Sunday, November 29, 2009

Smoked Turkey

P Bonez and I have taken cooking flesh to a whole new level when we decided to purchase a second hand smoker from our friends who decided to escape back to L.A. When we first got the smoker, we were sticking everything in it: asparagus, fish, shoe laces, egg cartons, small children. We even had a get together for 6.5 hours for the sole sake of watching the brisket smoke. It's a great southern scenario: my London- born husband sitting in his camping chair holding a Carlsberg watching the sunset- i mean, the brisket smoke.
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We took smoking to a whole new level last Thursday when we decided to shove a 6 kilo turkey inside the Webber and fill it's flesh with hickory smoke. I nearly had a heart attack in my first attempt to prepare the coals before placing them inside of the smoker. My pride prevented me from frantically calling P Bonez to explain that there is wind and the coals don't light with lighters and that we should buy lighter fluid to douse those stubborn _expletive_ coals. But my 20s have brought me patience and when i failed, i kept trying and eventually, after half an hour I had red-hot coals eagerly waiting to be placed under the rump of our luscious turkey.
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Then suddenly, a flood of our friends came in 15 minutes later than expected and ate everything. EVERYTHING. The only thing left was the following:

2 tumble weeds
4 serving platters with only crumbs
a smoked turkey carcass

I kid I kid.
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It was a great party, it was so good that even the off label red wine bottles were empty.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Howlin' Henk

Henckel hears the harmonica for the first time.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Poor me and Poo Pup

I feel like my ovaries are going to roll out of my body and drop on the floor. I can visualize it now and the accidental kick of them against the eggshell colored wall. You gaSP. I know. But the trials of being female make us sturdy fem me fa tales. Which is much needed, especially in the middle east.
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This week has been unruly for the Doring-Preston household, unexpected change and then lack of change have collided in our universe and I'm not sure how to place the pieces for a perfect, lifestyle Eden. Apartment leases and hunting and not hunting and maybe car buying, and if so- what kind of car pontifications have made me realize how absurdly expensive this country is. Pile on the maddening traffic and the constant jams and honking and time falling out of our pockets and I've pretty much reached the boiling point for my sanity.
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And poor Henckel, he got his balls chopped off today. That poor pup- as a rescue dog, anytime we take him out of his schedule he pukes himself from worry. Actually, that only happened once. But P Bonez described his puppy dog eyes when he walked out of the vet's. And those eyes were very very sad. Then the vet described his constant crying before and after his surgery. He must be really attached. But now, his balls aren't attached. Soon, they will be dried out bags, symbolic of the alpha dog he could have once been.

The Lumpia Story











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An elderly Foreigner lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite food,
Filipino Lumpia.

Gathering his remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning
against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even
greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands he crawled to the
kitchen. With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame gazing into the
kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself
already in heaven. For there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen
table were literally hundreds of his favorite food, LUMPIA .

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted
Filipino wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy
man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture, his parched lips parted, the
A wondrous taste of the lumpia was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing
him back to life.

The aged and withered hand trembled on to a lumpia, when he was suddenly
smacked with a spatula by his wife,

"Git out op here!" she shouted. "dis are por your puneral !"

Monday, November 16, 2009

Good morning tel aviv.



Sunday, November 08, 2009

At a wedding in london. It's like. SO posh.