The case of the missing bison

Red Mountain Grill, I dedicate last night's coffee-cocoa dusted bison tenderloin dish to your sitcom-esque incompetence!  Don't get me wrong- the rich, slow heat of their red curry coconut mussel broth is my most favorite apres-ski pick-me-up, one I've never quite been able to copycat in my own kitchen (much to my dismay).

During our last visit, however, Jason was excited to see a bison tenderloin special with wild boar (!) sausage on the menu and was quick to order it.  As our food was delivered, Jason's arrived not only sans intriguing boar sausage, but also clearly a cut of meat that was neither bison nor tenderloin.  Never one to complain, Jason laughed it off and cut off a hunk of the meat and was bringing it to his mouth when, mid bite, the waiter lunges at our table and swipes the plate out from under his hovering fork!  "Wrong plate!" the waiter shouted en route to the kitchen.

A few moments later he returns flourishing a new plate.  A new plate, that is now the second wrong delivery of the evening!  Moral of the story, Jason never got his bison.  So inspired, I grabbed a couple of petite buffalo tenderloins from Whole Foods (home to the best, most high quality meat selection EVER) and scurried home to fill the bison void in my husband's life.

I've always wanted to try some sort of coffee-rubbed meat preparation, so I googled around and found a simple but flavor-packed home recipe using unsweetened cocoa and coffee, paired with a pomegranate reduction.  Combining Jason's grocery list request for asparagus and my insatiable passion for starches, roasted asparagus and brown rice pilaf joined the party.  Yummy!

Successes:

• Thanks to my beloved new cast iron skillet, I was able to achieve a serious sear for about the first time ever
• Brown rice = nutty, toothy goodness, the chopped dried tart cherries echoed the pomegranate reduction
• I actually ate the asparagus.  And it was...good!
• My ridiculous decorative rice towers!  As I waited 'just a few more minutes' for Jason to finish what he was working on, i scoured my kitchen for some kind of mold to use for the rice....not much luck.  Settled on a shot glass!
  

Failures:

• For the life of me I have never, ever been able to 'reduce by half.'  Be it wine, broth, juice - doesn't matter.  If you tell me it will be lusciously thick and syrupy after 20 - 30 minutes on my stove, let me assure you.  It will not be.  More time, maybe?  More heat?  Maybe I can blame the altitude.  Delicious flavor, but epic reduction fail.
  
• Related: pomegranate 'reduction' decorative plating drips...pooled around everything in a serious episode of drop containment failure.
  

Engaging eats at TAG

I came for the pop rocks.

Braving the vibrant, hip crowds of Larimer Square on a Saturday night, I approached relative newcomer TAG with thoughtful anticipation. A pop rock accented dish – genius or gimmick? With a menu of self-proclaimed “continental social food,” the skeptic in me pondered why the apparently more pedestrian “tapas” description wouldn’t suffice…pretentious eats are not fun, and I was dubious.

The lure of the crackling accoutrements was too much, though – through the doors and into the warmly lit, narrow space we went. After much back and forth, my companions and I quickly realized we had narrowed our first round to nearly every dish on the starter menu. Our laid back waiter laughed and shrugged this off as commonplace.

Thirsty in the meanwhile, we cracked open the wine list and sifted through the weighty tome. Offput by the overwhelming, expensive, and cheekily self-aware wine list, we turned to the bar made famous by celebrated bar magician Mike Henderson for a coconut mojito. The result was a bright, clean, coconut water - laced libation whose tropical nuances were sadly overshadowed by a serious wallop of rum.

All wounds were healed by the arrival of the flash seared Hiramasa, wading in a piquant, vinegary pool of yuzu and topped with jalapeno slivers and exotic myoga – and of course, the crackling chorus of orange pop rocks. The buttery soft portions of yellowtail soothed the palate, quietly supporting the bolder flavors of the yuzu and jalapeno. And the pop rocks? A barely there hint of citrus – but perhaps more importantly, the ingredient served as a conversation piece and small delight accenting the success of the dish.

