CURED

I have been cooking for the Phenom for 100 years now.  In fact, I truly believe that the pathway to Phenom's heart really was through the stomach . . . chili and chocolate cake/choco chip cookies!

But, truth be told, Phenom started out with a limited palate.  Although Mom-Phenom made really good desserts, she wasn't really into cooking for the sake of cooking.  She worked a full time job and so she'd typically cook a big Sunday meal and the family would eat off the leftovers all week.  Friday nights, Phenom's father would cook . .. . generally something meaty. But, the Phenom family was decidedly of the ilk that food was necessary to live, but not something to get all excited over.

Over the years, I've expanded the Phenom's food range.  Partly through manipulation, partly through playing on flavors I know are acceptable.  Oh, and manipulation.  

This past week, a friend sent me a freebie of Blue Apron; a meal delivery service.  They send you hand selected items and step by step instructions to prepare a meal.  This past week, we had salmon with roasted sweet potato disks, and salad with walnuts and green apple, chicken with a garlic spinach rice and curried tomato sauce, and meatball ragout.  

Phenom liked the roasted sweet potatoes and I'll make those again.  The garlic spinach rice was just weird and way way way too much garlic.  Fennel was the predominate flavor in two of the meals.  The meatballs were good, but would have been better in a bbq sauce.  The Phenom has always insisted that salmon has a "particular" flavor and not a favorite.  But, the salmon in this was wild caught and very good.  So, now I know I can fix salmon in the future. Also, the picky about fruit Phenom picked all the green apple pieces out of the salad and liked them.  

We're not going to be doing more of these meals . . . but it was interesting and at least I've got a couple new things I can add to the list of edibles.

Shocking!

This afternoon, I had the sort of date "old married" types have.  I picked up Phenom after he dropped his car off to get serviced and we went to lunch and stroll around a bit.

It is a beautiful, spring-time-in-the-south day.  I had the windows down, sunglasses on, music blaring, and all was well.  As Phenom sat in my car at the dealership, I turned to him and said "this is the sort of day where we should be allowed to smoke weed."  Good thing Phenom wasn't chewing gum because he would have swallowed it, as unexpected as my comment was.

But, it was true.  The sky was perfect, trees were blooming, it has FINALLY stopped raining.  The only thing that would have made it even better was a slight buzz.

Food Nerd

I have learned that I come by my food-nerd ways honestly.

I recently spent a week visiting the Grad Student.  Finally, we weren't in mourning for the loss of a loved one.  And, he lives in a food paradise.

His most recent obsession is roasting his own coffee.  He, as any good scientist would, keeps detailed notes and is quite methodical with his process.  Each new sort of bean he buys, he roasts to three different levels and then brews each with four different methods.  He keeps detailed notes.  Similarly, on my first morning, he brewed me four cups of coffee, each utilizing a different brewing method. He had me taste each with and without milk and report which I preferred.  That became "my coffee" for the whole visit.

I have now acquired my own "rig" for roasting coffee and this weekend will embark on a new level of food nerd.  However, I won't likely keep the detailed notes like he does.

I hope the Phenom is up for this one.  I have Mexican and Peruvian beans to start this adventure.  And, I'm pretty sure the one thing my co-workers are REALLY looking forward to is me being jacked up on coffee every morning.  Hee Hee.

Holiday plannin'

There is a significant birthday coming up, and although I've now given up on birthdays for myself, I will happily celebrate this one.  I offered to take the celebrant to dinner, but a request was made for home cooked steaks instead.  Also, I don't make birthday cakes for The Phenom anymore, so there will be a big batch of molasses spice cookies.  (100 years ago, I spent two days making the cover recipe from a cooking magazine only to be told "the secretary made this espresso chocolate cake and I ate three quarters of it, I can't have any more chocolate cake"  Since then, I make cookies and The Phenom gets to eat as many as they can, warm from the oven.)

