It’s so tasty, too!

Last night, we headed downtown for a “Flavors of the Mediterranean” wine dinner at LaSalle Grill. Ken is going on a business trip next week, and thought it would be a nice treat for us to do before he left. It came at a good time, because man, has this been a weird week, or what? And it’s not even done yet.

Anyway, LaSalle Grill is one of the nicest restaurants in our area. We don’t eat there often, because it is also one of the most expensive! This is the kind of place where you don’t take pictures of your food, do you get me? Every so often, they have one of their wine tasting or beer tasting dinners, though, and it’s a chance to experience several different kinds of food paired with appropriate wines or beers. It’s a culinary adventure! Join me, won’t you? [waving you over] Come on! It’s fun! (Sorry, I’m in a silly mood.)

Here is last night’s menu, so you can get an idea of the food they serve there.


AMUSE-BOUCHE
Bacon Wrapped Date
Edamame Hummus, Harissa
Fenugreek Pickled Shallots

FIRST COURSE
Big-Eye Tuna Crudo
Caramelized Fennel Salad
Crisp Sunchokes, Rosemary Sea Salt
2009 Contine Colosi, Biano Sicilia, Italy

SECOND COURSE
Olive Oil Poached Monkfish
Grilled Zucchini, Olives & Radicchio
Light Balsamic & Tomato Broth
2010 Louis Jadot, Pouilly Fuissé, France

THIRD COURSE
Spiced Lamb & Couscous Fritter
Green Cardamom Yogurt, Charred Eggplant Purée,
Fried Goat Cheese, Citrus-Cumin Vinaigrette
2010 Tres Picos, Garnacha, Campo de Borja, Spain

ENTREE
Ras El Hanout Braised Short Rib
Chickpeas & Lentils, Fava Beans,
Preserved Lemon, Pomegranate & Dried Fig Jus
2009 Chateau Teyssier, Saint Emilion Grand Cru, France

DESSERT COURSE
Walnut Baklava
Cinnamon-Anise Crème Fraîche
2007 Royal Tokaji, 5 Puttonyos Aszú, Hungary

I practically had to be carted out of there in a wheelbarrow. The wine portions are generous, and all told, I probably had about a half a bottle of wine. But what really got to me was the sheer richness of the food. The portions are small, but I still felt very full, enough so that I didn’t finish my dessert wine. I was like, “Okay. No more.”

We go to some decent places, and it’s hard to beat a good steak or a nice piece of fresh fish when we’re on the coast. But what is fun about this place is all the different flavors that you get to try, and the way they combine them. I’m not a big fan of anise, but oh man, that baklava was to die for! The complexity of some of these flavors made my taste buds do the can-can.

The bacon-wrapped date was so good, but gone so quickly! Two bites, and that little bit of deliciousness was gone. (I looked up the definition of “amuse-bouche,” and it literally means “entertain the mouth.” I love that! It is a one-bite appetizer, thus only the one date.) Probably my least favorite was the short rib, because that’s a piece of meat that is mostly fat. The flavor was delicious, though, and with the beans, it was very hearty. (And yes, Hannibal Lecter jokes were made about the fava beans!) My absolute favorite was the tuna crudo, which is the same as sashimi. The stuff just melted in my mouth, and the salad, sunchokes (AKA Jerusalem artichokes), and sea salt were just an amazing combination. I can still almost taste it.

We also laughed about the lamb & couscous fritter, because couscous always makes us think of something I said when our friends Kim and Steve were visiting us. We were talking about what we were having for dinner, and I asked, “Do you like couscous?” Steve said, “Yeah, it’s okay.” I said, “Well, we’re not having that tonight,” and he just burst into laughter. I still have no idea why I said it that way...I think I had recently made some and didn’t care for it much, and I was just wondering if they liked it. Anyway, it still makes me laugh.

The wines were perfectly paired, as always, with light, citrusy whites starting us off, a hearty red with the short rib and beans, and a sweet, orange-y wine with the dessert.

LaSalle Grill may be expensive, but they earn it. I love trying different things, and the way they combine the tastes and textures is just amazing. A wonderful treat, one to enjoy on an occasional basis. Thanks, Honey!

Daryl Dixon: To arms! To arms!

