A Bit 'O Irish and a really good English
Saturday Morning I had to get up early. Bunny Dog needed to get to the groomers to have his long, scruffy, winter coat trimmed for the spring and summer season. So, I set the alarm to get up and have time to shower and dress, watch a bit of Saturday kitchen and then get Bunny Dog off to Grimbergen where a friend runs a trim salon for pets.
The weather was a bit cloudy and drizzly, but fine for a Saturday of chores. Everything was peachy keen. That is....Except for the fact that my head felt like a melon that had been split in two with a machete. You see, I went out with the fabulous Lara the night before. And I think I got home around 4 am. (therefore it was probably later). Anyway, I was feeling a bit worse for wear. I do have a rule though, I do not allow late nights on the town to have an adverse impact on my life. The minute I can't get out of bed because I partied too much the night before, well, then I stop. (Unless there's company in bed and it would be impolite to get up...of course).
Anyway. Whatever headache I might have had, it was well worth it. I had such a blast Friday night. And it was one of those nights when I just had 'IT'. I never know what that 'it' is, but I had 'it' Friday night. I was a sexy, dancing queen and everyone was watching me (not staring I'm sure) but watching. I Imagine if we hadn't gone to eat gourmet Mexican before going out - I would have been borderline silly.
It sounded like such a good idea really. Starting at Chi-Chi's for Margaritas and quesadillas, tortillas, nachos and any manner of 'stomach-coating-Friday-night-out-on-the-town' food. Yes, it did SOUND like a good idea. There's like only 2 Mexican places in Belgium. I don't get that stuff often - ever!! I had a taste for good guacamole and pico de gallo. UGH. How wrong. I should have known when a colleague screamed 'WHAT?? You're going to Chi-Chi's????'- As if I was going to dive naked in to a sewer.
Well, I don't have to tell any of you that I had never been to a Chi Chi's in the states - but I am sure the crap Tex-Mex food is probably properly made there. In Brussels, not so much. I'd never had a plate of food that was completely inedible before that night. Really. I'm not exactly sure how one messes up a quesadilla - but ask Chi-Chi's in Brussels - they know how. And Lara's Barbecue platter - it had to have been BBQ-ed at least two days earlier and reheated. It was a greasy slimy mess.
Ok - an attempt at dinner done and dusted -- the night started.
One Margarita at SHIT-Chi's, 3 Mojitos at PP, countless Vodka Lime and Sodas at OR's, an unsolicited, slobbery kiss from a guy with an Irish (County Kildare) stag party at O'Reilly's - Eew. 'Ore ya gonnah kyss ma? Give a kyss girrrl!'.
We turned and ran as fast as we could - ran right over to Celtica! (Let's face it, if you want to get away from slobbering Irish drunks, where else would you go???) Yeah yeah! Probably not Celtica!! ha ha!! But that's OK - we ran right in to a group of 6 hilarious, sweet and funny guys from Southern England who were on a motorcycling weekend. Ahh.... Aussie Girl would have approved....yessssssss
We danced and danced and danced. Lara was a bit subdued to start, but then Scissor Sisters came on the sound system and she was up off her stool and and boogying down with the best of us. Excellent!
You're getting no more details though... Suffice it to say, a fun time was had by all.
So, another night in downtown Brussels. Amidst hen night parties, stag parties, weekend beer warriors, groups of people in search of freedom, expression, insanity, Blanche beers, Fritland, gaufres, and moules. Another night of wanton debauchery and over-served men in Rugby jerseys and beer goggles. Another night of North African, Dutch, French, Spanish, English, Scots, Irish (Northern too), American, Swedish, and Russian voices. Another night of chance encounters or preplanned rendezvous. Fun.
When are you coming to town?
Almighty for $500 Please Alex
We often read stories or see movies about siblings who are so different, you wonder how they were raised under the same roof. I wonder how my brother and I were raised by the same parents. It helps a bit to know that we were both adopted and that nature may have had more of a hand in things than nurture, but still...
When we were children, my parents took us out to fine restaurants all the time. We were exposed to fine dining and social interaction well before other kids because Mom and Dad were in the foreign service or - (TICAHDC) The International Cocktail And Hors Dourves Club. They entertained people from all over the world for over 20 years. All parties ending with my father's cringe-inducing call of 'Oiy yay, Oiy yay! Please sign the guest book before you leave!'. Years later I found out it was their way of calculating the number of guests entertained for business taxes. Rest assured, since Dad retired, they like you to sign the book because - well, they like you and want to remember you!
We were well behaved children and didn't mind having to dress-up and act properly. We attended church regularly with no fuss. We didn't feign illness to get out of school, we wrote thank you notes to our relatives for the hideous robes sent each year. Our parents were faily normal, or shall I say, less dysfunctional than most and pretty happy. There's no doubt that we had the basis for a good, solid socially gracious and responsible life.
Around 16, my brother found out how cool he was. He became charming to women and men and was very persuasive. Helped along by good looks, a swagger, recreational pharmaceuticals and a generous nature, my brother became Mr. Popularity. He still had all the charm and social grace we learned in our younger years, but the crowds he started to socialise and work with didn't really emphasize manners as much.
My brother found himself not interested in higher education so he ended his schooling after High School. Probably a backlash for being sent to Military High School - where he flourished as the most popular troublemaker. He went on to a series of construction jobs before finally going to flight school in his late 20's - working his way up the long ladder to work in the fledgling airline industry as a pilot. He still takes on construction projects to make ends meet because there's not enough work for a lot of pilots since 9/11.
While not the most popular girl at boarding school, I was not unpopular by a long stretch. I promptly went to University and then started work immediately after completing my degree. I turned out OK - a few bumps in the road during young adulthood, but pretty well.
