Category: good eats

Making Our Own List

Recently, while flipping around my no-cable-havin’ television choices, I landed on the “Tavis Smiley Show.”

I’ve watched his show a couple times before, but what stopped me this time was his guest, Rosanne Cash, a talented singer songwriter. I’m a big fan.

It was a fun interview. Rosanne was feeling a bit more expansive than usual, which was nice. The central theme for the interview was Rosanne’s new album called “The List.”

The story goes something like this: When Rosanne was just out of high school, she went on the road with her dad, Johnny Cash. While on the road, all the various musicians she toured with taught her how to play guitar.

At one point, her father noted her deep lack of musical knowledge, and sat down with a pad of yellow paper and wrote up a list of songs that she should learn and know.

It was a gift of a father’s deep love and respect for musical history that he wrote out line by line on that page.

Over the years, Rosanne kept that sheet of paper, and learned most of the songs.

Well, finally, after having surgery on a benign tumor in her brain and coming through the recovery, she and her husband decided to make an album of songs that were included on the original list.

Over the years, Rosanne has been reluctant to show people the actual list, and keeps it tucked away somewhere safe. Her album gives you a taste of the songs that Johnny felt were key to his own daughter’s musical education.

This whole concept intrigued me, so I ran out and got the CD. I’m not on board with every arrangement on the album (call me a purist…or something), but deeply I respect the new interpretation of these classic songs.

So I got another copy and sent it to my best friend, mother of my two goddaughters. She and her husband are doing an excellent job in passing along a musical education to their children.

But for my best friend and me, music is everything. It’s the stitches that hold tight the tapestry of our lives, our memories and our friendship.

So included in the package with the CD, I sent a letter with my idea: Our own list.

I feel that we need to make a list of our own musical legacy for her kids just as Johnny did for Rosanne.

Well, my friend took to this idea with gusto, and our list making began.

I began jotting songs as they came to me in my notebook and it quickly grew to four pages front and back. I realized…this is going to be a really long list, so I began to think of how we could sort it out to make it easier to take in.

Over this past weekend, she arrived for a fun visit, and came toting a CD she’d burned of her own first volume of The List (and two bags of roasted green chile in her suitcase).

Her idea for sorting the songs is by category. Her first volume is “Songs You Wanna Dance To.”

There will be a “Songs You Wanna Drink Beer and Cry To.”

There will probably be a “Songs You Wanna Get Frisky To.”

And then, perhaps just a, “If You’re Gonna Be My Kid, You’d Better Know These Songs” CD as well.

We’re still working on the categories, but work is underway.

Over the weekend, The Good Man and I were both pleased and honored to have yet another friend from back in my college days visiting, too.

Friday night the four of us got together at my place. My best friend made rellenos and Spanish rice. I whipped up a batch of green chile chicken enchiladas and a pot of savory pinto beans.

There were margaritas, guacamole and a LOT of conversation about the list. Our friend, an Edgewood boy now living in Oklahoma, is like a long lost brother to me. He brought many excellent suggestions for the list to the table.

We cussed. We discussed. And together we’re creating something meaningful for my two godkids. In this music they will know their mom, and their godmom, our families, our history and our love.

Ooops, hold on a sec…just thought of another song I need to jot down…

The Awards they Coulda Given Out

So I actually watched the Oscars last night.

I never watch the Oscars. I almost never watch the Super Bowl, and I watched that this year too.

What’s going on with me?

Ah well, another blog post for another time.

I don’t usually watch the Oscars because I believe they represent an overblown, poorly scripted Hollywood wank fest.

And I wasn’t disappointed this year.

I only saw three of the ten movies that were nominated, that being “Up,” “Up in the Air” and then yesterday afternoon, The Good Man and I took in “Crazy Heart.”

Based on those three films, here are the awards I can hand out:

Best Use of Talking Dogs – Nod goes to “Up.” Squirrel!

Best Bay Area Reference – Fenton’s Creamery gets a place of honor in “Up” and I like it. An homage to a tasty place. Good eats deserve their own award!

Best Smuggy-Smug-Smugerson Face – Well the award seriously goes to George Clooney.

Best Really Incredibly Hot Chick Who Is Dancing Around the Age of 40 and Still Looks Amazing – Vera Farmiga. Hooooot in the movie “Up in the Air.” Massively HOOOOT in that red dress at the Oscars. And age appropriate for her leading man too, how ’bout them apples?

