Poodlevania

Saw (Part of) the USA on the A1A

2011-03-17T23:44:00.000-04:00

However, I was in a Dodge, not a Chevy.

I freely admit that most of what I know about the eastern coast of Florida comes strictly from reading a whole lotta John D. McDonald novels--the Travis McGee series and others--along with a healthy dose of Carl Hiaasen, so, I totally expect it to be chock full of confidence men, hard-looking dames, scary one-eyed hermits, and other miscreants, with a healthy scattering of kitschy alligator wrestling establishments and water-skiing nymphos of both sexes.

I flew into Jacksonville with the grand idea of driving down to Flagler Beach (my final destination) via the A1A, but there was a pesky wildfire that seemed to be making travel hard. So, on my way back to Jacksonville for the return trip, I planned to stop in St. Augustine for a quick tour and get there via A1A. Alas, I was sidetracked by a wonderful New York-style deli, so I had to drive interstate to St. Augustine to make my meet-up with a co-worker. However, I'm getting ahead of myself, so we'll slow down, put on the cruise control, and start with the beginning of the week.

My final destination out of JAX was Palm Coast, Florida, a planned community. Palm Coast is in Flagler County, named after Henry Flagler, who was responsible for bringing development to the east coast of Florida. He built a railroad to shuttle his rich friends down to the warmer climes from the frozen North. Wikipedia calls him the "father of Miami," because before he built a railroad down to Miami, it was pretty much nothing. But enough with the history...let's talk about food!

One of the best meals I had was at the Flagler Fish Company. This place looks a lot like one of those little hole-in-the wall meccas that you read about on Roadfood.com...and amazingly enough, is not on their list of places in the Flagler Beach area.

Flager Fish Co. is a converted dive shop run by folks who ran away from the crazy city life rat race...they might actually be some of the lucky ones who actually make it, if the quality of the dinner I had is any indication. Everybody has a great idea for a "little ol' beach shack" restaurant, and there seem to be way more bad ideas than good.

When you walk in the door, you are greeted by a giant display case of fresh fish...this would be the fish and shellfish that they are serving today. (Note that large fish with the yellow spots lying across the back of the case...it figures prominently in the next couple of paragraphs...as dinner!!)

As you sit down, a friendly wait person takes your drink order and brings you a generous basket of homemade potato chips and a little cup of homemade clam dip.

Aaaah, clam dip--how I love you so. And, it seems like a 100 years since I've had clam dip. When I was a small child, back in the dark ages known as "the 70s," I always thought clam dip was such an "elegant" treat--way more sophisticated that the French onion dip, even with French in the name. Kraft Clam Dip and Ruffles ('cause they have ridges, and ridges = fancy!) was the very height of sophistication in my little pea brain. I know, I've come a loooooooong way, baby...at least I hope so.

I still have a special place in my heart for clam dip, and a special place in my stomach as well. I would have cheerfully made a meal off of the chips and dip and not even ordered more food. In fact, when my friendly waitperson asked if I wanted more clam dip, the hopeful look on my face made her laugh. It's the little thing, people, the little things.

For dinner, I opted for one of the fresh catches of the day, the golden tile fish. Having actually paid attention during my wanderings at the Monterey Bay Aquarium in December, I knew that it was on the list of sustainable fish, and the Flagler Fish Company seems to adhere to the sustainability rules.

Golden tile fish is a firm white fish that the wait person described as being "between grouper and snapper." Sounds good to me! I had it seared on the flattop grill, with a couple of dipping sauces--a Thai coconut and a brown butter lemon caper. I know, the flavors are pretty disparate, but I couldn't decide if I was in a sweet or buttery mood. Buttery won out over all, but both sauces were tasty.

The side options were pretty amazing, too. A cold Portabella, Tomato, Asparagus Salad in balsamic vinaigrette was my healthy, virtuous choice. The Asiago Potatoes were the blissful indulgence, ranking right up there with the clam dip! You can actually get the recipe from Epicurious, and I'm trying to figure out if I want to make them for people, or eat them all myself.

When my plate arrived, I was slightly disappointed that there were only 2 potatoes, since the menu and the waitperson had really talked about how wonderful they were...and then, I ate a bite. Two is plenty...trust me. These are the richest tasting potatoes, which is something that I don't usually shy away from. Folks say, "ooh, that's too rich for me," and I have no idea what they mean. Too rich? That's kind of like saying "that's too cheesy." When someone says it's too cheesy, it sounds like the parents on Peanuts, "whaaaa waaa whaa waah."

So, two was plenty and rounded out the meal nicely. The fish was perfectly cooked--not dry, moist, and a little flaky. I was extremely pleased with my dining experience.

On my last day in Florida, I drove back through St. Augustine and met up with a co-worker who lives in the area. We decided to take the trolley tour of Old St. Augustine and have lunch in the area. Our first trolley driver was absolutely hilarious--the amount of syllables he could string along when saying 'Juan Ponce de Leon," was amazing. (My Southern drawl is pretty directly related to the amount of liquor I have consumed--the more I have, the more syllables you get. Tequila can give you bonus syllables if you listen closely.)

We took the recommendation of our trolley ticket sales person and had lunch at the St. Augustine outpost of the Columbia restaurant. The Columbia bills itself as the "oldest Spanish restaurant" in Florida, and it was damned good. I opted for the El Combo de Cuba , which is described as "A Cuban feast of Roast Pork, Boliche, platanos, Empanada de Picadillo, black beans and yellow rice." They had me at "feast."

I do have a great fondness for combo plates...it's especially helpful when eating food from cultures not your own. Although, I always am on the horns of a dilemma at new barbecue places, because I always want to try the pork and either the beef or chicken or some other tasty smoked goodness. I think it's because this is usually my one and only shot at the place, and it's quite likely that I'll never pass that way again.

Isn't it beee-yoo-ti-ful? Clockwise, from the top: the empanada, pork roast with gravy, maduros (sweet plaintains) on yellow rice and black beans, and the boliche. Note that red circle in the boliche, the one that makes it look like Jupiter? That, my chickens, is chorizo. You make a tunnel in the beef and shove a stick of chorizo in, then roast it in the oven. Who doesn't like meat in meat? (You could wrap the whole thing in bacon just to kick it up a notch.)

It was almost more excitement than the taste buds could stand.

So, that's what I've been up to lately. And, since the long nuclear winter seems to be over here in the South, it's time to rip the cover off the grill and see what yummy stuff can be conjured up there...before everything acquires that fine yellow pollen coating, and you are afraid to go outside and stand still for very long, because you too could acquire a fine yellow pollen glaze. But, hey--no lake effect snow!

The Good, the Bad, and the pretty damn Yummy

2010-12-30T11:39:00.001-05:00

About 3 weeks ago, I watched The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly ...yeah, I'd seen it before, but this time, I feel like I really watched it for the first time. It was the first time I paid attention to how the movie was put together--that iconic theme song and the amazing score are just as much stars of the movie as the actual actors. There's not a lot of dialogue either, which made me remember that I had forgotten that ol' Clint was a damn fine specimen in his day.

Seeing this movie was sort of a preparation to my latest customer visit, which was to Marina, CA...right outside of Monterey and Carmel, where Clint was mayor and still lives in the area. Yeah, I know he's old and craggy, but for sheer star power, could you really beat Clint? Not that I expect to actually see him walking down the streets of Carmel by the Sea, but a girl can always hope, can't she?

This trip should officially be dubbed "A Fistful of Short Ribs," because that was essentially what I ate for 3 days.

I flew into San Francisco on Saturday afternoon and then drove to Marina, which is about 2 hours away. I was hoping that it would still be daylight when I flew in, so I could at least enjoy the surroundings as I drove down, but it was dark. I had opted to go a day early, so I could spend Sunday wandering around Monterey, see Cannery Row and the Aquarium, and ~~stalk~~ sight see in Carmel.

I arrived in Marina at about 7:30 pm, which meant it was 9:30 my real time, and I was tired and hungry...and a little cranky that I wasn't racking up any Hampton Inn points this trip, because there wasn't a Hampton Inn as one of my lodging choices. (Although, if you are ever in the Marina/Monterey area, you could do worse to stay at the Marina Holiday Inn Express--the shower pressure is freaking amazing. It's the little things...)

After asking at the desk for dining options, the desk clerk sent me off with a coupon to the Kula Ranch Island Steakhouse. Since I've been homesick for Hawaii since I visited last year, this sounded sort of promising. Plus, the coupon options included "buy one, get one Mai Tais," so how bad could it really be?

(What? You don't think it's possible to fall instantly in love with a place and consider it home? Hmmph...am just one winning lottery ticket away of reuniting myself and my island homeland. In the meantime, I make do with the new Hawaii Five-0 eye candy.)

Kula Ranch seems to be a local joint, even though it feels like a franchise...am betting that franchising is in the works somewhere, and specializes in Polynesian-style food. It's kitschy, and I start to get a bad feeling about this, especially when some fresh-faced young man, looking like he walked off the set of Beach Blanket Bingo, walked up to my table with his ukelele and asked if I had any requests. I sort of fixed him with my best gimlet eye and asked for "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida," and he got style points for starting to pluck it out. He's probably dealt with lots of old farts like me before. Anyway, I was just afraid that everything would just have a grilled pineapple ring and a couple of maraschino cherries to make it "Island style." Especially, when one of the coupon offerings is also "Hawaiian Nachos." I'm not exactly sure what the hell says "nacho" about Hawaii, or if there is even a word in Hawaiian for nacho, so I wisely opt for the 2-for-1 Mai Tais.

I've about decided to go with the Mauka Skirt Steak, which is marinated in soy and citrus, when I spot the "Pork, Chicken, and other Specialties" side o' the menu. There is Kalua Pork, but there's also St. Louis-style ribs and some Cajun-spiced, which is disturbing to me for the above grilled pineapple and maraschino cherry reasons, and a beef short ribs dish. Y'all know the love that I have for the short rib, and I hope that these short ribs are like the kalbi-style ones that I had at L&L Hawaiian Barbecue last year.

Alas, they are not. They are not bad, but they are not fabulous...I should have gone with the skirt steak...I didn't have any preconceived notions about it, like I had for the ribs. I think the big problem I had with the dish was the presentation. There was a mount of rice in the middle of the plate, with a scoop of macaroni salad on top of the rice, with the ribs arranged around the plate like spokes--that wasn't the part I found problematic; it was the dumping of the macaroni salad on the rice. It did not work for me, because it made my rice all mayonnaisey. I'm not usually freaked out about my food touching or mixing on the plate, but this did not work for me in the slightest. The Mai Tais were strong and fruity though, and it was a good thing that I was only a half a mile away from the hotel.

I headed back to the hotel and tried to get some sleep. Predictably, I wake up at about 3:30 a.m. and wonder why it's still dark. Ha...I hate changing time zones. I finally give up and get up at about 7:30 to take a shower and start my day. I figure I'll head to Monterey, do the Aquarium, and wander about Cannery Row. As I peer out the window of my room, which overlooks a little marshy area with water birds and walking paths, I notice people walking along the paths. These folks are bundled up like it's nuclear winter out there, and that makes me a little worried, because all I brought was a windbreaker and a light dressy jacket for the office. I turn on the news, and it's 53 degrees F outside...seriously? The walkers had on puffy jackets, ski caps, gloves, and scarves...like it was 53 degrees below zero!

There's nothing so fun as a power outage in a hotel when you are in the shower. I immediately wonder if there's been an earthquake, and this is the time that California breaks off into the sea...blame it on a late-night showing on 2012 on Starz. That has got to be the worst CGI-ed disaster movie of all time. I didn't even make all the way through the movie, because it was so bad.

The power finally returns, and I head out to Monterey to start my day. The aquarium is cool, and I think that the up close and personal viewing of the otters is worth the price of admission. The penguins were pretty cool, too.

I wander through the shops of Cannery Row, and then head over to Carmel-by-the Sea to check out the area and stalk Clint. I had read an interview with him that took place in the dining room of a restaurant/inn that he owns, called the Mission Ranch Hotel and Restaurant. I gathered from the interview that he might actually hang out there on occasion, so I resolve to have dinner there on Monday night.

I headed back to Marina and realize that I am STARVING! I drive around a little bit and spy a Korean barbecue restaurant...kalbi ribs, here I come!!

Normally, I check with folks at the customer site to find out about the local places and get the skinny on what's good, but I decided to just wing it and strike out on my own at Nak Won Korean BBQ, and I am glad I did. I got a heaping portion of the short ribs, along with some Romaine lettuce leaves to wrap it in, and about a dozen small side dishes of kimchi and other delights. There were these awesome marinated large black beans that I could have eaten whole lot more of, along with a tasty potato salad, and some sweet-hot cucumbers and daikon radish slices. (Update: I finally got off my lazy bum and actually typed "Korean Barbecue side dishes black beans" into Google, and found this site, which gives a recipe for Kong Jang, along with other recipes and a sort of how-to for a Korean BBQ party. If I ever work up the nerve and the energy to do a Korean BBQ party, I will definitely make these beans!)

(We could also call this trip "For a Few Woks More," because I ate a lot of Asian food this week, too.) (Did you like that Clint-ism? I am on a roll...a California roll..bwhaaahaaa!)

The next day, I went to lunch with the client at a local Thai place, D'Anna Thai Kitchen, and had the basic Thai Basil noodles with squid, which was very tasty. Across the street from D'Anna's is the U.S. headquarters of the Ginger People. (Not, not a world headquarters for red heads, but the root!) For dinner, I went back to Carmel and had dinner at the Mission Ranch.

The restaurant is very cozy, and looks out over the fields where sheep graze and you can see the Pacific Ocean...if it's not dark by the time you get there. (Luckily, I had scoped this out the day before and saw the view and the sheep then). I had a wedge salad with bacon and blue cheese, along with the Short Rib (Osso bucco style), which was served with grilled asparagus and the most divine mashed potatoes. These potatoes weren't anything fancy--no smashing, no garlic, no cheese, just potatoes, cream, and butter. They were fluffy and light and just so potatoey good. Ossobuco is a braised dish, usually with a veal or pork shank...some slow-cooked goodness. The short rib was very tender and pretty much melted in my mouth like butter. I cleaned my plate and really struggled to keep from actually licking it. Yum! I decided to forgo dessert at the beginning of the meal in favor of a nice local California cabernet...after all, I am on a limited expense account.

Lunch on Tuesday was at a local Japanese place that had a very nice teriyaki chicken bento box...the name of the place escapes me now, but it was good...not truly memorable, but good.

Tuesday evening finds me driving back to San Francisco to spend the night and catch an early flight out. As I wind my way around the city to a Hampton Inn near the airport, I am trying to decide where/what to look for dinner. After getting lost twice...sometimes those overlapping overpasses are very confusing on the GPS!...I get on the right road, and lo, behold, as I pull into the hotel parking lot, about 2 blocks down from the hotel is (drum roll please) a glowing yellow arrow beacon marking the spot of an In & Out Burger .

No trip to California would be complete for me without a stop at In & Out, and I had despaired of finding one in the northern climes, since In & Out is more of a Southern California delicacy. One double-double animal style later, along with skinny fries and a chocolate shake, I fall into a food-induced coma until the alarm goes off at 4 am, and I begin the mad scramble for the airport and my flight home.

Just Taste the Rainbow Already!

2010-11-28T11:11:00.000-05:00

(Okay, you so don't want to know all the images that Google gives you when you search on "taste the rainbow." Trust me on this one.)

If I were to take one of those inane Facebook quizzes about "what kind of bird are you?", I would probably score as a crow or a magpie, based on my love of shiny and colorful things. In this episode of "Baked: or Why Don't I Just Go Ahead and Put My Head in the Oven Already," I get distracted once again by something pretty on a baking blog of someone who has way more luck and experience than I do with getting something edible out of the oven.

I know I whine a lot about baking, but I really, really, really want to be able to do it. And I don't understand why I can't. I know practice makes perfect, but sometimes, you need more than practice. I think you need either magic, the appropriate gene structure, or possibly voodoo.

And, we can just blame it on Linna for sending me links to the The Food Librarian's celebration of Bundt cakes, appropriately named "I Like Big Bundts." (You have to love the Sir Mix-a-Lot reference...the man is nothing, if not honest.) Somehow, I got a link from there, at least I think it was from that site, to this one for the Kitchen Koala, who posted one of the coolest looking cakes that I have ever seen: a Rainbow Cake.

It's not just enough that all the layers are different colors; they are all different flavors, too. KK got her recipe from the Cheeky Kitchen, which is where I got the actual recipe as well. I used some of the techniques described in the Koala post, like using thawed frozen fruit and pureeing the beejeezus out of it, and the Billowed White Chocolate frosting recipe that Cheeky Kitchen used. And, this is what I got:

Pretty cool, huh? Each layer is obviously a different color, but they are also different flavors. The red one is raspberry with pureed raspberries; orange has orange zest and orange juice; lemon has lemon zest and juice, as does the lime, with lime zest and juice. I whirled up some blueberries for the blue layer, and blackberries for the violet layer. (Indigo was put in the corner and had to wait this one out. I suppose I could have gone right on out on the crazy tree limb and made a 7th layer for indigo, combining blueberry and blackberry, but I feel that 6 layers was quite enough, thank you. "ROYGBV" works just fine in my spectrum.)

While making this cake, I felt a kinship with Tim "The Toolman" Taylor--I got all the tools and a lot of enthusiasm, but I might be a little lacking in the innate talent department.

The slippery slide down the path of baking construction started out auspiciously, when I borrowed 3 8-inch cake pans from Linna to add to the 3 8-inch pans I already had and discovered that I have no idea how to measure. I have 9-inch cake pans, and as with most things, an inch makes a BIG difference. And, really cake pan manufacturers, is it so hard to put the size on the darn pans? Pyrex manages to do it...just sayin'.

You know that I have already mixed the cake batter up and divided it out and mixed the colors and flavors in by the time that I discovered the discrepancy. I call Linna in a panic, and she talks me off the ledge and assures me that I can just run a little cool water in the pans after I take the first 3 layers out to cool, and I should be fine to bake the next three layers.

I am very concerned about making sure that my batter is divided evenly--the recipe says to scoop out 6 cups and divided them in to 6 different 1-cup containers. I double-checked that all the layers had the same amount of batter by weighing them to make sure they all weighed the same before adding the fruit and color. I was kinda proud of myself for thinking of that method, if I do say so myself. (Yes, if you look closely, that is a ladybug toaster on my counter, which was a wonderful Christmas present from Linna.)

When I added the fruit for the red, blue,and purple layers, I measured out 4 oz of each fruit before pureeing it and adding it to the batter.

Yep, that is ladybug tea kettle...

Before I put the pans in the oven, I spun them around and tried to make sure that I had distributed the batter evenly in each pan. I have no idea what happened in the split second that it took me to stop the spinning the pans and toss them in the oven, but they came out in all different depths. I was rather surprised when the green layer came out, and it was significantly flatter than the other 5 layers. I had expected that the red, blue, and purple layers might have been a bit thicker, because they had more ingredients with addition of the pureed fruit. I assume there must have been some sort of extra reaction to the acidity in the lime juice which caused it not to rise more. (If I'm wrong, don't tell me...just let me add it to the mythos and madness of what I think baking should be...it will keep me happy and stop me from over analyzing my fool ass off.) I was afraid to try and level them, especially that ol' green layer...Hulk say leveling bad. Besides, I figure I can fill in the gaps with icing. (Hah! I can hear you all laughing about this now.)

I watched them very carefully, since my oven tends to run a little hot, and did my best not to overcook them, and started preparing the icing. I used the Billowed White Chocolate recipe from Cheeky Kitchen's original post, which involves 2 sticks of butter, a bag of white chocolate chips, milk, and 3 pounds of powdered sugar. Yeah, that was 3 pounds and not a typo. I am fascinated with how you can take an enormous amount of powered sugar and have it absorbed by a small amount of liquid and become frosting. When I turned to the Internet to find out why, I got distracted by this post of baking substitutions on Joy of Baking and remembered that I really needed to finish this post...

The icing just about did my little hand mixer in...at this point in the evening, I did not have the strength nor the mental acuity to wrestle with the stand mixer. Besides, I think my stand mixer hates me, because it knows I don't have any baking genetics. The frosting came together well; it was just hard going at times when adding in a fresh dump of powdered sugar..."dump" might not be the best word to use here, but I'm going with it anyway.

I start stacking and frosting and stacking and frosting, until I end up with something that looks like the Leaning Tower of Cake-a. I put about 5-6 long wooden barbecue skewers in to try and hold the cake together while I finished frosting it, so the whole thing wouldn't slide off into the floor, possibly crushing the Goldfish and have the other two devil poodles in cake and frosting sugar coma heaven.

Frosting this cake is tiring and a real arm workout. After I get frosting all over the cake and me, I decide that I am throwing it into the fridge overnight and dealing with it tomorrow. Hopefully, it will magically straighten up and be perfect when I pull it out. Because, you know I wasn't just making this completely for my own amusement...I was going to inflict it on people who were Coming Over.

A couple of hours before the ~~victims~~ guests were to arrive, I pulled it and the rest of the frosting out of the fridge to soften and come to room temp before trying to finish it off. Kimma showed up early, and I immediately threw myself at her mercy, handed her an offset spatula, and begged her to "fix it." She smoothed out the icing, filled in the gaps, and then we sprinkled multicolored sugar on it to liven up the stark white frosting. It was pretty darn impressive looking, all tall and white, and not quite so leaning, if I do say so myself.

At this point, I have ingested so much cake batter and frosting in the process, trying to determine how the finished product will taste, that I am so over and done with this cake that I can barely stand to look at it. My guests are brave and try it, proclaiming it to be delicious, and that all the fruity layers seem to work together...which is good, because I had visions of it tasting like a bad bowl of Froot Loops. Everyone seems to have a favorite layer, and not necessarily the same flavor. I was sort of worried about all the flavors, because in tasting the batter before baking, the purple/blackberry layer was the only one that seemed remotely edible. Amazing what a little heat and a tone of frosting can do, isn't it?

I foist off as much as I could on folks and wrapped up a couple of slices to throw in the freezer, waiting until I could work up my nerve and appetite to try it. The Poodle Sitter came over the night before Thanksgiving, and she was pretty excited about the rainbow cake, so we pulled some out of the freezer to try. And, you know what? It was pretty tasty. It was moist and tender, even after being in the freezer, and the fruit flavors really did taste fruity and light and did not clash with each other. I think my favorite layer was the purple one (blackberry), followed in a close second by red (raspberry).

Lessons Learned

First and foremost, I would not attempt this cake again in a single session...especially not on a work night. It's a 2-day project at the very least. If I ever get crazy enough to do this again, I will definitely make the layers in advance and refrigerate or freeze them.

I would also like a better frosting recipe...as much as I hate to say it, the old standby cream cheese frosting might have worked better for this cake. The white chocolate one that I used was just too sweet and didn't really have any flavor but sweet, if that makes any sense. I am right fond of marshmallow icings, and I realize they might be an acquired taste, but I think that would have went well, as would a basic butter cream or 7-minute.

And, I will start leveling my cakes better...even if the green layer becomes nothing more that a sliver between the yellow and blue.

Also, since this started life as a box mix and all the fruity flavors seemed to turn out well, I'm thinking that might be a tasty way to quickly jazz up the cake and have something a little bit out of the ordinary when you need a cake in a pinch.

Part of me (probably the logical rational part that I keep buried in a box) says give up and leave well enough alone and stick to the Bundt cake, because it is hard to screw one of those up. Bundts always looks nice and neat, with those handy lines for portion control. The Crow side, the wild and crazy part that is sucked in by bright colors and shiny things, is wondering if we can conceivably turn this rainbow cake thing into a Bundt and then cover it with those little silver dragees. Luckily, Crow is in her cage and distracted from picking the lock because I threw in one of those Fushigi balls to keep her occupied.

Am not completely sure why it's art and why "everyone loves" it, but it keeps her out of baking trouble...

Chicken & Champagne

2010-10-10T21:48:00.000-04:00

It was a damned hot summer here, and I grilled out like nobody's business. I even ran out of propane, and a tank usually lasts me a year. (Not going to debate the charcoal versus gas thing...yes, I prefer charcoal, but I also like to grill on the spur of the moment, which is hard to do if you are waiting for coals.) I even grilled so much that I ended up getting a new grill, because the grates on the old one were wearing through.

R., a friend and former co-worker who now lives in Food Central of the Pacific Northwest (and we are jealous!), sent me a marinade recipe for chicken that he had at a cookout. He said it was so good that his son forsook pork chops in favor of this chicken, which really piqued my interest--pork over chicken? The heresy!! He didn't provide a name for it, but I have dubbed it Sake Chicken, because it has sake in it...brilliant, am I not?

Most of us know sake as the drink they serve in sushi bars and, to my palate, may as well be called Asian moonshine...it always tastes very harsh to me. It come hot, in cute little bottles with cute little cups, or cold in cedar boxes with salt on the rim. And that's about the extent of the average person's knowledge of sake...and mine too, up until this post.

As it happens, the day I was out looking for ingredients to this marinade, I went to Earth Fare, our newest food market and total bane of my bank account. While wandering through the amazingly well-stocked cheese and wine section, just past the olive bar of no return, there is a vendor offering sake tastings. I am intrigued, of course, because who turns down a free drink? I look at offerings, and the one that really sticks out is a bottle with a pale milky pinkish liquid...is that sake or just the bottle? No matter, it's pretty, so it must be good!

This sake is Snow Maiden sake, and it gets its name from a breed of koi, which are ornamental carp. It is a nigorizake, or "cloudy" sake, which is why it appears milky in my little plastic cup.

The vendor starts babbling about how the garden variety sake you get in sushi bars is essentially crap...sounds like she thinks it's one step above paint thinner. She starts waxing and waning about how to tell "good" sake, that you need to be able to tell the prefecture that it came from, the type of rice it was made from, heck, possibly the color of the master brewer's underwear. I sort of tune her out, because I'm just here for the free drink, and I think that sake is sake, and it can't be all that different from the sushi bar house sake. Yeah, you knew I was wrong about that, didn't you? I was totally surprised by the Snow Maiden.

It was smooth and creamy, a bit nutty, and not anything at all like the harsher sake that I've had in the past. I'm acquiring a whole new respect for this stuff, and I might go so far as to actually order it at dinner or buy it for home consumption. However, I am not using it as a marinade ingredient. While the Snow Maiden is not horrifically expensive, I think the garden variety Gekkeikan will be just fine...and it might be quite possible to leave it out altogether, but you would need to add something for acidity, I think...maybe a flavored vinegar. Or, I can lend you a cup, because you know I'm not drinking this stuff.

Sake Chicken

4 lbs of chicken (breasts, thighs, tenderloins--your preference; I used boneless skinless breasts, but I'm sure boneless or bone-in parts are fine)

1/2 cup soy sauce

3/4 cup sugar

1/4 cup ketchup (I am a firm believer in Heinz and only Heinz for my ketchup needs)

1/4 cup sake

1 Tbsp. sesame oil

1 inch or so ginger root (peeled and grated)

1-2 cloves garlic (grated)

1/2 bunch of green onions, chopped

Method

(NOTE: I made the recipe using the full amount of marinade and only 2 pounds of chicken. I would suggest doubling the marinade if you use the full amount of chicken...it makes a wonderful dipping sauce.)

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk together all the wet ingredients, including the sugar. Use a Microplane grater to grate the peeled ginger into the marinade, and then use a garlic press to smash up the garlic and add it, or grate with the Microplane. Thinly slice the green onions and add to the marinade.

Place the chicken parts in a zippered freezer bag and add the marinade. Seal and marinate at least 2 hours, up to overnight. Remove from the marinade, reserving the liquid, and grill until done. Place the reserved marinade in a small sauce pan and heat until boiling. Boil for at least 5 minutes to reduce and also make the marinade safe to use as a dipping sauce. Serve sauce along side the chicken or pour over.

This is some mighty fine, lip-smacking chicken. I made some rice and steamed a little broccoli to go with it, and it was a fabulous feast.

I know I'm a little lax in my posting these days (yes, okay, VERY lax!), but honestly, I have not cooked ir eaten anything highly exciting lately...well, wait...there was the Great Pink Champagne Cake experiment.

I was scheduled to have lunch with a group of ladies that I used to work with, and one of them was just coming off of chemo (for the evil breast cancer), and it was also her birthday, so we decided to surprise her with a cake and cards. So, I volunteered for dessert, because my friends are very good at encouraging me in my efforts (and probably because I can always bring a killer banana pudding if all else fails). Since it was her birthday and the whole Save the Ta-tas theme of pink, I thought I would like to do a Pink Champagne Cake. Remember the rose-shaped Bundt pan? From the time I opened that as a gift, I have wanted to do a Pink Champagne Cake. I've read about them, and they just sound yummy.

So, off to the Internets I go to search out a recipe and maybe some tips and hints. I found a recipe at GoodThings Catered blog, and it sounded good, and all the commenters were pretty rah-rah about it. The only thing that is odd is the inclusion of powdered milk. I hate reconstituted powder milk with a white-hot passion...we used to have it occasionally for lunch at my kindergarten, and I refused to drink it then, and I ain't agonna drink now. So, any recipes to pass along to use the remainder of the box of powdered milk would be greatly appreciated. (Yeah, I guess I could have used regular milk, but I wasn't quite sure why it called for powdered milk, and I am such a baking 'fraidy cat that I always make it by the book when making a cake for the first time.) I make the cake in the Rose pan...after spraying it within an inch of its little Bundt life with some Baker's Joy. No stickage!! Whoo hoo!

While the cake cools, I find a recipe for a Champagne Glaze--it's hard to frost a Bundt, much less a rose-shaped Bundt, so I thought a glaze would be good. It essentially was a simply syrup with champagne and butter. How bad could that be? Yeah, pretty bad. It was like syrupy butter...the smell of the champagne was good, but the taste was almost non-existent. I added more champagne, but it was just too buttery tasting. I know, buttery is not usually bad, but in this case it was, because there was no balance. The butter flavor overwhelmed the glaze.

I'm trying to figure out what to do with the cake, because it's just not what I had in mind when I started this project, and I decide to make another cake, but this time as a regular 2-layer cake. I know I'm not the world's best baker, and I kind of suck at icing and decorating, but what did I have to lose? If you slather enough buttercream icing on a cake, people will eat it it, no matter how lumpy it is.

While the second cake cooked, I surfed the web and checked Facebooks to see what my peeps were up to...probably not at home wrecking their kitchens on a Friday night, that's for sure. I spy a link in someone's status to this post at inchmark.squarespace.com. This is a pretty cute cake, and it seems like it should be pretty easy to do...then, I read the blog author used to be senior art director at Martha Stewart Living and Martha Stewart Kids. Crap. Oh, well, in for a penny, in for a pound at this point. It's midnight, and I gotta figure out something for that cake.

And, really, how hard can it be? It's royal icing piped on wax paper and left to harden overnight. Famous last words. Royal icing is a bitch to work with, because that stuff will harden like cement in a matter of minutes. So, I had to keep it covered while coloring it and piping it. And, you know, anytime you use food coloring, especially late at night in semi-panic mode, things are going to get wild. Hollywood, who has a very bad habit of sitting practically on my feet while I am in the kitchen, ended up with a bright pink top knot after I dripped icing on him when I tripped over him...the oven door was similarly coated in the same incident.

And, of course, it took me to the last set of dots to actually get the hang of it and feel good about my dot making.

The next morning, I get up and stumble into the kitchen, which looked like Barbie exploded in it, not to mention that one of the poodles was still pink. All in all, we were looking at a qualified success here...snort. The dots looked pretty good; they held their shape and seemed to have dried okay. I start peeling them up and poking them onto the cake, and it's working like a charm. Those Martha Stewart folks really know their stuff. A couple of the larger dots were a little too flexible and could have used a little more drying time...they cracked just a little, but this was actually turning into a bonafide success story. Check it out; it looks pretty good for rank ol' amateur me.