It’s still too soon for me to write about what happened in Boston yesterday. I just...I can’t even...no words. I didn’t turn on the news today until this evening, and I’ve avoided most online articles about it. I’m trying hard to not let the rage and despair overwhelm me (Remember me writing about my intense emotions lately? Right.), and I know when I need to step back. A little time will restore my words, and I’ll write about it.

But not now. Instead, I’m just going to go total fangirl on you and write about something fun. Not the Stones this time, believe it or not!

Most people know that I’m a huge fan of “The Walking Dead.” I was hooked from the very first episode. Let me channel my Inner Stefon and say, “This show has everything. Zombies, katanas, crossbows, eyepatches, and a human plumb-bob.”

“What’s a human plumb-bob?”

“It’s that thing where a zombie dangles from a rope down a well and then gets torn in half and....”

Okay, you get the idea. I love the show. I get a little discussion thread going on Facebook every week after the show, and call it my Dead Thread. (I’m sure others have used the term, too. I don’t claim that it is original to me, although I had never seen it before.) We talk about what happened, what might happen, and what we hope will happen. It’s fun. I had never read the comics, so I have no expectations of what will be or what should be; it is impossible for me to be disappointed because the show did something different from the graphic novels.

One of the things that I love about the show is the way the characters evolve and change in response to “this sorrowful life.” Nothing is as it was; rules have changed or disappeared completely. It is not so much living as it is surviving, and sometimes, there are pretty dark decisions that have to be made. When the show started, I really dug the character of Shane. He obviously loved some people, but he took a real dark turn there—it happens in this world—and I was saddened by his necessary demise. It didn’t have to be that way, Shane, but you made your choice. This world does bad things to some people.

A more redemptive storyline has been that of Daryl Dixon, played by Norman Reedus. It just astounds me to see the way his character is evolving, and to learn more about him. Daryl is probably the breakout character on the show, with a legion of fans vowing to riot in the streets if they kill him off. We understand that no one is safe, but NOT DARYL. Do you hear me, WD writers? NOT DARYL. Anyway, it’s a fascinating character study: abused as a child, looking up to his older brother Merle but kind of despising him at the same time, a true loner yet still wanting and needing to be part of the group, loyal to a fault. Daryl never gave up on searching for Sophia...maybe because he identified with the lost child and always hoped that someone would save him when he was a child? I don’t know, but he has proven to be a complex and fascinating character, and Norman plays him perfectly.

I had never heard of Norman Reedus before this show, so I was interested to find out that he’s apparently a pretty cool person in his own right. Artist, sculptor, photographer, by all accounts a super nice guy and kind to his fans. And he has a cat...a black one! Sheeba approves! I had heard of the Boondock Saints movies but didn’t know he was in them and I’ve never seen them. I just got them and am looking forward to watching. Anyway, nice to find out that he’s a good guy in real life, and not a douche.

I read a lot of stuff about the show, including interviews with the cast. He said in one interview that the writers were planning on taking Daryl another way. They wanted him to start taking drugs after Merle was split from the group, and he said no, he didn’t want to play him that way. Daryl loved his big brother, but he didn’t want to be like him. He wanted to grow up and be the person that others could rely on. Good instincts, Norman, because it makes Daryl all the more compelling. We’re rooting for this guy to be okay, because he’s really trying to be a better person. I really just can’t say enough about how much I like this character.

He also seems to be a good sport about the numerous fan sites that have cropped up for Daryl and for himself. His arms are absolutely adored. There are a LOT of women who are crushing on him in a major way, and his Twitter feed can be hilarious, with everything from pleas for him to follow them to marriage proposals. Some take a more “subtle” route...a friend and I are still laughing about someone demanding that he fuck them in the face. I’m sure he’ll get right on that!

Yes, I’m a fangirl. I agree that he has nice arms, but what I really love is how he’s made the character into someone that is...well, I think I’d  have to say “beloved.” I don’t think I’ve ever felt so invested in a character, or so connected to a group of characters. “ER” might have been the closest one—I bawled like a baby when Anthony Edwards’ Dr. Greene died—but that doesn’t even come close to how I feel about these characters. I’ve gasped, I’ve yelled, I’ve cried, and I’ve sat there in horror with my hand over my mouth...not because of the creepy zombies, but because these characters that I’ve come to love are in danger. One of the most devastating moments of the past season for me was when Daryl found his brother...reanimated. I said, “Nooooo, oh Daryl, nooooo,” and cried like a little girl. Well-played, sir, well-played.

