After these past weeks of -17 temps he finally hit the wall. It seems that one climbing expedition into the grill resulted in a stuck tail, which spiraled into a frozen doom.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Our deck sits along an outdoor closet that contains the hot water heater and boiler. Add it all up and you have a good place for a mouse to hide out. Occasionally we would see a certain mouse running across the snow covered deck. There is no way for it to get into our home, so it was a very charming thing to observe. It would often run and climb into our small gas grill, usually after we had grilled chicken or steak. He never came around after grilled fish though. I guess cow grease is infinitely tastier.
After these past weeks of -17 temps he finally hit the wall. It seems that one climbing expedition into the grill resulted in a stuck tail, which spiraled into a frozen doom.
After these past weeks of -17 temps he finally hit the wall. It seems that one climbing expedition into the grill resulted in a stuck tail, which spiraled into a frozen doom.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Chicago is inescapable. It finds you everywhere and reminds you that it is still part of your world, mostly in happy ways. I walked out to my truck to head off for some -18 degree xc skiing. Below is what I discovered in my parking lot. It's called dibs in Chicago, and John Kass knows all about it.
I don't know if I completely agree with saving a spot in Chicago by putting lawn furniture in the street, but I do get it. It's completely illegal, but if you put the effort into shoveling out that spot so perfectly and cleanly, it is hard to watch it snatched away by the next car cruising down the street. Parking is tough in many Chicago neighborhoods and hard work does entitle one to a degree. But here in my townhouse complex! The parking lot is rarely more than half full and it is plowed by a truck. Beyond brushing off your car after a snowstorm, the tenants have no work to do. It's why we pay condo dues. Maybe there is a Bears fan lurking somewhere nearby...
The chilling temperatures not withstanding, skiing was terrific. The tracks were fresh and frozen into near concrete. The creek steamed in the deep freeze.
I don't know if I completely agree with saving a spot in Chicago by putting lawn furniture in the street, but I do get it. It's completely illegal, but if you put the effort into shoveling out that spot so perfectly and cleanly, it is hard to watch it snatched away by the next car cruising down the street. Parking is tough in many Chicago neighborhoods and hard work does entitle one to a degree. But here in my townhouse complex! The parking lot is rarely more than half full and it is plowed by a truck. Beyond brushing off your car after a snowstorm, the tenants have no work to do. It's why we pay condo dues. Maybe there is a Bears fan lurking somewhere nearby...
The chilling temperatures not withstanding, skiing was terrific. The tracks were fresh and frozen into near concrete. The creek steamed in the deep freeze.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
I always get a chuckle out of inadvertently stumbling into a classy moment. It's interesting to try something new and not have built it up in your mind.
"Here, try this."
"It tastes ok. Not bad."
"It's Dom Perignon."
I wonder what my reaction would have been if I knew the champagne was coming from a $150 bottle.
After fishing in Homer last June I ended up with 20 lbs of King Salmon fillets from 4 different fish. I never examined them too closely, but after grilling a piece yesterday I was finally struck by the fact that one of the fish was a White King. It was definitely much milder as I have since read, though I do prefer a traditional King. I'll probably pass on an "Ivory King" if I see it at an upscale restaurant, though it is very fun to know that I snagged one myself.
"Here, try this."
"It tastes ok. Not bad."
"It's Dom Perignon."
I wonder what my reaction would have been if I knew the champagne was coming from a $150 bottle.
After fishing in Homer last June I ended up with 20 lbs of King Salmon fillets from 4 different fish. I never examined them too closely, but after grilling a piece yesterday I was finally struck by the fact that one of the fish was a White King. It was definitely much milder as I have since read, though I do prefer a traditional King. I'll probably pass on an "Ivory King" if I see it at an upscale restaurant, though it is very fun to know that I snagged one myself.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
With such a snowy weekend and temperatures rising into the low teens, there was no choice but to get out and ski a bit. I have never skied in Kincaid Park even though it is acknowledged as the crown jewel of nordic skiing in town. It's the largest park and has a near infinite maze of trails. However, it is on the other (south) end of town. It's not a far drive, but it is so much easier to just drive 5 minutes and jump on the trails in my backyard. Well, Lesley (a recent family transplant from WI) lives on the southside so the lure of Kincaid was irresistible. We stayed on the mellow trails and sweated away for an hour or so in some heavy flakes, surrounded by quiet, still Alaskan woods. A perfect Saturday night.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
On the Road
Revisiting old books is always a fascinating exercise, usually with mixed results if I approach it honestly. Much of the Kerouac I devoured in the mid 90's has not aged too well in my mind. I do love Maggie Cassidy more than ever thanks to a rereading a few months ago, but I had until now not reread On The Road. Problem solved.
