Sunday ritual
For the last couple of weeks, I've been taking a beer can and shoving it up the butt of a chicken. There's not much more for me to say that anyone would really want to hear, but what the heck. I got some time on my hands waiting for my chicken to stop screaming in the oven.
I started by doing something I've never done in my life before: I bought a six pack of Bud Light. I'm not a beer snob... no wait, I am. Even if I wasn't, this is some bad beer. But it's good enough for a chicken. I rub on a secret spice blend (whatever isn't older than the cats goes in!) and put some garlic cloves in the beer can.
Today, I added a little somethin' somethin' buy roasting potatoes in the same pan. I think the chicken will like the company. There's no possible way to insert a beer into the potatoes or else I'd give that a shot. Not that I've tried.
This method of cooking chicken produces really moist white meat and crispy skin because the bird isn't cooking in its own fat and juices. It's also hilarious to see a chicken sitting on a can. I don't know about you, but I really enjoy laughing at my food. Not WITH my food, but AT it.
Labels: Food
« April 13, 2008 5:11 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
How you like them apples?
I sure do like apples and I don't mean Isabelle's cheeks! I mean...wait, what do I mean by that? Let's not explore.
Apples make pie (good), sauce (gooder), and cider (goodest!). The cider I'm talking about isn't the Woodchuck or Strongbow in a six pack. I mean the frenchy (what else) kind made in Normandy where the apples are fermented until they alcholise. They add nothing at all to the juice (JUICE!) and then I buy it in the package store and drink whole bottles of it until I fall over.
It's not an easy product to find because we 'mericans have our own ideas of what hard cider is, don't we, Vermont? I've only found two labels so far in Atlanta and one is clearly better than the other. It's Etienne Dupont and I have my eyes set on the giant 1500ml bottle for this weekend. That's two wine bottles in one. My liver is frightened.
I'll have my chance to try many more later this year when we follow the appley path of the Normandy Cider Route. Sixteen different farms = Yen passed out for 3 days, waking up, asking "Where the hell am I? France? Woohoo, let's go get some cider!" And repeat.
Cylinda can't wait.
http://www.calvados-tourisme.com/loisirs/route/route5_gb.asp
« January 24, 2008 7:51 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
Because I got nothing else...
You know those people who hold up lines at fast food restaurants with their endless questions about the menu, the most uncryptic list of items known to man? You get a little annoyed at them because they clearly don't understand the concept of fast food, but then the feeling turns into sadness for them and the obstacles they must face to get through life. If they can't figure out what all goes into a combo meal, how in the world are they able to raise children? You know they all have children.
Anyway, I became one of those people yesterday. It wasn't a shining moment in my life, but neither is eating at Dairy Queen, which is where this life altering experience occurred.
Labels: Food
« January 08, 2008 7:13 AM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
7 for 2007
Dalai Lama
Who needs anger management classes if you got the DL? Not me! Yen: Compassionately-enabled since October 2007.
"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion." -- Dalai Lama
Technology
A new laptop and a cellphone has brought me closer to current societal standards. Aggregating RSS feeds and relearning the finer points of XSL transformations for work - fun, but it's still work.
France
I was just reminiscing about this trip the other day... and sorely missing the Chinese food from a takeout counter in Nice. Yes, inappropriate, but I get to try again this year. This first trip to the mother country was everything I hoped it would be and more: friendly, frenchy, beautiful. Wait, are we talking about the country or the women? Har har. It was less, too: chaotic, crazy, inaccessible. Sitting at the park on top of the gorge in Gourdon was one of my best moments of the year.
Maladies
A radar head and some kidney damage in the boys and a bout of bronchitis in and a hospital visit for me makes this the year of the sick.
Novel
I originally wrote my time jumping meth meets Pony Express story three years ago and I finally rewrote half of it for Nanowrimo in November. I'm actually proud of it which is difficult to admit because I find my writing extremely tedious <-- like that.
Isabelle
First the woman releases my new favorite album of ever and all time in April - De retour de la source. Then she smiles and winks and talks to me during her concerts in Quebec. How, I ask, how can I not be insane in the membrane over her? I do have my limits, though. Obsess over her? Yes. Create a painting and selling it online for 15,000 euros?
Maybe.
Sandwiches
Po' boys, banh mis, croque monsieurs, cubans...bring it. I love you all so much I don't know how quite to express it.
I think I'll end the year on that note. See ya, 2007.
