I love experimenting with food and last night's Peruvian food was so exciting. Before Steve got home from work I began on the Ceviche. I diced the fish, soaked the shrimp in milk (it gets rid of the fishy smell) and cut up the red onion and the yellow hot peppers. As I was cleaning up that mess (peppers had to be seeded--otherwise they'd have been too hot for the dish) I failed to remember that I'd touched the peppers with my bare hands. Even though I'd washed my hands, there was still pepper stuff on them. But my eyes were watering from the red onions, and I wiped them. With my hands. Ouch.
Instantly it was as if my eyes had caught on fire. The tears started rolling, and I couldn't get it to stop!
Meanwhile, I still needed to clean up my mess on the counter so I grabbed the trash can to pull it over there. I had to feel my way around the kitchen. The trash can caught on one of the tiles and spilled all over the floor. I was on my knees, tears streaming out of my eyes still, picking up the garbage and wondering what else could happen!!
Pitiful.
The food, however, was wonderful. I finished my meal preparation with Dog The Bounty Hunter playing on the t.v. I guess Dog is my guilty pleasure. I can't help it. There was a New Year's marathon going.
The potatoes way better than expected, and I was truly shocked that the Ceviche was good. I've never tried it before and I was particularly nervous about that. Steve and his brother have had plenty of Ceviche in their lifetimes and I think that's what made me scared. Steve worked on a tuna boat back in the early 80's, as a helicopter pilot. He would take the chopper out over the ocean and identify where the fish were grouping. Then the tuna boat would head over there and cast the nets.
Being out on the ocean for weeks at a time meant there was a lot of seafood to eat. He was telling me the big kitchen on the boat had refrigerators, and there was always a big bowl of Ceviche to dip into.
After dinner we headed to a tiny bar where Jack was going to be playing guitar.
It was a place called Cops and Rodders, and it's owned by a racing enthusiast who is a former police officer. The ice cubes were blinking lights. Too cute!
Jack was well received by the audience--it was a very small one and the music he played seemed to be appreciated.
He was joined for a couple of songs by one of the bar patrons.
At midnight, I'd had plenty of bourbon to keep me lit. Steve was drinking sodas because he didn't want to take a chance out on the road.
I still can't believe we stayed as late as we did. I'm so tired now.
