Gripe Du Jour

Merry Whatever, y'all!

Love and liquid holiday cheer for all,
grumpypants

PS: No, no, the dog didn't just swallow an antelope whole. She's just, er, full-figured and good for snuggling.

I'd never thought I'd be one to say it, but

I like Monday mornings. Yeah, yeah, I know but here me out. So I work on Sundays from 11:30 until 3ish and then from 6:30 until around 11. I don't work on Mondays until 2, so I have a full morning to lounge around in my pajamas, make the Mister a nice breakfast before he goes to work, and watch "Dawson's Creek." I'm not totally exhausted from the day before (that's Tuesday morning, because I work until 12 or 12:30 and am not usually home until 1:30 or 2), so I can attend to small domestic matters - doing dishes, making cookies, scratching Rebecca's tummy - and generally just chill. There's no pressure to go out and run errands or do massive cleaning since I do have to leave to work at 1 and "Dawson's" isn't over until 10 and I need to read the Times from Sunday AND I need to catch up on other people's blogs and . . .You get the idea.

Love and the awesomeness of still being in my pajamas at 11:23 am,
grumpypants

One for the Kitchen

One thing they do in kitchens which I find totally marvelous is that, after everyone has worked / sweated their fool butts off for 10 hours or so, they give you a cocktail of your choosing while you're wrapping things up. Isn't that swell? I think I might have lasted longer as an editor if we had all gotten a glass of wine at the end of the day to celebrate a job well-done!

Love and a well-deserved nip.
grumpypants

Irishland, The Photo Album

[Slideshow]

Love and a pint of stout,
grumpypants

PS: Yes, yes, most of these photos have already been posted by the Mister, but they are nice ones and I am a bit on the lazy side today, having spent a good chunk of Saturday helping my boss assemble a FABULOUS dinosaur cake for her son's birthday. It was large! It was glorious! It had many dimensions and red candy spikes! Photos to follow.

Shane MacSweeney, shouldn't you be working right now instead of faffing around on the Internet?*

Hello again!

The Mister and I have just returned from ten splendid days in Irishland! We frolicked with leprechauns, drank pints and pints and more pints, spent time with family and friends (including the aforementioned Mr. MacSweeney), took various day trips (to Sligo, the seven wonders of Fore - of which, curiously, we only found four), and generally had a mighty fine time. We had many cups of tea and some excellent food, including three exquisite oysters in Cork that gave me occasion to become violently ill. (Donal, ever the excellent host, had put Michael and I in the master bedroom in his new house, so I was able to do all of my puking in the cozy privacy of the en suite bathroom. Thanks, Donal, you're a champ!) In spite of the illness, a wonderful time was had by all, and I for one was none to eager to come home. A huge thank you to everyone who made the trip so wonderful!!! (The Mister took loads of lovely photos and has promised to help me post a few here when we are both at home at the same time, which, at the rate we're going, will probably be next week sometime.)

Being back in New York is nice, though. The folks at work seemed happy enough to see me, and when I got home from the airport, Rebecca got off of the couch for a few minutes to say hello. (All of the wagging of the tail tuckered her out, so she soon returned to her perch and commenced canoodling with Danny, her new boyfriend and mostest-favoritist dog sitter. Don't worry Karen and Zeke - she still loves you too and will gladly stick her tongue down each of your throats when next you are in town!)

As nice as it is to be back, I definitely have a few post-vacation blues. The euro to dollar exchange rate isn't good for us, so I think we're both feeling more than a little broke. Plus, we were sort of casually checking out housing prices there, which have gone totally through the roof (like here in the city expect that over-priceditis seems to have afflicted the whole damn country). Now I'm in a "we're never going to be able to afford (a) having a baby, (b) buy a house, (c) buy a car, (d) go to any of the four weddings we've been invited to next year" funk. Plus, I start my internship tomorrow and am totally terrified - will I make it through day one with my fingers and dignity in tact? Doubtful, I think. Grumble, grumble, grumble.

Anyway! There are errands to run, an apartment to tidy (thank you, Kim and Aggie, for inspiring me!), a dog to take squirrel-chasing, blues and dust bunnies to chase away.

Love and a big hurrah for (a) the Democrats - use your superpowers for good, not evil!, (b) strong cups of coffee - Mister, I love your people but they have a LOT to learn about how to brew a good cup, and (c) wee David, who has a charming toothless smile and collars just like his old man,
grumpypants

*Is it McSweeney or MacSweeney? It sounds like the latter when your people say it. Apologies for any misspellings!

