*Update: Here are Pictures from the actual Cinco De Derby-

I embellished my sombrero with live flowers for a truly hybrid look.

Right after this next shot was taken, he went on to win the race. He sure was tiny!

Here is the start of the food and cocktails portion of this post:

Maybe you’ve noticed I’ve been a little distant lately. It’s not because I’m not cooking- I am. Like, a lot. It’s been hard to document it all to share with you because another big project (I’ll tell you about it very soon!)  is consuming my life and at the end of the day, my therapy is my time in the kitchen, rather than on the page. It’s hard when you have two true loves to figure out how to balance them. I imagine that’s why polygamy isn’t more popular. For me right now, cooking is winning, but next week writing may once again seduce me with her wily, assonant charms.

I have a third love: holidays that encourage dress-up and drinking. Good god, I’m a polyamorous slut. And I would be utterly remiss in my duties as a suitor if I didn’t share with you what I’ve done to commemorate tomorrow. Tomorrow is Cinco De Mayo. Tomorrow is also Derby Day. Both holidays promote bodily beautification-sombreros and brimmed hats, anyone? Both holidays also pay homage to Coctalica- the indigenous goddess of cocktails. Her apparition has visited me in the night a time or two usually when I’m praying to her whilst bent prostrate over the porcelain throne in my bathroom. She looks suspiciously like a very fast horse wearing a sombrero whilst grasping a Mint Julep in one hoof and a margarita in the other. She told me to honor her with a feast tomorrow, but since I’ll be on the (local) racetrack betting on horses and hitting on jockeys, I prepared it in advance.

I did a little research about Mexico and Kentucky so that I could properly fete Coctalica for Cinco de Derby Day. This research led me to the bottom of two cavernous bottles, one of tequila, and the other of bourbon. It was then that I had a vision. The vision was of a many headed creature (this was probably because of the alcohol, I can’t be sure) who spoke in tongues that I couldn’t understand (also due to the liquor?). I finally closed one eye and concentrated really hard and I gathered that I was meant to cook something that could move as swiftly as a racehorse along with accompaniments from Southern and Mexican traditions.

Naturally, I started my feast off with a cocktail. It is composed of Maker’s Mark bourbon, Mexican Coke, a Serrano pepper that I candied using bourbon syrup, sliced jalapenos, cilantro, and a Luxardo cherry- you know, because Italian maraschino cherries have so much to do with Mexico and Kentucky. Oh, and I topped it with a fancy hat, because how could I not? The problem with this drink was its sheer drinkability. Especially in the early afternoon. But a loyal minion of the goddess Coctalica remains true to the cause, and so I soldiered on, if with a little swagger in my step. Read more

Fresh off the heels of bacon-wrapped bacon and chili con carne soused in Velveeta for the superbowl comes the weeklong gag-me season of red velvet everything. A quick scan of the interwebs reveals red velvet cake pops, red velvet cheesecake, red velvet panna cotta, and even red velvet cosmopolitans- in the case of that last one, NO, two wrongs don’t make a right so don’t even think about it. Put down the cocktail shaker and man up, you namby pamby sissy.

So yeah, Valentine’s Day is coming and we all have our crosses to bear with Cupid. Some of us dismiss it out of hand as a Hallmark holiday while others desire expect a flatbed of roses delivered to the office at an opportune time so as to bask in the envious glares of perpetually-single cat lady colleagues. Regardless where you fall on the scale of ostentatious displays of pink-frosted love, you’ve gotta eat. So why not eat a bloodbath of visceral carnage to get closer to that thumping, pumping organ inside your chest cavity that’s supposed to be responsible for all the paramourious emotion- the heart.

The heart is the body’s main transfer station for blood. Sometimes it sends it up top and you feel really brainy like you could sort out a Rubik’s cube using only your pinkie toes. Other times it sends the blood down low and the only solution is to tend your secret garden with the deep, penetrating strokes of a big hoe. Either way, there’s blood involved, so why not mirror that on the plate for Valentine’s Day? In the words of my straight-shooting friend John from the blog Foodwishes, “The way to a man’s heart is through well-seasoned meat… and vice versa.”

With that in mind, I chose all things bloody and (naturally) red to express the profound color of my passion on Valentine’s Day. Naturally there’s meat. In this case it’s venison tenderloin. Beef tenderloin is the bees knees and can be substituted, sure, but the hot, wet feeling of a purple-red deer loin throbbing in your hands is unlike anything else. Or maybe it’s kind of like SOME other sensation, but I can’t quite nail it… Read more

As humans, we put a lot of things into our mouths. Stop and think for a moment: what has passed by your pearly whites on its way to your esophageal heaven today? I’ve had tea, several tiny French lavender mints, chicken, lettuce, aioli, San Pellegrino, focaccia, and some jelly-like candies that practically begged me to let them make out with my tonsils. It’s only 2:00 pm. Multiply that by the additional hours in the day by the days in a year by the years in my life, and that is a lot of food.

Does this make me an expert? Yes, yes it does. When it comes to eating, I take double black diamonds. When it comes to snowboarding, I stick to singles. I’m sure you’re realizing about right now that this makes you an expert too. We have this in common. We are expert eaters. With discerning palates. We could be celebrity judges if there were a show called Dancing with the Food. Read more