Our  Excellent Pączki Adventure 2019

[STATUS UPDATE: "Pączkied Out"*]

*Pączkied Out: As in, "We have had a sufficiency, any more would be a super abundance."

Thursday, February 28, 2019 — all day — is Pączki Day in the Catholic Polish Canon.

Pączki Day, if you look at your calendar, is always marked on the Thursday before the beginning of Lent on Ash Wednesday, which starts next week on March 6.

It's funny to reminisce to my grade school days at the Immaculate Conception School in the now disappeared section of Detroit called Poletown. I looked forward to Pączki Day every year. Just never had it put together that it was a feasting treat prior to Lent. Only figured that one out later in my adult years. Much later. My Lady suggested that my Catholic education may have had some shortcomings. Ouch! 

Well, by now you may be asking just what are Pączki. That's a plural word. The singular is Pączek. Pronounced respectively "Poonchkey", and "Pooncheck".

In the name of Jesus The Most Holy and Precious Redeemer of All Humanity Past, Present, and Future, you say ... what is it!!!

Pączki are jelly filled Donuts. But, don't call them jelly Donuts. Pączki are, well, Pączki. It really doesn't translate. It's a thing apart.

They are available year round at any self respecting Polish Bakery. But, on Fat Thursday it's, well, a thing unto itself. Just like on Fat Tuesday before Lent, the idea is to feast, feast, feast before the Lenten abstinence.  

Pączki are made of all the good things. Fine flour, eggs, delectable jellies, sweet frostings.

When I was in high school I had a job at my Polish Uncle Phil's Nortown Bakery in Detroit. I would faithfully show up after school on Fridays, and work round the clock until around 6 in the morning. The last task was to assist with the frying of the Pączki. 

Once the baker to impress the green teenager that I was spit into the large oil vat to test for temperature. Then, after the hot, hot oil destroyed all his cooties, he would lower in a wire rack loaded with three or so dozen proofed circles of dough. Flip each one with a long wood stick to fry both sides; then lift out and set aside to cool. For the big Saturday selling day we regularly made something like maybe twelve dozen in total. Two trays each filled with Raspberry jelly and Prune [Powidla] Butter, and a tray of Bavarian Cream.

After the donuts were fried my job was to transform them into Pączki. That meant sticking each one onto the injector tip of a dispenser and giving a generous squirt of filling. We added the jelly after frying. Others, as you will see if you read on, are made with the jelly fried-in. I liked lots of filling, so I was very generous with that. Next a plop into a large bowl of hot, hot icing. Ouch, ouch on the fingertips. Then on to a rack for the day's selling.

Just today I remembered, as much as I adored Pączki, it never occurred to me to take some home with me at the end of my work period. Probably because my senses were so filled with the aromas of baking I couldn't even imagine actually eating any baked goods.

So ... today ...

We set off mid-morning to get some Pączki. At the mecca of such things, Polonia Bakery in Passaic, New Jersey. It's heavily Hispanic there, with Polish mixed in for a true melting pot melange. I went in to buy a half dozen Pączki and a loaf of their most excellent sour dough Rye Bread. The customer space measures something like 12 X 12 feet. In the line ahead of me were no less than 24 people, and the line had to spiral inwards to fit everyone in.

While on line I shared with my fellow shoppers that Olde Polish saying, "You would have to be Polish to wait on line for a jelly Donut." 

While waiting there I noticed what seemed like 36 flat pastry boxes each holding two dozen Pączki. On each box was marked, "LOT". First thought: yes, that is a lot! Second thought, maybe for the Polish LOT Airline. 

Eventually someone came in to take those boxes away. I asked the gentleman helping with those boxes about where they were going. "New York City." Later I asked him where in NYC; "Lot Airlines." Not too shabby a guess on my part, I guess.

As you can see from the photo at the head of this piece, the Polonia Bakery Pączki are those on the right. Smallish, always filled with Prune Butter fried-in; and topped with a white, Orange zest flecked glaze. Most delectable and delicious in the whole wide world.

There's another type of Pączki. Much larger than from Polonia Bakery. 

We decided to go to another bakery a few clicks away. Pieklo Bakery in Garfield, New Jersey. This time Michele went in to buy a few of their Pączki. Waiting in line a long time might be a traditional part of the Pączki Day experience. After a 45 minute wait Michele came out smiling with a box of three, Blueberry filled. 

