Lex

Many Injured in Explosions at Boston Marathon

By KEN BELSON and MARY PILON

A series of explosions were reported near the finish line at the Boston Marathon on Monday, according to several media outlets. One report quoted “some sort of incident” on Boylston Street, near the finish line.

Competitors and race organizers were crying as they fled the chaos, The Associated Press reported. Bloody spectators were being carried to the medical tent that had been set up to care for fatigued runners.

“There are a lot of people down,” said one man, according to The A.P., whose bib No. 17528 identified him as Frank Deruyter of North Carolina. He was not injured, but marathon workers were carrying one woman, who did not appear to be a runner, to the medical area as blood gushed from her leg. A Boston police officer was wheeled from the course with a leg injury that was bleeding, The A.P. said.

The Boston Police Department confirmed that they were looking into an explosion, but had no further comment.

Local television also showed ambulances at the scene.

The headquarters for the organizers of the marathon, one of the world’s oldest, was reportedly locked down while authorities investigate.

At the Brooklyn Botanic Garden the magnolias are getting set to blossom.  The effect is dramatic, in its own way as striking as when the cherry trees open.  And as a special bonus the crowds are really manageable.  Last Saturday was the lead up - the real fireworks will take place next weekend.
 
In the meantime here's a sampling.  Besides the magnolias the tulips are coming up in sections (the garden arranges plots so that new sections blossom every week) and the daffodils are hitting their stride.
 

 

 

 

 

You finish your meal, then ask for the check.  After awhile the server comes back and hands you the bill.  He goes away.  You look at it, confirm it's correct, and then take out your credit card.  With any luck a few minutes later the server takes card and bill away and five minutes later returns with the credit card slip.  You add the tip, sign and go.

If you travel outside the US you realize what a huge and unnecessary PITA that is.  In the most recent issue of the Daily Beast they write about this -

 
Check, Please!

America’s restaurant technology is worse than Polynesia’s.
by Michael Tomasky  |
March 25, 2013 4:45 AM EDT

 

It happened again not long ago. We went out to dinner and had a perfectly pleasant meal. We were sated. Ready to go. Then we sat. And I wondered what I always wonder: Who among my fellow Americans enjoys this ritual? You ask for the check. The waiter walks away. He brings it. He walks away again. You put your card in the little sleeve. You wait. The waiter picks it up. He walks away again. Eventually, after reciting the specials at one table and opening a bottle of wine at another, he returns. And finally, 20 minutes after you were ready to leave, the restaurant is ready for you to leave.

America's restaurant technology is worse than Polynesia's. (Alessia Pierdomenico/Reuters)

Within those 20 minutes is contained not just the customer’s inconvenience, but a national crisis and disgrace. America suffers from a terrifying restaurant technology gap. Throughout much of the world, this tedious ritual has been dispensed with. At tables from London to Istanbul, from Casablanca to French Polynesia, when the diner is ready to leave, the waiter reaches for her or his handheld device, runs the credit card, hands over the receipt, and that’s it. Gone in 60 seconds.

 

I thought Americans were the people in such a hurry all the time. Aren’t the French that languorous race of idlers who sit in St-Germain cafés all day, knocking back kirs and smoking Gitanes? No, they are not! Because a few years ago, when I needed to scram from a brasserie near the Comédie-Française to catch my plane, I was out of there faster than you could say Jerry Lewis. French restaurants are a model of efficiency compared with American ones.

 

So what gives? It’s hard to get a satisfying answer. I tried the National Restaurant Association. They were very nice, but confusing. Something about American and European credit cards being different, American ones being more susceptible to fraud. But as I pressed the matter, it became clearer and clearer (to me, anyway) that this wasn’t really the issue. Fraudulent credit-card use is no likelier to be caught at a restaurant terminal than tableside.

 

No, it just seems that restaurants don’t want to invest in the new technology (around $500 a pop for these devices, plus whatever start-up tech costs), and that they don’t want to because Americans aren’t clamoring for it. Most Americans, an ill-traveled bunch in general, probably don’t even know the technology exists. The restaurant association has, as you might guess, done some polling, and found that 52 percent of us would utilize “electronic payment system at the table.”

 

That’s encouraging. But I do wonder, who are these 48 percent who wouldn’t utilize this technology? [The same people who won't use EZpass to pay highway tolls. - Lex] What on earth could they possibly be thinking? Unsurprisingly they skew older, but that seems crazier still to me. You don’t have much time left, and you’re content to spend it waiting on the check?

 

Arise, countrymen! Demand equal footing with French Polynesia!

There's another benefit the article doesn't mention.  Banks charge significantly less to process debit card transactions because of the added security given by the required PIN number.  Many U.S. cash only restaurants don't take regular credit cards because it would force them to absorb the cost or pass it on to their customers. 

Those portable terminals can handle debit too.  I found that out in London more than 10 years ago.

Another month, another good new Indian restaurant.  Last month I wrote about Chote Nawab, an Indian restaurant which opened last summer. In researching the place I learned that the owner, Shiva Natarajan, had just opened yet another restaurant on 6^th St., Malai Marke. 

Yes, 6^th St.

This strip of Indian restaurants has been there since the late 1970s.  The food was never stellar but most of us eating there didn’t know any better.  They were our introduction to Indian cuisine.

