Home Brew, Loko Style!

Last night when i got home i literally slammed into the door, because i was sooo tired (and the lock's broken). This is because i was a FUCKING MACHINE at work. Anyway I'm simultainously exhausted and ravished and oBvs not thinking straight. So my mom's like (because she has the weirdest sleep sched ever, and is ofter awake/dozing on the couch at 2:30am) there's some minestrone soup in the fridge. FALSE! I don't know what that shit was, some beef and onion contraption, but there is no fucking way you could pass that shit off as ministrone. I OF COURSE didn't realize this until there was a big hot fucking spoonful in my mouth then immediately all over the kitchen sink. Ugh, i can't even talk about this anymore because i've gagged twice just typing this.

So! there is no food in the house except this two day old 1/2 of a garlic bread-stick that's been in my bag since purchase. I'm gnawing on this bread-stick, that i literally can't even chew because it's so dense, and falling asleep. About 10 minutes (one bite) later a commercial for Brew Masters comes on, and my haze is instantaneously gone because i realize the first bottle of my fucking beer is sitting in the fridge waiting to be opened. Let me tell you in that half second long moment of dawning fucking realization, mystery spluge on my shirt, pants reaking of rancid milk, mouthful of soggy bread: I almost fucking cried.

I throw myself out of the recliner like a kid whose grandparents have just loaded up on sugar then sent home. My expression is of the utmost seriousness (not a trace of smile) and my pupils dilate as i throw open the door the the fridge and there, basking in the majestic rays of halogen light is the first bottle of Hef-a-what???. So i drink it, and?

Ehh. I mean if someone handed me it i'd be like, "this beer's alright." but it lost all the little subtleties it had in it's primary stages, and a Haywire Hef it is not. Anyway i'm pretty disappointed about it, and will def be brewing beer like, as soon as i finish writing this, and far more regularly at that.

*Side note! In the summer it's better to drink wheat ales because they keep you slightly more hydrated and therefore more refreshing. Also Haywire is best served with an orange, not a lemon as is usually custom (and this is WAAAYYY before Blue Moon, thank you very much).

So i needed to make something to boost my spirits/cure my broken dreams, which brings me too: Four Loko Home Brew!

For supplies you need:
1 monster
bag of jolly ranchers (preferable 5 blue raspberry & 5 watermelon)
1 bottle St. Ides (I used Colt 45)
Sprite

First i was under the impression the Four Loko was now illegal, but someone should probably tell my local SR Liquors, because i was shocked still when i walked past the fridges and saw this:


Then my brain was like, "It still exists? What the fuck am i doing this for?" Then the other part of my brain was like, "Why the fuck do you do any of this shit?" And i had to agree with the later part, so GAME ON!

I don't really give a fuck what people think about me, for the most part. That being said i've developed a nice rapport with the Shop Right Liquors guy over the past two months, and couldn't face him with a shopping basket full of just the aforementioned items, so i bought some DFH 90min as well, because i love it (also has anyone seen the 120min? 'cause i've been searching far a wide. Anyway stay on the look out). I still practically screamed: "I HAVE GOOD TASTE! please don't judge me," at the guy. Well, fuck him.


Basically put 5 watermelon jolly ranchers in a jar and 5 Blue Raspberry into another jar (i only had 4 blue ones because jolly rancher skimped out on me, cheap bastards). Split the monster between the two.


At this point you're also supposed to add a caffeine pill, but i fully intend to test this on Phil and Nanc, and the last thing i need is for either of them to have a heart attack from one of my experiments. Also i'm pretty sure my dad on Caffeine pills would be a nightmare, so this is 4 loko lite. Cap jars and put them in the fridge until ranchers dissolve, which is the same amount of time it takes for my mom to find her sweatshirt/car keys/mind, drive to the library, not get a book, and come home, which is 8 hours (or 4 if you don't go by the roman calendar).

