My Excaliber

Apparently, historians are not sure what to make of King Arthur.  Did he exist?  Did he not? In short, people just aren't sure.  

We do know his sword, Excaliber, is a huge part of the Arthur legends.  It was said that he who could pull it from the stone would rule England. Other versions have a Victoria's Secret model tossing him the sword from a lake.  Ok, maybe not a model, but she is always drawn to be one.

I recently had my own Excaliber experience the other day.  

All thing considered, I have become more or less comfortable in the kitchen.  I am not stroking my ego, but I can manage.   Some of my more prized dishes over the years include Pan-seared Pilsner Sirloin Tips with Herbed Pecan Orzo and Shiitake-Blue Cheese Sauce, Feta and Lemon Pancakes with a fruit salad topping,  Goat Cheese-stuffed Turkey Burgers with Grilled Potato Skewers and a Curried Onion Dipping Sauce, Garlic-Hazelnut Chicken Breasts with Mustard Glaze,and Lager Steamed Thai Turkey and Shiitake Dumplings with a Pale Ale Sweet and Sour Dipping Sauce, and various pizzas with homemade dough.   Mind you, I don't make stuff up; I just follow the recipes.

So, for the Fourth of July holiday, I thought I would go out on a limb and try something I have never done.  

Ever.

I hard boiled eggs. 

Now, I told a few people this fact and they looked at me like I had 10 eyes.  To them, it was simply impossible that a grown man who can somewhat cook has never hard boiled an egg. 

Sorry, its true.  (While dedicated readers may remember this blog entry stating the consumption of deviled eggs, I did not make them. My mom did.)

OK, great, but what did I do with them?

I made deviled eggs. 

For the Holiday season a few months back, I secured "Inside the Test Kitchen" by Tyler Florence. He and I go way back.  The book has some pretty neat shortcuts for the kitchen and puts tried and true kitchen lore to the test (hence the name). Great recipes are found throughout. 

After successfully hard-boiling the eggs (hell yeah!), the filling was whipped up using mayonnaise, creme fraiche, dijon mustard, lemon and salt.

Half of the eggs were topped with paprika and a dash of salt. Hardly anything original there, right?

The other half? 

Caviar and chives.

Utilizing my connections in the black market, I was able to secure servings from the Iranian Beluga fish.  I just happened to find $34,500 in the washing machine the other day and I thought fish eggs would be a great use for the cash. To hell with student loans, right?

Dinner was just Nat, myself and her dad.  With the eggs out as an appetizer,  Ken proceeded to eat 19 of the 24 eggs before I could say "Boo." Okay, not really.  He ate one before I could say "caviar" and promptly declared these eggs outstanding.

Natalie even liked them. Now remember, she has had an aversion to seafood and fishy stuff for quite some time. During our Maine trip, she experimented with clam chowder, lobster and scallops and liked them all. Now fish eggs?! Go figure. In fact, she suggested they were the best deviled eggs she ever had. 

Fortunately, the entire dish was saved by a product of the modern world though it was clearly influenced by Arthurian Legend.

A spork. 

My Excaliber.

Per the instructions on the jar, caviar is not to be handled by a metal utensil.  The metal imparts an icky metallic taste in what is literally nothing more than salty, squishy balls that squeeze out of a fish's butt by the thousands. Before the days of plastic, Mother-of-Pearl utensils were used.  Glass and porcelain, too.  

Without fancy stuff in our kitchen, I was struggling to find a way to dollop the caviar on each egg gently.  Pushed in the back of the utensil drawer, safely sealed in its original plastic wrapper, sat the spork.  

It was a triumphant moment. When the sword spork was removed the stone drawer, the orchestral music booming throughout the house was simply incredible. It was like John Williams himself was in the other room.  Fortunately, no sparks flew as they surely would have caught the kitchen on fire.

Interestingly, some say that metallic ions wrecking food on your palate is nonsense and the Mother-of-Pearl or glass spoon is a nod to snooty tradition.  Further, serving fancy fish eggs with plastic is akin to asking house guests to bring their own toilet paper. You just don't do it. It looks bad. 

In any case, I know this: I can't confirm or deny the existence of King Arthur, but I know Excaliber exists.  

Who would have thought it was plastic spork in my drawer?

