Good morning everyone! I hope your Thursdays are going well, because mine is. I got up early this morning when Eddie got ready to go down to his "office", and I'm halfway through a pot of coffee. And there's nothing better to do at this time of day than pecking away at the keyboard, watching the sun come up through my front window, and sipping a hot cup of hazelnut java.
Dinner last night was a success, of course. Once Eddie got back to the house yesterday afternoon, it was off to Albertson's for a shopping expedition. We bought a pound of shrimp, some cocktail sauce, a few nice and thick NY strip steaks, a bundle of asparagus, and a few other odds and ends (to the tune of $80+).
Once we got back to the house and unloaded the groceries, we went on a firewood safari. The house sits on two acres of prime Vegas real estate, with lots of mature trees. However, a full acre of the property looks like Fred Sanford's back yard, with old cars, sheds, piles of old office furniture, broken tools, etc. strewn about. Also, there is plenty of underbrush in the areas where nobody goes. Since the property has been occupied for over 40 years, and every few years the owner sends out a crew to trim the trees, there is lots of good wood laying about. Most of the "low hanging fruit" had been used already, and the rest of it, while plentiful, is not so easy to get to.
So we set out to find the oldest logs and chunks of firewood that we could, being careful to dodge all the creepy crawly things that have made their own homes in the areas where angels fear to tread. Once we cleared enough underbrush to get enough wood to last the evening, and had it stacked by the fire pit, it was time to relax with an ice-cold beer. Heineken for Eddie B, Michelob Light for your humble correspondent.
Rob was spending the day over at Sante Fe Station doing corporate orientation thing, so we had no idea exactly when he'd show up, so we were cool with just chillin' out and relaxing for a bit.
After a couple of beers, I got a bit antsy and did stuff like getting the grill ready (and on Marlisha's suggestion, we got a bag of Mesquite chunk charcoal) and then I hit the kitchen for some prep work. I cut the bottom ends off of all the asparagus, washed it, made a big foil pack and loaded it up with the veggies, butter, garlic, spices, and a few ice cubes to facilitate the steaming. About the time I was sealing that up, Rob showed up, so we lit the charcoal and got busy slicing and dicing peppers, onions, and mushrooms for sautee. We'd picked up a bottle of steak rub while shopping, so we prepped the meat while munching on our shrimp cocktail.
That's one of the best things about hosting an intimate dinner party--having everyone in the kitchen doing a few small tasks beforehand, noshing on some appetizers, and just enjoying the good company. Don't get me wrong, the steak is the main attraction, but the social setting of hanging out in the kitchen doing the prep work is where the fun is.
Once the mushrooms/onions/peppers were going (with butter and minced garlic--oh hell yeah), we wrapped a huge loaf of garlic bread in foil and put it in the oven, threw the asparagus pouch on the grill, set the table, opened a bottle of wine (Kendall Jackson Pinot), and waited until just the right moment to throw the steaks on the grill.
Rob was the grillmaster this time, as I was juggling all the other stuff in the kitchen, but even with three cooks, we managed to have everything finish at the same time and we sat down to a fine meal. The steaks were cooked to medium-rare perfection, the asparagus was hot, steamed through, yet still crispy--not mushy, the sauteed veggies were excellent, and we even had a bit of potato salad and macaroni salad to fill up any empty spots on the plate.
We poured the wine, offered up a Salud!, and enjoyed a very memorable meal.
Of course the conversation at the dinner table pretty much came to a standstill at that point, as we were all about the task at hand. And Butch the dog was laying under the table, hoping for a few scraps of meat to fall his way, and he wasn't disappointed.
Once we the steaks were gone, the wine was drunk, and the veggies wiped out, the conversation started up again as we took a few moments to digest. We cleared the table, put the leftovers away, rinsed and stacked the dishes, then headed back outside. The sun had set completely by that time, so I turned on the yellow gas-lamps out on the patio and we lit the fire pit.
It was almost a perfect evening weather-wise--no wind except for the occasional slight breeze, cool, clear with a thousand stars visible in the sky, and the smell of wood smoke setting the mood. We cracked a few beers and sat around the fire telling stories and smoking cigars. I got Rob to try a Black Label, while I found a Fuente Fuente Opus X rolling around in the humidor. I figured there would be no better opportunity to enjoy such a rare stick, and I was right. Damn, that's a good cigar!
If you couldn't tell by now, let me state the obvious--It was a great evening.
We smoked, drank, and laughed for about an hour and a half, and once the cigars stubs were tossed in the fire, we figured it was Smore time.
While we were out shopping that afternoon, I mentioned to Eddie the earlier conversation in the comments section about the dark chocolate, and he thought it was a fine idea. So I held my tongue and we picked up a few bars of Hershey's Special Dark to go along with our regular chocolate.
Well folks, I have to admit--I'm a believer now. I retract my previous disparaging remarks about Dark Chocolate and the consumers thereof, and have fully embraced the Dark Side. Those smores were full-on gourmet style, if there can be such a thing. Not that I don't still love the original plain old milk chocolate Hershey bar version, but semi-melted dark chocolate with a hot and gooey marshmallow on a sweet honey graham cracker is a little square of heaven.
Like Ferris Bueller so famously said, If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up!
Now I just have to find a suitable after-dinner drink to go with something so decadent. Michelob Light is good and all, and it goes well with most food, but I couldn't help but think that I should've been drinking some sort of wine at the time.
Once the smores were gone and the fire burned down, we all pretty much hit the wall. I'd gotten very little sleep the previous couple of days, and the combination of rich food and exhaustion were conspiring to put me under. Eddie was the first one to pull the ripcord, as the bell tolls for him at 5:00 am. Rob and I talked for a bit more, but before long I was dozing off in my chair.
We called it a night sometime around 11:00 pm--Rob hit the road, and I picked up all the bottles and turned off all the lights before steamrollering across Eddie and his inflata-bed, landing in my own bunk and passing out to the ambient sights and sounds of the late-night SportsCenter broadcast on ESPN.
Not a bad evening. Not bad at all.
Mikey
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