Never say I don't give second chances

Remember when my head exploded over someone's misguided food choices and the Phenom pointed out that the real problem was my food snobbery?

That person is in NOLA right now.  And, I might passively rant in my own home when he eats frozen-from-the-other-side-of-the-planet crab legs during soft-shell season on the NC/SC coast, I can not let him eff up eating in NOLA.  I sent him several options for fine food and drinks ranging across the cost spectrum.

The Phenom has been taunting me all evening with "I bet he's at the IHOP on Canal Street."  Just might be the meanest thing you could say to me.

In which I learn that I am, actually, a prude.

We are in NOLA.  We have had many drinks and lots of excellent food.  We tried three new bars and tiki seemed to be the theme of the trip.

BUT! Today, a convention has rolled into our hotel.  Swingers.  OLD SWINGERS.  I saw a woman, a good 15 years older than me and likely someone's grandmother, leave our hotel in a see-through nightie and panties. And, my gut reaction was not one of "meh."

I like to think that for the most part, I pretty much don't care about what other folks do in the privacy of their rooms.  Frankly, I don't really want to ever have to think about what other folks do in private.  I do, however, have all kinds of judgement for those who patronize "sex" businesses; largely because I know that the great majority of such establishments not only exploit their "workers" but also condone and encourage their customers to push boundaries of consent and decency.  I know that the women, young men, transpeople who work in such businesses are not safe.

I also have all kinds of judgement for people who force others to deal with their sex acts.  This is different from their sexuality . . . but if you're wacking it in public, or humping up on other people/critters/furniture where others can see you . . . or leading your partner around on a leash at the mall then you have violated the rights of others.

Frankly, this shouldn't make me a prude, but I guess it does.   You do you and I'll do me but don't make me see you doing IT.

Favorite conversation

When I was a young monkey, the Old Woman and I had a regular game/conversation that kept us occupied when standing in line or sitting in a waiting room . . . well two . . . the first was creating elaborate plans for if we won millions and millions of dollars in the lotto or publisher's clearing house.  The other is probably better left to another post.

The Phenom and I also have a favorite conversation. . . planning where and when we'll eat and drink in NOLA.  We started this conversation tonight (we'll be there in a week).  Of course, on the day we made the reservations to travel, we decided on the day we'd eat at our all time favorite restaurant, Herbsaint.

There is a new place we plan to try, Latitude 29.  The Phenom first read about it, and sold me when he said "tiki drinks."  But, since first deciding this would be our "new place" we've seen that it is actually very well known for being quite good.  And, the food looks just as well put together and thoughtful.

I must say, NOLA has ruined me for poorly made cocktails. Which isn't exactly a bad thing.

Chemist or bartender

My innate fascination with creating/mixing/tinkering made the Old Woman often comment that one day I might end up being a chemist or a bartender.  I'm pretty sure I've disappointed her because my tendencies run towards bartending.

My newest experiment is with home made vanillas.  I've made vanilla before with beans and vodka and/or whiskey.

This time, I've branched out.  I currently have pint bottles of vodka, whiskey, and rum with vanilla beans in them.  But I also have 1/2 pint jars of tequila and dark rum with vanilla beans.  The dark rum also has cinnamon, star anise, and cloves tossed in.  They are sitting, waiting, in the same closet I keep my stash of blackberry vodka.  In 4-6 months, I'll see what we have achieved with adventures in vanilla.

I'm thinking that the first recipe will be my standard lemon pound cake, only tweaked with lime and the tequila vodka.

Oh, and since it's Mardi Gras today . . . I had a nice shot of blackberry vodka to start my morning.

My Mission

I love having a mission when I go to NOLA.  I mean, beyond drinking and eating lots and lots.

Today, I was chatting with a dear friend who lives on the left coast.  She is in the R&D phase of opening her own eating establishment.  She has worked, for years, in professional kitchens and is a fantastic home cook as well.  And, although she is from the snowy part of the country, she married herself a Cajun boy.  Her eatery will be NOLA foods.

She has asked me to find some specific art pieces for her new eatery, as well as take pictures she can use as decorations.  She's already culled through several collections of pictures I've taken in the past and found several she likes, and has given me some ideas for specific shots she wants.

And, she is going to repay me in food.  And, did I mention she lives in a state with legal recreational pot?

YIPEE!

Summertime Riches

It was a good weekend for local produce.  (Or, as I declared to the Phenom, "I'm supporting local farmers.  That makes me a damn patriot!"  He then muttered something about me carrying a gun and disposing of half my brain.  Sad that the tea party extremists have given "patriot" such a negative image.)

