Fly Fish Chick

After three autumn trips to Mississippi which yielded one small redfish, we decided to cure the winter fishing blues by roving over to Louisiana to look for big reds. We planned two trips in January, one of which was a couple of weeks ago. I geared up and flew to Mobile where the Professor and I kept an eye on the weather for a few days. Alas, Mother Nature foiled our plans: no fishing.

So we were that much more excited for our second trip this past weekend, and we were booked with Louisiana redfish guide Travis Holeman. Spirits were high as the trip grew near. Once again I flew to Mobile and the Professor and I started monitoring the weekend weather. Unfortunately we had to pull the plug on Saturday – clouds and wind. But it seemed Sunday would be cold, calmer, clear and hopefully fishable.

Okay, one day of fishing. At least we’d get one day out of the four we’d been hoping for in January.

So wandering anglers that we are, we pointed the truck west and barreled down I-10 toward New Orleans. Only problem? I was on Day #3 of a multi-day migraine and I really thought my skull was going to implode and pulverize my brain into a dusty mass. My apologies to all the fine folks at that diner in Slidell where I almost got sick to my stomach. My head hurt so badly that I literally thought I was going to be ill from the mere presence of food and I spent most of the meal slumped over the table thinking I might faint.

My biggest concern was feeling better in time for my one day of fishing the next day.

The Professor forced me to eat a little – which helped. And strangely the familiar glow and pulse of New Orleans (one of my favorite home-away-from-home cities) relaxed me and served as a surefire panacea as we drove through town toward the hotel. Despite sleeping in the car I immediately took yet another nap and enjoyed the fact that the relentless pulsating tide of pain in my temples was finally starting to subside. Miraculously, I recovered just in time to step out for an early dinner at Galatoire’s.

I love Galatoire’s. Ages ago, I used to make a regular pilgrimage to Galatoire’s with one of my bestest friends and spend about four hours having a wine soaked lunch with every single course. Thrilled to be back, I poured over the menu options, debating between a filet and the specialty chicken but ultimately accepted our waiter’s passionate plea for the pompano, joking to the Professor, “with my luck, this could be the only fish I see all weekend!”

Grilled pompano with crabmeat, garlic french bread and escargot, bread pudding bananas foster. And a touch of red wine. Granted I veered way off my training diet, but before the migraine set in last week I had been a maniac on the rowing machine, elliptical and treadmill, so I felt I could indulge. Hey, it was only a few hours earlier that I thought I was heading toward the light and meeting my maker in a po-boy dive somewhere off I-10 in Slidell Louisiana, so I was going to celebrate my astonishing recovery at one of my oldest and most favorite restaurants.

After a lovely dinner we tucked ourselves away early despite the call of the quarter. We set three alarms and scheduled a wake up call and fell asleep with visions of big redfish.

We ventured out just before light, followed directions we’d been given and met Travis at Penny’s Cafe for breakfast. Unfortunately the clear skies we were counting on were tucked behind a thick blanket of clouds, and Travis calculated the wind chill was going to be about zero. Nevertheless, we ordered veal cutlet po-boys for our boat lunch and swapped fishing stories over eggs and coffee while we waited to see what the weather was going to do. After a full meal the night before I was trying to exercise a modicum of self discipline with my scrambled eggs but I am here to tell you the roasted biscuits that Travis ordered looked sublime. I can’t tell you how many times I almost stuck my fork over on his plate and shanghaied a bite for myself. Next time at Penny’s, I am getting the biscuits.

We grabbed our veal cutlet po-boys to go and agreed to journey on to the marina to assess the weather.

We kicked around the parking lot for a spell but Travis called Time of Death on the expedition about 9ish. It was brutally cold, the wind was whipping and the clouds were locked-in overhead. As disappointed as we were to lose out on yet another fishing day, we cannot say enough nice things about Travis. He was cool as all get out about it, totally honest and direct about the diminishing prospects and we all agreed to re-book as soon as possible. I was thrilled to get to know him a little and truly look forward to getting on the water with my new friend Travis soon.

Thank God for the pompano. A couple of fishless vagabonds, we hopped back in the truck and hit the trail back to Mobile where we ate our boat lunch on the couch watching Robert Redford in “The Great Waldo Pepper.” New Orleans was great fun, Travis was cool as hell, the po-boy was yummy and my migraine was gone. All good stuff. But when you really break things down, this isn’t exactly the red I though I would have in hand at two in the afternoon this past Sunday.

Winter fishing has driven me to day drinking.

We have officially entered that phase in the calendar when fishing trips are few & far between for me, and more and more of the posts here on FFC turn to…well, food. Although this year I am also going to have plenty of anecdotes from paddle training which are already proving to be somewhat comical. Oh, and did I mention I am writing a book?