As we passed plates and chattered about the merits of each, I began to comprehend the ‘social’ aspect of the restaurant’s mantra. Created with a wink from Executive Chef Troy Guard, the playful starters are meant to engage the diner, setting the table atwitter upon delivery. The taco sushi arrived with just such a flair – rather than the standard rice-and-nori vehicle, petite, crunchy taco shells were delivered cradling delicate tidbits of tuna with a kick of mango salsa and guacamole. The dish was a table favorite that had diners crunching away and swatting wrists for the last bite.

The tropical twists throughout the evening connected diners with Executive Chef Troy Guard’s Hawaiian roots – the Li-Hing mango salsa, fresh tropical cocktails, Asian influences – all proved a welcome escape from the frosty December evening.

The main courses, though appetizing and skillfully executed, lacked some of the verve of the inventive starters. The Szechuan Colorado Lamb was a seared, glistening chop cooked to ruby perfection– but only the faintest hint of sweet-hot marinade asserted itself. Given the wow factors of our previous dishes, I looked forward to a bolder showing. The dish was, however, pleasantly plated over a bed of nubby couscous soaked with lip smacking, umami-rich dragon sauce. Still discussing the Hiramasa a few plates past, we forged onward.

After much bargaining and promises to exchange bites, our group settled on a select few desserts from a list shockingly devoid of crème brûlée or chocolate lava cake derivations. A cup of loosely arranged piping hot churros arrived and disappeared in a flash. Crisp on the outside and pillowy within, these cinnamon-sugar dusted batons elevated the street cart favorite and lent another continental nod to mexico.

In spite of its weighty name, the sticky toffee cake was featherlight and traced with the nutty-sweet essence of its namesake confection. The tart raspberry passion sauce effectively sliced through the heady lusciousness of the cake, while a subtly flavored quenelle of bourbon butterscotch ice cream drizzled lazily over the cake’s edge. After knocking away a couple of superfluous ganache truffles , I indulged in the perfectly portioned sweet.

These fresh, fun concoctions seek to engage the diner and make that crucial link between food and experience. Sharing not just a plate of food, but a quirky, playful dining experience, allows TAG to distinguish itself from typical tapas fare.

"It's cool..."

The spirit of Mr. T in every spoonful! More proof to Jason that I can recite a large cache of 80's commercial jingles by heart... Who's got the Colgate pump? We've got the Colgate pump...

Harry Potter: Growing Pains

To critique Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, a septet of Haikus. Spoiler Alert?

More trouble, Harry?
Way to go with Dumbledore.
Call for help next time.

Little Miss Weasley
Potter could do much better.
Where did Cho Chang go?

Dear Hermione,
Do get your act together.
Ron is a hot piece...

More Luna Lovegood!
Coolest wizard at Hogwarts
Harry should hit that.

Trouble is afoot
How did Gollum replicate?
Don't drink my precious...

Yummy half-blood prince
Conflicting, angry wizard
I might love you, Snape.

Next chapter coming
How am I supposed to wait?
Should have read the books.

Leavin' on a jet plane

Quick poll: Armageddon or Deep Impact? Correct answer: Armageddon. A poll almost totally unrelated to the rest of the post, but there we are.

So ANYWAY, yesterday I took Jason and the guys to the airport for their first in a series of business trips to the liberal mecca of the world, San Francisco. Thanks to my careful planning and my rigid adherence to the 'arrive two hours early' rule of navigating airports, we arrived to discover not only were we two and a half hours early, but the flight had been delayed for another hour. Translate: airport party.

DIA has a great-hall full of food and junk shops before you actually go through security, so we swerved into the high-roller short-term parking lot for three hours of airport fun. At first, we tried for the sit-down restaurant. Despite the stale, sticky, beer-laden air of depression the restaurant exuded like a visible haze, the place was packed - so off to the food court with its more appealing blend of stale, sticky, grease-tainted air.

After being accosted three times by a short tsa agent asking what time it was, I raised my clearly watchless arms to him and said it would take ten minutes for me to find the phone in my purse. True to form, I start digging and fumbling awkwardly until the lady in front of me finally gave an exasperated 6:07, leaving me to shrug blankly. Two chicken and cheese ONLY gorditas later, I sat down to unwrap my glorious feast - only to discover it had been doused in some radioactive orange nacho sauce instead of the standard smattering of actual cheese. For someone who gets greatly agitated when two strawberries do not have identical flavorings, this was a near criminal offense.

