So this Tuesday is dear friend of the of the blog, Chuck Leonard’s birthday. And happily that falls on the day of the Cooking With Pook segment. So naturally I’ve got to come up with some sort of fabulously awesome birthday mealness to kick down to the dude who lets us run wild on local TV. Nevermind the awesome cake and hangover congrats that I got from the Central Valley Buzz family this year.
And so this is my dilemma! My tools are what I can backpack in and I’m limited to about an hour and a half of time to prep and cook. Lacking a man-portable oven, a cake is pretty out of the question and I already did frosting (ganache) last week. There really isn’t time to chill anything (no blast chiller/freezer) so a pudding is out. An ice cream party would rule, but that would just be buying a lot of ice cream and making a couple quick topping sauces. Not to mention, most of the better fruits are out of season.
There’s always savory options though. I immediately thought of the good ole standard flat iron steak with some fried potatoes. Give a brother a decent base to party upon, for what is sure to be a whirlwind birthday fiesta. Mrs. EOF suggesting doing Dan’s famous Philly cheese steak. Which I must say is quite good. Maybe something fancy and French like halibut with a beurre blanc and sautéed haricot verts with a bacon jus. But somehow fish just doesn’t say “Birthday!”, no matter how fancy you dress it.
I think I’m leaning strongest toward one of the steak options. Steak and taters is yawnfully simple, but at the same time it’s really tasty. On the other hand, the cheese steak is a little complicated since you make your own cheese sauce. A little heavy on prep too. But it’s colorful, messy and insanely filling. Plus I sneak a little beer into the recipe, so that’ll keep it festive. How better to celebrate a birthday than with gobs of cheese and meat and beer? So it is written! So shall it be bumblingly executed for your edification!
-Pook
Monday, August 30, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Eating Out the Ensuing Disaster
So I did promise to blog if it all turned into a messy disaster. So I guess I gotta go forth with the sad truth. Although it would have been much more entertaining if I had actually gotten so trashed during grilling that I wound up with some super cool looking scars. But sadly they're all on the inside.
This whole night owl number has a real knack for causing issues when one's orbit is coinciding with "normal" peoples who go to bed when it's dark. So at 4 in the morning prior to the event, as I've sat up fretting that I'm gonna get jack for sleep and never get anything finished in time before we have to get up there. By 5 a.m. I've come to the conclusion that the only solution lies in a well-past-midnight run.
So off to the Food Maxx for chicken legs, peppers, herbs and soy sauce. And I still say that I enjoy shopping when they restock the shelves. It's you and 3 other shoppers. You can nose through everything, agonize over purchases and reconsider items in the closest thing that passes for privacy in public. I must have been quite funny to watch as I agonize whether to mango or not to mango. It was too hard to pass up on them when they're that ripe. So mango salsa is back on the menu.
Scurrying home, I figure on two marinades. One asian and one carribean style. The first one was some veg oil, soy sauce, mirin, diced shallot, crushed garlic, lime zest and juice, diced red bell pepper, a dash of rice vinegar and a good hearty pour of sambal oelek. The other, I cheated and pre-made my mango salsa, then poured about a cup in with and added habanero pepper, diced shallot and diced red bell pepper, veg oil and soy sauce. The salsa was just mango, shallot, red bell pepper, a dash of rice vinegar, honey, minced habanero, lime zest and juice and a dash of salt and pepper.
At last, it's all together and bagged and in the fridge. A hopefully 4 hour nap and they should be nice and flavorful, I'll be near human and we shall be off to the party. Maybe an hour or two past my goal of "early", but soon enough to take some of the weight of grilling off of the happy Poppa.
Not taking into account that I had just probably put in more physical labor in 2 hours than I normally do in a week, and topping that off, over the past week I have averaged about 4-5 hours a night as well. So whose body decides to take the ample opportunity to induce a near Jedi-level coma state? This guy's!
I wake up and glance at the clock and OHCRAPCRACKERSOFASSDOOM!! It's 2 p.m.! Nononono...this didn't happen. I did not just blow all that stress and effort just to pull a Spicoli and over....sleep. Well, shit.
After a brief and poorly executed attempt at grooming I've come to grips with the fact that I've totally assed out on the pot luck. We still made it in time for the shredding of gift paper. I was quite pleased that the axe and shield combo we got for her was well received. And the nerf mace for Dad (he's gotta be able to defend himself, right?) was the hit of the party amongst the males, both young and old.
