Trendy? Me?

**Author's note.  My apologies, this was originally scheduled for 8:00 this morning, but it never published. 

So I've never been a trendsetter, nor have I ever been a follower.  I've kind of made my own way, and nobody seems to care what that is one way or the other.

But if putting fried eggs on bacon cheeseburgers is a trend, haul me up onto that bandwagon, baby! 

I'm up in the greater Cleveland area again this week, and eating restaurant food far more often than I should.  By chance last evening, I found the B Spot.  Beer, brats, burgers, bologna (fried), it's quite the place.  How often do you go someplace that has a pickle bar?  Not often enough, in my opinion.  Pickled onions, green tomatoes, spicy pepper relish, hot sweet pickle chunks, garlic dills and house-recipe ketchup.  Fresh rosemary on the crispy sliver-cut fries.  Yolk running down my fingers and commingling with juices from a truly rare burger. 

(Really, dark pink, soft and beefy, just the way a burger was meant to be.) 

I was surprised, during my meal, to look down at the paper holding my fries to see Chef Michael Symon's name on the logo.  I knew he opened a few more restaurants since my last major visit to the city.  But this was a sight to behold.  An entire page of beers, many of them on draft?  Pulled pork and pickled jalepenos on fries, the midwestern answer to the nacho?  A vanilla bean apple pie BACON milkshake?

I'm not a fan of 'celebrity', of style over substance, but I have to say, I like what I'm seeing and I want more.  I'm ready to take back most of the less-than-kind words I may have had for Chef Symon in the past.  Only time will tell.

Oh, and an amusing rental car anecdote, for those of you who can't get enough of it.  Monday night at the restaurant, I caught sight of a car behind me, out of the corner of my eye, as I was pulling gracelessly into a parking space.  When I turned my head, it was gone.  But, convinced I must have missed it, and concerned that I might back up to straighten my park job and strike someone's beloved automobile, I looked again.

The Grand Marquis is so sporking big, so...damn...huge, that I mistook my own rental car in my peripheral vision for AN ENTIRELY SEPARATE VEHICLE. 

Gee. Thanks, Enterprise.  Way to make me look forward to Friday.

Dinnertime - Low and slow, that is the tempo

Mmmm, Crockpottery goodness. Sometimes (often times, I suppose) simple meals are the best. Last night's dinner was no exception. It's 'cold' here in Florida, and the occasional tang of woodsmoke in the air just adds to that wintry feeling. I love comfort foods, slow-cooked meats and the unctuous mouthfeel of melted fat. Add to that a bottle of very nice wine and my Bitsy Pookums, and dinner was incredible. This is a little more involved than some crock-pot dishes, but well worth that last half hour of work, trust me.

In the morning, combine the following in your crock pot:

4# chuck roast
4 cups carrots, peeled and cut to bite-size
8 branches of fresh rosemary
1 unpacked cup flatleaf parsley (I just grabbed a handful off the bunch)
4 cloves garlic, slivered
1 cup slivered onions
1/2 cup red wine
1 Tbsp celery salt, sprinkled on roast
Salt & Pepper

Turn the slow cooker on low heat for seven or eight hours. When you're ready to finish the meal, you will need:

8-10 pearl onions
4 cups rough-chopped mushrooms (I used cremini, shiitake, and oyster)
2 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp olive oil
1/2 cup red wine now
3-4 Tbsp flour
4 cups beef juices, divided (from the slow cooker, add water to supplement)
3 cups frozen baby peas, thawed
1/4 cup red wine later

Pierce the onions with a paring knife right next to the root end. Add to boiling water and boil for 10 minutes or until tender. My Julia Child trick, the piercing. I watched her belittle Jacques Pepin on national television for not piercing the onions, as they will expand uncontrollably without that release point. Drain and cool in ice water. Remove the root end and outer layers of the onions and reserve.

In a heavy saute pan, melt butter with olive oil until bubbling. Once bubbling subsides, add chopped mushrooms. You will want larger pieces, as they will cook down and you don't want them dwarfed by the other vegetables.

Something I learned about mushrooms that makes me very happy. DON'T TOUCH THEM. Let them sizzle away in one spot until you just can't take it anymore, then toss them. This allows them to take on a beautiful golden-brown crispiness instead of just steaming down. Do it. You will be rewarded.

