The Glutenistas Are Coming

Recently, I have been eating very well. This means several things and each of those several things means several others, so it is likely that this first - and arguably most concise - sentence should be repeated and the sentiment should be heretofore shit-canned.
I have been eating very well.
Since the beginning of yet another glorious summer hiatus, when my hours have largely been my own to spend, I am finding that I have more time to consider, plan and execute several meals a day. Without the caterwauling of the service bar printer to swallow my minutes and hours, usually leaving me saying something like: How is it 4:15? How come I haven’t eaten anything yet? Perhaps I’ll have this lime out of the garnish tray and wash it down with some more espresso.
So my diet was poor, sure. By the end of a longer day, stomach empty, I would opt for a menu of convenience. This was any protein-based plate of digestible food-based products that could either be procured from the restaurant kitchen in exchange for future energy drinks, or whatever drive-thru I passed on the way home. Arby’s was the culprit most nights. I knew it was getting bad when I knew their hours and would tailor my cleaning and closing duties to coincide with being the last car through the window.
Having confessed all that, I will tell you that I am enjoying one of my favorite morning time dishes, something I have named "hot shit in a bowl." It contains protein, vegetables and is accompanied by OJ, coffee and water. It is balance at its finest.
If time and space permits (which it will eventually) I will leave you a recipe for "hot shit in a bowl" somewhere down the line. Unless I have already done that, in which case, the next version will be V2.0.
The first portion of my hiatus also included a ten-day trip with my lovely girlfriend who enjoys the finer points of life as much as I do. With literally nothing on our itineraries once we reached the Gallup Homestead in Littleton, we spent our time talking about food, preparing food, and then eating the food we’d prepared.
We drank wine - - a slightly faded magnum of 2000 Arrowood Cabernet. And a still-tight, still beautiful bottle of 2001 Justin Isosceles. We fresh squeezed grapefruit juice for greyhounds, fresh squeezed limes for reposado margaritas. For four hours we nibbled on an antipasto that had hard salami, manchego, cabernet soaked white cheddar, parmesan, blackberries, apples, peaches, proscuitto di parma, port reyes blue. . . silliness. And then we made dinner, king crab legs and filet mignons. . .
This isn’t bragging, this is memory building for the next time I spill JackntheBox sauce on my keyboard while trying to slam together a blogpost before collapsing. You’ll notice that collapsing must have won more times than blogposting did, as this may be only my fourth post this year. . . aie.
In a related point, my body hates gluten. I’m almost positive of it and the doctors at Littleton Medical are proving me right as we speak. For the first five days on the road, I suffered from what we’ll just call "unhappy guts" syndrome. Hindsight, this was brought on by the six delicious WHEAT beers I drank each day.
86 the pancakes from delightful mountain diners in aspen.
86 the beers, vodkas, whiskies and other libations made from grains
86 the pizza dough, the hamburger buns, the pastries
86 wheat, rye, oats, barleys. . .
For a while I was depressed. The odd gluten-charged food favorite would pop into my brain and I would sadly blurt it out, much to the chagrin of my travel partner - who, after the first sixty or so, rolled down her window and stuck her head out into the wind to hear something else.
From sadness comes joy.
I have decided to make moonshine.
In looking for alternatives to my favorite libations and finding potato vodka but nothing more than potato vodka. . . well, there is gluten-free beer as well, but I haven’t gotten that desperate yet.
Yahimake Moonshine - Citrus
The project is underway and is going well. I am currently infusing 32 oz of potato vodka with lemon and grapefruit peel. It will coalesce in a mason jar in my closet for two weeks, after which point I will drink it. Gluten shall perish without me. Success will be mine. I’ve already made the labels.



*(I'm waiting for suspense on the hot-shit-in-a-bowl recipe)*

Make Your Own Drinks

I am going to start saving the world again, so let’s all make sure that our laces are tied tight and that our hands are fixed firmly at ten and two. First let’s make a few news blips to bring ourselves up to speed since, what - -March 26th.
1. President Barack Obama came to Arizona State University and addressed a sold-out stadium of red-state people and was publicly denied a degree based on the fact that he hasn’t "done enough yet." Because he is a graceful orator and a good man, he sidestepped this ridiculousness by saying that Michelle has a list of things for him to do as well. When I attended ASU I can remember solidly that there was a large cross-section of people who had received degrees in unprotected sex with a focus in drunk driving and confused assault. The only thing that confused me is why a proudly lowest-common-denominator school (my alma mater) would dismiss a man who has "done" politics to the point of gaining the highest office, has "done" school to the point of degrees from Harvard and Columbia (two schools that sent back my application). . . and yet is supposed to react any way but indifferent to a school that received (I kid you not) an honor in High Times during my tenure there for having, concurrently, the highest rate of STDs and the lowest GPA. That was Manzanita Dormitory - 1998/1999. . . go figure.
2. I have purchased a new car. And no, of course it’s not a real "new" car, it is new to me and has been lovingly manufactured in this millennium. If you’ll remember, I had been driving a rock solid ‘95 Explorer that breached 212,000 miles before, among other things, the brake lights stopped working unless you really pounded the hell out of them. Now then, if a situation calls for really pounding the hell out of the brakes there is a good chance that any and all traffic behind you will be grateful for the split second warning you have afforded them. In the normal slow-to-a-stop kind of traffic situation, every single tanned-Beamer-Owner will holler from his air-conditioned leather fort that your brake lights aren’t working, and that he (in a grandly more important and more expensive car) nearly hit you.
"I nearly hit you back there," says tan bald man.
"Thank you for not, I appreciate it."
"Your brake lights are out."
"They are?"
"Yeah, that’s really dangerous, you know."
"It is daytime sir," turning the radio up slowly... "Did you not see my car decreasing in speed with all the other cars?"
"What?"
"Have a nice day, sir, I’ll get that taken care of immediately."
After summoning all the mechanical know-how I possess and stringing an extension cord and a desklamp out to the carport, I surmised that a large wrapping of electrical tape around the wires attached (some detached) to the brake pedal would buy me a few more weeks. On the way to the hardware store to purchase electrical tape I had an important choice to make:
Yellow Light.
Do I (A) really pound the hell out of the brakes hoping to signal frantically a dim reminder that my car will be coming to a complete stop in short order or do I (B) accelerate through the intersection knowing that I will miss the turn for the hardware store but likely spare the life of the young blond girl behind me who is writing her term paper on her blackberry while eating a banana and adjusting her makeup. . .
I saved that girls life, made a right turn into a car dealership and said the following.
"I would like to give you this car and take another one home with me. I would like the newer of the two cars to also be a stick shift, have reliable everything, and be less than 10k. Also, I have to be at work in 2 hours. Ready? Go."
Turned out just fine. Altima. Stick shift. Sunroof (kind of a double edged sword in Scottsdale where the sun will actually light you on fire if you let it see the top of your head like that.)
3. As I hope you have surmised, I have once again taken the summer away from playing bartender to pursue writing projects. . . let’s all keep playing nice together.
4. Go Nuggets.
5. I’m on Twitter, I don’t know how it works really, but if I text it something funny, apparently it comes up on other peoples computers. My Twitdonym (this is getting silly) is MatSnapp - - I think I’m supposed to put an "@" on there. . . so let’s give it a go: @MatSnapp
6. Looks great. Stay tuned.