We had a couple of dear old friends over for supper tonight, Bob and Phyllis Keathley. We have known Bob and Phyllis forever, since our kids were all small actually. Bobby and I were deacons together at one time. I taught Sunday School to their boys. I should add that Bob and Phyllis's oldest son Brett was the contracting wizard that built our deck.
Bob and Phyllis are semi-retired now. They work one hard, long day a week at their north-side store near our home. Today was that day. I decided to cook dinner for them so that they could have a hot meal on the way home.
I smoked a pork loin and several turkey bratwursts. Last night, Sheila made a big bowl of sinfully rich potato salad from my mom's recipe and I set a cake pan of beans seasoned up with sausage and jalapenos on to slow cook and smoke on the cold side of the grill in the middle of the afternoon. I also cooked a dump cake on the cold side of the gas grill. We had raspberry iced tea to drink and vanilla carb watch ice cream on the dump cake. The pork was little dry to my taste but overall it was a good meal. (Note, these are not my food pics. But, my food looked about the same and every bit as good. I was just too busy cooking and visiting to take pictures.)
It was a pleasant evening on the deck. The weather was perfect. After dinner, we sipped tea and talked. Sheila and Phyllis did their thing and Bobby and I told tall tales. Good friends, good food, good weather. A good time was had by all.
The other day as I was paying my check at my favorite Mexican hole in the wall up on Admiral, the owner/chef noticed me checking out a bottle of hot sauce he had for sale by the register. A short conversation in rapid Spanish with his wife/waitress/maitre d' followed which I could not follow. Bottom line, Oscar the chef wanted to give me a bottle of the hot sauce. I accepted it gratefully.
I am a great fan of hot sauce. I was introduced the stuff in the military by a black Marine from the Deep South I was sharing a firing position with one night over forty years ago. A runner came around with the usual C-Rat supper and canteen refills. As we were opening the the various boxes, cans and envelopes, this guy pulled out a bottle of the famous (in the Corps at least) Mcillheney's Louisiana Hot Sauce. He told me that a few drops of this fiery, pungent liquid could make anything on the C-Rat menu but "Ham and Mothe*%&*'s" edible. He passed his bottle over to me and like a person receiving their first hit of crack cocaine I was hooked. Just a few drops of that magic liquid turned the cold, gelatinous mess in a can before me into something both lively on my palate and warming to my whole body. Since that memorable evening somewhere in the tropics, I have eaten hot sauce on everything from greens to fried chicken to scrambled eggs to even ice cream and brownies. So far, I haven't found anything that hot sauce properly applied cannot improve.
But, this stuff that my favorite chef Oscar gave to me raises the bar on my hot sauce addiction. This stuff is the champagne of hot sauces. It makes most American hot sauces taste like ketchup. Made with the fiery Chile's de Arbol native to Oscar's home state of Jalisco, it is deep, complex, pungent and fiery beyond description. It is a pleasure to be enjoyed in small doses. But, the stuff is amazing. There is an ingredient in there that produces an aroma and flavor that reminds me of, of all things, bacon grease. And, being a good southerner whose Mom religiously saved the bacon grease and then cooked everything in it and served it over just about everything from the garden, this exotic product somehow produces an amazingly homey experience.
Oscar knew what he was doing. I'm addicted to the stuff now and will have to buy it from him by the case I guess every time he takes a trip home to see his family.
Because of the burn ban, I hadn't been able to light off my newly acquired grill for several weekends. In light of the recent rains, I decided to go ahead today. I was amazed at how well the old guy cooked.
I started by putting a small layer of charcoal along about one third of the left grill. I then soaked it down in starter fluid. Then I added a short hickory log on top of the charcoal and applied starter fluid again. Within fifteen minutes, I had a perfect drawing, slow burning , very smokey, hickory log fire.
I then placed my dry rubbed drumsticks and a length of Lovera's Italian Sausage on the cool side of the grill and let it smoke for a little over two hours. The fire drew perfectly the entire time and required absolutely no attention. When the chicken began separating from the bone, I pulled it all off the fire.
We ate it with a big salad out of bag and a pitcher of iced tea. It was a very nice little Sunday dinner. Next time around, I will reduce the amount of fuel to slow the cooking time a bit but overall, I am very happy with my first time effort on this grill. I told Sheila when we bought it, that it could be used as a wood stove and by golly I was right. Stand by Rat Pack, I will be inviting you all over soon.
As a footnote, I need to thank my old friend Bobby Keathley. The other day, he brought me a small load of perfectly aged hickory fire wood for my new grill. It worked great and I hope I can convince him to bring some more when this runs out.