So...can you tell I’m going through withdrawals after the end of the season? October is a long way away.

Intensity

Although I don’t often show it on the outside, I’ve always felt things pretty intensely. It can be a happy event or a sad one. But it doesn’t have to be an event. It can be a song, or a TV show, or a painting, or a movie. It can even be a commercial.

I’ve been that way all my life, and I’m finding that as I’m getting older, it is actually intensifying. That’s kind of a scary prospect for me, because sometimes these things are almost overwhelming. It’s a great big tsunami of emotion that I seem to be helpless to control at times. I’m finding it happening a lot lately with music. When we went to see “Viva Elvis!” (the Elvis Cirque du Soleil show) in Vegas a few years ago, Ken looked over at me and I had tears rolling down my face. I got choked up at “Rock of Ages.” I’ve been listening to a lot of Stones lately, and sometimes as I sing along, my voice will catch because the music has made me verklempt.

It’s an odd way to show happiness, I know. Sometimes I feel such sheer joy at things that I can feel it oozing out of my pores. It certainly escapes through my tear ducts! These intense feelings happen most often with happy things, which is good...because if the majority of them were sad things, I can see how people could get completely overwhelmed by their emotions.

Sometimes I wish that I could moderate this a little bit, and as I said, I’m a little trepidatious over the fact that the intensity seems to be...well, intensifying. But then I think that I am grateful that I have the capability to be so moved that I am brought to tears. I would much rather be this way than be jaded and cold. Not that I don’t have my moments of coldness; when I need to, I can work on the clampdown and effectively shut it down. I do this in moments of great stress, or when someone has treated me badly—or thinks that they can exert control over me and manipulate me. If you try that with me...well, good luck with that. I can be a high-ridin’ bitch when I need to be, just like Dolores Claiborne and Vera Donovan.

But most of the time, I’m just a little ol’ softie. I fully anticipate weeping copiously at the Stones concert, and I’ve warned Ken about it. In moments like that, I’m okay, nothing is wrong...I’m just caught up in the fun of it and enjoying the ride. As Third Eye Blind sang, “the four right chords can make me cry.” In my case, that is literally true. And I’m okay with it.

I have been assimilated

I’ve had a Twitter account for quite a while now, but I’ve never done much with it. It got the most activity during the primaries and election, when a group of us would get on and live-tweet the debates. It was always a blast, but other than that, I didn’t post much on there. I always intended to, and I’d have a couple of days where I’d remember to post there as well as to Facebook...and then I’d ignore it again.

That all changed this past week when I decided to put up or shut up. I started posting things fairly frequently, and although I’m trying to keep my following list on the low side, I started looking for some interesting people. I already had quite a few on there, mainly political figures, journalists, and blogger friends, but I started seeking out musicians, Walking Dead people, and others.
I’m actually having a lot of fun with it, and I’m not sure why I didn’t before. I still prefer Facebook for longer, more detailed threads (like my Dead Thread I start every Sunday night after “The Walking Dead”...must ask friends if I can import those to Twitter), but Twitter is fun for quickies. 

The Rolling Stones (including Mick, Keith, and Ronnie) have a large presence on there now as they gear up for the tour. One of my favorites is, oddly enough, Donnie Wahlberg, who posts pumped-up, positive messages like telling Monday he’s going to kick its ass, or telling his followers that only WE can change things in our lives. It is strangely endearing. And I adore Norman Reedus, who plays Daryl Dixon on “The Walking Dead.” He’s very appreciative of his fans, he’s also an artist and photographer, and posts random pictures like him holding an avocado pit in his mouth. It makes me grin. It’s an almost joyful goofiness that just makes me happy. Even “serious people” occasionally post just-for-fun stuff, and Curiosity Rover is absolutely adorable. (I’m not going to provide links to every single one of those...if you’re interested, just search for them, and look for the verified account.)

