The Rise of Margarita Night

I was reminded, as Matt and I perused the streets of downtown Springfield this past Friday evening during the Taste of Downtown event, how much I love margaritas.

Like anyone ever really needs a reminder.

Taste of Downtown is an annual event where Springfield celebrates the best eats in downtown, and believe me, we sampled them all.

And yes, we were the first people in line. No judgies.

Others showed up soon after. Don't worry, we left them some food. SOME.

Behold, the Olympic torch of gluttony: Jalapeno Bacon Cheese Fries.

But, as I'm sure you might expect from the midwest in July, it was hot, and after a few rounds of jalapeno bacon cheese fries and other shameful salty treats, Matt and I found that we were parched. It was that special kind of thirst that you know only an ice-cold adult beverage can quench, and a few minutes and dollars later, we both had a frosty savior in our hands. Matt went with the "adult lemonade" (which sounds a lot dirtier than it ought to), and I snagged a mango margarita from Cafe Brio (check it out...it's one of the funkiest places in town, plus it has AWESOME food).

The mango margarita (left) and adult lemonade. Notice which one of us was thirstier.

As we strolled the streets of downtown Springfield with our drinks, I kept having to pause, mid-street, in wonder of how arrestingly good my margarita was. It tasted just like a mango margarita I had tried in Mexico, right after we'd finished zip lining up in the mountains.

Matt, me, and my adventurous father-in-law ziplining in Mexico.

We'd just finished whooshing over gulleys and rivers, racing between trees like George of Jungle, and we were thirsty. There was a little cafe at the base of the mountain, and as Matt and I waited around for the family patriarch to return from the bathroom, we were approached by a kind little old Mexican man, a waiter at the restaurant. He took two little cups filled with a pastel orange froth from his sample tray, extended them to us, smiled, and stated simply, "Mango margarita." Seemed legit enough for us.

Matt's dad, a doctor, returned just as we were finishing slurping up our sample drinks. I don't think I'll ever forget how big his eyes got, or the deep feeling of dread that filled my gut, as he went on and on--in great medical detail--about the horrible bacterial punishments that were about to ravage our bodies because of consuming the sample beverage. He and my mother-in-law had gone to Mexico on their honeymoon and had had a few drinks that included some sort of water--an inconspicuous glass of water, a Coke with ice, and an unassuming blended margarita.

Apparently Montezuma's Revenge paid them a rather lengthy visit afterward.

So, it goes without saying, that I stood there, frozen in terror, listening to Dr. Heidrick explain how bacteria was about to ruin my trip ("You have 24...48 hours, TOPS"), as my mind played over and over how awful it would be to have traveler's diarrhea in the cramped confines of the cruise ship's bathrooms, and how I didn't want to die of diarrhea on account of a sample margarita.

But apparently my horror was enough for Montezuma, and he spared me and my bowels from any such revenge.

After reflecting on this happy memory for some time at the Taste of Downtown event, I reasoned that it was only polite to thank Montezuma for his graciousness by learning how to make a legitimate margarita. So we did! You won't find any margarita mix here, thank you very much! And once you learn this recipe, you'll never reach for that icky, syrupy stuff, either! Classic margarita recipes will often include simple syrup (a water-sugar mixture), but I omitted it from this recipe because I found that the triple sec was sweet enough to balance out the bite of the tequila.

The Holy Grail of a classic margarita.

The Classic Margarita

Time from bar to mouth: 5 minutes

Serves 1 (repeat as necessary, depending on how bad your day was) 

 

Ingredients

• 1 oz. fresh squeezed lime juice (about 1-2 limes)
• 2 oz. tequila
• 1 oz. Triple Sec or other orange liquor
• Ice
• Rock salt for the rim and lime wedge for a garnish if you want to get fancy

Steps

1. In a shaker, combine the lime juice, tequila, triple sec, and ice. Shake until well blended and chilled.
2. Serve (with a salt-rimmed glass and garnish, if you'd like). Enjoy!

Mojo wants YOU to enjoy your margarita!

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What Are Your Weird Food Quirks?

Happy Fourth of July, everyone! I hope that you're all with family at the lake or pool, hot dog and sparkler in hand.