Best Pretty Young Girl Who is a Solid Talent – those crappy vampire movies notwithstanding, I think Anna Kendrick is pretty damn good. She stole the show from Clooney and made that movie worth watching, IMHO.

Best “Hey, I Can See Your Acting Skills Growing By Leaps and Bounds and I Like It” Performance – Maggie Gyllenhaal in Crazy Heart. I’ve always been a fan of hers and I think this movie shows a huge maturity in her talent. She’s amazing.

Best Realistic Repeated Barfing by an Old Guy On Film – gotta go to Jeff Bridges on that. Ew. And yet, so well done!

And the big award of the night. The one we’ve all been waiting for:

Best Use of Downtown Albuquerque as a fill in for Houston – and the award goes to….”Crazy Heart.”

I laughed pretty hard at the scene where Bad is extolling the virtues of Houston as very familiar downtown Albuquerque landmarks roll past the car windows. They didn’t even try to obfuscate the Rio Grande Credit Union sign in a key scene.

Folks, come on up and get your trophy!

Getting to know you, er, me

Hey, contrary to popular opinion, I haven’t run off screaming into the sunset (a la Daffy Duck). Nope, I only managed to contract a vile form of stomach flu or maybe food poisoning that knocked me down for about five days last week.

It was the worst stomach ailment I’ve ever experienced in a life that’s crossed paths with plenty of gastroenteritis over the years.

It was bad. Real bad.

And you know, a year and a half into this marriage thing, I’m still learning how to handle things like living in a house with another person and only one bathroom.

Good times. We made it through the crisis with compassion and humor. Lots of humor.

The good news is, I’m back up and around and able to eat solids again.

Over the past week, I noted a few new commenters on the blog and so I have to stop a moment and say “hi!” and a big thanks to new readers.

I’m coming up on a three year anniversary of this crazy blog (March 17), and slowly but surely the number of visitors is increasing.

Which is amazing. I have much gratitude, thank you!

There was a perplexing comment made on a post from last week, and it got me thinking. Since I was doing a lot of lying around whining most of last week, I had some time to think.

In light of some new folks hanging around, a pending three year blogaversary, and my wading back into blogging after a tough week, I decided a “getting to know me” post might be in order.

My longtime readers may find most of this stuff a retread of what they’ve already learned over the years. But for new readers, this might be a good sort of background to kick things off.

Here we go, some fun facts:

As my bio says, I’m a New Mexico girl who is now living in California. I’ve been in California for about thirteen years now, but still, New Mexico is where I lived the longest. For better or worse, that’s shaped my outlook on life.

I was raised in Albuquerque back in the 70’s and 80’s when Albuquerque was growing, but still had a lot of dirt roads running through town.

Being homesick for New Mexico was the genesis of this blog. That is where it started, but I’ve managed to veer off course quite a bit over the past three years. And I like it!

My favorite color is red. Unless it is purple. Then there is my love affair with orange. And cobalt blue. Man, I love cobalt blue. And black. Can’t go wrong with black. I like bold colors. It’s hard to pick just one.

I’m the youngest child of three, which has definitely skewed my worldview, whether for better or for worse is in the eye of the beholder.

My dad was an engineer, which definitely skewed my worldview.

Growing up, I was deeply and positively affected by the prevailing Hispanic and Native American cultures (my ethnicity was the minority on the playground) of New Mexico. I identify more with the cultures in which I was raised then my own genetic lineage. It makes me happy.

I also grew up “a little bit country,” a fact that makes me proud, and sort of perplexes the people I live and work with in the urban Bay Area (I dropped a “this ain’t my first rodeo” on a conference room full of people, including a VP of manufacturing, in my first year working here. It brought the room to a screeching halt. I rather enjoyed that.)

The mid-2000’s were tough years for me. 2005 was a landmark year.

In 2005:

A long-term relationship had ended badly the year before and being alone again after all that time was disorienting.

After a close call in 2004, in February of 2005 (yesterday, to be exact) my father finally passed away after a valiant fight with a terrible lung disease. My relationship with my dad had been complicated…so this was also disorienting.

Four months later, my best friend from high school died of cancer that had started in her ovaries and ended in her brain. She left an adorable young daughter and a grieving husband behind.

