Proof the World Is Coming to an End

I saw this today at the grocery store and thought: Really? Do people actually eat marshmallow "salad"? If they do it is proof Armageddon is on the horizon.

Kitchen Counsel

I have been working nights the past two weeks. And it has been smoking hot here. And life is in a shambles. Which has caused me to turn to the place where I can focus my mind and channel my turmoil into good things, delicious offerings...the kitchen.

I figured it would be a nice treat to make dinner every night for my friends that I am currently staying with...a trade of sorts.
The meals have so far included: BBQ peaches, shrimp, and bok choy drizzled with a spicy peanut peach sauce over rice...another night I tweaked the fig, gorgonzola, prosciutto, roasted garlic, caramelized onion pizza served with warm asparagus and rocket salad, topped with sweet shallot vinaigrette and grated pecorino. Then there was the chicken and spicy turkey sausage cacciatore, which had simmered in red wine, fresh basil, garlic, and sweet organic grape tomatoes...oh that was a good one. I am definitely going to work on that one.

But on Saturday Kara and I took a mental health day and went to the ocean, picnicked at the harbor and walked along the sea wall for almost three hours.

We had some good laughs.

And attempted to take flight.

It was great. And let me tell you I will definitely be stealing the cilantro crème fraiche idea. Oh yeah. Note white dipping sauce. The truffle mashed potatoes were nothing to sneeze at either.
And yes, the Sangria was delicious. Although...I think mine is better. The secret is elderflower cordial. I guess that makes it not a secret. Now three more people know how I make my Sangria.

Two therapeutic hours in an amazing organic market downtown and I nearly felt human again.

Our loot.

But the best. The best part of the day was finding some fresh smoked black cod. Kara gave me the "am I going to need to give you an olanzapine wafer?" look when I started jumping up and down at the discovery of the white-fleshed treasure.

Albinoblackbear's Fish Rub (mostly to be used with the elusive fresh black cod fillet)

1/2 cup brown sugar
2 tsp sweet paprika
2 tsp chili powder
1-2 tbsp coarse sea salt
pinch of smoked salt
1 tbsp garlic powder
2 tsp cumin

Pat fillets dry. Rub. Then rub with rub. Throw in oven on low broil until brown sugar is starting to caramelize. Then drop heat to 350 F until fish is cooked through (keep checking because you don't want to overdo it).

Warm Shallot Dressing à la Yowza

3 shallots diced so fine you can hardly handle it
1/2 cup olive oil
2 tbsp grainy mustard
3 tbsp brown sugar
1/2 cup cider vinegar
pinch of sambal olek (or rather--tiny dollop)
2 tsp dry mustard

Mix everything up, fry on low heat until shallots are translucent. Add 150g of fine Italian prosciutto, warm briefly. Add handfuls and handfuls of spinach and toss until wilted.
Throw in a bowl with some non-wilted spinach. Maybe a wee bit of feta.

Serve with the cod and be prepared for marriage proposals.
Or at least very happy house mates.


*All measurements are total guesses. Well, educated guesses. But guesses nonetheless. Taste everything as you go along and adjust.

Wedding Bells

So this weekend was Nature Nerd and Dr. Sno's wedding.

Now normally Albinoblackbears become recluse when such events occur, but really how could anyone miss a weekend long wedding held at an organic, biodynamic, brewery? Especially when said brewery produces my favorite stout, The Back Hand of God. So off to Sorrento it was and into the lap of the Crannóg farm.

Many moons ago I offered to be in charge of the food because I love food and it seemed like the only way I could really be of help.
It wasn't a huge task as it was a pot luck and all I basically had to do was hang out in the kitchen, cook my contribution, and boss people around. Three things I like doing at social gatherings anyway.

Note that the folks in the kitchen knew not to look me in the eye, and wisely called me only "Kitchen Master".
Okay, some of them looked me in the eye. And not everyone called me "Kitchen Master".

I still haven't decided which is hotter...men in skirts...
or

men doing dishes...
Good thing there were no men in skirts doing dishes....

All in all it was a fabulous weekend. Everything seemed to go off without a hitch. Best Man gave BEST best man speech ever, photos were great, band was awesome, beer was delicious, weather was pristine and the back seat of my car proved itself a worthy sleeping vessel.

The happy couple with Best Man and Best Woman.

The not so happy pig.

Awakening Our Inner Rednecks

Oh Lordy.

All we've heard about here in Our Town for the past couple weeks is "Man party this" and "Man party that", "James' stag this" and "James' stag that". The female counterparts have been subject to cryptic references to said night of camping, naked skiing, mud wrestling, gun shooting and knife throwing. Blood was drawn, dog bites were received, first aid kits were opened. We heard about the all-meat meals and the 'one guy who brought a vegetable' which was divided amongst the group (the vegetable, not the guy who brought the vegetable). And there was a silent ante which was raised to see what we'd do for Verena's staggette.

Though most of the guys figured we'd have the most fun tickling each other in our panties with rollers in our hair (whilst singing 'Beauty School Dropout') we had different things in mind.

Like gourmet food.
(OK some of you may not think that pureed doritos are classified as 'gourmet' but when that becomes home made chicken nuggets from AMG's nimble fingers, I dare you to question their gourmet nature)
Menu included: fig, Gorgonzola, caramelized onion and prosciutto pizza, risotto balls with Parmesan, smoked salmon and creme fraiche crisps, white chocolate saffron and cardamom truffles with pistachios, preccorino cheese with truffles, mascarpone with blue cheese threads, salad rolls with beet and asparagus, three cheese pizza, home made chicken nuggets, spicy dried olives, apricot and chile crackers, fresh antipasto, spiced eggplant, edamame, berry and yogurt cups, oh I could go on...


