Break

I have realized that when breaks from school occur, I should be investigating new things to cook.  I am faced with an immediate conflict between cooking and snowboarding.  I think I'll choose the latter, but maybe I'll share a cooking adventure sometime soon. 

Kombucha

I never thought I'd be so willing to drink something that is the product of asexual fungal reproduction.  However, kombucha is just that.  If you've never had it, you really need to suspend all of your inhibitions about strange foods and fungi, and just go for it because if you go about it correctly, it can be really good.  However, if you don't know what you're doing, it probably going to come out bad and possibly dangerous.
I first tried kombucha in 2008 and I was just running the most basic recipe- 15 black tea bags and a 1 1/2 cups of sugar.  Boil the tea, add the sugar, let the whole thing cool, put it in a jar, throw in your kombucha baby, and let it sit for two weeks.  During that time the kombucha alien will replicate and try to eat your pets.  We lost three cats without even thinking about it.  They were missed.  I don't want to put a picture of the kombucha alien because it could be considered both horrible and pornographic depending on your religious persuasion and whether you had any cheese today.  But this is what the jar looks like.  On this day, I used Formosa Oolong tea w/ ginger that I got from the Homegrown Tea Shop on Congress St. on Portland's East End.  I try to put the date on there so I remember when I put it on the shelf.  Another important thing is to not expose the kombucha baby to metal.  I cover the jar with cloth and a rubber band.  This makes it seem more like a science experiment.  After two weeks, the kombucha fungus replicates.  That means that after two weeks you can make two batches.  Or you can make one batch and give one baby away.  You see, kombucha is about health and friendship and what says healthy friendship like giving your friends a self-replicating fungus? 
I have also been making modifications.  I have so much kombucha in my refrigerator that I can afford to try new things- I like to live on the edge.  I currently am varying the level of sugar and seeing if honey is as effective as white sugar.   The sugar is what makes this drink ferment.  I've found that the more fermented it is, the better the kombucha tastes.  I also like the having ginger tea.  It makes it that much more delicious.  Also, I know what you're thinking, 'Why would I want to drink some cheap, fermented fungal vinegar when all I drink is beer?'  Let me tell you, I drink plenty of beer, but I drink kombucha in the morning.  You see, kombucha is good for the LIVER.  That means that it actually compliments all the beer.  But don't take my word for it, find someone with a kombucha operation and get a baby.  They probably have more babies than they know what to do with, and they ain't getting any state money for them in any case. 
The other thing:  Just in case you think I've made this all up- they do sell this stuff commercially.  I find it in the grocery store, my favorite is ginger and asian pear.  Good luck with the fungus.

Cheese, Brocolli, and mashed potatoes- what could be better?!

I had some leftover whipped potatoes from STEAK SUNDAY!!! that I wanted to use up.  So, I mixed them with flour and baked them at 400 degrees for quite some time.

I rarely keep track.  I mean, I knew what I wanted them to look like, so I checked them, and flipped them when the tops started to brown.  The bottoms had cooked on the cookie sheet like pancakes.  Just as I wanted. 
They look just like pancakes, but they taste like garlic and cheese biscuits.  Of course, their true taste will be obscured by the amount of cheese sauce in which they were to be smothered.  Serious deliciousness.  These things would also be good with ketchup, I bet.  Next time, I am going to try to fry them in Bacon grease.  I just want to see what happens!  Who knows, maybe they'll be awesome!
Broccoli can be every kids nightmare, but I think it may be one of my favorite vegetables.  The amount of green in it tells me that it just has to be good for me, and it goes so well with cheese.  And potatoes for that matter.  It's so easy to cook, too.  You just turn it on.  It doesn't even matter if you overcook it, it just blends all that much better into the cheese sauce.  Personally, though, I like it undercooked, just slightly, to preserve some of the crunch.  Don't judge.  I think we've got some broccoli in the garden.  One of the first tree runs I ever did was called The Broccoli Garden.  And sometimes, one can even still find some powder there.  It's just not very steep.  It would probably be a good place to get drunk, but nobody ever does.  Someone should set up a BBQ, except that the sun goes away there before it sets everywhere else, so it might be pointless.  Maybe it could be a breakfast spot.

