...for roasting that pig's head. Seriously, any kind of party will do. Any kind of anything will do. Call me.
And this business of being on the Internet once a week is madness. Perhaps I can blame this madness on Lent.
I'm starting to think that I'm on this offal kick for the same reason I dress in the manner that I do. Shockin' the squares. Maybe I like getting stared at and having my picture taken from a Skyline drive-through. My buddy Joe will often come over and he'll see the jar on the top of the refrigerator. He'll asked, "Lordamercy! What are those!?" He does it every week. I say, "Those? Oh, they're pickled pig's ears. Do you want one?" Then, I'll eat one (they're not very good) and he'll blanche a little and we'll do it all over again next week. Then we'll have a real dinner and I'll drink a beer and we'll gossip for a few hours.
See, I can't figure out whether those are bull testicles in my freezer of pork ones. I mean, they're not really as big as you might think. They're really not much bigger than mine, although they look more or less like you might think. They're about the size of hand grenades. I think I'm going to have a little trouble with an overative imagination while I sit down to eat these. maybe I'll eat them at your party. Or maybe you'll eat them at my party. Maybe after I give you a rufie.
So, to apologize for never posting here's some awesome photos from Belarus.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
American charcuterie II: The Reckoning. Goetta Job.
I keep not writing in this goddamn blog. I'm just going to skip the offal dinner for now since it's clearly blowing my mind grapes even now.
Instead, having been to Cincinnati and gorged on diner goetta I was enthralled. I couldn't stand it. So, I made it myself. You know, Park CHili was a fantastic experience. it's in Northside and sitting in a Formica booth and gazing out that plate glass window and looking at that row of buildings. Quite majestic. Plus, they don't use any plastic at the place.
This is clearly the work of an immigrant here. It costs less than a dollar a pound to make this stuff. Fantastic, especially considering it costs four dollars a pound...when you can find it without a drive. Kroger does ell it, but they only sell the round kind and I actually like the square kind better. Perhaps it's because I'm such a square myself. Anyway, they also sell a "hot" variety which is also fantastic. My Uncle Jughead swears up and down that's the greatest hangover cure. That and Skyline. Which is also true.
Cincinnati loves to boil meat. It's weird. Their inimitable aforementioned style of chili that I can't get enough of is also done that way. Browning ruins it. I know, crazy. Well, to make this goetta I looked up two recipes. One is kind of country style and the other was pretty straight, greasy-ass diner food. The country style is just an onion, a pork shoulder and the oats. That's it. Well, that's it minus seasonings but that shit doesn't count. You should have salt and bay leaves lying around--they repel moths, you know--anyway. Unless you just read this blog for the jokes. Chop the onion finely. If it makes you cry still you can think on something really sad, like they're building a parking garage on Jefferson Street. Now, chop up the pork shoulder and throw it into the water. The recipe I used called for two quarts but my shoulder was too big anyway (four pounds almost) and I rarely measure that shit. So I threw it all in there. Cook until tender. Pull the bone out. that's what she said. Chop the meat. or grind it, it depends on how you like it. No, cook the oats (three cupsish) for an hour in the broth, stirring frequently. Listen to that awesome New Wave record you bought. Now put the meat back in and cook for another how, stirring some more. Eventually it'll get so thick that it'll start to brown on the bottom as it cooks. Now it the time to stop and pour the sludge into a loaf pan or a casserole dish and let it cool off, then chill. Cut it up and fry fry fry! Let the goetta ride the lightning!
The other way is the same, but with equal parts ground beef, ground pork,a nd two cups of oats. It still has to boil for, like, the run time of the first three Metallica records. It follows the same general course. Also, if you want, like, a "real" recipe this guy's on the right track.
Now, the "country style" isn't really all that abd for you. There's very little in it, and you'll probably have to let it ride the lightning in a pan with additional fat. Not true of the other kind, which is super greasy. And goooood. So, it depends, I think, on what you want out of life. I'll let you know when I do.
Anyway, this is an American recipe no matter what wikipedia tells you. Also, if you want some please tell me because I have ten pounds and love to share. The cost is one beer.
Also, I'll probably get back to posting fairly regularly as I have a metric fuckton of offal to cook. I even have a whole pig's head. And I am so excited about preparing that and barfing all over myself.
Instead, having been to Cincinnati and gorged on diner goetta I was enthralled. I couldn't stand it. So, I made it myself. You know, Park CHili was a fantastic experience. it's in Northside and sitting in a Formica booth and gazing out that plate glass window and looking at that row of buildings. Quite majestic. Plus, they don't use any plastic at the place.
This is clearly the work of an immigrant here. It costs less than a dollar a pound to make this stuff. Fantastic, especially considering it costs four dollars a pound...when you can find it without a drive. Kroger does ell it, but they only sell the round kind and I actually like the square kind better. Perhaps it's because I'm such a square myself. Anyway, they also sell a "hot" variety which is also fantastic. My Uncle Jughead swears up and down that's the greatest hangover cure. That and Skyline. Which is also true.
Cincinnati loves to boil meat. It's weird. Their inimitable aforementioned style of chili that I can't get enough of is also done that way. Browning ruins it. I know, crazy. Well, to make this goetta I looked up two recipes. One is kind of country style and the other was pretty straight, greasy-ass diner food. The country style is just an onion, a pork shoulder and the oats. That's it. Well, that's it minus seasonings but that shit doesn't count. You should have salt and bay leaves lying around--they repel moths, you know--anyway. Unless you just read this blog for the jokes. Chop the onion finely. If it makes you cry still you can think on something really sad, like they're building a parking garage on Jefferson Street. Now, chop up the pork shoulder and throw it into the water. The recipe I used called for two quarts but my shoulder was too big anyway (four pounds almost) and I rarely measure that shit. So I threw it all in there. Cook until tender. Pull the bone out. that's what she said. Chop the meat. or grind it, it depends on how you like it. No, cook the oats (three cupsish) for an hour in the broth, stirring frequently. Listen to that awesome New Wave record you bought. Now put the meat back in and cook for another how, stirring some more. Eventually it'll get so thick that it'll start to brown on the bottom as it cooks. Now it the time to stop and pour the sludge into a loaf pan or a casserole dish and let it cool off, then chill. Cut it up and fry fry fry! Let the goetta ride the lightning!
The other way is the same, but with equal parts ground beef, ground pork,a nd two cups of oats. It still has to boil for, like, the run time of the first three Metallica records. It follows the same general course. Also, if you want, like, a "real" recipe this guy's on the right track.
Now, the "country style" isn't really all that abd for you. There's very little in it, and you'll probably have to let it ride the lightning in a pan with additional fat. Not true of the other kind, which is super greasy. And goooood. So, it depends, I think, on what you want out of life. I'll let you know when I do.
Anyway, this is an American recipe no matter what wikipedia tells you. Also, if you want some please tell me because I have ten pounds and love to share. The cost is one beer.
Also, I'll probably get back to posting fairly regularly as I have a metric fuckton of offal to cook. I even have a whole pig's head. And I am so excited about preparing that and barfing all over myself.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
My new favorite blog.
Delightful!
I can't decide between the whole pizzas instead of hamburger buns or the gravy pizza. Actually, just give me one of each.
I can't decide between the whole pizzas instead of hamburger buns or the gravy pizza. Actually, just give me one of each.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
American charcuterie.
More or less, that's what this is.
I had a few odds and ends lying around and I wanted to eat a bunch of piggy stuffed with piggy wrapped with piggy. The basis of this blog, in short. So, I made one of the best things I've ever made. And, it's pretty easy. The hard part is owning a food processor.
I don't quite know what to call it but we could go with something like:
Goetta mousseline stuffed pork loin with bacon weave.
Let's start with the pork loin. Pork loins are kinda dry and kinda boring. So, we're going to spice things up a little bit. That is, I think pork loins don't have quite nearly enough fat in them. We must go about adding more to it. Go ahead and sit down, collect yourself, and have a beer. I'll wait.
Okay, I bought a hlaf loin from the rib side. I don't think it really matters which one you use. I suppose you could usea whole one, but don't buy one of those loins that's bigger than my arm. Please. Now, if it's not about a foot long trim it up and reserve the fat. Also slice off the silverskin. You don't have to be carful at all, as all the leftover bits are going striaght into the food processor. Actually, the hardest part os going to be cutting piggy open. Since you'll want to make a loose spiral inside it. It doesn't matter too much. Just fold a business letter for an envelope in reverse with the piggy flesh. Very simple.
Make a bacon weave by just like you would in craft class but with stips of bacon instead of construction paper. This is going to get wrapped around the whole thing. it works out much better than simply wrapping it in one layer of bacon and looks incredible.
Now, the fun part. The goetta mouselline. We used to make this at Le Relais. Essentially, it's just a sausage but instead of a casing you use more meat. Fry up a half pound of goetta, browning it nicely, then stick it in the feezer so as not to turn up the heat on our pig goo. Take all the scrap bits and throw them in the food processor. Turn it into meat goo by running it for a hot minute. Drop in the cooled goetta and all the fat from the pan. This looks great. Throw in the leftover bacon. Now add an egg and last, cream. You add the cream last becuase otherwise it would aerate which would be BAD NEWS!!!
Lay the pork loin, which is now a square piece of meat one foot by one foot and a couple incchs thick. Slather that delicious pig goo in there. With your hands. Now roll the fucker up and put it in a pan. Mix some maple syrup and some cider vinegar together, rub it in to the things and cook it until 160 or two hours or so.
And just in case it was still too dry (unlikely!) I made a kind of fast and loose gastrique-y gravy with the pan drippings.
I know, none of this even matters because I didn't even make a photograph of it. Oops. I should really put up a paypal button. Still, since you'd be slicing the thing you could keep it warm and it would work out great for dinner parties. I served mine with butternut squash puree (which can be made ahead of time) and brussel sprouts. It also made fantastic sandwiches cold.
