A Dork And His Pork

This recipe is a work in progress.   I mean, it’s not like I focus group this stuff. 

Here’s the question:  What protocol, however informal, do you follow when you want to cook something new?

Before I explain how I do things, let me reveal another tidbit about myself that should shock all of you.  I am a stubborn, arrogant, pigheaded SOB incapable of believing anything I see, hear or read. Ever.

So, yeah, when I want to cook something new I typically go through a three-step process.

1. Comb the Internet as well as my vast array of crumb-besmirched cookbooks looking for the perfect recipe.
2. Reject everything I read because it just seems “wrong” for often arbitrary reasons I may or may not choose to articulate.
3. Wing it.

In my case I’m fortunate because my culinary repertoire tends toward “forgiving” recipes.  Soups, braises, stew.  Baked items with plenty of butter,  veggies at the last minute that are perfectly tasty if either overcooked or undercooked slightly. 

I guess am the kitchen equivalent of a spread-option quarterback.

But sometimes you don’t want to play it safe.  While you might be able to guarantee “pretty good,” circumstances sometimes demand “outstanding.”  A cheese souffle (this has become my standard), Or, more to the point, something that demands the purchase of an expensive, blockbuster main ingredient. 

This was one of those times.  I really, really wanted a Lobster Bisque. 

The key problem for me to solve was “how much of what type of liquid?”   I knew white wine would need to be involved.  And chicken broth.  And, because it was a bisque, some sort of cream would be called for.

I also had it in my head that lobster bisque needs to be seriously yellow.  To me this means a bit of steeped saffron which means, yes, more hot water.

I no longer consider myself a bechamel ninja.  I can do three tablespoons each of butter and flour followed by three cups of liquid, usually milk.  This creates enough for a mac and cheese or some other sort of binding agent.  What I’m not very good at, however, is extrapolating.  It’s difficult for me to sort of adjust the quantities of butter and flour when I am not exactly sure how much of exactly what liquids I would be adding.  Long story short, I got lucky.

Which brings me to the lobster tails.

I have never worked with lobster.  In fact, the only time I remember actually eatinglobster was at this revolving restaurant overlooking Niagara Falls, while on a family vacation twenty five years ago. 

Supposedly, retail lobster is cheaper this year.  People are ordering less lobster in restaurants, which means that restaurants are ordering less, which means that there is actually a glut of the little guys up in the northeast, and prices throughout the rest of the country are starting to catch up.

Anyway. I had two “fresh” lobster tails.  Actually, it was pretty obvious that they had been frozen at some point and allowed to thaw in the grocery case, which was fine by me.

But it led to an “eeu!” moment.  It wasn’t quite Annie Hall, but when I unsealed them from their little packet, they each “twitched” for a moment.  I watch too many zombie movies not to be unnerved when supposedly dead things are still animated.

And, like I said, I got lucky with the soup base.  It was thick enough and yellow enough and had a good balance between the cream and the wine.   I may need to tweak a little bit, so that 25 years from now when I make something like this again, I’ll remember what I did. 

Lobster Bisque Version 0.9

Lobster tail(s) weighing a total of about 12 ounces. This should yield a cup and a half of meat.
3 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/4 cup of boiling water containing as many saffron threads as you are willing to part with
1/4 cup half and half
4 T butter
4 T Flour
1 large celery stalk, diced
1 large carrot, diced
1/2 of a large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic
salt
pepper
paprika

Serves two as a main course (with bread of course!) or four as a starter.

OH!!

Forgot about the chocolate truffle torte.  Yum.  Recipe is here.

I’m not just full.  I’m sated. Satisfied.  Pushed to the limits in both the kitchen and dining room computer table before being returned safely to a now-expanded comfort zone.

When we last left our hero he had decided to take a week and prepare a series of dishes from his favorite food blogs.   He would choose dishes from blogs he enjoyed reading for their own sake, while savoring the opportunity to experiment a little. 

He also resolved not to add bacon to everything.  But more on this later. 

And, candidly, I couldn’t be happier with how well things turned out. I have some comments and pictures to share, as well as a fridge full of leftovers that you are all welcome to stop over and sample.

