Beergaritas

In honor of Labor Day weekend, I will unlock, in short order, one of our coveted family secrets. I use the term 'secret' loosely, as this recipe is quickly becoming the world's worst kept secret, right up there with Anderson Cooper being secretly gay. These things are blowing up like Val Kilmer.

That's right boys and girls, it's Beergaritas (one guy awkwardly lets out a whoop). Everyone who has come across our recipe has had their lives changed, and many of these same people have served one or two stints in AA or even federal prison as a result. But in a totally good way. (They told me, to a man, "If I had to do it all over again, I would".)

So please make these this weekend and let me know what you think. Unless it's bad. Then I don't want to hear it. Nothing can taint my opinion of God's Nectar. (In no way related to Michael Jackson's 'Jesus Juice'.)

Beergaritas

1 can of frozen limeade
2/3 can (empty limeade can) of tequila. I usually use Sauza Blanco.
1/3 can of Triple Sec or Cointreau
2 beers (Mexican Beer is best, but I've used Miller Lite/Coors Light before and it's fine.)
2/3 can of Sprite/Sprite Zero
1 lime, squeezed
Mix all of the ingredients into a pitcher. Add a ton of ice. Stir. Then I like to throw the whole thing in the freezer for about 15 minutes to get it nice and chill. Serve in large glasses with more ice. Garnish with a lime/salt if you're feeling saucy/salty.

Enjoy. Thank me later.

A recent batch of the good stuff, served with ribs and Katy's home made potato salad. (Fans self rapidly, faints, farts)

LA Woman

I was recently in California for about a week on both business and pleasure. The business being a field meeting with Fox Searchlight pictures, in which I was able to get a look at some of their upcoming slate, including the highly recommended 127 Hours and Black Swan. But let's be honest, the business included a fair share of pleasure as well...I can think of worse fates than a business trip that involves watching movies on the Fox lot, mingling with Ed Helms (Nard Dog!) and eating lobster at the aptly named Santa Monica restaurant, The Lobster.

Before that, I flew out to spend a few extra days in Huntington Beach with Ted and his wife Vicki, with child. We dined at Las Brisas in Laguna Beach, where Ted claims to have once seen Kobe Bryant. Despite Ted's distaste for the Lakers, we can safely assume that, at that point, he was Kobe's biggest fan. The next day included a 4 mile run along the ocean (a personal best, at least since dial up Internet was still en vogue), a bar crawl bike ride along the beach, and steaks on the grill. Thankfully for the state of California, my shirt stayed on, as I wisely passed on re-creating scenes from Baywatch, but only because my base tan wasn't "Swanson" enough yet. Also, no Tupac sightings, although I did see Ed O'Neill, which is pretty, pretty gangsta.

I actually wanted to eat the whole shell, but was told that was grounds for immediate termination.

Ted and I enjoy a Pacifico and an awkward (and rare) show of affection at The Saloon in Laguna Beach.

This ocean is oil free!

Crawling for Carmella

Lily has been on the verge of crawling for a week or two now. She just needed that one thing to push her over the edge and serve as the dangling carrot, so to speak. Enter Carmella.

Lollapalooza 2010 - Sweatin' to the Oldies

After a brief and unintentional two year hiatus (damn you uncontrollable circumstances!), Katy and I braved the humidity during the first week in August for the city's largest music festival, Lollapalooza. Given our rapidly advancing age, the addition of a mini-me and our general aversion to both people and the sun, we chose to attend only one day, Saturday, as opposed to all three. To quote the incorrigible Danny Glover, "I'm too old for this (shut your mouth!)."
So after leaving Carmella and Lily a crisp twenty dollar bill and the keys to the Astra, we headed down to Grant Park for a day of music, food and sun.

Highlights included, but were not limited to:

• Mumford & Sons -these young Brits seem poised for super stardom and the crowd reacted as such. They're folk-y, but they rock. I hadn't previously thought that to be possible. This was a great, energetic set, and I'm glad we saw them now, before they're pushed on the masses to the point of intolerability (See: Coldplay).
  
• The Kuma Burger, lobster corndog, peach cobbler shake - We waited in line for a half hour for the famous Kuma Burger, at one time profiled here at HHH. You reach a certain point in line where it's been like 10 or 15 minutes, at which point you rationalize that you can't give up at that point. But you know what? It was worth the wait. Follow that up with the lobster corn dog from Graham Elliot and the peach cobbler shake (maybe the best thing of the fest, period) from Hoosier Mama Pies, and you're sitting pretty (pretty obese).
  
• Soundgarden - It was a tough call, but we ended up going with Soundgarden over the more trendy (and judging by the crowd, 3x more popular) Arcade Fire. Soundgarden did not disappoint, delivering monster 90's riffs with no regard for pomp and circumstance. It was a good meat and potatoes performance, although hearing all of the glowing Arcade Fire reviews did leave me with a little bit of 'what if' buyers remorse.
  
• Best of the Fest: MGMT, Blitzen Trapper - We were only able to catch a few songs from each of these shoe gazing hipsters, but we liked what we heard from afar. There comes a point where you have to choose your battles when it comes to getting up close and personal to the stage, and neither of us really felt like being sandwiched in between the fuchsia clad, deodorant deficient, Rayban-donning teens for those bands. (The Post 30 Syndrome - "Oh man, I bet it would be really hot up there. Let's just find some shade and sit down for a minute.")
  

