bay Packers Draft Room Hydration and Sustenance Specialist I. I understand that this is not currently a position that exists with the Green Bay Packers, but I feel strongly that it both should be created, and that I would be the best suited candidate.
The hours spent pouring over draft charts, 40 times, and character notes may not be physically draining, but it is most certainly a mental drain. The best way to combat this is proper hydration and a balanced meal of grilled meats, baked beans, and a steady supply of beef or turkey jerky. Also, for those not intimately involved, drowsiness is a very real concern which can be combated by either a strong cup of coffee or a 32 oz. vodka-Red Bull, depending on Mr. McCarthy's preferences (I have noticed he seems uninterested in the draft process)
I have extensive experience pouring libations both for myself and others. I do not mean to sound boastful, but I am able to perform this task pretty much non-stop for hours on end, which is exactly how long the draft lasts. I am unsure of how Mr. Thompson prefers his brats prepared, but I have numerous methods and am very flexible in that regard.
Currently, I work in a library, so rest assured that I understand the value of being silent. I will not attempt to interact with other Packers' staff members unless specifically addressed by one. However, I must also point out my extensive fantasy football drafting prowess, so in the unlikely event that Mr. Thompson cannot decide between two future Packers, I am suited to provide a high level of input.
I understand the timeline is too short to be a part of the Packers' Draft Team this year, but I look forward to hearing from you and beginning in 2011.
Franklin Hillside
References available upon request
8 comments:
- AnonymousApril 21, 2010 at 10:48 AM
Did you send this express mail? My guess is you'll be serving ol' Ted slippery nipples and kamikazees before you know it.ReplyDelete
- for shizzleApril 21, 2010 at 12:48 PM
I don't know how the Draft Team made it to this point without your expert assistance.ReplyDelete
Meat with a side of meat - I like them odds.
- Pashaww!!April 22, 2010 at 11:26 AM
Brilliant!! An open letters campaign is the only way to go!ReplyDelete
This forum can create the kind of political groundswell that will have the Packer's front office begging for your services.
As you know form researching in your Coruscant library, open letters campaigns have been used successfully by many notable historical figures: Martin Luther King, Vaclav Havel, Nelson Mandela, Robert Louis Stevenson, Jan Hus, and Martin Luther to name a few.
With time I'm sure your demand for "waterboy" employment will be spoken of in the breath as the Civil Rights movement, Prague Spring, the Velvet Revolution and the fall of Aparteid.
You are creating a brave new world. Thank you for your leadership.
What do you have to do to get promoted to Specialist 2? Is there a pay increase or just an understanding that you're the boss of Specialist 1?ReplyDelete
LOL, Franklin. Listening to G&G Today from Friday... Bill had no idea who you were. Has he been under a rock??? Funny.ReplyDelete
Ha! Bill got irritated at me one day when I emailed in and told him to "get back to talking about the Packers" when he was going off on Mark McGwire and PEDs. Then we made up when I emailed him complimenting his rant on Brett Favre.ReplyDelete
Glad that someone out there heard my most recent foray into contacting Green and Gold Today.


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Learn an Endangered (or Extinct) Language in Western History and Genealogy
I feel an affinity for languages. To know more than one language is to be able to see the world in more than one way. After all, how do we relate to the world if not by the words we use to describe it? And if one language describes the world in a different way than another, then the world becomes a new place. But what happens when a language becomes endangered because its adherents are fast disappearing? Every year many indigenous languages go extinct and ways of thinking are lost to the world. Part of my own family is the inheritor of an endangered language, Western Armenian, whose speakers were largely exterminated by Turkish authorities during the Armenian Genocide (the 98th commemoration is on April 24). Although a strong Armenian Diaspora exists in the United States and a few other countries, Western Armenian adherents are dwindling. But language resources for Armenian and other endangered languages do exist. I've been lucky enough to study Western Armenian because of such materials. Many American Indian languages are also endangered. In Western History and Genealogy, we have a wealth of language materials for many, many Western American Indian languages, including dictionaries and books of grammar for Crow, Ute, and Blackfoot. We also have materilals with Mayan hieroglyphics, Latin, Syriac, Armenian, Arabic, Persian, Javanese and… you get the idea. Whether you want to learn a language, just pick up a few words here and there, or even just see what a certain language looks like, our department is the place to find all sorts of interesting language materials. Check our catalog to see what we have.


text: The Sleuth Kit® (TSK) is a library and collection of command line tools that allow you to investigate disk images. The core functionality of TSK allows you to analyze volume and file system data. The plug-in framework allows you to incorporate additional modules to analyze file contents and build automated systems. The library can be incorporated into larger digital forensics tools and the command line tools can be directly used to find evidence.


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Trouble in ParadiseBook - 2017
From the critics
Community Activity
CommentAdd a Comment
I've read 3 Jesse Stone novels. Actually I'm in the middle of reading the 3rd now. I thought I'd found a new favorite author. Especially love the dialogue. But...........I am already so sick of the endless interplay between Jesse and his ex-wife. OMG. They discuss their relationship and sex lives. And their love for each other. He professes his love for his ex-wife to whomever happens to be his current lover. On an on and on. After a while (3 books) it just becomes sick, sick and unbelievable, sick, sick, boring, repetitive, sick, sick kill her off, please.
Dreamstime's comment said what I said only he/she said it better. Love" his cohones-breaking ex-wife who is always willingly nibbling at the border of his life. "
Saw one of the movies too. Quite liked it. Liked Tom Selleck. And I've never been a Tom Selleck fan. He is too old for the character in the book but that needn't affect the role he played in the movie.
A great well-written story and then... I found the end a terrible conclusion. No spoilers so I won't go into detail. I think I've had it with Jesse Stone, the promiscuous sheriff with a strange relationship with a former wife. The story is really not about the bad and good guys, but a soap opera of llama drama between an adult teenager and his cohones-breaking ex-wife who is always willingly nibbling at the border of his life. The end of the book did not redeem enduring this nagging drama.
Another great read by Robert B. Parker! You can never go wrong with a Jesse Stone novel. Fast paced and keeps you guessing how he's going to stop the criminals right to the end!
Trouble in Paradise ---- by Robert B. Parker c - 1998 (A Jesse Stone Novel) ---- This 'Jesse Stone Novel', is a very good read! I wanted to read the story w/out a break, not a reality. ---- Dang it! I've got to live my busy life as well. Everyone should enjoy this tale. ---- Enjoy! ---- (finished 6-23-12) RichardPaul
I give it a higher rating than it should really deserve only because the story is engaging enough to distract the reader from Jesse Stone's unlikeable character and one word/sentence dialogues. His attempt to convince himself that he's not an alcoholic is laughable.
Definitely read it for the story not for the characters.
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SANTA CLARA — Marcus Lattimore's NFL dreams temporarily vanished when he tore three knee ligaments Oct. 27: "I doubted myself and I lost hope."
Among the cavalry that came to lift Lattimore's spirits and inspire his rehabilitation was 49ers running back Frank Gore, who'll now became an even closer mentor.
The 49ers drafted Lattimore, one of the nation's most electric running backs in three seasons at South Carolina, in Saturday's fourth round with the 131st overall pick.
"We love him, obviously. He's one heck of a football player, one heck of a young man," general manager Trent Baalke said. "Obviously he's got an injury to overcome, and we're confident he can do that."
Arguably the 49ers' two highest-profile rookies are one who might not play in 2012 (Lattimore) and one who has never played football (British Olympic discus thrower Lawrence Okoye, an undrafted free agent).
Overall, the 49ers came away with an 11-man draft class, headed by Thursday's first-round selection of safety Eric Reid. The other 10 draftees will compete for complementary roles on last year's Super Bowl runners-up.
Lattimore has been doing sprints for two weeks and conceivably could be ready by the Sept. 8 opener. Most likely, he'll spend the season on the reserve/non-football-injury list.
"We're going to slow things down physically," 49ers coach Jim Harbaugh said. "But we love his aggressive mental approach through this process. If he doesn't play this year, he doesn't play this year."
Gore certainly related to Lattimore's second knee injury in two seasons. Before joining the 49ers as a third-round draft pick in 2005 and becoming their all-time leading rusher, Gore also tore the anterior cruciate ligaments in both of his knees in college, at Miami.
"He told me to keep that positive mindset, and that's what I've been doing the past five or six months," Lattimore said of Gore. "That's why I'm doing so great in my rehab."
A year after tearing his left knee's ACL, Lattimore's final collegiate carry ended when his right knee was struck by a Tennessee defender's helmet.
The 49ers have four other players recovering from ACL tears: wide receivers Mario Manningham and Kyle Williams, linebacker Darius Fleming and defensive tackle Tank Carradine, whom they drafted in Friday's second round.
After Lattimore got hurt last fall, Gore reached out to him through 49ers cornerback Chris Culliver. A fellow South Carolina product, Culliver wore a T-shirt under his 49ers jersey with a handwritten message to Lattimore after the Oct. 27 injury.
Lattimore's NFL outlook changed upon his knee's reconstruction Nov. 2 by Dr. James Andrews. Now he "can't wait" to join the 49ers' "running back family."
"It's still surreal to me," Lattimore said. "This is a great opportunity. It's a great organization, and I can't wait to get there. I've always been a fan of those guys and their style of play."
Gore, who turns 30 on May 14, is coming off his second-most productive rushing season (1,214 yards, eight touchdowns). His main backups last season were Kendall Hunter (torn Achilles on Nov. 25), LaMichael James (2012 second-round pick, fumbled in the Super Bowl) and Anthony Dixon (third-year veteran).
"Frank obviously is very high on the young man and I'm sure he's looking with great pleasure at coming in to mentor the guy," Baalke said.
A native of Duncan, S.C., Lattimore ran for 1,197 yards and scored a school-record 19 touchdowns his freshman year. He ran for 10 and 11 touchdowns in each of the following seasons before his knee injuries.
Three picks before Lattimore's selection, the 49ers found another offensive weapon in Louisiana Tech wide receiver Quinton Patton. Under now-Cal coach Sonny Dykes, Patton put up big numbers over his final two seasons combined: 183 receptions, 2,594 yards and 24 touchdowns.
Also drafted Saturday by the 49ers were fifth-round defensive tackle Quinton Dial (Alabama), sixth-round linebacker Nick Moody (Florida State) and three seventh-round selections — quarterback B.J. Daniels (South Florida), offensive tackle Carter Bykowski (Iowa State) and cornerback Marcus Cooper (Rutgers).
Daniels will compete with Scott Tolzien and Colt McCoy for backup spots behind Colin Kaepernick. Daniels' best attribute might be his ability to mimic Kaepernick's mobility, especially in read-option formations that Daniels has run since high school.
"With his athleticism, you wonder how many ways he can contribute," Harbaugh said.
Okoye's athleticism also intrigues the 49ers, and Harbaugh marveled at Okoye's 6-foot-6, 306-pound frame during an April 10 visit to the 49ers. Said Harbaugh: "This is an Adonis, just a great physical specimen. Our creator created a beautiful man."
Could the same be said of Baalke's shaping of the 49ers roster?
"It was a heavyweight fight there," Baalke said as he entered his post-draft news conference. Did he win the fight? "You never know."
For more on the 49ers, see Cam Inman's Hot Read blog at blogs.mercurynews.com/49ers. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/CamInman.


