The compound is under construction. Gathering enough plywood, galvanized tin and used trailers takes time, not to mention stockpiling all the shotgun ammo, canned goods and bourbon.
Probably the most deliciously difficult thing about today's Sunday Afternoon Cocktail was sipping through the two or three variations my bride went through before settling on her final version. First it was a bit too much blueberry schnapps; then it was the unfortunate inky appearance that the muddled blueberries imparted. Lucky for me, she worked it out, and here we are:
The Blue Moon of Kentucky cocktail (serves 2):
In a cocktail shaker or large glass measuring cup:
-muddle ½ cup of blueberries with a ¼ cup of triple sec & a tablespoon of lemon juice. Let sit for 15 minutes (at least)
Add 1 ½ oz of blueberry schnapps (DeKuyper)
-Add 1/3 cup bourbon
-Strain, pour over ice in a tall glass, garnish with fresh blueberries and lemon peel
We like to celebrate Lee Marvin Day with some bourbon and red meat. I'm still hoping for an invitation to join the Sons of Lee Marvin, but I'm old enough to live with disappointment. I understand that's probably not going to happen.
The turkey is marinating in what is now the official poultry marinade of Sprawling Ramshackle Compound:
1 stick of butter 1/2 cup of olive oil juice of one lemon 3-4 tablespoons of honey 2 tablespoons of Tony Chachere's seasoning A few dashes of Worcestershire sauce A few dashes of hot sauce
-Heat the ingredients together until the butter melts, then use an injecteur de gout to shoot the marinade into the turkey in several places. Pour any remaining marinade over the turkey and refrigerate overnight. I am enjoying a post-work bourbon and catching up on my email. Before work I managed to bake a chocolate bourbon pecan pie, and amazingly enough I have also managed to not yet eat any of it.
I have to go in to work in the morning, but I plan on taking some comp time so I can come home early and fry the turkey, then it's off to my brother's house in tornado alley for a late afternoon family feedbag.
I came home from work tonight and found this on the dining room table:
MizBubs, her mom and our youngest had gone out to some thrift shops this afternoon. Our youngest definitely scored the best stuff. Not only did she get the earth-tone yarn art masterpiece pictured above, she also got this 5x7 print:
Her room is already a riot of color and curiosities
There was no Sunday afternoon cocktail, since I was at work. I know, if I was any kind of hard-working, two-fisted old-school detective I wouldn't let being at work stop me from drinking. Well, just because there wasn't a Sunday afternoon cocktail doesn't mean there can't be a Sunday evening cocktail. Hell's bells, it doesn't even have to be a proper cocktail.
Tonight's drink is bourbon. Wild Turkey 101, on the rocks, with just a splash of water. Drink and repeat as needed.
I've been bedeviled by a slowww connection here at the mobile command center, and it's made it tough to post. I gots some things to tell you.
No, I did not buy the farm, and we're quite a while from doing that. I do know that if I could live on the grounds of the Woodford Reserve distillery, I'd gladly do so:
I've had a swell couple of days driving around and sampling the local hospitality. I managed to eat pulled pork and fried chicken in the same day. I'm going to have to run the Las Vegas Half Marathon as a fat Elvis this year. More details when I get home.
OH...one more thing. I have a little something fun to announce Friday.
I'm reporting from a secure, undisclosed location in Louisville, Kentucky. Pictured here is the S.R.C. mobile command center, a miracle of modern digital technology, compact firepower and ancient distilling arts.
What am I doing here?
Right now I'm watching John McCain gesturing forcefully on the television, and a group of chubby rednecks is noisily grabbing ice and snacks from the vending machines across from my room.
I've driven down here with my mom to visit some old friends of hers and to take the first steps toward finding the future home of the compound. Tomorrow we're going to do a little road trip through the bluegrass region, stopping to visit a couple of distilleries along the way. On Thursday we're heading into northern Kentucky to visit a few farms that are for sale.
Ok, this is, I swear, the last time I drink and watch a televised vice-presidential debate. I'll tell you why.
Just a few minutes into the event, Sarah Palin winked at me. Well, she winked into the camera anyway, and it felt like she was winking at me. I didn't think one or two bourbons was enough to induce Hunter Thompson-esque hallucinations like that.
