Sunday Evening at Sandy’s Table

Posted on March 25, 2013 by Jim

I picked up this recipe from Cuisine at Home, and it was simply named “Tasty Beef Stew”. Easy to follow and assemble; but thinking that the name was lacking, I re-named it in honor of one of my favorite Peter Sellers’ send-ups, The Mouse That Roared. Made in 1959, Sellers plays three roles in the film: The Grand Duchess Gloriana XII, Prime Minister Count Rupert of Mountjoy & Tully Bascombe. The Duchy of Grand Fenwick decides that the only way to get out of their economic woes is to declare war on the United States, lose and accept foreign aid. They send an invasion force to New York(armed with longbows) which arrives during a nuclear drill that has cleared the streets. Wandering about to find someone to surrender to, they discover a scientist with a special ultimate weapon that can destroy the Earth. When they capture him and his bomb they are faced with a new possibility: What do you do when you win a war?

For the wine I decided on a California“ field blend.” I love these types of wine that feature varietals that are atypically blended to take advantage of a successful harvest. Each Vintage is new… a reflection of that year’s bounty… the ultimate “winemaker’s brew”!  This is our second Vintage with the wine… the first was predominantly Cabernet Sauvignon, this vintage is predominantly Syrah. This wine falls under the technical classification of “Crowd Pleaser”! Perfect to enjoy alongside of a tasty beef stew!

Balius Xanthos Proprietary Red ’10 (Napa, CA)

Both “Balius” and “Xanthos” are derived from Greek Mythology and were the names of Achilles’ horses. The 2010 Xanthos is a deep, dark plum/blackberry color in the glass and a nose of sweet black and blue fruit and dark chocolate. Velvety smooth and soft in the mouth with polished tannins, flavors of black plum, cocoa, anise, and blackberry jam fill out the profile of this California red. Fruit forward but balanced with good acid making it easy drinking for all occasions. The wine is a blend of 63% Syrah, 16% Segalin, 11% Merlot, and 10% Zinfandel and was aged for 18 months in 40% new French oak.

n.b. Xanthos was actually not the name of Achilles’ horse… it was his landlord.

The Duchy of Grand Fenwick Beef Stew

Ingredients

6 ounces of Tanqueray Gin
½ ounce of Noilly Pratt Dry Vermouth
A goodly amount of ice
6 strips of thick sliced bacon, diced
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp. Spanish paprika
1 tsp dried thyme
½ tsp black pepper
¼ tsp cayenne pepper
3 lbs boneless beef chuck roast, cut into 1½ inch chunks
1 lb small red potatoes quartered
2 cups baby carrots
1½ cups diced celery
2 dried bay leaves
2 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp minced garlic
1 tbsp beef base
2½ cups low sodium beef broth
1½ cups vegetable juice cocktail
2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 cup frozen green peas thawed
1 cup frozen pearl onions thawed
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
Chopped fresh parsley

Directions

  1. Put gin and vermouth into a glass pitcher, fill with ice, stir vigorously while incanting, “You who know all, thank you for providing us juniper and all the other obscure ingredients responsible for creating this sacred liquid!” Strain into a pre-frozen Martini glass of admirable size.  Skewer the olives on one of those tacky cocktail swords, place in glass. Immediately begin consuming.  Now you can begin the food prep, and the cooking!
  2. Cook bacon in a skillet over medium heat ‘til crisp. Drain bacon on a paper-towel lined plate; reserve drippings.
  3. Combine flour, salt, paprika, thyme, black pepper and cayenne in a bowl; add beef and toss to coat.  Heat 1 tbsp of drippings in same skillet over medium. Sear half the beef until brown, 3 minutes per side.  Repeat with 1 tbsp of drippings and remaining beef; transfer to a 4 to 6 quart slow cooker.  Add any remaining flour mixture to the slow cooker; top with potatoes, carrots, celery and bay leaves.
  4. Stir tomato paste, garlic and beef base into the skillet and cook over medium heat, 1 minute
  5. Combine broth, vegetable juice and Worcestershire and stir into skillet, scraping up bits from the bottom.  Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat and cook until thick, 2-3 minutes.  Pour broth mixture over beef in slow cooker.  Cover slow cooker and cook until the beef is fork-tender on high setting 3-4 hours, or low setting 6-7 hours. Discard bay leaf.
  6. Now, with the extended down time, a second Martini would be in order… a time to reflect on this glories of this beverage.
  7. At the very end, add peas, pearl onions and vinegar to the stew.  Garnish servings with parsley and bacon.
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The Incident at the Pool

Posted on February 20, 2013 by Jim

I stared down at my jambalaya, took a glance at the Ranger-Bruin hockey game at the screen in the far corner of Ash Creek Saloon and savored a sip of my Wild Turkey Rye on ice.  Folks to the left and right of me were drinking quantities of Hurricanes, the ladies were festooned in flashing gizmo glasses and beads… many, many strings of beads… it being Mardi Gras, even here in Norwalk, CT.