So i've only actually "legit" Four Loko-ed once, and believe me, that was enough. We had just driven back to SF from a wine tasting expedition (DPL, The Spreenster, and her girl K) and decided upon Sam Wu's (this little shack in Chinatown with bomb noodles, and your food arrives on dumbwaiters) to refuel. It's BYOB, so of course we go to a liquor store nearby first. I had secretly been dying to try some of this for over a month, and so i of course grab a can, because why wouldn't i follow up a day of wine tasting with the most dangerous alcoholic beverage on the market? duh. Anyway i ended up speed walking around the bar we were at all night, then almost falling alseep standing up on the dancefloor after repeatedly making the live band give me high fives. I woke up the next morning naked in bed (i don't know why) with the feeling that i never wanted to move again/run a three minute mile simultaneously which was just TOO much for my brain. I vowed then and there, that Four Loko would never again be apart of my life.

Now that our "wort" has "fermented" we're ready to "Brew" some loko. That last sentance was bull shit, "You can't pee into a mister coffee and get taster's choice." Well said Dana Carvey. Pour in some of your malt liquor of choice, top out with a little sprite, and i promise you it tastes 100x better then the actual shit.




Dad: I like this, pour some of that in a glass over ice.



Mom: This tastes like adult Koolaid.
Me: Do you want a glass?
Mom: No.

So basically i drank one and 1/2 of these and will probably end up alone in my room at 3am finishing off that bottle of Colt 45 and listening to The Arcade Fire. Theoretically this should make me sad, but i am sort of looking forward to it. Thanks life, this Four Loko Lite's for you.

Sausage-fest!!

So if you're an FB friend of mine you might remember this little statement my dad made in early January (this is an exact quote):

Hey Nanc! I was thinking of having a sausage-fest with Steve and the guys. You know, inviting them over and just having a whole bunch of different sausages.

I just knew i had to make that happen, it was only a matter of time...


Today i made Poblano Pepper sausage, only i couldn't find any poblano peppers, so i used spicy hot peppers, and i didn't have any 'Spanish paprika' so i used regular, and when i was talking to my boss about this she said, "You're really half-assing that sausage, huh?" Which, thanks buddy. Enjoy that 500 case grocery order my next day off (i kid, i kid). Usually i'm a stickler with recipes on the first go around, and have to do everything EXACT, then the next time i do whatever the fuck i want. oBviously this philosophy was thrown completely to the wind, but for some reason i still needed to stick to the 5 lbs of pork shoulder line and now have enough sausage for the rest of my life. Seriously though, if anyone wants some of this just let me know because it's pretty damn tasty and over-flowing the freezer. Mom, "Went a little overboard there buddy." (Also i didn't alter that statement either, my mom's now calling me buddy.)

First things first: Grind some meat! if you don't have a grinder you can buy it pre-ground.


This step was gross, and in an attempt to speed through it i turned the mixer up to high and let me tell you there is nothing scary then an out of control spinning meat grinder. Also there's nothing grosser then getting hit in the face by raw flying meat (so i thought). So don't do that. If you're wondering whether or not i'm a dofus, i'm wondering when i can see you and punch you in the face.

After that catastrophe was over, it was seasoning time. I used salt, cumin, ancho chili powder, minced garlic, fresh oregano, and regular paprika.


Once that's mixed you add 1 cup water, the peppers, and cilantro only I HATE cilantro with the heat of a thousand suns. Seriously though, it's one of my least favorite things on this planet, and i know some people have a gene that makes it taste like soap, but it doesn't taste like soap to me it tastes like watery projectile vomit, because that's what happens when i eat that shit. This is why me and parsley are best friends, so it's helping me out with this sausage.


This recipe went from 'southwestern' to 'italian' real fast (Fuck you Flay, Batalli's my boy!).

Anyway after all that's mixed it's time to stuff some sausage. If you're wondering what the grossest thing in the world actually is, it's hog casings:



Gross, don't think about it. So after de-brining and shoving that 10 mile long piece of pig intestinal lining onto the sausage filler, it's go time. Unfortunately you have to get pretty 'up close and personal' with this shit.


Picture fucking perfect. This was some hard ass work too, you should probably use a lower surface (and by you i mean: why didn't i use a lower surface? My arm hurts). You gotta twist it every six inches, and it is exactly like making a balloon animal, which consequentially i'll never look at the same way/inflate again.