Matt and I might venture to the pool later, but I think for now it's a walk with the dogs before the firecrackers start cracking and perhaps a run to the mall to hit some sales (that one might be a solo effort). We'll be scoping out Springfield for some fun Independence Day activities, too. My guess it that they have a TON of fun things around town; it is, after all, the Land of Lincoln! Until we find an entertaining distraction, though, I'm writing this blog post celebrating Independence Day in the best way I can think of at the moment: drinking coffee in my PJ's with a homemade cherry kolache topped with whipped cream. Ahhhhhh-merica.

Homemade cherry and grape kolaches. Recipe coming soon!

I stumbled upon an interesting article the other day titled "What Are Your Weird Travel Quirks?" from the good folks over at Hello Giggles. In the article, the author talked about her strange, somewhat obsessive travel behaviors, like refusing to walk barefoot on hotel floors and abhorring the idea of touching her head to her airplane seat's head rest. It got me thinking, and try as I might I couldn't really come up with any weird travel quirks. I mean, I'm pretty adventurous when it comes to travel. I don't really have any strange quirks or habits, unless you count my strict adherence to departure times or my amazing ability to fall asleep on command in any location, land, sea, or air.

I do, however, have some pretty weird food quirks. I think we all do. For instance, Matt hates bananas. He won't even touch them. One time, when we had just started dating, he came over and was very hungry. It was mid-morning, so I thought it would be nice to fix him toast topped with peanut butter, a banana, and honey. I noticed after several minutes that it was taking him a while to eat his toast, and after he was about 85% done with it, I asked, "Are you not hungry anymore?" With the saddest, most sincerely sorry eyes, he looked at me and said very quietly, "I really hate bananas." It was the cutest thing I think I've ever seen.

So, to share the weirdness, here are some of my weird food quirks:

1. At Thanksgiving, I am that gross person that mixes all the contents of their plate up into one, nasty slop of American goodness. Yep. That's me. Matt thinks it's disgusting (as does a large chunk of my family), but my rationale is that it'll get mixed up eventually anyway. Besides, it's a flavor/texture adventure!

2. I am a snob when it comes to Mexican food. I am a stickler for Mexican food. Mexico has such a rich food tradition and culture, and I oftentimes feel like it is somewhat muted for American palates. I'm not saying that Americans have bad taste, but we have a way of taking the spice out of ethnic foods. Ladies and gentlemen, case in point, I give you: queso. No, not queso fresco, a soft Mexican cheese, but straight-up queso, which in the American vernacular is "melted nacho cheese." Not Mexican, not authentic, and frankly, not even food. I bet that "queso" is, 99% of the time, a petroleum bi-product pumped out of stadium-grade dispensers in the back of the kitchen. Can you hear me seething over here? Well now you know: I hate queso. Snobby rant over.

3. I have a deep hate for mushrooms. My superpower is that I am able to detect upon just a sniff if mushrooms are in a dish. I hate, hate, hate mushrooms: the taste, the texture, the smell. Blegh. My apologies if you love mushrooms (Matt does, too).

4. Fried food makes me sick. Literally. It's sad, too, because fried food is pretty good sometimes (who can turn down a good french fry?!), but whenever I eat fried food I get really sick a few hours later. I went through a period of time (about four years) when I didn't eat one bite of fried food, and so I think my body lost the ability to process it or something. Or it just knows that I shouldn't be eating it. Either way, a tragedy.

5. Every time I go to a restaurant, I challenge myself to go home and make whatever it is we ordered. I always like to try to recreate good dishes for less right at home. Matt and I have this fun game where, when we sit down at our dinner table, we'll calculate how much each serving of the dish cost and how it would compare with the tab for the same dish at a restaurant. If you want to feel good about staying in, always play that game. It'll pep you up really quick when you know how much you're saving!


What about you guys? Do you have any weird food quirks? Let me know in the comments!

-Betsey

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I survived the Springfield, IL horse shoe

This shirt should exist.

We did it today, folks. Matt and I officially became Springfieldians. You might be wondering how we accomplished this life milestone. Did we take a citizenship test? No. Did we argue our case before the mayor? Nope. Did we get a library card? No. Well, at least not yet. Did we watch a marathon of The Simpsons? We're working on it.

