Tap City For Teste Tuesday On T. St.
Tonight was the last Tuesday at this apartment. Since I had to run a few errands after work, I wasn't left much time for relaxing. It was important to me that I cook something and get it right. After pouring through my new cookbook, I eventually copped out and chose "Spicy Chicken and Rice Bake". Easy. You might think so...
Unfortunately, when I am in my kitchen I feel as uncomfortable as a guilty man on trial. Feeling the self-appointed pressure, I found myself standing in my kitchen with ingredients spread all over my counter and realizing that the clock was not on my side.
Suddenly I thought to myself WWRD? Immediately I grabbed a small bar glass, threw five ice cubes in it and topped them off with some Gentleman's Jack, set it aside. Next, I started slicing, measuring, sauteing, and hyperventilating. Remembered the Jack. Took a sip, then another...
By the time this concoction was being placed in the oven I started to realize whiskey wasn't so bad. I also realized I should probably only have the one.
Ida showed up first with the herbal therapy, but no Booger. I was surprised, I thought she would make it. R arrived with his arms full. He had prepared some fried ravioli and also had made a present. He had printed a peace poster and framed it. I can't wait to hang it in the new place.
Ida, as usual, was tea toddling it and got himself a coke. I made R a vodka and cranberry in a pint glass and opened myself up another Fat Tire.The evening was set for a good time.
We stood around and bullshitted for a while. There were green beans steaming on the oven that I thought would never get done. Once the bread that Ida brought was warmed, we all filled our plates in the kitchen and took them into the living room to our usual seats. R always has to be in the chair next to the door. He says that it is to keep Ida on the other side of the room. Not a bad idea... Ida and I always sit on the couch.
The black beans and rice were not bad. I will cook them again. The chicken is another story. I let it get overcooked while we were bullshitting. I told R that I had hung it out to dry all day. It did taste like it. The green beans, not so great either. I should have cooked them longer.
Am I giving up on cooking? Sorry guys, but no, not yet. There is a bbq in the backyard at the new house. Many years ago I was pretty good with a grill. I've cooked fish, chicken, steak, and a whole turkey and it turned out good ninety-eight percent of the time.
After laughing about how bad the food was, we continued to talk and laugh for the rest of the evening. Tuesdays are always good for my soul. Spending time with the people you care so much about and hearing their laughter while they enjoy themselves, is truly priceless.
R and Ida will have to travel a bit for the next Tuesday I host. I am not quite sure when that will be, but I am sure, it won't be soon enough.
Unfortunately, when I am in my kitchen I feel as uncomfortable as a guilty man on trial. Feeling the self-appointed pressure, I found myself standing in my kitchen with ingredients spread all over my counter and realizing that the clock was not on my side.
Suddenly I thought to myself WWRD? Immediately I grabbed a small bar glass, threw five ice cubes in it and topped them off with some Gentleman's Jack, set it aside. Next, I started slicing, measuring, sauteing, and hyperventilating. Remembered the Jack. Took a sip, then another...
By the time this concoction was being placed in the oven I started to realize whiskey wasn't so bad. I also realized I should probably only have the one.
Ida showed up first with the herbal therapy, but no Booger. I was surprised, I thought she would make it. R arrived with his arms full. He had prepared some fried ravioli and also had made a present. He had printed a peace poster and framed it. I can't wait to hang it in the new place.
Ida, as usual, was tea toddling it and got himself a coke. I made R a vodka and cranberry in a pint glass and opened myself up another Fat Tire.The evening was set for a good time.
We stood around and bullshitted for a while. There were green beans steaming on the oven that I thought would never get done. Once the bread that Ida brought was warmed, we all filled our plates in the kitchen and took them into the living room to our usual seats. R always has to be in the chair next to the door. He says that it is to keep Ida on the other side of the room. Not a bad idea... Ida and I always sit on the couch.
The black beans and rice were not bad. I will cook them again. The chicken is another story. I let it get overcooked while we were bullshitting. I told R that I had hung it out to dry all day. It did taste like it. The green beans, not so great either. I should have cooked them longer.
Am I giving up on cooking? Sorry guys, but no, not yet. There is a bbq in the backyard at the new house. Many years ago I was pretty good with a grill. I've cooked fish, chicken, steak, and a whole turkey and it turned out good ninety-eight percent of the time.
After laughing about how bad the food was, we continued to talk and laugh for the rest of the evening. Tuesdays are always good for my soul. Spending time with the people you care so much about and hearing their laughter while they enjoy themselves, is truly priceless.
R and Ida will have to travel a bit for the next Tuesday I host. I am not quite sure when that will be, but I am sure, it won't be soon enough.
posted by AJ at 9:20 PM
1 Comments:
Sorry to hear about your chicken. Also that's the second time I've heard "Fat Tire" on someones blog. Is that like a west coast beer or something? Please enlighten me.
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