Maybe that’s what I’m digging about it compared to Facebook. It strikes me as a little more random and chaotic. It appeals to my inner anarchist, as well as to that Inner Lizard I wrote about the other day. I love the jumble of articles, nuggets of wisdom, fun pictures, bizarre pronouncements, and sheer what-the-fuckness. I’m not dumping you, Facebook, but I think we should date others. Twitter, call me later, baby.

If you’d like to follow me on Twitter: @Luvrte66

Unleash your Inner Lizard

It should come as no surprise that I’m on a major Stones kick at the moment (get used to it...it’s going to be going on for over a month), so I’ve been posting a Stones song on Facebook once in a while. The other day, I posted “Paint It, Black,” and said that was my second favorite Stones song. My friend Holly said that her favorite is “Shattered” (that is my third favorite Stones song, for the record) and it brings out her “inner lizard.”

That phrase spoke to me. It somehow perfectly describes that sort of down and dirty, raunchy, hip-swivelin’ Stones style. When the Inner Lizard comes out, shit gets real.

You know those ‘would you rather’ questions? Like “Ginger or Mary Ann?” One of the classics is “Beatles or Stones?” Of course I love the Beatles. Who doesn’t? They were my first taste of pop music, when I was maybe 5 or 6, and my Beatlemaniac sister played her records for me. But for me, it was always about the Stones. They always had a darker edge, a more dangerous, bad boy sex appeal. I was listening to their latest greatest hits CD, “Grrr!” while I was working out today, and it struck me just how many of their songs unleash my inner lizard. There is something about Mick’s voice that reaches right into the dark corners of my psyche. It ranges from a deep baritone to a raspy growl to a bedroom whisper that “it’s only rock and roll but I liiiiike it.” He’s really not even subtle about it. What part of “Let’s spend the night together” needs clarification?

Anyway, make all the jokes you want about the Stones being older than dirt, but these songs still totally trip my trigger. Young Mick Jagger was a beautiful, angelic devil (Anne Rice’s phrase for Lestat springs to mind: Brat Prince.), one who could seduce, incite, and inflame. The songs will continue to do that long after he is gone.

Of course, the Stones don’t have the market cornered on rock and roll sexyfuntimes. Remember how John Lithgow told his town that there would be no dancing because it would lead to sexyfuntimes, and Kevin Bacon was all like “Yo, dick move, bro, and I’m bangin’ your daughter” and danced all crazy around a barn and rode a tractor and then everyone made up and wore ugly tuxedos and danced all crazy some more? Anyway, John Lithgow and all those other preachermen who said that rock and roll led to “other things” weren’t so far off the mark.

Because the lyrics make you think about a lot of things. Not just sexyfuntimes, but things like inequality and revolution. Deeper concepts of the human condition. Life outside your small town. “Imagine no religion.” Experimentation, broadening your horizons, walking a mile in someone’s shoes, seeing beyond the narrow borders of your early existence. There are some people who don’t want these questions asked, and they certainly don’t want to have to answer them. How you gonna keep ‘em down on the farm, right?

Rock and roll IS dangerous. Dangerous to the status quo, dangerous to those who have a vested interest in keeping you in line, dangerous to the powers-that-be.

Once that Inner Lizard is unleashed, it’s hard to get it back under control.

It takes a worried man

Or a worried Mom, in this case.

Ken and I went down to visit my Mom today, and found her in good spirits. As always, she needed to feed us first, so we chatted while we had lunch. She admitted that she had a bad night last night and cried a lot, but this time it wasn’t about Dad...it was about my sister Diana flying to China.

Diana and her husband and a couple of friends are going with a large group to spend about a week in China. They found a good deal and just decided to do it. (There’s that grabbing life by the horns thing again...it’s the way to live!) Mom wasn’t upset about them going or anything, but hearing that the flight from New York to China (I forget which city they’re flying into) was going to be 16 hours just wigged her out. Di had texted me that Mom was pretty upset about it, so I said I’d try to talk to her about it today.

She seemed mostly over it, but I hate it that she spent several hours worrying and crying over this. I realize that she has an extreme fear of flying, and I’m certain that we’ll never get her on a plane. It doesn’t matter how many statistics we throw at her about the safety of flying, she just hears “plane” and freaks out. I told her that Ken and I were probably at greater risk of a fatal accident on our Route 66 trip than Di and Tom are on these flights. I try and try to get Mom to not fret so much about these things; she agrees in theory, and realizes that it does no good, but she keeps right on fretting.