Dinner time yesterday evening found us in South Tulsa. Actually, Sheila and I avoid South Tulsa because the traffic is such a pain. But sometimes it cannot be avoided. We decided to have dinner down there before venturing back north.
I like familiar places. I have my list of places that I know are good and tend to return to them until I have a reason not to. Sheila is just the opposite. She will try anything new and always wants to go to someplace different. Last night was no exception. I was headed for a Vietnamese place that I know near 68th and Memorial when she spotted the sign for Becks and said that "fresh Mediterranean" (whatever that is) sounded good. So, that is where we went.
Don't be fooled by the unprepossessing store front appearance of this place. It is an upscale bistro style eatery catering to an upscale crowd. You have to be upscale to pay over seven bucks for a GLASS of their house wine. That's what about what I pay for a BOTTLE of the vin ordinaire at Casa De Kumpe.
The atmosphere at Becks is not Tulsa. More than anything else, it reminded me of the small upscale places you find in the big cities back east. Once the door closes behind you, you could be in New York or Boston but certainly not Tulsa. The crowd was not Tulsa and the atmosphere was not Tulsa. As a matter of fact, about half of the small crowd appeared to be of Mediterranean descent. Everything about the place from the real jazz (not elevator music soft jazz) playing in the background to the perfectly arranged but tiny bar screamed BIG CITY.
The menu was pricey. We ordered from the bottom end. I had a chicken skewer dinner and Sheila had the lamb skewer dinner. Both entrees came with a superb salad that was a mix between a Ceasar and something Greek, remarkably good humus, a skewer of grilled vegetables, rice pilaf and a cucumber dipping sauce.
The food was perfect, perfectly cooked, perfectly seasoned and perfectly presented. The chef used quite a bit of rosemary which was a refreshing change from the usual Greek/Mediterranean fare around town. The only sour note on the table was the sweet, heavy, dark, multi-grain bread served with the salad. It was incongruous with the rest of the menu and was not a good match with the tart salad.
The servings were generous but not too large and the service could not have been improved upon. The whole experience was technically perfect. We both agreed it was a darn good meal. But, the one thing the place lacked to make it one of my "regulars" (aside from price) was, for lack of a better word, homeyness. Some places make you feel welcome the moment you hit the door. Becks does not. The big city atmosphere at Becks carries over into place's culture. Great chef, great food, great service but not the kind of place where I would drop in after a bad day at work. But, if you are a snowbird and are homesick for Noo Yaahhk, this is your place.
Since Sheila had a fairly invasive test early yesterday morning that required moderate sedation and deep body puncture, the docs recommended she not drive for a few hours. So, I took her to work after the test and came and got her that evening. We decided to have Thai food on the way home.
The "Bangkok Thai Super Buffet" on Harvard near 32nd is something of a legend in Tulsa. It is located on the edge of one of Tulsa's wealthiest, old money neighborhoods. Any lunchtime you are liable to find the place packed with Tulsa's business and social elite rubbingelbows with workers on lunch hour and ladies of leisure who lunch.
The food is always superb and the place is inevitably spotless. They close down on Sundays and scrub it down from top to bottom every week. The owners didn't tell me this. The Thai lady who used to cut my hair told me about it. It seems she knows all about every Thai person within a hundred miles of Tulsa. The folks who run the Bangkok are remarkably warm and friendly. They and their employees make every visit much more enjoyable just by their presence.
They cook the food in small portions for the buffet so it is always fresh and if that weren't enough, Thai food is by nature low in fat and sodium and does not contain MSG. The tables are arranged in orders of heat. The first table from the East is mild and the second is only mildly hot. The third table however, approaches the levels of fiery goodness that an actual Thai might eat (and consider mild in all likelihood.) I have found that even if I eat the hottest dishes, it doesn't usually bite back since it is so low in fat.
This is a picture of my plate. The meat on a stick is Satay Chicken, bits of chicken cooked in a peanut butter sauce that adds a unique, nutty flavor to the meat. The noodle dish is Pad Thai. Rice noodles stir fried with eggs and vegetables, including chili peppers. It can range from mild to spicy and the Bangkok serves two versions. I prefer the spicy. The chicken dish with green peppers is a pungent little number. And, I would add that those long pepper strips are not bell peppers. They are jalapenos, a local substitute for whatever they would have used in Thailand. The dish with chopped squash is Thai Green Curry. It is spicy and pungent and tastes wonderful over rice. The coleslaw appearing dish under my spring roll is Thai Fried Cabbage. It is lightly stir fried with what tastes like sesame oil and soy sauce. It is good. The little meat patties are a mild chicken sausage.