Our local tailgate farmer's market was having a big ol' mid-summer celebration, so many demonstrations of groovy ways to use produce and more stuff on sale.  Then, I headed to my favorite local farmer's roadside stand.

Side note: the Old Woman would be pleased that I get so much produce directly from the farmer.  She had two or three road side stands she frequented.

I bought peaches, blackberries, corn, tomatoes, squash, roasted peanuts, eggplant, and potatoes. I've made four jars of blackberry vodka.  I've eaten tomato sandwiches until I'm happy.  And, I leaned over the sink to eat peaches at least 5 times today.

When we were recently in NOLA, I had maque choux with my BBQ shrimp one night.  I've read about it.  I've been curious.  So, I made some.  IT WAS YUMMY!!!  I have extra I will take to the office to feed the minions in the morning . . . and some shrimp I'll quickly cook up to add in.  They will sing my praises!

Cut the corn off the cobs, then use the back of the knife to scrape the "milk" from the cobs into another bowl.  I did it with 10 ears, but I was once again stood up by the Red Army.  3-5 ears should be plenty.

Dice up celery, red bell pepper, onion.  Chop 2-3 cloves of garlic.  Chop 3-4 green onions and chop up 1 cup worth of tomatoes.  (I had a few large cherry tomatoes that needed to be used, so I left the skin on them.)

Melt some bacon fat (you do keep your bacon fat in the freezer, right?  I have three types of bacon fat in my freezer, for this I used the Benton's bacon fat for it's smokey flavor.  I also have applewood smoked and maple smoked bacon.)  I melted enough to coat the bottom of a large skillet.  Then, saute the celery, onion, and pepper.  Add in about 1/2 tsp dry thyme.  Let the veggies get soft.  Add in the corn, corn "milk" (I added 2-3 tbs heavy cream and about the same amount of milk).  Cook for about 5 minutes, then add in the green onion, tomato and 1-2 tsp tony chachere's cajun seasoning (I always add salt and pepper to trinity while it's cooking.  But, do it to your taste.)  Cover and let cook 10-15 minutes.  Try to avoid eating it straight from the pan.

Lagniappe

is a creole/cajun term for "a little bit extra" or "bonus."

I'm home, in New Orleans, with two other couples (ranging from my age to retired).  So far, I think everyone is having a good time (possibly even TOO good a time.)

We've also enjoyed some lagniappe.  At the first bar we visited (where we've become friends with the owner) the bartender refilled my glass with the extra of the drink she made for us.  She said that it was either me or her drinking it, because she wasn't going to waste good booze.

Yesterday, after a morning cup of coffee, we headed to my favorite jewelry store.  We picked out the perfect birthday gift for a friend.  Then, I found a really really really pretty diamond ring.  And, Phenom directed my attentions to the case of fleur dis lis jewelry.  I saw a pretty necklace.  He saw another.  I ended up with both.  But the chain on one wasn't the right length for me, so we looked to swap it for a longer one.  The store owner, of course, remembered us from our many previous purchases.  So, rather than charging us for the chain and the pendant, she gave us the replacement chain free.

Before dinner, we popped into the French 75 bar; a favorite.  And, for a time, we had the place to ourselves.  We talked with the bartender, who we've drunk with before.  I explained that we were "drinking the alphabet" and I had some hard to find letters.  He started thinking aloud about what sort of drink he could make and call it "Queen Victoria" for me.  Then my BFF and her husband joined us, and I ordered a "Queen Victoria."  She was disappointed she didn't have "Q" on her list.  After we left, he told her that the drink was our spontaneous invention.  hee hee.  Oh, and he comped us some gougeres and souffled potatoes.

Today, BFF and I are getting tattoos.  More about that later.

Shifting

We go on vacation tomorrow.  It will be interesting because we are joining two other couples on our usual June NOLA trip.  One couple, we've traveled with before and know we do well together, but the other couple we've never traveled WITH.  We've traveled to see them.  They've traveled to see us.  And, one member this couple has met one member of the other couple, but it was a very long time ago in a totally different context.  Everyone else knows us or are strangers.

But, it's NOLA!  How bad could it be?

I am a planner.  I normally like to have a rough outline of what restaurants/bars we plan to visit, but nothing else is planned out on NOLA trips.  But, since I'm the common denominator with all the couples, I felt that some structure was needed.  We were more specific in our restaurant planning . . . and there will be a side excursion that all or any can attend.