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I understand branding. It has a subtle and almost invisible power capable of creating a resonating and almost permanent impression. No one at work knows about my blogging life, but last week I was in a meeting and someone commented that the room smelled like bacon. Everyone then turned to look at me. I’m serious.

I accept, for the most part, that I am the “Bacon Guy.” To me, quite candidly, it’s a step up from being the “computer guy” or, nightmarishly, the “comic book store guy.” I just have that “look.” At least bacon is accurate.

But still people make assumptions, which are frequently off-base. I don’t pour bacon into a bowl every morning and eat it like cereal, or use bacon-scented hygiene products or anything like that.

Nonetheless, I think it’s time I branched out. Here is what I’m going to do.

This next week, I will be preparing several dishes straight out of my favorite food blogs. I will adhere to the following guidelines.

1. The dishes I choose will fit in with my overall lifestyle. A lot of cooking on Sunday, with quicker dinners on sunday that provide room for leftover lunches. I will prepare a mixture of elaborate dishes, quick meals, sides, and one wonderful dessert.

2. I will push my comfort zone. Ingredients I don’t often choose, methods I may not have mastered, and cuisines that I may have ignored.

3. None of the dishes contain bacon or pork product, and at this point I have no plans to add bacon to any dish. This will present a stern test with at least one of the items.

4 I will choose my dishers from blogs I have read for a long time, resepect, and enjoy.

5. I will stay as close as i can to the original recipe, even if it means a quick last-minute trip to the IGA.

So I’ll see you guys next sunday with a full debriefing and a bunch of pictures.

1. Revulsion
A prophet is never understood in his own time. I’m used to this.  It happens most notably with sweet applications: the cookies, the candy, the ice cream.  But a DRINK?  A sweet, traditional dairy-based drink at that.  “No way, Jeff, It’ll be like drinking gravy!”  Or “Gross! Why would i want strips of bacon floating around in my glass?”    I’ve certainly heard my share of scorn from those of us who do not embrace the Bacon Lifestyle.

2. Bewilderment
Fortunately, just as stage number one is inevitable, it follows that the “eeeeu” always morphs into a “huh?” I speculate that certain food combinations seem SO outrageous, that they remain in one’s head even after the emotional reaction passes. The idea just… sits there like a seed on the most fertile soil. 

Yes, I say fertile.   People WANT to eat bacon.  They just do.

3. Intruige
Now, If I can get you to “huh?” I can most likely get you to “hmmm.”  It’s at this point I can explain several things. 

Most importantly this is NOT a hamshake.  That would be gross.  What we are talking about is taking an egg and dairy-driven beverage and infusing it with a highly complimentary flavor set. 

Also, I mention that the bacon is strained out.  I mean, we totally eat it later because we never EVER waste bacon, but this does remain a beverage.

4. Bargaining
Sometimes people just need to get comfortable with an idea. They raise objections and express hesitation.  Does it taste greasy?  No.  Does it reek of bacon?  Actually no, it’s more of a milder, smoky, savory undertone which balances the sweetness, and besides, there is enough fat to sort of diffuse harsh flavors.   But basically by this point, people are intimating if certain conditions are met, they might be willing. 

5. Realignment
If I can get you to this point, there is a 95% chance you will eventually submit to the power of Bacon Eggnogg.   The question has to move from “why should I?” to, “why shouldn’t I?”  To me it’s simple.  It’s a natural pairing.   Starsky and Hutch. Bird and Magic.  Bacon and …eggs.  So stop resisting.

6. Visualization
Once you realize that the bacon is strained out of the dairy, the recipe starts to come together. 

An aside. There is a certain unspoken and probably subconscious convention of recipe writing which drives me nuts.  Have you ever noticed that when a traditional recipe is modified by the addition of one blockbuster ingredient, the recipe writer will feel compelled to make a second, theoretically complimentary substitution that is often completely useless or needless? 

I felt compelled, when developing this recipe to tinker with both the spices and the alcohol.  Eggnogg is traditionally flavored with freshly ground nutmeg, and is most often spiked with Bourbon. 

Because of the bacon, however, I felt compelled to experiment with Allspice vs Nutmeg, and rye whiskey versus Bourbon.

