Yesterday, out of morbid curiosity, I typed www.saveourstarbucks.com into my browser. Lo and behold, there was already a website protesting the 600 closed Starbucks. There are lots of complaints like this one:

We must stop this insanity. People are losing their jobs. Starbucks has been a responsible addition to the communities they serve, their employees and customers. Loss of community is NOT the American way. Time to rally and save our Starbucks. No more java jive!

And people are getting involved in more specific ways, too. The above photo is from a website devoted to saving the lower Greenville Ave Starbucks (store 6262, Dallas, TX). It's good to see that people are out there fighting for what's right. They've embarked on a letter-writing campaign, an online petition, and a protest. It's unknown if any of the protesters know what a "Darfur" is.

In more understandable angry consumer news, this website is devoted to convincing frozen-yogurt chain Pinkberry that these juicers:

are racist and shouldn't be sold in their stores.

The Tokyo ramen is just all right: good noodles; salty, unrich chicken-pork broth that is not unlike the broth of "Oriental" Top Ramen; braised pork that varies from delicious to dry from bowl to bowl. (It remains true: Samurai kicks Boom's ass in the department of ramen.) But what if the Tokyo ramen cost $6.95 instead of $10? It does, at happy hour: much more gratifying. Happy hour's in the absurdly sleek lounge every day 4–6 p.m. and 10 p.m. to close Friday and Saturday, with specials on small plates (like the creamy, elegant chilled sesame tofu) and drinks, too.

Also, on Friday night during happy hour, there is ping pong.

If every hour were happy hour at Boom Noodle, everyone would be happier to eat and drink there (and they'd still be making money hand over fist due to high volume and, you know, the economy). Boom!

Photo by Kurt Schlosser via the Stranger Flickrpool

First came the query from Heather:

Hello. I've been looking for a crab shack in Seattle because, suddenly, eating at a crab shack sounded like an incredibly good idea. But I don't think they exist here. I mean, I'm from Portland and I've never seen a crab shack. Do crab shacks exist in Seattle? And, if so, who's got the best? Thank you and word to your mother.

Then came the query from Tye:

Hey, not to sure if you can help me but I'm looking for a women that I met on Alaska Airlines Flight 98 on July 9. Her name is Kirsten. I didn't get her last name. All I know is that her eyes and her smile knocked me over!! I know she is in the medical field and trains doctors on new medical equipment. She also mentioned she lives in right in the Seattle area. I'm kicking myself for not getting her number!! Would an ad in your paper be a good option?

Dear Heather: Crab is on the menu at a million and one local seafood restaurants, but the closest thing we've got to a good old-fashioned crab shack seems to be West Seattle's Alki Crab. (Those who have more info should share it in the comments.)

Dear Tye: Lucky for you, The Stranger is the publication of choice for medical professionals and those who pretend be them on airplanes. As for your question—"Would an ad in your paper be a good option?"—yes, an ad in The Stranger might help you find Kirsten, or at least help you find a friendly escort to help you forget her. Good luck.

(A few times a week, I take a new book with me to lunch and give it a half an hour or so to grab my attention. Lunch Date is my judgment on that speed-dating experience.)

Who's your date today? The Lemur, by Benjamin Black, who is the pen name for John Banville.

Where'd you go? Ali Baba.

What'd you eat? Falafel gyro, fries, and a soda ($7.10).

How was the food? I'm a little disappointed, honestly. The fries were great, they were cooked just right and spiced perfectly, too. And I ate at Ali Baba a long time ago and was blown away by the falafel. But the Gyro was covered in this beige, pasty, mayonnaisey glop. It wasn't the usual tzatziki; it was closer to McDonald's special sauce. The reviews on our page for Ali Baba are roundly thrilled by the place, and my memory of it is much better than my experience this time. I'll try it again sometime, but it's down to last-chance status.

What does your date say about itself? Banville, who has been much more successful writing crime novels as Benjamin Black than he has writing literary fiction as John Banville, wrote The Lemur as a serial thriller in the New York Times' Sunday Funny Pages. It's about a researcher who's dug up some nasty truths about a biographer's subject. The researcher turns up dead, and the biographer has to figure out what's going on.

Is there a representative quote? "They walked east along Forty-fourth Street and Glass at last got to smoke a cigarette. The fine rain drifted down absent-mindedly, like ectoplasm. The trouble with smoking was that the desire to smoke was so much greater than the satisfaction afforded by actually smoking. Sometimes when he had a cigarette going he would forget and reach for the pack and start to light another. Maybe that was the thing to do, smoke six at a time, three in the gaps between the fingers of each hand, achieve a Gatling-gun effect."