Labels: Cats, Food, France, Isabelle, Music, Trips, Yen
« December 31, 2007 12:25 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
Crazy for cubans
If I had been born right (it's a little late for THAT), I would've had an Indian mother and a Cuban father. I would've eaten like a king growing up, even if I would've looked funny. Oh wait, that part's the same. Someone actually asked if I was Filipino the other day. And my non-Indian mom tells me I was mistaken for a Japanese baby when I was... a baby. Maybe it's her way of telling me something...
Anyway, my point is that I love Cuban sandwiches. What? That wasn't clear?
I wish I could pick a favorite cuban sandwich in Atlanta, but all I can say is the last one I ate is my favorite. There's something so right about these porky sandwiches. It's not just roasted pork, but there's ham, too! Genius. And then there's the swiss cheese that melts slightly on the hot pressed bread. All together, el cubano is one of my 3 favorite food groups. Yes, it's a category onto itself.
Here are some ATL restos that enable my habit:
Kool Korners - 14th St., Midtown
Even though it has non-traditional toppings of lettuce & tomatoes and jalapenos, this is just one tasty sandwich. It's spicy, the bread is outstanding and it has the right ratio of meat to cheese. It's ATL's most consistently recommended place to go for a cuban sandwich - mostly cause they make nothing else.
Havana Sandwich Shop - Buford Hwy & North Druid Hills
This is highly regarded, too, but just not by me. I do think the bread is excellent but there's too much mayo and the cheese is too melty, rendering the swiss cheese not as swissy as it should be. In spite of saying all that, I would not say NO to this cuban if I was just within a 5 mile radius of this restaurant. This is how addicted I am.
Las Palmeras - 5th St, Midtown
Being my neighborhood dealer, I am partial to this sandwich. It has the right amount of meat and the cheese is always done right. The bread isn't as good as the others, but I overlook that because the little lady owner is too cute.
Papi's Grill - Ponce de Leon, Midtown
As my backup dealer, I will give big ups to the consistency of this sandwich. It's always humongous, it always has a ton of meat and the bread could always be better.
Red Peppers - Main St., Acworth
As my gateway sandwich, I only remember that it had crusty, tasty great bread. I've only eaten here once so I don't recall anything else about the sandwich, but I was high from the experience. OBVIOUSLY.
Fuego Spanish Grill - Crescent Ave., Midtown
This is a tapas place and I'm not a big tapas fan, so I've only had it once here. The sandwich is normal size and not tapas size, but it had a lot more more mustard and pickles than necessary. The porky meats were good, though.
There's a few more places that I have yet to try (but I'm trying!). This includes Coco Loco on Sidney Marcus and Palomillas up in Norcross. If you're ever downtown, do not get the cuban at the Loaf and Kettle. They don't use cuban pressed bread so it's not the same at all. It's just the idea of a cuban sandwich and while that is indeed a tasty thought, it should not be an option if you want a good version of the 2nd best sandwich ever created.
What's the first? Good question.
« December 12, 2007 8:45 PM | Post a Comment | 2 comments »
Dear Ticketmaster
Thank you for helping me kickstart my five year plan. Without you, I wouldn't be able to save for our next house... no, wait, I don't need you for that. I just need Cylinda to STOP LEECHING. The cats could help too, but that's nearly a lost cause. I still have ideas, though...
Well, TM (we're on a friendly basis), you're there to help me achieve inner peace, aren't you? No, wait, the Dalai Lama beat you to it. You help test my inner peace, though. Kudos for that!
TM, are you helping me learn how to speak French without sounding like an idiot? No, actually, there's no one who can help me with that, although my Frenchy teacher is trying very hard. I'll give her kudos, too. Oooo, I miss Kudos bars. They were good.
OHH, I know! You help me plan my evenings many years from now. You help me travel through time and let me see that I have nothing better to do on one night in January 2009 other than go see Celine Dion in concert. That surely helped me buy the tickets today one second after they went on sale. You're awesome and without you, I wouldn't know what to do with myself 14 months from now.
I'm starting to panic, though. I have absolutely no plans for 2010.
« November 16, 2007 3:32 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
The thanks I get for eating tofu
When it comes to hot wings, lots of people think theirs is the best. I'm not here to argue; I don't have your taste buds and frankly, I don't want them. Really, keep your tongue to yourself. My point is...oh yeah, my favorite wings are the ones I make. Duh. Of course.
Well, I made a whole bunch last weekend in preparation for all the football game watching. And today, they're all still uneaten, sitting in the fridge. Why? An emergency room visit, clear liquid diet, bland (flavorless) food diet, a doctor's visit and medication kinda all got in the way.
