Green Tomato Chili

My entry in this year's ABF chili cookoff is Green Tomato Chili. It's not Chile Verde, which is based on tomatillos. It's slightly inspired by chile verde, but mostly inspired by the mountain of green tomatoes that I picked before frost killed my tomato plants. In the interests of counter space, I turned most of them into sauce while they were still green.

And what better way to use the sauce than for a chili cookoff?

• 1 quart green tomato paste (the sauce got pretty thick)
  
• 1 onion, chopped
• 1 lb pork
• Several diced green tomatoes
• Several stalks celery, chopped
  
• 1/2 cup lentils, washed and rinsed
• 1 can (8 oz) Great Northern beans
• 1 4 oz can green chiles
• 1 mild green-colored chile pepper, unlabeled at the grocery store
• Sliced pickled jalapeno peppers to taste
• 1-2 tbsp dark chocolate
• Cumin, Paprika, Oregano, Chili Powder to taste
• Water as needed (to dilute tomato paste into sauce and for lentils) (about 4c)

This was entirely experimental, and most of my ingredients were selected on the basis of color (preferably green, followed by brown and white, followed by pretty much everything else).

Two years ago, Steve and I collaborated on a chili entry, aiming exclusively to win the "Most Unusual" category. I'm aiming at that category this year, but I'm also not actively trying to avoid winning the "Best Overall" category, for a change.

Better Sound, through Sight

Of all the things that differentiate sound guys (1), one of the biggest factors in a successful live performance (2) is awareness. A brilliant technician with great ears, but without constant awareness of what is happening on stage, will eventually mess something up.

As a sound guy, a big goal is to be unnoticed during the show. The sound guy isn't on stage. You might be scrambling behind the mixer, overcoming all kinds of unexpected obstacles, putting on a truly virtuoso performance. The highest praise you could ask for is that the audience would never realize there was a single problem. If someone says, "easy show, eh?" you've done very well.

The best-rehearsed "performances" I run sound for are weddings. Worship services, concerts, meetings, and seminars tend to have last-minute changes. Last-minute, in this context, really means something more like "okay, next thing on the schedule is the solo vocalist--wait a second, the band isn't supposed to be starting up!" People forget program orders, or just forget to tell the tech crew when they change things. Sometimes, the tech crew doesn't even get a program.

In situations like that, the best tool a sound guy has is his eyes. If the sound guy keeps his eyes on the stage--stays aware of what the folks up front are doing--surprises and scrambles won't turn into anything the audience notices.

Awareness of what's being said up front helps, too. Instead of just listening to the mix an adjusting levels, listen to the words. Regardless of what the schedule says, the MC is usually right. Following the MC's lead can give a sound guy a very valuable few extra seconds.

The job of a sound guy is to make sure the audience can hear "the show", and keep the show from being interrupted by sound problems. Your eyes are a big part of avoiding awkward moments.

"Thanks, everyone, for being here..." [Puzzled look at microphone] "Thanks, everyone..."
[Sound guy notices; unmutes channel, and slowly begins to fade up as the speaker continues.]
"...here, and enjoy the show!"
[Audience starts wondering if they'll be able to hear anything.]

(1) Sound guys, audio guys, sound engineers--whatever you call them. The term does not exclude female sound-people, but really, doesn't "sound-people" make you think of Star Wars?

(2) Well-rehearsed shows are probably not as affected. If your digital mixer can run your two-hundred-ninety-first performance of Oklahoma without your involvement, feel free to take a nap.

Voice of the Voiceless

I meant to get this posted about two weeks ago. Oops.

Back when I was self-medicating for a sore throat, I did something pretty stupid. I overused my voice. Not just talked a bit too much. There was a pretty good worship set at Watershed, and hoarse-voiced me sang along. Then the next day my voice was nearly gone. I couldn't talk above a whisper. And as I recall, that was a pretty social weekend. There was a housewarming party for some good friends, and a meeting at church. The housewarming party was probably the nail in the coffin. Who What Where is a great game, but the little bit of talking it requires put my voice over its limit, and it took a week off.

For nearly a week, I couldn't talk. In a dire emergency, I could have whispered or maybe squeaked out a few words. Work wasn't too bad--I already had an assignment to work on, and the questions I did have I could IM or email. There was some good-natured teasing, but that was fine with me. I was supposed to teach in my ABF at church, but that obviously couldn't happen. My excuse was that I was too dumb to teach. Heh, heh. (And thanks to my last-minute substitute who did a great job of filling in!)

The difficult part of being voiceless was at home. I could nod and mime. For anything complicated, I had to write or type. Ubuntu comes with a text-to-speech program called espeak, which helped a bit. But typing is still slower, and it was made more frustrating by being treated differently. My dear wife felt the need to respond to my typing (or text-to-speeching) by taking my laptop and responding in kind. She felt like she was yelling when she was infinitely louder than I could be.

It was nearly a week before my voice came back to the point where it was usable. It didn't take long for me to start taking talking for granted again. But I do think I learned something about isolation, compassion, and treating people the way they want to be treated.

And I learned that even though I don't talk much, I really don't like being deprived of the option.