So today had some ups and downs. Did i get hit in the face with meat? Yes. Did i use the proper ingredients? No. Did i almost loose an appendage, maybe. Did i half-ass this shit? A little. Did i spend half an hour fondling hog casings? Sure did! Did i end up with some bomb ass sausage? Absolutely.

STD's!

My friend L-Mast was down from Boston the other day, so as bridesmaid i was obligated to help her with her 'save the dates.' This is probably because i'm the best bridesmaid ever!!!! (actually the opposite of that is true). This blog took sooo long to post because we had to take the pics with her camera because mine ran out of batteries, then hers ran out of batteries so we had to wait until she got back home blah blah blah.

If i could describe L-Mast as a person to you it would be: picture the exact opposite person of me. Because really our first names are the only thing we have in common. We've been best-ies since daiseys (pre brownies for those not in the know) and our conversations were typically as follows:

Me: Hey you wanna play frisbee??
L-Mast: I don't go outside. Ohhhh! look at that gucci bag!
Me: What's Gucci? You're stupid, la la laaaaaaaa.

They are still very much like that. But in the wise words of Paula Abdul, "We go together cause opposites attract." So she made me a bridesmaid at her wedding, and i spent 200 dollars on a dress and have to do things. Good deal. (Seriously though L, i'm flattered. I always knew you would be responsible for my most expensive article of clothing.)

Anyway she was down for the weekend, and we made these STD's:

Czech out that Glamor Shot!!!

The first thing i want to say is i was at her house approximately 3 seconds before i was handed a glass of champagne, that her dad proceeded to 'top off' for the rest of the night. Seriously that shit was never empty. Then we watched about 3 hours of the bridal channel (who knew that existed (actually research shows it's WE)) specifically this show called My Fair Wedding with David Tutera. Anyway we're watching this and her mom's like, "Quaz have you ever seen this before?" and i'm like, "uh, can't say i have." And she's like, "Really? I feel like i KNOW him." Which i didn't know how to respond to, but was really thinking, 'it would not surprise me at all if you did.' Then she yelled at Mr. M to get her some cranberry juice for her champaigne, and he did the 5th time after offering her every other type of mixture in the house first. How can you not love parents?

So thankfully we pretty much talked the entire time this was on, cause otherwise i don't want to even imagine what i would have resorted to. It was mostly reminiscing and gossip about people we went to school with (which i'm SURE you want to hear all about!). And every now and then her mom would burst out with a comment like, "Oh L, look at the flowers." or "That dress has WAY too many ruffles." of "You can only have another HALF a slice of pizza, you have to fit into that damn dress!" or "Look at the tree!" (joking about that last one) and other contextually hilarious comments of gold.

So eventually we got down to actually making this shit. Then about 5 min into our 20 minuets of actual work, Mr. M presents us with this:


Fucking Whipped cream and fresh strawberries. If at any point you are doubting the class of this family through out the blog, just come right back to this pic, because it just doesn't get any classier then that shit! Also yes, L-Mast did specifically buy LOVE stamps for these puppies, what a girl.

So we start the tedious process of writing names on envelopes:


L-Mast is a ditsy blond, if you were wondering. She is wearing scrubs, because against all logical thought, L-Mast is a doctor. What!! (Which is the exact reaction AP had when he found out, and now proceeds to call her, Dac-taa!) Well... a Dr. of Physical Therapy, which is still pretty fucking impressive. She may be a few screws loose off court, but let me tell you something when it's time to be a profession you'd better watch yourself. Also the dress cloths may come off, but the make-up is there until the end. She's wearing a tiara because apparently she wouldn't take it off all day. Text book L-Mast.



If you were wondering what my handwriting looks like, think second grader. One time i sent my professor a package from Va and he thought it was a bomb, i'm not sure what this has to do with my handwriting, but true story. L-Mast's (top) looks like a 16 year old doodling hearts around initials on her spiral notebook, which is completely appropriate.

