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Results for category "Hermit Musings"

23 Articles

Decadent Weekend.

Decadent Weekend update: I woke up around 11 to realize that I’m out of cheesecake, but I’ve started some lobster tails steaming, so me and the cat will survive. I’ve also caught up on my nerdy research, and I now know several more famous martini recipes, including Hemingway’s Montgomery, most variations of Ian Fleming’s Bond nonsense (Do not. I repeat, do not), and the martini habits and recipes of the last dozen Presidents, including Hoover, Roosevelt, Reagan and Nixon. I have ascended to the next belt in martini-fu.

Wanted: Poolside Martini Maker.

I’ve drafted an ad for the local job listings: “Wanted: Poolside Martini Maker. Applicants must be able to respond to nonverbal cues to produce an ice-cold, classic 3:1 gin martini with minimal variation within three minutes. Will train. Adequate shade and food will be provided. Upon successful trial, a permanent weekday position may be offered. James Bond martini recipe advocates need not apply.”

Superbowl Sunday.

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Barleywine and bourbon stout for Superbowl Sunday, sold to me by the most clueless, bored employee ever. Look, I’d work in a liquor store just to wax poetic about beer, gin and champagne cocktails to every poor bastard that comes to my register. If you work in a high-end liquor store, you should not only know the barleywine in my hand, but at least three others. You’d better own that sh*t!

(clears throat) Superbowl Menu: Tapas. Cheese-stuffed bacon-wrapped dates, miniature spicy sausage omelet medallions, pan-fried oyster mushrooms, seared scallops, and of course, the obligate nachos.

TV Dinners.

Living off TV dinners and take-out for 3 days, I’m reminded of things I regularly forget:

1) Commercial food photography is amazing. The savory pictures on these TV dinner boxes are such a flaunt of truth in advertising laws that it’s breathtaking. Please come take my picture, too – if I look half as good as that picture of pot roast, I’ll be the talk of the town.

2) Home cooking is awesome, even if it is exhausting. When “I’ll just pour some gin into my leftover lemonade” becomes a better dinner option, you know you’ve been consuming some seriously shady shit.