Here's a photo of bacon weave:
I had a few odds and ends lying around and I wanted to eat a bunch of piggy stuffed with piggy wrapped with piggy. The basis of this blog, in short. So, I made one of the best things I've ever made. And, it's pretty easy. The hard part is owning a food processor.
I don't quite know what to call it but we could go with something like:
Goetta mousseline stuffed pork loin with bacon weave.
Let's start with the pork loin. Pork loins are kinda dry and kinda boring. So, we're going to spice things up a little bit. That is, I think pork loins don't have quite nearly enough fat in them. We must go about adding more to it. Go ahead and sit down, collect yourself, and have a beer. I'll wait.
Okay, I bought a hlaf loin from the rib side. I don't think it really matters which one you use. I suppose you could usea whole one, but don't buy one of those loins that's bigger than my arm. Please. Now, if it's not about a foot long trim it up and reserve the fat. Also slice off the silverskin. You don't have to be carful at all, as all the leftover bits are going striaght into the food processor. Actually, the hardest part os going to be cutting piggy open. Since you'll want to make a loose spiral inside it. It doesn't matter too much. Just fold a business letter for an envelope in reverse with the piggy flesh. Very simple.
Make a bacon weave by just like you would in craft class but with stips of bacon instead of construction paper. This is going to get wrapped around the whole thing. it works out much better than simply wrapping it in one layer of bacon and looks incredible.
Now, the fun part. The goetta mouselline. We used to make this at Le Relais. Essentially, it's just a sausage but instead of a casing you use more meat. Fry up a half pound of goetta, browning it nicely, then stick it in the feezer so as not to turn up the heat on our pig goo. Take all the scrap bits and throw them in the food processor. Turn it into meat goo by running it for a hot minute. Drop in the cooled goetta and all the fat from the pan. This looks great. Throw in the leftover bacon. Now add an egg and last, cream. You add the cream last becuase otherwise it would aerate which would be BAD NEWS!!!
Lay the pork loin, which is now a square piece of meat one foot by one foot and a couple incchs thick. Slather that delicious pig goo in there. With your hands. Now roll the fucker up and put it in a pan. Mix some maple syrup and some cider vinegar together, rub it in to the things and cook it until 160 or two hours or so.
And just in case it was still too dry (unlikely!) I made a kind of fast and loose gastrique-y gravy with the pan drippings.
I know, none of this even matters because I didn't even make a photograph of it. Oops. I should really put up a paypal button. Still, since you'd be slicing the thing you could keep it warm and it would work out great for dinner parties. I served mine with butternut squash puree (which can be made ahead of time) and brussel sprouts. It also made fantastic sandwiches cold.
Here's a photo of bacon weave:
Friday, February 13, 2009
Who wants to go to this with me?
A "Head-to-Tail Dinner" At JeanRo Bistro in Cincinnati:
Veal Sweet Bread Torchon
Sauce Gribiche, Celery Leaf Salad
Lamb Heart
Roasted Golden Beets, Apple Quince Puree, Lovage Herb Salad
Corned beef hash of Corned Beef Tongue
Pommes Lyonnais, Red Wine Poached Egg, Bordelaise
Brined and Roasted Pork Belly
Spiced Oat Meal, Henderson Compote, Rioja Reduction
Fennel Sorbet
Lamb Brain Ravioli
Sage & Parmesan Butter, Lemon Zest
Hay Scented Ham
Bacon Broth Roasted Enoki Mushrooms, Baby Carrots, Scallions, Crispy Pigs Ear
24 Hour Braised Beef Short Rib
Sautéed Bone Marrow, Wheat Berry Risotto, Parsley Salad
Smoked Honey Gelato
Spice Cake Foie Gras Cotton Candy
8 courses for $80, with wine pairings $120. For reservations, call 513.621.1465
I'm actually not kidding at all. It sounds great!
Veal Sweet Bread Torchon
Sauce Gribiche, Celery Leaf Salad
Lamb Heart
Roasted Golden Beets, Apple Quince Puree, Lovage Herb Salad
Corned beef hash of Corned Beef Tongue
Pommes Lyonnais, Red Wine Poached Egg, Bordelaise
Brined and Roasted Pork Belly
Spiced Oat Meal, Henderson Compote, Rioja Reduction
Fennel Sorbet
Lamb Brain Ravioli
Sage & Parmesan Butter, Lemon Zest
Hay Scented Ham
Bacon Broth Roasted Enoki Mushrooms, Baby Carrots, Scallions, Crispy Pigs Ear
24 Hour Braised Beef Short Rib
Sautéed Bone Marrow, Wheat Berry Risotto, Parsley Salad
Smoked Honey Gelato
Spice Cake Foie Gras Cotton Candy
8 courses for $80, with wine pairings $120. For reservations, call 513.621.1465
I'm actually not kidding at all. It sounds great!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
I am given to understand that blogs are meant to be updated weekly.
Well, my laptop crashed immediately after I got power back at the ol' apartmentstead. So, blog-writing has been SOL.
Also, I managed to lose a bunch of piggy in the ensuing chaos where I was wandering lonely as a cloud from place to place around the metropolitan area trying, in vain, to maintain sanity.
I got a hot tip that there was a place out in the west end that sold lots of piggy. Well, naturally this is the kind of place I like. I had never been out that way before, to Virginia and 28th Street. It's in the Parkland neighborhood. This is a neighborhood with a somewhat tumultuous history according to Wikipedia.
Anyway, I got there after getting pretty lost. Really, I only found the place because I had given up trying to find it and wanted to look at all the nice old houses and the Masonic temple. It's a surprisingly dense block, discounting the bombed-out vacant lot across from it. Anyway, the place looks like an old Winn-Dixie. I don't know why, exactly. Perhaps it was the color scheme.
Anyway, once I did walk into the place I found that it was poorly-lit and practically deserted. In the square footage of this old Winn-Dixie they had naught but two aisles of groceries spaced forty feet apart and a butcher display in the back. No big deal. I'm just here for the meat. Also, it was unheated. Likewise: no big deal. That just means they don't have to refrigerate. Well, meat they had. I bought a whole slab of pork belly. it looked great even though it turned out to be salt pork. They had whole oxtails, lots pf piggy, and a bunch of steaks and (blech) poultry. I aksed for snouts and he siad they were out of "snoots." Although, according to Lord Internet that might actually be cheeks. Either way, I'll have to go back and buy some.Well, I bought some maws, ears, the salt pork, chitlins, and the piece de resistance: a pound of brain. You might think that a fellow such as myself coming in a buying thirty dollars worth of pork might raise and eyebrow. Not so much. He just shoved it all into a garbage bag and bid me good day.
And I hate to tell you but I managed to lose it all during that confounded ice storm when my fridge went flooey for ten days. However, I did manage to save the brain! I sent myself a reminder on a nice engraved "save the brain" card. And I cooked it with eggs. Nice high heat to sear the outside makes for a bit of nice caramelization with a gooey inside. A mild liver-like flavor. It's great, although admittedly difficult to get over the fact of the matter: that brains are delicious. I know. I'm still having trouble with it. Also, with this memeish photo:
However, I have absorbed all of the pig's knowledge and will pay the cardiologist with the money earned from all these truffles I sniff out.
I have also been practicing biscuits this week. With all the fresh buttermilk and soft winter wheat and suchlike I had to. I discovered the secret ingredient. Sorry to disappoint you and I know this is super lame but it's actually practice. I made my own butter, buttermilk, and rendered some lard from that slab of pork I bought at the meat store. I even made some with skim milk and vegetable shortening. And what I found was they got a lot better as I progressed regardless of ingredients. Flour, fat, leavener, milk, and practice with a biscuit cutter. A biscuit cutter is actually better than a juice glass of cactus jar, though. That's about the closest thing to advice I have to give you. Just follow your cat's lead and make biscuits. They're worthwhile. You'll get good at itl I have faith in you. I'll bet you can even knock one out in, like, fifteen minutes. And even with terrible biscuits you can pretend they're hard tack. In fact, you don't even ahve to pretend too hard. Terrible biscuits and hardtack have a lot in common. And with if you find yourself the proud owner of a four pound slab of salt pork playing shipboard cookie is not terribly difficult.
Also, I managed to lose a bunch of piggy in the ensuing chaos where I was wandering lonely as a cloud from place to place around the metropolitan area trying, in vain, to maintain sanity.
I got a hot tip that there was a place out in the west end that sold lots of piggy. Well, naturally this is the kind of place I like. I had never been out that way before, to Virginia and 28th Street. It's in the Parkland neighborhood. This is a neighborhood with a somewhat tumultuous history according to Wikipedia.
Anyway, I got there after getting pretty lost. Really, I only found the place because I had given up trying to find it and wanted to look at all the nice old houses and the Masonic temple. It's a surprisingly dense block, discounting the bombed-out vacant lot across from it. Anyway, the place looks like an old Winn-Dixie. I don't know why, exactly. Perhaps it was the color scheme.
Anyway, once I did walk into the place I found that it was poorly-lit and practically deserted. In the square footage of this old Winn-Dixie they had naught but two aisles of groceries spaced forty feet apart and a butcher display in the back. No big deal. I'm just here for the meat. Also, it was unheated. Likewise: no big deal. That just means they don't have to refrigerate. Well, meat they had. I bought a whole slab of pork belly. it looked great even though it turned out to be salt pork. They had whole oxtails, lots pf piggy, and a bunch of steaks and (blech) poultry. I aksed for snouts and he siad they were out of "snoots." Although, according to Lord Internet that might actually be cheeks. Either way, I'll have to go back and buy some.Well, I bought some maws, ears, the salt pork, chitlins, and the piece de resistance: a pound of brain. You might think that a fellow such as myself coming in a buying thirty dollars worth of pork might raise and eyebrow. Not so much. He just shoved it all into a garbage bag and bid me good day.