I don't know if it's a scarier thing that Kirby and Vikkitikkitavi both knew Anne Archer appeared in clown makeup in Robert Altman's "Short Cuts" or if I already had a picture of her that way.
Oh well, I'm all about bringing out the best in people.
Crazy couple of weeks folks. I have a lot of material in the pipeline, I just don't know when I'll get to post it. And believe me, I am so sorry for not commenting on your blogs. I visit, believe me, but I just don't gots the time to put together intelligent comments. Sorry 'bout that.
Tomorrow is Fat Tuesday and I don't have anything ready for dinner yet. There will be a Sazerac, true enough, but I have not found any oysters for the duck and oyster gumbo I had planned, and even if I did it's likely I wouldn't have time enough to cook it after work anyway. I got a good shrimp and grits recipe that doesn't take too long, maybe I can pull that off.
Anthony Bourdain visited New Orleans on No Reservations tonight. Good episode--I almost got up from my chair, drink in hand, and started cooking a roux just to get in the spirit of things. There's a certain shade of rich brown that some of the most delicious foods and sauces have down there, and the camera work was good enough I could practically smell it. He had Chris Rose, author of One Dead in Attic, on the show, and I started salivating when they went to some neighborhood dive for some po-boy sandwiches and Abita beer.
What got me, in the midst of my drinking and salivating and looking forward to our trip in March, was that in the intro to some footage of the Lower 9th ward, the camera passed over some writing on the side of an abandoned church. When I was down there with Splotchy last year, I took this picture of that same writing, and it was jarring to see it on the television a year later--it's still there, devastated, defiant and unchanged: I loved the end of the show, when Anthony basically called on his viewers to get down to New Orleans; whether he meant to rebuild with hammers and nails or by supporting the restaurant and hospitality industry is, I think, left to the viewer.
Well, that's it for tonight folks. God bless you all.
Seriously. I have no idea what to call this drink, and I'd like one a you sharp readers to name it for me.
I was too lazy to make a true Suffering Bastard, so here's what I did instead:
Fill a glass with ice
Add one (or two) shots of bourbon
A dash (or two) of Angostura bitters
A splash of juice from the jar of maraschino cherries
Top with ginger beer from the bottle you found stuck in the back of the fridge
It was delicious.
Any suggestions?
UPDATED September 25 at 6:11 AM
This drink is now officially known as a "Lazy Bastard". Jin gave it the name that, in hindsight, seemed perfectly obvious, seconded by Katy, Johnny Yen and Beth.
Thanks for helping out everyone. Thanks to your effort, a little drink found his name. You are all to be commended!
Nothing fancy today. It's raining, we've been running errands all day, and frankly we're just a little worn out. School starts for our youngest this week and the endless rain and chill have really driven home the message that summer is over.
It's a good time for a bourbon and water. A basic, but comforting drink for grown-ups. Our house bourbon is Wild Turkey, but we occasionally have Maker's Mark or Booker's on hand. Tonight it's a Wild Turkey, about 2 shots in a glass full of ice, topped off with a splash of water. Repeat as necessary.
There's nothing wrong with me that handfuls of ibuprofen, glasses of bourbon and 12 hours of sleep can't fix. And maybe some massage, and a few visits to my chiropractor.
Today was the last day of the ILEETA conference, and I spent the day (8 hours) attending a class taught by mixed martial arts fighter Frank Shamrock. What a nice guy! There were about 80 guys (and two or three gals) in the class, and Frank came around and personally talked to and coached every person in the room at least 6 or 7 times by the time the class ended. I was pleased and surprised to see not a hint of arrogance or ego. What an excellent coach.
The class was a distilled version of Frank's mixed martial arts for law enforcement program. It was a blast. We did lots of stuff that looked like this:
And now I'm paying for it. Oww. My balls got mashed, the insides of my thighs and my upper arms are covered in bruises, and my back and shoulders are all seized up. But God was it fun!
So now the conference is over.
I won a final raffle prize yesterday, a $50 gift certificate for a law enforcement book publisher. I need to go to their website and pick out some stimulating reading.
Tomorrow I return to work and start thinking of ways to apply my newfound knowledge to our training program there.