Coniglio a Succhittu Sardegna

That's eye-talian for tasty, tender rabbit braised in a garlicky sauce with chicken stock, a fistful of bacon, white wine vinegar (lots, actually, and so it gives it all a nice snap), and heaps of parsley. I even cut up the rabbit myself* - pulling out its wee kidneys with my bare hands and using a cleaver to seperate its middle bits (er, the loin, rather) into nice chunks. I served the rabbit over polenta, and we had a little mixed green salad with some particularly cheery yellow cherry tomatoes ("cheery cherry tomatoes?" Did I really just say that?). The Mister took a nice photo of our dinner before we devoured of it, and he makes it all look very fancy.

Love and tasty little rabbit legs,
grumpypants

*So it was a whole rabbit today (well, whole before I ripped it asunder with my knife) and whole black sea bass yesterday. I've been cooking more complete animals lately, and not only is the whole experience been very tasty and quite economical (two sweet little sea basses for $5!), but once you get over yanking out the tiny inards and having the fish peeking at you while you nibble on its side, it's really no different than eating meat in any other form. Those who want to take this idea to the next level should check out Fergus Henderson's "The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating." He's really quite funny and should you have a hankering for duck hearts, you'll know just how to fix 'em. (Sauteed with butter and served on toast, in case you were curious, and while I haven't tried it, one day I just might.)

Saturdays, Grumpypants-style

The Mister is at some geekfest at the Microsoft offices*, so I've had the whole day to indulge in all sorts of late-summer putterings. I went to, not one, but two! farmers' markets this morning. Farmers' markets are one of my favorite things in the whole damn world - the sights! the smells! the visual sexiness of all that gorgeous, colorful tastiness! the possibilities! As per usual, I bought tons and tons and also tons of stuff: late-season tomatoes, onions, potatoes, two black seabass, raspberries, greens, tiny winter squashes, milk, yogurt drinks, several varieties of apples, goat's cheese, a rabbit (mmmmm..Peter Cottontail, why are you so delicious?), sausages, grapes, broccoli, and on and on. . . . Now I'm at home and attending to the bounty. I've got a big pot of chicken stock (destined to be chicken soup at some point this week) and I'm nibbling on edamame and some of the raspberries. I've cooked off some cranberry beans with a ham bone and will make some sort of cassoulet-type thing with garlic sausage, tomatoes, and breadcrumbs mixed with parsely and duck fat. (Mmmm....duck fat. Hey, don't knock it 'til ya try it!) Since it's such a perfect fall day here in Brooklyn, I might take the dog on a big walk once the stock is simmering. There's whole lot of cleaning and other domestic blahdiddityblah to do, of course, but I might just curl up on the couch, snooze, perhaps take in a little E! TV, as long as I've got the house to myself.

I was thinking about dragging the Mister off to my new place of employment, so he could try the BLACK PEPPER ICE CREAM I made on Friday (Yes, yes, it is just as sexy as it sounds . . . ;), but now I'm in a serious homebody mood, so it may be a night of tasty nibbles (heh, heh, heh) and a little Netflix-based amusement.

Love and all the fall bounty you can stagger home with,
grumpypants

*A shoeless geekfest with a sleepover option and lots of important Internet-types. Wouldn't you just die to be a fly on the wall?!

Dear Karen

Dearest, loveliest Karen who lives in Rhode Island,

Please leave a comment on my blog before you leave one on the Mister's! I know it's not a competition, but I'd like to win all the same!

Love and a little public teasing,
grumpypants

PS: All y'all better leave some comments! I don't want Karen to feel too exposed!
PPS: To all you New York folk, wasn't today too gorgeous for words?? It was the first crisp fall day, and the squirrels were everywhere! (Rebecca was thrilled, but admitedly a little off her game. A couple were just a stone's throw away and she didn't notice 'em. Must be that missing eye tripping her up.)

Sucker with a capital Suck

So now I know I did offer to help out at my old (now very old) job, but I gotta say, I never really figured that they would take me up on it. But they have. And how! This is how I find myself gearing up for showing up at the old stomping ground at 3 AM on Wednesday to help one of the owners crank out breakfast for their new wholesale clients. Then after that fun stuff ends around, oh, 7ish, I'll skip off to the restaurant to make ice cream for a few hours, and then - tra la la! - it's off to school from 1 until 5. I feel stupid and tired just thinkin' about it.

It's a one-time thing, though, and it was the nice thing to do. I guess. What do you think? Am I generous or just plain craaaaaaaaaayyyyy-zee?

