Serious Eats has a slide show of their favorite burgers of 2010:

A Brooklyn freestyle for lunch:

Masta Ace’s verse always cracks me up.

Last Friday night I went to the Little Lebowski shop on Thompson Street. It is run by a friendly guy named Rob Preston, a movie nut who previously worshipped cult classics like “Time Bandits” and “Withnail and I.”

The shop is filled with Lebowski t-shirts and toys.

It’s worth the trek if you dig all things Lebowski.

There’s Roy, pictured with Bridges, who paid a visit not too long ago:

Watch the full episode. See more American Masters.

Ali and Cosell: A Good Combination.

[Picture by Boxing Insider.com]

Word is the Yanks are interested in Andruw Jones to be their fourth outfielder. Seems like just yesterday when Jones was a kid whipping the Yanks in the first two games of the ’96 Serious.

[Photo Credit: lbrownie]

“Still Life (The Blue Vase),” By Giorgio Morandi (1920)

photo from laobserved.com

Last week Dodgers owner Frank McCourt met with MLB executives, per the LA Times — though not with Bud Selig personally, who presumably was too busy writing Petrarchan sonnets about Abner Doubleday – and discussed his plans to keep the Dodgers, after a judge tossed out the post-nuptial agreement between him and his ex-wife Jamie that would have given him full control over the team. The LA Times article points out that Selig has the power to veto any kind of TV deal, financing plan from MLB, or partenership agreement that McCourt might come up with — and the Dodgers owner will likely need one of those things to hang onto his team and pay off his former wife.

Which brings up once again the MLB Commissioner’s baffling power when it comes to deciding exactly who gets into baseball’s 100% male, 96.67% white, 100% non-Mark Cuban ownership club. In how many other industries do a group of competitors get together and decide who else gets to compete against them? Let me rephrase that – in how many other industries do they do that legally? As much as I love baseball I can’t think of any rational justification for why they still have an anti-trust exemption. Not the NFL, not the NBA – but baseball, see, is not a “commercial enterprise”. Right.

Not that I can blame Selig for being irate at McCourt, a man who, with his ex-wife, spent millions on the Rasputin-esque Russian  “mystic”/”physicist” Vladimir Shpunt (and if you somehow haven’t read about Shpunt before, please, do yourself a favor and dig in – it warms these cold winter days), among many other less amusing screw-ups. It might in fact be in the Dodgers’ best interest if Selig forced McCourt out, but how is that right or fair? I’m particularly skeptical since it was Selig and the owners who decided to let McCourt buy the team in the first place. Don’t you just hate it when you screen someone carefully to make sure they belong in your exclusive country club, and then they go and have a messy public divorce! The nerve! And after all you did for them…

It’s safe to say that the country has bigger problems at the moment, and baseball has gotten along all right — more or less — for this long with its rigged ownership system in place. But something so blatantly unfair can hardly be good for the sport long term. Every once in a while you get a iconoclast like Bill Veeck who manages to get into the club and shakes things up from the inside – you could even say Steinbrenner did that, in his own way and for better or worse – but those guys are few and far between and getting fewer, as the amount of money needed to buy a team gets staggeringly high. Baseball deserves better than to be entrusted to a closed-off group of  crusty old multimillionaires who vote like sheep on who gets to join their ranks. I am not advocating Vladimir Shpunt for Dodgers owner — although actually that would be completely awesome, but… right, no. But this is a system that’s about 100 years out of date and ripe for some modernization.

The roast chicken turned out okay on Saturday night–it’s a start, anyway–and the chicken salad was even better yesterday.

Then, with a little bit of help…

I made this easy and delicious apple cake from Dorie Greenspan (via David Lebovitz):

It is a sure shot.

The book is “Around My French Table” and it’s terrific.

Yesterday was the 10th annual No Pants Subway Ride in New York. Man, and I had to stay home (click here for more photos).

Meanwhile, peep this cool New York City Subway Moment by Emily Lemole Smith.

[Photo Credit: News.com.au and Liptick Alley]

From Matt B…The Kinks!

“True Grit” hits Pay Dirt. The Coen’s remake will be their biggest-grossing movie to date. Also, the classic Charles Portis novel has sold over 100,000 copies since the beginning of November.

Nah, it’s not snowing today–though we’re expecting more of the white stuff this week–but we’ve hit a dead-spot in Yankee news. Okay, this has been a slow winter all around.

