Mujadara and Electrified Musics

Luckily for us, Greensboro is big enough to support lots of different food venues, from produce markets to restaurants to little specialty shops, many of which I have not perused, and probably many more I am not even aware of. However, one day when I was buying some produce downtown, I stopped to talk to Jammin' George, a talkative fellow who will invite you into his shop next to the produce market for a sample of his foodwares, which are very good quality Middle-Eastern style goodies that he and his wife make. Jams and jellies they also makes, hence his name.

George is Lebanese, and the types of foods he sells reflect his heritage. His falafel is tasty, indeed, and I get serious hankerings for his dolmathes. But the best discovery I had at George's was the Mujadara, a traditional Arabic dish, I believe. Lentils, rice and caramelized onions. So good and so simple.

So if I want to make Mujadara, I have to start a few hours ahead of time to get the onions caramelizing properly. I usually caramelize two onions, and that's a sufficient amount for the dish. Start the onions in a little olive oil and salt on higher heat to get them cooking. Cover them and lower the heat. Stir occasionally. Stir more. Cook for a long time. Be patient. I added a little water last night after the onions had been cooking awhile to deglaze and to continue cooking. Next time I will use Chardonnay instead of water to accomplish this, but I never considered it until after the fact.

Now, these lentils are easy to make and are made a little differently every time. I had two tomatoes (one which was shaped like a heart) that needed to be used, so I chopped and added them to the pot of lentils, veg broth, a little water, red pepper flakes, and a blend from P's--Turkish seasoning. Also some powdered ginger. Usually I have a fresh root in the fridge, but the powdered will suffice. Get those cooking for about 20 minutes or so until the lentils are how you like them. In the meantime, I had a bulb of garlic roasting in the oven. I cut it in half and let it roast on the rack until it was browned. The cloves will squeeze right out when they are roasted, and it is delicious. Using this method, I have doubly increased my garlic intake.

The lentils are done now, and I added enough salt, but not too much as I am cutting back. The rice is done. I also added ground beef to the dish. I don't know if that's traditional, but it is flavorful. Add some cilantro at the end, and the Mujadara is ready. Kenny and I had been playin music, bullshittin, and drinkin beer, and now I'm ready for a little supper. A dish of frozen yogurts for dessert, and we'll call it a good day.

Crabmeat-and-Caramelized-Onion Ravioli

Last night, I was laying in bed reading a Jacques Pepin book, and I started thinking about ravioli. I wanted to have something different than the usual for dinner, and ravioli fits that bill, so after work I stopped at the HT for a few items, among them several pounds of tomatoes purchased for a bargain that I thought I would use to make a batch of sauce.

In the fridge I had a zucchini that needed to be eaten, so I chopped it up and threw it into a pot with some olive oil. I added a couple shallots, a few cloves of garlic, and another half of an onion that was also in the fridge. I rough chopped probably 12 tomatoes and threw them into the pot. Seasoned with salt, red pepper flakes, and a good dose of pasta sprinkle, I'll have sauce for pizza later in the week or for whatever I feel like making with sauce. After the sauce cooked awhile, I hit it with the immersion blender to smooth it out somewhat. It's still simmering right now.

In the meantime, I started my pasta dough: flour, eggs, salt, oil. Mixed that with a fork and kneaded it for a couple minutes. Put it under a towel, and it's resting like a baby. Pretty soon I'll go in and start rolling out my sheets. Dough should rest, and I should rest, so that's what we're doing now in addition to writing this here and listening to some Black Keys and whatever shuffles around and periodically kicking whichever dog is close enough for a boot.

Anyway, I had a few crab legs, so I cut the meat out with scissors and threw it into a skillet to warm with some caramelized onions that have been cooking since before I started this whole process. This is going to be my ravioli filling. Nice and simple, I think the sweetness of the crab will accompany the sweetness of the onions fairly well.

Oh, yeah. I just went and had a little taste. Pretty good. Kicked two dogs en route to the kitchen, and one on my return.

With a pin, I rolled the dough into sheets as thin as patience would permit, and I placed dollops of crab-onion mixture about an inch and a half apart. I brushed a little egg wash onto my pasta, and then I placed another sheet atop.

With my pizza wheel, I made raviolis; large, floppy, delicious raviolis. You must use patience and you must use care when making these things. Remove the air from the pocket. Make sure the raviolis seal, or they will fill with water, which you don't want. Homemade pasta tastes a little different than store-bought. It is toothsome and al dente, quite hearty really.

I boiled a pot of lightly salted water, and I threw those ravs into the water with a behind-the-back, over-the shoulder, no-looker. Plop. Let em cook until they're done, take em out, and lay them on a little bed o' sauce.

Top that with some freshly grated ParmReg and some fresh basil, and I am ready to eat. The sauce tastes good. I could simpy use that sauce as a vehicle for the cheese and eat it with spoon, but I have raviolis for that. The cheese also absorbs any extra liquid from the sauce.