No, friends, we did none of those things. We did something even greater.

We ate a horse shoe. (And not the equine version, by the way. This one is edible. And tasty.)

A reasonable person may well be wondering right now what a horse shoe is. A person who knows what a horse shoe is knows that it is not at all reasonable. It is, as our bubbly waitress put it, "a heart attack on a plate." Matt referred to it as "America on a plate" (or 'Murica, if you say it with enough gusto.)

After hearing for some time from folks around town that I must be initiated into the community by way of consuming this magical dish called a "horse shoe," I resolved that I would do it and share my story with all of you. You see, the horse shoe is a uniquely Springfield dish. It's the pride of Springfield, the glue (and grease) that holds the town together.

So here it is, folks, the horse shoe: Your choice of meat perched atop Texas toast (disregard the Texas...I'm going to call it Illinois toast), then topped with fries and a hearty dose of homemade cheese sauce. Sound good? Oh, it is. It's a native Springfield thing, and since I am now a resident of Springfield I felt that it was my duty to try one. And try I did.

We set out on foot to a neighborhood restaurant, Lake Pointe Grill, when our stomachs growled and our curiosity for horse shoes could be contained no longer. It turns out that walking was the best choice we made today, since after eating a horse shoe a good post-meal waddle does the body some good.

After chatting with our waitress about the crucible we were about to embark upon, we placed our orders: Matt tried the buffalo chicken horse shoe and I went with a good old hamburger one.

When the dish arrived, I was floored: it indeed looked like a heart attack on a plate, but it looked AMAZING. And as I sat there taking it all in, a flurry of catch phrases went through my head: Carpe diem! Just do it! YOLO! #iregretnothing.

My amazingly delicious hamburger horse shoe.

My hamburger horse shoe only 5 minutes after beginning to eat. I was STUFFED.

Every bite was as delicious as it looked: gooey cheese meeting the hot, crunchy fries, rounded out by savory hamburger and toast. Matt's buffalo chicken horse shoe was the big star; it was spicy enough to be very interesting and tasty, but not obnoxiously so. He loved it, and he did much better on his horse shoe than I did on mine. After about five minutes of gorging, I was stuffed, and I couldn't persuade myself to shovel another delicious bite into my mouth. Thank God for take-home boxes. Fourth meal is going to be AWESOME tonight.

Matt enjoying his buffalo chicken horse shoe.

I have to hand it to you, Springfield; the horse shoe is delicious. Eating it is a feat of strength, a victory of the will, as finishing one would truly be a mind of matter sort of effort. Side effects of eating a horse shoe may include feelings of shame, labored breathing, and cold sweats. I don't know who came up with the idea for the horse shoe, but whoever it was, they were a true patriot. I mean, it's essentially a deconstructed, amped up cheeseburger. It's gluttony at its best. Assuming it's not a stroke, that funny feeling you'll get when you dig into a horse shoe is the light, bubbly, warm feeling of being intensely American. There's nothing more American than a horse shoe.

Except for naps, which I did after I got home from Lake Pointe Grill.

Nap time.

I hope that you'll all, at some point in your life, get to try a horse shoe. It's a taste of Americana, a taste of Illinois, and a taste of Springfield, my new hometown.

Besides, the diet can start tomorrow.

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A Shameless Plug for Springfield, IL

Hey all! Hope everyone's having a great summer so far. (Technically, the first day of summer is this Friday, June 21, but we all know what's up.)

We've been here in Springfield for about two and a half weeks, and things are going pretty well so far (a.k.a. I haven't received my credit card bill yet...let's just say we've been to Target a few times.) To keep you updated on things here at Casa de Heidrick, I figured I'd post something I don't do very often: non-food pictures! So here are some memories from our most recent adventure in downtown Springfield:

Yes, I know it's a trash can. And yes, it was odd and kind of gross that I crouched, face only six inches from the trash can, to get this photo. Eh, I've done weirder things.

The Old State Capitol, where Abe Lincoln was sworn in as a lawyer in the State of Illinois. Isn't it cool how it's just sitting right smack dab in the middle of the city?!

