Wednesday, October 31, 2012

happy halloween

I'm disappointed that no one came to trick-or-treat at my house! I had a bowl of pastel-colored after-dinner mints and a demitasse spoon. I was going to offer as much candy as the little ones could fit in one scoop. Maybe next year.

Pastel after dinner mints are for all occasions.


Happy Halloween from Sanchez and Michael!

Monday, October 22, 2012

tasting notes

I recently had my sensed dulled by too much drink, but I still wanted to enjoy some wine. Not to get too technical or talk too much shit, but unlike Michael, I think Oregon wines suck, categorically, and with only one exception: some oregon wines come from the Walla Walla valley. I came to this realization concurrently with another important general realization about wine. To describe this new understanding, I will attempt to describe something about wine tasting.

To taste wine there are (allegedly) three components to pay attention to:


1) Smelliness: Sniff the wine and notice whether or not it is wine. If it smells like whiskey, you might have picked up someone else's drink. If it smells like butt, it could be wine, probably from California. But if you are really good at determining smelliness, you might notice that it smells like grapes or like alcohol. It might smell like your uncle Jimmy, which explains why your mom always locked the liquor cabinet before he came over. Wine snobs call this the "nose," since French people invented wine snobbery and they have historically large noses.


2) Mouthiness: Put the wine in your mouth, and like a classy prostitute, try not to swallow. Consider how it feels in your mouth, does it strip your tastebuds like turpentine? Does it taste like grapes or alcohol? Gurgle like you were using mouthwash (or again, like a classy prostitute) and see if that makes it taste more like grapes or alcohol, like dirt, like dog food, or anything else you've tasted. You are experience what the wine snobs call the "body" because they won't usually have access to someone else's body without wine. Decide if you really want to swallow (I don't need to mention it again), and get ready for...

3) Swallowiness: Swallow your wine. Notice what your mouth feels like. Does it suck your mouth dry of saliva (it might be from California), or does it feel like you've had a sip of cold water (in that case, it's probably from Oregon)? Spend some time noticing how much the taste lingers. Does it linger like a fourth person when all you want is a threesome, or does it run away quickly like a blind date done poorly? This is known as the "finish," and you should hope for happy endings.

So anyway, I was out with Michael and his friend Steve, numbed to the point that I was actually liking a certain Oregon wine. I evaluated the experience of the wine in all the aforementioned ways and three stars later, I was not offended, that is, until I discovered the fourth element of wine tasting:

4) Belchiness: Burp. What do you notice after the wine has made a comeback? Is it a pleasant experience, like tasting chili-cheese fries over and over again after the fair, or is it unpleasant like you had just vomited? Belchiness is always overlooked because of its improperness but I assure you that wine can come back to say "hello" and this is the real test for a good wine. This particular Oregon wine was holding up pretty well to me until at first burp all I could taste was oak barrel, as though I had been forced to lick someone's grandfather's oak-panneled study from top to bottom.

So, if you take anything from this little foray into the world of wine tasting, know that you know nothing until you've had a satisfying belch: only then will it all come together.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

put a bird on it and call it a restaurant

from foodcrypt.com

I've had some interesting experiences in dining and food this week.

First off this week I ate in a very expensive restaurant named after a type of bird. After I got over the name, I marveled at the whimsy of a beef tartare with fried oysters then later, fois gras profiteroles. It didn't offend me. Michael can't stop talking about it, probably to make friends with other needlessly pretentious Portland foodie hipsters.

Later in the week I heard an argument about how to make a menu more vegetarian/vegan/gluten-free. I'm new around here, and I don't want to come off as an asshole before I inevitably do, so I stressed and strained to keep my mouth shut. I suffered though it, discovering that if I don't stop chugging wine, I am less inclined to use my mouth for any other purpose.

So I was having a little meal at my neighborhood spot where I overheard a staff meeting taking place at a nearby table around 3:30 in the afternoon. The meeting was to discuss front-of-house operations, and since servers are often loud-mouthed alcoholics it was easy to eavesdrop. Point is, one of the servers brought up the fact that the menu is "less vegan/gluten-free than it pretends to be." Generally, lists of food you can choose to purchase or not to purchase don't "pretend" to be anything else, but I'll let it slide. She went on to explain "It's Portland standard to show which menu items are vegan/gluten-free." So I don't personally understand why this is a "standard." I've been pretty good at knowing which foods come from animals and which foods come from wheat-germ.