Is it worth all of the effort to make homemade raviolis on a weeknight when they are devoured within minutes? Gustatorily and satisfactorily yes. Why not. You gotta eat.

And I didn't really kick any dogs today.

Punjabi Quesadillas

To whom shall I tell my sorrows, asked the man quietly to his horse as he rubbed the horse between his eyes, and they faced the expanse alone together. I don't know who to attribute that to; I must have read it somewhere sometime; but I made Punjabi Quesadillas for my dinner today, and they tasted good to me.


To begin, I threw a couple of frozen chicken breasts into a pot of water with salt and pepper and boiled them until they were not quite cooked. This is a good method for thawing frozen chicken.


In the meantime, I started the Punjab with three scallions, four cloves of garlic, and about a tablespoon of freshly grated ginger, an ingredient I am growing to appreciate more these days since it tastes good and it acts as a digestive aid, so I have heard. Into the pan it all went with a little olive oil.


As those items sauteed, I pulled the spices from the cupboard: paprika, turmeric, coriander, garam masala, and a spice we bought awhile back but have never used: the fragrant green cardamom. I opened the cardomom pod and crushed the seed with my fingers slightly before adding it to the melange. I gave a stir and allowed the spices to cook with the ginger, scallion and garlic for a few minutes.


I find that it is helpful and useful to me to have a bowl of tomato sauce in the fridge for whatever I might want to use it for throughout the week. For example, I made couscous a few days ago that I cooked in chicken broth and tomato sauce, and I found the addition of the sauce to work so well. So I added about a half cup of sauce as well as some of the water from the chicken , which I had diced and added to the spice mix, also. I added a little salt, and now it tastes good to me, spicy enough to nip the tongue a little, but not so spicy as to be overpowering.


To assemble the quesadillas, I spread my chicken mixture on a whole-grain tortilla and added a handful of cilantro before topping with about a half cup of shredded cheese, some kind of bag mixture that I found in the freezer. Topped with another tortilla, and into the oven she went until the cheese melted. I might have left it in the oven awhile longer to crisp the tortillas more, but no problem.


I had some plain yogurt and some mint in the fridge, so I thought I'd make a little sauce for the quesadillas, too. Into a bowl with the aforementioned, I added a little fresh lemon juice, a little fresh lime juice, salt, pepper, and a chopped tomato. I questioned the agreement of the cilantro in the quesas and mint in the sauce, but everything was complementary, to be certain.

Stash the Gumbo

When we went to New Orleans, I ate some gumbo, as a person should when they are in New Orleans. Though the gumbo I ate was not from The Gumbo Shop, when I saw this autographed cookbook at Faulkner House from that fine, little restaurant, I bought it so I could try and replicate a few of the traditional dishes they serve. Up first? Gumbo, of course.

First I prepped my veg, chop chop. The recipe called for the Trinity: onions, peppers, and celery, and that went into the pot, but we also have 10 pounds of carrots in the fridge, so I decided to chop a few and add that to the dish, along with a handful of garlic. So far so good. But before I sauteed the veg, I started my roux, which is really what makes gumbo what it is by adding a deepness of flavor.

Now, the roux recipe stated I should use half a cup of oil, and half a cup of flour, and that is exactly what I used, though some may say that much oil creates a greasy gumbo. I prefer to think of it as silky.

Into the hot oil went my spelt flour, and then the whisking began. As the water cooks away from the flour, the roux begins smelling like popcorn. This is when the real darkening of the roux begins. I whisked and cooked that roux until it was as dark as chocolate, and then I added all of the chopped veggers and a good measure of Pasta Sprinkle, which goes with just about everything. I allowed the veg to stick to the pot a little as the recipe states before scraping it up several times, and when I tasted it, it was good. A little salt, yes.

Earlier in the day, I bought a few links of spicy chicken sausage, and I substituted that for the andouille. No problem. I also added a bunch of chicken breast that I baked earlier to the pot after the veg softened. A can of whole tomatoes, a cup of chicken broth, and we are cooking away. I doubled the tomatoes, and that gave the gumbo a reddish appearance, whereas traditionally, I think gumbo is browner.

The majority of the liquid in the gumbo, though, came from a batch of homemade stock that Janet made from two meaty turkey carcasses saved from Thanksgiving and the usual stock vegetables. This stock was very good--rich and flavorful. From the fridge, it jiggled gelatinously in the bowl before I added it.

A little brown basmati rice accompanied the dish, and I must say it was quite agreeable to my taste buds, though something happened with the rice. I decided to make more, so I think I added more liquid to my liquid I already had boiling after I had already added more liquid. It was all right, albeit a little smooshy.

Where Y'at? Right here, eating some gumbo, watching the Bobcats win their second in a row.

