iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

Playing that by ear. I’m usually in charge of menus, but our chef cousin is…competitive. So I’m leaving all that to him, content (for now, anyway, to play sous).

Normally, yes, but I don’t have any on hand at the moment (and red preferred over yellow/Spanish for this). But tomorrow, there’s foray of the cooks in the house for supplies. Everyone else: here’s your drink, there are the apps, GTFO of the kitchen.

If only there were one! I know this house. Old family house on the shore. I brought a knife sharpener with me, but also told my chef cousin en route that if he checks a bag, he should bring proper blades.

Same rule of thumb as I use for softer cheeses (Brie, Roquefort, La Tur, etc.). Think of them like democracies: Just because you can smash them doesn’t mean you should.

Oh, yes. We’ve loaded up on cheeses and cured pork. We’ll be good until nightfall. That’s when the badness begins.

Hard agree. Regrettably, we are now at a beach house far from any such luxuries. Whatever we brought is what we eat. It’s sourdough, pretzels, and crackers until someone ventures into town.

A little acid and crunch work so well. “Ugh,” I found myself thinking just now, “ this conversation is making me wish I had some liverwurst.” Oh, snap! I do! I’d just wandered into another room. Back to the kitchen.

Good bread, layer a slice on top – don’t smash it down into a uniform paste, let it keep some of its shape – with mustard and shaved raw onion, either yellow or red. Usually beer, but I can’t drink beer, so it’s whiskey or tea for me. Maybe a dry Kabinett. But the wurst is the show.

Yes! Not everyone does the cornichon, but it’s a nice touch when we have some hand

A visit for another time: clock’s already ticking on this trip. But definitely on the list

Concur. Mustard and bread on hand as well; they didn’t make the photo.

Snacks before guests arrive. Kalbsleberwurst chub from Rieker's Prime Meats in Philadelphia (my go-to German butcher in Philly for nearly 30 years). On the side: a short pour of Old Emmer wheated bourbon (a private label from Total Wine, bought on a lark. 45% ABV, about $45).

Liverwurst chub on white butchers paper, a knife at hand and a short glass in the background. #cupofambition #Brotzeit #charcuterie #Wurstwaren #whiskey

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Childless uncle tip: fill it 2/3 with warm sausage gravy.

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Matthew Rowley @mbrowley.bsky.social · 06/10/2026

Mid-morning beach stroll, Stone Harbor, New Jersey. Not another soul in sight. Couple of gingers, tho.

Piles of broken seashells slumped together #downtheshore

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Good to know. I’m super pleased with my X4. I’ve gotten both a Christmas tree and a surfboard inside and was able to close all the doors. Not at the same time, mind you, but still; more room than it seems at a glance.

Which do you have? My current is an X4 (now sadly discontinued) which I enjoy. I’ve considered an iX4, but I do too many long road trips in or through rural places w/o the infrastructure to go all-electric. But I could swing a hybrid.

Black dog with a green bandanna around its neck. Behind it in the driveway is a BMW X4. It’s license plate reads: UR NEW DAD

A price too heavy to bear, I think.

Picking up a car in New Orleans once aeons ago. They didn’t have the model I’d reserved. “You know,” the clerk said, “you can have a PT Cruiser for only $6 a day difference.” Me: Is it $6 a day cheaper? She just smiled and found something suitable. Imagine. A PT Cruiser surcharge.

It’s so much bigger than I need. I see a lot of Chinese EVs in Mexico. Been in a few. From what little I know so far, they seem decent cars—not that we’ll get them in the US anytime soon.

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A relative (since deceased, a menace behind any wheel, much less in a vehicle that large) drove one. It was so massive we dubbed it the Subdivision. Mostly our family nicknames people, but vehicles are fair game. Couples, too.

Yeah, not how I like to be on the road.

I want customizable LED lights under the running boards (that’s how enormous this thing is: it has retractable steps)

If we’re in some kind of Bird Box/Daybreakers type situation, sure, something like that might be super handy. Until then, these screens are a hard pass.

Its rearview mirror is not a mirror. It is a screen in the shape of a mirror. Can’t check your teeth. Can’t check your hair. Can’t make eye contact with anyone in the back seats. The lens distorts distance and size of other vehicles. In the rain, the image on the rearview screen blurs. Bad design.

