Dinnertime - th-th-th-th-th-th-th-that's pork, folks!

Not surprisingly, we were watching television the other night, and as usual, I found the nerdiest thing possible to watch. Apparently, despite efforts to control the spread of feral hogs in the U.S., we're being overrun. There are currently approximately six million of these beasts becoming increasingly aggressive in as many as 40 states. Efforts to control them have had minimal effect at best. (And because I'm watching For Your Eyes Only as I type this, it becomes tempting to put my pinky to the edge of my mouth when I say 'six million', a la Dr. Evil.)

In order to do my part (since these hogs are, after all, in Florida, and I can't expect the Burmese pythons to take care of them), I'm posting TWO pork recipes this week.

Apricot Curry Pork Chops

8 boneless pork loin chops, approximately one pound total weight

2 Tbsp apricot preserves

1/2 cup chopped dried apricots

1 Tbsp curry powder

1/2 Tbsp cinnamon

1 red pepper, cut into strips

2 Tbsp white vinegar

1 Tbsp lemon juice

Fry pork chops in minimal oil until brown on both sides, then hold in a 180-degree oven. Add apricots, preserves, red pepper and one tablespoon of white vinegar to the saute pan. Once the preserves are softened, add curry powder and cinnamon. Cook until peppers and apricots are soft, then add remaining vinegar and lemon juice. Simmer until sauce is thickened, then add pork chops back to pan. This can be served with rice, I chose to make steamed bok choy and baked potatoes.

Makes four servings

Pork chops with fried apples

4 thick-cut boneless loin chops, 6-8 oz each
4 granny smith apples
2 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp vegetable oil

Heat butter and oil in a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Sear the fatty edge of the pork chops in the pan until golden, then flip to opposite edge. Core, slice and add apples to pan, cover and reduce heat to medium-low. After 10 minutes, remove cover and raise heat to reduce juices, flipping chops to one face for two minutes, then flipping to other side to finish. Serve with egg noodles. I also had a nice Spanish white that I bought a number of years ago that added a nice citrus note to the meal.

Makes another four servings.

Now, of course, if you happen to get a whole hog, you'll need a few extra apricots or apples, but it would be worth it.

Dinnertime - Shiksa-Bob

Stock Photo - we ate this too quickly for pictures!

Many of you know my affinity for pork products.  If not, you should click here.  I also like the flavors of India and Asia, and I'm looking for new things to do once we start harvesting the ample supply of wild pigs in this country.

1# Pork Sirloin, in 1-inch cubes

1 Cup Buttermilk
1 Cup Cilantro, loosely packed
2 Cloves Garlic
1 Tbsp Thai green curry paste
1 Jalepeno or Thai chile, or more to taste
1 Tbsp kosher salt
1 Large Onion, 1-inch dice

Combine all ingredients except pork and onion in a blender, puree until smooth.  If you don't want to buy buttermilk, you can combine one cup milk and one tablespoon of vinegar.  In a large bowl, add the contents of the blender to the pork and stir to coat.  Cover and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, alternate onion slices and pork cubes on skewers, and cook over high heat on a grill or under the broiler (if it won't stop raining, like here in Cleveland, for example.) until golden brown. 

I served this on warm naan with a green mango chutney from the latest cookbook in our collection, you could add this to rice or even add the marinade to tomato sauce and yogurt for a sauce.  Makes four servings.

Random Acts of Thursday

I was learning useless things this morning, while eating my lunch at 9:15, one of which is that such lovely sandwiches as the one pictured above (Tankatsu-Sando, or fried pork sandwich) truly exist in the world. Which got me to thinking about umami, the 'fifth taste', or meatiness, and how joyous it is. I get that odd tickle at the back of my throat just looking at this sandwich, memories of frittered pork of days gone by.

Iowa, being the land of all things porky and divine, was home to what was likely the best pork tenderloin sandwich I ever had on a bad road trip. We went to pick up Buttercup in the middle of nowhere, and how can you pass up a tiny roadside restaurant, especially when our friends already insisted they would never again return to Iowa. Good stuff. Good, good stuff. You can see the pictures in my MySpace album, if you're so inclined.

There is, any time I eat such things, a tingling of physical joy in my medulla oblongata that I cannot explain. Like the tickle one gets while swinging on a park swing, right before someone attempts to underdog you and takes a laden swing to the head.

And yes, I had to include a picture of the brain and all of its lovely braininess, just so you could tell exactly where the medulla oblongata resides, not mistaking it for the angular gyrus.

