Cocktails (Drinks)

The Story of Mr. Weemit

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Since the TV fall premieres are taking over my social life, I’m adding a post from the past.
Here’s a story I had sent my girlfriends this past March.

Friday night I wound up at Brooklyn Bowl for the Derek/Susan Bowlive sit-in.
As one would expect, mama was accompanied by an icy cold glass of tequila rocks.
I rested said glass on a case of bowling balls, only to turn around two seconds later to find a gentleman sitting right where the beloved tequila had been residing.
“Excuse me, I think you’re sitting on my tequila,” said I.
The gentleman stood up, revealing my toppled, spilled glass wedged in the crack against the cushy lane seats.
“Let me replace that for you,” said the dark gentleman.
“No,” said I, quickly grabbing the glass and throwing the dripping remains down my throat, “That’s OK, I’m already drunk enough.”
“Well, then let me replace it for you another time,” pleaded the gentleman.

Apparently I gave him my number because he called me the next day. Not recognizing the number, I let the call go to voicemail.
We spoke on Sunday and made plans for Monday evening to go see The Allman Bros at The United Palace Theatre. He called himself Robert.

Sunday evening I was out having a few glasses of the brown stuff (after all, it was rainy) with my friend Tiffany. Surveying the circumstances of my next evening activity, dear Tiff inquired, “What’s this Robert’s last name?”
“An excellent question!” I retorted, “I couldn’t make out what he said on my machine, (a term I still use to refer to my voicemail). Here, you listen and tell me what you think he’s saying.”
I played back his message and handed her the phone.
“HA!” she said, “He didn’t say his last name, Jordan! He said, ‘Hi, it’s Robert, WE MET at the Brooklyn Bowl last night.’!!!”
So from here on out, we will be calling him Mr. Robert Weemit. Admittedly, my vision is far superior to my hearing.

The date was OK. He’s attractive (but I didn’t find myself resisting urge to rip off his clothes, or even throw him against the wall and kiss him like he’d never been kissed before), generous (those Allman tix don’t grow on trees), polite (but almost too much, I felt like I shouldn’t be cursing around him… which is limiting as certain colored words in my vocabulary make for such excellent emphasis), smart (he programs digital mapping, like google maps, but for the police dept.), and likes music (this helps). However, there was no spark, and the conversation was so canned, I felt like he had recently read an article in guy cosmo on “what to say on a date.” He kept hounding me with questions, firing them off one after the other before I’d even had the chance to finish the first one, and without having any of my responses lead to further discussion or sharing his answer to the topic.
I think the poor guy thought he had scored first row tix (they were avail that day actually) as he wanted our seats to be a surprise, and then hesitated a little when he saw the first 15 rows were double letters. We were in row A. “Row A!” I exclaimed, “This is the best sound in the house! Look, we’re dead center and right next to the soundboard!”
The Allmans rocked it. Mama got her “The Weight” (that Warren sure can sing ANYTHING!!), “Jessica” (best driving song evs), and “You Don’t Love Me” (in my top five for sure!)
After the show, we tumbled out onto 175th St and headed to the subway (passing the Jesus Deli, Jesus Hardware, Jesus Bar, and We love Jesus Rite-Aid.)
I gave him a peck on the cheek and thanked him as the A train rolled into the 96th st. stop before darting out to catch a cab across the park. He was continuing on to Penn Station to catch LIRR to Mineola, the Nassau county seat.
I also sent him a thank you text later that week after the Bijou* craziness had subsided a bit. (*My dog had died suddenly the next day.)

Since then I’ve gotten random “Hi, Jordan, how are you?” texts. But predictably, none of my responses have triggered anything more than small talk (if it could even qualify as that…).

And that brings us current with the story of Mr. Weemit.

Muah,
Moi

Discussing Mr. Weemit at Girls Night at Salt

Motorino – East Village

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Gnarly Dudes in Flip Flops

The weatherman apparently heard that the Stuy town movie on Thursday was Ghostbusters, as the tornado hit like the gatekeeper had actually met the keymaster… It was quick, and on the UES, painless (though Queens can’t boast the same). However, it didn’t make for a lovely, dry, movie night on the lawn. So I opened a bottle of Two Hands Gnarly Dudes with some friends and moved the evening indoors.

