Good Wine, Good Food, Good Company

Two friends visited us here in North Carolina, and it was the first time in four years that we were all together. Luis had been in the Peace Corps, and he romped through Europe for a few weeks before returning to the States. He told us many tales of rats, boils, village superstition, ineffectual NGO's and long lines at European castles. We may have had a glass or two of wine during the visit:

Highlights include Magnificat, Napanook, three different Chateauneuf-du-Pape, Saintsbury Pinot Noir, Schramsberg Cremant, Frank Family Blanc de Blancs, two Champagnes, Ferrari-Carano Chardonnay, Qady Essensia, and Estancia Meritage. I'd say the winner of the red category was the deep, smooth-as-a-baby's-ass Napanook, and the winner of the sparkling category was the bracingly dry, toasty/minerally Frank Family. Luis has a keen palate and a true afiçion for the grape, and he has helped to elevate my appreciation for fine wine. Having him around is not helpful to frugality, but we truly had some splendid enological exploits.

We did our fair share of eating, too. I didn't cook as much as I usually do; we ate out or grazed more of the time. I did grilled salmon with sweet pepper coulis and grilled corn on the cob, but I took no pictures. In fact, we ate out more in a week than Lindz and I do in three months. But this was vacation. 42nd Street Oyster Bar was quite good; I had clams on the half shell for the first time. I liked them; they are firmer and meatier than oysters.
For dinner on our last night together, I made grilled boneless porkchops with a speck and sage sauce with herbed roasted potatoes. Lindz made the salad of greens, strawberries, blue cheese and balsamic vinaigrette. Tasty Chateauneuf-du-Pape and Pinot Noir accompanied it.
It was all a much-needed respite from the cubicle farm. Talk of travel, life and the future while enjoying the finer things is a restorative pastime.

Potatoes, a Recipe and the Workplace

(listening to "Paragon Rag" by Scott Joplin)

This is a lot of potatoes (15 or 16 pounds). I'm baking them for work. A coworker thought it would be cool to have a baked potato bar as a change from the typical pot luck. I was nominated to do it, so people chipped in some money for the supplies. I rendered a nice pile of bacon bits, steamed some broccoli, and chopped some chives. I also have a huge tub of sour cream, tubs of whipped butter, and some cans of chili. Loaded spuds will be had by all, and I even got a Trader Joe's pepper grinder (pre-ground pepper is worthless. It is a close relative to sawdust). My oven is full of big russets right now.

My brother wanted to know more about the food in the previous post. The prosciutto-wrapped tilapia in the previous post was very simple and very good. I put a piece of prosciutto on the cutting board. Then, a tilapia filet. Then, another piece of prosciutto. I rolled it up and decided to wrap another piece of prosciutto around it. I stuck a bamboo skewer through it. I might normally bake this, but I like to use the grill during summer to keep the cooking heat outside of the house. Lindz had mentioned asparagus earlier in the day, so I got some at the store. I tossed the 'sparagus with a bit of canola oil, salt & pepper, balsamic vinegar and maple syrup (all told, just enough liquids to coat the asparagus and leave a modest puddle in the Pyrex dish). I put the asparagus on the lower level of the grill, and the tilapia above it. I have a rectangular stainless grill grate doohickie that helped prevent lost asparagus. It all didn't take very long, and I was pleased with how all the flavors went together.

And now, some contemplation about work that might get some interesting comments:

I don't miss working for Starbucks. Retail sucks ass. My current workplace does indeed resemble Office Space, but a great many others do, too. Sometimes I get philosophical about what I'm supposed to do with my life; I come up with various ways of beating myself up for not having a more exciting, lucrative or noble job than I do. I've gotten the idea in my head that it's something to with my DNA. I am a Midwestern boy, of German descent and raised as a Lutheran. As such, I think that this has made me:
1)punctual
2)hardworking
3)not a vegetarian
4)a lover of beer
5)addicted to security and predictability
6)mortally afraid of not preparing enough food for a meal
7)a diligent pantry manager, always ensuring that it would take a nuclear war and years of subsequent anarchy to make me run out of canned corn or plastic wrap
8)unable and/or unwilling to sell myself to others. I loathe job hunting more than anything in the world. More than gargling bleach. More than being rubbed vigorously all over with a cheese grater and then being dipped in hot sauce.

My loving, devoted wife and I had a lengthy, beer-lubricated conversation about this the other night at our local bar. She does not subscribe to my theory that my magical inability to make lots of money and love doing it is due to my DNA. Still, I wonder: the anthropological and socioeconomic ground from which I sprang is suited to doing okay in adversity, not thriving in prosperity. I am descended from farmers, not captains of industry. My people don't think outside the box; they ensure that it is a good, strong box with all perfect 90-degree angles. As such, my people are the people you want to be during The Great Depression.

Anyway, there are a hell of a lot of people out there who make a lot of money. In many cases, they are stupid, rude, self-entitled and lacking in integrity. Many of them are not those things. Is there really such an easy explanation? Various members and friends of my wife's extended family (none of whom are Midwestern German-Americans) are hugely wealthy, notable people. They're good people, not thieves.

I am fiercely proud of my heritage, and I could not possibly love my family more than I do. But when baked potatoes are the most exciting thing going on at the office, I have to wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

Two Good Things

Prosciutto-wrapped tilapia and grilled balsamic & maple glazed asparagus. We accompanied it with the velvety, slightly smoky Yellowtail Reserve Pinot Noir that set me back $9. I was rather pleased with myself.


This is a red stapler. A nice, substantial, metal one. I rule. Too bad I work in a place that makes Office Space look like the Travel Channel.

Loblolly Calendar

This is the cross-section of the bole of a loblolly pine (Pinus taeda). I had the arborist leave me two four-foot pieces of the biggest tree so I could dry them and build something out of them someday (benches or a mantelpiece). It seems to be as much as 47 years old.

Tree Removal

Before:
During:
Here's Emilio up in the tree. I circled him. It was a tall tree.
After:
We've still got plenty of trees left. The absence of those two pines and two sweetgums will greatly improve the workload of raking and gutter-cleaning this fall.

The Future of Stapling is here

It's based on the Swingline model 444, or "The Triple-Four," as we say in the business.

If I were part of the cast of The Simpsons...

Shrayemp & Greeyits

If you look closely , you'll see sausage in there. That's not andouille from New Orleans, that's landjaeger from Willi's Meat Market in Frankenmuth, MI. It worked perfectly. We drank Australian Shiraz with it all. Num Num Nummy.

Summer Food Triptych

A few days ago, I made Italian Bread Salad;

Yesterday, Independence Day, we ate, drank and loafed all day. A group of us went out to breakfast at Cracker Barrel. We drank Dale's Pale Ale next to a friend's pool after that. Next, we came home and started cooking. I smoked some ribs, roasted some sweet peppers for a lovely assortment of appetizers that Lindz assembled, and made some mojitos. Among the many things we ate were artichokes:

Bryan made a fine, patriotic cheesecake, which we enjoyed with some Michigan Port:


It was a fine Fourth. Lindz, our guests and I strolled to our nearby lake to discover neighbors shooting off really cool, not exactly legal fireworks. I regret that I was too busy watching them, talking and drinking to run back to the house and get the camera.

It is truly a fine thing to be an American.