The view of old store fronts, standing on the south steps of the Old State Capitol.

But because it wouldn't be a Betsey blog post if there wasn't food somehow involved, I wanted to share with you a little treat Matt and I encountered later that day: Smash Burger.

Yep. Smash Burger. A burger joint, but not just any burger joint.

Good Lord, why has Nebraska hidden this gem, this Nectar of the Gods, from me for so long? I mean, this burger place isn't like McDonald's, where you basically get two pieces of spongy cork held together by a resurrected frozen burger patty and broken dreams. Smash Burger has legitimate, good-quality ingredients. I was especially jacked about the make-your-own-burger option which included--wait for it--bleu cheese, my FAVORITE! (Well now I wonder what you think of me, taking photos of garbage cans and enjoying moldy cheese.)

Matt and I were floored by the Smash Fries, which are this lovely collection of fried potato-y goodness that includes coarse salt and rosemary. Yes, ROSEMARY! I feel like the simple inclusion of herbs beyond parsley qualifies any restaurant above "fast food joint." And you can choose between the old reliable Russets or sweet potatoes. We predictably chose both.

To all those anti-fries people out there, I say this: Fries fill the cracks in the heart. There is literally no problem in the world that fries can't fix. Except diabetes. Fries cannot fix diabetes.

BEHOLD! And on the fifteenth day in Springfield the Lord said "Thou shall eat Smash Fries." And it was good.

This is what happiness/gluttony looks like.

Do any of you guys out there have Smash Burger in your town? I feel like this is my new Runza, which is a heaven-sent mélange of beef and cabbage bundled together in a oven-warmed, golden bun (another delivery straight from Fast Food Heaven). To all those who aren't from Nebraska, you can read the love poem--I mean blog post--I wrote for Runza here.

Next recipe up...affogato! Go ahead and Google it now...it'll blow your mind. Those Italians think of everything!

Peace and love (but no leftover Smash Fries) to you all! - Betsey

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Making our home in the Land of Lincoln

It has been a while! Matt and I have completed our big move from Lincoln, Nebraska to Springfield, Illinois and are working on settling into our new home. We moved here on Friday, May 31, after a few unfortunate delays including a flat tire and impressive severe weather. But we made it! We're still moving things in, and so I won't post pictures of our new place (and most importantly my new kitchen!) until it looks more like a place where quasi-civilized people live and less like a pig sty.

Matt giving one last look over the green space behind our old apartment in Lincoln before saying goodbye.

Most of the last several days have been spent looking for a "home base" grocery store (unfortunately, no Hy-Vee's or Super Savers in Illinois...bummer). Our apartment is a bit of trek to any stores (but it is very close to the University of Illinois at Springfield campus, which is great for Matt), so I'll need to learn how to plan my meals ahead and create a shopping list. No more daily jaunts to the grocery store for this girl. :(

We found a few good possibilities: County Market and Schnuck's. However, since I'm a big fan of local food, we'll be sure to check out the farmers market scene in Springfield. Until then, we've got our fledgling garden of porch pots of herbs and veggies (a.k.a. peppers of every variety) to rely on.

Speaking of local food, we've scoped out Springfield's awesome local restaurants and, as soon as we have enough disposable income, we'll check them out. Just about a five minute walk down the road from us is Crow's Mill Pub, which--as I described to a friend--looks like just the right mix of modern American pub and good old-fashioned greasy spoon. Reviews to come soon!

Yesterday and today were spent trying to find some good tennis courts in Springfield, but so far we've only come across cracked, weed-ridden ones that were really too dangerous to play on. Springfieldians--Springfieldans?--if you have any ideas of where to find great public courts, please let met know! And let me know if you'd like to play sometime!