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PS Check out the other Holiday Tutorials and keep checking back every Thursday for more. We are so grateful to the awesome designers for sharing on our blog each week! Show your love by pinning these up, leaving comments and checking out their blogs. Thanks ladies!
Hello! It's Jessie here from Messy Jesse blog, I'm from the U.K. and I just love making cute handmade items for my home - especially Christmas themed projects! so I'm super pleased to be part of Quilt Story's Holiday series.
Today I wanted to share this fun little cutlery and napkin holder for your festive Christmas table! It's a really quick project, so you'll be whipping up a batch for all your guests in no time ;)
in printed fabric cut the following:
x2 front and back panels 9 1/2"x 4 7/8"
x1 pocket 8 1/2"
x2 pocket 7" x 4 7/8"
1. Starting with your piece of fabric measuring 7" x 4 7/8" cut it at a 60 degree angle lengthways, repeat this step for the other piece of fabric this size (refer to image above for reference).
2. Lay these two piece's right sides together and sew along the diagonal.
3. Open this so right sides are on the outside. Now fold the 8 1/2" piece of fabric in half.
4. Lay out your fabric backing measuring 9 1/2"x 4 7/8", place you diagonal pocket on top, and the smaller pocket on top again, and finally the other fabric backing measuring 9 1/2"x 4 7/8".
5. Now you have all your layers sandwiched together stitch 1/4" all the way around, leaving a small gap for turning.
6. Turn inside out, and slip-stitch the opening closed! Voila! Your done!Easy peasy right!? If you make this, which I hope you all will :) please be sure to add it to my brand new Flickr group! I'd love to see your creations!
Fabrics used: Scandi Christmas Diamonds and Cherry Christmas Noel, both available in my new fabric shop Sew and Quilt!
Jessie, xo