Speaking of the facets of the brain, it's time for your bonus movie quote of the week, since Courtney knocked out Monday's quote in minutes flat and we still have four more days until the next Movie Mania Monday:

I stand on the hill, not for a thrill,
but for the breath of a fresh kill.
Never mind the man who contemplates
doin' away with license plates.
He stands alone, anyhow, bakin' the cookies of discontent
by the heat of the laundromat vent. Leavin' his soul…and partin' the waters of the
medulla oblongata of - -brrrrrr! - -mankind!

Guess away, the prizes are endless and highly envied!

Of course, at mention of the angular gyrus, I'm made to reminisce about another sandwich favorite, and am so glad we found two quite adequate replacements for Yanni's gyros back in Wisconsin. Romano's grates the onions finely, so they're not trailing about when I take my too-big bites.

I was watching Top Chef Masters last night, and the most brilliant concept for a four-course meal was spread before me. A meal based on memories, on those stand-out moments in the culinary lives of these chefs, and I had to look back. What was my first prominent food memory? I remember little of our trip to Colorado in 1975, other than falling in the Cripple Creek while panning gold. I remember our neighbors hosting a pig roast every year, moist, salty crackling pork, with sauerkraut and white potatoes laden with the drippings. I remember my first taste of blood-rare beef, in Quebec City at age 10.

Food really is an adventure for me, I never want to be bored with it, there are so many exciting places to go in this world and when I get there, I want something I can't eat anywhere else.

I'm actually misty (and semi-tumescent) at the thought of these things. What kinds of memories have guided you in life? What first triggered you to do what you wanted to do with your life (or still want to do?)

Oh, and lastly, I must thank Mjenks the Indefatigable for posting the following photo. I wonder if they come in a boy version? I may have to get a pair nonetheless.

Blast from the Past - The Other Organ Donor

Times continue to be busy around here at CDS Enterprises (A wholly-owned division of NFG Worldwide, Ltd.) and despite recent posts, I still feel compelled to share past musings and crotchety posts from the ether.

In light of my repeated musings on the subject of pork and pork products, I thought I'd share this little gem with you from May '07. 

I've been thinking about the news stories reported below HERE and HERE and the possible implications for the last few weeks, since it ran on our local news (actually, we just looked it up on the station's website, since I can't sit through 58 minutes of human interest drivel just to get to the one potentially significant news story of the evening…). I've had diabetic family members, as has Lori. Our friend was just diagnosed at age 35. One of my clients is active in the state's chapter of the ADA, and we've ridden in the 'Ride for the Cure' pledge drive. However, it doesn't mean I knew anything about the disease, and especially that 20 million people in the US alone are afflicted with it. I can't even imagine 20 Milwaukee-sized cities full of people (or, as it turns out, 20 Cleveland-sized cities). In a world of 6.7 billion people, and even in a nation of over 300 million, the number suddenly seems insignificant. (Actually, the US Census Bureau projects that the US gains one person every 11 seconds, between births, deaths, and immigration, and our planet gains approximately 60 million people each year.)


The medical community has been breeding immunosuppressant swine for years now, to develop xenotransplantation-safe organs since we're wearing ours out faster than we can donate them. For my further thoughts on organ donation, click here.
I may be a selfish bastard, but if we keep curing diseases and cleaning up pollution and driving smaller cars and buying organic vegetables, how long will it be before we've outgrown the planet? Surely a topic for another blog entry would be the exponential loss of farmland in our nation to housing developments, and at the same time the fact that we produce more food on fewer acres thanks again to the scientific community. But that is, in fact, a topic for another blog so that's all I'll say here.

Yes, this is a disjointed commentary, because I have so many unanswered questions. Anyone who knows me understands that this is how my brain works. So, without further ado or segue, what do they do with the pigs once they've donated their bodies to science? If the islet cells are taken from the pigs, do the pigs become diabetic, or can their bodies manufacture more? If the pigs give their lives for this process, does the research lab at least have a nice pig roast the following weekend? I can't imagine such a waste of resources if the resultant meat (as long as it remains immunosuppressantly delicious) were just thrown away, instead of being consumed. Unless, of course, once you've received porcine cells, that eating a pork chop would be tantamount to cannibalism. And what about the Muslim and Semitic populations of the world? Religious dogma for these groups dictates the consumption of pork is taboo, what does it say about having the swine's cellular makeup inserted into the very makeup of our genetic profile?

Like I said, I have so many unanswered questions. And now I'm hungry, too.

Everything but the oink

Some of you may recall my discussion on organ donation.  Others among you may remember me posting about the Hogzilla family back in Florida.  (I feel there should be some amusing and frighteningly accurate Venn diagram here, so imagine one.  I'm being lazy.) 