Later, we toodled about, pointing out various 'Denver'-themed items (dreamcatchers? stuffed yaks wearing jaunty multicolored hats? Painted Horses?) and made our way to the secret porch at the end of the hall to catch the glimmering Colorado sunset. The best times can be had when you least expect them - all depends on the company, I suppose!

"Bank robber cites economy during bank holdup"

Was the robber's name Obama and the bank called America? I think he used the exact same excuse.

Thanks, Houston Chronicle, you made it easy!

I share TOTUS' sentiment

He just couldn't take any more of the lies. After dedicated months of constant service, Obama's dear friend TOTUS is little more than a sorry, demoralized pile of shards.

As Obama referred to the many actions he'd taken since assuming office to preserve* America's status as an economic superpower, TOTUS shook free of his moors, made one final blink, and hurtled himself into nothingness.

At least he has put an end to his part in the propagation of Obama's gilded untruths.

*destroy

Fawning media, exhibit 3,453,456,765+

If this had been Bush, Liberals would've been demanding assault charges by now!

It's nice of the media to make sure we understand that the unflattering Obama photo really ISN'T unflattering. I mean, we wouldn't want to make an American President look bad, gosh! Thanks for clearing things up, ABC.

"On first glance, the snapshot appears to show President Obama caught in a moment of less than lofty analysis. But upon looking at the video, the moment might seem to appear quite innocent -- one of those times when a picture can be misleading. The president was on a higher step and was stepping down -- so he looked down to assure his footing as the woman was walking up the stairs."

http://blogs.abcnews.com/politicalpunch/2009/07/when-in-rome.html

An open letter to the dude at the gym

Dear sir: You are very annoying. Please stop yelling conversations to the man TWO MACHINES AWAY. He doesn't know you, and clearly doesn't want to. Also do not talk to me, thanks.

-- Sweating uncomfortably, Jenny

So, excluding the weight lifting tools at the gym who are clearly there only to be looked at, the majority of us are there jiggling, sweating, and being otherwise physically unattractive in midexercise. Admirably working toward MORE attractive, but nonetheless.

I hate going to the gym. Once there, I want to work out under the illusion that no one can see my nostrils flare with exertion or the sheen on my forehead. Get in, get out - no interaction, no one to remark, "hey i saw you *looking ridiculous* at the gym *apparently not losing any weight* the other day. Lets talk about your shame!"

When the man finally stopped braying across the room, all the exercisers breathed a collective sigh of relief. At the card table, under the mistaken impression that I'd made it out of the gym blissfully unacknowledged, out of the shadows came the Offender. He repeated himself twice before he penetrated my "not here" bubble, to which I gave him a near horrified "excuse me?"

He made an inane comment, to which I mostly stared blankly, then muttered an obviously forced chuckle before ducking quickly out of the building.

It probably didn't help that he bore a striking resemblance to much-feared and much-ridiculed All My Children villain, Papel (aka David Rasche.) Would YOU want this man hee-hawing at you during exercise?
I thought not.

The Switzerland of America

Nestled sweetly into the Rockies, Ouray was a great stop on a long and curving drive home. As we swirled down the mountainside, I finally glimpsed my first view of the tiny western town, stamped into history and preserved like it was yesterday.

I was soo excited because I knew of Ouray from my long-time friend Amanda, who traveled there with her family pretty regularly as a kid. Jason had also been before, and it sounded like paradise! The dusty main road had plaques all along the way showing the skyline as it was in Western days, and it was virtually unchanged! The quiet, fresh mountain air and the kindly aging storefronts were restorative, and I can see why people go there and never leave again. We did a few short hikes, and ended the excursion with a stop at the Ouray Candy Shop, slurping a pistachio icecream wafflecone and imagining Amanda and Jason the younger, along with thousands of others, treading down mainstreet with the same level of bliss.

I can't wait to go back!