Then comes thanksgiving.  The request was made for steak again . . . but to not have rapid fire repeats, I suggested I ask the butcher to prepare a trimmed 3-4 lb tenderloin roast.  I'll have to figure out what else I'm serving.  I wonder if Phenom would eat green bean casserole?  Phenom isn't much into green beans or casseroles . . . so putting the two together might be a "two negatives makes a possitive" or a look of "have you lost your mind?"  Maybe garlic sauteed spinach?  I use to make worchestershire roasted poatoes the Phenom liked . . . perhaps those?

After thanksgiving, we'll be heading north to attend a football game with friends.  One of the friends is a fantastic cook and the tailgate will be legen . . . wait for it . . . dary.  I'll ask what I can bring, but I'm already thinking the roasted pepper/whipped feta bruschetta and moonshine balls.  I made the moonshine balls last year for ESK's baby shower.  I used peppermint moonshine and then white chocolate dipped them and sprinkled with crushed peppermint candy.  I wonder if I should get candy melts in the colors of the home team?  I have peppermint oil I can spike the candy dip with to be extra festive.

Moonshine balls are super simple.  I think I found this recipe in a Southern Living; it's written down on a bit of scrap paper I've guarded over several years.  You can sub out bourbon or rum to your liking.

1 box (12 oz) vanilla wafers . . . whirred up in the food processor
add:
1/2 cup pecan pieces
2 TBLS cocoa powder
1/4 c booze
1/2 c golden raisins
6 TBLS corn syrup

Whir everything together until it becomes a paste

roll into cherry size pieces and roll in confectioner's sugar

Store in fridge for several weeks.  Although they are tasty freshly made, you do want them to "ripen" for a week or so.  I'll make the tailgate ones next weekend.

When I chocolate dipped them, I did it just before serving them (well a few hours before).  They will absorb the powdered sugar so you can roll them in a bit more sugar before you serve them to make them pretty but you don't have to.  They are better at room temp because then you can better taste the booze.

I'll make 2-3 batches between now and Christmas.

Of course, Liquor Loaf day is coming up in a few days, and this week I'll order a huge box of ingredients.

But, we'll go to NOLA for christmas so I only have to figure out where we'll be drinking for that holiday.

Played

The other evening, while attempting to be social, a friend who has recently gone through a personal crisis said to me "Phenom told me to tell you when I'd need some meals .  .  . I'll need some next week."

Okay.  Phenom had not bothered to mention this offer had been made before, but it is the sort of thing I do.

Today, I made a double batch of Cinncinati style chili and roasted a chicken.  I gathered all the toppings for the Cinncinati chili (cheese, onion, oyster crackers, kidney beans).  At some point, the Phenom asked why I was making so much food, and when are we going to eat that chicken?

I told him I'd been informed that an offer of meals had been made.  Phenom says no . . . that the offer of "anything we can do to help" was made.

On one monkey shaped hand, I am a tad startled by the forwardness of the request. But, mostly I'm thinking there is a lesson in this for me.  Last year when I was so sick and in and out of the hospital, many people offered assistance to us and each and every time, we turned it down.  Most of the time, it was vague "let us know" type offers, but there were some very specific offers . . . like a friend who saw the Phenom picking up our take out dinner and offered/really wanted to pay for it.

Looking back, we turned those offers down because we were a tad embarassed.  We never quite wrapped our brains around needing help.  And, I realize now, it was a mistake.  We should let people help us  Someday, they might not offer.  We're always tremendously helpful to others, and we need to learn to allow others to return the favor.  That being said, do leave it to the afflicted to figure out what they need you to do.  Figure out something, creatively, and do it.

Like the gift certificate to a local restaurant I tucked into the door of a friend whose mother passed away this week.  My friend has spent the last week sitting at her bedside, administering hourly pain meds . . . a good, hot meal she could just pick up and even have left overs the next day, was needed.  (She lives alone, and much like us has a really annoying independent streak. )  I find that if nothing else, a pizza gift certificate can always be used.  And cookies.  Even if the afflicted doesn't eat them, the people around will.

The Secret of a Good Relationship

is knowing just how to manipulate each other.

You need to know exactly what buttons to push, how to tip their hand, and what they will never refuse.

