As dawn breaks behind me over Puget Sound I slowly sip my frothy cup of coffee and take in Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon,” longing for my soul mate. Awake, Dina, that I may see you smile, hear you laugh, smell your scent, taste your flesh as I kiss your hand…my very own moveable feast. I cast an occasional glance behind me to see the Sun’s latest revelation. Thank you for the Olympics, my latest observation. I am smiling…

Who was the first person to attempt to make food more appealing to the palate, to transition sustenance to a guilty pleasure? What was their thought process? My mind drifts away to that pivotal moment in a cave somewhere in Ice Age Siberia, to a girl cowering in her deerskin next to a roaring fire. Let’s call her -  oh, I don’t know, Tayla. And Tayla, like me, is drinking her version of coffee – minus the contribution of coffee beans – as the sun comes up. But Tayla is most assuredly not smiling. She silently stews and clings to her bowl :

“This bison is awful. Urgh has done nothing but bring me the same rotten meat every day for the last month. Always gesturing that he’s too tired to catch the live animals. And chastising me because my face contorts horribly at the sight of him….bringing home the latest version of Sabre-Tooth Tiger-kill.  Well, maybe if he actually learned to throw his spear and sharpened it once in awhile…”

She looks around at the miscellaneous other carcasses and puddles of blood about the cave. There lay the remnants of a bear cub and a few buttercup flowers. She snatches them and tosses them into a nearby stone bowl, grabs a nearby stone, and hovers the stone menacingly over the flowers. “Urgh, if you drag one more bison leg into this hearth…” She pushes the stone into the flowers and starts to twist it with emphasis over his imaginary face. And her contorted face yields to a look of puzzlement then to amazement. “You know, I could mash enough of these into something I could spread over the …. oh I cannot bear to think of it … and it wouldn’t taste as bad…”

I’m not a bad cook, which is to say I can follow most directions and am rather judicious in my decisions to depart from a recipe. But a mad, creative genius (glancing at my wife’s picture) I am not. Perhaps, someday, but not today. Better to continue studying under my culinary sensei for just awhile longer. Not the least because she’s rather cute….oh and I adore her.

So friends, as we launch into yet another fun-filled morning here in the wonderful Pacific Northwest join me for some quiche in honor of long suffering Tayla:

On your own hunting expedition, collect:

Italian Sausage: 1 lb

Cheese, 3-cheese Italian blend (Anything close to this will do), 1 cup

Eggs: 6 large (preferably not directly harvested from the nests of large, predatory, and temperamental birds)

Heavy Whipping Cream: 1 pint

Salt: 1/2 tsp

Onion: 1/4 cup

Tabasco Sauce: 1/2 tsp

Medium casserole dish

Pie crust: Home-made or store bought, made/purchased separately

Olive oil: 1 tsp

Instructions:

1. Heat the oven to 350

2. Thinly coat the casserole dish with olive oil. No…..the INside…

3. Roll out the pie crust and fit it inside the dish

4. Mince the onions and cut the sausage into small pieces, then cook the sausage through

5. Mix the cheese, sausage, and onion together and sprinkle half of it along the bottom of the dish

6. Beat the Eggs, whipping cream, salt, and Tabasco sauce into submission… er an age appropriate mixing bowl and pour half into the dish

7. Apply the other half of the cheese, sausage, and onion mixture to the dish

8. Pour in the remainder of the eggs et. al.

9. Introduce the dish to the oven….just in case they haven’t met before (It’s generally a good idea to be introduced before things go into other things)

10. Without the lid on the dish, bake for ~ 65 min or until a butter knife comes out of the quiche relatively mixture-free

11. Let the quiche stand ~ 10 mins…or until you can justify ignoring my directions….

12. Make yourself a “Bloody Bison” (Work with me on this…..my coffee’s now cold because of my devotion to you) and offer a toast to Tayla.

Quiche La Cave Man

Is it raining?... AGAIN?