In 2005 I was morbidly obese. Not much more to say on that topic.

However, that summer, after a long talk from a doctor after a regular physical in which the words “you will die” came up a lot, I began to eat better, smaller, healthier, and I exercised as much as my aching joints would allow. Funny what watching someone die will do for your motivation.

The weight started coming off fast. I lost over 100lbs in a year.

In November 2005, I met this guy. A really charming fellow. I may have even chased him around a little bit. Thankfully he let me catch him, and we married in 2008.

2005 made me realize that in order to know great joy, I also had to know great sorrow.

The kind of sorrow that rips your guts out, makes you afraid to leave your home, and makes you wonder if you can ever be happy again. Then I learned that surviving it can manage to produce this amazing guy who actually gets your sense of humor and will put up with your sh*t.

Ain’t that a kick?

By the by, I refer to my husband as The Good Man on this blog.

I have a cat. She’s a pain in the ass. She also has one of the best personalities I’ve ever known (human or animal). I try not to be “the cat lady” and blog too much about my pet. Sometimes it can’t be helped.

When I let myself dream, what I most want to be when I grow up is a published writer. I write fiction mostly, but non-fiction too. I have six completed but unpublished novels. I self-published a seventh just to see how the process works. Yes, I have a book on Amazon. It’s actually not that hard to do.

This blog makes me sit down and write every weekday, and has improved my writing skills exponentially over the past three years.

I also love to craft. I make mostly Mexican inspired pieces and I’m not bashful in my love and admiration for The Crafty Chica. It was one of her books that kicked me in the butt and gave me a voice for all the artistic ideas that I had rolling around in my head. A link to my Etsy store is on the left side of the page.

I’m also a very, very amateur photographer. I’ve been taking classes and my technique is improving, but there is a long way to go. I tend to believe more in getting a great shot from the camera and less Photoshop, so that means I’ll likely always languish as an amateur. I weary of all the over corrected and over Photoshopped photos in the world, but that’s just me.

I like pie. Sour cherry mostly, though a good tart key lime runs a close second. Blueberry is nice too.

I’m a brunette. My eyes are a greenish-brown.

This photograph scares me more than you know. (NM’s Governor Richardson)

My favorite author is Larry McMurtry. But my favorite book of all time is “Red Sky at Morning” by Richard Bradford. I read it through again two days ago in my stomachache haze. I love that book. It’s very New Mexico.

At the request of The Good Man, I’m now reading “A Moveable Feast” by Hemingway. I love to read but I’m not much on classic authors. The Good Man is working on my literary education. He even got me to read another Steinbeck. After “The Grapes of Wrath” I swore I’d never read another Steinbeck.

In return, he’s read “Bless Me Ultima” by Rudolpho Anaya and he’s currently working on “Red Sky at Morning” (it was a deal, I’d read “Cannery Row” and he had to read “Red Sky at Morning.”)

I’m very fond of my Fat Baby boots. They make me ridiculously happy.

I am blessed to have a very small selection of very, very good friends. I met my best friend back in 1988. We can never part ways. We know too much dirt about each other. We are the Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid of New Mexico, only with a lot more green chile.

I like to eat. A lot. Lately, I also like to cook, so that works out nicely.

I am a rabid San Francisco Giants baseball fan, no matter how many times they break my heart. Which has been a lot over the course of a lifetime…..

I like to sing off key and loudly in the confines of my car. I’m not ashamed. Not even when I forget that I left the windows open.

I believe laughter the antidote to most of what ails the world. Sometimes I laugh inappropriately. But I always say, “excuse me” when I do.

I will always laugh at a fart joke. I don’t know why. It’s juvenile and uncouth. I don’t care. Fart jokes are funny. There may have been a few over the past week as a stomach ailment provides a lot of…er…fodder.

I have jury duty this week. I wonder if I’ll get called into service? Sometimes, I secretly wish that I get to be on a jury. I’m wildly fascinated by the justice system.

Did I mention I like pie?

Ok, well, there’s obviously a lot more to know, but that’s probably more than enough for now. Stick around for a while, if you want. I’m sure I’ll blurt out more embarrassing facts about myself soon.

If you’ve managed to read all the way through this, well, I thank you.

If you have been reading the blog for a while, good to see you again.