Hector offered me a taste of a Hurricane.  Not bad… it reminded me of Planters Punch, which I used to enjoy years ago when traveling to warm weather destinations.  I stayed with my Rye.  But the guy seated to my right was to content to keep pounding Hurricanes… which he did without apparent enthusiasm, pausing only to scribble a few words onto a sheet of paper, actually several sheets of paper… stationary that appeared to be stained by Hurricanes and shreds of spicy chicken wings.

And here I thought I was the only patron who used the Ash Creek’s bar for writing purposes!  After a couple of forkfuls of jambalaya (very good, by the way), this guy started to bug me.  Not a regular.  Drinking Hurricanes like they were OJ… and writing.  Writing what?   For the first time I had a sense of how folks at the bar would view me!  Writing what? And for all I knew, he was a gifted writer!

Well, even gifted writers have to go and relieve the accumulating pressure on their bladders… if you know what I mean (and I think we all do)… particularly if you have been guzzling Hurricanes.  And when this fellah left to take care of his bathroom needs, I couldn’t resist taking a peek at what he was writing.

Thru the various cross-outs and re-starts, legibility seeming to be negatively impacted by the volume of Hurricanes, I could make out the following… “Dear Jorge: Thank you for attending the Conference, your participation was instrumental to its success and greatly appreciated by the firm’s Partners & Senior Management.  I personally wanted to offer my sincerest apologies for the incident at the pool. On behalf of our Team, please accept this gift…”

Incident at the pool?

Hector replenished my Rye Whisky, the Rangers were up 2 nil… did I mention the Jambalaya was top shelf? 

Whatever this “incident” was… it had to be special to send this guy to composing a letter of apology thru the fog of Hurricanes at Ash Creek Saloon! Who knows… maybe there was the risk of losing a key client or contact? Maybe his job was on the line? 

Halfway thru my second Rye, I figured it out…

First… the pool.  It had to be outdoors, embarrassing incidents don’t take place at indoor pools other than peeing in the pool, and peeing in the pool doesn’t require getting sloshed on Hurricanes and writing a letter of apology. Next, the Conference.  It had to be International… Jorge, right?  Super Brain, super connected with multiple degrees from M.I.T., Wharton and Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, multi-lingual, makes big bucks and wears tailor made threads.  Time and place? The conference just concluded in some warm weather location.  Outdoor pool, right?  This Hemisphere. Barbados?  No, closer to the States. Bermuda?  Wrong season. OK, Turks & Caicos.

The nature of the Conference? The demise of the Spotted Owl?  Global Warming? What killed off the dinosaurs?  Ixnay.  It’s impossible to create an embarrassing incident that warrants a tactical fix-up in a Conference involving a beaten-up subject.  This Conference clearly involved big time players, with heavy money at stake.  Probably in the bio-medical sphere… sorta like Jurassic Park, only real! 

And this Jorge dude?  He’s the technical lynch-pin.  He’s the one that the “Team” was counting on to close the deal with the international investors (which probably included the likes of NASA, the Colombia Drug Cartel, Walt Disney and an unnamed Shanghai Restaurant).  Jorge is a wünderkind, in addition to being a genius, child prodigy cello player and a great dresser, he is an avid sportsman… exceptional downhill skier and polo player.  In fact he met his future wife while competing in a polo tournament at the Taupiri Polo Club in Auckland, NZ.  She is a five time Sports Illustrated Swim Suit Model & a member ofSweden’s Olympic Downhill Ski Team.

Speaking of the “team”… Our “hero”, taking a wiz (and maybe more) in Ash Creek’s loo, works for a hedge fund… one that has a ton of money, and was left unscathed by either Bernie Madoff or Wall Street’s collapse.  The “Team” (with “Senior Management” involved) had spent 21 months putting together the deal, and the “Conference” in Turks and Caicos (actually the third one during that time frame) was in preparation for signing-off on the details and before the official “product roll-out”.  Mr. Hurricane was probably lower down on the feed chain (either highest level mid-tier, or lowest level upper-tier), but in anticipation of the beaucoups of green that would fall into his lap, he had already gone to contract for a good sized home on Meads Point in Greenwich.