Christmas Cookies

This year, I decided to bake a few dozen Christmas cookies. I like cookies, and you probably do, too, but making cookies, much like any other act of cooking or baking, is labor intensive. Opus vita. Of course, you can go to the store and buy tubes of dough and throw it into the oven. That method is fine. However, I believe that a lot is lost in the translation of soul-cookie-love using that method.

So I decided on five different varieties of cookie: the omnipresent Peanut-Butter Blossom, Macaroons, Sugar, Wedding, and Ginger. Let us begin with a short tale concerning the creation of PB Blossoms.

PBBs are some of my favorites. When I lived in PA, my aunt Charlotte baked these cookies for me on many occasions. I always enjoyed them, but I have not eaten any for some time, so I decided to bake a few. As I mixed the ingredients and made dough balls that would eventually become cookies, I noticed that I had approximately half of the yield that the recipe told me I could expect.

Upon removing them from the oven, I noticed that the cookies were double the size of a reasonable PBB, and one Hershey Kiss looked forlorn sitting there, so I began placing two Hershey kisses on each cookie. The resulting appearance of the cookie was unexpected but fully appreciated. Blossoms, indeed.

Now, I am not a skilled baker, as I lack the proper experience, but I do have certain expectations when I set out upon a task, cookie making included. These macaroons provided me a thorough and disappointing learning experience. First, macaroon dough is sticky sticky. A good trick for dealing with sticky dough is to use wet fingers, and I thought I had my problems licked, but I did not.

I had the idea to bake the macaroons on sheets of waxed paper as I thought the cookies would remove easier from the sheet. Not so. The cookies stuck to the paper and would not relinquish their grasp. Perhaps if I had allowed them to cook longer they would have peeled right off, but my anxiety over burning things sometimes prohibits proper browning. I thought they were done anyway, and so I probably lost half of my macaroons. The tops were okay to eat, but the crispy browned bottom is the best part and most of the bottoms had irremovable pieces of parchment baked right in. The dogs did not mind eating a little parchment. But half success is better than no success, I guess.

Mexican Wedding Cookies are good. It is unfortunate that they can be quite dry when they do not have to be. Hence my anxiety with leaving things to bake for too long. These cookies were not dry. These cookies were delicate and delicious, covered with hills of confectioners sugar. The challenge with these was removing them from the pan without them crumbling. More cooling would have prevented that, but I had a lot of cookies to make and I was wearing thin on patience. The other challenge was not eating them all myself, but rather sharing them, which was the goal of baking cookies in the first place.

Gingers proved to be the best of the cookies, in my opinion--an airy, crisp and light cookie with a hint of ginger and sugar apropos of the Christmas Season. Some of the batches I squashed thinner with the bottom of a pint glass, creating a crisper cookie. I preferred the thicker gingers, as they had a bit more chew. If I was ever going to make cookies for anything, this variety is the winner. Truly delicious and noteworthy.

I made a ton of sugar cookies, and I ate about a half ton of them. It is fortunate that I waited until the end to make these cookies since the stiffness of the dough killed a few of the gears in my hand mixer when it seized the beater before tearing it away from the machine. The mixer barely limped along after that malfunction, and I believe she will have to be retired from cookie making if not from service entirely.

I rolled the dough fairly thin before cutting the shapes, sprinkling a little sugar on their tops before they went into the oven, and they baked up crisply with a very nice sugar flavor perfect for eating with coffee.

I then loaded up two tins with a few of each type of cookie, heavy on the sugar cookies since I had a pile of them, one each for Billie, my neighbor woman who is 85 and still mows her own grass, and another for the self-proclaimed hermit across the street, also named Bill.

When I checked the mail today, I found a thank you note from Billie, and it is possibly the best compliment I ever received. It said: "...You had a large part in making my Christmas a good one this year with the delicious homemade cookies. My mother used to make thin 'tea cake' sugar cookies--yours brought back wonderful memories."

That's how Soul-Cookie-Love works.

Cookies

Homemade Pasta and Sauce with Meatyballs

For my birthday this year, my mom gave me a pasta machine. Last night, I decided that I was going to finally utilize the machine. I had just finished my book I was reading earlier in the evening, a tale of violence and murder, and I wanted to temper that with something completely different.

I have been collecting food and cookbooks for some time, and I wanted to start actually reading them, so what did catch my eye as I was browsing through our stacks but James Beard's "Beard on Pasta," which is kind of a funny title if you think about things like I do. A more appropriate title for me, though, might be "Pasta on Beard," as I sometimes find myself with reminders of earlier meals still stuck to the hair on my chin. James Beard himself stated "...truly the best way, the only classical and true way, to eat pasta is with gusto," and I agree. Let the sauce fly.

Making pasta is not entirely new to me. Once I made ravioli, and they were edible enough, though some fell apart from lack of good and proper tools and technique. I could not justify the effort and time involved in hand making pasta again. Pasta in a box is just fine generally--I love it--but freshly made pasta is a challenge. I read enough of the Beard book to give me a good start, learning that the best kind of flour to use is durham-wheat flour, which is a hard-wheat flour, though at this time I am not sure exactly what that means.

