Text 4604, 92 rader
Skriven 2013-09-11 12:39:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: IPT 142
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Liz is up for reelection to the city council and had a fundraiser
at Annie's. We roped off the upstairs, as the downstairs is quite
ample for up to about two hundred guests; as it turns out, there
were maybe sixty.

I didn't pay much attention except to the refreshments. I don't
vote here, don't have much interest in the local issues, don't
know most of the people. So I'll describe the refreshments,
which seemed a tad familiar.

Curried mussels, as they are cheap and easy, and another batch a
la mariniere when the curry paste ran out. These were done with
green stuff (I'd used up all the red at the restaurant) and
additional lemongrass and fresh hot chiles, these latter from
Liz's own garden. Mine had had extra ginger, galanga, and dried
chiles; Liz had offered to trot home for fresh, but I'd said that
dried were just as authentic, so don't bother. For her own
occasion, though, she bothered.

A poached salmon from the restaurant's steamer. I didn't get
any, but people spoke well of this.

Fancied up pigs in blankets (in puff pastry) - just what you
would expect; these were popular enough. They were supposed to
be served with a mustard sauce, but the sauce managed to find
itself next to the mussels, which confused some. As I don't
think the doggy things needed or deserved sauce, I did not
disabuse anyone of his or her notions.

Satays looked altogether too familiar; but they had run out of
my sauce (having used it Saturday at the catering event), so
Liz made her version of peanut sauce with soy and thus very
salty. It did not sell.

A tray of watermelon and cantaloupe was well received - the
watermelon was of an unbearable sweetness and the cantaloupe
of an unbearable blandness: none of the former remained, but
there were a dozen slices of cantaloupe left over: I ate these
for dinner just because I don't waste even bad fruit.

Crudites did not go over well, and Jane the campaign manager
went home with most of them. I will say, though, that the
cherry tomatoes were exceptional, and I had a couple handfuls
of them and was somewhat upset when they disappeared with the
rest of the radishes, broccoli, carrots, greens, and what
have you. Hence my going for the fruit, I guess.

Raspberry lemonade used quite a number of punnets of real
fresh organic raspberries, and it sold out rapidly.

Mai Tais were very thick and very strong. Liz made me taste, my
penance for the day, and my verdict was take half a pitcher of
ice and fill it with the liquid, and everything would be fine.
It was.

There was a terrific white sangria with fresh white and yellow
peaches; most of the white peach bits disintegrated in the
beverage, giving it a pleasantly cloudy aspect and some body,
but the yellow peach bits stayed mostly intact, soaking up
lots of alcohol and becoming little booze bombs. Some of the
peaches had been okay, others potato-like the way I detest.
This would have been even better made with another wine than
Chenin or Fume, but, hey, you take what you get.

In case anyone couldn't find anything else to drink, iced tea,
apple juice, various Woodbridge wines, Miller High Life, and
Red Stripe were also on offer.

Of Annie's old friends who were invited, most didn't show up; I
told the Republicans among them that all they had to do was
consume more than $20 worth of booze and food, and they could
strike a blow for conservatism. They didn't, though the next
door lady (a Realtor, thus almost guaranteed Republican, which
she turned out to be) did show up, more to examine the house
than anything else. Franny and Jim across the way, moderates,
came over and did more damage than half a dozen Republicans;
Marcy, Franny's pretty and friendly and married sister, showed
up as well. Among the rest, a lot of old-school Dems, a few
overaged hippies and other alternative types, a few doctors and
such transplanted or stranded from the big city. There was a
moderately attractive woman a few years younger than myself who
teaches at the local college: she seemed just a little
disappointed when I said that not only did I not live in town,
I was leaving soon for parts unknown.

Robbie was going to let his hair down and recite Allen
Ginsburg poetry. He didn't.

The event was supposed to last until 7; people hung around
until about 8.
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