I went ahead and took the rose-shaped cake, too, and dusted it with a little powdered sugar. I figure it you don't like icing, then you had an option. I was bit underwhelmed by the actual eating of the cake...maybe I was just pink champagned-caked out, but it was not all that and a bag of fondant. It tasted okay, but it wasn't fabyooolous by any means. And, I don't know if it was me or the recipe...I'm willing to go with a little of both, just to save some face here, plus the dots are darned cute.

I will totally try the dot thing again, and I liked Inchmark's suggestion of how to successfully pipe letters for decorating as well. I think shall work on mastering dots first, then maybe some punctuation, before I try an actual letter. And, next time, I will give the dots more time to dry. The leftover dots that dried for about 15 hours were perfect--easy to pick up, no cracking.

Oh, and the poodle is no longer pink.

Mile-High Club

2010-08-02T22:47:00.000-04:00

No, not *that* Mile-High Club...what kind of blog do you think this is? I just meant that I had finally visited Denver.

I've been to the lovely state of Colorado before, but never to Denver, and I would love to go back soonest. I could seriously picture me and the poodles living in Denver. Especially with the heatwave that we've been experiencing lately. On my way back from Denver, there was a layover in Memphis, and I, along with my fellow passengers, made audible noises about the force of the heat and humidity as we stepped out of the plane and into the jetway. It was like a physical slap in the face with a hot, wet towel. Ugh to the nth degree.

The cool thing about this trip was having friends in the area to meet up with and share some fun and cool dining experiences. I met up with a former co-worker, LD, when I got off the plane, and we went to a lovely little French place in downtown Denver (LoDo area) and had a fantastic meal. There was a little "incident" that made the dining experience a little less than optimal, but the food was fab;. We went to Bistro Vendome, and ate "bad things," which means things that tasted extremely good but were not on my 400-calorie per meal allowance...more on that later.

We started with mussels in garlic/wine/butter and Rillette de Canard with a rhubarb-black currant marmalade. How can you go wrong with mussels in a wine and butter broth? You can't, unless you ask for a second loaf of bread to try and soak up all that garlicky goodness, which might negatively impact how much of your entree you can eat, and you might as well forget about dessert.

The rillette is a sort of a rough, rustic paté...without the liver. Meat (could be duck, could be pork, etc.) is cooked in fat until very tender, then shredded and mixed with seasonings and packed down into jars or ramekins and sealed with a little layer of the fat. The rillette came in a little glass jar with the requisite layer of creamy white duck fat on top. You mix in the fat (I know!! How decadent is that?! Mixing actual fat into your food ON PURPOSE!) with the meat, and then spread it on toast. And, no I totally forgot to take a picture, dammit! You can go here, which I found by Googling "rillette" and check out the picture for an idea of how it looked, and the blog, which I plan to go back to and read more of, because it's very interesting.

I'm back...got sidetracked by her post on Porchetta...almost shorted out the laptop by drooling.

On to the rest of the French meal...we both got Steak Frites, and I opted for the classic Béarnaise (hello, steak and butter!), and LD went for the Roquefort in a port reduction option. I had some of her Roquefort, and I think we both found it a bit pungent. Don't get me wrong, because I love all the bleu cheeses, but I think I would have rather had that particular one with some apple slices, bread, and a big glass of wine.

Steak Frites (steak with fries) is more of a Belgian dish, but who cares what the actual entymology of the dish is...it's steak and potatoes, which we Americans seem to claim as one of our national signature meals, too. The steak was perfectly medium-rare, the fries were skinny, crispy, and coated in a sweetish glaze...it's hard to describe...maybe it was a sherry vinegar? The thing with the frites is that they should be fried twice to get crispy. Fries are one of those sides that I can take or leave for the most part, but I think I ate every single one of these.

Unfortunately, that extra loaf of bread that I mentioned earlier caught up with me, and I was unable to do more than glance at the dessert menu...hate that. Plus, the "incident" was a little off putting...at a table near us, a couple with a small toddler-age child was dining, and about halfway through our meal, the child tossed his cookies...not something you want to see or hear while having a great meal...or any meal, for that matter. It seemed to take forever for this to get cleared away, because the parents were in no hurry to leave, so the staff could hose down the area (we were sitting out on the patio). That was highly annoying...hello clueless people, your child just upchucked all over the place much to the chagrin of other diners and you are continuing to talk to each other and ineffectually dab at him with a napkin. What is wrong with you? Pick him up and hightail it out of there and leave a good tip for the folks who have to clean up after you. We just averted our eyes as best we could and plowed gamely on.

The next night, I was on my own and went with recommendation from one of the library staff for Lola, which bills itself as "coastal Mexican," and "one of the top 5 places to drink tequila in America, according to Food & Wine Magazine," and who am I to argue? Monday nights are all-night happy hour, with a special appetizer menu and reduced drink prices.

I decided to have a draft Dos Equis--I really wish it had been the Dos Equis Amber, which I consider to be *the* perfect food beer--and build myself a little tapas-style dinner from the happy hour apps. I had a little fried fish taco that had a nice crunch (soggy is bad!), along with homemade pork rinds, and pork gorditas. The homemade pork rinds were sprinkled with cojita cheese and lime zest and served with Lola's signature sauce Muñoz, which has chile de arbol, tomatoes, and onions, and packs a nice little kick. That sauce can be downright addictive.

The star of my little platter was without a doubt the pork gorditas--little open-faced pork tacos with fried onions, habanero, tomato, and cojita cheese. The cojita used in these dishes is the creamy version, and it was a lot like a chevre with its tangy flavor. Those 3 little bites of pork heaven were a-to the-mazing. I seriously thought about ordering a dozen to go and taking them back to ye olde Hampton Inn and eat myself into a little foodie coma.

However, I resisted and opted to have a slice of Chocolate Chipolte Caramel Cake...a devil's food cake layered with dulce de leche and chocolate mousse, served with sea salt caramel ice cream and pepita (pumpkin seed) brittle. I wanted a little more of the chipolte heat in the cake--love the chocolate and the heat--but all was forgiven/put out of my mind by that salted caramel ice cream. It was the perfect combination of sweet, cold, and salty.

Tuesday night, I had plans with TC, who I had not seen in a bazillion years, and was looking forward to catching up in a big way. I talked up Lola from the night before, and he thought it sounded pretty good for dinner, so we went back. Tuesday night was a 4-course tasting menu with or without wine or tequila (we went with the wine).

First course was a little ahi tuna tartar in a gazpacho sauce, which was nice, but not anything to really write home or blog about. Then, the second course of habanero barbecue pork rib appeared, and it ranked right up there with the previous night's gorditas. I was very tempted to say "bring me the rest of the rack...matter of fact, bring me ALL the racks, bwhaaahaaahaa!" Succulent, tender, with just the right amount of heat...and I'm not normally a rib aficionado, but these were awesome.

For the third course, you had a choice between escolar, a firm white fish, carne asada, or steelhead trout. I chose the escolar, and T chose the carne asada. The blackened escolar was very tasty and served with a jalapeno coleslaw. Since I had never heard of this fish before, I Googled it, and this article on Wikipedia is most interesting...and slightly makes me not want to order it again, especially since the state of Hawaii is thinking about banning it. Although, it might be the perfect portion control diet food--you overindulge with this one and have food poisoning symptoms, you probably won't do it again! No worries with this meal, though.

We finished up the meal with a peach shaved ice topped with a mango-strawberry salsa, which was just light enough that we felt obligated to find another recommendation called the Red Trolley and have some ice cream. A scoop of Dark Chocolate Covered Salted Caramel ice cream for me, and a bite of TC's Graham Cracker ice cream put paid to a wonderful evening.

I met back up with LD for my last night in Denver, and we dined at Domo, a country Japanese restaurant. When the words "country Japanese" came out of LD's mouth, I got a mental image of octopus on cornbread, then started wondering if pinto beans go with sake, and had a hard time shaking all that from my brain.

Domo is an odd place...it's sort of on the edge of an industrialized area and boasts a museum and garden, along with a dojo. The "country" part comes into play with the side dishes they serve. We got 7 little dishes of things like a wonderful eggplant and tofu combination, a pork stew, and potato salad...a pretty darn good potato salad, which is not something that I normally associate with Japanese food. (I know, you think I've lost my mind because I used "wonderful" as an adjective for tofu, but it really was very tasty.)

Dining outside in July is amazing to me, considering at home, we are like little lizards running from one air conditioned building to the next and trying not to move any more than we have to or break out into any form of perspiration. This year, it's like we jumped directly from spring into the depths of August heat at the beginning of June.

"Moo-ternal" love

Denver is also chock-a-block full of public art installations. My customer liaison told me that companies are required to spend 1% of their new construction budget on public art, so there's lots o' interesting things to look at in the downtown area. Here are a few of my faves:

The broom and dustpan are outside of the newer part of the Denver Museum of Art

I have no idea what this red thing is, but it's pretty cool.
It looks like it might transform into something else at a moment's notice

I'll be back in Denver in February, when the customer goes live, and I'm thinking that Mother Nature will probably prepare a nice little welcome for me in the form of 10 feet of snow. Which, in this crazy 98-degree, heat index of 106, and my stupid AC decides to go out AGAIN--3rd time this summer!, is sounding pretty darn enticing.

Doin' Dallas (well mostly Fort Worth)

2010-06-15T00:29:00.000-04:00

It's 9:30 pm and I'm hurtling down the freeway from Fort Worth to Dallas with AC/DC on the radio...who doesn't like a little "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap"? I love driving in Dallas, even in this crappy rental car--I can generally go as fast as I damn well please, because everybody else is doing the same thing...can't do that in Houston, because NO ONE IS MOVING on any of those freeways...which is why I always like going to Dallas over Houston any day.

I've just been to the Lonesome Dove Western Bistro in the historic Fort Worth Stockyards District, full as the proverbial tick, and feeling the need to buy boots again...

I get that feeling every time I come to Texas...the "must buy boots" feeling...I have 2 pairs plus a pair of ropers and I don't exactly rope cows for a living, so why this feeling comes over me, I have no idea. Blame it on the myth and mystery that is Texas. I always waffle back and forth about them whenever I'm packing the rolling saddlebag for a trip to the Lone Star State. Part of me says I need to bring them for protective coloration, and the practical side says "won't you be at your most attractive while hopping around Security trying to pull the damn things off in a timely manner?" That's the voice that usually decides the fate of the boot packing. Plus, it's not like I wear my boots on a regular basis anyway--guess I just sleep better knowing I have the right accessories for an impromptu rodeo or cattle drive. (And, you know there is a fringed shirt hanging out in the back of one of my closets somewhere...that happened as a result of a little trip to Amarillo and a clearance sale. And, you can go ahead and admit that you are secretly jealous that I own a garment with fringe...a garment that I can wear in public if I want...)

Anyway, let's round up the herd and get back to the point of this whole post in case you missed the part in the beginning where I said I went to the Lonesome Dove Western Bistro...that part...the tasty part. (Be warned that the link to the website has music--the controls are on the bottom, close to the right side.)

I first saw Chef Tim Love on last season's Top Chef Masters, and every single thing that he prepared made me say "I'd eat that," out loud as I was watching, even when he was making food in a dorm room. He's also competed on Iron Chef and spanked Morimoto--only the 7th person to do so, so take that Bobby Flay! (Although, the secret ingredient on that episode was chile peppers, so that may have given the Cowboy Chef a small leg up on the competition...still, take that, Bobby Flay!)

Since I was about 35 miles away from Fort Worth, I headed to the Stockyards as soon as I finished my work day. Once I arrived in the historic district and parked, I realized that slingbacks are not the optimal walking shoe for cobblestone streets. I ducked into the first souvenir shop I saw, and I am now the proud owner of some bright red, white, and blue Texas flip flops, which will look great on the 4th of July. I stomped around in my purty flipper flops for awhile, drooling over boots and wondering about the appeal of chairs made from horns...one of which looked like it was created for Satan's Jungle Room. (It was in an art gallery, and I could not take a picture, darn it.) It was similar to this one, but more pointy...if that could be possible.

The food at the Lonesome Dove is seasonal, regional, and local...all with a definitive Western flair. He appeared on Iron Chef in a cowboy hat, and the appetizer chefs all wore them as well, in the restaurant. The main menu changes daily, and I just wish I had been able to try more of it while I was there. It's not an inexpensive restaurant...it's a per diem buster, but when you are in the vicinity, I think it well worth the dinero...although I haven't turned in my expense report yet!

The menu has 3 course--appetizer; soup/salad; entree--and I opted for 1 and 3, with the idea that I could slide dessert in if anything struck my fancy. I started with a St. Germain Screwdriver, with vodka, fresh orange juice, and a dash of St. Germain elderflower liqueur. It was the prettiest tasting screwdriver I've ever had, and I'm not talking about looks. It had a very delicate, summery quality about it, and I resolved to grab some St. G when I'm at a liquor store that sells it.

Enough blathering--on to the food! (You will be proud of me that I took pictures of my actual meal, until the battery died at the dessert course. And, I turned the flash off, so I wouldn't be so obvious, and the pics are not the best that I've ever taken.)

First Course: Elk Sausage sliders with seared foie gras and blueberry jam. These little burgers were amazing. So flavorful and juicy, with just a hint of sweetness from the jam and the Hawaiian-type sweet roll...they probably were King's Hawaiian's rolls, but they worked perfectly with this dish.

Main Course: Since I'm in Texas, I felt the need to have beef. There were several options for prime hand cut steaks, but I opted for the Prime Skirt Steak, Fried Salsify, and Citrus Broccolini. The skirt steak was cooked perfectly medium-rare, with just the right amount of crusty bits. Since times are few and far between that I get the opportunity to have a Prime piece of beef, I tend to forget just how damn good prime is, and how it can spoil you for other beef for awhile.

I apologize for the fuzziness of the picture; however, if you can see the cross bars of what appear to be French fries, that's the Fried Salsify.

For some reason, I thought salsify was a green leafy herby sort of thing, but it's really more like a parsnip. It's known as the "oyster plant," because its taste has been likened to that of an oyster. I'm not remembering a really pronounced "oystery" taste, but those were some darn good fries!

Dessert: There were 2 dessert offerings that caught my eye, and the Warm Ancho Chile Chocolate Cake with Salted Almond ice cream won the battle. I love, love, love me some spicy chocolateness, and while the cake had a really great deep dark chocolate flavor, it was not very spicy...not anything like the amazing spicy Chocolate Mole milkshake I had at Flip last year. (That would be "mole-lay" and not a milkshake made of garden-based rodents...can't figure out how to put in accent marks.) The Salted Almond Ice Cream really made this dish...it was the perfect blend of sweet, salt, cold, and nuttiness.

I was there with a co-worker, and she ordered the House Made Mexican Donuts (churros to you and me) with 3 dipping sauces. The presentation was very cool with this dessert--there was a little bucket with the churros and three little dipping sauce bowls. The sauces were chocolate, raspberry, and cajeta (caramel). I tried the caramel and raspberry, and let me go on the record right now and say that the caramel one was ranking right on up there in the "better than sex" category, vying for a place on the "better than sex with most people" podium in either the bronze or silver category. Conceivably, if I had a whole bucket of those churros and that caramel sauce for myownself, I would have cast my vote for gold. There's gold in them thar churros! (Wait...wrong state.)

And, now I'm going off to spread out my bedroll and contemplate the need for red cowboy (girl) boots...I think there's something sassy about red boots, and I'm feelin' sassy all of a sudden! (And, fringe! Lest we forget about the fringe! Would fringed boots be too much?)

Dusting Off

2010-05-17T23:38:00.002-04:00

La di da di da...Oh! Hey there! I thought I'd dust off this old thing and take it back out for a spin...seeing as how I HATE it when people just stop blogging with no explanation.

It's been a crazy couple of months here at Poodlevania, and I've been having all sorts of guilt feelings about not posting, so I am making myself do it...not that I feel like posting is a burden, but you know how it is when you get out of loop of doing something on a regular basis, it can be hard to climb back on that horse. (Mixing the metaphors here!!)

Anyway, I have a small surprise for you...actually about 17 pounds of surprise...and the even bigger surprise is that it's not black. Let me introduce you to the newest member of our Poodlevania family: Hollywood (yes, the name has been changed to protect the innocent!)!

It's all The New Hotness' fault. He'd been moping around since the Rickety Fat Dog left us at the end of February, with nobody to play with. The Goldfish tries, but he's blind, and that makes it a little hard to see when someone is trying to play with you.

One Saturday afternoon, I took the plunge and went on petfinder.com, which is the most dangerous website on the planet...so dangerous that I won't even hot link it here. It's impossible to go on that site without wanting to take ALL of them home with you. I put in some search terms and up popped this little guy...who is not black, but was a miniature poodle, which I thought the New Hotness might enjoy having someone closer to his own size.

I wrote to the rescue organization and inquired about his availability, and he was being fostered in Memphis, which is about 4 hours from here. I provided references, which were checked, and the next thing I know, me and the Poodle Nanny (she who house sits while I travel) are off bright and early one fine Saturday morning in April to meet his foster mom and bring him home.

I took The New Hotness with us to make sure it wasn't a case of "hate at first sight," and it was a very uneventful trip over...no snapping turtles to save or speeding tickets to acquire. I had seen his picture on the website, and he looked a bit scruffy, but usually they are groomed by the time a new person gets a foster dog. This is what hopped out of the car and into my car...um, not so poodle-like, is he? I was starting to wonder if he really was a poodle, when his foster mom started telling me how much he liked water--tried to eat it as it came out of the sprinkler and tried to climb into the shower with her...how very strange, because all the poodles I have owned, regardless of the fact that their original ancestors were bred to be freakin' water retrievers, have hated water. The Fat Dog would be beside himself whenever we opened the pool each summer, because he was convinced that we were voluntarily dunking ourselves in an acid bath.

The New Hotness seems to be overjoyed, because finally, there is someone newer on the totem pole than he, and he spent a lot of time trying to "dominate" (i.e., air hump) the new guy...who seemed to ignore it for the most part.

I waited a week for him to get used to his new digs and trying to get pictures of this dog, who is camera-shy to the nth degree...which is where I got the "Hollywood" moniker--he doesn't like the paparazzi. He tries to hide every time you take a picture of him. The one above was taken when he was cornered by the backdoor and had nowhere else to run.

At the end of the week, I explained to him that Poodlevania had certain standards to uphold--stop laughing, because I know there aren't many standards around here, but the ones we have are important!--and that he was going to have to look like a poodle. He just gave me the hairy eyeball and proceeded to roll over and present his belly to be scratched.

So, off he goes to the vet, which is where our groomer is. Every time I have been in there on a weekday morning, there is no one in the lobby...I seem to miss the drop off before work crowd. Except for the day that I take ol' H'wood in. There is a lobby full of people, and they are all giving me the stink eye for letting this poor animal's coat get in such a matted state. I felt compelled to announce to the room at large that I did not do this to him, that he came this way, and he was a rescue dog. Miss M., the groomer, came out and started looking him over, shaking her head. I allowed that I knew it was bad, and that she had carte blanche to do what was needed doing...it's hair, I said, it will grow back. She said she would do what she could and carted him off into the bowels of the office.

About 4 hours later, I head back to pick him up and meet with the vet to get her opinion of him. Miss M. brought him to me in one of the exam rooms, and y'all, I almost cried. She is an amazing and talented woman to have take the fuzzball on 4 legs and turn him into this poodley wonder! (The "ol' trap him by the door" trick was the best I could do on getting him to stand still and letting me catch him in his new-found glory.

I had fully expected him to be completely shaved, and it was almost overwhelming to look at how pretty he was after Miss M finished with him. We were trying to decide exactly what color he is, and we finally settled on dark apricot, although in some spots, he borders on red. Kind of reminds me of the first boy I ever fell in love with--a red-head.

The vet checked him out, said he needed a little dental work--he had a funny little underbite and showed his bottom teeth all the time (that got taken care of about 2 weeks ago, when she pulled about 8 teeth that were problematic). We also wondered about the tattoo on the inside of his back right leg...it's a series of letters and numbers...and the rescue lady told me that she had tried to trace it, but had no luck. He also came microchipped, and they tried to find his owner through that method, but they hadn't registered his chip (which reminds me that I need to do that!).

Tattooing is not uncommon with dogs, with the tattoo being in the ears or on the inner leg. There's registries of hunting dog tattoos and breeder tattoos, and I tried finding his number as well. I did learn that it's probably better to tattoo on the leg, because when some dogs get stolen, their ears get cut off to remove the evidence of a tattoo. Personally, I think anyone who does that needs to have their own damn ears cut off, as well as some dangly bits of their anatomies.

(And, it's just my luck to get a dog with ink, and I've still not gotten the nerve up to get my own tattoo. (shakes head))

After the shearing, Hollywood has developed a whole new personality. He runs, he growls, he destroys toys, and he's just a little bit rougher than The New Hotness is accustomed to, which caused him to snap at Hollywood a few times. Now, we have settled into a period of studious ignoring, with the occasionally lapse into playing the Poodle 500 through the kitchen and great room. I'm really hoping they warm up to each other more, because I don't want The New Hotness to be any more freaked out than he was when the Fat Dog passed. The Goldfish turned 15 last week, and I know that every day, every week that I get with him is just bonus.

I'll be better about posting, and I've got a couple waiting in the wings that I've already got written in my head. I'll leave you with one last shot of Mr. Hollywood, who I managed to catch in delicate moment, not unlike a real member of the paparazzi!

Kickstart

2010-03-24T23:28:00.000-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, I got to spend a lovely weekend in DC as an add-on to a business trip. I stayed with my friend C, who I've known since the 7th grade, and her family. Saturday morning, we send her son, A, off to attend a couple of birthday parties and realize we have about 5 hours to ourselves to play in the city.

Yeah, we could have done something cultural and expanded our minds but instead, we opted to boost the economy (shopping) and expand our bellies.

We had a lunch at 2 Amys, and quantities of cured Italian meats, cheeses, and beer. We also had these lovely deviled eggs, with a bright and fresh pesto sauce with anchovy...normally, I won't touch the furry fish with someone else's taste buds. I try them every so often to see if my taste buds have changed, and the verdict is always NO. I've come around on a few things--I'll eat Brussels sprouts (with bacon, of course), and I'm working on lamb. Still not feeling the love with canned tuna (like tuna raw and seared) or liver & onions, and probably won't ever...this actually might be a good diet plan, Nothing to eat but canned tuna and liver = not going to eat = starve to death or at least my goal weight.

Anyway, these eggs and the sauce were wonderful, and we scraped the plate to get all the sauce...which may play into a later story. We retrieved A at some point and met some friends of C's for dinner at Palena, and had the most wonderful hamburger I think I have ever put in my mouth. It was voted one of DC's top burgers and I can understand why. They grind their own meat and bake their own buns, and it was juicy and meaty and I wanted it to never end. I may never eat another fast food burger ever again--not that would a bad thing, according to Supersize Me. It was burger nirvana, and I miss it. I made C promise that we would go back there whenever I come to town again.

Palena also serves a fry plate with shoestring fries, onion rings, dauphine potatoes, and fried lemon slices. The dauphine potatoes are these wonderful little potato puffs that melt in your mouth...and that fried lemon slice was a real eye-opener. It was lightly breaded and deep-fried, and it was crunchy, salty, tangy, and bitter all at the same time. It was sort of like a Southern palate cleanser...'cause you know how much we like to deep-fry things.

I flew home on Sunday, and had an impromptu Oscars party at the house about 2 hours after I landed. Usually, when we do this, we sort of potluck, but since I was just getting in, we opted to order Chinese take-out. In retrospect, this was a bad idea...especially after I work up at 5 am and embarked on a long day of spending "quality" time in my bathroom.

The thing about having food poisoning is that you start wishing for death immediately, because your body is busy trying to expel whatever is poisoning it in any manner that it can...often violently...very violently. About 2 hours into my ordeal, death could not have come soon enough, and I continued to feel that way for most of the day.

I won't bore you with all the details about the food poisoning, but the upside is that I lost 8 lbs. I realize it was a little dehydration thrown in there, but it was enough to make a little kickstart in my brain and make me think about getting back on the diet track.

Late night television is just bizarre sometimes...we've all seen the "krazee" commercials, infomercials, and the things said and done in the name of religion. However, it's sometimes good television, as in the case of the late re-run of Good Eats.

Somehow, over the last year or so, Alton has lost about 50 lbs., and he's done a show called "Live and Let Diet," that entails some of his thinking and methodology. I finally started paying attention when he kept smacking these giant lard blocks, a'la Oprah and her red wagon of fat, and thought to myself that maybe AB might have something important to say, or at the very least, different about how he lost the weight. And, we all know he's scientific about it, too. So, I sat up and took notice.

Essentially, he's got 4 lists--things he consumes every day, things he consumes at least 3 times a week, things he consumes only 1 time per week, and things that he NEVER consumes. You can find all the particulars all over the internet at this point, but if you get a chance to watch the show, you really should. He starts his day with a fruit smoothie with some purple fruit, which he tells you is chockfull of antioxidants and other important things, bananas, other fruits and a little soy milk.

Other items on the everyday list include nuts and green tea, which wouldn't be too hard to eat/drink. Then, the 3 times a week list, well hell, let me just show you the lists and I won't have to type nearly as much...am lazy like that:

Include Daily
- Fruits
- Whole Grains
- Leafy Greens
- Nuts
- Carrots
- Green Tea

3 times a week
- Oily Fish
- Yogurt
- Broccoli
- Sweet Potato
- Avocado

Once a week
- Red meat
- Pasta
- Dessert
- Alcohol

NEVER!
- Fast Food
- Soda
- Processed meals/frozen dinners
- Canned soup
- "Diet" anything

And the number one AB rule seems to be: Eat breakfast every day, no exceptions.

He never really prescribes a diet plan, and is rather quick to say that he's not proposing the hot new diet trend, blah, blah blah, but I totally can see him becoming the next big thing in dieting...that cult of celebrity chef thing, you know.

Anyway, I thought, what the heck? Why not try some of this out? Listening to the program and watching him talk about the science behind how he created the lists really started to make sense...no matter that it was 2 am and bloody EVERYTHING makes sense at 2 am. (How else do you think those geniuses at Taco Bell thought up "Fourth Meal?" You know it had to come out in some drunken 2 a.m. ramblings.) Plus, I wanted to buy a new blender. A red one.

So, I trotted off to Target and got a new blender...I wisely opted not to spring for the $150 Waring bar blender even though I really, really, wanted one, just in case I decided after 3-4 days to chuck this whole morning smoothie idea and only really use it to make fruity drinks on occasion. (Besides, it wasn't red, and I can always upgrade later.) And, then stopped by Publix on the way home and got frozen fruit and some soy milk. I am so not sure about this soy milk business. I tasted it once, and it was just blecch. I am committed now, with a new blender and a bunch of frozen fruit, so we'll see how it goes.

Day 1 - made smoothie...blender did not vortex as well as AB's, but it did seem to crush up the frozen fruit with no issues. The smoothie is a huge amount, and someone out there in the Internetland said they figured it to be about 340 calories and practically fat-free, depending on how much soy milk you used. I also ate a salad for lunch, and made Pineapple-Glazed Chicken with Cilantro-Lime Sweet Potatoes, plus a little steamed broccoli, for dinner. No butter on the broccoli...am amazed at self. I did not manage to get in any whole grains, nuts, carrots, or green tea, but I figure this is going to be a "work up to" project.

Day 2 - began again with the smoothie and coffee...am not giving up coffee, which is not listed on any of AB's lists, thank the gods. For lunch, I tried the Sherried Sardine Toast recipe.

Yes, I actually ate sardines voluntarily...which is something I thought I would never do, after my adventure with the fresh ones. And while the fresh ones didn't work out, the thought of actually consuming ones in a can was nowhere in any of my brain cells. I remember my dad eating them with crackers and thinking that "man, you got me to eat a raw oyster and like it, but that is the absolute extent of gross things that I will eat for you, period." And, my dad could create and put away some really icky things. I remember coming home from college once to do laundry, and opening a cabinet in the kitchen to find a snack...and the man had begun pickling his own eggs...looked like some sort of alien larvae floating around in a large jar. Scared me witless.

AB's recipe was actually not bad, but I thought it was a lot of work to make, nothwithstanding how much I like avocados, and I think I might be able to actually eat them straight from the can. Weird, I know. I did try one from the can, and it wasn't nearly as fishy as I remembered it being. I think the key is to get the brislings in the 2 layer pack with olive oil.

Anyway, I'm not doing everything that AB is doing--baby steps, people, baby steps--but I have been making the smoothie every day, and I've managed to keep 10 lbs off, so we'll see.

One less...

2010-03-09T20:56:00.000-05:00

November 3, 2001...it was an overcast Sunday, almost 2 months after the horrible events of 9/11, when we were still trying to come to grips with shattered pieces of our collective psyches...The Man and I set out for Columbia, South Carolina, to pick up the newest addition to our family. He would be coming to us through the hands of the Central Carolina Poodle Rescue, and we were to meet him and pick him up at a member's home where he was being fostered.

They told us that he came from Knoxville, TN, where he was one of 3 poodles among about 45 other dogs who had been removed from the home of a "collector." The collector in this case was a little old lady who kept taking strays in until neither she nor the animals could care for themselves. Rescue was called in, and the poodles made their way to CCPR.

I saw him and his comrades on Pet Finder, which is the most dangerous website on the planet...it's so hard to even think about the sheer number of animals who need homes..and I'll just leave it at that. After sending several pictures from the website to the Man and wearing down his resistance...which really wasn't that hard...we passed a home visit from some poodle rescuers in the area and were approved to adopt the little black one.

When we arrived at the foster mom's home, we were presented with a skinny blackish boy, who wasn't sure he wanted to have anything to do with us. He sat in The Man's lap for awhile, quivering a little, until he got used to him, and then we saw his tail. Most poodles have docked tails, and when left natural, they can be a variety of shapes and lengths. He kept his curled up very high and tight, and at first glance, you really couldn't tell his tail wasn't docked.

After about an hour of hanging out, we bundled him up to take him home. The foster mom was insistent that we put him in a crate in the back of the vehicle and carry him home that way. That lasted until we got out of her sight. I immediately pulled over and we "rescued" him again from the confines of the crate and let him sit in The Man's lap for the ride home. (Yes, under normal circumstance, I have the poodles seatbelted in the back seat for safety, but seriously--could you have ridden the 4+ hours back to Georgia with a new dog in a crate in the back of the car? Thought not.)

He sat in The Man's lap for the entire ride home, and we knew something was going to be different about him from the beginning. We stopped at a Burger King and grabbed a burger and got him one as well...he refused to eat it, which just floored us, because we'd never met one yet that wouldn't try and kill you for a burger (talking to you ,Goldfish, talking to you...).

He was skinny--weighed about 7 pounds--and had breath that would knock you down at 20 paces. We wanted to fatten him up a little bit before we got the teeth fixed, and it didn't take long. All my poodles have been snackers, and I would just fill up the bowls and let them eat at will. It's easy to do when you are home most of the day and can let them in and out on a regular basis. It didn't take long for me to notice that the Fat Dog was becoming, well...fat. He would sit down at one of the bowls and vacuum it up, then move to the next bowl and vacuum it up as well. Pretty soon, his poodle suit was a tight fit.

Not knowing where your next meal is coming from probably does odd things to your psyche, and the Fat Dog was no exception. He really wanted you to fill all 3 bowls with food before he would eat--sort of an insurance plan, I guess--even after he figured out that he didn't have to eat all 3 bowls.

