Messaging mom

My mom has an iPad, which means we can now iMessage (it's a verb because I say so) each other for free.

This evening I was telling her about a book I just checked out (I'm in blue):



See, I had quite a few "odd bits" experiences growing up. I learned very early on that if Mom said, "It's roast beef, just eat it." she was being honest. Kind of.

Anyway:



Damn you, autocorrect.

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culture clash

Tonight is the first night of the Oktoberfest in July festival! The Catholic church has games, rides, a little biergarten and plenty of German food - all in the hopes of raising money for the upcoming year. It's a popular event in Willoughby and since it's about a block from our house, we walk down in the evenings for supper. (which sometimes consists solely of the best onion rings in the known universe)

Anyway, I was describing this to a certain Texan recently and discovered that certain foods, well...they don't really translate.

Me: "Mike and I always go to the festival for the schnitzel, but we try to get there early because the line for it is usually so long."

Alan: "What's schnitzel?"

I describe schnitzel.

Alan: "So it's like chicken fried steak?"

Me: "Uhm. Not exactly, but sure...we'll go with that."

(Ask my mother about the time she got Alan to eat his first potato pancake. With applesauce. I have never seen a man look more skeptical in my life.)

Slow curry

Crockpots are so handy in the summer - especially when you don't have air conditioning and are craving something heartier than a salad.


2 sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
Handful or so of baby carrots
1.25 lbs. stew meat (I used beef, but lamb would be good too)
Half an onion, chopped
1 or 2 jalapeños, chopped (seeds and ribs removed)
1 can (14.something oz, I forget) plain diced tomatoes
1 cup coconut milk (light or regular, your choice)
3 cloves garlic, chopped
3 tablespoons regular (not hot) curry powder
Salt and pepper to taste

Sear the meat in a hot pan and then layer the ingredients as listed, sweet potatoes first. Cook about 8 hours on low.

Not totally required but toss in a handful of dried fruit (raisins, cranberries, chopped apricots, whatever) about 6 hours into cooking for extra yumminess. The sweetness is a good balance to the heat and spices.

Serve with basmati rice.

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chimichurri

I was going to share my secret recipe, but...nah.
I'll just let you all wonder.

let's be frank

It's a full moon today and I know this without even looking at the calendar.

...because someone just walked into the library dressed like a hot dog.


(not a Weiner)

BBQ woo

Eau de Barbecue, a tasty new fragrance for men.

Although...actually standing in front of a grill for a few hours would be a much more effective way to seduce a cute carnivore. Just sayin'.

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cuppa?

When I say "Oooh," you say, "Long!"



An introduction to Chap Hop, thanks to Mr. Sorrentino.

better than a bunny?

When pigs fly!

(nothing like bacon in your Easter basket!)

the pie that won the internet

Macaroni and cheese and deep fried mac'n'cheese ball pie, with a bacon lattice top - a tribute to Paula Deen for Pi Day, 2011.

I'm speechless.


Recipe from Desserts for Breakfast, a lovely blog of many yummy things.

stop boiling your vegetables, America!

I'm convinced that people who hate vegetables have never had vegetables properly prepared.

We've all suffered through the mushy, faded, bitter, boiled and buttered version of Brussels sprouts but take a look at this...

Yes, those perfectly caramelized little beauties are, in fact, one of the most dreaded vegetables ever to grace a 9-year old's dinner plate. Yet with some heat, attention, and minimal amounts of culinary skill, they have been magically transformed into something seriously delicious. They will taste nothing like you remember, I promise. *

Sprout Sauté

fresh Brussels sprouts, washed
olive oil
salt and pepper
balsamic vinegar
crumbled bacon
Parmesan cheese

1. Trim the stem ends of the Brussels sprouts and cut them in half lengthwise. Discard any loose or blemished leaves
2. Heat up the olive oil, enough to thoroughly coat the bottom of your pan. Medium to medium-high heat should be fine.
3. Place the sprouts flat side down in the pan and let them cook a few minutes. Check one to see how brown it is getting. Once the sprouts start getting a good color, sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste and begin to stir, cooking them on all sides. Turn the heat down a bit if the outsides are browning too fast because you also need the inside to cook.
4. Cook a few minutes, and poke a sprout with a fork to check for tenderness. Once it is to your liking, deglaze the pan with a little balsamic vinegar, scraping up any yummy caramelized bits and tossing the sprouts in the liquid. Let the liquid evaporate then throw in the bacon and cheese.
5. Serve and eat immediately.
6. Say "zOMG! these are Brussels sprouts!?"
7. Start plotting for the next time you can make this recipe.

*In fact, the Brussels sprouts were so good I keep eating them until they were all gone, causing me to completely neglect my steak. Anyone who knows me will tell you that this is very nearly a miracle because I am deeply passionate and devoted in my love for red meat.

when life deals you lemons...