"They're not TRASH BINS"

As promised, Part II - Mesa Verde was one of the neatest archeological sites no one knows anything about. I mean, they know a few, general things about the Anasazi (now referred to in political correctness as the "Ancestral Puebloans," as mispronunciation of Anasazi changes the meaning from "Ancient Ones" to "Ancient Enemy - *lol! *cultural insensitivity) but the obvious questions of 1) why did these non-warfaring people decide to leave the mesa tops and surrounding valleys for the cliffs and 2) why did they leave again in just under a few hundred years (after all that architectural effort?) remain unanswered.

There are, of course, theories, but that's the really frustrating part about archaeology - you really just had to be there. As someone who, in another poorer, dirtier, more difficult life, would've been an archaeologist, I think inability to confirm such critical theory would be the most frustrating part of the job (in addition to the 3rd degree sunburns and daily sandbaths I would surely receive.)

Tickling the archaeologist in me, we took a series of tours that allowed us to access the cliffside dwellings via 40 foot ladders. With ginger steps, we poked in and around the tunnels and doorways of the 800 year old ruins. The kivas and stacked sandstone pueblos were surprisingly cool, shaded from the radiating Colorado sun by the water-carved overhangs of the mesa wall. The lucky ones had filtered water springs on location; the unlucky would have to travel up and down the canyon walls in search of the carefully rationed resource.

After a long day of hiking, climbing, crawling, and speculating, Jason and I indulged in a wholly Mex-American bastardization of an Indian lunch - a Fry Bread beef and bean chili open face taco, with cheese, sour cream, and a smattering of salsa. It doesn't get less authentic than that! But mmm, mmm was it good, despite its cultural offensiveness. I'm pretty sure the Native Americans sitting at the table next to us were shaking their heads in utter disgust.

***Highlight! A small boy in our group keenly asked the park guide what the cliff dwellers did when someone died. Hesitantly, she tried to explain that they were often buried in the middens, or heaps where the day's refuse were tossed. "You mean they threw them in the TRASH?!?!" the boy asked. "Um, no...the middens aren't TRASH BINS.... they're... um... just where the Native Americans... return things to the Earth that they are finished using...."

Like when we throw things in the trash.

The kid nodded sagely, apparently knowing better than to pursue that line of thought.

A good place to end in preparation for Part III...

Durango Dogs and Purgatory Pups

After our 900 mile sojourn across the great, square state of Colorado, Jason and I concur: we are very glad we did not travel by wagon.

After a 6-hour drive riddled with remarkable scenery, gut-wrenching mountain curves, and the occasional uprising of my not-so-secret road rage tendencies, we arrived in Durango. I'm a sucker for a historic town, so I was thrilled our hotel on the Animas River was also only a block's walk to the repurposed liveries, saloons, and hotels of yore lining main street. We spent the cool, 70 degree mountain evening strolling arm-in-arm down the promenade and clicking away countless photos of the well-preserved western town. We relaxed while we could - commando tourist that I am, there was little time for lounging in the days to come...

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, we set out for our mountain 4X4 Ghost Town excursion. Our launch point was Silverton, a handful of a town planted deep within the Rockies. From its dirt roads to the Shady Lady Saloon (notably the last functioning brothel in the area - until 1954!) it was easy to lose yourself in the history of this mining town. With the bright mountian sun blanching the landscape, we climbed into our open-air Pinzgauer Swiss army vehicle.

Popping and grinding our way up a rocky, one-lane trail road, we wove up to the top of a mountain, 40 degrees colder with awe-inspiring peaks and alpine tundra spanning a gaping stretch across the horizon. Though periodically dotted with abandoned mines and boarding homes, the real treat was the Animas Fork ghost town. Combining my love of historic and abandoned structures, this eerily intact town features ten or so homes and buildings so well preserved, you could walk on their original flooring. One home even had remnants of the original wall paper from the late 1800s! I hope we can make it back one day for further exploration - I could spend days in a place like that.