Ultimately the chicken was quite good though. We baked it last night, alongside some rice. And today shredded the leftovers and made some of the best enchiladas that have ever come out of our oven. I blame the king of the green chicken enchilada for teaching my lady and I some proper technique on how to make them perfectly. Thanks homeboy!
-Pook
This whole night owl number has a real knack for causing issues when one's orbit is coinciding with "normal" peoples who go to bed when it's dark. So at 4 in the morning prior to the event, as I've sat up fretting that I'm gonna get jack for sleep and never get anything finished in time before we have to get up there. By 5 a.m. I've come to the conclusion that the only solution lies in a well-past-midnight run.
So off to the Food Maxx for chicken legs, peppers, herbs and soy sauce. And I still say that I enjoy shopping when they restock the shelves. It's you and 3 other shoppers. You can nose through everything, agonize over purchases and reconsider items in the closest thing that passes for privacy in public. I must have been quite funny to watch as I agonize whether to mango or not to mango. It was too hard to pass up on them when they're that ripe. So mango salsa is back on the menu.
Scurrying home, I figure on two marinades. One asian and one carribean style. The first one was some veg oil, soy sauce, mirin, diced shallot, crushed garlic, lime zest and juice, diced red bell pepper, a dash of rice vinegar and a good hearty pour of sambal oelek. The other, I cheated and pre-made my mango salsa, then poured about a cup in with and added habanero pepper, diced shallot and diced red bell pepper, veg oil and soy sauce. The salsa was just mango, shallot, red bell pepper, a dash of rice vinegar, honey, minced habanero, lime zest and juice and a dash of salt and pepper.
At last, it's all together and bagged and in the fridge. A hopefully 4 hour nap and they should be nice and flavorful, I'll be near human and we shall be off to the party. Maybe an hour or two past my goal of "early", but soon enough to take some of the weight of grilling off of the happy Poppa.
Not taking into account that I had just probably put in more physical labor in 2 hours than I normally do in a week, and topping that off, over the past week I have averaged about 4-5 hours a night as well. So whose body decides to take the ample opportunity to induce a near Jedi-level coma state? This guy's!
I wake up and glance at the clock and OHCRAPCRACKERSOFASSDOOM!! It's 2 p.m.! Nononono...this didn't happen. I did not just blow all that stress and effort just to pull a Spicoli and over....sleep. Well, shit.
After a brief and poorly executed attempt at grooming I've come to grips with the fact that I've totally assed out on the pot luck. We still made it in time for the shredding of gift paper. I was quite pleased that the axe and shield combo we got for her was well received. And the nerf mace for Dad (he's gotta be able to defend himself, right?) was the hit of the party amongst the males, both young and old.
Ultimately the chicken was quite good though. We baked it last night, alongside some rice. And today shredded the leftovers and made some of the best enchiladas that have ever come out of our oven. I blame the king of the green chicken enchilada for teaching my lady and I some proper technique on how to make them perfectly. Thanks homeboy!
-Pook
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Eating Out Gardening Shenanigans
It hurts. Oh my god it hurts! 3 months ago, one of my pepper plants was putting out sweet, non-Fresno chile chumps…until, this morning, when I staggered my ass out for a bit of early morning gardening. Brimming with both piss and vinegar, I figure that I’ll have a snacky chuckle at my Fresno pepper plant’s sweet little pods while I jam out to some Zepplin.
Pride doth go before the fall does it not? SNAP! That first bite into, what is supposed to be a fairly warm pepper but have been nothing but sweet so far.
Great galloping asscrackers!! I ate a habanero sauce with pepper extract the day before on Chuckle’s show and I’d have kissed a festering baboon ass just to get this pain down to that level. Picture this…you have just woken up. You know you have drunk ogre stalking the house for the evening. But you wake up to dishes freshly done, an unwrecked house and said ogre, hacking and howling on the other side of the screen door, clutching half of a fresh green pepper and somehow trying to use 3 languages he doesn’t know to communicate that the pain is mind melting, yet the comedy of the situation is too funny not to laugh at one’s self.
