Word: cowboying
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...Falcon Crest. Inevitably, there are many of the California cliches -- hot goat cheese, cold pasta and dangerously raw salmon. Nevertheless, this erratic chef has a talent for simple dishes, among them lobster gazpacho, warm duck salad with turnip pancake, chopped lamb steak au poivre, T-bone steak cowboy style, a luscious warm vegetable stew and a fragrant polenta pound cake with Madeira cream...
Another zealous cowboy is Vince Cannistraro, 41, a twelve-year veteran of the CIA. He took over Central American operations from North last spring after first being responsible for operations in Africa. He has directed the channeling of weapons and aid to Jonas Savimbi's UNITA rebels fighting the Marxist regime in Angola. Insiders say Cannistraro managed to supply Savimbi with more arms than the White House originally intended. A quiet official who joined the NSC in 1983, Cannistraro has helped funnel supplies to the mujahedin guerrillas at war with the Soviet-backed government of Afghanistan...
...high-technology industries. But he has balanced his views with positions more attuned to a Colorado constituency. He advocated strong consumer-protection laws but also worked for abolition of price controls on oil and gas. When campaigning back home, Wirth shucks his stylish Washington dress in favor of cowboy boots and big belt buckles, but some Democratic pols think he must cultivate a more genuinely down-to-earth manner. Says one: "It's something Tim needs to work on. He can't seem to help letting people know that he is smarter and busier than they...
...someone says. They laugh. The bar door opens. A big, shambling man with a droopy mustache enters with the tender-kneed, left-right stride of a man who's fallen off too many broncos. He is wearing a goose-down vest, a snap-button shirt, jeans and pointy-toed cowboy boots, all of which look out of place in this working man's, New England bar. One of the men at the bar glances over his shoulder. He elbows another. Then another. Soon all the men at the bar are glancing over their shoulders. They...
...something both warming and ominous about him. The voice, maybe: flat, arrhythmic, dispensing stream-of- consciousness folk wisdom ("Things that never had names before now are easily described. It makes conversation easy") like an old-time pharmacist handing out a Bromo. Or just his presence: decked out in cowboy duds ("They sell a lot of these around here, but I never see anybody else wearing them"), moonstruck and heartfelt, with knowing eyes and open face and sloping, sculpted jaw. Gregory Peck dosed out on lithium. He sure gives you pause. Then he makes you laugh...