I do feel I have a fair amount of social grace and am pretty well educated. I read a lot. I do a lot of crossword puzzles, I cook well, I enjoy art and culture and take my commitment to friends, work, my dog and especially family very seriously indeed. I think I have a pretty strong presence when I walk in to a room. I have a strong confidence, but I don't think it's overpowering.
My brother is different. He's certainly a bit rough around the edges and in order to make up for his slight height, he has developed a hugely overpowering presence and ego to match. He's picked up this lovely, Maryland/Virginia coastal accent - from years of boating up and down the Potomac with his river-rat friends - mostly pilots and plumbers from Olney, MD and/or Annandale, VA. He drives a massive black, Ford Pick-Up truck, has a Camaro, a Harley and of course a big cabin cruiser boat - with plenty of space for Budweiser coolers. There's more...but I think you get the picture.
I know I'm no Emily Post, but he's about as classy as a tube-top at Daytona Beach racetrack. He's so totally different than I. And that's fine - but we don't work well together. We need to figure out a way to do this though - and soon.
My brother and I don't speak much and usually have no problems - mostly because we never talk about anything important - ever. I'm defnitely more analytical, concerned and cautious when it comes to family issues. I plan ahead and look forward and double check things- make sure all are in agreement - ...he's non engaging, non communicative, not involved. He's a crisis guy. He's a 'Don't call unless it's an emergency' guy. And he's fantastic in an emergency - no doubt about it. A 1. The problem is - life's not always an emergency - but it's often urgent and needy.
Since my father's illness and subsequent paassing at the end of last year, my brother and I have been as polarised as ever. Especially now. No matter what - he wants to disagree with me and the rest of the family.
I got a rare e-mail from him a while back which illustrates how he feels about me. My brother doesn't like to write much. He was trying to tell me I was overbearing and haughty in a way. (Of course I am) He was trying to tell me I was 'high and mighty' - instead he wrote 'High and Almighty'. Though they're pretty close, it struck me as really funny! I Don't know why I laughed for 10 minutes. I know what he meant - but I had to think - Did he really think that I see myself as the Almighty? Does he think of me as the Almighty? Did he just mean 'high and mighty' and make a mistake? I'll never know!!
Praise tha' lord Almighty !!
I'll take Almighty for €500 please Alex :-))
How to Woo a Man with a Langoustine
Mr. Handsome mentioned how much he's been missing Langoustine. Those are the small lobster-shaped, craw fish-like creatures found in Northern waters - like The North Atlantic and North Sea. They have long, narrow, spiny claws and nice hearty tail meat. They are sometimes called Norway Lobsters, called Prawns in Scotland, Dublin Bay Prawns in Ireland, Scampi in Italy and Langoustine in France and the rest of continental Europe. And I think they are delicious. My favourite chef - Rick Stein thinks they are divine.
When Bunny dog and friends go with me to the house in Normandy, we get crates of Langoustine and stuff ourselves silly with the sweet shellfish tails. There's nothing like langoustine grilled for a few minutes on the barbecue, brushed with garlic, parsley butter and eaten with your fingers. A crisp Sancerre goes down nicely with those.
It's funny, the Brits and Irish don't rate Langoustine. Over 80% of the Langoustine caught in the frigid waters off of Northern Scotland - in the Faroe and Shetland Islands and further afield, closer to Iceland - are shipped to France and Spain - where they are considered a major delicacy. The French and Spanish can't get enough of them.
Trawlers leaving from the grey and icy port of Peterhead, Scotland hope and pray that they will get loads of Langoustine each time they leave port. It's the most lucrative catch for them. They will weather terrific swells and horrendous storms if there's even a hint of a good Langoustine catch.
The French serve them on their famous cold seafood trays available at almost any seaside restaurant in France. They use the tiered sliver trays and pile them with with brown crabs, Langoustine, oysters, carpet shell clams, cockles and winkles - all displayed on rock ice with lemon wedges and strewn with seaweed. Just what's needed after a hot day on the sand, soaking up the sun. French purists just have a plate of cold Langoustine and drawn butter for dipping - as an entree (appetiser in French).
In Spain - it's a whole new world. Langoustine are treated like the most royal of scampi or shrimp would be. Prized for their beautiful pink shells and long spiky claws, they are artfully laid upon Paella dishes as the ultimate decoration. At tapas bars, served in a sauce of chili and sweet garlic, or almonds and tomatoes - or sauteed with Choritzo sausage - glistening in the red paprika oil that is rendered from the Choritzo. Poached and served with an aioli that knocks your socks off with garlic.
OK - so Mr. Handsome wants Langoustine. He's British, so I should go with boiled and cooled - serve with a couple of nice dipping sauces. Ailoi, or parsely butter, basil mayonnaise ... But he's a keen cook so he likes experimenting and trying new things. He has even been watching Masterchef Goes Large - Like me !! He runs home to get his evening chores done before it comes on at 7:30 pm.
Perhaps I can be more adventurous for Mr. Handsome. Lets see....
Cassolette of Langoustine? No - too much work...
Langoustine tails with green curry? No - Why kill the taste with curry?
Langoustine and scallop ceviche? No, I prefer ceviche with fish.
Langoustine with zucchini cake and bean salsa? Um. No. I. Don't. Think. So.
Langoustine and shaved fennel salad with lemon dressing and juniper? How Fa dahling.
How about Langoustine with Chili and Garlic?
Saute 12-16 Langoustine (in shells) in sunflower oil, toss in
1 medium onion - finely diced
Green chili - seeded and diced
Pinch of black pepper
When the Langoustine are pink and the tail meat is just firm, toss in
a handful of fresh coriander - lightly chopped
And squeeze the juice of 1 lime over them
Cook for 30 second more and on to a platter
Serve with a lemongrass butter and a chili mayonnaise
That ought to do it !
