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The Jiu Jitsu Lifestyle
I saw a photo on Facebook the other day.
My uncle, brother and nephews, geared up for a round of golf.
The boys were wearing matching outfits, but everyone was attired in a similar style.
They smiled for the camera, in synch, and that was that.
It reminded me, though, of a poolside conversation from a couple of summers ago.
I was at my uncle’s house, and sat between him and my cousin, Jordan.
(Who’s made several appearances in my writing over the years. Great guy.)
My uncle was extolling the values of The Golf Lifestyle.
Doing business on the course.
Dinner at the club.
Friends.
Music.
Great people.
I mentioned that he seemed to be speaking past me, to my cousin, rather than to both of us.
Was it possible I wasn’t being invited into The Golf Lifestyle?
At the time, I was overweight, and probably unkempt. Drinking, smoking weed, eating way too much.
We were all partying that day, and of course I was just kidding, but as my uncle stammered, it was clear I’d struck a nerve.
I actually WASN’T being invited into The Golf Lifestyle.
Only Jordan, who politely declined.
I’m pretty sure that was September 2022, though there’s a chance it was May 2021.
Not that it matters, as I was in bad physical shape during both phases.
(I even used being overweight as a precondition to get an early Covid shot.)
Though I had creativity back then, to help with life stress, (and I did practice less difficult Martial Arts,) I was never truly fit.
Not since high school, when I played soccer, basketball, and was a sprinter on the track team.
Decades of relative inactivity...
... until I was pushed to sign up for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.
I’ve given the background before, but the gist is, after my martial arts mentor, Dave Duran, passed away in 2022, I was looking for a guide.
My new Sifu, (now Professor,) Lawrence Garcia, who is the most lethal person I know, told me if I wanted to be an instructor in his Jeet Kune Do program, (Street MMA,) I had to study BJJ.
Fully commit.
I’d been scared to do so, hearing about all the injuries, especially as I’d trained 10 times or so in the past, and knew how grueling it could be.
Still, I didn’t have much going on, and felt it was the right time to challenge myself.
I took my free class at Jesse Jacquez BJJ at the end of January 2023, and signed a year contract the following week.
Which means I’ve been living The Jiu Jitsu lifestyle for more than a year and a half.
It’s changed me in such profound ways, and requires so much specificity at my age, (50,) that I wanted to write about it today.
The short version is, the amount of healthy practices one has to adopt, to keep going, is astonishing.
(Most people quit.)
Let me now extoll the virtues.
To start, I lost a lot of weight.
Fat melted off.
The cardio is intense, and all the losing breaks the spirt down from the jump.
(As BJJ classes require sparring each time.)
I started bulky, which led me to be overconfident throwing my weight around, (literally,) so the first injury was cauliflower ear.
Painful shit, but don’t lead with your head, is the lesson.
From there, it was some slightly torn cartilage in my ribs.
Then a torn big toe ligament.
Followed by having my scapula knocked out of alignment in JKD training.
I was clear for a few months, but then a slightly sprained neck in Nov 2023, a sprained knee in March 2024, and finally, the pinnacle, my slightly torn elbow ligament in mid July.
Almost anyone will tell you their injury list, and it’s recited with pride, though listeners often think the sport just sounds crazy.
But what has it made me adopt?
As I said, at first, I lost all the weight, but the repeated injuries spoke to my body’s misalignment.
(From old injuries/surgery.)
I responded by working on my flexibility/mobility, diving deep into yoga.
That lead me to the UNM-Taos Yoga Teacher Training Program, where Jessie and I took a 40 hour training.
I was more flexible, but not strong enough.
Eventually, you realize that weight is helpful, and Professor Lawrence encouraged me to start lifting.
I bought some kettlebells, and began doing functional strength workouts at home, along with the yoga, but was intimidated by the gym.
Still, I was losing, as my quickness and speed did nothing for me.
I lacked technique, and wasn’t strong enough to push back.
I’ve written about this in bits and pieces, but in order to feel stronger, I started making healthy protein fruit smoothies in the mornings, and then having two protein muscle milk shakes a day too.
Alcohol went away at some point, and then smoking.
(Now I just eat gummies.)
Each injury requires weeks/months of Hatha Yoga/Pilates, to work out the misalignment that led to the injury.