Love and the early AM,
grumpypants

Back to School

Well, hello there. Grumpypants here, back from a rather extended vacation. It's been a good summer, really. Last summer I worked five bazillion, jillion, mumbobillion hours, so I don't recall much about the summer except that it was hotter and that the bakery provided "staff face wash" (hoity-toity MAC stuff. ah the benefits of working for gay men!). This year, I worked a good bit less and made a point to really enjoy it. I went sailing, hung out in Prospect Park with the Mister, puttered around the farmers' market, conquered my dough nervousness, and ate really good tomatoes with chopped herbs and a smattering of Fleur de Sel. I spent time with friends, slept in, saw movies. It was glorious.

This fall brings about all sorts of newness. I've started to doing pastry production - making ice creams and apricot-almond tarts and such - for a restaurant, so that means that once I graduate, I'll be saying good-bye to the cafe where I've been baking. This is good since while I've liked this job and it's been a good while-in-school gig, it's not really what I want professionally. I need to figure out where I'm doing my post-school externship, since I graduate in about six weeks - yikes!

I'm also hoping to write more, about food and life with the Mister and people who pick their noses on the subway. Lofty goals to be sure, but I'm hopeful.

Love and nice to see you too!
grumpypants

HOORAY!!!!!!!!

After careful consideration of his many, many merits, the good ol' US Embassy has seen fit to grant Neighbour Steven his fiancee visa!!!! Let the wild rumpus begin!

Love and pints and pints of celebration.
grumpypants

All fingers and toes crossed!

The future co-chair of our Favorite Neighbo(u)rs Committee here at Casa da Grumpypants y Pretentious, the much adored Neighbour Steven, has the interview for his fiancee visa at the US Embassy in jolly old England tomorrow. We here at Gripe du Jour wish him and his lovely wife-to-be, the muchmuchmuch loved Neighbor Stacey, lots and lots of luck!

Love and the paperwork that makes our lives with foreigners possible,
grumpypants

PS: Happy Bastille Day, y'all! Drink lots of French wine! Eat croissants and exceptional cheese! Discuss whether Kirsten Dunst will be any good playing Marie Antoinette!
PPS: Brief biographical note: we here at GdJ went through a phases when we were, oh, 10 or 11, where we were fascinated with Marie Antoinette and read several books about her and did little paintings and sketches of people in clothing of that time. Go figure, eh?

Bowls of Cherries and Cheer

The dark shadow of Chef Turdyturdkins has lifted, and life is happier for it! On Thursday, after having a postively amazing class during which learning occured for the first time in months, the entire class stormed the office of the dean of education and gave Chef Turdyturdkins a resounding vote of no confidence. On Friday, we were informed that Thursday's wonderful sub would be our instructor for the rest of the module. Woo hoo! Everyone I've talked to from class is absolutely over the moon and can't wait to go to class on Monday. (Attendance had fallen during Turdyturdkins' tenure, because he was a dick.) I celebrated the good news with a few classmates over the best carbonara I've had in my whole FREAKIN' life and lots and lots of wine.

Today I'm snuggled up with my laptop, munching on this year's first really good sweet cherries, and planning to make a small batch of strawberry jam. And there's mussels for lunch and an overflowing hamper of laundry that neeeds attention. It might even be time to dust off those yoga DVDs. Oh, and there's homework to be done too of course - I don't want to let the new chef down!

Love and sweet victory,
grumpypants

An Open Letter to My Chef Instructor at School, Mr. Turdyturdkins

Chef Turdyturdkins,

I hate you and your ass face. The school has many, many fine instructors, but you, mi amigo, are not a fine instructor. In fact - at your best - when you are actually endeavoring to teach and not to (a) play with your computer(s), (b) flirt with the pretty girl in the class, (c) whine about how hot the class is (Note: It's a kitchen you stupid SOB. It's supposed to be hot.), (d) stroke your own ego, (e) not taste the food or check to see if it's cooked properly, or (f) attend to all of the above, you are a very average instructor who consistently grades the girls (HOOTERS!!) better than the boys (who are less fun because they have no hooters, but still fun because they can be your pal) and generally teaches me nothing more than how to try to learn things and cook skillfully while under the watchful eye of an utter turd. You suck.

Love and a big ol' hearty UP YOURS, MUTHATRUCKER,
grumpypants

And They Say Romance Is Dead

Scene: Grumpypants is changing into her pajamas - e.g. old yoga pants and a tank top - and the Mister is in bed, admiring her changing. He sighs and looks at her (boobs) and says . . .

"I don't know what I fell in love with first: you, or your herpes."

Aw SHUCKS! So cute you want to barf, eh?

Love and oh-by-the-way-I've-been-herpes-free-since-1977-that-means-clean-as-an-effin'-stringbean-yo,
grumpypants