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Tag Archives: Grenache

A Rustic Dinner and the Duality of An Ego-Driven Life

What is the Ego?  Does it even exist?  How big should you allow a lettuce leaf to remain in a salad before it becomes cumbersome and obnoxious to eat?  Do we actually exist, or are we simply projections of an idea of Who we think we Are, dancing upon a wall, flickering in the half-light, waiting for the fire to burn out?

When roasting a quarter chicken, how long is long enough?  Should you coat the chicken in oil, or in butter?  If I do good deeds for the people I love, is it still an act of selfishness, serving my Ego to feel validated, allowing myself to know that I am a good person, or am I merely fulfilling a sense of familial duty?  Does dried garlic take away, or enhance, the flavour of green beans?

Do I exist outside of myself, to others, or are they simply manifestations of my Ego?  Is this world real, in a sense that, with no Ego to experience it, would it continue to exist, or does it require observation to Be?  How cold should a rosé be when served?

Menu: Roasted Quarter Chicken, Green Beans, and Rustic Salad with Dill?  Apple Galettes with Almond Whipped Cream?

Was the poultry actually succulent, or did we simply project our belief system onto what we think of as “poultry”?  Was mixing apple cider vinegar with basil-infused olive oil just a basic emulsion, or was it more of an expression of the constant duality of our notions of self – forever merging and separating as our understanding of the world around us changes, alters, and adapts to an ever-expanding landscape?

And what of the Apple Galettes?  Were they propping up the paradigm established by the salad dressing or tearing it down?  Was it an example of deconstructionism, or a rebuttal thereof?  Did the whipped cream and roasted almond infusion truly blow our minds, or were our minds already blown, and the dessert topping simply arrived late to a party that ended decades ago?

Wine: Palo Alto, Shiraz Rosé, Reservado, Chile, 2010, $118 MXN
Rating: One Bottle

Did the wine let us down with its lack of sweetness and overly acidic nature, or were we let down by our own oedipal expectations of a life less ordinary?  Would we have been more forgiving of the sharp and upfront character of this wine had we been more prepared to deal with our private existentialist dilemmas and our nihilist leanings?  Would we buy this wine again if someone wanted us to bring them a Rosé, or would we find a more suitable alternative?  What is “suitable”?

Wine: Garnacha, Viña Tamprana, Old Vines Selection, Campo de Borja, Denominación de Origen, Spain, 2011
Rating: Two Bottles

Should this wine be referred to as “musky,” or was our friend Lena correct in her assessment that it smelled like “feet”?  How did the taste of cherries play into all of this?  Were we truly tasting the wine, or were we lost in a labyrinth of our own making, roaming endless down corridors of loneliness, seeking truth but tricked into believing the lie that is our inability to see what we really are, accepting the reflection as reality and never the reflected?

Where do the answers lie?  Do we have any answers or can we live with the possibility that there may be no answers?



The Bloggess Homage Dinner

This week we got our first ever “Featured Spot” and we are super excited.  We are now featured on The Bloggess.  (She rocks and everybody should be reading her blog.)

Anyway, in the place where all featured blogs appear, it reads “I fucking love these people & not just because they support my wine-slushee habit.” So what better way to commemorate the occasion than by stepping a little out of our normal format and forgo the reviews for a week?

Yes, you guessed it, you clever monkeys … we drank wine slushees.  They’re kind of like margaritas, only less gross, no salt, and they make you drunk.  (Wait … )

As an homage to one of the internet’s most prolific, funniest, and inspiring bloggers, we got smashed on what would sell millions if 7-11 would stop being such pussies and start selling booze to minors.  I mean, come on, Big Alcohol: the tobacco industry does it all the time!  God … watch an episode of “Mad Men” or something …

Plus … they are super easy to make.

Pour a bottle of red or white wine in a blender.  (We recommend that you use a sweet wine, like Pinot Grigio, Grenache, or a Rosé.)
Fill with ice to the.
Blend until blended.
Pour into a wine glass.
Top with Sprite, 7Up, or soda water, to taste.
Get drunk.

Megan and I giggled a lot Sunday.  There was a lot of “My god, I just found my summer drink,” and “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough,” and “I know, RIGHT??” going on.  Megan tried to pick a fight with a miniature dachshund puppy, but we talked her down when we saw the puppy was packin’ heat.  (Funny end to this story: the puppy and Megan ended up closing out the night playing cards and singing show tunes.  We thought about asking them to keep it down because the baby was sleeping, but they were having such a good time, we just let them wear themselves out.)

We were all a little rundown this week.  There has been a terrible cold going around, and so we didn’t want to spend a tonne of time in the kitchen this week either.  So I made stew.  And salad.  It rocked.

On the Menu: Spring Salad with Mustard Olive Oil Dressing, Farmhouse Beef Stew, Store Bought Apple Pie with Store Bought Ice Cream

(Yeah, that’s right: Store.  Bought.  Bring it.)

Making stew kind of hit me when I was shopping with Caia and she desperately wanted out of the buggy but she was too crazy for that.  As a joke on Daddy, she tried to run in front of a truck earlier in the day.  I know: hilarious.  So I thought: what is the easiest dish that I could make that would still allow me to deal with Princess Crazypants.


This is a slow-cooked version of stew.  Also, I used way more beef than is generally called for, and I used a bottle of beer, which none of the recipes I’ve seen call for.

Listen: if you are not using beer on your beef, you’re a damn fool.  It works.  I don’t know the chemistry behind it, it just does.  Stop judging me.

My recipe takes about four to five hours to make, so it is perfect for days when you want to make an awesome dinner and read Dr. Seuss books over, and over, and over again to a hyper two-year-old.

The salad was an easy one.  You make the dressing first, in the bowl, dump your veggies in on top, and toss.

The store bought apple pie came about because Megan had a baking disaster earlier in the day.  I’ve always said baking is hard.  So finicky.  She impresses me every time she pulls something out of the oven and it doesn’t look like an abomination brought forth from Satan’s anus.  This week she tried a little improvisation.

Satan, one; The Sunday Bottles, zero.

We’d like to thank Jenny (The Bloggess) for featuring our little blog.  Also, we’d like to thank Jenny’s Fairy Godmother, Mary, for helping us make this happen, too.  In our correspondence with her, we came to realise that the moniker “Fairy Godmother” was earned.

We exchanged a tonne of emails and at one point, she was trying to think of the exact fairy character that she most resembles.  She couldn’t think of it, so I dubbed her, “Drinkerbell.”

Thanks, Jenny!

Thanks, Drinkerbell.




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