Will you two end up in bed together? Yes. I hadn't realized until I started writing this Lunch Date that the novel was written serially, and that definitely changes the way that I'll read it—serially-written books, like Dickens, do better if you read a chapter and set the book aside for a while—but it seems like a taut little noir novel and it's well-written. It should take a couple hours, all told, and it seems enjoyably dark.

This is the portion of the list related to Seattle Starbucks closures:

I'm kind of surprised that that one on 15th survived as long as it did.

(Via Starbucks Gossip.)

UPDATE: I forgot one:

I just ordered my usual summertime pick-me-up: a triple shot of espresso dumped over ice. And the guy at the counter looked me in the eye with a straight face and said “I’m sorry, we can’t serve iced espresso here. It’s against our policy.”

The whole world turned brown and chunky for a second. Flecks of corn floated past my pupils, and it took me a second to blink it all away.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll have a triple espresso and a cup of ice, please.”

He rolled his eyes and rang it up, took my money, gave me change. I stood there and waited. Then the barista called me over to the bar. I reached for it, and he leaned over and locked his eyes with mine, saying “Hey man. What you’re about to do … that’s really, really Not Okay...This is our store policy, to preserve the integrity of the coffee. It’s about the quality of the drink, and diluting the espresso is really not cool with us. So I mean, you’re going to do what you’re going to do, and I can’t stop you, but”

I interrupted. “You’re goddamned right you can’t stop me,” I said. “I happen to have a personal policy that prohibits me from indulging stupid bullshit like this — and another personal policy of doing what I want with the products I pay for.” Then I looked him right in his big wide eyes and poured the espresso onto the ice.

And it goes on from there and it concludes, as all coffee shop visits should, with a tip:

And so it ended. Until it didn't. The original post bounced around the Internet enough that the coffee shop owner responded on his blog:

To Mr. Simmermon, you overplayed your hand with your vulgar tip-schtick. While I certainly won't bemoan you your right to free-speech, I have to respond to you in your own dialect: F*@k you, Jeff Simmermon. Considering your public threat of arson, you'll understand when I say that if you ever show your face at my shop, I'll punch you in your dick.

And now it's on BoingBoing and on the Washington Post and everywhere. I can't look away, but I also dread future online customer complaints that will no doubt go to Defcon 5 as this one did. Soon we'll need a blog just to track customer/retail employee relations. Oh, wait.

PETA didn't show. But about 250 other people did, including Bethany Jean Clement, who wrote about Burning Beast in this week's paper:

These were people profoundly comfortable with their relationship with meat. These were people who joke about vegans, people who wear T-shirts reading "MEAT IS MURDER/tasty, tasty murder," people who respond to a whole pig slowly spinning on a spit (its skin bulging and browning and glistening, its ears wrapped in protective tinfoil) by wondering who's going to get the tongue.

Everyone milled, ate, drank, and reveled in glamorized savagery, with a set of attendees ostentatiously carrying around bottles of BYOB Veuve Clicquot lending a decadent, end-of-days frisson. People swam in the cold Stillaguamish River and/or camped under the rural multiplicity of stars (but probably not the Veuve Clicquot party). There was a bonfire. Charlie Hertz of Zoe's Meats brought a great deal of the world's best bacon for those smart enough to stay for the next day's breakfast; he said his friends routinely let themselves into his house and just start making bacon, and then refused to say where he lived.

And Kelly O, who just finished editing this very special, very carnivorous video of Tamara Murphy (of Brasa), Matt Dillion (of Sitka and Spruce and the Corson Building), Tyson Danielson (of Le Pichet), and the rest of the gang, sitting in the sun and drinking beer at what was, undoubtedly, this summer's best barbecue:

But for various reasons I tried Bethany's recipe from the Silver Palate Cookbook first. One of my primary reasons had to do with the fact that it looked the cheesiest and involved a roux, which is something that I like in my macaroni and cheese. The other important reason is that I was making it for a going-away party, and the bread initials on Bethany's recipe seemed like a cheap and easy way to pay tribute. She's right when she says that "The bread-monogram may seem overly Martha, but people will fucking love it, including you:" it was easy and was a big hit at the dinner.

And it was, as they say, motherfucking delicious. It didn't take a whole lot of work—anything that takes less than twenty minutes to prepare isn't a labor-intensive meal, in my book—and it was quite possibly the cheesiest mac and cheese I've ever had, without just being a bunch of cheese dumped on macaroni, if you catch my drift. (I didn't take a picture because I've never been able to make food look photo-worthy.)

