Thursday, September 22, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Quote of the Week: Love of Tasting
"There is, however, one point of view deeper yet and more important than the love of tasting of the variety of human modes of life, and that is the desire to turn such knowledge into wisdom."
--Bronislaw Malinowski, Argonauts of the Western Pacific
--Bronislaw Malinowski, Argonauts of the Western Pacific
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Fried Butter on a Stick
That's right. Fried butter on a stick. If you didn't think Denny's Baconalia (not to mention their Mac 'n Cheese Big Daddy Patty Melt), the Heart Attack Grill, or various Epic Meal Times and Man v. Food episodes were enough evidence to prove America's obsession with eating fatty, artery-clogging goodies, then behold, fried butter on a stick!
Seriously.
It's a stick of butter, battered, fried, and drizzled with glaze. And then you eat it. And then you die.
I can't embed the video, but you can check it out at this YouTube link. I think my favorite part is how the reporter giggles when her colleague says "heart-attack inducing." ...Would you eat it?
Seriously.
It's a stick of butter, battered, fried, and drizzled with glaze. And then you eat it. And then you die.
I can't embed the video, but you can check it out at this YouTube link. I think my favorite part is how the reporter giggles when her colleague says "heart-attack inducing." ...Would you eat it?
Monday, September 12, 2011
Oysters, Mad Men Style
What says Mad Men better than succulent oysters and gin martinis at a nice joint like District? Just don't try to walk up 23 flights of stairs afterward...
Maine Memories...
Don't get me wrong, the grilled cheese sandwich I devoured for dinner before heading back to the library for mass amounts of lecture writing and reading for seminars was very good. I make a damn tasty grilled cheese sandwich. But the solitary cooking of the sandwich, not to mention its lack of complexity and the quickness in which it was eaten, has got me reminiscing about the last family dinner I had in Portland with my Maine family--potatoes au gratin, empanadas stuffed with fresh Maine lobster, fish tacos made with local fish, avocado-mango dip, and grilled Maine shrimp complete with a specialty tequila cocktail to accompany the fantastic meal. A grilled cheese simply cannot compare to the company of friends and family and the leisurely cooking and consumption of delicious food on a quiet Sunday evening.
While I can't be in Maine tonight, at least these photos captured some of the culinary joy of that meal...
Potatoes Au Gratin
Look at that burbling...
Fish Tacos
Mango-Avocado Dip
While I can't be in Maine tonight, at least these photos captured some of the culinary joy of that meal...
Lobster Empanadas
Tequila-Marinated Grilled Maine Shrimp
Tequila Cocktail with Freshly Squeezed Juices, Ginger Simple Syrup, and St. Germaine's Elderflower Liqueur
Potatoes Au Gratin
Look at that burbling...
Fish Tacos
Mango-Avocado Dip
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Quote of the Week: Butter
“When I think about forever I get upset. Like the Land O’Lakes butter has that Indian girl sitting holding a box, and it has a picture of her on it holding a box with a picture of her on it holding a box. Have you ever noticed that?”
—Sally Draper, Mad Men
—Sally Draper, Mad Men
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Quote of the Week: Perfect Freedom
“Seating themselves on the greensward, they eat while the corks fly and there is talk, laughter and merriment, and perfect freedom, for the universe is their drawing room and the sun their lamp. Besides, they have appetite, Nature's special gift, which lends to such a meal a vivacity unknown indoors, however beautiful the surroundings.”
—Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin
—Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin
Friday, August 26, 2011
Hurricane Preparation
As Hurricane Irene gets set to slam the northeast it's important to be prepared for the worst case scenario. I just went out and got the essentials:
Tanqueray Gin ✓
Fancy Tonic Water ✓
Lime ✓
Chocolate ✓
Walker's Crisps ✓
Bottle of Water ✓
For all of you in Irene's path, stay safe and be sure to have the items listed above on hand. You can never be too prepared.
Tanqueray Gin ✓
Fancy Tonic Water ✓
Lime ✓
Chocolate ✓
Walker's Crisps ✓
Bottle of Water ✓
For all of you in Irene's path, stay safe and be sure to have the items listed above on hand. You can never be too prepared.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
You've Been Cupcaked
I've got to say that it's a pretty wonderful experience to be settling down for an episode of Mad Men after a tasty home-made pizza dinner, only to have the doorbell ring. And when you open the door? Nothing but a lone cupcake in the glow of the front-porch light.
This situation is precisely what happened to me the other night. I stared at the cupcake--amused and a little baffled, but certainly with a smile on my face. I picked up the cupcake and underneath was a bit of loose-leaf paper with "youve been cupcaked" scrawled in green hi-liter. I did my best not to bust out my own green hi-liter and add the missing apostrophe--instead I carried the cupcake inside where I could more closely examine it.
The cupcake appeared to be chocolate, and it was slathered in a light pink frosting. On top of the cupcake was a haphazard red sour straw candy and half a marshmallow. It tempted me with its sugary loveliness and mysterious appearance on my doorstep.
I sat with my cupcake. Do I dare eat it? Where did it come from? Who knows, it could have been made in a magical kitchen by the likes of the White Queen in Alice in Wonderland. Should I notify someone before embarking on this fulfillment of culinary curiosity?
I sent out my question out to the digital world, but before I'd head any responses I was already half-way though the cupcake. I started by tasting the red sour straw--it seemed harmless enough. I broke off a piece and touched it to my tongue. OK, tastes like candy. That was soon gone. Next I popped the marshmallow in my mouth. Again, all systems clear. Seems safe. Then there was the frosting. Now, if I were going to poison someone, I'd probably hide it in the frosting. The cloying sweetness of frosting would no doubt cover up any attempt at altered ingredients. I trepidly licked the pink frosting... Mmmm, delicious. Next thing you know the whole thing was gone.