Over the course of the journey, I went from 185 lbs to 145, then put on 15 lbs of muscle to settle in around 160.
The last bit comes from taking creatine, and lifting weights for about 6 hours a week at the gym now. (3x a week.)
In order to support The Jiu Jitsu lifestyle, I have a healthier diet, don’t drink or smoke, I lift, have cardio, eat cleaner, and also do Qi Gong/ Tai Chi movements, to help keep the energy flowing.
I put my legs up on the bar at the gym, like a ballerina, and use neighborhood gates too.
(Flexiblity in body, mind and spirit.)
To get to the black belt level normally takes about 10 years.
That’s a decade of opening your hips, building your muscles, ripping and rebuilding your connective tissues, changing your self-belief.
Learning you can take a licking and keep on ticking.
Realizing challenges make us stronger, better versions of ourselves.
I know my family wouldn’t be moving to San Diego, had Amelie and I not started Jiu Jitsu.
Never.
Because moving is a difficult, stressful process.
So we break it down into pieces, knowing we can handle the pressure and keep going.
Looking back, I’m glad I wasn’t invited into The Golf Lifestyle.
The Jiu Jitsu Lifestyle isn’t for everyone, but it’s just right for me. (And Amelie.)
With her Gold and Silver at NAGA last month -
The Big Hiatus
The last vestiges of a San Clemente sunset Well, hello there.
I know it’s been a minute.
Back in the day, such things were normal, as TV basically went away in summer.
They called it the Hiatus.
(It was a thing.)
These days, as Youtube is the most watched streaming service, the idea that content would stop is ludicrous.
Get Z can not conceive of such a thing.
Which is why I see so many young people watching content on their phones in between sets at the gym.
I mostly do circuit training, with very little wait time, and prefer to space out and listen to the terrible 80’s music blasting through the speakers.
But that’s just me.
The Pacific, looking West With respect to taking time off from the blog, it wasn’t a planned thing.
We went to California at the end of July for a family vacation, which doubled as a scouting trip for our impending move.
(Currently scheduled for Xmas.)
Right before we left, one of my jiu jitsu training partners (slightly) tore my elbow.
It sucked, but as with my sprained knee, I dove hard into the rehab, with literal scores of hours doing Hatha Yoga and Pilates movements to open up locked fascia in my body.
Not only am I back to training again, but I was enticed to try the 6am open roll, with some higher belts, and waking up at 4:30 to drive 30 minutes for fight practice has enhanced my discipline for sure.
All of which is to say, I’ve been busy.
But you’re never fully out of my mind.Early evening walk That said, today’s a short post, meant to LYK I haven’t forgotten you’re out there.
Waiting patiently.
Fortunately, you can expect more photography, food, and culture posts after Labor Day weekend.
I have some amazing photo portfolios to share from students at ICP in NYC, and at least one book that I need to review as well.
Hope you have a great holiday weekend! -
Secret Recipe: Mango Chicken Enchiladas
Back in the day, The Apple Tree restaurant was a Taos institution.
It lasted forever, but was eventually supplanted by Lambert’s, in the same space on Bent St.
No matter.
Longtime Taoseños remember their classic Mango Chicken Enchiladas, with green chile sauce, and some have tried to replicate it.
(Cid’s Market, another Taos institution, makes their own far inferior version.)
Thankfully, I gave a try on Monday, and it worked out perfectly.
Enchiladas, like some of the other casserole-style recipes I’ve shared, are things people more often eat at restaurants.
(Multi-step processes tend to weed people out, because they get intimidated.)
Today, I’d like to inspire you to try.
The key is to have a plan, so it doesn’t create wasted effort.
To make the chicken, I used my Instant Pot for pressure cooking. If you don’t have a pressure cooker, you can just braise.
I put 1 1/2 lbs of boneless, skinless chicken breast in the pot. Add about 3/4 cup of water, 1/4 cup of orange juice, then NM red chile powder, some Tapatio, salt, pepper, fresh squeezed lime juice, and a clove of garlic.
I pressure cooked it for 50 minutes, and then let it slow cook for another half hour or so.
When it’s done, shred the meat with a fork and spoon, and season it to taste.
