My Floridita

HNT #3

2009-03-26T08:18:00.001-05:00

Gringo...the torso

Gringo attempts suicide....a comedy

2009-03-25T11:34:00.014-05:00

I'm not sure when the tale was was first told, a palaver around a 1950s boy scout camp fire a'la Stand By Me perhaps. While the origins of this legend are a mystery, it's existence today my readers is very real. Humor me its retelling and then keep it in your mind as our story continues.

Within every group of young boys, there will always be one who has been entrusted, one who knows...It is told that when a boy reaches puberty and discovers himself and his sexuality, as sure as the sun will rise, so will the boy explore his own body, pushing himself with his new found sexual capability....masturbation. The lore continues that he may continue along this path, but carefully, because if he reaches his century mark, his 100th masturbatory experience...he will lose his sight and it is likely that he will die.

-And so it is told, and retold-

When I was but a Gringo Nino, like all boys I began to notice my newly equipped body and its capabilities. Masturbation was the order of the day! (and night, before breakfast, after school, before showering, showering, after showering, ok you get the idea). Also I was fully aware of the above legend, but really who believes in that stuff? Much like a spooky game played at juvenile slumber parties everywhere...you can chant the haunting lyrics into your bathroom mirror in the candlelit darkness, but really, are you really bringing out the bogeyman?

Of course as book learned adults we know better, but there is something, not quite substantial enough to lay your hand upon, that as a child, while you know its not real, still...do you want to tempt fate alone in your bathroom at home? I didn't think so.

At some point along the way, Gringo Nino learned to read. In and around his 13th birthday, Gringo was bestowed by his parents a Christian book of sexuality for teenagers. As one might expect this book discusses such topics as teenage pregnancy, diseases, and social pressures. Additionally, what this book covers, is masturbation, specifically dangerous masturbation, or Auto-erotic Asphyxia.

As an aside, Erotic Asphyxia is the denial of oxygen to the brain during an orgasm to heighten the effect of the climax. A brain starved of oxygen will go into state of heightened sensitivity. Couple that with an orgasm, and you get a mind-blowing orgasm. The "auto" part simply refers to doing this to one's self. Auto-erotic asphyxia is essentially choking one's self while masturbating. The risk, if it's not obvious enough, is that you will choke yourself to death on accident.

The book describes situations where kids are found naked and hanged and warns of this behavior. Specifically, the book says, (and I'm paraphrasing here as its been quite some time since I've possessed the book)

All boys need to know that if you have practiced Auto-erotic asphyxia masturbation one or one hundred times, you always run the very real risk of ending up killing yourself

While that is what the book said, a thirteen year old Gringo Nino absorbed:

All boys need to know that if you have practiced Auto-erotic asphyxia masturbation one or one hundred times, you always run the very real risk of ending up killing yourself

in other words:

All boys need to know if you have practiced masturbation one hundred times, you end up killing yourself.

And there it is, the legend printed in black and white! Gringo is petrified, blood drains from his pale face, more rapidly so draining from the very bodily appendage that is leading him to his ulitmate demise. Poor Gringo, he hasn't been counting. How close is he? He guesses, estimates, guesstimates, but there's just no way of knowing how close he is, how many times he has left! He's thinking six.

Curse you Cinemax Late Nite!! (unbeknownst to my parents, piped into bedroom's TV set)

Larry Flynt...you have swung your axe as truly as any gallows' headsman. My blood will be on your hands!!

I remember it as if it were yesterday, a Thursday, Christy Canyon will be featured on Skinemax Late Nite, by my best reckoning, I am three away...I am dead man walking.

A Pirate Looks at...35

2009-03-18T15:24:00.005-05:00

This post is a bit of a departure from previous ones. I thought I might offer a bit of self-reflection. Times...they are a changin

At this point in most 30-something men's life- chaos, flux, movement, growth and retraction seem to rule the day.

Like the sand that chases the receeding surf from beneath your feet, I find it difficult to still myself enough to take a personal inventory. What it is that I am missing, I cannot readily identify. Oh sure, everyone needs more money, more fun, more time, more more more, myself included, but that's not quite it.

But I think I'm feeling something else, its here, been here the whole time, a missing piece in my own stock.

It's a recent personal revelation..shared with my one's of readers, but I've discovered that I miss her, my sea.

I grew up on her, with her. So I thought I'd list out a few things I've done with her and try to figure out how to expand this list several times over!

