Seared Tuna
They make a seared tuna appetizer at Daisy Baker's that is, perhaps, my favorite restaurant dish in Troy. It's a toss up between that and any pizza -- you pick em -- from Bacchus.
Anyway, I'll find myself there soon enough, sitting at the bar, asking for an Evan Williams Green Label and getting stares of noncomprehension. But rather than be nasty, I'll likely just have a Guiness and some of that tuna. In anticipation of having just that (rather than a whole meal), I just had a little pasta with tomatoes and olive oil. And some wine from a box.
The beef with wine from the box -- it mostly sucks, despite what people will tell you -- is that it's almost universally too sweet. But I love the idea that it comes in a box, so earlier today I bought a Botta Box of Malbec and popped it open. 'Popped it open' may be the wrong phrase. There's a good deal of wrestling with bladders (reminiscent of the way one sometimes wrestles with one's bladder around 3:00 am) and cardboard and such.
Amazingly it wasn't sweet at all. Instead it was flat, like dishwater but without the interesting taste notes. Not sweet, though, so I'll be fine. Thank God there's only three liters. Could be worse.
Three liters? How could it be worse?
I'm not sure. But I'm sure it could be.
And just for the record, I don't mind a little sweetness in my wine. But it can't be the wine equivalent of Skippy peanut butter. You'll perhaps remember my screed about that?
Anyway, I'll find myself there soon enough, sitting at the bar, asking for an Evan Williams Green Label and getting stares of noncomprehension. But rather than be nasty, I'll likely just have a Guiness and some of that tuna. In anticipation of having just that (rather than a whole meal), I just had a little pasta with tomatoes and olive oil. And some wine from a box.
The beef with wine from the box -- it mostly sucks, despite what people will tell you -- is that it's almost universally too sweet. But I love the idea that it comes in a box, so earlier today I bought a Botta Box of Malbec and popped it open. 'Popped it open' may be the wrong phrase. There's a good deal of wrestling with bladders (reminiscent of the way one sometimes wrestles with one's bladder around 3:00 am) and cardboard and such.
Amazingly it wasn't sweet at all. Instead it was flat, like dishwater but without the interesting taste notes. Not sweet, though, so I'll be fine. Thank God there's only three liters. Could be worse.
Three liters? How could it be worse?
I'm not sure. But I'm sure it could be.
And just for the record, I don't mind a little sweetness in my wine. But it can't be the wine equivalent of Skippy peanut butter. You'll perhaps remember my screed about that?
posted by Geoffrey at 2:52 PM
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