Category: #Food

  • ODDS and ENDS: That’s Some Good Sentencing, Rewatching Baking Show, and Red Pants

    (I think I’m starting to peak now, Al…)

    Do you know who Tina Peters is? Long story short, she was a MAGA county clerk in Colorado who help a person break into Dominion voting machines after the 2020 election. She has been unrepentant in her actions, has even become a semi-celebrity in ultra-conservative conspiracy circles. Well, she got put on trial for the crime of breaking into voting machines, was found guilty in August, and was sentenced the other day. Below is the video of the judge sentencing her, and also laying out a very good case of why these conspiracies and the people who propagate them are extremely dangerous to our democracy.

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    So, the new season of Great British Baking Show started last week, and I may or may not write more about this season. Or I may wait until it’s all over with to write about it, or I might not write about it at all. Either way, for me and the wife, the lead up to the new season means that we go through and watch the past seasons. Funny the things we remember and the things we forget. The one thing that I remember and never changes is that Sandi Toksvig was the best host of that show, hands down and unquestioned. But the things we forget, like who won, and who made it to the finals, we very often misremember (is that a word?) those details. I would have to say that I am 50% when it comes to remembering who won a season, or who got voted out on a certain episode. But I will never forget the awful mispronunciation of the word “taco.” Paul kept calling it a “Tack-oh.”

    I now have a pair of pants whose color name is “Nantucket Red.” (I am aware that Nantucket Red is a specific type of pant from Murray’s Toggery Shop in Nantucket, and what I am referring to is a pair of red pants I got in a thrift shop a month ago, but the tag called the pant color by that name.) I like the pants because they fit well, and go with several shirts that I own. Yes, there is a WASP-ness to the pants, which I feel I pull off ironicy. But at the end of the day, they are a pair of red pants, which can feel like a bold step for a person as modest as me. The only other guy I knew who proudly had a pair of red pants was the comedian/improv performer down in the Lower East Side. He was funny enough for a guy who was 22, right out of college, and trying to make their way in NYC. And his thing was the red pants. He always had the red pants on, and would tell people he always wore these red pants. I took it to mean that he wore the pants when he was out performing, like a costume. No, his girlfriend confirmed that he wore the pants all the time. He even wore them in the shower to “wash” them, she said. I still think it was a bit.

  • Japanese Curry and the Fun of Trying New Foods

    YouTube is now the devil in my home. I say that because I find myself watching YouTube videos before I head off the bed. It started simple; I would watch rounds of different disc golf tournaments or Bad Movie Bible videos. Then somehow the algorithm figured out that I am curious about making Japanese food.

    The cooking video that Google decided that I needed to see was this guy:

    I respect Kenji’s cooking show and the recipe he put forth. I do draw an exception with putting raisins in curry, or any food that isn’t trail mix. It’s just gross people, always has been, always will.

    Like I said, not sure how I got to this video, but am I glad that I arrived, because now I have to make my own. As luck would have it, the local H-Mart carried the curry powder that Kenji used in his video, so later this week, I will give his recipe a try… except no raisins. Honestly, it’s just a bad idea.


    The great thing is that my kid is game for this. I don’t know how we did this, but we have a kid that is willing to try new foods, no questions asked. When I was her age, what my mom prepared us was pretty middle of the road, Midwestern American food. Nothing crazy or surprising, as most of the recipes my mom followed either came from Betty Crocker, or her mom, or her mother-in-law. Later in life, both of my folks became much more adventurous with food. Probably because they didn’t haver to feed three boys anymore.

    I was lucky enough to make great friends in college, who were from all over the world, or had at least traveled around the world. It was positive peer-pressure, as I didn’t want to look like the unrefined yokel who was afraid to try sushi, or Indian food, or the Mongolian grill, or the new Pho place that opened up down the street from campus. And it also helped that I started dating a gal who was a trained chef, and trying new foods was like her whole thing. And then I married her, so that kind’a sealed my fate.

    Point here, I guess, is that I’m going to try my hand at making Japanese curry. I am very fortunate that I have a wife and kid that encourage me to try my hand at creating these dishes, as they are very open to trying them. Oh, and I have really great friends that forced me out of my culinary comfort zone twenty years ago.

    Just, no raisins please.

