Braden's Blog

Asshole baby

2011-11-25T12:15:00.001-05:00

Read this blog. Why? Because it's fun to live vicariously through someone who is totally accurate.

The baby is clean

2011-11-09T11:34:00.003-05:00

Exhibit A.

Dads, as every one knows, get all the good credit. Just by showing up. It's not really a fair deal for the mom's, and we know that. Here's a little confession for all the moms ... We don't know any better. We don't try to steal all the thunder. We just don't really know about a mother's intuition and all that fancy crap. And, therefore, we are willingly taken advantage of. And everyone wins.

You want gummy bears for breakfast son? Sure!
You want to take a bubble bath in the jetted tub little girl? Absolutely!
You want to be applauded for a good fart? I'm your man.
You want to do something that we both know you shouldn't? Um, go ask your mother.

You see, ignorance really is bliss. You, as a mother, just have to come to grips with the fact that the father of your children is probably an idiot. And that's okay.

PS; I know. Two years old does not a baby make. But, politely, shove it. She'll always be my baby.

Braden's Perfect Porterhouse

2011-11-06T09:44:00.000-05:00

I love steak. I love steak nearly as much as anything else in the world. A Porterhouse is actually two steaks (a strip and a filet). Therefore, as cuts of meat rank, it's somewhere between 'completely freaking awesome' and 'finding a briefcase full of unmarked hundreds'. I fail at things like 'moderation' an 'self restraint' and will often have a couple Porterhouse a week, which is fiscally impossible unless you cook them yourself.

I sear-roast most of my steaks and in the case of a Porterhouse, the following is how I cook them.

Ingredients:

1 or 100 Porterhouse Steaks (depending how hungry you are) 1.25" thick or more

Olive Oil

Sea Salt

Whole Black Peppercorns in a grinder

Directions:

1. Pull your steaks out of the fridge, sprinkle each side with a little sea salt and let them come to room temperature, an hour or so

2. When they reach room temp, stick a cast-iron skillet in the oven and preheat it to 500°F

3. While the oven and skillet heat up, pat your steaks dry, rub an ever-so-small amount of olive oil in to each side and grind a teaspoon or so of peppercorn in to each side, pressing it in

4. Once the oven reaches 500°F, remove the skillet and place on range over high heat

5. Immediately place steaks in the middle of the skillet and cook 1 to 2 minutes (depending on thickness) without moving them; flip them with tongs and cook another 1 to 2 minutes (this is the 'searing' part)

6. Then, put the cast iron skillet, steaks and all, directly into the oven and cook an additional 3 to 5 minutes depending on thickness (this is the 'roasting' part)

7. Take the skillet out of the oven and move the steaks to a plate, cover loosely with aluminum foil and let rest 5 to 10 minutes before serving

"Braden, why do you wait for it to get to room temperature first?" Oh. You're in a hurry? Make a sandwich Nancy.
Outside of acquiring a steak, this is the single most important part of cooking a steak. If you cook it while it's still cold in, the outside will cook and everything will look fine. Then you'll cut in to it and it'll be cold and bloody. And then you'll throw it back on the grill/in the oven/whatever and it'll turn to crap on the outside and you'll have, if you're lucky, an only slightly edible portion buried somewhere in the middle.

"Braden, why do you salt it while it's warming to room temperature?" Taste. Some people call it 'salt curing' but I'm probably not sophisticated enough to do that right. It's really important that you don't drown the steak in salt. Salt draws liquid (juices, in the case) to the surface and if you go crazy on the salt, you will draw the flavor right out fo the steaks before you've even cooked it.

"Braden, why do you pat the steak dry before cooking it?" So that it doesn't turn in to a chewy grey piece of shit. Here's the simple science;

Meat starts browning at 310°F.

Water boils and turns to steam at 212°F.

If your steak is covered in moisture, you will steam it 100°F before you start actually cooking it, and as such, it will be a shitty steak.

"Braden, do I have to let it rest for 5-10 minutes?" Yes. For two reasons;

1. You'll burn your little facehole off if you don't wait.
2. During this time the meat continues to cook and the juices redistribute.

Coach Braden

2011-10-30T14:42:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I made my coaching debut; Mason's 5 year old basketball team. Let's take a look at my resume to really appreciate how hilarious it is that I was accepted for this position ...