Now, the Discovery Channel has decided that we're SO overrun by wild boars that it warrants a weekly series.  We here at CDS Enterprises (a wholly-owned division of NFC Worldwide) think the time has come to actually welcome our porcine overlords.  Like dinosaurs or leprechauns, pigs could very well be the panacea this planet needs.

(I am not anti-Semitic, anti-Islam or anti-any-faith-based-dietary-obedience.  I am anti-vegan, a point you, my regular reader, will already know.  But this warrants mention.  This is not intended as an ethical discussion, either.  If you've been reading for any length of time, you'll have figured out that ethics have no place in vast global solutions.)

Anyhoo.  Depending on which scientific group you believe, we may be waiting until 2018 for swine-to-human transplants, but others think we may see the first of these this year.  We may start off with limited skin and kidney transplants, but porcine physiology has been used to mimic the human body.  I watch Mythbusters and CSI, so don't try to argue with me.  When they harvest the organs and skin from a pig, that leaves loads of nutritional value to be had.  Boars' hair is used to make paintbrushes, and pigs are full of sweet, unctuous gelatin.

And since we're overloaded with saturated fat in this country (mmm, sweet delicious lard), I'm sure some enterprising person could work out refining and purifying rendered pork fat, and we could all drive bacon-scented cars and trucks, heat our homes and offices, burn clean pork fat to generate electricity.  Can you imagine?  And in nations that consider this religiously blasphemous, just think, they'd still be able to survive using fossil fuel for generations longer, thanks to the use of wild boars in western nations.

Pork.  The other cure-all. Now if we could just find a use for the oink, we'd be all set.

Something so glorious I'm actually quoting Travolta

I'm having a good day, on the whole. I brought Ruby to work this morning, purring all the way, and didn't even hit any nasty potholes or get cut off by oblivious texters. I made a number of lights so I wasn't sitting motionless above a hot engine too many times.

Work didn't completely suck this morning, and I had one of those rare feelings of work-related adequacy.

Then, high point of the day, I went to lunch and ate my barbecue pork sandwich WHILE READING A NEWS ARTICLE ABOUT BACON! And sure, it's Pulp-Fiction-Travolta, but still, Travolta all the same:

"Bacon tastes gooooood. Pork chops taste goooood."

This is nothing compared to the list compiled by the Royal Bacon Society, the Top 10 Homer Simpson Quotes about Bacon:

1. “(Lisa) “I’m going to become a vegetarian” (Homer) “Does that mean you’re not going to eat any pork?” “Yes” “Bacon?” “Yes Dad” Ham?” “Dad all those meats come from the same animal” “Right Lisa, some wonderful, magical animal!”"
2. “Porkchops and bacon, my two favorite animals.”
3. “When you’re in my house you shall do as I do and believe who I believe in. So Bart butter up that bacon, boy.”
4. “Is it Bacon Day?”
5. “Mmmm. Move over, eggs. Bacon just got a new best friend - fudge.”
6. “Not again! First you took away my Philly Fudgesteak. And then my Bacon Balls. Then my Whatchamachicken. You monster!”
7. (Homer): I’ll have the smiley face breakfast special. Uhh, but could you add a bacon nose? Plus bacon hair, bacon mustache, five o’clock shadow made of bacon bits and a bacon body.(Waitress): How about I just shove a pig down your throat? [Homer looks excited] (Waitress): I was kidding. (Homer): Fine, but the bacon man lives in a bacon house! (Waitress): No he doesn’t!
8. “[strained] You know that feeling you get when a thousand knives of fire are stabbing you in the heart? I’m having that right now…[normal] Ooh, bacon!”
9. “Mmm … bacon”
10. “Mmm … unexplained bacon”

Number 8 is my favorite.

The article, adopted from the Foat Wuth Stah Telegram, indicated there is actually a Texas grocer with 15 different bacons in stock. Wisconsin, West Virginia, Iowa and Texas bacon, bacon smoked with all manner of wood and wood-alternatives (i.e. corn cobs) and the Vosges Mo's Bacon Bar, a chocolate-bacon candy bar I'm sure is worth every penny of the $7 it costs.

Mark your calendars, September 5th is International Bacon Day! You still have time to rush out and buy me this for an IBD present!