At any rate, more paddling tales down the road. Today I promised you food.

Last month when we were in the Keys, it was the start of Stone Crab Season. Our superguide, Rich Keating, suggested the Keys Fisheries in Marathon to load up on fresh stone crab. We were all excited to take a pile of them back to our little kitchenette at the motel, scheming how we would crack them with the back of a spoon.

But as we were wrapping up our day of fishing, Rich was kind enough to invite us over to his house to eat dinner and watch college football. He and his wife were incredibly gracious and we had a big time – not to mention they have a professional stone crab cracker which no doubt saved us time and kept spoilage to zero percent.

It was a special evening of fellowship, food & football as a couple of Florida fans and a couple of Alabama fans came together over stone crabs to watch each of our respective games back to back. Of course this was light years ago in football time and now the much anticipated SEC showdown is set. We’ll try to keep it civil since we had such a great time at the Keatings’ and were shown such hospitality. Once again many thanks to Rich and his wife, and big congratulations as well – Rich was recently elected to the Marathon City Council!

And it stoned me to my soul. Hmm.

Yesterday was a drippy Saturday in Mobile, AL with lots of couchtime  and college football. Out of the blue the Professor blurted out, “Let’s make ribs tonight!” So we dashed off to the store in search of babyback ribs. At first, it seemed they were out, and frustration mounted. Being the good Texas girl that I am, I instinctively slid down to the beef section to look around, while the Professor, an Alabama native, automatically went searching in the pork area.

Almost simultaneously we each held up slabs of babyback ribs and shouted, “Found ‘em!”

Uh oh. The age old debate: Beef versus Pork. You may recall this old post where the conversation on this very topic was quite lively. But cooking ribs was the Professor’s idea, we were on the Professor’s home turf, and it was the Professor’s grill, so it was a no-brainer to go with the pork.

My contribution was a spicy rub that I first tried this summer on a pork tenderloin. Remember this recipe? I suggested we give it a try on the ribs.

Glad I conceded on the pork because the Professor worked awfully hard on this rib project, venturing back and forth into the rain many times throughout the evening.

Pork babyback ribs cooked to perfection, grilled chicken drumsticks, boiled corn, “doctored-up” baked beans…it was delish!

The aftermath…

Cheers for now…another food post is in the works!

After floating the Madison, we couldn’t think of a better way to top off our day than dipping into Bandito’s for dinner up at the bar. Appetizers included Justin’s super delish margaritas (I’m a rocks-no-salt girl) and the Queso Fundido which has chorizo, potatoes, poblano chiles, onion and Monterey Jack cheese. Wrap it up in a tortilla and it is muy bueno.

After such an ambitious start to the meal we decided to share an entree. Since I already railroaded the fly selection earlier that day, I deferred to the Professor on what to order even though I wasn’t really feeling the pork dish he picked. Just after we put the order in this deliciouso plate arrived right in front of the stranger sitting to my left.

I suppose I wasn’t very subtle as I was gazing over his shoulder with food envy and ooooing and awwwing because before the guy even took one bite for himself he handed me his fork and offered me a taste. I protested lightly but he continued to offer soooo…twist my arm…I took him up on it!! Ate right off his plate.

Good things only transpired from here. The Professor promptly changed our order so we enjoyed our own helping of the lamb special in the cherry reduction sauce with a sweet onion tamale on the side. Ooh la la!

Plus, we proceeded to have a big time with our new friend Brian whom I will always remember fondly as the guy who let me eat off his plate before he even tasted his own meal. Cheers to Brian and his brother and friend visiting from California. Enjoyed sharing fishing stories, laughs, drinks…and your lamb.

And of course a big salute to Scott and Justin and the whole crowd at Banditos. They close up shop for the season this Saturday so if you’re in the neighborhood, be sure to shake your tailfeathers over to Banditos this week for one last fix.

Until next time that is…

You may have noticed that there isn’t a category on this blog titled “Food & Recipes“. It’s no secret that I am not known for my culinary skills. Best I can recall, the only post I’ve ever done on my cooking capabilities was about my flyfishing cupcakes. And technically I didn’t cook them, I just decorated.

So I was really stumped on what to prepare for my meal on the Montana Girls Trip. I searched high and low for a 100% foolproof menu that would serve a large crowd and that I couldn’t possibly screw up. What could I handle making from scratch and what could I simply purchase ready-made? What to cook and what not to cook…that is the question.

Luckily I stumbled on this terrific (and EASY!) recipe for Mexican Pork Tenderloin. I made this delicious, spicy dry rub ahead of time in Austin and carried it on the plane, double-bagged in Ziplocs.

