Preakness Day Proper 2013

Preakness day dawned cloudy and chilly and while I hoped against hope and logic that the sun would do a repeat of its glorious path through the sky on Black Eyed Susan Day, it was not to be. At one point it full-on rained, driving those of us with seats not protected by the overhang of the upper grandstand back. The race track doesn't have much in the way of indoor seating on any given day, but especially not on a day where all seats were spoken for...so that left a great many of us standing around in odd places or sitting in others' seats just to be dislodged once the rightful owners returned. It also predicated layers that covered up the ladies' outfits. But L. and Fat T. still looked pretty slick.

This is when the rain was really coming down in earnest.

D. looking on and ignoring the rain. B. was also able to attend, and it was good to see her. I also made additional sandwiches of the roast beef, asiago cheese and horse radish variety.

Three cousins in a row.

Two friends in a row.

One fat headed friend and two less so (in this instance the fat headed person is me, not Fat T.) in a row.

The crowd.

While everyone and their mother expected great things from Orb, it was Oxbow who ended up winning the big race.

Dude with giant, but seemingly not all that recent camera getting a view of the main stretch.

Crabs c/o Crackpot

Last year Dad and I both were excited about the opportunity of having crabs after a day at the races, and we ended up at Crackpot, which was much to our collective liking. While our Black Eyed Susan day lineup was different than last year, crabs were still on the agenda. D. and R. couldn't come, as they had the drive back to Silver Spring to keep in mind, but V., L., Fat T., my father and I all happily made the trek to Crackpot. It's a pretty nondescript place from the outside, tucked into a strip mall in Towson with an attached liquor and wine store, but inside the restaurant's walls are laden with maritime themed doo dads and painted fish and the vibe is decidedly chill and knowing.

We were on top of it enough to have made a reservation for a table and two dozen jumbo crabs, so when we sat down most all of our decisions were already made. What wasn't made, however, was the knowledge base L. and Fat T. needed for their first ever (ever!) experience with blue crabs. I found this a bit surprising, but then I realized that while I don't very often feel like a Marylander, I was one for the first half of my life simply by the geographical location of my birth and childhood...and that comes with certain inalienable rights: like knowing what it is to sit down at a paper-covered table and dive into a pile of Old Bay laden hard shelled blue crabs...something Long Islanders like L. and Fat T. simply wouldn't have been as exposed to during their respective youths. But no worries, my father was happy to expound his own crab wisdom to new ears.

I had a Fat Tire beer with a hammer chaser.

And then the crabs arrived.

Beautiful, beautiful crabbies.

L. took to seducing hers.

Another more hands-on tutorial.

I would say that it was a success. Fat T. and L. seemed to very much enjoy the process and the result.

T. was very triumphant over a portion of shell that he had helped turn into a mountain.

Detritus.

Lovely, lovely meal. I was very happy about it. While I realize that I have to make sure that I get my soft shell crab fix soon (tis the season), it was good to remember the far more labor intensive process that is deconstructing a crab that hasn't shed its shell. All around good time.

Pre-Pimlico Racing Weekend Meal c/o b.

 A few weekends back it was time for the annual running of the Preakness. The big race - The Preakness - is run on Saturday, but the Friday before - known as Black Eyed Susan Day - is also a relatively big deal, especially in Baltimore. Historically my parents, the T.'s and a few others would do both days of races, driving up from Silver Spring each day and then driving back down at the end. Last year we all stayed in our cousin V.'s house in nearby Towson and it was decided that my father, me, and L. and Fat T. would do so again. L. and Fat T. couldn't arrive until Friday morning, so it was only me who arrived late Thursday afternoon. The drive was solid, nothing surprising. After a bit of chatting on V.'s delightful porch, we set off to the Bolton Hill area of Baltimore to enjoy a dinner al fresco courtesy of b. Bistro. The Bolton Hill area, as far as I could determine, has a pretty similar vibe to my own Art Museum/Fairmount Philadelphia neighborhood, and is not unlike Cobble Hill or Carroll Gardens in Brooklyn. All to say that its lined with buildings I think you could refer to as brown stones, which often enough have nicely landscaped front stoops and streets that include the occasional shade bearing tree. It's cute, is what I'm saying. b. was also cute. The evening was lovely, temperature-wise, so we weren't the only ones sitting outside, enjoying the not-too-hot, not-too-cold environs. We started our dinner with a bottle of wine and fried oysters. The batter around each oyster was thick and crunchy, so much so that at my father's first bite there was a moment where we heard a sound that initially seemed to signify tooth against shell bit...but upon closer and careful mouth inspection on my father's part, it was determined that no, it was just an especially fiesty batter morsel. Oysters were nice and sweet and succulent inside their new battered shells. And the greens and dressing that accompanied them were also solid. I could have done with perhaps a little more of a lemon element, but that's my only complaint.

 Dad and the wine.

I chose the Organic Salmon with crispy skin pan roasted, green onion polenta cake,
sauteed spinach, and fire roasted red pepper coulis. The fish was excellently prepared, tender and not dry at all. I enjoyed especially the crispy skin element and the polenta cake, an element of some plates I really could take or leave, was a little more interesting than many. The coulis was also a nice touch.

