Eat Tacos For Life
Somehow I lost track of time. Again. Do you happen to know what Thursday is? It’s Dining Out For Life! And it’s one of those great days of the year when you can eat out at a restaurant, and the mere act of paying a restaurant to fill your pie hole actually does some tangible good for the community.
The event supports the Alliance for Positive Health. You can read a bit about what they do here.
In the past I’ve done all kinds of things in support of this event. One year, I interviewed a bunch of restaurant owners who were participating. Last year, I even went so far as to be an Ambassador for Dining Out For Life at Ama Cocina.
Nobody told me I did a terrible job at it. But I think I was supposed to try and pack the joint during lunch with my friends, colleagues, and contacts. A few people came out, but I didn’t really push anyone all that hard.
This year, I have a better plan.
A New Look
When was the last time I changed anything having to do with the look and feel of this blog? I think the last cosmetic change was a small one, where someone had fixed the typography in the masthead. But most likely that change went unnoticed by almost everyone.
There comes a time when you just have to bite the bullet and realize that ten years have passed, and nobody knows the name of that big black device that you are holding up to your head in your profile picture.
It’s a phone, dammit. A phone.
People would talk on them, and have long conversations. Mostly because the voice quality was a thousand times better than our new digital devices. And the old fashioned phones didn’t heat up and make you feel like you’re cooking your brain cells more and more each minute you stay on the line.
So, we’ve established that I’m old. As fate would have it, this change was inspired by another old man in my life. For the sake of giving credit where credit is due, let’s call him Matt W. Not too long ago Matt had tried to lead a campaign, potentially backed by my mother, to have me change the old grumpy profile picture.
Why today? And why this picture? Well, I’ll tell you.
Spring Broke
Have you noticed that all the posts this week have gone up a little bit late? Maybe it has seemed like I’m out of my usual rhythm. Well, that’s because I am. This past week has not just been the end of Passover and the beginning of Albany Craft Beer Week. It’s also been the kids’ spring break.
And that has been a mixed blessing.
On the plus side, without having to pack lunches, or getting the children out the door in time for the bus, I’ve been able to sleep a little bit later in the mornings. That’s been really nice, even though it has had an impact on my blog posting schedule. On the flip side it has meant that I’ve had to consider their needs when making important choices about where to eat.
Like yesterday, for example. Part of me wanted to abandon the kids so I could grab lunch at The City Beer Hall and eat the Scrapple Grilled Cheese sandwich Dimitrios and Ian made for Day of the Dank. That scrapple, by the way, was made in house and packed with Sichuan flavors to boot.
But instead, I had to do something a little more kid centric.
Munchies
Happy 420 day to all who celebrate it. I do still remember those days, decades ago, when I was young and free, and had entire days that I could waste away sitting on couches, listening to music, and letting the mind float freely through the ether.
Lately I can barely find a night off to unshackle myself from the electronic devices that tether me to the interwebs. But last night I was able to enjoy a rare evening of bar hopping. I couldn’t resist popping into The Hollow to see what cheese Eric from The Cheese Traveler would bring, and what dishes chef Anna would prepare to pair with some of the beers from Ommegang.
The notion of darts paired with Sam Smith Oatmeal Stout was too tempting to pass up as well. So I dusted off my set of tungsten-nickel alloy darts, with Union Jack flights and headed off to play at The Olde English Pub. What I learned is that there aren’t a lot of dart players in the Capital Region. But that’s okay. It was therapeutic to throw a few arrows.
Today, The City Beer Hall is doing something special for what they are calling Day of the Dank. I hope to find some time to squeeze in a quick trip and get a whiff of what the kitchen is cooking.
But since we’re on the topic, maybe we can talk about holiday appropriate munchies.
Pasta, I Love You
Is it just me, or does it seem like more and more people are deciding to give up more and more things?
You’ve got the vegetarians who have given up meat.
The vegans who have given up all animal products.
You’ve got the paleo crowd, which I’ve never understood.
You have the carb avoiders.
The gluten-free.
Surely there are still people who are pursuing low fat diets.
And I’m just as sure that there are still calorie counters.
We can’t forget the teetotalers, they’ve been around for ages.
Going sugar free is having a moment.
And recently I heard some people talking about giving up caffeine.
Egads.
That’s hardly an exhaustive list. And ultimately, you have to do you. But life is hard, ruthless, and short. I advocate for taking pleasure where you can find it. And one thing that is quite clear coming out of the Passover holiday is that noodles are one of the loves of my life.