Why? (you ask again because you care, don't you?) Because I tried to be good and eat some damn tofu on Saturday night. Stupid tofu, that's why. I hate tofu. I've resisted it all my life. I've never willingly chose it before and after this, I never will again. One chance you had there, tofu, and you royally f'ed it up.
Nice. You send me to the ER and you keep my from my beloved wings. You're on the list now. You know the list; the one that includes...water chestnuts. Oh yes, THAT list.
« October 02, 2007 7:53 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
Around me this week
Trader Joe's
Since the intown store opened a few weeks ago, I've noticed people carrying around TJ's shopping bags to work, to classes, around the park, into my kitchen...oh wait, that was me. It's rather disturbing how dependent my life has become on this chain store, but it doesn't seem like I'm the only one.
Most of the food we've tried has been good; I would even call it great considering the price and convenience. The only product I want to mention by name, though, is Président butter from Normandy, France. Ever since our ill-fated, Isadore-friendly cruise where this butter was standard fare, we've been dreaming about it. And now, this dream is a buttery reality.
TV anchor
I followed a well-known local news anchor out of my building today. For anyone who cares, it was Amanda Davis from Fox 5 News. Oooooooo. Anyways, I was struck by how skinny she is and realized how much weight TV does add to a person. It's hard enough to judge a news anchor behind a desk, but I think it was also her big hair that threw me off. What's my point? I don't know. She looked very pretty and was having an awkward "let's talk about the weather" conversation with her camera operator. I got uncomfortable and had to speed-walk my way around them.
Céline on tour in France!
The woman has been kind enough to celebrate my birthday next year with a concert - in Paris. Oh well, it's the thought that counts, right? And I do have lots of time to figure out how to get there. Hmmm... Well, this is also an early alert for everyone that Céline will be touring the world and may come to a city near you. You'll know if she's in your city by the amped-up ridiculousness in the local atmosphere.
Uncharacteristically undramatic; Enjoy it while you can.
Labels: Atlanta, Celine, Food, TV
« May 09, 2007 9:43 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
Misled
Transparent pie, you lying liar, why are you not as gross as you look?
I found a pie shell laying about this morning (don't ask) and made myself fill it with pie. My problem was that I only had eggs, butter and sugar in the kitchen. No problem, that makes pie, my Joy of Cooking book told me.
Great, what kind of pie? Transparent pie, it said. Really, like as in, see-through? Sweet. No, I mean, literally. After mixing all the sugar I could find with some eggs and butter, I waited 40 minutes for it to bake in the oven. When I took it out, things were not promising. It looked burnt, but it didn't smell like it. So I thought maybe its insides would wow me. After letting it cool a bit, I cut it and that picture is what I saw. What a big liar.
But a lying pie is still a pie. And it's not bad. It tastes like one of those egg custard, flan, creme brulee, dan tat things, but the top is chewy because there's 4 pounds of sugar in it. On the con side, I could be developing Type 2 Diabetes as I sit here. But I HAD to fill that pie shell.
Labels: Food
« March 24, 2007 3:16 PM | Post a Comment | 2 comments »
Cut from the same cow
During this year's Chick-Fil-A Bowl (née Peach Bowl), there was a commercial for a free stuffed cow to the first 150,000 people who signed up. I immediately got online and had one sent to my little brother who likes Chick-Fil-A sandwiches so much, it's almost obscene. They're good, but the problem with them is that I only crave them on Sundays when the restaurants aren't open. Nevermind, I see how that's my problem and not theirs.
Anyways, I wanted to surprise him. So a few weeks after the bowl game, I was talking to him, and being my clever and sneaky self, said, "I got you something." He got real inquisitive so I had to tell him. And he then started laughing and said, "You know what?"
"I got you one, too."
What characters we are...ha ha heh heh bleh. I had a point to all this...Oh yeah, I got it in the mail today and the cats have been smiling at it. I think they want to eat a lot of steak tonight. Or actually, "eat mor stake".
« February 21, 2007 7:25 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
The cookie and me
Earlier this week, I ventured dangerously close to OTP so that I could buy some of the best chocolates in the city for my Valentine (and other people...and I got in trouble but it was worth it so I don't care). While Maison Robert sells mostly chocolate truffles and candies, they also have some small tartlets and cookies, including macaroons. I never had a real macaroon before and after learning more about them...I still haven't. There are two common types, but the real ones found in French patisseries are soft and light and look like this:
The macaroon I bought for myself looked like this:
It was dense and heavy and covered in a thick layer of dark chocolate. Because I was being sneaky, I had to eat it in the car before I got home. So I took a bite, and then another, and then another, and I still couldn't decide if I liked it or not. There wasn't much cookie left to make up my mind. But there was another factor here, as well: almonds. I have never in my life figured out if I like almond-flavored foods. I know, it's hard to be me, having these tortuous decisions in my head. And then, you know, NOT having a filter to NOT share these thoughts with people.