Once the mushrooms are golden brown, add the pearl onions to the pan to allow them to soak up that delicious color. Sprinkle with two tablespoons of flour, and cook until flour has all but disappeared in the pan. Add 1/2 cup of red wine, and cook until all moisture is gone. Add half of the juices from the roast and stir, you'll see the sauce thicken. Because I don't separate the fat from the juices, this fat will rise to the top of the pan. Gauge this and measure 1-2 tablespoons of additional flour into a sealed container, then add the remainder of the juices and create a slurry by shaking the container vigorously. Add this to the saute pan and allow to simmer.

Remove the roast from the slow cooker and allow to rest, covered. Retrieve the carrots from the slow cooker and add to saute pan. Just before serving, add remaining wine and the peas to the saute pan and stir to combine. Spoon the sauce over shredded beef.

I love the egg noodles with this, but you can also serve over mashed or boiled potatoes. Parsnips and rutabaga would also be a nice addition. This makes four healthy portions, and you can adjust depending on the size of roast you buy.

As for the wine:

I had an open bottle of shiraz in the refrigerator, a Mollydooker Boxer if you must know. Thanks to early experiences and this Monty Python sketch, I've shied away from the Australians. The Mollydooker, when I opened it very long ago, was slightly reminiscent of cough medicine, so syrupy it was. But it still worked for cooking. From the same friend as the Mollydooker, I had an '05 Midnight Run Crow Eater, a blend of shiraz and grenache that was much friendlier than a full syrah. It was a bright, high-alcohol wine, and really stood out with the luscious earthiness of dinner. Certainly one of the best bottles we've had in a while.

Fun Fact Friday - What's more Irish than fajitas?

Sure and begorrah! Inasmuch as I've been partaking of the Guinness the last few evenings, and spent an evening at a pub-ish sort of place last night with some former co-workers, I fully expected the restaurant to have an assortment of Irish dishes.

Now, we've not yet had the opportunity to travel in Ireland, but I can't say as I've seen the fourth item on their menu advertised for St. Patrick's Day specials. Maybe that's just me.

And I really do like the Guinness, with its health benefits and all, but fajitas and stout? Doesn't trip anything special for me.

Humanity has been grilling meat since we harnessed the power of fire. That was way back in like 1938 or thereabouts, I'm sure. I think. Maybe.

Anyway, back in the days of cattle drives, the ranchers would slaughter cattle during the drive to feed their cowhands. And the 'less-than-desireable' cuts were given to the Mexican vaqueros as part of their pay. Cow heads, hides, innards and skirt steak were all put to good use. Cow's head stew, menudo (not the band), and grilled skirt were all on the menu.

Over time, the grilled steak became a common household meal in Texas, up through the sixties. In 1969, Sonny Falcon, an Austin, Texas meat market manager, opened the first commercial fajita concession stand at a rural Dies Y Seis celebration in the town of Kyle. At the same time, fajitas made their debut on the menu at the Round-Up Restaurant in Pharr, Texas. Notwithstanding similar dishes served across the border in Mexican cattle towns for decades, the fajita had taken hold on the U.S. psyche. In the seventies, this meal took a step forward and started showing up on restaurant menus throughout the Lone Star State.

In 1982, the fajita took an even greater step. Chef George Weidmann, when opening the new Hyatt Regency in Austin, picked up on the dish and added a sizzle platter to the mix.

The sad part of this process is that as the dish evolved, it moved further away from its roots. Seldom do restaurants use the original skirt steak, opting instead for the more manageable and innocuous sirloin, as well as adding chicken and other meats to the mix. And the dish has evolved into an American melting-pot classic, with flavors that seldom evoke the flavors of Mexico.

Or Ireland.

Random Acts of Thursday - Now with More Random!

I saw something earlier this week that triggered a potentially cherished but previously forgotten childhood memory.

Before I was the Nerdy Fat Guy, I was a nerdy fat kid, so not much has changed, apparently. Several of my friends were also poster children for the National Fudge and Bacon Coalition, despite our running around like mad fat fools much of the time, riding our bikes wherever we wanted to go. Of course, there was also a lot of time spent on lower impact activities, like Hot Wheels and Legos and other things that allowed us to remain stationary, thus reducing chafing.

The other day, I suddenly remembered that we had a club. A gang. Our own chubby wolf pack.

And just how cool were we? Our club name was The Wrenches.

All manner of predatory beasts, fast cars and wicked cool '70's television to choose from, and we called ourselves The Wrenches. I remember us drawing up a logo and everything. Believe it or not, it was a wrench.