Still, Chad Jennings offers a few tidbits, Steve Lombardi looks at the Yankees’ first round draft picks since 1990, Larry Koestler takes on some 2011 projections, and our man William writes about the passing of former-Yankee Ryne Duren. 

How many days left ’til pitchers and catchers?

[Photo by Navid Baraty]

Yesterday gave us two exciting NFL playoff games. Is it greedy to ask for more of the same?

Knicks play the Lakers tonight in the City of Angels. That might be worth staying up late for…

In the meantime, it is sunny but cold in the Rotten Apple so stay warm, eat well, and let us be thankful for what we’ve got.

Now, press play on this track and get your ass a-steppin’.

02 Stein’s soul record

I don’t I don’t like handling birds–I always think of the Sledgehammer video–but roasting a chicken is something any self-respecting cook should know how to do. I haven’t done it in years and my mission this winter is to become competent at roasting a chicken. I’ve been thinking about it for a couple of weeks and tonight is the night–the bird in the oven as we speak and will be done in time for the Jets game.

I’ll let you know how it turns out. And speaking of boids, how about them Seahawks giving the Saints hell through the middle of the third quarter?

[Photo Credit: Sarah Shatz via Food 52]

Win or suck tonight for the Jets. What’ll it be?

[Picture by Bags]

Soul Singer...

I freely admit I am so starved for baseball happenings that I actually did a news search just now for “baseball” –as if I wouldn’t have read about it already, on a blog or Twitter, if anything big went down. Aside from the Matt Garza trade (good news for the Yanks this season, probably, but nothing I can get too excited about) there ain’t nothing going on today. Except Brian Cashman is talking more and more like some kinda internet zealot. Adam LaRoche is finalizing his deal with the Nationals. Okay.

Unfortunately what I did turn up, like some gross bug under a rock, is the story over at Radar Online that a new reality show about baseball groupies is being developed. Baseball Annies are now being cast, with the idea of filming in Arizona during spring training. I’m not much of a reality TV fan — I’m too easily embarrassed on behalf of other people — and doubt I will watch this, unless I have to write about it. Anyone with half a brain realized many, many years ago that the vast majority of baseball players sleep around, and I really couldn’t care less since I am not married to, nor dating, a baseball player; that’s between them and their significant others and as long as everyone’s a consenting adult, hey, not my concern. The entire subculture has always seemed deeply depressing, though, and this newest cringe-inducing exploitation-fest is doing nothing to change that impression:

“The girls will go to any lengths to go to games and practices with the goal of sleeping with and getting material things from athletes as a notch under their belt,” the source told RadarOnline.com exclusively.

Ooh, an EXCLUSIVE about soul-suckingly shallow groupies! Great job, RadarOnline.com. Also:

The show will focus on the women and their ‘cleat-chasing’ lifestyle more than the players and their participation, added the source.

Well, of course. Why deal with the legal and societal repercussions of showcasing popular men behaving badly when you can just vilify the less wealthy and famous women who, inexplicably, are volunteering for this? Not that they won’t deserve vilifying, most likely, and no one can go on a show like “Cleat Chasers” and not expect to come out looking horrible.

I’m not someone who bemoans the decline of humanity, because I think humanity has always been pretty messed up, and even a show as tasteless as this is still better than say burning a bunch of people at the stake every time you get freaked out by an eclipse, but still.

“Merry Christmas, Schlitter’s full!”

That’s sort of what Randy Quaid’s character, “Cousin Eddie,” said in the comedy classic, Christmas Vacation. And that’s the first thing I thought of when I heard that the Yankees had picked up reliever Brian Schlitter on waivers from the C

Giggles and smirks aside, I like the Yankees’ acquisition of the 25-year-old right-hander. A few scouts have expressed surprise that the Cubs thought they could slip Schlitter through waivers. Big and burly, the six-foot, five-inch Schlitter throws a fastball in the 92-95 mile-per-hour range, augmented by some heavy sinking action. With a good spring, and some improved control, he could easily make the Yankees’ Opening Day roster, joining Joba Chamberlain, David Robertson, and Mo Rivera as fellow right-handers in the bullpen. Schlitter figures to do battle with Daniel Turpen, a Rule 5 pickup from the Red Sox, non-roster invite Mark Prior, and minor leaguer Romulo Sanchez, who is out of options.

