A Quick Hit

Ah.  We feel MUCH better today after sleeping the sleep of the just.  That last may be overstating the case a bit, but I DID sleep well... and long, too, albeit in shifts.  I don't sleep well away from home but I got at least eight hours of shut-eye last evening, split into two sessions.

I ate well last evening; I had a mediocre steak, some ahi tuna (like that pictured: it's kinda like sushi for gaijins), and washed it all down with a Big-Ass Patron Margarita.  Dining was an interesting experience, to say the least.  I'm staying at a Courtyard By Marriott (my road lodging of choice) and there happened to be an Outback Steakhouse within walking distance of the Courtyard.  I was pretty well wiped out by the time I was all checked in last evening, seeing as how I didn't get to the motel until nearly 1800 hrs and my day began at 0200.  So I hoofed it over to the Outback. 

I like Outback.  A lot.  They do Good Things for our troops and the food is always pretty damned good.  Nothing wrong with this organization at all!  I like 'em even more after last evening... I'll spare ya a lot of detail and just cut to the chase.  I ordered my steak rare: warm red center.  My waitress asked if I REALLY wanted "rare," and I confirmed.  The steak was served medium well.  I sighed and didn't want to send it back, as tired as I was... I just cut in to the thing and began eating.  The waitress drops by and sez "how's everything?" as I was putting my third bite in my mouth... and I simply showed her my steak was anything BUT rare.  She offered to take it back; I declined.  I was pleasantly surprised when it came time to settle up: the manager had comped my steak.  Total bill: $18.00.  I tipped my waitress a tenner and called it a night...

Well, ALMOST a night.  We walked back to the Courtyard, bought a couple o' beers ("Craft" beers: a Blue Moon and a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, from Courtyard's "Craft Beer Selection") and adjourned to the outdoors to sit on an uncomfortable wrought iron park bench under the parking lot's trees, drink my beer, and enjoy a cigar.  Ah... life in smoke-free 21st Century America.  I feel a rant coming on, so I'll just stop now.

So now it's off to the shower and then off to the airport.

Here and There

Heh.  Apropos o' that... Fox News has preempted Red Eye for three days of recycled royal wedding coverage... stuff that ran earlier in their programming day and re-runs to fill space... beginning Tuesday and ending tonight.  As if anyone in these United States gave a Big Rat's Ass, especially at 0300 hrs (ET).  They are VERY close to bein' added to my ever-growing Midnite Firebombing list.

―:☺:―

We spent a few hours in The Big(ger) City™ yesterday, the main purpose bein' yet another follow-up after eye surgery, and I'm happy to report everything is cool. I also took the opportunity to ask Dr. Simnacher's wonderful staff to adjust my reading glasses, which they did.  The large and irritating red spot on the bridge of my nose... not unlike that found on Jupiter... is receding as we speak.  One more word o' praise: I was early for my appointment yesterday... way-early, as in an hour, seein' as how I completed the other errands on my list in less than half the time I allotted for them... so I inquired if the good doctor "could fit me in now?"  "Why, certainly!" was the answer.  I was done and out the door 15 minutes before I was actually supposed to be there as a result and ya gotta love that.

We then traipsed over to Red Lobster and played our Senior Citizen card, sitting down to dinner just after 1600 hrs.  There was a time when I wouldn't have been caught dead in a Red Lobster, but that was when I lived on one or the other coasts... including the Great Lakes coast of Michigan... and wonderful, established, and locally-owned seafood establishments were in abundance (brief aside: and one of the few things I dearly miss about SFO).  That ain't so here in flyover country... so When In Rome...

I was pleased.  I left stuffed to the gills (heh) with a fresh, high-quality salad dressed with excellent balsamic vinaigrette; tasty and succulent lobster tail, shrimp, scallops, rice pilaf, and a baked potato; washed it down with a Sammy Adams Boston Lager; and topped off the whole affair off with a quite good and generous slice o' cheesecake awash in freshly-cut strawberries.

My only complaint?  My over-attentive server, who sat down opposite me in my booth at one point and casually inquired "Whatcha readin'?"  I know the young man was just tryin' to be friendly, but still... there is a bright line where service is concerned.  I want you to be my waiter, not my buddy.  OTOH, if you happen to be a Sweet Young Thang with a bright smile and other physical endowments you can sit down and bother me all ya want.  Double standard?  Sexist?  You bet.