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)

It's charming how alarming I feel

Our office building is at DefCon2. In an effort to keep better track of us (and to keep the smokers from leaving the back door open for the homeless guy who overnights behind the dumpster), they have added full-time alarms to two of the external doors and our back stairwell. We also have little signs as reminders that klaxons will sound if we so much as touch them.
The signs say ‘Door is alarmed’. Funny, I would have figured they’d seen everything by now. Did someone flash the door? Did someone just tell the door how much it costs to raise a child to age 18 in this country? It is, after all, nearly $300,000, and doors don’t really earn much.
In other news, I’ve been Captain Sunburn since Saturday, thanks to five hours in the Florida sun on the back of Ruby, complete with goggles and bandanna. My face looks like an inverse red panda, white-red-white-red stripes top to bottom. Plus I’m furry and cuddly, so that helps. Sunburn rocks, except for that whole peeling thing. I hate the peeling thing.

On our ride we encountered a mammoth hairy hulk at the side of the road, and both Lori and I had the independent WTF moment (no, not the Wisconsin Tourism Foundation, the other one…). We’ve never seen deer this far south, but it was too dark to be a cow, and too big to be any other land mammal stumbling into the path of oncoming traffic. As we got closer, we saw. It was the front end of a very large wild boar, the back end having been obliterated by what must have been either a monster truck or space aliens.
That’s enough keep me off the country roads at night, even in the car, let alone on the bike. This is why I am encouraging every man, woman and child once again to consume more pork. Wild boar should be showing up on menus. Wild boar bacon, Hogzilla ham. King-size pork porterhouses.
Yum. That's the stuff.

Dinnertime - Pollosole

I love my Crock Pot. The joy of putting something together in the morning or night before, and coming home eight hours later to a near-complete meal, is sheer perfection.

Traditionally, posole is a pork stew, and I love pork shoulder in the Crock Pot. However, the posole model seems to hold true no matter what meat is in place, including the last time I had menudo at our favorite Mexican restaurant in Wisconsin. (Our favorite Mexican restaurant, period, is La Playa Bonita, on the east coast of Cozumel. Worth the trip, try the ceviche and margaritas before you have a massage on the beach.)

In your Crock Pot, combine:

1 medium roasting chicken, about three pounds

1 small onion, chopped

2 cups red cabbage, shredded

1 tsp cumin seeds

1 tsp chili powder

1 Tbsp salt

1 16-oz can white hominy, drained

1 8-oz can Ro-Tel tomatoes and peppers

After stewing all day, I removed the chicken to a baking dish and ran it under the broiler for five minutes just to crisp up the skin. I also turned up the Crock Pot with the lid off to let the soup thicken slightly. You can then carve the chicken traditionally and serve it atop the soup, or you can shred the meat and stir it back in for something more refined.

Garnishes are what finish the dish, I love an interactive meal and each diner can flavor the dish to his or her liking.

Chopped green onions or minced white onion

Shredded cabbage

Sliced radishes

Sliced jalapeno

Chopped cilantro

Sour cream

Lime wedges

Warm corn tortillas

This is a healthy meal for four, or would serve eight as a soup course.

I did my first bare-handed strangulation here.

A long, long time ago I can still remember how Rome made me smile. 

We've been twice, including our honeymoon, and while spaghetti alla Carbonara is heaven to me, another of Rome's regional hits resonates as a childhood favorite for its combination of cured pork and spicy tomato sauce.  I also love tomato season, and the stores by us are starting to carry local produce.  To that end, I also also love pasta, but that's hardly breakfast food around our house.

Uova all'Amatriciana

3 Tbsp chopped bacon or pancetta
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 tsp fresh chile paste or 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
2 Cups chopped ripe tomato (plum or beefsteak)
dash cider vinegar
1 tsp kosher salt
2 tsp fresh cracked black pepper

3 eggs, cooked to your taste
toasted ciabatta

In a medium saute pan*, heat olive oil and add bacon.  Fry until crispy, then add pepper flakes or chile**.  Stir in tomato, vinegar, salt and pepper.  Allow the tomato to break down into a liquid state, then reduce by half.  Serve over eggs and enjoy! 

On our first trip to Rome, our favorite restaurant (seen above) offered 'American-style breakfast' one day.  In addition to freshly squeezed orange juice, they brought us scrambled eggs that had been puffed and fried crispy in super-hot olive oil, a flavor and texture I have since replicated and love.  This dish would be a nice combination of the two, but seems it would work with any style of egg.  I'll actually be trying it with over-easy eggs next, as I strongly suspect the egg yolk will be blissful.

Of course, given more time, this could also be nice with the addition of some bell pepper strips, perhaps some grated onion, and some queso anejo, ricotta salata or another dry, crumbly cheese grated over the top.  Throw in some tortillas instead of bruschetta toast, and you've got yourself some huevos rancheros...but that's another post.