The only thing I'd change, if I had it all to do over again, would be to add just a touch of dill or something like that to make it a little more complex. But I will definitely make this recipe again, and you should give it a shot, too. Cheers to you, Ms. Clement, on your excellent recipe. Thanks.

How much for the fancy salad, semi-elegant strawberry schortcake, big roll 'o bread, and high-powered speechifying? $200 a person.

Top a bed of fresh baby spinach leaves with sliced strawberries, toasted walnut halves, crumbled feta, chopped cucumber, and thin slices of red onion. Toss with a raspberry-mint vinaigrette.

I am not going to put this after a jump because macaroni is important.

Monogrammed Macaroni and Cheese

1 pound large elbow macaroni (penne if you're feeling fancy)
5 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 1/2 cups organic whole milk
~5 ounces cheddar, sliced: sharp is good, I like Irish cheddar*
~4 ounces Gruyère, sliced
~2 ounces Parmesan, sliced
pinch ground nutmeg
dash of Tabasco or Tapatio
salt and freshly ground black pepper
~4 ounces mozzarella, cut into 1/4-inch cubes
~2 ounces Parmesan, grated
paprika
bread crumbs, preferably homemade, but whatever
a couple slices of better-quality pre-sliced white bread

*You can use pretty much any cheeses, just the same overall amount. Organic is better; organic Monterey Jack sounds boring but is delicious (and could be used in place of the mozzarella). Reggiano parm is nice, but really, this is just mac and cheese, people.

Preheat oven to 350˚. Lightly butter a rectangular baking dish (you might have enough for a little round casserole dish, too).

Cook the pasta until just al dente. Drain and rinse with cold water.

Get yourself a beverage. The roux/whisking-in-cheese takes a while and can get hot.

Melt the butter in a large/deep skillet or saucepan over medium heat. Whisk in flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute.

Slowly whisk in milk, then cook for 1 to 2 minutes, or until lightly thickened to the consistency of cream. (Look, you made a roux!)

Drop in the slices of cheddar, Gruyère, and sliced Parm one or two at a time, whisking constantly, letting them mostly melt before adding more. Season with nutmeg, dash of hot sauce, and salt and pepper. Remove from heat.

In a large bowl, combine cheese sauce and ziti. Stir in the mozzarella. Transfer to the prepared baking dish. Sprinkle with grated Parm, paprika to your liking, bread crumbs ditto.

Cut pertinent initials or symbols out of slices of white bread with a sharp knife. Position artfully on top of macaroni, then brush liberally with melted butter.

Bake until bubbling and top is browned, 25 to 35 minutes.

Makes 8-ish servings. Hi!

(A few times a week, I take a new book with me to lunch and give it a half an hour or so to grab my attention. Lunch Date is my judgment on that speed-dating experience.)

Who's your date today? Muhajababes by Allegra Stratton.

Where'd you go? In the Bowl

What'd you eat? Fake-beef yakisoba ($7.95).

How was the food? It was really good. It's super-spicy—they must've gotten quite a few complaints, because there are warnings posted everywhere about how spicy the food is—but it was a tasty, hot bowl of noodles. And I love the fake beef, which I believe is made from compressed mushroom stalks. I liked it better than Boom Noodle's yakisoba.

What does your date say about itself? "Meet the new Middle East—young, sexy and devout." The Times Literary Supplement says it "will disabuse you of your preconceptions of the Middle East forever."

Is there a representative quote? Talking about Superstar, the Middle Eastern American Idol: "She explained that Musa liked to think, though he'd never say it, that Superstar is better than Jazeera. While al-Jazeera does get between 40 million and 50 million regular viewers, 15 million voted on the outcome of Superstar, 'more Arabs than have ever cast ballots in a free election.'"

Will you two end up in bed together? Yes. The book feels a little slight so far, as though it would maybe be better off as a series of magazine articles, but writing about the youth in the Middle East is important, and something I haven't read much about. A giant baby boom happened in the Middle East 20 or 30 years ago, and all those people are ultimately going to have a lot to do with what the world will look like. The writing is all right, and the title is really atrocious, but I think that I'll stick with it.

"It's...ah, not good publicity", I was told by the nice fella on the phone.

Now the fools are sad, sad, sad.

"I thought this was America, people!"
- Jay-Z

Reads the bottom of the ad: “At Burger King we’re extremely serious about controlling the quality of our ingredients. That’s why we examine everything. Thoroughly.”

Even an onion’s butt. May we forever associate Burger King onions with anal cavity searches.

From Ads of the World, via Idea Sandbox. Tip from Kim.