Some beautiful sushi in a beautiful photo from Cathy Browne, a legally blind photographer. And very tasty it was, too.
One finds the strangest things, one does, when surfing the internet looking for virtual presents for other bloggers (don’t ask). One of those things is this: the confetti bedazzled winebottle fishnet thingummy, which really should be on Regretsy, except it appears also to be mass-produced, because I guess the masses want their booze to look more Kardashian.
When one puts “wine” together with “confetti” the above is not acceptable (unless, of course, one is gifting someone to celebrate her victory at America’s Next Top Ecdysiast). The following IS:
A handblown Italian wineglass. It’s just special enough to make an al fresco afternoon a little more exciting. And I like a fairly substantial glass for drinking wine outdoors. It just feels more medieval to me, as if Jonathan Rhys Meyers or Alan Rickman might show up on a horse and join me for a glass. And what is the point of being outside if they’re not going to, I ask? Rhetorically, of course: they wouldn’t show up without a proper invitation…now, do any of you have their emails?
Speaking of bad manners and bad ideas and wine, we present the following, tangentially-related video, one of a very amusing series on YouTube called My Drunk Kitchen. If you’ve watched every Sandra Lee show ever aired and are pining for something even more Out There, why, this girl has got you covered. Personally, I suspect that more than two bottles of bubbly were involved in the production of these “cookies,” and I’d like to know since when does YouTubing pay that much, but that is neither here nor there. Nor over there either.
When your cooking project requires a spotter for safety reasons, maybe it’s time to order in.
Yes, it’s perilously close to a commercial, but it’s still awfully fun.
This should liven up the ol’ tailgate party, and who’d dare to boo your team when everyone can damn well see you’re armed to the teeth?
Manolo says, the peoples at the Barcardi have politely asked the Manolo say the few words about one of his favorite drinks, the daiquiri.
Such joy to be found in the simple combination of quality rum (like Bacardi), lime juice, and sugar syrup, shaken together by the hand and poured over the ice into the frosty glass.
Refreshing and tartly sweet, not cloying but rather the exact combination of flavors, both fresh and bright. That is the genius of the real daiquiri, the perfect cocktail for the summer at the beach.
And now, imagine the scene: It is afternoon just outside your beach hut, and you are lying in the chaise lounge, in the shade of your palm-frond umbrella. Close by, the water laps at the shore, sussuring you into the pleasantly contemplative state. It is hot, but not oppressively so.
You are thirsty, but for what?
You call to your houseboy…
“Jim-Jim,” you say, “Bring me the hand-shaken daiquiri, pronto!”
The few short seconds and Jim-Jim returns, the perfect beach libation borne upon his tray.
Jim-Jim places it upon the table and retires. You pick up the glass. It is cool to the touch. The sound of ice cubes clinking. You consider the glass briefly, pale green and glistening with condensation.
And then you take the sip…
This is what the daiquiri offers, the little sip of perfection.
The Manolo urges you to rediscover the daiquiri: Bacardi Hand-Shaken Daiquiri!
P.S. This summer, rediscover the daiquiri. Bacardi Hand Shaken Daiquiri is the perfect addition to any summer get-together — fun, delicious, and ready to pour. Bacardi Hand Shaken Daiquiri is made with Bacardi Superior Rum, tangy lime and sugar. It is a perfectly balanced cocktail that is not too sour and not too sweet.
P.S. Disclosure: This is a sponsored post and compensation was provided by
Bacardi via Glam Media
P.P.S. The opinions expressed herein are those of the Manolo and are not indicative of the opinions or positions of Bacardi
With carefully chosen accompaniments, that is. If I served the wrong wine with human flesh, well, I’d just DIE!
Have you seen The Silence of the Lambs? I have not, although I am familiar with the real-life inspirations Eddie Gein and Albert Fish (do not google them, seriously. No, trust me). Apparently Hannibal Lecter suggests Chianti and fava beans to go with the liver, and I’m just tired enough of hearing this that I! Must! Speak! Up!
Chianti, yes. Fava beans, no.
I’m not talking out of my toque here: I’ve surveyed professional winemakers of my acquaintance and studied the literature:
This Chilean/Israeli/Danish artist did not specify what wine he served at the dinner party where he also served meatballs made of … himself. But still, we can assume a robust Chilean red would work best (I mean, have you tried Aquavit? Have you put it in your mouth???)
The Democratic Underground suggests that Chianti is overpowering, and a good dry Riesling is the right accompaniment, although this could reflect the fact that democrats are very often spend their lives in captivity, penned in tiny cubicles and behind espresso machines and the ticket-taking window of indie theatres and are thus analogous to veal. And they die young: just ask the Kennedys.
In light of the fact that Japan’s (why is it always Japan? Eh?) flesh-tasting robot puts human flesh (although maybe only fingers…insert anthropomorphic musing about why we call them “chicken fingers” etc here…also, what part of the chicken is the “nugget” anyway? No, don’t go there) in the same category as prosciutto and bacon, we should go with these recommendations from the Sideways Wine Club and drink Pinot Noir or (yes) Chianti, or possibly a Syrah, Rhone or Zinfandel.
I had a sparkling Syrah once, and it was exactly like carbonated hemoglobin, so I think it would be perfect for any cannibal occasion. Indeed, bubbly of any kind lends a certain flair to an event that highlights its importance. After all, it’s not every day you eat human flesh. Presumably. Hufu for the vegetarians present, of course.
As you can see, my expert friends suggest Pinot Noir (but then, they MAKE Pinot Noir) along with Hermitage or Grenache. Seriously, the younger the flesh, the whiter and less hemoglobular the wine should be, so for me (ferinstance) you’d want something as rich and old as Anna Nicole Smith’s last husband.
Now, about those fava beans…
Fava Beans share, along with liver and king mackerel, a certain dry umami flavour which renders them quite redundant when served alongside one another. If I have something that tastes a certain way, you know, thanks, I don’t need something that tastes pretty much the same sitting right beside it masquerading as something different. Yes, wines should be chosen to complement and extend, rather than contrast with the meal, but they’re much less likely to actually taste the same as the entree.
As for choosing the meat, other than selecting a young person who’s been confined to a cubicle his entire working life, I have no advice except that if you are going to eat human liver, perhaps you don’t want to choose Russian. Theirs are pretty much used up.
So, the next time you’re serving cutlets à la Salome, remember this post and serve something appropriate. If you get it wrong, you’ll never live it down.
NEVAH! Faithful Manolophiles know that the Master has long preached the gospel of Wear White Shoes Whenever You Damn Well Feel Like It, You’re A Grownup Now, and we here at the ol’ foodie/bevvie blog feel quite the same about tasty, frozen delights such as ice cream, gelato, sherbet, sorbetto, and even Vienetta, that magical, mass-produced filigree of creamy perfection. It’s so perfect and so factory-made that it can’t possibly be good for you, can it?
But ice cream is magical, so it actually is!
The ice cream coolers have moved closer to the front doors of the convenience stores here in Canuckistan, yea unto the very Arctic Circle (yes, Yellowknife has an ice cream truck: I saw it with my own eyes) and soon neighborhoods all over the northern hemisphere will echo with the tinny, obnoxious notes of Turkey in the Straw and the cries of “BUT MOMMY IT IS TOO GLUTEN FREE!” So here to celebrate the seasonal return of ice cream to the top of snack marketing priority lists is a photo roundup of vintage ice cream trucks from Flavorwire (and seriously it kills me there’s no “u” in there, but I’ll have a Creamsicle and it’ll be all better soon).