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One night in March of last year, Jay-Z showed up at the Spotted Pig, on West Eleventh Street, with his wife, Beyoncé, and another couple. Jay-Z, an investor in the restaurant, and a frequent patron, wanted the smoked-trout salad, but the kitchen was out. He and his group settled on the house specialty—burgers, which the restaurant's chef, April Bloomfield, serves one way: char-grilled, on a brioche bun, topped with crumbled Roquefort. Only Lou Reed, a fixture in the neighborhood, is allowed to have his burger with onions, and that is owing to precedent: an awestruck employee took his order one afternoon when Bloomfield was out. Mayonnaise is forbidden. The condiments policy has long been a subject of contention between Bloomfield and her business partner, Ken Friedman, who schmoozes while she cooks. He dispenses surreptitious dollops to favored customers from a jar of Hellman's that he keeps hidden on a high shelf.
The Spotted Pig opened in February of 2004—New York's first gastropub. It is a nookish place, crammed with all manner of porcine paraphernalia and presided over by offbeat waiters and bartenders. "If you're going to spend an hour and a half with somebody, it should be somebody kooky," Friedman says. New Yorkers didn't quite know what to make of it. Was it a bar with good food? A restaurant that was fun? In any case, it was an immediate hit, a seat at one of its cramped tables so coveted that Frank Bruni, in a mostly admiring review in the Times, deemed the place a "gastromelee." Message boards abounded with proudly masochistic anecdotes about what one blogger called the "hipster bloodsport" of trying to get in. (A pregnant woman told a waiter she couldn't have the blue cheese, and, she wrote, "he promptly barked at me, 'Yes you can, it's ricotta you can't have.' ")
Along with the food and the atmosphere, the restaurant's clientele has helped to make it a success. By December, 2005, USA Today had published a story about the place headlined "WHERE STARS ARE SPOTTED." Friedman recalled, "Every night there was some guy saying he was the biggest proctologist at Mount Sinai jabbing his finger in my chest." A Chasen's on the Hudson, by way of the Thames, the Spotted Pig is a place where normal people go to feel like celebrities and celebrities go to feel like normal people. Those who are not Jay-Z have been known to spend hours waiting to be granted a tartan-covered tuffet. Sometimes they want to be cool. Sometimes they want a really good cheeseburger.
One of Jay-Z's friends wasn't sure about the Roquefort. Bloomfield hates to leave the kitchen, but Friedman dragged her to the table, where she prevailed upon the friend to have the dish the way she had intended it.
"Who's that golfer dude you made me meet?" Bloomfield asked Friedman later.
"He's not a golfer," Friedman replied. "He's Kobe Bryant."
"Oh. How did he like his burger?"
Bloomfield—five feet four, with a compact build and a pugnacious chin—is the food world's oblivious savant. Her single-mindedness in the kitchen has propelled her from Birmingham, England, where she grew up on a diet of fried-egg sandwiches and steaks "that would come out a little gray," to the apex of New York City's restaurant scene, where she is renowned for her brawny menus, teeming with trotters and terrines. This summer, Saveur held a barbecue, to which prominent chefs contributed various dishes. Bloomfield's was a chickpea-lentil-and-feta salad. "The Village Voice said something about 'Why did the Queen of Meat do a salad?' and she answered, 'I like salad,' " Friedman recalled. "That was kind of a 'Rain Man' thing to say." Bloomfield doesn't swim; she doesn't drive. She has a Michelin star for the Spotted Pig and one for the Breslin—a dark, boozy restaurant that she and Friedman opened last year in the Ace Hotel, on West Twenty-ninth Street—but she has never been to Paris. "It's pretty lame," she said one day. "But, you know, I'm a girl from Birmingham. What am I going to say, 'I'll have that right there'?" she said, in a jacked-up Brummie accent, pointing to an air menu.
Most days, Bloomfield wakes up around nine o'clock. She wallows in bed for an hour or two, with a cookbook, or a recipe she's fiddling with, and a glass of PG tips. (She likes it milky, without sugar, and just hot enough to scorch the back of her throat.) Around noon, she arrives at the Pig or, more often, the Breslin, where she stays until midnight. On a sunny afternoon in late spring, Bloomfield was holed up in a plaid-curtained booth at the back of the Breslin's dining room, rustling through a sheaf of papers stained with olive oil. She was dressed, as she usually is, in a black Pig T-shirt, black Dickies, and Birkenstock clogs. Her hair, the color of gingersnaps, was scraped into a bun. She was just back from Sydney, where she had appeared at a food-and-wine festival, but her skin was as pale as gooseflesh. I asked her how the trip had been. She pulled out her iPhone (apps: Epic Chef, zombies, vampires, ninjas, World War, iMobsters) and showed me a picture of her sous-chef sprawled on his back in the sand. Her cooks had surfed, she had watched.
Then she launched into an aria on Australian cookies: "Do you know what a Tim Tam is? It's two pieces of chocolate filled with cream and encased in chocolate. You bite the Tim Tam, and then you dunk it in the tea, and then you suck the tea from it, and it goes all mushy in your mouth." Bloomfield's enthusiasm is as boundless as her interests are narrow. One day, during a trip to London, she handed me her iPhone and told me to listen. I didn't hear anything. "Take it in," she said, putting the phone to my ear, like a conch shell. "It's just amazing." She had recorded the gentle hum of conversation in a pub, to use as a sort of lullaby.
Bloomfield was working on a fried-chicken special for the evening's menu. The inspiration was some buffalo wings she had eaten at the Waterfront Ale House, a bar in Murray Hill. (It's close to her apartment.) "Their chicken has a really great sort of fruity habañero taste," Bloomfield said. Her take on the idea was intense, a concentration, rather than a refinement, of the original's punch. She had chosen to fry a breast and a thigh in duck fat and serve them with a salad (blue-cheese dressing, red onion) and hot sauce (habañero, tomato, vinegar, butter). Someone brought a platter of the chicken for Bloomfield to test. It was delicious; the batter had an almost caramel flavor. Bloomfield could barely admit that she had anything to do with it. "These poussins, oh, my goodness," she said. "They're actually really hard to fuck up. They're unfuckable. You can't fuck them up."
"What's the most fuckable?" I asked.
"The simple stuff."
Bloomfield's seemingly unfussy food has been fussed over a great deal. "Her Greek salad almost ruined my life," Katharine Marsh, a cook at the Breslin, said. "One summer, I had to get to work three hours early every day and go through hundreds of tomatoes to find the perfect ones. She wanted every salad to have perfect variety of color, and each color tomato cut on a different angle, to give height and depth on the plate." Her cooks have come up with a name for her style of cooking: "anal rustic."
Bloomfield's talent lies in execution, not experimentation. The most appalling thing she has ever seen in a restaurant was a Caesar salad stuffed into a hole hollowed in a country loaf. Because her food is not fancy, it has to be perfect, like a pair of jeans. J. J. Goode, who is helping her write a cookbook—"A Girl and Her Pig" is the working title—told me, "When April's making a salad that has nuts or capers or whatever in it, she's always saying that she wants there to be just enough so that you don't have to try too hard to find one but not so many that you're not excited when you come across one." Bloomfield loves a broken hard-boiled egg, but not a sliced one. She treats herbs as if they were truffles. "Food's delicate," Bloomfield said, at the Breslin, picking through a bundle of black mint. Her thumb and forefinger formed a little pincer, which she wielded with a crablike economy of motion. "You have to handle it with finesse. You can't just be a big ogre."
In a blind taste test, you could identify Bloomfield's food by the blasts of salt and lemon. It is not for the faint of palate. " 'Copious' is a word I like to use when buttering my potatoes," she told me. But in the kitchen she is as composed as her cooking is brazen. "There's not too much 'you wanker' this or 'you fucking idiot,' " she said. "It's a waste of time." Still, she projects such quiet disdain for sloppiness that "half-a-job Bob"—her biggest insult—stings as much as any bleepable tirade. If David Chang's band of renegades are the Red Sox of the New York restaurant world, Bloomfield's cooks are the Yankees, square and conscientious. When I asked her what kind of people she likes to hire, she replied, "Nobody weird. Nobody with dreadlocks." She paused a minute, and added, "Well, no white guys with dreadlocks." Her cooks wear black pants and black shoes. "People with chile peppers on their chef pants shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen," she said. When Bloomfield peels a carrot, she holds it out in the palm of her hand, like sheet music. Her posture is as correct, and her expression as intent, as that of a girl about to play "Chopsticks" in a piano recital.
Bloomfield was born in 1974. Her stepfather, Phillip, was an engineer; her mother, Maggie, used April's room to paint pillboxes and bonbonnières for the enamel company Halcyon Days. "We had to make sure there was never any dust in the house," Bloomfield recalled. The family ate curries and roast dinners. Maggie was not a tremendous cook. "One day, she got these pig's trotters from a neighbor," Bloomfield said. "She put them on the stove all day, and by eight or nine they were stinking up the house. I remember the stiff hoof and the sliced carrots. She put it all on a plate with a little bit of the pot liquor. My dad's like, 'Right, I'll go to the chippy.' "
The family was solidly working class. At one point, they lived in subsidized housing; one year, Bloomfield went to stay with her grandparents. (She loved her nan's Brussels sprouts, boiled and coated in butter, and her granddad's porridge, not too watery and not too thick.) Her childhood was one of modest pleasures. Bloomfield recalled, "I think of England in the summer—my mum sunbathing, me picking the odd strawberry or playing with worms and ants, making mud balls." As a teen-ager, Bloomfield became a club kid and an amateur d.j. (her handle was Scima D). She spent a lot of time in the Prince of Wales, her local. Later, at her favorite pub in London, she drank Carling's and smoked and climbed up and down a big column that stood in the center of the room like a fire pole.
When she was sixteen and it came time for her to choose a career, she decided to become a policewoman. After missing the deadline for the entrance exam, she followed her two older sisters, both cooks at the time (one now works in real estate; the other is a cook in a pub), and enrolled at Birmingham's College of Food, Tourism, and Creative Studies.
People love to ask Bloomfield what it feels like to be one of the few famous female chefs, but her choice of vocation was more a practicality than a political statement. "I don't think of being a woman in an industry of men," she told me. "I didn't walk into the kitchen and go, 'Ooh, I'm a girl!' I didn't get into my chosen profession. I wanted to be good at something." Still, I did hear her telling her friend Jessica Boncutter, the chef and owner of Bar Jules, in San Francisco, how pleased she was that some of the women in her kitchen were "wiping the floor" with their male counterparts.
In a field of divos, Bloomfield is humble, praising her competitors and punctuating her correspondence with emoticons and "x"s and "o"s. I once asked what dish I might cook for a visiting friend, and she replied with a two-hundred-and-twenty-one-word text message. "How about a roasted pumpkin and pheasant salad with pomegranates parmesan and balsamic!" she began. "Yum so full of flavor and you can do everything ahead!" She continued, "OK so find some nice hearty salad greens like arugula trevise and pumpkin/squash. I like onion squash or delicata. Chop up into rustic but good textured sizes this will give your salad air and Elegance." A few days later came another text. "Hows your bird? Did you start yet? You can call me anytime hope your having a wonderful weekend x."
Despite her sweetness, Bloomfield can be scrappy when the occasion requires. One night, shortly after the Breslin opened, a group of "guys from Jersey, or whatever, in shirts" complained to their waitress that they had seen Bloomfield's cooks, in the restaurant's open kitchen, tasting the food with spoons. The waitress told Bloomfield. "Just before they left, I kind of puffed up my chest," Bloomfield recalled. "I said, 'Come here.' They all came over, and I started in on this one guy—his two friends completely ran away. I told him, 'You know what, it's really fucking hard working in a kitchen. If you don't think we should taste our food, then you shouldn't be eating in this restaurant.' "
Bloomfield, who once worked cleaning hotel rooms, is not above drudgery. She chops onions like a scullery maid. Even her trash is pristine: one night, I watched her fish around in a compost can before finally extracting a rubber band. "Consistency is the No. 1 priority for me," she says, over and over. She wants every cheeseburger to be exactly the same, down to the crisscross marks on the bun. Where Friedman seeks novelty, Bloomfield thrives on routine. "April taught me how important it is that every day is Groundhog Day," Friedman said. The chef Tom Colicchio, of Craft, said, "It's refreshing to me to see someone succeed who doesn't think the only way to get ahead is by backstabbing and hiring a publicist and going out there and getting drunk every night and getting on Page Six."
At the Breslin, around four-thirty, Bloomfield was sweating over a pot of braising lamb. Pink-faced and squinting, she had slung a white dishtowel over her left shoulder. One of her cooks had begun the braise earlier, but she had found his effort timid and started over. "I did mine a little more chunky than he did, so it doesn't disappear as much," she said. "Since it's spring, I want the tomatoes a bit more light and brothy, instead of stewy and jammy. I don't want it like a red sauce." She turned to a pot of vegetables on the next burner, tossing in a cascade of salt. With her towel, she began scrubbing down a set of stainless-steel cabinets near the pass. "If you're working in a shithole," she said, "then your food's not going to come out looking pretty."
The first order arrived just before six o'clock. "Two chips, one scratch," the expediter shouted, and the kitchen set to work on two orders of fries and some pork scratchings—deep-fried bits of pig skin served, folksily, in a plastic bag. Things were smooth, and slowish, for most of the next hour. Around six-forty-five, Bloomfield stationed herself at the pass. Cooks approached and wordlessly presented their dishes, like ring bearers at the altar.
"Replate it and make it look a little tastier," she said to a guy with a saggy escarole salad. She rejected a side order of mashed potatoes for not being hot enough. "This is dirty," she said, when she noticed a bit of juice on the lip of a bowl of cockles. At the height of the dinner rush, Bloomfield approached a lagging cook who was frying chicken livers, and stood behind him with her arms crossed. After a minute, she picked up a pair of tongs and turned over one of the livers. The underside was pale. Bloomfield grabbed the pan, marched over to a trash can, and silently emptied the pan's contents. When someone ordered a bar snack of boiled peanuts, she inspected the facets of each one—a jeweller assessing stones.
By eight o'clock, the dining room was full. It was a young, cocksure crowd. The room was loud and dark. The topography of the Breslin—shrouded banquettes; a large oval table for groups; a balcony with a few tables that overlook the action, like opera boxes—is purposely higgledy-piggledy. The idea is that, in a seductive room, you should not be able to see every seat from every other one. When someone once remarked, "I've never seen a child in one of your restaurants," Friedman replied, only half-jokingly, "We don't allow kids."
Friedman, sunburned and tall, was circulating around the room in a rumpled surfer's shirt. The Breslin doesn't take reservations, but a note tacked to a bulletin board in the kitchen listed ten or so V.I.P.s who would be coming in that night: some wine merchants, Frank Bruni, "Iggy the Cop." None of them were Bloomfield's. Halfway through the service, she went downstairs, to the prep kitchen, to check on the burgers. The ones at the Breslin have been as breathlessly exalted, among Manhattan's meat lovers, as those at the Pig, but they are made with lamb instead of beef, and feta instead of Roquefort. (Bloomfield's gnudi, little butter bombs of ricotta and sage, also have an avid following. A Spotted Pig regular, Don PV, wrote a tribute song called "Ode to Gnudi" and posted it on the Internet: "April / Your Gnudi Is Delicious / On My Tongue.")
A cook named Hagar unveiled a hotel pan jammed with patties that had been made a few hours earlier. "They don't have that bright-red bloom to them," Bloomfield said. "When you make burgers, it's good to let them rest for a bit."
Bloomfield plopped one of the patties on a grill. "These are not good, I can feel it already," she said. "They're too tight."
Once the burger had charred, she cut it open, flaring her nostrils in concentration, and scooped through its red center with an index finger. She held the halves, one in each hand, and stared at them.
"It's kind of dry. Not enough fat," she said.
Next, Bloomfield tried an older patty, from another hotel pan.
"Look, these are better already!" she said to Hagar. "See how the juices are much brighter?"
Bloomfield grilled the patty for a few minutes, and took it off the grill.
"Oh, the suspense!" she said as it cooled.
She took a bite.
"It's better," she said. "But I still think it needs a little more fat."
The Spotted Pig was almost the Prodigal Pig. "I was going to call it that, and then everybody said the same thing: 'What does "prodigal" mean?' " Friedman recalled. "I thought, Well, my friends went to college and stuff, and if they don't know what 'prodigal' means then nobody does." Friedman, who is fifty-two, grew up in Los Angeles. He attended Berkeley, where he was an art-history major and a member of a band called the Eggs (they fried eggs onstage). He dropped out junior year to become a concert promoter. In London and New York, he worked in the music business "for a hundred years," managing such bands as the Smiths and UB40 and, later, scouting talent for Arista. Part of his job was to entertain artists, and he became a regular at many of the city's best restaurants. (After seeing one of his expense reports, Clive Davis, Friedman's boss at Arista, told him, "From now on, I don't want you to go to any restaurant that starts with 'La' or 'Le.' ") For years, Friedman's many friends, conscious of his passion for food and wine and public assembly, had urged him to open his own place; some of them—including Paul McGuinness, U2's manager, and Michael Stipe, of R.E.M.—said they would invest. "I finally thought, Look I'm forty, I don't love music anymore, I should do this before my friends stop offering," Friedman said.
Friedman, a hyperactive charmer, has been going out seven nights a week for three decades. Over the years in New York, he had got to know the chef Mario Batali. "I was always bringing rock stars in, and Mario's such a starfucker he'd befriend us," Friedman said. In 2003, Friedman told Batali that he was planning to open a restaurant. Batali, along with his longtime business partner Joe Bastianich, signed on as an investor and an ad-hoc consultant. "He said, 'Don't pay me—just don't make the same mistakes a lot of restaurants make.' " Most important, Batali told Friedman, was to figure out what he was looking for in a chef.
"I want something kind of punk rock," Friedman told him. "I don't want another Italian-American guy who used to work for you. Let's get a girl, maybe, or, like, a British chef. I want something the press is going to get a hold of."
"Quit thinking about marketing," Batali said. "Just get the best chef."
A few weeks later, the British chef Jamie Oliver came to town. "So he calls his two New York friends, me and Mario," Friedman said. "Mario says, 'Let's get Jamie to be the chef.' "
"You think he'd do it?" Friedman said.
"Probably not, but let's get him drunk and see what happens."
"I can't do it," Oliver told Friedman and Batali. "But there is someone I think you should meet. She's a British woman."
Bloomfield was working in fruitful obscurity as sous-chef at the River Café, an Italian restaurant focussing on impeccably sourced ingredients, which Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers opened on the Thames in 1987. Bloomfield was respected by her peers in London kitchens but little known outside them.
Her first cooking job was in the roast section at the local Holiday Inn. In 1991, Rowley Leigh, the chef and co-owner of Kensington Place—which was in the first wave of modern English restaurants, and a favorite of Princess Diana—hired her as a commis chef. "Her sister Tracey worked for me already," Leigh recalled. "Then April came to work. She was the waifiest-looking thing, so tiny and thin and emaciated almost." Bloomfield stood out for her hustle, but she could be prickly. Leigh recalled, "In those days, she got very impatient with other people's failings and lack of seriousness and dedication. A lot of people in kitchens are very happy doing what they're doing, but it's not the be-all and end-all, and for April it was always the be-all and end-all."
Bloomfield worked for Adam Robinson at the Brackenbury, where she mastered pub classics such as chowders and rib-eyes. "He'd used every little scrap of food," she recalled. "He'd really make you scrape those bones clean." She also worked at the French bistro Bibendum, under Simon Hopkinson, whose plainspoken "Roast Chicken and Other Stories" remains her favorite cookbook. She recalled, "I was petrified, and I didn't want to get in the shit, so I pushed myself to do dishes I hadn't learned."
Bloomfield arrived at the River Café in 1999. Joseph Trivelli, the restaurant's head chef, remembers her as a perfectionist under any circumstances. "We used to walk home absolutely smashed," he said. "We'd stop at a kebab shop, and if it wasn't good enough she'd be angry." One night, Bloomfield ordered a shawarma, paid for it, took one bite, and chucked it in the dirt.
"I was very happy to have found the River Café," Bloomfield said. It was the "finishing school" to her education. "I had this walnut tagliatelle one day, and it was like someone had hit me over the head with a cast-iron pan," she recalled. Ruth Rogers said, "It was probably quite early that we knew that April was very, very good. She had been through tough times, had fought to get where she was, and it was very clear that she wanted to be a chef."
Bloomfield was twenty-eight and had been at the River Café for four years when a friend of Jamie Oliver's told her about the opening at the Spotted Pig. She had never been to New York City. She had never heard of Ken Friedman or Mario Batali. "I was really bluff then," she said. "I was like, 'Yeah, yeah, tell him to call me.' "
