A Dork And His Pork

Not a big foodie weekend, despite Goetta Fest and Pangyri.  I still consider the latter my favorite food festival in Cincinnati, but I skipped it this year upon realizing that every year it basically consists of me standing in an hour-long gyro line, on a blacktop, on what always feels like the hottest day of the year.  Getting attacked by a booger almost seems like a relief.

And now with my computer circling the bowl, I’ve been scrambling to offload my data, most of which consists of hundreds upon hundreds of food pictures- most of which are just duplicates of something I already posted.  A good number, however, have never seen the light of day, which got me thinking about why.

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It’s somewhere.  Even now, it stalks me.

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After about fifteen years of living in Cincinnati, I am finally to the point where I can behave myself at Jungle Jims.

I no longer feel an urge to buy durian fruit ‘just to see what it smells like,”  or try to convince myself that I really really will use two big stalks of fresh lemongrass.  I’m honest with myself about the honey I need (tupelo or orange blossom, please) and am no longer tempted by the salsa bar, chocolate covered insects, or Indian TV dinners.

But sometimes I do see something extrordinary, and immediately feel the need to plan the entire week’s menu around it.  In this case, it was fresh morels.

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Don’t get me wrong:  I had a great time at this past weekend’s Taste of Cincinnati.  I was in wonderful company, as my intrepid fellow blogger Allison and I braved the bus system, the drizzle and the slow-moving crowds on Monday afternoon.   Along the way we bumped into Erin Marie, as well as the Nomerati (with mom in tow), and apparently just missed Bob and the West Ender,     It made me feel good to see everyone in such good spirits.

And I honestly like the  venue along Fifth street, with its good mix of open space and frame of skyscrapers.  This now allows Fountain Square and P&G’s well-manicured front lawn to be used as stage areas and helps disperse the crowd.  

Mkay.  You know where this is going.
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I’ve had easier breakups.

But it was time.  Refined white sugar and I have been together for thirty years, more or less.  And I reached a point these last few weeks where I finally needed to have “the talk.”
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I felt pretty lazy this past weekend and had to lean on my pantry and freezer a little bit.  Fortunately I have plenty of chicken stock in my freezer and, thanks perhaps to my own Midwestern Prairie-oh-my-goodness-were-gonna-be-snowed-in-until-Merlin-Olson-Shows-Up-With-the-mule-team hardwiring, plenty of starch in the cupboard.  A few vegetal bits, and I’m set… This is how I spent my weekend:

Incredibly Easy Roasted Vegetable Soup
Take a bunch of veggies, about

That Many…  (note: zucchini is yummy in these soups!)

Drizzle with salt and olive oil, roast at 400 for 30 minutes.

Add some homemade chicken broth
Add 1/2 cup (Precooked) orzo, cooked and drained
Add 1 Tablespoon of tomato paste or salsa (for a little brightness)
salt, pepper and parsley to taste.

Tabouli!

I LOVE LOVE LOVE Tabouli.  You know that first strange “International” food you try after you move away to college?  This was it for me.  What I really love about this is that the flavors harmonize so well, all of these bright, even brash flavors compliment each other without confusing the palette.  Besides, it’s just really good.

The recipe is from the Moosewood Cookbook, the 1992 reprint becoming the second cookbook I owned (The first was a New Orleans Cookbook, notable for a roux-less gumbo I still make occasionally)

1 cup Bulgur Wheat
1 1/2 Cup Boiling Water
1t salt
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/4 Cup Olive Oil
Garlic to taste
1/2 cup scallions, chopped
1 cup parsley, chopped
10-15 mint leaves, chopped
2 medium tomatoes, diced

Pour the boiling water on the wheat and allow to stand until bulgur is tender (about 30 minutes)

Add everything else, toss!

…But clearly the solution involves, “baking more parmesan cream crackers.”

Please note the fancy edging, courtesy of my pastry wheel. 

The recipe is Mark Bittman’s, the video is here.  Please excuse me while I complete the final yet essential step of the “Random Late Night Stress Baking” process.

This post constitutes a non-review of Terry’s Turf Club.

I say non-review because I’m starting to recognize I have been put upon this earth to write about bacon and chorizo and pork shoulder and spareribs, not quibble about service times or fawn over Chef Bob’s kiwi reduction. Besides, I seldom eat out.

I finally made it to Terrys Turf Club a few days ago with my friends  Jay and Evan and Sam.   Sam does not have a blog, sadly. 

Again, I’ll be clear.  This is decidedly a non-review.  As such, I will provide the following facts germaine to the experience.

1. Terry’s Turf Club is a restaurant.
2. It is located somewhere.
3. The place is decorated.
4. There is a staff.
5. There is a menu.
6. A member of said staff took our order at a time subsequent to our arrival.
7. pursuant to #6, food and drink arrived.
8. Food was consumed.
8a okay, I left a little bit of crabmeat on my plate.
9. Food was paid for.
Again, I don’t do resturant reviews.  Just as Terry’s doesn’t do drywall.  He has found something he does well, and sticks to it.

I will, however, say this.  Oh. My. GOD this hamburger was amazing.  The beef was well seasoned, held together nicely without hemmoraging juice into the bun, the toppings were fresh, and the portions were big. 

Really, you should go to Terry’s.  It’s at 4618 Eastern Avenue In Cinti.  513.533.4222

I might have to shave my head Monday night.

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Sorry, I need a reset.

It’s been a busy few weeks, and I’m sorry I haven’t kept up.  But I am heading out the door for basketball and assorted mayhem this weekend, so perhaps when I return on Monday I’ll have more to say. 

Sorry to channel Bill Rafftery, but I really am excited about the NCAAs this time of year.  :)