So anyways, yes, I finished the cookie. Sorry for the suspense. And I was content, having had a macaroon in my life. I could move on.
Or so I thought. Approximately 14 hours later, while staring out of my windows at work, I saw a macaroon pass by. And then another. It was a storm of macaroons! All covered in deep, dark, delicious chocolate with a satisfying chewiness, especially at the edges where the chocolate meets the almondyness of the cookie. Mmmmm...
I'M IN LOVE WITH MACAROONS.
And I hate them, too, because they're haunting me with their deliciousness. It might not seem so disturbing to want a cookie this badly, but just ask the cuban sandwiches. They know what my love REALLY means...
Why do you torture me with your tastiness?
Labels: Food
« February 15, 2007 4:27 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
Fanny is toast
I experienced an...odd...moment recently when I was talking to my beguin. If you know what that means, that may be an odd moment for you. Good luck with that. Anyways, I mentioned Fanny Ardant and the first thing she said was, "She's beautiful." That, of course, is a fact. So I agreed, but instead of being tactful, I waggled my eyebrows and said, "yessss," which really meant, "that woman is hot buttered toast."
Both are yummy, but only one can be the same age as my parents and still be tasty.
If the other was that old, it would be less yummy; much, much less.
I stopped waggling as soon as I could (about 10 seconds) but not before morphing into a dirty, old man who likes the Sears catalog for all the wrong reasons. It made me think about the following, some of which have been discussed by others less creepy that me:
- Many women are comfortable discussing the attractiveness of other women and still sound respectable. Amazing!
- I can not. Not surprising!
- Many men are uncomfortable discussing the attractiveness of other men. Me too! Just kidding!
- Rob Estes used to be my TV boyfriend but I've also worn glasses for most of my life. Do the math!
Labels: Food
« December 07, 2006 4:51 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
Sacrificial pumpkins
With the traditional destruction of pumpkins out of the way (messy, messy), we can now really start celebrating Thanksgiving. How far can you senselessly chuck a turkey? Or cranberry sauce? Hint: Keep it in the can and it'll fly farther.
Labels: Food
« November 23, 2006 9:35 AM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
Smooth talk
AT PUBLIX CHECKOUT LANE.
Cashier: Hi, did you find everything you were looking for?
Me: Yes, thanks.
BROTHER PUTS SMOOTHIES ON CHECK WRITING PLATFORM. WE DIDN'T WANT THEM TO MELT IN THE CAR.
Cashier: Oh! What kind of smoothies are those?
Me: Taro.
Cashier: What's that?
Me: They're taro smoothies.
Cashier: Oh...
BAGGER'S TRYING TO BAG AS FAST AS POSSIBLE.
Cashier: Is that like chocolate?
Me (in my head): What the?
Me (out loud): No...
BAGGER IS EITHER TRYING NOT TO LAUGH OR IS VERY HERKY-JERKY WHILE PERFORMING HIS JOB.
Me: But it's sweet.
CASHIER CAN'T STOP HERSELF FROM MAKING A FACE FOR A SECOND. SHE THEN REGAINS COMPOSURE.
Cashier: Thanks! Come back and see us reeeeeal soon.
« August 28, 2006 2:55 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
Window seat
This week I've seen out of my office windows:
- Scary black smoke from a raging fire at a nearby warehouse;
- Three news copters suspended in air over the same fire, cementing my belief that helicopters are the best flying contraptions ever created;
- Clouds up close and personal as a summer thunderstorm ran through the state, said, "Hey, I'll make you cooler," and then left in a jiffy, causing the temperatures to soar;
- About 100 red and orange balloons (illegally) released into the sky and (relunctantly) headed for Alabama. Poor balloons...what'd they ever do to anybody?
What I didn't see was another tourist in the stupid Aeroballoon ride at Underground. It's supposed to simulate a hot-air balloon ride, but only safer...and boring-er. It's attached to all these cables, it only goes up 350 feet in the air and it only lasts 10 minutes. For all that thrill, it costs $20.
You do not thrill me.
True, that's a tenth of what a real hot-air balloon ride costs, but I believe there's some things in life that shouldn't be done half-assed.
- If you're going to drink beer, drink some real beer.
- If you're going to play the lottery, play for some real money.