For the green chile sauce, you need a pile of roasted NM green chile, which is in season this time of year.
(If you can’t access this, I’d recommend roasting poblanos, which are more readily available.)
Peel and seed the chile, then roughly chop it up.
Dice some garlic cloves, and heat up your skillet.
Sauté the diced garlic in some oil or butter, and when it’s lightly golden, add 1/4 cup of salted butter, and about 1 cup of flour to the pan to make a roux.
(This becomes the thickening agent to the chile sauce, just as it could for a gumbo.)
When the roux has a nice golden color, add the chile to the pan, and season it with salt and pepper.
Fill the pan with 2-3 cups of water, squeeze a full lime, and then splash some orange juice.
Let it cook for about 10 minutes, then blend with an immersion blender until mostly smooth, but with some texture left.
Season with a touch of sugar and/or honey to balance the heat, more lime if necessary, and let it simmer for about 20 minutes.
You should be good to go.
The next phase requires precooking the corn tortillas, to give them flavor and proper pliability.
(For this, I use my crepe skillet, but any skillet will do.)
Just heat the pan, spray or pour some oil each time, and make sure to add salt.
I like to cover the pan, which adds moist steam heat too, before finishing it w/o the lid.
Cover the tortillas as they stack on a plate when you’re done.
Much like the flatbread, this goes fast if you do it assembly-line style.
Because of my elbow, I asked Jessie to grate some cheese for me, which means technically I had a sous chef.
I used cheddar and Monterey jack, plus some pre-shredded Colby Jack as well.
I mention cheese here, because grating the cheese (and then rolling the enchiladas) is all that’s left.
For the mango, I used Bonne Maman mango jam, which tracks with the flavoring of my original inspiration.
(Fresh mango would be great too, but might adjust the moisture content.)
To assemble the enchiladas, (before baking,) coat the bottom of your casserole pan with a layer of chile sauce.
Then, it’s back to the assembly line.
Fill one tortilla with chicken and a scoop of mango jam, roll it, and place it in the pan.
I ended up with 16 rolls.
Then cover with chile sauce, a thick layer of cheese, and the last bit of reserved chile.
(I also spooned some of the braising liquid over the top, but that’s optional.)
Bake at 350 for about an hour, and you are good to go.
It was so tasty, and we had half left over for tonight’s dinner.
Happy Cooking!
Ingredients for the chile sauce 
The roux in the pan 
The shredded chicken in braising liquid 
Cooking a tortilla with salt in the skillet Don’t overstuff each rolled enchilada 
So good! -
Secret Recipe: Homemade Flatbread
My kids just came home from camp.
It was our first break in 17 years, if you can believe it, though there weren’t that many full-days-off.
There’s a hippie sleep-away camp two valleys North of here, in Lama, and both children attended for the first time.
(Theo was a counselor, and had borrowed his grandpa’s truck, so we saw him quite a bit.)
Still, there were days at a time when we had no kids, and while I was hoping for fun and adventure, the body has its own wisdom.
I got sick for the first two weeks of the month, and then Jessie was under the weather.
Our pre-move, house renovation ran long, (no surprise,) so we had workmen here the whole time too.
Not a joyous break, by any means, but we did decompress and rest up for our impending pre-move, scouting trip/vacation to SoCal.
I built the energy reserve, such as it is, because I definitely had to cook and food-shop less when the kids were away.
(A tween and a teen, athletes both, they eat A LOT.)
Once they got home this past weekend, I went on a cooking tear.
Saturday night was Japanese fajitas, in which I adapted the recipe I previously shared by substituting skirt steak, and a soy based marinade. (Served with brown rice.)
Sunday was chicken parmesan with “thick spaghetti,” (a distinct product from spaghetti,) which I did in a traditional style.
Breaded, pan-fried cutlets, a layer of spinach, fresh mozzarella, shaved parmesan cheese, in a kalamata olive/fresh tomato marinara.
Yesterday was the biggest day of all, though, as I created a new recipe that had been on my mind for a week:
Fresh, homemade flatbread.
Jessie picks up hummus for the kids regularly, and we’d been discussing adding more chickpeas to our diet.
Buying flatbread in the store, though, is no fun.