(Speaking of another post, I really hope to get back to posting some recipes on a regular basis.  If nothing else, it keeps me creative in the kitchen.)

* I bought myself a $5 wok at Ikea a few weeks ago.  Much like children will spend all of their time with the newest toy in the box, I've spent more time cooking in this pan than any others we own and it rocks, especially for reducing sauces. I have a taco recipe that I'm itching to share once I get the measurements figured out.

** Because it feels like a shortcut, I feel guilty when I get sucked in by the squeeze tubes of prepared herbs at the grocery store.  In particular, I like the hot chiles and the lemongrass, since they're otherwise ingredients I wouldn't have on hand.  (Have you ever tried buying one serrano pepper?  It barely registers on the scale!)  Plus, it means if I accidentally rub my eye after adding chiles to a dish, I won't immediately and for hours on end regret my unconscious decision to do so.

Movie Mania Monday - 'Tis the Season!

In fact, it's been many seasons since I posted.  What can I say?  I'm easily distracted.  What with the Twitter and all, brevity is wit.  But Santa's a-comin', so let's hope you've been good boys and girls.  Assuming you have been (or assuming you'll lie and pretend to have been 'good') I give you this gift of a long-overdue post.

Christmas has already been good to me.  I have a beautiful granddaughter and we were able to celebrate on Saturday with a pork roast bigger than her.  

And I even captured a picture of the roast on my phone!  That's a minor miracle for me.

(Yes, I have plenty of pictures of the granddaughter on there, too.)

I got my grinder and sausage attachments for the KitchenAid, bratwurst here I come.

I'm eagerly awaiting the arrival of my Secret Santa package, for more delicious treats.  I'm eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Secret Santa package I sent, and hope my Sant-ee is as excited to receive it as I was to make it.  Mmm, jam.

And for you, kiddos, I give you a film quote to guess upon.  Or upon which to guess.  It's been a long time, so here are the rules.  No Google or Bing or other web searches, either you've seen this film or you haven't.  Winner will be extolled as the Iron Quote-Guesser, and all the appropriate fame and accolades that go along with it.  Allez guessing! 


I never pictured God with a fat gut and corset singing "My Way" at Caesar's Palace.

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.

Movie Mania Monday - Right. Now pay attention

Ah, finally a Floridian weekend to savor! Beautiful weather outside, LOTS of James Bond movies inside. This includes The Spy Who Loved Me, identified last weekend by the steel-trapped mind of Ms. In addition to Barbara Bach, TSWLM featured the second-best Bond car ever, beaten out only by the irreplaceable DB5. I mean, amphibious Lotus Esprit? Very cool, but it's no DB5. Just sayin'.

We went to the Florida Strawberry Festival on Saturday, horrible waste of time and money. Ten dollars apiece to get in to an over-sized midway alongside hordes of purveyors of the deep-fried arts. Even with that cover charge, they were still charging $5 a pop to ride the rides! I did have some excellent strawberry shortcake, a great piece of strawberry Napoleon, and 'Hog on a Log'. Great in concept, but not quite where it needs to be in the 'Food-on-a-Stick' developmental stages. Nicely grilled pork chop, bone-in, with a skewer run through it. In order to actually eat much of it, I had to pull it off the stick and eat with my hands. Mmm, sanitary. The most fun I think I had was watching the old guy make cinnamon rolls, forty at a crack.

We even wandered through the boring civic center. Oops, sorry, the (Arthur) Boring Civic Center. Appropriately named. A few vendors, a few thousand human cattle, and some of the worst FFA displays a three-year-old with a paste allergy could come up with.

Sunday was another beautiful sunny day, so Lori and I did about sixty miles on the bikes. I have the sunburn to prove it, too, my head feels like a lit match. Grilled burgers and chicken, watched some more Bond, and came into my office to wrack my brain over this week's quote.

This really is work, kiddoes, I don't just phone this in. Sure, there's a formula to it, but the art of finding a movie that's obscure enough that you won't get it right out of the box, offset by my need to be fair and not make this too difficult, it really does try the mind.

On to it, though. First, the rules. Movie quotes should be simple, so you may not consult the great Oracle of Google, or any of the other search engines on this fine planet. This is a long-time favorite film of mine, it brings back happy childhood memories. First person to correctly identify the original film source of the quote wins the peoples' ovation and fame forever, along with the coveted title of Iron Quote-Guesser. No movie characters quoting other characters, we want the original film source. Voici la quote de la semaine:

"Well, look here! You put more water in it next time!"

Allez guessing!

