BANGRIA

November 6, 2015
Go ahead, drink up that mystical gypsy potion!

Go ahead, drink up that mystical gypsy potion!

The sound of castanets and Flamenco guitar riffs echo through the streets.  I see a momentary flash of a beautiful figure in a black dress sauntering towards, and then she’s gone.  Carmen?  Is that you again?    It seems that every time I eat Spanish tapas and drink sangria she appears.  That unattainable Spanish hard body has been haunting my subconscious ever since I first laid eyes on her in a bar in Valencia.  There I was, the gringo in the corner of the Spanish nightclub sipping my first sangria.  Carmen crossed the room towards me, took my glass and downed it, then led me onto the dance floor.  She wrapped on leg around my hip and I melted.  The filthy suggestions she breathed heavily into my ear in her native tongue sent my mind skitso.  Carmen sent me for one last round of sangria.  When I eagerly returned she had vanished.  To this day I don’t know if she was real or a hallucination brought on by a sangria overdose.  That is why I make sangria now.  Perhaps Carmen will return or, at the very least, I can turn the woman I serve it to into Carmen…for the night. Read the rest of this entry »


KIWI BE JAMMING

November 8, 2010
You jam straight I want to bang some more

You jam straight I want to bang some more

So I admit freely that my knowledge of New Zealand is limited to the Lord of the Rings, Flight of the Conchords, and a family friend who renounced his Kiwi citizenship.  None of this was going to help the fact that I brazenly invited a cute New Zealand girl I met randomly at a bowling alley bar over for dinner.  She believed me when drunkenly I claimed that New Zealand cuisine had inspired my culinary palette.  So the gauntlet was thrown down for me to WOW this hopefully kinky kiwi.  All my research has turned up was in detail reports about the oppression of the Mauri people, which didn’t strike me as light dinner conversation.  So I just bought a bag of kiwi fruit and winged it.  After great debate with myself, and with timing running out before she showed up, I decided to make a jam of sorts.  I served it with bread, Brie cheese and a New Zealand wine.  This winning combination led to a winning combination of positions in the bedroom, invented by the same people that brought us bungee jumping.  After that night I vowed never to never confuse Kiwi and Aussie girls again.  They hate that. Read the rest of this entry »