Which Is Why I'm Doing Two Posts In One Night

Now we shall discuss "oaked" vs. "unoaked" cabernet sauvignon. Since my daughter and I are sharing a car (which basically means she has the car whenever she needs it and I'm taking the bus/train), my grocery shopping on the weekend is worked around her work schedule. I can take the bus/train to work with very little effort, but she really needs transportation to get there and back. I love the challenge of my new life. It's a game to see if I can get where I need to be, make meals with NO money, juggle bills, and somehow pay down my debts (or at least keep from defaulting on anything).

The economy regretfully shut down the Albertson's that was within walking distance of my house, but there is an Exxon station. And I have an Exxon card. During skinny paycheck periods or when I'm without wheels, I can walk to Exxon and choose from a pathetic array of wines that range from Boone's Farm (hell will freeze over) to the not-too-bad-but-seriously-overpriced Estancia and Clos du Bois.

This past Sunday, being at a loose end, without wheels -- and without dryer sheets and wine -- I walked over to the Exxon station and browsed. I noticed a wine that proudly announced it was an Unoaked Cabernet Sauvignon, so I decided to do a taste test and compare the Estancia to the Simply Naked to see what the difference was.

Now, I have a LOT to learn about wine, as anyone who has read this blog knows, so I was curious to learn why one would or would not put cabernet sauvignon in an oak barrel. I hit the Internet to find out why, but my quick research merely unearthed the idea that it's cheaper to put wine in steel barrels than oak ones. Well, the unoaked wine WAS cheaper . . . I tasted both, a glass of unoaked and then a glass of oaked, while working on my current oil painting and singing to my Diana Krall station on Pandora. The unoaked Simply Naked cab had more of a pronounced grape flavor with less complicated undertones than the oaked Estancia. Actually, the first sip reminded me more of grape juice than wine, though getting deeper into the glass let me find a bright flavor that is not half bad. (I'm drinking it tonight, as I write this.) Personally, I prefer the oaked -- it's a little smoother, with a depth that I found lacking in the Simply Naked cab.

Okay, still on my Bucket List is a proper course on wine appreciation. I'd like to develop my palate and be able to articulate what I am drinking, break down the components and appreciate the subtleties of each vintage. Good wine is amazing; great wine is an art form.

And here's an option for leftover pork butt: chop it up with green onions, cilantro, and green chiles. Roll mixture in corn tortillas and fry. Serve with sour cream and salsa. Leftover Yum!!!

I Hate It When I Get Behind . . .

You know how psychologists say that we all have a movie of ourselves playing in our head? Well, I have this blog in mine, and I think of great things to write, but then real life picks me up and gallops off in another direction. However, before I get TOO behind, I shall write about pork butt. [NOTE: Pun alert . . . butt . . . behind . . . GET IT???]

So Fiesta Mart had a great sale on pork butts. I bought one, cut it in half, froze one half and contemplated what I was going to do with the other half. The Food Network show "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives" is always good for inspiration, and I love watching the cooks throw spices at a piece of meat and have it come out delicious.

That's what I did to the half-a-pork-butt: I threw my BBQ rub on it (equal parts of brown sugar, smoked paprika, and Cajun seasoning) and put it in the crock pot with some white wine, parts of an onion that looked like it was about to be unusable, and . . . a whole dried ancho chile. Now, on the show, the cooks reverently allow the meat to marinate in the spices overnight, but I rarely think that far ahead -- well, I THINK that far ahead, I just usually don't get up and DO it. So I threw it all in the crock pot on my way out the door to catch the bus.

Well, it was delicious. Maybe with the other half I'll see if marinating it overnight deepens the flavor, but it was just FINE as it came out. The ancho chile deepened the flavor of the BBQ seasonings, and the meat was melt-in-your-mouth tender. Yum.

Hash!

I've been trying for two days to write about the hash I made the other night, and I couldn't come up with anything interesting or witty to say. Of course, I finally realized it's because there really isn't anything brilliant about hash -- it's a very plebian, slightly dull, comfort food (at least the way I make it). But I love it, and isn't it that stolidly boring predictability what makes it a comfort food?

What's yours?

We all have them. In fact, there's a show on The Food Network called "The Best Thing I Ever Ate" and some of the favorite foods of the chefs will make you raise an eyebrow and think "yeah, right, to each his own." We should never judge, just enjoy the wonderful diversity of tastes, customs, habit and cultures that make up our earth.

You know, I hope there is life on other planets, because I'd love to know what THEY eat.

Oh, and Smoking Loon Merlot, at under $10 a bottle, goes great with hash made from leftover chuck roast. (I put a little IN the hash too, just for shits and giggles.)

My hash recipe (courtesy of my mother, really): chop up potatoes, onion, garlic, and leftover roast. Sauté everything but the roast in some olive oil, then add leftover gravy and enough water to liquefy so the potatoes will cook. Add salt, pepper and Herbes de Provence (or whatever herbs you like) to taste. When the potatoes are cooked, add the roast and heat through. Thicken gravy if needed.