In both cases, the substitutions were acceptable.  The allspice provided a rounder set of spices to support the bacon and the rye brought with it a grainyness that didn’t undercut the savory. 

So I’m keeping the rye but using nutmeg. 

Bacon Eggnogg

1/4 cup sugar
2 eggs, separated
2 cups Whole Milk
1/2 cup half and half or heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon of freshly grated nutmeg
2 T (or more) rye whiskey or Burboun
2 sticks bacon, cooked until most of the fat renders out, and dried.

Combine the milk and the cream and the bacon in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer.  Refrigerate until cool or place in an ice-bath.

Whisk the egg yolks until lighter in color and take on volume.  Slowly add sugar.  The mixture should be thick and fall into the bowl in ribbons.

Beat eggs whites until stiff peaks form.

Drain the bacon from the dairy mixture.   Add booze and spices.

Combine the milk with the yolk and then fold in the white.  Garnish with additional nutmeg.

Serves two. 

 
7. Acceptance

This stuff is beyond delicous.

I just wanted to take a moment to thank Jess at The Hungry Mouse for presenting me with…

I was extremely flattered and, honestly, a little bit shocked.  Given her literary background, I would think that my blog, with its editorially questionable content and an author who can barely spell the word “restaurant,” would not deserve to be recognized. 

Seriously, though, there are a lot of other great sites on that list as well, and her own blog should be a frequent read.  Her food is inviting and comforting (a lot of braising!)  without being either fussy or trite- a very rare combination. 

Thanks.  :7

I am not a bright ray of morning sunshine.

It’s the caffeine.  The source of, and solution to, every single one of my problems.   Its careful and tasty delivery into my blood stream dominates how I plan my day. 

Anyway.  I get derailed easily, which explains, but not excuses, my blogging hiatus of late.  I wake up too late, drink soda at work, fall back into the coma and have to either take a nap or recaffienate in the evening, and end up staying up until three am.  Rinse, repeat.

I thought that I had kicked it by Friday, though.  I made it to sleep at a reasonable hour and vowed to wake up early, brew a pot of coffee, do a bit of tai chi, eat a healthy breakfast and make it to work with my brain in vaguely working order.

So… Electric kettle filled the night before.  Beans ready to grind (I buy the Sumatran from Brutopia) Eight hours of sleep, cooperative French press, I “Part The Clouds” for a few, I pour the excess coffee into my travel mug and I was set.

Okay. Fast forward about twenty minutes.  I’m in my car,  pulling out of the driveway.

Forgive me for another digression.  I have this downstairs neighbor.  I’ve written about her before.  She’s an older woman who lives alone in the large apartment on the ground floor.  She walks slowly and stares a lot.  She frikkin spooks me.

So there she is in the driveway, this woman that I loathe with a completely arbitrary and irrational intensity I typically  reserve for vacuum cleaners, cardamom, and the members of Wilco… blocking my exit.

Don’t tempt me, Cat Lady.

She stares. I turn around and stare back. 

I make it a rule to not talk to Cat Lady.  If she speaks to me, I grunt, once.  It gives me no pleasure, as I actually am social and not a bit misanthropic.  But I’ve already been down this road. I say one thing back, then she says another.  Then, the next time I see her, she will initiate conversation again, necessitating more grunting.  

I feel that by being consistently borderline-rude, we can avoid future misunderstandings.  It’s like a Miranda warning with some people, “I am trying to be your friend, and anything I say to you is designed so that we can be better friends.” 

And I just… can’t.

Okay, back to this staredown.  All of a sudden she starts gesticulating wildly, like giving me these exaggerated thumbs up,  with both hands no less.

I roll my eyes, shake my head, and turn away.  I can see from the rear view mirror that she has returned to the front porch, and I pull out.

Now, because I’m running late, I’m going a bit faster than I should be.  And I should add that my front driver’s-side window is open.

I barely complete the turn into the street when i hear a quick thud on the top of my car, and my shirt is now saturated with burning hot liquid.

I learned that the insulative powers of my travel mug were quite top-notch.  The lid, however, doesn’t seem to seal tightly.

