- Knock, knock!
- Who's there?
- It's A-Dog and V-Cat!
Well, that's how it started more than 48 hours ago. I still get chills when I think about it. This is what really happened!
The missus and I had invited over the Dog and his Cat for some spanish wine-tasting. You know, tangle a few reds from overseas. Mix it up a little bit.
We got the idea a few weeks earlier at a french wine-tasting event at the A-Dog's hacienda. We started with a Côtes du Rhône and finished with a Burgundy. Nothing fancy but on the other hand not half bad. We enjoyed cheese in the addition to the wine. Stinky cheese. The kind that grows hair on your chest - and probably other places as well if you aren't careful. The locker-smelling-kind. The-old-trainers-never-washed-but-been-through-hell-and-back-kind. The-what's-that-green-stuff-kind.
Being the last minute kind of guy, I had just come back from the grocery store. Carrying four corniche game hens to broil. I quickly rubbed them with my secret mix and threw them in the oven - 400 degrees for 45 minutes.
- Knock, knock!
- Who's there?
Cheese on the table and the first Rioja - a Marques de Riscal Reserva from 1999 - was decapitated and the party started. A-Cat got promoted 24 hours earlier so there was a real reason to celebrate. We usually just make up celebrations in our statistically irrelevant household.
- Knock, knock!
The hens are dead, broiled and done. White, tender and ready to be had. The meat is falling of the bones and the second Rioja is popped open and the feast can continue.
We talk about chicken tenderness, being a chef and about the wine region of Rioja. I mean, to be fair, we are gathered here today to enjoy the hard labour of our friends in the spanish grape wines.
Then I realize, this is the moment. This is why we head up at 6am every freekin' morning to go to work, why we extend ourselves and go beyond what we thought was possible. Those small moments of true connection, of happiness, of planning the future and exchanging Ahh's and Ohh's with good friends.
Say cheese! It's definitely time for a picture!
Monday, December 13, 2004
Saturday, December 11, 2004
For The Distinguished Driver Only
Driving gloves aren't for everyone. Imagine an american-born chinese soccer-mom speeding along in her Mini Van. She is doing about 80 in the right freeway lane just to get in time for drop-off or pick-up. She's got the driving wheel right at her chest and her arms are straight out like an airplane ready to land. Add driving gloves. Wouldn't work.
Image the guy from the hood that drives a souped-up Honda in pastel colors and dices dangling from the rearview mirror. The seat is so far back that his head is hardly visibile. 50 cents is BLASTING out across the neighborhood from his $2000 stereo. Add driving gloves. Even in the most fluorescent pastels they wouldn't work.
Then imagine a Steve McQueen-ish man, a little taller with a more European-styled shirt (well-fitted with confident patterns and a strong collar) and a pair of Italian loafers. He's gently sliding into his roadster, the leather smells raw and powerful. The sportscar reminds you of a panther ready to jump it's prey. Add driving gloves. Fits like... a glove.
There is justice in universe after all. I rest my case!
Image the guy from the hood that drives a souped-up Honda in pastel colors and dices dangling from the rearview mirror. The seat is so far back that his head is hardly visibile. 50 cents is BLASTING out across the neighborhood from his $2000 stereo. Add driving gloves. Even in the most fluorescent pastels they wouldn't work.
Then imagine a Steve McQueen-ish man, a little taller with a more European-styled shirt (well-fitted with confident patterns and a strong collar) and a pair of Italian loafers. He's gently sliding into his roadster, the leather smells raw and powerful. The sportscar reminds you of a panther ready to jump it's prey. Add driving gloves. Fits like... a glove.
There is justice in universe after all. I rest my case!
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Home Alone III
[Dream Come True by The Brand New Heavies is thumping through our pad. A glass of Rodney Strong Merlot is slowly being had. There is no cigar but lots of smoke from yesterday.]
It’s the day after, folks. Don’t expect me to be remotely funny or clever. D-dog came over last night and made me drink lots of excellent red wine, calvados and smoke puros until early morning hours. That's my defense and I'll stick to it.
I had started to grill a whole chicken, just whipped up some Ceviche and was about to soak the basmati rice when there was a knock on the door. I assumed it was my dinner guests for the evening and I was right. Sometimes life can be so simple.