I vividly remember reading it when I was 18 because Scott was reading it at the same time. We skated almost everyday at Walgreens on Archer and would quote pieces of text to each other.
"D'ere you go man, D'ere you go."
That is an effeminate car.
"We'll look for work mon yana."
We pushed each other to devour text each night so we could chat about it at the next night's session and not end up behind the other. It was a book club that existed in a parking lot with a view of waxed curbs and the sound of flat spotted wheels.
I remember loving the way the characters rambled in all directions without any concern for money, future, or any other degree of planning. Dean and Sal were living ids. I was focused on college and showing up to work at the theater on time. These characters moved while I felt like I was standing still, as I suspect most kids at that age feel that way. I hold no regrets as I knew that college and some money in the bank would create an opportunity for bigger life movements in a few years. I had my eyes a mile or two down the road, yet I was still enthralled by 'ol Dean and Sal sprinting off at the drop of the hat. It has never been in my top 10 of favorite books, though it's energy and warm memory always lived happily in my mind.
I was somewhat hesitant to give it another try as I had a legitimate fear about adding another old favorite to the list of things I cannot now fathom ever liking (Spaceballs, Top Gun). Better to let the past stay warm and a bit hazy. However, a movie adaptation is the works and I know I will get sucked into seeing it, so I'd best tune up my memory of the actual text. Do I still enjoy it?
Yes, a great deal, though for very different reasons. As an adult with a child, I was extremely annoyed by the crass selfishness of the characters and the way they treated their families and responsibilities. I saw evidence in the text that the reader was intended to take a critical eye to Dean in this regard, though this evidence was rather lean. The energy of the book happily remains -- the pages just flat out zoom by. I was completely struck by Sal's loneliness, which is something I had not noticed to a great degree initially. Regardless of his difficulties to forge these bonds, the man is deeply searching for connections amongst men and women. I had always though of it as Dean's book, yet now I can only see Sal's stumbling hope of personal relationships.
I am now extremely interested to see which themes get emphasized in the flick. (How did I ever laugh at Spaceballs?)
I vividly remember reading it when I was 18 because Scott was reading it at the same time. We skated almost everyday at Walgreens on Archer and would quote pieces of text to each other.
"D'ere you go man, D'ere you go."
That is an effeminate car.
"We'll look for work mon yana."
We pushed each other to devour text each night so we could chat about it at the next night's session and not end up behind the other. It was a book club that existed in a parking lot with a view of waxed curbs and the sound of flat spotted wheels.
I remember loving the way the characters rambled in all directions without any concern for money, future, or any other degree of planning. Dean and Sal were living ids. I was focused on college and showing up to work at the theater on time. These characters moved while I felt like I was standing still, as I suspect most kids at that age feel that way. I hold no regrets as I knew that college and some money in the bank would create an opportunity for bigger life movements in a few years. I had my eyes a mile or two down the road, yet I was still enthralled by 'ol Dean and Sal sprinting off at the drop of the hat. It has never been in my top 10 of favorite books, though it's energy and warm memory always lived happily in my mind.
I was somewhat hesitant to give it another try as I had a legitimate fear about adding another old favorite to the list of things I cannot now fathom ever liking (Spaceballs, Top Gun). Better to let the past stay warm and a bit hazy. However, a movie adaptation is the works and I know I will get sucked into seeing it, so I'd best tune up my memory of the actual text. Do I still enjoy it?
Yes, a great deal, though for very different reasons. As an adult with a child, I was extremely annoyed by the crass selfishness of the characters and the way they treated their families and responsibilities. I saw evidence in the text that the reader was intended to take a critical eye to Dean in this regard, though this evidence was rather lean. The energy of the book happily remains -- the pages just flat out zoom by. I was completely struck by Sal's loneliness, which is something I had not noticed to a great degree initially. Regardless of his difficulties to forge these bonds, the man is deeply searching for connections amongst men and women. I had always though of it as Dean's book, yet now I can only see Sal's stumbling hope of personal relationships.
I am now extremely interested to see which themes get emphasized in the flick. (How did I ever laugh at Spaceballs?)