The store staff spoke only Polish. Michele got someone to translate. "Who wants Blueberry?" Michele called me from inside the shop and I said to go for the red [Raspberry] filled. It turns out that with some more translation Michele learned that the Raspberry and Rose jelly Pączki would take another 20 minutes. They were a bit behind the eight ball at Pielko. The line was already about 24 deep when Michele went there. So, we settled for Blueberry.

It's the first time in my life that I ate a Pączek warm, almost hot, from the fryer. Delicious. When it comes to Pączki, the motto should always be "best when fresh". By late afternoon they turn to dry, spongy rocks. Not good.

While I was waiting for my Pączki to arrive in a prime spot right at the entrance to the bakery, I had a Babcha sighting. 

Babcha is the affectionate name for a Polish Grandmother. This one was de rigueur short and fat. Walking with a natural stick cane, and wearing a Babushka. I have not seen a woman wearing a Babushka in I don't know how long. It's a large scarf — her's with a floral print — draped over the head and tied under the chin. In my Polish neighborhood youth it was so common a thing to see, you didn't even notice. 

Thank you, Babcha.

Here's a Babcha we would all recognize wearing her Babushka. Hermes, probably. Not too shabby.

CLICK to read a priorly written companion piece on the Pączki ...

Tempest Storm!

Some SNL Knockouts ...

M.U.E.C.

A Possible Future

This is a consideration on what if we just take the present situation and make a straight line prediction extending out into a not too distant future.

Stay with me ...

In the current zeitgeist the keyword is #WINNING. Charlie Sheen went off the rails not long ago; and he distinguished himself by asserting that he was, well, "Winning".

The leader of the free world is all about that too. And, the debate among the pundits is all about if he is off the rails too.

If we abstract that concept to another level we see that "winning" is a product of the corporate-consumer culture. Who was it who said that "the business of America, is ... business"? Calvin Coolidge. Actually, that's a misquote. But, not that far off. Here's what he said verbatim: “After all, the chief business of the American people is business. They are profoundly concerned with producing, buying, selling, investing and prospering in the world. I am strongly of the opinion that the great majority of people will always find these the moving impulses of our life.”

So now we have a leadership who sees steering the Ship of State as primarily a business affair. And, by definition, best led by a businessman. [Alright, that's an outmoded gender-based usage, but it's nice once in a while to wax nostalgic for the pre-PC days.] And, as they will, the pundits are all up arguing on whether in fact the businessman in chief is really as successful as he claims.

I'm just now thinking that when you elect a builder his natural inclination is to build something. Like in, that Wall. Or, if you have a headache and you go to a neurosurgeion; he'll want to tap into that keppe of your's. It's what they do. 

But, perception is reality. No one ever got elected to the highest chair in the land expressing doubt, concern, and uncertainty. Which, I'd bet, is really what is going on under all the bravado and bluster; all alone sitting on the commode.

So, you may be wondering, what about that M.U.E.C.?

Monetized Unit of Economic Commodification 

I a world ruled by the values of the marketplace, that's what we are. Monitized units of economic commodification. Things. Things that produce. Things that consume. 

Things that have value based on their productivity. Never mind that there's no spiritual value in any of that. Just the value one has toward economic gain. 

I can see a possible future where the logic of it will be inescapable. When you or I no long contribute according to some generally accepted standard, and we represent a net loss on the societal books, doesn't it make sense to, ahem, cut the losses?

Maybe such a scenario might to us seem taboo. Well, what was taboo a few decades ago is now rather commonplace. Isn't it. Why not if Granny or Gramps is too feeble to carry on? In some Brave New World it would only be logical to write them off. Literally. 

There is a movie, Soilent Green. I speaks to just such a situation. If you don't know the flick, check it out. It may be a view into a possible future.

The funny man Stephen Colbert lives in my town. We sometimes rub shoulders shopping. I'm dying to ask him about when he had a guest on his show who was marketing a food product called "Soilent". Now, Colbert is a media savvy guy, if there ever was one. I wanna ask him how come he interviewed that enthusiastic fellow without any trace of irony or sarcasm. 

Spoiler Alert: Soilent Green ... is People!

"Scooterhooteroonies"

From when I was an Ad Biggie. Back then we didn't refer to ourselves as "Mad Men", but we did work on "Mad Ave".