1. I know what a basketball is.
2. I tried out for the middle school basketball team.
3. I did not make the middle school team.
4. Last year, my fantasy basketball team came in second.
5. I have a 5 year old.
6. I have a pulse.

That said, and despite the gaps in my resume, we had a great time. Only one kid cried. Within the first ten seconds of meeting the kids, one of the kids asked me if he could be the point guard. After he explained to me what a point guard is, I knew my job was going to be easy. 'Give the ball to that kid.' Turns out, I'm a brilliant coach.

photo credit: Nana

Braden's Firepit Chili (party-sized)

2011-10-30T14:05:00.003-04:00

This is going to make a tremendous amount of food. Prior to cooking this chili, make sure you've invited 18 to 20 friends over. If you're a reasonable person, which I am not, divide these quantities by four and you'll still have some left over.

Ingredients:
6 lb. lean chuck, ground

3 large yellow onions finely chopped
1 oz. ground ancho chili pepper (go to the spice section)
2 oz. ground chipotle pepper (spice section)
2 packets McCormick's Original Chili Seasoning Mix
2 large Anaheim peppers seeded and finely chopped
3 Serrano peppers seeded and finely chopped
3 chipotle peppers in adobo sauce finely chopped (I used Embasa, they're in a can.) Careful with these. Unless you hate yourself, do not rub your eyes or lick your fingers after chopping these bad boys.
3 jalapenos seeded and finely chopped Ditto. Goes without saying, but don't pick your nose unless you've washed your hands after chopping these.
2 orange bell peppers seeded and chopped
2 red peppers seeded and chopped
2 green peppers seeded and chopped Why all the different peppers? This is purely for color.
12 oz. tomato paste
30 oz. golden sweet corn (canned)
45 oz. diced tomatoes chili style (canned, I used Hunt's)
50 oz. diced tomatoes and green chilies (canned, I used Rotel)
30 oz. black beans (canned)
60 oz. red beans in chili sauce (canned)
60 oz. dark red kidney beans (canned) Why all the different beans? Again, this is all about color.
1 can Guinness (And 1 or 6 for yourself.)
Brown sugar

Directions:

1. Chop and dice everything that needs it. Get a sharp knife. You'll thank yourself.
2. Pour all of the beans, diced tomatoes and tomato paste in to a giant pot on a back burner. Don't strain anything. Just open the cans and dump it in. Start it cooking over low heat. It'll start reducing and thickening while you move on to the next step ...
3. In a large pan on a second burner, brown all of the ground meat with the chopped onion. Mix in the spices and McCormick's as you're browning. (I had to do this in two batches using a large pan.)
4. Once beef is browned, add it to the giant pot.
5. Pour in the Guinness. Also, drink one or two yourself.
6. Add the chopped Anaheim, Serrano and chipotles in adobo to the giant pot.
7. Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer.
8. Add the chopped bell peppers.
9. Strain the water from the corn and add that too.
10. Continue to simmer for an hour or so, stirring occasionally.

At this point, your chili is gong to be smokey and very spicy. The longer you let it simmer, the more it's going to thicken up to your preferred consistency. Now, taste it as it simmers. If you dig a smokey and spicy taste, you're probably good to go. But, I like to add a subtle sweetness to it ...

11. After it's been simmering for an hour or so, start stirring in heaping spoonfuls of brown sugar. After each spoonful, give it ten minutes or so and taste. Repeat as necessary.

The brown sugar won't take away from the smokey spice but will add a sweet after taste. You'll get the spicy bite up front and a sweet finish at the end of each spoonful.

Now dress your chili as you like. I go for shredded sharp cheddar and sour cream. You could add macaroni. You could put it on a chili dog. You could make nachos with it our eat it with corn chips. You could pour it in your ear if you want, although I don't recommend it.

Go buy this

2011-08-23T11:06:00.001-04:00

Go buy this. And read it. Or first, listen to Samuel L. Jackson's audio book version. And then, ask yourself why you didn't come up with this. You've thought it a hundred times. You were just too lazy to write it down. God, you need to get off your ass and do something with your life.

Real men cook

2011-05-07T10:24:00.002-04:00

I don't profess to be a real man. Or, to know how to cook. But I try. I'm adding this page to Braden's Blog as a rolling history of my experience as a new cook. For better or worse, I'll share with you recipes, mistakes and successes.