Here's a quick list of things you should avoid if you have a gluten-free diet:

  • Bread
  • Soy sauce
  • Hayrides


And if you are vegan, avoid these foods:

  • Meat
  • Cheese
  • Eggs
  • Shoe leather


These are explicitly off limits for both diets:

  • Beef Wellington
  • Happiness


Sorry haters. I enjoy a good slice of pepperoni pizza now and then.

Friday, October 5, 2012

responding to letters

Dear Sanchez: 
It's friday night and I haven't made reservations, I don't know what I am in the mood for and I don't know what my date is going to want. Please help. 
Clueless About Dinner

Thank you for your letter, CAD. Since Sanchez is busy sleeping all day, I thought I would take a stab at your letter. There are so many options, so I am going to narrow down your scenario with the following further complications: Your place is a mess, so getting takeout or cooking at home is not an option. Furthermore, it's too cold and rainy for a picnic or other some such romantic nonsense. Let's also assume that you have not been dating long, that this is perhaps date two or three.

So, without reservations and facing the first-world version of starvation, where do you go? I say, go eat dinner at your neighborhood bar, or at the bar attached to a decent (yet not spectacular) restaurant. In recent years the profile of food in bars has seen a steady increase. It has been fun to experience, too, since bar menus which once featured onion rings and mini corn-dogs now have thoughtfully constructed burgers, oysters in the half shell, I even found a niçoise salad in a bar. The best part is that you can still get those mini corn dogs! Everybody wins.

I am not praising new bar food without a better purpose. Hopefully you'll choose a popular watering hole with a decent Friday-night crowd. On your date your will be forced to sit very close to be able to talk. Be sure, however, to cut out before it gets too late to prevent interactions with obnoxious patrons and also to be sure not to drink too much. Save getting shitty drunk for the fourth or fifth date.



Dear Sanchez, 
My boyfriend is a picky eater while I, on the other hand, am adventurous and love to try everything. When we go out together, he usually causes a scene by editing the menu so much that he might as well go make it himself. He even pretends to have allergies to things he just doesn't like. I know for a fact that servers and cooks find him really annoying (I overheard some trash talk on my way to the ladies room once). I need some advice on how to continue going out and enjoying new foods without coming away embarrassed by how he acts. 
Picky Eater Ruins My Supper

Let me ask you a question, PERMS. Let's say that your boyfriend was a supreme dud in the sack (which, based on your description, I assume he is). Let's say you were really into bondage and he was entirely and staunchly vanilla. Would you stay together? Probably not. Eating is also a sensual experience often enjoyed together. You shouldn't have to give up eating out to be in a relationship, it that is way too much to ask. Also, imagine the future you'll have with this guy, preparing separate meals, having to remember a catalogue of specific prohibitions, and declining nights out with friends for fear of embarrassment. I'm going to assume that you deserve a better future, PERMS, so in the words of Sanchez who just woke up, "Dump the bastard!"

Letters are always encouraged regarding your dinner dilemmas: thesanchezlsanchez@gmail.com or espinozma@ gmail.com

Thursday, October 4, 2012

revitalizing sanchez

Oh, hello there. My name is Sanchez L. Sanchez, overeater, underworker, and critic. I had been working on this blog for some time with my boring, overbearing and snobbish friend Michael Espinoza until he changed the password on the internet as if to say, "Stop stealing from me, Sanchez. And while you're at it, maybe you should cut down on all that porn you look at." As a result, I found other things to steal, namely his cold cuts, various critical utensils such as spoons, and just as a little practical joke I kind of stole his identity to buy 4 kilos of sel gris from France, but in my defense I did give him a little bit of it for his birthday.

Anyway, since then, he's forced me to move to Portland, Oregon with him. This is a good thing for many reasons. First off, there are lots of hipsters whose eating habits I like to make fun of. Secondly, Michael is no longer in charge of the internet arrangement so I can blog another day, but I'll be alone in my room for a while. Thirdly, and quite seriously, there are so many good, bad, ugly, pathetic, and banal things to eat here that I hardly know where to begin. Suffice it to say I will be on the food beat, serving it up bluntly in search of pleasure over ethics, taste over terroir, always on my way to the next whiskey bar. Michael will be living the hipster dream, investigating the culture and ritual of food and dining.

A hungry hipster, i.e. Michael's inspiration

I am of course flourishing, eating pork sandwiches and scoping out the best places for dollar beer (hint: Sunday-Monday service industry nights, or Tuesday nights at the Devil's Point strip club), while Michael has been fastidiously arranging and decorating his new digs, taking breaks to make a crywich, and watching Food Network. Obviously, you can tell whose entries will be more interesting.

Thanks for coming back to check us out, may many a badass meal pepper your future.
- S.L.S.