Because we are totally boring, the highlight of the holiday weekend was deciding if we were going to go have burgers and fries at the local drive-in tonight or get up tomorrow and hit up a local joint for a classic southern breakfast.  WOOO HOOO

While weighing the pros and cons of going out for dinner tonight vs. getting up for breakfast . . . (The dinner at home option was bean and cheese burritos, a favorite of the Phenom's.  I make my own refried beans and they are damn tasty.)  the Phenom threw in a totally new suggestion . . . that tomorrow we head up the high way to a BBQ joint we like for lunch.  I immediately agreed that this was the best possible option, and there was dancing about.

And, then the Phenom said "this way you can have some good BBQ and we can sleep a little later." That's how I knew I'd been manipulated . . . in the best way . . . but manipulated.  He knew the offer I wouldn't turn down and he gets to sleep later in the morning.

I can always make grits or pancakes on Sunday morning.

Three times a loser

Poor Phenom is having a bad week. First, he's having to go back to a work schedule that requires him to be up before 10am and cuts off his 4X a day naps.  Poor baby.

Then, we've had this ongoing discussion about my desire to plant a couple of peach pits (my local peach farmer got only a handful of peaches this year and I was able to get four of them.  I saved two pits to plant.)  Phenom doesn't want me to plant them because he said it will be years before I get peaches and he doesn't want to mow around them.  Well, he lost that battle . . . but he might have won too because we think a squirrel might have claimed my pits.  sigh.

And, there is the clock.  I finally have the family heirloom clock.  It chimes every quarter hour and Phenom claims to hear it when I can't.  Phenom expects it will keep him up at night.   Although, it didn't bother him or keep him from sleeping when we'd visit the Old People.

I'm afraid I'll have to work more on acting sympathetic.  Monkeys are more into pointing and laughing than being sympathetic.

Where I show my own Sheldon Cooper side.

I was a speaker at a local association of some group of professionals tonight. I arrived early to set up my presentation materials and chat with the event organizers.  As we made small talk, I found that I made mention of various research articles I'd read .  I quipped that I read a lot of research on a variety of subjects.  It's the monkey-nerd in me.

Well, here's what I read tonight.  Dating research. I find it interesting because the Old Woman taught me rules for dating.  It was very important that I present myself as respectful of my companion's wallet.  Of course, now I realize that there is also some bizarro link between men spending money on dates and the expectation of sexual returns on the investment.  She never explained it to me in those terms, but I get it now.  (And, it is wrong and we need to fix this notion in our culture.)   Primarily, I was taught that I should inquire as to what my companion was planning on ordering, and then order something less expensive on the menu.  I was also taught to by pass the extras like apps or dessert.  (There is always homemade cake at the house, why don't you invite your young man in for a bite?)

In college, I had a bad beau who convinced me that being a feminist meant I should pay for our dates.  (Somehow, there was still an expectation of sexual favors.)  Then, I started offering to make dinner for our date and let my companion contribute by paying the cover at a club or for a movie.  (Even with this actually equal arrangement, I still ended up some dude sitting at my kitchen table and declaring that he could have sex with me.  He explained that once he bedded a person, he granted them the nickname of their first initial and he'd never slept with a M (M for monkey) before.  Seems his logic did not factor in the possibility that he would be shown the door before dinner hit the table . . . which is what happened.  I'm not a prude, but I do not hold with such foolishness.)

When I started dating the Phenom, I was pretty burned out on dating and cynical about the whole arrangement. (The dude above contributed his share.)  We really were dating more as placeholders and a social arrangement rather than some monkey/human mating game.  This meant that I made the decision to stop playing games.  I started ordering what I actually wanted to eat (of course, still being respectful of the cost . . . no massive steaks or lobsters . . . but no more side salads with a shared plate of fries either.)   Dates would be negotiated for shared interest as well as expense.

And that was 26 years ago.  We still negotiate dates.  We still work to make sure that neither is taken for granted.  And, we still have great fun on dates.  In fact, just last year, a cabbie in NOLA asked if we were in town on our honeymoon, because we clearly were having fun being together.  We said yes.

Never say never

My cooking style evolved based on what I am curious about, and what I can get locally.  I have always liked foods that are particular to one culture or another.  I make a lot of Asian inspired foods as well as cajun/creole dishes.  We don't eat a lot of meat in our house hold, and the Old Woman generally reserved meat for company.