I have seen it done before, and I vaguely remember trying it once myself, but one technique for creating dough is to mound the flour, create a well, and drop your eggs into the well. One egg, two eggs, three eggs, and my wall of flour held up so well. The fourth egg presented a new challenge, as the flour levee broke, and the egg spilled forth. I scrambled to mix the flour and egg first with my fork and then with my hands, and I contained that spill.

Here comes the hard part. Pasta dough is not like pizza dough. It is tough, thick, and hard to knead. I knew I was doing a good job of it, though, because the counter was creaking and I broke a sweat after about 10 minutes of kneading. Occasionally, a crystal of salt in what was now a ball of dough glinted in the sunlight coming through the window, and I enjoyed seeing that.

I let the dough rest for about two hours. In the meantime, I rough chopped a big bag of very ripe tomatoes I bought at HT today from the bargain produce rack. I also diced a little onion and garlic and sauteed that in olive oil. Smells good, if you can imagine. After the onions softened, I threw in the tomatoes, some salt, and a handful of Pasta Sprinkle. I let that cook a good amount of time, then I squished the tomatoes with a masher before running the mix through a fine-mesh strainer. I need a food mill for this type of work, as straining the tomatoes was inefficient and time consuming. After all of this, I threw a bunch of meatballs into the sauce where they imparted another element of flavor to the sauce.

By now, the dough is well rested and ready to roll. In my zeal, I bumped the pasta machine, and it was falling, so I grabbed it before it fell to the floor. Unfortunately, the part I grabbed was quite sharp, and I sliced rather cleanly a half-inch cut in my finger. I decided it was a good time to take a break, as my finger was bleeding nicely.

Bleeding stopped and finger bandaged now, I started to roll my dough. This process was not bad at all as the pasta machine and its quick action performed most of the work. Now I have what looks like fettuccine. Nice. I am happy with the results so far, but my finger has started to bleed again. Bwahahaha.

I threw the noodles into a pot of boiling water and they cooked a few minutes. Mixed them with some of my sauce, topped the dish with some basil I tore apart and some grated Parm-Reg, and it's time to eat. I must say that I enjoyed the noodles and sauce quite a lot, as did the wife. The noodles had a nice chew to them, and some of them were a good two feet long. I am sold on fresh pasta. It is worth the effort, I am certain.

Chile Con Carne De Cerdo

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Awhile back, the HT had a buy-one-get-one-free sale on Boston Butts, so I bought one and cooked it. The other one I threw into the freezer until I decided what to do with it. Since the weather is getting cooler, and since I haven't made it for a while, I decided to try a new version of chile: Chile con carne de cerdo. That's chile with pork, in case you didn't know.

So I dug that slab of meat out of the freezer a few days ago to thaw. On Friday night, it was good and ready to be seasoned, so I made a dry rub composed of about nine ingredients that I will try to list from memory: garlic powder, salt, black pepper, garam masala, coriander, Pasta Sprinkle, onion powder, paprika, cumin, and I think that's it. I fully coated the shoulder after cutting off as much of the excess fat that I could, and then I placed it in the fridge overnight.

Saturday morning, I woke up and had that pork in my dutch oven baking at 9. At about ten, I turned the meat to find that a crust had developed. I picked off a small piece, and it was good and flavorful. At 11, the other side had a crust, and the pork was stewing in its own jus so nicely. I wanted to allow the pork its own separate cooking environment to incorporate the flavors of the spice rub into the meat.

At this time, I started my chile with a finely diced mirepoix sauteed in olive oil, Salt and Pepper. After a short time, I added a chile-powder blend. I did not make my own chile powder, but rather I used a mix of 4 different types of chile powders; one somewhat smoky, one quite warm, one a bit milder, and what remained of my aleppo pepper, which is moderately warm and flavorish. Once incorporated with the vegetables, the mix formed a paste with the oils and moisture elicited from the veg. The paste cooked awhile now to meld and bloom the chile powders.

I used canned beans in my chile. I have made chile in the past with beans I cooked myself, and if I had been thinking ahead enough, which I was not, I might have put the beans to soak overnight and got them cooking in the morning. Instead I used cannellini beans, kidney beans, and mostly black beans. Several cans of diced, crushed, and whole tomatoes as well, and into the pot went the beans and tomatoes. About a can of water, some Salt, more Pasta Sprinkle, and my chile is cooking. I cooked it for an hour or so before I added it to my Boston Butt, occasionally turning the meat after shredding off what was cooked already with a big old fork. Eventually, the scapula freed itself from the meat, and it was time to eat. I gave the bone to Napoleon.

I also made spelt-and-wheat-flour tortillas. After I flatted them, I heated some olive oil in my 6-inch skillet and cooked the tortillas until they were somewhat crispy. Along with some sour cream, I heaped the chile into the tortilla. Pretty good. I am going to eat a bowl soon. Thank you, Pig. You taste good to me.

