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.

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.

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.

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.

If it weren't for disappointment, I wouldn't have any appointments

Hey, kids!  Still busy, and back in Ohio this week.  And sadly, I feel that you deserve far more than a cursory 'slice of life review' here at CDS Enterprises. 

Prepare to be disappointed, because 'slice of life' is all I've got today.  Nothing new to share, nothing witty, urbane, or uber-nerdified.  Just a few things to share with you this morning, brighten your day, keep the ol' NFG in your frontal lobes.

I may have mentioned, once or twice, that until recently my job called for lots of travel.  As such, you've been blessed (or subjected as the case may be) with my ever-popular rental car reviews.  This era is coming to an end, nearly has, as this week's rental car will be the last rental car I drive for some time, if I have anything to say about it.

Enterprise has always been quite kind to me.  Usually when I swing a free upgrade, or an upgrade to an upgrade, I'm quite happy with the result.  Over the years, I've driven SUV's and sub-compacts and may things in between.  However, this week's 'upgrade' is great only in that I know I dodged a bullet.

Those of you who've known me the longest know that I have a thing for landyachts.  Grampa cars.  Tanks.  Some of you may remember as far back as the big blue Impala I named 'Baby' back in 1992.  Most recently, the car was a modest Buick Regal, that I loved and took for granted for nine years, and it repaid me the way few cars do, by starting every day and running like a champ.  A few months ago, I got the itch to get something different, and after facing grave disappointment at the hands of a base-level Chrysler 300, I drove a Grand Marquis.  Once I got past the overwhelming grandmaroma, it was a powerful car, much nicer than the 300.  V8 power.  Bells and whistles.  Low miles and a low price.  I was crushed when it sold before I could get back to give it another look.

Last week, I actually bought a car.  But when I hesitated, balked at spending more than $5 in one fell swoop, the salesman offered me a Grand Marquis as a comparison drive.  I was underwhelmed, Lori was seasick.  Obviously, I did not buy the Mercury.

Which brings me to Sunday's adventure at the Akron airport (slogan: we now have a second baggage carousel!).  Out of mid-sized and intermediates, they 'upgraded' me into a shiny black Grand Marquis.

I feel like I need dark sunglasses and a black suit.  Perhaps an earpiece with a little coiled wire trailing into my collar.  Perhaps a Glock.

It is, in fact, a very nice-looking car.  Very regal.  Very conservative, imperial, and big-brother-y.  I want to like it.  I want to adore it, with its eight-body trunk, its 7 MPG, its bench seat.  It should, in theory, be everything I like about a car.

But I don't like it.  It's squishy.  If I had to describe the ride quality, I could only compare it to lying on a waterbed as toddlers jump up and down all around you.  If I adjust the seat so I can reach the gas, the brake pedal is way too close.  Back up so the brake is the right distance, the gas is unattainable.  The V8 seems doggy, like I'm fighting up any hill I face.  I have to lean halfway across the car to change the radio station or turn the volume down, since it seems to get louder as I drive.  And everything is plastic, aside from the leather seats.  Cheap.  I shouldn't have to open the arm on the cupholder by hand, once I pull the combination lighter/ashtray/cupholder from it's unwieldy spot under the dash.  I shouldn't be worried that I'm going to smack my knee on it every time I step on the gas.  Oh, Enterprise, I'm left wondering what might have been.  And I still have four more days of driving it!  At best, I can only give it a 'C', and that's based in part on my desire to see it do well rather than on true merit. 

And, as long as we're on the subject of disappointment, let's talk about Monday's dinner.

Last time I was up, the owner took me to this great little tavern, where I had an awesome burger.  Real beef, real rare, with bacon and cheddar and onions, oh my.  I went back tonight, and since their sign proudly boasts their ribs before their burgers, I figured, hey: signs don't lie, right?

Wrong.  Again, such high hopes.  They smelled wonderful.  Looked beautiful, glistening under their sweet sauce, promises of slow, day-long cooking taunting me as I fought to get the steak knife through the first slab.  Tough, undercooked (for ribs), and clinging to the bones for dear life.  They really need another few hours in a slow cooker.  Some things just shouldn't be rushed.  I couldn't see abandoning half of my meal, so I brought them back to the room with me.  I may, from the privacy of my own hotel room, with wet washcloths and a roll of paper towels at hand, be able to work my way through them.

The Lyonnaise potatoes, though?  Heaven.  Slightly oniony, very buttery, and golden brown.  The potatoes of dreams.

There you have it, dear reader.  Disappointment all around.  I'll try better next time, promise.

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 - 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.