To the incident itself.  “All work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy”.  And it is clear that at this high powered Conference where the work was undoubtedly intense, a gazillion dollars hanging in the balance, and when matters concluded, the play would be equally intense. And so we find our intrepid hero, rubbing shoulders with the heavy hitters on the Team, and the other heavy hitters at the Ocean Club West… a tall beverage in hand, admiring the beautiful free-form pool with its bridge connecting to an island with tropical flora and a gazebo.  Azure waters, blue skies, a settling sun, the sweet scent of gardenia lifting on a pleasant sea breeze, a satisfying Mojito… or Planter’s Punch… or maybe even a Hurricane in hand! Life was good… no, make that: life was great!  Conference done, 95% of details locked up (which the higher ups felt was good enough to launch into a happy dance).  And life was getting even better with each frosty cocktail.  The sun continued its descent to the horizon forming a breathtaking sunset. Aided by the booze, the natural inhibitions for Mr. Greenwich Hedge Fund also descended.  Caught up in the moment and in the scenery (which included spectacular looking women) he strolled across the arched bridge to the island with a Rum-Whatever in each hand, finishing off one, he merrily tossed the empty glass into the pristine pool and approached a woman who he had culled from the herd of fabulous looking women that populated the artificial island.

Perhaps he didn’t adequately measure his point of attack.  Or maybe he was just using a line that he used as an undergraduate.  Or maybe he was just too stewed to know any better when he approached this rocket, “Excuse me Miss… I’d give the world for several strings of beads so I could have a look at your breasts!”

Well… maybe it worked when he was an undergraduate… or at least when he traveled to New Orleansfor Mardi Gras.  Call it unfortunate that his target on this occasion was none other than “5 Time Swim Suit Model”… the fact which he rapidly discovered when the previously unseen Mr. Jorge stood up from his near-by chair to defend his wife’s honor.  Making things worse, our friend, on realizing the gross faux pas, accidently spilled the contents of his Long Island Ice Tea (or whatever he was drinking) down Mrs. Jorge’s cleavage.  And understandably, Mrs. Jorge got up from her chair with quite a start, knocking into a small table, badly twistng her ankle in the process, losing her balance, savagely gripping Mr. Jorge’s arm… who in turn lost his balance, collided with a waiter bearing a tray full of mojito’s, rum swizzles, flaming scorpions & etc., and with no hope of recovering their collective balance, the trio… Jorge (in his bespoke tailored suit), Mrs. Jorge (who also lost a heel in the commotion) & the waiter (who gamely tried to retain as many cocktails on his tray as possible) tumbled into Ocean Club West’s free-form pool.

Maybe that vision of calamity was on Mr. Hurricane’s mind as he returned to his place next to me at the bar.  Maybe he was thinking about the missing 5% on closing the mega-deal. Or maybe the Hurricane’s took him to the blue skies and puffy clouds, before the regrettable incident at the pool transpired.  Would that it be true…

Hector put yet again another Hurricane before him.  It was an Ash Creek Special… $20 for all the Hurricanes you can drink, and clearly this guy was getting his money’s worth!

He picked up his pen to put it to the paper, he blinked a couple of times and let the pen fall from his hand… he tried to wipe the haze from his eyes… he turned slightly and looked at me…

I looked back, smiled and sympathetically nodded my head, “Writer’s block?”

Posted in The Ash Creek Bourbon & Conversation Corner | Leave a comment

The Day of Rabbit’s Worry

Posted on February 15, 2013 by Jim

On a day that I was thinking about, our friend Rabbit found himself in a fit of worry and agitation.  He paced the greeting spot of his well tended home that was comfortably tucked into a corner of 100 Acre Wood.  Now Rabbit was by nature a worrying sort of rabbit, it was just that on this day he was expecting a visit from his Tax Attorney, Edward Bear, who would also be known as Winnie the Pooh, and sometimes Pooh Bear; and that increased Rabbit’s sense of worry and agitation.

As Tax Day neared it always brought an air of joy for Winnie the Pooh because it gave him the chance to visit all of his friends in 100 Acre Wood, help them file their returns and stay for perhaps a light snack.  Briefcase in hand, as Pooh Bear neared Rabbit’s Howse he launched into one of his favorite hums:

It’s such a grand ol’ day
And someone has to pay
And pay all day on such
A grand ol’ day
tump-tiddie-day, tump-tiddie-day

Meanwhile, Rabbit scurried around his abode hiding away his recently harvested vegetables.  “Oh dear, dear!  I think I hear him outside!” the nervous Rabbit said to himself.