(It should be noted that the caviar was actually bought at Meijer for $7.  Given the economics and environmental issues of sturgeon caviar, lumpfish is used now as a friendly alternative.  Shhhhhhh. Don't tell anybody. I want everyone to think I'm rich.)

Old Faithful In The Kitchen

In 1870, the Washburn-Langford-Doane Expedition to northwest Wyoming, named Old Faithful, now one of the most famous features in North American natural history.  Erupting in 91 minute intervals, it is the name sake for the Old Faithful Historic District in what is now Yellowstone National Park.  

Millions of visitors enjoy watching the eruptions Old Faithful (and others) each year.  

But they don't need to go to Wyoming to see that. They can come to my house.

A few nights ago, I was making dinner for Natalie and I.  The recipe?  Pan-seared Pilsener Sirloin Tips with Herbed Pecan Orzo and Shiitake-Blue Cheese Sauce.  The recipe suggests serving it with a Nut Brown Ale.  (Really. I did not make that up.  Say it again with me - Pan-seared Pilsener Sirloin Tips with Herbed Pecan Orzo and Shiitake-Blue Cheese Sauce.)

The recipe came from "The Best of American Beer and Food" by Lucy Sanders.   Get the book. It is so worth it.

Anyhow, after the tips had finished marinating in the pilsener, (specifically, one from the Frankenmuth Brewery) they were removed from the marinade and placed in a bowl while the olive oil was brought up to temperature in a frying pan.  Per the recipe, the tips were to be pan-seared in the oil, removed and then later slow cooked with mushrooms and broth.

Not wanting to add the tips to the pan one at a time with tongs, I simply dumped the bowl in the pan when the oil was ready.

Holy crap.

In seconds, the pan erupted into a tower of spraying oil and beer. As best as I could tell, the juices had settled into the bottom of the bowl. When I dumped it, all hell broke loose.

While Old Faithful throws water and steam almost 200 feet in the air to the amazement of vacationers, the sight of oil flying 14 inches out of the frying pan was quite horrifying.  While a 4-minute eruption of the geyser might seem kind of short at the park, the 5-second fountain in my kitchen seemed about 5 seconds too long. A quick removal of the pan ended the eruption and I was left with splattered oil on just about everything within 3 feet of the pan. 

I wonder if I could market a geyser in my kitchen and invite local park patrons? Afterall, I could argue I have some things in common with Yellowstone....

(For the record, the meal was outstanding! It was served with the Indian Brown Ale from Dogfish Head Brewing Company. What a fantastic dinner!)

(I also find it interesting that I had another cooking mishap when I tried a different recipe from the same book.  Wow.  I still remember that "mustard gas" like it was yesterday...)

A Taste of India

India. 

You've heard of it, I'm sure. Indiana Jones was there.  With the tenth largest economy (but third in global purchasing power), the place is becoming an economic dynamo.  At 1.2 billion people (and growing), it now has the second largest population of any country (behind China, of course). 

While a lot of things put India on the map, one thing  I think folks might consider trying is the water.  If you ever get to India, just scoop it up from the nearest creek and enjoy......

No. Wait. Scratch that. 

The food. Yeah, try the food. Don't try the water. Not even from a tap (seriously).  No ice either (seriously).  Try the food.  Sure, travel resources tell you not eat meat from the roadside vendor, but all in all, the tastes of India can be quite nice when prepared in a safe environment.  

For Christmas, I was the recipient of "The Meatball Shop Cookbook". While a book of this sort might be ripe for testicular jokes, I'll spare you.  With over 30 different ball recipes, it is really well done.  Dozens of sauce and salad recipes make for a....uh, well-rounded cookbook. 

Gosh.  Sorry.

Anyhow, the first test ball was the Classic Beef Meatball with Tomato Sauce. That fed Natalie and I for over three days. Seriously.  No, it was not one bowling-ball sized monster. The recipe made 24 balls, but with the sauce and a pound of pasta, we ate well. 

Eager to try the book again, we agreed on the Tandoori Lamb Balls.  Highlighting the exotic flavors from India's culinary  world, it was quite eye catching.   With the combination of lamb, cilantro and a six-spice mix (ginger, cumin, coriander, paprika, tumeric, and cayenne pepper) in the ball itself, any heat and spice-overload was tempered by the yogurt-cilantro dressing.  (Yes, cilantro was in both the ball and sauce.)  For the record, in my photo below, that uranium-looking spice is the tumeric.