1. I sailed straight thru the Gulf of Mexico, Texas Coast to Key West, several times
2. I've fished her waters in 4 different countries
3. I've come close to my earthly demise no less than 5 times around her
4. I've been pulled by her currents helplessly out to sea
5. I've SCUBA'd
6. alone
7. at night
8. I've fished just off of her banks in Nicaragua, only a stones throw from enormous alligators who would try and steal my catch before I could boat it
9. I've spearfished
10. I've come face to face, alone, in the open water with a shark bigger than I
11. I've surfed in 3 different countries
12. I've raced sailboats
13. I've come in last place more times than first
14. I've been in seas so rough that I had to strap myself into a bunk to sleep to keep from being thrown out
15. I've seen hurricanes
16. I've shared the water with water spouts
17. I've never been sea sick
18. I've flown underwater
19. I've boated a 1,100 lb. Marlin, it took 8 hours
20. I've never had sex, with another person, in saltwater
21. I've spent days in caves who's access was hidden underwater
22. I've been alone on an island populated with thousands of iguanas
23. I've seen countless colors of her and beneath her

There is very little to this brief list that was done in the last 10 years. I mean to address that.

-Gringo

HNT #2

2009-03-12T11:01:00.003-05:00

Evidently its the "T" I was struggling with. I think I've got it now though. HHNT!

fingered notion

2009-02-27T10:45:00.003-06:00

Not getting a big fat stimulus check? Yeah, me neither. Want some more bad news? Not much in way of freakiness or food in this post. I know, I know, consider this then one of those annoying Emergency Broadcast tests that only seem to run right in the middle of your favorite TV program.

What I wanted to raise up the pole today is the simple pleasure of finding clarity. Now I'm not talking spiritual, Burning Man Peyote Park stuff mind you. I haven't had near enough libation to reach that plane, but rather to me it's satisfying to come across a notion or even a singular word that brings right in to focus the definition of a concept. Allow me two uniquely related examples.

"Concepts, notions, definitions? Gringo you had me up through Peyote! Ok fuck the broadcast and that ear deafening emergency monotone Gringo...and get back to that killer chocolate cake recipe and that action with the ropes and restraints!"

Relax dear reader, the cake and restraints are coming, but I've got to keep up with that book learn'd blog reader too! Indulge me some Papa Hemingway:

The story was writing itself...I ordered another rum St. James and I watched the girl whenever I looked up...I've seen you beauty, and you belong to me now...You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil. Then I went back to writing and I entered far into the story and was lost in it.

I closed up the story in the notebook and put it in my inside pocket and I asked the waiter for a dozen portugaises and a half-carafe of the dry white wine they had there. After writing a story I was always empty and both sad and happy, as though I had made love...

- Ernest Hemingway writing of his time in Paris in the 1920s in A Moveable Feast

And for 'ol Gringo there it was. With a little lead in for color, Hemingway had defined for me a big part of my sexuality.

Now I know I'm not breaking new ground here...but if I may, I'd like to speak only for myself.
Sex, fucking, making love, in all its wondrous, naughty, loving ways is very much about the build and the release. The build can start in the mind and work and churn itself for days, leading further to that initial contact with your lover, further still into the myriad of ways to pleasure your lover, pleasure yourself, building always, the chemicals in your body raging, testosterone, endorphins, all building, for days perhaps, certainly hours.

I've not the language to describe fully the state of this build and how it feels to be in it. The blessed release, the orgasm further defies my own grasp of language, so I won't even bother here.

But what has been elusive for me is the mixed feelings. For those hours that I am building, the state that my body finds itself in, luxuriates in, is upon that release, gone...lost. It's not a painful crash of course, that's what the orgasm is for, but nonetheless it's that very blend of ecstasy and loss that quite simply, for me, I found definition of in a sixty year old book.

So 'ol Gringo likes to luxuriate! Ok that sounds a little creepy, but you get me. That state prior to the release, there is no better place to hang out. If they served tequila there I'd sit at its bar all the time...happy hour every hour. So when I get there, get the chance to be there, I wanna stay there. Thankfully I'm not too old for making return visits but there is nothing like getting to that place and then hanging around for a while. So how does 'ol Gringo manage that? Allow me a further indulgence:

If my reader hasn't had the time, there is an exceptionally good writer who shares of her adventures and misadventures with the rest of the lucky us on her blog. www.arousaloftheminx.com Fair warning dear reader, she will captivate you and you will spend loads of time at her sight, never mind the hot HNT pics she's so generous with.

