The Funniest Thing I’ve Seen All Week

Kasey Anderson is a musician who is, hands down, the funniest person I follow on Twitter. Today he was on a plane with a famous (infamous?) passenger. Please read from the bottom up. You can follow Mr. Anderson here.

 

 

 

The Best Kalimotxo You’ll Ever Drink

Summer Basque picnics are popping up all over the West, which means it’s high kalimotxo season. (A note for those of you who aren’t familiar with Basque: The “tx” is pronounced like a “ch.”) All kalimotxos have three ingredients: ice, cheap red wine, and cola. But my friend Sean Goitia O’Connor really has made it into an art. I have spent many an evening at the O’Connor cabin in Lowman, sitting around the fire, telling stories, and drinking way too many of these. I asked Sean to divulge his recipe, which he kindly and quickly agreed to do. The recipe is a little untraditional, and it’s the best I’ve ever tasted.

You can find Sean and I (as well as our better halves) working the kalimotxo booth at the Gooding Basque Picnic on July 17. 

Our Goitia family version of the kalimotxos was carried to the Americas by my brother, who had spent a drunken year in the Basque provinces circa late ’90s.  According to my brother, the kalimotxos was not a formal drink made in the bars, but rather was a bastardized version of a sangria that would be made at large festivals.  My brother’s tale went that they—he and other younger Basques—would empty out half the contents of a liter bottle of Coke and fill in with cheap red wine. This Basque ingenuity represented a tasty, large quantity cheap drunk they could carry around.

Upon his triumphant return to the States, my brother shared with me this brilliant Basque concoction.  Many camping trips to the cabin later, and after much analysis and drunken discussion, a quasi-perfect version of the Goitia kalimotxos bloomed.  The fresh and luscious version produced regularly for Basquo and gringo alike nowadays is true to the old-country version utilizing cheap wine, but with the edition of fruits, juices and ice.

It is named in honor of our grandfather Patxi Goitia. Patxi came to the States in 1921, and spent the next two decades herding sheep before opening a boardinghouse in downtown Boise around 1940.  Gramps was five foot nothing, but was armed with a big smile, an even bigger laugh, the best comb-over hairdo in town, and the tallest dress shoes that could be found.  He was a Basquo man about town who loved a cup of wine and a cheap cigar.  My brother and I think he would have approved of our kalimotxos.

AKA Flying Garbanzo Punch is another story entirely.  One of Patxi’s boys, Lui, taught at a school in the Basque area in the mid-’70s.  His four siblings back in Idaho got together and took a picture of themselves and their father all wearing the big-nose/bushy eyebrows/glasses/Hitler mustache mask.  They blew this photo up and had The Flying Garbanzos printed across the bottom.  They then sent this to Lui for Xmas.  Perhaps this is one of those things ya “had to be there for” and see through the eyes of a dysfunctional 1st generation Basque family.

Patxi Goitia’s Deluxe Boardinghouse Kalimotxos (a.k.a. Flying Garbanzo Punch)

Carlo Rossi Paisano wine
Royal Crown Cola
Fresh lemon and lime juice
Thinly sliced quarter- to half-sections of lemons and limes
Ice
Any size glass

Pour a 3-to-1 ratio of vino fino to refreshing Royal Crown Cola (don’t want it too sweet). Squeeze a couple of lemon and lime sections in. Plop in a few fresh and luscious lime and lemon slices. Drop in a few ice cubes. Stir lovingly as you ponder how cool Basque folks are. Wah-la!

Fresh-squeezed Yucca from Mary Todd’s Workers Bar and Grill

A couple of weeks ago we went on a trip through Oregon: Portland, Eugene, Corvallis, and along the coast into Astoria. Greg booked two nights in Astoria because he’s always wanted to see where the mouth of the Columbia meets the Pacific. I wanted to see the “Goonies” house. We both saw what we wanted.

I could write an entire post about Astoria — the beautiful Queen Anne houses, the ghostly burned pier along the waterfront, the unpredictable river, the crumbling Astor Hotel — but I’ll keep it instead to one topic: the “fresh-squeezed” Yucca from Mary Todd’s Workers Bar & Grill.