Friedman called. Neither he nor Batali had ever tasted Bloomfield's cooking, but Batali said that if he met her he'd be able to tell in fifteen seconds whether she was right for the job. (Friedman and Batali are at least as good at mythmaking as they are at spotting talent.) So, in the spring of 2003, Bloomfield flew to New York for a job interview that turned out to be something between a fraternity rush and a competitive eating event: tuna burgers at Union Square Café, dumplings at Joe's Shanghai, lobster rolls at Pearl Oyster Bar, pastrami sandwiches at the Carnegie Deli, apple cider at the Greenmarket in Union Square. Friedman's pièce de résistance was a blowout feast—"this ten-hour, like, eating fest" at Lupa, which Batali partly owns—that only Bloomfield seems to recall. "We had spaghetti with eels, which I'd never had before," she said. "There was headcheese, on a slightly warm plate, so that when you picked it up it dripped off your fork. Then we went to Babbo and ate there, too—lifeboat squid with caperberries, beef-cheek ravioli, stuffed quail." Bloomfield was in: "I'd never seen a quail tunnel-boned. It totally blew my mind." Thanks to a missing fingernail and some scars on her forearms, she had passed the fifteen-second test. Friedman recalled, "Mario said, 'It means she'll sacrifice her body. She's a star. I can tell.' "
Perhaps more important than what Batali said was that he and Friedman, the Barnum of burgers, kept telling everybody that he had said it. About two months before the Spotted Pig opened, the Observer ran a profile of Bloomfield. "Gastro-Pub Girl Comes to Town, Backed by Ken Friedman, Mario Batali—and Maybe Bono," the subhead read. "She will understand the instant power—and pressure—that comes with the two-fisted distinction of being both the latest chef anointed by Babbo's Mario Batali, and the culinary architect of a potential new dining concept in the city," it declared. Without confirming that Bono was an investor, Friedman had managed to insinuate him into the conversation. Batali told the reporter that Bloomfield was "a hilarious ball-buster."
Once Bloomfield had taken the job, she and Friedman went to work putting together the restaurant. Bloomfield spent the summer at Chez Panisse, in Berkeley, whose proprietress, Alice Waters, she had admired since reading something in a Waters cookbook about not stunning the palate into unconsciousness. In California, Bloomfield acquainted herself with American ingredients; she ate a pluot, and, she said, "my eyes rolled back into my head." After months of searching, she and Friedman settled on a site, at the corner of Eleventh and Greenwich Streets, the former home of the French bistro Le Zoo. Bloomfield bought a computer and opened an e-mail account, and while construction work was going on the partners e-mailed each other about what kind of food they were going to serve. "I wrote, 'Some of my investors and friends are vegans, and I was thinking, like, a tofu hot dog,' " Friedman recalled. "She wrote back, 'If you're thinking tofu hot dog, maybe I'm not the girl for you. In fact, I'm not interested in tofu at all.' " From then on, Friedman butted out of the food.
Gastropubs had started cropping up in the early nineties, when a generation of young British chefs decided they'd like something more appealing to accompany their two pints of lager than a packet of crisps. In Britain, the term—"a queasy coupling of words," according to Time Out London—has curdled, in recent years, into cheesiness. In a 2005 article, the chef Tom Norrington-Davies lamented the prettification of the "traditional boozer." He wrote, "Whenever I hear the G word, I think of its Eighties equivalent: the 'wine bar,' " and offered a guide titled "How to Spot If Your Local Has Been Gastroed." Signs include laminated menus and hosts wearing Bluetooths. Gastropubs, his argument went, were simulacra of something that already existed.
In America, the gastropub carried no such baggage. Friedman's flea-markety interiors (he decorated the Spotted Pig himself; for the Breslin, he worked with the design firm Roman & Williams) and Bloomfield's homey lexicon (syllabubs, scrumpets, thrice-cooked chips) charm the American restaurant-goer. Bloomfield's food pays tribute to her national and her class heritage, but it is not sentimental, trying to reconnect with some false notion of authenticity; nor is it kitschy, playing British food for laughs. You won't find "Mum's Mash" on one of her menus. She wants her food to be better than her mother's.
Friedman and Bloomfield make an odd but symbiotic professional couple. By taking care of all the extraneous business that comes with running a popular restaurant—the kooky waiters, the angry proctologists, the celebrities, the press—Friedman spares Bloomfield distraction and inoculates her against restaurant-world bitchery. He keeps her pure. She keeps him honest. When the Pig opened, Friedman gave Bloomfield a ten-per-cent stake. "After a couple of years, I realized this was fifty-fifty," Friedman said. "My friends and lawyers said, 'You're crazy.' But I love her. She made me what I am."
Friedman is the truant to Bloomfield's cop, and the occasional clash of values arises. Once, Friedman invited a bunch of friends back to a secret rec room that he keeps above the Pig, and Courtney Love raided Bloomfield's pantry. Bloomfield doesn't spend a lot of time hanging out after hours—she prefers to be at home—but one night, after dinner service at the Breslin, Friedman persuaded her to join him and the chef David Chang at a banquette with some friends. After some boring conversation with a movie producer ("So, tell me about Birmingham." "Well, it's industrial"), some spirited conversation with Chang ("Fuck you, motherfucking asshole!" Bloomfield said, laughing, after he guessed, correctly, that her recipe for caramel popcorn included baking soda), and several pickleback shots (whiskey and pickle juice), Bloomfield was ready to leave. Chang, still full of energy, grabbed her wrists, handcuffing her to the banquette. She turned to Friedman with an entreating look. "Ken, I want to go home so I can do my job in the morning like the responsible citizen I am." Friedman intervened. Bloomfield picked up her messenger bag and jumped into a taxi.
Downtown Manhattan is full of restaurants with adjective-animal names, mismatched chairs, and hearty menus. Friedman and Bloomfield can be touchy about the numerous imitators that the Pig has farrowed. "Everyone tries to do what we do, but no one's done a good job," Friedman said. Bloomfield, carrying some beans and purslane back to the Pig from the Greenmarket one day, fretted that the gastropub phenomenon had reached its saturation point. "It's the people that ran with it and extended it too far," she said. "In London, there's a chain of ones called the Slug & Lettuce—or the one that just opened here called the Rabbit in the Moon. Why name a pub that?" At one point, Bloomfield told me how much she'd enjoyed, on a trip to South Africa, learning how to barbecue ("You do it low and slow, instead of, like, burning it to buggery," she said). As we walked, I asked if she ever got the urge to try anything different, like molecular gastronomy. "I'd love to have a go," she said. "I always feel like I want to call some chef and say, 'Hey, can I hang out in your kitchen?' " Then she went inside and spent the afternoon butchering suckling pigs.
April Bloomfield is known for brown food: rib-eyes the size of bowling pins, meteoritic Scotch eggs, broad bald heaths of lamb shoulder strewn with bits of parsley. "Frankly, you can't eat this stuff every day," Alex Calderwood, an owner of the Ace, admitted. "We've had to ask for some salads." (Bloomfield refused. "It was winter," she says.) Still, she is a more sensitive and frequent manipulator of green things than many people acknowledge, and sometimes she'll reverse the palette, finishing a bowl of creamed escarole with a crown of bread crumbs, or a mess of kale with chunks of bacon. Her Caesar salad, cold and pungent, is so lovingly built as to resemble a Jenga tower.
In the fall of 2008, Friedman and Bloomfield decided to add fish to the meat-and-veg rotation, opening an ambitious seafood restaurant called the John Dory. It occupied a vast, theatrical space in far West Chelsea, and had white tablecloths, a fluorescent-lit bar, a reservationist, and two huge globe-shaped fishtanks. The early reviews were excellent. A. A. Gill wrote that it was "a fish restaurant that's English-inspired, in the sense that it goes down to the sea in waders and a sou'wester, not a leopardprint bikini and suntan cream. This is cod-fisted, fishy-fingered food, made with panache and a big mouth." There were five types of crudo. The fish stew cost thirty-four dollars, but tables were booked weeks in advance. Then people stopped coming. Bloomfield recalled recently, "About four months in, it got bad."
Bloomfield struggled to adapt. "I tried everything I could," she said. "I made the menus simpler. We stopped brunch. Nothing worked." The failing venture strained her relationship with Friedman. "The closest we ever came to being at each other's throats was the John Dory," Friedman told me. He continued, "Pretty early, we realize that no one's hanging around at the bar. April kept saying, 'Your job is to get people here.' I'm texting all my friends, I'm talking to the blogs—nothing's working.' April said, 'Well, how do we do it?' and I said, 'I don't know how to do it,' and she said, 'Well, figure it out.' "
Once Friedman conceded the bar scene, the restaurant seemed halfhearted. In August of 2009, less than a year after it opened, Friedman and Bloomfield abruptly closed the John Dory. Both of them blame the location and its lack of foot traffic.
"We were talked into that space by Mario Batali and Joe Bastianich and Tom Colicchio," Friedman said. Colicchio owns a restaurant on Tenth Avenue, Colicchio & Sons. Batali and Bastianich, who own Del Posto, nearby, were guarantors of the John Dory, and owed nearly seventy-five thousand dollars on the lease when the restaurant closed. "The John Dory was traumatic because we had to raise all the money ourselves, and we spent a fortune of our friends-slash-investors' money," Friedman said. "It wasn't well thought out," Bloomfield told me. "We should have come together more and talked about what our plan was. Part of it was spinning it as an English restaurant, and I didn't want an English restaurant. In my mind, the food was always going to be Mediterranean." Even now, Bloomfield has an almost allergic reaction to any mention of the place: her face turns red, her eyes water, her hands fly to her temples. Everyone's internal map of New York, after long enough, becomes redacted by failures and breakups. Bloomfield still can't walk on Tenth Avenue.
The Breslin was a safer proposition. Bloomfield and Friedman own half of it, and investors in the Ace Hotel, which furnished infrastructure and a built-in clientele, own the other half. "We went into the Breslin with newfound mania, because we realized we screwed up because we were trying to be clever," Friedman said. "We re-created the Spotted Pig, which is what we know how to do well." Friedman and Bloomfield are at points in their careers where the reputation of their restaurants outstrips the money that they make from them, and they are increasingly eager to reverse that ratio. In June, Friedman said, "The Hard Rock Hotel people were saying to us, 'We want a Spotted Pig in the Hard Rock.' And April's kind of like, 'Vegas?' But she's changing now that she's trying to buy her first apartment. She's realizing, 'Wow, we can make some money here,' and that her cooks need to have places to go when they're ready to move on."
In her spare time lately, Bloomfield has been making bread. What she really wants is a bakery. "I'm going to attempt my first sourdough this weekend," she texted. "My mother has been working for bout 2 weeks!" When I wrote back that I didn't know her mother was in town, she replied, "No my mother (it smells nice and fruity!) it's my base for my sourdough, it's what will make it rise! Er hopefully."
What Friedman really wants is a tongue-in-cheek red-sauce Italian place. They both want a farm, where they can grow vegetables and raise livestock for use in their restaurants. A farm is attractive for two reasons. The first is that Bloomfield can't always procure the calibre of ingredients she wants, since many of the city's top suppliers are beholden to more established chefs. "They get all funny," Bloomfield said. "I'm not Daniel Boulud." The second is that a farm, in the hyper-competitive New York restaurant world, is a sign of clout and longevity, the breadbasket of an empire. Bloomfield and Friedman have been looking at land in New Paltz and Wassaic. "I don't want to just do gastropubs, whatever they are," Bloomfield said.
Perhaps because the Breslin was a spinoff of sorts, even its triumph did not entirely assuage the disappointment of the John Dory. When a small space became available in the Ace Hotel, this spring, Bloomfield and Friedman decided to open an oyster bar there. It would be casual, with copper counters and a curved raw bar, so that, Bloomfield said, "you can really see the different types of oysters instead of just some dirty old ice." Bloomfield could revive some of her crudo recipes. Friedman could repurpose some of the nautical tat he had accumulated for the John Dory, which was beginning to overtake his apartment. "I order stuff, and when it arrives I've forgotten what I've bought, but since I bought it I know I'll like it," he said. "It's like Christmas."
If Bloomfield and Friedman wanted to be taken seriously as businesspeople, the oyster bar had to be a hit. Its success is critical to establishing their credibility as big-time restaurateurs, rather than twice-lucky publicans. "We're going to great pains to show and prove to ourselves and the world that our original idea for the John Dory was a great fucking idea," Friedman told me last week, as nail guns fired in the background. "If the place succeeds, we'll be vindicated. But if it fails again it will always be this sad, depressing thing."
In May, I tagged along for a meeting with the restaurant's designers, Robin Standefer and Stephen Alesch, of Roman & Williams, and a host of engineers and contractors. A guy with a graph—the restaurant's construction budget—began the proceedings. "We have a five-million-dollar estimate here, and we've gotta get to one million," he said. "I don't want people to freak out. It's just the process we have to go through." The restaurant, which had not begun construction, was supposed to open at the end of August.
There was talk of grease traps, air ducts, and subcellar plumbing. Bloomfield wanted to hear it all. Friedman was late. Eventually, he appeared, wearing a madras shirt and high-top sneakers. "Ken, we're five hundred thousand over budget, so this is where you need to pay attention," one of the budget guys said.
Bloomfield and Friedman were going for what Friedman called an "homage to the Grand Central Oyster Bar" look, with subway tiles and patinated trusses. The largest item on the budget was millwork, at a cost of three hundred and forty-nine thousand dollars. The original blueprint had called for a hundred and forty linear feet of trussing. To save money, the group decided to reduce it to ninety.
"I'll take a chance and bring up a taboo one," Alesch said. "Is there any kitchen item that's wildly fancy?"
Bloomfield said that her biggest-ticket item was her refrigerator, but that she had to have the one that she had specified. "Let's talk about that thirteen-K juice section," she said, running a pen down the bartender's line items. "His juice section is more than my walk-in fridge."
Alesch suggested that some of the lighting could go.
"I took everything out," Friedman said. "There's no lights. You have to use a flashlight. It's the darkest restaurant in America!"
What about wine storage, then? Could they do without an impressive wine cabinet? Bloomfield and Friedman assented.
"Bottles are ornamental enough," Friedman said. "Go in any Keith McNally restaurant and it's just bottles. Let's do everything he does."
After the meeting, Friedman and Bloomfield were walking east on Twenty-ninth Street, trying to figure out what to call the place.
"The Oysterage?" Bloomfield suggested.
"Bivalve?" Friedman said. "The Piping Plover?"
Eventually, as if to prove something, they settled on the John Dory Oyster Bar.
They arrived at a dilapidated storefront that, by the end of the summer, was supposed to be their restaurant. Inside, electrical wires hung from the ceiling. "IQBAL WAS HERE" was spray-painted on a concrete-block wall. Bloomfield led me down a set of stairs to the area that would be the kitchen, which was to include a twelve-seat chef's table. "We built it into the business plan," she said. "I'm glad it's not an entirely open kitchen. I'm done with the open kitchens—it's a lot more stressful having people watch."
In June, Friedman and Bloomfield, along with Amy Cole, the general manager of the Breslin, and Carla Rzeszewski, the restaurant's wine director, took a field trip to California. They left J.F.K. on a Wednesday afternoon. Before the flight, Friedman wandered through the Jet Blue terminal—an urban beachcomber, filling tote bags with magazines. Bloomfield, with a backpack, and wearing a fleece zipped up to her chin, brought to mind a college athlete on her way to a big game. On the flight, Jet Blue was showing "Top Chef Masters," the cooking reality show. An episode in which Bloomfield appeared as a judge came up on the seat-back screens. Friedman strolled the aisles of the plane, shouting, "Look, it's Ape!"
The plane landed in San Francisco at about ten o'clock. Friedman called around, trying to figure out where to go for dinner. "This is terrible, this town!" he said, after learning that several of his selections were closing for the night. "The Spotted Pig is packed. Right now, it's an hour wait."
Part of the reason for the trip to California was so that Bloomfield and Friedman could meet Scott Boggs, whom they were considering hiring to help them start the farm. Boggs, who is thirty, turned to farming after cooking and butchering at Thomas Keller's restaurant the French Laundry. For the meeting, he had chosen a new Italian restaurant in Napa called Oenetri. He was wearing a pair of smart-looking jeans and had a neo-lumberjack beard.
Bloomfield, who has an extensive knowledge of botany and husbandry, started asking Boggs about his vegetables. He mentioned that he was growing Little Gems, a delicate ridged lettuce that is popular in Britain but hard to find in New York.
"Ooh, Little Gems!" Bloomfield said, brightening. "Do they look sexy?"
Boggs, in a stab at conversation, asked Bloomfield what her fantasy kitchen toy was. His, he said, was a pasta extruder.
"I don't know," Bloomfield replied. "I'm happy with my pestle and mortar."
After dinner, Bloomfield said that she had found Boggs impressive but that she wasn't completely sold. "There's only one thing that worries me about this guy—his hands are far too clean," she said. "If he worked for Thomas Keller, he probably plants his seeds with forceps."
The next afternoon, the group visited the land Boggs was farming, on twenty-five hundred acres in Napa. It was a hot day. Near a glinting lake, a klatsch of four pigs—two Gloucestershire Old Spots and two Russian boars—were wallowing in the mud under a cottonwood, oblivious of the horseflies dive-bombing their bristly hides. "Our pigs have the spa life," Boggs said. Bloomfield made a beeline for the water. Friedman, attempting to pet some horses on the way to the pigpen, got shocked by an electric fence. He wandered off for a bit in a grove of olive trees. Eventually, he reappeared, juggling a couple of lemons.
"So this is the breed we had last night?" Bloomfield asked Boggs, pointing to one of the pigs.
The pigs shook and snorted.
"It was her sister," Boggs said.
Boggs led the way up a little hill to a pen so that Bloomfield could see more swine.
She crouched in front of the enclosure. "Hey, you!" she said, beckoning to one of the animals. She reached through the barbed wire and stroked one of its ears. Boggs opened the gate, and Bloomfield—wearing flip-flops, turned-up railroad pants, a black T-shirt, and aviator sunglasses—charged in. It was sweltering. The pigs stunk. Bloomfield stood in the middle of a cloud of dust. She could have been at a cocktail party.
Last week—after a protracted cycle of teasing, speculation, and delay—the John Dory Oyster Bar was almost ready to open. Except for a broken kettle, the basement kitchen was functional. Canning jars, knife cases, backpacks, forks, invoices, and a stack of cookbooks cluttered a black leather couch. Refrigerators hummed. Amy Cole, the general manager, walked in. "Twenty-four hours ago, this place was a shit show!" she said.
Bloomfield stood at the crudo station, presiding over the hubbub in a state of pleasant, almost peaceful, expectancy. Josh Even, the restaurant's head chef, hovered nearby. The evening's work was a dry-run dinner for thirty people, mostly employees of the Spotted Pig and the Breslin (including Boggs, whom Bloomfield and Friedman ended up hiring). "I just want to take it slow, anyway," Bloomfield said, of the postponed opening. "So that's all fine and dandy." She was whistling the chorus from Lady Gaga's "Alejandro." A cook from the Breslin came in with a beef-and-Stilton pie for her to inspect. "Tastes great," she said, slapping him a high five.
Bloomfield was serving an abbreviated menu. "We'll have lobster and Dungeness crab later," she said. "Right now, I just want them to practice shucking." She went through the dishes one by one: razor clams ("Those were a huge hit at the John Dory, so it would be kind of a shame if I didn't bring it here"), Tasmanian sea trout ("I had this in Australia and thought it was the most amazing fish"), a bread soup, with shellfish and onions, called a panade ("This is something I had when I first went to Chez Panisse, so I wanted to do that"). "The whole menu's lighter and more vibrant," she said. "There's not a lot of butter, not a lot of pork fat. One of the criticisms I got from the John Dory was that we used too much butter."
She was silent while she fiddled with some pickled escarole. But a few minutes later she poked her head around the counter to the side of the kitchen where some of her cooks were stirring pan roasts and slicing rye points. "Hey, guys, do you think we used a lot of butter?" she asked.
"No," someone responded.
"No," Bloomfield repeated. "But that's what people said. I really took that to heart. Even though I just don't see it."
Upstairs, the dining room was coming together. A pair of giant industrial light fixtures had yet to be installed, but translucent shell sconces and a mirror on the west-facing wall, reflecting Broadway, gave the place a glow. Butcher paper covered the windows. The fishtank globes, bubbling again, flanked the bar. High above it hung a carved wooden fish with long, spiny fins. Bloomfield, having followed the food upstairs, tilted her gaze upward. "That's our John Dory, from the old John Dory," she said. "We never got to hang it up there, so it's nice to have it back." Candles flickered, and the room was cold. The dinner had the hushed, lucky feel of a meal in a hurricane or a snowstorm. ♦