I think when Dad was around, he was able to pull her back from such relentless worrying. She’s always been a worrier—in fact, I’d say that it runs in her side of the family—but I hate to see her crying about things like this...things that have an infinitesimal chance of happening. I admit that I have a tendency towards worrying, too, which I obviously get from Mom. But I’ve worked to moderate, negate, and deflate it by doing my best to think logically and rationally, and to work it through in my mind. If I thought about everything that can kill us out in the world, I’d probably never leave the house! I just refuse to live my life in fear, and I refuse to let such fears keep me from living a fun and full life. I wish I could impart a little of my attitude to Mom, just so she wouldn’t make herself miserable with thinking such negative thoughts. But I don’t think there is any changing her at this point, so we just have to try to talk her through it, and sometimes she just has to work through it on her own.

Something else I get from my Mom is a stubborn streak about a mile wide. Oddly enough, that seems to be enough in me to counteract the “worry gene.” As in, screw you, whatever or whoever you are, you are not going to harsh my mellow or fuck up my joy. Some things take a little longer than others, but I always find my joy in the end. (I’m now thinking of the hilarious scene in “Ted” when Mark Wahlberg and Ted sing The Thunder Song. That is very much me.)

I wish I could impart a little of that defiance to my Mom, but I know it doesn’t work that way. All I can do is keep telling her, “Mom, you can’t let these things get to you so much. You can’t let them make you this upset.” But with that stubborn streak of her own, she isn’t going to listen and take it to heart until SHE is ready!

In the meantime, I’ll be over here singing “Fuck you, thunder, you can suck my dick,” and as Devo says, “I may be worried now, but I won’t be worried long.”

What will you regret?

A Facebook friend posted this picture and quote of Lucille Ball today, and I loved it so much I shared it and am writing about it here.

It relates directly to getting the Rolling Stones tickets yesterday, but also to our broader philosophy of life. Ken and I had this conversation when Notre Dame went undefeated in football last season and were playing for the national championship. It was outrageously expensive, but Ken said, “Let’s do it. We will probably never get another chance like this.”

We talked about how we could save every penny towards retirement, but how many people do you know who finally reached retirement and then got sick, or were in poor enough health that they couldn’t travel? We made a conscious decision to do some of these things NOW rather than wait ten years from now, when Ken hopes to retire. Ken took almost a month off of work and we did Route 66; we went to Miami for a three-day weekend to cheer for our Irish; and we decided to go for it and get good seats for the Stones.

Route 66 was the trip of a lifetime for me, something I’d wanted to do for well over a decade. Although the championship game didn’t turn out the way we’d hoped, we still had a fabulous time in Miami and were happy to be there to cheer for our team. I’m sure that the Stones concert is going to be a blast, and I will probably scream and cry and be a hot mess and enjoy the HELL out of it.

We aren’t wealthy, by any means, and we do things like this within reason. But when a good time comes along, we decided to whip it...whip it good. We aren’t extravagant in our daily life, and we save our money for traveling and doing fun things like this. We still have retirement funds, of course, so I don’t think we’ll have to dine on Fancy Feast, but we’re not going to save every penny for ten years from now. I know there are some people out there who make a total career change around this age, or are just entering the workforce due to various reasons. Whatever works for you, I suppose, but I feel very fortunate and grateful that I not only got to enjoy a quarter century of a satisfying and interesting career, I was able to retire five years ago, and I’ve never missed the daily grind once. I still enjoy the subject of Microbiology and read plenty about it, but I was happy to say goodbye to the day-to-day stuff. If you’re my age and you’re just starting your career, well...have fun with that!

If we hadn’t done the 66 trip when we did, we might not have been able to do the walking and climbing we did. If we hadn’t gone to Miami, we would have looked back and said, “Damn, I wish we’d gone to that.” And if we hadn’t gone to see the Stones this time, we will probably never get another chance. Like any human being, I’ve done things in my life that I regret. But like Lucy, I don’t want to regret the things I didn’t do, miss the opportunities I might never get again, and feel that I somehow let life pass me by.