The first pot of green chile stew is in the books for fall 2012.
I bought four bags of the green goodness — two medium, two mild — and got busy in the kitchen last night. There were plenty of leftovers, so you can imagine what we had for lunch on this cool, breezy Sunday.
And it’s a good thing I went with mild at the top end. Hot summers mean hot chile, and these “medium” New Mexico chiles were plenty hot enough, even though I altered my normal recipe to use two cups of mild to one of medium instead of a 50-50 split.
Seriously, I could feel the medium green dissolving my flesh as I peeled and chopped it. A word to the wise.
BIBLEBURG, Colo. (MDM) — I’m always surprised to find myself at home after a longish road trip, because once I get that old Newtonian motion going the inclination is to keep on keepin’ on.
Then I could head north through Socorro, refueling at El Sombrero, before pushing on to Santa Fe, where the eating, drinking and cycling opportunities are boundless. A guy can bat around there for the better part of quite some time without ever coming to rest.
Alas, I’m no longer an unencumbered twenty-something, answering only to a spindly, bad-tempered mutt and a Japanese pickup. So I took the well-worn route back to Bibleburg, picking up on an excellent set of music from the Green Chile Revival and Medicine Show on Gallup’s KGLP en route — Mary Gauthier, Stan Rogers, Fred Eaglesmith and the New Orleans Nightcrawlers — and enjoying two last norteño meals at La Choza in Santa Fe and Orlando’s in Taos before finally coming to rest back at the ranch.
It’s fall with a vengeance here, which means cool mornings and an extra blankie on the bed at night, but excellent riding weather in between. So I plan to spend as much time as is humanly possible piloting a bicycle — one with what Larry calls “after-lunch gearing” — instead of a Subaru.
A thousand thank-yous to all who proffered happy-birthday wishes instead of death threats.
The festivities began with a pleasant two-hour bike ride — headwind out, tailwind back — and concluded with a high-speed burst of cookery after Herself invited the neighbors over.
We’ve been to their house for eats a couple of times, but had yet to reciprocate, so never having cooked for them I stuck with my basic skill set — a simple pico de gallo with blue corn chips followed by a pot of pintos in chipotle, which I turned into burritos smothered in hot Pueblo green chile with a side of roasted potatoes in red Chimayo chile.
Herself contributed a salad and a delicious raspberry cobbler. Beer and wine were consumed, along with a dollop of uisce beatha. Laughter ensued, and a fine time was had by all, except for the Turk’, who despises company, especially if it includes an aggro’ Chihuahua named Cujo.
Now it’s deadline time at the DogHaus, and somebody around here needs to get real funny real fast. We didn’t spend much on my birthday, but the White Tornado has a new fuel pump and the upstairs toilet has new guts, and Toyota mechanics and plumbers don’t work for free.
• Friend and colleague Hal Walter scores a little local ink for the local food movement, to wit, the Arkansas Valley Organic Growers.
• And the RomneyBot 2012 — should it ever wrap up the GOP pestilential nomination — plans to wipe its drives and install a fresh copy of the Etch-A-Sketch OS for the general election. I am not making this up.
All hail Herself, who today celebrates her … um, well, a birthday. No need to mention which one. You wouldn’t believe it anyway, as she still appears to be around 19.
"How do you like your birthday gift, honey? Whaddaya mean, you already have one of these?"
We celebrated early with dinner at The Blue Star last night, and as always it was damn’ fine eating. The joint was jumpin’, too, which was nice to see. Maybe all that jabber about the Great Recession having ended is true after all, because The Blue Star ain’t exactly Mickey D’s, yo. No drive-up windows there, is what.
We started with appetizers — stuffed poblano with chipotle orange sauce and flash-fried calamari with sweet Thai chili sauce — then settled into the serious eating. Herself dug into some roasted lamb leg ragout with pappardelle and brown-butter peas, while I went for the ahi crusted with Italian breadcrumbs, cream-of-mushroom beurre, sweet-pea pasta and crispy leeks.
For dessert, we shared The Corleone — vanilla-bean ice cream rolled in graham-cracker crumbs, white and dark chocolate, roasted walnuts, pecans and almonds, cinnamon and nutmeg, drizzled with honey.
Ordinarily we hit some high-end bottle of wine with dinner, as Sunday is half-price night at The Blue Star. But we’ve both been into beer lately, so instead we had a couple drafts of Colorado hop squeezin’s from Boulder’s Avery Brewing — Joe’s American Pilsner and IPA.
This constitutes treason, as Bristol Brewing sits right next door to The Blue Star, and several of their excellent beers are on the menu. But I’ll make up for it this week. We’re looking at a stretch of sunny days with temps in the 60s and 70s, and if that ain’t Red Rocket Pale Ale-drinking weather, I’ve never seen it.
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