We got our Olympics on for real, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
Minding my own business
It was the strangest thing. Today at the gym, I was running on the treadmill and, out of nowhere, I was tackled by a defrocked crazy priest wearing a red kilt.
A defrocked Irish priest, wearing a green beret and a red kilt attacked the leader during yesterday’s Olympic marathon. That is the oddest thing. Usually the crazy defrocked priests don’t wear green berets and red kilts until Christmas.
Not a good look
*If this clown thought the end of the world was coming before, just wait until he has to go to a Greek jail wearing a red kilt.
The priest got probation. Personally, I think they should sentence him to wear his red kilt and run with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain. He’d bring a whole new meaning to the term defrocked.
The breaking point
After two weeks of watching the NBC Olympic telecast, if I saw one more commercial for “Joey” I was going to put on a red kilt and tackle a marathon runner.
Who knows?
The Olympics were wonderful, but they raised many questions: Will Michael Phelps beat his records in Beijing? Can the U.S. Men’s basketball team rebound? Who was the sweatiest post race athlete interviewed by NBC’s Bob Neumeier?
Not her
After watching the Olympics for two weeks straight, I’m even going to miss some of the commercials; well, maybe not that girl whose cell phone thinks she has lip fungus.
I might have watched too much of the Olympics on NBC. Today when I went to the gym, after I ran on the treadmill, I expected to be interviewed by Bob Neumeier.
What's with that?
After watching the Olympics, here is my question: what is with that little wash cloth the divers wipe off with after each dive? Do they really need that? You know who needed one of those was track- side NBC interviewer Bob Neumeier, he could have used it to wipe off all of those sweaty runners.
Since you asked:
Boy, did I have a disturbing grilling experience this weekend.
We were invited over to a good friend’s beatifully remodeled home (Man, my wife's eyes were rolling dollar signs with envy) and, after saying the obligatory “It’s beautiful” 1,275 times, (it was very nice, all Frank Lloyd Wrighty) the host fired up his new fancy grill to cook marinated tri-tip.
Now, I admit, I don’t know much, but one thing I do know is how to grill tri- tip.(Admittedly, not always, my tri-tip used to turn out dry and over-cooked, but now I have it down) The hostess, slyly intimated to me that I should “help out” the host with the grilling, implying that he wasn’t exactly Bobby Flay, and boy was she right. She hurriedly sent me out to the grill with the meat while he was busy giving the tour to another couple.
After searing the meat for two minutes on each side, insuring beautiful crossed grill marks, I correctly placed it on a lower heat, in effect, to broil. The host spots me at the grill, runs over and proceeds to stab at the poor meat with a long fork – insuring the juices will run out and it will dry out – and then announced it wasn’t cooking fast enough, and sticks in smack in the high heat.
OK, I figure if he wants to char it, that’s his business. Well, after ten minutes of brutal charring, he announces that the meat is done. I assure him, by method of touching and feeling the meat's firmness, that it needed at least another ten minutes of grilling. Nope, he was sure it was done. He takes the tri tip off and – shudder – slices into the center of it like a crazed Samurai . As black and crusty as was the outside, the inside was blue and cold and now whatever juices were left from his incessant poking were gone for sure.
It was like this guy took a Learning Annex class on how to ruin a beautiful cut of meat. The most disturbing part of the experience? This guy is a doctor. Now, I know doctors think they know everything, but if this guy treats his patients like he treats his tri-tip, he must have a commission-deal with the local undertaker.
I had to grill hamburgers last night just to get the experience out of my head.
Here is Lex's grilling secret tip of the day: When you form the hamburger patties (Use at least 15% fat, any leaner is too dry, and liberally douse with Worstes, Wursteshi, Woresstire . . that sauce) always indent the middle of the patty. That way when they naturally plump up, you don't have to press on them with the spatula to get them flat, thus pushing out all the juice, and you don't end up with that horrible baseball-hamburger effect I had to endure all through my childhood.
When it came to eating my Father's barbecued food, bless his heart, we were abused children.