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
One of the things I truly love in life is getting rid of stuff and not replacing it. Although unrealistic, I would love to have my life fit into a studio apartment. Any even braver goal would be to be able to fit my life into a suitcase and be able to hit the road like a character a hundred years ago that is heading west to the frontier or heading east to college. In either case that person is moving their life semi permanently and all they have is 4-5 changes of clothing.
It's a goal. Chiseling towards this goal finds me glancing at my bookshelves and stacks of cd's asking "Do I need that? Will I ever pick that up again?" It means that old music gets another spin and old loves get another look.
I have always loved Henry Rollins spoken word, whether live or on cd. Over the past few years I've found his material redundant and a bit predictable as the topics fall into one of three categories: attacking political straw men (one of my huge pet peeves in arguing a point), name dropping tales that are often humorous, and listing the most recent set of visited foreign countries. Foreign travel is almost always inherently good, though presenting it in a way to make you feel like a rube if you don't do it very often due to scheduling or money is annoying. I'm a sucker for a funny story about a famous person, but taken alongside his latest straw man political rant and brow beating of the untraveled masses, the whole becomes more annoying than the charm of its parts. It's all the more annoying because he is obviously smarter than that. But what of his plethora of cd's from the late 80's through the mid 90's?
They're wonderful. You can easily hear a young man reaching for art in every story, thought, and poem he stumbles into. His stories are not about politics or travel, but about people and experiences that may or may not have political overtones. In short, they are striving for bigger things. If you tell a real and true story about an experience you have a chance at striking a universal chord that may well resonate years and years into the future. That's why people reread great books. If you rant about Bush or FoxNews, you'll get some cheers and immediately begin the sprint towards staleness as the months and years begin ticking away.
I don't care that I agree or disagree with his points of view, I care that he's getting boring. However, I am truly enjoying revisiting Sweatbox, Big Ugly Mouth, and Human Butt (these cd's are staying in my place for sure). Last week his website had a sale where all spoken word cd's and dvd's were going for $5. What a deal! For less than 30 bucks I could have had all the stuff my collection was missing. I took a pass.
It's a goal. Chiseling towards this goal finds me glancing at my bookshelves and stacks of cd's asking "Do I need that? Will I ever pick that up again?" It means that old music gets another spin and old loves get another look.
I have always loved Henry Rollins spoken word, whether live or on cd. Over the past few years I've found his material redundant and a bit predictable as the topics fall into one of three categories: attacking political straw men (one of my huge pet peeves in arguing a point), name dropping tales that are often humorous, and listing the most recent set of visited foreign countries. Foreign travel is almost always inherently good, though presenting it in a way to make you feel like a rube if you don't do it very often due to scheduling or money is annoying. I'm a sucker for a funny story about a famous person, but taken alongside his latest straw man political rant and brow beating of the untraveled masses, the whole becomes more annoying than the charm of its parts. It's all the more annoying because he is obviously smarter than that. But what of his plethora of cd's from the late 80's through the mid 90's?
They're wonderful. You can easily hear a young man reaching for art in every story, thought, and poem he stumbles into. His stories are not about politics or travel, but about people and experiences that may or may not have political overtones. In short, they are striving for bigger things. If you tell a real and true story about an experience you have a chance at striking a universal chord that may well resonate years and years into the future. That's why people reread great books. If you rant about Bush or FoxNews, you'll get some cheers and immediately begin the sprint towards staleness as the months and years begin ticking away.
I don't care that I agree or disagree with his points of view, I care that he's getting boring. However, I am truly enjoying revisiting Sweatbox, Big Ugly Mouth, and Human Butt (these cd's are staying in my place for sure). Last week his website had a sale where all spoken word cd's and dvd's were going for $5. What a deal! For less than 30 bucks I could have had all the stuff my collection was missing. I took a pass.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Ships
I believe that if we listen closely, we can hear themes converging in our lives across given periods of time. I do not believe we are necessarily living in novels of sweeping meaning, but it is fair to say that there is more to it than just saying, "I've ridden my bike a lot lately, therefore this phase of my life is all about bikes." I'll be sticking by this theory, even though I probably have sat in too many Literature courses looking for links and connections across characters and author biographies. The theme this fall involves ships, great lakes, and looking outward.
