On a weeknight almost a year ago two friends and I thought it would be fun to go dancing at an area night club. We put on some hot, black dresses and headed toward KOP to go to the one place I had heard of: Ice. All I knew was that this club was attached to a hotel somewhere in KOP and I only knew that much from chatting with some random guy on Match.com. So, we were unsure what to expect.
We took our dolled-up selves through the lobby and walked downstairs to the club entrance. Dark. Empty. Locked. Damn it.
It seemed there was no dancing on weeknights. Determined to not go home we located the hotel bar and ordered a round of beers. We sat in the empty-except-for-the-grandma-and-her-family-in-the-corner bar and talked with the bartender. As we accepted the fact that we would not be getting our groove on, we noticed a middle-aged man emerge from the group in the corner and offer to buy us a drink. At first we resisted, until we realized the said drinks were from his son and his son’s friend. They were cute, so we were fine with this.
We chatted with the sons, exchanged emails and called it a night. End of story.
I e-mailed my guy, who I call Chumley (the name of the hotel bar), a few times but we never met in person. Eventually we stopped talking and months went by until I recently discovered a message in my inbox. I replied to his initial e-mail and then scored a recipe. Now I’m at a standstill.
I have a rule when I get recipes from men. I have to test the recipe before I even consider hanging out with the guy. Especially if I met him a year ago. So, until I try this one, Chumley needs to wait for my e-mail.
Here’s the e-mail…
Ms. Chums!
Life is very good; I had my last final of the semester today, so I am more or less done with grad school until next fall. Two more classes and both my degrees will be done. Yay! So, I thought we’d celebrate by you getting all dolled up and taking me to see a movie. You pick ( p.s., pick the Will Farrel [sp?] movie). You still have pretty blue eyes and a deep desire for hot men who drink with their grandmothers, no? Ok, good. I’m so excited about having school done for now–this will be my first summer in a couple years where I’m not taking classes. Crazy.
We’ll have to swap some great recipes as well. I’ll start. It’s very easy…almost too easy, yet I’ve used it to make chicken nearly every week for the past 2 years.
1 cup red wine vinegar
1 cup olive oil (i use extra virgin)
1 cup pineapple juice
black pepper
salt
garlic
(don’t remember offhand, but around 1/2 tsp for each the pepper and salt, and maybe a clove or half clove of garlic…minced).
This was given to me as a marinade for beef, but I’ve used it exclusively with chicken for amazing results. I stab the crap out of boneless, skinless chicken breasts with a fork or knife and let it marinate for a day. Good stuff.
ready, set, go
ned
The Final Dish: His name really isn’t Ned.
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