When we woke up this morning we were greeted by the pat, pat, pat of rain falling down on the deck, warning us before we even opened our eyes, that today would be a wet one; go figure.

What goes better with Sunday than good old fashioned biscuits and gravy? Like Charley Sheen and drugs; Lyndsy Lohan and crotch shots; Paris Hilton and stupid comments; cold, wet Sunday’s are meant for comfort food.

Off I went to groggily find my way down to the kitchen so that I could infuse my blood with a good stiff mug of coffee.  I have discovered (please don’t ask how) that fire and sleepy chefs are NOT a good combination. So, after having my morning fix of caffeine, sugar and fat, I searched out mom’s recipe for biscuits while Chris browned the sausage in a large cast iron pan. It should be noted that I prefer cast iron over ANY other type of pan, and everyone for miles around knows that to put soap to one of MY pans is considered treason… and could get you thrown off one of my decks!

Here is the recipe for the best biscuits!

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 4 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 Tablespoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup shortening
• 1/4 cup Butter unsalted (if salted butter is used adjust salt to taste)
• 1 egg
• 2/3 cup milk

Directions

1. In a small bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. Cut in shortening until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Beat egg with milk; stir into dry ingredients just until moistened.
2. Turn onto a well-floured surface; knead 20 times. Roll to 3/4-in. thickness; cut with a floured 2-1/2-in. biscuit cutter. Place on a lightly greased baking sheet, or line a sheet with foil. Bake at 450 degrees F for 8-10 minutes or until golden brown.

Now for the pepper gravy.
Ingredients

• 1 pound spicy Italian sausage
• 1/4 cup Butter
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 2 cups milk
• 1 Tablespoon black pepper freshly cracked (we are pepper heads so adjust if you are not)
• Salt to taste

Directions

1. Crumble and cook sausage in large skillet over medium heat until browned. Push sausage to side of pan and add butter to center of pan. Stir in flour until dissolved. Brown the flour and butter to make a nice golden roue.  Gradually stir in milk. Mix everything together. Cook gravy until thick and bubbly. Season with salt and pepper. Serve hot over biscuits.

I would share a photo but Chris ATE all of his Biscuits and Gravy before I could take a picture!! 

Its no big secret that I have a soft spot in my life  for all things spicy; food, theater, books, men; I digress… Until recently the thought of a cocktail that is spicy was left to the ubiquitous Bloody Mary; found in 5 star hotel bars, local little casinos, and even the seedy little dive bars that can be found peppered throughout most neighborhoods in America. Like all great drinking establishments the offer of a Bloody Mary is a staple most served to those who are seeking relief from a night of self abuse or as a way to warn your body that today, is a day to party; starting now.  That being confessed, I have to share with you that I have become a serious spice HO when it comes to my cocktails.

How did it happen you ask? Well let me tell you my friend, it was a smooth and slippery slope that I fell down; like Paris Hilton chasing after a photographer in the hopes of being relevant; I too have found something worth prostituting myself for, and if I tell you how easy it is to make, do I have to kill you?

Sweet and spicy flavors belong together like Joan Rivers and a Plastic Surgeon. I am not one to question time tested, old flavor pairings,  but do you really think that can apply to cocktails too? DOH! Um, WHY didn’t I think of this combo years ago?! As my liver is crying out her thanks to God above, I am compelled to confess that in my youth I actually thought Corona was BEER! That being said, you may never trust my pallet to steer you in the direction of oral nirvana, but I will take that bet and plead for forgiveness as only a young tongue can do and assure you, that like a beautiful French Bordeaux, I too have improved with age. My thighs? No. My pallet? Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.

All of this brings me to the point of today’s post. If you like spice, and you like martinis, then let me share with you my new favorite party in my mouth (I’m sorry my love, you are a close second).

Just a little spice...