In my short career in advertising I worked at some of the most famous, large agencies headquartered in New York City: J. Walter Thompson; Ted Bates; Doyle, Dane, and Bernbach. All of them, full service.

I make the point that these were full service agencies. Not boutiques who just cooked up clever ads. Oh, we did that too. Just look up the history of DDB, and read about its storied creativity.

Full service meant that we were partnered with our clients and participated in every aspect of their business. In bed, as they say. Advertisements and the communications strategies upon which they were based had to be grounded in the realities of the situation our marketing clients were dealing with. The product/service itself, the marketplace, sales force capabilities, R&D, corporate goals, competition, potential customers, consumer needs/wants/perceptions. Factors like that.

As full service agents, besides cooking up ads and planning where to place them, we often got involved in the, ahem, ancillary tasks. 

For example, package copy. One of the most stressful aspects of being an Ad Biggie for me was to have to give a package copy assignment to a copywriter. In the Creative Department package copy is just a notch above writing on the toilet stall wall. They hate it. Like pulling teeth. My job was to get it done; and, I did. Sometimes writing it myself. 

Another task, especially in a new product project, is giving that thing a name. There would always be, of course, a strategy. It sets forth what the product is and what it is for; the competition, if any; its place in the market; its special selling point(s).

One such product I'm remembering is when my client the ITT Continental Baking Company — Wonder Bread, Hostess Cakes — was looking into adding a Pita Bread to its line.

The issue then was that a lot of consumers didn't know from Pita. We were in the mid-1970s you should know. So, what to call it. 

Do we name it something that reflects its cultural origin? Pita Bread. Mid-East Bread. Fine, if you had a marketplace aware of such a product — as it is now. 

Do you name it after its functionality. "Sandwich Pockets" is a likely candidate. If you expect that people will mostly make sandwiches with it. Also, quite likely. Culturally, Pita is served with meals, portions torn off and used to scoop up morsels of food. Not in the average American household. Functionality is probably the way to go. In fact there are some "Sandwich Pocket" products out there now. Yet, keep in mind that nowadays most consumers have some acquaintance with the term "Pita Bread".

There's a third range of options for naming that Pita Bread. Something totally made up. 

That's where I came in to justify earning the big bucks. The Creative Department loathed an assignment to name a product. That task just didn't have the juice that's in the copy for a high circulation magazine ad or in a national TV spot.

In addition to a limp list of names from an uninspired copywriter, I often put pen to paper to add my own. 

I recall that the project was getting long in the tooth. I don't think ITT Continental Baking ever got around to marketing a Pita Bread. But, when it was a possibility, the naming process became a long slog. Nothing seemed to do the trick.

In a peak of frustration, I came up with the ultimate name. From right out of the blue. Right out of my arse, some said. "Scooterhooteroonies." That's right... Scooterhooteroonies. Brand new, never been heard of before. [Or, since.]

Come to think of it though, that's a good name. Maybe not for Pita Bread. But, for something. Maybe a Candy Bar. 

What do you think?

You Can't Bank on Ersatz Coinage

Just like a while ago I read something about how "the taste is falling" in terms of the deliciousness and quality of our food supply. Now, and for some time, we've been slowly draining our language of some of the important inherent meanings of words. And, maybe missing out on what's real. As in, REAL.

The other day I commented on how candidate Kamala Harris in her advocacy to legalize the Marijuana suggested that the sticky icky brings "joy". "Joy!" Since the dawn of enlightened history the "Joy" is truly understood as our innate birthright. Now, it's just a toke away. 

Then, it became a perfume. A splash away.

"Oh, Joy! I got a raise!"

"Love" ... same attenuation to commercial interests. Remember McDonald's "Lovin it"? Let's not get into all that romantic sentiment passed off for love. It permeates society. 

Pepsi? Have a sip ... "come alive!"

Alas. If you're satisfied with the kind of joy you get from smoking a joint, or the feeling of love from a hamburger, then what I have to say is not for you. Drink all's you want. Just know what's in the Kool Aid, sucker. Seems those who command the commercial and political stages regard us hoi poloi's as hicks. Conditioned to buy whatever is served up.

If, however, you have it that there's more to it, then ...

Let's talk about that topic right at the forefront of the zeitgeist: How do you identify? You got one?

Identification, that is.