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Before you go into a trial, a doctor, nurse or other researcher will ask for your permission. They can't enter you into the trial if you don't give your written consent, after you have had plenty of time to think about it.
To help you decide whether you want to take part, the researchers should tell you:
- what the trial is trying to find out
- what the trial will involve and what you'll have to do.
There are guidelines for researchers that explain what information people need to help them decide whether to take part in a clinical trial. But there's a lot of discussion about how much people really want to know, and this varies from person to person.
It's important that you have enough information to make an informed decision. You should feel able to ask any questions that will help you to make a decision. Before you decide, you should also feel that you have been given enough time to think about the trial and what it will mean to you.
Someone from your medical team will be able to answer any questions you may have. They will go through the possible benefits and risks of joining the trial. They should also discuss any other treatments that may be appropriate in your situation. You may want to talk about it with your family or friends, and think about any practical aspects, such as extra appointments and tests.
You will be given a patient information leaflet about the trial. You can take this away and read it in your own time before you are formally invited to take part.
If you decide to take part
If you decide that you want to take part, you may be asked to give your consent verbally to the person carrying out the trial, who will write it in your notes. You'll then be asked to sign a consent form that says that you agree to take part. Your doctor will also sign the consent form. You'll be given a copy to keep.
If you decide not to take part
If you decide not to take part in the trial, you can tell your doctor or nurse. Your decision will be respected and you don't have to give a reason. There will be no change in the way that the hospital staff treat you, and you'll be offered the standard treatment for your type of cancer.