I also remember asking his foster mom if he was an alpha poodle, because we already had an alpha at home (Sam, who went to the Rainbow Bridge in 2005), and the Goldfish. She assured us that he would fit right in our pack and not have any issues submitting. Ha. Famous last words.

The Fat Dog came in and pretty much took over from the start, especially after he gained a few pounds and could start slinging his weight around. He ruled with an iron paw, and we were all just cogs in his little machine. He would sit up on his back legs and wave his paws in the air, looking cute and melt-your-heart, and then lunge at the Goldfish to keep him in line. I'm guessing that the Goldfish won't miss him nearly as much as the rest of us.

He had the strangest fascination with the actor James Woods--whenever he appeared on the television, the Fat Dog would howl at the top of his lungs. It was the weirdest thing ever...when the show "Shark" came on after "Lost," was the first time it happened. It took us a little while to put it together that it was actually James Woods, and the weirdest thing was when his name flashed on the screen in the open credits for some movie, the Fat Dog howled again. I always thought he understood way more English than we realized, and it wouldn't have surprised me a bit if he could read.

On Saturday morning, February 27, 2010, the Fat Dog went over the Rainbow Bridge, and a big piece of my heart went with him. I hope it never rains there, because he really hated to go out in the rain, and I hope all the bowls are full all the time.

Souper Girl

2010-02-18T23:13:00.003-05:00

It's cold here in the Southland...too damn cold...where the hell is global warming when you need it, I ask?

As with most folks, when it gets cold, me and the poodles want to hunker down and stay warm. All balled up in our slanket (we have a knock-off Snuggie, so I call it a "slanket," i.e., a blanket with sleeves) and trying to keep our collective teeth from chattering.

Soup seems to be the ticket for keeping warm, too, and I've been doing a helluva lot of soup making for the last couple of weeks. And it all started with a big ol' bag of kale, some lentils, and some Italian sausage.

A few months ago, I made a wonderful sausage and lentil stew in the slow cooker. Try as I might, I cannot find the recipe that I used. I know that I got it on line somewhere, and I must have worked directly from the screen and didn't save it or print it out. Annoys me to no end when I do stupid stuff like that.

Anyway, I went searching around the Internets to find something similar and managed to kluge together this concoction for your dining pleasure:

Lentils with Italian Sausage and Kale
(serves 4)

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

1 pound bulk hot Italian sausage

1 cup lentils

1 medium onion, chopped

3 to 4 cloves of garlic, minced

Italian seasonings (I used the Italian Spice Grinder of Doom)

Salt and ground black pepper

1/4 cup tomato paste

1 quart chicken stock

2 cups water

2-3 cups chopped kale (I eyeballed this by grabbing 3 good-size handfuls out of the bag)

Place a large soup pot over medium-high heat and add about 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Once the pan and oil are hot, add the sausage and sauté for 3-4 minutes, breaking it up into small pieces--you can use a fork or even a whisk to break it up.

To the browning sausage, add the onion, garlic, salt, pepper, the Italian seasonings (about 3-4 good cranks if you are using the grinder), and the tomato paste. Cook, stirring frequently, for 3-4 minutes, coating the sausage with the tomato paste.

Add a little of the stock to deglaze the pan, then add the rest of the stock and 2 cups of water. Turn the heat up to high and bring up to a bubble. Add the lentils and the kale, stir until the kale wilts in then turn the heat down to medium and simmer 30-40 minutes, until the lentils are tender.

Server with the obligatory crusty bread, and I threw some shredded Parmesan on top of my bowl...you know how I feel about cheese, so this should not be a surprise to anyone.

I froze some of this soup for another day and to feed the poodle sitter when she comes. I had plenty of leftover kale and some leftover Italian sausage, so the next evening, I sauteed the sausage with some mushrooms and onions and garlic, threw in some kale and added it to a pot of Israeli couscous. This little number was part of the "you need to use the stuff that lives in your pantry sometime this millennium...and OMG, why do I have 6 boxes of Israeli couscous, 3 bags of arborio rice, and a bajillion other bags/boxes of pasta/grain-type things?" I thought I should get on the stick and use some of this stuff.

Along the lines of the pantry raiding, I've discovered that you can pretty much make a meal with a package of refrigerated cheese ravioletti or tortellini, a quart of chicken stock, a can of diced Italian tomatoes, and a can of beans...cannellini, kidney, even fava beans. Then, all you need is a nice Chianti. Ha. Heat the chicken stock, throw in the tomatoes, add the pasta, and the beans, a little salt and pepper, and in 20 minutes or, viola! It's soup!

Then, I found a recipe for Italian Wedding Soup that was sort of lighter and possibly healthier for you. I got interrupted in mid-copy from wherever I found it, and I didn't get the original source...was possibly on SlashFood. Anyway, I tweaked it too, and here it is in all it's glory:

Italian Wedding Soup alla the Lighter Side
serves 8

2 large chicken breast, on the bone
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon olive oil
4 small carrots, peeled and diced
4 ribs celery, diced
1 large onion, diced
1/2 lb Turkey Italian Sausage (this is the lighter part!)
1/4 cup grated Parmesan or Romano cheese
1/2 cup seasoned breadcrumbs
1-2 garlic cloves, minced
Freshly ground black pepper--2-3 grinds
1 egg
2 cups fresh baby spinach leaves (or you could use kale!)
1 cup of cooked acini di pepe (mini star-shaped pasta), or 1 cup orzo, or whatever little tiny pasta shape you happen to have on hand--I used some wee tiny shells.

2 quarts chicken stock
2 cups water

Sprinkle the chicken with half the salt. Heat the oil in a large stockpot over medium-high heat and add the chicken, skin side down, half the carrots, celery and onion. Cook 4-6 minutes until the chicken skin begins to brown along with the vegetables. Remove the chicken skin and discard it. This is going to be easier said than done if you try to do it in the pot. Trust me on this. I used tongs and a fork to get the skin off, and I couldn't get it all. My pot was probably not so "light" after all. (You could probably do it with the skin removed, too...make sure it doesn't burn.)

Cover chicken with the chicken stock and water. Bring to a slow boil, then immediately reduce to a simmer. Add the remaining carrot, celery and onion. (I also threw in a few grinds of the Spice Grinder of Doom here.)

Cook 15 to 20 minutes, skimming any foam from the top once or twice. Cover and turn off the heat. Rest 30 to 40 minutes or until chicken is cooked through and no longer pink at the bone. (Watch your pot, and don't let it boil too vigorously...my chicken was a little overdone.)

While the chicken is cooking, prepare the meatballs. Combine the turkey Italian sausage, the grated Parmesan cheese, breadcrumbs, garlic, pepper, and egg in a large bowl. Mix well and form into small meatballs about the size of a grape.

Remove chicken from broth and set aside to cool. Bring the broth back to a simmer and drop in the meatballs. Cook 2 to 3 minutes until the meatballs are no longer pink inside. Add the spinach.

When chicken is cool enough to handle, remove meat from skin and bones, and cut into small chunks. Return the meat to t he soup along with the meatballs and stir in the pasta remaining salt. Serve immediately...I sprinkled a little shredded Parm on top again.

This makes a lot of soup, and it was a little more time consuming than I first thought--mainly because I kept remaking the meatballs to get them just a little bit smaller. Which is probably why I overcooked the chicken.

Speaking of chicken, the Fat Dog is on a boiled chicken diet as of last week. He stopped eating kibble, and that really scared me. You know--when they stop eating and drinking, it's "time." However, I was eating some leftover rotisserie chicken for lunch and he seemed interested. I gave him a bite, and he ate it and got closer and looked more interested. Gave him the rest and promptly went and bought chicken parts for his dinner.

I tried adding some rice, and he would have none of that. Refused to even look at the chicken while it had rice anywhere near it. The New Hotness and the Goldfish are in high dudgeon, because they aren't getting chicken. I explained that when *they* had a terminal disease, *they* could have whatever they wanted...they still aren't happy with me. The New Hotness knows something is up...he curls up by the Fat Dog during the day and looks at me like I should be doing something, anything to help, because he knows the Fat Dog feels bad. I tell him, honey, I wish I could, I wish that more than anything on the planet.

He has good days and not-so good days, and I figure as long as he's eating his chicken, he's still willing to stick around. And, I'm glad for that, as long as it lasts.

Rollin' Along...

2010-01-23T12:58:00.001-05:00

in Bowling Green, Kentucky, home of the Corvette--America's Dream Car. Seriously, even if you aren't a "car person," would you not like to drive one just once? I went to the 'Vette museum on a previous trip to KY, so I am acquainted with the wonder and splendor that is the Corvette. Most of the cars, probably 90% or so, that live in the museum are on loan from private owners...which is amazing to me, because that says they must have enough Corvettes to not miss one.

Personally, if I had a classic...say a beautiful 1968 Stingray...I would put one of those giant turntables in my front yard and allow my neighbors to bask in the glory and revel in the envy of me and my 'Vette. (You're worried about property values since I moved in, aren't you?)
If you have time and are in the area, the National Corvette Museum is interesting...and most importantly, air-conditioned, if you are there in the summer. The evolution of the icon is lovingly detailed, and there are a few interesting factoids to be found that might interested people who don't love automotive machinery. I found a lovely metallic olive green number that would beright at home on my front yard turntable--the design was heavily influenced by women who worked with the Corvette designers and engineers and featured some feminine touches...like handbag storage and vanity mirrors. Very pretty...

One of the coolest thing about the Corvette Museum is the least flashy thing--the library. The library houses information and specifications for practically every Corvette every manufactured. If you found some rusted out heap in Ol' MacDonald's barn and needed help restoring it to it's original condition, these ladies have just what you need. If you have a VIN or some sort of serial number, they can tell the original engine size, if it even is the original engine, the interior and exterior colors, upholstery options, etc. Pretty darn cool.

As far as dining options in Bowling Green, there's a lot of chains. I had some high hopes when I found out that a lot of Bosnians had settled there as refugees from Serbian-Croat conflicts. and I immediately asked about the possibility of Bosnia food. I was directed to a restaurant called "You and Me." And I immediately Googled "Bosnia food" and got this list, which sounded pretty darn promising.

You and Me is in a converted old house, with beautiful hardwood floors. I was a bit disconcerted when I walked in at 7:30ish p.m. on a Wednesday night and there was no one there. Literally, there were no customers in the dining room, and not a host-type person to be seen. After standing there for a minute or two, I could hear voices from the kitchen, so I yelled "hello" and scared the hostess. Always a good start to the dining experience.

The menu was sort of all over the place--Italian, Greek, and some German-sounding dishes...nothing that I would have thought to be distinctly different or "Bosnia-sounding" like the list in the Wiki. I asked my waitress what she would recommend, and she said that the Wienerwald Chicken was her fave. It was grilled chicken breasts smothered in a light cream sauce with tomatoes and topped with mozzarella...how bad could that be? It didn't strike me as being of any particular ethnicity, but it did seem to be a safe bet. It was served with a side item, and the waitress recommended the sliced baked potatoes, which came in a creamy, buttery sauce. So much for my resolution for making better choices when it came to eating out.

The chicken was cooked well, seasoned well, and tasted good, but was just not something to jump up and down about. The potatoes, on the other hand, were pretty fantabulous. They were tender, creamy, and a little caramelized on top. Perfect comfort food for a winter's eve. And, let me not forget the bread...because I ate 1 and a half loaves of it. Damn you, bread, just damn you. Carbs are definitely my downfall, and I downfell with abandon with this bread...which looks a lot like this bread.

I think it's called lepina or lepinja, and it had a nice chewy crust with an interior that was not too dense...not quite sure of the baking terminology to describe it. It was really nice, and I could have made a meal of just it and some butter.

On the way up, I stopped just before Franklin, TN to check out a place that came highly recommended from RoadFood.com, called Henpeck Market.

The Henpeck Market is as described on RoadFood--a quasi-gas station/mini-market/grill/gift shop--and the picture of the grilled pimento cheese with tomatoes and bacon sold me on stopping. (It was on the way up and I did need to eat lunch, didn't I? Ah, Yoda, the justification runs strong within this one...)

I had the grilled pimento cheese, and it was most tasty. I love, love, love pimento cheese, and it must be a savory pimento cheese. That stuff you see in the lunch meat section of the grocery store usually tastes sweet, and that is bad eats.

Pimento cheese seems to be a uniquely Southern delicacy, and it is a delicacy--the staple of many bridal teas and baby showers--made into little finger sandwiches of white bread with the crusts cut off. It's simple to make, and can be dressed up or dressed down. I just eat it with crackers if I make it...and I don't make it often, because I will eat it...all of it. I shall share my top secret recipe with you if you beg...well, okay, I won't make you beg.

Pimento Cheese

1 8-oz bag of finely shredded sharp Cheddar cheese

1 8-oz bag of finely shredded mild Cheddar cheese

1 4-oz or larger jar of diced pimentos (depends on how pimento-ey you like your cheese)

1/2 cup chopped pecans, lightly toasted and cooled (This would be the key and secret ingredient)

Garlic salt to taste

Black pepper to taste

Mayonnaise to taste

(On the mayonnaise front--I use Hellman's, and Hellman's Light can be used; Duke's is allowed, too. Do not ever mentioned the words "Miracle Whip" and pimento cheese in the same breath to me. That will make you dead to me in a heart beat. Seriously. I am not kidding.)

1. Combine the cheeses, the garlic salt, and pepper in a large bowl. There's no real measurements for the spices; I just shake some in and then adjust later.

2. Add the pecans and then the pimentos. Start adding the mayo in about a teaspoon full at a time. Start with 1-2 and combine until the mixture holds together. Be careful, because the mayo can get away from you, and you find yourself rooting around in the fridge for any extra cheese that you might have available to dry it out.

3. Cover and chill for about 20-30 minutes before serving. I usually mound it up in a bowl, kind of like a cheese ball, and scatter crackers around it. If you are making sandwiches, you may need to add a little more mayo to make it spreadable, but this pimento cheese is meant for a hardy bread, where you can just sort of mash it onto the bread and it doesn't have to look pretty.

I liked the version of Pimento Cheese that I had at Hal and Mal's with the jalapenos, which would be a nice addition...make sure you drain them well if using pickled. (And, remember, no Miracle Whip. Ever. Will send a crackerjack squad of little ol' blue hair assassins after you.)

The real gem of this trip was on the way home. I got stuck in Nashville traffic, which was every bit as horrendous as the traffic I used to see in the ATL. There was an accident, which was causing delays that resulted in taking 45 minutes to go a quarter mile. So, I hit the GPS and asked it to find me food, and it popped up with the Back to Cuba Cafe. Cuban food?! In Nashville?! At the exit I was creeping towards?! Oh, yeah!

This is the Lechon Asado Plate, which is roasted pork with grilled onion, some yucca with grilled onions and a mojo sauce, black beans, and rice. The taste buds were doing a happy dance from the first bite until the last bit was scraped off the plate. I had a shot of Cuban coffee to top it off, which kept me away for the rest of the trip home. I am busily plotting a revisit to this little gem.

(Oh, and be amazed at the picture--I took it with the cell phone and managed to get it off the cell phone and onto my blog without the use of a memory card. Take that, modern technology!)

This post has gone on way too long and taken way too long to write, but I must give an update on the Fat Dog. His tumor came back, and our vet referred us to the Small Animal Clinic at Auburn University for further examination and diagnosing. The news is not good. This time, the cancer has spread to the lungs and lymph nodes, and we're at Stage 4. They offered some options for chemotherapy and possibly the vaccine, but it would only prolong his life for a short amount of time, and he might not respond to treatment at all...so, he would feel bad for nothing.

I decided to bring him home and make him comfortable. He doesn't seem to be in any pain, but I have meds for that if he starts to hurt. Last night, he was like the old Fat Dog we all know and love...with the exception of The Goldfish of course. He chased The New Hotness around the living room and "dominated" him for awhile, and he's still eating and drinking, so it's not quite the end yet. But, I know it's coming...and I have no idea how to prepare for it.

Le Petite Coq au Vin

2010-01-11T21:26:00.008-05:00

Write this down: Anything remotely resembling French cookery will involve a) tons of butter (yay!) and b) every pot and pan in the house (not so yay)...and sometimes bacon (yay again!).

I was catching up on my own blog reading, and whilst reading The Amateur Gourmet, I saw his post about his Top 10 Dishes of 2009. The dishes all looked pretty awesome, and like him, I am a sucker for something braised...especially if I get to use my Le Creuset pots. Which, I am sad to say, are rather underused in my kitchen. When you're cooking for one, it's usually a quick saute here and there. I have been trying to use them more and more, because why else do I have them? But I'm still a little afraid of them. Totally irrational, I know, because they are cast iron, and it would take a whole house nuclear disaster to hurt them...seriously, this is where those indestructible cockroaches will be living after the apocalypse--in cast-iron Le Creuset pot condos. And yet, some people are afraid of spiders, too. (I know, arachnophobia is real...I was just trying to be funny, because I'm not afraid of spiders, but I seem to be afraid of seemingly indestructible cookware. Maybe I should say something along the lines of "...and some people are afraid of dust bunnies." Is that better?)

And that brings us back to the coq au vin. I decided to try Adam's technique and the recipe that he used and see if I could make a smaller version for myself...after eating practically an entire ham left over from New Year's Day luncheon, I am a bit weary of too many leftovers...and ham, dammit. I really like ham, but I am a bit overdosed.

I also am not a big fan of the darker parts of the chicken...yes, Virginia, I know that's where the most flavor is, but I'm just not as thrilled about the taste of those pieces. Although, after braising them in a lot of wine, all the parts will probably taste the same anyway.

So, I set out to make a 2-piece coq au vin, using the bone-in breasts that I had originally bought with a quick chicken soup in mind. (And, to be perfectly honest...the real reason I wanted to make coq au vin was so I could make something with pearl onions. I love those little buggers when you put them in a stew or braised dish--they are like little flavor sponges, soaking up all manner of goodness.)

Also put it out of your head that this is going to be a 30-minute meal. Is braising, people...br-aaaa-zing. Braising is long, slow cooking in a flavorful liquid...operative word being long.

The definition of "coq au vin" is basically "rooster in wine," and supposedly was a way to use an older, tougher bird, but most recipes I've ever seen call for chicken/hen. I found this definition on Wikipedia and thought it amusing:

Coq au vin is a French braise of chicken cooked with wine, lardons (BACON!), mushrooms, and optionally garlic. While the wine is typically Burgundy wine, many regions of France have variants of coq au vin using the local wine, such a coq au vin jaune (Jura), coq au Riesling (Alsace), coc au Champagne, and so on.

Well, at first glance, it's not *that* amusing, but when I tell you the part about my coq au vin should be called "coq au whatever bottle I found in the bottom of the china cabinet and then the stupid cork broke off in it and I had to push it all the way through, AND strain the stupid pieces of cork out," then, it gets amusing.

And, there's the quest to find frozen pearl onions, which seemed to have disappeared from every store but Kroger, which had 4 bags for $5, so I bought 4 to have for future use. (And, Kroger was the 3rd store I went to...at that point, I was ready to even prep fresh ones if I could have found them...did I mention that I decided to do this dish during the Great Southern Blizzard of January 2010? The one where my area closed schools for 2 days on the day before we had even received any snow? The one where there were rabid hordes at the grocery getting bread and milk as if was 2012 and the Mayan calendar had just fallen off the pyramid?)

So, go look at the AG's post--he remembers to post pictures during the important parts--and look at the stages of his coq au vin. Pretty much, mine looked exactly like his, with the exception of cutting the ingredients mostly in half...I made all the onions and mushroom parts! I almost overcooked the breasts, because I should have lowered the temperature of my oven when I flipped them. I cut the cooking time to about 35 minutes, and when I pulled that glorious pot of goodness out, it was boiling merrily away...not simmering, but boiling. Ack!

I also liked the idea that he served his leftovers with buttered egg noodles, so I decided to go straight to that step for the actual first service. The leftovers were still very awesome 3 days later...the chicken was a little overdone after being zapped, but that's usually the case.

This would also be a good casual company dish with mashed potatoes and some sort of green veg--maybe steamed green beans. Next time, though I think I'll use a better bottle of vin and hopefully avoid that whole picking of cork out of my teeth. Hadn't had to do that since college...when one of my neighbors down the hall, who was way more sophisticated than me, smuggled in bottles of Blue Nun, and invariably no one had a corkscrew. We were pretty adept at poking the cork through with a steak knife and drinking around the bits.

Not that I've looked for Blue Nun in about 20 years or so, but she's still around...and has gone high tech with the website and other offerings. Now, I'm going to have to seek out the ol' gal and see how she's changed with the times. I'll report back for the good of the Republic and let you all know. After all, if she was good enough for Elvis... Cheers!

Besides, I'm going to need something to do with myself as we begin the Rickety Fat Dog Tumor Watch 2010. Yep, it looks like the mass in his mouth is making a resurgence, and we are going to have to be aggressive, be! be! aggressive! with it. Which means a trip to a veterinary dentist/oral surgeon who has experience with this sort of stuff...and then, there's still no guarantee. The last few years have really sucked, and for once, it would be nice if Fate would deal me, if not a winning hand, a hand that allows me to stay in the game. Hand me that corkscrew...I need a medicinal dose.

I mean, how can you not want to throw your all your worldly possession into saving this little face?

That Travelin' Life

2010-01-07T15:15:00.002-05:00

SinceI was home for awhile, I thought I would be able to actually cook and blog and dust. And, I thought I would write about traveling. (I think this is my lame attempt at irony.) As you can see, I might have dusted...possibly...maybe.

So, anyway, I thought I might throw my .02 worth out there about my travel experiences. Luckily, I seem to have fairly good flying experiences, and interactions with airline employees. I think the key is following that old "Golden Rule" about treating other people as you want to be treated. I have watched many a gate agent be screamed at by people who should know better, because contrary to popular belief, gate agents DO NOT control the weather...Pudge does. I think it might be rather entertaining to watch a gate agent scream back. Probably lose their job, but I bet it would feel good for the moment.

I spend a lot of time in airports...lots and lots...and while people generally bitch about hanging out in airports, I really don't mind it. It's the one place where I actually don't have to be doing anything other than waiting for a plane. (Yes, if I had an aircard, I could work, but no one has given me one of those yet, even though I asked, so I'm just going to think of the time I spend in airports as extended coffee breaks! Although, it is interesting that the smaller airports have free wi-fi...and if I can find free wi-fi, I will check email and do work stuff. I are a good employee that way.)

Since I spend a lot of time in airports, I'm always up for finding things to amuse me or good to eat during layovers. Yes, I could read, which I often do, but because I'm a bit of a speed reader, heaven forbid that I run out of reading material in flight, and I can only carry so many books with me at a time. The people watching in airports is usually pretty choice, but after you've seen one whacked out outfit too many, you just have to walk around and take a break.

And while all the inflight magazines wax poetic about lots cool things to do that are "just a cab ride away," seriously--who really wants to or has time to lug all their crap out to the front, possibly be delayed getting back, and then go back through security. I can imagine doing this if I had a layover of 4 or more hours, but not for anything less. Knock on Formica that I haven't had a loooong layover in quite some time...but it is a new year after all.

So, I look for things to do...sometimes, I get lucky and the airport itself provides something, whether it be an art exhibit or unusual shopping/dining. Mostly, I'm flying domestic, with quick turnarounds, because I'm not going to the most glamorous of places. Here's a few highlights from my trips:

In the Jackson-Evers Airport, Jackson, MS, there is a fish tank in the East
Concourse (I think) gift shop that houses some young channel catfish, a product for which Mississippi is famous. The restaurant just down from the gift shop serves a mean bacon and egg breakfast quesadilla. How often do you see fish in an airport that isn't in a bun?

More and more airports have art installations--the Atlanta-Hartsfield-Jackson Airport has a great permanent exhibit of African stone carvers in the walkway from Concourse T (Terminal) to Concourse A. If I fly out of ATL from Concourse A, I always walk from T to A. Sometimes, I ride the moving sidewalk (staying to the right, of course) and pretend I'm in an episode of The Jetsons, and I'm in a museum with George and the rest of the Jetson family. (When you travel as much as I do, sometimes you get a little jet fuel fume crazy!) There's music along with photographs that describe the stone carvers work and show scenes of African wildlife.

Provided I'm not running to make a connection, I also like to ride the moving sidewalk in Detroit Metro through the Northwest World Gateway tunnel between the terminals. The walls have a neat light show in time with music, and it feels rather futuristic...and Jetson-like.

Detroit also has a Mediterranean place near Gate A-54...it's actually called "Mediterranean Grill," and you can get falafel, hummus, and kebobs in a sit-down place.

If I'm stuck in the ATL during breakfast, I use that as an excuse to eat Popeye's. It's soooo bad for you, but sooooo good. The 3-piece chicken tenders, spicy of course, and a small red beans-n-rice IS the Breakfast of Champions. Although, I have sworn that I will lay off that little treat and try to eat better in the airport. There's a new sushi bar in Concourse E that I need to check out.

(It is rather interesting to see what chain places that don't normally serve breakfast come up with for the airport concession. The ATL Popeye's is slinging grits, gravy, and biscuits, as well as most of the regular menu. The Asian places sometimes have bacon and eggs, but usually they are whipping out General Tso's chicken and lo mein...and yeah, I've had airport lo mein for breakfast before...I've never been locked into having "breakfast food" for breakfast.)

Memphis has Lenny's Subshop in Terminal B, which has a lovely Italian cold cuts sandwich and makes a mean Philly cheesesteak...ask for some of the hot pepper relish. (You might possibly have a Lenny's near you...about 4 months or so ago, I finally paid attention to all the little shops in the Staples shopping center, where I go to make copies of my expense report receipts, and found one there...a closer source of the hot pepper goodness is a good thing!) And, you must not forget the Elvis memorabilia either...lots and lots of Elvis stuff to be had. There's a nice Asian and Judaic art exhibit near the Delta Crown Club Room, as well as various other exhibits of local artists throughout the concourse.

At the Dallas-Ft. Worth airport, you can get some mighty good brisket at Cousin's, and also in Austin at Salt Lick.

I still haven't found anything decent to eat in Chicago's O'Hare...I had a rough case of food poisoning from an O'Hare chain sports bar hamburger several years ago (yes, Fox Sports Bar, I am talking to you), and I'm still wary of eating there. Am open to suggestions if anyone has any.

In Midway (O'Hare's quieter, neater, shinier little sister), you can grab a sandwich at a Harry Caray's outpost. It's basic pub food, but not too bad. I had a fun meal there when the hostess offered to seat me and 2 other "singles" together...it was either that or wait for another 40 minutes...that was a no brainer. The guy with the biggest expense account bought a round of drinks, and we were instant friends. There's also a quickie Tex-Mex grill in the Midway Boulevard food court that is pretty good, too.

The Wasatch Brew Pub in the Salt Lake City airport was a most welcome surprise...bar food, and most importantly, beer on tap! in a place where I didn't expect to find beer, because, well, you know.

Portland International has a small Powell's Books, which is nice...I can always kill time in a bookstore. And, I got a hotdog for breakfast at Good Dog/Bad Dog.

Ontario, California is a nice option instead of flying into LAX, and they have a terminal and a Boeing 747 cockpit mockup where production companies can film scenes for movies. John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, is also a good option to alleviate the craziness that can be LAX...plus it is closer to Disney Land...and has a huge bronze statue of the Duke. LAX does have an In and Out burger close by, which you can take a parking shuttle to and walk across a parking lot to get some of that yummy goodness. (I have not actually tried this; I overheard some guys telling other guys in the waiting area where they got their In and Out cups. Why there's not one in LAX proper, I have no idea. Seems like it would be license to print money.)

The thing I really hate about Toronto is the lack of a Tim Horton's after you go through Customs.
There's no less than 5 Tim Horton's at Pearson, but as of October 2008, there wasn't one past Customs...or at least not where I was herded. (If anyone knows where one is hiding, let me know!)

There's a place called "Toast," which is Tim's aunt's younger sister's cousin thrice removed or something like that...it's really just a Starbuck's clone. Ottawa, on the other hand, has a Tim's right in the Transborder Hold Room, i.e. international departure waiting area, where you can grab a big ol' coffee, a donut, and stock up on bagged coffee. Thank you, Ottawa!

You can eat crabcakes at Phillips in Charlotte, which were good...a bit overpriced, but that's the airport for you. Airports are a lot like movie theaters in that you pretty much have to buy the food in them, because you really don't have any other options. Charlotte also has art installations throughout the airport, and shopping.

Reagan International in DC now has a 5 Guys Burgers and Fries! Do not be tempted to get the large fries, unless there are at least 4 people in your party...4 tater-lovin' individuals--because the fries are a generous portion.

In Syracuse-Hancock International, there is a play area that is a mock-up of the airport. You can sit inside a fake cockpit, see how baggage is handled, etc. It's pretty cool and seems to always be in use.

And, the airport that I used to hate the most, Cincinnati, has now become one of my more favored ones...the reason I used to hate it was that the Delta terminal seemed to be the red-headed stepchild terminal...sort of like an afterthought, a place that no one really wanted to think about. There were virtually no amenities after you rode the bus across the runways...which is always a bit scary...except for vending machines, and the chairs just sucked. Now, that terminal has restaurants, shopping, and is much nicer to wait out the layover in. The main Cincy terminal has a ton of shopping and all sorts of food options--chili, of course, and a Wolfgang Puck Express...the pizzas are very nice.

The airport that I do hate the most is George Bush Intercontinental in Houston. It takes for bloomin' ever to get to the terminal once you touch down...you feel like you could have driven to Texas in the amount of time it takes you to get there. And the traffic trying to get in and out of Bush is horrendous. Given my druthers, I fly in and out of Hobby, where I can hit a Pappadeaux or Pappasito's Cantina. Chain, yes...but Houston-based chain, so the food is generally better. I will say that the one shining light at George Bush was the Shipley's Donuts...the cinnamon sugar ones are pretty good...although you can be bit sticky for the flight home.

Another tip for Bush is that if you are meeting a co-worker, check your voicemail BEFORE you leave the terminal and pass the point of no return with security. If you find out that he is going to get in 3 hours later than originally planned, there is NOTHING to do or really to eat outside the concourse area. Trust me on this one. The only interesting thing to do is take the shuttle to International Arrivals terminal and see people greet their loved ones...the signs they wave around are entertaining. You can see some lovely places to eat on the other side of security, but they are verboten to you, who has already flown.

I won't even talk about Newark or JFK, and I've been to dozens of other airports that I can't really remember anything about at the moment, so I'll just call it a post now and be done with it.

As the year progress and I travel more, I'll keep you updated on any new finds of the aeronautical flavor. Ironically, my first trip this decade ( I know--where the hell did all of 2009 go?) is a driving one, though. Back to the wilds of Kentucky...more barbecue! How could that be a bad thing?

Rollin' Out the Red...

2009-12-15T21:13:00.003-05:00

...Velvet that is. Yep, you know it's holiday time at Poodlevania when the kitchen looks like a set for Saw XXIV or whatever number that unholy franchise is up to now.

Seriously, I feel that it is my duty to seek out and consume as much red velvety goodness as I possibly can during the month of December...for some reason, it doesn't taste the same during any other time of the year. Probably goes back to my grandmother only making it during the holidays, so it really was a special treat.

(Do not get me wrong--you put a slab of Red Velvet cake in front of me in the middle of July, I'm eating it...don't even try to stop me. "Seasonal" only goes so far...)

So, I'm in the process of making my first one this year, and I have decided to try something new. I know, I know, it sound sacrilegious, but sometimes, you just have to think outside the cake pan.

I was going through the recipe folder in my inbox and found one for a Red Velvet Roll cake. Never having made a roll cake before, I thought why the hell not? Plus, I'm supposed to bring something to a party tonight, so why not experiment! These are probably famous last words...