Yes, Cat Lady was pointing to the top of my car, indicating that I had left my mug up there.

Of course I could have gone back inside and changed.  But this would have involved facing cat lady, and frankly, I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.  But the only alternative was to wear the skanky and stained hoodie that has been in the back seat of my car since, well, last spring.  I turned it inside out, but it still reeked.  Fortunately the two co-workers I share a room with were both out of the office.  

So I need to find a new way to dispose of leftover coffee without wasting it.

I settled on cafe granita.

Basically, you are hyper-flavoring coffee, freezing it completely, then slowly thawing the stuff just enough to literally scrape out something approaching a slushy mass.  I do confess to having something of a frappuccino addict, this stuff wound up being almost that good.  You have to be patient, I think, and allow it to melt enough to form something with the consistency you desire, either a scoopable mess or a drinkable mess… either way works.

The ingredients are flexible.  But do remember that the cold will deaden your taste buds, so my suggestion is to make this just a bit stronger than you think you will like.  This is how i did mine.

2 cups hot leftover coffee
1/4 cup sugar
2 T Something tasty and perferably alcoholic.  Grand Mariner is nice.  As is bourbon or kalua. 

Stir a bit, and pour into a 9 by 9 brownie pan.  Note to self, make sure the leftover brownie bits have been cleaned out.
Cover with plastic wrap and freeze.

Go to work.

When you get home from work, set the mixture on the counter.  Start scraping the frozen mixture with a fork, just enough to loosen it.  Wait a few minutes and repeat.  Do this several times until you have a critical mass of semi-frozen coffee shards which you can then decant into your favorite vessel.   Eat, or wait several minutes, stirring occasionally, and drink.  VERY refreshing.  And no cat ladies.

Vegans are like Vikings.

They have a reputation.  Unyielding.  Militant.  High Minded, ascetic and austere.   And how they plunder.   Stealing what is rightfully ours and reshaping it for their own sordid purposes.

But you have to admit that, within that framework, there is strong undercurrent of frivolity.   This is a culture that gave us Hagar the Horrible, remember, or, for that matter, Garrison Keillor.

As for the vegans, I’m intially reminded of Anthony Bordain’s jibe that while they may be millitant, they lack the animal protien to really do anything truly aggressive or violent.  My personal guess is that they pour their energy into the hilarious names often given to formerly non-vegan dishes.

I cite the Fauxstess Cupcake as evidence of this.

The following dish is my own humble attempt to fight back.  This final version is loosely adapted from the Veganomicon, but there is a bit of backstory.

A couple of months ago, I saw the words “chickpea” and “cutlet” appear side by side.  It was hardly “tomato” and “basil” or “Roasted” and “Chicken,” but I saw potential.   And while I don’t care much for whole chickpeas, I like falafel quite a bit, and the Moosweood Cookbook trifecta of falafel+tabouleh+pita bread is still a standard idea when I cook for my vegetarian friends.

So these cutlets.  There were challenges.  I wanted them seasoned.  But I wanted them seasoned in such a way as to not include ingredients that would otherwise be thematic with falafel. I mean, it was pretty much a given that I would be adding bacon, so a middle eastern preparation of tumeric, cumin, parsely and lemon seemed totally haram.

Also, more obviously, how were they, you know, BOUND?  I knew it wasn’t as simple as just “mash em up and fry em up,” yet eggs were obviously out, and flour just seems to turn the dish into falafel.

Two different people pointed out a recipe from the Veganomicon, which uses this stuff called vital wheat gluten flour. 

It is, according to the Bob’s Red Mill packaging, “made from the natual protein found in the endosperm of the wheat berry.  When combined with water it becomes highly elastic and taffy-like.”

A 30 gram serving has 23 grams of protein.  That’s 76%.  Standard Bread flour will have about 12%

I also added bacon.  Clearly, this was not in the recipe.  The other change I made involved the thyme. One-half teaspoon I felt was way too much, and would overwhelm the other delicate flavors at play here. I added some onion to retain moisture and add flavor.  I also changed the paprika to pimenton, or smoked paprika, which is my new favorite thing.  And with the bacon it just seemed right.