1 tablespoon paprika

1.5 teaspoons salt

1.5 teaspoons brown sugar

1.5 teaspoons sugar

1.5 teaspoons chili powder

1.5 teaspoons ground cumin

1.5 teaspoons black pepper

The colors are gorgeous!

I defied the instructions to use only 2 TB on the whole pork tenderloin and instead slathered as much of the dry rub as possible all over the entire tenderloin.

I stuck the tenderloin in the oven at 425 and cooked for about 20-30 minutes. I probably used a bit too much of the rub, as the pork had quite a kick to it. But this crowd was extra spicy so I think it fit. We served up the pork with black bean & corn salsa, guacamole, green salad, Spanish rice, and tamales that I ordered ahead from Tamale.com.

Whew. Either I tricked the ladies into believing I can cook, or they tricked me into thinking they liked the meal. Either way is fine by me.

But enough about my kitchen prowess, there were real cooks in this crowd. When we awakened on the first morning, Robin treated us to beautiful fruit-filled breakfast crepes which pretty much set the bar for the trip.

And boy, did Anna meet that bar when she created this fabulous watermelon salsa! Watermelon, cilantro and as much fresh-squeezed lime juice as the law allows. Eugenia taught us all a new trick: microwave the limes just a tad and you can squeeze more juice out of them.

Anna also wowed with this gorgeous artichoke appetizer with curry dipping sauce.

Amy scoured the deep freeze and altered her super special spaghetti recipe to incorporate the venison she found. The other tip we learned as Amy slaved away over the homemade spaghetti sauce? Place a wet paper towel in your mouth while chopping onions to avoid the tears. That is a new one!

Team Spaghetti also receives the Serving With Soul award. Some slick dance moves accompany each helping of noodles.

As you may gather, there were lots of cooking tips flying about as we laughed in the kitchen and helped each other serve up meals. I waited patiently for someone to explain “Apples, Oranges, Griiiiiind the Coffee” but we never had a formal lesson on that one. Apparently they all knew what it meant because a few girls would chant it in unison out of the blue. My own inferiority in the cooking department, I didn’t dare ask, leaning on my keen observational skills to draw out the meaning from this elusive cooking technique.

Alas, it wasn’t until after our chilly float on the Big Hole that I discovered the true meaning of “Apples, Oranges, Griiiiiind the Coffee.” As we warmed our frozen bone marrow with an impromptu dance-off I learned that it was in fact not a cooking technique, but a pretty slick dance move. Apples. Oranges. Griiiiiind the Coffee.

Every party needs a signature cocktail and ours was the Moscow Mule, courtesy of Laura and Ginna who took orders regularly and kept them flowing each evening. Super light & refreshing, a Moscow Mule is vodka, ginger beer, lots of lime and crushed ice. I’m not sure why, but it’s near critical to serve this drink in a copper cup:

Lest you think we stayed in the kitchen the entire trip, never fear. We cut our apron strings and stepped out for some good food on the go. One night we ventured to Virginia City for dinner at Bandito’s.

You may recall my small world story with Scott, owner of Bandito’s. He welcomed us with open arms and we ate and ate and ate delicious fare. If you find yourself near Virginia City, go to Bandito’s and order the Carne Asada. (For those of you Texans who are shaking their heads at me right now, don’t worry. Scott and his wife are from Texas. It’s cool. It’s legit.)

And finally, toward the end of the trip we enjoyed a very special meal at Healing Waters Lodge in Twin Bridges.

Janet Lilly blew us away with gourmet treats including a lovely pasta appetizer, shrimp and rice curry, and an incredible key lime tart. I’d like to say a special thank you to the three guys from New York who were staying at the lodge and allowed us to bust-in on them for our fun-filled celebration dinner.

For those of you who believe chivalry only exists in Dixie, I am here to attest that I saw – with my own eyes – one of these gentlemen graciously pull out Eugenia’s chair as we were seated for dinner. All three were very charming dinner partners, and they were also kind enough to join us, albeit begrudgingly, on the “dance floor” when we had yet another impromptu dance-off.

Because when you’re faced with the decision To Dance or Not To Dance….really, there should be no question.

I had this brilliant idea to roam around Austin with a video camera during South By Southwest, putting up FFFT posters while trying to catch a music celeb who might give us a little video testimonial to help promote the show.

I thought I could film them saying something like, “When SXSW wraps up, pretty much the only thing I will have to live for is the Fly Fishing Film Tour. Thank heavens a brilliant group of people had the foresight to bring the show to Austin. It’s coming Wednesday April 22, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. In fact, where’s my iphone? I want to buy my ticket right now!”