If there were a threatened species list for dive bars (and there should be), Mary Todd’s would be on it. Unlike its older, famous sister to the south, Mo’s, Mary Todd’s has not been expanded or gentrified or capitalized upon. It’s dark and doesn’t have a view, but it does have a large backyard and a firepit where Mary Todd herself holds court. It has really great food for really cheap. Inexplicably, they serve fry sauce. But the star of the show is the Yucca.

Our poor bartender had a paper cut, so every time she made one it was like she was slogging through the Bataan Death March. But she delivered them to our table wrapped in washcloths and instructed us to shake until the glass was frosty. She told us not to drink too fast, lest we wind up like the guy adjacent to us with his head on the bar.

You would think that much vodka would make a terrible drink. You would be wrong. It tastes like the best, freshest lemonade you’ve ever had, followed by a chaser of boundless camaraderie. We had talked to half the bar by the time we left.

Fresh-squeezed Yucca from Mary Todd’s Workers Bar & Grill

One ice-packed Mason jar with a lid
One lemon and its juice
About an ounce of simple syrup
2 1/2 shots of vodka
One washcloth
One straw

Add all ingredients to the Mason jar; cap with lid. Wrap in washcloth and shake until frosty. Serve with straw.

The Magical 1940s Drink Finder: The Bee’s Knees

My grandmother has a nightly ritual she calls “Drinking with Bill.” She makes herself her regular cocktail — a highball made with Canadian whiskey — and watches “The O’Reilly Factor.” This year I’ve had “Drinking with Oprah.” I’ve never been a regular Oprah viewer, but I’ve watched nearly every episode of her final season. It’s like watching the long death of my childhood — she’s been on for almost all of my life. Such a slow breakup requires lubrication.

After running out of my trusty Beefeater the only gin I was left with was the remnants of a bottle of New Amsterdam. It’s a little bit sweet and floral (not so good for my standard Gibson), so I turned to the Bar Aid and landed on the Bee’s Knees: gin, lemon juice and honey.

Where you been all my life, Bee’s Knees? This thing is easy to drink (maybe a little too easy) and dead simple to make, especially the old-timey version. I searched for some updated recipes that seem pretty amazing, substituting rum for the gin and honey syrup for the straight honey. I bet it would also be awesome with orange instead of lemon; the key thing is the honey.

It’s a perfect drink for summer: light, sweet and tart.

The Bee’s Knees
1 jigger gin
1 teaspoon honey
Juice of 1/4 lemon

Shake well with ice and strain into glass.

My Middle Brother Moment

It’s more than a moment, actually. I realized I had a Middle Brother problem late last week, when I tallied up the number of times I had listened to their eponymous debut that day: four. If I devoted as much time to healthier pursuits—like exercising—as I have to reading and YouTubeing everything this band has done in its short existence, I would be as thin as Kate Moss circa 1992.

Middle Brother is a side project for John McCauley of Deer Tick, Taylor Goldsmith of Dawes and Matt Vasquez of Delta Spirit. Lead singers and guitarists all, they set out to write the record in two weeks and record it in another two. But it doesn’t sound hurried or unplanned; what you get out of it is an admiration for their collaborative instincts and the respect they have for each other. (And a deep sense of low-burning resentment because they all appear to be about 25.)

Every song has something to say, from the Alex Chilton-worthy opener “Daydreaming,” to Goldsmith ripping his heart out in “Blood and Guts” to the utter loser telling his tale in “Middle Brother.” I wouldn’t bother listening if you’re someone who doesn’t pay attention to lyrics. If you do, you’re in for some fun.

The album was released in March and their tour wrapped up long ago, never coming within 700 miles of Boise. However! You can check out Vasquez and the rest of Delta Spirit at the Gem State Jam on June 11 at the Old Pen. Tickets here.

The secret ingredient (for reals!)

I get Bevia Extra Coarse Sea Salt at the Basque Market. It makes everything delicious. Really! Would I lie to you? And it’s like $4.

Salt is, with fat, the thing that makes everything you eat worth eating. I promise you: This salt will transform the food that comes out of your kitchen. I use it for everything: On roast chicken, in brownies, in risotto, in chocolate chip cookies. Have you ever had a crunchy piece of salt with gooey chocolate? No? You’re missing out, kid. Get on it.