Okay, that picture is staged all wrong. It looks like baking soda played a role in the cocktail, which it did not.
But that cocktail (the newspaper featured recipes for political drinks; this one's voting Obama) definitely played a role in today's lousy mood and bleak outlook on life.
Had a little birthday party for my father last night. Served Louis Osteen's BBQ pork rillettes in which this
and then you spread it on rounds of baguette to make appetizer toasts. I'll turn it over to Osteen himself: "Rich and spicy, they stand up to all drinks and at the same time add a little fuel to the belly, lessening the possibility that the next drink will sneak up on you."
During a break from the rain we fired up the new Weber barbecue for the very first time
and grilled a tasty marinated flank steak.
On the side, I served Louis's spoonbread (cornbread meets creamy pudding; grotesquely fattening; popular) and his rich, homely, and clumpy grilled pear, spinach, and blue cheese salad.
Louis's cakes weren't quite right for this event. I was tempted by his rum cake with caramelized bananas but it calls for almost three cups of rum. Stella is still in pre-school and a bit too young to start down the road to ruin. So I made the double-apple bundt cake from Dorie Greenspan's Baking, which was brown and cinnamony and fine. Only fine.
Overall, a very sweet birthday party despite my father's repeated attempts to goad me with his cynical political commentary.
Trudging off to vote.