Or Maybe It's a Gnome...

This weekend I was talking to Big D who is back in Gainesvegas, of course. While we were talking, Bill walked into the kitchen and asked D to tell me to send him one of the those giant sets of Viking ears.

I think he meant this....



But, surprisingly enough, those are pretty hard to come by

But trolls...we have plenty of those...

Let Them Eat Steak

Dear vegetarian readers,

You may want to leave for a minute or two ...

Please come back soon.

Kthanxbai.

Love,
Elizabeth

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


I miss steak.

Other than key lime pie, there is no food I love more than a hunk of red meat.

I am an unabashed carnivore and suspect that it just is in my genes. (Seriously, I come from a long line of meat-eaters.)

I love it rare and just about five minutes past breathing.

I love the smell of it cooking and the smell of it on my plate.

I love to marinate it and to eat it plain.

I love it hot right off the grill or cold from the refrigerator the day after.

I love filets and rib-eyes and over the course of a few days, I'd bet I could do some serious damage to a porterhouse.

Mmmmmmmm.

And not only does steak taste good. (mmmmm steak....), somehow, it's always wrapped up with goodness, too.

(To wit: When Husband and I were first dating, I'd come over and while the meat was marinating, I'd chop up vegetable to put on the grill and we'd visit. And for as long as I've known him, we've eaten some form of steak at least twice a week...mmmm steak...)

Up until now...

Here it's mega expensive and the cuts are just not that good. But lately, we've been having such sunny weather. We have a slightly rusty grill on our tiny little back deck. And, Husband invited one of his colleagues home for dinner.

So last night, when the three happy coincidences merged, so we decided it was time for steak.

When looked at piece by piece, the evening was a slight disaster.

I misplaced the lettuce and bought blocks of lighter fluid instead of actual fluid lighter fluid. The timing of the fire in the grill was a little off, so the steaks were a little overcooked and the grilled veggies were a little undercooked. The roasted potatoes could have used less salt and about ten more minutes. And when it was time to make the brownies, I forgot the egg.

When looked at as a whole, the evening was a complete success.

The food was okay, but the company was good. We had loads of beer and a nice bottle of wine with dinner. Kenneth, our guest, lives in a hotel for the work week and was longing for a home visit. Conversation was lively and for most of the time, borderline hilarious. And the men and the dogs walked around the corner and got me an egg.

It couldn't have been better. And did I mention the steak? mmmmmmm...steak

And afterwards, Husband and Kenneth got out Husband's latest toy...*

Kenneth appreciating Husband's sick beats



Husband trying to share, but really longing to get back in the driver's seat.



And then there's me...




*For those of you who don't know, Husband used to be a DJ with these guys He's old school in that he usually works with turntables and vinyl. He pretty much skipped the next level ---abandoning the vinyl for CDs--- and somewhat reluctantly, he moved to the next generation, which is all digital. Right before we left the states, he bought himself a schmancy machine that produces the same effects as working on a turntable as well as working with CDs, but uses MP3 technology... (No, I don't totally understand, but it's cool. Kenneth is a DJ, too and wanted to check it out...)

Shin-dig in Storhaug

Last night Husband and I went to an inflyttningsfest (literally a "moving party" Flytte=move or relocate, Fest=party), which is a housewarming party.


(We're in their kitchen.)

But before we went into the kitchen, we stopped at the door to take off our coats and our shoes.



Please see name of blog above. That is why. Socks are important here. Shoes go off practically the moment you enter a house. So good looking socks and clean smelling toes are of paramount importance. Especially if you are popular, I suppose. Which I also suppose would only be the case if the socks and toes were in order...


Our friends, Erin and Kyrre, are new to their home in a neighborhood just up the hill from our house. Because most of the boxes were unpacked, it was time to have everyone over. Erin is American, by way of Brussels, and Kyrre is Norwegian, so the inflyttningsfest guest list was an international mix.


(That's Erin on the right. If you'd been around, I'll bet she would have invited you, too. She's friendly like that.)

If you can bear the 8 seconds of this, listen closely and not only will you hear English by way of me thinking I was taking a photo, you'll also hear Spanish and Norwegian as well.



This is the photo I was trying to take...




Packed into the living room, kitchen and most of the house were, among, others:
1) Kyrre's Norwegian colleague from Stavanger University who bikes to work everyday, even in the rain. When she had to take her children to nursery school, they rode in a cart attached to her bike. Thankfully it was mainly downhill. Now they walk. The children, I mean. She still bikes. Every day. Even in the rain.

2) A consultant from Maryland who works at NATO (whose offices are housed in the middle of a giant hill. He doesn't get to work in the middle of the hill. He has to work in a rickety temporary offices outside. Which I guess is okay because he's a temporary worker.)

3) Hilarious Norwegian friends of friends who attempted to explain some fact of Norwegian culture to me.



It was completely mixed and was not quite English and not quite Norwegian.



I am not sure I understood it. At least not completely.

4) A group of Spanish and Mexican couples who moved to Stavanger because their husbands work for the oil companies. One husband looked a lot like Alfred Molina, the actor. (But not as the scary Dr. Ock, more as the kindly Dr. Ock. But still tall and friendly.) The Spanish woman made a tortilla, which is kind of cake made of onion, egg and potato. Another one is slightly sassy. (Scroll up to group photo. Sassy is in blue shirt. She's the one you want to stand next to at parties and hope you're lucky enough to hear one of her slightly wicked comments. And that's a compliment.)

And that's just who I talked to in the first hour or so.

Loads of fun.

I can't wait for ours.



Small aside....
Right now, Husband is in the living room, pretending to work, but really watching a Discovery Channel show on poots. Apparently poots fueled by brussel sprouts will ruin a dinner party because they will (now please read the following out loud in a posh English accent) "thwack you in the face, if you know what I mean."

Things I Learned Today, Installment One

So our camera broke today. An error message saying "Memory Card Error" popped up on the screen instead of the inspired photo I was trying to take of the giant shrimp statue in the harbor.

Husband replaced the memory card, but was too embarrassed to take it to his friend, the technophile, because it is so out of date. So for a while, until we get a new one, we'll have to do without photos, but not for tooooo long....

In the meantime, I'll add in links when I appropriate (or deemed so by me...).

Today, we got a loaner car. It's a Saab 93 diesel (wagon, natch...) and we'll be driving this one until our actual car comes in the mail or on a boat or via train or however it is that cars get to places when they are not being driven. So Husband ditched work early and picked me up for a Friday afternoon drive.

We went all over the area and into the country side and here are a few things we saw and a few things I learned.

1) If you are driving along the road and see a sign that says "Fartputer" do not be alarmed. Slow down because, if not you will soon be flying over Speed Pillows, which are speed bumps.

2) A goat is a geit, which is pronounced Yight (rhymes with sight). More than one goat is a geiter.

3) It doesn't matter that it was cold enough that we were buttoned up and wearing gloves. On this afternoon, the sun was out and the waves were breaking. So, car loads of people were pulling up to the beach, stripping down and then zipping up their wetsuits all for a few hours of surfing in the afternoon sun.

4) Not all cars in Europe are stick shifts. Some of them are automatic, one of which, in our possession for the next month or so, is parked right by our front door.