On to the dinner portion of the evening… When we went to try Momofuku Noodle Bar and faced an hour and a half wait, I wished I hadn’t canceled our late resie at Peasant. But it turned out OK as Motorino was right around the corner, on my list to try, and could seat us in 10 minutes.
While we were waiting, a girl sitting at the open window table, turned to face the street and puked all over the side walk. Twice. The party then got up and left. The restaurant cleared the table and welcomed us to it. I explained what had happened and requested a hose down of the adjacent street. Apparently she had just done a number on the bathroom as well. Once they finished cleaning that, the sidewalk was next.

Yes I Can Get a Hose Down!


The pizza was awesome. Doughy but thin crust with a little char. The octopus app was delish, the meatball was OK. I got the Brussels Sprouts Pizza. MMm MMMm MMMm. And our bottle of red was packed with nice fruit and a few questionable decisions. Thanks Motorino!

North Fork Bachelorette

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For the life of me, I couldn’t fall asleep last Friday night. I had just rocked out to the Sister Sparrow and Orgone sets at Sullivan Hall and decided to head home at around 1:30am to make sure I got a decent amount of sleep. There was not an available taxi in sight in the area and after waiting over 30 minutes and wandering around with my arm in the air trying different corners (what?), I stumbled upon the 6 train and decided to go the subway route. By 3am I had made it to the Upper East Side, only for my body to fight in protest that we had flown 3,000 miles west, not east, and refuse slumber. So when my alarm went off at 8:00am granting me enough time to take care of Louie’s 14 year old puppy routine and pack for the weekend, I had to mind alpha my body and take charge of this east coast time zone.
Only five minutes late, but still the last one there, (sometimes I like arriving alphabetically), I met up with the girls at our mid town limo pick up location. Mike, chauffeur extraordinaire, from Crossroads Limousine was about to take seven sassy women on a Long Island Vineyard Tour for a bachelorette. So we cruised across Long Island, blasting Billy Joel, and venturing to explore the grape world of the North Fork.
It was a glorious day, weather wise, company wise, activity wise, etc. But to be honest, none of the wines were that memorable or dazzling. The whites definitely outshone the reds, but nothing I wanted to take home with me (and I’m usually so much easier with wine than with men, wait… I’m not.)

Jason's

Our first stop was Jason’s. There was another bachelorette party of 20 + girls all seemingly under the age of 25, and all in pink custom printed tops. Immediately upon entering I exclaimed, “Crap, Lauren! We forgot your penis hat!” No one was rattled, mostly because there was no such hat left behind. This was the one stop where we didn’t get to taste all of the wines, which I didn’t like. What if I missed the one I’d want to buy? Give me a sip of each, please! I think the winner here was the Reisling. I was the only one who could handle the Merlot; it was smoky, like mama takes her scotch, so I didn’t mind so much. Anyway, onward to stop #2.

Macari

Second stop was Macari. These were some of the best of the bunch. I actually wasn’t completely turned off by their Chardonnay. (I’m an ABC – “Anything But Chard,” but I’ll always try it just in case…) Not surprisingly, their first chard had a splash of Sauv Blanc in there. This helps.
At one point I turned to Lauren and said, “Look at that cute old man with his pants up to his boobs.”
Lauren (who’s possibly my funniest friend) responds, “That guy has proprietor written all over him.”
Mr. Macari sure does keep his ribs warm.

Laurel

The third stop was Laurel Lake where we had lunch that was pre-ordered through the tour. The lunch was crap, next time I’ll pack a picnic basket for everyone, but we had to include some solids in the diet for sustainability purposes. This stop had the best staff and a really low key vibe. The guys always made sure we had wine in our cups and weren’t at all stingy on the pours.
They also had a musician doing a little acoustic set.
“Hey Liza! Play something that doesn’t have lyrics involving someone wanting to die,” we requested.
“Oh, you girls just missed the happy set.”

