![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Inspired by my brother, I actually took the time to make myself a lovely dinner tonight. I had crab cakes, sauteed in olive oil (burning my hand in a couple places, of course), doused in lemon juice and sprinkled with Old Bay seasoning, because we ARE in Maryland after all. (Hmm... note to self, think about possible MD-style cocktail with which Old Bay can be applied...). These I had with petite peas, which are so much sweeter and flavorful than regular ones, and mashed potatoes.
I make a mean batch of mashed potatoes from scratch, but I was still at least partially lazy. Still, I used an old el-cheapo trick I learned during my especially-poor days in London: if you throw in lots of pepper, garlic, and cheese, mashed potatoes from a box can actually be quite palpable.
And all this I chased down afterwards with a nice spot of Irish breakfast tea at 9:42 this evening, ready for a long night of working on Hefner Monologues.
Probably not the kind of dinner I would make for a date, but it's a lot better than my usual fare of Campbell's soup and a Hot Pocket. When I'm feeling really luxurious, I patiently cook the Hot Pocket in a toaster over.
Edd just left for Seattle, and with him, I've lost not just a brother. I've lost a chef, who single-handedly was getting Mom and I to eat better just by handing us well-made stuff on a plate and saying, "Here, eat this instead of your usual crap." I've lost a one-man social life, which was keeping me more distracted than usual from the writing I should be doing. I've lost a drinking partner and, by extension, a guinea pig on whom I could test out my various new concoctions.
Thanks to him, I ended up spending over a hundred bucks for liquor this past week alone. But it was worth it, since much of that cash went towards Bombay Sapphire gin and Jose Cuervo Tradicional tequila. It would have taken a lot to have made me enjoy gin, understand. Gin made my father a drunk, my girlfriend a floozy, and my best friend a backstabbing horndog. Ok, well, it didn't "make" them, but it was certainly an accomplice the entire time. But god DAMN if Bombay Sapphire ain't the shit. I don't know if I'll be making drinks with it that often, because wow, gin-drunk is a strange, strange sensation.
The tequila, on the other hand... I'd often avoided buying any because I understood the Mexicans keep all the good stuff and send us the crap. So with Edd along, I started shopping for a quality tequila, and eventually settled on the cheapest of the high-end kinds, Jose Cuervo Tradicional. We left it in the freezer overnight and then Edd taught me the wonder and the glory of taking a shot, biting into lime, and drinking a Corona. A simple ritual, but holy mother of god, it was marvelous. The freezer-cold tequila was one of the most delicious straight liquors I've ever tasted, so damn smooth that I am almost loathe to drink it any way else but straight, and I still have never had a margarita. We've got a mix, but man, I dunno... if I can make it with fresh lime juice, that's always the way I'd prefer, but the recipe on the Jose Cuervo website says to use Grand Marnier, and man, I can't afford that right now. Hrm. I suppose I could be forgiven for using Cointreau, or, in a lowbrow pinch, DeKuyper.
But this started being about my brother. We attended a neighborhood party this weekend and proceeded to get phenomenally drunk on wine, being boozily snarky and cackling obnoxiously. And then when I discovered that the host put out a few bottles of Jameson and Bailey's, oh, well, we were done for the night. I learned that I can handle myself much better than Edd... that is, until I sit down. We came home and drunkenly watched THE PRINCESS BRIDE, which is a fine evening, let me tell you.
I'll miss the old boy. I'll see him again in a couple months, but in the meantime, I think we'll both be sticking with the occasional single glass of alcohol per evening.
There was no real point to this post, just amusing myself with a bit of stream-of-consciousness as I continue putting off my Hefner Monologues revisions. Back to work!
I make a mean batch of mashed potatoes from scratch, but I was still at least partially lazy. Still, I used an old el-cheapo trick I learned during my especially-poor days in London: if you throw in lots of pepper, garlic, and cheese, mashed potatoes from a box can actually be quite palpable.
And all this I chased down afterwards with a nice spot of Irish breakfast tea at 9:42 this evening, ready for a long night of working on Hefner Monologues.
Probably not the kind of dinner I would make for a date, but it's a lot better than my usual fare of Campbell's soup and a Hot Pocket. When I'm feeling really luxurious, I patiently cook the Hot Pocket in a toaster over.
Edd just left for Seattle, and with him, I've lost not just a brother. I've lost a chef, who single-handedly was getting Mom and I to eat better just by handing us well-made stuff on a plate and saying, "Here, eat this instead of your usual crap." I've lost a one-man social life, which was keeping me more distracted than usual from the writing I should be doing. I've lost a drinking partner and, by extension, a guinea pig on whom I could test out my various new concoctions.
Thanks to him, I ended up spending over a hundred bucks for liquor this past week alone. But it was worth it, since much of that cash went towards Bombay Sapphire gin and Jose Cuervo Tradicional tequila. It would have taken a lot to have made me enjoy gin, understand. Gin made my father a drunk, my girlfriend a floozy, and my best friend a backstabbing horndog. Ok, well, it didn't "make" them, but it was certainly an accomplice the entire time. But god DAMN if Bombay Sapphire ain't the shit. I don't know if I'll be making drinks with it that often, because wow, gin-drunk is a strange, strange sensation.
The tequila, on the other hand... I'd often avoided buying any because I understood the Mexicans keep all the good stuff and send us the crap. So with Edd along, I started shopping for a quality tequila, and eventually settled on the cheapest of the high-end kinds, Jose Cuervo Tradicional. We left it in the freezer overnight and then Edd taught me the wonder and the glory of taking a shot, biting into lime, and drinking a Corona. A simple ritual, but holy mother of god, it was marvelous. The freezer-cold tequila was one of the most delicious straight liquors I've ever tasted, so damn smooth that I am almost loathe to drink it any way else but straight, and I still have never had a margarita. We've got a mix, but man, I dunno... if I can make it with fresh lime juice, that's always the way I'd prefer, but the recipe on the Jose Cuervo website says to use Grand Marnier, and man, I can't afford that right now. Hrm. I suppose I could be forgiven for using Cointreau, or, in a lowbrow pinch, DeKuyper.
But this started being about my brother. We attended a neighborhood party this weekend and proceeded to get phenomenally drunk on wine, being boozily snarky and cackling obnoxiously. And then when I discovered that the host put out a few bottles of Jameson and Bailey's, oh, well, we were done for the night. I learned that I can handle myself much better than Edd... that is, until I sit down. We came home and drunkenly watched THE PRINCESS BRIDE, which is a fine evening, let me tell you.
I'll miss the old boy. I'll see him again in a couple months, but in the meantime, I think we'll both be sticking with the occasional single glass of alcohol per evening.
There was no real point to this post, just amusing myself with a bit of stream-of-consciousness as I continue putting off my Hefner Monologues revisions. Back to work!