Here's the recipe, and I'm not really sure where the heck I got it. I apologize profusely for not giving credit. However, I think I got it from the Baking Bites blog, because it seems to be the exact same recipe, but I am not 100% sure. I could have gotten it from somewhere else on the vast Internets, and that person swiped it from Baking Bites.

Red Velvet Roll Cake

3/4 cup sifted cake flour
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
4 large eggs, room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1 tbsp vegetable oil
2 tbsp buttermilk
1 tsp apple cider vinegar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp red food coloring

Preheat oven to 350F. Line a jelly roll pan (approximately 17"x12"x1") with aluminum foil and grease it well with some vegetable oil or cooking spray.

Sift together sifted cake flour, cocoa powder, baking soda and salt into asmall bowl. Set aside.

In a large bowl, beat the eggs together with an electric mixer on high speed. Once they are frothy, slowly add in the sugar. Beat until light, approximately 5 minutes. Beat in the vegetable oil, buttermilk, vinegar, vanilla and red food coloring. Working steadily, but gradually, mix in the cocoa mixture with the electric mixer at a low speed.

Pour batter into prepared pan and bake for 12-15 minutes, until cake springs back when lightly pressed in the center.

While cake is baking, sift some confectioners' sugar onto a large, clean dish towel. When you remove the cake from the oven, carefully flip it over onto the dish towel. Peel off the foil (it should come off easily because it was greased) and roll the cake up in the dish towel, beginning with a short end.

Place cake, hot but wrapped in the towel, seam-side down on a wire rack to cool completely (at least 1 hour). Prepare filling (below) while it cools.

Cream Cheese Filling

8 oz. cream cheese, room temperature
1/4 cup butter, room temperature
3 cups confectioners' sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract

Beat all ingredients together until light and spreadable. When cake is cool, gently unwrap it and spread the inside with the filling. Re-roll and place on a serving platter. Dust with more confectioners' sugar before serving. Serves 8-10

The batter for this cake was extremely thin and seemed a bit more cocoa-ey than a regular Red Velvet. I jacked up the food coloring a bit, because I like my Red Velvet to be r-e-d. Otherwise, it's just a dirty brown chocolate cake. And, I was kind of worried about what it would look like, based on the sheer amount of cocoa...this was really leaning into the "dirty brown" category.

I used parchment paper as well, instead of foil, because I could and I had more parchment than foil in the cabinet. I don't know if that change contributed to the outcome or not...'cause you know there was an "outcome.'

The hardest part at first was trying to get the batter evenly spread over over the parchment lined pan. Of course, one side has to be thinner than the other, always. I envy people who can get their batters even for cakes...envy them.

So, I cook the cake for about 12 minutes, popped it out onto the dish towel and removed the parchment. I rolled it up in the towel, knocking over the box of vanilla extract on the counter. Hmm...it was a new bottle of vanilla, still in the box, which meant I forgot to put it in the cake. Yeah. Well, hell, with all that cocoa powder, who is going to notice if there's a wispy little note of vanilla or not.

I pulled the cake out and rolled it in the dish towel...so far, so good, but it really is more brown than red. I cooled it for the requisite hour, unrolled it, and spread the filling inside. During the unrolling process, part of the cake stuck to the towel...sort of like the "skin" of the cake. The resultant "log" looked like it had the mange or some other affliction.

I dutifully cut the ends off to tidy it up and ate them and was extremely disappointed. It was dry and too chocolatey...not red velvety enough.

The ends/edges were drier because the batter didn't spread evenly, but there really was way too much cocoa powder involved in this train wreck of a cake. I think if I were to make it again, I would definitely reduce the amount of cocoa...and feel free to chime in with suggestions of your own. Also, more red food coloring. Don't care that it might make me crazy or cause tumors, I want me some R-E-D velvet cake. Besides, I think I already are crazy.

I had some serious misgivings about the amount of cocoa in the recipe, because this is not really a chocolate cake...I've read articles and other blogs' posts about it being just a "chocolate cake colored red," but it's not. Most of the recipes call for 2 tablespoons at the most, which is half the cocoa in this recipe. IMSBO (that would be "in my seriously biased opinion," the cocoa's purpose is to give more complexity and depth to the cake's flavor and not be overwhelming...sort of like all those fancy wine descriptions that involve "hints of oak and notes of kumquat." (When kumquat start writing you notes, then you know you've had too much wine...I'm just sayin'.)

However, the one good thing to come out of this is that the parchment paper was a great success in keeping the cake from sticking. I like that part.

And, all was not totally lost for the day, because I made a smacking good dip, which was the main thing I was taking to the party anyway, and I'll post that recipe in my next entry, 'cause I'm tired and I have to get some sleep and put on my game face for the customer tomorrow...kind of like the Fat Dog.

Aloha and mahalo for all the mochi!

2009-12-06T22:36:00.000-05:00

Yikes!!! I realized when I looked at the last post that it had been waaaay over a month since I last posted. Sort of hard to have a blog if you don't post, isn't it?

Stuff happens, as we all know, so I hope you forgive me when I tell you all about the much needed vacation that I took over Thanksgiving. As you may have figured out from the title and the photo accompanying this post, I had an exotic tropical vacation in Hawai'i...Honolulu to be specific. ( I just love saying "Honolulu"... it's such a fun word!)

During the summer, a friend invited me to spend the holiday with her and her extended family, who live on Oahu, and after emptying my frequent flier mile account, I was on my way to paradise.

I had a direct flight from Atlanta to Honolulu, and let me tell you, 9+ hours is too freaking long to spend on a plane and not be in first class...why, oh, why Delta, do you not let people who redeem their frequent flyer miles have a shot at the upgrade lottery? (That's all the whining I'll do, because it was so worth the ride!)

Hawai'i has always been a source of fascination for me...and not just for the whole Magnum, PI thing, either. It's always seemed so exotic and unattainable, and the closer it got to checkin time, the more I was bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

This trip was not the usual tourist trip--I saw and did some touristy things, but this was more of a "hang out with the locals" kind of trip...sort of doing a Bourdain and heading off the beaten (and expensive!) paths. For Hawai'i is nothing if not expensive...except for food. I found the food to be very reasonably priced, especially since we ate at a lot of local Honolulu spots.

I didn't do a luau--gotta save something for the next trip--but I did have a great Thanksgiving dinner with a decided Asian twist. And, since this blog is about food and the cooking and eating of it, let's get to it!

Day 1 in Paradise included a sojourn into Chinatown and a tour of the downtown area--gotta have your picture made with King Kamehameha, you know. Honolulu Chinatown is a wild market place, full of amazing little markets, exotic produce, and street food. My friend's dad, henceforth known as "Granpa," took us on a winding little tour through a market and down several streets. He would pop into a shop and come out with some little delicacy for us to sample. We had a giant rice noodle tube stuffed with pork and onions, drizzled with shoyu (soy sauce), and cut up into pieces that we ate with our hands. He passed around a bag of "dragon eyes," which turned out to be a fruit, longan to be exact When you took the outer shell off, it looks like the inside of a grape and has about the same texture. It was sort of sweet and tangy.

We traveled to the downtown area and saw the state capitol, which tells the story of Hawai'i by it's very structure. The building has a little reflecting pool around it, which represents the water surrounding the islands. There are two pillars visible underneath each side, which represent volcanoes and support each side of the legislature. Each of the legislative chambers is decorated in colors that reflect the island--one side is reds and oranges (sun and lava) and the other is greens and blues (for the sky and rainforests). Grammy walked us around the area and told us many interesting things about the downtown buildings, and having a local tour guide really made the day even more special.

We finished up with lunch in the food court of the Ala Moana Center, a very large, high-end shopping center/mall. Yeah, yeah, food court is not exactly what one has in mind when visiting a tropical paradise, but there was a lot of local places in the food court that were just screaming to be tried. Al Moana Poi Bowl was the place of choice for lunch, and I got the Local Boy special plate lunch, which was pretty much a tour of local Hawai'ian food--kalua pig, lau lau, lomi salmon, and poi.

Ah, poi...that's some mystical stuff...mystical icky stuff. Light purplish-gray, with a thick, pasty consistency, and it's got a wang to it. Evidently, it works better if you dip some food into it, sort of using it as rice. Let just say that I probably wouldn't order it again. I like taro for the most part--taro fries, taro chips are good, but poi is has no "joi" for me.

Laulau is interesting...the one I had was roast pork and a piece of butter fish wrapped in taro leaves and steamed. The taro leaves were like a bitter spinach, which I dunked in the poi to see if that made the poi edible (sort of). The pork was tender, and the fish was a little surprise, because I wasn't expecting it. The kaula pork was like salty barbecue--lightly smoked and very tender; I ate every scrap of that, of course.

There was also lomi-lomi salmon, diced salted raw salmon mixed with tomatoes and onions, along with rice and macaroni salad. It was finished off with haupia (a coconut pudding-style dessert), which was wonderful. This lunch was a version of the Hawaiian culinary staple, the plate lunch. Plate lunch, Hawaiian style, is usually 2 scoops of rice, a scoop of macaroni salad, and then a protein/entree; I subbed the poi for the rice, because I had to try it. Plate Lunch is a lot like the Southern "meat and 3" plate lunch.

I'm a big fan of plate lunches...a big fan, and we had another one at L&L Barbecue, a local chain that is slowly franchising on the Mainland. I can only hope that it comes this way soon. Plate lunch at L&L consisted of rice, mac salad, and some yummy Korean-style barbecue ribs. Forget the haute cuisine--I can eat Asian street food at every meal.

We went to L&L after a day of flying kites and hanging out at the beach, and then we followed up the meal with fresh hot malasadas from Leonard's next door. Malasadas are the Portuguese version of beignets, but better, because they're covered in regular granulated sugar rather than powdered sugar.

And, I did have a fine dining experience of sorts...we went back to the Ala Moana Center for shopping on Saturday after Thanksgiving, and we ate lunch at Alan Wong's Pineapple Room located on the top floor of Macy's.
Remember this post about the disasterous project in Regional Cooking? The Chiclet and I had Pacific Rim cookery, and I pulled together a great PowerPoint that included the 3 big names in Hawaiian cuisine--Roy Yamaguchi, Alan Wong, and Sam Choy. So when D's sister suggested this Alan Wong outpost for lunch, I was all over that!

Chef Wong is into local and sustainable products and features them on his menus. I had the Pineapple Room Burger, because I was just craving a burger for some reason, and I truly think it was one of the best burgers I have ever eaten. From the menu description: Kiawe-Grilled Kuahiwi Ranch Natural Beef Burger, Onion Rings, Bacon, Cheddar Cheese, and Avocado Salsa. There were two onion rings on the burger, one of which I had to remove to even pick the thing up. Those onion rings were made from Maui onions, and I have never had a more tasty onion ring than those. Those onion rings were just works of taste art.

The burger was served with Wasabi Potato Salad, which was good, but not bowl you over good. The wasabi imparted a nice little bite and cleared the ol' sinuses for a moment. D had the “Mac Garlic” Chicken Sandwich, which was chunks of a garlicky teriyaki type of chicken and topped with Furikake Macaroni Salad. Furikake is a salty Japanese condiment with seaweed, sesame seeds, and fish flakes, plus some other seasonings. If I ever made it back to the Pineapple Room, I'd have that next!

Hawaiians are big on snack food, and the one thing that I discovered that I really like is mochi. Japanese in origin, mochi is made from pounded steamed glutinous rice. It becomes a dough-like substance that is usually wrapped around a variety of fillings--peanut butter mochi was a particular favorite of mine. We also had mochi ice cream, which consists of balls of ice cream encased in the mochi--most tasty. Of course, I want more and am trying to figure out how to get it here. I may need to pay a visit to the Asian markets here in town and see if I can find some, or better yet, the Buford Highway Farmer's Market in Atlanta.

Monday after Thanksgiving was our military history day and my last day in paradise. We got up really early and went to get tickets for the USS Arizona Memorial tour. There's a lot of construction happening at the site, progress on a new visitor's center, and unfortunately, the Missouri was in drydock, so we didn't get to tour it.

When you go into the visitor's center, you file into a little theater to watch a film about the attack on Pearl Harbor. The park rangers are very clear that this is NOT a tourist attraction, that it is a grave site, and respect is the order of the day. After the film, a very solemn crowd filed out and onto an open-sided boat for the 20-minute ride out to the sunken ship. On our boat, we had a veteran...he wasn't a Pearl Harbor survivor, rather someone who w

as stationed there right after the attack. It was his first time back to Pearl Harbor since that time, and the staff gave him a special pin and allowed him to get off the boat first when we arrived at the memorial.

When you first see the marble wall at the opposite end of the memorial, listing the names of everyone who perished in the attack, it clutches at your heart to see how many are chiseled into the wall. War sucks, no matter what side you are on.

After the visit to the memorial, we had breakfast at McDonald's. And, yes, I really wanted to go to McDonald's, because I hadn't had that one staple of Hawaiian cuisine...drum roll, please!...SPAM!

At Hawaiian McDonald's, you have some choices that aren't available stateside. There's taro pies, haupia pies, both of which were not available, McTeri burgers with teriyaki sauce, and McSaimen, a noodle dish. And, for breakfast, there's the Local Deluxe Breakfast platter. The Local Deluxe consists of 2 scoops of rice, omelet-style scrambled eggs, 2 slices of grilled Spam, and 3 slices of Portuguese sausage. Best fast food breakfast ever, hands down.

(And, the coolest thing was that the trash cans said "mahalo," which is Hawaiian for "thank you")

After breakfast, we hiked around Punchbowl, the National Cemetery of the Pacific, where some of the Pearl Harbor casualties are buried. The view from the top of Punchbowl crater encompasses a large part of the Honolulu shoreline and is amazing. The 30-foot tall statue of Lady Columbia looking out over the grave sites is awe-inspiring as well. If you are of a certain age or watched Nick at Night, you may remember her from the opening credits of Hawaii 5-0.

For my last meal in Hawaii...and yes, I think all I did was eat and gawk at how amazing it is there...we went to Nico's at Pier 38 at the Honolulu Harbor, near where the daily fish auction happens. I had the Furikake Pan Seared Ahi w/ Ginger Garlic Cilantro Sauce and rice, and it was so very very good. I'm usually not a big tuna fan--hate the canned stuff with passion--but like it as sushi or sashimi. We had ahi poke one night at a family dinner, and I fell in love with it, so I ordered my Ahi rare to try and replicate that experience. It was a great meal to end my stay, and I really wanted it to never end. I'm going back one day, and hopefully sooner rather than later...heck, I'm just a winning lottery ticket away from retiring there, as one of my Facebook friends commented.

I mean, how can you not love a place where you see rainbows every single day?

(If you look closely, you'll see it's actually a double rainbow.)

Indiana Poodle and the Risotto of Doom

2009-10-14T22:16:00.008-04:00

Even though I've been off the road for a couple of weeks, I've not been really inspired to cook like I had planned. It's a bitch to cook for 1, you tend to eat more if you cook more, or at least I do, and there's just only so many leftovers I can eat. Sometimes, I do remember to freeze things, but for some strange reason, it never crosses my mind until after I've eaten something for 3 days in a row.

Whine, whine, whine...so when I saw this recipe on SlashFood, I thought it sounded pretty good and it was designed for 1. So, I promptly decided to double it, so I would have leftovers. Yeah, so not the sharpest knife in the block, am I?

But, it really shouldn't be a big deal to double this recipe--it's rice-based, so you need to remember that cooking rice is ratio-based: 2 parts liquid to 1 part rice, and just make sure the liquid is doubled as well.

Red Wine Risotto

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 white onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 lb. ground beef
3/4 cup arborio rice
1 cup red wine
1 cup beef broth
Grated Parmesan cheese
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat the oil and butter in a small or medium sauce pan over medium heat. Saute the garlic and onion until translucent but not browned, about 5 minutes. Add in the ground beef and cook until browned. Season with salt and pepper.

Stir in the arborio rice to coat it with the beef, garlic and onion mixture. Add 1/2 cup wine, stirring until the wine absorbs, about 1 minute.

Stir in 1/4 cup beef broth, allowing the rice to absorb it. Add the remaining wine and broth, 1/4 cup at a time, stirring regularly and allowing each addition be absorbed before adding the next, until the risotto is tender, about 20 minutes. The risotto should be creamy but still have some visible liquid.

Remove from the heat and serve immediately, topped with grated Parmesan and freshly ground black pepper.

The recipe above is the original recipe. I encourage you to click on the link in the earlier part of this post, so you can read the description of the dish, especially keeping this part in mind: "When cooking for one, it's calming, even therapeutic after a long day of work, to stand over the stove and stir."

Yeah.

Standing over a hot stove, stirring yourself into a repetitive motion shoulder injury is not my idea of ending a long and stressful day. This is what I get for not actually reading for comprehension when looking at the post...and then being dumb enough to double the recipe, because even though I followed the rules about the liquid to rice ratio, what did I not take into account? Oh, how about that it might take twice as long to make the damn dish!

Some days, it's a wonder I can dress myself, much less make food. Never again will I say anything snarky about the cheftestants on Top Chef when they make something and screw up their estimate of how long it will take to complete the dish. (Except for ice cream during the Quickfire Challenge...People! Have you not watch any previous seasons of Top Chef? The entire planet knows by now that the ice cream maker IS NOT YOUR FRIEND, and that the judges totally see through the whole "it failed as ice cream, so I'll make it a sabayon and no one will ever know the difference." They've all seen the other seasons of Top Chef--heck, they were there!)

So, I saute the onions and garlic and add the ground beef. While the beef is cooking, I get my wine and beef broth together and measure out my rice. I sauteed the rice for a few minutes, getting it coated with the beef and onions and add the first half cup of wine. After the wine is absorbed, I add some beef stock, and continue this for the next 45 freaking minutes. The rice was like a sponge, soaking up more and more liquid, but never getting soft. 1 quart of beef stock and 3/4 of a bottle of wine later, it finally becomes something that vaguely resembles risotto. (I am seriously considering buying a case of this arborio rice and using it to soak up the excess water in my yard from the monsoons we've been having for the last couple of months. Seriously.)

(Note that screaming at the rice to "cook, bitch, COOOOK!!" at the 40-minute mark, does not actually make it cook any faster, but it makes you feel better...until you realize you are yelling at rice.)

I felt that the original dish was underseasoned with the directions to just add salt and pepper, so along with a generous helping of salt, I added a lot of freshly ground black pepper. I used the Italian Spice Grinder of Doom to add a little flair (and taste!), and I adjusted the seasoning several times during the absorption process.

As I scooped out the risotto into a bowl for dinner, it dawned on me that this was the exactly (minus the wine of course) like one of the first things that I ever cooked for myself, when I was about 11. I would saute onions, mushrooms, and ground beef and add it to a couple of scoops of cooked Minute Rice...grand total cooking time was probably about 25 minutes, and the longest part was waiting for the water to boil so I could dump in the Minute Rice.

However, I must say, even thought it was more time-consuming than I had originally thought, this dish was pretty darn good comfort food, and a little more sophisticated than my 11-year old self's "original" creation...plus, I got to drink the leftover wine. Not exactly something I could do when I was 11 without some sort of incredible downward spiral that had me living under bridge and/or writing a best-selling autobiography.)

And, I'm really looking forward to the leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

Home and Cooking

2009-09-29T21:48:00.001-04:00

Looks like I'll be off the road for a little while, so I can actually totally unpack the suitcase and possibly dust. Fun. I love dusting.

Fall seems to be creeping up on us here in the South...after that 2+ week hell monsoon season...so I'm thinking more about comfort foods, especially dishes that you can make in one pot, like soups, stews, casseroles. Casseroles are nice in the cooler months, because you can heat the house with the oven as you cook, but we're not quite there yet.

So, how about a casserole of sorts on the stovetop? And, let's make it semi-healthy! Yes, I'm feeling the urge to try and get into some sort of shape before I go on my Thanksgiving holiday. I've worked out at least once this week (yes, I *know* it's only Tuesday, but give me a break...one has to work into these things), and I've been trying to watch what I'm putting in my mouth before I actually put it in there.

Perusing the cookbook shelves, I am suprised to find the American Heart Association's One-Dish Meals. How the hell did that get there? Probably during some other fit of "get healthy." And look, the binding doesn't even look cracked...ha!

Of course, it's high on chicken, which is okay, because I like chicken...mostly fried or roasted with skin on, but I am trying to go healthier, so boneless, skinless it is! And, it looks like these recipes actually have some flavor/spices. They still seem to be undersalted, but I figure I can remedy that, tableside!

Chicken and rice are pretty much universal comfort combos, and this one is perked up a bit with the addition of some poblano chile peppers. I like poblanos, because they have just enough oomph to wake up your taste buds without ruining your sense of taste for hours, like habaneros. They are from opposite ends of the spectrum, but I fully believe food shouldn't cause you pain.

Poblano Chicken and Rice

2 poblano peppers

Vegetable oil spray

2 medium onions, chopped

2 medium ribs of celery, sliced thin

2 cups chicken broth (use low sodium if you really are counting sodium intake)

3/4 cup uncooked rice

1/2 tsp ground turmeric

12-16 oz boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into bite-size pieces

3/4 cup shredded reduced-fat sharp cheddar cheese

1/2 tsp ground cumin

1/2 tsp salt

1/8 to 1/4 crushed red pepper flakes (optional)

Remove stems from the peppers. Cut peppers in half, lengthwise. Holding the peppers under running water, remove seeds and ribs. Shake off excess water, and cut peppers into thin strips.

Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Remove from heat and spray with vegetable oil spray; use caution if using gas flame for cooking. (I cheated here and used this new Land O' Lakes butter and olive oil blend that I got on sale...about a tablespoon was enough.) Cook the onions, peppers, and celery for 8-10 minutes, or until the vegetables start to soften and gain color, stirring occasionally.

Stir in the broth, rice, and turmeric. Increase heat and bring mixture to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 12-15 minutes.

Uncover and stir in the chicken. Cover and simmer for another 10 minutes, or until the chicken is no longer pink in the center, the rice is cooked, and most of the liquid is absorbed. (I actually had to add a little liquid, more broth if you have it, but water is fine, when I added the chicken.)

Remove from heat and stir in the remaining ingredients. (Again, I went off the reservation. I put in about half the cheese to mixture in the pan, then I used the remainder on my actual serving. It seemed a little more decadent that way!) Makes 4 servings.

If you make it strictly by the book, the nutritionals are as follows: 337 calories per serving; 5.0 grams fat; 526 mg sodium ; 40 grams carbs; 3 grams fiber; 7 grams sugar; and 31 grams protein.

It was pretty tasty...and I did add more salt than called for originally. I seasoned the chicken bits with salt and pepper and then added a little more at the end of cooking. I compromised by drinking a large glass of water with my meal, reasoning that it might help flush out the extra salt!

I would also add another poblano to the mix, since this batch was so mild, to boost the flavor a little more. All in all, I thought it turned out pretty well...I'll have time to re-evaluate it a little more, since it's going to be leftovers for the next couple of days.

The Last Taste of Summer

2009-09-04T22:03:00.007-04:00

Labor Day is the last hurrah of summer...yeah, yeah, it can get back up to 90+ degrees in October in the South, but officially, Labor Day Weekend is the last 3 days to pack in as much fun, sun, barbecue, and watermelon as you possibly can in 3 short days.

I'm munching down on part of a watermelon that I caged from my mother, who got it and a wonderful, mouth-watering tomato, from some random roadside stand. This particular watermelon is one of those Holy Grail foods that you remember from your childhood...a food that in memory is so good, so succulent, so tasty, that you search for that elusive flavor for the rest of your life, trying to recapture those lost moments in time.

(I've also got some half-remembered recipe for cinnamon rolls made from canned biscuits, with butter, sugar, and cinnamon, that are covered with milk. When they bake, the bottom is kind of sweet and gooey, and the top has a flaky cinnamon crust. I've been trying to replicate this recipe since I was in grade school, and saw the lady who ran our summer day care make these. I would have walked miles on hot coals for these things. I can't seem to get the ratios right to make them correctly. I haven't tried in years and year, but maybe it's time once again.)

While visiting my mom earlier in the week, she managed to talk me into taking half of this large watermelon. I agreed to humor her, mainly because I sort of found it interesting that she was channeling her 1950s mom genes and foisting food on me...even though it wasn't food she made herself. : )

I cut in to the melon and take off that little ragged edge that I always seem to make when whacking a melon in half...symmetry is just not my style...and popped it in my mouth. It was breathtaking in its sweetness and flavor--just so watermelony--not like those half-ripened bland melons that appear in the produce section. The flavor took me back to countless summer weekends, sitting around the kitchen table with my grandmother, eating so much watermelon that we thought we would burst. For us, for some reason, we only ate watermelon on the weekends or at some family reunion/get-together. It wasn't an every day food, and I guess, somewhere deep down, I've always felt like watermelon is special treat, because we made such a production out of eating it. Now, I realize that it was probably because of the messiness factor, laying down newspaper to catch the liquid and trying not to get seeds everywhere, and then saving seeds of an especially good melon and trying to grow it again next year.

My grandmother always ate her watermelon with a sprinkle of salt, and always encouraged me to try it that way, but I'm a purist. I like it unadulterated and usually in a slice that I can eat directly from...it sort of makes me feel a little like a Lost Boy, probably from that primal part of my brain that likes to gnaw on a pork chop bone, too...which she always says we could do at home but not at other people's houses...unless they were relatives, because all my relatives would gnaw on a pork chop bone and not think twice about it. (And let's face it, most everyone else gnaws their pork chop bones in the privacy of their own homes, too.)

My grandmother died 3 Labor Day weekends ago, and I still miss her and I think about her every time I eat an especially good watermelon...a "homegrown" one, bought from a little old man out of the back of a pickup truck, like some illicit produce dealer. And, you know which of these "truck farmers" have the best stuff. "Psst, dude--you got any of them melons you had last week? Yeah, the ones that were real red and sweet...I need 2 this time. And 'maters--I need some 'maters, too."

Watermelon wasn't the only thing on the menu this weekend--I experimented with the smoker and grilled a bit, and I'll write more about that later, after get some coherent recipe together for the Bourbon-Brined Pork Butt that really did turn out awesome, even if it destroyed the house.

But for now, I'm going to eat my watermelon and watch The Closer...a guilty please that I have come to late in the series life, and wish summer could last forever like it seemed to when I was young. And, Grandmama, I love you, but I'm still not putting salt on my watermelon.

Miami Nice

2009-08-30T23:01:00.001-04:00

"Party in the city where the heat is on
All night on the beach till the break of dawn
Welcome to Miami
Buenvenidos a Miami"
(Will Smith--"Miami")

I know--2 posts in a month! Hold your collectives selves back!

Spent the last week in the sauna known as Miami...seriously, we bitch about the heat here in the South, but Miami takes it to a whole new level. On Friday morning, at 5:45 a.m., as we leave for the airport, it was like walking into a sauna. I fully expected some fat balding dudes in gold chains and towels to be sitting in the parking lot of the Coconut Grove Hampton Inn, ladling water on rocks to create more steam and humidity.

I was all psyched to see beautiful people and the CSI Miami crime lab...which we know is not really in Miami, but one can always hope...there's way too much parking for it to be in Miami. According to Wikipedia, it's actually the Federal Aviation Administration Federal Credit Union headquarters in Long Beach, CA. I practiced my "Horatio Caine Stare of Justice (tm)" and standing around with my hands on my hips, looking pensive.

Of course, I was there for work, so no hanging out on SoBe, but we did a drive-by of the area and looked at the cool Art Deco historic district. Walked on the beach for a few minutes, and then hopped back in the car as fast as we could, because it was too darn hot!

Y'all know that I usually try to avoid chain restaurants if at all possible, but sometimes, the first night you are in a place, you just go for the familiar. We had dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, they of the 1,000-page menu, and did opt for dessert, because they had Red Velvet Cheesecake. And, since there is a donation to the national foodbank network for each slice sold, I felt that I had to do my part. And, I thought it was pretty awesome...how could it not be? Layers of red velvet cake alternating with layers of cheesecake and covered with cream cheese frosting? (No lectures on the obesity of America, please! I'm not eating it every day...although, I am glad that there's not a CF anywhere in my vicinity. Temptation, thy name is Velvet, Red Velvet!)

And, when thou art in Miami, thou must partake of Cuban food. Sometimes, when I travel with other co-workers, I'm not sure if s/he will want to be adventurous...so far, I haven't had anyone keel over from eating in a strange place, but I guess there is always the first time. But, I think Cuban is a safe bet--it's rice, beans, pork...all familiar foods, and sooooo delicioso!

We ate lunch at a place in downtown Miami, El Cacique Lunch Restaurant Cafe. It was like a diner/coffee shop, with some daily specials and a regular menu of sandwiches, salads, and entrees. We ate there twice, because it was convenient and most tasty. I had a wonderful roast pork with moros y cristianos (black beans and rice mixed together) and a couple of large hunks of yucca. Normally, I shy away from yucca, because it tastes like library paste to me...not that I really know what library paste tastes like, but it's how I imagine it to be...never understood that paste eating thing. Why would you eat that stuff? There was a kid in my kindergarten that could not get enough of that stuff, and he had to be watched every time we used it for arts and crafts time.

This time, I add a liberal sprinkling of salt and pepper, and it was really like eating a boiled potato. The next day for lunch, one of the specials was stewed oxtails with rice, black beans, and maduros, which are caramelize sweet plantains. (Tostones are the savory version of plantains; use greener plantains, slice, smash, and pan fry, then sprinkle with a little salt.)

Moros y cristianos is a popular dish in many Latin American cuisines...it refers to the black Muslims (black beans) and white (rice) Christians who lived in Spain, side-by-side on the Iberian Pennisula...probably before Columbus discovered America...before the Inquisition...according to the Internets. There's other versions with rice and pink or red beans, or pigeon peas, usually called congri, which may have its roots in Haiti.

Most of the Cuban places that I saw were like El Cacique, and they had walk-up windows for coffee and sandwiches. There were usually several folks hanging around the window area, chatting, smoking cigarettes, and drinking cafe con leche (coffee with milk). I was getting rather fond of my afternoon cafe con leche with evaporated milk by the time we left.

A business trip to Miami is not the way to spend time there, especially not in August. I would dearly love to go back in say, February, when it's kind of cold and rainy, and explore more of the area. We did drive down Calle Ocho (8th Street), which is the heart of Little Havana, but we didn't have time to do any real exploration.

However, we did get a little up close and personal Miami Vice action when we were walking to lunch on the 3rd day of the visit...went to an Italian place that was very good. There were 6 of us standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change so we could cross the street. A guy on a bike, with a girl walking beside him, rides up to the corner and starts to cross the street. This was a one-way street, and a car just slides over the curb in front of us, another pulls up crossway in the crosswalk and sort of blocks the guy, and several powerful looking guys in T-shirts with "Gang Unit" across the back hop out of the cars and "assist" the bicycle guy across the street, patting him down as the moved him. It was very slick and quick, with a minimum of fuss. We were all in a bit of shock about what just happened, but that's how they roll in Miami...when pedestrians are not walking out in front of your car at random places on the street...but that's a whole 'nother story.

While I was living it up in Miami, The Man took the Fat Dog to the vet for a dental cleaning. While the vet was prepping him for the procedure, because you have to knock them out to do this, he found a mass in the Fat Dog's mouth. It was "about the size of a cocktail meatball," according to The Man, which means I will never be able to eat another cocktail meatball, and the doctor thinks that he got it all. He sent it off to a pathologist, and we should know more about it this coming week. X-rays and bloodwork were performed to see if anything was unusual and possibly spread into other poodle nooks and crannies, and those tests all came back okay. Pound for pound, the Fat Dog has now become the Most Expensive Poodle on the Planet...or at least in my neighborhood.