To avoid boring you with details, the report so far from our new home is a very positive one. Springfield seems like a very nice town, and my favorite part, hands down, is downtown Springfield. There, you can find everything Abraham Lincoln, plus an eclectic smattering of local shops and cafes, and a few very interesting-looking souvenir shops. No doubt I'll be posting pictures of those very soon. :)

In the evenings, I've been cozying up with "Cooked" by Michael Pollan. I'm not very far into it at all, but it's incredibly thought-provoking so far. Pollan has done a great job of digging deep into American food culture to discover where along the line we lost our love of cooking. Since that moment--whenever it occurred--we seem more interested in the end result of the love and labor of preparing food: consuming it. Hey, I love eating just like the next guy or gal, but I also have a love for and appreciation of growing and preparing food. "For," as Pollan says, "is there any practice less selfish, any labor less alienated, any time less wasted, than preparing something delicious and nourishing for people you love?" (p. 23).

Whenever I read a book, I carry with me little sticky notes to mark passages that stick out to me. Pollan's book is already covered in sticky notes! Lots of great stuff in here.

That's all for now, dear readers. I wanted you to know that I haven't abandoned you! I'll post the recipe for an AMAZING Kung Pao Chicken tomorrow. It's a new family favorite.

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Living in Two Places at Once

Today was an interesting day.

It started out by me waking up late and in complete confusion. Since we moved our beds (and pretty much everything else we own) to Springfield this past weekend, Matt and I have created a makeshift cot on the floor in our bedroom made out of layers of blankets, sheets, and pillows. So I guess it's like a nest, kind of like the ones you see on that show about hoarding.

Your humble author, looking super jazzed about her current sleeping arrangements.

Anyway, I woke up late, wondering how I ended up on the floor, and after realizing that I was indeed late, I uttered some obscenities and scrambled into the shower. Having completed my morning regimen, I checked on Matt, who had picked up whatever gross-flu-death-bug I got this weekend.

"How you are you feeling this morning?"

"Grrrbhrrr."

In Matthewian, that means "Not a damn bit better than yesterday, thank you very much."

I had a good day at work, and in the few free moments I had at my desk I wondered what state Matt would be in when I returned. And, as does usually occupy my thoughts, I also contemplated what would I would make for dinner.

Matt was not doing much better, as it turned out.

He'd taken some NyQuil around 3 p.m., and so when I returned at around 4 p.m. he was behaving not all that much differently than someone who'd just loaded up on whisky and bad decisions. NyQuil does make you pretty...interesting. After several nearly unintelligible slurs of "Gosh, Betsey, you are just so nice, you're like the nicest person ever" and a few random (strange, albeit kind of sweet) pats to my head, Matt settled back down and got some sleep. Lesson learned, kids: It's called NyQuil for a reason. Don't take it in the daytime unless you want to totally weird out your family with your behavior.

When suppertime rolled around, I thought hard about what I'd make with a sick husband to feed. About 90% of my belongings are now in Springfield, and that applies to my kitchen as well: cookbooks, pots, pans, and all. It's pretty strange living in two places at once, and I don't think I'll miss it much (because let's face it, sleeping on the floor is fun for, like, one night, but then the slumber party-ness of it wears off reeeeeally fast). But thanks to a basic recipe I adapted from a diabetes prevention cookbook (random, huh?), I made sweet and sour chicken, topped with the Heidrick favorite of a massive mound of Sriracha, nature's very own decongestant. We always end up adding about four times the instructed amount of Sriracha to our food. Observe the progression from tonight's dinner:

Sweet and Sour Chicken
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cook times: 20 minutes
Makes 2-4 servings, depending on how hungry everyone is

Ingredients:

• As many fresh stir fry veggies of your choice, washed and prepped (my faves are broccoli, carrots, and snap peas). Tonight, all we had was a bag of frozen stir fry veggies, and the result is always the same: soggy and bland. Seriously, why do I ever even buy frozen veggies?!
• 1 T canola oil
• 1 clove fresh garlic, minced
• 1 tsp powered ginger
• 2 T rice wine vinegar, plus 1/2 T for the rice
• 2 T chili sauce or Sriracha (and if your family is like ours, you'd probably just better keep the bottle out on the counter). My suggestion is to buy or make the actual chili sauce (the good, chunky kind with the hot chili seeds and everything in it) and then keep the Sriracha for topping.
• 2 T light brown sugar
• 1 T corn starch (it'll help bring it all the ingredients together, trust me)
• 1 cup chicken broth (go for the low sodium kind)
• 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, chopped into small, bite-sized pieces
• 1 T soy sauce, if desired
• Chopped green onions, if desired
• 1-2 c. instant white or brown rice
• 1-2 c. water

