The Cabin (Friday)

Chris and I have been doing a lot of independent travel this summer. He’s gone to the east coast for two weddings, I went to Chicago to compete in the Gay Games. We need some special time that’s our own- just ours- together. We put Michelle in the carry box, load up the car with wine and summer produce, and drive 5 hours northeast to Claudia’s cabin.

Claudia and I used to work together running a teen service center at Balboa High School. Her family has a cabin near Mt. Lassen National Forest- if that means anything to you. Even to NorCal folk, that rarely rings a bell. The truth is, the cabin isn’t near anything… which is exactly why I love it there. Claudia’s frugal grandmother bought a nice parcel of forest land with a creek running through it when Pacific Gas and Electric was dumping property for a few dollars an acre. Over a generation or so, Claudia’s family built a very simple and perfect getaway. It’s not much to look at from the outside, but the surrounding land is beautiful, and inside it offers the comforts of an indoor firepit, decades of hand me down furniture, Mexican blankets, old novels and stacks of magazines from the 70s and 80s. You can feel a family’s love in here. You need to bring meat to cook and wine to drink. You need to sweep the floors, shake out the rugs, find shade in summer and bundle in winter. Other than that, there aren’t really chores or worries. You read a little, walk a little and cook and drink to pass time between naps. I’ve been there with Claudia a few times and she always tells me that I can come up here whenever I want. I finally am taking her up on that offer.


Chris and I try to do a little preplanning for the menu, so that we have what we need and not too much more. I want tri-tip steak. He wants to bring the ice cream maker. An ice cream maker. For just two people. I roll my eyes but only on the inside. Fresh ice cream, why not. This is why we don’t camp. We’ll be in and out in 48 hours. We pack 6 bottles of wine.


Guacamole
The first food that I prepare at the cabin is guacamole. Not that toothpasty bullshit that they serve at so many taquerias and Tex-Mex chains, but real guac with real flavor. The kind that bites you back. I make it to satisfy a craving for both ritual and taste. I first had real guacamole when Claudia made it for us at this cabin on our first trip here. In the bowl, real guacamole should look like it has the consistency of aquarium gravel. All the ingredients including the avocado should be finely chopped and mixed and should stand on their own. It should never be smeared or blended- just hand mixed. I start a fire in the backyard pit. I’m not messing around here. I want to fire roast the jalapenos and chiles before dicing them. I teach Chris how to chop avocado in the skin; cut the fruit in half lengthwise, pull out the seed (reserve it) then use a paring knife to cut a grid into each half fruit. Use a spoon to scoop out the chopped fruit. I usually chop it a little more to get nice, fine pieces. We cut up four avocados, put them in a large bowl and then juice two limes over them. The seeds go in the bowl as well. Claudia has told me that this will prevent the avocado flesh from turning brown. I think it’s the acid in the lime juice that does that job, but I’m not about to defy my Mexican friend when it comes to Gaucamole. Half a large red onion and two tomatoes are diced and tossed in. Shakira’s nasal vibrato belts from the cd player. She’s not Mexican, but the sounds match the labor nonetheless. Here’s where I cheat… just a little bit. I add about ¾ cup of store bought salsa verde. The jalapenos and chiles are just about ready. We peel ‘em, dice ‘em and add ‘em in. Salt, pepper, mix-mix-mix and there you got some bad ass guac. It tastes fresh, potent and spicy… a little to spicy for Chris but he’s a spice whussy. It’ll taste even better in about an hour when all the flavors begin to meld.



I had a simple notion in mind when I started preparing dinner. Grill the tri-tip and red bells over some low burning pine wood embers, serve it with tortillas, caramelized red onions and a biting young Argentine cab.



Focused. Basic. Elegant.

But like an adolescent drawn to cheap make-up and gaudy accessories, I must press on, flourish, create. The slow cooking of barbequed tri-tip puts too much time in my hands. I could take a walk. I could ride the bike. I could sit on the banks of the brook, dangling my feet in the cold water. Or… I could prepare an egg wash and a bread coating and deep fry!

At a party the other night, an innovative caterer served the usual panko coated fried calamari. Accompanying it, were fried breaded circles of uncertain origin. I grabbed that first. My eyes opened, my lips puckered and I almost squealed out, “Lemon!” Meyer lemon. It’s sourful joy. I force feed some to the sassy Korean-Am grad student near me and she agrees. “Brilliant!”

So I try to replicate it up here. Except the local mom-n-pop doesn’t carry panko, so I make do with “Italian Flavored” bread crumbs that come in a Pringles-like can. I wash and bread some thinly sliced lemon circles then drop them into a skillet of hot olive oil. They brown beautifully. The lemon chips accomplished, I turn my down home batterin’ skills to some okra that I purchased at the farmers market earlier that day. I’m about to start on the fresh figs but Chris does an intervention. Easy! Breathe! Put down the spatula! I simply caramelize the red onions.

I have one more project, though. I have basil and some gorgeous cherry tomatoes. I de-stem the tomatoes and drop them in a sauce pan. I add lemon juice and sugar. I sauté over low heat. Then the creative part. I deep fry the basil (unbattered- I haven’t fully lost my mind), lifting out crisp dark green leaf chips. I let them sit before crumbling them into the cherry tomato compote. Then I add a few tablespoonfuls of the basil infused olive oil. This shit is gonna win some awards!

The tri-tip is finished and dinner is served. I look at the table and realized that I’ve cooked enough for six.

We dig in. We fold grill-warm tortillas around rare steak slices with red bells and onions. A piece of heaven in a bread pocket. The lemon chips and okra are just okay. The lemons are too bready and sliced too thickly. Next time I will use crushed panko. The okra is fine but the southern flavor doesn’t pair well the Latino focus of the steak fajitas. The cherry tomatoes… ah, such a near miss! I put 4 teaspoons of sugar into the compote when 1.5 would’ve done nicely. They are too sweet to be a worthy vegetable side dish. However, Chris and I agree that this sweet version would be a phenomenal served on top of grilled salmon. I’ll try that next time.

Our wine is Veramonte Cabernet Sauvignon 2003 from the Maipo Valley in Argentina.
Chris says the nose is stronger than the palate, but the flavor has a great balance of acids, tannins and fruits. My taste buds are shot from all the flavors on the table. I do notice however that the strong tannins cut right through the fat of the tri-tip. After a bite of steak- especially the crispy piece from the outside- and a sip of the cab, I can close my eyes and melt into a near nirvanic food state.