Osprey's Dominion

Refueled with some carbs and ready for the second leg, Mike safely deposited us at Osprey’s next. We had to shut off my iPod with The Greyboy Allstars cranked up in the limo and subject ourselves to what seemed to be a Kenny G cover band in the mid-lawn pagoda at this one, but we managed to enjoy ourselves. (Actually, it was beautiful.) I pulled out a move from my 21st bday (when people were buying me more shots than I could handle and I’d cheers them and throw the booze over my shoulder instead of down my throat. “Jordan, we can see you do that!” they said. “What, I’m pacing myself!” I retorted,) and tossed some of the samples on the lawn at this one. First of all, drinking all day requires skill, if it wasn’t worth drinking, I won’t do it. Second, the other wineries had dump buckets, the lawn was just asking for it!

Pindar for Magic Hour

Since Mike was mistakenly under the impression he was taking us back to the city, when he learned he was leaving us at our hotel in Riverhead, we decided to add an extra stop, Pindar. This one had the best wines yet (or maybe our buds were failing us at this point, can’t be sure.) But we got a bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc and a bottle of the bubbly and went out back to enjoy the Magic Hour with the vines.

Our accommodations for the evening were at The Hotel Indigo, a cute boutique hotel with pretty nice rooms, comfy beds, a pool, and a painfully slow restaurant. I seriously wound up having to eat my eggs benedict (which wasn’t even what I ordered) out of a to go box at the Jitney bus stop Sunday morning on my way to make it back to the city for first football Sunday kickoff.
After a dip in the pool and a shower, we pulled it together and got in a $10/pp (what is this, New Orleans during jazzfest!?!?) cab ride to Amarelle in Wading River.
Great choice. Dinner was lovely. My fresh strawberry cosmo made me forget I don’t go for girly drinks. And the Pinot Noir was the best red we’d had all day (2008 Fin, Finnegan’s Lake, CA). Lauren and I split the lobster crepe (Mmmm) and seared scallops with crispy leeks (good). She didn’t touch my clams because of the bacon sprinkle (best part!), and I wasn’t the hugest fan of her fluke (insert your own “kitchen fluke” joke here). All in all, the perfect end to a perfect day.
Cheers, Lauren!
Cheers, North Fork!

Bay Cities, Longboard Red, and Dr. John at the Pier

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My favorite time of day is called “The Magic Hour,” (aka The Golden Hour for its photographic offerings). It’s the hour right before sunset (so about the last hour of daylight.) The sun is low and lights up the air with warm orange tones. I originally thought of calling it “The Laughternoon” because it was the late-afternoon (well, in January at least), but it seemed like a misnomer to me. For although it brings on a natural high, it’s not really a giddy high. It’s more peaceful and beautiful. I think I’m going to take a picture for a photo journal every day during this time. (We’ll see how I do with that one…)
Yesterday I wound up on the beach just south of the Santa Monica Pier during The Magic Hour. We were setting up for this season’s final Thursday Night Twilight Dance Series with New Orleans legend Dr. John headlining. A few tapestries, sheets, and blankets spread out on the beach, plus a bunch of surrounding votive candles in sand filled paper bags created our little lantern village.

Setting up "Lantern Village" at the pier.

Large Godmother. Works. No pickles.

I had made a stop at Bay Cities Italian Deli, a Los Angeles landmark. I had a friend in from NY that was joining us. Any time I have an out of towner visiting I usually insist that they don’t leave with out having a Bay Cities sammie (or In N Out, but who’s still late for the train on that one?) The go-to order is The Godmother. If I’m “watching my figure” I’ll go with a turkey. But as my friend Mike’s declared, “I’d eat a turd sandwich on THAT bread!” You really can’t go wrong. As a pseudo bi-coastal girl, I often am faced with the “Which city do you like better?” question (NY vs. LA), which I staunchly refuse to answer. But I’m compiling a list of assets for each. It’s a pretty well balanced list. Bay Cities = Advantage LA.

I was not the only one to try this!

While I was browsing the deli aisles, I also grabbed a bottle of the Point Break red blend from Longboard Vineyards. This was our one stop the last time I was up in Sonoma for my friend Megan’s 30th bday dinner at Cyrus. The winery is owned by surfers and their tastings are a blast. A fellow taster was a man donned in polka dot trousers. One Cabernet in and I, of course, was asking if I could play Twister on his pants. We also were making friends with the staff, naming the Syrah “The Jewish” one… because it had a big nose, etc. Not surprisingly, our whole party didn’t even make it through the caviar course at dinner. We thankfully had the rental van parked right outside on North St. for him to snooze in. Clearly, this was the bottle I was choosing from the Bay Cities selection.