Dad had the special fish of the day with a crab risotto with English peas and corn, which was also nicely executed. V. ordered the scallops and the bite of said dish I had was proof positive that the folks in the kitchen know their way around seafood. Everything was just on point.

What a wonderful first meal for the racing weekend. Thanks to V. for the suggestion and Dad for the meal itself.

Black Eyed Susan Day At Pimlico Racetrack, In Reverse

This year's immediate group of Preakness attendees included me, my father, D an B, V and M (first cousins of my father) and L., M.'s friend and fellow horse enthusiast. These are photographs I took on Black Eyed Susan Day, in reverse because Blogger is being funny. 

I got a pretty big kick out of this.

My father did quite well for himself the first day at the track and his knowing smile is a reflection of that.

We were in the lower grandstand with assigned seats. Front row, just a smidge away from the finish line, significantly closer than we were last year. The sun was pretty powerful for the first few hours of our day, but once the upper grandstand's shadow crept to us, the seats and weather were pretty ideal.

This looks like a race to the finish, but these horses actually started a scant distance from the finish line and then would wrap all the way back around. I doubt that this 4 horse lasted the whole way through.

But it looks good at the moment.

 Another view of our seats. We were seven, with six seats that you can see right here and an additional seat within the same area but farther back. B. spent a fair amount of time in that odd seat out, getting to know the older gentleman next to her who had come all the way from Texas. 

Me and a hat and lipstick.

On non-special crazy event race days, I would make it down the the paddock to take a look at the horses far more often than I do on the Preakness weekend. First off, Pimlico's paddock isn't the best as far as viewing options, and factor in the larger crowds and it can become a nightmare...this is, I imagine, one big reason they saddle the actual Preakness horses on the grass outside. That and the pageantry of it. But I did make it to the paddock for one race, thinking that would help my betting. It didn't. I'm a terrible bettor. I simply go by look and name and have never quite been able to take in and process the additional information that a race program can give me. In any case, look a this horse's ears, all perked up and interested in what's going on outside. 

The track, stripped away of some of its momentary glamor.

The view from another direction.

Totally out of order. I found this horse particularly beautiful, but I'm pretty sure it didn't win, place or show.

Legend lady jockey. Each year they have one race where women jockeys - most of whom are retired - come out and race. I think this woman may have come in second or third. Or maybe she's just smiling because it's good to gallop?

Pretty sure this is the winner.

B. was kind enough to make us all sandwiches.

Yup, this is the winning lady legend horse.

This woman was particularly pleased about it.

The Preakness Backwards

I am on a beach vacation right now and have tried to pretend that I do not have full internet capabilities, but I began to have nightmares of all the meals and photographs collecting dust and unaired for all to see. What? Before I left I carefully chose and edited down the photographs I thought I would use to depict that which was Preakness Day. But somehow in the drive to NC, I have completely lost that piece of paper and far too lazy to spend the dedicated time to be similarly thorough a second time. So here, folks, you get a slew of Preakness photos starting at the end and working back to the beginning. Could I do it differently? Yes. Am I? Well clearly not. Here is Shackleford a few furlongs away from winning the Preakness. I love how there really is a second when a horse is running and all four of its feet are in the air. Neat-o.

The Preakness beginning. Just having gone through all the photos quickly, I was surprised to learn that Shackleford was in the front of the bunch from the starting gate all the way til the end. Or maybe he pulled back a little and then surged again. Often if a horse I bet on is in the front clump at the beginning of the race, I'm fairly certain that they'll be at the back by the finish line. So well done Shackleford. I lost more than I won, but I did have the exacta.
This dude's job was mainly to sit on a chair all day and make sure no one went up or down a flight of stairs. I'm sure if there had been rowdiness or fights he may have tried to clean it up, but mainly he sat and, from the look of it, got sunburned.
I forget exactly what task these guys did, but the two on the right seem wiped and not all that happy while the two on the left seem tired but in good spirits. They didn't seem like the best of friends.
There were many worrisomely skinny rich women, take this woman for example. Yes, she's buff, but girl needs to eat some things. Look at her waist. It gives me the shivers. There are times when I'm jealous of the slender and sleek, but in this instance I just worried that these women were going to fall over. And I felt sad that some aspect of their lives (husbands/boyfriends?) compelled them to this level of crazy town. Or maybe their metabolisms are naturally that good. Scoff.
Hat.
Never bet on a gray. They will lose, no matter how pretty you think they are.
So this is all before the Preakness, here is the woman who always interviews the winner on their horse after the race is done. Well, she doesn't interview the horse but the jockey, of course.
The ordered colored chaos of the saddling area.
Note the horse rearing. Everything was fine.
Pretty horse. Didn't win.
This is what I looked like.
This is something I saw in the sky. I wonder if Nancy said yest to Ozzie. I wonder if Nancy was a wee bit annoyed to be proposed to in such a public way.
Men and women came out of the sky. I took one million photographs of them, but here is one.
What it looked like inside.