I hope it goes without saying that these things were delicious.  (For the record, I refuse to say "dee-lish". I hate that.  Its kinda like when people say "My bad...".  Grrrr.....)

But the India flair for the night did not stop there!

In short, once upon a time, Great Britain ruled India.  By 1947, India had gained independence. Sadly, Great Britain left before they had learned simple plumbing, but that is a story for another time...

During their time as the rulers of India, the Brits had a problem - India was half-way around the world. You need to  remember your world geography and history. The only way to get to India without walking was by boat.  From Great Britain, you had to sail around the south tip of Africa.  There was no route via the Mediterranean until the mid-1800s.  Anything on a boat heading to India would be ship-bound for a very loooong time.  

That included beer, of course.  Even in the sweltering heat of India, the British would have enjoyed a cold one (if they could find it). Getting beer there was a problem. The length of the journey and the heat during trip combined to kill off alot of the beer.  Bacteria would run wild and ruin barrel upon barrel.

Prior to refrigeration and pasteurization, brewers had two weapons in the battle against bacteria - hops and alcohol.  Adding outrageous amounts of hops during the brewing process raised the bitterness considerably. But, it did not stop there.  Before sealing the barrels, even more hops were added. This "dry-hopping" drove the hoppiness through the roof.  

At the same time, sugars were added to the barrel.  With more sugars for the cute,  little yeasties to eat, they were kept busy during weeks at sea.  Of course, more sugars leads to a higher alcohol content which, in turn, leads to a lower chance of bacterial infection.  (It should be mentioned that the yeasts also give off lots of carbon dioxide.  It appears the wooden barrels leaked a bit, preventing the gas build-up from rupturing the seals.)

The result was a new beer style that could handle weeks at sea and weeks more on a shelf in steamy India.   Born from a Pale Ale, the India Pale Ale is a highly hopped, alcoholic, and well carbonated beverage.  Oh yeah, they're excellent, too.

Tag-teaming with the pleasantly spiced Tandoori Lamb Balls, the Professor IPA (#1,387) from Cranker's Brewery in Big Rapids, Michigan is simply awesome. While my beer notes were not detailed (sometimes, I just enjoy and don't scribble notes), the hoppy bite of the style tasted great.  As far as I am concerned, it is a pretty descent representation of the style. Try it if you can find it.

Knowing we were eating a meal with regional spices and washing it down with a style that was basically designed for that region made for a super dining experience.

Knowing we made the meal in the safety of our kitchen (i.e.: we did not have to use water from India) made for a super dining experience (and after-dining experience!), as well.  

Lets here it for water quality!

Elephantiasis Pizzas - No More!

This past Sunday was quite a night.  I'm sure you know what was going on. It is the single largest event on television for the year - four hours of new commercials (interspersed with over-paid guys playing a game while their wives huff, fuss, and point fingers...).

Anyhow, I thought it would be fun to have some friends and family over for some munchies, gourmet pizzas, and beer.   

I did so knowing a few things.  The two dips were knock downs (food dips, not angry wives). Mexican Meat Dip?  I've made it before.  Easy and good.  Artichoke Hearts and Cheese Dip I have also made, but only once.  Once is enough to learn that it is a solid recipe and EASY to make.  Basically, shove the ingredients into a food processor and push buttons until it is a paste.  A third grader could do it.

Pizzas? Well, it's getting easier....

After the disaster of my Joseph Merrick Pizza crust, I realized my problem.  The ratio of water-to-flour was off AND I think I might have added a second pack yeast by accidentally botching the math.  Holy crap. Bad. That is like adding twice as much gunpowder to a shell just so you can have more power or doubling the temperature of your hot shower.  Doubling anything is not always good. 

With a new approach to the dough (in other words, I read the damned recipe correctly), I was heading in the right direction. A consult with a friend of mine (her dad owns a pizza place!) settled the final issues.  Before long, I found myself with three awesome doughs ready to go.  One went to the freezer.

The second became a re-make of the Garlic and Mushroom Pizza.  As I mentioned in the earlier post, stuffing the mushrooms was really not worth it.  "Chop 'em up and sprinkle the crumbs, parsley and garlic instead...." was the plan. Way good.