As the fall begins I always begin itching for future trips which usually sends me flipping through large maps and sliding my fingertip across ink that reads the names of forests, lakes, and remote towns I have not yet visited. This time I dug out my Boundary Waters maps and traced the trips of the past while spinning tales to Becky and Henry of Bears, rapids, and northern pike. I settled into thoughts of lakes in that area I had not canoed across, portages I had not sweated through, and campsites I had not sat in while watching the sun set. I though of Lake Superior right next door and imagined the old days of copper and taconite oozing out of the Mesabi Iron Rage and the UP. There are infinite canoeing opportunities right here in Alaska and I plan on attempting them all, though I'd love to visit the Boundary Waters every summer as well.
When November 10th rolls around the flickering memories of Boundary Waters and Isle Royale crystallize into the phantom Edmund Fitzgerald endlessly lurching across the Lake Superior of my mind. Lightfoot's dirge endlessly feeds the imagination of that day. I picture myself back in Paradise, MI at the museum looking out at Whitefish Bay.
As much as I have always enjoyed Lovecraft, I confess to not loving all of the stories at the same time. Some stories I may never love (Charles Dexter), some I recently "got" (At the Mountains of Madness), and some others I will always love (Dunwich, Colour Out of Space, and The White Ship). Man, The White Ship may not be in the top tier for most Lovecraft fans, but for me it has always threaded a needle of wonder and eeriness with perfection. The mood of that lonely lighthouse looking out over the water puts me at Whitefish Point, and the mysteries and unknown worlds hover just out of reach as I think of the trips and desires out there beyond the maps and coastlines in front of me.
As the fall begins I always begin itching for future trips which usually sends me flipping through large maps and sliding my fingertip across ink that reads the names of forests, lakes, and remote towns I have not yet visited. This time I dug out my Boundary Waters maps and traced the trips of the past while spinning tales to Becky and Henry of Bears, rapids, and northern pike. I settled into thoughts of lakes in that area I had not canoed across, portages I had not sweated through, and campsites I had not sat in while watching the sun set. I though of Lake Superior right next door and imagined the old days of copper and taconite oozing out of the Mesabi Iron Rage and the UP. There are infinite canoeing opportunities right here in Alaska and I plan on attempting them all, though I'd love to visit the Boundary Waters every summer as well.
When November 10th rolls around the flickering memories of Boundary Waters and Isle Royale crystallize into the phantom Edmund Fitzgerald endlessly lurching across the Lake Superior of my mind. Lightfoot's dirge endlessly feeds the imagination of that day. I picture myself back in Paradise, MI at the museum looking out at Whitefish Bay.
As much as I have always enjoyed Lovecraft, I confess to not loving all of the stories at the same time. Some stories I may never love (Charles Dexter), some I recently "got" (At the Mountains of Madness), and some others I will always love (Dunwich, Colour Out of Space, and The White Ship). Man, The White Ship may not be in the top tier for most Lovecraft fans, but for me it has always threaded a needle of wonder and eeriness with perfection. The mood of that lonely lighthouse looking out over the water puts me at Whitefish Point, and the mysteries and unknown worlds hover just out of reach as I think of the trips and desires out there beyond the maps and coastlines in front of me.
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
On Sunday morning we woke up to a few inches of snow and come Monday the newly studded cyclocross Trek made its debut. I needed to tweak the fenders a bit to get them to barely accept the 700 X 35 tires. As the snow stacks up I could probably ditch the fenders considering we won't really get above freezing until April, though if they keep working out I'll keep them on. Snow being kicked up onto my back and pants is not that annoying, though a Pineapple Express may make things sloppy for a few days.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
The studded tires are on my cyclocross bike and snow is imminent. It has been a slow 6 week creep towards these 20 degree mornings: first I needed a skull cap, then a head light, then had to dig out my shoe covers. (As a side note, you pretty much need gloves most mornings in the summer up here). Now it has come to studs. Bring it on! (and please groom it for XC skiing when it comes).
...
I seldom have the occasion to play Dungeons and Dragons these days (at least the more RPG centric flavor). It's actually sadly been years since I sat down and played paper and pencil D&D. It's just hard to find the time to do the preparation and time block to get folks together. Plenty of people in my age range do find the time, though I suspect my desire to ride my bike, hit the gym, watch a movie, read a book, etc. all essentially bully D&D out of the temporal room. Warhammer, skirmish games, and general board games fit my lifestyle nicely, particularly in the winter.