Ed O'Neill would be so proud

2011-01-10T11:25:00.002-05:00

The Divorcer

2010-12-24T11:56:00.000-05:00

We just booked our tickets for another January trip to Vermont (thanks mom and dad!) and it reminded me of our last trip. Let me tell you a story about marriage and how good intentions are a terrible terrible cancer and having them is generally a horrible horrible idea.

Andrea is from Plainfield, IN. Plainfield isn't really known for it's skiing and, accordingly, Andrea is not much of a skier (read: has never done it). So, while in Vermont, we went to Stowe and got her some lessons.

After skiing all over the land like the mountain lion of a specimen that I am, I made it over to the ski school at about the time her lesson was to end fully expecting to find that she quit half way through and got wasted on cocoa drinks at the lodge. Amazingly, she was still skiing. Solo now. She was hopping on the lift for the bunny run, barreling down, jumping back on the lift and repeating. She never fell and she was actually smiling. It was insane. I was beside myself. There was no reality TV playing anywhere to be seen and, somehow, she was still having a good time. She was actually having fun doing something I also enjoy. This was bananas.

And that's when it happened. It was at that precise moment that my best intentions took a big juicy dump directly on top of everything good about this day.

Me: "Andrea, this is fantastic! Look at you go! I'm so proud of you. This is something we can do together and isn't this wonderful? Rainbows and bunny rabbits! I just farted glitter! And, I have the best idea in the world ever since the beginning of time! There's a big huge mountain up there (pointing towards the rest of Stowe which, to Andrea, must've looked like K2). If you like this (pointing to the bunny slope), you'll LOVE that!"

Andrea: "Awe, that is so sweet. You are such a supportive husband and I want to support you supporting me. And snow skiing is better than ten kittens making sweet love on a fluffy cloud while a symphony of butterflies play the first Enigma album on tiny violins! So, I am going to go to the top of that mountain with you (pointing at the top of K2) and I'm going to ski down it."

Any reasonable person within 37 miles: "You two stupid fuggers are going to go up that mountain as a married couple and come down divorced. Two of you will go up and only 1.76 of you will come down. Either the husband will be covered in bite marks, missing his ass and the majority of his face or the wife will come down in a handful of pieces stuffed neatly in to a body bag with all the tree branches and leaves she took out on the way down."

Unfortunately neither of us engaged any reasonable people for advice. The only person we consulted was my father. "Hey dad, I'm going to take her up. See you in a few."

In hindsight, I should not have shrugged off the thinly veiled terror in his eyes when he said, "Are you sure? You could stop while you're ahead."

"Silly man," I thought. "Of course I'm sure. She's been skiing about seven seconds in her entire life now. What could go wrong?" And, up the lifts we went. To the top.

To be clear, at the base, this was all a very good idea. But, by the time we got to the top of the mountain, Andrea was spewing thick foam, blood and fire laced with terrifyingly vulgar profanity out of what used to look like her face but now resembled something you'd see on a six legged dog-like creature in a nightmare about the gates of Hell. Clearly, she was now the devil incarnate.

But, this was my fault.

I failed to recognize that skiing a bunny slope is akin to skiing to the end of your driveway at your suburban house in Plainfield, IN. However, skiing the entire height of a mountain in Vermont is not like that. And, if you've never been on a mountain, the idea of skiing down one from the very top where you can't see the bottom forces you to assume that there's nothing but jagged rocks, trees rigged with razor blades, pissed off grizzly bears and dismembered body parts between you and the cocoa drink at the lodge that you'll never see because, without doubt, you are going to die in the next 20 minutes.

After about thirty minutes of what must have resembled the sled scene from Christmas Vacation, we found ourselves at the top of another ski lift, still about 750 miles away from the bottom of the mountain. Fortunately, all that was sacrificed thus far was my testicles. (I'm pretty sure she bit them off in all of the confusion. And, by 'confusion', I mean 'unbridled husband-hating rage'.)

But it was too late. All hope was lost and it was now time to throw in the towel. I could have either buried her there on the side of the mountain (which did have some appeal at the time) or I could call a snow mobile up to the lift house and get her a ride down while I doubled back to find my testicles. I went with the latter plan and within 20 minutes, a 19 year old ski patrol version of Fabio-meets-Dr. McDreamy on a snow mobile was there to whisk her to safety. They rode off in to the sunset with his golden locks of hair flitting around showering her with essence of Cupid's breath while I skied to the base contemplating what my new future of marital discord was going to be like.