Dinnertime - Ham-tici-pea-tion

I enjoy ham.  This should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me.  (Forgive the download, but it really is necessary. Enjoy.)  Sadly, as much as I enjoy a good ham dinner, it's not as though I can, in good conscience, make ham every week.

Okay, I could.  But as it stands, we don't.  However, we did have a glorious ham for Easter, bone-in and spiral cut, and I was in soup mode over the weekend.  Pea, bean, potato?  What could be the best combination of starch and pork?  I decided on pea, this time around.

Spiced Yellow Pea Soup

2 cups diced onion

1 cup diced carrot
1 Tbsp salt
1 tsp olive oil
1 Tbsp curry powder
1 tsp dried basil
1 tsp dried dill
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 bay leaf
1 - 14 oz bag dried split yellow peas
1 ham bone
2 cups diced or shredded ham
2 cups baby carrots, halved
3 quarts cold water
Salt and Pepper to taste

Optional Garnish
3 strips of bacon, cooked (Did I really say 'optional'?)
1 Tbsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp clove powder
1 tsp cinnamon

In a large kettle, heat oil and add onions, diced carrots and salt.  Sweat until tender, then add curry powder, dill, basil and cinnamon.  Stir until spices become aromatic.  Add one bay leaf, split peas and ham bone, then cover with three quarts of cold water.  (If you're using a small measuring cup, that's 12 cups of water.)  Stir together and bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer and cover for an hour or until peas are just tender.

Remove the ham bone and the bay leaf, then puree the soup in a blender or with a stick blender.  Remember that if you do this in a standard blender, take the plug out of the lid and cover with a towel, or you'll have an Exorcist experience all over your kitchen.  Return soup to pot with ham and remaining carrots, and simmer an additional two hours or until soup is reduced by 1/4. 

For the garnish, combine the bacon and spices in a food processor (thank you, Magic Bullet!) and process until fine.  I used pre-cooked bacon for this, and microwaved it for 20 seconds with the spices before processing. 

This makes eight hearty servings, and if you feel you need to wait for cooler weather to have soup, the bone will freeze well. 

And okay, so you could use the green split peas.  However, even though I like most every shade of green out there, I find something unappealing about pea soup green.  Either way, this was delicious.

Tastes (Kinda) Like Chicken, Looks Like The Lower 48?

Call me old-fashioned, but I like my food to look like food.  Sure, it's a well-known fact that I enjoy the little cheese crackers with the peanut butter in them, and that color does not occur in nature except to scream 'poisonous!', but they do look exactly like they're designed to.

On the opposite side of the coin, what's the deal with chicken nuggets?  First it was McDonalds, and now it seems everyone is jumping on the 'that's-not-shaped-like-food' bandwagon.  I don't eat McNuggets, but on occasion, nuggets from other fast food icons make a quick and tidy snack when I'm on the run, and they're all shaped the same. Some of them look like Minnesota.  Some of them are shaped like animators used to draw pork chops back in the 1940's.  Some of them are shaped like paramecia.  Some of them have no rhyme or reason whatsoever, and they're only benefit is the ability to fit neatly into a vat of barbecue or sweet-and-sour.

I get the dinosaurs, the stars and the other amusing kid-friendly shapes, because we want our kids to eat something besides paste and scabs.  But unless you come out with the full fifty state nugget pack to teach them geography, it seems wrong to pick on one or two.  And 50 nuggets would just add to the growing childhood obesity issues in this country, especially dipped in honey mustard.

Round is good.  Shape them like drumsticks, I'll be happy.  It's an extrusion, you can't tell me these are the only shapes we can come up with.

Does that look like a McNugget/New Hampshire to you?

I mentioned my curiousity about this to someone the other day, and they sent me to this article about genetically engineered ground meat.  That's right, scientists are developing cell structures that will grow a hamburger without ever needing to be farm-raised, slaughtered or butchered, and it won't create the mass amounts of greenhouse gas expelled by real cows and chickens. 

This makes perfect sense to me, that half of the meat we consume is already ground, so why not remove the animal cruelty from the picture?  I love the American farm and the American farmer, but I've read much on the environmental impact a single cow can have on global warming, and how each cow produces 1/16th the meat-to-pollution ratio of smaller animals like chickens.  And now, everyone could grow their own meat.  I'm on board.

The only tragedy here?  Every day I don't finish my old novel is a day that my imaginary happenings become closer to truth.

Damn.  I wish I had some of those cheesy peanut butter crackers.

Rodgers and Hammerstein never saw it coming

As a child, the Wisconsin State Fair was always about the animals, and the WonderKnife demos, corn on the cob and then the cream puffs. I don't even remember eating anything else there as a kid, except for the one time I thought fried rice from a trailer seemed like a good idea.

