Monday, March 5, 2012

Stuffing Shit In Where It Fits

Got to participate in the annual Soup and Bread series over at the Hideout Bar. All proceeds benefited Inspiration Kitchens over in the Wesssssstttt SSSSiiiiiiiddddeeeee! I made my mom's beef short rib soup that took me a little over a day to make. I tried to cheat but remembered how mom's have a way of knowing shit like this so I kept it real and did everything step by step to ensure authenticity.

Luckily there were plenty of other soup cooks reppin for this great winter weekly event. Everything from a vegan mushroom to a red beet soup.

I'm always surprised at how there hasn't been an electric fire every year. Crock pots, liquid, 15 outlets, and drunk cooks could be a very volatile mix.

Worked a beer dinner the next day with New Belgium and the head brewer Eric Salazar. He stayed at the Longman and Eagle hotel just upstairs from the Michelen star restaurant. It's definitely a quaint stay complete with random murderous looking numbers on the doors.

So one of the cooler/odd things about the smaller rooms is the toilet shower combo for the multi tasker in all of us who want to shit/wash/cry all into one sinkhole. This is totally Asian by design.

So in true fashion, the homies and I had to show Eric an epic time to really give a good impression. Unfortunately after doing undisclosed amounts of Malort shots at Bonnies, cocktails at Whistler, beers at Rocking Horse, and closing the night out at Longman. This is the only picture I had from all of this. I could have punched her and out run her in my drunken stupor with one leg missing. Officer Princess Fiona here was waiting for her whole pizza pie on duty. Who the fuck is she going to stop besides the Claudio the tamale guy? There is something wrong.

So after a long day of recovering, Eric had a sour blending presentation for Small Bar Fullerton's 2 year anniversary party. Here he is looking for his keys.

On top of his presentation, Small Bar offered an impressive list of sours on draft along with a completely revamped food menu that made my balls titillated.

The final product was a hybrid of Eric's "love" sour starter and some tart cherry juice. This shit was fucking baller. I'm glad my body got to turn this into urine.

Got to wish the long time homie David a happy birthday over at Lokal. He just turned Mexican.

Stopped by Double Door to check out a couple of funk/soul bands with Merk 1 who swore he'd give me a ride home if I was his date...I'm waaaaayyyyyy too easy.

I'm glad I stuck around and checked out The Soul Orchestra who fucking killed it. Remember what real instruments sounded like? Yeah me either. Great fucking set.

Woke up ready to tackle the big board at Goose Clybourn. Can you guess what the theme was? Yep, white people.

I ended up winning this somehow. I think in my state when this picture was taken, I tried to eat the golden sandwich.

I have no idea how I got up to do this the next morning, but it happened and sleep came soon after.

Woke up the next morning and helped the homie Skillet out since he was feeling under the weather. We cooked in a house that housed an elevator. A fucking elevator in a house. How can you ever relate to anyone that has an elevator in their house? Only an escalator can top this and by then, it'll just look desperate.

On site at another job taking a breather from prepping with Matt and Kojack ready to impart some knowledge on beer and food to group of bachelorettes ready to get they drank and eat on.

We basically lost them within two courses. Kojack here is seriously thinking about taking off his shirt to regain their attention. He soon realized how wolfman like his body hair is and kept it PG.

Running errands the next day ran into this old tag of mine from years ago still riding. I wouldn't have recognized it until I saw a puke stain right under it and remembered the night.

Had some time to burn and decided to check out Publican Quality Meats. Another Paul Kahan goldmine. That dude can't be stopped. It's awesome and scary.

Part specialty shop and delicatessen, this spot is good for soups, sandwiches, ham, steaks, chops, stock,...pretty much anything delicious.

Sleek design, right across the street from Publican and ready to sell you some 80 dollar dry aged steaks.

Fucking christ. Duck rillette, salami, pork loin, proscuitto, I forgot that other pork thing, but it all went happily into my mouth in full salt glory.

I've never drooled so bad looking at encased meat. Hard to be a vegetarian here. I think even the bread touched some kind of animal cock.

The ribolitta soup had hunks of salami, grated parmesan, homemade stock, and my face juice.

The "better than a gyros" sandwich had braised pork belly with their own rendition of a tzatziki sauce. I'll definitely be coming back for this and inserting my penis into this.

It was a long day, so I let my nephew take a nap for me.

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