At that moment I got a text advising me not to eat mysterious cupcakes on unknown origins. Too late.
It tasted like birthday. Sweet, delicious, surprise birthday. Like the kind of birthday you had in third grade and the whole class got to take a break and enjoy a special treat all in your honor. When cupcakes or cookies or brownies emerged from their careful placement in tupperware containers and were set before you on a festive napkin. And you all sang "Happy Birthday" together anticipating the first bite of processed sugar joy. I could almost hear those voices singing with every taste of my perplexing cupcake. It was pretty wonderful. I even forgot all about the fact that I had no idea where this cupcake originated from.
I'd been cupcaked. And I liked it.
This situation is precisely what happened to me the other night. I stared at the cupcake--amused and a little baffled, but certainly with a smile on my face. I picked up the cupcake and underneath was a bit of loose-leaf paper with "youve been cupcaked" scrawled in green hi-liter. I did my best not to bust out my own green hi-liter and add the missing apostrophe--instead I carried the cupcake inside where I could more closely examine it.
The cupcake appeared to be chocolate, and it was slathered in a light pink frosting. On top of the cupcake was a haphazard red sour straw candy and half a marshmallow. It tempted me with its sugary loveliness and mysterious appearance on my doorstep.
I sat with my cupcake. Do I dare eat it? Where did it come from? Who knows, it could have been made in a magical kitchen by the likes of the White Queen in Alice in Wonderland. Should I notify someone before embarking on this fulfillment of culinary curiosity?
I sent out my question out to the digital world, but before I'd head any responses I was already half-way though the cupcake. I started by tasting the red sour straw--it seemed harmless enough. I broke off a piece and touched it to my tongue. OK, tastes like candy. That was soon gone. Next I popped the marshmallow in my mouth. Again, all systems clear. Seems safe. Then there was the frosting. Now, if I were going to poison someone, I'd probably hide it in the frosting. The cloying sweetness of frosting would no doubt cover up any attempt at altered ingredients. I trepidly licked the pink frosting... Mmmm, delicious. Next thing you know the whole thing was gone.
At that moment I got a text advising me not to eat mysterious cupcakes on unknown origins. Too late.
It tasted like birthday. Sweet, delicious, surprise birthday. Like the kind of birthday you had in third grade and the whole class got to take a break and enjoy a special treat all in your honor. When cupcakes or cookies or brownies emerged from their careful placement in tupperware containers and were set before you on a festive napkin. And you all sang "Happy Birthday" together anticipating the first bite of processed sugar joy. I could almost hear those voices singing with every taste of my perplexing cupcake. It was pretty wonderful. I even forgot all about the fact that I had no idea where this cupcake originated from.
I'd been cupcaked. And I liked it.
Put it on the Pizza: Part III
Putting it on the pizza is always a good time, whether you're surrounded by friends or just spending a lovely summer evening in solitude. I found myself in the latter of those situations this weekend, and putting it on the pizza seemed like perfect way to further enjoy my already sublime summer day. After all, a day of lying in the sun, reading, and swimming can really take a lot out of a girl.
But what to put on the pizza? I had two ideas, so I decided to just split the pizza into two different toppings. On one side I mixed together tomato sauce with Sirracha and spread a thin layer of the dough (store-bought, if you're wondering. I was going to make my own dough but got lazy). Then I topped it with mozzarella, provolone, and veggie-sausage that I'd found in the fridge.
The other side of the pizza got a liberal helping of fresh basil and garlic pesto, covered in sliced mushrooms, grilled chicken, green peppers, red onions, tomato slices, feta, mozz, and kalamata olives.
When I placed the pizza on the grill I cracked an egg on top of the side with the Sirracha sauce. Beautiful.
Unfortunately by the time the egg was cooked the dough had burnt a bit, but otherwise it was delicious. The yolk on the Sirracha side was perfectly cooked (or not cooked, rather), and it oozed out delicately over the sauce, cheese, and dough. The other side with pesto and chicken was also delightful--nice, garlicky, and satisfying without being overly heavy.
I sat down, enjoyed some pizza, finished re-reading Hemingway's The Garden of Eden, sipped a glass of red wine, and soaked in the late summer evening. Then the doorbell rang.
I'd been cupcaked. (To be continued...)
But what to put on the pizza? I had two ideas, so I decided to just split the pizza into two different toppings. On one side I mixed together tomato sauce with Sirracha and spread a thin layer of the dough (store-bought, if you're wondering. I was going to make my own dough but got lazy). Then I topped it with mozzarella, provolone, and veggie-sausage that I'd found in the fridge.
The other side of the pizza got a liberal helping of fresh basil and garlic pesto, covered in sliced mushrooms, grilled chicken, green peppers, red onions, tomato slices, feta, mozz, and kalamata olives.
When I placed the pizza on the grill I cracked an egg on top of the side with the Sirracha sauce. Beautiful.
Unfortunately by the time the egg was cooked the dough had burnt a bit, but otherwise it was delicious. The yolk on the Sirracha side was perfectly cooked (or not cooked, rather), and it oozed out delicately over the sauce, cheese, and dough. The other side with pesto and chicken was also delightful--nice, garlicky, and satisfying without being overly heavy.
I sat down, enjoyed some pizza, finished re-reading Hemingway's The Garden of Eden, sipped a glass of red wine, and soaked in the late summer evening. Then the doorbell rang.
I'd been cupcaked. (To be continued...)
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