Yep, we oozed cool originality.

Our club never actually did anything other than the same things we did before we organized. We didn't have a rule book or charter or matching jackets, because the Seventies were lean times for all of our families. Seldom were hand-me-downs going to match across families.

And now here I am, 25 or 30 years later, still friends with one of my fellow Wrenches. He's still nerdy, too, but I'm the only fat one.

Speaking of fat, how great are mashed potatoes and gravy? I made gravy last night with the beef roast drippings, and it was nearly everything I hoped it would be, with sour cream mashed potatoes. Always reminds me of my grandmother, whose pot roast is still unequalled, 18 years after she passed away. (And I just shuddered with delight to think about making gravy bread as a kid. Really, does anyone wonder why I'm plus-sized?)

And now, today's quiz (segue implied):

The following movie characters have two things in common, once based on actions, the other based on a mutual co-star. Name one.

~ Roy Neary, willing alien abductee

~ Randy Parker, fussy eater

Either answer will suffice, thank you very much.

And be sure to participate in Ask the Nerdy Fat Guy, by clicking the icon in the upper right of my page. Tell your friends! Tell your family! Tell strange people in the elevator!

And go have some mashed potatoes. You know the fat kid inside you wants some.

Random Acts of Thursday - 99 and 44/100% Pure Chicken Fat

Gym class was torture as a kid! Surely I'm not the only one who thought so...

Who could have known that novelty trivia books aren't scrupulously edited for factual content? More on that in a moment.

First, though, I made chicken the other day, and generally can't do so without singing the 'Chicken Fat' song, along with Suzanne Vega's 'Fancy Poultry Parts Sold Here...' (What? You know I'm a nerd already, so shut up). I found chicken backs at the store, a big package for two dollars (two dollars!) and since they're gelatin-laden, thought they'd add a fair amount of stock to the dinner, which I ultimately cooked with rice. I was also left with nearly a pound of pure, golden chicken fat.

Not growing up in the Great Depression or pre-war Europe, I don't have a habit of spreading this on toast. Mmm, schmaltzy! However, I do still know when throwing something out is wasteful, and I know there must be something exciting to make with this. Something that isn't just simply a matter of replacing olive oil or butter as a cooking agent. Something that won't give me some sort of coronary artery disease.

Who am I kidding? I'm probably going to have to just chuck it, but don't think for one second that I'd ever do that to my pure, snowy bacon fat. Rendering, not just a term for sketch artists. In fact, I've had some of the best French fries and donuts of my life cooked in rendered beef tallow. Um, why is my left arm tingling?

Rendered fat can be used to make soap, if you're an extra in a bad Western or just a hippie earth-mother greenie. In fact, rendering plants often render beef fat for use in soap, so you don't have to worry that I've somehow missed the opportunity for a proper segue.

So, yes, there is that urban legend that Ivory soap floats because some slacker fell asleep at the soap mixer and incorporated too much air into the bar. Not true, at least according to Proctor and Gamble, the floating was intentional. So there's that little myth debunked. And irrelevant, since changes in the soap formula have since made Ivory sink like a stone.

And really, who still takes baths for sanitation purposes? Isn't that just like making You Stew, soaking away in warm water while all your oils, body salts and juices melt away into the brine? Sounds like rendering to me.

Which leads us to today's trivia question:

Which two actresses both featured in Ivory soap ads before they became famous, and which one caused her ads to be pulled by Proctor and Gamble by her subsequent work?

One hint, they are NOT mother and daughter, as my cheaply thrown-together trivia book would have you believe.

Dinnertime - Beef, it IS what's for dinner.

I've been trying to cook more often again, especially since making nice dinners gives me cause to break out some nice wines. This week has been particularly beefy, since both grocery stores on my regular route had steaks on sale. And, since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I really wanted to relive some of the great meals I've had on the road in the last month or so.

Earlier this week I found beautiful filets, and I've been craving the oven-roast method lately. Add sauteed mushrooms, roasted butternut squash polenta, and a Brussels sprout gratin, and it was a perfect meal to compliment a lovely '98 Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. This wine was the next-to-last bottle from the case we bought after our first trip to Rome in 2002. Having had a bottle every year or so, it has matured beautifully, still smooth with hints of apple, and overall, a warm, drinkable wine. This went from aggressive and peppery to even and mellow over the years. Still so happy we have one bottle left.

We never made it to the other bottle. What can I say, I'm a lightweight.