The tiny dish of sauce on my plate is the Thai equivalent of the Vietnamese favorite nuoc man. It is made by placing thousands of small fish between plates of sheet metal, weighting them down, setting them in the sun and collecting the juice that drips out. The juice is then processed and turned into a thin clear sauce that tastes very much like best quality light soy sauce. Natives mix it with fiery red chili paste and used it as a dipping sauce for a lot of things. I restrict my use of it to spring rolls.
Sheila was being kind to me last night. I know that there are places she would rather have eaten. But, we were close and she knows that I love Thai food. And, we had a good time eating and recounting the day's events. It was really our normal Friday night I suppose, but it was a good one.
I try to play someplace every Monday night. A couple of Monday nights per month, a couple of us get together and "jam." Our uke player is trying hard to learn how to play the blues by ear. She is a formally trained musician who has spent years studying music but somehow never picked up the ability to just listen and play or get in a groove and let it flow with the other players. I realized that part of the problem was that she was watching for my lead on guitar or uke and not listening to her own internal ear. So, for a while, I quit playing guitar and picked up my harps.
I hadn't played harp in a long time. It was fun to do it again. A nice change. And, it was also effective apparently. Every musician has a moment when they "get their groove" and start playing from inside themselves rather than from what is written on a piece of paper. Our struggling uke player had that moment Monday night while I was playing harp. She is on her way now to becoming a musician who can express herself through her music and not just a technician repeating someone else's expression.
The video above is an old cut of one of the songs that we played Monday night. I did it solo against a backing track with my very cheapo portable harp rig. But, I still like it so I thought I would record it for posterity here.
We had a good weekend even if it was a little busier than we are accustomed to. Friday night, the pack met at Shilo's. We enjoyed a good old fashioned home style meal while catching up on everybody's happenings. My friend Robert Smith was playing there with his band so we got not only good food and good company but good music as well. Roger had a huge chicken fried steak. I couldn't believe that a single person could eat a piece of meat that size but he did ... and blast it he is still the skinniest guy in the pack. Sheila had a beautiful (and delicious) entree salad with strawberries all over the top of it. My catfish was not as good as in the past but .... After dinner, we all headed over to Mike and Jodi's for a little time in the pool. I brought a bottle of a very good ghetto vintage descendant of Ripple that we all shared. Only Jodi and Sheila wound up in the pool for some reason. The rest of us just visited.
Thursday, the owner of the Little Cabin in the Woods had called and said her place was vacant for the weekend. While she normally won't accept one night reservations, she did in our case. So, Saturday morning, we were up early and headed south for the mountains. By noon we were at the cabin, and I was out on the deck, sipping a cold O'Doul's and grilling bratwurst for our lunch.
Right after lunch we both decided to get a little sun out on the deck. We sprayed each down with sun screen and proceeded to enjoy the quiet and the sun ... at least until Sheila got up. Her entire back was covered with "grill marks" from the iron patio furniture. Apparently, it had been recently painted and our still damp sun screen had dissolved the paint onto our skin. I asked Sheila to take a look at me. Sure enough, I was "grilled" on my back and the backs of my thighs too. So. we headed for the shower and scrubbed each other until most of the paint was gone. I say most because some stayed with Sheila all weekend.
After that, we spent a big chunk of the afternoon in the hot tub and then took a nap. By sixish, I was back at the grill fixing supper. We had a grilled cracked pepper crusted chicken breast with a salad from a one bag kit and crescent rolls from a pop open can. I was amazed that the delicate little rolls cooked so well on a piece of aluminum foil on the cold side of the grill but they did. A bottle of cheap sweet Merlot finished the menu, so cheap in fact it would drive our foody/wine connoisseur daughter nuts. But, we like it. And yes, we were drinking a red with chicken, a white meat. But, the meat flavor was actually fairly heavy because of the cracked pepper and who cares anyway if we break the food police rules?
As we were sitting at the dinner table on the deck, I turned on my little Grundig shortwave radio and tried to tune in some music. The Little Cabin in the Woods is located in the shadow of a huge mountain, in a valley surrounded by mountains. The only radio signals that get in are flame-thrower FM stations that don't broadcast our type of music. I never travel without this little radio and Saturday evening proved why. In a couple of moments, we were listening to a nice selection of Strauss melodies from Radio Japan. At the end of the hour, NHK changed format a little and we were treated to half an hour or so of vocal jazz by the likes of Bobby Darrin and Mel Torme. But eventually, as the sun moved the signal faded and I began looking around for something else. This time, I picked up a pretty good signal of what sounded like Portugese/Brazilian music. Whatever it was, it was pretty and we listened to it for a while.