We took the historic Durango Silverton Railroad home, twisting and climbing through the mountains along the gurgling Animas - beautiful, and the soothing chugachug and gentle rocking back and forth had me dozing off and on the whole 3 hour ride! That evening we spent the 4th of July reveling in an appropriate piece of western Americana - legs dangling over a stone wall in front of the century old train tracks in historic Durango, agog at the most impressive fireworks display we've ever seen

Unfortunately, we never encountered the famed Durango Dogs and Purgatory Pups of Jason's childhood - though not for lack of anticipation.

The next day, we explored Mese Verde National Park....which at this point will need to be a second post!

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach

I hope Jason can control his urge to jig. Or maybe not...

I am conflicted. On the one hand, I've always wanted to experience a concert at the iconic Red Rocks Amphitheater here in Denver. This one-of-a-kind venue is nestled into the striking, rust-hued crags of the Fountain Formation, a hogback rock formation dating back to DINO times! A few skips to the east is Dinosaur Ridge, an ancient dino beach with amazingly preserved plant impressions, footprints, and even exposed dino bones!

I digress *still thinking about dinosaurs*. So on the one hand, I've always wanted to experience the awesomeness of a Red Rocks concert. On the other, the rocktastic show we are attending is...Celtic Woman.

Jason LOVES Celtic Woman...so i am happy and excited he will get to see them in person, but must admit, they are not really my type of music. In fact, I remember one occasion where Jason and I spent like 30 minutes not speaking to each other on a road trip because he FORCED me to listen to CW for like 2 HOURS. I finally couldn't take the ethereal tra-la-laing and Scarborough Fairing for ONE more second, and frantically mashed the power button on the car like twenty times. Stink-eyes and harsh words were exchanged. I verbally abused Celtic Woman.

I have made amends though - and am secretly a little excited. I'm expecting some fantastic costumey dresses and rousing fiddle episodes. Maybe even jigging. Hopefully the violent rains skip over RR tonight!

Confessions of a tripaholic

It's almost the weekend! Another exciting trip coming up, this time to Durango. There is so much to do! Of course, I've been in planning mode for about a week - which may SOUND anal, but since I normally have a binder filled with detailed itineraries (general for the trip and individual for the days) months prior, its pretty much the most relaxed I've ever approached a trip.

I even told Jason I didn't know if I WOULD create an itinerary (which was kind of a lie given that I have already memorized my preliminary mental itinerary, along with pertinent details. I'm not THAT relaxed!) There just may not be a physical one this time.

But there had to be a binder. I know, I have a problem! But what if there is some information we NEED!!! The info binder contains all the confirmations/descriptions/contact information - and sometimes backup maps - that make for a seamless trip! I'm just saying. And everyone needs to have contextual information about the places they visit, right? Right?

*Sigh.* Well, there is still much to do before we go. The house is in its perennial state of domicile composting, and with my ever-growing list of "things I want to get done but likely have no chance of achieving," I hope something gets done. A glimpse inside my to-do list for today:

• buy books on tape for the road trip (Harry Potter, fingers crossed, to complement our 3 hr Glenn Beck commentary)
• get a haircut (I told Jason I was getting the Gosselin!)
• create a goat cheese/heirloom tomato tart Ina would be proud of
• whip up a batch of cream cheese brownies (part box, part homemade - I'm only human!)
• roll out the dough for/compose lemon curd tartlets with a little berry on top (strawberry? blackberry? raspberry? TBD..)
• slice up cheese, sausages, and bread for the picnic
• assemble Italian BLTs (focaccia, mozzarella, basil, heirloom tomatoes, EVOO, and crispy proscuitto)
• pack Gizzy for camp (food/toys)
• wash at least two sets of clothes (jeans, darks?? Whites and middles may have to suffer...)
• take fermenting dishes we stuffed into the dishwasher so visitors would THINK we are clean out of the dishwasher, give proper bath/scrape, then reload dishwasher
• find bed, collapse into
  

*PHEW* I'm hoping to get at least one or two items done. If I'm feeling honest, tomorrow I'll let you know what gets done!

Pug abuse

What kind of a monster threatens a woman's sick pug?!