It’s expensive, (here in Taos,) and normally comes with tons of preservatives, which are potential forever chemicals.
Other brands, which try to skate by with less preservatives, sell products which are often spoiled when you buy them.
Just last week, I was about to bite into a mini-naan that Jessie had purchased that day, and my photographer’s eye spotted some mold just before I ate it.
(Better than after.)
Given that flatbread goes well with so many types of food, (Middleastern, Indian, Greek, to name a few,) I was frustrated at my options.
I had an idea in my mind of how to do it, (my pancakes, waffles, bread and pizza are strong,) but decided to hit up the internet to look over a few recipes, just to see if I was close.
I’d been planning to use the pizza stone in the oven, but learned it’s easier, (and probably better,) in a skillet with a little oil.
Armed with that technical wisdom, I went for it yesterday, to big success.
How do you do it?
Surprisingly easy, so I highly recommend you try it out.
My recipe was:
About 3/4 cup warm water
3 cups all purpose flour
1 1/2 t baking powder
1 1/2 t salt
1 1/2 t sugar
3 T whole greek yogurt
2 T extra virgin olive oil
Mix all the ingredients together, (starting with the flour and water,) until it becomes a slightly dry dough.
Meaning, it shouldn’t be tacky, but don’t make it too dry/dense either.
Reserve the dough, covered with a tea towel, for 30 minutes.
After proofing, lightly knead the dough out on your cutting board, with a bit more flour, and then cut into equal sized pieces, which you roll into a balls.
(I made 10-12 total, but didn’t think to count.)
Heat a skillet, roll out each ball with a bit more flour on the cutting board, add some olive oil spray to the pan, and chuck in your flat bread.
Cook until you see some color on the first side, then flip it.
(Each bread takes 2-3 minutes total.)
Stack them on a plate, cover with a towel to keep warm, and eat them your favorite way, when they’re hot.
I had some with humus and olives for breakfast, (piping hot,) then made chana masala for dinner, and we ate them as naan.
(Boil your chickpeas in a pressure cooker, then make an onion based, Indian-spiced tomato curry, and add the cooked chickpeas to make a stew.)
All told, fresh flatbread and then homemade Indian food in one day was a lot.
But cooking is art, and everything tasted great, so I came out of the experience inspired and proud.
(Well fed too.)
Hope you enjoy some cooking!
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Photo Feature Friday: Torrance York
Not gonna lie.
It was fun writing yesterday’s highly critical article.
(Crushing bad art feels good.)
It’s been a while since I was a regular critic, as I don’t use Sunshine and Olly the same way I did my 11 year column at A Photo Editor.
I prefer it this way, as living inside a critic’s mind means constantly looking for flaws.
It’s possible I needed a long break to rejuvenate my own creativity, as now that I’m making art again, I feel lighter.
More positive.
Optimistic.
Frankly, for many years, I felt that having a creative outlet was crucial to health.
I still believe that, but now know that creativity alone won’t work. We also need physical exercise, (in large amounts,) as well as IRL socialization.
During the pandemic, I thought working online, and maintaining relationships that way, could lead me to success and happiness.
(No such luck.)
That said, creative pursuits are not only powerful, but in some cases, they can be life-saving. (Or at least lead to almost miraculous levels of healing.)
As always, I have a point, rather than just spouting off. (Especially as it’s a holiday week. No plans to waste your precious time.)
So what am I on about?
Today, I’m sharing a portfolio from Torrance York, an artist I “met” at the online Exposure portfolio review, put on by LACP last year.
And it’s about as positive a use of art as you’re likely to find.
Unfortunately, Torrance was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease 9 years ago, which is the second leading brain illness after Alzheimer’s.
Jessie’s best friend Laurel has the same condition, and each week, they have an online dance party, as movement and art have been proven to improve the serious symptoms, mostly associated with a loss of motor skills.
(Though reading Torrance’s literature, I learned the issue is primarily with dopamine production.)
The series we’ll see a part of is called Semaphore, a term that relates to a coded symbology. (Originally associated with flags.)
The project was meant to reflect the difference in Torrance’s lived experience, but also represents her personal efforts to use art to manage, or perhaps combat, the debilitation.
Not only is it working for her, (giving joy, purpose, and symptom relief,) but she’s also become an advocate, using exhibitions, lectures and publications to spread the word.
