Boozin' classy like

So I've decided to start infusing alcohol with things.

I first attempted this in June when I got my job-as I'd told myself I'd make ginger tequila upon securing employment. I told myself this in January and didn't think I'd linger on the unofficial unemployment list for six months, but I did make the concoction and it was pretty good.

The only problem is, I did a full bottle, so I've still got more than half a bottle left. Variety, being the spice of life, took me away from it pretty quick.


Enter the decanters in the Ross stemware section (where I spend my lunch break sometimes). They have several very cool looking decanters for $5, but they're only 700ml causing me to not buy them and think to myself, "those aren't even big enough for a full bottle, let alone a bottle with ingredients in it."

Then it hit me. I'd been so short-sighted. I should just be doing half bottles anyway, so I can have more variety sitting around.

First up? Vanilla bourbon. And since I'll have a half a bottle left over, I may also make lime bourbon.

And what about cinnamon cocoa brandy? Or melon gin? Melon gin and tonic could get some takers, I bet. Or, since I'll have limes too, lime infused gin.


Lime has a place in every drink, really.

Notes from a small kitchen

So I signed up for a delivery service that, every two weeks, brings me a box of organic vegetables picked from a farm outside of Sacramento. I usually don't know what they're going to bring me until I open the box on Tuesday mornings (at the advice of Narges who told me "it's like Christmas") but after finishing off "The Omnivore's Dilemma" tonight, I needed to go online and see what I'm getting tomorrow (I also expect to have a busy morning at work and thought it best to get my googling of recipes out of the way tonight).

The website lists the vegetables they are going to deliver on the Friday before delivery day, which is Tuesday for the zip code where my office is located. The farm picks whatever's ripe that week, supplements it with stuff from other farms nearby (I've been getting apples and pears from Oregon, but everything else from Capay Valley) and the subscriber has to make something with the ingredients. It's a little like Iron Chef, but not really at all.

Since it's the dead of winter, it's winter produce season. Leeks, red onions, garlic, apples and pears (from Oregon), oranges, potatoes, red leaf lettuce and the like are all (except the fruit and lettuce) the kind of seasonal soup-ingredient-esque stuff I'd expect to find at a farmers' market this time of year.

Part of the goal of getting this delivery is general health. I'd like to live long and healthy, and eating fresh vegetables seems to be a good way to go about that. Also, it's an attempt at supporting local economies and good ideas. But also, it's an adventure. I've made some recipes lately and cooked with ingredients that I had never and probably would never have attempted. My mom doesn't like brussels sprouts, so I'd never eaten one in my life. But, presented with nearly a pound of them, I had to make some lightly seared and salted brussels sprouts as an appetizer one night.

My last two (and honestly, so far the only two until tomorrow morning) shipments also included kale, which has been fun to experiment with. Here's what I'm getting tomorrow (along with onions, garlic and four pounds of fruit):

	1	bu	Our Farm	Gold Chard
	1	bu	Our Farm	Bunched Collard
	1	bu	Our Farm	Nantes Carrot
	1	cnt	Our Farm	Lacinato / Dino Kale

I wanted to make roasted kale last time but used it all in a soup (which came after the appetizer mentioned above), so I'm glad I'm getting another shot at it. Carrots are awesome (I may just eat them as snacks) but I'm having an issue with the collard greens (aside from their similarity to chard and kale).

Going back to the health aspect, why does every recipe for this plant call for ham hocks? First off, while I never did before, I realize now that I have a rule against eating food the name of which I associate with loogies. Second... no. I don't want to cook with pig knuckles, or feet, or whatever the ham hock is. It seems weird, and really, wouldn't bacon be better suited anyway? It usually is.

This bunch of collard greens is going to lead us to yet another installment of Tenderloin Fusion, whereby through lack of funds, motivation or a sense of urgency we put inexpensive, lazy, or "really what difference does it make" spins on dishes from around the world. Well, so far mostly Asia, but we were bound to make it to The South eventually. It makes a kind of homonymical sense to go to Soul Food after the last attempt at Seoul Food.

21 (if I let myself cheat)

I spent a few hours in Books Inc. with Andy just now and bought one heckov a lot of books for people (and I'd already ordered a few from Amazon).

While browsing, I stumbled upon "The Lump of Coal" by Lemony Snicket and read the whole thing cover to cover. It's about a lump of coal who wants to be an artist, either by doing abstract charcoal drawings or making lines on barbecued chicken. This search for miracles takes all of 1000 words, or about 20 fully illustrated pages to get through, but it is a book. It's also the kind of children's book my mom and I have been kicking around for a few months.

Take a look at this despondent little bastard brooding in a stocking. Isn't it great?



And yes, I heard most of the narration in Jude Law's voice.

Four to go

I started this year with a hope more than a goal. To read, on average, two books a month. I'd fallen off book reading since graduating and I've always loved books (Nate the Great, WHAT WHAT!) and didn't think it an unrealistic goal since I used to read 10-20 books a quarter when I was at UCLA.