Langer's first Godmother experience

Whit's Bahn Mi Sammie (SANS CILANTRO for mama!)

Whit also brought fixings for Vietnamese Bahn Mi Sandwiches. I went to visit some other friends and hang with their kids when he broke out the cilantro.

Whit’s Bahn Mi:

Meatballs:
– 1/2 lb ground pork
– 2 t garlic, chopped
– 2 t green onion, chopped
– 1 T chinese 5 spice
– salt/pepper to taste
– Mix everything together. Form into little 1-2″ balls. Bake for 8 min. in a 400 deg oven. Turn. Bake another 7-8 min. until brown. Remove, cool, and slice in half.
Sandwich:
– 1 french bagutte
– roman lettuce
– kimchi
– sliced/diced carrots
– chopped green onion
– spicy mayo (2 parts mayo, 1 part sriracha)
– chopped cilantro (optional) (NOOOOOOO!!!!!)
– assemble as desired.

Herbie Hancock 70th Birthday Celebration at the Hollywood Bowl 9/1/10

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Tonight was Herbie Hancock‘s 70th bday. Minutes before hearing this news I had turned to Beansie and said, “Man, Herbie’s looking good!”
“How old is he?” asked Beansie.
“I don’t know, but he’s basically looked the same for the past thirty years.”
“I want a sip of whatever water he’s drinking!” soon became my facebook status.
The show was great. His first set was more acoustic, straight up jazz, with an all-star line-up: Wayne Shorter on sax, Terence Blanchard on trumpet, Esperanza Spalding on bass, and Jack DeJohnette on drums. (And Nathan East on bass for a hot minute).
The second set was his funkier, electric stuff mixed with “The Imagine Project” (Band members: Vinnie Colaiuta – drums, Lionel Loueke – guitar, Pino Palladino – bass, Greg Phillinganes – vocals/keys, and Kristina Train – vocals).
Kristina Train, (aka “Chihuahua Hands” because it looked like she was petting a small dog with her left while she sung… distracting, but if you looked elsewhere she sounded pretty good. Just grab the mic with your left, K. Train!), belted through renditions of John Lennon’s Imagine, Peter Gabriel’s Don’t Give Up (which I sang all the way home), and Bob Dylan’s Times Are a Changin (with Lisa Hannigan on vocals – sounds Irish, looks Asian).
Other guests included India.Arie on vocals for “Imagine,”
Zakir Hussain on tabla and Niladri Kumar on sitar on “The Song Goes On,” (apparently with a pre-recorded vocal track by K.S. Chithra. We were wondering who else was singing…),
Juanes on vocals for “La Tierra” (Laney’s dad’s favorite Columbian),
Susan Tedeschi on vocals (can we say “girl crush”!?!?) and Derek Trucks on slide guitar on “Space Captain.”
And little Paulinho da Costa on percussion trading licks with Herbie during “Watermelon Man” (my mother’s personal fave of Herbie’s). He’s adorable. We must rival each other in height. Though the perspective up in our section is skewed. “Please tell me that’s a child,” I asked of the center dancer in the Debbie Allen Dance Academy “Tatamant/Tilay/Exodus” number. (Yes, yes it is, Jordan.)
The dirtiest piece was the second song of the second set (right after “Imagine”) but for the life of me I can’t get a song title. What good am I?