We started our feast with three types of cheese: one Morbier (France), one goat cheese brie (France) and one creamy Californian. Bebel Gilberto’s Tanto Tiempo was humming along in the background. Soothing Bossa tunes that smell happiness, warmth and time-off. Bossa Nova is in my opinion the sweet dream of true harmony; it’s the antithesis of carpools, mini-vans and South Beach diet. It’s the effortless being, living and loving. No strings attached.
[Ping. The pasta is ready. A simple Farfalle with sautéed mushrooms in basil and pepper sauce. Parmesan sprinkled lightly on top. Refilling the Merlot.]
I know what you are thinking. The rascal is using the missus’ absence as an excuse to invite friends and double team the wine fridge and the humidors. True but not true. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. If living life to the fullest is a crime then bring out those handcuffs. I’m guilty as charged. The word extravaganza is the norm in our household as per the most general definition (over the top). Like Don Quijote we all have our windmills to challenge and conquer.
Anywho – the evening ended with a Calvados, a Puro and a discussion around what’s important in life. Not ones did we mention family values. Thank God!
It was much more spiritual and down-to-earth than that.
[Dimitri from Paris’ Disco Forever. Disc 3.]
Protect the old is a defensive game. It’s challenging the anomaly in-between paradigms. It’s like backing into a dead-end street. Live the dream and make your moves speak louder than those words. Shake your bootie is as offensive as it gets. No pun intended.
It’s the day after, folks. Don’t expect me to be remotely funny or clever. D-dog came over last night and made me drink lots of excellent red wine, calvados and smoke puros until early morning hours. That's my defense and I'll stick to it.
I had started to grill a whole chicken, just whipped up some Ceviche and was about to soak the basmati rice when there was a knock on the door. I assumed it was my dinner guests for the evening and I was right. Sometimes life can be so simple.
We started our feast with three types of cheese: one Morbier (France), one goat cheese brie (France) and one creamy Californian. Bebel Gilberto’s Tanto Tiempo was humming along in the background. Soothing Bossa tunes that smell happiness, warmth and time-off. Bossa Nova is in my opinion the sweet dream of true harmony; it’s the antithesis of carpools, mini-vans and South Beach diet. It’s the effortless being, living and loving. No strings attached.
[Ping. The pasta is ready. A simple Farfalle with sautéed mushrooms in basil and pepper sauce. Parmesan sprinkled lightly on top. Refilling the Merlot.]
I know what you are thinking. The rascal is using the missus’ absence as an excuse to invite friends and double team the wine fridge and the humidors. True but not true. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. If living life to the fullest is a crime then bring out those handcuffs. I’m guilty as charged. The word extravaganza is the norm in our household as per the most general definition (over the top). Like Don Quijote we all have our windmills to challenge and conquer.
Anywho – the evening ended with a Calvados, a Puro and a discussion around what’s important in life. Not ones did we mention family values. Thank God!
It was much more spiritual and down-to-earth than that.
[Dimitri from Paris’ Disco Forever. Disc 3.]
Protect the old is a defensive game. It’s challenging the anomaly in-between paradigms. It’s like backing into a dead-end street. Live the dream and make your moves speak louder than those words. Shake your bootie is as offensive as it gets. No pun intended.
Friday, December 03, 2004
While on Vacation: Just Eat It!
I have seen my fair share of churches, museums and historical monuments. In Gertrude Steins words: A church is a church. If you have seen one you have seen them all.
The missus and I have made an agreement NOT to follow the pack while on vacation. No Disneylands. No guided tours. No vacation packages. No churches. Just the two of us enjoying each others company in a new, exciting context. Focusing on what we enjoy the most: breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The way to travel and to meet interesting people is with a glas of wine in the left and a fork in the right hand. Nothing connects people more than food and wine. It's the quintessential hobby for globetrotting aficionados like us. It's the true way, the pure way to world peace.
Wait a second - we are not talking about hanging out with obese trash looking for their next value menu. Oh no, we are all about the pleasure of tasteful portions of local delights.
It's the gastronomique journey where soul, palatte and mind is challenged. It's where all senses are all equally involved. From the first peak at the menu to the signing of the check. It's where the Aahs meets the Oohs and pure vintage pleasure is being made and enjoyed.
Still up for visiting another church?
The missus and I have made an agreement NOT to follow the pack while on vacation. No Disneylands. No guided tours. No vacation packages. No churches. Just the two of us enjoying each others company in a new, exciting context. Focusing on what we enjoy the most: breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The way to travel and to meet interesting people is with a glas of wine in the left and a fork in the right hand. Nothing connects people more than food and wine. It's the quintessential hobby for globetrotting aficionados like us. It's the true way, the pure way to world peace.