They took my pug and he told me he was taking him to the pound where he would be "put down." I was taken to the J stop headquarters. I wasn't allowed to call a lawyer and I was put in a cell with handcuffs on with two other women who spit on me and hit me in the head, because they weren't in handcuffs and I was crying so much it bothered them. I was given 3 tickets: failure to produce ID, disorderly conduct, and failure to have dog in a container. I have a court date in August. I asked for a pen to write the badge numbers down before I left and they refused to give me a pen and covered up their badges. My pug was returned. They had him behind their desks and were playing with him."

The rest of the story.... Is it wrong that I was more concerned about the fate of the pug? In my defense, the comments feel the same!

Oh NOW we want a record of achievement

...The Vanity Fair piece asks some poignant questions about the significance of Palin's vice-presidential bid last year.

"What does her prominence say about the importance of having (or lacking) a record of achievement in public life?" the piece continues. "Why did so many skilled veterans of the Republican Party—long regarded as the more adroit team in presidential politics—keep loyally working for her election even after they privately realized she was casual about the truth and totally unfit for the vice-presidency?"

Ummmm....REALLY? because Obama set the bar for "having a record of achievement in public life" pretty low. A lot lower than that of being a governor of one of the largest states in the union, in fact.

Here's a fun game, lets try to name ONE thing Obama achieved before becoming president. The clock is ticking...

Greatest moment in AMC history

Aired ONE DAY before my birthday (best gift EVER.) I've searched the internet far and wide to bring this moment to the masses. Dedicated in absolute horror/wonder to Jason. May Tad the Cad's blue velvet jacket never die.

Caprica

Rounding out my cinematic weekend was Caprica, a pilot movie for the series that will hopefully carry on the Battlestar Galactica franchise in January '10. As much as I enjoy BSG, I was pretty worried about this one. The previews left me dubious: a squirrely, mincing scientist, a trainwreck(?) and *shudder* a gaggle of jailbait highschool girls. Sounded like classic SciFi pandering to me.

We dove in anyway and wow - really, wow. Though it started off with a few (oft recycled) scenes of topless ladies and general dionysian debauchery, it quickly went somewhere deeper. While BSG for the most part kept their show "earth with a dash of future" (ie while there are sensible advanced robots, spaceships, and an inexplicably abundant source of space liquor, there is a noticeable lack of hoverboards, flying trains, and other fantastical elements), Caprica takes a more "future with a dash of the familiar" approach.

It's a futuristic society that retains normal conventions like school, the subway, and tennis, but incorporates smarthouses, robot butlers, and virtual reality in a way that is not at all cheesy or ridiculous - a tough task. The show examines creationism and virtual morality, while yielding tender glimpses at the muddled beginnings of some very bad ideas.

It was also very fun to connect the catalysts of Caprica to their fruition in BSG. It was an upgrade on BSG, which I thought was pretty much as good as it gets. Like BSG minus the gratuitous and yawn inducing fight scenes *gasp*! Major plus: Attia from Rome as the secretly subversive schoolmarm! It left me wanting more -SciFi as it should be! I hope the series is as solid a presentation...

Robots in disguise

I have to admit, I am a sucker for a blockbuster. Hailed as the "worst-reviewed $400 million hit," with such accolades as "like watching a child bang on pans for 3 hours" or "the embodiment of everything wrong with America today," Transformers was inexplicably on my list of summer movies to see.

And boy, did it deliver.

A delightful cocktail of equal parts trauma, unintentional hilarity, and 'did that really just happen?' offensiveness, Transformers was easily one of the most entertaining movies of the summer.

Highlights:

• Not one, not two, but three+ humping scenes, including a hilariously awkward and uncalled for scene of a small robot humping Megan Fox's leg
• Painful 'mom ate pot brownies my first day at college' scene
  
• Sex-crazed transformer college co-ed with retractable ten-foot tongue
• Illiterate, ebonics-spewing transformer twins
  
• Megan Fox and Shia LaBeouf running for three hours. Across Egypt. All of Egypt.

and the Pièce de résistance...

• wrecking ball Transformer testicles.

Seriously though - I haven't laughed that much at a movie in ages. Bravo, Michael Bay! Mission accomplished!

Coconuts

I love the flavor of coconuts.

That is all.

UPDATE: A haiku is appropriate.

Coconut summer
Delicious tropical seed
Your flavor is good

Now you try!