And that, my friends, is why good intentions only lead you to veiny rabies-faced verbal beatdowns at the hands of your spouse. It's also how a ski run in Vermont gets the dubious, unofficial name of 'The Divorcer'.

Buy this house: UPDATE

2010-12-23T15:46:00.003-05:00

Remember this post?

It worked. You bought the house. So, thank you. Very much. We close on February 16 and I'd appreciate it if you go easy on us during the inspection. The house is a freaking tank so there's really nothing to worry about anyway. The wife and I have narrowed our new house to two options and the less drama involved in selling this one, the better.

More to come on that. I'd love to tell you all about our new house but we haven't bought it yet. So, I will not be jinxing it.

Whatever Carrie

2010-12-09T12:03:00.010-05:00

My sister Carrie just got back from a few weeks in El Salvador. Where she built a bridge.

Here's something some media outlet wrote about it:
"Berta Alas is in her early fifties. Each day she has to negotiate the Río Comasagua, the river that lies between her home and the elementary school, chapel, small shops and community center that are the civic heart of El Charcón. When the river is low, Berta crosses a rickety suspension bridge. Badly damaged last year by Tropical Storm Ida, the bridge takes her half way across. She wades the rest of the way. When the river rises, as it always does during the six month rainy season, Berta cannot cross at all. The swollen river prevents her husband, Francisco Artiada, a member of the community governing board, from participating in sessions at the casa comunal (the community meeting room). Their five children miss days at school ... " etc, etc, blah, blah ...

So, these villagers in El Salvador don't have the resources to engineer a suitable bridge. Accordingly, for six months each year, they go with out education, medicine and all the goods that you'd secure in a market. Six months a year they are cut off from any resources they don't pull out of the dirt themselves. So, logically, Carrie's solution was to spend real money, fly down there, live in a jungleshithole with the Chupacabra (just kidding, I'm sure it's lovely this time of year) and use her big expensive civil engineering education to build them a bridge so that they can prosper as a civilization.

Hey Carrie, you know what I did over the last couple weeks while you were out saving the planet? Me neither. I don't think I did a goddamnthing.

So here's the deal Carrie, I'm going to need you to go build a few more bridges, advance a few more societies and maybe find a cure AIDS. That way, you can front me some good Karma from your surplus and then I can get in to heaven too. Deal?

photo credit: Bridges to Prosperity

Check out my dad's ass

2010-12-08T11:44:00.002-05:00

Passing the torch

2010-11-28T12:29:00.008-05:00

My parents recently moved in to a new house (three doors down from a house they previously owned) and came across my old Brio train sets. Thinking they'd make a great hand-me-down for Mason, they promptly shipped them out to me.

I'm not sure why, but I forgot how completely bad@ss Brio trains are. As soon as I got them, I tore open the box and confirmed that they are, in fact, still awesome. Then, I hit up eBay and doubled my collection.

Maybe one day I'll pass them on to Mason. In the meantime though, stay away from my trains boy.

Marin's first birthday

2010-11-28T11:37:00.007-05:00

Question: How do you throw a first birthday party that's memorable for a one year old?
Answer: You don't.

Question: How do you throw a first birthday party that doesn't suck for adults?
Answer: You rent a 15' by 15' bounce house with an attached 15' water slide for the entire weekend. You provide lots of booze and you limit the 'kid's birthday party' portion to one early afternoon.

Thanks to everyone who showed up. Thanks to one Amanda and an Anthony for keeping the party going late-night. Special thanks to another Amanda for losing her top on the slide.

Credit to Andrea and the good dudes at A Peace of Cake rentals for making this one happen.

Happy (belated) Halloween

2010-11-28T10:55:00.004-05:00

Because they're super. That's why.

Andrea gets all the credit for putting these little get-ups together. Halloween was a hit and now we've got enough candy to pay for the college educations of every dentist's kid on the north side of the city.

The difference a year makes

2010-11-28T10:34:00.005-05:00

You'll possibly remember this video post from July '09. Well, twelve months later, Mason went semi-pro*. He brought his 'A game' every week and now he has the hardware to prove it.