Oddly, I don't make the foods I ate at the Old Woman's table.  For the life of me, I cannot make a good pot roast.  I blame the lean meat that just isn't as good as what she got.

I have never tried to compete with the Phenom's mother's cooking.  She did teach me how she made biscuits.  And, although I more or less do exactly what she taught me, the Phenom insists that my biscuits are nothing like hers.  I do regret that I didn't claim her cookbooks after she died.  (I let the Phenom's aunt take them.  I didn't find a treasure trove of hand written recipes or a notebook with her favorites collected. . . I would have claimed those.)

Lately, the Phenom has been bringing up how much he misses fatback on the table.  It was, apparently, a staple in his childhood home.  Fatback was not only NEVER served at the Old Woman's table, but she would have screamed at the suggestion of it. (Much too unhealthy.)

Today, at the grocery store, the fatback was in a location that I noticed it.  Honestly, I have no idea if I've ever seen it in the store before.  I'm sure I have, and ignored it.  But, I bought a packet of the stuff.  I put about half of the packet in a cast iron pan over fairly low heat and turned it a few times.  I had the Phenom look at it and tell me when he thought it was "done."

Tonight, dinner was turnips with their greens, new potatoes, and for the Phenom, fatback.  (I had sliced radishes from the garden.)

The Phenom said the fatback was as good as his mother's; the highest possible compliment.  I understand that memory will taint taste.  I'm glad he liked it.  I hope he eats what is left in the fridge.

FARM TIME!!

I tend to have foods I make seasonally.  I only make heavy things like beef bourguignon chili in the winter and summer means all variety of fresh veggies.  

Given the wackiness of the past winter, my own garden is fairly sad and pathetic.  Bunnies ate all the cucumber and squash plants.  The basil never came up.  And something is nibbling on the radishes.  (The peas are pretty, but I wonder if they are too far behind and will be fried by high temps before they bloom.)  My one surviving blueberry bush seems to be thriving  and is laden with berries.  I suspect the same critters that ate my squash will beat me to the blueberries, again, this year.

Fortunately, I have very good relationships with local farmers.  And, they have much better production than I do. 

My favorite farm stand is doing their own CSA this year.  I'm hoping other folks will buy into it too . . . since it was pretty expensive but they do have the most wonderful fruits and veggies.  They have several different types of peaches . . . and I can eat my weight in peaches.

Today, I headed out to their stand (CSA hasn't started yet).  I bought new potatoes, so fresh you can "peel" them by rubbing your hands over them.  Beautiful purple onions, kale, broccoli and kohlrabi.  Tonight, I pulled a couple radishes, and threw them in with some kohlrabi and kale and soba noodles.  I used a few things in the fridge to make an asianish dressing.  YUM!  Tomorrow, I'm going to boil the potatoes and DROWN them in butter from another local farm.  I'll steam the broccoli and figure out something that looks like meat to serve with it all. 

We had "hash" two nights the last two weeks. I always feel like I'm cheating on cooking when I make ratatouille or hash because it's a chop everything and dump it in a pan and a few minutes later the Phenom thinks I'm a genius kind of meal.  Maybe I'm over thinking it . . . maybe I am just a genius.

What's in a name?

Earlier this week, Phenom was trying to remember the name of a character in a movie.  He remembered the actor's name, but not the character.  We finally got it after I suggested "Tater."  It's "Spud."

And, as we often do when confronted with a fun name, Phenom said "I ought to start calling myself Spud."

Being the supportive spouse, I enthusiastically agreed.  There aren't many Spuds on the planet, and even fewer in The Phenom's chosen profession.  I promised to support his Spudness by referring to him in my social media as Spud.

It started yesterday.  Twice today.  And NO ONE has commented or asked.  Last night, we laughed and wondered by no one would even ask me privately about the sudden appearance of "Spud."

Then, it dawned on me.  What IF people have been thinking of Phenom as "Spud" all along and we are just now getting with the program?

I'm pretty sure MY Spud isn't gonna try to franchise me.  Probably better that way.