Schlitter didn’t exactly thrive for the Cubs last year (an ERA of 12.38 in seven games is positively ghoulish), but he did post good numbers at Triple-A Iowa. In 37 games, Schlitter put up an ERA of 3.15 and struck out 42 batters in 45 innings. He’s also someone who is well known to new Yankee pitching coach Larry Rothschild, who spent the last eight seasons working for the Cubs.

Let’s just hope that Schlitter doesn’t throw any splitters. I’m not sure if John Sterling or Michael Kay could handle such a tongue twister…

***

No ex-Yankees earned election to the Hall of Fame this week, which is no great surprise, unless you were expecting a late wave of support for Kevin Brown and Al Leiter. Both received fewer than five per cent of the vote, resulting in them being dropped from the ballot. First-year eligibles Tino Martinez, John Olerud, and Raul Mondesi also dropped off the ballot, leaving Don Mattingly, Rock Raines, and Lee Smith as the only ex-Yankees who will return to the ballot in 2012.

Next year’s ballot figures to have more Yankee staying power, as Bernie Williams becomes eligible for the first time. Williams won’t receive anywhere near the 75 per cent needed for election, but he figures to pick up at least 25 to 30 per cent of the vote, which will keep him on the ballot and allow him to build some momentum over time.

Williams is one player we’ve never heard associated with steroids. He also had a good relationship with the same writers who will be doing the voting. Those factors will help Bernie, but his candidacy will be afflicted by two major flaws in his game: a very poor throwing arm and a lack of good baserunning instincts, which hurt his stolen base totals. But anyone who watched Williams play during his prime years will understand his value to the Yankee dynasty. Williams’ arrival as a top prospect in 1991 marked the beginning of the Yankee turnaround from the dismal days of 1989 and ‘90. His disciplined hitting style, his knack for drawing walks, his power, and his range in center field all became epitomizing trademarks of the Yankees’ four world championship seasons under Joe Torre. The switch-hitting Williams was also one of the Yankees’ most versatile hitters, with enough patience to bat first or second, and enough power to bat fourth, fifth, or sixth. That versatility, along with Williams’ small ego, made Torre’s life much easier when it came to making out lineup cards.

At his peak, Williams was simply a terrific hitter. From 1996 to 2002, he put up OPS numbers of better than .900 each year, a remarkable stretch for a center fielder. He also performed solidly in October, reaching base 37 per cent of the time over the course of 25 postseason series.

Would you vote Williams into the Hall of Fame? I probably wouldn’t, because of the arm and baserunning issues. Then again, there would be no shame in seeing Bernie’s bronzed image in the plaque gallery. That would actually be a pleasant sight…

***

Since this is the first column of the new year, it might be a good time to poll readers on preferences? Which kind of article do you like more, “Card Corner” or “Observations From Cooperstown?” What old-time Yankees would you like to see profiled in future editions of “Card Corner?” Are there other types of articles that you’d like to see us feature in this spot in 2011? Give us your feedback by posting right here at Bronx Banter Blog. And as always, thank you for reading.

Bruce Markusen writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for The Hardball Times.

AP Photo

In this confusing, turbulent world of unceasing change, it is always reassuring to know that a few precious things will always stay the same. Among these rocks in the surf  is Gary Sheffield, who as you may recall is 42 years old now and did not play last year, but met with Joe Madden at the Winter Meetings to explore the idea of making a comeback with the Rays. Apparently the Rays never followed up on this, with the result that Sheff is “99.9%” sure he’ll retire, and also, of course, is feeling “a little disrespected.”

As you’ll probably recall, Gary Sheffield feels disrespected when the wind blows, or when a bunny looks at him the wrong way. Not to get all Psych 101 on you but I always figured that was how he kept himself motivated. And I imagine he could be a real headache to manage, but I always loved watching the man hit. He had the perfect at-bat music the last year or two of his Yankee career (Ludacris’s “Move, Bitch,” a song I often wish I could blast while trying to push through the thick swarms of slow tourists outside my office building), and it would pump up the crowd while hapless third-base coaches and players cowered as far from the likely path of his scalded liners as they respectably could.

If this is the end for Sheff I wish him all the best, and I hope he finds a good post-playing outlet for all that competitiveness and bad-ass energy.