In other interesting culinariosity, back on the Central Valley Buzz, beyond having some extremely hot hot sauce, there was naturally some cooking of my own going on. Having wrestled with some ideas during the weekend, in my usual fashion I decide to totally switch dishes the night before. Since I’ve been burning poor Chuck and the crew for almost a month straight, I figured it was time for something a little more soothing and cool.
And what’s cooler than cucumber sandwiches? I have no idea, being that I’ve never had them before. So that’s a perfect starter. But if it’s going to be canapés, then we’ll need a companion to round out the group. What to do? Let’s see, I do have this cookbook from the early 1900’s that has some incredibly odd dishes. And what do I find? But an anchovy and egg spread! And I sagely asked for a tin of the salty buggers just the other day.
The cucumber sandwiches are pretty straightforward. Take a packet of cream cheese that’s softened a bit. Toss in some minced garlic, some chopped fresh basil leaves, a little garlic some and some cracked black pepper. Make some toast point by cutting the crusts off some bread and slice into a triangular shape, then frying in a little butter until golden and toasty. Cut your cucumber in half and scoop out all of the seeds with a spoon, the slice thinly. Now you just assemble! Slap a layer of cream cheese on your toast points and then place a small fan of cucumber slices on top. And voila! English teatime is on.
The anchovy spread is easy peasy as well. Take about half a stick of softened butter, add garlic, paprika, anchovies and 2 egg yolks. Mash together until well combined and creamy. Assemble by smearing some on your toast points. And if you’re adventurous (or in my case careless) you can add some basil to this for another layer of flavor. They’re really quite nice and mild. You get a nice creamy mouth feel from the eggs as well as hints of salt and the sea from the anchovies, without it tasting like you’re eating bait. If you fear the tiny wee fishies, I’d say this is one of the least threatening ways to get introduced.
Both worked out quite tastily and were lovingly received. Especially, by the Ukulele King of the San Joaquin and South African ex-pat, Pieter Moerdyk. Who also stepped up to try the After Death hot sauce and was able to not only maintain his composure, but also sing a tune while I still felt like I was gargling the Sun. What a pimp!
So after the show we stopped in at the City Arts Galley for Boozestorming with Travis Sheridan. It’s a pretty interesting concept. First, everyone writes down a problem that they would like help solving. Then you grab and drink and wait for the fun to start. Then you sit down and are guided through a brainstorming session with absolute strangers while everyone enjoys cocktails and picks their brains for worthwhile solutions. It was a really great time and anyways, I’m a sucker for anything that lets me hang in a gallery with such beautiful art all around.
And so that brings us up to speed. The next personal culinary challenge is going to be coming up with an extra special dish for my baby niece’s first birthday party as well as sharing grill duty with the proud Papa. What oh what shall we come up with? Whatever it is, if it turns out well, you can be certain that I’ll be bragging about it here. Of course if it devolves into a messy disaster…that too shall be blogged about.
-Pook
Pride doth go before the fall does it not? SNAP! That first bite into, what is supposed to be a fairly warm pepper but have been nothing but sweet so far.
Great galloping asscrackers!! I ate a habanero sauce with pepper extract the day before on Chuckle’s show and I’d have kissed a festering baboon ass just to get this pain down to that level. Picture this…you have just woken up. You know you have drunk ogre stalking the house for the evening. But you wake up to dishes freshly done, an unwrecked house and said ogre, hacking and howling on the other side of the screen door, clutching half of a fresh green pepper and somehow trying to use 3 languages he doesn’t know to communicate that the pain is mind melting, yet the comedy of the situation is too funny not to laugh at one’s self.
In other interesting culinariosity, back on the Central Valley Buzz, beyond having some extremely hot hot sauce, there was naturally some cooking of my own going on. Having wrestled with some ideas during the weekend, in my usual fashion I decide to totally switch dishes the night before. Since I’ve been burning poor Chuck and the crew for almost a month straight, I figured it was time for something a little more soothing and cool.
And what’s cooler than cucumber sandwiches? I have no idea, being that I’ve never had them before. So that’s a perfect starter. But if it’s going to be canapés, then we’ll need a companion to round out the group. What to do? Let’s see, I do have this cookbook from the early 1900’s that has some incredibly odd dishes. And what do I find? But an anchovy and egg spread! And I sagely asked for a tin of the salty buggers just the other day.