I credit her with the clarity she inadvertently have me by using the word...edging.

I'd never heard of it, lord knows there is plenty I have never heard of, but as soon as I read the word, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Edging is the very notion I'm attempting so that I can hang on to that build, pushing back Hemingway's sadness. For me its the word I can use to best describe my attempt at that balance!

Mr. Hemingway, meet Little Minx...Little Minx, Ernest Hemingway circa 1921.

Whew!! If you've sat here at My Floridita this far into the post, you certainly deserve a reward! Or your computer has frozen and you are stuck with me. Either way, thanks for the time, I've got another post coming soon that I'll get to work on. So in the mean time, do some cooking, do so loving, and ladies, feel free to send in some nekkid pics!

And trust me, the chocolate cake is worth the wait fellow patron, and as for the ropes and restraints, well I've always been a good sailor...

Veins open...let the juice flow

2009-02-27T10:22:00.003-06:00

Ol' Gringo is back for the reunion tour! Seems I retired there for a spell but if my Texas brother Roger Clemens can juice up and make a come back, then I guess I can start tap'in a vein and do the same.

So now that I'm back, let me take a moment to redefine a few things. Now hold on now my precious one's of readers, don't worry none, I've got plenty of recipes and plenty of escapades to wax about. But I'd like to begin also going on about a few other shiny things that tend to distract my attention. And in the post to follow minutes later, you'll see what I'm ramblin about.

But while the subject of change is on our taste buds, I've been thinking. For the ones of you that have read this blog, you'll note that the recipes are shared in detail, but the escapades...well there more seen thru one of those softly filtered lenses with fuzzy focus. Any thoughts from the gallery on whether that works, or would a little sharpening of the focus be in order? Am a southern gentleman despite my tendencies and proclivities, and naturally filter my sailor's mouth around the more genteel of sexes, but if the public needs clarity, well who am I to deny?

well wishes over due

2009-02-19T10:55:00.003-06:00

Let's see, when last we spoke, a worn down Texan was in the white house, mortgage companies were giving away zero down $500,000 loans to anyone with a pulse, Merrill Lynch was managing my money, Chrylser was manufacturing automobiles, unemployment was steady, money was flowing.

It's good to be back, did I miss anything?

Time to start anew, recipes are figured, experiences had, time to share and indulge.

But first..I'd be remiss to not wish you all:
Happy Halloween
Happy Thanksgiving
Merry Christmas
Happy New Year
and
Happy Valentine's Day!

Now that ya'll are glowing from all of my well wishing...let's continue shall we?

HNT #1

2008-09-25T10:54:00.003-05:00

My very first HNT. If I haven't scared off my 'ones' of readers, I'll be happy to try and post regularly, varying the H and the N, trying to adhere to the T.

The Devilz in those Details

2008-09-25T08:47:00.009-05:00

You know how life can come at us pretty fast at times. Responsibilities overwhelm, duties engulf, storms blow. Its far too easy to miss the subtleties, the little things, that shouldn't be overlooked or passed by, but so often are in times such as these. Caught up in the breezes of chaos, forgoing our little satisfactions and merits, missing pleasantries and moments.

Ol Gringo doesn't miss a damn thing though! No question that I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, always thought of myself as the 'strong back, weak mind' type of fellow. But I find that if I can sit still for a spell and put my mind to it, all those missed details come flooding back; back to me, to be properly and hungrily remembered and relished.

First day of fall was this week, getting cold, leaves a turning, so grab a mug of hot cocoa and read on as I try and put my mind to the details of a day not long ago.

What is that you say? Your calendar is bull shitting you the same as mine. Its still hot as a pepper patch outside and the only turning going on is that of your A/C thermostats? But the therapy of the hot cocoa sipped out on your porch swing, under grandma's hand knitted quilt, or curled up in your favorite chair, reading material in hand is what I'm talking about that's lost. You are missing that!! Breezes of chaos, merits and moments, all that wasted alliteration a few lines up, remember?

This is about comfort, this is about recapturing those lost and unnoticed moments. Forget the hot cocoa and quilts, I got something better.