Looking at the column on the left of this blog, you can see what I'm reading now, and books I've "recently read." By my count, starting with "Old Man and the Sea," (which I read in January) I've read 20 books so far in 2008. And despite what my current reading list says, I'm actually only reading three of those books - mostly done with "Tumble Home" (collection of short stories), a third through "The Omnivore's Dilemma," and just started but will tear through the collection of columns about reading a lot of books by Nick Hornby, "Shakespeare Wrote for Money."

That brings me to 23, one shy of my aspiration. With two weeks left of this year (which has really been a pretty cool year overall) I'm thinking I have to hit this mark. Perhaps another play, or a graphic novel. Andy does have "The Watchmen" sitting on his bookshelf.

Or maybe I'll remember something I read and didn't write down. That would be ideal, really. If only I could count all the magazines and news I've read as one big "What happened in 2008" tome. But alas, I think that would be cheating. And I already feel bad enough about counting "Maus" as two books.

A little too ironic

There is something so delicious about spending my lunch hour eating Orange Chicken at Panda Express while reading "The Omnivore's Dilemma" by Michael Pollan. The answer to the question of "What should I eat?" is probably not "the jewel of the Orient," but it's certainly the answer to the question of "what do I want to eat right now?" (Well not now, cause I just ate that, but two hours ago it was the answer.)

But I did just sign up for bi-weekly deliveries of fresh, locally grown organic fruits and veggies from FarmFreshToYou.com. So I've got that going for me starting on Tuesday.

Christmas Issue

The thing keeping Christmas from being really fantastic is two tendencies of mine that get in the way of gift receiving. The first is easily remedied by being poor: I buy stuff I want when I want it.

The second is a more far-reaching problem: I don't really talk about stuff I want. Now, it's no secret that I want a motorcycle and I need a new iPod, but we all know they're not cheap (if they were I wouldn't have been using a partially functional unit for the past 10 months), and other little things I like go largely unmentioned.

Now I've already heard tale of one present I may be getting and it's perfect because a) I don't talk about wanting it but to the observant I clearly do, and b) it's something I wouldn't have bought for myself.

But there are some things out there that I think I'd like but don't talk about for whatever reason. Like a set of DJ-style headphones. I don't want to be that guy on the bus with the overly elaborate headphones - especially if my iPod doesn't work - but a large part of me thinks I'd enjoy them. I saw a pair of Sony ones for like $30.

Of course I still need that golf bag and UCLA head covers for my new, awesome R7 clubs. They're just not stylish enough yet. But maybe the UCLA stuff would clash with the red and black bag. We'll never really know.

Sports Night Special Edition just came out on DVD. Everyone should want that.

There's also a new Tomb Raider game that could be fun (the last one was) and I'd like to read some magazines/publications such as the Paris Review, McSweeney's Quarterly, the Believer, Good, but don't cause they're kind of expensive and I'm kind of lazy.

And if I had that couch/bed from Ikea, I might just use it as my main couch and leave my futon down all the time cause I'm a fan of not reconfiguring my bed every morning and evening (again, lazy).

And why are navy blue slacks so hard to find? I feel like they'd go with everything (just like jeans do) yet no one seams to have them.

This kind of turned into a Seinfeld routine, but what is the deal with blue pants? And how do I tell my secret Santa at work to just buy me a bottle of booze or a good book?

November reigns

This morning looked like November for the first time all month. After weeks of gorgeous skies, bright mornings (still no blinds on the window of my new place) and warm weather, the clouds were back in San Francisco.

Not so much with the fog, but the high clouds that act as sunglasses for the entire city, dimming the lights a bit. This is November as you might expect it. At least, as you might expect it in the parts of California where it never snows.

The forecast has rain for the days before Thanksgiving, which is the same days that our Australian couch-surfer will be coming "home" before going back to his native land for the first time in over a year. I'm actually kind of bummed that he won't be around through Thursday, cause I'd like to send him back to his family after having a semi-traditional Thanksgiving meal with my semi-untraditional family.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday by far (former fat kids know what I'm talking about) because it never lets you down. It's going to be a great meal. And even if the potatoes get ruined (1998) or you're not with your family (2007) or you spent the day before sitting in hours of traffic just to get to where the turkey would be (2004, 2005, 2006), there will still be turkey and good times.

Last year, while I was in Spain (I'm such a douche for that one), my mom made so many references to being "so thankful and blessed" via email that I assumed someone was pregnant or getting married and I just hadn't been told yet (check the comments she left on this blog from about a year ago-they're strangely upbeat, even for a woman who's pretty upbeat).

My family never did the "what am I thankful for" thing and we never say Grace, so the suddenness of being thankful for what he had struck me as odd. She started in on it again recently and I called her on it Sunday when we went to Pier 1 together.

I don't want to break a family member's news on my blog, but today I've been grinning all day and it really does seem that we do have "so much" to be thankful for. In the past year, I've been called overly optimistic and unbearably pessimistic by different people. I've also recently been called an English Dandy, but that couldn't be less the point. Despite the gray skies outside, and the fact that I just interviewed a girl to be my assistant who is more qualified for my job than I am, we do have so much to be thankful for. Life is good, times are exciting.

But, on second thought, I just saw that People magazine snubbed me again. Stupid Hugh Jackman.