  • ODDS and ENDS: The Dog Groomer, Fart in French, and Ice Cream

    (We’re all excited, but we don’t know why…)

    I love my dog. I always thought of myself as a cat person, but once we got the dog… well, I’m still a cat guy, but I do want to have a dog from here on out. And loving my dog, means loving all of her, including the bad stuff that she does. Which is very little, I might add. What the dog does that drives us nuts, and we haven’t been able to get her to stop, is that the dog goes ape-shit anytime she sees another dog. Like growling, and barking, and trying to break free from the leash so she can go and kill that other dog. It can make taking her for a walk a very challenging endeavor. Anyway, so when we take the dog to the groomers, the dog does her normal stuff when she sees the other dogs getting groomed, she goes bananas. So, we leave her, and when we come back to the groomers, they tell us how great of a dog she was; so kind, nice, and friendly. And we’ll ask if our dog was this nice version, even when other dogs were around, and the groomers tells us yes; that our dog was even friendly to the other dogs. This has happened enough times over the past five years, that I have come down to one of two conclusions; the groomers are telling us lies because no one wants to hear that their dog is an asshole, or our dog puts on this tough act in front of other dogs only when we’re around.

    My mother was a very proper woman. You had to really make her mad to swear, and she did embarrass easy. Yet, she raised three boys, and there was a lot of farting. BUT, my mother never said the word fart. No, that would be most improper. As she was raised in a French-American home, she did bring one, and only one, French term into our lives; péter. (That’s French for fart.) For the first several years of my life, I thought everyone also used the word péter. When I got to school, I learned quickly that no one used this word. Yet, the tern stuck with me, and in honor of my French heritage, I have made sure that my daughter knows that péter means fart in French.

    And, I want ice cream for dinner.

  • Making Gumbo (assuming that you’ve made it before)

    So… I made gumbo over the weekend. It turned out good, but still not what I was aiming for.

    See, I have a friend who used to live in New Orleans, and he gave me his gumbo recipe a couple of years ago. Not that I do it often, but every now and then, maybe once a year if that, I will get in my head that I really need to eat gumbo. Just happens. Anyway, somewhere back in June, I knew I wanted gumbo when Fall rolls around. This past weekend it was a little rainy and cool, and that makes it soup season in my book.

    Now, over this past Summer, on our travels, I happened to come in contact with a couple of restaurants that had gumbo on the menu. Some of the gumbos were great, some were okay, but none of them were bad. What they all had in common was that they were more stew than soup, multiple proteins (chicken, sausage, shrimp, crawfish… take your pick) and the gumbo’s color was brown.

    When it came to making my friend’s recipe, I did notice one ingredient that stood out to me; a can of diced tomatoes. Not only were tomatoes in his gumbo, but you also added to juice from the can. To me that said this was the reason my gumbo was going to turn out orange. Unless, I took that roux down to a deep brown color.

    That was my plan. It was also my plan to take lots of pictures and put together an awesome food blog post. What I found out was that taking pictures while cooking was not my thing. As in, I just kept cooking and forgot to take pictures. BUT, I did get a couple when it came to making the roux. See:

    Though I didn’t get a final picture of it, I did get the roux down to a dark brown color without ruining it. But as I continued to make the gumbo, and added those tomatoes, what I ended up getting was an orange gumbo, and to be honest, one that tasted more tomato like than what I had over the Summer. That’s not to say the recipe is bad or wrong, because this recipe is solid and tasted good. It just wasn’t what I was aiming for.

    And here’s my thought; I’m just going to have to make gumbo again. Probably in a month, as my family isn’t as hip on testing out gumbo recipes as I am. When I do take another crack at it, I have to say no tomatoes, I want to add okra (I think that will help thicken it) and add shrimp as I only used chicken and sausage this time. I think my roux was fine, no need to mess with that.

    See you in October.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Gumbo, Cowboys, and Beer

    (I saw my problems, and I’ll see the light…)

    So, it doesn’t feel 100% like Autumn outside, but I’m not letting that stop me from cooking like it’s Fall. This is the season of baking, soups and stews. And I intend to go after my white whale, “Gumbo.” I have tried for a couple of years now to get it down, and even have one stellar recipe from a friend who used to live down in New Orleans. I have made gumbo with okra, with shrimp, crayfish, sausage, chicken, and everything else you can throw in. Yet, it still hasn’t come out the way I am looking for. The issue is me, I am the problem, and the real problem is that my roux never gets dark enough. I have got it down to sandy brown, an awful tan, maybe even khaki – all of them incorrect. No, I have to get my roux down to an intense chocolate color – dark brown. I have thought about this for awhile now, done research, and this is the weekend that I get my gumbo recipe down pat. I try to remember to take pictures.

    The Dallas Cowboys play on Sunday. This is the year. I have said that for twenty years, but this time I mean it. They will go 12-5, yet again. I will find a way to watch every game here in New York City, all the while I will get wall to wall coverage of the shitty Giants and somehow even shittier J-E-T-S. JETS! JETS! JETS!

    And I have bought beer, so I can sit on the couch all day on Sunday and watch football. I normally don’t do this, but something in my, most likely my beer belly, thought that I should do it. I have to agree.