It wasn't.

This year, we decided we should make the effort to make it to the Florida State Fair, it being, presumably, our last year in Florida. What we encountered was light years from anything either Lori or I have ever seen in our lives.

Wisconsin holds their state fair in August, a nice, summery month where we can wear shorts and enjoy cool lemonade and not get hypothermia. Florida, contrary to popular northern belief (or at least mine), is not this way twelve months a year. What started out as a tolerable 55 degree day descended quickly to 40 when the sun dropped. Thankfully, we were dressed for it. Our parents raised us well, and Wisconsin weather means you ALWAYS expect it to be colder than you think it could ever get.The fair did have the original Batcopter, and for $30 apiece you could get a 45-second ride around the fairgrounds. Sorry, but unless I actually get to use the Shark Repellent Bat Spray, it's not worth $3, let alone $30. They had removed the wings, too, so it wasn't until we were right up at the booth that we even knew it was anything other than an ordinary helicopter.

Upon entering the fairgrounds, though, the first thing we encountered was Cracker Country. The purpose of the exhibit is to preserve and celebrate Florida's rural pioneer heritage. Am I the only one who thinks this might be a wee bit racist? Just me? Okay, then. Old turn-of-the-century buildings, craftspeople, overpriced touristy crap, ideal. Kind of like Old World Wisconsin, only without the diversity. I must admit, it was tempting to send our friend Bob, the whitest white guy I know, a postcard from the Cracker Country post office.Once out of Cracker Country (and am I the only person relieved they elected to keep the traditional spelling?), we emerged into the sea of food stands that comprises about 80% of the remaining fairgrounds. If it can be deep-fried, you can buy it from about 200 different vendors. Elephant ears and funnel cakes shared space with the more modern deep-fried Oreos and Twinkies, and the 18" corndogs shared their batter-dipped goodness with Swedish meatballs, bratwurst, Polish sausage and more. The fried green tomatoes were excellent, but I didn't try the deep-fried pickles from any of the vendors offering them up. Fried cookie dough, battered and fryolated bacon, fried butter, Hostess cupcakes, Ringdings, Mars bars, Pepsi Cola, potatoes both French- and spiral-cut, tons of pizza, tacos in a bag, barbecue from all regions of this fair nation, strawberry pies, shortcake, cheesecake (which could also be had deep-fried or chocolate-dipped on a stick), and grilled Italian, German and Polish sausages with peppers and onions, cheesesteaks, and a vendor making a killing selling cheap frozen burgers, fried and mashed into a Krispy Kreme donut for $6.50. For another $1.50, you could add cheese and bacon, but I will not sully my first Lutherburger experience by going on the cheap. Deli sandwiches from far and wide, including the ubiquitous Cuban. There were more turkey legs than I've ever seen, piled high next to grills and smokers. There was a pork chop on a stick. There was even the official 'Fried Wisconsin Cheese' wagon that usually graces the south entrance of the Wisconsin fairgrounds.

Disappointed was I, denied gator on a stick, denied any signature 'Florida Flavor', some gimmick that would suck me in for something unique, something that won't appear anywhere else.

Surprising, too, was the ratio of elements. Five Ferris wheels, but barely a sampling of livestock. Had we not been so tired from our six hours of wandering, we would have made it back to the freak show, with the world's tallest man, the gorilla girl, and one of the original Oompa Loompa's eating fire, all 39" of him. We missed the world's smallest horse, because I think $2 a person is too much to ask for a goat with a mane hot-glued to his head. There were funhouses and Whizzers and Himalayas and all manner of spinning, shaking nauseaters. When the nation's carnival companies winter in your back yard, I suppose there wouldn't be a shortage of rides, (ahem) scams, weight-guessers and side-show attractions, would there?

There were some animals, exotic chickens and lop-eared rabbits, goats and sheep and llamas and Watusi cattle and a six-day-old Guernsey calf, we saw a few horses but everything is so cordoned off, not like Wisconsin where we spent our childhoods walking right up to animals to pet them. We saw newborn piglets suckling with fury, fighting for prime position. They had exotic animals, wallabies and giraffes, frantic to eat the overpriced carrots being sold.

More than anything else, Lori and I got sucked into the mechanical bull riding tent. It's insane how much money this thing makes! $7 for your chance to ride the bull, for as long as you can or until the barker decides you've used your $7 wisely. Little kids, teens, grown men and women alike, $7. Make your eight seconds? You're done. Next? It was nice to see he was gentle with the little ones, let them enjoy themselves until they couldn't hang on any longer. Want a photo? That's another $7. Want a DVD of your eight seconds of glory to show to all your friends? $10. Lori and I watch for better than half an hour, for sure.