Fettuccine Alfredo and Sauteed Vegetables

I think the first time I ever had pasta with cream sauce, big rube that I am, was at one of Orville Weale's music festivals right across the WV-PA line in southwestern Pennsylvania. We were working as "security" at the venue, held at a farm now bisected by a toll road, and one of the food vendors was selling some form of Fettuccine Alfredo. I kept seeing satisfied people walking away from their stand, so I bought my dinner from those nice people--I seem to remember a French accent--and it was quite good, as cream sauces and pasta perfectly complemented my mood and that outdoor environment. That's about all I remember about the festival besides a "haunted house" we were to keep people away from. Oh, and a trunkload full of punks that Orville busted as they emerged right in front of him.

Anyway, Harris Teeter was selling boxes of fettuccine and linguine at a price of five boxes for five dollars, so I suppose that is from where the idea to make alfredo emerged. I also had in my cupboard a container of sliced cremini mushrooms (Janet said she's tired of mushrooms), four chicken thighs, some freshly grated ParmReg, two orange peppers bought at a discount, some carrots, half of a large onion, and some Pasta Sprinkle, which goes into a good three-fourths of everything I make.

I diced the onion, the peppers, and the carrots finely and began sauteeing the items in a little olive oil, Salt and Pepper. As they cooked, I added the aforementioned Pasta Sprinkle. I allowed the veg to cook until they softened mostly, and then I added my broccoli, which I fully intended to keep firm. Stir, stir, stir.
Earlier, I boiled water for my fettuccine, and it was cooking along nicely. I also seasoned the thighs and placed them in the oven. When the thighs were nearly finished cooking, I added some of their rendered fat to the vegetables, adding more flavor flav to the dish.

I also added a large pat of butter and a Glug of Chardonnay. That cooked awhile to release the alcohol, and now I am just about ready to assemble the dish and eat my supper. Cooking has to be the best hobby in the world. The rewards are immediate and lasting. It is a hobby that can be shared, and that is a good thing, since everyone I've ever met likes to eat good food.

Anyhoo, into my smaller pan, I added a fair amount of the vegetable mix and poured the heavy cream atop (this dish is high on the calories, but full of vegetables, so a good yin-yang is achieved) along with a handful of fresh ParmReg and cracked black pepper. Smells very good. Usually I try to wait until the wife gets home from work to eat dinner, but not today. I did not care to wait any longer. I tore the meat from one of the thighs and placed it into the cream and veg sauce. Dogs and I are salivating now, so I treated them to a little chicken skin.

So now all that's left is dishes. Cooking and dirty dishes equal a good yin-yang, also.

Chicken Piccata and Lemony Mushroom Pasta

Today I decided to cook something that I haven't cooked in a long time--Chicken Piccata. I like the dish; I just forget about it until it occasionally raises its lemony hand and waves. It just so happens that today I had all of the ingredients in stock, so I waved back and got to work.

To accompany the Piccata, I decided on spaghetti. I don't know what else could go with the dish, and I don't care. Pasta works with everything, I am convinced. I put my water on to boil, and then I moved on to the sauce.

Since Piccata is lemony, I decided to continue the slightly sour theme by imparting a little lemon flavor to my pasta sauce. I started the sauce with olive oil and two containers of sliced cremini mushrooms, seasoned with Pasta Sprinkle from Penzey's, Salt and Pepper. These items sauteed awhile before I added some chicken stock, a little Chardonnay, and a reasonable amount of lemon juice. I turned up the heat so that the alcohol could boil away, and my sauce was built. Tastes pretty good. I like it.

Next I prepared my chicken. If you want to make Piccata, really the only way to go is to use thinly sliced chicken breasts, scallopine style. You can pound the breasts yourself, which is a little messy and a pain in the arse, you can slice them in half yourself, or you can just buy them thinly sliced at the store, which is the route I prefer.

Into a bowl, I dumped some flour. I seasoned the flour with Sandwich Sprinkle, also from Penzey's, and then I dredged the chicken in the flour. In the past, I have used egg wash before coating with flour, but these days, I simply rinse whatever meat I am cooking under the spigot, shake off the excess water, and then coat it with flour. I never can tell any difference in flavor, and this streamlines the process somewhat.

Now I am ready to sautee my chicken. In a pan, I heated some olive oil until it was good and hot. The chicken sizzled when I placed it in the pan, and that is a good sign that your chicken is going to be right. The chicken browned, and I removed it. Enter the Piccata. I wiped my pan with a paper towel to remove the brown crusties. I have also, in my previous preparations of this dish, left them in the pan, but it creates a brown sauce, which I did not want today.

About two tablespoons of butter, Salt, Pepper, another good glug of Chardonnay, a handful of capers, another good amount of lemon juice, and the Piccata is ready. Spoon the sauce over the chicken breasts placed atop the pasta, and it is time to eat. I might have added some fresh basil and some freshly grated ParmReg, but I had neither of those things. The dish still turned out quite good, in my opinion. Now I am full of good foods, and I think I can hear the recliner calling my name.