The Sam Adams Might Oak Ale (#1,171) is another PERFECT beer for such an earth-based pizza.   As you might expect, the oaky tones are found in there (no splinters), but I didn't really get 'em until the finish (which is certainly fine!).  I swear the hint of bananas could be detected in the aroma.  Little hints of vanilla were in there, too. Malts - don't forgot the earthy malts. Four out of five in my book! Beautiful to look at, too.

The second pizza is one for the books. Pears, Parmesan and Asiago cheeses (substitutes for more fancy stuff I could not get), fresh sage and a drizzle of honey.  Incredible. The overall sweet tones really make for a different twist to the time-honored pizza.  Who woulda thought pears would be great on a pizza? 

 

Sadly, while the pizza was excellent, I totally screwed the beer pairing.  Too many people don't take this seriously.  The meal should compliment the drink and vice versa.  Would you have a first-class steak and then wash in down with Gatorade?  How about tacos with milk?  Or Cheerios with beer?  (Wait.  Nevermind that last one. I know a guy who did that exact thing in high school!).  The list goes on and on. You get the point.  In this case, the sweet tones of the pear pizza totally and completely clashed with the Sam Adams Mighty Oak.  By themselves, both were excellent.  Together?  Ooops. I should have gone with a sweeter beer.  Lots of possibilities as I type this, but I think a Belgian or Trappist Ale would have been been worldly.

The dough issues are behind me. No, they won't all be perfect, but they won't be 2-inch think roof shingles, either.  Google "homemade pizza recipes" and you'll see what I'll be doing in the months to come....

Pizza and Beer (#1168) - A Classic Combo

As you may have read here, I'm lookin' to be the pizza man now.  With cookbooks, stones, ingredients and a complete lack of understanding of  what I'm actually doing, last night was the first official Homemade Pizza Night. Garlic and Mushroom Pizza was on the menu.

Admittedly, the first batch of dough ended up in the garbage. Really.  The moral to that one is simply to read the directions. If the directions on the yeast packet and directions for the dough in the book are not for the same volume, you will  have trouble if you don't re-adjust things.  Trust me.

Adjusting for adjustments, the dough came together the second time.  Before long, the kneading was done and it was in the bowl so it could rise.  I was still quite a bit unsure about what I had created, as it just didn't seem right. Mind you, I had NO IDEA what right is as I have never made dough before.  

Yeasts, those  awesome little fungi that gobble up sugar and fart carbon dioxide, really do quite a job.  After an hour in the warm bowl, the dough had doubled in size. Reports that I had this much excitement about the living yeasts are over-exaggerated, but it was still neat to know that a microbe was gonna help me make a pizza. Biochemistry is sooooo cool.

Before long, parsley, cheese, garlic, bread crumbs and butter where stuffed into portobello mushroom caps.   Before slipping it into the oven, here is what we were lookin' at....

Twenty minutes at 450 degrees on the stone brought me to this....

Getting it in and out of the oven was a snap with the pizza peel.  While I could not shoot it into the oven like a professional, it worked well.  If you try it, be sure to use a dash of corn meal on the pizza bottom and peel to make it slide easily.  

After getting it out the oven (and snapping the silly photo), I realized the pizza....my precious little pizza that I cared for and nurtured for hours....was ill.....

Now, you might think "Oh, I get it! It has a yeast infection!"  (ba-dum-dum). No.  Far worse.  It was more like...

Elephantiasis....

Sure, the crust was a bit thicker than expected (like half an inch thick), but something went awry and parts of the crust were nearly 2 inches thick.  That is a damn thick pizza. 

So, as I sit here and type this, I still have NO IDEA what I did wrong.  The cookbook suggests that you mix the dough, let it rise, deflate it and let is "rest".  I did not do that as most dough recipes make no reference to letting it sit twice.  (I did, however, find a recipe where a fellow puts his in the fridge for the night....)   Maybe I didn't flatten it out enough when I shaped the pizza in the first place.  Who knows.

I do know by the time the pizza was ready to be processed as leftovers and bagged for the fridge, I was using the pizza wheel to cut entire chunks of crust off.  I felt like the surgeons you sometimes see on those medical shows carving chunks of tumors off of stricken patients....