And I hate to tell you but I managed to lose it all during that confounded ice storm when my fridge went flooey for ten days. However, I did manage to save the brain! I sent myself a reminder on a nice engraved "save the brain" card. And I cooked it with eggs. Nice high heat to sear the outside makes for a bit of nice caramelization with a gooey inside. A mild liver-like flavor. It's great, although admittedly difficult to get over the fact of the matter: that brains are delicious. I know. I'm still having trouble with it. Also, with this memeish photo:
However, I have absorbed all of the pig's knowledge and will pay the cardiologist with the money earned from all these truffles I sniff out.
I have also been practicing biscuits this week. With all the fresh buttermilk and soft winter wheat and suchlike I had to. I discovered the secret ingredient. Sorry to disappoint you and I know this is super lame but it's actually practice. I made my own butter, buttermilk, and rendered some lard from that slab of pork I bought at the meat store. I even made some with skim milk and vegetable shortening. And what I found was they got a lot better as I progressed regardless of ingredients. Flour, fat, leavener, milk, and practice with a biscuit cutter. A biscuit cutter is actually better than a juice glass of cactus jar, though. That's about the closest thing to advice I have to give you. Just follow your cat's lead and make biscuits. They're worthwhile. You'll get good at itl I have faith in you. I'll bet you can even knock one out in, like, fifteen minutes. And even with terrible biscuits you can pretend they're hard tack. In fact, you don't even ahve to pretend too hard. Terrible biscuits and hardtack have a lot in common. And with if you find yourself the proud owner of a four pound slab of salt pork playing shipboard cookie is not terribly difficult.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Popcorn
Well, since I still don't have electricity my blog-posting has been poor, I realize. I've been trying biscuits on for size but having trouble because I don't have a working oven. I'll get to that but in the meantime I've got something that I already know about in order to keep youse entertained while I quietly suffer in a metropolitan area that apparently knows as much about living as I do.
What I mean is popcorn. See, popcorn suffers from a lot of the same branding issues that many things do. I can remember a time in my life when popcorn was made only one way: in the microwave. That's how most popcorn gets made. However, we should all be wary of foodstuffs invented in our lifetime. Shelf-stable fats and artifical flavors are not our friends even if they seem to think so. We don't need friends like that. We can do better.
I'm suggesting you try one time for me to make your own popcorn in a pot on the stovetop. It's actually generally a bulletproof "recipe" (not really a recipe) and works in about th same amount of time as microwaving a bag and all its assorted health risks pointed out for you in the Wikipedia page. Some recipes call for heating oil first and then dropping the corn in but in this case it doesn't actually matter much. Start hot, start cold, just start. I use half canola oil and half butter or even better half bacon fat to give it a little kick. Nothing wrong with that. Some people shake the pot after it starts popping to coat. Others don't do this. I do it when I remember to. All that's important is you don't let it get too hot so as to avoid scorching. Let it pop covered until the popping slows and dump it in your biggest bowl, drizzle with melted butter and salt it. The best part is, the pot doesn't even really get dirty. Oh, you will not care to go back. You have taken the popcorn less travelled by and that has made all the difference.
I'm also rather fond of a trick that's easy to do and totally great and impressive and for some reason I don't do it all the time. I'm totally stealing this idea from a blog I read and forgot to bookmark but it really is a good one. Anyway, try making a nice big pot of popcorn and just let it sit and cool off. Or use leftover popcorn when you're fucking sick of it. The same thing happens with pancakes, right? Maybe infusing rum with pancakes and maple is a good idea, too. In fact, I'm sure it is. At any rate, dump a liter of rum on top of the cooked popcorn. Or pancakes. Probably a good idea to add a little extra butter and let it infuse for a few days or a week. Then strain out the popcorn and add a little extra butter for flavor. After sufficient time has passed strain all the solids out and then you'll have "fat wash" it by freezing it so's the fat solidifies and collects for you to remove it. Then strain it again while it's still really cold. Add coke and it's like a trip to the movies. Or if you're using pancakes and maple syrup and butter you would add milk or orange juice or something and then it's like breakfast.
Because I know you're secretly always wanted to have drunk for breakfast.
Oh, you can put anything in liquor for a week to infuse it. It's a great party trick provided you start the party a week earlier than it begins.
What I mean is popcorn. See, popcorn suffers from a lot of the same branding issues that many things do. I can remember a time in my life when popcorn was made only one way: in the microwave. That's how most popcorn gets made. However, we should all be wary of foodstuffs invented in our lifetime. Shelf-stable fats and artifical flavors are not our friends even if they seem to think so. We don't need friends like that. We can do better.
I'm suggesting you try one time for me to make your own popcorn in a pot on the stovetop. It's actually generally a bulletproof "recipe" (not really a recipe) and works in about th same amount of time as microwaving a bag and all its assorted health risks pointed out for you in the Wikipedia page. Some recipes call for heating oil first and then dropping the corn in but in this case it doesn't actually matter much. Start hot, start cold, just start. I use half canola oil and half butter or even better half bacon fat to give it a little kick. Nothing wrong with that. Some people shake the pot after it starts popping to coat. Others don't do this. I do it when I remember to. All that's important is you don't let it get too hot so as to avoid scorching. Let it pop covered until the popping slows and dump it in your biggest bowl, drizzle with melted butter and salt it. The best part is, the pot doesn't even really get dirty. Oh, you will not care to go back. You have taken the popcorn less travelled by and that has made all the difference.
I'm also rather fond of a trick that's easy to do and totally great and impressive and for some reason I don't do it all the time. I'm totally stealing this idea from a blog I read and forgot to bookmark but it really is a good one. Anyway, try making a nice big pot of popcorn and just let it sit and cool off. Or use leftover popcorn when you're fucking sick of it. The same thing happens with pancakes, right? Maybe infusing rum with pancakes and maple is a good idea, too. In fact, I'm sure it is. At any rate, dump a liter of rum on top of the cooked popcorn. Or pancakes. Probably a good idea to add a little extra butter and let it infuse for a few days or a week. Then strain out the popcorn and add a little extra butter for flavor. After sufficient time has passed strain all the solids out and then you'll have "fat wash" it by freezing it so's the fat solidifies and collects for you to remove it. Then strain it again while it's still really cold. Add coke and it's like a trip to the movies. Or if you're using pancakes and maple syrup and butter you would add milk or orange juice or something and then it's like breakfast.
Because I know you're secretly always wanted to have drunk for breakfast.
Oh, you can put anything in liquor for a week to infuse it. It's a great party trick provided you start the party a week earlier than it begins.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Icepocalypse '09!
It seems like just last month when we had a widespread power outage. Ah, Louisville. Just southern enough to completely hit the skids and lose all of our shit when the snow and ice hit and just Midwestern enough that it happens every year.
Anyway, I don't have much time on the Internet, but I'd like to share an anecdote about how some are coping with the outages.
I went to the Double Dragon for lunch before all this shit went down. They didn't have power. What they did have was gas woks, a gas deep fryer, a telephone and as much ice as they wanted. So, really. What do they need electricity for? They were literally woking by candlelight. It was amazing. The telephone doesn't need power either and he talleid it up by hand. Again, it was that immigrant Yankee ingenuity.
Of course, it was smoky and probably illegal because the hoods didn't work. It was also really cold. But I surely didn't mind! I'd do it again in a heartbeat! I wish I could eat at places without electricity everyday of the week! Hear that Health Department? Go Cards!
I'm also rather ashamed to admit it but I have spent more time at Denny's the past week than I have at any time since the Buechel location closed. They had electricity, heat, and Internet. Oh, Internet! So, I ate a burger and then ordered a club sandwich with cole slaw to go because I thought it was the thing on the menu that would be best later. And cold.
I mean, I'm cheap and don't use heat anyway, but I coast through on the kindness of my downstairs and upstairs neighbor providing a buffer between me and the elements. It coasts at about 50-55. Not this time! Poor kitty. Say, this isn't really about food? Well, hold yer horses. I've got a backlog of stuff to write about. Including my trip to the western part of town for piggy. Kill piggy! I think I'm going to be a pig farmer. How much do you figure a pig is worth? Kill piggy!
Anyway, I'll just write it by hand and scan it in later. Yeah. That makes sense.
Anyway, I don't have much time on the Internet, but I'd like to share an anecdote about how some are coping with the outages.
I went to the Double Dragon for lunch before all this shit went down. They didn't have power. What they did have was gas woks, a gas deep fryer, a telephone and as much ice as they wanted. So, really. What do they need electricity for? They were literally woking by candlelight. It was amazing. The telephone doesn't need power either and he talleid it up by hand. Again, it was that immigrant Yankee ingenuity.
Of course, it was smoky and probably illegal because the hoods didn't work. It was also really cold. But I surely didn't mind! I'd do it again in a heartbeat! I wish I could eat at places without electricity everyday of the week! Hear that Health Department? Go Cards!
I'm also rather ashamed to admit it but I have spent more time at Denny's the past week than I have at any time since the Buechel location closed. They had electricity, heat, and Internet. Oh, Internet! So, I ate a burger and then ordered a club sandwich with cole slaw to go because I thought it was the thing on the menu that would be best later. And cold.
I mean, I'm cheap and don't use heat anyway, but I coast through on the kindness of my downstairs and upstairs neighbor providing a buffer between me and the elements. It coasts at about 50-55. Not this time! Poor kitty. Say, this isn't really about food? Well, hold yer horses. I've got a backlog of stuff to write about. Including my trip to the western part of town for piggy. Kill piggy! I think I'm going to be a pig farmer. How much do you figure a pig is worth? Kill piggy!
Anyway, I'll just write it by hand and scan it in later. Yeah. That makes sense.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Impress your friends!
I mean, that's half the reason we do these things, right? And, of course, when I say friends I mean girls. The ones at the dinner parties I'm always having. Well, here's a way to impress them in the morning! On a weekend!!
Hold on a second! It's Tuesday! Where were you over the weekend when I needed you! Where were you when I wanted you? Okay, I'm sorry.