The cucumber sandwiches are pretty straightforward. Take a packet of cream cheese that’s softened a bit. Toss in some minced garlic, some chopped fresh basil leaves, a little garlic some and some cracked black pepper. Make some toast point by cutting the crusts off some bread and slice into a triangular shape, then frying in a little butter until golden and toasty. Cut your cucumber in half and scoop out all of the seeds with a spoon, the slice thinly. Now you just assemble! Slap a layer of cream cheese on your toast points and then place a small fan of cucumber slices on top. And voila! English teatime is on.
The anchovy spread is easy peasy as well. Take about half a stick of softened butter, add garlic, paprika, anchovies and 2 egg yolks. Mash together until well combined and creamy. Assemble by smearing some on your toast points. And if you’re adventurous (or in my case careless) you can add some basil to this for another layer of flavor. They’re really quite nice and mild. You get a nice creamy mouth feel from the eggs as well as hints of salt and the sea from the anchovies, without it tasting like you’re eating bait. If you fear the tiny wee fishies, I’d say this is one of the least threatening ways to get introduced.
Both worked out quite tastily and were lovingly received. Especially, by the Ukulele King of the San Joaquin and South African ex-pat, Pieter Moerdyk. Who also stepped up to try the After Death hot sauce and was able to not only maintain his composure, but also sing a tune while I still felt like I was gargling the Sun. What a pimp!
So after the show we stopped in at the City Arts Galley for Boozestorming with Travis Sheridan. It’s a pretty interesting concept. First, everyone writes down a problem that they would like help solving. Then you grab and drink and wait for the fun to start. Then you sit down and are guided through a brainstorming session with absolute strangers while everyone enjoys cocktails and picks their brains for worthwhile solutions. It was a really great time and anyways, I’m a sucker for anything that lets me hang in a gallery with such beautiful art all around.
And so that brings us up to speed. The next personal culinary challenge is going to be coming up with an extra special dish for my baby niece’s first birthday party as well as sharing grill duty with the proud Papa. What oh what shall we come up with? Whatever it is, if it turns out well, you can be certain that I’ll be bragging about it here. Of course if it devolves into a messy disaster…that too shall be blogged about.
-Pook
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Eating Out Green Jello, The Naughty Way
-Pook
P.S. There was a super pimp couple of humans that perchance were before me to bask in Manspeaker’s glory. So being a pernicious snot, I asked if I could take their pitcher and put it up on the interboobs. And contrary to most of my forays in speaking to people and asking to involve them in my typey madness, they most happily agreed! And so I give you, Manspeaker and humans, a study in band love:
(Eat your heart out Joey O!)
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Eating Out Nocturnal Soil Emissions
-Pook
Friday, August 6, 2010
Eating Out A Busy Ass Month
Greetings, salutations and gratuitous apologies dear readers! I make some lovey dovey statement of pride and love and whatnot on the anniversary and proceed to disappear for nigh 10 days! Last time I pulled a number like this, my best friend’s Mom had half of California dredging the canals for my apparently rotting body and/or looking for a good place to dump it once she got her hands on me. So for the faux pas, I must heartily apologize. As a fellow reader of blogs, nothing annoys me more than not getting my content on a regular basis and I thank you all for sticking through the frustrating quiet.
But on to the good news! And believe me, the reasons for my rare silence are pretty dang awesome! And in their awesomeness have put me a bit behind the 8-ball in a few places. Like lagging on getting the rest of my okra transplanted into large enough containers, getting my new batch of Peter Pepper seeds germinating for a fall crop of hilarity and a host of other chores of fun. And if I’m behind on the fun stuff, you don’t even want to know what the cat’s litter box looks like right now. Hey, that’s not good news! That’s more excuses…lame ones too.
So I guess the tippy top of my happy list would have to be making it to another year of living. As would logically be expected, I’m slightly more surprised at the cusping of each year. I believe this year warrants a mildly raised eyebrow. Still got all my fingers and toes, only made 1 or 2 more lifelong enemies by being a drunken ass. All in all, not so bad. Even got to be around to see a couple of my best friends have their first babies. Both of ‘em within shooting distance of my own birthday. Two Leo girls within a year of each other? Oh this is going to be a hoot! But enough of their future, on to my present.