As time went on a lot of us gradually outgrew them.  In my case frequent trips to London opened up whole new vistas of Indian dining.  With occasional exceptions most of the 6^th St. places were barely acceptable.  They were also very much alike – the long standing joke was that they shared a common kitchen.  Over time the center of gravity for Indian restaurants moved north to Curry Hill.  The old strip seemed like it was caught in a time warp; mediocre food served in a fusty atmosphere.

But sometimes things change.  We’ve liked Dhaba and Chote Nawab, Natarajan’s other places, so we figured we’d give Malai Marke a try.  It worked out nicely.

Like Naratjan’s other restaurants MM has a nice contemporary glossiness about it. 

The menu had lots of familiar things on it as well of plenty of dishes that were new to us.  We mixed and matched and ordered too much food because, well, that’s what we do.

Patiala Lamb Kabab spiced - pan grilled lamb patties.  This was new to us.  Not overwhelmingly lamby but certainly more assertive than a chicken patty.  Juicy and nicely spiced. Dishes like this are why I go to Indian restaurants.

Ragara Patties - spiced potato patties with chickpeas, yogurt and chutnies.  This was served at room temperature.  A classic side dish, relatively mild and made for offsetting the spicier options on the menu.  It would have been nice if the menu had mentioned the temperature.  I still would have ordered it but my mouth was expecting a hot dish.

Chicken Achari.  We’ve had this before but I can’t remember a better version.  This was suitably moist with mid range heat.  Very good indeed.

Garlic nan, because we always order it.  Greasy in a very good way.

Seekh Kabab - skewered lamb rolls.  The best version I’ve ever had of this dish was served at the Delhi Brasserie in London’s Soho, a 10 out of 10.  I try not to think about it too often because I’ve been disappointed by versions served in New York.  Malai Marke’s version was really pretty good, juicier than others.  I marked it down a bit because the spicing wasn’t as complex as renditions I’ve had in London but really, their’s is very good.

Chicken Tikka Masala.  A perennial favorite of Deb’s.  MM’s iteration was very good indeed, rich in a good way.  I’ve never had a better version.

We later learned that Malai Marke had only opened the previous week.  Had we known we would have held off our visit for at least 3 or 4 weeks in order to give the kitchen a chance to settle down and to let the serving staff find their stride.  I attribute the unusual smoothness of our meal to Natarajan’s professionalism.  He’s been in this business for awhile and he knows how to open a restaurant that hits on all cylinders from the start.  I also suspect that owning multiple restaurants is an advantage.  He probably switches seasoned staff around to avoid staffing a new restaurant with people who’ve never worked with each other.

All of that played out in our favor.  Our meal was first rate and we look forward to getting back and working our way through the menu.

You know who are the only people around who probably aren’t very happy about Malai Marke?   The owners of those tired and mediocre places on 6^th St.  They’re going to have to get better fast or have their business take a real hit.  MM has raised the bar.

Earl Weaver, the feisty Hall-of-Fame Baltimore Orioles manager and persistent Yankee nemesis died early Saturday morning of an apparent heart attack while on an Orioles' fantasy cruise in the Caribbean. Weaver collapsed in his compartment on the ship at about 2 a.m. and was unable to be revived by the ship's doctors. His wife, Maryanne, was at his side. He was 82.
   
Loud, profane, egotistical, belligerent, confrontational, Weaver never denied being any of those things, but they were merely part of the makeup of what best described the Hall-of-Fame Baltimore Orioles manager: Winner.
   
In baseball's manager annals, Weaver, who piloted the Orioles to six division titles, four American League pennants, five 100-win seasons and one World Series championship from 1968-86, ranks seventh all-time in winning percentage (1,480-1,060, .583) and first among managers whose careers began after 1960.

 

Most of those years, Weaver's Orioles were beating out George Steinbrenner's Yankees and in 1980, after the O's swept the Yankees in an August series at Yankee Stadium, a frustrated Boss vented that Weaver had out-managed his manager, Dick Howser. "I wouldn't invite Earl Weaver to Christmas dinner," Steinbrenner fumed, "but you've got to give the devil his due."
   
The "Earl of Baltimore" was one of baseball's most colorful characters, an irascible and volatile 5-foot-6 "gnome" whose arguments with umpires and even his own players, like Hall-of-Fame pitcher Jim Palmer, are the stuff of legend. Weaver's 97 ejections rank third on the all-time list behind Bobby Cox and John McGraw and to the best of anyone's knowledge he never apologized for any of them. When asked one time by Orioles outfielder Pat Kelly if he wanted to participate in team chapel and "walk with the lord," Weaver famously replied: "No thanks. I'd rather walk with the fucking bases loaded."

 

I went to a lot of Yankee games in the late 70s and early 80s when the Oriole's were regularly tormented the Yankees.  Weaver was a terrific manager and enormous fun to watch.  His arguments with umpires were legendary.  Epic battles with shouting, base throwing, jumping around, infield dirt hurled.  Lou PIniella learned his technique from Earl.  Usually he'd get thrown out of the game by the umpire.  The crowd would go wild and cheer and yell.  They loved it and every once in awhile you could see a half smile on his face as he walked back to the dugout.  Earl loved it too.

Earl