Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Here is my gorgeous board, J.C. - in honor of Jill Costello - with my bigger board, Gary the Gaucho in back of it.

Paddle hard, step back and crank a turn, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

After Tropical Storm Irene, the flooding is so bad in Vermont, now when old men give directions by saying; “You cahn’t get there from heeere, ” they’re actually right.

Convicted child rapist and Texas polygamist, Warren Jeffs has been admitted to a hospital in a coma. It is the first ever case of a coma being disgusted and repulsed by who was in it.

A Pew report claims college plagiarism is up. Asked to comment, one student said; “These are the best of times, but they are the worst of times.”

Here is a little entertainment lesson on grilling for friends I learned the hard way.

We had guests coming over and I wanted to do a great job with steaks, so I went to the trouble and expense to pick up Spencer rib-eye steaks at the amazing Tip Top Meats in Carlsbad.

There were two girls – Ann Caroline invited a friend – four women and, including me, four men. I wanted to get the doneness of the meat exactly like they all said they wanted. All of the guys wanted medium rare, the way I do it.

When I explained to the women and the girls what my medium rare was, they said that was too rare. They wanted some pink, but that was all. So I told them that was actually medium. One woman said she wanted it medium to medium well, barely any pink at all. She even made a “eww grosss” expression when I suggested she try a little more pink.

So the first steaks for me and the fellas I grilled exactly medium rare. When I grill a ribeye, after letting it rest, I slice it into thirds sideways. That way people can take as much or little as they want, and they can see how done it is.

So I placed the medium rare cuts on the left and the middle of the pewter serving platter. The other steaks - for the women and girls - I grilled from just over medium rare to medium rare plus. With their coffee and sea salt and pepper crusts, they were amazing looking, perfect cross marks from the grill, bright red/pink to pink and all of them juicy.

But one steak I really cooked medium well. Just a slight, slight trace of pink, exactly like the woman asked for. Sliced it into thirds and put it farthest to the right on the platter so she would see it. And to make sure, I announced the cuts were placed medium rare on the left to medium rare plus in the middle and one medium well on the right.

Bammed them with chopped parsley and put it out for the guests to pick first, as I went back outside, covered the grill and did some cleaning up in the kitchen. And I poured myself a fresh glass of red wine.

When I got to the dinner table, guess which three solitary pieces were left for me? The three cuts from the medium-well steak. All the wonderful juicy, pink steaks had been snarked up. When I asked the woman, trying not to get testy, why she demanded medium-well but took the medium rare, she brightly said;

“Oh, sorry, all the other steaks just looked so juicy and good.”

Sorry, but not sorry enough to replace her fabulous medium rare cuts with my grayish dried-out cuts.

The moral of the story? Grill the steaks medium effing rare. If some baboon-head wants medium, let them nuke it in the freaking microwave.

This is now my only announcement to guests prior to grilling steaks:

“Attention, I paid for and am grilling these steaks the way god intended: Medium rare. There are no cold and bloody parts, it is cooked all the way through, but still pink and juicy. If you want them more done than that, take your pieces and nuke them for thirty to forty five seconds, you no-taste-having baboon.”

To the smug and self-satisfied douche-bag who parked his Volvo in the fire lane in front of Jimbo's Organic Grocery store to get his sushi order yesterday? Yep, you're the winner of today's Dewgie-bag-of-dicks award.