The celebration started quite early this year. Normally with a midweek birthday you hit it the weekend before or after. Not ole Pook. We’re kickin off this birthday a day early and live on television with a cast of characters a billion times better than the Showbiz Pizza Party Time Band! Mr. Chuck Leonard, Mr. Brian Medina, the scandalous Scurvy and the Central Valley Buzz crew! For this past week’s cooking show, I had decided to do a “liquid lunch”. I threw down on the super secret spicy Bloody Mary recipe that I stole via osmosis from my old watering hole in Redondo Beach as well as a recently discovered gin and tonic delight gleaned from chaperoning a simulated winter formal.
I discovered the magical Bloody Mary on my first foray out of my cute little circa 1900 (said so over the door) beach cottage. How I miss that place! Except for the catfish and ass odor the crept from our roommate’s spunk-lair and rapidly took over the living room. Nasty little hobbitses! But, on to the bar story. So I’m looking for “my bar”, the walking distance spot where a long haired country boy can use words with multiple syllables while tying one on. So I wander in and have one of the worst long islands I have ever had in my life. Like, almost giving the alcohol back, bad. But then I see a guy order a Bloody Mary and she asks if he wants it “hot”. And then I see her reach into a hidden cabinet and pull out a stout jar of something white and a bit chunky. I ask what it is and she tells me that it’s pure, melt your nose, horseradish. And I reply with a grin that I’m down like Charlie Brown. So she throws down on what has become the set bar by which all other tomato-vodka products shall be judged. It’s spicy enough to elicit a bit of flop sweat on your lip, like you’re talking to cops with something naughty clutched betwixt yon buttcheeks. And that horseradish dashes through your sinuses like a flaming greyhound, if, on greyhound tracks, they used lady greyhounds that were wearing dog lingerie and holding a full steak dinner under their heaving canine mammaries, for the pups to chase. But you still get a strong taste of all the other players, the hot sauce, the pepper, the celery. All are welcome to the flavor party. And many a hangover was combated on a bleary morning with this healing tonic.
Speaking of tonics! Obviously, I’m leading into the gin and tonic. Not normally high on most people’s list of favorites. But those people have never tried Hendrick’s gin. A dear friend and nipple tippler of the highest order introduced me to this in a most unique fashion. Rather than the common lime or lemon added to the quinine soda and booze, they had instead placed slices of cucumber in their drinks. I’m shocked! Most gins have a flavor reminiscent of cleaning products, but I can clearly taste the cucumber’s essence refreshingly floating through the flavors. Even the gin has a much mellower part to play, bringing in herbal notes that meld with other flavors rather than dominate them. This is pretty much only trailing behind a fine scotch as my preferred cocktail of leisure.
But ultimately, I was on TV with two bottles of giggles and a license to mix. And conveniently forgetting that I hadn’t really eaten breakfast that morning… So, we got a little silly? The techs are chillin, the weather girl Esperanza, is either complimenting me vociferously in Spanish, or she’s explaining that I’m standing on her foot and need to move my drunken hoof and somewhere through the haze I remember quite a few shit eating grins and much guffawing at jokes and allegories that I really can’t quite recall. Needless to say, I’m positive it was my best show, despite not remembering a lick of it.
From there, the evening degenerated into a very blurry writers meeting. But I’m going to save that part for another day. Probably right around when I finally get all of the pieces back from the persons involved and properly figure out who I’m supposed to thank and who to apologize to. Overall though, I’m told I had quite a nice time.
Fast forward to 4pm the next day. Why am I beeping? What in God’s great unfair creation would make a perfectly good human beep? Cell phone. What is cell phone? Cell phone is beeping. Cell phone is Chuck. “Hello?” “Pook! Happy Birthday! You on your way to the show?” Crap! 4 o’clock! Promised to be on anniversary show which coincides with the day Mom decided not to drown me in the toilet! To the Pookmobile! Oh god…the pain. Maybe we’ll amble to the Pookmobile instead of the heroic dash.
Two days in a row on TV? And to shake my birthday fanny on the air? I must have given Mother Theresa a nice ham sandwich in a previous life. It’s even an awesomely mellow show with the Eva Scow trio kicking out some mellow jams on the mandolin, AC Miles grooving on his slide guitar and Marcos Dorado from City Arts Gallery along with Dixie Boswell with some headache soothing art. And Chuck, that old softy, he went and got me a cake! Though I was fairly surprised to avoid being faceplanted into it by the wicked Chuckster. He has a history you know. Big love to my CVT family for a bitchin’ birthday party. Cuz after that, I grabbed a Wellness tea from Teazers and dragged these aging bones home for a quiet birthday evening with Mrs. EOF.
