My latest dilemma with this food blog is half the time I make regular-person food and even though it takes time and tastes good I don’t feel like it warrants the whole, “hey, let me just bust out my camera and photograph this for ten minutes before I eat it,” you know? What am I supposed to do, write about some fairly standard stir fry? I’d be like, so then I chopped a bunch of vegetables and added a bunch of soy sauce and spicy junk and oil and served it over rice like every other person in the world does 8,000 times a year. Please, read my blog. I’m desperate.
So you know, I’m just not gonna do that. Luckily when my sister, Beth and her boyfriend, Jeff visited me this weekend I scored something food related to take a photo of.
Beth works in a really sweet bookstore so she’s always throwing rad books my way. She brought this with her for me so that we could collaborate on an awesome taco night for my mom’s birthday next weekend. I haven’t decided which tacos to bust out, but prickly-pear margaritas and stuffed peppers are definitely on the list. Beth has good ideas.
They came up for a wedding and when I gave them the tour of my tiny little house, Jeff spotted my Bullet Bourbon bottle on my nightstand (I use it for a water bottle because it’s the only container that my cat can’t stick his face in. GUH.) and was like, “BULLET BOURBON. You two really are sisters.” And then I remembered my sister’s and my shared love of all things whiskey, so after C and I picked them up from the wedding shuttle we stopped by Uisce’s to check out their whiskey menu. Uisce’s is an Irish pub and known for their whiskey selection. Being a total sap for whiskey (a love song might be in the works…) I should’ve been frequenting this bar long ago, but last night was my first time in there. I avoided it because I was afraid… NOT OF THE WHISKEY. Of the bartenders. I had this fear of going up to the bar and being like, ONE WHISKEY, PLEASE, SIR! And them being like, you moron. It’s a whiskey bar. WHAT KIND OF WHISKEY. And then I’d falter and get embarrassed and skulk away because let’s be honest, I don’t really know shit about whiskey. One day when I’m staggeringly rich I’ll have a complete knowledge of the finest liquors that my monkey barkeep (who I will have trained to talk via a tiny robotic speaker) will have educated me about. But that’s not going to happen for at least another six months, and in the mean time I usually make the classy request of “whatever’s cheap tonight.” I know, I’m full of charms.
But I asked for the whiskey menu, balked at the space where Bullet should’ve been but wasn’t, then found out they had it, just not on the menu. So Jeff and Beth and I got our Bullet on the rocks, C got some ale, and ALL WAS WELL.
This morning I was feeling like an epic breakfast, so Beth and I ran to the Co-Op for ingredients. I made smoothies with kiwi, banana, strawberry, blueberry, and raspberry (and orange juice and vanilla yogurt. YUM.)
my favorite glass.
Then I put together a scramble with crimini mushrooms and… oh wait. Hold on, SIDE NOTE TIME. Every time I buy or write about or talk about crimini mushrooms I say Criminy! mushrooms. Like I’m in the backwoods in the olden times and someone was like,”Snake! Snake in your boot!” And I go CRIMINY! Which, according to wikipedia, which I trust for pretty much everything, is a curse word from the 1600’s meaning CHRIST! Crimini mushrooms have a totally different pronunciation that I just can’t seem to grasp, so I’m gonna go ahead and call them Criminy! mushrooms. Every time. From here on out. ENJOY, SUCKAS.
Ok, back to the scramble: Criminy! mushrooms, yellow pepper, spinach, red onion, eggs, Tapatio hot sauce and salt and pepper. Easy peasy. Then we scored some English muffins (half of which were already moldy when we purchased them! Yes! I love surprises!) with blackberry jam homemade by two of my coworkers. DELICIOUS. Nectarines, chicken breakfast sausage, and it was a done deal. I’m still full.
So tonight’s plan includes mooooore fooooood! And mooooore driiiinks! My favorite things! The local gastropub, The Copper Hog is starting an industry night tonight for food service and bartender folks. You bring in your paystub to show that you are indeed a hash-slinging kitchen wench and they give you a membership card that gets you 20% off every Sunday. At least I think that’s how it works. Regardless, I’ve got my paystub all tucked into my purse, ready to get my card and get some Copper Hog goodies tonight. Score!