Every state fair should have one.

Bribery. It really does work.

Ah, the art of Letting Others Write Your Post, (hereinafter LOWYP).

I really didn't have anything to say today, I spent last evening basking in the glory of a meal well made. I rocked out the pancetta, eggs and Parmaggiano, and made a perfect fettucine carbonara. This is one of my all-time favorite pasta dishes, the signature dish of Rome, and one of those pleasures I allow myself when Lori's not home. She'd love it if she gave it a chance, but since the eggs are cooked only by the heat of the pasta, she fears it.

Cracked a bottle of Pinot Noir, a nice French beauty from '02, and it really went with the salty fattiness of the meal.

So I really didn't have the energy, all loaded up on pork fat and carbs and wine, (oh my), to write anything brilliant, exciting or challenging for you, dear readers. Not even a Dead Wrestler Trading Card.

But fear not! For bribery prevails.

You may recall that last December there was a little prize-laden contest held here at CDS Enterprises. And the dear and lovely Nej, of the Omaha Mot-and-Nej's, won said contest.

Because living vicariously is what the Internet is all about, go read her play-by-play about her winnings. Sweet, sweet, bacon-y winnings.

And then remember, there are plenty of other quizzes to be won. No bacon bars, I'd go broke if I did that with every quiz I posted. But they're good practice, nevertheless. Because even though you missed National Pie Day, International Bacon Day will be upon us before you know it! And what better reason for a giveaway is there?

My attention span is barely a footbridge

From time to time, I do manage to squeeze a coherent, well-versed essay from my addled brain. However, as much as I want to, today is not one of those days. Instead, I am electing to enlighten you with random little thoughts that have crossed my mind of late.

I love Bond films, and I am biased toward Sean Connery. Especially when compared to the wacky, '70's episodes with Roger Moore and wacky music and bad stop-motion photography. Which begs the question. Obviously James Bond in a finely tailored suit is NOT the same as James Bond with his tweed safari jacket and Sansabelt bell-bottomed trousers. Why then did '70's babes like Britt Ekland, Jayne Seymour, Maud Adams and Lois Chiles simply fall into bed with him? If we're going to do a parody of Bond in the NOW era, wouldn't it be far more empowering for them to reject him cold? To simply chuckle in his face when he tries to be suave in his bell-bottomed Sansabelt slacks? To scream 'Rape' when he grabs their arms tightly and throws them down on the bed?

This is not something a superspy wears. Even if he did get a Chevy Vega from the rental agency.

Oh, and even though I always want Connery to win, and would love to see Moore fail, I still love the episode up above where Homer tackles Bond, resulting in his demise. He he he!

A while back at the grocery store, I discovered manna from the pork gods: a three-pound box of bacon ends and pieces for the same price as a pound of strip bacon that I was going to chop up, anyway. Nothing like frying three pounds of bacon at once to put the whole house in an applewood-induced state of euphoria. A plus, it was Wright Brand bacon, whose marketing campaign includes one of the all-time best call-in radio questions: How can I get my wife to be more like Wright Brand bacon?

And yes, I'm inserting another rad '70's clothing moment. Because how else can we appreciate how far we've come if we don't remember where we've been?

Last week, as part of my weekly movie quote contest, I decided to take it upon myself to catalog all the films I've seen in my life so far. I knew I'd seen a few, but so far, I have over 650 on the list, and somehow I keep coming up with films that I thought were obvious and that I would have listed early on, but they're not there. It also amazes me how many movies I haven't seen in their entirety, despite knowing their plots and intricacies.

A week or so ago, I managed to get my entire desk dismantled into its component pieces, and I only had to drill out one 40-year-old bolt to get it done. Now I can once again park a car in the garage along with both bikes, and we can still navigate around with relative confidence. Which was especially nice this past weekend, because it poured for most of it, and unloading groceries is far nicer if I don't have to walk through the deluge off the roof of the house.

I did manage to stay relatively dry on my ride home on Friday, though I still get a little flinchy on wet pavement. No traction is a bad thing.

The Packers won yesterday, and beating the Bears is always especially nice. Tough thing, though, I didn't get to see any of the game since we're apparently not in prime Packer-watching country. That also means, however, I don't get any of these on my television, while overpaid commentators make generalizations about my home state:

Which could be a mixed blessing, depending on who decides to wear them.

Look at that! No discernable theme, not even any segues. The road to enlightenment blurs before you. Sorry about that. I'll try harder next time.