But oh there’s more! (See? I’m trying to make up for my absence by writing y’all a novel!) And here is the icing on a three day birthday cake. I’m roused from a much more restful sleep by the same infernal beeping. Chuck? TV!?!? Wait…no, already been through that one. This morning he asks if I can tend a simple bar. Well sure, on an entry level I suppose. I’ve certainly observed the professionals for a decade or two. Where’s the gig? Joey O’s gallery opening?? Paint me there!
What to wear, what to wear? I’ve been less nervous getting dressed before performances! I’m encouraged to bring my own style. But in most cases my “style” is Modern Scumbag with a dash of Hippy. Though some will be pleased to hear that due to popular dissonance, I have forgone my personal enjoyment of patchouli for your olfactory sanctitude. So without “comfort” as a fashion forward theme, what else do we have in the closet? Oh yeah, LOUD! I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy with a fashion purchase when I grabbed that terribly orange classic 50’s rayon Hawaiian shirt. That and my khaki cargos and I should be good. I even dug out some brown loafers to complete my non-scumbaggery. Topped off with my mildly shredded straw hat and I just walked out of a 90’s Red Lobster ad. Since that’s the closest I’ve ever worked with bartenders, it’s sadly what I consider a semi-pro type of barbackin’ uniform. I look like Grizzly Adams and Jimmy Buffet had a love child…
What happened next can only be called one of the most successful gallery openings in Fresno history. And for me the absolutely most interesting and fun time I’ve had at an art gallery. And shockingly, I have been to a couple. First and foremost was the art exhibit of course. It’d be nice if I could say some deeply profound and uncannily insightful things about the art and the feelings that they elicited in me. But sadly, I was a nervous nelly over my new upcoming adventure and only gave myself time to do a very brief walkthrough. But my eyes were very much dazzled by what I did get to at least glance at. Astounding drawings and highly textured paintings, a couple quite shiny with layers of lacquer, fanciful steel sculptures and of course the photography of Joe Osejo. It was a nice little infusion of external creativity to stoke my fires and get me into the spirit of the evening.
Though there was one other spirit I felt the touch of, the Great Spirit of the Benevolent Barkeep. Oddly he’s a sober spirit, which worked out well for me. One isn’t really a bartender if he scuttles onto the roof with most of the bottles and hisses balefully at anyone seeking libation. Instead I settled into smiling and getting to introduce and reacquaint myself with the Rogues Gallery of the Tower District. Lots of grinning, well known faces, agog at seeing me clear eyed and sober handing THEM a drink for once, as well as many more delightful new ones to annoy and horrify with my overly syllabic version of potty humor. Needless to say, I again had a fabulous night. A concentration of that many artists and lovers of art, create a wicket brew of interesting conversations of widely varying depths. And from the puddles to the Marianas Trenches, every one was fascinating. There was a little of everything, discussion of welding techniques, views on aspects of the human form and probably one of the smoothest pickup lines I’ve ever heard.
It was a whirlwind night and a rousing success in my estimation. Both the opening and my sprawling, unbeknownst to others, birthdaystravaganza. It just goes to show that even a completely unplanned birthday can be tons of fun and filled with new and interesting experiences. Much love to friends far and wide! I wish that more of you could have shared in the festivities, but I’d have to rent out the Grizzly’s stadium to cram so much love into one space. I’m one fat and well loved Leo. So let me bounce that loving vibe back out to all of you. May what remains of the summer be a wild and fabulous hoot for you all as well. And thank you all again for putting up with my self indulgent absence. One love!
-Pook
But on to the good news! And believe me, the reasons for my rare silence are pretty dang awesome! And in their awesomeness have put me a bit behind the 8-ball in a few places. Like lagging on getting the rest of my okra transplanted into large enough containers, getting my new batch of Peter Pepper seeds germinating for a fall crop of hilarity and a host of other chores of fun. And if I’m behind on the fun stuff, you don’t even want to know what the cat’s litter box looks like right now. Hey, that’s not good news! That’s more excuses…lame ones too.