Chicpea and Bacon Cutlets. Adapted from Veganomicon

1 can chickpeas, a little over a cup
2 T. olive oil
1/2 c. vital wheat gluten
1/2 c. chopped onion
1/2 c. plain breadcrumbs
1/4 c. water
2 T. soy sauce
2 garlic cloves
1/2 t. lemon zest
1/4t dried thyme, or one sprig
1/2 t. pimenton
3 strips of bacon, cooked, and chopped
to taste olive oil , for pan frying or baking

Cook the bacon gently in your cast-iron skillet, allowing the fat to render into the pan but not burn.  Remove the bacon,

cut into small pieces, and set aside.

Rinse and drain the chickpeas.   In a large bowl, mash with the oil until there are no whole chicpeas left.

Add remaining ingredients. 

Knead for a few minutes (It’s odd how this ‘dough’ will feel simultansously both bread and meat)

Divide into four equal pieces, and shape the pieces into thin cutlets.

Pan fry, a couple of minutes on each side until surface is brown and crispy.

My verdict was positive.  The flavors was unusual - sort of halfway between bread and meatloaf, but it worked. Yum!

You know those guys who work in the nuclear silos?

I would presume their daily to-do list is hardly rigorous.    Sit in the chair, wait for the red phone to ring.  If it  rings, destroy the world,  If not, read the magazines and play 80s-era MUD games on the terminals.  

Now, my knowledge of day-to-day nuclear silo operational details is limited to Cold War-era still photographs and charming films starring Matthew Brodderick.  But i would imagine that most of the training is mental.   You hardly need a skill set to turn a key, but the sheer willingness to unleash a nuclear apocolypse is something that has to be coached, carefully honed and reinforced over a long time.  This is not a job where one can just falter at the moment of  truth.  You have one thing to do, and when the moment comes, you DO it.

Such is the case with fried rice.

There is a lot of very zen-like advice about making the stuff at home.  About how “it’s not a dish it’s a philosophy” and all of that. Yes, you are basically throwing leftover rice and veggies into a pan and cooking them.  And, yes, it is true that the ingredients can vary infinitely and the method is simple (note: I did not say “easy”).   But, again, to paraphrase Walter Sobcheck, it is not Nam, it is fried rice.  And there are rules.

1. the rice should be cooked and cooled.
2. the rice should be at room temperature.
3. all add-ins, garnish, plating must be ready prior to heating the pan.

and number four…

the pan must be very, VERY hot.

Rocket Hot. White Hot. Mira Sorvino circa 1994 Hot.  Hot.

And this is why I liken this dish to a nuclear crisis.

The pan will “seem” hot.  The oil will be shimmering, you’ll feel warm just standing near it, and you’ll get nervous.  You’ll be tempted to chicken out and just to toss in the rice and get cooking, before the pan is ready. 

You have to hold back… wait it out.  Wait until you see little whisps of smoke coming from the pan and the entire kitchen is smoldering.  And this is the most difficult part; and you need to train yourself.   You have to be willing to wait until the last possible moment before the smoke alarms go off and the pan itself combusts into a giant ball of flames.

Not easy, isn’t it?

The reason you need to wait so long is that the starch from the rice will “leak” from the kernel and stick to the bottom of the pan.  The pan needs to be hot so that this “sticky starch” can burn away.  If the starch remains, the pan will not  be hot enough to cook the rice.

On a similar note, you need to add the rice slowly, a little bit at a time.  Each “add” reduces the temperature of the pan, which, as I have mentioned, needs to be hot enough to burn away the pan starch.  Going slowly minimizes the thermal fluctuation of the pan.

So.  This is how I do mine:

Pork Fried Rice

2 cups cooked yesterday’s jasmine rice
6 ounces pork shoulder, cubed into small pieces and salted
1/3 cup peanut oil (or other oil w/ a very high smoke point)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 cup onion, chopped fine
1 carrot, diced fine
A little green pepper, for color, diced fine
1 egg
lime wedge

Note: all ingredients except for “rice” and “oil” are optional.

Chop everything.