“Halloooo Rabbit!” Pooh called out.

“Wh-wh-who is it?” Rabbit trembled.

“I think it is me”, answered Winnie the Pooh.

“Is that y-y-you Pooh Bear?” Rabbit asked, after he finished storing away his prize cabbage.

“It is if you say so Rabbit!”  Pooh happily replied, and with no further encouragement Pooh Bear entered thru Rabbit’s front door, although there was no door to speak of.

“Er, hello Pooh Bear – it’s so n-n-nice to see you again, I think. It’s that time of the year, I suppose…” Rabbit nervously observed.

“You must be referring to T-A-X time Rabbit, and you must be right because I brought my brief case, and I only bring my brief case when it’s that time of the year! Oh, bother!”

“Is there something wrong Pooh Bear?  Did you forget something?” Rabbit asked, thinking that his return might be a matter of difficulty.

winnie and rabbit

“Well, Rabbit…” And Pooh Bear wandered over to Rabbit’s cupboard, “I am glad you asked.  It’s a smallish matter really.  You see, I feel a distinct rumbly in my tummy and I was thinking that I might enjoy a smackerl of something to eat.”

And before Rabbit could say “oh, dear”, Pooh Bear was in the cupboard peering into each stored jar and moving this and that.  And while he surveyed the contents of Rabbit’s larder, Pooh Bear quietly hummed:

There’s a rumbly in my tummy
And I know it, and I know it
Eat a carrot, munch an onion
And you fix it, and you fix it
There’s a rumbly in my tummy
Pooh will fix it, Pooh will fix it!

It only took Pooh Bear a few minutes to collect all manner of vegetables which he then dutifully presented to the unbelieving Rabbit, “Why Rabbit, look what I found! A few ribs of celery, two bulbs of fennel, a bunch of heirloom carrots, a head of romaine, 3 Vidalia onions, some beautiful turnips, six beef steak tomatoes, lovely radishes and an exceptional cabbage!”

“My cabbage! B-b-b-but…”

“Nonsense Rabbit.  These are perfect for you to make into a very tasty snack!  While you stir-fry, I will find us something to wet our whistles!”  And Pooh Bear went to the pantry where Rabbit stored his beverages.

“Oh, d-d-d-dear”  the worried Rabbit stammered, and he proceeded to rinse, pat dry, chop and begin stir-frying the entire contents of his cupboard, including his prize cabbage.

Pooh Bear shuffled thru the bottles in the pantry, “Maybe a nice Chardonnay Rabbit?”

“Ch-ch-ch-Chardonnay?  Oh, that would be fine Pooh Bear… I think.”

“Why Rabbit!  You have a Corton-Charlemagne from Burgundy!”  And before Rabbit could offer an objection, the sound of a popping cork could be heard and Pooh Bear emerged from the pantry with the opened bottle of Grand Cru and two good sized glasses and he joyfully began his I Love Burgundy Hum…

B-U-R-G-undie, undie!
I love it, I love it!
With fish cakes and rice
It’s so nice…

And Pooh stopped his hum, “Oh, bother!  Rabbit, we’re not having fish cakes and rice and I don’t think I can fit V-E-G-table stir-fry into my hum!”

Rabbit called a temporary halt to his cooking, “Pooh Bear, if you’re disappointed about the fish cakes and rice, I can put these vegetables away and perhaps we could look at my t-t-t-tax return?”

“Nonsense Rabbit!  The stir-fry smells deeee-lish-usssss!  And besides, it will be so good to have with this deeee-lish-usssss C-O-R-T-O-N Charlemagne! Oh, bother!”

“Now what is it Pooh Bear?”

“I seemed to have finished off this bottle of Burgundy all by myself!  But no fear Rabbit, I espied another bottle hiding in your pantry behind a dusty bottle of some dumb Chardonnay!”

Rabbit ran to block Pooh Bear’s path to the pantry; but he was two steps too late… “W-w-w-wait Pooh Bear!!”  But before Rabbit could get out another word, the tell tale sound of a popping cork told Rabbit that his last bottle of Grand Cru Corton-Charlemagne had been opened!  Poor Rabbit had to resign himself to the situation, and he set to putting out modest plates of vegetable stir-fry on the dinning room table.

