Spring quarter started yesterday at Chicago Law. I'd planned to make the last weekend before classes began a relaxed, romantic long one: drive up to New York with my boyfriend for some visiting of loved and dear ones, interspersed with hiking and a bed and breakfast or two. We did see family, and friends, though ones who lived in a city we hadn't originally expected to visit. But my boyfriend was invited to join Senator John McCain on the Straight Talk Express on Saturday (for his political reporting, see here), and my plan for Saturday became driving along with the bus and attending the day's town meetings in Plymouth and Littleton, small places in the north country of New Hampshire. A few impressions... but in short, I was rather blown away.

First, McCain comes off as clean. He lacks the orange plasticity of Mitt Romney. When I applied to law schools, I met law school deans (most of them?) who seemed smarmier and more staged than McCain did.

Even compared to Senator Obama, whom I respect and have met twice in passing, and heard speak at the Illinois constituents' breakfast, seemed to be more of a politician with a public facade than McCain seemed. Instead, McCain is direct. He speaks standing in the center of a square of chairs (and standing room only behind that), turning slowly, giving me, at a few points, the somewhat eerie feeling that the eyes of the next president were looking directly into mine.

At some points as he spoke, I had to remind myself that McCain really is campaigning to be the next Leader of the Free World (unlike some candidates who only make sense as nightmares): he's too much blood and flesh. He jokes well, mostly military jokes, some of which were at the Marines' expense, and the Irish joke about the O'Malley twins getting drunk together again. He told both audiences--probably all new audiences--that it doesn't take much talent to be struck down by a surface-to-air missile. And when one parent spoke of the challenges of raising two autistic sons, his response as the husband of a special ed teacher left that parent with tears of gratitude. And when McCain autographed something for a retired veteran--it might have been the inside of his veteran's hat--the senior citizen looked a tenth his age, like a kid whose baseball glove was just signed by the greatest player alive.

Second, McCain seemed competent. As someone who first got interested in politics because of what goes down in Louisiana, this is quite important to me. I remember watching the 2000 debates, my eyebrows sometimes popping off my head in surprise as Bush seemed not to know certain facts necessary to win on the day Jeopardy! brings out the kid contestants. McCain, on the other hand, seemed perfectly knowledgeable: an educated person who follows the news seriously, and who has clearly specialized in topics relevant to his senatorial committees and presidential campaign.

I don't remember enough of what happened in 2000 to say whether or not he's still the same maverick as he was then. He talks about nuclear power as a component of the U.S. response to global warming--picking out a retired sailor in the audience whose hat shows he served on a nuclear submarine as an example of how close one can safely live to nuclear power--and why he sees the Democratic representatives' stance on Iraq funding to be an unprincipled way of expressing opposition. He assailed the earmarking of the funding bill, but, of all the projects he described (agricultural subsidies for peanut storage in Georgia and insect damage in Nevada...), none were about dairy farming, and none were about corn or cotton or wheat. The agricultural interests of New Hampshire and Iowa seemed mostly safe from his lampooning.

Finally, I'm not sure how I feel about New Hampshire's strong role in picking the presidents. I'd heard that citizens of that state take their responsibility as first-in-the-nation primary voters seriously. I didn't understand it until I heard the questions people asked at these town meetings. The questions were good: open, respectful questions to encourage McCain to speak his mind without attempts to trap him into a bad quote. Some were short: "When will the federal government quit burdening the states with unfunded mandates?" His answer to the sixty-ish gent: "Not in our lifetimes." I will note that my boyfriend and another blogger failed to find anyone to speak with who was opposed to a McCain presidency, as they interviewed attendees who hung around after the meeting had ended. Most of the people present seemed to be McCain supporters, and if not that, at least willing to support him should he win the nomination.

And yet, New Hampshire is white, scarily devoid of people from other backgrounds. There were no visible minorities present at either of two town meetings I attended (excluding the McCain staff and reporters, whom I wasn't watching as closely). It's rural with a small urban bit, and it's rural without the poverty of the Delta, or the vast farms of Texas. I remain torn on whether or not I'm in favor of keeping the New Hampshire primary: it seems the locals there might do a better job than citizens of many other states, but it remains a rather unrepresentative slice of our population.

In all, I am delighted, simply delighted, that I was able to see this part of America.

Life in a New York apartment has its downsides. Among them is the fact that my fire alarm is as sensitive as the fire alarm in my scottish dorm, which went off at a hint of steam from the room's individual showers. If you were a few seconds late hopping out of the shower, into your bathrobe, and to the alarm with a magazine to fan it back into quiesence, the entire dorm found itself outside in the middle of the night unhappily gripping mugs of tea. The equivalent in my apartment here is that searing pieces of meat in a pan always sets off the alarm, no matter how many windows I open. The only solution I've found is to point a small but powerful fan directly at the alarm while I cook, angled upwards off my bookshelves. The cord cuts off access to my living room, so I have to duck back and forth from the kitchen and back. I suppose it's a form of exercise.

But I put up with all that because the results one can get from searing either steak or pork at home in a stainless steal skillet are almost ideal. I have a picture somewhere, which I will eventually share, but those who think that a thick, crunchy, crust can only be achieved on 40,000 btu burners in a restaurant are fooling themselves. In reality, most people are just too bashful about letting their pan get hot enough, and start worrying when smoke comes off their oil, and in their haste to cook dinner, they end up with grey flab. Searing meats at home requires a bit of a poker face.

But the real point of this post is to highlight what I ate with my pork yesterday. I didn't have much time, so things like risotto were out (and in any case, my bag of frozen chicken parts hasn't yet made it into a stock), but I remembered seeing olive oil mashed potatoes on TV once, and thought to try them. The recipe, if it can be called that, is easy enough. Just boil a few small potatoes until very soft, drain into a bowl, mash with a fork, and add olive oil and french salt (preferably, of course. you can use whatever you have) to taste. The real bonus here, unlike mashed potatoes made with butter, is the fragrance of the oil as it hits the hot potatoes. Just hold your face over the bowl as you pour, and breath in. Better yet, the resulting potatoes are every bit as rich as butter mashed potatoes, and to my mind even more appropriate with fish. The pan roasted garlic I added only made the dish that much better, and if I hadn't forgotten to replenish my red peppers, things would have been better still. In any case, this method is much recommended. Give it a go.