Tonight was a mix of ribeyes and green beans on the grill, with horseradish mashed potatoes inspired by the accompaniment to the scallop and beef cheek dish at the Flying Fig a few weeks ago. I cracked an '04 Amancaya, a cab/malbec mix from Chile. Delicious and quite drinkable, but I think it could have benefited from a few more years in the cellar.

These were such simple meals, giving you recipes seems counter-intuitive, so I'm just going to let you drool over the photos.

Fun Fa(c)t Friday - Food Pr0n (NSFV)*

An ode written between courses - by Elliott Mason

Oh bacon, don't look upon me hastily and lump me with the porkies-come-lately, I was yours from the start. Your sweet, salty, applewood-smokedness has dazzled and held me captive. Others have come and gone, but my love for you has only grown, deepened and matured over time. My earliest memories are of you, lover, like a comforting hug from my grandmother. There was no time when you were not with me, easing other foods into my consciousness. Alone or in harmony with vegetables, lesser meats and offal, bread and even sugary treats, you exemplify casual versatility and porkish perfection.

You complete me.

As is the norm (Norm!) when I travel, my clock gets all screwed up. As such, I realize my readers won't see this, possibly for weeks, since it wasn't posted in the wee hours of a weekday morn. That's okay, since this post is as much for me as it is about me.

In case you haven't already figured this out from my last few posts, I'm smitten with Cleveland, taken by the city's charm. And if you come here, you MUST eat here. There is no choice in the matter. Sure, there are chains, but you shouldn't eat there. Even if you live here, don't eat there. This isn't so much a restaurant review as a foodie's wet dream. They're not paying me to say these things, these are restaurants I would share, will share, with my friends and complete strangers.

I will start by saying that while I thought Michael Symon was a great improvement over "chef" Robert Irvine, that's not saying much. As a personality, I don't have much respect for a man who carries himself like the next Bobby Flay. That lackluster opinion changed entirely when I ate dinner at his restaurant, Lolita, last night.

Some of you might have noticed I'm a bit of a carnivore. And I may have ranted about vegetarians in the past, made some derogatory comments about them. Maybe.

Well, every one of those statements still stands. At Lolita, I started simple, with crispy chicken livers on a bed of soft, unctuous polenta. Atop these little organs was a combo of sauteed oyster mushrooms and bacon. The whole dish was surrounded by a tiny moat of what I can only describe as 'bacon au jus'. I used my bread so as not to waste a single drop.

Following the livers, I opted for the butternut squash ravioli in brown butter. "But Elliott", you say, "that's a vegetarian dish!" Until you toss the brown butter with hazelnuts, sage and matchsticks of prosciutto. Yes, porky, dense, chewy and aromatic cured ham. More vegetables could benefit from this treatment.

Ultimately, I didn't want to leave without trying one more item, just a little tidbit to finish off my meal, and let me finish my ginger-infused vodka with ginger ale and lime. Cut then to the chef's suggestion, the roasted bone marrow. Roasted in a wood oven, the marrow and crostini picked up a beautiful smokiness, coupled with the salsa verde, rich and spicy with raw garlic and parsley, and gently accented by the pickled red onions.

If you're going to be in the Tremont neighborhood (and you should go, really), stop by some of the other bars in the neighborhood, too. Local beers are by Great Lakes Brewery, and worth a taste. (Am I gushing? I'm still food-drunk, what do I know?)

Today for lunch, my client and I walked over to Melt Bar and Grilled, and while I'm not generally a bandwagon jumper, this place has a niche and works it like nobody's business. When being told I would have a 45-minute wait for a table, they wouldn't take my name. Instead, I got to pick a random name from the plastic pumpkin (I got to be Tupac Shakur!). While the wait wasn't that long, the menu was. Some of these sandwiches are simply criminal. Chorizo and hash browns, three kinds of cured pork, crab cakes, all in melt format. I settled on the gentle, daintily-composed Parmageddon - two potato and cheese pierogi, vodka and caraway saurkraut, sauteed onions and cheddar cheese. This eight-pound sandwich was a challenge set before me, there is no other term. This is the kind of sandwich bears would eat before hibernation if they didn't care about cholesterol. Add to this the atmosphere, this is a place to visit at least once on your way to the cardiologist.