Directions

1.  Heat the oil in a medium wok or large pan over medium heat. Throw in your garlic and cook--but DO NOT let the garlic burn or brown! It'll cook fast, about 2 minutes. Your goal here is basically to take the bite off of the garlic, because we all like garlic, but we don't want it to punch us in the face.
2. Add the 2 T of rice wine vinegar, chili sauce, brown sugar, and powdered ginger to the pan and stir, letting simmer.
3. Meanwhile, bring 1-2 cups (one cup for two people, two cups for four people) water to a boil in a separate pot and add the rice (again, 1 cup for two people, two cups for four people). Once you've added the rice, add in 1/2 T rice wine vinegar, immediately remove the pot from the burner, cover, and let sit.
4. In a bowl, combine the corn starch and chicken broth. Add this mixture to the pan and crank it up to high heat, letting the ingredients in the pan come to a boil.
5. Lower your heat back to medium and throw in your chicken (well don't throw it, because that's just messy) and cook until the chicken is no longer pink, about 7 minutes.
6. Add in your veggies and cover the pan, letting everything hang out and simmer for about 3 minutes. You don't want to kill your veggies and make them mushy, but you do want to make them what culinary folk call "crisp-tender," meaning crisp, but not too crisp. I know that sounds ridiculous, but just spear a veggie with a fork after a few minutes and see if you like the way it's cooked. Too crispy? Let the veggies hang out in the sauna a little longer. If you think your veggies are getting to the point of mush, remove the pan from the heat STAT!
7. If you like, add in the soy sauce. My experience has been that it actually tastes better without the soy sauce, but see what tickles your fancy.
8. Serve with the rice, top with green onions, and enjoy!

 

 

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St. Patty's in the Land of Lincoln

Hi all!

I'm coming at you today from Springfield, Illinois, where Matt and I are spending few days visiting our soon-to-be hometown. Matt was accepted in to the University of Illinois-Springfield political science graduate program, and we're on a mission to get to know the town.

Admittedly, from Lincoln, it's a pretty dull seven hour drive straight across Missouri. The weather yesterday was incredibly dull and gray, too, which didn't help. But I had good company, and the excitement of getting there kept us upbeat.

We got to Springfield around 5 p.m., checked into our hotel, and promptly headed out to discover the town. We drove around UIS campus (I'll post pictures of that later; we'll go for an official visit on Tuesday), drove around, and eventually ended up at a very nice mall. We weren't looking to buy anything, but it was great to stretch our legs.

We didn't get much sleep last night, thanks to some rowdy St. Patty's day revelers in the room right above ours. We woke up early, wished our upstairs neighbors well with their hangovers (kidding), and walked to the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception for Mass (I didn't snap any photos, sorry!). Our hotel is right in the thick of Springfield's historic downtown, and so today we spent nearly the entire day on foot checking out the sights.

We visited Lincoln's home, which was a really cool experience. We didn't get to go in, since you had to go on an official tour with tickets to do that, but we spent a long time walking around the neighborhood, which was sort of like a living history museum.

Me hanging at Abe's house.

After that, we visited the old state capitol and Abe's law practice, where Matt was caught photobombing a statue of Abe and Mary Todd Lincoln.

When you see it...

We caught lunch at this charming little cafe (wish I had taken pictures for you), headed back for a much-needed nap, and decided to end the day with a trip to the Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum. Matt, the resident Civil War history guru, thought some parts were a bit too theatrical for his taste, but I enjoyed it.

Hangin' with the fam. Robert doesn't look too happy to have Matt standing in front of him.

One thing was certain by the end of the day: We wanted to watch the movie "Lincoln" again, so we went out to buy it. Unfortunately (or maybe not so unfortunately!), our trip to Target yielded nothing but some Mike and Ike's and some Cool Mint Oreos. Turns out "Lincoln" isn't on sale on DVD until March 26. Bummer.

Tomorrow, we'll be apartment hunting. Wish us luck!

When we get back to Lincoln on Thursday, it'll be all about French culture and cuisine (my favorite!).

Until next time!

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