All my whining aside, I WILL make this recipe again. It was delicious.  That said, I will not stuff the mushrooms.  It was a bit too hard to eat, as you might imagine.  You get a mouthful of mushroom...or not.  Next time, the 'shrooms will be chopped and spread around while the bread crumb mixture simply sprinkled (which I did anyway).  It'll be fine, I'm sure.

Speaking of fine, one can't experiment with a new, wild recipe without trying a new wild beer, right?  Ruthless Rye (#1168) from Sierra Nevada Brewing Company was a perfect match!  Red to the eye and with a crisp, peppery aroma (apparently from the rye), the hop character on the tongue and finish went hand in hand with earthiness of the mushrooms on the pizza. 4 out of 5!

So there you have it.  A excellent meal, in my humble opinion.  Perfect? No.  Did I gain valuable experience in the art of pizza making?  Yes.  Did I pair the pizza (a pizza I never previously had, mind you) with a fitting beer. Hell yes.  

My culinary skills are expanding, people.  My pizza doughs just "knead" a little work.....

A Board And The Stone

A boy-king lived a long time ago,

In a stone, he found a sword, to smite his foe.

Not just any sword, mind you, it had a grand name,

It was called, "Excalibur", it was legend and fame.

Arthur was the boy, but the king of the land,

Ruled it he did, with the sword in his hand.

A gentle ruler he was, but strong, when needed,

His friend was Merlin, whose advice he heeded.

For years he ruled, with a sword from a stone,
The stories go on, tome after tome.
They travel generations,  with magic and lure,
But was he real? We don't know.  We can't be sure.

This part I know, I know to be true,
Tonight, I traveled yonder, in my steed of paint blue.
To Target and to Kohl's, I searched high and low,
Finally, Bed, Bath and Beyond, I had to go.

To the kitchen section I went, were gadgets abound,
On the walls and the shelves, displays all around.
I found my "sword" on the rack, what a deal,
Ladies and gentleman, I have a pizza peel.

Unlike Arthur's legends with swords in a stone, 
My story is different, my other skills I hone.
I dont smite the enemy, or from his horse make him fall,
I will add toppings to a pizza, to the joy of them all.

In the oven the stone goes, a uniform cook it will be,

At 450 degrees, the heat spreads evenly.

My wooden sword (the peel), takes pizza from the stone, 

Cheeses and meats, their aromas will fill my home.

In hundreds of years, no one will know my name,

Arthur I am not, no lasting legends, no fame.

but pizzas will be here, this place, my home,

You read it here first, The Legend of The Board and The Stone

Watch Yourself, Mr. Illitch

The jolly fat man was good to me a few days ago.  (That sounds awful.  Lets try again.)   

Christmas gifts, were, as usual, very generous.  Lots of good stuff, including cook books, a field guide to houses, a wonderful antique coffee mill, and what is clearly the most awesome gift ever - the gift card.

It absolutely blows me away when I read that 41 billion (with a "B") dollars in gifts cards have not been spent since 2005.  How is that possible?  When I get 'em, my mind starts racing with options.  "This or that? Maybe these or those?"  My head will explode if I don't spend mine in a week.  

So, armed with gift cards for both Crate and Barrel and Williams-Sonoma totaling in excess of 1.9 millions dollars (thanks Mom, Dad, and Becka!), I had some fun....

An egg cookbook. Looks good.  A breakfast cookbook.  Cool.   (I'm gonna fold those omelets correctly if is it the last thing I do, dammit...)

But as some point, a pizza thing took over.  Real pizzas.  REAL pizzas. REAL dough. 

It might have been prompted with a recent conversation.  

A few nights ago, friends were over for pizza. No, not chain pizza stuff.  The homemade stuff. No, not fancy homemade stuff.  Easy homemade stuff. You know... Boboli pizza crusts. They can go a long way.

Neal, a buddy from way back, was asking all sorts of questions (engineers do that sort of stuff).  "Don't you need a pizza stone?"  Well, no. Sure, they're nice, but not needed. Bobolis work on both cookies sheets and the oven rack.

"Don't you need to make the oven really hot?"  Nope.  Bobolis cook at temps any stove can manage.

Neal's questions prompted to me to basically suggest that all that stuff (high temps, stones, etc.) makes pizza making in the home a big pain in the pooper. Who needs all that when I can have Boboli.