Romaine Lettuce, Basil Dress, and Tuna Steaks

We bought a few tuna filets from The Shrimpman. Given a choice, I always prefer tuna to salmon. Janet is just the opposite. She likes her salmon cooked with butter, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and a bit of dill. Granted, it tastes good this way, but it's just not something that I ever think, "Man, I would love to have some salmon."

Fresh tuna is a world away from canned. The two could be different products even. Now, canned tuna will suffice from time to time, but if a person has the opportunity to buy fresh tuna filets, they should. Of course, I like mine cooked just a little bit more than some people prefer, but again, I am a textural weirdo. While I don't want my tuna to be rare, I don't want it to be well done, either. It is precarious to perform this type of balancing act in your cooking.

I gave the pan a little bit of olive oil, salted and peppered the tuna steaks, and threw them in. Even with the extra bit of cooking time I prefer, they do not take a long time to cook. I already had a plan for the steaks: a salad with tuna. Oh, yeah. Good eatin.

I had a bunch of Romaine lettuce that I rinsed and chopped a little, and I added a few tomatoes. The best part about the salad, however, was the basil dress. Bright and flavorful, it is perhaps my favorite method of dressing salad. Into a bowl, I heaved a tablespoon or two of Duke's Finely Crafted Mayonnaise, a good bunch of chopped basil, and the fresh juice of one half of a lemon. Here is where "to taste" becomes relevant. I may add a little more juice. You might add less.

This is better than anything in a bottle. Better than ranch. Salt and pepper, a good mix with a fork, and that is that. Put your salad on a big plate, pour the bud-tickler over it, and mix it very well with your fingers so that the whole salad is dressed properly. I still had some baguette, so I toasted it a little and placed a few pieces of the tuna atop. Drizzled a little of that dressing on it, and this was good. Like smack your lips good. I would venture to say that it was better than anything some people would eat in their entire lifetimes. Thank you, tuna fish. I do appreciate it.

Cheese Grits with Shrimp

I like to eat food. You like to eat food. Everybody likes to eat food. Here is my new idea: The Food Party. In the Food Party, no squabbling will exist. There will be no slander, no libeling, no proselytizing. In food we trust. No fear mongers, no hate mongers, no mudslingers, no right, no left. No bullshit.

If you like your meat rare, you will have the freedom to enjoy your meat rare while realizing the next man has the same freedom to enjoy his meat well done. You will not chastise him because he prefers New York Strip to your Filet, but you will realize that the greatest thing about being a member of the Food Party is that the right to choose exists. In the FP, we will not begrudge another member his choices and preferences, and we will not attempt to exert any ivory tower morality over his sardines with mustard and crackers. Since the proletariat will compose the FP, the FP will be composed of the proletariat.

Highfalutin? Perhaps, but we have room for nonstick and stainless. So if you have eaten food today, sit down and be pleased at your good fortune. If you have eaten food today, consider yourself happy. Let no game over which you have no control sully your feast. Chop your veg and sear your meat. Walk softly and wield a sharp knife. These shall be the mottos of the Food Party.

Now, as I sit here I am quite happy because I just ate a big bowl of shrimp and grits. I have been thinking and thinking about shrimp and grits for the last two or three weeks, I suppose. Ken the Mandolin Player informed me that the dish is historically considered a breakfast dish. I never thought of it as such since the way I make it would create a hectic stomach early in the morn, but shrimpers apparently like to breakfast on shrimp and grits during the season.

Living in the south now for the last seven or so years, I have learned to appreciate the culinary culture here. It wasn't difficult. Fried chicken, seafoods, and sweet tea are all splendid treats, as is shrimp and grits. I will admit that I usually drink Yankee Tea, however.

I realize I am fortunate to live on the coast for many reasons, access to super-fresh seafood being one of them. Near the Piedmont Triad Farmer's Market, the Shrimpman sets up his stand every weekend, just like he has ever since we started shopping there a few years ago, and he is fully stocked with freshly caught shrimp, tuna, salmon, scallops, et cetera, et cetera.

Yesterday, we bought a pound of medium shrimp, and today I undertook the job of shelling and de-veining the shrimp. The heads were removed already, and I am glad about that, as the buggers are quite sharp with their heads intact. My Uncle Duck and I bought quite a few pounds of heads-on shrimp at the beach several years ago, and it took us a long time and a lot of cursing to finally get them cleaned.

I sharpened a paring knife so I could access the poop vein easily. Slicing along the outside of the shrimps, I removed the intestines with the tip of my knife. Then I ran some cold water over the naked crustacean to get rid of any remaining junk. I have eaten shrimp that were not cleaned first, and it doesn't really bother me, but today I just felt like scraping away shrimp junk.