Anyway, I'm going to give you a tip that's going to give you power over nature. You're going to beat it down with your right hand until it screams for mercy, drooling and babbling. And, no, that's not a filthy euphemism.
Well, this weekend you're going to make your own butter. This actually (obviously) creates at the same time your own buttermilk. And what does any self-respecting young person do with buttermilk? The same thing your cat would do! Make biscuits! And making butter is easy and pretty tasty and impressive. If you've made whipped cream before you can make butter. So, butter first, biscuits later. Butter is good for everything which is not true of biscuits. They're only good for most things.
Step one is to demonstrate your power over nature and churn out some butter in a rather suggestive manner. I imagine you're buying cream at the supermarket like I do. This is fine. It's going to be about 36% fat. The first step is to let your cream come to room temperature and sit there for a few hours. It's best to let the cream start to spoil just a little bit to bring out the flavor. Also, it's very important to have it at about 60 degrees for the churning. I'm not sure why. I just read the sentence ""Let the cream be at the temperature of 55° to 60°, by a Fahrenheit thermometer; this is very important" from the Household Cyclopedia of 1881 and I was sure it must be.
From here you just pour the cream into your mixing bowl and get a whisk and have at it. Actually, you can do this however you want. You can put it in a jar and shake it for an hour. You can put it in a food processor or use a Kitchen Aid or a hand mixer if you're a big titty-baby. The important thing is that it needs to be agitated to break down some molecules or some such and the fat (butter) separates in clumps from the non-fat AKA buttermilk. I would, however, recommend you do this the first time by hand. Otherwise you can't beat that tattoo onto Mother Nature like I promised we would. Use two cups of cream.
Now, it's important not to let anyone see you whisking cream because there's a built-in joke that goes with it. Like, if you want to hang a picture on the wall and need to use a "stud finder" and someone invariably points it at his chest? Same kind of thing.
Just beat the hell out of that cream. it goes through stages. Blah blah. You'll stop at stiff peaks and think to yourself "What? Only stiff peaks? How can I get through this?" Well, we're in this together. I promised you I would help you beat your cream out.
Keep going! You can do it! Things are easy once you get past the stiff peaks, anyway. And you'll notice right away when you get to butter, anyway. Clumps form at buttermilk falls out. And since we need one cup of buttermilk and butter is 80% fat and the cream we started with was 36%, right? So that's roughly half and half, right? Better then multiplying by 9/5 and adding 32. This kitchen is fast and loose. You'll use the buttermilk in the biscuits this weekend. For now, butter is enough. This is one scene that's going to be played my way.
After the butter forms--and it will most likely get caught in your whisk, anyway--you can pour out the fresh buttermilk and save that for the biscuits. Now, you could just stop here and use your hands to press out the rest of the liquid and have some awesome, awesome butter. To finish it "properly," you'll need to keep adding ice cold water to the mixing bowl, beat it out, drain it, add more, beat it, and drain it until the water runs out clear. Personally, I don't think that's necessary (well, maybe once) since this butter isn't going to last the day anyway, even if it is almost a half a pound. Call the doctor.
As to the buttermilk itself it's actually better that the stuff in the store, too. That stuff isn't exactly buttermilk like this stuff is. It's really just acidulated regular milk. What!?!
Anyway, this really only takes ten minutes is totally impressive and has a sweet, clean taste. And you decide how much salt to knead in, too. Or you could go further and clarify it, or make garlic butter, or whip it and make compound butter. Anything you'd use butter for except better. Here's what it looks like:
Also, here's more about butter than you need to know.
Hold on a second! It's Tuesday! Where were you over the weekend when I needed you! Where were you when I wanted you? Okay, I'm sorry.
Anyway, I'm going to give you a tip that's going to give you power over nature. You're going to beat it down with your right hand until it screams for mercy, drooling and babbling. And, no, that's not a filthy euphemism.
Well, this weekend you're going to make your own butter. This actually (obviously) creates at the same time your own buttermilk. And what does any self-respecting young person do with buttermilk? The same thing your cat would do! Make biscuits! And making butter is easy and pretty tasty and impressive. If you've made whipped cream before you can make butter. So, butter first, biscuits later. Butter is good for everything which is not true of biscuits. They're only good for most things.
Step one is to demonstrate your power over nature and churn out some butter in a rather suggestive manner. I imagine you're buying cream at the supermarket like I do. This is fine. It's going to be about 36% fat. The first step is to let your cream come to room temperature and sit there for a few hours. It's best to let the cream start to spoil just a little bit to bring out the flavor. Also, it's very important to have it at about 60 degrees for the churning. I'm not sure why. I just read the sentence ""Let the cream be at the temperature of 55° to 60°, by a Fahrenheit thermometer; this is very important" from the Household Cyclopedia of 1881 and I was sure it must be.
From here you just pour the cream into your mixing bowl and get a whisk and have at it. Actually, you can do this however you want. You can put it in a jar and shake it for an hour. You can put it in a food processor or use a Kitchen Aid or a hand mixer if you're a big titty-baby. The important thing is that it needs to be agitated to break down some molecules or some such and the fat (butter) separates in clumps from the non-fat AKA buttermilk. I would, however, recommend you do this the first time by hand. Otherwise you can't beat that tattoo onto Mother Nature like I promised we would. Use two cups of cream.
Now, it's important not to let anyone see you whisking cream because there's a built-in joke that goes with it. Like, if you want to hang a picture on the wall and need to use a "stud finder" and someone invariably points it at his chest? Same kind of thing.
Just beat the hell out of that cream. it goes through stages. Blah blah. You'll stop at stiff peaks and think to yourself "What? Only stiff peaks? How can I get through this?" Well, we're in this together. I promised you I would help you beat your cream out.
Keep going! You can do it! Things are easy once you get past the stiff peaks, anyway. And you'll notice right away when you get to butter, anyway. Clumps form at buttermilk falls out. And since we need one cup of buttermilk and butter is 80% fat and the cream we started with was 36%, right? So that's roughly half and half, right? Better then multiplying by 9/5 and adding 32. This kitchen is fast and loose. You'll use the buttermilk in the biscuits this weekend. For now, butter is enough. This is one scene that's going to be played my way.
After the butter forms--and it will most likely get caught in your whisk, anyway--you can pour out the fresh buttermilk and save that for the biscuits. Now, you could just stop here and use your hands to press out the rest of the liquid and have some awesome, awesome butter. To finish it "properly," you'll need to keep adding ice cold water to the mixing bowl, beat it out, drain it, add more, beat it, and drain it until the water runs out clear. Personally, I don't think that's necessary (well, maybe once) since this butter isn't going to last the day anyway, even if it is almost a half a pound. Call the doctor.
As to the buttermilk itself it's actually better that the stuff in the store, too. That stuff isn't exactly buttermilk like this stuff is. It's really just acidulated regular milk. What!?!
Anyway, this really only takes ten minutes is totally impressive and has a sweet, clean taste. And you decide how much salt to knead in, too. Or you could go further and clarify it, or make garlic butter, or whip it and make compound butter. Anything you'd use butter for except better. Here's what it looks like:
Also, here's more about butter than you need to know.
Friday, January 23, 2009
A cross between an Edward Hopper painting and a David Lynch movie.
Such was the Hickory House Barbecue described to me. Since it's only open Thursday, Friday, and Saturday I never seem to get there because I'm always working on Friday and Saturday and not really thinking about it on Thursday.
And just because I guess can't make them doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about them. So, here's a rib primer. The only thing that differentiates a "baby back" rib from a "spare rib" is a cut from a band saw. The spare ribs are a tougher, and hence cheaper cut. Don't fret about that, though! See, collagen is part of what makes a meat tough, right? And does this cut not have a tendency to break down over the course of a long and luxurious low temperature heat bath? It sure does! It breaks down into gelatin, which is delicious. I was thinking about making a distasteful analogy about eating in KY, if you know what I mean, but I decided against it. Oh, what could have been. Anyway, this is part of what the smoker is doing. After all, you can't really have true argue-about-it barbecue without smoke. Also, as an interesting fact, meat wasn't originally smoked because it tastes good to humans but because it tastes bad to flies. After all, the word comes from barbacoa which has something to do with a hole in the ground. Nice. So, what I'm saying is, the back ribs are more expensive because they're easier to do, I think. Spare ribs require more time for more payoff. Or so they say. I wouldn't know. All my last batch of ribs did was contribute a few more pieces to my piggy bone collection.
Anyway, the Hickory House is not fooling around with their smoker. Check this shit out:
While it does technically have wheels I do believe that they have that shit on lock down. While I'm at it, here's a shot of the place from the other side.
This place is tiny. And generally empty. Actually, that's part of what I like so much about it. Not much in there has changed since 1980. This is one of my favorite things about the neighborhood, actually. The Pic Pac is the same way. It's like a little piece of Americana that forgot to die or get killed. It's got a moderately creepy vibe, it's on a little island between Preston and Shelby. It's kinda hard to walk to. There's a reason it took me this long to get there. Half of their dining room is taken up by refrigerators. I really wanted to open one. But I was too terrified.
Anyway, this time I wanted to get the ribs. You know, I kinda had to. A full slab is fifteen bucks. Okay, the prices have likely changed since 1980. But nothing else. And I don't think fifteen bucks is too outrageous. I mean, they did weigh over three pounds and whereas raw ribs run about $2.50 a pound at the Pic Pac. Of course, that's fifteen just for the meat, no sides. Not that you really need anything else, but I did want to try the German potato salad on account of all the Germanality of the neighborhood. But I couldn't, because I had already spent the rest of my dough on beer. Next Thursday, I will. They also have a smoked baked potato. I know that doesn't make any sense but that doesn't mean it's not a great idea. Oh, and the ribs came with two slices of white bread. I'm not sure why. I think they're to wipe your fingers on when you're finished.