But it must all remain a secret.  Forget I even said anything.  Anyway, like any good meal, there is a sauce to go with it.  This cheese sauce is an alteration of my mother's recipe.  Hint: I added pepper and sour cream.  It just came out so delicious.  It is so versatile, too. It goes with macaroni, broccoli, potatoes, or just a spoon if you're feeling real crazy.  I make something in the crock pot that reminds me a lot of it too, called Cream of Broccoli soup (but that is for another entry altogether).  When it comes down to it, this whole process was an experiment to occupy my mind while I made the next round of kombucha.  My kombucha mother had twins!  We're all so proud.  That means not two but three batches can be produced. 

We'll be in the kombucha business in no time!  Here we have the finished product of three delicious main ingredients, and many many secret ingredients.  I thought this might be too much cheese sauce, but it turned out to be the perfect amount, once the potatoes had sopped up all the excess.  So, I guess this wasn't gluten free due to the flour in the potatoes, but otherwise, it's legit.  It is definitely vegetarian, though it's not vegan.  I don't understand vegans, unless it's doctor's orders.  A world without cheese is no world at all, at least not one that I'd want to live in.  Listen, we're only here for  a short amount of time.  While that doesn't mean that we should all go start acting like douchebags, or worse, Teabaggers, it does mean that some simple pleasures should be had, and I am talking about cheese here.  Cheese wins again.

Steak Sunday!

Today was a great day.  Of the many things that happened today that were excellent, an appropriate finale has been found in our new grilling tradition- STEAK SUNDAY!!!!   A number of us, notably Jed, our mailman, and myself sit around a grill on at least one Sunday afternoon a month and grill steaks.  This is a worthy tradition.  Let me just illustrate how Steak Sunday has affected me.  At one point I ripped my shirt off hoping to find that I had a tattoo of a t-bone steak on my chest.  Alas, it just wasn't realistic.   Despite the glare in this photo, this Steak Sunday was actually shrouded by rainy weather.  However, bad weather is no reason not to hold Steak Sunday.  After all, we've got the postal service involved.   They would grill in the middle of a tornado.  In such a tornado, one could find us celebrating Steak Sunday.  Steak Sunday had its roots in simpler times.  Back when the family would wake up at the crack of noon and drink coffee until 2 p.m. before "starting the day."  Back when Bacon was the first and last thought of any good day.  Even Bacon has its shortcomings.  That's right, I said it.  Steak Sunday is a dominating presence, and I don't see it going anywhere anytime soon.  Steak Sunday was the brainchild of a group of dedicated barbecue aficionados who felt that the usual fare of hot dogs and burgers, while also very satisfying, just weren't cutting the mustard on a day that could only appropriately be held in reserve for something so worthy as a steak.  T-bones, Porterhouse, rib-eye,

sirloin- all are welcome on Steak Sunday.  We even classed it out with some red onions on the grill and some whipped cheddar and garlic potatoes, done with my new mixer (more on that later).  You'll see some chicken kabobs also.  What can I say, steaks aren't as jealous as Bacon.  I kind of felt like I came up short with the sirloin on the left, after I saw the comparative size of the rest of the t-bones.  Taste made up for it.  It also didn't hurt that I finished it on the grill with some whipped horseradish and black pepper butter.  Steak Sunday!  Butter on steak is one of the greatest culinary innovations of all time. 

I would submit that everyone ought to celebrate Steak Sunday.  You should invite your mailman, too.  Buy him a steak to get it going.  You'll be glad you did.  And if you don't want to do it for yourself, do it for your community.  A world that doesn't celebrate Steak Sunday is no kind of world at all, at least not one of which I'd want any part. It turned out well. 
See that red tint on the plate?  That is a rare steak.  Not medium, not mid-rare, rare.  And that red stuff under the knife?  Blood.  It turns out that mashed potatoes have two purposes along with being awesome.  1- sopping up blood, 2- sopping up steak sauce.  That's right Steak Sunday can involve steak sauce.  I'm not a purist when it comes to steak eating.  I like all kinds of sauce.  To be perfectly honest though, I was actually more dedicated to putting the steak sauce on the grilled onions.  I mean, that is real living.  While I haven't followed through with my exit plan for the leftover whipped potatoes, I intend to mix an egg and a bunch of flour in and make potato cakes in the over.  I have yet to be successful making potato cakes, but hey, it's Steak Sunday, and Steak Sunday is for having an open food mind.  Remember, when in even the least amount in doubt, add cheese.  That is you lesson for this Steak Sunday, let's hope for many more.

