Well, I guess it's about time for an update! I've been meaning to post this all week, but somehow never got to it. Better late than never, eh?
Saturday: I went to Beer School! A local brewpub was having a brewery tour/learning type thing, and I managed to (a) find out about it and (b) get in on one of their limited spaces. It was a lot of fun. I learned that while hops smell pretty good that I do not like beer with a strong hop taste (India Pale Ale). I learned that malted barley tastes kinda like grape nuts. I learned that barley mash tastes very sweet. I also found out again, that I really do prefer darker beers. Huh. We had about a dozen different beers of various styles - by the end of the “class” we were all pretty much buzzed. It was great.
Of course, it wasn't much of a hardship, as NXNW has the best hamburgers we've found yet in Austin - and these really good garlic fries.
Sunday: We went to the Austin Zoo! I'm a big fan of this zoo, because it's a rescue zoo. We also decided to get memberships this year, to help support them.
We love the petting zoo. Here's a llama!
I felt so bad for this little guy - the goat, not the chicken. He had really bad arthritis and could barely get around. I don't know what was wrong with the chicken. Apparently, he likes to stand on goats.
Goats are just so funny!
Here's the bear from the subject line. I'm still learning how to use my camera, and the fences gave me trouble for a while.
Primates always look so sad to me, especially this colobus monkey.
This patas monkey was completely intent on his toy.
These squirrel monkeys were so cute. Quite a few of the monkeys at this zoo were lab and “pet” rescues.
This lemur seemed fascinated with his tail.
This is Rowdy. He was once part of a traveling religious circus. He was kept in a small cage most of his life.
Pretty snakey. This picture turned out a lot better than I expected.
Peacocks! What self-respecting peahen could resist that display!
And lastly, a three-legged cat that was wandering the premises gets a scritch from
Monday: Nothing of note happened that I recall.
Tuesday: I think I should confess right now that I am an exceptional klutz. I tend to bang myself up on a regular basis - not seriously, thankfully, but I'm rarely without a bruise or a scrape of some sort. Tuesday I got myself good
That night I planned to grill some nice chicken leg quarters I'd marinated in this yummy sesame garlic sauce, so I went outside to clean the grill up a little bit. While I was doing that, I heard some noise out front that I couldn't identify. I went up to our fence, which, naturally, is taller than I am. There's some big bricks at the base of it, so I tried to stand on one of them so I could see over the fence. Bad idea. The brick turned, causing me to slide off of it, then slammed into my ankle. This hurt, but not nearly as much as my arm did, as it smashed into the top of the fence, scraping the hell out of the inside of my elbow. I just stood there for a minute or two saying “unnnnnnnngggggggghhhhh” while I was trying to figure out exactly what had happened to me.
Somehow I managed to not get any splinters in it, for which I am extremely grateful. The scrape isn't so bad anymore, but the bruise is a lovely purple and black covering an area the size of my hand. There's also a nice size bruise and scrape on my ankle - but at least that was somewhat protected by my jeans.
I never did find out what was going on out front.
Tuesday night: So bloody, but unbowed, I take my scrumptious looking chicken legs out to the grill to cook for dinner. Now this is our very first gas grill. Also, I've really never grilled chicken: I can grill a steak that'll make you weep for joy, and hot dogs are no problem, but I don't do hamburgers or chicken. So I made Rob look up how long to cook it, 'cause uncooked chicken is a Bad Thing™. “Forty-five minutes,” says he. “I should probably flip it a few times, right?” says I.
So I light the grill, toss the chicken down, close the grill and wander off for a while.
Fifteen minutes later, I wander back out, trusty tongs in hand. My first inkling that things may not be going entirely well is that the temperature gauge on the grill is, well, pegged.
Uh oh.
Sure enough, I open up the grill, and my lovely chicken legs are engulfed in flames. The ceramic or whatever the hell they are briquettes are in flames because of the dripped marinade and chicken fat. The chicken, once the fire was out, was… well, charcoal. When I pulled it off the grill, the leg bone broke off, as it was so brittle from the flames.
I wrote the day off as a total loss. I'll need to work on this whole “grilling chicken” thing.
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