However, I do love to read D&D blogs. Just as I occasionally delve into online accounts of trips to the Boundary Waters, I love sparking and revisiting old memories of adventures past. This review of Beyond the Crystal Cave is fairly accurate even though I have an ultimately positive memory of the module. I ran it as a tournament back in 1992 on a random weekday when Brother Rice gave us a day off. I devised a point system that placed much more emphasis on puzzle solving rather than a body count, which fit perfectly with the module. Not everyone was pleased with the outcome, though Geoff was happy as the winner. Perhaps I'll break out my copy of Castle Ravenloft this weekend so Henry and I can envision some crystal cave styled caverns.
...
I seldom have the occasion to play Dungeons and Dragons these days (at least the more RPG centric flavor). It's actually sadly been years since I sat down and played paper and pencil D&D. It's just hard to find the time to do the preparation and time block to get folks together. Plenty of people in my age range do find the time, though I suspect my desire to ride my bike, hit the gym, watch a movie, read a book, etc. all essentially bully D&D out of the temporal room. Warhammer, skirmish games, and general board games fit my lifestyle nicely, particularly in the winter.
However, I do love to read D&D blogs. Just as I occasionally delve into online accounts of trips to the Boundary Waters, I love sparking and revisiting old memories of adventures past. This review of Beyond the Crystal Cave is fairly accurate even though I have an ultimately positive memory of the module. I ran it as a tournament back in 1992 on a random weekday when Brother Rice gave us a day off. I devised a point system that placed much more emphasis on puzzle solving rather than a body count, which fit perfectly with the module. Not everyone was pleased with the outcome, though Geoff was happy as the winner. Perhaps I'll break out my copy of Castle Ravenloft this weekend so Henry and I can envision some crystal cave styled caverns.
Monday, October 03, 2011
Call it a dry run if you will. I've always wanted to hike the length of Crow Pass Trail from Girdwood to Eagle River, but the timing never worked out correctly. You have to wait for June to melt away much of the snow and it is also wise to line up a companion or 2 to head along with you due to the river crossing. I have read that the first 3 miles from Girdwood to the top of the pass are pretty strenuous, so I decided to give that a day trip on Saturday. The termination dust is on the march so it is time to get these hikes in now.
Yes, the goal of the trail is up there in the snow. I believe the parking lot is at around 1000 feet. Up and up the steep trail for 2 hours will get you to the peak.
At the top of the pass is a Forest Service cabin available for rent. I gather that it is often reserved, but after determining that it was empty I decided to go inside for my lunch break.
There is an undeniable charm to this little buttress to the howling winds and I'd like to stay there someday in the future, though hiking up the kerosene/diesel fuel for heat sounds like a pain. I read through the guest book and found a wonderfully charming entry that I will paraphrase from memory:
Your body brought you to this beautiful place! Take care of it and it will take you many more beautiful places!
I smiled at this thought and happily chomped away at the apples I brought along. About a mile across the blowing snow was the height of the pass and the glacier.
The trail descended steeply from here to the valley that will meander to Eagle River in another 20 miles. I had had enough of climbing steep mountains so decided to turn around and concentrate on cruising downhill. I cannot wait to tackle this entire one way hike next summer! In Alaska, you're never more than a 2 hour hike from winter.
Yes, the goal of the trail is up there in the snow. I believe the parking lot is at around 1000 feet. Up and up the steep trail for 2 hours will get you to the peak.
At the top of the pass is a Forest Service cabin available for rent. I gather that it is often reserved, but after determining that it was empty I decided to go inside for my lunch break.
There is an undeniable charm to this little buttress to the howling winds and I'd like to stay there someday in the future, though hiking up the kerosene/diesel fuel for heat sounds like a pain. I read through the guest book and found a wonderfully charming entry that I will paraphrase from memory:
Your body brought you to this beautiful place! Take care of it and it will take you many more beautiful places!
I smiled at this thought and happily chomped away at the apples I brought along. About a mile across the blowing snow was the height of the pass and the glacier.
The trail descended steeply from here to the valley that will meander to Eagle River in another 20 miles. I had had enough of climbing steep mountains so decided to turn around and concentrate on cruising downhill. I cannot wait to tackle this entire one way hike next summer! In Alaska, you're never more than a 2 hour hike from winter.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The colors are starting to change here in Anchorage and the birch trees are getting fairly yellow. When I ride up Hiland road in Eagle River and hit 700ft of elevation the colors become full blown and beautiful.