Oh, and in smoker news, I am continuing my experimentation. (For the record, The Man's experimentation was last weekend, while I was at brunch with some former co-workers. He had read something somewhere about smoking hotdogs and had been itching to try it. He put some brats and some hot dogs on while I was gone. The brats were okay, but the hotdogs had the consistency of Slim Jims...dried out old Reagan-era Slim Jims...I believe they were on a little too long.) (Oh, and that link to the Slim Jim website has music and some whack-a-doo graphics...really strange stuff. And, please do not try to figure out what exactly goes into a Slim Jim. If you ate them in your larval youth stage, before you knew better than to eat stuff like that, you may not ever want to eat again...just my .02)

This weekend, I smoked some pork ribs and some chicken pieces. Used the hickory chips again, and for the liquid, I used a 2-liter of Publix black cherry soda and some water. (The smoker recipe booklet mentioned using orange soda, so why not black cherry?) I rubbed the chicken pieces with the Israeli Spice Rub that I mentioned in my last post, because I really like that on chicken. I rubbed the ribs with this rub, which was on a sticky note on my fridge and I more than likely got it from the Internet, but I can't find the source, so please forgive me, anonymous Dave out there.

Dave's Rub

2 Tbs chili powder
1 Tbs dried oregano
1 Tbs sweet paprika
2 tsp garlic powder
4-5 pinches of salt
15 grinds of black pepper

I oiled up the chicken pieces and put the Israeli rub on, and then just rubbed the Dave's Rub on the ribs. The chicken turned out really well--moist and delicious, with a hint of cherry. The ribs were a little dry, so I think I may have to experiment with marinating pork. The chicken pieces were bone-in and skin-on, so that helped keep them moist and tasty. I think the ribs just needed a little something extra--be it marinade or a wet glaze on them before smoking. The Man mentioned brining the pork to see how that would work, and that sounds intriguing. Maybe, I could use apple juice in the water pan to bring out the apple left from brining in cider vinegar. Hmm...this bears a little more forensic investigation...let me get my sunglasses!

UPDATE: This morning (8/31), we heard back from the veterinarian about the pathology report. The tumor from the Fat Dog's mouth is a malignant melanoma. Not exactly what you want to hear early in the morning, or at any time for that matter. The vet thinks that he got it all, but laid out the facts that it could re-occur, and that it could spread to other parts of the body. He did do the X-rays to check for spread, and those came back negative at the moment. I guess the "good" news is that it could reform in the same place, so we might have a fighting chance to see it and remove it. We talked other options of chemo and radiation, but given the Fat Dog's guestimated age ( which could be anywhere from 10 to 15) and how devastating the possible cure can be on a system, we're going to opt for the "wait and see if it comes back" approach. Cross your paws that we got it all this time...

Crabby Birthday!

2009-08-12T20:27:00.005-04:00

No, no, not "crappy birthday," but really, "crabby birthday," as in I ate some fantabulous soft-shell crabs last week for my birthday dinner. Alas, the life of the road warrior...spending another birthday on the road, in a strange town, and the only thing to do is have a nice blow-out dinner at Shaw's Crab House in Schaumburg, IL.

Luckily, I was not totally alone, because I had a co-worker with me, and she was more than happy to help me celebrate at Shaw's. I dearly love soft-shell crabs, and am in no way squicked out about eating the entire crab, crunchy bits and all. I like them fried, sauteed, or however you would like to prepare them for me...am not picky.

Soft-shell crabs are crabs that are molting, and losing their hard outershell. The shell doesn't expand as they grow, so they essentially have to grow a new shell and slough off the old one. The molting season traditionally lasts from early May to late July or early August. Of course, modern technology has come up with ways to either prolong or force the molt to happen, so the season o' soft-shells is not really a season any more.

Although, according to the Shaw's menu, these were imported from Virginia, at the height of freshness, etc., etc. I believed it, because these babies were beautiful and delicious...fried in a light tempura batter with a squeeze of lemon...they were plump and juicy and I could have cheerfully eaten a dozen, even though two quite filled me up. And, to top off this great meal, the nice folks at Shaw's comped my birthday dessert. We shared a plate of small bite desserts--a mini creme brulee, a mini slice of key lime pie, a mini slice of chocolate cake, and a mini slice of raspberry pie. It was just enough sweet/tart/tangy/sugary goodness that it wasn't overwhelming. We both agreed that miniature desserts are the way to go...just a little bit of something sweet to top off the meal, and not some big ass browniegoldrushtripleoverload sort of thing that you see at some places. Plus, it gives the opportunity to try several things at once, so if you come back and decide to actually go whole hog on dessert, you'll know what you like.

Since I was out of town for the birthday, we decided to continue celebrating (i.e., eating!) the next night at the Weber Grill Restaurant. What is not to love about a restaurant that has a giant red barbecue grill out front? And, the food is cooked on giant, industrial Weber grills! How cool is that?! I saw a blurb on Unwrapped the other night about the Weber Grill Restaurant, and they went behind the scenes and showed the grills and how meat was cooked, etc.

I had a lovely ginger-soy glazed skirt steak that was cooked to medium-rare perfection, and my co-worker had a grilled meatloaf that she pronounced very, very good. Webers are produced somewhere around Chicago, which I did not know, and whoever came up with the idea for a restaurant with the grills needs to be president of the company!

After spending the week in the Schaumburg area, I came home to a nice surprise--The Man showed up with poodles and a smoker! And, inside the smoker was a birthday cake with ladybugs and a poodle on it. The smoker is an electric Brinkmann, which I think will be a good learning tool.

I've dubbed it the "Mary Had a Little Pig" starter kit, and I gave it a whirl on Sunday. I wanted to start slow and small--not throw a whole brontosaurus haunch on there until I felt it out and seen what it could do. Big confession time--for all that I talk about barbecue and my passion for smoked and cured meats, I've never actually, until this past weekend, smoked anything myownself.

So, I got a package of boneless country ribs, and The Man wanted to try a lamb chop...I'm thinking that might not be bad, since the mutton experiment in Kentucky went pretty well. I decide that I'm not going to do anything really fancy--no major marinade, no wild concoction in the water pan--just a simple rub, a little aromatics in the water pan, and some hickory chips.

I opted to go with a spice rub that I gleaned from the second Rachael Ray 30-Minute Meals book...it's the best book of the whole RR oeuvre. she describes it as her interpretation/re-creation of a spice mixture that a friend brought from Israel. I use it on a lot of things, and it goes especially well with chicken. I realize that it's ironic, sacreligious, or somewhat unorthodox to put something called "Israeli" on pork, but I'm not trying to overtly offend anyone. We could call it "Icelandic Spice Rub," for that matter. : )

Israeli Spice Rub

1 1/2 tablespoons (1 1/2 palmfuls) sweet smoked paprika (you know how I love this stuff !)
1 1/2 tablespoons (1 1/2 palmfuls) ground cumin
1 teaspoon (1/3 palmful) dried oregano
1 teaspoon (1/3 palmful) ground coriander
1/2 to 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (medium to hot in spice level)
1 1/2 teaspoons (1/2 palmful), coarse kosher salt

Combine all ingredients and store in an airtight container. Sprinkle liberally over chicken or other meats before grilling or roasting.

I usually slather up some chicken, either boneless or bone-in, with some olive oil and then rub this stuff on, and toss it on the grill. Most tasty.

Back to the regularly scheduled program...I rubbed some of the spice mix on the lamb and the pork. I cut up an onion and threw it and a handful of peppercorns into the water bath, and put it all out in the smoker.

Smoked everything for about 3 hours...proabably could have gone just a hair less, but everything turned out okay. The pork seemed just a wee bit drier than I would have liked, but the funny thing was, when I ate the leftovers for dinner, after they were in the fridge, they were moister and didn't seem dry at all.

The lamb was not anything that I care to repeat again...smoking it made it waaaay too "lamby," or gamey. I've been trying to work on expanding my lamb base and branching out a little more with it, but that piece did not add to my enjoyment. I promptly passed my share back to The Man.

The best thing was that everytime I opened the back door to let the dogs out or do some work on the deck, the whole house would smell of hickory smoke, and it was like being in a giant bacon locker...and what could possibly be wrong with that?!

I'm going to experiment more on the smoking...want to do a little research on the finer points, because in all my collection of cookbooks and reference materials, I have precious little on smoking, if you can believe it.

Which reminds me...Tessa-Lu and I need to get cracking on making some chocolate-covered bacon...an idea as revolutionary as Reese's Cups...you got your bacon in my chocolate! You got your chocolate on my bacon! It's almost lyrical, it is!

Noshing in Natchez

2009-07-26T20:23:00.006-04:00

I know, I know...you thought I forgot about the blog. But, I really haven't; it's just that I don't think I've been doing much to warrant a good post, but I guess I'd better account for myself.

This past week, I was in Natchez, Mississippi, home of beautiful antebellum mansions, the Mississippi Delta, and humidity. I also ate some nice barbecue at the Pig Out Inn. When we opened the door, the most delicious hickory smoke smell wafted out, and I crossed my little piggy lovin' fingers and toes that I wouldn't be disappointed.

The pulled pork was tender, the sauce was on the side, and they had a dilled potato salad that went nicely with the beans and pork. And, we smelled like hickory smoke and barbecue for the rest of the afternoon, which is some of the best perfume on Earth.

I really, really, really wanted to eat at Mammy's Cupboard, which is a restaurant that is in the shape of a woman...yes, it's pretty politically incorrect, because you can tell it was built in a more closed-minded era, but when you read the Road Food review of the place,

you can see why your stomach might get the best of your belief system. I was all set to try some blueberry lemonade and whatever else might be on the menu for the day. Alas, the fine folks at Mammy's were on vacation last week, so I was thwarted in my quest. But, I did get a picture! (Yes, she's wearing a turban and big hoop earrings.)

So, instead of lunch at Mammy's, we went to The Castle at Dunleith and had some fine fried chicken. Dunlieth is an old plantation that is now a B&B. The house and grounds are gorgeous, and The Castle is located in the old carriage house.

Natchez is on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, and right across the river is Concordia, LA...which has "drive-thru" bars. Yeah, I know. Louisiana is an interesting state, for sure. And, what makes is legal and not a violation of open container laws is if you have a straw in the cup or not. No straw = not drinking and driving. Odd, very odd.

Natchez is about 2 hours south of Jackson, the capitol of Mississippi, and home of the Sweet Potato Queens. I've always had a fondness for sequins and majorette boots, so my fondest wish is to some day attend the St. Patrick's Day Parade in Jackson and see the SPQ in all their big hair glory. Since it was a little late in the year for that, I did the next best thing and had a bite to eat at the "official" parade headquarters, Hal and Mal's.

Hal & Mal's is really more of a bar than a restaurant, so don't expect 5-star cuisine. I had a great pimento cheese sandwich with bacon and jalapenos, and some half-decent gumbo. I love pimento cheese, and it has to be a savory pimento cheese--none of that sickly sweet pre-packaged stuff. No Sweet Potato Queens were in evidence, but it did look like a fun place to hang out.

I'm home for a little while, and then I'll be out and about in Chi-town, so I'll sacrifice myself and make sure I eat something and at some place interesting!

Rainbow Chard-alition

2009-06-12T14:37:00.004-04:00

Some days you have to really reach for a title...

A couple of weeks ago, I hung out in Peoria, Arizona, which is just outside of Phoenix. It was my first time to Arizona, other than innumerable layovers in the Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport, so I was excited to cross another state off my list. I've only got 10 more to go--Alaska, Ha

waii, New Mexico, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Oklahoma, Wyoming, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island--and I can complete the total destruction of my refrigerator, which will fall over from the magnets. Magnets are much cheaper and easier to store and display than t-shirts!

Peoria is the winter home of the Padres and the Mariners, and is surrounded by mountains and Phoenix. Nothing incredible to report, food-wise, except the existence of an In and Out Burger about a block from my hotel. That's a real good thing. I did eat at Carolina's, a local quickie Mexican place that's been around Phoenix for 40 years, and they had these Juicy Whip Mexican fountain drinks that I fell in love with...at least the pina colada one. All I needed was a little shot of rum, and, well, that would have been unprofessional, wouldn't it?!

And it was hot! But, I'm beginning to think that there might be something to that old saw about "it's a dry heat." It was easily 98-101 every day I was there, but I never seemed to sweat the way I do at home...yeah, yeah, TMI. Seriously, I considered sitting outside one evening to eat dinner, when it was a balmy 95, and opted not to, because there were a ton of kids in the outside eating area and it was rather noisy.

The landscape in Arizona fascinated me...it really did look sort of Martian-like, with the different tones of reds and oranges, and all the cacti. The saguaro is the cactus you always

associate with the Southwest, a'la Roadrunner cartoons, and they are all over the place. It takes 75-80 years for a saguaro to grow an "arm," so anything with multiple arms is very old.

And, protected. If you need to move or remove one, you have to get special permits.

(There's a grouping of adolescent saguaros on the entrance ramp at the airport's rental car complex, and it looks like a large stand of green penises...or would that be penii? Amusing either way.)

I flew in and out of Atlanta so I could pick up the dogs, who were vacationing with The Man while I was away. The Man and I went to the Dekalb Farmer's Market and picked up some fruits, veggies, and of course, cheese.

I saw some rainbow chard, and thought that it might be a good thing to try...need to add more leafy greens to the diet, and I get really tired of spinach sometimes. Plus, spinach makes my teeth feel weird if I eat too much of it. Evidently, I'm not the only person who has this happen, as evinced by this post on "spinach teeth."

Back to the "chard-alition"...Last night, I decided to give the chard a whirl. I rinsed it many times to get all the grit off--this rainbow chard was labeled "organic," which means "you get the dirt it grew in as a bonus," and sauteed it up with some shallots and garlic. 'Twas pretty darn tasty.

Sauteed Rainbow Chard

1 bunch rainbow or Swiss chard
1-2 tablespoon olive oil
2 shallots, chopped2 cloves garlic, minced
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Rinse the hell out of the chard, and then rinse it again. The "dunk method" worked well--fill a bowl or the sink with water, dunk in the chard and swish around. Lather, rinse, repeat until no more dirt or grit is in the water.

2. Trim the stems from the chard and dice them into 1-1.5-inch cuts. Chop the shallots, and mince the garlic. Take the leaves of the chard and roll them into a cylinder and slice to produce "ribbons" of chard...easier to cook this way.

3. Preheat a skillet or saute pan and throw in the olive oil. Toss in the stems and cook for 2 minutes, then add the shallots and garlic.

4. As the shallots begin to soften, add the chard ribbons and saute for another 5 - 7 minutes, or until tender. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and voila! a tasty and actually good for you side dish.

Go forth and eat healthy! Or add a little bacon! : )

(Yes, that is a ladybug tea kettle.)

BBQ and Out!

2009-05-17T00:16:00.004-04:00

As I lie here in my current Hampton Inn home away from home, I feel distinctly like one of those snakes on an old Wild Kingdom episode…you know, the one that ate something as big or bigger than it (the snake) was around. Just shy of miserable…but in a good way.
This past week culminates a 2-week barbecue odyssey that has me thinking that, yeah, I might actually be barbecued out for awhile. I know—call CNN. It’s a long post, and I apologize, because I should have written it in two posts, but I was in a barbecue coma for part of that time. Hickory smoke can make you a wee bit lazy and hungry...not unlike some other kinds of smoke. : )

Week before last, I rolled into Owensboro, KY—the barbecue capital of Kentucky to spend 3 days in hickory-smoked heaven. I hit the Moonlite again, then on to Old Hickory, which is supposed to be the locals’ favorite. The smell outside of Old Hickory was almost enough to bring me to my knees, faint with hunger and desire…whew! Gotta get a grip, because this is not a bodice ripper that I’m writing…unless my bodice happens to rip open because I ate too much barbecue. It’s hard to describe the smell, but if you’ve ever been to a really good, honest-to-swine wood-burning barbecue joint, you know exactly what I’m talking about. And, I swear that I could have just eaten a 40-course meal, be as full as the proverbial tick, and get a whiff of barbecue smoke, and my mouth will start to water. Sometimes, I think barbecue might smell better than it tastes, because the aroma is soooo heavenly, and maybe I should gnaw on a piece of hickory wood and save some calories.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, Owensboro and that general area of western Kentucky is famous for mutton barbecue. I wasn’t too sure about actually ordering mutton as an entree, and from what I remembered from my last trip to the Moonlite, it wasn’t something I was likely to order. Best laid plans and all that…when I went to the 3^rd local joint, George’s, I decided to go out on a limb and order the sampler platter, which has sliced pork, sliced beef, and sliced mutton. (Sliced is usually how they roll in KY, although I did see pulled available. The most interesting thing is that you can order your meat “off the pit,” which seems to mean that it won’t be soaked in “dip,” and you can get that on the side. More on dip in a moment…)

My waitress comes back with a large oval platter piled high with meat. She informs me that they are out of beef, so the kitchen gave me more mutton. In the back of my mind, I’m thinking, why not more pork?, but I decide to go native and give the mutton a whirl. Along with the beans and fries, there is a little pitcher of “dip.” Dip is sauce, but it’s not thick like KC Masterpiece, and it’s not as thin as the vinegary pepper stuff usually served with Alabama ‘cue. It’s got a little more body, and evidently everyone has their own recipe. The mutton is not bad…I think the smoking helps it, because I manage to eat most of it. Another thing that distinguishes KY barbecue, or at least at George’s and Old Hickory, is they throw a little sassafras wood on the fire. The sassafras adds a little “something’-somethin’” to the flavor, maybe a little sweetness? Definitely in a good way. And, the coolest thing about George's is that there was impromptu bluegrass jam session going on in the back dining room. Guys would occasionally step outside to their trucks and come back through carrying instrument cases.

This past week, I was staying in Memphis, yes during the barbecue cooking contest part of Memphis in May, which sounds like heaven on earth, but alas, it was raining most of the time and I didn’t make it to the park…oh, and I had to work, too. Imagine that—gotta fund these barbecue expeditions somehow.

Never fear, I continue to partaking of a pantheon of pork. Lucky for me, a couple of fine joints were near my hotel. First up was Leonard’s, a Memphis staple since 1922. Leonard’s has some interesting items on its menu—some kind of hybrid Italian dishes, including barbecue and spaghetti, ribs and spaghetti, and my favorite description: ravioli and ribs served with slaw.

Wisely, I think, passing on the spaghetti options, I go for the pork and ribs plate. I’m not usually a rib eater, but someone walked by with a plate and they looked too good to pass up. The pork was good, and the ribs were mighty fine. Crisp on the outside and meaty on the inside, with not too much sauce, because I don’t want to look like a refugee from the emergency ward after I finish dinner.

Next day, for lunch, we went to a West Memphis joint, which was just okay. West Memphis is not actually in Memphis, but across the river in Arkansas. (We decided to opt for a local meat-and-three for the next day’s lunch, where I had some amazing fried okra. Not that pre-breaded crap from the freezer section, although that will do if you actually fry it up in a skillet and not a deep fryer.)

Dinner that night was at Neely’s, whose name you might find familiar from The Food Network’s “Down Home with the Neelys.” Pat Neely and his 3 brothers all got together and opened a barbecue place on Mt. Moriah Road, and they now have 3-4 locations in Memphis and 1 in Nashville. By far, dining at Neely’s was my best Memphis experience. I know there are dozens of must-eat places there, but I had 2 days people, 2 days! And, there was no way in hell to get remotely near Beale Street during the barbecue cook-off. I like to watch Down Home, because the Neelys look like they are having a ball while they cook, and most of the time, they make food that I want to eat.

Walking in the door of Neely’s, I get that knee-weakening feeling from the aroma of burning wood and charring meat. I stick with the pork, ordering the pork plate with beans and slaw. Memphis slaw is a whole ‘nother animal in itself. It’s chopped, it may have a little vinegar, mayo, and or mustard, or all 3 or some other combination. It’s definitely different. My waitress assures me that it’s good, with a little kick, and she’s right. I also order the sauce on the side, because—well, you know why. The pork is tender, with little bits of the outside meat (with succulent crispy bits of fat), and the sauce is very good. It’s reminds me a little of the Kentucky “dip” in consistency, but a just a little thicker; still not as thick as a KC Masterpiece-type of sauce.

And, she talked me into peach cobbler, which was good, and the reason why I started this post feeling like I’d swallowed a mongoose.

The last bit of Tennessee barbecue was at a special place…it’s not exactly the most famous and may not be the best, but it was a place I stopped in with my friend Johns and some other co-workers while on our way back from a business trip to Memphis about 13 years ago. Our company had a contract with the naval base in Memphis, and we all drove over for a meeting. Why there is a naval base in Memphis, I have no idea…probably the same reason there’s one in Cobb Co. in Georgia.

Anyway, the guys that we met with sent us down a back road to avoid some nasty construction on the perpetual Memphis-to-Atlanta highway pipe dream, which grows a little more each year, to Somerville, TN, to a place called The Hut. The thing I remember most about that trip was Johns teaching me the words to the Mr. Ed theme song on our way home, while the whole vanload of us sang old TV theme songs to keep awake. (Yeah, we’re nerds.) I did a little detour on my way home and had a sandwich there and then sang the theme to Mr. Ed as I drove away.

From the Wildlife Karma Department: As I’m barreling down Highway 64, on the part known as Buford Pusser Highway, I pass a large turtle crawling out from the median and into the left lane. Well, I wasn’t exactly speeding, because I’d hit a trap and got tagged on the way to Memphis, so I was being a little more cautious on the backroads. And, when I say “large turtle,” I mean LARGE turtle. Like a “if you hit it and you are driving a small car like mine, you might cause some significant damage, especially if you are moving at a high rate of speed” large turtle. Plus, it looked like it might be an old turtle, since it was so large, and for some reason, I thought maybe it might possibly be an important type of turtle. It really looked more like a tortoise, which may have been what started me thinking that it needed saving. Yes, I know that tortoises live in the desert, but this was all at 65 mph!

This is all going through my mind in a split second as I pass the turtle, and there was a cut-across right past the turtle, so before I can really think about it, I’m whipping around heading back towards the cut-across that I just passed before I passed the turtle. As I turn back to the turtle, I am gratified to see that it is still alive and trying to cross the road.

I pull over and hop out of the car…not a lot of traffic coming, so I cross the road and pick up the turtle from the back of its shell in a confident “I’m doing my part in saving the planet” sort of way. The turtle immediately responds by whipping its head back and hissing at me with its rather large mouth open wide and looking like it might just eat me. I scream and drop the turtle…which, by now, you have all figured was an adult snapping turtle…which I had never seen before, ever. Yes, even though I have lived in the South for ALL my fool life, I have never seen a full-grown snapping turtle until that very moment, in the middle of the highway in the middle of nowhere Tennessee.

When I drop the turtle, it lands on its back in the middle of the right lane. I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do next, and it dawns on me that I am in the middle of a highway and maybe I should look to see if there is oncoming traffic…which there is…an 18-wheeler bearing down on us and getting closer by the second. So, and I’m not particularly proud of this, I scoot the turtle across the highway on its back with my foot, and then sort of drop kick it upright into the gravel at the side of the road.

I lean against the side of the car, because I’m feeling a little weak in the knees from the adrenaline of the turtle and my near brush with death on the highway. Then, I notice that the turtle seems to be flailing around, and I’m afraid it will get discombulated and try to re-cross the highway. Now, when I got out of the car, I notice that there was a creek of some sorts on the side of the highway I was parked on, so I knew that the turtle was headed towards the water. This is why I felt confident that I would be assisting the turtle with its goal, and that the turtle really did have a purpose in crossing the road.

I am not about to pick the turtle up again, nor am I putting my foot in danger, because I’m definitely not wearing steel-toed boots, and since I now know for sure that this is a damn snapping turtle, I know that it can take my finger off, no matter how noble my intentions are towards it and the environment. I had stopped at a discount outlet kind of store on the way over to Memphis and picked up a new telescoping aluminum pole for my pool cleaning stuff.

I get the pole out and feel that it’s a little ironic to be on Buford Pusser’s highway with a big stick. I start nudging the turtle, who, at this point, is mightly pissed off at me and hissing and snapping for all he’s worth, towards the water. As I’m standing there with my pole, a woman in an SUV slows down and yells out the window to me, “are you out saving turtles?” I reply that I am trying, whether he wants me to or not, and she gives me a merry “bless you” and speeds off. I get the feeling that either I’m not the only tree-hugging idiot she’s seen, or she’s been doing the same craziness herself…maybe to make up for the SUV.

I get the turtle off the gravel and into the grass and decide that my work here is done…I’ve been as ecologically and environmentally helpful as I can be today, and I should just get in the car before I get myself pancaked by an 18-wheeler myself. (Note that the picture of the snapping turtle is not one that I took myself...I swiped it off the internets, because I was too freaked out to think about grabbing my own damn camera.)

The rest of my trip passes uneventfully and I arrive home safe and sound, and I really hope that turtle made it to his creek as well. And, this afternoon, when I was unpacking my suitcase, I pulled the shirt I was wearing during my trip to Neelys out of the space bag, and the undeniable aroma of hickory smoke faintly wafted up from it, and you know, my mouth started watering and…what the hell, I could eat barbecue again this week. Wonder if you can barbecue a turtle, and if adding a little sassafras would...nevermind.

The One Where I Make a Coconut Cake

2009-04-20T17:15:00.001-04:00

And, it actually seemed to turn out just fine. I know, gasp! I actually baked something that did not turn into some sort of unmitigated disaster. And, I sort of made up the recipe, too...well, cobbled it together from some other sources. Boo-yah! (Although, I did forget to take a picture...rats.)

In preparing for the annual "It's the Great Easter Brunch and Peep Head Spit, Charlie Brown," at Tessa's, we were chatting about what to bring. She is enamored of the mushroom gratin thingy and requested that, and I also mentioned that I had seen a recipe in Bon Appétit for some Coconut Cream Cupcakes that involved reducing coconut milk. In reading the reviews of the recipe (by people who had actually made the recipe), the reduction time of the coconut milk seemed to vary wildly.

(And, have you ever noticed when you look at the recipe reviews on Bon Appetit/Epicurious, that about 90% of the people rave about how wonderful it was, but only because they changed X, Y, and Z. They never seem to actually make the recipe as it is written...which is fine and wonderful, because the recipe is really a guide and you can add your own little touches, BUT some of these people totally re-create the recipe in a different space-time continuum. I kind of agree with Paula Deen about making the recipe once by the book and then, the next time, jazz it up and make it your own. That way, you at least know how it was supposed to turn out and what you really liked or didn't like about it. But, that's just little ol' me.)

Tessa says to heck with reducing coconut milk--that's too much work. Why not use Coco Lopez instead? Coco Lopez is essentially the drink mixer version of Eagle Brand sweetened condensed milk only with cream of coconut. Coco Lopez is the definitive brand mixer for pina coladas...and is pretty darn tasty straight from the can. (I also like the Bacardi Pina Colada mixer in the frozen juice section. That is a serious "can licking" mixer! Plus, it seems you can add an indefinite amount of alcohol to 1 can of mixer and not taste it...trust me, I have tested that for you.) The recipes on the Coco Lopez site include an easy coconut cream cake that is pretty similar to what I cobbled together from my other "research." When I described it to Linna, she dubbed it "Duo Leches" cake, because what could be better than a dessert involving either Coco Lopez or Eagle Brand? Why a dessert that combines them, of course! And one that is easy, because it involves dressing up a boxed mix.

Duo Leches Easter Cake
(or any other time you want to make it because you have the urge for coconut cake!

1 box yellow cake mix (I used a Duncan Hines Super Moist...not sure that it matters)

1 15-oz can Coco Lopez Cream of Coconut

1 14-oz can Eagle Brand Sweetened Condensed Milk

2 cups heavy whipping cream

2 cups sour cream

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 bag sweetened coconut (I used Angel Flake, because it's what my grandmother always used for German chocolate cakes)

Procedure:

1. Make the cake according to the package directions, whatever they may be, using a 13x9-inch rectangular pan in which to bake it.

2. While the cake is baking, whip together the Coco Lopez and the Eagle Brand and set aside.

3. When the cake comes out of the oven, poke holes in it, using a skewer or fork. Pour the Coco Lopez-Eagle Brand mixture over the warm cake, letting it soak in the holes. I did not use all of the mixture, because I didn't want the cake to become mush...I'd say use 3/4 of it.

4. Let the cake cool completely before frosting. I cooled it and then refrigerated it overnight before frosting it, but that was only because I was serving it the next day.

For the frosting:

1. Whip the 2 cups of heavy cream until stiff. Fold in the 2 cups of sour cream, and fold in the vanilla.

2. Fold in about 1/2 -3/4 of the bag of flaked coconut. Spread frosting on the cake and sprinkle with reserved coconut. Cut into squares and serve, hording the leftovers for yourself. : )

This is a very moist cake, and it won't be a pretty cake when you serve it, because you're dishing it out of the pan in which you cooked it, but that's how these cakes are meant to be dished up. You could be fancy and make it a layer cake or a Bundt cake, but I'd be worried about getting enough of the "duo mix" soaked in. Plus, I'm not sure the frosting would actually adhere to the sides of the cake. It would be a bit sad to have all the frosting slide off onto the table, and there's probably some passage in Emily Post that says you aren't allowed to lick anything off the table cloth.

I was going to be fancy and toast the coconut to give the cake a little extra "oomph." Yeah...when I had to go and get a 2nd bag of coconut, I realize why you should just buy two bags to begin with...you will take your eyes off the coconut that has been in the oven for 11 minutes and realize that minute 13 was the indicator for "charred coconut." You could also color the coconut green and scatter jelly beans on it, and I won't ever speak to you again, but, you could do that. Jelly beans have no place as part of food...not even as garnish. Don't get me started on black jelly beans, either. Anise/licorice is the most poisonous taste I can think of...ever.

I'm still not sure what to do with the leftover "duo" mixture...somehow, putting over cereal seems a bit much, don't you think? Maybe I can use it as coffee creamer...that will really jolt my day--caffeine and sugar, lots of sugar!

"Napoli" Dynamite

2009-04-12T22:10:00.002-04:00

Yep, shamelessly plagiarized the title from this article, but if you Google it, lots of people have the same idea for many different things, so I won't feel too bad. I did give credit!

During my trip to the ATL during Tut weekend, I decided to seek out Head Chef's restaurant venture. He and the Dining Room/Hospitality Instructor went in together and opened a little Italian restaurant in downtown Woodstock, GA. Together, they have a gazillion years of restaurant experience, both front and back of the house, so this should be a win-win situation for everyone.

It's called Vingenzo's, and serves Neapolitan-style Italian food, like you would get in Naples. Naples is the birthplace of pizza, which started out as mainly food for the poor, but got upscaled in during the reign of Frederick IV, sometime during around 1889, when there was a pizza officially named after Queen Margherita. The Margherita pizza was created to look like the Italian flag, with tomatoes (red), mozzarella (white), and basil leaves (green). Neapolitan pizza , or Pizza Napoletana, has a definite recipe, with specifics down to the type of wheat flour used, yeast, toppings, how it has to be stretched, and cooked in a woodfire oven.

(The picture is not of the pizza we ate...I did not have my camera with me when we were at the restaurant!)

We bounce in full of anticipation and hungry! I was pleasantly suprised to see Introductory Chef there as well. She seemed very happy to see me, and even Chef seemed a bit friendly. Introductory Chef was there helping out with training some serving staff as a favor to Chef and Co.

I was sort of torn about what to have, because I knew it was all going to be good...would it dare not be? Ha!

As much as I love the cured Italian meats, I was very intrigued by the mozzarella sampler platter. It was a serving of all 3 types of the handmade mozzarellas, some capers, olives, and roasted red peppers, along with a big puffy square of pizza dough bread. Mozzarella is definitely the "tofu" of the cheese world, making a nice back drop for other stronger flavors, like the olives, but with a nice gentle sweetness of its own to complement.