So now my shrimp are cleaned. Several of the shells I placed in my pot of vegetable broth with a bit of salt to impart a little more flavor. Flavor is important in cooking.

Now the liquid for my grits is boiling, and I added a cup of that ground corn to the pot. Not everyone likes grits. I understand that. But I can also guarantee that unless you have physically removed your tastebuds, the finished grits component of this dish will appeal to you.

After awhile, the grits had absorbed all of that liquid. I nearly scorched the grits, as I was cooking my lunch for the next two days concurrently, but I remembered the grits at the most opportune moment. I gave them a stir and added just a bit of water. Now comes the creamy part. Eight ounces of organic cream, stir, maybe two cups of shredded cheddar, stir, and let that warm on the lowest heat for a few moments. Taste it? It is good. I would not lie to you.

As my grits warmed through, I prepared my pan with about a tablespoon of locally churned butter and a tablespoon or so of olive oil. I let the fat come to temperature before adding a bit of Penzey's Pasta Sprinkle, a glug of Chardonnay, just a bit of salt and finally those beautiful shrimp. Smells good. The shrimp do not take long to cook, but I like them to curl up on themselves before I take them from the heat. I like my shrimp cooked just so. Too little cooking, and I don't like their texture. Too much cooking and they become rubbery.

I made a bed of cheesy, creamy grits, over which I placed several shrimp along with a little of the delicious broth they cooked in. Yes, man. I chopped a few scallions to add to the plated dish. I also had a baguette I bought earlier today that I used to sop up a little of that broth and any remaining grits from the bowl. Needless to say, I was filled to the gills. Shrimp and grits. Or as some folks down here say, scrimps 'n grits.

Salt

I am on a crusade against too much salt. I don't remember what got me to thinking about salt the other day. It was probably that my fingers were swollen. That, my friends, is a telltale sign of too much salt. So I began to scrutinize how much salt I was actually consuming lately.

Green olives and dill pickles. I only mention them because they're delicious. I like olives in my red beer. Salt, salt, salt. Salt in the tomato juice, albeit an acceptable amount for a serving, but it all adds up quickly. No stretch, I was consuming at least 4000mg per day in the days before.

I am knowledgeable of the fact that processed foods are super salty. However, in my mind, I had already eliminated a lot of what I considered to be "processed food." I have a new definition now, and the results of my different perspective are tangible. How much salt was in the breads and tortillas I like? How much salt in all those other items I buy but never considered? I needed to find out. Too much salt is what I found.

It was in the diet soda pop I drank, the mayonnaise, and the salad dressing. I dumped three salty bottles of that mess down the drain in favor of a nice vinaigrette containing lime juice, olive oil, just the tiniest pinch of salt, ground black pepper, a little dijon mustard, and a bit of Duke's. I whisked those ingredients in a mixing cup and poured it over my Romaine. Mixed that with my fingers in addition to a tomato from Billie-next-door's garden and a couple croutons. Lemon would have made a tastier dressing, but I had limes today, and it was good regardless. The sodium content was acceptable.

Last night, I spent a little time on the couch watching TV with Hazelnut and Ginger. We watched cooking shows, and I happened upon one of Bobby Flay's shows, "Throwdown." The challenge was Chicago-Style Pizza, so I watched because that pizza looked really tasty, and I wanted to make a low-sodium version.

Now, this pizza is a little different than the style I usually make. I prepared the crust as I always do, minus the salt, but I left it a bit thicker, just large enough to fit in the cast-iron skillet that I baked it in. Using the skillet to bake the pizza was a good idea.

For the sauce, I had a few tomatoes that Billie had left on the front step in a plastic bag along with a few store-bought. I rough chopped them and threw them into the pan atop several shallots and minced garlic sauteeing in olive oil. I did use a fair amount of salt in the sauce, one tablespoon, but I will eat the sauce over several days. The cheese was to be the saltiest culprit in this meal.

So now I have pizza dough in an oiled cast-iron skillet. Chicago-Style Pizza places the cheese atop the dough, then spreads the sauce, then adds a little grated cheese on top when it comes out of the oven. I did these things. The differences are that I added no sausage (good-bye, sausage) and I added a handful of chopped fresh basil. This was a good pizza for a first effort, I guarantee. Next time, I might add a little unsalted butter to the crust for a bit more flakiness. I have no pictures because I am without camera currently, but it looked pretty. I will make one again very soon.

I spoke with Corey on the phone awhile yesterday, and we were talking about chili and pizza. How about a chili pizza then, he said? Sounds good. I'm making one tomorrow.

So yesterday and today, I calculated that I consumed approximately 1000 mg of salt each day. Yesterday, I watched myself deflate through the course of the day. Very, very interesting to observe. The body is quite responsive to any action, and it begin changing immediately. I have already consumed my thousand milligrams today, so I have laid out a few snacks for later when I venture into the kitchen in the form of three carrots, an apple, and an orange. I also have bananas and almond butter. All of these items are salt-free.