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Iowa Catholics watch pope announcement
About 50 employees of the Catholic Diocese of Des Moines gathered to watch the announcement of the new pope Wednesday afternoon.
The group, including Bishop Richard Pates, watched from their conference room.
Workers said they didn't want to crash their Internet by having everyone watching at their desks.
The group shared memories as they awaited the announcement on Vatican TV streamed live by CNN.com.
After the announcement, some friended the new pope on Facebook. He already has a Facebook page.
Bishops from Iowa and Nebraska are welcoming newly elected Pope Francis.
"He also seems to have manifested a real sense of openness to the world - a real sense of bringing people together, of manifesting a desire to really share with them of all of the brothers and sisters of the human family that we can find the way of peace, coexistence and respect and love for one another," said Pates.
Bishop Martin Amos from the Diocese of Davenport on Wednesday posted a note online welcoming 76-year-old Jorge Mario Bergoglio, who has chosen the papal name Francis.
In Nebraska, Bishop James Conley of Lincoln posted a brief celebratory note. He also scheduled a Mass for Wednesday afternoon.
Amos said in his note that he's sure cardinals considered many factors in their selection Wednesday. He says they picked a leader who could bring reform to issues such as church scandals, Mass attendance, the role of women in the church and evangelization.


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Andrew P. O'Rourke, a pragmatic Republican who was chief executive of Westchester County for 14 years and his party's long-shot nominee in 1986 to challenge the re-election bid of New York's popular incumbent governor, Mario M. Cuomo, died on Thursday night in the Bronx. He was 79.
His death, at Calvary Hospital, resulted from complications of lung cancer, a friend, William O'Shaughnessey, said. Mr. O'Rourke had also been treated for Parkinson's disease. He lived in Yorktown, N.Y.
Ruddy-faced and silver-haired, Mr. O'Rourke brought a witty, bantering manner to his performance in government as well as to the campaign trail when he agreed to take on the all-but-hopeless task of unseating Governor Cuomo. He laughed off its seeming futility, saying, "They told Goliath: 'Don't worry. It's only a kid out there.' "
When Mr. Cuomo refused to debate him, Mr. O'Rourke brought along a cardboard cutout of the governor to his campaign appearances and debated the effigy. When the cutout failed to draw Mr. Cuomo out, Mr. O'Rourke confronted him on a radio call-in show in Albany. Mr. O'Rourke was the first caller, and a five-minute exchange followed in which he rebuked Mr. Cuomo as arrogant.
The candidates eventually did debate once. Mr. Cuomo won close to two-thirds of the vote on Election Day.
Mr. O'Rourke had the second-longest tenure of any Westchester county executive. (Edwin G. Michaelian had the longest, from 1958 to 1973.) While in office, from 1983 to 1997, he built a new county jail, a recycling plant and a new airport terminal, reopened Rye Playland as a county amusement park, required that welfare recipients go to work to earn their benefits, and presided over the building of permanent shelters for the homeless.
He was able to boast that he had preserved Westchester's AAA bond rating — for a time the only such rating in the state — and for many years kept taxes stable, though his critics said he depended on budgetary tricks.
Groomed in the ward politics of Yonkers, he seemed to have a blind spot for the finer points of government ethics. In 1993, responding to revelations in Westchester newspapers, he acknowledged that he had sought a job for his son-in-law and an admission interview for his daughter at a medical college under contract with the county. He recommended his live-in companion at the time — Flora Lowe, whom he married — for a job with the county medical insurer, and he looked the other way when his daughter was hired by the county's malpractice law firm.
"These are, as far as I'm concerned, the everyday things and courtesies that are done in life," he said at an emotional news conference.
A grand jury and a district attorney's investigation ultimately cleared him of any conflicts of interest, and he won re-election in 1993. In 1997, he announced that he would not seek another term.
Andrew Patrick O'Rourke was born in Plainfield, N.J., on Oct. 26, 1933, the youngest of five children. His father, a doctor, died of tuberculosis when Mr. O'Rourke was not yet 2, and eight years later, his mother went blind. The family had to subsist on welfare, a point that Mr. O'Rourke often mentioned in defending the county's welfare program, even as he required recipients to work for their benefits.
"I knew it from the inside out, and it's a terrible place to be," he said. But he added that too many children in families on welfare assume that "money came in a mailbox," that "there was no connection to work."
After the family moved to the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood in Manhattan, in the West 40s, Mr. O'Rourke delivered fish and worked as an usher in the Paramount Theater on Times Square. For a time, he was a child actor, appearing briefly on Broadway and regularly as a guest on a coast-to-coast radio children's quiz show.
Mr. O'Rourke graduated from Fordham University, trained as an Air Force bombardier and navigator, received a law degree from Fordham and went into private law practice in Yonkers. Entering Yonkers politics, he served on the City Council and the county's Board of Legislators. When Alfred B. DelBello, the Democratic county executive, was elected lieutenant governor in 1982, the Legislature selected Mr. O'Rourke to fill the rest of Mr. DelBello's term.
Supporters regarded him as innovative in letting private companies assume historically public functions. He turned the feeding of county prisoners over to private companies, for example, and enrolled Medicaid recipients in managed care.
Mr. O'Rourke was also bedeviled by scandals. In one, he awarded contracts for the county hospital and airport parking garages to the husband of the county's district attorney, Jeanine F. Pirro, a Republican, though his conduct was never found to be illegal.
Mr. O'Rourke also pursued a side vocation writing adventure fiction, including the novels "The Red Banner Mutiny," based on a 1975 insurrection aboard a Soviet destroyer, and "Hawkwood," about a soldier of fortune.
He wound down his career as the senior State Supreme Court justice for Putnam County.
Mr. O'Rourke's marriage to the former Alice T. McKenna, who died in 2011, ended in divorce. He is survived by his wife, Ms. Lowe; three children from his first marriage, Alice, Aileen and Andrew Jr.; and six grandchildren.
His friend Mr. O'Shaughnessey said that former Governor Cuomo phoned Mr. O'Rourke at the hospital about 10 days ago and that the two had a pleasant 20-minute conversation.