I know it’s hard to believe, but even a solid, air-tight plan such as this was actually derailed at the mere mention of a boatride and deep-fried delicacies.

I am, in fact, afraid to report that I was lured away from my assignment. Admittedly, my resolve had already been weakened since my previous attempt at securing a celebrity endorsement was a complete bust. (Let’s just say the Governor is not returning my phone calls. What’s up with that, anyway?)

So instead of beating the street and hanging up posters all over town, I spent Saturday cruising around Lake Austin and indulging in beer, a burger, and all sorts of fried food at Ski Shores. Nothing inspires complete and utter procrastination like a gorgeous TX Hill Country day and a little red basket of stuffed jalapeño poppers.

I simply couldn’t resist. Good call though, wouldn’t you say?

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

In the dark of night.

After two and a half weeks in Nashville for the holidays, Little Chick and I finally returned to Austin last night…under duress. We had soooo much fun, it was a difficult and wrenching process to pack up the steamer trunks and venture home last night. And WHY exactly was I on an airplane during most of the Fiesta Bowl?? Killing me. Luckily I established a rapport with the pilot early and he announced scores for me periodically during the flight.

Other than football I will say this was the girliest vacation of my life. I am sorry to say, I couldn’t have a less fishy report to share with you. I was so busy running around with my bestest highschool girlfriends and playing with Little Chick. Dressing up for one party after the next. Baking and eating and sipping wine at every turn.

It was pretty decadent. I’m sorry, is there a recession going on? My waistline does not aptly reflect the ailing economy. I feel like I should look a little more frail given the state of the state. Alas….there were just too many baked goods around.

I wish I had pictures of all the wonderful food, but I was too busy consuming it to slow down and get the camera. Highlights include….the beautiful oyster bar on my friend’s family porch…the endless supply of Great Aunt Eleanor’s Chili Dip that my mother had on the kitchen counter at every turn (perfect with beer and football)….Little Chick’s sugary sweet sugar cookies….Kobe beef sliders with spicy mustard and just one perfect pickle….Sportsfan’s sublime steak on New Year’s Eve…Magnolia’s bread pudding…super country Country Ham….crab cakes and steak frite at Bricktops….the most heavenly biscuit-like dinner rolls you’ve ever imagined….exceptional sushi we discovered at The Red Pony in Franklin….chocolate pecan pie…lemon pie….chess pie…chess pie again…chess pie one more time….and yes, I even had a Moon Pie.

I should also mention the to-die-for coconut cake my aunt serves at Christmas lunch. I was so mesmerized by its beauty I almost failed in my duty to slice and serve it. I really can’t stop thinking about this cake! And I’m not even sure I really even like coconut.

Sounds indulgent I know. But there’s no rest for the weary — or apparently for the gluttonous– as I insisted The Professor drive me down to Elliston Place so I could visit my absolute favorite Nashville haunt, Rotier’s. A family owned restaurant in an old stone carriage house, Rotier’s is the uber romantic dive where my dad used to take my mom on dates in college. Of course you can get a meat-and-three but Rotier’s is best known for it’s cheeseburger — hell, Jimmy Buffet even says they’re tops. Personally I recommend the Patty Melt.

Food, fancy & parties galore…that’s pretty much the report. Now that I’m home, I am officially on a break from all of the following until further notice:

• High Heels
• Hairdryers
• Carbs
• Being Charming

As I make my transition back to regular life of clogs, flip-flops and ponytails, enjoy this slideshow from our holidays in Tennessee. But stay tuned because in my next post I am going to distill the highlights of my 20-hour roadtrip to Kentucky. Cheers…

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Been pretty nuts around here with holiday madness — not to mention some actual work. But I was thrilled to take some time out last week to meet up with G SMOLT who left Alaska for a spell and found himself kicking around my Austin neighborhood. We had some good laughs over hot sauce and cold beer.

Cheers G SMOLT! Hope yall made it north to Alaska safe & sound. Next time the Modelo is on me….

One thing I hope you’ve noticed about this blog is that I like to keep the overall tone positive. I try hard not to throw anyone under the bus except myself — which is hard because there are some real idiots out there who are practically begging me to mock them. But I’m not taking the bait– at least not in print. (Come find me around a campfire.)

Your comments seem to track along these positive lines as well, which I really appreciate. Granted I’m pretty sure some of you are hitting the sauce pretty hard when you write them (which I love of course!) but all the comments are funny, poignant and all-around a good read. Makes for some good clean fun, don’t you think?

