Ooh, I have a cool new grill tool to rave about – the Weber Poultry Roaster! A sort of Chicko for the grill, or as Weber bills it, “beer-can chicken without the beer can.” It has a little depression to fill with liquid – I innovated and poured in a bit of white wine with several cloves of smashed garlic – and the same phallic shape as the Chicko for spearing the chicken upright, always fun. The results? Completely delicious – crisp skin (salty, well, cuz I oiled and salted it), tender meat, even some nice pan juices (skimmed of oil, probably only a couple of tablespoons afterward, but very concentrated and tasty). All in all a success, especially with potatoes grilled in foil (with dill and scallions), finished with a dab of creme fraiche (scraped them from the foil into a bowl, stirred in a dab of creme fraiche), and LaFincapeapods sauteed quickly in a bit of butter. Uber-Frenchy, uber-yum, especially on the deck with a little tune-age, yeah.
What else? A dee-licious and romantic din at Cafe Lurcat last night, just John et moi, in the pretty bar. We shared the mini-burgers (to die), shrimp fritters, roasted cauliflower, apple salad, and gazpacho with anchovy crouton (again, to die).
Today, I worked off the excess by hauling my bike into Erik’s Bike Shop (on an upside-down bike rack, no less, how embarrassing). I ride my bike every week or so, every time miserably uncomfortable and pretty much hating it. I finally brought it in to address the fact that my hands are painfully numbish after just an hour ride, plus I always feel like I’m sliding off the front of my seat. Well, hallelujah Erik’s, my seat was too low, my handle bars were WAY too low, my seat was too big and tilted too far forward, and my tires were seriously under-inflated. The guy wryly said, well, we are making this quite a tall bike, but then again, you are not a short woman. Ha! No one else in the fam will be able to ride the thing (at least not if they want to touch the ground) – it even looks tall to me – but I got on that bad boy afterward and biked for an hour and a half today, happy as a clam. Do not underestimate the importance of a properly fitted bike – sheesh, what a difference.
Moderate it: it’s tough at a spot like Cafe Lurcat, with arguably the best frites in the city. In the end, John and I chose between the burger and frites, and were happy with our choice (we were needing some protein in our order). We fleshed out the rest of our meal with veggies – gazpacho, cauliflower, and salad. Does a Bloody Mary count as veg? Who cares…damn goooood.
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