I was a little confused when I got home, though. The rib tips were still totally attached to the spare rib. In case you didn't know, the tips are the part under the bone in a spare rib. It's mostly fat and cartilidge but there's some good meat in there, too. I'm not sure why they were still attached, actually. I guess a lot about this place has confused me. Much like a David Lynch movie it has managed to penetrate my brain but is now unsure what to do now that he's in there. Confusion was enough. Also, I like that the sauce isn't too sweet.
And just because I guess can't make them doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about them. So, here's a rib primer. The only thing that differentiates a "baby back" rib from a "spare rib" is a cut from a band saw. The spare ribs are a tougher, and hence cheaper cut. Don't fret about that, though! See, collagen is part of what makes a meat tough, right? And does this cut not have a tendency to break down over the course of a long and luxurious low temperature heat bath? It sure does! It breaks down into gelatin, which is delicious. I was thinking about making a distasteful analogy about eating in KY, if you know what I mean, but I decided against it. Oh, what could have been. Anyway, this is part of what the smoker is doing. After all, you can't really have true argue-about-it barbecue without smoke. Also, as an interesting fact, meat wasn't originally smoked because it tastes good to humans but because it tastes bad to flies. After all, the word comes from barbacoa which has something to do with a hole in the ground. Nice. So, what I'm saying is, the back ribs are more expensive because they're easier to do, I think. Spare ribs require more time for more payoff. Or so they say. I wouldn't know. All my last batch of ribs did was contribute a few more pieces to my piggy bone collection.
Anyway, the Hickory House is not fooling around with their smoker. Check this shit out:
While it does technically have wheels I do believe that they have that shit on lock down. While I'm at it, here's a shot of the place from the other side.
This place is tiny. And generally empty. Actually, that's part of what I like so much about it. Not much in there has changed since 1980. This is one of my favorite things about the neighborhood, actually. The Pic Pac is the same way. It's like a little piece of Americana that forgot to die or get killed. It's got a moderately creepy vibe, it's on a little island between Preston and Shelby. It's kinda hard to walk to. There's a reason it took me this long to get there. Half of their dining room is taken up by refrigerators. I really wanted to open one. But I was too terrified.
Anyway, this time I wanted to get the ribs. You know, I kinda had to. A full slab is fifteen bucks. Okay, the prices have likely changed since 1980. But nothing else. And I don't think fifteen bucks is too outrageous. I mean, they did weigh over three pounds and whereas raw ribs run about $2.50 a pound at the Pic Pac. Of course, that's fifteen just for the meat, no sides. Not that you really need anything else, but I did want to try the German potato salad on account of all the Germanality of the neighborhood. But I couldn't, because I had already spent the rest of my dough on beer. Next Thursday, I will. They also have a smoked baked potato. I know that doesn't make any sense but that doesn't mean it's not a great idea. Oh, and the ribs came with two slices of white bread. I'm not sure why. I think they're to wipe your fingers on when you're finished.
I was a little confused when I got home, though. The rib tips were still totally attached to the spare rib. In case you didn't know, the tips are the part under the bone in a spare rib. It's mostly fat and cartilidge but there's some good meat in there, too. I'm not sure why they were still attached, actually. I guess a lot about this place has confused me. Much like a David Lynch movie it has managed to penetrate my brain but is now unsure what to do now that he's in there. Confusion was enough. Also, I like that the sauce isn't too sweet.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Inauguration Luncheon.
I thought I would post this. (PDF) Part of it looks really good and part of it is clearly one of those "gourmet" things where they have to be super-flexible with timing and everything.
Sure, asparagus is more of a late spring/early summer thing and the dessert is really like a poor man's tarte tatin. And it calls for store-bought caramel sauce which is the easiest thing to make! Hell, you can make it in an office microwave with just sugar packets, butter patties, and half and half.
Still, it's nice to know our president will drink a paired champagne with his dessert.
Also, tell me those sweet potatoes don't sound outrageously delicious.
Also, I'm cooking some pig tails. I was thinking parboiled then braised in something like barbecue sauce. Better than the ribs, I hope.
Sure, asparagus is more of a late spring/early summer thing and the dessert is really like a poor man's tarte tatin. And it calls for store-bought caramel sauce which is the easiest thing to make! Hell, you can make it in an office microwave with just sugar packets, butter patties, and half and half.
Still, it's nice to know our president will drink a paired champagne with his dessert.
Also, tell me those sweet potatoes don't sound outrageously delicious.
Also, I'm cooking some pig tails. I was thinking parboiled then braised in something like barbecue sauce. Better than the ribs, I hope.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Old Style uses the old style.
Wow! Something I predicted should come true seems to be coming true! Except that doesn't make any sense!
Old Style is reverting to old style of making beer. See, enough people got the idea that when Budweiser plowed all the regional brands that we may have given up something that was worth saving. Well, steps should be taken to resurrect these kinds of traditions. The difference here is the "krausening" of the beer. As I understand it that's a technique where they use some old beer to make new beer. Kind of like making yogurt. I won't pretend to understand exactly what that means. Also, the term "fully krausened" is a great synonym for "liquored up." Here's me getting fully krausened at Wrigley:
.jpg)
Also, a lot of people seem to conflate price with value much like they sometimes confuse weather with climate. I never understand why I see dirty rednecks buying Busch when Stroh's is cheaper, and in my mind, better. Sales of Bud Light are still dominant and yet I think it's an inferior beer to Old Style or Schlitz or Narragansett or Brain Pelt. Granted, those last two are slightly different cases. But still. Thus, I don't think it's a terrible idea to put the price point of this new Old Style up around the price of a regular domestic beer. Certainly, I'd pay it to drink a beer as my father would have drunk it provided that my father were from The next step, I suppose, is getting it on draft in normal hole-in-the-wall dives like Budweiser is. But I really believe this can happen. However, it will only happen if you want it. I'm through trying to drink beer for all of you.
Also, there is no acceptable synonym for "egg." Please don't try to think of one.
Old Style is reverting to old style of making beer. See, enough people got the idea that when Budweiser plowed all the regional brands that we may have given up something that was worth saving. Well, steps should be taken to resurrect these kinds of traditions. The difference here is the "krausening" of the beer. As I understand it that's a technique where they use some old beer to make new beer. Kind of like making yogurt. I won't pretend to understand exactly what that means. Also, the term "fully krausened" is a great synonym for "liquored up." Here's me getting fully krausened at Wrigley:
.jpg)
Also, a lot of people seem to conflate price with value much like they sometimes confuse weather with climate. I never understand why I see dirty rednecks buying Busch when Stroh's is cheaper, and in my mind, better. Sales of Bud Light are still dominant and yet I think it's an inferior beer to Old Style or Schlitz or Narragansett or Brain Pelt. Granted, those last two are slightly different cases. But still. Thus, I don't think it's a terrible idea to put the price point of this new Old Style up around the price of a regular domestic beer. Certainly, I'd pay it to drink a beer as my father would have drunk it provided that my father were from The next step, I suppose, is getting it on draft in normal hole-in-the-wall dives like Budweiser is. But I really believe this can happen. However, it will only happen if you want it. I'm through trying to drink beer for all of you.
Also, there is no acceptable synonym for "egg." Please don't try to think of one.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Cured meat.
On a tip from my pal Pat I decided to cure some meat. He showed me this recipe here and it looked pretty idiot-proof. I haven't done much charcuterie in the past aside from some things at Le Relais that I participated in more than actually did. And most of that was pate, anyway. I know, I know. Blah, blah, blah.
I don't know where that guy gets his pork loins but the ones around here are significantly larger. I bought a half loin from the Valumarket on Third Street down by the Vietnam Kitchen. That place, is great, actually. They also sell pig tails and chickent feet and have awide variety of ethnic weird stuff. You know, exactly the sort of thing I like. I also really like the trip down Southern Parkway.
I sliced even the half loin down the middle, too, since it was still far too thick. So, I'm going to have a rib side piece and a topside piece. I'm unsure what difference that will make.
Anyway, I left the meat in the cure way too long because I forgot about it and I substitued bourbon, of course, for the cognac. I also wrapped it in that old undershirt that I hate. I was hoping to give it more of a human flavor, I suppose. We'll see how this turns out in a few weeks. I tried a bit off the end and I'm worried that it's going to be too salty. We shall see.
Also, I threw some frog legs that were about to turn into a cure as well. That will also give a strange result, I fear. Maybe I'll see if I can smoke those somehow tomorrow.
I don't know where that guy gets his pork loins but the ones around here are significantly larger. I bought a half loin from the Valumarket on Third Street down by the Vietnam Kitchen. That place, is great, actually. They also sell pig tails and chickent feet and have awide variety of ethnic weird stuff. You know, exactly the sort of thing I like. I also really like the trip down Southern Parkway.
I sliced even the half loin down the middle, too, since it was still far too thick. So, I'm going to have a rib side piece and a topside piece. I'm unsure what difference that will make.
Anyway, I left the meat in the cure way too long because I forgot about it and I substitued bourbon, of course, for the cognac. I also wrapped it in that old undershirt that I hate. I was hoping to give it more of a human flavor, I suppose. We'll see how this turns out in a few weeks. I tried a bit off the end and I'm worried that it's going to be too salty. We shall see.
Also, I threw some frog legs that were about to turn into a cure as well. That will also give a strange result, I fear. Maybe I'll see if I can smoke those somehow tomorrow.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
I ate a brain, I liked it.
I ate a brain, just to try it. I'm really not sure where I'm going with this. I think I may have a brain-wasting disease. Certainly, at least, it felt so wrong and it felt so right.
Since I didn't want to clean off another goddamn cookie sheet I just threw the bastard away and drove to Unique to buy a new one. All the way over I was trying to rationalize my decision vis a vis the new economy. I was gonna waste at least a gallon of water, a precious resource, scrubbing. Right? I also wanted to see if they had any ladies' scarves I could drape around my neck. Anyway, I got my comeuppance when some teenagers made fun of my moustache. "Would you like a cup of tea, suh?" I don't know what that means.
