Grumble, grumble. Politics. Bah.
March 18, 2009
I am not a happy camper this evening, if anyone is keeping up. I have been in Our Capitol all day, doing the People’s Bidness, which involves….well, never mind. May it suffice to say I’ve been on the road since yesterday, been in meetings coming and going, been on the phone when I wasn’t in meetings and sometimes when I was, and am Not Happy with how representative democracy is working these days. Not to mention I haven’t had a decent meal since I’ve been gone.
Yesterday’s lunch was on the road — barbecue potato chips and a Rice Krispy treat. Gotta love those junk food road trips. After an afternoon of meetings, we adjourned to the Capitol Hotel bar, which is a lovely bar in a lovely hotel, for two lovely martinis, the close cousin of one I am drinking tonight that I mixed my very own self, thank you very much, except mine is bigger. Which is a Good Thing, because the vodka bottle is now empty. Must go to the liquor store tomorrow.
Yes, I’m a wuss. I drink vodka martinis. I can’t drink gin. Makes me deathly ill. But the perfect vodka martini is mixed thusly:
The Perfect Martini:
- 2 oz Ketel One or Gray Goose vodka (either is excellent, I buy Ketel One because it’s cheaper, albeit still expensive as hell)
- 1 tiny splash of vermouth (probably 1/4 oz, if that much) (the small vermouth bottle lasts me a LONG time)
- 1 somewhat larger splash of olive juice (maybe 1/2 oz)
- Three small olives, or two big ones
Shake with crushed ice and strain. (Don’t shake the olives, if you were considering it. They go in the glass.) A frosted glass adds to the experience and taste.
The ones at the Capitol weren’t “dirty” enough, so they brought me an extra shot of olive juice. I drizzled a little of it in there. That did the trick.
We had the meat pies, little empanada-looking things with spiced beef; good, but not as good as I remembered. Edamame, with the addition of melted butter (hey, it’s the South, you’ve got to add fat), which was really pretty tasty. And the cheese sampler, which was badly overpriced at $15 for three tiny wedges of cheese — a blue sheeps-milk, a white, hard cows-milk cheese with an overwhelming anise flavor that I didn’t care for, and a goats-milk cheese that was semi-soft and pretty good. Black cherry jam and fig preserves, both good. A scattering of Spanish almonds. Toasted baguette slices. Overall, it overpromised and underdelivered, I thought. They can do better.
Dinner consisted of munching the appetizers, because it just seemed to be too much trouble to go back out to eat after I got down the street a block and checked in my hotel (I’ll drink at the Capitol; it’s too pricy to stay there). I did go down to the bar at the Doubletree and order a burger and another martini. That martini wasn’t nearly as good as the Capitol’s, the burger, which I had ordered medium, came out rare (that’s fine in a steak; not fine in a burger), and the fries were mediocre. So I had ‘em take the burger off my check, drank my martini, ate half of my mediocre fries, and went upstairs and went to bed.
Catered breakfast at oh-early-thirty this morning, also mediocre. A “spicy egg” casserole, which I did not try, as it didn’t look appetizing at all. Cheese grits, which were mediocre. Fruit, which was standard March-issue fruit. Grocery store Danish. Bad coffee. Lunch, on the road, was a bag of tropical fruit trail mix and a beef jerky. Junk food is my friend.
I didn’t have it in me to either cook or go out tonight. It just wasn’t worth it. I’ve got a couple of food groups in this martini glass, and that’ll just have to do. We’ll see if we can do better tomorrow. No, I’m going out to play trivia tomorrow, and eating bar food. We’ll see if I can do better this weekend. Lasagna. Or linguine with goat cheese and butternut squash. Ya think?
Gentleman Caller has invited me to dinner on Friday. I may push for somewhere exceptional. I’m due a GOOD meal. This one may cost him a steak.
Sorry to disappoint, folks. More cooking this weekend. I hope. And more cooking after the freakin’ legislature adjourns (soon, please God, soon!). I’ve got dinner out, and basketball, on Saturday, and back in Little Rock, and trying to figure out how I can trim down my scheduled Dallas trip and still fit it in, on Monday; back to LR Tuesday night for meetings Wednesday morning. Or I may just chunk Dallas altogether, if I can get out of the registration fee for the event and the hotel reservation.
Five weeks until the beach. Five weeks until the beach. Five weeks until the beach. Five weeks….
Tell y’mama ‘n ‘em not to re-elect anybody.