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Daphne Keller is the Director of Intermediary Liability at Stanford's Center for Internet and Society. Her work focuses on platform regulation and Internet users' rights. She has published both academically and in popular press; testified and participated in legislative processes; and taught and lectured extensively. Her recent work focuses on legal protections for users' free expression rights when state and private power intersect, particularly through platforms' enforcement of Terms of Service or use of algorithmic ranking and recommendations. Until 2015 Daphne was Associate General Counsel for Google, where she had primary responsibility for the company's search products. She worked on groundbreaking Intermediary Liability litigation and legislation around the world and counseled both overall product development and individual content takedown decisions.
High Res Photo of Daphne Keller
Filtering Facebook: Introducing Dolphins in the Net, a New Stanford CIS White Paper - OR - Why Internet Users and EU Policymakers Should Worry about the Advocate General's Opinion in Glawischnig-Piesczek
By Daphne Keller on September 5, 2019 at 8:51 am
Filtering Facebook: Introducing Dolphins in the Net, a New Stanford CIS White Paper
Why Internet Users and EU Policymakers Should Worry about the Advocate General's Opinion in Glawischnig-Piesczek
White Paper: Dolphins in the Net: Internet Content Filters and the Advocate General's Glawischnig-Piesczek v. Facebook Ireland Opinion
What Online Content Are We Regulating? Illegal Speech, Offensive Speech, and Platform Value
By Daphne Keller on May 6, 2019 at 10:28 am
This discussion, excerpted from my Who Do You Sue article, very briefly reviews the implications of what I call "must-carry" arguments – claims that operators of major Internet platforms should be held to the same First Amendment standards as the government, and prevented from using their Terms of Service or Community Guidelines to prohibit lawful speech.
What Platform Operations Are We Regulating? Platform Product Features, Content Removal, and Content Amplification
By Daphne Keller on May 6, 2019 at 10:19 am
Platform Content Regulation – Some Models and Their Problems
By Daphne Keller on May 6, 2019 at 9:41 am
Lawmakers today are increasingly focused on their options for regulating the content we see on online platforms. I described several ambitious regulatory models for doing that in my recent paper, Who Do You Sue? State and Platform Hybrid Power Over Online Speech. This blog post excerpts that discussion, and sketches out potential legal regimes to address major platforms' function as de facto gatekeepers of online speech and information.
Australia Shows the World How Not to Regulate Platforms, News, and Public Information
By Daphne Keller on April 11, 2019 at 10:03 am
Comment on Canadian 'Right to Be Forgotten' Proposal
This Comment was filed response to the Canadian Office of the Privacy Commissioner's Draft Online Reputation Position Paper. As summarized here, the Comment discusses the shortcomings of PIPEDA and data protection statutes generally as sources of law regulating online information and expression.
Comment in response to European Commission's March 2018 Recommendation on measures to further improve the effectiveness of the fight against illegal content online
Comments to Article 29 Working Party on Transparency Under the GDPR
These comments address the issue of transparency under the GDPR, as that topic arises in the context of Internet intermediaries and the "Right to Be Forgotten." CIS Intermediary Liability Director Daphne Keller filed them in response to a public call for comments from the Article 29 Working Party – the EU-wide umbrella group of data protection regulators established under the 1995 Directive, soon to be succeeded by the European Data Protection Board established under the GDPR.
SESTA and the Teachings of Intermediary Liability
This Stanford Center for Internet and Society White Paper uses proposed US legislation, SESTA, as a starting point for an overview of Intermediary Liability models -- and their consequences. It draws on law and experience from both the US and countries that have adopted different models, and recommends specific improvements for SESTA and similar proposed legislation.
Should we police online hate groups?
"Hate speech that isn't an imminent threat is still protected by the Constitution, noted Daphne Keller, a researcher at Stanford's Center for Internet and Society and a former associate general counsel for Google. "A law can't just ban it. And Congress can't just tell platforms to ban it, either — that use of government power would still violate the First Amendment," she said."
The splintering internet means trouble for Facebook, Twitter, and Google
""It's really important to understand how much Europe is in the driver's seat," says Daphne Keller, director of Intermediary Liability at the Center for Internet and Society, as well as former associate general counsel at Google. "It kind of doesn't matter what U.S. law says for a lot of things. Europe is extracting agreements by companies — they're going to enforce those agreements publicly.""
Regulating Online Terrorist Content: A Discussion with Stanford CIS Experts About New EU Proposals
Western governments enter uncharted territory as they grapple with problem of harmful content on social media
""When lawmakers create new rules that have never been tested by courts – like Australia's new law or the rules proposed in the UK's White Paper – and then tell platforms to enforce them, we can only expect that a broad swathe of perfectly legal speech is going to disappear," said Daphne Keller, director of intermediary liability at the Stanford Centre for Internet and Society.
Care.com Removes Tens of Thousands of Unverified Listings
"The issue highlights the pressure on many internet platforms to attract customers by presenting a critical mass of listings to demonstrate scale, says Daphne Keller, director of intermediary liability at Stanford Law School's Center for Internet and Society. She added that inactive or false listings don't produce a good customer experience either. "You don't want to have a bunch of listings in there that turn out to be dead ends," Ms. Keller said. A Care.com spokeswoman declined to comment on Ms. Keller's assessment."
The Digital Townsquare: The Future of Online Speech in an Age of Hyperpartisanship (Past Event)
Presented by Bloomberg, the Electronic Frontier Foundation and the First Amendment Coalition.
Legal Frontiers in Digital Media (Past Event)
For more information and the full conference agenda, visit: https://www.medialaw.org/component/k2/item/4456
Monday, May 20, 2019
Inline Linking After Goldman v. Breitbart
(1:10 p.m. – 2:10 p.m.)
2019 Ranking Digital Rights Corporate Accountability Index West Coast Launch (Past Event)
Lunch: 1:00 pm
Program: 1:30 pm - 3:00 pm
State of the Net 2019 (Past Event)
What Happened to the 'Golden Age of Free Speech'? (Past Event)
For more information and to RSVP visit: https://firstamendmentcoalition.org/what-happened-to-the-golden-age-of-f...
The LawBytes Podcast, Episode 22: Navigating Intermediary Liability for the Internet – A Conversation with Daphne Keller
July 29, 2019
The question of what responsibility should lie with Internet platforms for the content they host that is posted by their users has been the subject of debate around in the world as politicians, regulators, and the broader public seek to navigate policy choices to combat harmful speech that have implications for freedom of expression, online harms, competition, and innovation.
Deep Dive: Cybersecurity and the Broad Geopolitical Risk of Digital Life
June 26, 2018
Cybersecurity is increasingly a major concern of modern life, coloring everything from the way we vote to the way we drive to the way our health care records are stored. Yet online security is beset by threats from nation-states and terrorists and organized crime, and our favorite social media sites are drowning in conspiracy theories and disinformation. How do we reset the internet and reestablish control over our own information and digital society?
Facebook facing user and lawmaker scrutiny over data use
March 20, 2018
"Daphne Keller, a specialist in corporate liability and responsibility at Stanford Law School's Center for Internet and Society, says Facebook could face private lawsuits over privacy."
Murder Video Again Raises Questions About How Facebook Handles Content
April 21, 2017
""Half the time it's, 'Oh no, Facebook didn't take something down, and we think that's terrible; they should have taken it down,' " says Daphne Keller, a law professor at Stanford University. "And the other half of the time is, 'Oh no! Facebook took something down and we wish they hadn't.' "
Bloomberg West
July 11, 2016
Full episode of "Bloomberg West." Guests include Daphne Keller, director of intermediary liability at the Center for Internet and Society at Stanford Law School, David Kirkpatrick, Techonomy's chief executive officer, Radu Rusu, chief executive officer and co-founder of Fyusion, Crawford Del Prete, IDC's chief research officer, and Daniel Apai, assistant professor at The University of Arizona.