For Want of a Bone, a Day Was Lost
In theory, tonight after sundown I could enjoy some of the fun from Albany Craft Beer Week. But tonight, I’m going to celebrate the end of Passover with my family. I think it might be a big meal of pasta with bolognese. It may even be the last of the bolognese I made over the winter from Bella Terra ground beef.
More importantly though, it means that it will be another year before you have to hear me gripe any more about missing out on bread, beer, and whiskey.
But before we close the chapter on this year’s holiday season, I did want to share with you the story of the lamb shank. Mostly because at the end of it, you’ll likely have a new technique for cooking a leg of lamb.
That is, of course, unless you’re Greek. And you’ve already known this for years, but for some reason, have been holding off on sharing the secret with me and the gang.
Dreams of Bread & Beer
Originally this post was called Chametz Dreams, but I figured that wouldn’t quite have the same popular appeal. We’re in the waning days of Passover. There has been no toast or beer for days. And no whiskey either.
Yesterday I was going to make a leg of lamb for Easter, but the idea of cooking a seven hour roast when the outside temperatures were hitting over 80 degrees was met with intense consternation by Mrs. Fussy. So instead I banged out a quick matzo brie dinner for the family.
Things could be worse.
Still, I’m longing for the day when I can join the rest of the world in its pursuit of grainy pleasures. On the plus side, in this time of want, I’ve been able to carefully construct my dream event that’s all about bread, beer, and bourbon. That said, I’m still stuck on the sidelines for the first couple of days of Albany Craft Beer Week.
But let’s start with the positive.
Albany, Cocktails, and Culture
Egads, things are bleak. Missiles launching at Syria. Bombs dropping on Afghanistan. Warships heading to North Korea. Russia is in a tizzy. Putin may have thought the Donald might have been preferable to Hillary, but I bet he’s reconsidering that right about now. And I’m guessing he’s not the only one. Although for what it’s worth, she would have attacked Syria too.
Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.
Last night I found myself eating little fried bits of rendered brisket fat. I also somehow started writing little peacenik diatribes on the Facebook pages of relative strangers. Over dinner, I explained some of the fundamentals of war to the children, and what differentiates a war from a military action or conflict.
It could drive a person to drink. Coincidentally, I had planned about talking about cocktails today anyhow. So yesterday’s show of American military spending and technology turns out to come at a convenient time for the FLB.
So if you feel like a drink and you are in the Capital Region, where do you go for a good cocktail?
The Potential Danger of Kitniyot
Even if you aren’t Jewish, which is most you, there’s a real reason why you should care about this technical detail about kosher for Passover dietary observances. Why? Well, consider the following question.
What is the best part of Passover?
It’s not matzo. That’s available all year anyway. Same goes for matzo ball soup. You can get that any time you want at a variety of places. Most people hate gefilte fish, and anyhow, that’s perpetually on supermarket shelves. Matzo crack, that toffee and chocolate coated matzo confection, is a compelling answer, but again there’s no reason that needs to be a once a year treat.
The answer can be found in the Passover section at the Kosher Chopper off Central Avenue in Colonie just off 155. Presumably, you can find it elsewhere too. Do you know what I’m talking about yet? Here’s a hint. It’s easy to find because of the bright yellow caps.
Playing Games With Eggs
Spring is a time of rebirth. This is one of the reasons spring festivals involve eggs in some form or another. Easter has the egg hunt. Passover demands the presence of an egg on the seder plate. In Bosnia they have Cimburijada which I understand means, “The Festival of Scrambled Eggs,” at least that’s what I read on the Internet.
So this is an obvious moment to look at eggs themselves for a moment.
Shopping for eggs has always been an infuriating experience. There are just too many modifiers attached to eggs, which attempt to describe the farming practices used in their production. And some of them are completely meaningless.
My hunch is that most people imagine their eggs coming from birds, with fully intact beaks, that run around outside, are allowed to perch, spread their wings, and engage in other chickeny activities, all while being fed a diet free of junk food, supplements, GMO grains, rendered cows, and/or bird feathers.
If you know of any eggs like this, where you can get them within a week of being laid, and cost less than $6 a dozen, please let me know. Mostly because I’ve recently learned one of the secrets of the egg industry, which undermines my affection for the eggs I have been buying from Stewart’s.
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