Beer and Relish

I'm remembering that it was last Thursday that Colin brought in the package that had been left at the front door. As Packages are very exciting things, we opened it at once. I did know what was in it but was very curious. You see, about 2 weeks ago, I actually entered a contest, in earnest. I do not normally do that as, after almost 4 decades of living, I have learned that I never win contests. My sister, Gail, she got all the contest winning genes. The best one that I am aware of was the radio contest she won back in the late 70's or early 80's when the Morrison Fred Meyer closed in downtown Portland ("Items advertised available at all stores but Morrison") The Morrison Fred's never had anything, probably why they closed it. She won a $100 shopping spree, not bad money back then. That was also when Cabbage Patch dolls were all the rage and that winter, they could not be had for love or money. The toy stores sold out with in minutes, that sort of thing. You know where this is going. Apparently, the one thing the Morrison Fred Meyer had was the last Cabbage Patch doll in the state, and Gail walked in and got it, along with some other odds and ends, with her $100.

So, on the 14th of this month, Jamie (sorry, can't link directly to the 4/14 entry, but just scroll a bit) described the radish relish she was about to put together, and as she is such a lovely, generous person (not to mention a gardening demon with radishes coming out of her ears and eyeballs), she offered a jar as a prize for writing some words about radishes. Her husband would be handed the task of picking the winner ("Here honey, close your eyes and point!") and some lucky soul would be spooning this relish on their brats in the near future. It may have been that I just wanted that relish more than the others or that the contest gods finally decided to cut me a break, but last night, I piled the spoils of victory on a good beer brat and sank my teeth in. Oooooh Baby! Good eats. I had seconds. Would have had 3rds, but, well, wanted to leave some for the next day. (Ah, that would be lunch today!) That and the fact that 2 brats really were more than I could really fit in, having to jettison the last part of the bun in favor of brat and relish. I won't tell you that she also added a brownie tart to the package, which I did share with my loved ones, but only because Colin was there at the opening and I couldn't deny it's presence. He proclaimed it the best dessert he's ever eaten, and that's saying a lot, as the kid is no stranger to dessert.

So, my advice? Haunt Jamie's blog and enter every damn contest she decides to run, but remember, I'm gunning for you and aim to play dirty.

On a different but brat related track, I bring you the World's Worst Beer, at least the worst that has passed my lips, and these lips have tasted many a bad homebrew, many from Charles' forays into apartment kitchen home brewing. (When he was bad, he was very, very bad, but when he was good, thatsa gooda beer!) We actually grabbed a 4 pack off the shelf as it said it was a Belgian style beer, and we had an overwhelming craving for more of the incredibly good Belgian Style Triple, which we could not find. We each took a sip, made a horrified face and spit it out in the sink. I can't remember ever spitting out beer. Sour and brown. Truth in advertising. Charles picked up some more of the Good Beer Wednesday, so I could accompany the brats in style. For the record, yes, I love a good hearty beer, nice and dark. Beer that steps up and shakes your hand.

Finally, on something of a sad note, we have a small Christmas tree on our deck, becoming acclimated before we plant it in the yard. Some very silly bird has built a nest in it! The tree is only about 3' high, 4+1/2 if you count the pot. The tree is between 2 sliding glass doors. The dog goes in and out those doors, as do we, several times a day. I think the bird got the message, but not before it had laid a thumbtip turquoise blue egg in it. So now we have a small abandoned nest and egg in our tree. Just makes me rather sad. It does solve one dilemma, as I was not sure how well we were going to keep the tree alive and watered on the deck through the hatching and fledging of the chicks. Guess I'd better get busy and stick it in the ground before another bird-brained bird decides it is a good place to raise her kids.