Not many recipes begin with "Step 1: fly to Arizona" but on our recent trip out west Mom and I paid a visit to my cousin's house, or more specifically, his lemon trees.

We thought that we'd pick a few lemons, box them up and ship them home at a flat rate. Lemons are so expensive in Ohio, around 80 cents each, that we figured it'd be worth the trouble.

Despite my love for every- and anything lemon, I had no idea about how they grew. I figured they grew on trees somewhere vaguely south but as far as I was concerned, they might as well have been little zesty jewels filled with yummy wonder and sunshiney goodness magically delivered by citrus fairies. I just had never really thought about it. My best guess involved a yellower version of an apple tree, which has been the sum total of my experience with fruit trees thus far.

I wasn't too far off, except I wasn't prepared for just how many lemons a lemon tree can hold. Or how large lemons can become when they're allowed to fully ripen. My cousin's wife apologized for how small this year's lemons were, while holding a fruit about the size of a softball. I boggled...and quickly came to realize that the lemons I'd been loving and treasuring my entire life were just a sad parody of the real thing. (If you will, "lemons" vs. "LEMONS!!!!") I was standing in the sunshine picking fruit off its tree in January and my hands were sticky with lemon oil - the world was warm and smelled wonderful. I was in heaven.

Needless to say, within about 20 minutes, I had picked five or six grocery bags full - far more than would fit in our flat rate shipping boxes. Luckily, my aunt offered us a spare suitcase and, after some careful packing, weighing and stashing extra citrus in our other bags, we were able to check our bounty in with our other luggage. All in all, I think we had 60 pounds of citrus. (navel oranges and tangelos too, but mostly lemons) Dreams of all that lemonade made the blizzard we came home to a little bit easier to bear.

A few days later, Mom and I realized that the lemons were going to go a lot further than we thought. Just how much frozen lemon juice and dried zest would someone need, right? Mom made limoncello, which used 12 lemons...but we still had bags left over. What to do, what to do. Suddenly, I had an idea.

Marmalade.

All that sunshine, preserved. Gorgeous, isn't it?

(here's the recipe)

Handpicked

Edible sunshine.

(My cousin in Arizona has citrus trees. We brought home a suitcase full.)

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Smokin'!

Who says it's just for summer?


Two pounds of sockeye and at least 3 times that of beef, slowly becoming oh-so-delectable out in the cold. I added some clean snow to the water pan, just for good measure.

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vocal local yokels

A Hallelujah Chorus flash mob descended upon one of my most favorite places in Cleveland.

If I must

I suppose I'd be completely remiss at bacon blogging if I didn't post the following video.



However, there are two things that seem to be somewhat of a problem for me.

#1 - "meat glue"

#2 - The head. It's still attached. I know that Icelanders are all about food with a face, and oftentimes dining upon the face itself, but...No. Just no.

sweet & simple

Remember the baking craze that happened in the blogosphere because of Kevin Baker's beer bread recipe? Well, get ready to buy some more self-rising flour - and a pint of ice cream - because those are the only ingredients for this recipe. (yes, really.)

You can experiment with flavors, but I thought it'd be best to start with something simple. I chose Ben & Jerry's Pistachio Pistachio.


Ice Cream Bread

1 pint of melted ice cream
1.5 cups of sifted self-rising flour

Butter and flour a standard size loaf pan. Heat your oven to 350ºF. Mix your ingredients until smooth. Pour the batter into the pan. Bake for 40-45 minutes.

That's it. (yes, really.)

Enjoy!

turkey time

Why, yes, that is a 12-pound turkey floating in brine in my vegetable bin or, as Mike called it, "the turkey aquarium." I like to refer to it as the first stage of what will forever be known as The Best Turkey I Ever Ate.

After a day of bathing in an apple juice (and garlic and sage and peppercorn and...) brine, I have stuffed it with onions, apples and rosemary and massaged it with butter. It is now being slowly smoked over applewood.

You all may now drool and be very, very jealous.

p.s. (isn't the vegetable bin idea terrific? Found at notmartha, the home of the bacon bowl.)

UPDATE: Turkey Time, pt. II

Hello, gorgeous...

chauvinist cuppa

I don't know why bacon and other tasty meats are considered "man food" or why sipping a cup of something warm and comforting is thought to be a "girl thing" but here both concepts are anyway, mashed together into something I expect would be completely unpalatable.

Also? imitation bacon bits do not equal bacon. Ever.

Kraut to go

At 33 cents each, it'd be a perfect addition to any bug out bag - because nothing goes better with a zombie apocalypse than bratwurst.


Or just stick one in your purse - kraut cravings have been known to come out of nowhere.

(blogged this from the grocery store - yay technology!)

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Cheeky carrot!

Oh, that Mother Nature. What a funny gal.

(The only reason this could be considered NSFW is because I laughed out loud in the library. )