So I find it kind of odd that, between the two stores, I found myself getting a pizza stone, a spring-form cake pan (for deep dish pizzas), a pizza pan thingy-ma-bob for easier serving and cutting, and a pizza cookbook, cleverly titled "Pizza".  I can't explain given it my comments to Neal just a few days ago, but it happened.

Oh, this is going to be fun.  

Take Sfinciune, for example.  Sure, the spelling is wacked.  As I understand English, "f" often preceeds "s", but that is not really the point here.  I can't say it, but I think I can make it!

How about the Pizza Bianca  (mozzarella and sage) or the pizza con pere, pecorino, Taleggio, salvia e miele (pear, pecorino, and Taleggio pizza with honey and sage).  Yeah, I'm in.

Sorry Mr. Illitch.  Sure, you own half the sports teams in Detroit, own a pizza empire, and have given generously of your time and money to make Detroit a better place.  

But, there is a new man in town and he's making pizzas........ as soon as he buys a pizza peel...

...and, learns what the hell he's doing.......

(Or maybe I could just use the snow shovel in the garage. It's certainly not getting much use with this mild winter we're having....)

Good 'Guini

A few nights ago, I opted to try a new Jamie Oliver recipe.  I'm not sure what got into me, but I whipped up his Crab Risotto with Lemon, Herbs, and Fennel. Not bad, to be honest.  I think the Pea & Shrimp and Asparagus & Pesto Risottos are much better, but whatever; I tried it.

One little problem. The recipe called for a "small bunch of parsley".  That can't happen in a grocery store. There is no such thing as a "small bunch of parsley".  You get a "dumptruck load of Parsley". 

So great - now what do I do with all those herbs?

During lunch, I was tooting around with the coolest device on the planet (the iPhone for those of you still living in 1972).  For the astounding price of $2.99, I updated one of my recipe applications.

Allrecipes.com has developed an app that basically functions like their website. Gillions of recipes, advice, and all sorts of things people like me will never need.  Plus, after someone posts a recipe and others try it, they can comment and make suggestions. Pretty awesome stuff, really.

One amazing aspect of the app is this - input the ingredients you want to include (or the ones you don't want to include) and it will search the database for the appropriate recipes.  If you input "pasta", "wasp stingers", and "toadstools", it will look for it. How cool is that?

So, after entering "parsley", I quickly scanned the list. Within seconds, I settled on my next dinner: Linguini with a White Clam Sauce. Here is the recipe. Alot of that parsley disappeared. 

Damn good. Really damned good.  Really, really damned good.  Easy to make, too. I followed a suggestion from a person who had already tried it. I added a quarter stick (of butter, not dynamite), and some crushed red pepper flakes.  Did I tell you it was good?  Restaurant quality good. The only thing that could have made it better would have been the use of fresh clams, not canned.

Of course, one of the best beers to go along with seafood is the India Pale Ale.  Why not make it a double?  

The Conniption Fit Double IPA (#1,144) from Atwater Block Brewery was excellent.  At 92 IBU (International Bitterness Units), the outlandishly hoppy finish was a perfect fit for the peculiar tastes of seafood. Slightly paler than an straight-up amber with just  wisp of a head after the pour, the creamy body danced on your tongue. When the hops started to kick, it was big and powerful. I had this meal a few days ago, and I am still getting the lingering hop finish (Not really, but you get my point).  5 out of 5. No doubt about it.

Linguini with a White Clam Sauce and one of the best Double IPAs I have had in a long time.  What a meal!

Turkey Burgers (With Pears And Sage) and #1,008

Goofy burger combos are starting to become just as fun for me as goofy pizzas. With friends and family, I gave another burger recipe a go using Mastering the Grill.

I won't give all the details away, but it goes something like this. Grill and wedged pear and onion. Chop 'em up and mix with fresh sage. Make 8 turkey burger patties (with good stuff mixed added including apple butter). Pile the pear/onion mix on one patty and make a "patty sandwich". Grill it and serve on a "upscale" burger bun.

Damn good.

I mean DAMN good. The apple butter really adds a nice sweetness, too.

Add grilled squash and a simple rice dish and you have a quite a meal.

Sadly, the beer did not live up to my hopes. The Drifter Pale Ale (#1,008) from Widmer Brothers was a bit of a let-down. The slight off-white head which was a bit thin, but not a big deal. The hop aroma was subtle - very subtle. Any hoppiness on the palate fell away pretty quickly leaving you kinda disappointed. I fall short of saying "dull" but the beer was almost lifeless. 2 out of 5.