When I came into the world you were either a boy, or a girl. In the last half century we've become so much more woke to things that what worked in civilizations for millenia have now become somewhat, ahem, fluid. God bless those noisy minorities and their cry for equal status. Mostly a good thing. Now, arguably, maybe going a little overboard.

It's in no small part a product of post-modern relativism. As in ... "whatever". There's now room for everybody's truth. "Loosey Goosey", as a friend used to admonish me when I was too rigidly traditional and doctrinaire. 

There is such a thing as TRUTH. It's easily recognizable, because it is true. Doesn't need explaining or representation. It stands on its own. In duality, however, truth is a relative thing. Depends on your point of view. Even so-called facts morph with new understandings and circumstances.

Regardless of your plumbing, now you can select a gender. Even change the plumbing. To each his own.

BTW, Bruce Jenner was a good looking man. Now, he's a woman. Some woman! Not my cup of tea. At least in terms of his makeup and wardrobe he's what we usually identify as ... woman. I suspect he's keeping what God gave him, though.

Recently we read that funny lady Amy Schumer [is it PC to use the word "lady"?] doesn't care what her baby's "gender is". That's nice. All fine with that. Let's wait for the blessed event.

She went on ... and, "... any way the baby identifies is cool with us."

Why her saying that is news in the first place is something I could write about in a piece entitled, "I can't wait to hear what [place the name of any celebrity looking for attention here] has to say!"

So now we are all sucked into the vortex of having to choose what sexual identity to display to the world. [Me, mark me down for aspirationally gender surrendered.] And, falling all over ourselves to show how woke and accepting we all are over every one of the now seemingly myriad of choices. Trans-gender. What's next? Trans-species? But, I'm alright with that too. Who in their right mind wouldn't be? Love me, love me, love me ... I'm a Liberal.

There's a difference of magnitude between being "woke" and "awake". Woke is to be aware of something or other. Like, you don't eat the Banana peel. Or, lighting a match in the loo after a poo is the thing to do. 

Awake, well that's to be hip to the illusory nature of perceived reality itself. Including, by the way, the perceiver too. [I have to add that last bit to keep it square with the Advaita Vedantists.]

So, what's your point, you ask?

The point is that identification itself is a thing to notice. The enlightened one's teach us that identification as an individual body-mind, is the first false step. Sort of like Original Sin, if you will. Then, the idea "I am the body" gets embellished with all sorts of inferences. Before long you got what passes for a human being. A person. With a personality.

Johnny's parents tell him he's a little boy. And, obedience child that he is, he accepts that. Well now, maybe Johnny's parents nowadays don't tell him and he has to figure it out for himself. Whatever. There was a recent bit about parents who are considering gender reassignment surgery for their five year old to match up with his gender preference. WTF?

So my point is this. While we're all in a tizzy over what our gender identities are and/or should be, we are being — once again? — sold short on the truth of it. That our identification with the psychosomatic apparatus is false in the first instance. 

On that point I'm not a teacher. A student. Encouraging you to become a student too. 

If the truly awakened ones assert that the body-mind ego entity is false, doesn't it behoove us to pay some attention and look into it?

Or ... you can go with Kamala Harris and all the others short selling us on our true innate God-given being.

I recommend this for reading if you want to look into it further: I AM THAT...

I read the news today. Oh, boy!

Last week I watched a good bit of the House Judiciary Oversight Committee raking of Acting Attorney General Matt Whitaker.

Seems the pivotal point was that "he called the Mueller probe a 'witch hunt'". A "Lynch Mob". To a person, pretty much every Democrat pressed him on that point. Also, with a degree of apparent disdain one would give to the lowest of low life's.

In searching for the place in the testimony where Mr. Whitaker stated the fact of the matter, mostly I saw items where he was characterized as having calling it a witch hunt.

I went to c-span for a transcript and found this:

"I RECALL THAT I SAID -- THAT I RETWEETED AN ARTICLE THAT WAS TITLED THAT. I DID NOT NECESSARILY AGREE WITH THAT POSITION, BUT MY POINT WAS THAT IT WAS AN INTERESTING READ FOR THOSE THAT WANT TO UNDERSTAND THE SITUATION."

Unless I'm missing something, that seems to be the fact of the matter.

So now ... let's consider something:

Beware any time you retweet or share a post in social media. Whatever you share, for whatever reason, you and I can now be accused of espousing and even asserting whatever the hell it may be in that third party item.