―:☺:―

Your hockey update:  B's in, Flightless Birds out.  I watched all of the Boston game and the last period of the Bolts game (Thanks, Versus.  I hate you.).  Game One of the semi-finals in Vancouver tonight.  Go Preds!

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Time for some ol' standards and a trip down Memory Lane...

The inimitable Julie London, with the definitive version of this ol' chestnut.  I was surprised to see how many "new" artists have covered this tune when I googled it, including one Justin Beeble (or sumthin' like that).  Did I go there?  Not only no, but HELL NO.  I don't wanna hear my favorite tunes ruined by prepubescent heart-throbs, thankyaverymuch.

Speakin' of Memory Lane... did all y'all know there's a famous motel thereabouts?

You're just a memory of a love
That used to be
You're just a memory of a love
That used to mean so much to me

It's on the ocean, I guess you know it well...

―:☺:― 

We're just in from running our errands, which included a one-hundred-plus-Yankee Dollar commissary run.  I didn't go overboard or anything, it was just the usual stuff.  Can you really tell me we're NOT laboring under inflation?  I checked my Quicken entries after logging today's transactions and my previous high expenditure for groceries was just over $90.00, and that was a MAJOR food run.  I know coz I'm kinda anal-obsessive about logging my transactions.

Dang.

Beer and cigars?  Or food?  I need to burn more incense on the altar and pray to The Deities At Hand that I don't have to make that decision... anytime soon, anyhoo.

Beer me!

Yum

A year of Japanese food in Tokyo (you might wanna turn down your sound to avoid the irritating Japanese techno-pop music)...

Prolly not for everyone but this sure makes MY mouth water.  The Second Mrs. Pennington (when she was my intended) and I ate out a LOT when we were in Tokyo in 1975 - 1977.  We were fortunate that there were at least three sushi bars within walking distance of our house in Tachikawa, and there were even more options available to us when she was in her apartment in Musashi-Kogenei.  Sushi was only part of the story... there were the ramen stands (and there is NO comparison in between fresh ramen and the ubiquitous packages of cheap-ass ramen noodles we have here), the mainstream restaurants, and the yakitori stands sprinkled all over Tokyo. 

Herewith lies another reason I miss Dee-troit and livin' in some other Big Cities in these United States, especially San Francisco (which is a GREAT restaurant town!):  I used to have access to any number of excellent Japanese restaurants in the way-back.  Nowadays?  Not so much.  Not at all, actually.

Photo:  TSMP and me in a Tokyo sushi bar, 1991.  Click for larger, as usual.

Just Briefly...

I was forced to buy the expensive brand o' half & half when I made my latest re-supply run to Wally-World earlier this week, mainly (and ONLY) because Mr. Walton's heirs were out o' the house brand.  Land O' Lakes is pretty danged proud of their flavor o' half & half, charging a dollar premium over Wal-Mart's house brand.  I often wonder how Wal-Mart manages to pull their pricing tricks off; a dollar savings on a quart of half & half is pretty danged significant... and their house brands generally undercut the pricier stuff by up to 25% across the board.

All that said, I only buy "Great Value" milk and half & half.  I won't substitute Dr. Thunder for Dr. Pepper or replace my Viva paper towels with "Great Value" paper towels that have wood chips and bark embedded in each sheet.  Nor will I eat Sam's generic soups or bread.  I'm funny like that.

―:☺:―

In other grocery news... we made a slew o' BLTs for dinner last night... frying up half a pound o' bacon in the process.  The "T" portion o' my sandwiches was pretty sad, resembling real tomatoes in only the vaguest sorta way.  I always buy Roma tomatoes this time o' year but even the Romas were the palest of red in color... more like orange, actually... and had nearly no fragrance at all.  But they were juicy, I'll give 'em that.

I suppose I should quit bitchin' and be grateful I have any produce at all in the dead o' winter, even if it's trucked up from Mexico.  Our modern logistics systems are indeed a thing o' wonder.  It wasn't all that long ago when fresh fruits and vegetables were pretty much unobtainable at any price in winter, unless you lived in the tropics.  I can remember a time in my own life when fresh produce was pretty rare... which is to say once a week, if then.  But then again, that was in Westby, Montana in the '70s... about as close to the end o' the earth as you could get in the Lower 48 at the time.

