Blessed are the Few

I just spent two perfect Ptown days.

This past weekend was the Portuguese Festival culminating with the Blessing of the Fleet on Sunday. For more than 50 years boats of all shapes and sizes crowd the harbour and get in cue for the bishop who tosses some holy water on your vessel blessing it (and you, I would think) with prosperity and safety on the high seas. I'm not religious but who couldn't use a little blessing from time to time?

The bishop and his buddy were stationed on the top deck of the slow ferry, the other decks crowded with tourists and well-wishers witnessing hundreds of boats in various stages of party.

Originally meant for the fishing fleets who harvest the waters off the Cape to provide for their families and feed the town, now the BotF is just an excuse to get out on the water and kick off the summer with the first of many nautical hoot nannies.

And boy did we have fun. My friend Rachel invited me to join her and her friends on a pontoon party boat she was renting from Flyers in town. Here's a self portrait with Will and our Bulgarian friend Julia, who's also a Patio employee.

The pic below shows just a hint of all the boats in the harbour with the Pilgrim Monument in the background.

Sunday was hot and hazy and the water in the bay so warm we headed to long point where we anchored, all of us diving off the boat and only coming back to it for beer and other refreshments.

Then on Monday Peter, myself and his friend Ben and Becky headed to Herring Cove beach at the edge of the bay. I muddled us a huge batch of mojitos, packed it in the thermos and we spent the day jumping the waves and lying in the sun.

The battery on my camera died so I don't have any pics of the day but here's a bunch from Dan's Mexican Fiesta Birthday last week.

Here's Lawrence, one of the Eastland lads having a good belly roll while sipping his manly Mexican brew.

And this is Meredith, Dan's beautiful sister presenting the gorgeous tropical fruit platter to the ravenous guests--half of which ended up on the lawn (fruit that is).

And below is Eric and Hunter (a.k.a. Possum) sharing a, um, moment I guess. Eric's excellence in baking created this seven-layer rainbow cake--spectacularly delicious!



And of course, the birthday boy Daniel taking a good whack at his condom and candy-filled pinata. Ole baby!

Margarita University

I learned a few things in Mexico this past winter, like you should always negotiate cab fare before you get into a taxi and that men should never wear thongs on the beach (or in private, really). But the most valuable lesson I left with, was how to make the perfect margarita. And because summer is officially here I feel compelled to share this knowledge.

I'm also inspired because we're celebrating Daniel's 30th birthday today with un grande Mexicana fiesta at Eastland. I should be there now helping prep the refried bean tostados, the tomatillo enchiladas and the shrimp in agua chili--but first the world needs to know how to make a kick-ass margarita.

I catered a little feast for some friends during my brief Toronto stopover between Vallarta and Ptown and my friend Jamie asked how much bar mix to use in a marg. The simple answer is none. Use only fresh-squeezed lime juice when making margaritas and you'll never be disappointed in the results. Bar mix or sour mix or bar lime is pure evil in every way. It's full of sugar and synthetic flavour and even letting it sit next to a good bottle of tequila should be punishable with jail time. Bartenders who use it in cocktails should have their speed spouts sealed shut and their liquor license revoked.

But I digest. . .

For the best tasting margarita start with good booze. I like to use a reposado--a mid-level tequila that's aged in oak barrels for at least three months, which adds flavour and softens that harsh edge common with un-aged (blanco) tequila. Basically, the better your tequila tastes the better your margarita will.

Start by squeezing the juice from 1 1/2 limes into a cocktail shaker. To that add about 1/2 ounce of agave nectar or simple syrup. (You can find agave nectar at health food stores or in the organic section of your supermarket or you can make your own simple syrup by dissolving two parts sugar into one part water.) Next add about two ounces of tequila and 1/2 an ounce of Cointreau, then fill the shaker with ice. Shake the bejesus out of your marg then pour into a salt-rimmed cocktail glass. And don't skimp on the salt either--use a good quality sea salt or Kosher variety--something that will enhance the flavour of your cocktail not distract from it by burning your tongue.

Insert straw, garnish with a lime wheel and a dash of smugness. Then go forth my pupils, into the summer and make happy everyone who sits at your bar. With this recipe it's impossible not to.

Stay tuned for pics and more recipes from Dan's party.

Cha cha cha!

The Road to Wellfleet is Paved with Lemon Tarts

I'm rendering some baby back ribs and sipping a glass of Chianti as I write. One more hour in the oven and the ribs will be fully cooked and tender, at which point I'll transfer them to the barbeque to brown 'em up and add some more flavour.

I'm using a really simple technique and only a few ingredients. First I seasoned the rack with a little S&P and liberally sprinkled on smoked paprika. Then I doused them in a tablespoon or two of cognac and massaged all the flavours into the flesh before laying the ribs over a sliced onion and five or so cloves of crushed garlic. I wrapped it all up in aluminum foil and shoved it in the oven at 350 degrees F for an hour.

That brings us to the Chianti (La Striscia, 2008, a full-frontal fruity mama with a not-too-dry finish) and the last two paragraphs. I've reduced the oven to 250 and will cook them for another hour.

Now I wait. And write.

Today was my day off and I spent it exploring. (Had I remembered that my camera battery died last week at Will and Roxanna's wedding, I would have had pictures to document my day and show to you. But that's not the case so you'll have to rely on my vivid retelling to conjure your own images.)

My roommate Peter, The Boys of Eastland and at least half the town keep raving about this new bakery in Wellfleet so I hopped in my bird-defiled Mazda 3 and hit the highway. Wellfleet is about 20 minutes from Ptown and until today I new exactly two things about it: the local fisherman harvest oysters in the bay and PB Boulangerie churns out some damn fine confections.