So I guess the tippy top of my happy list would have to be making it to another year of living. As would logically be expected, I’m slightly more surprised at the cusping of each year. I believe this year warrants a mildly raised eyebrow. Still got all my fingers and toes, only made 1 or 2 more lifelong enemies by being a drunken ass. All in all, not so bad. Even got to be around to see a couple of my best friends have their first babies. Both of ‘em within shooting distance of my own birthday. Two Leo girls within a year of each other? Oh this is going to be a hoot! But enough of their future, on to my present.
The celebration started quite early this year. Normally with a midweek birthday you hit it the weekend before or after. Not ole Pook. We’re kickin off this birthday a day early and live on television with a cast of characters a billion times better than the Showbiz Pizza Party Time Band! Mr. Chuck Leonard, Mr. Brian Medina, the scandalous Scurvy and the Central Valley Buzz crew! For this past week’s cooking show, I had decided to do a “liquid lunch”. I threw down on the super secret spicy Bloody Mary recipe that I stole via osmosis from my old watering hole in Redondo Beach as well as a recently discovered gin and tonic delight gleaned from chaperoning a simulated winter formal.
I discovered the magical Bloody Mary on my first foray out of my cute little circa 1900 (said so over the door) beach cottage. How I miss that place! Except for the catfish and ass odor the crept from our roommate’s spunk-lair and rapidly took over the living room. Nasty little hobbitses! But, on to the bar story. So I’m looking for “my bar”, the walking distance spot where a long haired country boy can use words with multiple syllables while tying one on. So I wander in and have one of the worst long islands I have ever had in my life. Like, almost giving the alcohol back, bad. But then I see a guy order a Bloody Mary and she asks if he wants it “hot”. And then I see her reach into a hidden cabinet and pull out a stout jar of something white and a bit chunky. I ask what it is and she tells me that it’s pure, melt your nose, horseradish. And I reply with a grin that I’m down like Charlie Brown. So she throws down on what has become the set bar by which all other tomato-vodka products shall be judged. It’s spicy enough to elicit a bit of flop sweat on your lip, like you’re talking to cops with something naughty clutched betwixt yon buttcheeks. And that horseradish dashes through your sinuses like a flaming greyhound, if, on greyhound tracks, they used lady greyhounds that were wearing dog lingerie and holding a full steak dinner under their heaving canine mammaries, for the pups to chase. But you still get a strong taste of all the other players, the hot sauce, the pepper, the celery. All are welcome to the flavor party. And many a hangover was combated on a bleary morning with this healing tonic.
Speaking of tonics! Obviously, I’m leading into the gin and tonic. Not normally high on most people’s list of favorites. But those people have never tried Hendrick’s gin. A dear friend and nipple tippler of the highest order introduced me to this in a most unique fashion. Rather than the common lime or lemon added to the quinine soda and booze, they had instead placed slices of cucumber in their drinks. I’m shocked! Most gins have a flavor reminiscent of cleaning products, but I can clearly taste the cucumber’s essence refreshingly floating through the flavors. Even the gin has a much mellower part to play, bringing in herbal notes that meld with other flavors rather than dominate them. This is pretty much only trailing behind a fine scotch as my preferred cocktail of leisure.
But ultimately, I was on TV with two bottles of giggles and a license to mix. And conveniently forgetting that I hadn’t really eaten breakfast that morning… So, we got a little silly? The techs are chillin, the weather girl Esperanza, is either complimenting me vociferously in Spanish, or she’s explaining that I’m standing on her foot and need to move my drunken hoof and somewhere through the haze I remember quite a few shit eating grins and much guffawing at jokes and allegories that I really can’t quite recall. Needless to say, I’m positive it was my best show, despite not remembering a lick of it.
From there, the evening degenerated into a very blurry writers meeting. But I’m going to save that part for another day. Probably right around when I finally get all of the pieces back from the persons involved and properly figure out who I’m supposed to thank and who to apologize to. Overall though, I’m told I had quite a nice time.
Fast forward to 4pm the next day. Why am I beeping? What in God’s great unfair creation would make a perfectly good human beep? Cell phone. What is cell phone? Cell phone is beeping. Cell phone is Chuck. “Hello?” “Pook! Happy Birthday! You on your way to the show?” Crap! 4 o’clock! Promised to be on anniversary show which coincides with the day Mom decided not to drown me in the toilet! To the Pookmobile! Oh god…the pain. Maybe we’ll amble to the Pookmobile instead of the heroic dash.