Apropos o' Nuthin'

We decided to eat out last night after mentioning we just might venture out for Eye-Talian food in one of yesterday's posts.  But we decided to forgo the "best wine in the house" thang, opting instead for a Fat Tire before dinner and a glass of house Merlot with our meal.  We dined at Vines last evening, P-Ville's one and only Italian eatery, and we have posted about Vines before.  We opened up that post with this:

Time was when we dreaded dining alone, which is to say back in the day when (a) we were younger and (b) spent a considerable amount of time on the road in the course of making our way in this world.  There's nothing quite like the "table for one" experience for announcing to the whole frickin' world a certain social inadequacy... most specifically one's inability to find a suitable dining partner... regardless of the circumstances.  We made do back in the day but we didn't like it.  Not at all.  Times change and our attitudes change with them, thank The Deity at Hand.  It doesn't bother me at all to dine alone these days.  One of the better things about reaching "a certain age" is the ability to say "fuck 'em!" whenever circumstances warrant.  So... that said, we ventured out to Vines on the Courthouse Square this past evening.  Alone.

Sigh.  While it's still true that I don't mind the solitary dining experience I sometimes take exception to the stoopid-ass inquiry one gets when entering a restaurant alone, i.e., "Table for One?"  Last evening I replied to my perky inquisitor with my usual, customary and reasonable "Yep.  Just Me."  but the NEXT time this happens I'm going to affect a shocked look, look behind me, and exclaim "Where'd she GO?  She was RIGHT behind me!"  And walk out.  I'll wait a moment or three before going back in, at which time I'll announce "Well so much for THIS marriage."  Or something like that.  Just to see what happens.

Dinner was great.  We had the Blue Plate Special, which was a variation on chicken scallopini with green chiles added to the white wine/cream sauce and prosciutto.  This IS New Mexico, and we have a tendency to add chiles to nearly everything.  The result was quite tasty, even tho the prosciutto contained about six times my weekly salt allowance; we left the greatest part of the prosciutto uneaten as a result. We finished off our meal with a big-ass slice of chocolate cake laced with liqueur (I forgot exactly which liqueur, but that's not important) and strong Italian-style coffee, leaving the restaurant well and truly stuffed to return home and collapse in a food coma.

This is the perfect time to bemoan yet again the passing of the civilized day and age. I'd have dearly loved to linger at table a while last night with a good cigar and a cognac along with my coffee. But we simply cannot do that any longer (for the children!), and more's the pity. Future generations won't even realize what we've lost in this space.  But I know and I am NOT pleased.

Why I Don't Cook More Often

I eat out a lot.  Prolly way more than I should, actually, but I do eat well.  I'll admit to making a couple o' runs a month to Mickey Dee's and I'm not unknown at our local taqueria, either.  But I generally patronize "real" restaurants when eating out and I do this mostly because I can.

That said, I'm no stranger in the kitchen and I'm a pretty danged good cook, if I say so myself.  I pretty much taught The Second Mrs. Pennington how to cook (remind me to tell you sometime about the first meal she ever tried to cook for me, the short of it being she fixed lasagna, without boiling the lasagna noodles first.  Yeah: inedible.  School commenced the following day.) and I had my regular turn in the kitchen when I lived a conventional, i.e., married, life.

But these days?  I'm lucky if I actually cook... as opposed to "nuke"... dinner more than once a week.  You might ask why and here's part of the answer:

Cooking is a major PITA when you have VERY limited space in which to work.  The pic above is about halfway through the process of dinner preparation, and I was making a salad when I took the pic.  What went before was paring the pork chops, cutting bacon into one-inch squares, and slicing the onion used in the dish.  All that stuff stacked in the sink (bread, etc., on the left) is the contents of my breadbox (aka the nuker), which was heating up a bowl of beets when I took this pic.  Stuff used in previous steps has already been washed and is in the drainer.

So what's for dinner?  This is the entree:

That's a couple of thick center cut pork chops smothered in sauerkraut after being browned in bacon fat for a minute a side... simmer for 20 minutes and serve.  There's also half an onion lurking in there, along with two cloves of crushed garlic.  And the bacon bits, of course.  We don't throw much away.

Dinner is served:

Yum.  Fixing this was a pain but the results were worth it!

I might be motivated to cook more often if I lived in an RV with a kitchen like this:

Just look at that counter space!  (Sigh)