A Fine Housewarming Gift, and Gluttony Too

My sister and my brother-in-law, as I mentioned in the previous post, came down from Michigan to visit Lindz and I. One of the places where they stopped was the Lodge Cast Iron Factory Store in Tennessee. They got us a 14" pizza pan as a housewarming gift. It has already proved to be an excellent tool for roasting potatoes:


I decided to make pizza from scratch tonight. On the stereo was a random mix of K.D. Lang, John Lee Hooker, Emmylou Harris and a jazz compilation. I made a batch of dough, cooked some Italian sausages, made some herb oil and prepared the mushrooms and onions. This was a sauceless pizza, the way I prefer it. I preheated the iron pan in the oven, and I was very pleased with the results:



It's a hot hunk of metal, and my pizza stone (sans handles and breakable) seems a bit obsolete. I'll keep it in the oven for temperature stabilization, though.

Many thanks for the fine gift.

We are Strange Folk, but we have Fun

I'm drinking Dark Horse Brewing Company's Special Reserve Black Bier Ale. It is one of many fine bottles that my brother-in-law brought to me. He and my sister came down from Michigan to visit. Their stay at our house was a total of five days (three whole days, with the outer two days being mostly occupied by driving).

Marvelous. Perfect. It seems they had a fine time, but I really needed this, too. Here is what we did:

1)I was given freedom to cook a lot for people who appreciate it
2)We ate well but not gluttonously
3)We all drank beer (good beer and often)
4)We (all of us except Lindz, who has limited stamina for this) spent many hours perusing a restaurant supply store and A Southern Season, a gigantic emporium of epicurean delights. I included the hyperlink for educational purposes, but it does no justice to the overmastering might of that store. We spent quite a while in the chocolate department alone. We get a big jolt out of stuff like that.
5)We took walks in excellent weather, admiring verdant growth that is many weeks away in Michigan.

It was all so perfect. The only eating out we did was at places that have no dinnerware that isn't styrofoam or plastic (we sat at a picnic table outside of the seafood company at the Raleigh Farmers' Market devouring excellent, copious and cheap food, and we got some very fine takeout barbeque from Lewis Barbeque on Lumley Road). We never did anything touristy or complicated. We walked, talked, ate and drank. I was allowed to retain blissful mastery of my kitchen, and I cooked a number of meals (from grilled kebabs to biscuits to cheese grits to bruschetta).

I hadn't seen my sister or her husband for four years or so. They hadn't met Lindz, their new sister-in-law yet. The whole thing was deeply satisfying for me. It started before they even got here on Wednesday. I literally did nothing that I dislike for four consecutive days. Incredible. I suppose the worst thing was when one of the biscuits accidentally fell into the dishwater in the sink when I turned them out of the pan. During their stay, I mentioned, more than once, my belief in how great it is to be where you're in the mood to be. One of the times I talked about that may have been when my mouth was full of fried crawfish, or perhaps while drinking beer with them in the pleasantly warm, spring-perfumed breeze.

Friday Night's Labor of Love

(listening to "Band of Gypsys" by Jimi Hendrix)
Lindz and I didn't know what we felt like doing on this fine, rainy Friday night. She seemed content reading, so I started puttering around the kitchen.




I made pasta from scratch. Tagliatelle, to be exact.




I simmered a tomato and sausage sauce while the pasta rolling and cutting was going on.




I drank wine the whole time, of course. This makes me think of Luis, who is presently in Senegal in the Peace Corps. We had many eating and drinking evenings together, and now he's working his ass off in a land where a life of pleasure and ease is a distant echo, or a ludicrous fiction. I recall, in clear detail, a day when he and I spent an entire day making ravioli from scratch and drinking chianti.

Lindz helped me with rolling the pasta, but mostly she found it odd that I suddenly decided to make pasta from scratch. It's quite a bit more laborious than pulling a box of linguine out of the pantry. Ah, Luis (better known as Don Luisito). You're a man who understands Herculean labor at certain times (making pasta from scratch) and unbelievable sloth at others (only being employed when absolutely necessary).

Grilled Pineapple and the Simple Life

I have often complained of corporate drudgery lately, but sometimes I really see the beauty of a simple life. My wife and I went to the store last night and got some groceries. We looked around for a gas station that refills propane tanks, but to no avail. Fortunately, our tank is not yet empty.

We came back home and started dinner. I took the propane tank back out of the car, reconnected it and lit the grill. I sliced a fresh pineapple and poured some soy sauce on it. Lindz salted the chicken breasts. The pineapple slices hit the grate with an infinitely pleasing hiss, and I tucked a few pieces of alder into the corner of the grill. Lindsey and I stood on the deck in the lovely, balmy evening and sipped our Hoppy Hour IPA.. The pineapple was coming along nicely, and I moved it to the upper rack. I added the chicken breasts and drizzled the remaining soy sauce over them.

Everything was tasty, and we watched The Office afterwards. A thoroughly satisfying and unadventurous evening.

Playing with Expensive Toys

 

This is an Embraer 170.


 

This is me landing one in the US Airways simulator in Charlotte, NC.


 

And this is Lindsey, landing one more smoothly than I did. We both landed safely, though. One doesn't get to play with those everyday.

Steak Salad

I stopped at the store on the way home from work last night. I got a bottle of Casillero del Diablo Carmenere (a very tasty, juicy Chilean red wine), some thin-sliced bottom round steak, feta cheese and strawberries.
We already had some nice spring greens in the fridge. I put my big, shiny black iron skillet on the heat and pulled out my little food processor. I salted the meat and set it aside.
I made a salad dressing by putting some olive oil and balsamic vinegar into the processor. A bit of flavor and body came from some chunks of carrots and strawberries. I finished it off with salt, pepper, a bit of garlic and some sesame oil. The shrieking action of the processor emulsified everything nicely (the noise is the only drawback to the little Cuisinart).
By this time, the skillet was hot enough to emit a bit of smoke. I spritzed it with oil and threw the meat in (with a very satisfying sizzle). It cooked pretty fast, and I pulled the meat when it started releasing some juice. I rested it for a few minutes while I crumbled feta over the greens.
With my trusty Viking blade, I sliced the steak thinly on the bias. Soon, Lindz and I were eating a pretty respectable strawberry vinaigrette steak salad.
It was a good end to a day that began drearily. To even further indulge in excitement, we spent some time laughing at what we saw on the Dumb Laws website. Finally, we went to Goodberry's for ice cream.