Back to the real topic at hand, the taqueria caught my eye on the way in. The menu was gigantic, you could read it from the street. You could see it plainly. Having been denied brains previously I wasn't about the get denied them again. I went in, bought my cookie pan without wasting a moment and marched over there. The breeze caught my frou-frou cravat and it waved majestically in the bluster. I ordered one de "lengua," one "cabeza" (and I'm really not sure what that is exactly) and the "cesos." [sick]
I can see why people scramble these in eggs. It has the same consistency of scrambled eggs and is very similar in appearance, too. I'm not sure if I'd really recommend them but wikipedia assures me that they remain popular in the Ohio Valley. So, surely I can find that fried brain sandwich I've heard so much about.
Still, the long and the short of it is:
I ate a cow's brain in a b-rated kitchen on Preston Highway that didn't even spell "sesos" right. That's probably the essence of this blog when I'm not cooking.
Since I didn't want to clean off another goddamn cookie sheet I just threw the bastard away and drove to Unique to buy a new one. All the way over I was trying to rationalize my decision vis a vis the new economy. I was gonna waste at least a gallon of water, a precious resource, scrubbing. Right? I also wanted to see if they had any ladies' scarves I could drape around my neck. Anyway, I got my comeuppance when some teenagers made fun of my moustache. "Would you like a cup of tea, suh?" I don't know what that means.
Back to the real topic at hand, the taqueria caught my eye on the way in. The menu was gigantic, you could read it from the street. You could see it plainly. Having been denied brains previously I wasn't about the get denied them again. I went in, bought my cookie pan without wasting a moment and marched over there. The breeze caught my frou-frou cravat and it waved majestically in the bluster. I ordered one de "lengua," one "cabeza" (and I'm really not sure what that is exactly) and the "cesos." [sick]
I can see why people scramble these in eggs. It has the same consistency of scrambled eggs and is very similar in appearance, too. I'm not sure if I'd really recommend them but wikipedia assures me that they remain popular in the Ohio Valley. So, surely I can find that fried brain sandwich I've heard so much about.
Still, the long and the short of it is:
I ate a cow's brain in a b-rated kitchen on Preston Highway that didn't even spell "sesos" right. That's probably the essence of this blog when I'm not cooking.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Day I Ate Lunch Twice: Lyndon Redux
On my old blog written before the dawn ol' Web 2.0 I had a post about the day in Pittsburgh when I ate lunch twice. It was a great meal, at the Pickle Barrel, with the added attraction of humiliation at the hands of cute indie rock girl. It was completely my fault, I blame myself.
Anyway, yesterday saw me eating lunch again twice. In Lyndon of all places.
I had agreed the night before at the Nachbar to go to my new favorite tapatia with my pal Andy to try some brain tacos. I had been there twice before. Once for chicarrones and the other time for some menudo. The menudo there is really, really good. I'd only had it once before in Minneapolis where I thought it was somewhat hard to get behind. Maybe because I knew what to expect but menudo was far better the second time. I ate all of it, anyway. So, with that in mind I went back looking for brain tacos.
This place is in a strip mall, in what I had presumed was a cracker-ass part of Lyndon, way east, where my brother and I used to go to church. My Patria doesn't seem much like a restaurant. That's probably part of its charm. The fact that it looks like a loading dock. Well.
We placed our orders. One tripas, one chorizo, one brain. And one of those great, gigantic bottles of mexican Coca-Cola, which really is an idea size. A bit of waiting and yakking the cook fella comes out and tells me there are no brains. Actually, I think this is a good thing. See, if theyre running out of brains it means there aren't brains whiling away the hours in reach-in coolers. Which means fresh brains. So, we didn't get to eat brains. That's okay, though. We can always go back. It also gave us a chance to substitute for the lengua which we had missed the first time.
When they came out they looked almost exactly like this:
Let me tell you: tripas is wonderful. The only reason you wouldn't like it because of pre-conceived notions about what food is and isn't. It's got crispy bits like bacon, chewy bits, moist and meaty bits and a wonderful pork flavor. It neither smells nor tastes like asshole. It is fantastic. The tongue was great, too. Again, it looks no different than shredded beef would. And it has a stronger, meatier flavor. And by these yardsticks the chorizo was almost a disappointment because the others were so good. I really can't recommend these highly enough. And considering our lunch was only $6 each there's no excuse.
Well, high on delcious lunch I bought a bound of chicarrones and a pound of pig's ears. Pig ears are weird. I don't now about 'em, frankly. The pig skin is crisp and greasy, and crunchy as all get-out and not really much like a football at all.
Of course, in driving back we drove past the Jade Palace which we had recently read as having chicken feet on the Dim Sum menu.
"Hey, Andy, you wanna get some chicken feet while we're here?"
"Well, I'm not at all hungry. What the hell..."
And so we walked in. The lady asked us "lunch menu or dinner menu" as it was around three or four, straddling lunch and dinner hours. "Uh, chicken feet?" I asked, which got us a third menu.
It was the dim sum menu and it looked really good. At least, it looked good. Granted, we had just eaten lunch. So, we stuck to the "White Spicy Chicken Feet," the "Honeycomb Beef Tripe" and another form of chicken feet which I forget the name of but came in broth and was red.
The white, spicy chicken feet came out. They were just chicken feet with a splash of chili oil, scallions, and cilantro. Nothing else. They looked like this:
Very challenging even for me who likes the freaky bits. I mean, the relationship between birds and lizards is plain as day!
I pause.
"What's the matter," Andy asks me, "cold feet?"
"Yes, actually. A half dozen."
But, again, this is food, right? Well, chicken feet don't have much going for them but skin, connective tissue, and tendons. I think gnawing is a pretty good word for how I ate them.
I do, however, think it's charming that a fellow in the kitchen put them on a plate, drizzled a bit of chili oil on them, sprinkled them with the cilantro and scallion and thought, "yes, this is finished. Now, I wish to see those crackers gnaw on this for awhile." So, it was amazing. Don't try it.
Next was a ind of stewed honeycomb tripe which smells strong and tastes that way, too. We were lucky that we had been practicing jawing all afternoon because it certainly came in handy.
Finally, the sent us out a plate of these red chicken feet which were like the white one but they had clearly been cooked again and the skin was falling off and quite nice. Not much different than wings, really.
Actually, this only came to $11 so it was pretty economical, really. I mean, we both ate lunch twice for under twenty-five dollars. Not bad. Although, second lunch didn't actually feature very much in the manner of ounces of food consumed there was a lot of eating involved. So, yeah, lunch.
I'll keep you updated about my brain-eating.
Anyway, yesterday saw me eating lunch again twice. In Lyndon of all places.
I had agreed the night before at the Nachbar to go to my new favorite tapatia with my pal Andy to try some brain tacos. I had been there twice before. Once for chicarrones and the other time for some menudo. The menudo there is really, really good. I'd only had it once before in Minneapolis where I thought it was somewhat hard to get behind. Maybe because I knew what to expect but menudo was far better the second time. I ate all of it, anyway. So, with that in mind I went back looking for brain tacos.
This place is in a strip mall, in what I had presumed was a cracker-ass part of Lyndon, way east, where my brother and I used to go to church. My Patria doesn't seem much like a restaurant. That's probably part of its charm. The fact that it looks like a loading dock. Well.
We placed our orders. One tripas, one chorizo, one brain. And one of those great, gigantic bottles of mexican Coca-Cola, which really is an idea size. A bit of waiting and yakking the cook fella comes out and tells me there are no brains. Actually, I think this is a good thing. See, if theyre running out of brains it means there aren't brains whiling away the hours in reach-in coolers. Which means fresh brains. So, we didn't get to eat brains. That's okay, though. We can always go back. It also gave us a chance to substitute for the lengua which we had missed the first time.
When they came out they looked almost exactly like this:
Let me tell you: tripas is wonderful. The only reason you wouldn't like it because of pre-conceived notions about what food is and isn't. It's got crispy bits like bacon, chewy bits, moist and meaty bits and a wonderful pork flavor. It neither smells nor tastes like asshole. It is fantastic. The tongue was great, too. Again, it looks no different than shredded beef would. And it has a stronger, meatier flavor. And by these yardsticks the chorizo was almost a disappointment because the others were so good. I really can't recommend these highly enough. And considering our lunch was only $6 each there's no excuse.
Well, high on delcious lunch I bought a bound of chicarrones and a pound of pig's ears. Pig ears are weird. I don't now about 'em, frankly. The pig skin is crisp and greasy, and crunchy as all get-out and not really much like a football at all.
Of course, in driving back we drove past the Jade Palace which we had recently read as having chicken feet on the Dim Sum menu.
"Hey, Andy, you wanna get some chicken feet while we're here?"
"Well, I'm not at all hungry. What the hell..."
And so we walked in. The lady asked us "lunch menu or dinner menu" as it was around three or four, straddling lunch and dinner hours. "Uh, chicken feet?" I asked, which got us a third menu.
It was the dim sum menu and it looked really good. At least, it looked good. Granted, we had just eaten lunch. So, we stuck to the "White Spicy Chicken Feet," the "Honeycomb Beef Tripe" and another form of chicken feet which I forget the name of but came in broth and was red.
The white, spicy chicken feet came out. They were just chicken feet with a splash of chili oil, scallions, and cilantro. Nothing else. They looked like this:
Very challenging even for me who likes the freaky bits. I mean, the relationship between birds and lizards is plain as day!
I pause.
"What's the matter," Andy asks me, "cold feet?"
"Yes, actually. A half dozen."
But, again, this is food, right? Well, chicken feet don't have much going for them but skin, connective tissue, and tendons. I think gnawing is a pretty good word for how I ate them.
I do, however, think it's charming that a fellow in the kitchen put them on a plate, drizzled a bit of chili oil on them, sprinkled them with the cilantro and scallion and thought, "yes, this is finished. Now, I wish to see those crackers gnaw on this for awhile." So, it was amazing. Don't try it.
