To List, or Not to List

Everyone’s all atwitter (forgive the pun) over the service’s new Lists feature.

It is, if you will, a glamorized, organized version of the site’s ubiquitous “Follow Friday” meme, in which users recommend people for other users to follow.

Some seem to regard the Lists function with a combination of fear and contempt: that it will turn into a popularity contest of sorts; that the number of Lists on which one appears will become the new success metric.

However, I’d urge a second thought about spurning the feature, for these reasons:

1) It’s a tremendous educational tool. Think of those you admire who you follow on Twitter: artists, authors, experts, executives, journalists. We’re all lucky that (as fans, students, colleagues, competitors, whatever) we can – with a click – have access to a curated group of people they think enough of to add to a List.

2) Leave aside the potential clique-ish-ness of Lists, and think big. Think about making more connections in your world. For whatever your hobby, cause, or career, wouldn’t it be nice to find a List – or multiple Lists – of people you can follow, with a click, who share that interest? And who, once you follow the List and interact with those on it, may choose to follow you back?

3) Conversely, think about advancing your own hobby, cause or career. Do YOU follow a group of Tweeps because of their  field or area of interest? It’s probably taken you some time to cultivate that list. Share your expertise with the rest of us. It’s a generous thing to do, and it makes you look good in the process.

4) It makes it super-easy to do Follow Friday. Want to recommend everyone you follow who has a food blog? Those tweeps who share your love of horror films? Your collection of food trucks operating in L.A.? Make a List of ‘em, and Follow Friday the list address. No more worrying about forgetting someone, or about not having room for all the names.

One thing I’d like to see added to the feature: a brief (140 character, if need be!) explanation field so that one can, beyond the name, add some context to one’s Lists.

Will Lists cause some social fallout? Inevitably. Maybe someone you follow, whose blog you DON’T admire, will be put out at being excluded from your List. You may have to choose between 100% integrity on your List, and keeping the social peace. But in this way, online social life simply mirrors offline social life. We don’t all get invited to the party. We don’t all get the gig. That’s how it goes.

However:

In the end, everyone should use Twitter the way that works best for themselves. You don’t have to create any Lists, and you don’t have to follow any, either. I just wanted to state some cases for why Lists aren’t necessarily evil.

Hiccup

This is my friend Cliff’s pug, Hiccup. I want to hug him.

First (Crisis) Epiphany Manifesto

The brilliant poster, designed by LeAnne Wagner, for a Bard College program held earlier this year. It examined ‘the manifesto as a context in contemporary art.”

Context Is Everything

The five generally agreed-upon human tastes are bitter, salty, sour, sweet and umami.

I propose a sixth: Context.

Dodger Dogs don’t taste the same at home as they do at Dodger Stadium, even if it’s the same dog, bun and relish. Guinness tastes different at the brewery than it does from the tap at your local. Lox and bagels taste different at your kitchen table than they would have at the deli.

I find the same is true with wine. On more than one occasion, my husband and I have bought for our home cellar a wine that we’d found transcendent when we had it at a restaurant or wine tasting. And yet, when we tried it at home, that same wine – same vintage, same everything – tastes only okay. Definitely not transcendent.

Why is that?

I argue it’s because of where we were, with whom we shared the experience, what we were eating at the time – in short, the context in which the wine (or food) was originally consumed. Was it on vacation? A romantic outing? With friends celebrating a joyous occasion or accomplishment? All of those things can affect the physiology of taste, as well as how we recollect the taste.

I’m not suggesting it’s always true that a wine you find outstanding on first taste won’t be so wonderful the next try, not by any means. But I’m offering context as an explanation of why something – that Dodger Dog, that beer or wine – can be so absolutely perfect when you have it once, and then disappointingly average when you return to it at a different time or place.

It doesn’t mean you should doubt yourself or your taste buds. But it does mean you might want to think carefully before buying an entire case of that wine you loved so much at that dinner party or at the tasting room you visited with your best friends. Make sure it’s the wine you love, and not just the Context in which you tried it.

If it iS the wine you love, buy all means buy it. In addition to being delicious in and of itself, it’ll always bring you back to that wonderful experience in which you first discovered it.

The Best Eggplant Parmesan, Ever

We spent the weekend with our friends Steve and Sims at their lovely ranch in the Upper Ojai Valley. A good portion of Saturday was taken up by the preparation of an amazing eggplant parmesan for dinner that evening. Steve is a master gardener, and Sims a master chef, so we knew we were in for a treat. Herewith, a photo essay:

Eggplant parmesan begins, of course, with eggplants. Steve harvested these on Friday from his garden. (The white or “lavender” eggplants weren’t used in the dish, but they look quite pretty in the bowl, don’t they?)

Steve and Sims make their own tomato sauce, from tomatoes that Steve grows. Steve juices the tomatoes, and Sims adds his magic blend of garlic, herbs and spices. But before it’s sauce, it’s tomatoes; we nibbled on these freshly-harvested beauties yesterday while watching the Cal-USC game.

Update October 5: Steve passed along their tomato sauce recipe: “First, you juice the tomatoes, using a food mill or similar device. Then add garlic, a little olive oil, salt and pepper. We also add some harissa, which is a North African hot chili paste (or you could add red pepper flakes which would be more common in Italy). We can’t tell you how much of each ingredient, because it depends on how much juice you have. Cook over low heat for several hours so that it cooks down and thickens. It usually reduces in volume by at least half.”

Below: Steve slices the eggplants. Behind, awaiting the grand assemblage: mozzarella and homemade tomato sauce.

Sims dredged the eggplant slices first in beaten egg, then in bread crumbs…

… before frying them in canola oil.

Meanwhile, Steve grated parmesan. Libby (the blond lab) and Jefferson (the chocolate lab) waited for any cheese shards that might fly their way. Hope springs eternal.

Sims begins assembling the dish by sandwiching slices of fresh mozzarella between slices of fried eggplant.

Bathed in tomato sauce, the dish awaits only its parmesan topping before going into the oven. Note that it’s not drowned in sauce. The perfectly-thick sauce is gently ladled to just cover each eggplant stack.

Update October 5: Cover the prepared dish with tin foil, and bake in a 350 F / 180 C oven for one hour.

Libby (background), Jefferson and Timothy relax while the dish is baking.

Out of the oven, resting before being plated.

Et bon appetit! The most heavenly eggplant parm we’d ever had!

And for dessert, we enjoyed ripe Warren pears from Steve’s orchard, with a selection of three cheeses (Stilton, Fiscalini and 9-year Parmesan) from the Artisan Cheese Gallery in Studio City.