Spicy Pear Martini
3 parts Vodka
1 part pear juice
2 slices of fresh ginger
1/2 part spicy simple syrup*
1 slice of canned pear
Squeeze of fresh lime

Spicy Simple Syrup
1 cup Sugar
1/2 cup water
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper (more or less depending on taste)
Boil sugar and water into a syrup. Add cayenne pepper to taste.

Muddle the martini into a martini shaker over ice. Shake well. Mix some raw sugar and cayenne pepper together onto a plate. Run a piece of lime around the edge of your martini glass and dip into the sugar mixture to create a sugar rimmed glass that has some HEAT. Pour martini into glass. Garnish with a piece of pear. Kiss your sobriety good bye my friend.

To recount a Mexican vacation more than 3 days after arriving home requires a memory that has not been polluted with excesses of Vodka,  Gin and bourbon consumed on a consistent basis over the course of 25 years (really more like over 35 years! Damn bourgeois US drinking laws!) So, if perhaps you were there, and I somehow have left out something, please fill free to fill in my blanks.

We checked into the Rui Palace in downtown Cancun with the excited knowledge that we had booked a suite, that has its own private hot tub (one of only eight). Book early, or plan on spending your vacation in a lovely room that will not allow you to frolic at 2 am in your birthday suit, singing ‘dirty deeds done dirt cheap’, while you sip your champagne and fantasize that you are one of the 2%…

When selecting a place to stay in Mexico it is very common to choose an all inclusive, and I must say this is my one and only experience with such a concept, but we can thank Cat and G-man for our stellar experience because they are seasoned professional vacation adventurers!

There are many levels of an all inclusive that you can choose from, so choose wisely my friends. If you are looking for the slug vacation; one that requires you to check your sense of adventure at the threshhold, then go for the easy, no stress, little thinking required vacation, go for an all inclusive. The right one, of course. The one that has Damian, the man who knows how to make a hook up,  the one who greats you with a cocktail as he decides that no, your room while being good, is not the best so please, wait, sip your cocktail and let me upgrade you at no extra cost to you. That would be the Riu Pallace Cancun, and tell him Dina from Seattle sent you. If that draws a blank, then go ahead and break out the big guns and tell him it was Katherine from Seattle via Portland and that should do it.  In my mind I am this famous girl about town that everyone knows, or wants to know… work with me ok?!

…and now…as Paul Harvey used to say (God rest his soul)…for the REST of the story…or at least the rest of a part of the story…

I’m a foolish man, given to any excuse to believe in someone or something. I will resist to the bitter end the overwhelming tide of cynicism that’s overcome our culture. I will likewise resist the temptation to believe that Catherine actually finished her sentence before we agreed to go to Cancun. My crystal-clear, testosterone-enhanced memory starkly recreates the actual conversation thus: “Something something……something else….something….(raucous laughter, as is our typical experience with Catherine)….something yet again…..CANCUN……OK!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Some of you might actually care exactly, precisely who said what, and when. But I would submit to you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that once you are presented with an irrefutable opportunity all that REALLY matters is that someone – anyone – says yes.

So as my lovely wife notes, we did indeed survive the flight (It’s much easier to do when you keep your eyes on the prize…and your face in the alcohol). Caught the minibus to the resort and checked in. Being the souls of caution, we thought it only prudent to get just a little rest before we embarked upon our unbridled fun fest (quick cut to Chris sipping a Margarita at the bar with his characteristic Cheshire grin…quickly replaced with a look of incredulously (if it’s not a word it should be) shaking his head back and forth; REST? You are out of your mind, Christopher). OK, not rest but a much needed shower. An nourish later….off we went to the land of Margarita and Mojitos a-plenty…which was, incidentally and quite conveniently, located at the bottom of our elevator. We’re hungry though, so what should we have? What should be the magical taste that welcomes us to the land of the Mayans and that we should forever associate with this magical land? I close my eyes and try to imagine what I would have been offered back in the day…what is this? Peyote?…

Mojito? Well, if I must...