You are gonna need:

6-7 oz. of chocolate - An even mix, say 2 oz. each of milk chocolate, bittersweet and semisweet. If you wanna throw in an extra oz. of milk chocolate, who am I to argue your genius.
3 tablespoons of sugar
1 tablespoon of cocoa powder
1 1/2 cup whole milk - wanna go for broke, mix in a little heavy cream
2-3 tablespoons of peanut butter
ice

When we finally reconnected, long over due, I was full of lust and desire. The kissing first, always first, had a sense of urgency to it. The clothes I'd worn felt all wrong and unnecessary. While our time together lasted a couple of hours, most all of that time was spent urgently. Urgently taking what was desired, urgently giving what was needed, all at once dining on and feeding the other. It was erotic, it was very pleasurable, and as always it was in its own way beautiful and perfect.

Thinking back now, I can see so many little details that the broad stroke of my lust and desire overlooked, but now, later, I find those details alluring, attractive, sexy, and mostly just...her.

The chocolates needs to be melted down, either in a double boiler, stirring regularly, or in the microwave, carefully. Once the chocolates are all melted down together, add the sugar and cocoa powder, stirring it all together. While all is still hot, whisk in 1/2 cup of your milk or milk/cream mixture. At this point, let it cool, even stick it in fridge or an ice bath to cool the chocolate mixture down as we need it back to room temperature.

Once its cool, poor it into a blender, add in your remaining 1 cup of milk, the peanut butter and a few cubes of ice. Blend till smooth, adding ice as you desire to get the consistency you like.
If you've got a frozen glass from your freezer at the ready, great, otherwise any old glass will do. Dollop a little whipped cream on top and you've got FROZEN PEANUT BUTTER HOT CHOCOLATE.

Her hair looked great, pulled back into a clip. But once i removed her hair clip and let her long hair fall about her shoulders, she looked amazing.

Her nails where freshly painted a color that goes very well with her end of summer skin tone.

She had a bruise on her left thigh and another small one on the outside top of her left breast. The thigh's bruise a mystery, however did I make the small one on her breast?

The sun induced freckles on her back beginning to fade into autumn.

Her legs, so freshly smooth and hairless, her sex the same.

She often sighs her pleasure, but at times, she will make a small whimper of pre-orgasmic release. I've learned so much about her body, just by listening to it.

Her smile, when we are looking into each other as I am inside her, it begins its sly curl on the left side of her lips.

The flush of red that starts at her neck and works its way in to her face as she rides her own orgasm.

The way her hair, now sweaty for exurtion, sticks sweetly to the sides of her face.

What dominates these thoughts however was her new cute dress. She didn't mention it, and it didn't stay on for long, but her dress was very cute and summery. It was flattering and accentuated her beautiful curves.

I would have like to have kept her on my arm for the rest of the day, showing her off in her new summer dress to all the certainly jealous men about town. Another day perhaps, soon I hope.

HNT?

2008-09-04T15:32:00.002-05:00

My how Thursdays come around regular in these parts. I am considering opening up The Floridita to the idea of HNT? Peaks mind you, of the Gringo and his pursuits.

In the meantime, I've posts to come, forgive my distractions

Summer Heat Quencher(s)

2008-08-07T14:41:00.006-05:00

Let's hark on back to the days of yore, Gringo's college days! Now hold on a minute, I'm not gonna be one of "those guys" who are always reminiscing about their college, or worse yet, High School days, and how great I was, and remember that time I got that quarterback sack during the game against our big rival or how big Jenny Johnson's boobs were, something along those lines. Though to be fair, Jenny had one spectacular rack, but I digress.

I mention college here only to note that while I certainly learned a lot about myself and a little about women, and to some questionable extent...got an education, what I did learn was how to make one great fucking Margarita!

Now seemed like a good time to share what I affectionaly refer to as my Margarita 250!

I so badly want to tear her clothes away from her body. Her chest is heaving beneath her bra, and I simply want to take the lace and rip it away, freeing what I am transfixed upon, her taunt and hard nipples. Today is unplanned, we have met for lunch to discuss something important, and we are supposed to be talking before entering a restaurant to share a meal together. But instead, I am using up any last resource of restraint to not rip her clothes from her body here and now.
There is little privacy, a back seat in a big pickup truck, in a security patrolled parking garage, but I don't care. Very little in the way of 'love making' is happening here, only carnal desire and an overwhelming singular need...to be inside her. My hands under her dress now, my palms on her thighs, encroaching; that light static electricity feel of her hose reacting to my advances. She has parted her legs for me, she is opening herself to me, or I am pushing her legs apart, demanding access to her, it is becoming a blur of heat and the smells and urgency of sex are building. Sadly?, her hose won't survive me, I have found her sex, hot and wet through the hose and have gripped in my fist the union of leg's fabric and ripped myself access.