That said, the boys over at Fly Talk have launched a debate that has caught my eye, so I thought I’d bring it over here for a change of pace. Their question is: What makes a fly a true fly? Does it have to be made of natural materials that were once part of a living creature? What about foam? Does it make a difference if they are tied or glued? Do “spoon flies” and gummy minnows count if you throw them on a flyrod?

So have at it. Give us your thoughts. A rare blessing from me to get more aggressive in the Fly Fish Chick comment thread. Shout it from the mountain top, tell us how you feel.

While we’re at it, let’s roll up our sleeves and cover some other touchy topics…

Would you listen to an ipod while fishing? (another Fly Talk debate)

Cast upstream only — or is downstream acceptable?

Freshwater or saltwater?

Dries or nymphs?

Are bananas really bad hoodoo on a fishing trip?

If you touch the leader and the fish unbuttons, does it count as a boated fish?

How do we solve America’s healthcare crisis?

What’s the best movie in the Godfather trilogy?

And once and for all, would the real BBQ please stand up….Texas Beef or Southern Pork?

Got anything else?…Throw it in the mix! Vent to your heart’s content. Be loud. Be nice. Anthony’s in charge of breaking up any fights and making sure no one says anything mean to me.

I’ll be honest, I used to think allergies and heat strokes were for the weak at heart. I saw them as psychosomatic urban myths, brought on by the more serious condition of having no spine.

But then I moved to Austin and discovered the unique torture that is cedar fever, and then I spent last July in Montana with day after day of 100+ degree heat.

Wow. It was hot in Montana last summer.

One day in particular was distinctly painful. I went for a run at high noon, and to tell you the truth, I never really bounced back from that error in judgment. Call me Icarus but I really thought I was immune to the heat. I’m from Texas for heavens sake.

Texas, where we have air-conditioning.

Dripping in sweat and hubris I still assumed I would bounce back in time to go fishing. Later that day, we assembled a motley crew at the river, waiting for the sun to ease up a bit before we launched our early evening float. We knocked about town trying to cool off indoors, but to no avail. The heat was making me feel sick in a way I really couldn’t shake.

We wandered down to the Trout Shop since they had the best air-conditioning in Craig, but it still wasn’t getting the job done. I was languishing on a bench, melting against a wall of waders. I must have looked fairly peeked – not to mention a total deterrent for paying customers – because they scooped me up and placed me in the beer cooler.

Finally a bit of relief! I perched on a produce box and tried to breathe in as much of the frosty air as I could, a weak attempt to cool myself from the inside-out. Customers on the other side would open the glass doors to select a six-pack, and I would startle them by handing them the one they were reaching for just before they grabbed it. It was a hoot. Things were looking up.

But the moment I was summoned from the beer cooler, I felt sick again. I definitely wasn’t up for rowing anyone down the river. I’m not sure why we didn’t pull the plug on the whole operation, because frankly everyone was feeling gamy and the general mood was pretty sour. But for some reason we decided to pile four adults plus Little Chick into one skiff.

About fifteen minutes into this debacle, it was pretty clear I was either going to faint or throw up. So I scooted up to the very front of the boat and curled up in the fetal position on the floor. The knee-lockers had been removed so whenever I did open my eyes, I had a clear view of the bright blue evening sky and my mother’s fly line whizzing back and forth over my head. I probably should have been in a hospital with an IV at this point, but hey, she was keyed-in on rising fish that were keyed-in on caddis fluttering all around us.

Eventually my team took pity on me, albeit begrudgingly. We rowed back up to the ramp where we put in, canceled our shuttle and raced home. I don’t remember much else except shivering in bed and waking up the next morning with the worst headache of my life.

Needless to say I was benched for the next few days.

To cheer up the heat stroke victim, Little Chick had her own stroke of genius. She recruited my mother, and together they announced we were all going to bake cupcakes. Ugh! Normally I don’t get involved with the grandmother-granddaughter cooking adventures (I am not at home in the kitchen) but I was bored out of my mind and decided it was better to bake cupcakes than to bake myself in the sun again.

Strangely, we all got really into it. I can’t think of any activity, other than fishing, that would have kept the three of us bicker-free for three whole days. My mother and Little Chick did all the cooking, and I was the master decorator. I focused solely on fishing-themed cupcakes, and I have to say, I think I discovered a latent talent. Who knew I had such skills with icing?

For days we went all over the canyon delivering our fly-fishing cupcakes. Everyone was very polite and mustered up the proper gratitude, but I’m pretty sure they were whispering behind my back, assuming I’d finally lost my mind from the heat.

Perhaps. But tell the truth, who doesn’t crave a little sweet treat after getting baked on the river?

Plus, these cupcakes were medicinal.