Check Engine

Not wanting to waste any opportunity to relax, I’ve been getting up an hour earlier on my days off. Last Sunday, I decided to visit Coralville. I’d heard that’s where the good sushi is in this landlocked pastureland. There is also a nice, relatively easy disc golf course I wanted to revisit. And, of course, I wanted to check out the thrift shops, which, along with any art museum, is always what I want to explore at every new place I visit. Finally, I had a job interview the next morning and was in dire need of a haircut.

On my way out the door, I realized I hadn’t finished my coffee, so I poured it into a lidded mug to take with me. I’ve been using my brother’s Audi while he’s been out of the country, and the designers of it didn’t recognize the convenience of cup holders. They’ve been placed in the fold-down middle arm of the vehicle, which, when horizontal, pokes in the way of the manual gear shift. When I got to the stop light at the bottom of the hill, I futilely searched for another place to rest my coffee so I could remove the arm from my way.

The light was already green when I looked up, but when I stepped on the gas, the engine revved as I remained stationary. The problem was simply that I was in neutral, which was more than enough to cause the check engine light to appear on the instrument panel of the finicky vehicle. I cursed at it under my breath, already hoping it would disappear before my brother returned. As I quickly glanced in my rear-view mirror to see if I was holding anybody up, I shifted into first. At that moment, a car flew in front of me through its solidly red light.

Had my momentary fumbling just saved my life?

The Goodwill in Coralville was annoyingly barren, but I did purchase an ostentatious Cuisinart coffee maker that I would later discover does not work at all. No matter- I wasn’t planning on using the thing anyway.

I thought I was going to the same disc golf course Chant and Risa introduced me to last fall, but I’m still not sure whether I went to that one or another in a similar location. It was only my second time out this year and windy, so the discs generally flew wherever they felt. Regardless, wandering through trails amongst the trees whilst throwing things is a nearly idyllic activity.

An internet search had revealed an actual barbershop replete with atmosphere, but it was closed, so I drove down the street until I stumbled upon one of those sterile Great Clips places. Actually, this was after driving past a sports themed man-spa thing that probably cut hair but I was not going to find out. Also along the way I stopped at a liquor store, curious to see if it had any hard-to-find specialty items, but immediately recognized it was instead a place whose bread-and-butter was likely Thunderbird.
“Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“No, thanks.”
“We have a lot of things behind the counter here that you can’t see is why I ask.”
“Do you have Applejack?”
“What?”
“Laird’s Applejack?”
“What is that, a liquor or a wine?”
“An apple brandy; like calvados. Never mind.” He was flipping frantically through a purchasing guide. “Do you have any vermouth?”
“Yes, we have both sweet and dry right over there.” I glanced briefly enough to discern the only brand was Gallo.
“Okay, thank you.” I quickly escaped as he hurled apologies.

People who know me might forget that I am rather shy. Unless I remind myself to fake it, I struggle to converse with strangers. Also, I’ll never understand why hairstylists insist upon asking how they should cut my hair. If I knew how to cut my hair I would. The next thing she asks is, “What do you do for a living?”

I have a bad habit of complaining a lot. One excuse is that I’m acutely observant, and another is when someone asks a question, I answer it. My disdain for deception stems from my uncanny ability at recognizing it. I have recently been working a job that has been intentionally tailored to destroy the self-esteem of its employees, as that and sheer desperation are the only reasons anyone would continue under their employment. Using the same strategy employed by Christianity to maintain its flock, the first step is to convince the underlings that everything they do or desire is wrong and, secondly, that they are incapable of problem-solving. Finally, they are promised to be rewarded as long as they continue to accept these two conditions. The genius is in its simplicity, as the message can be quickly outlined in what Christians call a tract. The insanity is my observations will be refuted by telling me everything I do or desire is wrong and I am incapable of problem-solving….

After my haircut, I drove back and forth until I finally found the sushi place, only to discover it didn’t open for another hour. I almost went home, reasoning that I couldn’t afford it anyway and self-conscious that I had forgotten to bring clothes to change into more appropriate for fine dining and less suited for disc golf. Undeterred, I walked around for the hour, pondering my pending job interview and reminding myself during it to exude confidence and remain optimistic.

I walked up to the door as it was being unlocked, sat in a corner at the sushi bar and was served by a cute, young, redheaded waitress who miraculously didn’t remind me of anybody. I went out of my way to chat with the apprentice sushi chef and phrase statements like, “The salmon wasn’t quite as good as the other fish,” instead of, “This salmon is disgusting and inedible.” I spent over an hour and, after tip, $70 in the place, sipping on unfiltered sake and trying various preparations of seafood.

I quite enjoy spending time with myself. There is no one else as savvy at entertaining and amusing myself as I. At the same time, it’s rather unfortunate that after six months, I have yet to tell many of the old friends I am surrounded by I’m even here because I assume they have better things to do than hang out with me.