Perry Farrell on the Kidapalooza stage. There are so many things wrong with that, not the least of which is those tight white jeans he's sporting.

Katy samples the peach cobbler pie shake. And by 'sample', I mean, refuses to let me have a bite.

Lobster corndog. Why? (Takes bite) Oh, that's why.

Buckingham Fountain: Married With Children. Literally.

Hooky (not hooker) Day

Can somebody please wipe those fingerprints off the Bean? Kthxbai.

A few weeks ago, Katy and I took a Summer Friday, which included breakfast at, a matinee of Inception (mind. blown.), a trip to Art Institute of Chicago and Millennium Park and a late lunch at Rick Bayless fronted XOCO. The following day saw us sweating our petunias off in the bleachers at the Cubs game. This marked a return to form for Katy, who hadn't been able to indulge in a lukewarm Old Style atop the ivy since the summer of 08', mostly due to pregnancy related restrictions (ugh, doctors!). All of the previously listed activities comes highly recommended, except for maybe watching the Cubs this season.

This post is decidedly old school, as it's self serving and kid free!

Mummy. Mommy. Mommy. Mummy. (I was so proud of this joke at the time.)

Staring into the abyss. The things I saw have rendered me sleepless and slightly insane since.

The Drinkers by Van Gogh: L-R - John Daly, Mel Gibson, Orson Welles

If you go back to the beginning of this blog, you'll see variations of this same photo, and in the process you'll see us (well, me) aging horribly.

The suckling pig with pickled onion torta at XOCO. I'll pretend I didn't see you drool on your keyboard.

Lady Gaga

In an alarming new development, as of like 2 weeks ago, Lily began to start 'talking' (as opposed to merely making noises/grunts/laughs/wails).

Since this shocking footage, shot in July of 2010, she's continued on her quest to master the English language, but has since gained some semblance of control over her jaw and has begun to better grasp the mechanics of the whole process. Let's go to the video tape.

Taqueria Throwdown: Big Star

If there's one thing we know here at the Handfelt Hacienda, it's pancakes, as evidenced by the critically acclaimed, ratings juggernaut Hotcake Showdown ("The single greatest thing to happen to the Internet since Al Gore and Mafia Wars" - Anonymous, for good reason). If there's a second area of expertise that we can lay claim to (a dubious claim at best), it's tacos.

Granted, both Katy may be white, almost dangerously so, but we know a good taco/torta/tostada when it comes out of nowhere and kisses us on the mouth. Seriously, back in high school, when I had a mullet, I would go to Rudy's Tacos at least twice a week and order the large taco salad and an order of french fries...and then proceed to put the french fries on top of the taco salad. LOL WUT?

Sure, this may have added 15 pounds to my delicate and already doughy frame, but it also made me a bit of an expert in the field. How so? Listen, that's neither here nor there, and I don't like the tone of your questioning. Just trust fatty.

So, in the name of gluttony, mullets and soggy french fries, we bring you a brand new HHH feature, the Taqueria Throwdown*, wherein we will sample the area's finest and greasiest Mexican cuisine and let you know if it's worthy of your cash (not you debit card, since many of these places are cash only). No place is too divey, no place too pretentious. I'm looking for a place that will reduce me to a blubbering mass of Caucasian envy, shaking my fist at my heritage and wishing that I would have made good on my vow to change my name to "Julio Franco" as an ambitious 10-year old.

Tacos will be judged on a scale of 1-5 orders of fries. 5 orders of fries clearly being the best, duh.

*This is the family friendly version of the original name I came up, with Taco D*#@ Punch*. This was in no way endorsed by Katy. Nay, it was strongly advised against.

Round 1: Big Star, 1531 N. Damen, Chicago, IL

Background: Big Star is a relatively new, yet insanely popular taco joint/bar in our old haunts, Wicker Park. Located in the space formerly occupied by Pontiac Cafe (known for it's 'big in summertime' outdoor patio), it attracts hipsters near and far, who come in drunken droves for chef Paul Kahan's (Blackbird - overrated, Publican - rated correctly) Mexican street food and extensive whiskey list. The best part is clearly the take-out window...that way you can have your taco while managing to avoid Johnny and the Skinny Jeans ashing on you with his rogue Lucky Strike.

Tacos: We sampled 3 of their trendy (yet cheap) tacos from the takeout window. Let's see who won the knife fight.

Taco Al Pastor: Pork shoulder, grilled pineapple, grilled onion, cilantro. If you want a dog in this fight (not condoning dog fighting), this is your guy. Wow. I could probably eat a solid dozen of these. I wept openly and at one point thought I saw Jesus. 5 orders of fries.

Taco De Borrego: Lamb shoulder, radish, roasted scallion, queso fresco. Almost as good as the Al Pastor. I almost liked it just as much, but Katy's leanings made Al Pastor the winner. Still a solid chest bump and likely to make you drop some elbows on the dance floor. 4 orders of fries.

Taco De Rojas: Poblano peppers, onions, oregano, crema, queso de freir. This one was really a hot mess, quite literally. For some reason I thought this had fish in it. No? Very well then. It was soggier than Lily's diaper after sleeping through the night, and just about as appetizing. Stay away. 1.5 orders of fries.

So there you have it your. The battle has been won, but the taco war has just begun. To be continued...

The contenders: (starting at top, clockwise) Pastor, Rojas, Borrego

And on the 7th Day, the Lord said, "Today I'm just gonna chill and have a Al Pastor taco if it's all the same to you."