Two days in a row on TV? And to shake my birthday fanny on the air? I must have given Mother Theresa a nice ham sandwich in a previous life. It’s even an awesomely mellow show with the Eva Scow trio kicking out some mellow jams on the mandolin, AC Miles grooving on his slide guitar and Marcos Dorado from City Arts Gallery along with Dixie Boswell with some headache soothing art. And Chuck, that old softy, he went and got me a cake! Though I was fairly surprised to avoid being faceplanted into it by the wicked Chuckster. He has a history you know. Big love to my CVT family for a bitchin’ birthday party. Cuz after that, I grabbed a Wellness tea from Teazers and dragged these aging bones home for a quiet birthday evening with Mrs. EOF.
But oh there’s more! (See? I’m trying to make up for my absence by writing y’all a novel!) And here is the icing on a three day birthday cake. I’m roused from a much more restful sleep by the same infernal beeping. Chuck? TV!?!? Wait…no, already been through that one. This morning he asks if I can tend a simple bar. Well sure, on an entry level I suppose. I’ve certainly observed the professionals for a decade or two. Where’s the gig? Joey O’s gallery opening?? Paint me there!
What to wear, what to wear? I’ve been less nervous getting dressed before performances! I’m encouraged to bring my own style. But in most cases my “style” is Modern Scumbag with a dash of Hippy. Though some will be pleased to hear that due to popular dissonance, I have forgone my personal enjoyment of patchouli for your olfactory sanctitude. So without “comfort” as a fashion forward theme, what else do we have in the closet? Oh yeah, LOUD! I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy with a fashion purchase when I grabbed that terribly orange classic 50’s rayon Hawaiian shirt. That and my khaki cargos and I should be good. I even dug out some brown loafers to complete my non-scumbaggery. Topped off with my mildly shredded straw hat and I just walked out of a 90’s Red Lobster ad. Since that’s the closest I’ve ever worked with bartenders, it’s sadly what I consider a semi-pro type of barbackin’ uniform. I look like Grizzly Adams and Jimmy Buffet had a love child…
What happened next can only be called one of the most successful gallery openings in Fresno history. And for me the absolutely most interesting and fun time I’ve had at an art gallery. And shockingly, I have been to a couple. First and foremost was the art exhibit of course. It’d be nice if I could say some deeply profound and uncannily insightful things about the art and the feelings that they elicited in me. But sadly, I was a nervous nelly over my new upcoming adventure and only gave myself time to do a very brief walkthrough. But my eyes were very much dazzled by what I did get to at least glance at. Astounding drawings and highly textured paintings, a couple quite shiny with layers of lacquer, fanciful steel sculptures and of course the photography of Joe Osejo. It was a nice little infusion of external creativity to stoke my fires and get me into the spirit of the evening.
Though there was one other spirit I felt the touch of, the Great Spirit of the Benevolent Barkeep. Oddly he’s a sober spirit, which worked out well for me. One isn’t really a bartender if he scuttles onto the roof with most of the bottles and hisses balefully at anyone seeking libation. Instead I settled into smiling and getting to introduce and reacquaint myself with the Rogues Gallery of the Tower District. Lots of grinning, well known faces, agog at seeing me clear eyed and sober handing THEM a drink for once, as well as many more delightful new ones to annoy and horrify with my overly syllabic version of potty humor. Needless to say, I again had a fabulous night. A concentration of that many artists and lovers of art, create a wicket brew of interesting conversations of widely varying depths. And from the puddles to the Marianas Trenches, every one was fascinating. There was a little of everything, discussion of welding techniques, views on aspects of the human form and probably one of the smoothest pickup lines I’ve ever heard.
It was a whirlwind night and a rousing success in my estimation. Both the opening and my sprawling, unbeknownst to others, birthdaystravaganza. It just goes to show that even a completely unplanned birthday can be tons of fun and filled with new and interesting experiences. Much love to friends far and wide! I wish that more of you could have shared in the festivities, but I’d have to rent out the Grizzly’s stadium to cram so much love into one space. I’m one fat and well loved Leo. So let me bounce that loving vibe back out to all of you. May what remains of the summer be a wild and fabulous hoot for you all as well. And thank you all again for putting up with my self indulgent absence. One love!
-Pook
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