Wait a second - we are not talking about hanging out with obese trash looking for their next value menu. Oh no, we are all about the pleasure of tasteful portions of local delights.
It's the gastronomique journey where soul, palatte and mind is challenged. It's where all senses are all equally involved. From the first peak at the menu to the signing of the check. It's where the Aahs meets the Oohs and pure vintage pleasure is being made and enjoyed.
Still up for visiting another church?
Birds, Bats and Boomerangs
Right of the boat (ROB) in Sydney we encounter the funniest bird. It looks like a pelican on South Beach Diet with a cartoonish presence. It's hard to know if the bird is a friend or a fou. It's strutting along in Hyde Park in the middle of Sydney and is an very akward sight for someone that is used to encounter birds on their back, broiled and battered. See, my view on animals is simple - they should be quiet, tender and work well with any medium bodied red.
Halfway through our vacation we walked through the Botanic Gardens. It's the most accommodating and peaceful place in Sydney, right between Woolloomooloo, the business district and the Sydney Opera. There, in a tree, hung hundreds of bats. The missus freaked out a little bit while I stayed absolutely calm. Holy crap, Batman!
But mother of all that's good and pure - we didn't see any Boomerang-throwing Aussies on their Walk-Abouts. I'm a little disappointed I must say. I'm a big aficionado of local culture and would prefer being greated by original tribal folks. Did not happen.
Halfway through our vacation we walked through the Botanic Gardens. It's the most accommodating and peaceful place in Sydney, right between Woolloomooloo, the business district and the Sydney Opera. There, in a tree, hung hundreds of bats. The missus freaked out a little bit while I stayed absolutely calm. Holy crap, Batman!
But mother of all that's good and pure - we didn't see any Boomerang-throwing Aussies on their Walk-Abouts. I'm a little disappointed I must say. I'm a big aficionado of local culture and would prefer being greated by original tribal folks. Did not happen.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Fly Me To Down Under
My whole life for the next 10 days is laying on my bed. It's filled with everything from beach clothes to books and my iPod. The missus and I are taking off for a while. Yessiree - we are going downunder for a while, putting a stop to the ratrace, slowing down to zero. Sydney is the destination, some 14 hours away from sunny California.
We are just going to sit in the sun, contemplate and digest the present. That's a pretty darn good and satisfying excerise. Switching between sipping expresso's in the morning, to wine for lunch and finishing off a hard days work with a gin and tonic. Possible a cigar.
Nosiree, Bob! We are not backing down for any challenge. Send us downunder, to the land of wonder and we'll show 'em outback-sissies that we can be adventurous (the missus) and slack (yours truly) better than most. I'm also a hell of a mytomaniac in despite what people say.
We are going to reinvent the good old turtlewalk and commit to one destination a day. No crazy see-it-all-cause-we-might-never-come-back-crap. No Mam! Underneath all that beauty lies one smart cookie (the missus) and one lazy brownie (yours truly).
So we are off to enjoy one of the few places in the industrialized world where you still can smoke a phattie in the Pub, shake your bootie without being arrested and wrestle Kangeroo's.
God Bless Australia!
We are just going to sit in the sun, contemplate and digest the present. That's a pretty darn good and satisfying excerise. Switching between sipping expresso's in the morning, to wine for lunch and finishing off a hard days work with a gin and tonic. Possible a cigar.
Nosiree, Bob! We are not backing down for any challenge. Send us downunder, to the land of wonder and we'll show 'em outback-sissies that we can be adventurous (the missus) and slack (yours truly) better than most. I'm also a hell of a mytomaniac in despite what people say.
We are going to reinvent the good old turtlewalk and commit to one destination a day. No crazy see-it-all-cause-we-might-never-come-back-crap. No Mam! Underneath all that beauty lies one smart cookie (the missus) and one lazy brownie (yours truly).
So we are off to enjoy one of the few places in the industrialized world where you still can smoke a phattie in the Pub, shake your bootie without being arrested and wrestle Kangeroo's.
God Bless Australia!
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
To The Missus: What I Want For Christmas
We are spending our first Christmas as newlyweds at home this year. No more crazy Christmas traveling with people in their PJ's. No snow and freezing cold wind.