If you are new to my brand of writing, welcome. I look forward to getting to know you.

And now, back to acting like Daffy Duck…

Wow, New Mexico, really?

I’m late to this party, but just have to write a few words of huffiness regarding the New Mexico Senate’s vote to start taxing tortillas.

I got wind of this from former Albuquerque mayor Jim Baca‘s blog and have read up a bit more this morning.

This article from New Mexico Independent told me all I need to know.

The vote has already passed the Senate. Ugh.

So look. I get it, ok? In the best of boomtown heydays, New Mexico has never been a rich state. How does a state make money? Taxes.

A few years back, New Mexico made the move to end taxes on groceries.

When I moved to California over a decade ago, I was shocked to discover that grocery food items here aren’t taxed. Holy jeebus, California will certainly tax everything else! But food, no.

Then California decided to add in a tax on junk food items.

Ok, fine. I disagree with it, but I get it.

So, in theory, I understand what New Mexico is doing. They need money. Lots of it, and so adding in a junk food tax is not totally unprecedented.

However…when the “junk food” term applies to cultural food staple items like tortillas and chile pods, now I have to ask myself just what the sam hell is going on in my home state?

I tend to shy away from the “tax the rich!” debates, but I have to say, on the face of it, taxing flour and also taxing tortillas made from flour really sounds like punishing the less financially well to do.

I’m left a bit perplexed at this whole thing.

For New Mexico, a state that has always sought to maintain the ethnic heritage of the multi-cultures that call the Land of Enchantment home, this seems to be a strange and rather elitist move.

To quote Joe Monahan, this whole debacle “will surely be remembered as an example of the utter disconnect in our time between the elected and voting classes.”

It seems not really very fair, Oh Fair New Mexico.

(You’d think the guv, no stranger to a tortilla, might have more to say?)

In search of The Perfect Bite

I knew this guy, back in the hazy college days, who really, really loved to eat.

It was a whole fantastic sensory experience for him to have a good meal.

He’d dropped out of college and was doing some freelance cowboying at the time, so he could eat big heavy meals and work it off the next day.

So, obviously, we were fast friends. I also love a good meal (but am less adept at working it off).

This friend introduced me to the concept of “The Perfect Bite.”

Say, for example, you are sitting at Thanksgiving dinner. On your plate is a slab of hot turkey, mashed taters, gravy, stuffing, corn (if you’re into that sort of thing) and cranberries (also a pass for me, but this is for example’s sake).

The Perfect Bite means you take your fork and you get a piece of turkey, some stuffing, a swoop of mashed taters (with gravy on it), some corn and then seal the end with a bit of cranberry.

The Perfect Bite encompasses all that is good on your plate. All the wonderful tastes together to make a forkful of delicious.

The Perfect Bite generally happens during what you consider to be a really, really good meal. It is sort of a way to savor the delicious.

The friend and I, we used to compete on The Perfect Bite. “Look, looky here…I got the perfect bite, look….yuuuuumm…..” as the fork would slide home and the yummy face would come on.

The best time for The Perfect Bite is really as you are getting to the end of your plate of food. Most stuff on there has already managed to mingle over the course of your eating along, so it’s super easy to make a Perfect Bite.

For whatever reason, this concept has stuck with me and I’ve managed to introduce it to The Good Man.

I recently made some kick ass green chile chicken enchiladas. As I ate, from the other side of the table I heard, “hey, look at this! The Perfect Bite!” He had a good piece of enchilada with plenty sauce, beans, salad and capped the fork with BOTH sour cream and guacamole.

It really was a perfect bite and his yummy face proved it was true. I was envious because I no longer had on my plate the resources to make a Perfect Bite. I’d already devoured the guac and sour cream so I had no horse in that race.

Ah well.

I thought about this concept again last night. We splurged on a rib eye steak dinner. We so rarely eat beef anymore, hence the “splurge” part of the deal. Lovely steak, baked tater and steamed asparagus made up the plate.

I kept trying for a Perfect Bite but couldn’t quite get there. Either the potato wouldn’t cooperate and would fall off the fork. Once I lost the meat bite in my puddle of steak sauce. And those dang slidy asparagus spears were too recalcitrant to be the sealing factor on the fork.

So no true Perfect Bite. But I sure had a whole lotta fun trying!