- If you're going to travel to another country, stay for more than 2 days and eat the local food (dammit).
- And if you're going to fly around in a balloon, fly in a real balloon without cables.
Hell, the Aeroballoon doesn't even go higher than my floor. Tell you what. Come into my building and I'll let you look out my fantastic view for only five bucks. Or take the $20 and drink a Trappist Ale, buy a few lottery tickets in the mega millions game (I said MEGA) and eat some pho with all the questionable cuts of meat. That'll last longer than 10 minutes and be a new kind of thrill.
« August 18, 2006 9:00 AM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
History lesson
Georgia ranks 24th in the US in terms of square mileage, but she ranks second in the total number of counties (159). Am I lying? No!
See, way back in the early days of statehood, a lot of white guys got together, got drunk (of course) and thought it'd be hilarious to make schoolchildren learn a ridiculous amount of county names and then be tested on them. With so many counties, most of the names that were thrown in the hat had to be used.
For example, sober people don't think saying, "I live in BUTTS" is funny, but drunks (and pre-teens) do.
Sometimes drunks get angry. One did and cursed his sandwich, saying, "F'ing ham! I wanted turkey." And so begat EFFINGHAM County.
Someone wanted to honor the Confederate hero Jefferson Davis, but another person, who forgot the president's last name (alcohol impairs memory), already suggested and approved JEFFERSON County. So they tossed in just plain Jeff, JEFF DAVIS. Hey, the guy was president and ran away from the Union soldiers dressed like a woman! He deserves two counties.
And so on and so forth. Throughout the night, names were suggested, laughed at and then approved. It was very democratic. By the time the sun was rising, most of the men were passed out, but the few who were still awake began to get hungry. And so, from a South Georgia farmer, came the best county names:
Boy howdy, it EARLY in da moanin, aint it? Time fer maw to fix me sum uh dat der BACON, all CRISP-like and COOK up sum strong COFFEE. Boy howdy, it shure bout dat time.
And so begat the Breakfast Counties. Yes, I do wish I was lying.
If you think the counties are a barrel of monkeys, the names of towns will make you want to drive around Georgia on the way to Disney World. (Yes, it can be done). Another day, maybe, and we'll learn about Hopeulikit, Santa Claus and Between.
« August 03, 2006 11:34 AM | Post a Comment | 1 comments »
Break it down
In Brazil, I mean, Brasil, caipirinhas are drunk by every patriotic citizen. In fact, each person has a glass of it in one hand and a soccer ball at his feet at all times. You think it'd be funny to watch a child master these mandatory activities, but it really isn't. Now, the elderly...HA!
So anyways, a caipirinha is made with cachaca, which is a sugarcane liquor, mashed-up limes, and sugar (simple syrup). It's good stuff. Last night, I ran out of cachaca, but had lots of limes and syrup left. So I made a virgin caipirinha and got a good buzz on. I think the limes were really old.
This morning when I woke up amongst the smashed limes, I only had the simple syrup left. I mixed it with ice and made a pre-teen caipirinha. It was eye-opening sweet, but I enjoyed it all the same.
Now, this is all that's left:
The only other thing I need is a spoon.
Labels: Food
« July 16, 2006 5:45 PM | Post a Comment | 1 comments »
Being Yen
Yen the happiest when drinking milk AND Celine Dion. Gross? Yes, absolutely.
« June 30, 2006 4:26 PM | Post a Comment | 2 comments »
Sad pride
This past weekend was the 36th Atlanta Pride Festival. It was also known as the Most Pathetic Pride Ever. Friday was cancelled at 7pm after the main stage collapsed (it just fell a little). Saturday was cancelled at 10pm because of winds. Sunday was cancelled at 3pm because of rain (light, light rain!).
Now I may be a bit harsh about it all, but I don't think so. I've been to Allentown Pride. I've been to Harrisburg Pride. Hell, I've been to the 1st (and last) Annual Columbia Folk Festival. So, you see, I've experienced a number of pathetic events in my life. But, Atlanta Pride, you win. You were more pathetic than the two rows of vendors and the 10 foot stage at Allentown. Yes, even more pathetic than having my pal Lor**da (name partially concealed to protect her identity) tell Cosy Sheridan backstage at Columbia about me drinking a whole vat o'scotch.
I can not resist you, vat o'scotch
Actually, that was just pathetic for Cosy, having to listen to us. It was funny for Lor**da. I don't recall how I felt. Possibly because I was drunk from the scotch.
« June 27, 2006 10:16 PM | Post a Comment | 0 comments »