Keep climbing. See the ridge to the right? I'll be pedaling up and up that sucker.
And 50 minutes later I'll be at the ~2000ft. top. 15 minutes and 45mph later I'll be back at the bottom.
There will be snow up here within a few weeks for sure. Time to get in as many climbs as possible.
Keep climbing. See the ridge to the right? I'll be pedaling up and up that sucker.
And 50 minutes later I'll be at the ~2000ft. top. 15 minutes and 45mph later I'll be back at the bottom.
There will be snow up here within a few weeks for sure. Time to get in as many climbs as possible.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Hiking Flat Top on a sunny day is the closest Anchorage gets to a traffic jam. The parking lot is craziness and the police have a field day writing parkers along the road up to the Glen Alps trailhead. We beat the crowds by a few hours Sunday morning and found a perfectly clear sky and Denali out very clearly (often Denali is only clearly visible from Anchorage in the winter when it is well below 0). Perhaps not the hottest and sunniest day of the summer, but certainly the best one on Flat Top. Aside from a 10 day stretch here and there of solid rain, this has been a very warm and sunny summer. We hit 70 over half a dozen times.
As we scrambled down from the peak a college age blond met my eyes and asked if I was wearing a Wisconsin hat.
Yep.
"I'm from Wisconsin!," exclaimed the corn-fed young lady.
"I lived in Madison for a bit."
"I'm from Wausau."
I gestured back to my cousin L while she already was stating, "I went to Point."
"Cool! I'll be back in Wausau in a week."
"I'll be visiting Edgar in a few more," I added.
More pleasantries and smiles were exchanged and soon down we went again. We joked about FIBs and FOBs (in Michigan) and tried to determine if I'm still a FIB. I don't think so, but I won't be betting the farm on it.
Wisconsinites are everywhere up here.
As we scrambled down from the peak a college age blond met my eyes and asked if I was wearing a Wisconsin hat.
Yep.
"I'm from Wisconsin!," exclaimed the corn-fed young lady.
"I lived in Madison for a bit."
"I'm from Wausau."
I gestured back to my cousin L while she already was stating, "I went to Point."
"Cool! I'll be back in Wausau in a week."
"I'll be visiting Edgar in a few more," I added.
More pleasantries and smiles were exchanged and soon down we went again. We joked about FIBs and FOBs (in Michigan) and tried to determine if I'm still a FIB. I don't think so, but I won't be betting the farm on it.
Wisconsinites are everywhere up here.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Monday, August 08, 2011
The Double Musky in Girdwood is my favorite restaurant here in Alaska, perhaps even my favorite anywhere. I usually have a craving for steak a few times a year, so their Pepper Steak becomes a welcome bath in gluttony. The remaining seafood and cajun dishes fill out the menu nicely.
However, thanks to little Hank these days, we don't find ourselves heading out to Girdwood that often for rich, leisurely dinners. No problem at all, as I own the Double Musky cookbook and have plenty of time to tinker around at home. I made a stab at their jambalaya on Friday and it was fairly successful. I swapped the shrimp for chicken breast and opted for chicken Andouille sausage. It came out very spicy (just right for me and a bit hot for Becky) and a touch too salty (I neglected to account for the salt in the chicken stock). Overall I really enjoyed it, it flat out looks correct, and I now know where to make the adjustments next time. I'll just need to pick up some fresh,traditional Andouille at the butcher shop in town and give the non chicken option a shot. We'll have snow and cool days here sooner than I'd like to admit, so a spicy dish will be welcome before Halloween.
It just needs some rice.
Done!
However, thanks to little Hank these days, we don't find ourselves heading out to Girdwood that often for rich, leisurely dinners. No problem at all, as I own the Double Musky cookbook and have plenty of time to tinker around at home. I made a stab at their jambalaya on Friday and it was fairly successful. I swapped the shrimp for chicken breast and opted for chicken Andouille sausage. It came out very spicy (just right for me and a bit hot for Becky) and a touch too salty (I neglected to account for the salt in the chicken stock). Overall I really enjoyed it, it flat out looks correct, and I now know where to make the adjustments next time. I'll just need to pick up some fresh,traditional Andouille at the butcher shop in town and give the non chicken option a shot. We'll have snow and cool days here sooner than I'd like to admit, so a spicy dish will be welcome before Halloween.
It just needs some rice.
Done!
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