In a clean flat-bottomed skillet stir-fry pan (as tempted as you might be to use a wok, don’t. It’s odd shape means that it will absorb less heat from your silly American cooktop and lead to dissapointment), place a drop or two of the oil into the skillet, turn it to medium, and cook the pork.  Undercook it.  Remove the pork.

Add the rest oil and  Turn the heat to VERY VERY HIGH.  Obviously make sure that ventilation is active.  Also, make sure that your utensils are dry.  I learned this one the hard way.

Wait

Wait

Wait.  Think red phone.

When you see the oil just barely start to whisp, add a pinch of the rice to the pot, and stir.  It will hiss.  It will bubble and splatter a little.  But it should not leave a lot of starchy residue at the bottom of the pan.  If it does, you may need to wait a second.  Or stir a little bit and wait until the stuff burns away.

When the bottom of the pan is sufficiently hot, add the rice a little (two tablespoons) at a time. Sear, and make sure that there is no residue, repeat. Add a little more oil if needed.

Note that the sides of the pan will likely “starch up.”  this is unavoidable. 

When all of the rice has been cooked, add the veggies all at once, cook for a nother minute or two (remember that you chopped them deliberately small), then add the pork.

I like to finish this with an egg.  Just turn the heat off, and crack the egg into the pan.  There will be enough heat to cook it.

Plate and serve with soy sauce and lime wedges.  Garnish with scallions if you have a food blog. 

(eta)- a better picture

Well, the Blackout of 08 has come and gone.  I more or less survived with only minor food losses.  I happened to be out of chicken stock and had only half a bag of IQF shrimp and about 8oz of pork shoulder in the freeze. 

One of my two office mates endured some pretty serious house damage. The other told me that his next door neighbor had life-sized cardboard cut-out of John Wayne… and put it at the streetcorner with a huge sign reading, “THIS IS THE ONLY DUKE WE’VE SEEN.”

Anyway, when my power went out I was at a cookout at my friends’ place.  My own contribution to the event was two fold: 

1.  A par-braised rack of pork ribs ready to be finished on their grill
2.  An eagerness to watch their two young children attach each other with every available household object.

It should be noted that my friends are vegetarian.  As per our usual practice, It was understood that I would bring meat. 

and I am happy to submit Leslie’s description of the event:

Bacon connoisseur and food blogger Jeff is coming to our house for a cook-out.  Absolutely nothing qualifies us for this affair other than knowing Jeff for quite a long time.  We don’t eat meat, let alone bacon, and as working, community-engaged parents of two precocious young boys, cooking at our home usually means making boxed macaroni products with “cheese” in a foil packet.  So aside from the directive of BYOM, how do you prepare?

First you buy your cook-out staples otherwise known as BBQ potato chips and store bought mustard potato salad.  My husband is actually quite the home-made potato salad aficionado but for quick cook-outs, store bought mustard is the way to go.  I decided on two side-dishes that I would make myself and dessert.

I am also a lazy gardener and found that I was able to salvage sufficient decent leaves from my basil plants to do a plate of insalata caprese.  I will suffer the chiding for the big box store-bought pre-sliced fresh mozzarella and tomatoes (being a lazy gardener I only had a few tomatoes) as I consider this a summer classic and celebrating summer is what a cook-out is all about.
Insalata Caprese
Place thick slices of mozzarella on plate

Top with thick slices of tomato

Top with fresh basil leaves

Drizzle on olive oil

Season to taste with salt & pepper
Nostalgia is also a really big thing for me.  Jeff and I used to like to stop off at Chili’s after shopping at the Tri-County Mall or cruising for video games at Best Buy.  The big appeal was always that awesome blossom onion appetizer thing (or the creamy dipping sauce that came with it).  I actually made one of these the first time that I cooked a Thanksgiving dinner.  I realize that pilgrims didn’t eat at chain restaurants but it seems that you don’t cook an onion blossom to eat at home alone.  Thus I arrived at my second side-dish selection.