Funerals and Fads

It is gearing up to be a food weekend.

First off, a friend made reservations for a seriously good tapas restaurant when I visit her next month.  The chef of this place (we've been before) is a James Beard nominee and worked at E.Bulli.

And, Saturday, I have a funeral to attend.  Southerners know how to throw a funeral.  I got the call earlier this week from the person coordinating the food.  Fortunately, the Old Woman supplied me with a copy of Being Dead is No Excuse.  My contributions will be a large, colorful salad with balsamic dressing/homemade croutons and a chocolate cake.  I'm going to make the chocolate zucchini cake that has been popular with my peeps lately.  The coordinator was pleased that it's a bundt because you can get lots of servings from a bundt. (Instead of walnuts, I put in a bag of mini choco chips. . . because chocolate.)

Tomorrow, The Phenom is going to take me to lunch.  A rare treat!  We'll swing by the wholesale grocery to pick up a disposable, lidded salad bowl and cake carrier.  I'm a little ashamed I don't have them handy . . . as any good southern cook should.  One need always be prepared to show up with a cake in the case of a death.  .

Lastly, I've been reading the Thug Kitchen Cookbook.  I spent many years being a vegetarian.  I actually enjoyed the creativity of the diet.  I even got smug about sneaking tofu in Phenom's food.  But, for health reasons, I've given up being a vegetarian.  This cookbook has rekindled my interest in vegetarian food.

So, I HAD to buy one of those super blender appliances to make veggie smoothies.  I have a large bag of kale/spinach and a pineapple in my fridge waiting for experimental smoothies.

One of the games the Old Woman and I liked to play was to list off all the wondrous improvements to our lives with the tweaking of just one little thing.  My skin would clear of acne, I would be elected the president of the student body, we'd win publisher's clearinghouse, etc.  I'm sure that a week of drinking kale/pineapple/frozen strawberry smoothies will make me the most radiant monkey, ever, with hair of pure silk.

Oh, and I bought a huge container of nutritional yeast and sprinkled it liberally on the pop corn tonight and told the Phenom it was "cheese sprinkles."  This is the problem with vegetarianism . . . it turns me into a lying monkey.

How syndromes get started

I was pretty fragile for about 6 months.  I had people hovering over me.  I had trained medical folks coming into my home to care for me.  I had multiple surgeries.  It was scary.  And, at the same time, it was easy to give up my care to nurses and the Phenom.  After my first surgery, I didn't want to get out of bed, ever.  I hurt.  I had tubes and wires attached to me.  I had devices taking care of my in takes and my outflows.  Even when they made me get up, I couldn't wait to get back into bed.  When they finally released me, I didn't really feel ready to go home.  In fact, the next morning, I could only cry because it was too overwhelming.

With subsequent hospitalizations, surgeries, it was equally easy to give up care to the nurses.  Truth be told, I liked being taken care of, even by strangers.  The Phenom did an equally good job of making sure I wanted for nothing.  It was so easy.

When it came time to return to work, I was happy to not have the inconvenient items of the illness but I also didn't know if I were quite ready to jump right in.  (And, given the last hospitalization when I split open one of my scars, clearly I should have gone slower.)

Right now, I have a bit of an infection.  Nothing bad.  Nothing that keeps me from normal functioning (except the gym . . . I don't want sick people using the gym equipment I use, and so I show the same respect to them.)  But, at the same time, a little voice in the back of my head tells me that perhaps I should feign being sicker than I am so I can be taken care of again.

I'm pretty sure this is how Munchausen's Syndrome starts.  Although, to reference Bill Murray in What About Bob? . . . if you can fake it, you don't have it.  Darn.

Sneaky

I've said it before, one secret to a happy domestic partnership is lying and manipulating when it comes to food.  I recognize that I have total power to steer the "choice" of what is for dinner.  And, when need be, I will rename a recipe or just flat out lie about what it is when I need to make sure it is eaten.

Like tonight.  We are having a middle-America, tex-mex-ish casserole.  Thing is, The Phenom is devotedly ANTI CASSEROLE.  He will preach to you the gospel of the anti-casserole-ites.