The 3 mozzarellas were the Latte Fresco (mild), Stracciatella di Burrata (sweet and creamy), and Di Bufala (delicate). The Latte Fresco was made with cow's milk, and the Di Bufala was made with water buffalo milk, and I'm not sure about the Burrata. The Burrata was the most interesting one, though. It was like a little twisted pouch, and inside, was a little bit of sweet cream. It was like eating one of those gusher candies, in a way, and I think it was my fave. And, the olives on this platter were amazing, especially the oven roasted black olives. I would so love some of those right now!

We decided to get a pasta selection and a pizza and split them...that best of both worlds thing. For the pasta, you choose your sauce and then a fresh pasta, which is made daily. You know how I love the noodle, so I chose "tripoli," which was a long noodle about half the width of a lasagne noodle and had a curly edge as well. The sauce was Campagnola, which was artichoke hearts, fresh cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, basil, garlic, and olive oil. I've had Chef's fresh tomato sauces before, so I knew this would be pretty good. And, it was, but I think my choice of noodle overwhelmed it, and it might have been better with either linguini or pappardelle.

The pizza was the highlight, though. I would cheerfully order many of these pizzas, because they are so simple, yet so good. We chose the Salsiccia e Peperoni, which has Italian sausage, mozzarella, and roasted red peppers, and it was yummy. Essentially crust, sauce, and those 3 ingredients--way better than any supercolossalmeatloversheartattack special on any day. Later, as we were leaving, we stopped to talk with Intro Chef, and she was having dinner and eating one of the pizzas that had wide strips of proscuitto on it...that's the pizza that I am ordering next time, for sure.

The place was decorated rather minimally hip, with a slight dash of funky--nothing too kitchsy, nothing that would look dated in a year, etc., and nothing to detract from the food. The real star of the place is the wood burning oven, which Chef and the Dining Room Instructor built by hand...the labor of love that shows up in the food, if that's not too hokey.

Oh, and we also had Italian Lemonade, which is Chef's secret concoction and he's not coming off the recipe...kind of like his chicken salad, I guess. It was a non-alcoholic drink, but as I mentioned to Intro Chef and she wholeheartedly agreed, it would have been lovely with some vodka.

As I was talking with Intro Chef during her meal break, there was another former student there as well...she actually finished. She asked me if I was ever coming back to finish my program at Fine Technical College, and I just laughed. I said that I wasn't a chef...that I did not have the passion it took to really be a chef. Maybe 20 years ago, it might have worked, but I just did not have that "fire within me." Intro Chef laughed and then she said thank you for realizing that about yourself...not that she meant I was bad at it, because she was quick to tell me that I was a great student and she enjoyed me in class, but I think she was thanking me for knowing that this is a career that really does come from the heart.

It takes a whole lot of sacrifice, patience, nicked fingers, and long hard hours to get anywhere in the culinary world, and I think she's been seeing a wave of students that think they are going to walk in and become the Next Food Network Hell's Kitchen Top Chef star after their intro class. Culinary careers are hot right now...how many times did you see an ad for some sort of culinary program when you watch Top Chef or Hell's Kitchen (if you admit to that guilty secret!)?

Seriously, all you have to do is watch those "chefs" that are competing on Hell's Kitchen to know that some folks really don't have what it takes, no matter what their title is--be it sous chef, executive chef, or corporate cafeteria cook. I know I said it last season, but Holy Escoffier, Batman, these people on this season are the pits. This past week, one of the morons stuck a 500-degree sizzle pan in the freezer (WTH?), and when he pulled it out, one of the other contestants hit it and got 2nd degree burns. Where was his brain? The kitchen is a dangerous place at times, and this fool was just a walking disaster. He did get sent home, but was still griping about how it was an accident and he really did give his all, gah, gah, gah. I thought he was just lucky that the wounded party didn't come back and knife him.

The one shining star that stands out to me from Hell's Kitchen is Julia, the Waffle House cook, from Season 3. Yes, I know this show is on Fox, and they are milking the drama llama for every last drop, but Ramsay really seemed sad when she had to go. And, he seemed sincere about sending her to culinary school, because she had that drive and burning desire to make it in the kitchen. I really want her to come back and kick some whiny kitchen ass. That would be a rockin' season in Hell, don't you think?

Born in Arizona..."Flipped" to Babylonia

2009-04-08T18:17:00.002-04:00

Okay, the title makes no sense unless you 1) remember "King Tut" by Steve Martin, and 2) understand that I went to the King Tut exhibi t in Atlanta this past weekend, AND 3) ate at Flip Burger Boutique, Richard Blais' newest restaurant adventure.

Let's chat about Tut first...I gotta say that I'm torn between thinking that the "Tutlanta" logo is cool or extremely goofy. After all, the Boy King's stuff did travel 3500 years and across the ocean to be gawked at by the masses, so shouldn't we show a little more respect? (Confession time...I did get a Tutlanta shirt, because they were on sale for $9.95...that sort of cheapens my moral stance, doesn't it?)

Atlanta is into "peachifying" everything they can lay their collective little hands upon...it's not enough that there are a gazillion streets with "Peach" or "Peachtree" as part of the name, which will drive your GPS insane, but everything else has got to have some degree of "peachiness." Sometimes it works, sometimes...not so much.

The exhibit was good...too short, I thought, because I want to see EVERYTHING that Howard Carter dragged out of the pit. Unfortunately, Egypt won't let the gold death mask and many other iconic Tutankhamun items out of the country any more...and who can blame them? Tut's coffin might end up at one of those "home gold parties" that seem to be all the rage now. Plus, there is a concurrent Tut exhibit in Dallas, which has a different set of artifacts. However, some of the Tutlanta artifacts have never been out of Egypt, either, so it all works out...and is cheaper than traveling to Cairo. : )

(You can actually see a fairly faithful replica of the tomb and the artifacts at the Luxor in Las Vegas. It looks a lot like it did in the photographs from when Howard Carter opened the tomb...without the dust/sand and there's an exit into the gift shop.)

I think what was so amazing to me was standing there looking at a carved frieze or a statue and taking in the level of detail that has lasted for close to 3500 years. Some of the items looked as if they could have been carved yesterday. And, there is a golden death mask of another pharaoh, so you get an idea of what Tut's looks like.

(The Man and I looked for the Stargate, but that must be part of the special private VIP tour...alas.)

(And, when you Google "condo made of stone", you get this from www.lovelylisting.com, a website of real estate ads gone terribly wrong. Browse awhile...it's lots of fun. You know...the Stargate could very well be in the master bedroom of this place. Hmm...things to ponder.)

After we tromped through the sands of ancient Egypt, The Man suggested that we have lunch at Flip Burger Boutique. Hell yes! I say, if we can get in on a Sunday afternoon. So, off we go...

Flip is hip! Flip is cool! Flip is very noisy and a little on the pricey side, but Flip was good!

The menu is burgers, of course, with a listing for beef and then the "Flip" burgers, which veer off into the wild side of pate, lamb, smoked salmon, etc. Prices ranged from $7-$7.50 average up to $35 for a Japanese Kobe beef burger with seared foie gras and shaved truffles. I had the Butcher Cut, with caramelized onions, blue cheese, and red wine jam. The Man had the Pate Melt of veal & pork, swiss cheese, cornichons, and lingonberry dijon. Yeah, it sounds like a bunch of weird and odd flavors, but they worked well together.

Nothing on the menu totally scared me off...well, maybe the Philly, because it actually has Cheese Whiz. (No offense to the great city of Philadelphia, but what is up with using that fake orange stuff on a sandwich? Yeah, I know it is traditional, but I much prefer the noveau method that involves lots of melted Provolone.) One thing to keep in mind is that these burgers are not giant burgers--nothing like Ann's Ghetto Burger over off of Memorial Drive--more like large sliders. If you only order one, plus a side, and a shake, you will be full...a bit less flush with cash, but full.

The sides are all a'la carte, which drives the price of the meal up, ranging in cost from $3-$7. The fries are very good fries...nothing fancy, just hot and crispy and potatoey. We got the fries and the sweet potato (tater) tots, which I had high hopes for, but have to admit that they might have been the most unimpressive part of the meal. Although, they came with this creamy, foamy blue cheese dip, which rocked with the fries. (You may have figured out by now, if the cheese is blue, bleu, blau, whatever, it's mine!)

And, let's not forget the shakes...the Liquid Nitrogen Shakes! Is $7 too much to pay for a shake ($9 for the foie gras one)? In this economy--probably, but this meal is an experience. It's not a meal that I would have every day, every week, or probably every month. I sort of look at it as a "total dining experience"--the atmosphere, the celebrity chef, et cetera, et cetera...just not the normal run-of-the-mill fast food burger.

(Speaking of fast-food burgers, somebody needs to do some sort of intervention with Padma Lakshmi. WTH--Hardee's?! Has she lost her mind? Are her taste buds just gone after eating whatever slop some of the Top Chefestants throw her way? And, that whole little close up of her sitting on the steps and eating the burger is just wrong on many, many levels. Do not lick your own leg! Let someone lick it for you.)

Back to the shakes...The Man opted for the Nutella + Burnt Marshmallow...sort of a high-end s'mores effect. It came with a layer of torched marshmallows on top, and tasted like the best chocolate milk drink ever. It was smooth, not too sweet, and not too chunky. I could actually drink that shake every day...not for $7 a pop, but if Richard wanted to give up the recipe and a nitrogen tank and a blow torch, I'd cheerfully make my own.

I had the Spicy Chocolate Mole, which is made with a hint of hot peppers...the initial taste was smooth chocolate, but then there was a bit of a fiery afterglow at the back of your throat. I thought it was great fun--something a bit unexpected...maybe a bit "flip"? Ha!

So, I'm chomping my burger, slurping my shake, stealing dips of the blue cheese stuff for my fries and generally thinking that my whole Flip experience would be complete if the man himself would walk in...and, I might have to start believing in the power of prayer or at least the power of wishing, because who do I look up and spy at the end of the bar counter? The Blais himself, along with Mrs. Blais and the little Blaisling!

He's casually dressed--long-sleeved t-shirt and flipflops--fauxhawk on the rise, with some weird little thin elastic head band around his head...like he was getting ready to have a facial or something. Maybe it's some metrosexual fashion statement that hasn't made it to the Rocket City yet...and probably won't.

He's a bit thinner in person than he looked on Top Chef, and he seemed friendly and relaxed while talking to the staff and tickling the baby. He wandered around the restaurant for a few minutes and greeted a few people, and I managed to not fall out of my fancy aluminum bar chair when he walked past me. I totally could not bring myself to snap a quick shot with my cell phone, because I thought it would be rude, but if he'd come by the table again, I probably would have thrown good manners to the wind.

As with every restaurant review, you get the experience that the reviewer had that day...some days are probably better than others, and I feel like my day was just fine. It's a great little memory that I can hold in the wrinkles of my brain of a good meal and a fun experience...and it's good the way it is...don't have to do it again...unless you'd liked to take me back? I know how to get there...and maybe my presence is a good luck charm for Blais to appear. You never know...so, let me know when you're ready! Hahahaha!

Strawberry Gal

2009-03-18T18:01:00.001-04:00

When I was a child, I read a series of "regional America" books by Lois Lenski, who wrote about girls and boys in and around the South and other areas of the country. I remember reading Strawberry Girl when I was about 8 or so, and thinking that I was glad I didn't have neighbors like the Slatterys, and that I didn't have to pick strawberries...even though I like to eat them.

Florida strawberries seem to be in season now--my local Publix has them for 3 quarts for $5.00. The berries are a nice deep red, and more importantly, they smell like strawberries. It's sometimes a crap shoot as to whether or not they taste as good as they smell, and the ones I've had lately have been pretty good.

Then, I was reading Slashfood last week, and they had a link to this page with a very, very attractive fresh strawberry Bundt cake. It looks beautiful and sounds pretty simple...which is where I always get into trouble with the baking, you know.

I had strawberries, I had a lemon and eggs, so why not whip it up? So, I start working on the puree--about 1.5 quarts of strawberries will make 1.5 cups of pureed strawberries. That might not be an exact ratio, because at first, it was seeming like 1 quart of strawberries = 1.5 cups of puree, but then I read the recipe again and noticed the part where Dash of Sass says to strain the puree. Strawberry seeds are crunchy little buggers when appearing in quantity, so I'm in agreement that it's probably a good idea to strain.

I get out my little wire mesh strainer and it's not fine enough. I try another strainer, and again it seems not to be working. I rummage around in the kitchen gadgetry and find a package of cheesecloth. I take a square of it and put it in the strainer and start trying to strain out the seeds again. This is so not working like I envisioned it. The puree is thick and doesn't want to drip out in a nice rapid fashion and leave the seed behind...and this makes me impatient. 'Cause I'm not the most patient of bakers, I start trying to speed up the process.

I think that maybe I gather up the edges of the cheesecloth, forming a little pouch, and gently squeeze it to force more of the liquid and solids out, leaving the seeds behind. Yeah, great theory. I squeeze and the top of the little pouch explodes, and my kitchen counter starts looking like CSI: Muffin Man.

Let's just say that I probably have more seeds in the batter than one would ideally like to have in the batter, but we'll just call it Rustic Strawberry Cake and let it go. (And this was why it took a half a quart more of strawberries for the puree.)

Like Dash of Sass, I only had all-purpose flour, so I hit the Internet and found a formula to add baking powder and salt to my AP flour to get self-rising. And, I was out of red food coloring, so my batter was not as pretty in pink as hers. But it was in the pink family (pinkish-beige is pink, right?), and since it was pink, I decided to make it in a rose-shaped Bundt pan that was a Christmas gift from Linna several years ago.

Granted, the first time I made a cake in the rose pan, I didn't get all the nooks and crannies properly oiled and floured, and it was an unmitigated disaster trying to get the cake out. Now, that I have discovered Pam for Baking or Baker's Joy, both cooking sprays with flour designed for baking, I feel much more confident in getting things out pans now. (And, I don't care about the naysayers who say that the cooking spray with flour thing is bad for your baking, blah, blah, blah...these people have never had to chisel cake out of a rose-shaped pan. And, using a cooking spray is the absolute least of my worries with baking...the very least.)

I don't seem to have as much batter as the recipe's author seems to think I should--3 round pans worth? So, I start to worry that I screwed up the converting of plain flour to self-rising flour, but there does seem to be too much for the Bundt pan. So, I grab a muffin tin and make 6 cupcakes as well...which probably would be good with the cream cheese frosting listed in the recipe, but who thinks ahead to the frosting part, when whipping up that spur of the moment cake? Most people do, I'm sure.

Besides, it's a Bundt cake... I really just need a glaze, right? Right?

So, I pop the cake out when the cake tester comes out clean, having taken the cupcakes out a little earlier, and after cooling in the rack for 10 minutes, it popped right out of the pan, rose petal detailing intact. Whoo hoo! I think...this is going great!

I mixed up a little sugar glaze and dribbled it over the cake...which was really more beige than pink by now, and got ready to eat a slice. Yeah, that whole picture worth a thousand words thing? or launching ship or something? I should just stop with the baking attempts and stick to desserts that don't have to rise or bake completely, etc. With this pan, I think I needed to put the cake tester in closer to the tube, because the part closest to the middle...still a little underdone.

And the cake itself was just bleh. It smelled like strawberries, but it just sort of underwhelmed me with the flavor, or lack of flavor. Maybe, the strawberries weren't as ripe as they looked and smelled, although the ones I tasted were pretty sweet. Of course, that didn't stop me from eating about half of the cake, but that was in the interests of science, I tell you...Science!

But all was not lost, culinarily-wise last week...I made a rockin' sausage lentil soup in the Crock-pot that I'll write about later. It was most redeeming.

Matzoh! Matzo! Matza!

2009-03-11T22:48:00.006-04:00

I was rummaging around in the pantry tonight, looking for something to prepare for dinner. Yes, I had a perfectly lovely package of chicken breasts waiting in the fridge, which I had planned to grill, and I just wasn't feeling the flame-broiled love. Probably because it has dropped about 20 degrees since yesterday.

Welcome to Spring in the South...weather changes day-by-day, and for the love of Pete, do not get tempted to actually plant anything in the ground outside before Easter. And, if you put out some lovely hanging baskets of petunias, be prepared to haul them in at least once before Easter, if not multiple times.

I was wandering through Lowe's yesterday, in the 78-degree afternoon, looking longingly at the herbs...basil, rosemary, and wishing they had some thyme. With steely resolve, I turned away, because I knew it wouldn't last. Sure enough, today's high was around 56, with a nice chilly wind.

So, back to the chicken...was feeling too wimpy to stand outside and grill chicken, so am looking for a boxed something to whip together. I don't even want to touch the chicken at all, for some reason...probably relates to that whole pain in the ass that cooking for one is...or I could just be incredibly lazy today. I'll let you make the choice.

Hidden behind 3 boxes of couscous and a couple of quarts of chicken stock, I spy a box of Streit's Matzo Ball and Soup Mix. An odd thing for a goyim gal to have, but y'all should know me well enough by now that if it's a dumpling or any form of pasta...oh, heck who am I kidding? Any form of carbohydrate, then I'm all over it.

What the heck, let's make this, I think...is cool outside, is soup, and doesn't really involve handling chicken. Although, I immediately start thinking about how to spruce it up...and wondering if I should add the chicken into the soup, or if that was somehow sacrilegious...even though I am not Jewish. (And, did you know that if you say something sacrilegious out loud, it then becomes blasphemy. Furthered all our educations today, didn't I?)

Matzo is a flat, unleavened cracker that is used as bread during Passover, because eating leavened products is forbidden. Wikipedia has much more reference material on the who, what, and how of this tradition, and can explain it in much greater detail than I can...and thereby making sure that I don't inadvertently get something wrong and offend anyone. I know about the whole dairy and meat shall not meet restriction, and the avoidance of bacon and shrimp, but honestly, all I really know about Jewish dietary law, I got from the visiting rabbi's lecture during my 15 minutes in Banquet Class. Plus, there seem to be a whole lot of ways to spell the word, so I'm picking "matzo" and going with that for consistency's sake.

I've eaten matzo crackers for years, because they are incredibly plain and boring...which makes them a great vehicle for very savory dips and spreads, in my opinion. I don't want my cracker to compete with my dip/spread; I want it to complement it, or really just carry it to my mouth. The downside of that is that the plain mazto is also an unsalted vehicle for my dip...and sometimes that little kick of salt on a cracker is just what the spread calls for and is sorely missed. Sometimes, you're the bug, sometimes, you're the windshield.

The one thing I have absolutely no desire to do is make my own matzos, so we won't even talk about that.

Onto the soup...Matzo Ball Soup is essentially comfort food, and it seems that lots of cultures have a version of a comfort dumpling soup. Just this weekend, my friend Kimma, made Chicken and Dumplings, which might be comparable as Southern Matzo Ball soup. She did it pretty much from scratch, cooking a chicken and making the dumplings by hand, and they were fluffy and good. (Bisquick was involved, but that is an acceptable option for making dumplings. DO NOT get me started on people who use canned biscuits for dumplings. It will not be pretty, and it's too late in the evening for bloodshed.)

My great-aunt, who was essentially the family matriarch, even though she never had children of her own, was the champion chicken and dumplings maker in our family. Unfortunately, she's gone now, and I have no idea how she did it. If you have a family cook or a family recipe that's in danger of being lost for good, I strongly encourage you to get it recorded somehow--writing, pictures, video, etc., because once it's gone, it's gone.

Oh, yeah, soup. So, the little box tells me to mix 2 eggs and 1/4 cup of vegetable oil with the packet marked "matzo," and let it sit for 15 minutes, while bringing 2.5 quarts of water to a boil. I decided to sub a quart of chicken broth for 1 quart of water, and I think that added a lot of flavor.

After the 15 minutes were up, and the liquid was boiling, I added the contents of the package marked "soup." I then wet my hands and formed the dough into walnut-size balls and dropped them into the soup. I also added a few sliced carrots and some diced celery. I clamped the lid on that sucker, reduced the heat to low, and simmered it for about 25 minutes, and viola! Matzo Ball Soup a'la Poodlevania.

The texture was slightly similar to the Bisquick dumplings, in that it was fluffyish on the inside, but the Bisquick was definitely a Pillowtop Serta Comfort Sleeper Matress in comparision to the matzo ball...leavening does that for you.

The nutritional info is not too bad on this stuff, either. 1 cup prepared is approximately 50 calories, and the ingredient list is not awfully horrible and unpronounceable, either. When was the last time you saw a packaged soup mix with white pepper, celery seed, and dill seed included? (Although, it says there are approximately 9 servings, of which I probably ate 4...and not sure how the whole mazto ball calorie count plays into it--those tricky marketing folks, you know.) However, I do have some leftover for lunch tomorrow or the next day...will be interesting to see how the matzo balls hold up as leftovers.

Here's a great column by Steve Almond, a funny guy, author of Candy Freak, describing his trials and tribulations on learning how to make matzo balls and taking up the family mantle of mazto ball maker. He includes his family recipe, which seems simple enough, except, I'm not sure where I would get the chicken fat (schmaltz)...not a lot of kosher grocers in this neck of the woods, but I could probably figure it out.

Hangin' Out in Butcher Holler

2009-02-23T12:19:00.002-05:00

Last week was pretty interesting in that "be glad you have what you have, because there are folks who are way worse off than you" sort of way. I had a trip to hills of Eastern Kentucky...you know, that place that Diane Sawyer went a few weeks ago on 20/20?

I was about 65 miles from the area that she visited, and it felt like 65,000,000 miles away from where I live and the lifestyle I have. The natural beauty of the forest and hills was amazing, but what was equally amazing was the way people lived in this area. You can watch the 20/20 thing and know that the film makers did not intentionally pick the people with the most sensational story; they picked real people.

It took me 2.5 hours to get from Lexington to my destination, and the last hour was spent pretty much without 2 straight feet of road in a row...reminded me a lot of the Big Thunder Mountain ride at Disney World.

I arrive in Prestonsburg, Kentucky and get checked into the Comfort Inn and Suites. I realize that I am almost out of contact solution, so I decide to look for a Wal-Mart or K-Mart that would have travel sizes. (This whole 3-1-1 travel regulation has been a whole cottage industry to travel size suppliers! And you would be amazed at what I can pack into a 1-quart plastic bag.)

I dig out Jane, my trusty GPS and look for shopping centers, Wal-Marts, etc. The one problem with Jane is that she is very literal. I asked her for Wal-Marts, she popped a Wal-Mart SuperCenter option first, which was about 13 miles away....not bothering to mention the regular ol' Wal-Mart that was 2 miles from the hotel. Which, in my own defense, I could not see existed, because it was BEHIND A MOUNTAIN.

So, I take off to Paintsville on Route 321. A few miles down the road, I see a little green highway sign that says "Loretta Lynn Home Place 3.75 miles" and an arrow pointing right. Holy Flaky Crisco Pie Crust, Batman! I'm near Butcher Holler! And then, I promptly got the first 2 lines of "Coal Miner's Daughter" stuck in my head, and there was nothing else to do but turn right and head for Van Lear, KY and my date with destiny.

3.75 miles on winding, curving, backwoods eastern Kentucky roads is an experience...and it seems like it is much longer than 3+ miles. I twist, I turn, and every time when I am about to give up, I see another one of those green state road signs proclaiming the way to Loretta Lynn's house.

I finally run out of signs and am, by now, so far in the backwoods that Deliverance jokes aren't funny any more. I pop out sort of at a wide spot in the road with a little grocery store (Webb's Stop-n-Shop) and another sign, this one is handpainted. It tells me that I can go into Webb's and find Loretta's brother, Herman, and he'll give me a tour for $5. I think about this for a minute...and realize that the sun is starting to dip at an alarming rate, so if I'm going to do this, I'd better get cracking and save Herman for another time.

I go about 500 more feet and the road become some weird pockmarked combination of dirt and gravel. I'm picking my way along and I catch movement out of the left side of the car. I stop the car and look over at the hillside, where I see some whitish shapes moving in the brush. Goats? cows? Nope, it's hogs. Hogs? Yes, hogs as big as my VW.

Now, I am not unfamiliar with farming and livestock. I spent many a weekend and summer vacation with relatives in Alabama who had a hobby farm of sorts. I've milked a cow, slopped hogs, actually picked a bush worth's of cotton, toted watermelons, and picked up more potatoes, both red and sweet, that I ever want to think about ever again. And, I've seen some mighty big pigs in my life, but never anything to rival these bruisers. Plus, it didn't look like there was any sort of fence of substance between me and them, so I decided to move along and get a picture on the way back.

So, I continue down the "road" for another quarter of a mile or so, and I see a rock painted with "Butcher Holler." Good to have some reassurance that I still on the path. I turned left onto another dirt road that kept getting progressively narrower. Another quarter mile or so (you do realize that I am just guestimating the mileage, don't you? Because, I really suck at judging distances.)

I finally see a big iron cattle gate and a sign that welcomes me to "Johnson County, Home of the Coal Miner's Daughter from Butcher Hollow, Loretta Lynn." And, there's another little sign tacked onto the bottom that reminds us that this is also "the Birthplace of Crystal Gayle." Yeah, Loretta is more famous, but it's not like Crystal wasn't wildly successful herself..18 number 1 country hits is nothing to sneeze at, no matter what hollow or "holler" was your birthplace (and according to Wikipedia, Loretta only has 16 country number 1s). It just seemed like Crystal Gayle was getting the short shrift here, but Loretta is older and more famous.

As I am paused on the side of the "road," reading the signs, I notice that there are a couple of skinny pit bullish looking dogs hanging around...and as I look closer, I see a couple more equally hungry looking pit bullish looking dogs join their friends. This is not looking good, I think...they all look capable of gnawing off a tire or two and leaving me stranded here in the backwoods where no one will hear me scream.

I ease down the one lane path to get even with the house and snap a couple of pictures. The house sits back in a clearing and looks pretty rustic...8 kids, no electricity, no running water, and no indoor bathroom...rustic, very rustic.

There's 6 dogs now, and I think it might be time to bid Butcher Holler adieu...only there's no place to really turn around, and the cow path that serves as a road seems to only go up into the hills. I manage to find a wider place in the road and execute a perfect 32-point turn to get turned around, managing to not hit a dog or fall off the enbankment.

Amazingly enough, Jane the GPS actually knew where Butcher Holler was...which I found to be hilarious, since the TomTom brand of GPS is UK-based.

Of course, those giant steroidal hogs were gone by the time I got back to that part of the dirt road.

Culinary pickings were kind of lean in the area, but we did go to lunch at a local favorite called Dairy Cheer, where I got a chili dog and deep-fried banana peppers, AND a soft-serve chocolate-vanilla twist cone. So much for that little game of "let's pick the healthiest thing on the menu this week while traveling so you can still fit into your business travel clothes."

Gone Goat

2009-01-19T08:46:00.001-05:00

I finally arrive in the the small burg of Siler City, NC, after a harrowing trip from the airport, which was made harrowing by the fact that Jane the GPS would not acquire signal for miles and miles, leaving me to my own devices about which road to take out of Greensboro. Many thanks to the KimKim, who did a much better job than Jane the TomTom, for talking me out of the city, and Dave for tech support on troubleshooting why the damn thing would not grab a satellite signal...beating it against the seat, i.e., "percussive maintenance," was not an option he found, but it felt good.

I drive a couple of miles outside of Siler City and turn off Highway 64 on to a curvy country lane, complete with the requisite country church posting a sign exhorting me to "Fireproof my life...Jesus insures," on my way to my temporary home for the next 3 nights--the Inn at Celebrity Dairy.

I've been excited about this particular trip from the first time I Googled my options for "lodging in Siler City," and the Inn at Celebrity Dairy popped up on the radar. It's a B&B at a goat dairy. (Yeah, I said "goat dairy.") Goats! B&B! Home Cooked Breakfast! What's not to be excited about, I ask you?

Goats fascinate me...especially the little bitty ones. It probably dates back to all those Popeye and Looney Tunes cartoons I watched, and in every single one that featured a goat, the goat always ate a tin can AND would butt you in the rear if you turned your back to him. I never really stopped to think "why would a goat eat a tin can or have an obsession with rear ends?" Maybe, it was because I had already accepted that rabbits spoke with a Bronx accent, ducks were amazingly greedy when it came to treasure, and coyotes had a secret mail order catalog for all sorts of better mousetrap (or road runner) contraptions, so goats eating cans were fairly easy to believe.

If you Google "do goats eat tin cans," you'll be amazed at the number of FAQs and trivia Q&As that abound about this question. In reading through a few of these tidbits of wisdom, it seems that goats were probably a) trying to get the last bits of something out of a can, or b) eating the paper label and/or the glue that holds the labels on the can, and this behavior is what gave rise to the idea that goats would eat anything. Heck, they might as well be Labrador retrievers, who probably can and do eat tin cans, along with sofa cushions and siding from houses.

There was an automotive recycling center (junkyard) on what used to be the outskirts of the Rocket City that I had visited in another life that involved a hobby of old German sports cars. The guy who owned the junkyard kept goats in the yard, and they would wander around the property among the piles of various automotive effluvia and rusting car bodies, doing goatly things. Invariably, one would always be on top of an old car body surveying its domain and giving the stink eye to interloping humans. And, these goats were large...like super mutant goats, so I was always a bit wary of them and never presented my backside...just in case those old cartoons were onto something.

Back to the Celebrity Inn and Dairy...The Dairy is a working dairy, and guests are encouraged to watch the milking process, which occurs twice daily. Unfortunately for me, all the goats are pregnant and aren't letting down milk during my visit. I did visit the goat barn, or "Goat Hilton" as they call it, and saw the flock, who were lounging around and peacefully chewing cud and communing with the chickens and barn cats. There is a peacock named Rupert, who hangs around the barn as well. (And, I forgot my darn camera when I went to see the goats, so no goat pictures for me!)

The rooms at the inn are homey and comfy in a lived-in way...not the antiseptic look of the traditional business hotel, more of the "shabby chic" look. Most of them have private baths, and some share baths and could be used as suites if you were visiting with your family. I'm in Benjamin's Room, which has a queen-size bed and a private bath, which is basically what I get at the Hampton Inn. What I don't get at any business hotel is a home-cooked breakfast every morning that features Celebrity's award winning chevre.

Breakfast is served family style, and you sit down with the innkeepers and the farm/inn staffers. Everyone is talkative and friendly, and it feels like they really are glad to have you there. They were very accommodating to my request to have breakfast a little earlier than the normal 8:30 am, because I needed to be heading to the site at that time. The innkeepers, Britt and Fleming, have been in the goat dairy business for about 20 years and innkeepers for the last 10. They got into goats because Fleming is allergic to dairy products, and she was searching for a source of calcium and someone suggest goat milk. They studied with a French cheesemaker on how to make chevre, and they do a fine job of it. Britt is a retired engineer, and he works on restoring the farm house and outbuildings. He's also got a dream of doing culinary school, which we talked about during breakfast.

At my first breakfast, we had a humongous 12-egg family omelet made from eggs gathered from the chickens that wander around the farm, along with homemade strawberry and fig preserves, butter, and chevre, biscuits, country ham, and fresh fruit. Day 2's morning feast was fresh grapefruit, baked eggs with chevre, fruit, and what looked and tasted like a whole grain cornbread. Day 3 started with a bowl of granola with homemade yogurt drizzled on top, along with fruit, biscuits, and curry flavored goat cheese that went well with fig preserves, and something I never ever get outside of Scottish festivals: Scotch eggs.

Scotch eggs are pretty damned decadent, in my book. It's a hardboiled egg, removed from the shell, then wrapped in sausage and coated in bread crumbs and deep-fried...seriously. According to the entry in Wikipedia, they aren't really Scottish, but I've only had them at Scottish festivals before this. These were drizzled with a little honey-dijon mustard and cut into quarters, which made it seem less bad for you somehow. Ah, my brain--a wonderous player of tricks!

