Regular readers of this blog know that I’m not much of a foodie. On most days, my diet is a rather monotonous affair consisting of a highly nutritious but unpalatable liquid. But sometimes I stumble upon something that reminds me how pleasurable food can be. Over the weekend, I was at Parma 8200 with visiting family. It’s an Italian restaurant located in a nondescript suburban corner. When dessert was served, I noticed my brother’s partner eating some kind of chocolate custard that looked quite tasty. I asked him about it and he explained that it was a chocolate budino and offered to let me try some. I ate a spoonful and fell in love. It has a consistency thicker than pudding, as if someone baked a chocolate cake and then melted it into a bowl. The chocolate itself wasn’t too sweet and it was pleasantly warm, which made it all the easier to gulp down a few more spoonfuls.

I may have to treat someone to dinner just so I can try it again.

While I’m disappointed with several of Obama’s actions as president (the tepid stimulus, the abandonment of the public option, the surrender to Republicans on austerity measures), I can’t criticize the man’s reading choices. The New Yorker looks at Obama’s summer vacation reading list, which skews heavily towards contemporary fiction. I’d be curious to compare Obama’s list to those of Perry and Romney. I’m willing to bet that Perry, assuming he reads at all, is probably still meaning to get around to finishing the last fifty pages of The Shack. Romney seems like the kind of guy who re-reads Atlas Shrugged every couple summers.

Any president who reads David Mitchell has my vote. I’m sure my fellow liberal elites feel the same way.

I’m saddened but not entirely surprised to learn that Steve Jobs is retiring as Apple’s CEO. His resignation letter hints that his persistent health troubles have not improved and may have worsened. While I don’t consider myself an Apple devotee, Jobs deserves piles of credit for transforming a marginalized computer company into an iconic brand that churns out elegantly designed and inherently cool products. Without Jobs, the personal computer might still be stuck in the “beige box” era. Jobs demanded products that melded form and function, a design ethos that can now be seen in electronics, cars, furniture, and any number of consumer goods.

Apple will likely continue to prosper. Jobs hand-picked its management team and it’s nearly unthinkable that they could damage a company with so much momentum. And Jobs will continue to exert his influence for at least a while longer. Heck, he still might persuade me to switch to a Mac one day.

I’m not intimately familiar with the Captain America comics, but the film’s trailer intrigued me enough to lure me into the theater over the weekend. Captain America can safely be considered a B-lister in Marvel’s stable of superheroes, so the movie could have gotten away with being merely competent and audiences would have been satisfied. Captain America aspires to be more than competent, taking us on an invigorating romp through a comic book version of World War II. The story itself doesn’t need much explanation. Steve Rogers is a 90-pound weakling who desperately wants to join the military and aid in the battle against the Nazis, but keeps getting turned away because of his physical frailties. Thanks to a chance meeting with an Army scientist at the World Expo, Rogers is enrolled in a secret military program designed to turn him into a super-soldier. Meanwhile, renegade Nazi officer Johann Schmidt (played with appropriately sinister megalomania by Hugo Weaving) is pursuing his own plan for world domination.

The movie’s light touch keep Captain America from becoming a jingoistic self-parody and lets his simple humanity win the audience’s sympathies. This attention to character development, along with several clever yet not altogether original action sequences, separates Captain America from lesser peers like Daredevil and Fantastic Four. Aside from an after-credits scene that plays more like a commercial, Captain America is perfectly enjoyable popcorn entertainment drenched in lovingly rendered nostalgia.

My medical supply company has been trying to gently persuade me to give up my bulky, old-school ventilator in favor of a newer, more compact model. I’ve been reluctant simply because I’m so accustomed to my current vent (the LP-10, if you’re curious) and how it interfaces with me. I know how to trigger the alarm to get someone’s attention and how to tweak the settings when necessary (such as when I’m doing a lot of public speaking). In short, it’s familiar and comfortable.

Yesterday, I received a letter from my supply company notifying me that there’s a slight problem with the new ventilator intended to replace my current vent. Apparently, it may suddenly stop working without warning. I understand that any medical device can malfunction, but my clunky LP-10 has been a dependable machine over nearly two decades of use. As you might guess, I’m even less enthusiastic about the new vent now.

I’m usually an enthusiastic adopter of new technology, but this might be an instance where sticking with what works is the better option.