In fact, she currently has a show up at the Lightburn Gallery at the New Canaan Library, (in Connecticut,) and will be doing programming with them later this month, along with a lecture with Open Show LA in July as well.
Art has been a part of my entire adult life.
Some years, (like the last few, when my career has been on ice,) I lose sight of the bigger picture.
It’s been almost a decade now since I taught photography to at-risk youth, (which I did for 11 years,) and it wears away at my idealism.
(Not sure if that happens to you as well.)
So today’s post is in honor of Torrance York, and her brave fight against PD, but it’s also meant to offer you some inspiration.
The Bear angered me, because it gave up on hope, and embraced nihilism.
Torrance York has done no such thing.
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“The Bear” Jumped the Shark
Courtesy of The Daily Beast, Photo Illustration by Luis G Rendon/The Daily Beast/FX
Happy 4th of July, if you celebrate.
And if you’re not in favor of American independence, (on land purloined from the Indigenous population,) no stress.
Hope you enjoy a day off, irrespective of the cause.
That said, there is one thing you should not do today.
(Not if you have any sense.)
Do NOT watch Season 3 of the hit Hulu/FX show, “The Bear.”
Unfortunately, as the blog’s title suggests, the artistic series, which was pretty terrific in its first two seasons, is downright bad in its 3rd season.
These days, bad can apparently mean hot, or extremely good-looking, in Gen Z parlance.
(As opposed to the late 20th C, when it meant tough. As in the Michael Jackson song “Bad.”)
I am not using bad in either manner.
Here, bad means terrible.
Poorly made.
Annoying.
Frustrating.
And, ultimately, fruitless.
Major spoiler alert, as I’ll be discussing the story arc of Season 3.
Were I to do so extensively, I’d have trouble, as there was almost no arc of which to speak.
Basically, Disney has a Season 3 jinx with some of its Uber-talented creative teams.
It happened with “Atlanta,” “Reservation Dogs,” and now “The Bear.”
(Netflix had a similar issue with Aziz Ansari’s “Master of None.”)
Without access to what happened, I’m left to speculate.
Perhaps once the creators have built up street cred, it’s harder for them to take criticism?
Or maybe it’s the opposite, and once the projects are successful, the networks start meddling too much?
Certainly, with all three Disney shows, Season 3 was a radical departure from the energy that built success.
All three created rich, layered, hilarious, but also empathetic characters from the jump. They gave us real humans, from diverse backgrounds, who we wanted to watch.
Humor was mixed with pathos.
Depth and profundity flowed naturally. Absurdity and surrealism made sense.
Lots of movement, both the camera and in the blocking. Universes sprung up, fully formed, in Black Atlanta, Indigenous Oklahoma, and then Blue-collar Foodie Chicago.
We’ll stick with the last of those worlds, as the criticism here is mostly meant for the Christoper Storer food series.
Season 1 had only 8 episodes, filled with entertaining chaos.
Lots of yelling, cursing, passion, spilled milk, make-up hugs, and terrific set-ups.
(Like the bit about accidentally slipping valium to the attendees at a children’s birthday party.)
All the actors were charismatic, vibrant, and equal parts joyous and murderous.
The final reveal at the end of the season was revelatory.
The money in the tomato cans.
Such a powerful, intentional story.
The wonderful writing was matched by the insanely good acting.
Shout outs to all, but definitely Jeremy Allen White, Ayo Edebiri, Oliver Platt, Ebon Moss-Bachrach, Lionel Boyce, and Liza Colón-Zayas.
Season 2 took it further with 10 episodes, and gave us two of the best I’ve ever seen: the back to back “Fishes” and “Forks.”
Holy Shit was that art good.
Tension that makes you sick, but always with a payoff.
Ridiculously good cameos by Jamie Lee Curtis, Bob Odenkirk, Jon Bernthal, Sarah Paulson, and John Mulaney.
These episodes were humanistic to an impossible degree.
Magnetic bad behavior, positive expressions of love, and everything in between.
10/10.
Which is what makes the Season 3 belly-flop so disappointing.
Lest you think I’m exaggerating, I did a 3-Season binge with Jessie, as she hadn’t seen the show before.