I landed the job, which starts next week just prior to my brother’s probable return. I am in a bit of a rush to purchase my own truck before then. The check engine light on my brother’s car remains lit.

Liquor Cabinet

Molly wants to know what 5 bottles of liquor I would buy. The question makes no sense on several levels, but I’ve decided to try and answer it by imagining myself with an empty liquor cabinet.

The first bottle I would buy is 16 year Lagavulin scotch. The downside is it’s $90 a bottle. The upside is it’s the most glorious tasting beverage in existence. If instead you want to start with a cheaper option, I’d recommend Chivas Regal blended scotch at $30 a bottle. Of course, these are not for mixing.

The second thing I would buy would be two things: Angostura bitters and Plymouth gin. Now I could make pink gins, and honestly I’d be pretty set. Life can be lived on scotch and pink gins alone. However, since I’m so fond of exploration, I’d quickly need to get Boodles London dry gin, which is only $18 a bottle, as a versatile cocktail base. I may as well get Noilly Pratt dry vermouth as soon as possible as well.

The next bottle I would buy would certainly be Cointreau, as it is the most versatile and imitated liqueur. It tastes like orange rind, and can be used in anything that calls for triple sec or curacao. Now I am armed to make a Pegu Club, which means game-set-match if a date gets back to my place for a nightcap. (Actually, it's a refreshing, sunny drink, but whatever.)

My next purchase would be 1800 Reposado tequila, as I enjoy is straight and it also works great for making slightly tangy cocktails. It goes without saying I’d need to keep a supply of lemons, limes and oranges. Now I can make margaritas, but really I prefer sidecars. While Hennessey is my preferred cognac, I’ve recently discovered (above Chant and Risa's refrigerator) E&J brandy as a cheaper and very tasty option, and would recommend getting E&J first.

Now I realize I am missing Laird’s Applejack and green Chartreuse, which are both used in my favorite cocktail, the Widow’s Kiss. But for that I’d also need Benedictine, which when used sparingly adds honey sweetness to cocktails.

Another liqueur to be sparingly used but essential for its versatility is Luxardo Maraschino. Next is a shopping spree of Sazerac Rye whiskey, Regan’s orange bitters, Peychaud’s bitters and Dolin (if you can find it) or Noilly Pratt sweet vermouth.

I’d also need non-alcoholic mixers such as Fever Tree tonic water, pomegranate grenadine, 100% pure pineapple juice, fresh spearmint, cherries and orange flower-water. Seltzer water too.

I’d also want a bottle of absinthe- just a cheap, as in $60, bottle to use sparingly as a mixer. If you want the really good absinthe for absinthe drips you still have to import it by purchasing it online. My favorite is Jade PF 1901, but honestly I haven’t had a good absinthe in several years.

This is a pretty decent novice cabinet. Now I’d start adding bottles according to personal preference. I’d definitely want Fernet Branca because it’s the best digestif and Don Cesar Pisco Puro, because I love Pisco Sours. Add Lillet Blanc and, wow, I think I’m set. Oh, and Grand Marnier. And a well-made kirshwasser, like Clear Creek. There are literally hundreds of liqueurs, both fruity and nutty, to experiment with. Next on my list of things to try is Cynar, whose prominent flavor is artichoke. And, if I can ever find it, cachaca- to get a taste of Brazil.

If you want bourbon for mixing, I’d recommend Weller’s Reserve. If you want to drink it straight, I’d recommend Eagle Rare or Booker’s.

If you want light rum, smuggle in Havana Club or try 10 Cane. Honestly, Cruzan and Bacardi also work well for mixing. The one rum drink I love is the Mojito. Dark rum seems like it should be a great cocktail mixer, but I think the flavor is too bold. After many purchases, I finally discovered 12 Year El Dorado demerara rum, which is too yummy straight to waste in a cocktail.

In contrast, vodka is too subtle to be a useful cocktail mixer. It quickly becomes buried so you can’t taste it. Stolichnaya tastes chalky, which I guess could be a desired quality in a drink, especially if you were that kid who ate chalk in elementary school. Sipped straight, Ketel One is actually pretty refreshing.

Your Life

Every once in a while, someone says something so horrifyingly naïve that I will spend years pondering what it must be like to live such a confining existence.

One time, while carpooling with a co-worker and playing Benny Goodman, I was asked, “Does the music keep getting louder and softer on purpose, or is there something wrong with your CD player?”

Monday, after boasting at work that I had just come from a job interview that went well, I was asked, “Where? The only other call centers I know of are….”

The splendid movie, Lonesome Jim contains perhaps my favorite movie quote, which is befitting in these moments: “I feel like ending it enough as it is. I can’t imagine having your life.”