Holding it together

Tonight's dinner: my most successful meatloaf ever. It was a grand synthesis. I got ideas on ingredients and proportions from monshu and Bittman, then I added some twists of my own. For instance, instead of raw carrot and parsley root, I drained the pot vegetables from last week and pureed them instead. I think Bittman's advice to up the bread crumbs (which the GWO tends not to use) in order to compensate for the liquid from the green vegetables was crucial, but instead of tearing up the multigrain loaf I crumbled some sesame flatbread instead.

I wasn't entirely happy with the seasoning (our sage seems to be falling victim to powdery mildew, so there were few usable leaves, and I forgot the rosemary entirely, although I did make good use of our neighbour's lovage) but the consistency could not have been better. I went with a 60/40 mix of pork and chicken barded with bacon, but I think parcooking the spinach in the microwave and squeezing out as much water as I could was crucial when it came to giving the dish looseness without making it soggy. And (in a rare burst of competence which was compensated for by forgetting out the side salad until the last second) it was done right on time.

As a side, I roasted parsnips and parsley root, but there wasn't much room alongside the loaf, so the chunks I tossed in a separate casserole came out much better. As a special treat, monshu brought home the Koval walnut liqueur. Disappointing: the vanillin in it pushes the nuttiness well into the background. We're thinking it would mix well (particularly as a substitute for the Vana Tallinn in the Baltec) but it's not worth drinking on its own. For comparison, I gave the Old Man some Haus Alpenz Nux Alpina, and its complex taste really brought home the shortcomings of the Koval. To quote Billy Bob Thorton in Bad Santa, "They can't all be winners."

Only so far

Yesterday the Old Man obeyed the call of duty and made sure that I followed through on our joint resolution to go clothes shopping, even though there turned out to be little in it for him. The big and tall store on Michigan has decided it's not carrying Dockers any more which prompted him to decide they don't want his business any more, so all he had to show for six hours spent shopping were six pairs of socks. I, on the other hand, scored two belts, four pairs of pants, two button-downs, and two tees. But at least we could both enjoy lunch at Oysy and we've got our hostess gift for the coming weekend.

After the disappointment of last month, I made no effort at all to promote Pre-Bear Cocktails last night. When Scruffy asked if I was hosting them, I reluctantly acquiesced, so I ended up with a select group of guys I really wanted to see. He'd brought bitter chocolate and was looking for something he could drink with it, so I whipped him up a Baltec. Even more than the standard version, he enjoyed a variation sweetened with a jigger of Gran Marnier. I left off the cinnamon stick garnish, so he improvised a shard of Ghiradelli. For months running, I always had orange juice on hand just in case anyone needed it as a mixer. But no one ever did and I've given up drinking it due to GERD. So it figures that when gopower finally made it over for a change, he'd ask for a Fuzzy Navel. What he got instead was a Toad Hop, equal parts light rum, apricot brandy, and lime juice, which he pronounced, "weird but good". All in all, counting that as a success.

It was a weird night at Touché. Just as we entred, I spotted someone I wasn't really prepared to deal with and charged into the room. But in celebration of the 35th anniversary of the bar they had some dire speechifying going on in the main room, so I fled to the back but smacked into a new buddy in the hallway--a sweet kid who can be a little too clueless for my taste. He said he'd have me over once he moved into a larger apartment. We'll see; he still owes me for the last time we went out to dinner together and he forgot his wallet. Eventually he was pulled away and I wasn't tempted by his offer of Skittle shots in the car outside, so I continued to the back bar.

But it was dull and I didn't see anyone I knew, so I went forward again hoping to find clintswan or Scruffy. Instead, I smacked right into Rubeus, who'd relocated from the entrance to the hallway. Naturally, he picked up with me as if nothing had happened and I didn't have it in me to reproach him for telling me a year-and-a-half ago he'd get in touch soon and then never following through. The impression I'd had back then, that he'd aged a lot since he'd retired, was redoubled in that setting. Less than a week earlier, I'd told my sister that I'd resigned myself to the fact that I might not hear from him again until his funeral (assuming ottr4bear could overcome his rage long enough to notify me), so it wasn't the most natural thing in the world to fall into smalltalk with him.

Except in some ways it was. I was reminded of the recent family vacation where my younger brother and I immediately reverted to our former style of interaction within seconds of meeting up at the hotel, except that those hours were suffused with a poignancy stemming from the realisation that it would only last a couple of days before the embargo on our interaction would return in force. In this case, however, I knew that there was no barrier in place aside from Rubeus' own inability (born of deep-seated insecurity?) to remain in contact. I found myself thinking several times that I was glad to see him but that it was too maudlin to tell him so.

I've learned that I'm too emotionally unsettled on days when I'm strung out from being out late to come to any reliable conclusions about my feelings, so I won't know how I really feel about the experience until tomorrow at the earliest. As I told monshu, I'm not expecting to hear from him again and I'm not expecting not to hear from him either. At least, I'm trying to hold myself in that state of deliberate indifference. I've had practice; it's pretty much the default setting in my life nowadays with anybody but monshu or Nuphy.