Next you actually have to seal the envelopes, if you didn't know. I have no idea why we took this pic, nor did i have any intent of posting it, but L-Mast says if she's wearing scrubs then i need a stupid pic too. So since fair is fair, here i am pink faced from champagne and trying not to laugh at my ridiculous friend:


Anyway that about wraps up our STD's. Here's one last pic of L posing in front of the heart lights she has for no apparent reason, because we love each other.

Glasses are for losers.

It was my cousin's 50th b-day Sunday, Happy B-Day Debbie!!! So they through this HUGE party for her at my sister's apartment complex, the metropolis. And apparently it was the place to be. My mom flew out for it, and my other cousin surprised them all with a visit from Ireland, good times. Anyway you care about this because:

The other day i was on facebook (because i'm obsessed) and i got this message from Deb's son Bry.

You're mother was going toe to toe with me tonight you need to ask Danielle to explain it to you. Hilarious --

Anyway three days later i finally get a hold of my sister (cause we're tight like that) and she's like, OH! and so this is what happened.

When we were little girls we went to visit my aunt Chris is CA, and she used to make us Sherley Temples and tell us stories about her life that we probably shouldn't have been hearing as little girls. So one time at a party she was like, "hey we're out of glasses, you'll have to do them as bar shots. " And D and i look at each other like, 'What's a shot/bar?'. So she's like, "open your mouths wide, and don't close them until i tell you, then swoosh everything around and swallow." (we didn't have to kneel because I was legit 5). So she poors in some ginger-ale followed with some grenadine, and we do as she asks and LOVE IT. And that's basically what we did for the rest of the night.

So at this party my mom and sister are sitting at the bar with Bry (16) and my mom's like, "I think you need to do a shot right now!" and Bry's like, "Only if you do." because my entire family is there and he probably doesn't want to drink in front of his grandparents. So what does my mom do, direct drops to her knees, and is like, "Danielle! grab the champagne!" So now Bry can't be showed up by his 63 yr old great aunt, so Danielle poors, and Bry takes it like a champ (my mom didn't open her mouth wide enough though, and ended up in a champagne shower, 100% class). That being said, i thought, "what an excellent thing to make!"

My dad was re-painting the hallway (wall of shame) because, "The way we run into shit and drop things, I have to paint this every year." And that's true. If i go through a day without dropping/running into to something i just don't know who i am anymore. I'm sure he feels the same. So i was like, "OK, but i need you to take a bar shot for my blog." And he gave me this look like, 'You're fucking serious?' And i told him the story, and he was like, "Just have your mom do it when she gets home." But I'm impatient as a person, so finally i was like, "PPPPLLLLEEEEaaassss DDDDDaaaadddd. They love you on my blog." and he cracked down You're welcome.

Bar Shots!
(We did non-alcoholic 'cause he was afraid of fucking up the molding)


Poor in your mixer (covers the taste):


Add Alcohol/fillers:


That pic is kinda gross.
Swish around:


And Enjoy!

Spanocorizo!

You know how certain things remind you of people? Like Ricky Lake and Snickers remind me of ES, and Bon Jovi reminds me of DPL & KSB. And of course Eddie Money has got KMac all over it. They say it's an even more intense memory with smells, like when i smell Lauren by Ralph Lauren i think of my mom, cause she wore the perfume alot when i was growing up (which i take as a personal victory).

Anyway, there was some smell at work yesterday that totally reminded me of my Yiayia, who was just about the sweetest lady in the entire world, and a Master Cook to boot.

That's her at my sister's wedding shower with my aunt and DPL's buddy 'The Spreenster.'

So she taught me how to cook two things Faki (Lentil Soup), and Spanocorizo (Spinach and rice) which is just about my favorite thing to eat. So after that smell i legit dove for the spinach (Shout out to Neil for lending me 50 cents!). And i woke up this morning to find that, by some miracle, PG Papps hadn't gotten up to any crazy shenanigans in the kitchen yet, so i make for you.

It's pretty simple, just five ingredients plus salata y pepperie.


Coat the bottom of a pot in olive oil, and soften up some onions (which is probably the best smell on earth).