Now, three out of four times at the Bowl this summer I wound up in hysterics (and the show that didn’t get me was the night before I woke up with a man-down for four days cold). None of them are P.C.; I’m a terrible person.
At the BBKing/Buddy Guy show there was an African American lady, drunken stuporly screaming her conversation through out the show. At one point she turned around and yelled, “Anyone want some BLACK EYED PEAS?!?!” I lost it.
At the Nevilles, I commented Aaron’s chorizo on his forehead and Laners nearly choked on her own oxygen.
Tonight, we wanted to commemorate the final Jazz Wednesday Bowl evening with a group shot and Laners picked the only breathing man in the city who has never operated a camera to take on the task. He tried taking the picture twice, FAIL on both. We found another girl to try; she turned to him and said, “Ya, you’re holding the camera upside-down, dude.” I have little self-control when it comes to the giggles. Laughed right in his face.
(Similar to the time I took a pic for the lovely gay couple coming out of Alice Water’s Chez Pannise in Berkeley and we went to look to see how it came out, and one of the guys accidentally pressed “back,” and up pops a fully frontal, FULLY nude, sprawled out on the bed, picture of him. DIED! Embarrassed Showmance Will.)

Thank you Hollywood Bowl for our Summer Wednesdays!!!

Herbie Hancock's Seven Decades Bday Celebration at the Hollywood Bowl

The Larry “Spritzer”gerald

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On Friday we had our all girls live fantasy football draft. (I’ve barely just recovered, I practically had to force myself to sample Kurt’s Paradigm Zin during the Emmy’s on Sunday. But it turned out to be a valiant effort. I drank it all down and added it to my list to get again.)

Every year our league has an official cocktail. This year’s cocktail is called The Larry Spritzergerald.  It didn’t hurt that our Mitches this year were handy in the kitchen. (In fact, one of them even wrote a cookbook, Freshman in the Kitchen.) Thanks Eli and Elliot!

The Larry Spritzergerald:

1 lg carton (we used 22 oz.) organic strawberries, stemmed and halved (don’t wash the strawberries if they’re organic, it takes away too much of their surface sugars)
1 bunch fresh basil, chopped (I so need an herb garden…)
2 bottles white wine (we used Geyser Peak Sauv Blanc)
1 bottle club soda (aka selter)

Place two strawberries and 1 T chopped basil in a cup and muddle. Fill the glass 3/4 full with white wine. Add splash of club soda (1 oz.) and mix. Ice cubes optional. Best sucked down with a straw.

The Man of Honor for our Cocktail of the Year

Girls Night at Arclight

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The Arclight is a five footer’s dream theater. I get to see the entire movie comfortably. I love it there. (Save for that one time when it first opened and I arrived late to a movie and was denied access to the theater and wound up driving to The Grove to catch it there. But that d-bag who wouldn’t let us in has long since been fired, I’m sure.) So when some of my girlfriends and I decided to go see Eat Pray Love, I voted for the Hollywood Arclight. I thought I would wisely stash a bottle of red and some solo cups in my purse and instantly be the hero (thank you Australia and your glorious screw tops), but for some reason I didn’t calculate correctly (ah, the pressures of being a math major…). One bottle for four girls barely got us into India. By Bali I was stewing my shame of being ill equipped/prepared. Lesson learned for next time. One is sometimes not enough.

I did like the movie. The Italy scenes took me back to my summer abroad in 1995. I almost forgot how much I loved it there. India was as colorful as I remembered, though it still doesn’t make me want to meditate (P.S. I SUCK at meditating). And Bali has now jumped to my top 5 for places I want to hit next. Especially if they have more Javier Bardems there, (yes, I just slapped myself for being a cliche). A lot of the depth of emotion from the book was absent, but that also meant that a lot of whining from the book was gone too. I didn’t check my fantasy baseball stats once during the entire 2.5 hrs running time, so I’ll take that to indicate I gave the movie a thumbs up.

I also give the wine a thumbs up. The only thing wrong with it was there wasn’t a second bottle. It was a 2005 Henry’s Drive Dead Letter Office (Australia), a bottle I had picked up at my beloved Berkeley Bowl. It’s mostly Shiraz with a little Cab in there. And it’s JAMMY (which is how Mama likes it)! Fruit forward, deep purple in color, with a slight hint of mineral. Not an obnoxiously huge finish, but certainly big enough. Which, unfortunately, I can’t say about the bottle…
Wine Rating: Please Sir, I’ll have some more!

Girls Night Leaves Its Mark

Orgone Sunset Junction Saturday 8/21/10

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There are a few things I always keep in my purse, (aka my pocket book; Hi, I’m from NY).