Damned Proud

A short time ago, I was having a conversation with my buddy Bruce in Louisiana. I don't exactly recall how the conversation went, but I remember telling him "Basically, no, I don't watch reality TV cuz I live in reality...."

While the thought of watching Jersey Shore or other boob-tube drool is enough to make me want to stab myself, I guess I have to double back on what I said to him. Yes,I watch reality TV.

Jamie Oliver has a very interesting show, Food Revolution.  Basically, he is trying to get people to stop eating themselves to death.  Bad food is killing us, says he. I find it interesting that he does not seem to mention serving sizes but he really gets you thinking about what we shovel in our bodies.  

As a fan of his app, I decided to give another one his breakfast recipes a go: Feta and Lemon Pancakes with a fruit salad topping.

Fortunately, by the time I finished this recipe, there was NO suggestion of severed fingers in the fruit.  Without giving too much away, the feta cheese is in the pancake batter with lemon zest. My new mortar and pestle crushed up the fennel pretty nicely.  After cooking it up in the old pan, the topping was nothing more than freshly roasted pistachios with strawberries, figs, peaches, nectarines, and some mint. Damned good food. 

On the same note, I love pizza.  I am starting to get away from pepperoni and cheese. I need something more exotic. While Mr. Oliver has a recipe for homemade pizza dough, I'm not there yet. Too much grief when I can just buy a Boboli crust.  So a friend and I put our thinkin' caps on and came up with the following:

The near side is portobello mushrooms with basil and mozzarella cheese.  The far side?  I'm sure you can see the brocholli, but we also threw on some spinach (yes,I eat spinach now....)  and oregano with a funky cheese blend including asiago.  A tweak of garlic wasn't so bad either.  Damned good food.  

So, yeah, Bruce, I guess I do watch reality TV. If that inspires me to good the food I have been making as of late, I damned proud of it!

Fruity Ricotta Pancakes with Maple Syrup Minus The Fingertips

I've said it before - Jamie Oliver has fun recipes. 

With my parents going through serious home renovations (they are getting their dream kitchen), I thought I would have them over for some meals while they are without their place.  

Keep in mind, too, that drinking beer with breakfast is generally frowned upon, right? Beer with dinner? Now we're talkin'!  Have you ever heard of having breakfast for dinner?  I certainly have.  So it was with fun in mind that I planned a super dinner for friends and family - Fruity Ricotta Pancakes with Maple Syrup and Raspberry Beer. The pancakes are a Jamie Oliver recipe from my iPhone.

Three yummy fruits go into the batter - raspberries, blueberries and mango.  With eggs yolks whipped and gobs of cheese added, the pancakes are really quite good.  A blop of plain yogurt and some real maple syrup (not the fake crap) make for a solid meal - breakfast or dinner.

Oh wait, the fingertip thing.  Oh my, mangos. If you are not familiar with mangos, they are about the size of a softball with a large stony pit.  Unknown to me at the time, you don't actually cut the mango in half.  Basically, you whack off 4 sides (yes, it is round, but you follow me, I'm sure).  

Well, for some reason, despite previous experience with this thing, I opted to cut in half.  After all, I managed it the first time I did this recipe.  With the mango on the cutting board, I commenced cutting.  It was not too different from cutting through a bowling ball once I reached the pit.  With hands secured to the knife handle and the blade top (with fingers curled well out of the way), I started pushing down evenly with both hands. Really pushing down.  

Hard.

Really hard.

To my horror, I realized that, in my efforts to cut a rock in half, all four of my fingers on my left hand had curled around the knife blade and where parked conveniently between the razor sharp edge and the cutting board.... 

Holy shit.

If that blade had gone through the pit, four tips would have flyin'. 

For a moment, I just froze when I realized what I had done. It was that same feeling you get when you use a hairdryer in the bathtub, play with loaded weapons, or juggle chainsaws - that pit in your stomach with the cold sweats to boot.

I challenge you to Google "fingertip cuts" if you have the stomach for it. I did.  Yikes.

It would have been horrible. All nose-picking would have to be done with my right hand.  My guitar and drum world tour starts in a few weeks with a concert in the parking lot at the gas station up the road.  What would I have done? Typing my blog for the six people that read it would have been more difficult for sure. Oh, the horror of it all...