I haven't confirmed this but I am fairly confident that the league dues go directly to doses of Prozac for the head coach and a trophy for each player. As assistant coach, I didn't get any Prozac. But, I did get awesome brick dust highlights in most of my work shoes.

*Semi-pro = YMCA tee-ball.

C'mon horse

2010-11-28T09:59:00.002-05:00

I know this isn't the season Colts fans are accustom to but c'mon horse. Don't let San Diego do it to us again. Please.

MONDAY MORNING UPDATE: They folded like a freaking lawn chair. Dammit. The era of shamelessly kicking the crap out of everybody is officially over.

From the archives

2010-11-23T10:38:00.005-05:00

While we're picking on our friend's kids here at The Braden's Blog, check out this little gem I found in the archives!

This is Toni. (Anthony and Megan's kid.) Toni found some 'stickers'. And, by 'stickers' I mean 'pads'. Note: When a child is silent for more than 11 seconds they are, without doubt, either dead or doing something that they shouldn't. Have you ever removed a maxipad from a child's hair? Brother, you are not livin' 'til you have.

Hmmmmm ...

2010-11-23T10:19:00.005-05:00

Well. Um. What can I say? Elle, I apologize in advance for the painfully awkward moment 12 years from now when one of your classmates finds this photo and shows all of your other classmates. And Mason, well, I ju - oh screw it. I like where your heads at.

Dionne, you should come over more often.

Buy this house

2010-11-23T09:13:00.010-05:00

Remember this post? Of course you don't. No one reads this blog. I digress ... Well, we sold it! Yes. Thank you. I know, I'm pretty proud too. It only cost me $6k to sell that one. FML.

And since that experience was so much fun, (don't you just love what they've done to the housing market?) Andrea and I have decided to try to sell our house as well. Yay.

8004 Sandi Court Realtor.com Listing

You know you want this house. We're asking $170k-ish but I can tell you like the house. Look, I make special deal for you. You pay $190k-ish, you can have house.

New roof. New windows. New french doors in the back. New kitchen. New master bath. New windows. Blah blah blah.

And, in case you haven't put two and two together yet, this is also the location of the Braden's Blog Headquarters. That's right folks. This house comes with The Man Barn. And it hurts. I don't want to talk about it. Do you want the house or not?

Bad news and good news

2010-11-22T17:08:00.008-05:00

We just got back from a four day weekend at Wasatch Lake with the Browns. We rented cabins 8 and 9 and had a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving Day Dinner. Seriously. We deep fried a turkey and everything.

Anyway, the good news is that Wasatch Lake is still as awesome as it was the previous 37 times we've been there.

The bad news is that you're still not invited. Unless you're awesome. Then, in that case, you're more than welcome.

Photo credit: Andrea

UPDATE 11/23: It would appear that I took a little Wasatch Lake home with me. This morning I dug a tick out of a dark, warm space. I'm serious. I had a tick on my balls. Never thought I'd say that.

Bring your green hat!

2010-11-22T16:17:00.008-05:00

Above is a sneak peek at the 2010 Nicholson Christmas Card. We thought about posing them on a majestic unicorn perched atop a beautiful rainbow bu- No. No actually we didn't think about that at all. That's not how we roll. Anyway, you'll get yours in the mail soon. Happy holidays. Loveyoumeanit.

Photo credit: Andrea

Confession

2010-11-22T15:14:00.003-05:00

Confession: I've been a closeted technophile.

Twitter
Facebook
LinkedIn

There. I'm out.

I blew it

2010-11-22T14:25:00.003-05:00

Remember last year, at about this time, when I said that the Braden's Blog Staff would do more posting this year?

Well, I lied. It's a cruel world. But, to make it up to you, I'm going to cram one year's worth of activity in to about a month's worth of flurryposting. Yes, I made that word up. It's a Web 3.0 word now.

I'll start the flurry with a tease ... You'll recall me wondering what to do with the Hoorayforbeer.com domain name. Good news. My buddy JB and I started making beer. And it's good beer. And by 'good beer' I mean that I haven't actually tried it yet because it's in its second fermentation but it's beer. So, by nature, it is good. More to come on that.

Read and laugh

2010-10-13T13:51:00.002-04:00

It's funny. That's why.

http://theoatmeal.com/comics/design_changes