Puff pastry strips


The last time I made blueberry turnovers the scraps were also baked. Those were around for a couple of days and I ate them one by one. I kept thinking each time this would be a good idea. Just the pastry. It's very dry and crumbly. It's fascinating the way the flakes dissolve in your mouth. And if flour and butter doesn't' stick to my ribs then nothing will.

↓ This is one stick of melted butter poured onto a plastic-covered tray and chilled.








Quixote's Grill Broadway, Humboldt Farm Fish Wine





I forgot to photograph their carnitas burrito, smothered lettuce tomato, sour cream and guacamole. Endless soft drinks. Too much to eat at once so half brought home along with a milkshake. Their food looks like this.

They're a block away. One the way there at the corner an Arby's recently moved out. I was always a bit disappointed for the Arby's there. Okay, but not that great. A place called Torches reopened there and now the line for lunch reaches outside the building and wraps around the corner. It is an outrageously long line that occurred the moment the doors opened. Meanwhile there are two excellent Mexican family owned Mexican restaurants y que muy autentico. And that comes from not knowing, almost knowing enough. They could have great meals, great service, very reasonable price. 

Imagine an all-American boy, how he is dressed from hat to shoe, how he groomed, his hygiene, his fresh look and his good manners. Now imagine the boy Latino. That is who greets you graciously at this place. If not him then his mother. 

Except today. He shrunk by half. The exact same person shrunk to half size. And now an all-American boy fresh of face and gracious in manner and wearing the same clothes except half size. I act as if I'm not surprised.

The mother greeted me as if seeing an old friend. The place is half filled while half a block away people are still waiting in line outside in the cold for a lesser experience. The shrunken all-American Latino son is border obsequious to me while paying less attention to others. So is the mother. 

"Does your brother work here?" 

"Yes." 

Being half the age of the teenage-looking son, this one looks too young to be working. His manners are impeccable. He opens up graciously. He tells me where his brother is, what his brother is doing and what his brother wants to do with his life, be a nurse. 

It occurred I had him taking about his older brother and not about himself. 

"Do you have an idea what you would like to do when you grow up?" I expected uncertainty.

"Yes, I want to become a plastic surgeon." 

This whole time I was expecting a goofier dumber version of his older brother but he shattered that misapprehension. I am genuinely surprised how sensible these two boys are. Both of them without any urging from adults at different times rushed wide around and ahead of me to beat me to the door to open it for me. Both came from behind the counter to race in front, at different times, the same behavior. 



The place is much darker than this inside. I made them show lighter and Photoshop shows them lighter still and I didn't stop it so that's twice lightened. I take responsibility for misrepresenting. The shutter is achingly slow. Open a second and it's just shaky me holding it.  The lens has stabilization but there is only so much that can do. 








Fun! 

Oh, they start out so proper and serious and are ever on the edge of fun. Right there at the edge. One trace of play on your part and it's game on. Everyone eager for fun. Everything that I read online about millennials is contrary to my own everyday personal experience. Millennials are beautiful and energetic and kind and gracious, and well brought up, and fun and smart and ambitious. And they do this bearing tremendous burdens and while facing up to the burdens of the world. They are everything you would want your own children to be.

I should add, this night, the happy hour crowed turned over to a younger dinner crowd. The table of people photographed was occupied previously by a group of middle-aged after work people, for example. 

Oatmeal with currants


I'm starving. I'm always starving. I'm in a serious weight-loss spiral that I intend to halt and reverse by pushing food into my pie hole continuously.

A friend stopped by as I was replacing water in the aquarium involving a hose to the bathroom. He followed me in there and stepped on the scale. He 5'7 and 169 LBS me 6'0 127 LBS. That's shockingly low. I look like a spider.

And the whole time this oatmeal is sitting there and I pass it several times daily. I forgot how satisfying this is. And easy. No fuss, one bowl. And fast, a few minutes in the microwave. 

If I had heavy cream right now I would use it. To finish. After it's microwaved.
salt
brown sugar
anything that sounds good, nuts, banana, peach, raisins, cranberry raisins, apple, preserves instead of brown sugar, maple syrup, strawberries, blueberries, any berry, cinnamon, allspice, pear. mango, what do you say?

I'm going to buy another box and go crazy with this stuff. Think, Scotsmen. No more messing around. It's full fat, full on full food all the time until the weight comes back up to 150 LBS, ten stone ten pounds, still very skinny.


Quiznos


I thought Quiznos was pizza. It's all grilled sub sandwiches. Cost about $12.00.



Denver Post ran an article about Arne Svenson, Did He Go Too Far? The NY artist showing at Museum of Modern Art, Denver, won his legal case bearing on privacy. They are in the center of busy cities and their windows are purposefully unshaded. Here's what his stuff looks like. All people behind their own private windows.


This is a fun corner, actually. I've taken photos from the 4th floor restaurant in the the Art Hotel building reflecting the mural on the building I'm in now. Three doors or so away from where I live on the same block. And from the restaurant inside the Colorado Museum building catty-corner from this. 

Hand rolled pasta in cream sauce


I saw the package of chicken breast sitting there thawing having been set out earlier and knew in an instant what I wanted to do. I wanted very heavy egg noodles, the sort that is not usually sold and the chicken breast and nearly a full pint of cream with the chicken breast here and there as addition. Diced roughly it will cook in one minute. Cream sauce will come to boil in just a few minutes. 


I am waiting for room in my stomach for the rest. I must have more.  

You know sometimes I cannot believe my own skills. 





The diced chicken is cooked in butter with dry thyme very briefly with salt and pepper, and spices; powdered mustard and chile powder. And have the nutmeg ready to scrape. These things do not go together:

butter
thyme
salt
pepper
dry mustard
chile powder 
freshly grated nutmeg

later plated:

Excessive cream, a lot more than you think. Double what you think. 

+ parmesan cheese
+ fresh basil

But they do. They do combine together with cream. It must be like soup. I am not exaggerating. The thick primitive egg noodles, butter, cream, a genuine curry of spices with cheese and basil. You're lucky to find a place to sell you a meal like this. Thailand maybe. They'd use coconut milk. 

The chicken is incidental protein to confident fun hearty noodles heavily creamed up with intoxicating inviting flavors utterly unconcerned with calories and welcoming even more straight cream. 

All that cream consumed with no concern for proper balanced diet and completely satisfied that for me, tonight, this meal is perfect.


There. That's what it looks like properly creamed up. This is the second serving. The sauce is straight cream. 

I realized tonight nutmeg is raw. 

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