Monthly Archives: May 2011

Food, loaded-type

Her potato clearly does not meet my personal cheese quota.

There are few meals my wife makes on a regular basis. The ones she chooses to revisit are without a doubt among her most favorite things in the world. I certainly appreciate not having to mentally contribute to a meal on these occasions…but that’s another story.

However, not many people actually consider these dishes to be actual meals. In the cases when it’s simple salad, popcorn, corn/hot dogs, or chips and guac, they’d probably be right. But when it comes to her touchdown dishes, those people are plumb crazy.

I’ve actually started making one of them for my post-first-coffee meal on a regular basis. Sloppy Nachos are incredible. My versions are more simply fabricated (though the excesses I pile on are a bit…much), so I’ll explain her methods.

She sets the chips (sometimes home made from corn tortillas) on the plate and throws down a bit of cheese and black beans for the under layer. Then does the same once more on top of that (classy move. I love the cheese) but also includes her homemade salsa, shredded chicken goop, guacamole, and anything else that strikes her fancy. Rebbs’ nachos are an art form. She isn’t as meticulous in crafting each individual bite as the famous Brenton Porter nachos, but her art is in the flavor and appearance. The way she creates her nachos makes each bite different. You can taste each ingredient separately or paired depending on which you select. It’s beautiful.

My nachos are a pile of crap that, while good, usually consist of shoveling twice. First off the plate, and then off your shirt before it reaches your mouth.

Her bestest though, is the LOADED BAKED POTATO. In the spirit of full disclosure, the loaded baked potato usually only makes an appearance when I am also eating this dish (she hates grating cheese. Apparently this is a “man’s job”…but I blame a bad experience she had once with John and Lindsey Blake…)

This thing is full of love and all sorts of gloriousness. A slight taste of butter, cheese poncho wearing broccoli, sprinkled with a crumbled piece of bacon or two, and usually shredded chicken. While it’s too hot to eat right away, she’s usually done with hers just as mine is cooling enough to get close enough to smell.

On the upside, I get to gather up the potato skin and cheesy bits she left behind on her plate. My recommendation to drink with the Loaded Baked Potato is Newcastle Brown Ale, with the Nachos – Jalepeno Lemonade with 1800.

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I am a photographer/drunk/writer/addict/warrior/mercenary

I love being a photographer. Everyone loves having their picture taken…when they are ready. I get amazing pictures of couples brewing their coffee or giving their vows. Seriously, it’s the easiest thing in the world to take pictures of the world as it wants to be seen.

Unfortunately, that’s not what makes a photographer. The photos that really capture the essence of humanity; what it feels like to really BE ALIVE are not so easily captured. I’m not even good enough a photographer to know what sorts of people will consistently capture that photo and share it with you. I’m sure they must be great.

I’m not even good enough a writer. The feeling of missing the love of your life while hearing the rain fall on the veranda and wishing it could be shared is a mercenary adventure. We don’t do things for money, or blood lust, or what ever you heard a warrior say once.

I wish I could capture the beautiful moments in conflict scenarios and share them with my wife. She is the most important thing in the world, yet, I am half a world away doing the only thing that I can do well. She should hear the pitter-patter of rain that must be an ounce per drop.

This is the weather that calms me. Even if for no other reason that nothing can be heard but the thunder and rain. I must relax. If you snuck upon me in this, I’d be utterly defenseless. Only this, and if only, I’d want to share with you. The sound of the storm leave me at your mercy.

A haiku of love and storm (see Flickr photostream at right):

Rain pounds tile and cashews,
Despite my hard candy shell,
Monkeys frolic outdoors.

Wife: I wish you were here. I wish I loved teaching as you do. I wish you loved executing the unsuspecting as I do. In the meantime, let’s go see Spider-man on Broadway.