About two and a half weeks ago, when I was almost out of my anti-writing funk, I had planned out the most clever foodie post ever. See it was going to marry my two loves–food and music, and…and!! the timing was going to be perfect. I was going to post it the day the new Counting Crows album hit the shelves. But then…the funk held on for a bit longer and I just kept putting it off. I’d almost given up on it until I popped in the new disc this morning and I remembered why I was so stoked about this blog idea in the first place.
See, the thing is, I love Counting Crows. I can say without an ounce of exaggeration that there isn’t one thing on this planet (aside from The Hubby) that makes me happier than their music. It is my solace and my kick in the ass. My inspiration and co-conspirator in melancholy. It satiates me while still keeping me searching for more.
Since I’ve all but abandoned my personal blog, I had to figure out a way to talk about the highlight of my spring here, and the title of the disc, Saturday Nights, Sunday Mornings, provided me with the idea. If you’re ever in Austin (on say a Saturday night…) you must visit Trudy’s for a Mexican Martini. It’s really more of a margarita with some martini-esq ingredients, but no matter. They are mind-blowing (in more ways that one, which is why you’re only allowed 2 per visit). Since you all obviously can’t get here at once to enjoy a Trudy’s rita-tini (though our traffic gurus would argue a good amount of you are trying), I’ll give you my second favorite rita ever: the Chili’s Presidente Margarita. These (which can be found all over the place) were a staple in our Saturday night party circuit during college, and lucky me got her little ol’ hands on the recipe. There’s no limit on these puppies so drink up! :o) But do be responsible enough to pass the keys to a DD before the night’s end because you’ll need the help home.
Then, on Sunday morning (or mid-afternoon) when you wake up wishing to god you’d never even heard of Jose Quervo, get yourself a big fat breakfast taco. Like queso they’re an institution in Austin, so you can order them at damn near any restaurant in town. But the best part about BTs is their incredibly medicinal, anti-hangover properties. Grease and bread in handy to-go packaging. It flat out cannot be beat. Anyway, my favorite version is the migas breakfast taco. It’s super simple to make, even when you’re feeling lousy. And they are so, so good, even folks outside your house will come over looking to see what in the heck smells so good. See:
So there you have it. My foodie tribute to Saturday Nights, Sunday Mornings. Now go buy the disc, drinks some margaritas while giving it a spin and then wolf down some breakfast tacos the next morning. It will be a perfect weekend. Promise :o)
1-1.5 oz. of Sauza Commemerativo Tequila (I’m a pansy these days so I just use 1 oz.)
1/2 oz. of Cointreau
1/2 oz. of Presidente Brandy
3 oz. of sweet & sour mix
A splash of Rose’s lime juice
Combine in a shaker, add ice and shake well. Serve in a salted glass.
2 tablespoons of butter (the real stuff guys. please, no margarine!!)
1/4 of a sweet white onion, finely chopped
1 small tomato, coarsely chopped
1 – 2 seeded jalapenos (again…pansy that I am, I go with just 1)
3 large eggs
crushed tortilla chips (add as many or as little as you like. I like lots. )
1/4 c. mexican blend shredded cheese
3 taco-sized flour tortillas, heated
Melt the butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add onions and sautee until translucent. Do NOT carmelize. Add tomatoes, jalapeno and crushed tortilla chips and sautee a bit longer until slightly soft. Becareful not to burn the chips. (If you’re worried about the onions cooking too much, add the tomatoes and jalapeno when the onions are about halfway cooked.) Mix in the eggs and cook till softly scrambled. Remove from heat and stir in cheese until it’s completely melted. Divide egg mixture into thirds and top tortillas. Roll up and serve with queso (yes, more cheese!) and salsa. If you’re into Hair of the Dog, a bloody mary would go well with this, too.