It’s a beautiful day outside, the sun is shining, it’s fairly warm in the sun, but both Hanne and I find ourselves inside not feeling too well. Hanne I suspect more than myself, and I just have a headache that doesn’t seem to want to go away, and Hanne with a general sense of malaise. The sort of headache I woke up with is usually brought on by not enough water before bed after one too many drinks, but while I did drink a fair amount yesterday, most of it was at lunchtime and I had plenty of water between then and bedtime. More on that in a bit. Generally that sort of headache goes away after some food and water and coffee unless I had far more than one drink too many, but again, that’s not the case. It’s the headache that won’t die, despite treating with food, water, coffee, fresh air, and time away from the computer. Grrr.
But let’s first return to Friday, in which Hanne and I planned to go to the weekly wine tasting and then check out a local wine bar that moved to new digs with a great view. Well, it was dark by the time we were to go to the wine bar and I wasn’t really in the mood for their sparse–but delicious–food menu, so instead we wandered over to Division to check out a Mexican restaurant that we’ve both heard is good. The hour wait with no bar seating put us off a bit, however, so we crossed the street to a different wine bar and enjoyed a few drinks and dinner. All in all, a very nice evening.
Saturday I knew was going to be “one of those days,” though, given the day’s plans. Over at the Lucky Lab Brewpub in NW Portland was the second day of the Barleywine and Big Beer Festival, and I had my fair share of samples of those high-alcohol beers during lunch with my Dad and grandmother and Hanne’s parents. But naturally, when you start drinking at 11:30 AM–even with food–it makes for a long day. Our 3-mile walk home helped to sober me up, and by the time we walked back downtown to meet her parents for dinner at the Deschutes Brewpub in the Pearl, I was feeling right as rain. And I didn’t order too much beer at Deschutes, to boot.
So yes, I definitely had enough beer that, if all consumed in one evening would have hd me lament opening my eyes in the morning, but spread out over two meals it worked out well. So why am I not feeling well? Maybe I’m coming down with the same malaise that’s made Hanne so sluggish today. Ug. I hope not.
With Saint Patrick’s Day a little over a week away, I’ve decided to get my Irish on and make a meal of corned beef and cabbage. I’ve never made the dish before–I’m not sure I’ve even ever had corned beef and cabbage before–so I’m hoping that it’s not just another reason for me to despise cabbage as I already do. Meat and veggies sounds pretty solid, especially something prepared by boiling the veggies in a beer-based liquid. So far the centerpiece of the meal doesn’t seem too disgusting, though. I have a little over three pounds of beef brisket brining in a mixture of homebrew, water, kosher salt, brown sugar, and pickling spices, and it’s going to stay that way for another week or so before I actually cook the meal. I don’t usually have the patience for meal preparation that takes a long time, but heck, marinating something for a week? Sounds good to me. Slow-prepared, slow-cooked. That’s how the best meat is prepared, anyway.
Tonight I promised Hanne I’d make her something simple for dinner: soup and sandwich. By which I mean Tunisian Soup with Chard and Egg Noodles and Warm Chicken Sandwiches with Mushrooms, Spinach and Cheese, but I didn’t exactly promise grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.
My Belgian-style ale brewing on Wednesday seems to have come out well, though I won’t be able to sample it for another couple of week at the minimum to tell for sure. It’s not as if I noticed any blaring mistakes in my brewing process though. In fact, the only snag was that I used my fermenter that doesn’t have a themometer strip on the side, which is annoying but no crisis. Someone I know suggested I call my ale “Hopping Monk” which sounds pretty good for a Belgian ale hopped like an IPA. But no, I can’t call it an “India Pale Ale” because that doesn’t make sense.
I can call it Hopping Monk CPA: “Congolese Pale Ale.” Ha!
