Tag: New Year’s Day

New year, new recipe

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 13 Comments
Bacon-potato cake from "The Feed Zone Cookbook"
Bacon-potato cake from “The Feed Zone Cookbook”

Happy New Year to all you hungover old dogs out there. Here’s hoping you did not overdo it last night.

Herself and I actually made it to midnight, and I overslept for some reason, so breakfast turned into brunch. It being a new year, I test-flew a new recipe for bacon-potato cakes, from “The Feed Zone Cookbook” by Biju Thomas and Allen Lim.

It wasn’t bad, but was a shade bland for my taste, despite involving three of the four basic food groups (bacon, potato and cake). Next time around I’ll punch that sucker up with a little garlic, maybe some red chile powder, a bit of cumin, for sure some Mexican oregano. At the moment I’m kicking myself for not adding a dollop of the red chile sauce I made for enchiladas the other night. That would have put the old fire in the belly. Or the fire in the old belly. Whatever.

Speaking of things that need punching up (or out) I see “our” elected representatives in the nation’s capital have been up to the usual not much beyond redefining upward the definition of “middle class.” We seem to be a few hundred thousand short of that particular finish line, which is probably why the prez never replies to my brunch invitations.

You can read more than you care to about the fiscal-cliff shenanigans at:

• The Maddow Blog (Steve Benen).

• The Atlantic (Matthew O’Brien).

• Political Animal (Ed Kilgore).

• The Nation (William Greider).

Happy New Year (sissy edition)

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 15 Comments
First cup of Joe of the new year.
First cup of Joe of the new year.

OK, so we were gonna go out and act up, eat sushi at Jun, washed down with sake and Kirin, or maybe hit The Blue Star or Nosh, surf the culinary wave of whatever they had going on for $55 a person — and then I said fuck it, I don’t wanna.

Instead, I put a pot of beans on to simmer, sent Herself off in search of additional groceries, dashed downtown to Old Town Bike Shop to drop off a mixed case of Bristol beer in partial repayment for their tolerance and generosity, then roared back home to assemble some green chile chicken enchiladas, a pot of Mexican rice and some pico de gallo to go with the blue corn chips.

Around 6 I cracked bottles of red, white and rosé for me, Herself and a friend, who contributed a delicious butternut-squash soup as an appetizer, which was a good thing as I was running about an hour behind schedule, dinner-wise, which should surprise no one who has ever reserved a table at Chez Dog.

During and after dinner we discussed politics, illness, death, religion, Monty Python, higher education, Firesign Theatre, philosophy, cats, dogs, procreation and the perils thereof, hot springs and the future of the Republic.

Whew.

With dinner over and the friend gone home, I treated myself to a nightcap while Herself padded downstairs to whistle up the voodoo that makes her look 29 while I struggle to maintain a youthful 92. Neither of us made it to midnight. Not with our eyes open, anyway.

And now here it is 2010. The beverage of the day is coffee and I have plans to crank out a mess of Brooklyn-style Hoppin’ John for good luck and prosperity in the new year. Herself and I wish you plenty of both.