The Margarita we are going for here is a homemade frozen one. Another time I will wax poetic over my rocks recipe of silver tequila and fresh lime, but for now, we are making homemade Frozen Margaritas. Homemade to me, means ingredients you can easily bring into your home and equipment most likely found in your home (or boat)!
You'll need that store bought ice we talked about earlier. Tequila of course. Here I like to use something mid range, like Cuervo Gold. Nothing spectacular but not too cheap either. Triple Sec, any kind will do fine. Some cans of Minute Maid Frozen Limeade, you know the ones in cardboard can looking containers. If you've got a big home blender, buy the big sized ones, small blender, buy the smaller sized cans. You'll need one can for each pitcher. And some fresh limes. Your home blender will be fine.
So to recap:
Tequila
Triple Sec
Minute Maid frozen Limeade (frozen, don't thaw)
Limes
Ice (preferable store bought)
Blender

My pants are off, or at least down enough. And there it is, finally, that singular desire...met. I am buried inside her, her heat is welcome, her wetness is constant. Painted nails roughly on skin, hands griping titflesh as she rides me. We don't need long; the desire is met, the release is imminent. She calls out my name, contracts all her musclues involuntarily and she cums...beautifully as always. I am right behind her, pumping myself inside her, eyes rolling back, groaning.
Lazy now, glazed eyes and sweaty skin...sated.

In the blender add your Limeade. Fill the now empty Limeade container half-3/4 full with tequila, to taste here really, and then fill the rest of the way up with Triple Sec, add to blender, squeeze in a couple of fresh limes, again, to taste. More or less depending upon how "limey" you like yours. Pulse the blender a few times to mix it up. Now the secret here is adding ice. Since we are dealing with typical home blenders they don't ever seem to mix as well as those high dollar margarita machines so we have to improvise. So add a handful or so of ice and blend. Then add a handful more and blend. Keep this up till you've got the consistency you want. Adding the ice in batches will help the blender mix you out a better consistency of ice.

Salt some glasses if you like, pour and drink. Then pour and drink again. That pitcher's not perfect, so get back in there and keep at it, you've got some tinkering to do to get yours just right, and make your own Margarita 250!

Why 250? Because at $250 a semester hour, its probably the best thing I learned that year!

-Gringo

I know its hot outside, but you've got to eat right?

2008-07-25T09:10:00.006-05:00

For fuck's sake is it hot!! Down here in the Lone Star we don't screw around with summer heat, we bring it! So last night's TV weatherman, after spending 5 1/2 minutes of his allotted 6 telling us about what the hell has already happened with regards to our weather, slips in we are in for some seriously hot humid concrete rain forest depression for the foreseeable future.

Its hard to get excited about cooking when its so damn hot, but you gotta eat, so you might as well get refreshed in the process. So if I may...

With a summer tan like that, less is certainly more. Her summer tube top was pink and cute, but it needed to go. In the parking lot of our intended restaurant lunch spot I simply couldn't help myself. I moved over to kiss her from my passenger seat; not the sort of kiss that can be misconstrued for meaning anything other than 'I need you naked and I need you fucking me right now!' We headed to the back seat, or rather 3rd row seat of her mom-mobile. How much groping can really be had as two lovers move from the front of a vehicle to the back....thankfully, a lot.

You are going to need to drink something to cut this heat, something appropriate. AGUA FRESCA. The Mexicans drink it as a refreshing fruit drink made of nothing more than real fruit and water. Pretty simple. We'll play with it and proudly serve it here at My Floridita. First, ice.

(warning...another parenthetical aside here) I should note fair patron that I'm a snob when it comes to certain ingredients. Most all pros will remind us that its their amazingly fresh and flavorful ingredients from their private farms and suppliers that are their secrets and us common folk will just have to make do with 'Sam's Choice' slop. I might agree with them, partially, and we'll spend time on that later, but for now, just know that I do the best I can, and to hell with those know-it-alls anyhow.

For now ice. Most drinks I make should use store bought ice as it just makes the drink taste cleaner and thus better. So I buy a bag and stick it in my deep freeze every now and again.