Next was a ind of stewed honeycomb tripe which smells strong and tastes that way, too. We were lucky that we had been practicing jawing all afternoon because it certainly came in handy.
Finally, the sent us out a plate of these red chicken feet which were like the white one but they had clearly been cooked again and the skin was falling off and quite nice. Not much different than wings, really.
Actually, this only came to $11 so it was pretty economical, really. I mean, we both ate lunch twice for under twenty-five dollars. Not bad. Although, second lunch didn't actually feature very much in the manner of ounces of food consumed there was a lot of eating involved. So, yeah, lunch.
I'll keep you updated about my brain-eating.
Friday, January 9, 2009
A miracle of modern science! Behold!
I bring you....
THE LIVER AND ONIONS PIZZA IN FULL COLOR!!!!
I mean, if that's not making you hungry I don't know what will. A liver and onions pizza and Brazil's (possible Turkey's) hardest partyin' beer? You better get right out of town, mister.
Speaking of that beer I sound it at Shreck's which is the kind of place where bargains are meant to be had. I was looking around, bemoaning the run-of-the-mill beer selection when I look down and see a stack of cases of beer just sort of sitting out on the carpet there. Some of them are even ripped open and missing beers. Well, they're all marked at ten buck each which is a fine price to pay for a case of beer. They may have some left if you wanna score some. I'm probably going back for another.
Well, I asked the guys if they knew anything about 'em and the only thing they knew was that they had just come in and that beer doesn't need an expiration date. They probably said that because the cases were all marked 10/07. I surely don't mind. It takes a long time to get from a brewery in Izmir to Brazil and then fall of a truck somewhere stateside to be liquidated at Shreck's. Hell, I'll bet they're doing me a favor by not explaining to me the process.
Despite what the bottle says the Internet assures me that it's Brazilian. I even stumbled across some offensive advertising to that effect. I'm not sure what to think except that it's cheap and good. Also, it requires a bottle opener which leads to such merry improvisation.
Also, that photo is a liver pizza and a six pack of beer sitting on my bed. You can read into that one all you want. I encourage such behavior.
Okay, that's it. Also, here's a detail:
THE LIVER AND ONIONS PIZZA IN FULL COLOR!!!!
I mean, if that's not making you hungry I don't know what will. A liver and onions pizza and Brazil's (possible Turkey's) hardest partyin' beer? You better get right out of town, mister.
Speaking of that beer I sound it at Shreck's which is the kind of place where bargains are meant to be had. I was looking around, bemoaning the run-of-the-mill beer selection when I look down and see a stack of cases of beer just sort of sitting out on the carpet there. Some of them are even ripped open and missing beers. Well, they're all marked at ten buck each which is a fine price to pay for a case of beer. They may have some left if you wanna score some. I'm probably going back for another.
Well, I asked the guys if they knew anything about 'em and the only thing they knew was that they had just come in and that beer doesn't need an expiration date. They probably said that because the cases were all marked 10/07. I surely don't mind. It takes a long time to get from a brewery in Izmir to Brazil and then fall of a truck somewhere stateside to be liquidated at Shreck's. Hell, I'll bet they're doing me a favor by not explaining to me the process.
Despite what the bottle says the Internet assures me that it's Brazilian. I even stumbled across some offensive advertising to that effect. I'm not sure what to think except that it's cheap and good. Also, it requires a bottle opener which leads to such merry improvisation.
Also, that photo is a liver pizza and a six pack of beer sitting on my bed. You can read into that one all you want. I encourage such behavior.
Okay, that's it. Also, here's a detail:
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Cheetos mouth-delivery techniques.
Okay, I know you all love Cheetos. Lord knows, I do. They're probably my favorite snack food even if they aren't a hundred years old. They could be a hundred years old it's just that they hadn't been invented yet because they needed the prerequisite inventions of daytime television and underpants.
Okay, that's not entirely true. I don't know what corn starch was invented and Lord knows cheese powder isn't exactly ancient. At any rate, my second favorite is pork rinds. I do a great magic trick with pork rinds. I have a photo of it which I will show you as soon as I get it from my brother. The have that on my Google Calender on the 12th of Never. That's a very busy day. It's also my commencement in case anyone wished to come.
So, how does one eat Cheetos? Well, granted you'll be on the couch. But I know that you're all aware of the orange fingers your fingers will accumulate after heavy snacking. I think of this as a kind of circuit-breaker for Cheetos consumption. Your fingers can no longer grip, you must stop snacking. Continued snacking is like conventional warfare. You can cram as many Cheetos into the meatgrinder as you want, you're still going to have their blood on your hands. And it will be unsavory. Okay, that's a mixed metaphor. Feel free to lick your fingers. Very popular 'round these parts.
Here is where my ingenuity comes in. I understand Norm Peterson has solved this problem by eating them with a "large spoon." Well, much like Norm Peterson, this is not very elegant. It is, however, far more effective than a fork. A fork only serves to break up Cheetos into pitiable little fragments, broken in mind and body. No, sir, we need a method to dispatch as many Cheetos as possible without staining our hands or minds with exactly how many are going down the hatch. We need the Cheetos-eating equivalent of thermonuclear warfare. Just pull the trigger.
Another method is the Any-Ol'-Schmuck Approach. This is opening the (family-sized) bad and pouring them directly into your mouth. This solves the problem of stained hands but not the problem of elegance. In fact, this is distinctly less elegant than the Peterson Method. Plus, there's also the fundamental problem of how to eat the leftover Cheetos out of the couch cushions.
Therefore, I submit that chopsticks be used! The Cheetos Chopsticks Finesse! Not only does it solve all problems associated with Cheetos eating it adds alliteration to the mix! It's the end of conventional warfare between fingers and Cheetos! It's VD-DAY!! KISS A SAILOR!!!! Ha ha! Now, pour yourself a plateful and go to town. You'll be surprised how quickly you'll improve skills with your chopsticks. In fact, you can tell yourself that you're actually culturing yourself by getting really good at chopsticks! You're sure to impress that sexy Chinese diplomat now! Watch out sushi-bar hostess! Beware Korean pop stars! I'm going to get drunk and use my chopsticks!!! You'd be stoopid not to!
At least, that's what I told myself.
Anyway, this guy knows the score:
Impressing Girls with Chopsticks: 1. World: 0.
Okay, that's not entirely true. I don't know what corn starch was invented and Lord knows cheese powder isn't exactly ancient. At any rate, my second favorite is pork rinds. I do a great magic trick with pork rinds. I have a photo of it which I will show you as soon as I get it from my brother. The have that on my Google Calender on the 12th of Never. That's a very busy day. It's also my commencement in case anyone wished to come.
So, how does one eat Cheetos? Well, granted you'll be on the couch. But I know that you're all aware of the orange fingers your fingers will accumulate after heavy snacking. I think of this as a kind of circuit-breaker for Cheetos consumption. Your fingers can no longer grip, you must stop snacking. Continued snacking is like conventional warfare. You can cram as many Cheetos into the meatgrinder as you want, you're still going to have their blood on your hands. And it will be unsavory. Okay, that's a mixed metaphor. Feel free to lick your fingers. Very popular 'round these parts.
Here is where my ingenuity comes in. I understand Norm Peterson has solved this problem by eating them with a "large spoon." Well, much like Norm Peterson, this is not very elegant. It is, however, far more effective than a fork. A fork only serves to break up Cheetos into pitiable little fragments, broken in mind and body. No, sir, we need a method to dispatch as many Cheetos as possible without staining our hands or minds with exactly how many are going down the hatch. We need the Cheetos-eating equivalent of thermonuclear warfare. Just pull the trigger.
Another method is the Any-Ol'-Schmuck Approach. This is opening the (family-sized) bad and pouring them directly into your mouth. This solves the problem of stained hands but not the problem of elegance. In fact, this is distinctly less elegant than the Peterson Method. Plus, there's also the fundamental problem of how to eat the leftover Cheetos out of the couch cushions.
Therefore, I submit that chopsticks be used! The Cheetos Chopsticks Finesse! Not only does it solve all problems associated with Cheetos eating it adds alliteration to the mix! It's the end of conventional warfare between fingers and Cheetos! It's VD-DAY!! KISS A SAILOR!!!! Ha ha! Now, pour yourself a plateful and go to town. You'll be surprised how quickly you'll improve skills with your chopsticks. In fact, you can tell yourself that you're actually culturing yourself by getting really good at chopsticks! You're sure to impress that sexy Chinese diplomat now! Watch out sushi-bar hostess! Beware Korean pop stars! I'm going to get drunk and use my chopsticks!!! You'd be stoopid not to!
At least, that's what I told myself.
Anyway, this guy knows the score:
Impressing Girls with Chopsticks: 1. World: 0.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
I guess I can't make ribs.
I tried. They were tough. The ribs were still tough. Of course, I bought the absolute cheapest cut but I figured that it wouldn't matter much if I cooked it a long time. Maybe it wasn't long enough. Hell, that time I boiled 'em and only finished 'em in the over they were more tender. Yeah, boiled!
Anyway, barbecue is one of those foods everyone likes to argue about. Everybody knows how to make it and their way is right and could you kindly shut the fuck up about your barbecue. We didn't eat a lot of barbecue growing up. And perhaps because of this I have come to ribs rather late in life. I can remember a time when I had not ever eaten ribs, in fact. But i lvoe ribs. WHo doesn't?