The Inn also hosts Sunday lunch on every third Sunday, and they also do special events with local chefs. Wednesday afternoon, when I came in from the site visit, someone was poaching pears in red wine with cinnamon and allspice and white wine with vanilla and ginger for an event on Thursday evening, and the aroma was divine.

One evening, I drove 20 minutes or so to Pittsboro for dinner at The General Store Cafe, and was rewarded for my efforts with a lovely dish of Shrimp and Grits and a very nice Berry Cobbler, which was more of a Berry Crumble in my opinion, but delicious no matter what you called it.

The Celebrity Inn is not a fancyschmancy spa kind of place--no day spa with a goat milk bath and goat cheese facial masque--it's a bit rustic, clean, and comfortable, and sort of feels like you're staying the night with some long-lost relatives that you haven't seen since Cousin LuLu's wedding to that bluegrass singer...who happen to have high-speed internet. (That is a big concern when traveling for business and going off the corporate hotel beaten path.) I think I've slept better here, because of the homey feel, than I've slept in any hotel in the last few months. (There are amenities like massages to be had with appointment, and you could probably get a little goat cheese to smear on your face if you really wanted..but why wear it, when you can eat it?!.)

As the economy is swirling around in the toilet, I worry about places like the Celebrity Inn and how they will survive this downturn. Personally, I think folks should really look at these little local getaways as viable options for vacations...where you might have cruised off to the Carribean for a week before and spent a couple thousand bucks, you could have 3 or so little mini-vacations or long weekends that are in driving distance of and probably some interesting places that just aren't on the big radar. Yeah, rural NC is not as exciting as going to Las Vegas, etc., but it's cheaper and more relaxing. I was envious every day as the Inn staff got up to go about the business of making cheese, preparing for guests, taking care of the animals, etc. It seemed rather peaceful and idyllic, and somehow had more purpose. I know, that's just a rose-colored view, but it never hurts to dream a little dream, now does it? Naaah!

Messing (Around) with Texas

2009-01-11T11:44:00.002-05:00

On my way to Northwest Texas this past week, I read a fun little memoir of sorts about Chinese food in America. The Fortune Cookie Chronicles tracks an American-Chinese woman's search for the roots of Americanized Chinese cuisine. It was pretty fascinating--you probably know that fortune cookies aren't really Chinese, but did you know that they are probably Japanese in origin? And, that the soy sauce in those little packets you get with the carryout Chinese dinner aren't really soy sauce, but more like colored salty water? And yes, Virginia, there really was a General Tso, but that ain't *his* chicken.

I love reading about food--research, memoirs, etc.--but the downside is that I get totally consumed by wanting and craving that food. A few years ago, on a trip to California, I picked up Candy Freak by Steve Almond. It's a funny read, but I was dying for candy bars for days afterward, and some of those candy bars didn't even exist any more.

Being as I was in a smallish town in Texas, about 45 minutes from Fort Worth, which is more of a meat and potatoes kind of place, I wasn't sure if I could satisfy my craving for Chinese without going to a giant buffet. Luckily, there was a local place that wasn't too bad--had both Thai and Chinese--so I could calm the beast that was my appetite.

Unfortunately on this trip, I did not make it to any barbecue joints. Ate a lot of Tex-Mex stuff that was pretty good...tried a new dish for me called "migas." Migas are usually a breakfast food in Texas, and this place serves egg dishes all day. The migas consisted of scrambled eggs mixed with corn tortilla strips, roasted chicken, peppers, onions, and tomatoes, and served with refried beans, rice, and tortillas. Pretty fine stuff.

In my driving around town, I noticed that there were a blue million donut shops...it seemed that there was one on every corner, sometimes two. I've seen this in other Texas towns, and just have to conclude that Texans love donuts...a whole whole lot...over a 1000 hits on Google when iI looked up "donut shops in (Texas town)." And, they weren't national chain places either. Alas, no Tim Hortons....sigh.

The last night I was there, I hit the fine dining spot in town, where I had truly wonderful meal. It was located in the downtown area, and according to the owner, was a brothel about a 100 years ago...gotta love the repurposing of old buildings. I started with an appetizer of grilled jalapenos wrapped in bacon that had been stuffed with chipolte cream cheese and shrimp. I made it through 3 of the 4 peppers before I had to cry "Uncle," if I wanted to have any tastebuds left for the main course. My entree was a lovely pan-fried rainbow trout encrusted with locally grown pecans. I'm not usually a freshwater fish eater, but the local pecan thing in the description piqued my curiousity. It was piping hot and encrusted with a generous coating of pecans, with a little butter sauce on the side. Very nice.

I also got a real idea of the actual size of a Texas ranch, as we drove to some of the libraries...there's a reason for that old saw about everything being "bigger in Texas." And, I saw a longhorn cow. Yep, just one. Lots of horses, though. This area is the cutting horse capital, and lots of champion horses come from here. Also, every single time I go to Texas, I am wholly overwhelmed with the desire to get boots and something with fringe. I managed to stamp down my inner cowgirl and leave without anything, but it was from the lack of her trying...coupled with my unwillingness to pay $1700 for a pair of Lucchese boots that screamed my name as I left the store. It was hard to leave them, I tell you...hard.

As I write this post, I am halfway paying attention to a show that is new to me on Food Network, called Cooking for Real. The hostess, Sunny Anderson, is making chicken wings with 3 sauces. I like chicken wings as much as the next person, and as usual, I'm kind of persnickety about my wings. So, I'm listening with half an ear as she is making a hot sauce, and she mentions how spicy the wings are at Hooters. My head snaps up and I really begin to pay attention to what she is saying. Anyway, she's going on about how when they brought them to the table, the smell almost singed her nose hairs (eeewww! do you really want someone who's cooking for you to talk about her nose hairs? NO!), and burbles on for a few more seconds about Hooters..

Hooters? Seriously? She was in immediate danger of losing her credibility with me. Don't think I'm going all conservative on you, because I have no problem with the concept of Hooters exploiting women--hah! It just proves that men are willing to pay for anything, including crap food served by pretty women. : ). Personally, I have plans for when I win the lottery to open my own version of Hooters called "Jewels." The decor shall be very opulent and cocmfortable, and the hosts will be incredibly good looking men who dress like Chippendale's dancers--tight tuxedo pants, no shirts--just collars and cuffs. Of course, the servers will have to wear a little more, because I'm sure there's some health department reg about shirtless food servers...maybe some tight t-shirts and bike shorts? Tight jeans and t-shirts?

What I have a problem with is the FOOD at Hooters. The couple of times I have been strong armed into eating at Hooters, the food has just been plain mediocre at best, and their wings were really bad. Honestly, how hard is it to make chicken wings? Yeah...it's wings that you can fry or bake, covered in hot sauce and served with bleu cheese dressing (never ranch!!! Hate ranch with the fury of a million suns--the most overused and abused salad dressing ever) and a celery stick or two. You can go sub-atomic if you like with the various levels of heat in your sauce, but let's face it, chicken wings are not hard to cook, but so many places get them wrong, and I could write blog posts for 6 months on the badness of wings. However, her wings do look tasty, and the Red, White & Blue Mashed Potatoes sound and look pretty awesome--bleu cheese, bacon, heavy cream, and potatoes--what more do you need?

Back to Hooters...I search on "food at Hooter's," and the first hit I get is this article on Chowhound. The author is having a little rant fest about this article in the Newport Daily Pilot that posits the idea that people actually like the food at Hooters. I kind of agree with the Chowhound author in his/her disbelief that Hooters rates a featured review. One of the comments to the Pilot critic's review sums it up best, "Anybody can review. Not everybody should. " (We could probably say that about bloggers to, and I probably fall into that category!)

Seriously, the Pilot's critic starts out by telling us that "the reason it [Hooter's] is popular is the food. For what it is, Hooters does it well." Really? Then he tells his readers that "the chicken parmesan platter is one of the better selections. It is a fried chicken breast smothered with provolone cheese and marinara sauce." (I'm betting that Stouffer's does it better in the frozen food section.)

I don't think chains are inherently wrong, or that it's a bad idea to review chain places, because sometimes I am extremely grateful that there is a chain place in a small town...at least I can get a grilled chicken salad of some sort after traveling all day and just wanting to eat and head to the hotel. And, there's chains that I really like--Claim Jumper and In & Out Burger in California, Longhorn (you get a consistenly decent steak and salad; pricey, but consistent), and Carraba's (would kill for the recipe for the herb mix they put in their olive oil for dipping bread.) to name a few.

What would have made the Pilot article better was if the "critic" had decided to review a selection of wing/sports bar places, and maybe ranked the best and worst things about each place. Surely, he could have found something a little better than Hooter's, and maybe he would have expanded his and his readers' collective minds about the local offerings.

Next week's adventures should be rather entertaining...I'll give you a hint--goats will be involved!

Sometimes, "easy" is not the way to go...

2009-01-01T19:23:00.000-05:00

While I lazed about the house in my post-New Year's Day food coma, I caught up on some blog reading that I've neglected for the last few months. This October blog post is just one of the reasons I love Michael Ruhlman. (The other reasons have to do with that episode of No Reservations, where he and Bourdain do the Hunter S. Thompson version of Vegas...plus, the man is c-u-t-e cute. And, he can cook, which is like a double-whammy. Looks good, cooks good...probably cleans up after himself in the kitchen. Lucky, lucky Mrs. Ruhlman.)

Anyway, the gist of his post is that he received a press release of a new cookbook, which is essentially how to take a Michelin-starred chef's cuisine and make it at home...deconstructed, demystified, and declassified. Ruhlman makes some very salient points about not demystifying great good food...and that not everybody is cut out to be a 3-star chef...or even a 1-spatula fry cook at Denny's. (Okay, that last part, about Denny's, is my own snarky take on it.)

Honestly, if we were all Iron Chefs, why should we even bother to go out and eat? Personally, there's some foods that I don't want to make at home...ranging from simple fried chicken to those damned short ribs. And, there's food that I want to eat that is better than what I can cook at home, and I'm happy to go and eat it somewhere else.

I don't want to make fried chicken, or anything else deep fried, at home, because I cannot stand the smell that lingers for days and days. And, I swear up and down that, as Julia Child as my witness, I'm never making short ribs again...they were just too much work! Although, my friend Cheryl tells me that she has a recipe for making them in a crockpot that works...so I might give it another whirl. (Or, I'm moving in with her parents, because her dad makes the most amazing short ribs in a cast iron Dutch oven...)

Don't want to make sushi, either. I love sushi...have even taken a couple of sushi classes. Went out and bought a little mat to cover in plastic wrap to help roll and shape the sushi, got a wooden paddle for the rice, got the rice wine vinegar, and the coolest thing--a sushi press--which looks like a little wooden box, but actually allows you to layer and press sushi into

something that halfway resembles something you might get at a sushi bar...or the grocery store "gourmet sushi" cooler. (Yeah, yeah, I know it's for beginners, etc., but I thought it made some nice pretty rolls.)

The first time I made sushi at home was pretty much the last time. After I kept finding tobikko (flying fish eggs) for the next 3 weeks in my tiny apartment kitchen, I decided that some things are best left to the experts. (But they're pretty, aren't they?) Plus, the availability and suspectibility of the fish I had available in the local markets was another deciding factor.

I'm not an amazing cook...I'm not bad at it, and I've managed to pull off some pretty outstanding dishes, but I'm nowhere remotely in the same airspace of people like Ruhlman, or even the flat top cook at Waffle House--you remember how much I stressed out about making an omelet in Pantry Class, don't you? And, I don't want to be...too much pressure to perform. Plus, I'd have no excuse to dine out, now would I? (And, you people would have nothing to read.)

Happy New Year to all, and best wishes for a safe and prosperous 2009. I think I'm going to have another piece of Red Velvet Cake to celebrate. : )

The Spice Grinder of Doom

2008-12-24T09:08:00.000-05:00

I'm whipping up a batch of spaghetti, because that is what we single people do...make large pots of food and eat it for days! So, I grab my nifty little McCormick Italian Herb Grinder that I got at Publix for 1.99 and proceed to grind some Italian herbs into the sauce. I am talking on the phone while I do this, because hey--I am woman, I can multi-task! Plus, I've made spaghetti sauce a bazillion times...can do it blindfolded, which is probably what I should have tried.

I set the grinder on the counter beside the stove and put salt in the pasta water. I pick up the grinder again to give it another shot and realize that not only did I not grab the Italian Herb grinder, I grabbed the Cinnamon Sugar grinder! (Yeah, they were "Buy 1, Get 1," and I thought it would be cool to have a little grinder of sugar and cinnamon for guests to use on baked sweet potatoes. This is what I get for "thinking.")

In my own defense, the damn things look exactly alike. See for yourself:

Well, they sure look like they are related! Half siblings or the Patty Duke look-alike cousins, at the very least.

Anyway, I just threw in some salt and added a lot of black pepper, and it turned out okay. I've made a tomato sauce with a little cinnamon in it before, and I've certainly added a little sugar to cut the acidity of tomato sauce, too. It's the little things like this that just drag you back to Earth sometimes.

While at the McCormick site looking for pictures, I poked around a bit and checked out their Spices 101 link and found a section about telling the age of your McCormick spices. They have a little calculator for you to enter a code and pick a city. Right up front, they tell you 1) if it's from Baltimore, it's 15 years old; and 2) if it's in a tin, it's at least 15 years old, too. (Except for black pepper--that still comes in a tin instead of a jar...or a damned grinder.)

They have a great little timeline at the bottom of the Keeping it Fresh page that follows the evolution of the McCormick spice package and tells you that some of the things in mom's spice cabinet really are older than you!

I know you should rotate your spices for freshness, and I read somewhere once, that you should replace them all every year...which seems sort of wasteful to me. According to the McCormick folks, we can keep our ground spices for 2-3 years, our whole spices for 3-4 years, but the herbs and spice blends have a shorter shelf life, which makes me feel better. And, pure vanilla extract never goes bad. Ever. There's probably some in King Tut's tomb that's still good.

I did glean this little tidbit, of which I was not aware: "Members of the red pepper family, including paprika and chili powder, will retain their color and remain fresher longer when stored in the refrigerator." (Of course, I store all my spices in the cabinet next to the stove...it's not over the stove, which is definitely frowned upon, but probably too close for the McCormick comfort. But honestly, do I really want to run across the room to the pantry to get spices? Yes, am lazy...as is everyone else. Besides, if we weren't storing our spices near the stove where they would go off sooner, then McCormick would lose money. So, I'm stimulating the economy by breaking the spice rules!)

Kind of like these Spices broke some rules, no?

(You know I had to go there...this post was screaming to go there...in a Zigazig ah! kinda way.)

The Salsaman's Final Dance

2008-12-15T09:40:00.002-05:00

It is with a heavy, heavy heart that I write this post. A good friend of mine went gently into the good night, and my life and others were indeed richer from his friendship, as well as his culinary skills.

We worked at two companies together, sharing offices, bitching sessions, the occasional smoke break, and a great love of all types of food. About 12 years ago, in our first job together, I worked out a payment plan with him where he brought me lunch 2-3 times a week from the family leftovers. This was the best lunch deal ever, because I got home-cooked meals that I didn't have to cook myself, and they were way better than whatever fast-food crap was available. And, I was perfectly willing to be experimented on, too.

He was diabetic, which meant he was trying to cook healthier, which I figured was to my benefit as well. He introduced me to roasted root vegetables, which I really had no idea that you could actually "roast" a vegetable, being a sort of culinary neophyte at the time...and 'twas the only time I ever had a beet and liked it...years and years later, I can still remember that meal of roasted pork with the roasted root vegetables--beets, parsnips, carrots, and potatoes...the beets were slightly charred and caramelized and were wonderful. I've never been able to duplicate them, and I've never had them done as well since then.

My most favorite lunch meal was "Almond Chicken," and I would have been perfectly happy if he'd made that every week. Not the ubiquitous Almond Chicken of American Chinese restaurants, but a Mexican version, gleaned from an old Sunset cookbook...for which I have searched eBay and scoured flea markets and library book sales for years to find my own copy, to no avail. I have some tattered photocopies that I've lugged around for the last hundred years, and I guess putting the recipe down here in tribute to Johns will at least give me a way to keep the recipe alive.

I remember when I made this recipe for the first time for myself...it was the first time I had ever roasted a pepper, and I was amazed at how easy it was to do it, thanks to some coaching from Johns.

Almond Chicken (Pollo Almendrado)

1/2 cup blanched almonds 
6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 to 3 tablespoons vegetable oil 
1 Tablespoon butter or margarine 
1/4 cup finely chopped white onion 
1 fresh Anaheim or poblano chile, roasted, peeled, seeded, de-veined, finely chopped 
1 small tomato, seeded and minced 
1 clove garlic, minced 
1/2 cup chicken stock or broth 
1/4 teaspoon salt 
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream 
Tomato wedge (garnish)
Fresh cilantro sprig (garnish)

Process almonds, about 1/4 at a time, with on/off pulses in electric spice grinder or food processor, to a fairly fine powder. Dredge chicken in almonds on small plate to coat all sides; reserve remaining almonds.

Heat 1 tablespoon oil and the butter in deep 10-inch skillet over medium heat until foam subsides. Add as many breasts as will fit in single layer without crowding. Cook until chicken is light brown on both sides, about 3 minutes per side, reducing heat if almonds get too dark; remove to plate. Repeat with remaining chicken, adding 1 tablespoon oil, if needed.

Add remaining 1 tablespoon oil and the onion to skillet; sauté over medium heat until soft, about 3 minutes. Add chile, chopped tomato and garlic; sauté 1 minute. Add stock, salt and reserved almonds; heat over high heat to boiling. Add chicken to skillet; reduce heat to low. Simmer, covered, until chicken is cooked through, 15 to 20 minutes.

Remove chicken to serving dish; cover and keep warm.

Add whipping cream to cooking liquid; heat over medium-high heat to boiling. Cook and stir until sauce is slightly thickened, about 3 to 5 minutes; pour over chicken. Garnish with tomato wedge and cilantro. As accompaniments to this meal, he always made a jicama salad and these little zucchini boats stuffed with zucchini, corn, and cheese. We figured out that it was just as easy to chop up the zucchini completely, add the corn and cheese, and bake it like a casserole, rather than make boats! Although, the boats were nice for company. : )

Johns was an amazing person...a hippie from way back, with a wry sense of humor and air of comfort about himself and with himself that I will always envy. He was the most gentle person I've ever known, as well as one of the most courageous. He and his family packed up a few years ago, chucked the consumer lifestyle, and moved to Costa Rica to live a life of adventure and new experiences, including opening a vegetarian restaurant, Tia's Garden, which made me rather envious. We would get the occasional email with the most gorgeous pictures of sunsets, fresh fruit, and the smiling faces of his family. And each time, he would invite everyone on the email list to come and visit them. I always meant to go, and I will someday.

My heart goes out to his wife and daughters, and I wish I could do something to help ease their pain and sorrow of this time. I will miss him greatly, and I know I was a better person for having known him.

The Boat Sinker

2008-12-03T20:00:00.001-05:00

Yay...holidays for one. Not exactly excited to be back in that boat at all. No real cooking this year per se; made the mushroom gratin thingy for dinner at Tessa's and brought butter to Kimma's for lunch (you just had to be there for the butter thing; don't even try to make me explain). Hard to believe that I made the mushroom gratin thingy only a year ago for a totally different sort of Thanksgiving...sometimes it seems like it was a hundred years ago and definitely another lifetime.

Speaking of boats, because you know how I like to stretch things for the blog theme, the night before Turkey Day, we gathered in Kimma's kitchen and watched her prepare dessert for the next day. (Watching is so much better than doing, don't you think? Although, I did help load the dishwasher!) Kimma is all about the big ass dinner, and I am damn grateful that she is! So, in addition to carrot cake and pumpkin pie, she made "boat sinker" pies.

I am assuming they are known as "boat sinkers," because it's within the realm of possibility that you could sink a boat after having a piece of this dense, fudgey, chocolatey goodness. This pie embodies all that is simultaneously bad and good about Thanksgiving--the bad-for-you yummy good things.

Boat Sinker Pie

5 sticks of butter (yes Virginia, that is FIVE sticks of butter; Paula Deen would be proud)

1 cup dark corn syrup

7.5 oz unsweetened chocolate

3 cups of sugar

9 eggs (have to balance out the butter somehow)

3 tsp vanilla

2-3 unbaked pie shells (the original recipe says it makes 2, but it always makes 3 very full pies...trust us on this one)

* Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

* Microwave butter and corn syrup together in a microwave-safe bowl for 9 minutes on HIGH. Stir well. Add unsweetened chocolate and microwave an additional 4 minutes. Set aside.

* Place sugar in a large bowl; stir in eggs and vanilla by hand, until well blended. Stir in chocolate mixture...temper a little of it into the egg mixture so the eggs don't scramble.

* Pour filling evenly into the pie shells--the filling is extremely liquid, so be very careful when you are porting the unbaked pies to the oven.

* Bake for 22 minutes at 325 degrees. Reduce heat to 275 degrees and bake for 25 more minutes. Cool to room temperature (if you can stand it) before serving. Add whipped cream and/or ice cream before serving.

I am in total awe of a recipe that has this amount of butter and calls for microwaving it with corn syrup...sounds like kitchen science experiment disaster in the making, doesn't it? At the very least, I'm always waiting for the door to blow off the microwave during the process. And, another fraught-with-danger moment is the transfer of the filled pie shells to the oven...that liquid chocolatey filling is not an easy thing to move without spilling.

Baking the pie transforms it into a dense chocolate masterpiece...with a deep chocolate flavor and a fudgey texture. I find it highly amusing that the recipe suggests adding whipped cream or ice cream when serving...like you need any more "butter fat" than the 5 sticks already included!

Yeah, it's been a craptastic year for the most part, and I know that Thanksgiving is not just about the food...no, seriously, I heard that somewhere--not just about the food. I'm thankful for:

* Poodles (yes, even the poodles who trashed my house while I went to the grocery store; was gone 45 minutes, and they managed to eviscerate several stuffed animals, which made the living room look like an Aspen ski slope, AND chewed a hole in Janet's birthday present...which was a jigsaw puzzle, so I told her it was "marked with love," and that she was damn lucky that the New Hotness didn't decide to eat one of the pieces!)

* Butter, of course, and cheese;

* The brave new world coming in January;

*and most of all--my friends, both old and new.

Eatin' on a Jet Plane...

2008-11-21T12:43:00.002-05:00

Well, technically, it was in an airport and sort of looking at jet planes...that were really small 2- and 4-seater planes, and it was night, so I couldn't really see them that well, but I needed a good title!! (Maybe, I should subtitle with "On the Great Plains," since I was in Kansas this week.)

Airport and good food are not usually synonymous...most of the time, airport food is just chain food at twice the price. It's greasy and generally bad for you; there's the occasional kiosk of exception that has salad and fruit, but who really wants to balance a plastic clamshell of salad on their teeny tiny tray table? Plus, we can always tell ourselves that the calories don't count while on business trips. (As you can see, I lie to myself a lot...a whole, whole, lot.)

So, imagine my surprise when I show up in this little Kansas town, and the clerk at the Hampton Inn front desk tells me that "the Airport Steakhouse is really good."

Airport? Steakhouse? Steakhouse in the airport? The little municipal airport that I did not fly into, because there wasn't service to it, so I had to fly into Wichita and drive for an hour, that airport? The one that looks like it could have been a set for Wings--the airport where everybody knows your name? Yep, that airport.

From the outside, it doesn't look like much--the basic 60s-70s square building architecture, but inside was a whole 'nother story. It's going to sound stupid, but the Airport Steakhouse is a real restaurant--not just a lunch counter-type of place, or a place to get a $100 hamburger. I knew it was something completely different as I walked in the door and saw the specials board. Anything with the phrase "port wine reduction" in the entree description is not just another greasy spoon. With soft lighting, mod decor, and a bar...it was like going into a Crown Room or other oasis of calm and quiet (and free drinks) in many an airport...although, drinks were not free here.

The Airport Steakhouse doesn't have a website that I can find, but you can see their menu here. I had the KC Strip (am in Kansas...should do as the natives do, right?), which was flavorful, if a tad overdone...I think my waitress wrote down "medium" rather than "medium rare," but I was hungry and it tasted good, so I didn't bother sending it back. Had a lovely little banana cream pie for dessert--homemade, of course. (BTW, a Kansas City Strip and a New York Strip are virtually the same strip...sometimes, the KC has the bone left on, sometimes not.)

For lunch one day, the customer took me to Roy's Hickory Pit BBQ, a local joint...pretty darn close to a shack, since it was located in what looked to be an old house. The sign on front window sort of summed up the restaurant's philosophy: "Hours from 11-3 or until the food is gone." "Until the food is gone" pretty much says it all. I'm betting that the food is always gone, and they never have to worry about leftovers. I had chopped pork with a little ladle of slightly sweet sauce between two enormous pieces of buttery grilled Texas toast. I know this is weird, but that Texas toast was divine...probably a result of all the butter, but I'm not being picky. (Personally, I think Texas toast is a fine and wonderful thing and the perfect vehicle to make grilled cheese with...you can load on several slices of cheese to get a good bread to cheese ratio, and it comes out nice and golden. And, it's bigger, as everything is in Texas, and who doesn't like a bigger grilled cheese? : )

I also visited the Cosmosphere, which is an interesting little find. A space museum...in Kansas of all places. With IMAX. So, I had to go and see how it stacked up to the Rocket City one. Smaller, but with tons of stuff about the Germans that I don't remember seeing in ours, but I've not been in years. Plus, they put their SR-71 Blackbird inside the building...we left ours outside in the elements. Is that any way to treat a gift from the government? And, the Cosmosphere had a bunch of Russian space hardware that I've not seen before...a moon buggy-type of vehicle and some other things. Worth the walkthrough if you're a space buff. But, I'd advise staying away from the freeze-dried "astronaut food" in the gift shop...always stay away from that! Seriously, according to the blurb about the freeze-dried ice cream, " Freeze drying removes 98% of the original water content, which gives the ice cream a three-year shelf life. In addition to ice cream, Astronaut foods also feature a line of freeze-dried fruits: strawberries, bananas, peaches, cinnamon apples, and a Fruit & Nut mix that was originally designed for the Apollo Space Missions."

Do you really want to eat ice cream with a 3-year shelf life? I rest my case.

I'm home for awhile, and I got a new all soup cookbook that I'm going to delve into in the coming weeks, so stay tuned for some cozy comfort food.

Them Road Food Blues

2008-11-11T21:03:00.006-05:00

Oh, Canada...you kinda let me down this trip. I'm languishing in an out of the way part of Ottawa, with nothing really grand going on, dining-wise. Is a disappointment, for sure.

It can be a struggle for the road warrior to always find a good meal. Sometimes, you end up in places where your options are limited...which might be a good thing since you GAINED weight on the last road trip, and had to work all the next week to get it off.

However, there is a least 4 Tim Hortons within a 10-mile radius, so all is not lost. (Do not ask me why Tim Hortons is not Tim Horton's...I have no idea if this some sort of Canadian grammar rule against the apostrophe/possessive or just marketing language like the Chick-fila cows' bad spelling, and I don't care...just hand me another donut. I have a hard enough timing trying to remember to spell "centre" and "cheque" while I'm here. And not picking up "eh," lest my customers think I am mocking them. "Eh" is a pretty good all-purpose word...much better than "you know," and it sounds sort of friendly and cheerful...like "y'all" does. You hang out in a room of 10 Canadians for about 8 hours, and it will roll naturally off your tongue, too.)

If you're not familiar with Tim's, try to move closer to one...it's way better than Starbucks, in both taste and value. I like a well-rounded cuppa joe...not too bitter or acidic, and not $4 a pop.

Tim Horton was an NHL Hall of Fame player for the Toronto Maple Leafs, as well as the Flyers, the Rangers, and the Sabres, who opened his first coffee and donut stand in 1964...he's the Ray Kroc of the donut world. There's a blue million of them now, one on practically every corner in all of Canada. Sometimes, I think the official symbol of Canada should be a hand with a Tims cup instead of the maple leaf, because everybody goes to Tim's.

(I was wicked annoyed when I was in Toronto last month and there wasn't a Tim's on the other side of Customs. Seriously. I had just expected there would be one, and since I had to be at the airport at 4:30 am, it was not unreasonable to want my Tims fix...I purposely did not stop at the 27 Tim Hortons that I passed on the way to the airport, because I *knew* there would a Tim's fix in the airport...and there is...just not on the US side. That Toast! kiosk does not, I repeat, does not hold a candle to Tim Hortons! Will not make the same mistake tomorrow when I fly out of Ottawa...I may hit every Tim's I pass on the 90-minute drive to the airport.)

I like Tim's donuts, because I like cake donuts the best (the Honey Dipped is mighty fine)...and if you show up anywhere with a box of Timbits (donut holes), you are an instant hit, no matter how deadly dull and boring your meeting material might be.

Tim Hortons is now part of Wendy's International, and there are inroads into the U.S. Mostly in the northern states, like Michigan, New York, and Ohio, but I'm hopeful they will continue to march southward. Tim's is scheduled to open in Syracuse in the next year, so that will make visits to the home office a bit more enjoyable. And, if anyone has a spare $400K or so just lying around, I'd be more than happy to help you do the paperwork for a Tim Hortons franchise in the Rocket City...just let me know when to sharpen my pencil.

Feasting on Arkansas

2008-10-30T21:53:00.005-04:00

I've been in the NW corner of Arkansas for the better part of this week, and I'm pretty darn sure that if I don't go home soon, I will be buying an extra seat to accommodate the results of all the fabulous dining.

Seriously, I ate a steak that was as big as my head...or damn near close to it...and, I felt exactly like some python on an episode of Wild Kingdom that decided to eat a wildebeest or an elephant or some other something twice his size.

Wooooooooooooo Pig Sooie! Who would have thought so much good stuff could be found in one tiny corner of a state? When I mentioned to friends and family that I was headed for Arkansas this week, they all kind of went "meh," and didn't seem to think that Arkansas was all that and a bag of chips. (Absolutely no offense to Arkansasans...after all, we live in Alabama, and we're very thankful for the great states of Mississippi and Louisiana...hahahahaha!)

Granted, our arrival in Arkansas was sort of auspicious and seemed like an omen...we flew into XNA in Bentonville...affectionately known by the locals as "the airport Wal-Mart built." This place is at the intersection of B, F, and E. When we left the airport, Jane the GPS sent us down a dirt road to a bridge that was washed out...and tried to send us down another dirt road to probably a ravine on the next try. And this was just outside the exit to the airport! I'm sort of nervous about how we are getting to the airport in the morning...the entrance is quite possibly like Brigadoon, and only appears when a member of the Walton family needs to fly. If that happens, and I get stuck...I'm headed back to where we were and continuing my culinary Sherman's March on Arkansas...I know, sometimes, I just pull them out the first hat I come to!

The customer I went to visit is in Fort Smith, a neat little town near Fayetteville...actually, "little" seems to be a misnomer, since Fort Smith seems to be the 2nd largest city in Arkansas, but it really didn't feel like it was that big. People are extremely nice and friendly, and they sure know how to eat. And, you gotta love a place that has a fo rmer bordello as its visitor's center!

This week, I've wandered around the culinary globe--Mexican, Ecuadoran, Vietnamese, and Cowboy (that steak was worthy of it's own culinary division!). The customer's team sent us a list of restaurants that we might want to consider while we were in town, with strict instructions NOT to go to certain ones, because they wanted to go with us.

