Yeehaw, saddle on up, get the bar-keep to pour you a couple of fingers of Sarsaparilla and help me relive the tale of Week 22 of my epic lockdown adventure, WWWSI (Wine, Westerns & Wotsits : Staying In).
Steak night is a nervy one for me. Only my second in #WWWSI history, but the first one (week 13) had been such a success, I could only make a mess of the follow up attempt.
You see, this week's wine was Malbec , originally French but made famous by Maradona's mob as the Macc Lads once put it "Fray Bentos and cheap red wine, is all they eat in the Argentine".
I was a bit distrustful of Malbec, for whenever I'm in a posh Surrey dining pub, the type that treats Tier 2 as their 'normal', Wonersh for example, couples with little upturned noses always ask for a bottle of Malbec whilst sideways sneering at my fifth pint of St Austell Tribute of the day.
I'm a convert now however, I got the one recommended in my book by Kevin (there are three blokes, Mike & Jeff are the other two but I trust Kevin most cos of Sheedy, Kilbane and the one off of Roland Rat). It was more black wine than red wine, big and full bodied packing a real Rob Dewhurst style 'hoof', just how I like it.
Nothing shite about Clos de los Siete. Wanna gain an extra WWWSI bonus point by looking at a picture of an Argentinian vineyard? Go on then .......
Not quite sure why the handball cheat needed to get into Cocaine with this stuff all over, oh well, each to their own.
When you're planning steak and chips, the last thing you want is a harsh Wotsit roll. SIX was not what was required. That equates to 99g of Giant Wotsits, pretty much exactly what I had left in the pack.
All set to go on the steak front then, so I popped on the tunes of Herb Alpert and his Tijuana Brass buddies and with 'Winds of Barcelona' sweeping through my kitchen, the pan was sizzling, the steak room temperature and massaged with salt, pepper, a bit of garlic, lurpak on standby, time to get cooking.
Chunky chips in the oven were five mins away, hat and jacket on, and peppercorn sauce whirring in the microwave to speed me up a bit, Malbec within reach. Perfick.
Perhaps it was over confidence, but I heard a big 'pop' from behind me, initially I thought it was some high intensity Herb Alpert percussion, but then I realised the awful truth ......
PEPPERCORN SAUCE EXPLOSION!
I salvaged what I could, added a couple of slightly charred tomatoes, and we were ready to take it through.
Whilst we are on the peppercorn sauce issue, formal apology to follower Emily Keith. You may remember in week 13, I poured the sauce all over the chips from the start. Daddy Wotsit and Tom Irvin criticised this move, I blamed Emily, but it seems I misunderstood her and the sauce really only was for dipping them in. I learned my lesson this time.
Not a bad salvage operation anyway, time to go through to the main room and on with the film ......
With makeshift fairy Colin the Cauliflower craning his non-existent neck from the top of the mini tree (same company who supply Holby City's set - fun fact), it was time to get going.
I underdid the steak a bit for my needs, was more 'rare' than the 'medium rare' I think I prefer, I blame Peppercorn-gate for distracting me. But overall, it was still very yummy high quality fillet cut, and really did go superbly with the Malbec. The Wotsits were easily achievable too! (this is where you chant 'you fat bastard' at me).
I struggled to get started with the film as Twitter was distracting me, and my Christmas lights fell down and needed sticking back up. Also I forgot about dimming my lights again, and realised I wasn't warm enough so was constantly fidgeting.
Once I got settled, I really enjoyed High Plains Drifter, a classic 70's Clint Eastwood effort.
It starts off in the best possible way. Clint walks into a bar, and not only am I delighted to hear him actually ask for 'beer', but the method of dispense is handpump. And get this, the guv'nor actually says "we only have one on!" to which Clint gives him a Taylor-esque "that don't bother me" look and takes it out to the front, locals eyeballing him like the Cornish would.
In fact, it is a tin mining town by the sea, so it was screaming Zennor at me from the word go.
The ale was so pale, it reminded me of that stuff you get in every identikit micropub in South Manchester (Twatton Blonde or something).
After a few pints of it, he goes to the barber for a shave, three of the locals follow him and threaten him so he shoots them to bits.
The only real opposition he gets is from a mouthy young woman. So he drags her into the barn and rapes her. The locals reckon she probably enjoyed it. The only other woman really (as we say in 2020) 'calls him out' on his behaviour, but he just reckons she fancies him too, and when she's about to stab him, they sleep together anyway and she loves him after that. Yes, call me part of the #MeToo movement but Clint's attitude to the ladies is what we kids would call 'problematic'. The seventies eh? Anything goes!
Other than all that, really is a classic film. Basically, the locals are a bunch of wet flannels, and need defending from three other baddies. The sheriff reckons only Clint can manage it,
so he says "name your price" and they basically offer him anything he wants, so end up doing a deal with the devil. Clint totally takes the piss, paints every building red, renames it hell,gives Mexican kids lots of blankets, 'buys' £500 worth of shoes for zero cost, appoints this funny small guy as new sheriff, all sorts of craziness.
When the baddies finally show, they do manage to overpower the inept locals, but Clint has been lurking in t'shadows, and manages to pick them off one by one, and rides out of town next morning after breakfast. Job's a good 'un, and an enjoyable film that didn't drag and I could kind of follow even with the strong wine.
Next Week
Or this week now, and after the film ended, I drunkenly staggered back into the kitchen, rolled the double dice, and Winchester '73 (film 67) is next on the list.
The wine, Mavrud, has been shipped from Italy and isn't here yet so no guarantee I'll do the night as early as this Thursday, which was my original plan. Merlot failing that.
Wotsit roll TBC but we might try those giant hot ones, and food depends on what wine comes.
Take care and thanks for reading, I wonder if there are any Christmas themed Westerns. Comment below if you know.
Cheers, Si
Kevin Francis, Kevin Ellison, of course, I can't think of as many trustworthy Mike or Jeff characters can you? Edwards? Barmby? Doesn't quite have the same ooomph.
Contender for 'might be a decent pub town but the locals are so bad, you'd never be able to get past that in your mind when judging pubs' award maybe? I cannot give Donny any award other than crapness.
Of course, microwave door last spotted galloping across Knavesmire. My first thought on the night was 'oh dear', but my second was 'will be good blog material, now where is my phone to take a photo?'
Cheers Tom as always!
Kevin is a trustworthy name of the highest order. Out of all the footballers I have ever seen, Kevin Ellison is a contender for the most honest, workaday out there. Would always trust him. Not so sure about that Kilbane chap though, he is up there but he is no Big Kev.
Your description of the crap inept locals in the film reminds me of Doncaster, a town where you would surprisingly find a back street pub with one ale on. Contender for most underrated pub town in the country.
Thank you for your clarification on the chip issue. People called Emily are always right. Also well done on exploding the sauce in the microwave, I trust the microwave door…