Some are none of your business (see future post on why it’s unacceptable to ever go through a woman’s purse…).

Others include but not limited to: lip balm (preferably Jack Black), hand wipes (EO Lavender ones – you can get them at Whole Foods), ear plugs (I have the baby blues from etymotic), and I keep a bottle opener on my key chain and wallet. (Anyone notice the food (wipes), booze (opener), and music (plugs) theme going on?!?!)

Anyway, on Saturday, I mistakenly left the house w/o my earplugs (I sometimes miss something in the purse transfer depending on which one I grab). This proved untimely as I had headed to Sunset Junction.  I love the concept of this street fair and I try to go every year, but the sound is terrible and painfully loud by the stages.  The rock star parking gods were looking down on me and I got a killer parking spot on Virgil just south of Santa Monica Blvd. I made a straight shot for the Hoover (tee hee) Stage for the Orgone set. Orgone is my High Sierra Music Festival discovery 2010 (like The New Mastersounds are my Langerado 06 discovery). Two of my favorite funky bands. Thankfully there was a small sound board providing shade from the sweltering east side 4pm sun as it was too loud up front in the shelter of the stage shade. And someone didn’t have her earplugs in. Even more opportune was the Real de Mexicao Tequila stand just to the left of the sound board.  Gotta love a guy who not only will custom make my cocktail sans cilantro, but wipes the shaker out first from any lingering offensive herbs. He made mine with extra jalapeno, extra tequila, no simple syrup (I don’t like cocktails too sweet) or cilantro (duh), easy on the pineapple chunks and juice, and just a splash of sour. Mmmmm. Yes, please!

Jordan’s Jala-Pineapple-rita

Recipe:
1 t jalapeno, green, fresh, chopped
1 T pineapple chunks, chopped
1 T pineapple juice
2 oz. tequila
1/4 t sour mix
squeeze of a lime
Procedure:
Muddle the jalapeno and pineapple chunks in a cocktail shaker. Add tequila, sour, and ice. Shake. Pour into cup. Top with a little pineapple juice and squirt a lime in there. Enojoy!

After two of these, we wandered around to check out the other local offerings and fell upon this scene. There was no way I wasn’t going to take a picture. (There also was no way I was going to give them money for it. My photographic journalist friend made me promise to never pay for pictures, it makes his job around the world… or in his current position, India… really difficult.)
And, yes, I’m wearing a Kelly Nishimoto dress.

Blind Date Text

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This isn’t exactly food, booze, or music related, but it’s too good not to post. I also realize that I’ll probably have more dating scenarios to share so I’ve decided to extend Cocktails into Cock Tales and include men in that category. We’ll also give it to music since I mention a few shows on my calendar.

Here’s the premise. This guy Dave called me to go out on a blind date. He couldn’t even properly identify himself when he called.

“Hi Jordan, I’m Dave, Esther’s cousin. She gave me your number to set us up.”

“Oh, OK,” I said, (My mother often mentions giving my number to some people who “might have a guy for me” so this type of call is never completely unexpected.) “Esther who?”

“Um, I don’t know her maiden name but her married name is ___ .” (something I had never heard of…)

“OK, well there’s my mother’s friend, Esther Goodman?”

“No”

“There’s my friend here in LA who just got married, Esther Weinberg?”

“No.”

“Well those are the only Esthers I know, unless it’s my dead Grandma Esther?  Or are you from Purim?!?!”

“No, I’ll find out from her, in the meantime, do you want to grab a drink when you’re in NYC?”

So I generously agreed to an earlyish drink on the Friday I get to town. We would firm up plans closer to the date. Now, when I’m being set up, I am happy to meet with anyone you’re suggesting… but for a drink, or a coffee, or something quick. You don’t get my entire evening unless I’ve already met you. That’s how these blind set ups work!

The following is a word for word transcription of our text message exchange that started the night before we were supposed to meet. For the first time!! (I think I dodged a bullet.)

Hi Jordan,
It’s David Rosenschweig (Esther Elmer’s* cousin) we spoke on the phone a few wks ago. Are we on 4 2mrrow nite as per our conversation assuming ur in town? (* turns out said Esther was a year ahead of me in high school, hadn’t spoken to her since. Her brother is my year and my mother knew their mother and recently ran into her in the city.)