It’s a new year and with that comes new resolutions. Some people make these ridiculous resolutions to stop smoking (me, give up cigars? Fagetta bout it!), lose weight ( WHAT! Eat LESS? If I clip my toenails and cut my hair, that’s 2 lbs, right?) or exercise more (you burn 25 calories raising a cocktail to your mouth, don’t you?).  This year after much thought and consideration, I believe I have found the perfect goal to line up into my sights; I vow to do more of the things I love to do. I think I actually stand a chance to make my new Years resolution a success this year!

In December, my love and I took advantage of an invitation to spend a week in Cancun with friends whom we share many adventures with, so we JUMPED on it. Ok, it was after one of our weekend dance, drink, and party fests, that in a weakened, hung over state, I allowed myself to be talked into booking the package deal, right then and there. It sounded something like this;

Catherine:   You two should come with us to Cancun! We are staying on the beach, and we are going to rent a car and go to Tulum, Chitzen Itza, and Ek Balam to check out the Mayan ruins!
Me: OK!

You see how I could not refuse, I mean with all of that pressure and arm twisting, what would you have done? Right, I thought so! So, that is how we found ourselves in the middle of a wet December in Seattle (I know, shocking, right?) packing our bags to head to the sunshine with the promise of non stop Mojitos and my 70 spf sunblock tucked neatly into my bag.  Anchors away! Or more like ‘good luck surviving an 8 hour flight in coach when you have a bad back, and the kid behind you is on your last nerve’. Later will come a post about how I almost came to fisticuffs with a fellow passenger, but I digress…

I HATE airport food, so, I did the only rational thing one can do; I got up at 3:30 AM to pack us survival bags for our flight. Blueberry Muffins? Check. Bananas? Check. Spicy cashews? Check. French dip sandwiches? Check. Au  Jus concentrate (don’t waste your liquid allotment when they can add hot water to your container on the flight)? Check. Dark chocolates filled with liquor? Check, check and check! OH! I almost forgot to mention the airline approved zip lock bags filled with little bottles of booze. THAT’S a ton of fun to pass through the TSA with! It means checking all of your toiletries into your baggage, but whats more important my friend, alcohol or toothpaste? Exactly. I was not about to be caught waiting for an early morning flight to start a vacation with nothing to pump up the volume of my coffee! You agree, right?

Did I mention it was going to be my 46 birthday (or 16th annual 30th birthday as I like to call it) on December 13? Since it was December 10th when the adventure was starting, I think we made it just under the wire as to when festivities and alcohol should begin.

We survived the flight with nothing more serious than a desire to strip off the layers of Seattle gray and put on the sunny brightness of beautiful Cancun. We looked like four little moles being thrown into the sun for the first time, with our eyes screaming out for an explanation of what is the big yellow thing in the sky?

My husband and I threw an engagement party for dear friends of ours, and we wanted to show those Brits that we Americans have some mighty fun customs when it comes to weddings, and any excuse to have friends get together and throw back a few is an opportunity not to be missed by us!  Since they are both from the UK, we decided to broadcast it live online for anyone unable to attend, and it was viewed by friends and family in Australia as well as the UK. Why do I mention this? Well, I bring this up because it is important to note that we felt it was kind of a big deal to get this party done right; our international party reputation was at stake!

The party was held on Friday the 13, and we had several friends who shared in pulling this off, as many hands make the load light and all that crap. Really, many hands just means a party BEFORE the party! Can you really have 5 people all working together prepping the house and preparing the food a day before a big party and NOT want to turn THAT into a party too? I think NOT!

One of the items on my menu was going to be bits of tenderloin marinated overnight in a sweet spicy sauce, then grilled to perfection right before the party and tossed with bits of green onions. That was the plan. Thursday started out being very productive, but at some point I had this genius idea to try to recreate a Lychee martini that I had been privileged to discover while at a local joint here in Seattle. The search for the Lychee’s ended in China town, after several local failed attempts as people look dumbfounded when you try to describe a Lychee. Now it must be noted that you should be sure to get the canned Lychee that comes from Thailand, not China; better quality and flavor. At around 3pm Thursday I broke out my martini shaker, lined up my chilled glasses, and began to create the best damn ‘Lychee Martini Memory Bender’ you’ve ever laid your lips on.