“This is a very fine snack, Rabbit.  Although I find the portion size to be on the S-K-I-M-P-Y side.”  And with this, Pooh Bear wandered back to the kitchen and helped himself to all that remained of the vegetable stir-fry.  “This is just what I needed to go with my Burgundy,” and with perfect efficiency Pooh Bear finished off all that remained of the Burgundy… making the wine and the stir-fry come out even.  “There!  Deeee-lish-usssss! Why Rabbit… you didn’t get to taste any Corton-Charlemagne!”

“I n-n-n-noticed,” was all that the worried Rabbit could say.

And Winnie the Pooh placed his napkin back neatly on the table, stood up, patted his full tummy, took his brief case and walked to the front door, which was really not a door, and announced, “Thank you Rabbit!  I’m off to Kanga’s home!  She makes exceptional pot-stickers and she has an admirable Châteauneuf du Pape!”

“B-b-b-b-but Pooh Bear….”

“TTFN Rabbit!!” And our stalwart Edward Bear, the most acclaimed Tax Attorney in all of 100 Acre Wood, marched off, brief case in hand, in the direction of Kanga and Roo’s place… and he picked up his favorite hum:

It’s such a grand ol’ day
And someone has to pay
And pay all day on such
A grand ol’ day
tump-tiddie-day, tump-tiddie-day

Posted in Stories & Brief Tales | Leave a comment

The Story Behind the Burr-Hamilton Duel

Posted on January 2, 2013 by Jim

The historical record is clear. On July 11, 1804 Aaron Burr (then Vice-President of the United States) engaged in a duel with Alexander Hamilton (“Founding Father” and former Secretary of the Treasury) below the cliffs in Weehawken, NJ. Both men discharged their Wogden dueling pistols. The intentions of the protagonists have been a matter of debate. Hamilton’s shot sailed considerably high and wide, fueling speculation that he intended to delope (throw away his fire). Burr’s shot found its mark, and a day later Hamilton died from his wound.

The feud between the two men, conducted for the most part in published opinions and speeches, simmered for years. The root cause for the mutual animosity lay in their differing political beliefs, but matters came to a head when their disagreement took a different tack during a chance meeting at Fraunces Tavern on June 20, 1804.

What transpired on that day was a “duel” of a different sort. The verbal war of words had escalated and was faithfully recorded by Amos Whitwater of the New York Evening Post (the newspaper founded by Alexander Hamilton). An extract is included herein.

{New York City, Twenty-First June, 1804} Neither A. Hamilton nor A. Burr expected to see each other at Fraunces Tavern. The different points of view of the two men have been well recorded and need no further elaboration here. Upon seeing Burr enter the room, Hamilton rose from his table and declared “I am grateful, Sir, for your maieutic inquiry about my views.”

Burr, not recognizing the word, questioned the use of maieutic. Mr. Hamilton returned, “The word, Sir, comes from the Greek word for mid-wifery: ‘maieutikos’. The great Plato, in one of his dialogues describes Socrates using maieutikos as a method of bringing forth new ideas by reasoning. Not that this would do you much good, Mr. Burr.”

Mr. Burr approached Mr. Hamilton, paused and pointed an accusatorial finger and said, “Sir, it continues to astound me that your arguments show a stunning lack of ratiocination!” Mr. Hamilton put down the damask napkin that was in his hand and questioned, “Ratiocination?” Burr explained, “Ratiocination — the process of exact thinking! In this regard, Sir, you fail!”

A look of bemusement descended on Mr. Hamilton’s face. He retrieved his napkin from the table, dabbed both corners of his mouth and calmly said, “Mr. Burr, you are a Stinky Ca-Ca.” Mr. Burr seized the napkin from Mr. Hamilton’s hand, “Stinky Ca-Ca, Sir?” Hamilton took back his napkin, “The Stinky Ca-Ca, Sir, an unimportant and ineffectual Indian Tribe!”

“You insult me, Mr. Hamilton! You are a base scoundrel, Sir!” Mr. Burr thundered, he took back the napkin, struck Mr. Hamilton thrice in the face and announced, “You may withdraw your words here and now! Or I will have my honour restored on a dueling field!”

“Sir, my seconds will call on your seconds and a time and place will be selected that will put closure to our dispute!” Mr. Hamilton responded, “One way or another, our matters will be resolved! Good evening, Mr. Burr!”

The outcome of this affair remains to be written. It is the hope of all that cooler heads will prevail. A. Whitwater

Cooler heads did not prevail and on July 11 both men proceeded to their agreed upon appointment. After felling Hamilton with his shot, Aaron Burr handed his pistol to his second, William P. Van Ness, and was heard muttering, “Stinky Ca-Ca indeed!”

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