By this time, we had cleared the table and were back in the hot tub. The sun was getting pretty low and I figured I might be able to coax a strong, clear channel American AM station in. I tried 650 khz. WSM out of Nashville. I am glad that I did. I got it tuned in just in time to hear Ray Price on the Grand Ole Opry. I am not a lover of contemporary country. But, Ray Price's music defies description. It is smooth. It is sophisticated. It can hold its own in any genre. We had a wonderful time lying there in the tub, listening to his aging but still golden voice sing favorites like, "Night Life" and "You're the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me.
By eleven-ish we were in bed and what follows will explain why I call this blog "The Adventures of Bill and Sheila." We had an adventure. Shortly before midnight, the power failed. We knew that the power failed because the fan stopped and so did the CPAP machines that we use to breathe while sleeping. In a moment, when the power did not come back on, I grabbed my cellphone to use as a flashlight and we both stepped outside to see if we could see any lights at the adjoining farms or at some of the other cabins up on the mountain across the valley. In a while, a call to our hostess confirmed what we had feared, power was out all over the valley.
Our second surprise came when we tried to go back in the cabin. We had scrupulously locked the doors before going to bed and had not remembered to unlock them before we stepped out onto the deck. We were now locked out of the cabin in an embarrassing state of dress with no way to get back in. We also didn't have our glasses, so seeing the numbers on the electronic key code lock was a problem. So was light. The cell phone wasn't bright enough for either of us to see the numbers properly. While we could easily remember the key code to the front door, neither of us could see well enough to manage the somewhat convoluted keypad lock. We tried the electronic key code lock several times and managed to get it to really lock up for failed attempts. We couldn't even get in our car because the car keys were inside on the nightstand. Our plight became truly urgent when we heard critters moving around in the grass and leaves around the cabin.
Eventually, we woke up enough to remember that we had stashed one of our room keys outside in case of an emergency and were able to unlock the front door. By this time, we had pulled a couple of solar stair lights off their mounts and were using them as improvised flashlights. We both tried to get back to sleep but it took a while. About the time we did, the power came back on. I never sleep past seven am. I got out of bed around nine this morning.
I didn't bother to fire up the grill for breakfast. When I was shopping for the trip, I decided to give Sheila a treat and bought a small package of precooked bacon. She grows tired of my low cholesterol turkey breakfast meats. I sliced a baguette and pan toasted it in a little oil. Scrambled eggs with salsa, juice and pot of coffee from our little four cup french press coffee maker completed the meal. The food was good but nothing to write home about. But, the crisp mountain air and view over the high mountain valley made it a special time.
While I am not a wine snob at all, I am something of a coffee snob. I want my coffee right. Our french press coffee maker is another item that we travel with as a habit. Hotel room coffee makers are a mixed lot at best and you never know whether or not the last occupants of the room used the carafe' to help brew a batch of meth. The rest of world uses these things. If you have hot water, you can make coffee, good coffee, good, strong, aromatic coffee. They just make sense.
By late afternoon, after another fabulous lunch at Roseanna's in Krebs, we were back home. In a while, I will start putting our suitcase and other traveling gear away. And, I will find out what happened to the tactical flashlight and the penlight I normally carry in our traveling gear and if necessary replace them.
Sheila and I always enjoy getting away and spending time with each other. This time, despite our "adventures," we both managed to relax more than usual. When I was packing to come home, I realized that I had not been online for over twenty four hours and I had not talked to or even thought about a client for for over twenty four hours. Shoot, I hadn't even worn a watch or used my cane in twenty four hours. The time in the hot tub had temporarily relieved some of the chronic pain in my legs, knees and back. We cooked and ate a couple of good meals, drank a little cheap sweet wine and spent hours together in the hot tub, sometimes talking and sometimes not. We listened to some good music and had an adventure. It was a good time indeed.
We had a couple of dear old friends over for supper tonight, Bob and Phyllis Keathley. We have known Bob and Phyllis forever, since our kids were all small actually. Bobby and I were deacons together at one time. I taught Sunday School to their boys. I should add that Bob and Phyllis's oldest son Brett was the contracting wizard that built our deck.
e on the cold side of the gas grill. We had raspberry iced tea to drink and vanilla carb watch ice cream on the dump cake. The pork was little dry to my taste but overall it was a good meal. (Note, these are not my food pics. But, my food looked about the same and every bit as good. I was just too busy cooking and visiting to take pictures.)