My favorite Agua Fresca is watermelon based, with little in the way of scientific evidence other than ogling plenty of hot Latinas, I would guess its also the most popular with the locals south of me as well. Buy one, seedless and cube it up, you are looking for about 10 cups of melon, make sure that you are cutting it up in a container that is also catching all the watery goodness released from your cuts! In a blender, blend 1/3 of the melon with about 1 cup of water. Pour into pitcher. Repeat with remaining melon adding 1 cup of water each time. Pour off all juices from container into pitcher. Add the juice of 3-4 limes and about 1/4 cup of sugar; stir. Adjust the water and sugar levels to your likening. You can leave well enough alone at this point or keep going. I came across a recipe that adds ginger juice and I like that so lets add it. At the grocery store buy a hunk of ginger root about as big as your palm. Wash it, peel it with vegetable peeler and then grate it with a Microplane (own a microplane...life is too short) into a bowl that's lined with a coffee filter. Squeeze the hell outta that coffee filter to extract juice, add 1-2 TBS to pitcher. Chill pitcher. When ready to drink, pour over ice with our without your favorite libation, mine is either silver tequila or vodka here.

Drink in hand, lets make some shrimp. Stop passing up the damn fish counter at your grocery store. Just this once, buy something, have the lady in the hairnet select it for you if you like. Seriously, you need more fish, and we'll be cooking it plenty here.

Shrimp is a no-brainer so pick up a 1 lb or so if its just you or you + 1, large ones, not the mega freak sized ones or the tiny ones, the large ones, shells on heads off are fine. We are going to make SHRIMP IN LIME GARLIC BUTTER. I made up this recipe while at a rented beach house a couple of weeks back. I'm sure its not entirely original, but I free-handed it and so will you.

Its the sounds she makes in response to my advances that I yearn to hear. Her soft moans, her sharp inhales, her purrs, each in their own way encouraging me. From her earlobe, my lips trace her jawline and find her lips wet and parted. Further to her neckline. Its here that I like to spend considerable time, struggling to be careful enough to not leave unexplainable marks. Her breasts are heavy and shapely and her nipples are always hard and I love when she inhales sharply as I attend to her nipple with my teeth. I can see that look in her eyes, she needs to cum. Lower still now her shaven sex is wet and glistening. When she cums she cusses like a sailor, calling my name as her hands keep my head firmly in its place. Soon we are both spent, covered in each others sweat and cum. Even though this was just a few days ago, I haven't the faintest idea what I ate for lunch once we finally made it inside that loud restaurant, but I won't ever forget that spoken look in my lover's eyes...fuck me baby.

We are going to cook garlic lime butter and shrimp separately. I like to do this a lot when I use shrimp. First get a little olive oil in a saute pan getting warm, but not too hot! Now lets get started on those shrimp. If the shrimp are something a little less than right off Lt. Dan's boat, then brine them. Brine can simply be a couple cups of cold water, a cup of Kosher salt, some peppercorns, toss in a bay leaf or two and some ice. Let sit for 20-30 min. in the fridge. While shrimp are brining, prep your garlic, looking for thin slices here, maybe 3-4 cloves, sliced really thin.
Once shrimp are brined, rinse them very well with fresh water, otherwise they'll be salty. If you want, now is the time to devein the shrimp, but leave the shells on, simply run a small sharp knife down back of shrimp slicing thru shell, and remove "vein". I live too close to cajun country and the bayou to worry much over deveining but seems like most people prefer it. So, with shrimp ready, spread them out on a cookie sheet and set that oven on broil (HI if it has more than one broil setting). Take some olive oil and pour it into your hand and rub the shrimp with a little olive oil, both sides. Stick cookie sheet into oven about 6" or so from broiler heat (leave oven door cracked open!!!) and give it 2-3 minutes, then flip 'em and give em 2-3 min more. When they are pink, pull 'em out and get them off that hot cookie sheet, a plate is fine. When they are cool enough to handle, peel them.

When you just put the shrimp in and have a few minutes to kill, nows the time to throw that garlic into the oil, saute it slowly, slower the better, when those thin slices are soft squeeze in the juice of a couple of limes and start to add butter. No quantities here, just feel it maybe 1/3-1/2 stick, its your dish, the butter and olive oil together will do nicely add more lime if you like. Throw in the shrimp and toss 'em around to get good and coated. You are gonna want some good garlic bread to sop up all that butter so have some at the ready!

Here's a hint. Serve to yourself or yourself + 1 in a metal pie plate. That's right a pie plate. When the shrimp are out of broiler, turn off oven and stick your pie plate into oven to warm it up. Now you've got a perfectly shaped vessel to hold the shrimp, all that limey garlicy butter goodness, and its pre-warmed. If you are going outside, no fear of it breaking, I know genius right! Refill your Agua Fresca, find some shade, enjoy.