So, it's not in my blood. Maybe that's it. At any rate, these were spare ribs, although they looked as though they had been cut by machine and not by man. Twisted and evil. But a steal at ninety-nine cents a pound! So, I rubbed 'em down with a nice rub and let them sit. I made a barbecue sauce and marinated them afterward. I let it marinate for an hour while I had some Chinese takeout. Have you ever read the ingredients for barbecue sauce? They're terrible! It's all corn syrup! In fact, I couldn't find one sauce that cost less than four bucks a bottle that didn't have high fructose corn syrup as the first or second ingredient. For shame. Of course, it's just tomato paste, sweet stuff, vinegar, molasses, etc. Very simple to make your own. Brown sugar is sugar and molasses, right? Vinegar is easy. Tomato paste. maybe a little ketchup and blamm-o! Well, that's what mine was and it was pretty good. I also added bourbon because I roll like that. And beer to the braising dish so it would be nice and moist in there. And after four hours @ 275ish they were still too tough so I gave up and:
Made another Liver and Onion Pizza! But this time it was like a hatefuck (whatever that is) because I was still mad about the ribs not working. Thus, it was so fast and loose that now I'm convinced it's bulletproof. That's right. I put the liver and onions on top of a Digiornio pizza, covered with a bit of cheese. Baked as usual and bam! Delicious. Although, I must admit it's a little...pungent when hot and is actually better closer to room temperature. That's funny.
In other news that has me ecstatic, Christian Moerlein has a master plan to bring old Cincinnati brands back to Cincinnati and brew them in the city once more. I won't ever shut up about how it's a big shame that all these breweries were crushed in the seventies and they all moved around or shut down. Well, the new Christian Moerlein has bought Little Kings with plans to brew it in the Queen City. Also, the have reformulated the Hudy Delight brand back to its original formula and introduced cans. It's like they're reading my mind! So, I'm actually trying to think of a method by which I can purchase this beer for regular drinking so I can encourage this kind of behavior. Also, the can looks much like the one in the top right of this photo does:
They also have plans to bring Hudepohl 14-K, Wiedemann's, and Burger back, too. I really can't understate how awesome I think this is. I mean, Bud Light is the number one beer in America. Anyone of these beers is better and cheaper, too. So, what's the difference? Branding, I suppose. I think all those hipsters drinking pabst has not gone unnoticed. I coudln't drink enough Sterling to save them. Maybe things will be different with these new Moerlein products.
Anyway, barbecue is one of those foods everyone likes to argue about. Everybody knows how to make it and their way is right and could you kindly shut the fuck up about your barbecue. We didn't eat a lot of barbecue growing up. And perhaps because of this I have come to ribs rather late in life. I can remember a time when I had not ever eaten ribs, in fact. But i lvoe ribs. WHo doesn't?
So, it's not in my blood. Maybe that's it. At any rate, these were spare ribs, although they looked as though they had been cut by machine and not by man. Twisted and evil. But a steal at ninety-nine cents a pound! So, I rubbed 'em down with a nice rub and let them sit. I made a barbecue sauce and marinated them afterward. I let it marinate for an hour while I had some Chinese takeout. Have you ever read the ingredients for barbecue sauce? They're terrible! It's all corn syrup! In fact, I couldn't find one sauce that cost less than four bucks a bottle that didn't have high fructose corn syrup as the first or second ingredient. For shame. Of course, it's just tomato paste, sweet stuff, vinegar, molasses, etc. Very simple to make your own. Brown sugar is sugar and molasses, right? Vinegar is easy. Tomato paste. maybe a little ketchup and blamm-o! Well, that's what mine was and it was pretty good. I also added bourbon because I roll like that. And beer to the braising dish so it would be nice and moist in there. And after four hours @ 275ish they were still too tough so I gave up and:
Made another Liver and Onion Pizza! But this time it was like a hatefuck (whatever that is) because I was still mad about the ribs not working. Thus, it was so fast and loose that now I'm convinced it's bulletproof. That's right. I put the liver and onions on top of a Digiornio pizza, covered with a bit of cheese. Baked as usual and bam! Delicious. Although, I must admit it's a little...pungent when hot and is actually better closer to room temperature. That's funny.
In other news that has me ecstatic, Christian Moerlein has a master plan to bring old Cincinnati brands back to Cincinnati and brew them in the city once more. I won't ever shut up about how it's a big shame that all these breweries were crushed in the seventies and they all moved around or shut down. Well, the new Christian Moerlein has bought Little Kings with plans to brew it in the Queen City. Also, the have reformulated the Hudy Delight brand back to its original formula and introduced cans. It's like they're reading my mind! So, I'm actually trying to think of a method by which I can purchase this beer for regular drinking so I can encourage this kind of behavior. Also, the can looks much like the one in the top right of this photo does:
They also have plans to bring Hudepohl 14-K, Wiedemann's, and Burger back, too. I really can't understate how awesome I think this is. I mean, Bud Light is the number one beer in America. Anyone of these beers is better and cheaper, too. So, what's the difference? Branding, I suppose. I think all those hipsters drinking pabst has not gone unnoticed. I coudln't drink enough Sterling to save them. Maybe things will be different with these new Moerlein products.
Friday, January 2, 2009
I am disappointed but not surprised to find that the Russians have beaten me to inventing liver pizza.
The Internet is not short of places where one can boggle one's fancy. This has a lot to do with why I throw all my time down the tubes. In googling liver pizza I didn't find much, but I thought this recipe--which most certainly flies between candy clouds of fancy and the inky blackness of nightmare. I might try it later. Maybe for Orthodox Christmas. Insomuch as I understand Russian cuisine it is a thoroughly Russian recipe.
Liver and onions pizza is a winner. But you already knew that.
I slept fitfully last night which means I had lots of wacky, spooky dreams. They say that the best way to solve problems in in dreamland. Well, thanks, brain. We did it. Allow me to set the stage.
I was sitting at K-Mart's new bar having a goblet of some fruity vodka drink I normally would never stomach. It's great. So great we blow the place off and go to a party down the road aways and there's a whole spread of fruits and pate and a charcuterie. I notice the centerpiece is a pizza. I ask our host, a portly fellow with a Van Dyke, "say, what's the deal with the pizza?"
"It's liver and onions," he replied.
That's all I remember but it was more than enough. That's the kind of idea that's going to be either really weird or pretty great. There's no middle ground when you're in the kitchen at parties, which come to think of it is exactly where I found my dream-pizza.
Okay, that's made up. What really happened is I needed a little extra money to waste on animal livers and beer. So I signed up for some kinda study thing where a man in a lab coat whispers sweet nothings in my ear all night whilst I slumber. I mean, I hope they're sweet nothings. Actually, I think he must have been discussing blue light specials, Sex and the City, Italian-American cuisine, manhole covers, and the dating stylings of Emile Hirsch. Since that's how it ended up. Here's a photo for posterity:
Yeah, I've got a funny-looking apartment. Years of practice. So, that explains the dream, I suppose. Well, the first one anyway.
At any rate, I went to work this morning and if that dad-gum place is good for nothing else I can at least make pizzas there. So, I fried a big heaping handful of juilenned onions in a saute pan and added about a half of the livers I had leftover from earlier. Which means I should be great on Vitamin A. Speaking of which, you should never eat the liver of a carnivore because you will die of a VITAMIN A OVERDOSE!!! Just so you know. Once the onions are nice 'n' sweaty like your dear blog author here you should dump in some livers. Flip it around, then chop 'em a little and when they're still a little bit pink dump 'em on your pizza crust, cheese it, then cheese it through the oven. I used a thick American pizza style dough, but I really think it would have been better to use less cheese and a thin crust that will get crispy. So, whatever pizza crust you normally make when you make pizza dough at home or you can go buy one at the Midtown or wherever. But trust me, this pizza is DYN-O-MITE. But not if you don't like livers. And if you don't like livers I really don't think you should read my blog anyway.
Oh yeah, I still don't have a photograph-making device. But here's a photo of me and my main squeeze eating another tray of pizza at a popular dance hall downtown. I really hate how this photo makes me look bald but that's my favorite tie:
I was sitting at K-Mart's new bar having a goblet of some fruity vodka drink I normally would never stomach. It's great. So great we blow the place off and go to a party down the road aways and there's a whole spread of fruits and pate and a charcuterie. I notice the centerpiece is a pizza. I ask our host, a portly fellow with a Van Dyke, "say, what's the deal with the pizza?"
"It's liver and onions," he replied.
That's all I remember but it was more than enough. That's the kind of idea that's going to be either really weird or pretty great. There's no middle ground when you're in the kitchen at parties, which come to think of it is exactly where I found my dream-pizza.
Okay, that's made up. What really happened is I needed a little extra money to waste on animal livers and beer. So I signed up for some kinda study thing where a man in a lab coat whispers sweet nothings in my ear all night whilst I slumber. I mean, I hope they're sweet nothings. Actually, I think he must have been discussing blue light specials, Sex and the City, Italian-American cuisine, manhole covers, and the dating stylings of Emile Hirsch. Since that's how it ended up. Here's a photo for posterity:
Yeah, I've got a funny-looking apartment. Years of practice. So, that explains the dream, I suppose. Well, the first one anyway.
At any rate, I went to work this morning and if that dad-gum place is good for nothing else I can at least make pizzas there. So, I fried a big heaping handful of juilenned onions in a saute pan and added about a half of the livers I had leftover from earlier. Which means I should be great on Vitamin A. Speaking of which, you should never eat the liver of a carnivore because you will die of a VITAMIN A OVERDOSE!!! Just so you know. Once the onions are nice 'n' sweaty like your dear blog author here you should dump in some livers. Flip it around, then chop 'em a little and when they're still a little bit pink dump 'em on your pizza crust, cheese it, then cheese it through the oven. I used a thick American pizza style dough, but I really think it would have been better to use less cheese and a thin crust that will get crispy. So, whatever pizza crust you normally make when you make pizza dough at home or you can go buy one at the Midtown or wherever. But trust me, this pizza is DYN-O-MITE. But not if you don't like livers. And if you don't like livers I really don't think you should read my blog anyway.
Oh yeah, I still don't have a photograph-making device. But here's a photo of me and my main squeeze eating another tray of pizza at a popular dance hall downtown. I really hate how this photo makes me look bald but that's my favorite tie:
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