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Title Me!
Theme suggested by Rob Roy and Joven Delacruz.
We all know not to judge a book by its cover, or in JPG world, to judge a photo by its title. However, a title really can say a great deal; in fact, it's the best way to convey what you want your photograph to say. For this theme, we want you JPGers to work together to come up with the best titles for your photos.
Here's how it works: upload an untitled photo to the theme. Look through other photos, and suggest what you think would be the perfect title in the comments section. This is a recurring them so go through your comments, once you have found a title for this photo, pick your favorite title, and edit your photo description, adding your shiny new title. We'll pick and feature our favorite image-title combinations on JGPLive and across our social networks. Get creative, get collaborative, and get your title-making skills on.


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Locksmith Kálo Chorió
Locksmith Kálo Chorió
There are many reasons why it makes sense to have the list of some reputed locksmith professionals available at all points of time. In spite of the best efforts, it is quite likely that we could end up losing ourkeys or the locks and other keying systems could have suffered damaged because of age and other factors. Whatever is the reason, no one would like to get stuck either inside their homes, offices or even inside and outside their vehicles and automobiles.
Locksmith Kálo Chorió
Hence the role of locksmith professionals is extremely important to say the least. However it is important to choose the right locksmith professionals in Kálo Chorió , Lárnaka, Cyprus and there are reasons to believe that we are one of the best in this business. We have rich experience, and our track record amongst dozens of customers is also something that makes us different from others. We have a fully equipped and modern workshop where we can offer quality locksmith services. Our ability to offer a wide variety of services covering different types of locksmith customers is something that we need to bear in mind. For example, we are one of the few locksmith professionals in Kálo Chorió , Lárnaka, Cyprus who have separate departments to handle commercial, automobile and domestic locking and keying solutions.
Commercial Locksmith Services
If you are looking for a reliable and trustworthy locksmith for taking care of various commercial locksmith services, it makes sense to get in touch with us. We can offer the best of locking and keying solutions for big offices, safes inside offices and also offer the best of services for warehouses, factories, and even other commercial buildings like restaurants, malls, clinics and much more. Hence you can expect the best of services as far as commercial locksmith jobs and needs are concerned.
Domestic Locksmith Services
We have grown so big and become a reputed player because we have been able to focus to the specific needs and requirements of domestic customers. They form the biggest chunk of our customers and we have been providing the best of services to them at all points of times. Our ability to offer highly customized, time bound and efficient services is perhaps one of the most important reasons as to why we are considered so very different from others in Kálo Chorió , Lárnaka, Cyprus. We can help in door step services and get damaged and lost keys replaced within the shortest period of time. Further our ability to offer our consultancy for putting in place CCTV and other services is also something that has made us quite popular when compared to others.
Automobile Services
Finally customers can get in touch with us for repairing or replacing damaged automobile keys and here too our ability to offer door step services is a fact that has set us apart from many others in the market place. We have the ability to make duplicate keys for almost all makes and models of cars, motorbikes and other such automobiles.
Hence when one takes into account the above things you certainly can understand that we are one of most reliable and complete locksmith professionals offering a wide variety of services. To get the best locksmith services in Kálo Chorió , Lárnaka, Cyprus.
Locksmith Kálo Chorió
Klavdiá, Agia Anna, Aradíppou, Psevdás, Larnaca, Dromolaxiá, Tersefánou, Livádia, Alethrikó, Meneoú


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Our pals over at Car and Driver have their equivalent of Parking Lot Mechanic, called Saturday Mechanic, and this is a clip from one of their recent episodes starring former Jalopnik writer Ben Wojdyla almost being murdered by a car that doesn't have a J-gate.
It shows a delightfully pants-filling episode with a front coil spring that thankfully left no one hurt, but it's as good a time as any to issue this public service announcement:
Springs are wildly useful, but cunning things. They're wonderful servants and cruel masters, much like, say, fire. The problem with springs is that they give so few clues about all the energy they're storing. They don't glow or shake or growl or pulse. They just sit there, under tension, constantly feeling out that one weakest bolt or clamp so they can literally spring, possibly impaling you into some drywall.
I've worked on some sculpture projects years ago that used leaf-spring leaves, and once while not paying enough attention I narrowly avoided getting mulched by an unexpectedly freed leaf spring leaf. Ever since then I've had a lot of respect for springs.
So, as the little video shows, don't turn your back on those wily springs.
And levers. Don't trust levers, either. They'll sleep with your boyfriends and/or girlfriends.
(Hat tip to Snap Understeer!)


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jpatmor necesitaba un nuevo diseño de logotipo y lanzó un concurso de diseño en 99designs.
Un ganador ha sido elegido entre 45 diseños de 21 diseñadores freelance.
New internet start up located in San Francisco. We are in the beginning stages of launching the company are are working to put up our first website by September. We have a 10 year history of working at internet start ups in SF and love really cool websites that help millions of consumers. Our back end database/engine has been completed and we are now looking for the right logo as we begin the website design.
We are launching in San Francisco and will then move to cities like New York, LA, Chicago, etc (large cities are our focus). Ages 21 to 45, male and female, who like to go out to bars and restaruants where they live and work. Our target user will be they same type of person you uses Groupon, Living Social, etc, likes Meetup.com, and other similar websites.
We are particularly looking for people who want to accomplish a personal or professional goal that has relavant meaning to their life. We want to help these people use our service to get the support (ie, money and people) they need by throwing a GoodParty.
It can be difficult and risky to ask for help for the personal and professional goals we are trying to achieve.
We help people get the support they need for the goal they want to achieve...and we do it by throwing a party!
Lets say Amber wants to raise money for a cancer charity she has been involved in (she recently found out her mother has breast cancer). While she wants to get support from her friends and family it´s difficult to go around and ask for money. So instead she uses GoodParty to throw a happy hour event at one of her favortie bars in San Francisco. She sends out a Facebook invite (Evite, or whatever) that includes a GoodParty link. Each person who is planning to attend the happy our event can click on the link and prepurchase their drinks ($20, $30, etc.) and get a receipt they can use when they show up. If collectively Amber and all her friends prepurchase a minimum of $500 before the event starts the bar agrees to give 50% of the proceeds to Amber. This helps Amber get the money (and people support) she needs without having to ask anyone for a "donation". And all her friends get to have fun at happy hour knowing they helping out a friend who they care about. Everyone wins! Now that´s a good party.
Descubre cómo funciona un concurso de diseño u obtén más información sobre nuestros servicios de diseño de logo.


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Motorcycle Service Center, Nebraska
Are you looking for Motorcycle Service in Center, Nebraska? Spaz Cycle provides motorcycle service, repair, parts, and accessories for all makes and models of Harley Davidson. Spaz Cycle in Center offers motorcycle maintenance and motorcycle repair by Certified Technicians. We service, customize and rebuild any motorcycle.
Motorcycle Service
We offer all levels of scheduled maintenance according to the factory recommendations of your specific make and model and current mileage. We also provide oil changes, fluid changes, brake pad R&R, valve adjustments, chain and sprocket R&R, lube clean adjust chain, air filter R&R and spark plug R&R.
Motorcycle Restoration
Over the years Spaz Cycle has built numerous custom bikes. We specialize in full restoration, engine rebuild, OEM replacement parts, wiring, simplified wiring and custom fabrication.
Custom Fabrication for your motorcycle in Center, Nebraska
Spaz Cycles can build your dream into a reality. From new wheels, new hardware, custom paint to to tank swaps, upgrading to LED lights or installing new fairings, Spaz Cycle has you covered. Call us today at (402) 214-0706 to inquire about what we can do for you! We offer:
- Handle Bar Jobs
- Lowering Kit Installation
- Air Ride
- Custom Suspension
- LED Light installation
- Custom Seat Installation
- Sissy Bar Installation
- Rear Foot Peg Installation
- Factory and Aftermarket Fairing Kit Installation
- Full Motor Builds
- Full Bike Builds
- Big Wheel Bagger Conversion
- Custom Paint.
Engine Rebuild at Spaz Cycle
Spaz Cycles offers motor building by factory trained technicians with a combined experience of over 55 years. From engine swapping to top-end rebuilds and full motor builds, we have the experience and expertise to get it done right. Full Engine Rebuilding, Engine Swapping, Bottom End Rebuilding, Top End Rebuilding and Boring Cylinders
Insurance Claims
Insurance claims can be such a hassle! After a traumatic experience, such as an accident or theft, the last thing you need is another headache dealing with insurance companies in order to get your motorcycle repaired. Let Spaz Cycle take care of your repairs! We work collaboratively will all major insurance companies in order to get your bike back to pre-accident condition- and get you back on the road- in no time at all!
Call Us At (402)214-0706
We have everything you need including the right technician to service, rebuild, or customize your Harley Davidson and custom application!
Customer Service
Most of all, the team at Spaz Cycle cares about your motorcycle. Our professional staff are eager to answer any of your questions and will always give you the personal service you deserve! At Spaz Cycle – we're all about the service.
Let us help you determine the aftermarket and motorcycle parts you will need to service, repair and customize your Harley Davidson, Indian, Victory, street bike or custom application.


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Though it's hard to make a box of blueberries last for more than a couple of minutes here at FOOD52, there's nothing like blueberry-filled pancakes, tarts, muffins, and more. So, if you're like us and you find yourself scarfing down a punnet of ripe blueberries before the morning is even over, be sure to save some for your kitchen, because we've got eight blueberry recipes you'll be craving all summer long.
Crepes with Lemon Curd & Blueberry Compote by Ms. T
Lemony Cream Cheese Pancakes with Blueberries by ENunn
Blueberry Grappa Sauce by amanda
Mom's Blueberry-Coconut Muffins by Rhonda35
Berry Summer Pudding by merrill
Blueberry Tart by SmallKitchCara
Blueberry Ice Cream by merrill
See what other Food52 readers are saying.