Peter returned home one day last week with chocolate cream-filled eclairs from said bakery and barely the heel of a former baguette he devoured in the car on the drive back. Delicious and amazing. In that order.

And the people have caught on too; they're lining up for the tarte au citron and waiting 20 minutes for fresh country loaves to come from the ovens. I picked up one of those pale lemon tarts and asked the woman behind the counter to make room in the box for a fresh fruit tart as well. I'll tell you what they taste like as soon as I finish those baby backs but the simplicity and elegance of them reminds me of the Queen of Tarts in Toronto. If their flavour measures up to their aesthetic I should be in for some good sweetness later.

I might even share with Peter.

Okay, I just yanked the ribs out of the oven and peeled back the layers of foil--the fat has been perfectly rendered and the meat is tender. You can tell this by the pool of fat oozing from the foil and the bones wiggling freely from the meat.

Too the grill!

I'm going to cook them over a low flame for probably 20 minutes, turning after 10 minutes until they have some nice charred bits and a cool flame-broiled colour. Then I'll brush them with some of Annie Natural's Organic Smoky Maple barbeque sauce that I picked up at the Ptown Stop 'n' Shop.

I'm on the second glass of Chianti now. Which explains the state of my dessert. When I went to grab the tart box from the refrigerator I stumbled a little and the box fell to the ground, half smashing its contents. Oops. Might as well drag my finger through the lemon curd smears on the side of the box, right? It's perfect. A smooth and light consistency, creamy texture and a great balance of two parts sour to one part sweet.

Okay, don't let me burn the ribs. Seriously.

Beach Weddings and Random Goings On

I'm going to my first social engagement of the season tomorrow evening. My friend Will is marrying my manager from Patio Roxanna. On the beach across the street from Eastland, 7pm. I'm hoping the weather holds out for them--it's going to rain like a bitch tomorrow and I don't know if there's a plan B.

Enough about them. . .

Getting to the beach today was out of the question. The lazy sun decided not to come out on my day off so I hit Commercial St. to find a shirt for the nuptials. First I stopped into Drinks a great new store carrying chic bar ware, drinking vessels and related boozy material, including books. I dropped off a copy of Cooking with Booze and Entertaining with Booze when I first got to town and they've decided to carry them both in the store.

With that good news I decided it necessary to blow the cash in hand on some well-deserved retail therapy. Marc Jacobs, Item and All American Boy, here I come.

Success on a skinny brown leather belt at MJ and a military style navey and white plaid linen shirt from AAB. With 10 bucks left in my pocket and a hole in my stomach I crossed the street to the small wharf food court to Big Daddy Burritos. For all the stuff stuffed into my chicken, black bean, brown rice, homemade salsa, guac, sour cream, hot sauce burrito it still needed S&P at the table. All those things and still not enough flavour?

Bid Daddy might also consider grilling his namesake wraps. A crispy outer tortilla layer and a heated centre is what I want on a Mexicali menu. He did throw in a free iced tea, so that was nice.

Anyway, it's not only cloudy but it's cool today so when I road passed Patio the, um, 100-seat patio was nearly vacant. I waved at Vasile, resident food runner, waiter, bar back, bus boy and default go-to guy whenever you need a question answered or something done. He waved back.

Vasile is one of the gaggle of eastern Euro staff. Roxanna (Romanian) and I counted 15 nationalities on the roster at Patio this summer. Bulgarian, Russian, Macedonian, Moldavian, Kazakhstanian(??), Cuban, Jamaican, Mexican, Canadian, American, Austrian and a few more I can't remember right now. It's pretty cool.

And because this blog is a random mess of silly day-to-day goings on I'm going to leave you with my favourite new musical discovery, country harmonists Ladies of the Canyon. Download Follow Me Down, Haunted Woman, No Deliverance and Every Minute. If you like melodic twang from pretty girls you'll like this Montreal quartet.



And one more bounce. . . to some pics I snapped last week when the weather was gorgeous and I got the better part of an afternoon in at the beach. Nature porn, nature porn, nature porn.

Barking Dogs, Dancing Queens and Delicious Brews

Memorial Day kicked my ass.

What a weekend. I totaled 47 hours schlepping mojitos and lobster mac 'n' cheese at the Patio (funny, it wasn't the Bud Light and Boca Burger weekend I thought it would be). All told, it was long and tiring but for the most part the Baby Dykes were well behaved and decent tippers. I made a month's rent in four days, I ain't complaining.

And even though working 12, 13, 14-hour days is exhausting, going home to bed afterward isn't an option. Being all wired up and needing to blow off steam (and down a few beers, rightfully) myself and co-waiter Hunter headed to the A House each night after our shift.

Last call in this town is 12:45am so it doesn't leave a lot of time to hangout, dance and drink when we'd finish out cash-out at midnight. Ordering two beers at a time is how you get that done quickly.

The Atlantic House is where everyone goes on the weekend to dance, drink and fall in love--an old kindling building that gets really crowded and equally steamy. Good thing its got a sprawling back patio and ice-cold Rolling Rock, which is turning out to be my beer of the summer. From small town Pennsylvania it's a crisp and easy drinking lager--ideal for quaffing in hot situations.

Although, Sam Adams Summer is up there too. A not-too fruity wheat beer from Boston's famous brewery. Were serving it at Patio and I've gone through a half-case personally since I've been in town.

For something a little more bitter and hoppy I picked up 12 Harpoon IPA. I'm still on the fence a little about this one. It definitely fills a moment but it does have a robust bitter finish and I'm not always in the mood for that.

You know how that is.