I've renamed the casserole a "pie" and who doesn't love pie?  Pie with your favorite ingredients in it . . . all those things we put in tacos.

Heh.  Score another one for the monkey.

A week off the juice

Both Phenom and I are marking a full week off the juice.  His "juice" is steroids.  He was taking them for a rash that popped up due to the stress of trying to keep a monkey from climbing the walls during a prolonged confinement that seemed much too much like the lab days.  He finally worked his way down to the end of the graduated dose.  He loved being "juiced" . . . he said it made him feel alert and energetic.

My "juice" was narcotic pain killers.  I've been exposed to quite a range of narcotics in the last few months.  Morphine doesn't do much for me.  I spent three days on oxy being the happiest drunk you've ever seen.  I have a huge bottle of vicodin.  But, narcotics are a cruel mistress and I decided a few weeks ago to wean off of them.  I tried it about a month ago. . . just went cold turkey.  I woke up the next morning and couldn't lift my arms.

So, we've had conversations with my doctor and worked out another plan.  I'm trying to return to my old pain meds routine.  It's taken a while and I'm not entirely happy.  I might have to have another conversation with my doc and try one of the newer, fancy arthritis meds.

The upside for me is that I can now have a margarita with Friday night Mexicanish food.  Phenom just misses the days of 'roid rage.  I think I won this contest.

Evil returns

Ya'll know I have "another husband", right?  He's actually a colleague of The Phenom and spends one night a week in our home because he lives somewhere else but has to work with Phenom two days a week and stays with us the night between.

This has been the arrangement for years and years and I've taken to referring to him as "my other husband."

Other Husband is very sincere and decent.  Which brings out the childish in me and Phenom.  Specifically, we like mild forms of torture.  Generally food related torture.

Add to tonight's torture that Other Husband celebrated a birthday recently.

I made one of my more difficult dinners.  I fired up the grill and made hoisin glazed pork tenderloins (with double the sauce because I LURVE it.)  I made an Asian slaw and rice.  But, the real treat was that Phenom insisted on getting a pint of Other Husband's favorite ice cream (butter pecan) and making him eat the entire pint.

Phenom finished his pint of ice cream by the time Other Husband was 1/4-1/3 the way through his.

By the end, Other husband was using the now empty ice cream container to prop up his head and moaning softly.

At this point, Phenom and I start trying to "implant" a nightmare in Other Husband's psyche.  A story of a mustachioed, machete welding pecan chasing Other Husband around their work place.  I told him that if he actually has this dream, he should text me in the middle of the night with "damn you" so I can smile and fall back asleep knowing our experiment worked.

I'm pretty sure the UN would have issues with our human rights violations, if we'd ever made declaring our home a sovereign official.

Strange and Bizarre

I cannot believe it has been over a month since I wrote last.  Weird.  I can't remember going so long between sitting down and blathering on and on before.

There was the annual Christmas trip to NOLA.  Good food, many drinks, lots of fun conversations.

The highlight, for me, was Christmas night in a little dive bar just off Jackson Square.  It is a cash only establishment, only about 10 stools, and they run their beer lines through ice coolers to get it cold.  We like to talk to the bartenders at this bar . . . they are usually some very interesting women.  We'd visited the bar earlier in the trip and the bartender showed us these fake 10K bills someone left as a "tip."  We were appalled at the pre-meditated assholery they represented.

She mentioned that she would be working Christmas night, so we made a point of going in so we could make up some tips for her.

During the couple of hours we were at the bar, a man came in.  He was young, heavy, full beard, and looked as if he had lost his best friend and last dollar at the same time.  Others, regulars, in the bar knew him and tried to talk to him.  He just stared at the empty beer bottle he'd brought into the bar with him.

At some point, the talk turned to music and the bartender mentioned that the young man was a gifted singer.  Other tried to talk him into singing for the group, but he just said that someone would have to buy him a beer first.  So, I did.

And, he was a trained opera singer.  He belted out two pieces that were so powerful we were sure glass was going to break around us.  He translated the words, and talked about the composers.  This was clearly his passion and it cheered him up, for the moment.  And, it was amazing.