Yes.  Do you want to meet at bar jamon at 7pm? 17th and Irving.

Sure. Jamon is fine, can u do 08:00pm? Looking fwd to meeting you

I’m going to see God Street Wine at Irving at 8.

Ok, How about we make it for Sat. Nite?

I’m busy sat night but could get coffee sat afternoon. Noonish.

Saturday I’m busy till late afternoon.
How long are you in town for?

10 days.
What time do u get out of work? I can do Monday before 8pm.

Great, would you like to meet grab a drink any evening except Tues.(I’ve got class/wrkshop) when you won’t be “double booked” or have a nxt appt. An hour?

What time do u get out of work? I can do Monday before 8pm.

I won’t know depends on how the day goes each appt. Is different some days 6, 7pm plus by the time I walk my dog 07:00 is not realistic.

How about a coffee during lunch one day?
Or on Monday u are welcome to meet me at city winery at 8pm. Seeing calexico.

Jordan, I’d like to meet u, & am willing to meet u any evening excpt one(Tues.nite) despite that u double booked our date set 3-4 wks ago. Let me kw.

I didn’t double book our date. I was planning to meet you tonight at 7. Don’t think meeting up is going to work. Sorry.

And u communicated that you’d have 1hr 7pm-8pm to meet when? I get that ur time’s limited. Don’t make up ur own version of events its silly. Good luck to you.

Please don’t contact me again. Tx.

Plse never contact me again.

— Last names have been altered for privacy purposes

“Heiry” Mary – Jordan’s Heirloom Tomato Bloody Mary

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I heart heirloom tomatoes. I can eat them like a peach, with a little bit of salt. I also have a huge thing for bloodies. There’s no better way to start off a Sunday morning. (Though, they can go well with day of the week.)

I’m currently writing a cookbook with my mother (working title: One Dish – Four Seasons) where we take a base recipe and adapt it into four versions of the dish, depending on what’s in season at the time. Each dish comes with a recommended wine pairing and suggested music album, with personal stories behind each element along the way.

For the summer tequila cocktail, I made an heirloom tomato version of a Bloody Maria (a Bloody Mary with tequila instead of vodka), called “Heir” of the dog-arita. After all, the bloody is queen of hair of the dog hangover helpers. Stay tuned on when you’ll be able to find it in the book.

In the meantime, here’s a vodka version that made my friend Beansie cry.

“Heiry” Mary (Jordan’s Oven Roasted Heirloom Tomato Bloody Mary)

Yields: 4

Prep Time: 4 hrs.

Total Time: 4 hrs. 15 min.

Ingredients:

8 heirloom tomatoes, slow roasted*

2 garlic cloves, slow roasted*

½ c hearts of palm juice

1 t salt

½ t pepper

2 T horseradish, fresh, grated

1 t Worcestershire sauce

1 T balsamic vinegar

3 T basil, fresh, chopped

2 T jalapenos, fresh, chopped

½ c lemon juice (about 2 lemons)

1 c vodka, chipotle if avail

Procedure:

* To slow roast tomatoes and garlic: Pre-heat oven to 275. Cut tomatoes vertically in half and place on a foil lined baking sheet skin side down. SWOOPS! (Season With Olive Oil, Pepper, and Salt – a ubiquitous step in my cooking, so we gave it an acronym). SWOOPS a few peeled garlic cloves and throw them on the tray as well.  Place in oven and slow roast for about four hours, until tomatoes are starting to shrivel.

Slow Roasted Heirloom Tomatoes and Garlic

Place all of the non-alcoholic ingredients in a blender or processor and blend until smooth (about a minute). If you’re serving immediately, add the vodka to the blender/processor and blend until well combined.  Pour over ice and adjust seasonings to your taste (though it probably won’t need it). You can refrigerate the mix and enjoy it later. You can also adjust the vodka:mix ratio to your liking, or just warn people that they won’t be able to taste the 2 shots of vodka you’re putting in their hands.

There you go! Enjoy!

Beansie and Home Fry go to town on the "Heiry" Mary and "Heir" of the Dogarita