She agreed Parts I and II were brilliant.
And we commiserated together, as Season 3 started off flat, then never improved.
Episode 1 was basically built off of flashbacks, like what they did on “Happy Days” when they needed a filler.
Seasons 1 and 2 left so much to the imagination.
Using flashbacks to fill in gaps that didn’t need filling was amateurish.
As with Aziz Ansari and Donald Glover, the show started to lean heavily on high-art cinema clichés, European style.
All through Part III, we have miserable people, emoting misery. (In obvious fashion.)
Funerals, breakups, deception, bleak stares, panic attacks... but not much movement.
So many scenes with two people sitting next to each other, talking about boring stuff, in uninspiring locales.
We had to stop it SO many times to shit-talk, or take a walk.
No balance. No uplift. No depth. And no joy.
Except for the repeated use of the Faks, two fat guys as comic relief.
(So blatant, like Shakespeare with a MUCH lower IQ.)
Irrational decisions abound, plot holes like pot holes, and very little progress.
The less said about the masturbatory IRL chef-cameo-obsessed finale, the better.
(Though I'll admit we enjoyed watching Thomas Keller try SO hard not to look at the camera as he spouted his pretentious pablum.)
It seemed like a parody of itself, but clearly wasn’t.
To top it all off, as Jessie and I stopped the finale, again and again, to wonder how they could possibly resolve any of the plot lines by the end, (as there had been so little development,) they made the cardinal sin of all time.
They ended the fucking thing with a To Be Continued.
(For real.)
Did I throw something at the screen?
No, but only because I didn’t want to break my computer.
An irresponsible solution to a season with so little joy.
We continually talked about the Hollywood Writer’s strike of 2023, and how it seemed the production team had given in to nihilism.
How they should have done more therapy, then used their personal growth to fuel the writing.
(Rather than just trauma-dump.)
It was impossible to stay in the narrative, as the seams were everywhere.
As I said at the beginning, I hope you have a nice day today.
I do.
But you won’t if you try to watch the latest version of “The Bear.”
It’s about as much fun as having a junkyard dog bite off your private parts.
No thanks. -
Secret Recipe: Steak Fajitas
Some days, I just have to write.
Other days, I want no part of it.
Then there are days like today, when I’m not feeling that white-hot compulsion, but do have a post in mind.
I’ve already walked the dogs, made some photographs on my new project, had a smoothie, and am about ready to go do a heavy, lower-body lift at the gym.
(Focusing on my legs has led to some major progress in my Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.)
My point: I wouldn’t normally bother with a post on a day like this.
And yet, Friday’s article was viewed on every Continent within 24 hours.
You, the Sunshine and Olly audience, hail from so many countries it makes my head spin.
And that is undoubtedly cool.
So I figured I’d share a recipe today.
One I’ve been working on.
Given how expensive restaurants are these days, I’m giving you the hook-up on how to have a proper carnivorous celebration meal...
...on a very decent budget.
Today’s recipe: Steak Fajitas.
I serve them in the skillet, straight from the stove to the table. I know many people don’t eat meat, much less beef.
I respect that, and try to limit my animal consumption as much as possible.
But I don’t eschew beef, and since I started lifting seriously, I do need to eat it about 2x a week.
(Once for sure or my muscles start crying.)
On Saturday, I got a 1 lb NY Strip Sirloin at Albertsons for $14.99, which was enough meat for me, Jessie, and then Theo cleaned up the prodigious leftovers when he came home from camp.
(There are even a few strips left in the fridge.)
That works out to $5/person, for the meat portion, and just think about what that would cost in a restaurant.
Add in 1 large red bell pepper, 1 onion, a few scallions if you have them, and some chiles, and you’re done.
(Plus limes, tortillas, and a tad of shredded cheese.)
To make it great, though, the meat should marinate for a day in my special brew, and I’d recommend a good skillet if you have one.
Let’s get to it.
Season both sides of your steak with salt, pepper, and New Mexico Red Chile powder. (If you can find it.)
Pat in the dry rub, get it on the sides too, and then pour over the wet ingredients to make the marinade.
Some Worcestershire sauce, balsamic vinegar, fresh squeezed lime juice, and a tad of orange juice.