Oh but, it would not have been just my fingers in the batter. My mom's too! No, her fingers where not next to mine under the knife. No, she was in the kitchen when I was using the mixer to whip up the egg yolks.  "Standing peaks" according to the recipe.  "Watch the little bubbles..." Mom said as she pointed into the goo, with her fingertips a micro-fraction of an inch away from the whirling blades....

Kitchen klutziness.  Genetic?  Maybe...

The beer, by the way, was the Raspberry Ale from Dark Horse Brewing Company in Marshall, Michigan. All in all, a very average fruit beer.  As a stand-alone drink, it would not have been very good,I must admit. The raspberry tones, while present, seemed a bit weird.  The balance seemed a bit off.   However, with Fruity Ricotta Pancakes with Maple Syrup sans fingertips, it went over quite well.  

Get the app and give it a go.

And don't cut yourself.

I'm Good

If your life is lame and you read this blog, you know I enjoy many things, including cooking.  With the ever-handy iPhone, "cookbooks" are literally at your fingertips. Try haulin' around your desktop computer. Yeah, not so easy, is it?

Jamie Oliver, that fellow from that TV show, has an iPhone app that I have used and commented on a number of times.  Quick meals are a snap with his recipes. Pastas, especially.

One on the cool things about the app is the opportunity to watch little videos about various aspects of cooking.  Little ditties on how to properly secure a cutting board, how to cut an onion, or trim out a vanilla bean are all to be had.  Pretty cool stuff.

One video was all about "Cooking Great Scrambled Eggs."  Now, nobody has EVER complained about my eggs, but I wanted to see what suggestions he had.  I took a few minutes the other day to watch the maestro.  

Crack 'em in a bowl and whisk 'em. A teenie pinch of salt is okay.  Some spices are optional (I use a dash of dill).  After you get the pan warmed over medium heat and the pat of butter is melted and bubbling, add a splash of olive oil, and throw in the eggs. Work that spatula, gang.  Slide across the bottom.  Scrap the sides.  Watch 'em, too.  "Keep 'em on the move" as he said.  Before you think they are ready, get 'em off the heat because they will still cook a bit. Texture is key. Overcook 'em and they get rubbery.  It really is that simple.  

Here is the cool part - I was already doing almost all of that.  The medium heat. Did it.  The spat.  Used it. The "they will still cook or you'll eat bathtub caulk" idea.  Knew it.  The only thing I was not doing was adding the dash of salt or olive oil.The thing I was doing that he didn't do was the addition of a splash of milk.

So, there you have it.  A world-class chef telling folks how to cook scrambled eggs yet I basically could have done the video myself.

Please excuse me while I stroke my ego....

Damn, folks, I'm good.  

Okay, back to my normal, non-arrogant, self.

#826 - Pumpkin Time!

(Apparently, this did not post on the 13th!)

Autumn and Halloween are awesome.  Free candy.  Parties everywhere.  Fun.  What more could you want?

Oh, yeah.

Pumpkin beer is in season, too.

So many times, the clove, cinnamon, and nutmeg combo will kill you. Pumpkin beers can be pretty dangerous. In fact, as I understand it, some brewers don't even add pumpkins!

#826, the O'Fallon Pumpkin Beer, from the O'Fallon Brewery in Missouri, is what pumpkin beers can and, for the most part, should be.  A medium amber beer with a slight cloudy nature, the well balanced smell of the autumn spices is very welcoming.  On the tongue, add pumpkin to the mix (yes, they add the real thing!) and you have all the aspects of the year's greatest season dancing on your palate.  The finish, is a bit off, I'm afraid, as the beer is not quite sweet enough to stave off the hops and residual cloves.   A hint of those bready tones comes through as well.  All in all, get your hands on this while you can.  Good stuff.  4 out of 5.

That said, while the season is still young, pumpkins in cans can be had year-round, right?  Get two cups of the mushed stuff, add 2/3 cup of brown sugar, with dashes of lemon juice, zest, allspice, ginger, cinnamon, and cloves. Mix it all up over medium heat for about 20 minutes. It is great stuff on toast and keeps the cold cereal doldrums to a minimum.  Keep it in the fridge.

Ahhhhh, pumpkins....