You can throw the wine in whenever you like during the process, or just stand there and drink it. I'm not convinced it adds anything to the hash, but it makes me feel vaguely gourmet about the whole process, e.g., "I'm not just standing here drinking, I'm COOKING."

Top lavishly with ketchup (the hash, not the wine) and enjoy!

Hot Texas Summer . . .

No, I didn't eat the bird. Its bedraggled feathers and panting demeanour, in my opinion, perfectly sum up how this Dallas, Texas summer of 2011 has felt. Blistering, wiltering, overpowering heat for 70 days. It's a new record. Whoopee.

However, I enjoyed the 90 days of June, July and August, in spite of the heat. I had a new job and a new living arrangement (house, roommate). The job sucked but the cooking at my house was spectacular! I love playing off the creative instincts of another good cook who's as competitive as I am, so together and separately we cooked amazing meals. The Cooking Channel played almost constantly to keep the creative juices flowing.

Rick wins in our theoretical cooking competition, with perfect risotto handed to me at 12:40 a.m. with a glass of wine, as I dragged in from work. (I need a different job, by the way. I'm too old for this shit.) That thoughtfulness -- and the food -- revived me enough to show up for work the next day.

However, I was able to counter with an awesome Sunday al fresco lunch consisting of fresh-made coleslaw, hot bollilos grabbed as they came out of the oven at Fiesta Mart, a whole snapper and whole tilapia plucked live from the tank, cleaned and gutted at the store, and grilled over mesquite wood chips. That was a vodka/tonic, rum/juice event, appropriate for this summer.

Summer is OVER (would someone please tell the atmosphere that???) and Rick is back in cool California. He taught me to appreciate Marmite. I showed him how to eat raw oysters. We watched innumerable episodes of "Chopped," "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives," and gained some weight. Good times and bad times, and lots of memories. Life is still good!

But I still need another job. Seriously.

Virgin America Airlines

Virgin America ROCKS! (Does that phrase date me? Oh, well, tough . . .) Usually I fly American Airlines to Los Angeles but this time Virgin America had a better deal, so I found myself on an airplane that, according to my knowledgeable travel companion, looked like a porno set: lavender lighting with pink/magenta side lights.

I'm blown away (not by the lights, though they WERE really pretty). Granted, I'm far removed from my international jet-setting days (would someone PLEASE offer me a job with TRAVEL???), but after the pedestrian domestic years of American Airlines, United (sorry, Terry), and Southwest (no slam, Herb, you're first and coolest for in-Texas hops), Virgin America was a breath of fresh air. I like the order-and-pay feature on the screen in front of each seat. That's GOT to be easier for the flight attendants, which probably accounts for their cheerful, helpful dispositions. On the flight to L.A., I was absolutely gobsmacked by one of them. My step-dog, a 2.4-lb. cotton coat Yorkie, was restive in his carry-on, so I sneaked him onto my lap, intending to quickly put him back in before the flight attendants would notice that he was out and scream for the U.S. Marshal. (You never know how dangerous a 10-year-old, toothless, 2.4-lb. dog can be -- ask my 55-lb. basset.) The flight attendant caught me with Littleman (yes, that's his name) on lap, and she immediately . . . gushed about how cute he was, asked to borrow him, and introduced him to the whole cabin, disappearing so far to the front that I expected to hear an announcement that Littleman was the guest pilot.

On the return flight, I am enjoying my second $6 mini-bot of Hayes Ranch In the Saddle Cabernet Sauvignon while writing this. (You knew I'd have to work wine into this somehow.) This is a good wine: strong cherry and blackberry notes, smooth finish -- I will actually seek this one out for my personal enjoyment. I'll be interested to see how much a regular size bottle is. I ordered the Protein Pack for $7. It was a grudging purchase, to mitigate the effects of Alcohol At High Altitudes, but I'd already rejected the incredibly overpriced food offerings at LAX. I made the right decision. I had a nutritious lunch of tuna, hummus, gluten-free crackers and some other crackers that were really good. I saved the Craisins and nuts for the next time I have to work until midnight or beyond. Or the next rice pilaf stuffing for the two Cornish game hens in my freezer. (I came home from work one night to find that waiting for me -- wow.)

Life is good. Pleasure is wonderful; pain also serves a purpose. It reminds us that we are alive. It spurs us on to find what gives us pleasure. You have to have sour to appreciate the sweet. It's the contrast that gives life the full well-rounded flavor of a good wine: the beginnings down to the end notes, where the fullness is savored and remembered.

And I just spilled wine on my foot. I swear, I am the CLUMSIEST blogger on the planet! But I'm BACK (at least for now).

Moral of this blog: try Virgin America -- I think you'll like it!