But, that isn't what this post is about.  THIS post is about how funny the behavior of our household shifts with little changes.  In preparation of our travels, half the critters have been taken for boarding.  The Old one, the one that pees if she doesn't get a fresh box every day, the one who bullies the other cats, and the one on a special diet are all unhappily at the vet's tonight.  This means the remaining cats are on one hand worried it's a matter of time before they get boxed up too, but on the other hand are enjoying less competition of our hands.  Also, since the one who pees isn't here, I can open the door to the bedroom.  (This winter, the one who pees claimed TWO pairs of my suede boots . . . little troll.)  Right now, as I write, two cats are on the bed and there might be one under the bed too.  (The last cat is hiding under the kitchen table, hoping that if more cats are boxed up, we will forget about her.)

Oscar the Bold (well, he was bold as a kitten, he's kinda a weenie now) is next to me on the bed.  He is waiting for any sort of gesture from me that might be more petting.  Pretty much, this is the happiest he's ever been.  ON THE BED!!! WITH THE MAMA!!!  TWO HAND AFFECTION!!!

Poor Oscar.  Maybe he could still be bold if he got this level of attention and loving everyday.  Or not.

The Bestie

I have a friend who has been my friend, literally, forever.  It is rare that we go more than a few days without some form of communication (generally instant messaging since she's not a phone sort of human).  We live 3000 miles apart, but still manage to get together every couple of years.

The other night, she told me that she thinks of me as her sister. In fact, I nearly got to be her sister when the Grad Student was looking for a safe place to stash me.

The Bestie and I know all the intimate details of our lives.  We can complain and whine to each other.  We know when the other has a doctor's appointment or when to back off a touchy subject.  And, we can give each other shit like no one else.

Next week, Bestie and I are getting together in New Orleans.  We have a pre-arranged adventure I'll admit to later.  But, in a drunken text conversation last week, we set up the shit we are going to inflict upon each other next week.  At some point "hey, I have a nice ass.  Very kickable" got texted to me and "I will help you find your tongue" got texted to her.  Now, in an act of mutually assured humiliation, we are preparing t-shirts with those lovely sentiments on them.  heh heh.

Also, we like to play drinking games.  This trip, we're going to drink the alphabet.  There are prizes for the two people in our party who get the most letters checked off.  And, I need to remember to bring her the last liquor loaf.  She's that sort of friend . . . the one I'd give my last liquor loaf to.

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.

Crushed it.

If you do something you thought was out of character for yourself . . . for a t-shirt . . . are you a whore?

PS. . . those are scorpions in the tequila.

On the horizon, FUN

One of our all time favorite movies is A Christmas Story.  We love the anticipation Ralphie has, leading up the Christmas morning.  In fact, in keeping with that build up, we never watch it before the 24 hour marathon showing of it on Christmas eve/day.

I kinda feel like Ralphie right now.

I've got fun plans made . . . but waiting is becoming a torture.

This weekend, we are going to a cabin in the woods with friends.  There will be good food and drinking.  But, best of all . . . friends we haven't seen in a long while.

And June is jam packed.  We have a weekend with friends at their beach house.  And, of course, a week in N'awlins.  We have two new restaurants we want to visit this trip.  Daily visits to their menu pages on the interwebz isn't helping me with the anticipation problems.

This trip, the drinking theme/game (you know, drinking is more fun if you have a game) will be Noah's Ark.  We're going to drink the rainbow and collect as many animal (toys) from drinks as we can.  There may or may not (totally) be plans to imbibe a worm in pursuit of a free t-shirt.

And, because you need balance, I'm seriously thinking of signing up for a yoga/cardio bootcamp class.  OY! I've lost my mind, haven't I?

This is where I run, screaming, out the back door.

It has been a day.  Trust me on that.  I can't go into specifics, because it involves deals that aren't done yet.  But, I will surely deserve a frosty, adult beverage come 5pm Friday.  Speaking of frosty, adult beverages . . .  in this month's Beer of the Month shipment, there were "Applehead Ale" beers.  Seriously, and in a totally pleasant sort of way, it was beer that tasted of apple pie.  Not apple cider . . . APPLE PIE.  Sadly, I've already consumed those delights.  Perhaps just swigging bourbon from the bottle will be more in order by then.

I'm starting to get itchy for our annual June trip to NOLA.  I've already found our "new place."  I probably go to their menu and drink menu on their web site way too often to be healthy.  Phenom wishes we could take the pooch with us for the "yappy hour" menu for dogs.  We both intend to come back with a worm t-shirt.  We ate worms last summer at the insectarium for free.