This morning, I stood on the scale to find that I have lost 30 pounds in the last 13 months. I would estimate that tomorrow morning, when I stand on the scale, that I will have lost 8 pounds of excess water this weekend, and that is good for me and my HBP. Science!

Pancakes

We are carnivores again, though we have cut way back on our meat consumption to maybe one or two days per week. I am fine with that. I am conserving.

Yesterday, I removed from the freezer about 16 ounces of meat that I used previously for meatballs. My intention was to make a nice meatball and bean soup with cannellini beans, tomatoes and spinach, but Janet looked at me funny and said it was summertime and therefore too hot for soup. What? It's only about 90 degrees here lately. Anyway, I may still make a vegetarian version of the soup because that sounds good to me, summer or not.

So with my soup plans out of contention for the moment, I thought I'd cook sausage, egg, and cheese burritos for breakfast. I was frying the meat for burritos when Janet asked if we were having blueberry pancakes. I supposed we were now, so I mixed up a batch of pancake batter from a pretty good recipe I have that is composed of flour, an egg, milk, baking powder, butter, a little sugar, and some cinnamon. I used Bisquick in the past, but I think that product is only flour and baking powder with some other unpleasant ingredients anyway, so I don't buy it anymore.

Over time, I have found a few tricks for making pancakes, and they are: Pancakes like a very hot skillet. The first batch of cakes may not brown the way you want them to until your pan is good and hot.

Do not stir the batter too much. A few lumps are okay. And keep your pancakes small. A couple tablespoons of batter is really all you need, as large cakes are more difficult to manage. I already cooked the meat in my skillet, so it was heated properly. Now I was ready to cook my pancakes.

I heated a few drops of oil in the pan for a moment to discourage sticking, and in went my batter. I like to add my berries at this point, a handful or so on the top of the cake. Blueberries and their moistness will cause the pancakes to cook more slowly in the middle, so you have to keep that in mind when using fruit in pancakes or regular cakes or cobblers, et cetera.

Actually, I completely forgot to add the berries to the first batch of cakes, so I made a sandwich of pancakes, sausage, an over-easy egg, and a little syrup. Yes, it was good, and I enjoyed it. The second batch (I make two pancakes at a time so I have room to flip them) I remembered the berries. Then I started thinking: why not add the meatball mixture to the pancake batter and blueberries to make a sweet and savory pancake? The saltiness of the meat along with the sweetness of the berries and the syrup made a fine juxtaposition. Now I am full of breakfast goodness, and I'm thinking of taking a little siesta before heading to the ballpark this afternoon.

Mountain Pies

Last night, we had a few people over for spaghetti dinner and drinks. After surfeiting ourselves with pasta, we went back outside and continued sitting around a fire we built earlier in the evening until a good thunderstorm found us at about midnight. It rained for at least an hour, but I was not surprised when I awoke this morning at about six to find a few still-smoldering coals in the firepit. I had a lot of nice pieces of firewood left that I chainsawed yesterday afternoon, so I decided to make a pot of coffee, have a little Bailey's, and rebuild the fire.

As I sat there in the backyard on the swing over several hours this morning, relaxing and drinking my coffee, listening to the birds and the residual raindrops falling from the leaves, I had a very good idea: I decided to dig out the Mountain Pie irons from the shed to cook my breakfast outside in the fire (mostly.) We live in a wooded area, our yard heavily, so with my Pie irons in hand and a large amount of woodsmoke in the air, I might as well have been camping on this Sunday morning.

Mountain Pies have been a part of my life ever since I can remember anything. As a child, at my Aunt Georgia's place out in the country, building fires up on the hill was standard practice during family get-togethers. So was making Mountain Pies. Now, a Mountain Pie is a thing of beauty. The only kind I ever remember as a kid were pizza MPs, filled with sauce and cheese, maybe pepperoni, I don't recall, and that suited me just fine, but the fillings are really only limited by the maker's imagination.

I baked the irons in the fire for a time to get rid of whatever might have been on them from sitting in the shed. As the irons cleaned, I threw a few eggs into a pan and scrambled them just until they formed. I could have cooked them in a pan over the fire, but really I just thought of that. Anyway. I then sprayed the irons with non-stick and placed one piece of "buttered" bread on each side of the iron. I added a bit of my scrambled egg, a slice of good old American cheese and a few slices of tomato, closed the irons, and placed them back into the fire. The Walrus, who is a bread fanatic, enjoyed the Pie making, also. He ate the crusts sliced off by the irons.

So there I stood in front of the firepit on this already warm and humid North Carolina morning, flipping the irons occasionally to ensure even cooking because Mountain Pies will burn if you don't give them the attention they require. It was like a sauna out there, really, especially after I stoked the fire again, but I rather enjoyed the morning, a commingling of woodsmoke and fire, good coffee, sweat, and Mountain Pies.