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)*