Flip and baste the meat as much as you’d like, over 24 hours. (It can be as little as 30 minutes, if need be.)
Be sure to leave the meat out for an hour, though, so it comes up to temperature before cooking.
From there, you heat up your skillet, and cook down the onion in olive oil until it’s soft, seasoning it with salt and pepper. Add the scallions if you have them, then remove to a separate bowl.
Add a touch more oil, then the sliced red bell pepper, and move the slices around the skillet with salt and pepper.
When the color is slightly less intense, remove the peppers to the onion bowl.
Give the skillet a minute to heat up well again, then cook the meat on front and then back, without moving it, until each side has some nice crunch and color.
Using tongs, then cook on the sides, top and bottom, taking care to render as much of the side-cap fat as you can, to impart more flavor.
When each side is done on the outside, remove the steak, and let it rest for about 3 minutes.
The meat will be undercooked, so carefully slice it, then add the steak, peppers and onions back to the skillet.
(On a lower heat.)
Stir the fajitas, squeeze some more lime, and hit the mixture with more black pepper too.
I included New Mexico roasted green chiles, but you could use jalapeños, serranos, or any chile.
The chile heat, along with the lime-juice acid, cuts through the richness of the meat.
Heat up your flour tortillas, chuck on a bit of shredded cheese, and you’ll be in heaven.
Of course, if you have guacamole or salsa around, you can add that too.
(The check-out clerk mistakenly gave me two avocados, so our guac was free.)
For the cost of a $15 steak, a $1.50 red bell pepper, and a $1 onion, you’re feeding a family of three.
Well.
In any decent Mexican restaurant, that’s $20/plate.
Probably more.
So next time you’re craving fajitas, give it a try.
The sizzle sounds so good!
-
Photo Feature Friday: Laidric Stevenson
by Jonathan Blaustein
Hi Everybody.
How’s it going?
I know my production here has lagged, but thankfully it’s not for any nefarious reason. (Though I have had a major formatting issue with WordPress, which has made posting much less fun.)
It’s summer, which slows everything down, and I’m happy to report I’m actually making photographs now, almost every day.
The urge to force it, which I wrote about a month ago, has proven fruitful, and I’m getting my creativity needs met on the regular, making visual art again.
That said, I didn’t build up the blog all spring just to abandon it to lazy days.
No sir.
During that push, I also rejuvenated the photography portion of Sunshine and Olly by reviving my Friday photo column.
As today’s title suggests, that’s where we’re going. It’s for a similar reason as the last run of photo columns, in that I saw something organically, and wanted to share it.
In this case, an artist I know from Dallas, whom I profiled twice in my column at A Photo Editor, has been showing the coolest night photos on IG the past few months.
Titled sometimes i can’t sleep.
I was just telling someone yesterday that my IG feed is nearly ceaseless in its promotion of martial arts and fitness videos.
So. Many. Videos.
I barely see photographs, (even though I follow a million photographers,) but somehow, Laidric Stevenson’s night pictures, in Texas, made it through the algorithm’s very tight set of standards. (Yes, I was originally going to write sphincter, but it seemed too gross.)
These pictures are not new.
Doesn’t matter.
As artists, knowing when to let things sit, sometimes for years, is a valuable skill.
Adding time to the way we receive photographs, (allowing for culture to age,) is a battle tested way of juicing the flavor.
Like photo MSG.
According to his statement, (which is super-well-written, IMO,) back in the last decade, the only time of day Laidric could definitely get to make photographs, (between a young child and two jobs,) was to go out at night.
And lest you think these pictures are easy, they’re all made on film.
With big cameras.
This is the opposite of blazing away and letting the digital sensor do the work.
I’m going to give you a nice quote from Laidric, to enhance your understanding of his art, and then we’ll land the plane with a series of his pictures.
Beyond that, I’ll be back next week.
Laidric wrote:
“While counting down the minutes plus exposure, I can’t help but notice things like the smell of the nighttime air.
It smells cleaner somehow without all the traffic around, even though I’m still in the city. There’s also the way the night turns down the volume of life.
I know it may not be like this elsewhere in the city, so I try to find these isolated pockets to set up my camera in peace.
As photographers, sometimes we have to answer to those who don’t understand what we’re doing and why.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Why are you taking pictures?’