A great Christmas is only as great as the weakest gift. I have therefor created - ahead of the mindless shopping time - my wishlist for the missus:
1. Any or all of the following DVD's: Le Mans, The Spy Who Came In From The Cold, The Assassination Bureau, Zoolander, Office Space, The Rock, The Star Wars Trilogy, Blow-Up, The Thomas Crown Affair (original and remake), The Saint and The Professionals (if released in region 1).
2. Any or all of the following books: 'Porsche - The Road from Zuffenhausen by Dennis Adler', 'How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must) : The World According to Ann Coulter', 'Carry On, Jeeves - by P.G Woodhouse', "The Chinese in America: A Narrative History by Iris Chang' and 'Down and Dirty Pictures : Miramax, Sundance, and the Rise of Independent Film by Peter Biskind'.
3. Any or all of the following CD's: Maroon 8, Switchfoot, The Guru, Frequent Flyer: Bombay, Whitesnake : Whitesnake, Vampyros Lesbos Sexadelic Dance Party, Refazenda (Gilbero Gil), Aqualung, Expresso 2222 (Gilberto Gil), Deep Note: Music of 1970s Adult Cinema and Gran Riserva.
4. Funky underwear. Any Brand. Size 34 (understatement).
5. Ben & Jerry's Half Baked Icecream. Go crazy. As many pints as you can carry.
A great Christmas is only as great as the weakest gift. I have therefor created - ahead of the mindless shopping time - my wishlist for the missus:
1. Any or all of the following DVD's: Le Mans, The Spy Who Came In From The Cold, The Assassination Bureau, Zoolander, Office Space, The Rock, The Star Wars Trilogy, Blow-Up, The Thomas Crown Affair (original and remake), The Saint and The Professionals (if released in region 1).
2. Any or all of the following books: 'Porsche - The Road from Zuffenhausen by Dennis Adler', 'How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must) : The World According to Ann Coulter', 'Carry On, Jeeves - by P.G Woodhouse', "The Chinese in America: A Narrative History by Iris Chang' and 'Down and Dirty Pictures : Miramax, Sundance, and the Rise of Independent Film by Peter Biskind'.
3. Any or all of the following CD's: Maroon 8, Switchfoot, The Guru, Frequent Flyer: Bombay, Whitesnake : Whitesnake, Vampyros Lesbos Sexadelic Dance Party, Refazenda (Gilbero Gil), Aqualung, Expresso 2222 (Gilberto Gil), Deep Note: Music of 1970s Adult Cinema and Gran Riserva.
4. Funky underwear. Any Brand. Size 34 (understatement).
5. Ben & Jerry's Half Baked Icecream. Go crazy. As many pints as you can carry.
California Living
People ask me why I live in California when there are such charming places like, Fargo in Minnesota, Boras in Sweden and Cancun, Mexico. Hmm, lemme think...!
Well - California has got three very attractive elements: Sun, Beaches and Attitude! The first two are No-Brainers while the third might need a little more explanation.
Attitude is Everything! It's what makes people connect and fall in love. It's what makes people pissed off and want to change the world. It's your inner cojones that refuses to barge for anything. It's the pure passionate rage that comes from your gut and explodes in a raised index-finger pointed in the direction of stupidity, smallmindness and lack of funkadelic vibe. That's what I'm talking about.
I didn't see any of that when in Fargo, Boras or Cancun. I just saw bald, beerbellied babies and that freaks me out. Word!
PS. Today we had 65°F (18°C) in San Francisco with sunny clear blue sky. I wore shorts and a shirt. Forgot my sunglasses. Life can really suck!
Well - California has got three very attractive elements: Sun, Beaches and Attitude! The first two are No-Brainers while the third might need a little more explanation.
Attitude is Everything! It's what makes people connect and fall in love. It's what makes people pissed off and want to change the world. It's your inner cojones that refuses to barge for anything. It's the pure passionate rage that comes from your gut and explodes in a raised index-finger pointed in the direction of stupidity, smallmindness and lack of funkadelic vibe. That's what I'm talking about.
I didn't see any of that when in Fargo, Boras or Cancun. I just saw bald, beerbellied babies and that freaks me out. Word!
PS. Today we had 65°F (18°C) in San Francisco with sunny clear blue sky. I wore shorts and a shirt. Forgot my sunglasses. Life can really suck!