Ah the sweet taste of success!

Would it be bragging to say I nailed this? Well, I did. As shaker after shaker was drained of all drops of nectar and empty Lychee cans were strewn about my kitchen, I was starting to feel like yes, we can pull of a party of this scope and still maintain some level of sanity that otherwise would have evaporated as fast as  Kim Kardashian’s reputation.  Oh yes my friends, a group effort throwing a party, is a party in itself.

Friday morning came, and while I had to shake off my sensation that a camel had somehow in the middle of the night snuck up and crapped in my mouth, I eagerly set out to knock off those items on my list that I had set aside to be done on the day of the party.  I also noted that no, Lychee Martini’s will not be served tonight. I was feeling rather relaxed until it struck me; I didn’t marinate the beef! The panic set in as I started to mix together a large batch of my marinade and I realized that I was low on several key ingredients; I would just have to make do.  I swallowed my anxiety up to the point where I opened my fridge only to find that the big beautiful hunk of beef that I had bought for this purpose was M.I.A! As I fought my hysteria, I set out to check the garage fridge to see if someone moved the roast to make room in the kitchen.  Upon opening the fridge I peered in with my mouth hung open in shock, while I gazed upon a large pan filled with my cubed and marinated beef. Like the flashbacks from a B flick movie I vaguely started to remember; me in the kitchen, a knife in my hand, mixing up marinade, cutting up beef, sneaking chunks of beef to my girlfriends whippets after being told ‘no’, tossing the beef and marinade into the pan, covering it with foil, then out to garage it went. As the shocking truth started to settle into my brain, I realized I Roofied myself with Lychee martinis! Hence the name will forever be ‘Lychee Martini memory Bender’.  Sounds better than asking your friends at your next party if they would like to try a Roofie…

Lychee Martini Memory Bender

Ingredients:

2 parts Vodka
1 part canned Lychee juice
splash of Dry Vermouth
Ice
Optional: fresh Raspberries

Combine ingredients in a martini shaker and shake the crap out of it. You want little flecks of ice to float on the top of your glass. Strain into a martini glass and garnish with 1 Raspberry and 2 Lychee skewered.

The only time to eat diet food is while you’re waiting for the steak to cook. —Julia Child

The Pacific Northwest is home to many things, such as an abundance of fresh seasonal vegtables, fruits, herbs, mushrooms, and of course seafood of many varieties caught, harvested or collected right here in our own backyard. The bounty of food that is on hand to inspire us is limited only by imagination, and even that can be jump started with a few episodes of  ’Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations’ queued up on Netflix and a good stiff cocktail in hand. I personally find that after a few hours of watching him dine in exotic locals with people I would love to dine with, eating foods I would love to eat, and drinking cocktails at a pace that I find oh so comfortable, I start to feel like I am sitting there next to him as ha laughs at my jokes and passes me another round. At this point, depending on the quantity/strength of my cocktails, I start to feel that the borders of countries and the separations of continents disappear as I contemplate the blending of fish sauce and Fioe Gras, and other culinary oddities yet to be experimented with in my own kitchen.

If you are a lover of food, and a student of life, if you enjoy the differences of many cultures and cuisines, and are offended when you travel to find McCrap food McOffered McEverywhere, then you and I will get along just fine. Here you will not find any politicizing, ranting and raving, or overly opinionated ideas, aw screw it! Yes, you WILL! So that being said, lets keep it real, as I am sure I will offend someone along the way if I am going to take this on honestly.

I invite you to come along and share our journey as we talk about our food adventures from the perspective of two foodies who are also lovers of good friends, wine, spirits, and each other.