‘What are you taking pictures of?’
‘Why are you taking pictures of that?’
Sometimes, we might not even know why. The photographs are us searching for those answers.
All i know is some nights, i can’t sleep.”
-
The Falcon and the Hawk
Short post today.
(I caught a cold Friday night, and it’s laid me low.)
Weird to think such “normal” viruses are back.
The kind that won’t kill you, require taking obnoxious tests, or make you quarantine for days.
The kind that hits when you’re worn out, and your immune system is compromised.
It’s frustrating, but reminiscent of the before-times.
So that’s something.
Short post today, but not one lacking mission.
With my limited energy, I still had to take the dogs for a walk this morning, as that’s part of the deal.
Even on a huge farm, our pack still insists on human leaders to make the rounds, check the territorial borders, catch some exercise, and of course relieve their bowels.
Olly, along the acequia 
This morning, just as I was leaving our favorite stretching spot, (a fence gate that’s quite convenient,) I heard a red-tailed hawk screech above us.
Live in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains long enough, and you’ll recognize the call immediately.
So I looked up and saw the strangest thing.
A tiny falcon was dive-bombing the massive hawk.
Flitting around the bigger bird, causing a nuisance.
It was wild.
Much as I normally just try to enjoy those moments, I grabbed the iPhone, set it to zoom, and tried to capture a fraction of a second.
With a little help from enlarging the file, I can at least show you the fuzzy outlines of the encounter.
Right after I took this, the hawk caught an air current and sailed off.
The freaking falcon won!
The other bird was 10x the size, but took the hint and left town. (So to speak.)
I mention this because in a might makes right era, (to which we’ve tenuously returned,) we always assume the bigger, stronger entity will win.
And normally, that’s true.
But not always.
Training, technique, strategy, tactics, heart, motivation, expertise, experience… these things matter too.
In difficult times, it’s important to remember the unexpected happens constantly.
And sometimes, underdogs win.
So if you’re down, don’t give up.
Catch you next time.
-
Making Moves, Part Two
This is a weird one to write.
(It’s funny how honesty works.)
Lately, the posts that have been really raw, just coming from a place deep within my soul…
…they’ve drawn the best response.
When I use Sunshine and Olly as art, by saying the things that are desperate to get out of my body, it’s created conversation.
(Best case scenario, really.)
And those posts are NOT hard to write.
The energy leaps out of me, through my fingers on the keyboard. There’s a compulsion to the process, those days.
A physical need.
This one, though, I’ve planned to write.
Planned to share.
But it’s much trickier.
Because it involves my hopes and dreams, not just my inner turmoil.
The truth is, this is not news to people who know me IRL.
(Or some with whom I’ve been in direct digital contact.)
But it is not something I’ve shared publicly, even though I’ve been cooking it up for a few months.
After 19 years here in Taos, my family and I are planning to move.
To leave the only home my kids have ever known.
We’re headed West.
To Southern California.
The kids at the beach, Encinitas, 2018
I don’t know why typing that out is so hard.
Maybe it makes it feel more real?
Raises the stakes?
Probably not.
Probably, it’s just the inner fear that comes out when one makes such big moves.
But given what I’ve shared here over the past 16 months, it really shouldn’t come as a surprise.
I’ve written about career changes, and hinted at the massive gentrification taking place in Taos.
(All over the West, in many cases.)
Back when I used to travel all the time, and Taos was a smaller place, I could imagine living here forever.
All along, though, it felt isolated.
Living in the quiet, with nature an intimate part of your daily life, is amazing.
This morning’s dog walk. I’ll miss this part of Taos life, for sure. 
It’s given me and my family a platform to become our best selves.
But living far from everywhere, forever, is a bit extreme.
Plus, I grew up at the beach, and have lived 1000 miles from one since 2005.
Fuck that shit.
Give me some ocean.
ASAP!
So that’s what today’s short post is about.
Making moves is often about getting your mind right.
Understanding the larger playing field, and your position on it.
Sometimes, even though it’s super-scary, we have to make decisions on faith.
On belief.
Optimism can be hard to come by, in 2024.
So if you can find any, and you see some light up ahead, maybe head that way and see what’s there?
Catch you next time.
-
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