Tonight, again wanting something special (and who doesn't), I landed at The Flying Fig. Artsy and a little loud, and I played coy like I was new, but I already read the menu online. I was after the chicken livers, so as to make comparisons and generally enjoy myself. Crispy and soft at the same time, with candied bacon, dressed bitter greens, goat cheese and orange segments, It was bliss on a plate. After that, I was torn. My server, Amanda, knew the dilemma I faced. On one hand, I could eat from the small bites menu, and miss out on a beautiful local pork chop. On the other hand, I could eat the chop and miss out on a stuffed scallop.

Of course, I'm the fat guy. I got both.

The chop was brined and grilled to medium rare, served on a bed of pumpkin risotto and braised red cabbage. So simple, yet so perfect. Every bite rang home just what a pork chop should taste like, from the days before we bred every last little bit of flavor from our meat.

I almost cried.

And of course I got the scallop. Like you wouldn't. Seared and stuffed with braised beef cheek, it gave a steak-like quality to the sweetness of the scallop, served in a beef jus with horseradish mashed potatoes.

I may actually have cried at this one.

Thanks for enduring this, a most personal revisitation, moments I could live again and again. If we're ever in town together, I'll take you.

(*Not safe for vegetarians)

Dinnertime - Wrapped around my finger

You have only come here seeking knowledge, and I'm here to help, hopefully.

Beef and herb tortelloni

3 cups roast beef, cooked and shredded

4 oz ricotta

1 Tbsp fresh parsley

1 Tbsp fresh rosemary

1 Shallot

Salt & Pepper

1 - 16 0z package 3" wonton wrappers

Last week, I threw a beautiful rump roast in the Crockpot with 10 cloves of crushed garlic, along with some salt and pepper. While it was quite delicious, it was also quite large. After being roast beef dinner with noodles, it was put into service for sandwiches and tacos, but there was still a giant chunk left, and I didn't want it to go to waste.

I've seen tortellini and tortelloni made before, on television, but my past attempts have been less than pretty, to say the least. However, I have to challenge myself from time to time, and this, strangely, felt like the day for a challenge.

Finely chop the herbs and shallot, and if you just have unseasoned roast beef, add a clove of garlic to the mix. Do not, I repeat, DO...NOT...buy the jar of pre-minced, oil-or-water soaked garlic of unknown provenance and age. You will regret it. Your children will regret it. Shame will be piled upon your family name for generations. Just buy the head of whole garlic. There will be much rejoicing.

Mix the herb-shallot mince with the chopped, shredded roast beef and the ricotta, stirring with a fork to combine well. Get yourself a glass of water (and perhaps a glass of wine) and a teaspoon measure. Place a wonton wrapper at a bias (so it looks like a diamond instead of a square) and wet half of the wrapper from corner to corner with your fingertips. Place a teaspoon of filling in the middle of the wonton*, then fold on the bias. Place the seam on top of your index finger, then pull the corners around to form a loop, stickng the ends with more water. Go HERE for a beautiful visual tutorial, I couldn't have done nearly this well.

Clear a large workspace for yourself, since you'll need to arrange the finished tortelloni so they're not touching. Once you've formed your first tortelloni, you're on your way! Less than 4 dozen more to go. I arranged a piece of foil on a baking sheet for easy transportation.

Once you've finished, you can:

(a) Freeze the tortelloni on the baking sheet before bagging if you're going to eat them later. Because we've been eating this roast for a few days, I think waiting is a good thing. Besides, I have ribeyes to grill yet tonight and Lori made some incredible dill potato salad.

(b) Cook the tortelloni. Get yourself a nice big kettle of boiling, salted water. Because your filling is already cooked, you're just cooking the pasta. Five minutes MAX, when they float they should be done. And nothing's wrong with a little taste test. After all, you just slaved for an hour to make these things. In a separate saute pan, add four tablespoons of butter and a tablespoon of olive oil, along with some chopped parsley. Remove the cooked tortelloni from the water, shake free of excess water and add to the saute pan. Garnish with shredded parmesan.**

Makes four nice dinner portions with a side of grilled asparagus, hit with a quick squeeze of lemon. Also makes eight servings for a beautiful pasta course.

* It's important that you not overfill your pasta. Don't underestimate the edge you'll need to bring these together. Also, make sure you work all the air out of the filling pocket before forming the tortelloni, air will expand during cooking and you'll have a tortelloni explosion. If you have leftover filling, freeze it to add to tomato sauce later.

** Parmesan, or parmagiano, does NOT come in a green shaker can. Those are floor sweepings. Buy a wedge and shred it yourself, or buy the clear tub of recently shredded cheese from your deli. Really.