Breakfast

So, I got this idea for an interesting breakfast method from my stepmother, Betty.  As I eat eggs like it's my job, any true Marxist would appreciate that I am getting thoroughly bored with the same old thing.  Time for something new.  So I checked with Bacon to see if this was legit.  Bacon is fairly progressive, and as such was open to new ideas.  I am so glad Bacon isn't a conservative.  Conservatives are ignorant.
  The original idea called for a layer of ham on the bottom of the muffin tin.  Ham is Bacon's cousin, so they tend to get along.  Bacon won the hero of the day award here, however.  It is important, in any case, that there is some sort of meat foundation.  Meat foundation.  It's my blog and I can repeat "meat foundation" to my heart's content.  Bacon no doubt appreciates it. 

Obviously, next I cracked an egg over each meat foundation.  The center concoction looks slightly different because I scrambled the egg.  It was done for research purposes.  The research produced a tasty product, but messier than the other two. The conclusion is that despite the possibilities of the scramble, it may not be appropriate in this situation.  The other two were cracked into the muffin tin over the meat foundation, covered in a layer of fried potatoes and a layer of cheese.  I love cheese.  I love cheese sooooo much.  I should buy stock in cheese.  Cheese would in no way be responsible for a Wall Street-style crash.  Cheese can only produce goodness.  Cheese is Bacon's best friend.  Remember that.  Anyway, as you see it pictured, that is how it went into the oven set at 350 degrees.  I don't know how long I cooked it, because I was also working on my next batch of Kombucha and cleaning the kitchen.
 Once the kitchen was clean, I took the muffin tin

out of the oven.  The result looked something like this. Kind of messy.  I should have greased the muffin tin first, unfortunately, Bacon didn't provide the necessary grease.  I was a bit incensed at first, but who can stay mad at Bacon?  Not this guy.  At this point I still had high hopes for the scrambled egg-cup.  It clearly looks like it is more legit.  Looks can be deceiving, though, remember that.  Also remember that Glenn Beck is ignorant, dangerous, and uninformed, but he passes himself off as the penultimate authority on everything only after God.  Doubt it Beck.  Even Bacon doesn't like him, and Bacon is generally accepting of everybody.  If Glenn Beck were a breakfast food, he would be an olive and mushroom omelet.  Mushrooms and olives have no place in my kitchen.  Glenn Beck has no place in American popular culture.
  Anyway, I guarantee you that this was a Glenn Beck-free breakfast.  I did however listen to Best of the Left podcast while I was cooking.  And they rail on Beck and the rest of the ignorant conservatives.  If you haven't checked out Best of the Left yet, you really should.  Cooking is enhanced for me by listening to liberal podcasts. 

And what is better than cooking, but eating?

I poured a nice cup of black coffee, placed the breakfast experiment on some thick wheat toast, and topped each of them off with some hot salsa. I have to say, this cured my breakfast boredom. While this isn't some quick meal that you can make before running out to work on a weekday morning, it does stand to provide a break from monotonous scrambles and omelets that may have infiltrated standard weekend breakfast cuisine.
Don't be afraid to mix it up a little bit!  Every good cook was once a bad cook who made a lot of mistakes.  It is only through those mistakes that diamonds are weeded out and successful breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and desserts are accomplished.  I only learn by trying new things.  Today, I created something delicious, but not necessarily visually stimulating.  The positive part:  I have the rest of my life to improve upon it.  Vote Liberal!

  

How I Run a B.L.T.

One of my favorite sandwiches to make (and to eat) is a B.L.T.. However, like most people who are products of the 21st century, I am easily bored. Inspired by the Not-Just-A-B.L.T. at the Orange Cat Cafe in Kingfield, ME, I choose to put my own spin on the B.L.T.
First, I find some quality bread and make toast. Most times, I use marble-rye, but today I found a loaf of wheat bread from Standard Baking Company in Portland, ME. Once the toast is made, I determine a bottom piece, and put some sort of spicy mustard on it.

I'm not going to lie, I am a mustard fan. If mustard told me to jump, I would say, "How high?" So, the idea of me preparing anything that did not involve mustard would have to come with a pretty good reason why it was left out...or it would hear it from me.