Because we have discovered that drinking is even more fun when there is a game, we have decided that next trip we are going to "drink the rainbow."  Each day, we will pick a color and all drinks must be in that color family.  Purple is going to be hard . . . but I can't wait to try several grasshoppers on Green.

Lastly, I think the smell of nail polish makes cats insane.

Random stuff from the week

It has been a long week, and I am exhausted.  But! (and it's a big butt . . . pa-dum-dum) I have gotten some sleep.  I went to bed insanely early, was asleep before 10pm and had 4 hours, followed by 3 hours, followed by another hour and a half of decent sleep.  Now, of course, all I want to do is sleep.

I had a breakfast meeting this week.  When my breakfast partner asked me that general question "how have you been?" I found myself saying "I've been good" pretty automatically . . . and then spent the next day and a half navel gazing over the statement.  At the time, I thought I was just giving a very superficial answer to someone who really doesn't need to know I've been a wreck.  There was also some guilt in saying "good" when clearly it's too early to be good, right?

We hired a new person to work in my office.  I'm excited over the hire.  Although, I totally plan to tell people she was a "diversity" hire . . . she's tall.  Just think of all that we can accomplish now that we have a tall person working with us.  A whole new world, I tell you.

Tomorrow, several of my peeps and I are going to step into the fray.  The asshats from the Westboro Baptist Church will be protesting the funeral of a fallen soldier in our area.  This particular case touches me because a) it's on or near my "turf" b) it is a female soldier and c) she is survived by her spouse "she".  I imagine that her career in the military has been hard enough, being a girl who likes girls, I hate to think of her death as being the spark for added hatefulness.  We are joining a group who are organizing a human wall between where the WBC wackos are going to be and the church where the funeral is being held.  It is the right thing to do.  And, I think that people who are mourning the loss, will appreciate that their loss brought out so many people who are caring and compassionate.

And, I bought the makings for French 75 drinkies.  It will be a pleasant weekend, even if it isn't in NOLA.

Respite

For a few weeks now, the tears have been just under the surface.  It doesn't take much . . . remembering something the Old Woman liked, or said, or wished she'd done would bring them rolling.

So, I was a little afraid that my quick weekend in NOLA would turn me into a sloppy, weepy, sad drunk.  I'm happy to report, I only dissolved into tears once.

Phenom and I met my oldest, dearest friend in the world and her husband in NOLA.  This was her first trip.  He'd gone once before in another lifetime, but it wasn't the right experience.  Pretty much, the agenda was to eat and drink our way across the city.  And, we accomplished that goal.

We ate oysters in every possible variation.  Pounds and pounds of crawfish did not die in vain.  And cocktails were plenty.  We took one afternoon, and barhopped the "finer" establishments . . . the Sazerac, the Carousel Bar, and the French 75.  All this, after having lunch at our favorite Herbsaint.

I felt a tad guilty, having so much fun on the heels of sadness.  As we were leaving, I was reading the introduction to the new NOLA cocktails book we bought.  The authors said that New Orleanians embrace eating and drinking and all the good things in life not out of tireless joy, but from the awareness of inevitable sorrow.  Sounds about right.

Why I love NOLA

Sad news in NOLA this morning.  The Hubig Pie Bakery burned down.  Total loss of the building.

Hubigs are little single serve fried pies.  They have several standard flavors, like chocolate and lemon but they also have a rotation of seasonal flavors like blueberry and sweet potato.  When they can, they use local sources for their fillings.  They don't have lots of crap in them, so the "eat by" date on the package (usually about a week to 10 days after baking) really is an EAT BY date.

Every time we go to NOLA, we garner laughs from the TSA screeners because my carry-on bag is filled with Zapps Potato Chips, Hubig Pies, and prailines. 

I'm sad the factory burned down.  Very sad.  I'm sad for the company that worked so hard to come back after Katrina put them out of business the first time.  I'm sad for the 40 employees who are out of work for the foreseeable future.  I'm sad for the farmers who supply produce to the company.  This fire is devastating. 

But, what I love is that less than six hours after the fire broke out, several local NOLA companies have already announced that they are working on a plan to help bring the company back.  THAT, my friends, is community.  And, it's why I love NOLA so much.  It may be a big town, but it is a community.

Family Vacay

We tried a new experiment this vacation; we traveled with friends.  Well, kinda more than friends.  If we could choose in-laws, it would be these people.