Minding my own business
It was the strangest thing. Today at the gym, I was running on the treadmill and, out of nowhere, I was tackled by a defrocked crazy priest wearing a red kilt.
A defrocked Irish priest, wearing a green beret and a red kilt attacked the leader during yesterday’s Olympic marathon. That is the oddest thing. Usually the crazy defrocked priests don’t wear green berets and red kilts until Christmas.
Not a good look
*If this clown thought the end of the world was coming before, just wait until he has to go to a Greek jail wearing a red kilt.
The priest got probation. Personally, I think they should sentence him to wear his red kilt and run with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain. He’d bring a whole new meaning to the term defrocked.
The breaking point
After two weeks of watching the NBC Olympic telecast, if I saw one more commercial for “Joey” I was going to put on a red kilt and tackle a marathon runner.
Who knows?
The Olympics were wonderful, but they raised many questions: Will Michael Phelps beat his records in Beijing? Can the U.S. Men’s basketball team rebound? Who was the sweatiest post race athlete interviewed by NBC’s Bob Neumeier?
Not her
After watching the Olympics for two weeks straight, I’m even going to miss some of the commercials; well, maybe not that girl whose cell phone thinks she has lip fungus.
I might have watched too much of the Olympics on NBC. Today when I went to the gym, after I ran on the treadmill, I expected to be interviewed by Bob Neumeier.
What's with that?
After watching the Olympics, here is my question: what is with that little wash cloth the divers wipe off with after each dive? Do they really need that? You know who needed one of those was track- side NBC interviewer Bob Neumeier, he could have used it to wipe off all of those sweaty runners.
Since you asked:
Boy, did I have a disturbing grilling experience this weekend.
We were invited over to a good friend’s beatifully remodeled home (Man, my wife's eyes were rolling dollar signs with envy) and, after saying the obligatory “It’s beautiful” 1,275 times, (it was very nice, all Frank Lloyd Wrighty) the host fired up his new fancy grill to cook marinated tri-tip.
Now, I admit, I don’t know much, but one thing I do know is how to grill tri- tip.(Admittedly, not always, my tri-tip used to turn out dry and over-cooked, but now I have it down) The hostess, slyly intimated to me that I should “help out” the host with the grilling, implying that he wasn’t exactly Bobby Flay, and boy was she right. She hurriedly sent me out to the grill with the meat while he was busy giving the tour to another couple.
After searing the meat for two minutes on each side, insuring beautiful crossed grill marks, I correctly placed it on a lower heat, in effect, to broil. The host spots me at the grill, runs over and proceeds to stab at the poor meat with a long fork – insuring the juices will run out and it will dry out – and then announced it wasn’t cooking fast enough, and sticks in smack in the high heat.
OK, I figure if he wants to char it, that’s his business. Well, after ten minutes of brutal charring, he announces that the meat is done. I assure him, by method of touching and feeling the meat's firmness, that it needed at least another ten minutes of grilling. Nope, he was sure it was done. He takes the tri tip off and – shudder – slices into the center of it like a crazed Samurai . As black and crusty as was the outside, the inside was blue and cold and now whatever juices were left from his incessant poking were gone for sure.
It was like this guy took a Learning Annex class on how to ruin a beautiful cut of meat. The most disturbing part of the experience? This guy is a doctor. Now, I know doctors think they know everything, but if this guy treats his patients like he treats his tri-tip, he must have a commission-deal with the local undertaker.
I had to grill hamburgers last night just to get the experience out of my head.
Here is Lex's grilling secret tip of the day: When you form the hamburger patties (Use at least 15% fat, any leaner is too dry, and liberally douse with Worstes, Wursteshi, Woresstire . . that sauce) always indent the middle of the patty. That way when they naturally plump up, you don't have to press on them with the spatula to get them flat, thus pushing out all the juice, and you don't end up with that horrible baseball-hamburger effect I had to endure all through my childhood.
When it came to eating my Father's barbecued food, bless his heart, we were abused children.
posted by Alex at
12:23 PM
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