Monday, November 15, 2004
Home Alone II
Yes - I'm going crazy. This is the second time in just a short while where I'm home alone without the missus. The cultural consensus is that I should spend this time smoking, drinking and watching porn (the boys view) or mend, fix and paint the house (the family view).
Well - I'm sorry to disappoint you both (never been a sucker to please) but I've spend my time much more wisely doing... absolutely nothing!
I forgot how boring a bachelor's life could by, at least when home alone. The worst thing is the inner voice, the reflections that keeps going on and on. It's like being in an episode of Seinfeld's. Yada, yada, yada!
When the missus is home the inner monolog doesn't really get a chance to feast on my brain. The missus establish a good balance between my inner thoughts and her charm by initiating conversation. Mind you, I'm a Scandinavian and we need a lot of help to initiate conversation. Well, we a need a lot of help in a lot of things but that's another story.
My buddies and I can sit at the pub in total silence and just excist without any feeling of aquardness. It's almost that we try to avoid to talk just not to initiate a discomforting situation or moment. Aquard moments are a sin from where I originate. It means that you don't have anything intelligent to contribute with. One exception to this rule might be talking weather with older people. But that's about it. I mean why blow the cover, opening you mouth and make it obvious that your contribution to society is on par with a donkey.
Anyhow. My life has evolved around the most basic tasks over the past few days: eat, drink and sleep. I have occasionally watched a movie or read some news on the web. Oh yes, I was forced to do some laundry the other day. But that's about it, folks.
I've been pacing around in our pad, turning the TV on (and realizing that the shows sucks), turned it off (and realizing that it's better than nothing) and turned it on again. I cannot wait until the missus comes back, drops her things all over the place and wakes me up in the morning with hairdryers and phone calls. I cannot wait!
Well - I'm sorry to disappoint you both (never been a sucker to please) but I've spend my time much more wisely doing... absolutely nothing!
I forgot how boring a bachelor's life could by, at least when home alone. The worst thing is the inner voice, the reflections that keeps going on and on. It's like being in an episode of Seinfeld's. Yada, yada, yada!
When the missus is home the inner monolog doesn't really get a chance to feast on my brain. The missus establish a good balance between my inner thoughts and her charm by initiating conversation. Mind you, I'm a Scandinavian and we need a lot of help to initiate conversation. Well, we a need a lot of help in a lot of things but that's another story.
My buddies and I can sit at the pub in total silence and just excist without any feeling of aquardness. It's almost that we try to avoid to talk just not to initiate a discomforting situation or moment. Aquard moments are a sin from where I originate. It means that you don't have anything intelligent to contribute with. One exception to this rule might be talking weather with older people. But that's about it. I mean why blow the cover, opening you mouth and make it obvious that your contribution to society is on par with a donkey.
Anyhow. My life has evolved around the most basic tasks over the past few days: eat, drink and sleep. I have occasionally watched a movie or read some news on the web. Oh yes, I was forced to do some laundry the other day. But that's about it, folks.
I've been pacing around in our pad, turning the TV on (and realizing that the shows sucks), turned it off (and realizing that it's better than nothing) and turned it on again. I cannot wait until the missus comes back, drops her things all over the place and wakes me up in the morning with hairdryers and phone calls. I cannot wait!
Thursday, November 11, 2004
My Insouciant Life
Bigger. Better. Faster. More. It's part of our human DNA to strive for new conquests and achievements. To challenge life and get on the rollercoaster for the ride of our life. As soon as one goal is reached we move to the next.
But sometimes it's nice (and healthy) to just step back for a moment, to catch some breath and get perspective. One of my old mentors always said the perspective is worth 100 IQ points. Who knows, really!
The point is: take time to celebrate your victories, enjoy the wonderful flavor of success. It could be getting a raise, loosing weight or making the perfect swedish meatballs. Let that feeling of pure, innocent joy fill your body and mind. Kick off your shoes and embrace the insouciant life. Just for a moment care to not care and let that feeling fill your veins. I do - as often as I can.
But sometimes it's nice (and healthy) to just step back for a moment, to catch some breath and get perspective. One of my old mentors always said the perspective is worth 100 IQ points. Who knows, really!
The point is: take time to celebrate your victories, enjoy the wonderful flavor of success. It could be getting a raise, loosing weight or making the perfect swedish meatballs. Let that feeling of pure, innocent joy fill your body and mind. Kick off your shoes and embrace the insouciant life. Just for a moment care to not care and let that feeling fill your veins. I do - as often as I can.
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