Meanwhile rinse the starch of your rice because you don't need that shit.


I use about a cup, but Yia used to put a handful per person (which is so much cooler), but our hands are different sizes. Once your onions are nice and moist pour in 24oz of tomato sauce and 16oz of water. Bring to a simmer and season to taste.

Add the rice to the pot, reduce the temp, and cover until rice is cooked.


Stir occasionally so it doesn't stick (which is like the opposite of what you normally do with rice). Once the rice is cooked throw some spinach on top and cover/steam. You can put in as much Spinach as you want, and you want, trust me (I used the whole bag).



Fun Fact! Spinach is a nutrient enriched veg, but they are not easily broken down/absorbed do to a thick cellular wall. To get the full effect you should cook it, juice it, or eat it raw with a glass of orange juice/something acidic.

Stir it all together, and recheck your seasoning. And Walah! Healthy and delish, not fillet of fish.

Better Than Roscoes

So tonight i'm happy to introduce you to my first co-blogger Em-Y. Yaaay Em-y and i have known each other since the 2nd grade 1st grade when she moved from Long Island. We didn't actually become friends until high school because i don't know. We have a pretty similar sense of humor, and when we were growing up she used to make really funny comments to me, and I'd repeat them louder, and everyone would be like, "You're SO funny!" and Em would be all "i JUst said that." sure you did em, sure you did. Anyway she's going to blog in Purple because guest's choice.

We're going to make Chicken and Waffles, because i asked Em what she wanted to make and she said, "I've been hearing alot about this Chicken and Waffle combination." It's true, every time I put on food network, which is all the time, someone is talking about chicken and waffles. Sounds weird at first, but let it sink in... you'll want some too. So done and done. I've only been to Roscoe's once in LA, and they make some mean fried chicken. Our's is a Paula Dean recipe, and probably not as good, but whateves. Don't be putting down Paula Dean, it was pretty fucking good.

On a side note Chicken is my culinary kriptonite. I HATE raw chicken, and can only ever deal with it in skinless/boneless form. This is partly because of the nasty yellow goo (it's fat, not goo, but agreed) you sometimes find, and partly because the last time i made fried chicken i went to the farmers market to get a chicken and got home and realized the head and feet were still there gross and had to disect it but we didn't have any gloves and i had to use to freezer bags interesting second choice and i gagged pretty much the whole time. I couldn't even eat it afterwards, but Danielle and Scotty said it was alright. Needless to say Em will be doing the Chicken part of the evening, while i focus on waffles, which are more my speed.

So of course we started off with a cocktail: Watermelon Lemonade with Vodka from smitten kitchen. Em was a peach enough to bring over the Vodka.


Grey goose! no fool'n. And garnishes! Actually it was an almost empty bottle of Grey Goose that she grabbed from her mom. The conversation went as follows, "Mom did you see a bottle of Grey Goose on the counter? I was expecting the answer to be oh we finished that, but was pleasantly surprised that the answer was "It's in the Florida room, take it I'm done drinking"....noooot sure what that meant... So I found it on the bar in it's original classy box! Another pleasant surprise! Until i opened and realized there were only about two shots left. Disappointing.... So I grabbed a half empty bottle of absolute and was on my way, praying I didn't get pulled over and have to explain 2 almost empty bottles of vodka in my car. Also "I'm done drinking" priceless.

So we started with those. I made the Coleslaw in advanced sans mayo.


And now it was time to bang this shit out. We're the bravo version of the cooking channel.

So the first step with fried chicken is heating up the deep fryer. Usually you use oil, but as you can see in the picture, we decided to use unsweetened grapefruit juice, which adds a really nice citrusy flavor to the chicken. So it's actually Canoli oil that my dad stored in that container. Then pre-heat the fryer to 350 degrees. The fryer heats up best when it is plugged in, which we found out on the second try. If anyone tried this with grapefruit juice, let us know how that went. Also, thanks for only reading half our blog...

