The Vine

Saturday, June 12, 2004

Insomniacal Meanderings (first in an innumerable series)

I have trouble sleeping, and my logging habit may proceed forthwith.
Tribute must be paid, for me even knowing about blogging, to my dear girlfriend Trailer Park girl, and she will have to be my first and main inspiration. Before her, I had never heard of this format, and not very subsequent, I was hooked on her writings, simple diary entries and musings in the theme of big ideas within a small-scale dwelling in the South Austin biome. StarrMusings and SloppyEnchilada are my only other blogger influences to date.

LIFEstyle, food, politics, religion, music, and love may turn out to be recurring topics if I manage to keep this thing going without sacrificing any of my other written goals. I only have so much time for writing, and I hope my projects don't compete, but compleate each other.

That said, here is just a bit of food and lifestyle, which happened tonight: A couple of years ago, my dear friend gave me a cauldron/hibachi/bbq grillthing which I parked on my porch, waiting patiently for a less brokenhearted period of my life. Sure enough, when romance stroked my tummy, the little rusted potbellied cooker came out. It immediately responded to love and hunger and a two-beer buzz, producing grilled portabella burgers, veggies, and now, grilled fish. "This thing is great! I'm delighted with its design!" said my LoverMan. Now we take it to the lake, in any cardboard apple box cluttering my kitchen, just in case a grill is not available, and now we might even turn up our noses at the county-park-provided cooking facilities in favor of the Majik Cowldron. And we spark it up in the front yard, amongst the weeds, as we did tonight.

But before you put something on the Cowldron, try this version of the Manhattan: 3 cubes ice, two jiggers Wellers bourbon whiskey, one jigger Nolly Pratt sweet vermouth, three splashes Angosura bitters, a thin slice of orange, skin bruised and squeezed, a big splash of the syrup of the jar of Maraschino cherries, and one cherry thereof. A very adult drink, but! how well it goes with anything vaguely Southern, BBQ'd or Cajun.

I asked my pal Grouper to report back to me which fish were ecologically and spiritually okay to eat, but until that study comes in, I take Doc at Wheatsville's recommendations and offerings. Very affordable among those was the Tilapia, which I put into a marinade of olive oil, lemon juice, bitter vermouth, Tony Chachere's, garlic powder, fresh lemon basil, TX tarragon, and lemon thyme. We started a fire of Cedar Elm twigs, offerings from my yard trees, then moving up to a few two-inch thick Pecan branches, which I pick up biking or walking home, whatever I can carry, because Pecan is so good for cooking on this little grill. Even though it is June in Central Texas, starting a fire in the front yard was pleasant, and what with the Shoo mosquito potion and the six sticks of SuperHit incense, even the monsoon-puddle-bred skeeters stayed a safe 10-ft radius around the cooker. We used the burning flames to reheat the leftover blackeyed peas and greens as sides. Once the coals were down, well it was two minutes on one side and 30 seconds on the other side for the Tilapia, barely enough time for me to make another Manhattan for LoverMan and me to go with dinner.

This might seen very gourmet, if we were not barefoot, or Martha Stewart if we were not so poor, or extravagant, if it were not so cheap and cooked on twigs from the yard!, shallow if it wasn't so eco, or degenerate, if it wasn't so healthy!

I like to imagine, how, after the oil crash, we could retain a few of these sorts of lifestyle and diet pleasure with simple modifications. The fish may be perch from my creek, or pigeons even, and the oil is sesame fom where we planted in what was the street. The greens and blackeyed peas grow real good here, if we bothered. Now the whiskey, we would need to import some expertise on that....


At 8:49 AM, Blogger dragonfly jenny said...

Lovely! I have a little bbq too. I fire up with old Chronicles and pecan and oak twigs, then move up to pecan or mesquite logs.

Perhaps a locally grown and distilled spirit like Prickly Pear Vokda would fuel the post-oil-crash happy hour.

At 4:05 AM, Blogger Tinman said...

Tequila, dear...tequila!


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