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Rented a sporty little BMW for the week. Rental staff were apologetic; none was available. “We got you, though,” they assured me. They have “upgraded“ me to a Cadillac Escalade. Y’all, it’s massive. About 5,500 lbs. Sluggish. Like driving a spare bedroom. Not the bed: the whole room.

Black Cadillac Escalade in a parking lot

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Ha! I was just discussing bread machines this morning with my old agent. There was a question of whether drinks writing had entered its bread-machine era. I’m glad to see one in use.

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I got a notification that you tagged me, and saw it briefly, but refreshed, and the notification disappeared. Probably some a of the mute angle.

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Spotted at Binding Agents in Philadelphia: @wordloaf.org’s vade mecum: THE BREAD BAKERS POCKET COMPANION.

Collection of small books and zines faced out on a shelf.

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Saw this just now Scott; there was a secret hidden hashtag in your post (I rigorously mute sports terms as well as team and player names as they gain traction in my feed). I’m away so much that it’s hardly worth keeping onions at home — but for late autumn, that sounds like a plan.

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Underestimate the kitchen/camp prowess of blue collar cooks at your own peril.

Matthew Rowley @mbrowley.bsky.social · 03/10/2026

Absolutely stay off social media post-scope. But bring a book.

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Moon and Stars watermelon. Size of a racquetball when I was home last. Forgot to weigh it, but it was dense and heavy last night. The rosy pink flesh was riddled with seeds (which: saved for next year), crisp, and v sweet. An outstanding garden haul. Plant, eat, repeat.

Moon and Stars watermelon (Citrullus lanatus). Light green color splayed with pale yellow dots. Expected more oblong shape, but this’ll do. An heirloom variety once thought extinct.

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I’ll smoke a small turkey probably. Mostly for gumbo day the after. A few years ago, I made a big pot of chili the day before. Day of, it was open house for friends. On the counter: fixins (Fritos, diced onion, shredded cheese, crema, etc) for those who wanted them. Drinks outside. Had a blast.

See, now, what we need to do is start a museum so we can get our collections out of the—ah, nevermind.

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The next month is going to be spotty. Probably going quiet again as we untangle a few things. Come Thanksgiving, though, I should be settled in again. Brace yourself for more BS from me then.

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Got that right. How am I going to be mad at the sun for rising in the east or water flowing downhill? That way lies

Sign outside a massage parlor near Railay Beach, Krabi Province, Thailand. It reads:

No happy ending

And flex it is. Talked to a chef once who described eating offal tacos (de ojo maybe or ubre de res). The man actually made two fists, stretched his yoke, flared his lats, and flexed his biceps as if pinning a beachball to his chest upon telling me this. Which is an odd way to talk about…lunch.

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I’ve been to half of these. I do have a few bar shirts. Might have to start fixing that. If I had space, I would collect actual signs. Business names, signs from behind bars and roadside stands, painted ad screen doors from old country stores. But even talking about it gets me the stinkeye at home.

Boiled Peanuts sign on the front of a roadside stand.

Maui, Hawaii.

Chefs sometimes do this. “Hey, I brought some homemade ice cream.“ “Wait until you try MY ice cream.“ Sure. Fine. That’s not what that was about, but OK. But at least now we have two ice creams. Or at least one ice cream and a lot of hot air.

I thought about making chili for Irish relatives next week. But I don’t want to slaughter them with flavor. Also in attendance: A Texas cousin who was a chef for decades and cannot, simply cannot, hear of a recipe or taste a dish without thinking it’s a challenge. I’ll make hot whiskeys instead.

I’ll be in New Jersey then—but South Jersey, not near enough. If you’re closer, you should attend. And if you don’t like Martinis, you should.

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It’s getting porky up in here.

T-shirts for:

Benton’s Bacon, Madisonville, Tennessee
Joe’s Kansas City, Kansas City, Missouri
Steuben’s, Denver, Colorado.
Boccalone (now closed), San Francisco, California (Tasty Pig Parts reads the tagline)

Also, hats off to “LA’s 2nd best chili.” It’s got real Avis “we try harder” vibes

Tens of thousands of pages like that. These are schoolchildren doing their best handwriting for a Very Important Project. I can’t help but think, though, of younger relatives who simply cannot decipher older handwriting.

You joke, but I’m bristling at the weather. Hogust was unseasonably warm here, but Hocktober threatens to be hot as blazes.

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