First, since we had a kid in tow, we needed to plan activities that she might find interesting.  Thing is, the kid is pretty easily amused.  Especially if there is a promise of games and/or ice cream.

Highlights included: getting to see a bride just moments before walking down the aisle at St. Louis Cathedral.  She was with her bridesmaids, and then with her father.  It was a moment that we probably should have left for them to have in private.  But, who doesn't love the hopefulness of a bride?  The kid, who is not yet an adventurous eater, loved char-grilled oysters.  I'm pretty sure we could have ordered her a whole platter for her alone.  We discovered, thanks to the research of our friend, a wonderful ice cream spot in the garden district. . . and have committed how to get back to memory for future visits.  We ate at a couple new restaurants, including the classic NOLA place, Galatoire's.  Phenom loved the souffle` potatoes.  We tried several new drinks, including absinthe, ramos gin fizz, and the hurricanes at Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop.  (I also got one of those daiquiris in those made for tourists funnels.  It tasted just like mango sorbet.  Very dangerous.)

If you ask the kid what she liked best . . . she would say hanging out with her favorite Monkey and the pool at the hotel.  Not bad for a 10 year old, right?

Family Vacation

Our best friends are fond of saying, as we gather around the holiday table with them, that they love having ALL of their family with them.  And, yes, the wine and this statement, gives me the warm fuzzies.  After all, family is more than who you were born to . . . it's who you love.

So, this summer, we are attempting a family vacation.  Phenom and Me, and our favorite 10 year old and her parents.  Of course, we're going to NOLA.  Largely, because the 10 year old has been begging us to take her when we go.  (And, we need her to start learning her way around so she can push that double wheel chair from bar to bar once we're too old to walk ourselves.)

When we first conceived of this plan, we had this nice list of places we wanted to see.  We also had passing concern that we would need to keep the young one occupied during what had usually been prime drinking hours.  We're planning on seeing flying, swimming, and wandering type animals . . . we have a list of restaurants we plan to visit. . . we will embrace the tourist activities we've always ignored in the past . . . we will ride the street car up and down . . . and I suspect we will run out of steam and time before activities.  And, everywhere you go has go cups, so there are still hurricanes on the menu.

Your moment of "awww"

This past weekend, Phenom treated me to a quickie trip to NOLA for my birthday.  Pretty much, we both needed a couple of days to just get drunk and eat and be unfettered by deadlines, email, and work.  It was lovely.  (And, I got a shiny trinket that catches the light and keeps me entertained.)

We are big fans of spending afternoons on bar stools and chatting up the bartender or other patrons.  We met a grandfather from Atlanta who was screamingly funny.  We met a young attorney from DC who had ducked out for a wander around his old college stomping grounds while his wife and 6 month old baby caught a nap.  The great majority of the folks we chat up are funny, interesting, and well worth the afternoon tab. 

We have one particular bar where we always have our "last drinks."  We have known the bartender, Glenn, for years.  He knows how I like my bloody marys.  On this last morning of drinks, we were seated with an older couple (and by older, I suspect they had at least 15 years on me).  They both seemed more than familiar with the staff and area, so frequent visitors to NOLA.  The husband thought himself quite amusing and would "crack jokes" loudly.  Thing was, he was more crude than amusing.  I really didn't need to hear about the mints he bought his wife to make oral sex tastier for her.  I didn't really appreciate (as I'm sure Glenn agreed) his observation as to how Glenn got to be so skilled at shaking drinks.

His wife feigned being embarrassed by his boorishness, but she tittered right along with him.  We pretty much ignored him, hoping that he'd get the message.

As we were leaving, the boor called out to the Phenom and asked if I were "wife or girlfriend"? 

Phenom said "both, and best friend" as he put his arm around me and we wandered out into the harsh sunlight and the taxi back to the airport.

My other world

Today, I had one of those days when all tasks magically doubled themselves.  I had a 22 page report due (actually, due tomorrow) and after submitting it, HQ happened to mention that they needed the same report filled out for a separate project and I wouldn't mind, would I?  I have a budget due but we have to use some new computerized system that requires regional managers to sign on and sign off . . . good luck chasing them down.

There was other stuff too. . . plus getting ready for the regional manager's meeting later this week.  And, there is  my guest hosting of a student group complete with age appropriate activities to prepare.  It's enough to make a monkey decide a little mental escape is needed.

In my other little world, where I've won 100 million in the lotto . . . this is what I'd be doing this carnival season rather than pushing papers.

Or kicking back on a balcony with a tall, frosty drink and watch the parade pass me by.