Now that we've disposed of the formalities...

2008-07-25T09:07:00.004-05:00

lets get on with it, shall we?

Floridita?

2008-07-23T16:20:00.004-05:00

We still have some introductions yet to share. My Floridita...WTF?

Even though I've mostly gringo blood coursing through these veins, I've always had a certain proclivity for things Spanish. And not just Costa Rican ticas and Salma Hayek! And while we are on the subject of Salma Hayek, who amongst us has seen the movie trailer of the yet to be released movie of Penelope Cruz and Scarlett Johansson making out? And you people say religion is dead in Hollywood, who but the gods could have teamed those two up? But I digress, a thousand apologies...

Where was I, oh yes, things Spanish. Not just Spanish, but Latin, Mexican, Central American, South American, Shakiracan! So since I was but a pequeno nino, I've always named things in Spanish tongue. It started with my first sailboat...El Dientieso. Its a literary reference to a kind of shark that gave an Old Man of a particular Sea quite a bit of trouble. Twenty years later, I haven't gotten even the slightest bit more clever.

Ernest Hemingway: I am, to say the least, a big admirer. We will talk in later posts about him, we'll cook and drink and whore and chase German subs in his honor plenty. But briefly, he is definetly my favorite author, but more than that, this adventure I seek that I've mentioned previously. No greater adventure would there be for me than to follow in this man's footsteps.

Ok time for a parentheitical aside (hey private college education here folks, so gimme some space.) When I refer to Hemingway's footsteps, let me make a quick note that, oh say around the time I finally turn 60-61, I'm getting the hell off his footpath, no "self-inflicted" gunshot for me! Unless of course, on my 61st birthday, my wife finds me in a cuban whorehouse surrouned by piles of cash, cocaine, and barely legal ass, then that 12-gauge over-under will do nicely.

Hemingway, a man's man, a ladies man, a writer, a fisherman, and adventurer, a sailor, lover, fighter, father, husband, ex-husband, on and on we could go.

While living in Cuba, just outside of Havana, its widely known Hemingway's favorite bar to drink his beloved Daquiris in, was called El Floridita.

So in a bit of honor to him, and as I clearly can't get anymore clever than my 12 year old self, I decree the name of this blog...My Floridita.

An introduction...of sorts

2008-07-22T12:19:00.004-05:00

So I should at the very least, introduce myself. In here, feel free to refer to me as the Gringo.

I am a man-child, mostly man, maybe, born and raised in the South. Rest assured there will be plenty of posts later defining and waxing poetic about where it is that I come from.

I've turned 29 a few times, and have celebrated that anniversary enough to say that while our 20s are great, our 30s ain't so bad either. But that's it, I've no desire to go any further, so I'll be maintain 30-something status for quite some time.

So what is this blog gonna be about? That's a good question and the answer might prove to be slippery and tough to nail down quite succinctly. But I do have at least an initial compass heading.

Food, sex, and my quest for excitement and adventure...'these are a few of my favorite things' Ok that was creepy, b/c that blond lady singing to those kids is now firmly stuck in my head. Sorry about that. While you attempt to clear your head, I'll break my big 3 subjects down a bit.

FOOD: Ok, I love to cook, and of course eat, but really I love to cook. I love the techniques, I love the tools, I love the ingredients, I love the history, I love the effort, and of course I love the result. I cook because I enjoy the retreat into the kitchen, and into myself, and I cook as an expression of emotion towards others. So one of the things we'll be bantering about is cooking and food and recipes and the like.

SEX: Ok, freaks relax; keep your pants on! Well, dudes, feel free to keep your pants on, ladies...indulge thy selves! While sharing that I do indeed love sex may not shatter blog site hit counters, I will most certainly be discussing, sharing and perhaps having, sex here.

ADVENTURE: I need it; I seek it, I search the Internet for it, but alas, I mostly dream of it. But I'm determined...fucking all hell bent on...stealing it!!!

So give me a chance fair readers, give the blog and its musings some time to reveal themselves, and always, feel free to order another round of whatever lights you up, here in My Floridita!

with but two feet, i've a 50-50 chance here of getting off on the right one

2008-07-22T11:03:00.003-05:00

I'll take those odds...Welcome to My Floridita