Next, Bacon. Bacon is a sentence in itself. It is a
noun, verb, adjective, adverb, and pronoun all combined in one beautiful piece of meat which is also a vegetable. Bacon. or, "I just Baconed the hell out of that exam." Also, Bacon should always be capitalized. It is as notable as a public official, and probably more effective in getting things done. Bacon. Bacon. Bacon? Bacon.

I found some nitrate free, uncured Bacon. It is delicious (obviously). It fries well, it has a good taste, and well, it makes me tear up inside a little bit whenever the package runs out. I dedicate this picture to you, you perfect pieces of Bacon.














Here's were it gets interesting. I found some smoke gouda in the part of the grocery store where all the fancy cheese is kept. I always feel snobbish when I stand there and admire cheese. I just love cheese! Is that so wrong? Bacon doesn't think so, and neither do I.

You might wonder why I put cheese on a B.L.T. and didn't call it a B.L.T.C. or something like that. I just don't want to make it to complicated. I cook free form, who knows if I ended up going crazy here, the sandwich would end up being called a B.L.T.C.H.X.T.M.. Who wants to keep track of that stuff? Not this guy. The line has to be drawn somewhere. And that place is here. B.L.T. tells the truth. The Bacon makes it self affirming anyway. You already know the basic sandwich, have a little adventure in your life, who knows, maybe you'll like it.

One of my favorite foods is the pickle. At Sugarloaf, they always told us to "give 'em the pickle." Apparently, that was a code for good customer service. Administration seemed to also use it the other way around and gave us, the staff, the pickle by paying less than a living wage, and denying proper benefits and overtime. But hey, at least they let me drive a snowmobile all night.

Anyway, back to the sandwich. I checked with Bacon, and Bacon said it was alright to use pickles so long as they were good pickles. I assured Bacon that I only use the best pickles in my cuisine. I picked up a couple recipes from Uncle's Farm Stand at the Monument Square Farmers' Market last Wednesday. So glad I did. These are the baby dills that I sliced up for sandwich purposes. When I complimented the man behind the farm stand for having such excellent pickles, he told me, "My family has been selling these pickles at this farmers' market for the last hundred years." Well, Bacon and I both hope that his great-grandson can say something like that in another hundred years.

The next step is the traditional second step, the "L". Not so important to capitalize this one, as many view the lettuce as more of a filler. Personally, I enjoy the crunch of it, and I try to pick up either the red leaf or the green leaf lettuce for the nutrients it has inside it. Some people like iceberg lettuce. I think of that stuff as all water. I mean, what's the point?

Clearly, in this situation, the lettuce has importance, it adds color contrast in the center. It caps off the cheese and the pickles to shield them from the eyes of skeptics, and it provides valuable companionship for Bacon, who occasionally can become quite solitary. It's lonely at the top. Bacon appreciates lettuce.

I try to find local food. I was impressed by these Backyard Farms tomatoes. They come from somewhere in Maine, possibly Madison. They seem to have been grown in a greenhouse, which is fine with me, because Maine doesn't support year-round tomato production in outdoor settings. I do however, enjoy year round tomato eating. That's one thing I'll miss in the post-Apocalypse.

For greenhouse tomatoes, these are pretty tasty. Not as tasty as those that will come out of the garden later this summer, though (More on this in coming months).

My final ingredient is a combination of my love for mayonnaise and my love for horseradish. I combine the two, with some black pepper, and get some delicious horseradish mayo to cap off the sandwich. I even drizzled a little bit on the tomatoes because I thought it looked good on them.

I am almost unable to picture a situation involving too much mayonnaise. It's like having too much Bacon. It's ridiculous to even talk about. To all the people who enjoy mayonnaise, I salute you. Slather it on. You'll be glad that you did.

And that is how you make a B.L.T. in my kitchen. I enjoyed making it as much as I enjoyed eating it. Bacon even said that the sandwich looked good, but Bacon can be vain (although I don't blame Bacon for that character trait).

As far as background imagery goes, while I am pretty sure that George Bush does indeed ski in jeans, I am just as sure that I wouldn't want to ride the mountain that would be suitable for someone like him. Unless it's Telluride, because there is no way that someone like him could fully appreciate a mountain like that. I'll keep Telluride, but the rest of you mountains, you ought to realize that you'll get no ticket money from me if you let an asshole like that poison your slopes. It's bad enough that Dick Cheney lives so close to Jackson Hole. I just reassure myself that he is too old and decrepit to handle a mountain like that. I could barely handle it and I'm in my twenties.