The first of those was Rolando's Nuevo Latino Restaurant e (Warning, this link has music that I couldn't figure out how to turn off!). I highly recommend the Plato de Adventura, which is sort of culinary tour of Ecuador, with a little Cuban thrown in...you should get the pork quesadilla as your quesadilla choice. Trust me on this.

For dinner one evening, we ventured to Doe's Eat Place, which is a limited franchise based out of Greenville, Mississippi. Doe's has some mighty fine steaks...they hand cut them every day and your options are 1.5 lbs and 2 lbs. The only other offerings on the menu were some fried shrimp and some tamales. (Some Doe's offer pasta and other seafood, but I damn skippy didn't see anything resembling chicken on this menu.)

So, I decided to tuck in and give the ol' T-bone a whirl...1.5 lbs of some of the best aged beef that I have ever put in my mouth. This place, housed in a old historic brewery, put most of the meat I've ever eaten to shame. It was pretty much all I could to do to hang on to my dignity and not pick up the bone and gnaw it, poodle style. (Don't worry, the little fur demons NEVER get table scraps or bones.) And, you know that if I hadn't been traveling with a co-worker, I would have taken that bone home in a go-box and laid in my Hampton Inn bed to happily chew on it while I watched True Blood on HBO. Kind of food for the mood, don't you think?

For lunch today, we went to Pho Hoang to eat Vietnamese. Fort Smith has a large Vietnamese and Laotian population, as a result of the fall of Saigon. Several church groups took in refugees and helped them create new lives here in the US, and we are all the better for it...or at least the Fort Smith folks are! There are many Vietnamese eateries, and if they are all half as good as the one we went to today...well, let's just say that I am trying to figure out how to come back and observe the site training...I need this as part of my ongoing education with the new company, don't you think? Of course, I'll have to fast for weeks in advance...heck, I should start now, since Thanksgiving will be here in a couple of weeks.

Maybe I need a little pinup on my fridge for some inspiration...how 'bout this fella?

Sooieeeeeeee!

Best Damn Chicken Tikka Masala Evah!

2008-10-15T23:03:00.001-04:00

I was hanging out north of the border last week, in Ontario, and I must say how much I really do enjoying visiting Canada. I know it's stereotypical, but Canadians really do seem to be much more politer than those of us who reside in the lower 48.

I know, I know, Canada has crime and bad people just like any other country, but I've seriously have never experienced it firsthand, like I have in the States...and I like that I have such a rosy, touristy glow about the country.

I also like that there's a large Indian population in the area where I am staying, which allowed me to indulge in some serious eating of naan. (Y'all already know my love of bread, so I'll forgo the waxing and waning about that!)

I had a lovely dinner at Bombay Bhel, which I highly recommend if you are ever in the Toronto area. It's well worth the drive...so worth the drive, that when I'm back in Canada in a few weeks, I'm seriously considering driving 5 hours to eat there again. And, I don't say that about a lot of restaurants.

Most of my Indian food experience has been from the ubiquitous lunch buffet...and sometimes, a buffet is not a bad thing, especially when it comes to unfamiliar food. The buffet allows you to get a taste of many things, so you can go back later and order off the regular menu. However, I am totally hating the trend of all Chinese restaurants to be buffets with 100s of items, most of which in no way resemble actual Chinese food in any form or fashion. When I go for Chinese, I don't want to pick through meatballs, hot wings, and pizza...I want to order off a real menu.

Anyway, back to the meal. The manager/owner waited on me, and I sort of put myself in his hands. He suggested the Chicken Tikka Masala and garlic naan...and it was perfect. The layers of spice offset by the buttery garlic naan were just heavenly. I pretty much embarrassed myself by scraping up every last bit of sauce with the last of the naan crumbs...it was quite possible that I was veering closely towards getting my head stuck in the serving pot, and the only thing that stopped me was being in a restaurant with other people.

The owner and I had a nice little conversation about dining a'la carte as opposed to buffet. He was rather bemused about the way people think that a buffet is some sort of deal, because it's a lot easier to disguise lesser quality ingredients. Plus, he pointed out, that those giant buffet places do not throw out all the food at the end of the night--they can't afford it. He mentioned that for his daughter's birthday, they went to a local Chinese buffet, because for some reason, she didn't want to eat Indian food. : ) (Exotic celebratory food is all relative.) The buffet closed at 9:30, and he noticed that the employees were covering the buffet pans and moving them to the back kitchen...not dumping out the used dishes. That amazed me...I thought there would be some sort of health code rule about that...although, how many health department inspectors show up at closing time? I'm guessing not a lot, if any. Think about that the next time someone suggests buffet...at least go in the middle of lunch rush, so you don't get last night's leftovers that were put out first thing!

People were also making plans for Thanksgiving, which was celebrated on Monday in Canada...which explains why every Canadian and his or her sister was in the Customs line with me at 4-freakin'-30 in the morning. I had that ungodly early flight to make it back to Atlanta at a decent, lesser traffic, hour to pick up the poodles, who were staying with The Man while I traveled.

Turns out that Canadian Thanksgiving is on a Monday, so you're always assured of a 3-day weekend. And, Canadians do a lot of what we do--eat too much, watch some sports, maybe strain a 40+ year old muscle trying to play touch football with the kids--the regular stuff

But, those whacky neighbors to the north like to mix it up a little, and there used to be themes for their Thanksgivings. My theme would most likely be "No Marshmallows on the Sweet Potato Casserole Ever!" Or maybe this: "the All Macaroni & Cheese Day of Thanks for Cheesy Goodness." Too much, you say? "Honey", as Tessa always tells me, "excess is JUST enough!" (Which seems to be the mission statement for that ongoing train wreck that Bravo is presenting--the Real Housewives of Atlanta. Total dreck is the politest adjective I can come up with at the moment

So, I'm home for awhile...maybe I can get some more things unpacked and boxes moved in preparation for painting. And, I have to somehow pry off the craptastic 80s decorative mirror set that is residing on my living room wall. I've managed to get 2 of the 8 off in one place, along 2 casualties of my palette knife...which should be mean my luck will peek its little groundhog head out and proclaim that who was I kidding...bad luck always adds up in the end!

Oh, and the project...I haven't forgotten, but I still haven't found the cookbooks yet! : ) (But, I think I might try to make some Chicken Tikka on my own...)

Barbecue Coma

2008-09-27T09:22:00.000-04:00

From the Silver Lining Department: One of the good things about being back in the Rocket City is the proximity to decent barbecue. (I know I've yammered on and on and on ad nauseum about barbecue, and will probably continue to do so, until I can't even remember how to spell barbecue.)

This week was an interesting one. I went on my first site visit for the new company, and much to my relief, it's a lot like the old company's version (the one I got laid off from 3 years ago). It's nice to know that the learning curve will not be quite as steep as it was waaaay back then.

Since the site was in Kentucky, close to the Indiana border, I decided that it would be easier to drive instead of fly. It was going to take about the same amount of time, so why not be moving the whole time? Plus, we were going to need a rental car anyway, and what's 4 and a half hours? Especially if barbecue can fit into the equation.

As I started my journey, I decided to hit a barbecue joint in the little town directly to the west, since it was on the way. Had a bit of a scare when the road in front of the barbecue shack was all torn up and required a detour...I wasn't sure that the barbecue shack was still there. It was, thank the pig! I got a sandwich, chips, and a big ol' sweet tea. Heaven.

What is is with potato chips? I remember as a kid, I could take them or leave them, but now they are like food of the gods. Maybe it's because they're sort of "forbidden fruit" now that I know they are bad for me, will add inches to my hips, and take years off my life by eating, blah, blah, blah, blah, but damn, they are good! All salty and potatoey...yum.

So, the site visit was near Owensboro, KY, an area long famed for its barbecue, and especially for an oddity even for the barbecue worlds--mutton. Mutton does seem like an odd choice for barbecue, but I'm game to try it.

The people we are working recommended a couple of places, one of which had burned 4 times!, and we settled on the Mo onlite Barbecue Inn. Located in Owensboro, KY, its parking lot was a veritable convention of pickup trucks, which is always a good sign for a barbecue joint.

We go in, and lo, behold, they have a buffet. A freakin' barbecue BUFFET! I am positively aquiver with excitement and the almost overwhelming thought that I can actually achieve smoked meat nirvana. It's heady stuff, I tell you!

There's a salad bar, a hot bar with meat and vegetables, and a dessert bar. I promptly make the call to punt the salad bar and move directly to the hot bar. Amazingly enough, ALL the vegetables that I tried were wonderful. Bad for you?--yes; tasty?--even more yes! And this is very unusual for any buffet, you know.

And then, there was the meat end: brisket, pulled pork, ribs, chicken, the mutton, and country ham. I just knew that my ankles were going to swell to the size of my head by morning from this little foray into Sodium Land, but I didn't care...because, repeat after me, how often do you see a barbecue buffet that actually looks worth eating? (Refuse to count chain "barbecue" places...is not real barbecue, according my version of the barbecue bible.)

I piled on some beef, pork, country ham, and a little mutton...remember, lamb is not all that high on my list, so old sheep is probably not going to be up there, either. It actually was not bad...very moist, a little fatty, and not too gamey. I would not order a whole barbecue mutton meal, but if given the opportunity to go back to the Moonlite, I'd put a little on my plate.

The meats were all tender and tasty, with the right amount of smoky flavor. The Moonlite also has a couple of house specialities, like burgoo, which I did not have room to try, and "banana salad." Banana Salad seems to be sliced bananas mixed with a little mayo and some chopped peanuts. Not my favorite way to eat a banana for sure.

We moved on to the dessert portion of the meal, and I finally didn't have to make that hardest of choices: chocolate pie or coconut cream pie? I'm always torn between the two...homemade pie is hard to pass up anyway. I try to remember which one I had last, so I can pay fair homage to the other flavor, but chocolate may be ahead.

Since the Moonlite has so thoughtfully provided the opportunity to eat both, along with banana pudding, buttermilk pie, cherry cobbler, blackberry cobbler, peanut butter pie, and a few other goodies, I just had to build myself a dessert sampler with small slices and scoops of each. It was all I could do to stay awake on the drive back to the hotel.

I decided that I would not subject my traveling companion to another night of barbecue...especially since she had just spent a week in Kansas City and had eaten barbecue practically every night. But, I really wish I had. We spent the last night in Evansville, IN to be closer to the airport for her flight out in the morning. We ate at a local place that was sort of an Italian bistro kind of place. I had the short ribs with risotto and asparagus. The asparagus was great, the short ribs were so-so, and the risotto tasted like it came out of a box and an off-brand box at that. Ah, the joys of eating on the road--sometimes you win, sometimes you would have been better off going to Steak and Shake.

Seriously...the risotto really sucked. And, I have actually made boxed risotto that tasted better. (The key to using the boxed risotto is not to really think of it as risotto, but just as a rice side dish. Your brain will be in a much better place if you do that. Oh, and add about 1/2 cup of shredded Parmesan cheese. Then, you won't care what you call it.)

And, to top off my trip, I get home to a dead refrigerator. I walk into the house and smell something that is faintly reminiscent of burned electronics. I think this is odd, but write it off to the AC not being on for a couple of days. Then, when I go to get a glass of ice and water pours out of the ice chute, I realize something is up...or down. Sure enough, I open the door, and while I still have some ice in the bin, it's pretty obvious that we're no longer freezing. the fridge side was still cool, so this event must have occurred within the last 12 hours or so, and luckily, there was not much in there besides beer and butter.

No one can come to fix it until Monday, so thank heavens for the garage fridge. I can at least keep the beer cold...which is of utmost importance, you know.

And now, I must find the remote control and turn off the television, because The Semi-Ho Sandra Lee is doing Oktoberfest in La Crosse, WI, and she's scaring me in her dirndl and flower wreath. She's promised us something called "Apple Lager" for the cocktail, and I am afraid...very afraid that she is going to add apple juice to beer. You should be afraid, too.

(Okay, I had to watch to the bitter end to see if she really did put apple juice into beer. She actually put a shot of apple brandy and an apple slice in glass of lager...which still makes me shake my head, but at least it's not apple juice...or Cool Whip. Ah, now Paula's Home Cooking is on, so I can relax. And laugh when Paula, who is making weiner schnitzel, which is essentially German country fried steak, says that it must be a diet dish because the meat is pounded so thin-hahahhahhahaa! I love Paula!)

Still here...still not unpacked

2008-09-20T22:39:00.002-04:00

Okay, I really want to know where I got all the crap that I have. I think fairies and brownies have been stockpiling stuff in my old basement, and I just moved it, thinking it was mine.

You aren't buying that, are you? It was worth a shot.

Just a quick update on what's going on, so you won't think I forgot you, the blog, or the idiotic project/task that I set myself. (Did you forget? Good! That means I have more time to work out the particulars.)

I've got the kitchen mostly unpacked, but I seem to be missing an entire box of Fiestaware bowls--think cereal and chili--that I'd dearly love to have back. I have a feeling they are somewhere in the middle of the mountain of boxes in the garage, and it may take me until I move again to find them.

I've found the odd cookbook or two jammed into a box--you know, the ones that appeared after all the others had been corralled in a box labeled "cookbooks" and sealed? And, when I flipped one open, the first recipe I saw was for "Turnip Flapjacks." I guess the old "open it at random and cook the first recipe you see" method is not exactly the best way to do it...especially if I want to eat what I cook!

I'm getting off to an auspicious start of cooking for myself, because it's possible that I've given myself a nice little dose of food poisoning this evening. I had a couple of nice looking pork chops that I threw on the grill, with a little salt, pepper, and olive oil. I sauteed up some kale with onions and smoked paprika, and sat down to have myself a nice little feast after a hard day of furniture shopping. I had 2 or 3 bites of the pork chop and something just seemed a little odd. I had a couple more bites, and then just decided to go with my gut (ha!) feeling that something was awry. I looked at the package label, and the sell by date was on the 18th. Today is the 20th, but they have been under refrigeration the whole time, so I would think they would be okay. They looked okay when I took them out of the package--no grayish spots or anything--and no off odor that I could smell. Granted, my head is a little stuffy today, but if they'd been really bad, I'm sure I would have smelled rotting pork chop, don't you? Even so, I decided I would stop eating the pork chop and just eat the rest of the kale. I tossed the other one, which had been destined for lunch. It's probably nothing, but my stomach has just let off a strange gurgling noise, and I'm thinking uh oh...and then again, maybe if you eat just an entire bag of kale for dinner, that might also wreak havoc with your digestive tract.

Which kind of brings up eating for one...when you're dining solo, there's nothing that says you can't eat a can of peas for dinner...or an entire bag of kale. It's like the Lean Cuisine commercial where all the women talk about consuming the oddest stuff for dinner--a bag of M&Ms, a jar of olives, the bathroom rug, etc. The one oddball person says she had the equivalent of a 3-course dinner and when her companions stare in disbelief, she says "it's Lean Cuisine!"

It would be easy to just eat Lean Cuisines or other frozen meals...no mess, no fuss, no pots to wash. And no leftovers, no joy of cooking, no experimentation with ingredients like smoked paprika or fresh sardines (well, I could cheerfully eat a non-stop diet of Lean Cuisine if the other option was fresh sardines, but at least I gave it a whirl!), or techniques like spatchcocking. And, that's what makes it fun. Eating is fun and makes you feel good, but the preparation should be fun and make you feel good, too. It's hard to get excited about peeling the plastic film off half way and cooking on low power for 2 minutes, stir, and cook for 2 more minutes on high, isn't it? (Although, if my stomach makes that rumbling noise one more time, I'm probably going to wish I zapped that package of Stouffer's mac and cheese languishing in my freezer.)

So, as Gene Kelly said in Singing in the Rain, "Gotta dance!," I guess I "gotta cook," no matter if it's for me or 2 or 10. But, I'm not eating a whole bag of kale for dinner ever again!

Poodlevania Returns!

2008-09-04T17:37:00.000-04:00

The poodles and I have relocated to the Rocket City. We've got a new house and are starting a new life together. The Man and I are no more. It wasn't very pretty at times, it was very sad at times, it certainly wasn't my choice, and it was extremely frustrating not have gotten a say-so in my future. However, from here on out, I've got the Wii Controller of Destiny firmly tucked in my very own hand, to do with it as I will.

The new house is great...but the best part is the new kitchen! A kitchen that is NOT the size of a postage stamp. A kitchen with new counter tops, new cabinets, and new appliances...yes, they are new to me, but they are also only a year or so old, too. This is heady stuff, I tell you! The one downside is the lack of a gas range. I'm not sure if gas is in the neighborhood or not, or if I can even have it at all, so I'll have to investigate saving my pennies for that little venture.

Right now, the new house is the usual post-move sea of boxes that everyone has, and I occasionally lose the cell phone or a poodle for a little while. (Until I got an actual house phone, the "misplaced" cell thing was pretty frustrating and scary, since I couldn't call myself to find myself...that was somewhat existential, wasn't it?)

The poodles seemed to be adjusting...the whole situation was rough and confusing for them as well. The first night we were here, there was no furniture, because the truck didn't show up until the following day. All I had was a lamp and a queen-size air mattress. Nothing says "great night's rest" like spending the night on an air mattress with 3 poodles, I tell you.

The Goldfish is having the worst time of all the poodles. He's been having some vision issues (cataracts), as well as some cognitive decline...think kind of like the early stages of Alzheimer's...so, he's the one that gets lost the most. I'm looking for a new vet for the boys, and will take him in for a check-up as soon as I find one.

It is amazing at how fast the Rocket City has grown. The area where I bought the house used to be considered "waaaaay out in the boonies," but suburban progress is marching steadily my way. Which is nice, in a way, because I have a brand-new Publix about 8 minutes from my house. That's a definite plus to the area.

So, I'm going to be pretty busy for the next couple of weeks trying to get things unpacked and placed, so the posting may be a bit infrequent. I found the pots and pans yesterday evening, so I think I might actually try and cook something for dinner...maybe grill some chicken and make the Campanelle with Tomatoes and Feta pasta...you know, something that I like to eat and eat for days, since I'll have some leftovers. Cooking for one is a pain sometimes, but at least I can eat all the asparagus I want now.

If nothing else, I'm also going to try and cook at least one recipe from the gazillion cookbooks that I lugged across state lines. Besides the cookbooks in the cookbook book shelf unit, I found cookbooks in my nightstand slush pile, in the basement, in the bathroom reading basket--practically every room in the house. I culled some, but seriously...do I really need ALL those cookbooks? Probably not. Hence, the Great Cook at Least 1 Recipe from ALL Your Cookbooks Project shall be born...as soon as I can find all the damn cookbooks.

So, when The Project gets going, feel free to come on by for a taste and stay awhile, if you like. You could also unpack a box or two... : )

On hiatus

2008-06-03T14:50:00.002-04:00

Poodlevania is going on hiatus for awhile until I get things sorted out and relocated. I appreciate everyone who reads and especially the comments. I'm hoping to be back with more cooking adventures and poodle updates in the future.

If you like, you can set your RSS feed to notify you when there is a new post, and that will save you some time and energy checking on whether or not I came back yet.

I'll do my very best to come back, because babbling about food is something I enjoy doing. Right now, things are not easy nor enjoyable in my household, and it's very painful to talk about, so I won't bore you with the details. My main concerns right now are keeping the poodles safe and happy and getting my life packed up and moved...

You guys keep cooking and trying stuff out, and let me know how you're doing.

Thanks,
Poodlebugz

Am Not Dead...Just Stir-Frying

2008-05-20T21:05:00.001-04:00

I know, I know...I've been extremely lax with the blogging. But, in my own defense, I'm not sure I've done anything interesting enough to actually blog about...however, I shall endeavor to be better.

So...how about some whack-a-doo pork stir fry for starters?

I just can't seem to get the basics of stir frying. Seriously, how hard should it be? I can saute, can't I? (Went to school for that!) I can pan fry and braise, et cetera, et cetera. But, every time I try this stir fry business, I feel like it goes all to hell in a wok basket. But, I won't give up...because, while it may not be picture-perfect stir fry, it doesn't usually taste bad.

So, I've conglomerated up this lo mein-ish recipe from several different sources, and let's just see how it works.

Whack-a-Doo Pork Lo Mein

1 - 1-1/2 lbs thin pork chops

3 vegetable oil

2 Tbs sesame oil

Salt and freshly ground pepper

2 teaspoons Chinese five-spice powder (you know you've always wanted to try it)

2 large eggs, beaten

1/2 pound shiitake mushrooms, stemmed and thinly sliced

1 package fresh stir fry veggies (broccoli, snow peas, carrots, broccoli slaw or whack up whatever your little heart so desires in the way of veggies...the key is whack thinly and into small pieces)

2-3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1/3 to 1/2 cup soy sauce

1 package soba, udon, fettucine, whatever long noodle shape you like

Procedure (or what should happen vs. what actually happens when *I* stir fry...)

1. In a large, deep nonstick skillet or wok, heat 1 tablespoon vegetable oil and 1 tablespoon of sesame oil over high heat. Season the pork with salt, pepper and the five-spice powder; add to the pan and stir-fry for 2 minutes; add garlic and stir fry for 1 more minute. Transfer to a plate.

2. Heat 1 tablespoon vegetable oil in the skillet, then add the eggs and scramble for 2 minutes. Push the eggs to the side of the pan, add the remaining 2 tablespoons oil and lower the heat to medium. (This is where things started going horribly awry, because my eggs did not scramble nicely. I think the wok was too hot, and they started to scorch, so I scrambled faster. Not a pretty sight. I ended up dumping them out onto a paper plate, then I had to scrape down the wok before I started with the veggies.)

3. (Remember you've added that last 2 tablespoons of oil; 1 sesame, 1 vegetable.) Add the mushrooms and the stir-fry veggies and stir-fry for 2-3 minutes. Stir in the soy sauce and reserved pork, making sure the pork is heated through.

While I was cooking the pork, I threw the package of soba noodles in a pot of boiling water. I drained those, rinsed with cold water, then I threw them in after the pork--see, it's sort of a lo mein-ey dish.

As you may have noted in Step 2 above, the eggs started to go south, which totally threw my stir-fry game off. I had even mise en placed all my ingredients, which I only do about half the time when I cook anything else. Yet, it seemed that I was just running about 3 steps behind where I should be, hence the funked up scrambled eggs...which, by the way, I threw in anyway.
The Man ate it, I ate, and we survived. See, not very exciting or interesting at all. Now, if I had decided to stir fry a poodle, that might have amped this post up a little bit.

Right now, I'd be more than happy to stir fry The Goldfish, since he managed to unroll an entire, brand-new roll of bathroom tissue out into the hallway. Why do they want to eat paper? What important vitamin or mineral are the little demons missing that make them crave paper? I suppose I should be thankful that they don't crave gasoline and aren't out trying to siphon my tank to quench their unholy thirst.

So, maybe I'll get a little more adventurous during this holiday weekend...I'm taking off on Friday to have a 4-day weekend, so surely I can cook something halfway interesting, can't I?

The New Favorite Vegetable

2008-05-08T08:27:00.000-04:00

"I think Brussels sprouts might be my new favorite vegetable," says The Man. I am still on the fence about this, because macaroni and cheese is my favorite vegetable...wait, are you saying that mac and cheese is NOT a vegetable? Ha! Tell that to generations of Southern cooks and purveyors of the classic "meat and 3" cafe offerings...mac and cheese are always on the vegetable side of the menu.

(Actually, I'm not sure I have a favorite vegetable...one that I prize above all others. I like just about all veggies, especially vine-ripened tomatoes...which aren't really vegetables, but fruit, so go figure.)

To recover from the trauma of the sardines, I sort of went all out in the comfort food direction for Tuesday night's dinner. Those lovely Berkshire pork chops, a creamy Parmesan risotto (yes, it was from a box, but it was still good!), and the baby Brussels sprouts sauteed with butter and bacon. I even gave Mark Bittman the chance to redeem himself with the pork chops...still not forgiving him for the vinegar pork roast.

The problem with grilled pork chops, as my buddy Mr. Bittman says, is that they get dry, and it's because American pork has been bred to be leaner, yadda, yadda. Hence the whole brining thing. But, he says no matter that they have the propensity to get dry, he likes the taste of grilled pork chops and makes and eats them anyway. He's come up with some tips and tricks to try and keep them moist and flavorful...the foremost trick is to get a pork chop that's at least 1-inch thick, because the thinner ones will cook fast and are more prone to dryness.

Behold the Berkshire pork chops from the farmer's market...the $11.99/pound pork chops from the farmers market, which were worth every single penny we paid for them. They were like small pork roasts, and the flavor was amazing. (I forgot to take before shots, but the after shot is pretty sweet, don't you think?)

Bittman suggested that you bring the pork to room temp as you preheat the grill. Then, generously season your chops with salt and pepper, slather them with a tablespoon or two of olive oil and throw a tablespoon or so of lemon juice on them right before putting them on the grill.

Sear them on the hottest part of the grill for about 2 minutes on both sides, then move to a cooler section and cook for about 10-20 minutes, depending on the size of the chops. After they have finished cooking (use a meat thermometer to test the temperature--needs to be about 140 degrees F for medium--pull them off, drizzle a little olive oil over them, and let them rest for a few minutes before serving.

Back to the sprouts...Brussels sprouts have never been high on my list of things to eat. Many times, while on the road, I was asked by my project team what I wanted for lunch. My standard answer was "I eat anything except canned tuna, liver, and Brussels sprouts, so if we could avoid the All Canned Tuna-Liver-Brussels Sprouts Cafe, I'll be fine."

It's not that I don't want to like Brussels sprouts, because I do...they are such wee tiny cute veggies--sort of the Pop'ables of the vegetable food group. (Unfortunately, it seems that Pop'ables have been discontinued...I really liked the Reese's Peanut Butter ones.) But, I've never been able to get past the bitter, overcooked cabbagey taste of them...probably because most of the ones I've ever had have been old and overcooked.

(I also feel the same way about kumquats. They're cute, so they should be tasty. I've not had one in decades, but I vividly remember NOT liking them at all, and feeling very duped when I tried them. Because, they look like miniature oranges and should taste like miniature oranges, is probably what my child mind was thinking, and it was a cruel, cruel joke that they did not. Damn the universe for being so unfair!!)

Enter the bacon. Just about everything on the planet is better with bacon, and what's not better with bacon just needs cheese or chocolate. We have about a half pound of Nueske's bacon left in the freezer from an extremely thoughtful holiday gift that The Man received from my friend Tessa. It is some damn fine bacon.

I chopped 3-4 slices up and sauteed them to render the fat and get them crispy. I put the bits on paper towels to drain, and set the pan with the bacon fat aside while I worked on the sprouts. While the bacon was cooking, I put a small pot of water on to boil. Then, I pared off the tough bottom core of the sprouts and removed the outer couple of leaves, which sort of came off when I cut off the core. Then, with my paring knife, I made an "X" in the bottom of each one, not going all the way through, to facilitate the blanching. I popped them into the boiling water for 5-6 minutes, then pulled them out and plopped them into an ice water bath to "shock" them and stop the cooking.

After they had cooled, I patted them dry and cut them in half. I heated the bacon fat back up and added a tablespoon of unsalted butter, then sauteed the Brussels sprout halves until they started to caramelize a little bit. And, you know what? They weren't bitter and were darn tasty, if I do say so myself. I'm wondering now if I can use the bigger fresh ones and get the same result by blanching and then sauteeing, or if it really has more to do with the size. I'll keep you posted.

Here's a cool blog post with pictures of Brussels sprouts in progress--very interesting--plus a recipe for Brussels sprouts with lemon-mustard sauce, which I think I might try in the next week or so.

I'm still wary of the kumquats, though...but, maybe, just maybe they will surprise my adult self, and we'll find out they aren't Satan's Citrus after all.

The Sardines & I

2008-05-06T09:08:00.002-04:00

Or, the things we do for love...

Food Network is simultaneously one of the best and the worst things in my life. The best things about it include introducing the masses to folks like Mario Batali and Anthony Bourdain, along with some fun shows like Iron Chef. Some of the worst are anything with that Guy Fieri dude (OMG--the hair! the "dudeness!"...it boggles the mind) and of course, Semi-Ho-made Sandra Lee.

Now, I love, love, love Mario. Notwithstanding that he sort of looks like someone who I'd cross an ocean not to ever see again...but, still, I like him. I admire his passion for food, which was very evident during Molto Mario and the show where he ate his way across Italy (lucky bastard!), and he really introduced us to the joys of Italian food that weren't all meatballs and red sauce. (Note: am in no way knocking meatballs or red sauce!)

Once or twice, he's mentioned fresh sardines grilled with a little olive oil, and he made them look and sound like they would be the best things on earth...if you were only sitting in his studio kitchen.

Sunday afternoon, after gallivanting around ye olde Renaissance Festival, we swing by our old stomping grounds at the international farmer's market to pick up some fresh veggies, spices, cheese, and cured Italian meats.

We're looking at the fish cases, and The Man spies fresh sardines and gets a wild hair that he wants to try them. I start rueing the day Molto Mario ever hit the airwaves. Sure, Honey, I think...I want to try them too, but IN ITALY! And, prepared by someone else...that goes without saying, doesn't it?

He makes noises like he will assist me with "dealing with the fishies," but we all know who is going to "deal," don't we? (Yes, you did...you know you did, dear.)

And, did I mention that I really hated the days we cleaned fish in class? I'm sure I did.

So, I spent part of that evening researching how to cook the damnthings. Mario is no help. In both the books I have, Molto Mario and Simple Italian Food, he wants me to whack up a bunch of colored peppers and make a pepperonada to go with the silvery little demon fish. Like I'm wasting perfectly good peppers and onions on this experiment...ha!

I even consulted Mark "How to Cook Everything, even though I made you ruin a perfectly good pork roast" Bittman, and he fared no better than Mario.

So, as I type now, trying to recover from the trauma of actually severing their little fish heads and scooping out their little fish guts, I am torn. Torn between thinking that these damn things better be the best dish I've ever made, and if they really are that great, The Man will want them again. Oh, the agony.

(You know I have back-up dinner, don't you? Some nice grilled Italian sausages and my new favorite pasta. Someone's cuisine is gonna "reign supreme" here.)

At the best of times, I want to stay as far away from sardines as I possibly can. They really aren't for me, period. I'm working my way into anchovydom, because I like the depth that anchovy paste can give to certain dishes. I just cannot feel the love for sardines...can't do it.
(I'm reserving the right to rescind my dislike for sardines if I 1) find myself in Italy, dining at a seaside cafe; or 2) am sitting in front of Mario Batali, who is cooking for me...I would probably try damn near anything he put on a plate, a skewer, etc.)

The good news is that I managed to successfully skewer and grill the sardines, with only a few minor mishaps...one of them did not want to leave the grill intact. Nothing quite like the smell of burning sardine, let me tell you.

The even better news is that they were kinda so-so, and I'm thinking they won't be in my regular dinner rotation during this decade or the next. Whew!

But, I am (maybe) a wee bit saddened, since sardines are chock full of nutrients, protein, omega-3 fatty acid, and they were cheap! Like .99/pound cheap. But, cheap just can't cut the taste for me. Plus, I was really having a hard time cleaning the little buggers. I'm not usually grossed out by food preparation, but this was just plain yucky, with a capital "Y."

I shall make up for the indignities of this evening with tonight's dinner. The farmer's market carries Berkshire pork products, and we scored some lovely pork chops that looked good enough to eat straight from the meat case.

And, in a radical, radical departure for us, I am going to make Brussel sprouts as the side dish. When we were at Epcot in December, we had a meal somewhere that included the tiniest Brussel sprouts, which were so very good that we started to change our minds about sprouts...they were probably sauteed in bacon, which contributed to their tastiness, but whatever!

The farmer's market had some of these cute little beasties, so I picked out the tiniest ones and am gonna give it a whirl. I will admit that no matter what, I will probably like the sprouts waaaaay better than I like sardines...way better.