And wine.

And sangria.

And Bride-To-Be-Ninja-Snipers.
And normally docile marathoners shooting from the hip.

Howling at the moon.
Hey! Nice Fluvogs!

Note how the rarely seen in the wild Nature Nerd blends in with her background...floral skirt nearly imperceivable, and black top blending into the blanket of night...When she bares her teeth like that look out!! This is often followed by the sound of the mating giggle...

And then we did some gymnastics.

And some more.

And we drank scotch and took pictures of ourselves.

We also pulled each other around in a little red wagon.

And laughed at the people being pulled around in a little red wagon.

And there were moments when I'd thought we'd suddenly ended up on the Jerry Springer Show.

Some of us succeeded at handstands...

Some of us failed.

Some of us won wheelbarrow races...

And some of us didn't even make it to the start line...

And some of us simply seemed destined to spend most of the evening on that dewy grass...
Is that Mandy saying "You don't know me??"

Then we moved on to post-op wrestling...

And sampling of fine spirits...

or perhaps not so fine?

Epilogue.

(for the record the gun wasn't loaded...and neither were we...)

Baggin' Peaks (almost) and Lunch in Italy

Today we rolled out of bed early in order to catch the 0700h train to Zurmatt.

Our plan was to attempt a summit called Breithorn (4164m). It was a wild morning as we took a giant gondola then regular sized lift to the highest point which was 3853m. Note sign at the top of the "Matterhorn Glacier Paradise Lift".

So we were prepared for our day of 'mountaineering light'.
Equipment we had:
2 sets of crampons
2 axes
our transceivers
rope
harnesses
extra clothes
water
skins
shovels
probes
food
compass
swiss army knife
helmet
ice screws
slings
beaners
maps

Equipment we used:
visa
Above is a shot of the peak we had hoped to do. However, when we got off the lift it was complete white out conditions and lovely winds whipping along. Quite desolate, barely anyone around, and only a narrow piste ahead. We had no idea where the cat track went, nor could we even see which direction the peak was. I was having palpitations at this point (from either too much coffee, fear, or from the 3000+ altitude gain I am not sure). John pointed out a 7 year old girl skiing by. I watched her hot pink poles disappear into the swirling snow. I was still unconvinced of our likelihood of survival if we went any further.
It was then that a 60 year old man with a neon green and pink one-piece whizzed by. I decided he was to be our beacon of safety. The guy's only gear was his pair of circa 1984 Ray Bans and his rear entry boots. He didn't look intent on bagging any peaks so we followed.
A short ride over the crest of the hill and we arrived here, the restaurant on the Italian side of the range.

"I love the Italian backcountry."
There I am enjoying a brie and proscuitto melt at 3700m. I had to resist the urge to splurge on a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. Europeans are so civilized!
What, I ask you, is at the top of Sir Donald?
Well, I haven't been there but I doubt there is a hot Italian woman making delicious espresso at the summit.

It was interesting to note the physiological changes that occur at that elevation. John had had a few minutes of disorientation, and I noticed that even just sitting there drinking my espresso, I had to keep taking these large gulps of air. Crazy! I've never been up that high before. So we got within 300m of our intended summit. Lets not do the math at where the lift went to...

Voici John in front of the Matterhorn. Or as he puts it "doing the Matterhorn". Just after saying "I feel kind of lightheaded and dizzy but I don't think it is the altitude".

Here's your's truly, excited to see the Italian restaurant below. Enjoying the amazing vistas too!

The top of the line where we unloaded. Note hole in the mountain.

All in all we had a great day. Fun spring skiing, delicious food, and no death or dismemberment involved. More to follow tomorrow.

Chamonix Me

Happy to be alive after the scary wind whipped decent.

Today several of us went to Chamonix, France to ski the Vallee Blanche and part of the Mer de Glace. The ascent was pretty easy as we took the large gondola which carries upwards of 40 people to the top, at 3800m. From there it is a sketchy descent to the area where we dropped in, so steep that I was hanging on to the ropes with all my might, hoping my skis wouldn't go flying down the backside of the mountain (or worse yet, I go backside down the backside of the mountain).
Henkka, Paive, Ilkka, and John

The area where everyone gets their gear on...note how harnesses, ropes, axes, helmets, are de rigeur.

If you enlarge this one you can see the floating gondolas which are in operation only in the summer. This is to keep the tourists to a minimum in the winter when the conditions are more dangerous and variable due to the hidden crevasses all along the glacier.

This peak reminded me a bit of Black Tusk in Whistler.

John and I were both pretty paranoid about the crevasses so we roped up for one section. It certainly was a new challenge skiing along towing John behind me. Our other party did have an incident with a crevasse but all turned out ok, Miku fell in but was able to get himself out with his crampons and ax.

This was were we stopped for lunch part one.

The vistas were spectacular but I have to say that being crammed in gondolas and trains at each section was tedious. Though I suppose that it affords some altitudes which would be challenging to achieve on one's own steam.

Miku and Henkka enjoying a well earned beer. John and I enjoying a beer our lazy-gondola -riding-no-couloir-skiing-asses didn't earn.

My first Swiss Fondue. Mmmmmm....yes that is a giant pot of cheese.