But, even more strange and bizarre . . . the events of the past few weeks.

A couple of weeks ago, I awoke one morning to a fairly bizarre physical condition.  I won't go into much detail other than to say . . . it was weird and immediately prompted a trip to the emergency department of our local hospital.  They assessed the situation and immediately sought to transfer me to a larger facility.  I ended up in a hospital a couple hours away for the next five days.  There were several CAT Scans and lots of blood drawn.  The doctors tell me that this condition is one that developed at birth but had remained undetected until now.  And, they say it is extremely rare and will require surgery to correct.

So, for now, I have a couple different medical devices attached to me to control the situation and am laid up at home until I can get a date from the surgeon.

Poor Phenom has been forced into the position of nursemaid and housekeeper.  A role that I suspect is shaving years off his life, but he is doing with as much care and consideration as one could ever ask for from any human.  Frankly, there have been times that I've wondered if I have ever taken as good care of the Phenom as he has take of me these past few weeks.

Very Bad Monkey

Tonight, over the course of a few text messages, I went from being "Silly Monkey" to "That Super Bongo is a bad influence."

Favorite 12 year-old (F12O):  We got Phenom beer for christmas
Me: Hurray! Beer!
F12O: Yeah, it's a birra grande
Me: Have you tried it?
F12O: Not that I recall
Me: You should tell your dad you need to have some for quality control
F12O: Ironically, he came in right as I got that text
Me: So?
F12O: He didn't give a direct answer
Me: That's frustrating
F12O: Heh Heh that means I don't have anything stopping me.  He didn't say no.

That one is gonna be a handful, real soon.

Spoilage

Yesterday was Phenom's birthday.

I decided that Saturday would be the "pre-birthday."  I woke Phenom up with waffles for breakfast.  I even made coffee . . . since I only drink the stuff when Phenom makes it for me, this was kinda a big deal.  I also insisted on gift openage.

Then, I made the molasses spice cookies Phenom loves.  I said "they are YOUR cookies, eat as many as you want."  Then, when a new pan would come out of the oven, I'd yell "HOT SIGN ON" . . . because when they are warm, like a krispy kreme, they melt in your mouth.

Instead of a legit dinner, we went to the bar where asshats don't try to pick a fight with Phenom on sight and had bar food and margaritas garnished with mini-beers.

Then, on the ACTUAL birthday, there was the annual beating of the arse, cards, TACO NIGHT, and a friend dropped of the most excellent yard chair ever.

Usually, Phenom feels that I'm the one spoiled on the birthday.  This year, I think Phenom felt quite the center of attention, and he liked it.

Leadbelly

Back in the day, this little town was still kinda backwards in their approach to alcohol.  They much preferred the 'homebrew' to stuff that won't make you go blind.  In those days, there were only one of two restaurants that served beer.  Because The Phenom and I are heathens, and hang out with other heathens, every Friday night we would get together with one of Phenom's colleagues, go out to eat, and drink beer.  

Then, a few years ago, some of the more well heeled sorts in town realized that they could make a killing off booze sales and suddenly liquor by the drink wasn't nearly as evil.  Now, the main drag in this town sports quite a few mid-to-low level chain restaurants with bars.

But, in the old days, one of the restaurants that served beer was actually one of the few places that wasn't a chain.  They were known for their really good salad bar (featuring homemade ranch dressing and the only ranch I'll eat) and baked potato bar.  One night, our friend ordered something on the menu called a "Leadbelly."  When it arrived, it was the LARGEST baked potato any of us had ever seen and it was stuffed with everything you can imagine.  She swore it was growing as she ate.  She took it home, and claims that it took her a week to eat it all.

That's what we're having for dinner tonight.  It was Phenom's idea.  But, rather than shove everything in the fridge onto potatoes, I'm doing more of a riff on the potato bar idea.

I have to top our potatoes tonight:

broccoli (steamed)
mushrooms (sauteed in butter with garlic)
chopped green onion
butter
sour cream
ham
bacon
sharp cheddar cheese
smoked gouda cheese sauce

I should probably have a bottle of tums on the counter, too, right?