Editor’s Note.  Lies.  Filthy Lies.  I have never eaten at Chilli’s or any other culinary whorehouse.  Never.  ALL LIES!!!
Chain Restaurant Rip Off Onion Appetizer

Sauce:  equal parts mayonnaise & sour cream
             Chili powder
             Cayenne pepper
              Garlic Salt
Onion:  Large peeled onion (Vidalia)

       Flour
       Egg
      Milk
      Oil for frying
Slice onion in a cross-hatch pattern.  Place in cold water for 1 hour to open up the onion.  Mix together ¼ cup flour, egg and 1 Tblsp. Milk. Coat onion with batter and fry in hot oil until golden brown.
Finally I offered to make dessert.  I rarely make any kind of dessert but when I do it is generally a guise to use whatever fruit is still in my fridge/pantry.  Today I have bananas.  After quick perusal of my cookbook archive, the gem is found — Moosewood Cookbook recipe for Banana Cream Cheese pie.  Sounds yummy!  
Graham cracker crust (you can make it but you can also buy it!)

12 oz. cream cheese
2 ripe bananas (1 mashed & 1 thinly sliced)
¼ cup yogurt
3-4 Tblsp sugar
2 Tblsp lemon juice
¼ tsp. almond extract
½ tsp. vanilla
Make the graham cracker crust, if you didn’t just buy one.  Toss all of the other ingredients sans the sliced banana into a bowl and mix with electric mixer until smooth.  Fold in sliced bananas.  Pour into graham cracker crust & spread evenly.  Refrigerate (the recipe said for 24 hours….), slice & serve.

The natives are restless so cross your fingers & wish me luck!
 

The following fact may shock you.

But in 2005, I turned vegetarian for a short time.

A month actually. And, you know, the really shocking part is that I rather enjoyed it. I lost weight, I felt healthier and more energetic…

I might have lasted even longer were it not for a horribly complicated breakup and the sight of Alton Brown smoking a pork shoulder in a couple of flowerpots.

When I look back on that summer, I realize that what I missed wasn’t meat as a stand-alone food choice, burgers, chicken breasts, pork chops… what I missed was meat as an ingredient. The thick fragrant broth, the savory bits of a stir-fry hat balance out the crispness of the veggies, and, yes, the gooey rendered fat that made everything else taste more unctuous and satisfying.

Case in point is the following soup. The first time I made a barley soup was late into my Magic Month, but I used a vegetable stock and, of course, omitted the bacon. It was obviously disappointing.

A shame, really, because I like barley a lot. It has this way of thickening a broth without overwhelming it, and it adds a subtle grainy fragrance that I can’t get from anything else.

Spellcheck note: “grainy” was “granny” for a long time. That is not the fragrance I am talking about.

Okay, barley for soup requires special handling. The stuff absorbs at least three times its volume of liquid, so a undercooked barley inserted into a soup will pretty much turn your soup into a patty. Barley also takes a while to cook.

I tend to solve both problems via a quick par-cook. The barley will still absorb SOME of the liquid, and thus thicken the soup a little bit, but you won’t have a soggy casserole on your hands the next morning.

The other thing I do is make sure to cook the barley in with the rendered fat before adding the broth. It gave it a rich, roasted flavor which I enjoyed.

Aside from that, this recipe pretty much writes itself. You can use bacon… you can use salt pork, or, if you are me, you can use both.

Barley and Pork Product Soup

1/2 cup uncooked pearl barley
2oz salt pork, diced
1 medium onion, chopped
1 big carrot, chopped
2 ribs of celery, chopped
2 cloves garlic minced
5 cups chicken broth
3 strips cooked bacon, chopped
salt and pepper to taste (but you won’t need much salt, trust me)

First, par-cook the barley in 3 cups of boiling water for about fifteen minutes. Drain, rinse, and set aside.

Render the salt pork in your large soup vessel, cooking on medium-low heat until the solids have yielded all their fat. Remove the solids. You may add them later to the soup if you wish, or, just eat them as a snack if you must.

Place the vegetables and the garlic in the pot, and cook until translucent.

Add the barley, and cook on medium heat, constantly stirring, for five minutes, or until it smells very nutty. 

Add the broth, bring to a boil, and simmer for 20 minutes. Note the broth might look a little thin, but as it cools, the barley will absorb some of the liquid. 

Add the bacon.

Cool and serve.