Okay so I skipped pictures of the next few steps because my hands were covered in chicken/egg/flour and I didn't want to break the camera. But you get the idea, season, egg wash, flour. It's Paula Dean's recipe, look it up. Look how gross that front thigh looks with the meat juice shining through... soooo gross. Also, ew, I have to agree on the point that raw chicken is pretty gross, but after it's done you get fried chicken amnesia and only remember how amazing the end result is.


This picture is awesome because this actually happened twice, but was only captured on film the first time. Quaz (nickname) said Hey want to try my cider? and since I'd only had a watermelon lemonade and some vodka infused blackberries.... or is it blackberry infused vodka.... well I said yes to the cider. While we were discussing how to mix the sediment back into the cider Quaz opened the bottle and sprayed cider all over the kitchen. Which is ridiculous because it was originally under carbonated. Which actually mixed the sediment back into what was left in the bottle, sooo...... problem solved?


Here is an artsy photo of the aforementioned drinks.... delish!

Anyway it was time to make waffles which i always want to spell waffels and spell check it like: fuck you. So i made the best waffles ever recipe which should actually be called the 9min waffles. Which would suck if you're making just waffles, but is awesome if you're making fried chicken and waffles. Funny how that turned out. Anyway i kept being like, "Em are these eggs fluffed enough?" or "Em do you think this batter is too thin?" and she was like, "How do you normally do that by yourself?" And i just don't know. Anyway at this point i'm covered with cider (twice) and i just need some fucking food. How does she do this normally by herself is right, she also asked me how many teaspoons are in a tablespoon, and a variety of other questions that led me to believe she is not really the one cooking in these blogs.... but she did make some kick-ass wafflels.

And then the 9 minutes were up, and our first round of chicken AND our waffles were done at the same time! How convenient!

And so I removed the chicken from the ironically named "Cool Daddy"... I don't want to know how it got that name because neither is it a Daddy nor is it cool, it is in fact lava hot. I can't help thinking about the "corn baller" from Arrested Development whenever i use it. Also, the basket that just came out of 350 degree oil is not immediately cool... and I have a blister to prove it. Awesome.


Look at that shit! If that's not 'hot and delish' I don't want to know what is. Also i think that the coleslaw was delicious with the chicken, and the chicken was amazing with everything but Coleslaw + waffels = no thank you. Maybe some caramelized carrots in stead? Hey, why not.

At this point you made be asking yourself, "Hey, what's with that first picture?" It's neither fried chicken nor waffles. The truth is i ran out of booze, and was like, "Hey i'll use some of that blackberry now infused vodka (two hours!) with the left over lemon-aid from the Porch Swings and it is the most fucking amazing drink of all time. Combined with my mom's V-Day flowers it's also a glamor shot.

hey thanks for joining us today on the "Emily and Quaz make shit show. aka the we drink and make shit show." (Key words: shit show) Tune in next time for some outrageous delights.

Garden Round 2!

So this was my first garden:



And this is what happened to it:

Needless to say Harvey's been banned from my room (that's two now kittie). Anyway today was really nice, so i made my way to the shed to do some planting!

It's more of a storage shed, but you've got to work with what you've got. This time around i wanted to plant a few more things, i've heard that you can plant a pototoe/garlic/onion as is, and it'll grow, so i gave it a try. But first i needed some more pots, and had to make my way through the rain infested trenches to get them:

It was leak city it there, but no bugs to be seen, I mean hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.

If a blackberry falls off a bush it can grow a new one in that same spot, so theoretically this will work:



But we'll see. As for the onion i just got a pack of seeds, and we'll see out of these four which grows the best. Then i also planted these guys:


Which will hopefully turn out. Do normal people plant in the winter? I don't know, if you meet one you should probably ask them. To tell you the truth i just couldn't wait. I'm super excited to grow something from the start, then cook with it. "Work hard, eat hard!" that's what i say. Also i'm planting some pickling cucumbers, so hopefully they'll make it, and we'll jar... maybe even fry! Oh the possibilities...

So then i signed, watered, moved everything upstairs, took a shower. True story.

*Stay tuned tonight for a special guest blogging session and some good ole southern cooking.